It is an unwritten rule of student flatting life that nobody ever fills in a postal change of address form. But this, says Katie Kenny, can have its upside.
To pass through North Dunedin during the summer months is to experience scarfie-town with its pants down.
When the university shuts for the year, the fabric of student life covering the streets of Dunedin falls away. .
The pavements are left bare.
Flats are empty.
Poppa's Pizza Restaurant closes.
I am not sure how the liquor stores survive ...
Perhaps the locals have a big party when we are gone? I wouldn't be surprised.
My friend's mother visited Dunedin during this so-called off-season and she provided insightful feedback.
Apparently, running through North Dunedin during summer is an eerie experience.
There are no students, no couches on porches and no fresh splatterings on footpaths for the seagulls to peck at.
Doors are locked, curtains drawn and yet, most disturbingly, the letter boxes are full of mail.
Parcels are stacked in the corners of doorsteps and letters are held down by bricks when the box is full.
This mail makes all the difference in North Dunedin.
Without this mail, the houses look uninhabitable.
The majority could be danger-taped - or, to use an altogether more tragically current term, red-stickered.
Certainly inhospitable, with their broken windows, sagging roofs, leaky walls and cheeky vermin.
If empty streets in summer are Dunedin's bare bum then the mail remaining is likely the trousers he (she?) left on the floor.
The mail tells us that people live here - or did, or will.
The mail outside these flats is often an unreliably generous indication of the number (or popularity) of the current tenants.
Upon closer inspection, one will find most letters are not for the current tenants (as is usually the case with our mail) but for the tenants of many years prior.
It seems to be an unwritten rule among the students of Dunedin that one must never fill out a change of address form, but instead leave their proverbial mark on every dwelling they occupy via a trail of mail.
This human version of territorial dog peeing does have its benefits.
Before moving into my flat last year, I received a text from a boy currently living there notifying me that I had mail - already.
So I went over and picked up my mail.
We met up the next week, too.
For coffee.
By chance, I have spotted a reasonably good-looking boy coming in and out of my old flat.
I am planning to make a mail-related visit very soon.
I might even send a letter or two there first, to make it seem like a legitimate house call.
I will keep you posted.
By this week, most of the piles of mail have been picked up and North Dunedin is clothed with students once again.
But just because the mail has disappeared from the front yard, it does not mean it is not sitting inside the front door (as is the case in my flat).
If you haven't already, I encourage you to check out the postal situation at your old flat.
Who knows what awaits you?
A friendly conversation?
A new acquaintance?
Perhaps a potential partner?
At the very least, you might get some mail.
Katie Kenny is studying English at the University of Otago.
