The Wellington to Picton Ferry

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I slept wonderfully. Apart from between 12:00am and 2:00am when three large gangs of middle aged women who had attended the World of WearableArt Show arrived back at the hotel. The first group treated the rest of the building to renditions of songs from Grease and Abba at obnoxiously high volumes. A second group got a trifle confused with what floor their room was on. This they solved by phoning a friend who was clearly deaf! While a third group in fits of giggling and laughter bounced their way off doors and walls down the corridor to the end of the hall. To show my appreciation, the next morning I replied in kind with several long blasts of my car horn as I departed for the Ferry at 6:00am! ‘I hope the show was terrible’ I muttered as I went in search of coffee!

That morning the Wellington waterfront and harbour was a true sight to behold. The day was breaking still and calm. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, nor a ripple on the water. It was so nice I didn’t even mind the ferry to Picton was 45 minutes late, this was Wellington on a good day.

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