I love this statue of a jumble of words on Lambton Quay. My head was full of half-formed thoughts and ideas, and I was mentally compiling lists of things to do when I saw it. The clouds were drifting across the sky and things seemed to be in an odd state of static movement; a lot like my mind.
Chester is a fan of tight spaces and smelly running kit. Hence Dad's suitcase seems the perfect place for a cat-nap. I make a mental note to check the parents' luggage before they leave for England.
My boss is the one on the left in the picture. Everyone wears fancy dress to the Wellington Rugby Sevens (well, about 90% of folk anyway), but it is slightly disturbing to see one's manager dressed as a Clockwork Orange droog and ready for a touch of ultraviolence. I love the way the bowler hats shade their eyes from the sun. A cruise liner floats at berth in the background. If those tourists are only here for the weekend, they must find this a very strange place. I'd love to see their travel journal; 'The natives are odd, wearing peculiar dress and indulging in senseless revels involving egg-chasing.'
Again, I know this is not a great photo, but it was a highlight of the weekend of the Wellington Rugby Sevens tournament. See the Kiwis dejectedly leaving the stadium; see the blank screen that was prepared to show repeats of New Zealand winning in their own back yard; see the effect of the camera shaking from my excitement. I don't think anyone was expecting that result, so I thought I would get photographic evidence.
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