Three days in Wellington
At 7.50pm last Thursday, I got on the overnight bus from Auckland back to Wellington, home to Matt and me from February 2005 to September 2006. It was wonderful to be back, and Wellington turned on its best weather for me. The sun and blue skies almost made me forget about those mornings when I needed to wear my gym track-pants under my skirt and over my stockings on the windy walk to work; those afternoons when just getting across the road to university would leave me soaking wet, and my useless umbrella turned inside out.
Arriving before 7am on Friday, I was too early to check into the hostel. But I left my bags there, and checked through their book exchange for Bookcrossing labels (none found), and waited for the cinemas to open, so I could see the day’s first screening of Becoming Jane. And I know I’m back in Wellington, when I can go to a central city cinema, for a current release, and share my theatre with six, perhaps seven, other people. And I think that it would’ve been so much more romantic to be a writer in Jane Austen’s day. But there would’ve been disadvantages too, such as having to write by hand.
In the afternoon, I went up to the IIML, where I studied Creative Writing and wrote the first drafts of Lessons to Learn. It’s still there. The view is still incredible. The Cable Car up the hill now has Melbourne-style ticket gates and increased prices.
That’s what is perhaps most obvious, going back. The things that are new. There’s a new supermarket in the train station. There’s a huge new Borders in Lambton Quay. They didn’t have Lessons to Learn in stock, but further down the road, Dymocks had 10 copies – the most I’ve seen in a single store so far.
But it’s also a good reminder of how things were in a place where you often accidentally run into people you know on the streets, where you can get fish and chips from the store next to New World and eat them in the grounds of Parliament.
And there were things too, that I didn’t remember. One such thing was the exact location of The Chocolate Fish Café. I thought it was a bay or two around from Oriental Bay. It wasn’t. And it wasn’t in the bay after that, or the bay after, and so on. Eventually, I started seeing signs to the airport, and I was probably closer to there than to Wellington City so I walked all the way to the terminal then paid $5.00 for the bus back into town. I never found that particular café.
But later on Saturday, I had hot chocolate and a bagel in Olive Café with a Bookcrossing friend, who goes by the username Sherlockfan. I caught up with her news and shared mine, and signed another copy of the book.
That night, I went to an art exhibition in Guznee Street, where prints had been made to accompany poems by well-known New Zealand artists. The prints and poems were auctioned off for what seemed both less than they were worth, but more than I could afford.
On Sunday morning, I went to the Katherine Mansfield birthplace, but I’ve already written about that. Later in the day, having collected my bags from the hostel lockers, I was back at Olive Café, to catch up with some of my classmates from the IIML in 2005. It was great to be there, and to hear what they’re working on now. I miss our classes, and the food that was brought along, and being so familiar with a group of other writer’s projects. Much as I’m enjoying London, I do miss Wellington; as I do Waitakere; and Melbourne; and Vermont; and all the other places I’ve lived. Perhaps it’s just that I’ve already lived in too many places.
Sunday night and I was back on the bus. Many unsleeping hours later, I arrived in Auckland.
One of the things I always meant to do when we were living in Wellington was visit Katherine Mansfield’s birthplace. A year and a half of residing and working and studying there, and I didn’t make it. However, with a morning spare yesterday, I decided to make the trek across the city to the house at 25 Tinakori Road in Thorndon.
A couple of weeks ago, I posted a message on the book-swapping website 
You might expect that, compared to speaking to rows and rows of people at the launch, it might be easier for me to speak into a microphone in a room that was empty (apart from me and my husband Matt, sitting on the other side of the table, wearing a second pair of headphones). But in truth, despite all the Radio New Zealand staff being absolutely fantastic, it was still a kind of scary experience.
The big event took place on Tuesday night, at the Takapuna Library. Strangely enough, it raised similar concerns to a previous big event, our September wedding last year. Did everyone get their invitations? Would they like the food? What should I wear? Do I need a hair cut? What do I say in my speech? What will others say in their speeches? 
I signed a few early-purchased copies, in a totally undignified manner, kneeling on the floor. Then speeches, where Helen Woodhouse from Takapuna Library, and my publisher, Christine Cole Catley and Dame Catherine Tizard all said lovely things about the book. Then my turn, which I think was also okay. The audience laughed a few times as I read out the section where Charlotte teaches “10 very great English songs” to her students. My hands were still shaking a little bit, but it felt like everyone was on side.
Afterwards there were more photos, hugs, farewells, dinner with friends at a local restaurant. It all passed in a blur, really. As clichéd as it sounds, I’ve always wanted to be a novelist – and there I was, launching a novel. Still seems like a dream in a way, but I’ve got a carton of books downstairs which proves that it must be a dream come true.
After an hour on the crowded tube, another getting through security at Heathrow, 22 hours in the air, half an hour looking for gate E20 at Singapore, 15 very long minutes waiting on the tarmac, I arrived back in Auckland at 8pm last night.
Online, I found that the interview I had last Thursday morning had become a 
