On the map...

Almost everyone (it seems) with whom I have had a casual conversation has been to New Zealand! The lady in Marks and Spencers the other day; Glynis, who was the first of the group to arrive at The Yorkshire Terrier; the gentleman in the Merchant Taylors' Hall today (who had stayed with friends at Orari, part of my old tramping ground). I felt so sorry for the elderly clergyman in the Minster who was easing his back. I commiserated and he talked about the stone floors and standing around on duty in the cold. He was very regretful that he had not been to New Zealand - too far and, with the recent memory of yet another interminable flight, I agreed.

Speaking of which, I have been puzzling over this poster at the entrance to the Methodist Church I pass on the walk into town. Not a good photo (it's behind glass) but I haven't been able to work out the relationship between the picture and the instruction. I wondered if a key to the mystery might lie in the fact that the front garden of the church is planted in New Zealand natives!!