The long white cloud...

... parted so I could just see the South Island's mountainous north coast from Paraparaumu beach. After spending 3 weeks in Wellington, it was the first time I'd seen these hills. The train ride north through Porirua was like being in toytown - especially the single track sections - Thomas the Tank Engine territory. If only I had brought a camera better than the one in my mobile telephone.
People here are friendly, helpful and expansive when they get talking. It amazes me how innocent New Zealand really is. The trains have guards on them who sell and clip tickets - like Scotrail now that I think of it. There are no cameras on the trains or in any but the major stations at either end of the 3.5 lines that extend from Wellington's grand-looking railway station to the outer reaches of the suburban areas. The suburbs are far from being endless here. They appear - from the train line at least - to be clumps of homes with a few 'developments' in the form of rather out of place shopping centres along the line.
Back on Paraparaumu beach I was starting to wonder if it had been worth the 45 minute walk from the station. The sand was grey and almost mud-like. Children built sandcastles with dirty-looking hands. Families sat in clumps among the plentiful driftwood. I chose a well-worn tree trunk as my perch for lunch and ate my sandwich and an apple. A small girl moved to play nearby. The breeze was cool and I appreciated the rest after the brisk walk. I decided it was time to get back to the station when I saw a coffee shop with an outdoor area. I ordered tea and sat with my Dominion Post, drinking slowly. The trains leave each end of the two longer lines every 30 minutes, so there was no need for precision in the walk back. If I allowed an hour, the most I'd need to wait would be 25 minutes. Hardly an eternity - especially here in the slow-paced relaxed surroundings of the Kapiti Coast. The walk back gave me another chance to watch the airport operations. A busy fleet of 4 seaters, gliders with aero tow tugs and small helicopters kept air traffic control busy. The gliders were towed to a point overhead a nearby hill, where they were left to look for lift or else fly back to the field if there was none. I made a mental note to put gliding on the list of possible activities our SMS group could arrange and do together. It's been a while since Bacchus Marsh with the BMW club. I'd earlier noticed a marina with plenty of keel boats and also a bit of evidence of dinghy sailing. I need something to focus my weekends on - a motivator to make Wellington seem worth giving up being around my family for. Something more than just a professional opportunity and a change of air.

On the trip south with the sun over my right shoulder I could see that New Zealand has been dry of late too. The smooth topped grassy coastal hills are yellow and brown. No doubt they'll be like the paps of Fife before long though. It's bound to start raining in earnest soon. I've been advised to bring over my foul weather gear. Maybe it's time to get something as a modern alternative to my trusty old Barbour. Not more shopping.