A sunny blue Christmas and a crisp white New Year

I see English author Adam Russ has dubbed our hometown of Wellington one of "the world's most miserable, ugly, boring and inbred destinations".

According to the Herald on Sunday, the city rates four out of five stars in the boredom rankings, making it the equal of Adamstown on Pitcairn Island (where the "most likely cause of death is declining a marriage proposal") and Sofia in Bulgaria (renowned for "buildings so ugly that even the Nazis couldn't be bothered to raze them to the ground").

Apparently Wellington has negligible cultural heritage, boasting shearing contests and little else. I daresay Georgie will object to any claim that Wellington has poached the shearing contests from her birthplace of Masterton, "Home of the Golden Shears".

Hmm, I'll have to find Mr Russ and show him the real meaning of "boring" as I set him straight at great length.

I must admit, though, that aside from the quality of the coffees (and frankly I haven't found a really good coffee since leaving Wellington, expect perhaps in a small cafe in old Mexico City) I have little complaint about Mr Russ's capital city, London.

While Wellington, I understand, suffered a somewhat grey Christmas, London enjoyed the clearest and bluest skies I had seen since arriving.

Georgie and I walked from our new apartment in Brixton to Kennington, about 45 minutes away, to join the Reverend Simon Acland and his family and friends for the most traditional Christmas dinner either of us have ever enjoyed. 16 of us sat down round the table at 3.30pm, after watching the Queen's Message on TV, and we didn't leave the table till about five hours later. The turkey roast with all the trimmings was followed by flaming Christmas pudding, brandy butter, and then by some of the richest cheeses I have ever tasted.

The snow arrived a few days later, while Australia and New Zealand were sweltering in a heatwave. I did an evening reporting shift at the Sunday Times on New Year's Eve, at midnight knocking back half a plastic cup of bubbly in the news room with the nine other people who had drawn the New Year short straw.

But Georgie was joined by Wellington friends Jane Wynyard (left) and Brigit Stevens (centre) for a few drinks and eats in Brixton, before they braved the Tube strike to make their way to Vauxhall Bridge to watch the fireworks over Westminster.

Brigit stayed for a few days, and last night I made the three of us a New Zealand leg of lamb roast with Yorkshire pud et al. Even after spending a month or two in a freezer ship, there's still nothing quite like pink juicy New Zealand lamb. And to my astonishment, the Yorkshire puddings actually rose and crisped up just as they should - on my first attempt. I'm sure that will make me complacent and they'll flop next time.

We took advantage of Simon's well-equipped kitchen in Kennington to have a few people round for curry one night in November.

From left, Ben, Rebecca, Gaye, Georgie and Jonathan, Brigit. Missing from the photo are Lee and Anna, whom I believe was behind the camera.

Georgie's brother Fred came to visit us in November while we were staying in Kennington, the first time we'd seen him in several years. He has been braving the wilds of Jerusalem and Bournemouth. He returned home to New Zealand briefly before spending a little time in Japan.

My sister Anita, her partner Brendon, and their children Fynn and Saskia visited in December. Fynn had changed from a red-mop-headed toddler to a serious-faced young Mancunian since we had last seen him, and it was the first time we'd met Saskia - who has inherited the curly hair.

On Christmas Eve we learnt that Georgie’s dad, Peter, has cancer. He is having an operation on 9 January with radiotherapy and chemo to follow. It’s certainly no way to start the New Year and our thoughts are with him and all our family back home.

Georgie is back in the office today at Hackney Borough Council, one of London's bigger boroughs, where she is working as a PR trout. Her contract finishes at the end of March. It’s a great first job and she’s looking after a range of portfolios, from libraries to museums, parks to adult social services. She spent the last week editing Hackney Today, the Council’s newspaper which goes out to 10,000 residents. I asked her for a job but she said she’s not hiring.

I spent a couple of weeks working at the Sunday Times, where I covered the Norman Kember abduction in Iraq, and the Buncefield oil depot fire, and I have also done a little reporting/feature writing work for the Financial Times and the Guardian. Breaking into the national papers is proving difficult - New Zealand experience counts for nil and one news editor told me that I might as well have just graduated from journalism school - but I have some more work at the Guardian this week. From there, I'll take it as it comes.

The good news is that, with my Christmas presents from Georgie of a super-sharp carving knife (it sliced off the tips of two of my fingers without me even feeling it!) and a big Italian cookbook, I am able to spend plenty of time in our nice new and spacious kitchen.

Happy New Year to all.