Barnes Dance crossings were not introduced by former Dunedin mayor Sir Jim Barnes MBE. Despite that, David Loughrey looks at the possible hazards of the dance, and visits Barnes Lookout.
A Strictly Local Matter
In the wake of a Queen’s Birthday honours season that celebrates the achievements of the excellent and the wealthy, it is time to consider the successes and failures of the little people,...
Midwinter is here, and cold waters run deep. David Loughrey challenges Dunedin to take the 2017 Polar Plunge tomorrow, in the nude.
A monster turkey landed in Dunedin this week, at the same time as a representative of prominent evil empire the US visited this country. Coincidence? David Loughrey thinks not.
Over a few days recently, David Loughrey took in the unparalleled beauty of the Dunedin he sees when he crests the hill at the intersection of Eglinton Rd, Neidpath Rd and Stafford St on the way to...
The world in 2016 is the sort of place you wouldn't take your mother, a planet riddled with violence and with idiots clearly in the ascendant. But David Loughrey knows of an excellent little city that might have a lot to teach a wretched Earth.
One thing common to all of Dunedin's heritage buildings is their extreme age; some are more than 100 years old. In the final instalment of his series of scholarly articles on how to make the city much, much better, David Loughrey looks at the possibility of replacing them with something more modern(ist).
Dunedin, at this time of year, clings gamely to its steep slopes and settles uncomfortably into the wet sand of its flatlands, braving the casual brutality of the winter storms that batter its defences and eat away at its fragile soul.
The personalities and mores of fur seals, a species which has developed a certain degree of cultural capital within the Dunedin environment, has been the subject of little study or publicity. These excerpts from the minutes of a meeting of the Otago Harbour Fur Seals Rotary Club may explain why.
Dunedin was beside itself with excitement on Thursday when the Royals hit town. ODT royal and fashion reporter David Loughrey was there with a sharp eye on what really mattered.
Royal albatross chicks, while having developed a certain degree of cultural capital within the Dunedin environment, have so far been denied a voice. These excerpts from the diary of a 90-day-old chick on Taiaroa Head may explain why.
Hidden within Dunedin city suburbs are little known lesser sub-suburbs hiding in plain sight, areas some have heard of but to which few can give directions. David Loughrey searches for Maryhill and Dalmore, and does his best to understand their souls.
David Loughrey went to university to hear arguments for the existence of God. He found nothing happens without a cause, but the possibilities are disturbingly infinite.
Those once young took to the fields and stadiums of Dunedin this week to compete in the Masters Games. David Loughrey attended two events, and found them ripe with important lessons about life.
Dunedin was thankful for cruise ship passengers this week. They took over the role of hanging around town and walking about slowly while residents went stationery shopping and taught their young about the dangers of flamboyance. David Loughrey investigates.
The end of the year is nigh, Christmas is but days away, and Dunedin needs a list. David Loughrey provides most of a Christmas A to Z.
Its gardens are well kept. It looks down on the city, in a literal sense at least. It knows how to keep its picket fences painted. It is the suburb of Waverley, and suburban tourism reporter David Loughrey found the secret of its success is love.
Not one to spurn a chance to advance himself socially, David Loughrey made the most of an opportunity to see and be seen.
World War 2 was a time when Dunedin citizens pulled together to battle Jerry and generally came together for King and country. Well ... most people. Criminals kept doing their thing, but, as David Loughrey has uncovered, it was a different class of con in the good old days.
It was transported by recalcitrant truck drivers and put together by hard men in the Great Depression to sate the thirst of a worried city. It is the Deep Creek pipeline, an engineering marvel that springs from a frozen fold in the earth. David Loughrey investigates.