Over the hills and far away ...

On Saturday morning I had just woken up and was lying in bed catching up on Twitter (lo, the dangers of an iPhone and WiFi) when Kat sent me a message letting me know that there was room in her car to go to the Martinborough Fair if I still wanted to go along.
You see, I've lived in Wellington all my life and yet I'd never managed to make it over the hills on the right weekends in February and March.

I'm always pleased when I can make it from asleep to ready-to-leave-the-house (including makeup but with unstraightened hair!) within half an hour. I think my record is 15 minutes.

Finally, at 10 am, fuelled by caffeine and petrol, worried by the spitting grey skies, we took off over the hills to the Wairarapa.
On the other side of the winding winding Rimutaka Hill Road the skies cleared and as we found our park in the rural town of Martinborough it became clear that the cardigan and knee high boots I was wearing were over eager.
Over there, it is still most definitely summer.


Kat very quickly made an Alpaca friend. He appears wary.


Scenes of Wellington and New Zealand.




Jesus is Lord (HOLY HELL, HOW BIG IS THAT BIRD!)














We stood in the blazing sun and felt terribly sorry for the fireman in all his finery but couldn't resist the flames.




Adding water to an oil fire.



So so impressive.
























The corner of Regent and Oxford Streets. It's not exactly Oxford Circus, there is no TopShop here.
I can't escape memories of London.


Looking back toward Martinborough

&

Looking homeward


The fair was simply lovely.
Admittedly, I was dressed a little inappropriately, it was grey and rainy when we left Wellington and over the hills? the sun was bright. I was just glad I had my sunglasses with me. And that Kat had brought sunscreen with her.

I came home with a necklace made of New Zealand coins, a pair of sunglasses, an adorable pair of spectacles, and a leather deer head.
If Sir C and I are still here at this time next year, I'm going to drag him over the hills with me. He may complain but I think he would actually quite like it.

p.s. On our way home (we were in a teeny tiny bit of a hurry) I saw a sign advertising a taxidermy museum, somewhere between Greytown and Featherston. We turned off a road to see if we could find it, but because of the smidgen of hurry we couldn't spend too long hunting it down. Be assured, I will be hunting it down myself!