Oh Christchurch

My Dear Fellows and Dear Princess,

I was really looking forward to spending a day in Christchurch. I'd deliver some training and then go pottering around the town for a bit of a look.

That was the plan. But then.

I woke up at midnight Thursday, feeling very VERY unwell. I'd been out for dinner with Cazza and Big Nipper and I think too much rich food had taken its toll. I found myself pooing and spewing (spooing?) up a storm.

Long story short, by 4am I was a wreck and the taxi was due to pick me up for the airport at 5.30. I managed to get my sh*t back in one sock and crawl in the back of the taxi on time, hoping that I didn't spoo on the back seat.

Cazza got text messages from me all day. "Landed in Christchurch. Did not spew on the flight attendants." "Delivered training. Did not spew on attendees."

That was the measure of my success for Thursday. I don't think anyone noticed when I was delivering my boring training - although I did find myself rushing it more than usual.

Needless to say, my plans for the rest of the day were scratched. I just sat in the office in Christchurch whimpering for the rest of the day then caught my plane home at 7pm that evening.

Still, what I did see of Christchurch looked lovely. I must go back with Cazza for a weekend some time. But in the meantime, here is a picture of the airport.

S.