What a huge week! It's been fascinating driving around and seeing all the changes - goodbye to the Arthurs Point pub and hello to the new Hilton.
It's been so busy and bad for my diet checking out all my favourite haunts - yes, Provisions are still doing sticky buns and delicious mushrooms and kidneys on toast, Motogrill still has the best coffee anywhere as well as the best cheese rolls, the wonderful Med market sells everything you could want and more and I have had some lamb and some whitebait and New Zealand oranges and pavlova and everything New Zealand is marvellous.
I've also checked out Dunedin's new stadium - as a dedicated non-follower of rugby, I was delighted to have had one of the best nights ever at the Argentina v England match.
We joined the throng walking to the stadium and enjoyed the nonsense from the student flats we passed. Fancy dress and face paint, beer and bare bosoms everywhere.
It was a fabulous chance to catch up with everyone from Queenstown - was anyone here on Saturday night? I wouldn't have thought so as we bumped into so many friends who had come down to see just how great this new stadium is.
The rugby was just like other rugby games I have seen although the Argentinian team was particularly handsome. As rugby organisers always do, they insisted on having half-time and then another 40 minutes of rugby.
Why they don't stop after the first 40 minutes is beyond me.
Anyway, I was just sitting there waiting for the last 37 minutes to be over and wishing something exciting would happen, when something did.
A beautiful black man started running straight towards me.
It was just like a movie. We gazed into each other's eyes as he ran and ran.
He didn't have any clothes on at all, I noticed.
I wondered what we would talk about when he finally reached me.
I thought of all the rumours I have heard about black men, and while he certainly ran very fast, and seemed to have very good rhythm, the other quality that is meant to impress wasn't so impressive.
My darling said it may have been something to do with the cold and the stage fright.
Before I could say a word to him, some mean old security people grabbed him and took him away before I even had a chance to give him my phone number.
And there were still another 36 minutes to go.
Apart from meeting the new stadium, the other reason I was so excited about going to Dunedin was to meet our son's new girlfriend.
As we drove to her flat to collect her, we were given strict instructions about how to behave so as not to frighten her off.
It's very difficult for these young men to find a lovely girlfriend, and when he couldn't find her at her flat, we did wonder if she was just a figment of his imagination.
It would appear that he has inherited his stepfather's listening skills, as beautiful Lucy (for that is her name) had to remind him he was meant to be picking her up at the library.
She's an absolute treasure and although I did my darnedest to follow our son's instructions I did slip up a couple of times by mentioning the toy box I have for my future grandchildren and how keen I am to be a granny, so I hope I haven't ruined things for him.
I'm sure he will let me know if I have.
I also managed to get along to see the Anne Frank exhibition at the Lakes District Museum before it moved on - it sounds as if thousands of you managed to see it as well - 2500 schoolchildren came along while it was showing here and apparently even the most boisterous boys were silenced by what they saw and heard.
Congratulations to all the team at the museum for getting a show of this quality to our district.
Jetlag and general busy-ness have stopped me reading much this week, but I have read Carolyn Burke's biography of Edith Piaf No Regrets.
The trouble with Piaf is that her life was so full of drama and despair and sex and success that this book ends up reading more like a list of lovers and performances than a cohesive story.
So many terrible and terrific things happened in her short life, and while this book definitely gives a full account of it all, there is little of the passion that should colour her story.
I've just opened a beautiful book that came in the mail for me today - it's called Wanaka - Earth to Heaven at Whare Kea - a celebration of Wanaka's artisans, adventurers and magnificent landscape.
If you are one of the few people who read this column for the book reviews, you probably follow Graham Beattie's book blog as well, and may well have read his glowing review of this book.
It is being released today and, unlike the Piaf book, definitely captures the magic and romance of its subject.
Don't forget that the authors of Goodbye Sarajevo will be talking at Dorothy Browns at 5pm on September 22.
And while you are reading this, I am putting together some lists for the following categories - books for older teenage boys, books for men, autobiographies and great travel writing.
What are your favourites? I'd love some suggestions from you all to give me some great new ideas and to remind me of some of my favourites.
