it's just like the ocean under the moon. Oh, it's the same as the emotion that I get from you
A scorching sun, flaming the clouds, cracks open at 6am. The 609 dawn patrol swells in size and they wade into the sunrise.
You feel the turning of the world, so soft and slow
Lainey hides behind the clocktower, a mischievous look like she has hidden someone's toys. Where is Guy these days? Jon mentions the rumour that our erstwhile weatherman is actually dipping the BBQ thermometer at midnight. Have the paparazzi claimed the lifestyle of another celebrity, shying away from the groupies and newshounds.
Not quite Paris Disneyland, but some epic days await this weekend. Willy notes we may break 30.
Fridays feel like a flash mob forming. I'm pining for the return of the FFF Blocky, surely we can go early?
I stop and chat to an optimistic surfer by the pipe, who pines for some swell. He says I've written this winter off. Lets hope that Spring brings some better news.
You're my reason for reason. The step in my groove
As I exit, the Guv skims past. James dries off after a pre-dawn dash, and Matthew contemplates the surf, which has fallen considerably.
Hels skirts the icey waters of a southern NZ lake, 7 degrees. I reckon we are in for a much warmer summer than normal. Her cheeky Kiwi mate sleeps in, no longer a wall stalward at 7am?
Thanks for the swim and coffee Team. In the sage words of a famous KISS rocker "As long as your schmeckle works, you feel immortal".
Rusty the Fish
4.40pm uploaded blog, finished the week, now for a molten rum, and some loud sultry guitar.....See you in the water this weekend!
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