And quiet flows the Heathcote

There are some mighty big braided rivers in Canterbury and then a couple of creeks, glorified drains, that run through the city of Christchurch. This is the beginnings of one of them, the Heathcote River. We used to live further downstream where it is more tidal and the rains draining from the city are met by the tides from the sea, washing up the usual toxic nastiness from the remaining factories of Woolston. My place of work is also near this stream, probably near where it is at its most picturesque.

So in a sense this stream runs through my life in Christchurch. I am going to have to write an epic novel based on that, channeling Sholokhov.