Capital gains

As I leave the Queen Charlotte Sound on a large car ferry bound for Wellington in the North Island, the mist is draped over the tops of the hills and a light rain is falling. The ferry carries an assortment of cargo, including several container-loads of cows, visible through an open hatch on the front deck. We turn into the Cook Strait and the wind picks up, as does the smell of manure. The Strait is prone to storms and ferocious winds and I find out later how many ships have perished here.

There are a couple of scallywags on board, too, high as kites. When they sit down on either side of me I prepare to gather my things and move, but they're pretty harmless and gabble away affably and completely incoherently. Nevertheless they must be up to something because a posse of policemen is waiting to escort them off when we arrive in Wellington. Actually, now I think of it, one of them was rolling a joint when they were chatting to me...

So windy Welly is spread out over its surrounding hills and makes a most pleasant sight, a safe looking haven from the stormy Strait.

I'm staying with Di and Pete Charlesworth, who are friends from back in the Eighties when I was living in a big south London house-share. I was even there at the fancy-dress party where the two of them got together. Di is here to meet me with son Matt, just graduated from Christchurch Uni, and daughter Rachel, off to study in Dunedin soon. Di mentions that we might have time to walk around the farm and I assume she means the place next door. But they do actually own and live on a farm in the suburbs, and when we get back to their house on the hill, we take a quick walk around their pine woods and meet a few of their sheep. It's so unexpected. As it gets dark Di points out some gloworms in a little grotto. 

The next day I create a cold/wet weather outfit out of what I have available and that includes a pashmina round my hair (too windy to put a brolly up and not wet enough for a cagoule) and my Uniqlo down jacket.

My main destination in Wellington is Te Papa, one of the best museums of Maori culture in the country. Te Papa means "house of treasure" and that's no understatement, from a whole floor on the impact humans have had on the land, to the full-size meeting house (marae) and giant canoe. There's also an uplifting little film called Golden Days in a mini film theatre done up like a curiosity shop. Cleverly edited clips and an evocative soundtrack take you through every aspect of Kiwi life. I am fascinated and entertained.
I meet my friend Jon from Christchurch for a quick lunch – he works in Welly Tuesdays to Thursdays – and it's lovely to see him again. I take a stroll down Cuba Mall, a swinging street of cool cafes, retro boutiques and spaces to let.
It's still raining but luckily there is plenty of scope indoors – the museum dedicated to Wellington City & Sea covers every aspect of the city's seafaring history, and then the City Art Gallery has plenty to keep you scratching your head. I do scratch my head over the Parliament building, nicknamed the beehive and designed in the Sixties by Sir Basil Spence, a Scottish architect who also designed Coventry Cathedral.
Back at the farm Pete returns from a business trip to Auckland and I'm delighted to see that he hasn't changed a bit. It is risky turning up on people's doorsteps when you haven't seen them for years, not to mention having them ferry you about and cook for you, but thankfully we find ourselves laughing at the same things and reconnecting effortlessly around memories of places, parties and people.
Matt so kindly runs me to the airport the next morning to catch my flight to Auckland. There is a traffic jam en route but in typical Kiwi fashion he takes it all in his stride, super calm and collected. Inside the airport travellers are greeted by this gigantic model of Gollum, Wellington being the home of Weta, the company that gave the world Lord of the Rings.