Sitting in the garden, under a nearly full moon on Christmas night, having had a swim in the sea earlier in the day, is what it’s all about in New Zealand.

The day before yesterday I should have been awarded with a DoE medal for orienteering, as I found my friend’s house, and she truly lives in the middle of nowhere. I wiggled for miles down a tiny valley as instructed, and eventually came to a plain metal farm gate with 238 on the post. I didn’t dare drive in. What if Jenny really lived in a housing estate in Wellington with the same street name, and I was about to let myself onto a complete stranger’s property? So I phoned , and equally to her amazement , I was in the right place. The only signage in towns and main roads is to other MAJOR destinations, no local settlements or streets are ever mentioned. Very difficult.

On the way south I stopped off for a few minutes at a beach that goes further than the eye can see in each direction. Everyone drives right down to the sea with all the paraphernalia, and the swimming is limited to a very small area between the safety flags, while all the lifeguards are hanging around their tents, looking tanned and beautiful, and hoping there will be no call for their services.

The nearest sea to Jenny’s is a cove about half an hour’s drive away, and very rocky. I have never seen such clear water in my life. The sea was quite chilly, as it is still early in the summer, despite being the hottest Christmas Day in Wellington since 1934, 29c.. But I was determined to go in anyway.

It did seem strange watching the Queen’s speech, something I haven’t done for about 10 years. Makes you realise that some of New Zealand is more English than the English.