North by Northeast

Last week, for the last time, I arrived in Dunedin as an undergraduate.

Just as I drive around the corner and pull up beside the driveway, Snoopy's Christmas begins to play on the radio. I pull out from the kerb and begin to circle the block. Dammit, I love Christmas time. I revel in the decorated streetscape; the sparkling lights and tinsel, shop-front elves and angel-adorned lampposts. I look forward to our annual family photograph with Father Christmas, but not quite as much as I delight in those edible chocolate Santas wrapped in foil.

The Kiwiana backyard soundtrack to summer is, for the most part, a welcome reminder that sunny freedom is finally here: sweet chirpings of both birds and bugs, sizzling of sausages and steak on the barbie (and of skin beneath the sun), lazy buzzing of fat blowflies ...

The post-exam, pre-leaving period provided an opportunity to compile and complete a last-minute list of Dunedin activities; the plan was to while away the time making the most of improving weather and study-free days.

It was a moment we'd been dreaming about for months. The final-minute drop of the pen, the post-essay wring of the wrists, the sigh of exhaustion and exultation: Honours, finally finished.

With exams just around the corner (tomorrow, in fact), cheating is on my mind.

And just like that, October arrived. Emerging from September and the library simultaneously, I scanned the streets for traces of stolen time. Where did it go? Who took it?

If I was still at high school, I'd be tempted to ditch chemistry or physics (or both, preferably), for history and classics, or some other equally "vocationally irrelevant" subject of literary-focused indulgence.

I'd heard it was Queen Victoria who initiated the white wedding dress tradition.

Peter Entwisle took my topic. Well, not really, but I'd already begun lamenting the recent cuts to the art in public places programme before I read his article in Monday's ODT.