Because not all Welling­ton­ista are inde­struc­tible, I was ensconced at home this morn­ing with a touch of a cold.

Actu­al­ly, a hell of a cold. But I’m per­se­ver­ing.

And the weath­er helped! It’s mirac­u­lous!

Step­ping out onto Cuba Street, I wan­dered along to Truf­fle to buy some pain au choco­lat (they’re frozen, but you can defrost them and cook them for break­fast).

Now, you can believe what you like. But Welling­ton Win­ter’s aren’t always that bad. It’s the freakin Spring that is tru­ly awful. The winds real­ly start to wind up, and the rain starts.

Today though… today the wind was gen­tle, the sun was out, and peo­ple were out with it.

I heard a young cou­ple talk­ing about who had the most duvet last night. They saun­tered past with nary a glance in my direc­tion.

Peo­ple were all over Cuba St eat­ing in the sun.

That girl with Down Syn­drome was out jug­gling. She’s ter­ri­ble at it, but I flicked her a dol­lar any­way.

That guy who plays the bam­boo flute that looks a lot like a bong was out, play­ing the same tune over, and over, and over, and over.

And I thought to myself, “You know, on a day like this you almost for­get what the Spring is like. This Welling­ton, she is a fick­le mis­tress”.