Dear Mt Victoria,
You used to be my least favourite Wellington suburb.
Overpriced, over-rated and a bit up your own arse, I always thought. And, let's be honest, you can sometimes be a bit of a douche, boasting about your all-day sun, promixity to town and your 'hipness'. Not to mention your, um, over abundance of wankers.
The Animator was always a fan but I was more a Thorndon/Kelburn girl. Fortunately, he wore me down. Well, that and the rather lovely 1890s two-storey villa in the Avenue of Love, which finally melted my displeasure at one of the Capital's oldest suburbs.
And now, Mt Vic, I heart you. Totally. I've never lived somewhere where the washing dries so quickly, where you can eat dinner outside in the blazing sun at 8.00pm, where the killer Wellington southerly can have no impact, whatsoever. And how do I even begin to express the joy of being able to walk to work in 15 minutes, to the movies, dinner or the library? And, here's the kicker, to run home, take Bristol for a walk, run back to work and shower – all in a lunch-hour.
You're also one of the friendliest places I've ever laid my hat – tonight, for example, I took Bristol for his usual trot into the Town Belt, a jaunt that should take 20 minutes, tops. But by the time I had run into my friend Jo with her dog and child, my friend Pamela with her canine, an American chap and his puppy, our dog groomer and her two woofers and a couple of other randoms who wanted to pet Bristol, the better part of an hour had been swallowed.
Thank you, Mt Victoria, for being part of our story. I can't promise you that these itchy feet won't carry me to other parts near or far at some stage, but for now, I'm overjoyed to be able to nestle into your inner-city bosom.
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