He thought for a while, and said, "Aw yeah. So long as you're not Covid-19."
We grabbed some tourist brochures — so much to do! so many people to meet! — and waited outside for the airport bus into town. It was a nice sunny day in autumn. The air smelled fresh and clean. We held up a finger and wet it to see which way the wind was blowing.
TUESDAY
We're all anyone is talking about and so we thought it best to keep a pretty low profile for a few days. Best to go under the radar. Not make a fuss. Keep everyone in a false sense of security.
Besides, we read in the paper that everyone is indoors. Their prime minister has banned gatherings of 500 people or more, and demanded social distancing.
But maybe the Na Zilluners don't read because we stumbled on to very festive, very physically intimate St Patrick's Day gatherings. Begorrah and top o' the morning to ye!
There's now 28 of us around the country. We've all come in from the airport and it looks as though someone has twigged to our cunning ruse because their prime minister has closed the border. She's also banned gatherings of 100 people or more.
She's bloody good, isn't she? We'd actually heard about her before we arrived, that she was amazing in a crisis.We are the ultimate crisis.
FRIDAY
We went to Eden Park. No one was there. We went to Forsyth Barr Stadium. No one was there. We went to Whakarewarewa. No one was there. We went to Queenstown. No one was there. We went to be seen in Johnsonville and Geraldine. No one was there. We went to four weddings and a funeral. No one was there. We went to a night at the opera. No one was there. We went to lose our shirt at the races. No one was there. We went to watch the office clock. No one was there. We went to prove our innocence in court. No one was there. We went to prove our love at a nightclub. No one was there. We went to test for a vaccine at university. No one was there. We went to swipe our frequent flyer card at the airport. No one was there. We went to the shipyards to taste the sweet mystery of the sea. No one was there. We waited. We read a book of poems. "Defenceless under the night," wrote W.H. Auden, when World War II was declared, "Our world in stupor lies." We held up a finger and waited to see which way the wind was blowing.
