I'm sitting in the small lounge of my Accra apartment with my dad. He's recovering from another eventful day, leaning back on one of the bamboo chairs, a gentle breeze ruffling the vibrant pink and green African print curtains behind him.
With the demise of video and record stores around the country, Stacey Knott recalls her days working in two of the most coveted jobs for teens in Nelson. Whenever I had the chance, I would look at Johnny's United Video membership, see when his rentals were due back, and attempt to be in the store on that day.
STACEY KNOTT Whisky's image has changed. It's gone from a tough, manly drink, to a trendy tipple for the younger generations. So, in an attempt to be en vogue with my generation, I decided I needed to become a whisky connoisseur, and fast.
AMY RIDOUT AND STACEY KNOTT For years, a visit to London involved milling around Trafalgar Square, clogging up The Mall in the vain hope of seeing The Queen and standing on Westminster Bridge, tipping your head back at Big Ben.
As soon as I exited Heathrow Airport and got on the Piccadilly tube line, I unwittingly signalled myself as just another trashy young New Zealander relocating to London. I wasn't wearing jandles, didn't have the New Zealand flag sewn onto my backpack, or an "I love Aotearoa" T-shirt on, but in my over-tired state I laughed out loud at the town the direction the train was going in - Cockfosters.
It's late summer, just past peak tourist season, when I leave my grimy East London home to soak up the last of summer in Rome and Paris. With my younger sister in tow, we wine, dine, sightsee and shop but all on a shoestring budget of €50 (about NZ$80) a day.
The New St building with the striking mosaic on the front was at the hub of many Nelson teenagers' lives until its closure last year. With demolition set to begin today, Stacey Knott revisits an old stomping ground It's just a building . . .