Mr. Spottydick* goes to Foxton.

"Name's Peter Spottydick and, before you ask, my dick isn't spotty." said Peter.

"I had absolutely no intention of asking anything like that sir. Are you after a room?" asked the man behind the counter.

"Yes. Just for one night. How much is it?"

"$140 but, if you have a One Card, you get it for $130."

Peter pulled out his One Card and the deal was done.

"Where's a good place to eat?" asked Peter.

"Good luck with that." said the man, "This is Foxton and it's Tuesday night. There is a Chinese takeaway a few blocks away and the supermarket doesn't close until seven."

Peter thought that the Chinese takeaway might be his best bet but firstly he'd visit the supermarket to pick up some of his favourite wine. He dropped his bag in the motel room. It was basic but clean. He looked around for the electronic curtain control but couldn't find anything. His heart sank as he realised you had to open them by hand. There was no fancy coffee maker either.

The Chinese takeaway wasn't hard to find, but it was closed. 

"Ah well," he thought, "I'll pick up a couple of Cleanskins and look for something to put in the microwave. I'm looking forward to a good bath, I just hope it's not in front of a big window with no curtains!"

There was a food brand called Stiffbone, so he chose a couple of their products and bought a cake of chocolate for good measure. 

He put his shopping in his car and took a walk down the main street. It was 5.45pm and everything was closed. EVERYTHING. He returned to the motel and unloaded his groceries. Then he saw something.

NO BATH!

No uncovered window either.

There was a shower. Yes, a shower. That was all.

Peter poured himself a very large glass of Cleanskin and then he sat down at his laptop and began to type.

"No, I'm not in Rosemary's office. I'm in a motel in Foxton. There is no bath. There is not even a big uncovered window to moan about and, if there was, it would look out onto an old shed. It looks like I'll be eating Stiffbone for dinner. Tonight I make you one promise. Next time I am in Auckland, or Wellington, or Christchurch, I will find absolutely NOTHING to complain about. So help me, the Presbyterian god!"

* Peter Spottydick is a fictitional character and is in no way related to Peter 'The Curmudgeon' from way up north. Peter Spottydick has never met Father Woodcock.