Dunedin

Perhaps more "Scottish" than Edinburgh that it was named after, but New Zealand through and through. A bit parochial, a bit tired, not sure whether it is set up for the hoards of international tourists that it is attracting, but certainly sure of it's birthright. The city was partly set up by Robbie Burn's nephew, the Reverend Thomas Burns, who was co-founder of the Otago settlement in 1848, and a large statue of the Bard has pride of place in the centre of the city. You can feel the influence everywhere. We felt at home here, partly because of the drizzle which had a familiar wetness about it, and partly because of the tartan and whisky which we could see everywhere. Stephen, the genial host of the guest house that Catriona had booked us in to, made us very welcome in his large house at the top of one of Dunedin's steepest hills, and meticulously showed us how every aspect of his idiosyncratic house operated. He has proved to be a font of local knowledge which was useful when we wanted to know about the top local tourist attractions, but it may be difficult to get out of the house tomorrow if he spots us as we leave and decides to chat. For tonight though, we can relax and get our feet up in Dunedin suburban splendour - though it does make Margie feel a bit like she is visiting her grannie's house...