12 degrees C when I flew out of Wellington yesterday, but actually minus 15 when you take into account the biting Southerly wind chill. 24 when we flew into Brisbane, and nearer 20 when we got back to our apartment after a lovely meal out in Noosa. Still wasn’t warm enough for the couple that shared a lift with us: “She’s bloody cold out there, mate!” Poor guy, I’m guessing his singlet, shorts and jandals* were the warmest clothes he had.
*I was going to say thongs but I wanted to spare you the mental image this might contour up.
