Last of the summer wine

I love the changes of seasons. Maybe from winter to spring more so than summer/autumn, but the feeling that you get when the air smells and tastes a little different holds a certain amount of anticipation, or maybe apprehension.

I experienced such feelings during the week. And I liked it.

My uncle Lindsay has a motto which he espoused to me at dinner last Sunday, as the southerly dropped the temperature and blew cold rain in sideways against the windows. "Wellington doesn't have a climate, it has weather..." The night gave me a reminder of last winter, which wasn't anywhere near as bad as I'd been warned by the locals. In fact, I rode more in the 'bad' weather here than I ever did in the Aussie winters. Necessity maybe? If you don't ride in the wind here, then you're never riding at all.

The summer here has been brilliant (Mike reckons "best in 20 years") for riding, with long, sunny days, and temperatures that don't cause heatstroke just by walking out the door. So after two days of some "weather", the sun reappeared for the working week, just right for taking the long way home from work. The southerly was still stiff, a little cool, but no need for the Belgium knee warmers just yet. The surfers at Lyall Bay were sporting wetsuits, though no full steamers and skull caps should be required for another month or so maybe.

No matter how good or bad the weather is, the locals always seem to find a way to bitch about it, but after they've finished bitching they'll still get out there and do what they like to, or have to do. At least as cyclists here we don't have to be this hard...