Winter in Dunedin is famously cold and harsh, but it's also kind of romantic. It's a good time for scotch or mulled wine, snuggling cats and sitting by fires. Or going out with your idiot friends and watching the mid-winter carnival. Lucky me, I got to stand beside my English surgeon friend who gave me a very British running commentary/ review on the parade, from a very cynical and unimpressed perspective. Bless. In any case, it was actually quite beautiful. And as my much less cynical friend Leigh said, when we live in a place this cold, we need to sometimes get pagan on that shit and actually worship it a bit.
Unicorn! Anyway, aside from being near Antarctica (I know, I go on about it), we're also a kind of derelict little town and I felt this keenly on my brisk, icy walk home, breath coming out in steamy clouds.
Speaking of steamy, look at these unceremoniously dumped romantic novels.
And what I like to think of as the world's most depressing 'Hotel.' Drive in indeed (I'd rather die).
So then I scurried home past the various half-way homes and backpackers dens, put on the heat-pump and read about elsewhere. xoxo