We spent a week in Wellington recently.  Ahhh Wellington you really do it to me.  You know those times in life where you just feel something is right for you, that you've found something intrinsic to your nature?  Your heart sings or you enter a state of grace and other such cliches.   

One early evening I rugged Louie up and walked down Holloway Road in Aro Valley, a street I always return to when in Wellington.  It's just got a magic, a truly pioneering spirit, gypsies who have lived in the same place forever.  Totally sends me into a trance and by the time I reach my favourite house at the top, near the bush reserve, I'm calm and transported somehow.  

And then walking up Cuba Street, all the groovers and students and anything-goers and lovers and windswept crazies and hipsters and hippies and me.   It's aspirational in every way that isn't unaffordable, just freaking cool.  It's just cool.  I love, love, love it.  When Andy hears this (or reads it...hi Andy) he feels sad because he doesn't love it like that.  And he doesn't really want to move there.  So that sucks.

But we'll work it out.  Hopefully he'll feel that way about a place and I'll listen.  Then, I'm sure I'll grow to love it as much because it's a big feeling and we've always shared the big feelings.  

Louie was wonderful down there, he grinned at the wind, loved seeing cousins Rosie and Tim and his  Gran (who, as a new Wellingtonian, shares my enthusiasm for the town).  He tore Kellie's beautiful home apart but loved spending time with her each day.  Luckily his nightly 2-3 hour wake-ups stopped while we were down there, he just needed one mid-night drive around Wellington to get a wound-up little reveller to sleep.