Having taken the mickey out of Hamilton last Fryday because it was shrouded in fog I now find that Auckland too is susceptible to the same spoliation. This morning has to the foggiest I can recall. I cannot see as far as my front gate and what is beyond I leave to intuition and memory. At least such it is in Helensville; and that is deeply worrying. I would hate to think the fog is confined to Helensville rather than blanketing all of Auckland, because that would mean the town I live in has yet another similarity to Hamilton. It is already going nowhere, deeply depressed and shut on Sundays. Now it too is afraid to show its face. Helensville has become, I am afraid, like Hamilton—the Peter Dunne of towns.
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