Andrew Dickens Afternoons

I spent the weekend in Wellington and it was fabulous. I went for my son’s 22nd birthday using the tickets I bought for his 21st birthday that I couldn’t use because some sort of virus was floating around. I arrived on Friday and had a good shop and a great dinner at Havana where the octopus and the gnocchi are to die for. Saturday was a blinder of a day.  The clearest blue with a steady Northerly.  You wonder why they don’t have the America’s Cup in the capital if you’ve got a problem with wind. People were buzzing around doing stuff as only Wellington can on a sunny Sunday.  Maybe it’s the promise of beautiful weather, or the fact that so many public servants are let out of the state architect designed concrete prison cells to do what they want, but Wellington crackles on a Saturday morning the way few places do. We enjoyed the waterfront, went to Makara, had fish and chips on the South Coast as the sun went down behind the South Island. And I thought to myself, who said Wellington was dying? Who said it ha