I drove past a favourite cafe this morning. Sitting outside were three World War II soldiers, complete with helmets, sipping their long blacks and lattes. A bit further down the street was a group of quite short men wearing basketball uniforms, then waiting at the traffic lights, Anthony and Cleopatra crossed the street in front of me. As I drove down Courtenay Place, I saw a group of very distinctive and easy-to-find Waldos, although I did think the woolly hats looked a bit hot for a sunny summer’s day. I didn’t drive down the main shopping and cafe streets, although I was tempted because I knew they would be teeming with groups dressed in funny, exotic or just mad costumes. I found out later that my personal trainer and the gym’s manager and a group of their friends became a tribe of Tarzans and Janes.
I saw there was a cruise ship in the harbour. I wondered what the tourists would think, perhaps not realising they had arrived in Wellington for the happiest and most colourful day of the year.
Written 4 Feb. For the record, it was especially happy this year, because NZ won.