Some Quick Words Regarding The Whereabouts of Your Friend Teddy

The above picture shows my cabin on the right, and Teddy's on the left. Notice something strange? That's right. Teddy's house is empty.

Ten days ago, Teddy disappeared into the night, leaving nothing in his cabin but a small sheet of paper with the heading, "Dear Ryan . . ." and no other words. Also in the cabin was a bag of perfectly good apples, which I ate. Some say the law caught up with Teddy and chased him down to Stewart Island. Others say he's causing trouble in Auckland. I like to think that, wherever he is, he's smiling.

Life on the hills of Cromwell has become noticeably quieter and sadder in the absence of Teddy, and I write this blog in the hopes that, wherever he may be, he checks out wryandstanley and sees that we're all thinking about him.

Good on ya, old boy.