It's sevens weekend in Wellington, and town is overrun by people from the provinces. You see them when you walk through the central city, big square-shouldered men with trim goatees and dark glasses leading their entourages along the pavement, pointing and saying things like "it's over there" and "down that street". They're cocky but wary, somewhat like a patrol of an occupying army.
Wellington likes to think of itself as the cosmopolitan capital, but we're only 164,000 people - small enough that an influx like this changes the character of the place. I resent it, quite frankly. It's not like walking through town normally is very inspiring; people here are mostly smug and uninteresting. But it's what I'm used to and comfortable with - there's at least the illusion of living in a city. And then all these people come and wander round like they bloody own the place.
I guess I'm partly just bitching because I'm not down at the Stadium drinking and partying with everyone else - conscientiously, I am saving-for-overseas.