When You Get Caught Between the Moon and Palmerston North.

So you move from a bigger town to a smaller town.

Now what?

Now you are living on a need to know basis. Some things in life are flexible, negotiable, and full of the potential for compromise. And some things just aren’t (like food, drink, music, movies – fill in the bourgeois blanks). But you are resourceful and tenacious. These are good things.

So you email people you know in the area, meet up for coffee with people you know in the area, talk on the phone with, go for walks with, accost in corridors people you know in the area and two things happen.
Firstly, you lose a lot of people you know in the area - people who, faced with resourceful tenacity, see relentless pretension*. (Poor fools, they won’t be invited to one of my 4 course thematic dinner parties. Suffer.) Secondly, you walk straight into a wall of hopelessness (if I were the sort to extend a metaphor I would add, mortared with ineptitude*).
No, people, I think you misunderstand me. When I say “Who cuts a quality ‘mullet with irony’ in this town?” you don’t say “Who cares/Who gives/Who associates fish with irony?” Work with me.

So you go online and browse for blogging locals who might be able to give you a heads up about the where, when, how and hey there now watch out for. But ‘cept there is nothing out there (and by nothing, I mean so so few and none that do the business).

Looks like I’m going to have to little-red-hen-it and do it myself.