Rising Bollard

Rising Bollard.

It’s not the most auspicious name for a young man’s home town. Indeed, if pressed, Rising Bollard wouldn’t make it on to a top ten list of attractions, but at least it’s not in the bottom fifty of places you wouldn’t want to live. Not easily locatable on a map, nor desirous to be when you find it, Rising Bollard is a one cafe-type of town, with a meagre higher education college, one hill of reasonable note and a population bordering on the thousands.

Still, it’s home. We have our own crazy cult leader, Brother Morthos, a preponderance of retired couples who move here for reasons as yet unidentified and, despite being way up river, it hasn’t stopped Capt’n Dick from setting up shop with his tales of piracy on the Waitemata.

Our stories are not great nor are they epic. People don’t live and die in Rising Bollard… Well, not in the dramatic sense. Romance hardly blossoms here and childbirth is the norm rather than a miracle. Men are men, women are women and the influx of metrosexuals is doing little to change anything.

We persist, and in persistence things stay the same in what we might hesitantly call excitement.

Rising Bollard. Let’s share the love.