Go back to the humdrum mundanity of our daily lives, one supposes.
But before it recedes into distant memory, I'd like to add my voice to the deserved chorus of congratulations to all involved in a memorably festive celebration of the arts - to the performers, the behind-the-scenes support teams, the festival board, and in particular to the tireless Nicholas McBryde: he should be given the keys to the city's cultural institutions, such is the weight of his contribution to raising the profile of arts in Otago.
In the past couple of weeks, he's been here, he's been there, he's been everywhere.
And, doubtless, had to deal with a few crises and intermittent sticky moments.
One of these occurred the other night at Dame Kiri's fabulous recital, when someone - it could have happened to anyone - fainted in the auditorium and, in the fallout, the diva had to call a halt to the proceedings.
I mention it primarily to note the grace and good humour with which she accommodated the interruption, and to applaud the way she regained the thread of her performance afterwards and went on to sing some of the highlights of the recital, including two or three much-cherished encores.
These events must be occasional hazards for all top performers but nonetheless, in a song recital requiring the highest levels of concentration and focus, the potential derailing impetus should not be underestimated.
Nor should the determination, resolve and dedication it takes to have remained in the top echelon of world opera singers over such a wonderful career.
I suspect very few of us have any idea.
Imagine a Peter Snell, for instance, still running sub-four-minute miles and what - were it physiologically possible - kind of presence of mind, discipline and mental resolve that would demand.
So I have very little time for the Lilliputians who would seek to denigrate her at any and every opportunity - for "crimes" of temperament or ambition or attainment.
It seems to me that the tall poppy predilection in a lot of us is all too ready to rush to judgement when the likes of Dame Kiri respond to events, questions, circumstances in a way, or manner, that suggests they are not quite like the rest of us.
Well, the plain fact is Dame Kiri isn't.
She is a one-off, and Dunedin was singularly privileged to have had the pleasure of experiencing, in our very own town hall, the unadorned performance of a great New Zealander in the twilight of her career.
If I have a minor quibble, it is not with the Dame, but with the general standard of care and etiquette in the auditorium.
Was I the only one who cringed with embarrassment each time - and it happened on at least three or four occasions during the recital - someone knocked a heavy glass over on the wooden floor? The hall acoustics are so good the resultant echoes rattled to the rafters.
For such special recitals, which should be received in pin-dropping silence, in future the powers-that-be ought to provide plastic receptacles - if drinks are to be taken into the hall at all.
It is understandable that numerous people began to feel a bit parched, for it did get pretty warm during the concert.
If my hearing was reliable, at one point Dame Kiri remarked that she had asked for the air conditioning to be turned on - only to be told there wasn't any.
Graciously, she elevated this into a positive by saying how wonderful the town hall is, but the remark does throw into some context the arguments and debate over the planned upgrade of the hall, and the controversy surrounding that.
The reality, looking into the future, is that if we in this little city at the bottom end of a country at the bottom end of the world cannot provide appropriately "modern" venues, we will not attract top international performers.
One hopes the planned overhaul includes some manner of temperature regulation - and, speaking as a six-footer, a little leeway in the leg department wouldn't go amiss as well.
Simon Cunliffe is assistant editor at the Otago Daily Times.
