A nod to Dunedin. 

The place of my birth and a bunch of fairly happy years in the early part of my radio career. 

We were back last month for the graduation of a daughter, now plying her trade in the medical profession. 

Everything about it was awesome. It is what every city in this country should aspire to. 

Christchurch has, rightly, got a lot of headlines for doing things well. And Dunedin is not Christchurch. 

It has not been rebuilt or re-imagined and many bits of it are the same as when I worked there 30 years ago. 

But a lot of bits are better. 

The Ebb hotel is brilliant. It's perfectly placed and you walk everywhere. 

Perhaps most importantly, everywhere we went, and I mean everywhere, people were friendly. 

Not just friendly, but inquiring and helpful. 

Not a shop was entered where we got anything but help and interest and advice and service. It was like New Zealand used to be, or that’s the way it seemed when you live in Auckland. 

From restaurants to cafes, to an art gallery, to hotels and bars and rental car operators, every single interaction delivered. I honestly cannot remember the last time that happened. 

I asked my daughter whether she would miss it. She said six years was plenty, so maybe living and visiting is different. 

Mind you, the lady at Michael Hill said she had moved from Auckland and would never be back. 

The airport is still too far from town. They built it with a vision, ironically, that the city would spread across the Taieri. It didn’t, well not enough, and I think we can conclude it never will. 

It was sunny that weekend and 23 degrees and everyone told us how unusual all that was. 

So maybe we got lucky – good weather, nice hotel, we bought three paintings, plane arrived and took off on time, daughter won some prizes so we were full of pride, food was good and service was professional and friendly. 

So maybe we were lucky. Or just maybe, Dunedin rocks.