A perfect weekend...

...goes something like this: Surfing before breakfast under a clear blue sky; a quite interlude of Thai Chi, followed by a hefty chunk of mountain biking through Bottlelake forest; a pirates convention on Brighton Beach (which was as surreal as it sounds) with barefoot dancing to the baselines of Fat Freddies Drop until your soles are the colour of the grass underfoot. As the sun set the rugby starts. A heaving, cheering mass of hopefulls convinced that NZ will win the cup. Followed by a heaving, sweating mass of bodies dancing into the small hours of the morning to the rhythmic house beats and more elusive untertones of absinth.
There are other perfect days, this was just one of them.