Thinking today about the last few years spent in a beautiful city by the sea.
At the divide between the two narrow islands I call home, usually on the very edge of most world maps, sits a city called Wellington.
A city of intense winds, endless rolling hills and rolling waves, and a picture of perfection on it's rare still days.
A small town labelled the capital, Wellington was home for several years. Despite the wildest windy days (of which there were many) and the rumbling earth below us, it was a fantastic place to live.