Now I understand

So *this* is what they mean, those hardened Wellingtonians, when they intone the word "Southerly" with grave misgiving. Lying in bed this morning, I watched the curtains sway gently as the howling wind blew through the tightly closed windows and the plastic seal that J&A cleverly put up to insulate against winter. In the bathroom, I listen to the washing line spin in manic, squeaky circles and feel air stir against my skin. At the doctor's office, the radio tells me to expect gusts of up to 120kph. Walking home, I literally get blown sideways as I cross the school playground. For once, the locals and I look similarly cold and miserable in our hats, raincoats, scarves and gloves.

This afternoon, Z and I are going to take a bus out to the Cook Strait to see what kind of recklessness this gale has stirred up in the ocean. Until then, I'm huddling in some blankets next to the heater with my laptop on my thighs for added warmth and a cup of hot ginger to toast my insides.