Observations from City Walks tour guide Athol Parks

Stuck at home, deprived of an income, tour guide and former journalist Athol Parks resolved to write about the experience. These episodes are from a series, Alert Level Four. Athol is seeking a publisher.

March 27

Day two

Wingatui

WE follow the railway line, from the Gladstone Road overpass to Wingatui Junction. There, near the start point of the Otago Central Railway, sit Wingatui signal box and station. These elegant little structures, built in 1913-14, announce that this place mattered. This was a special place, a waypoint on an important railway. Though derived from British models, the red and cream weatherboard buildings, complete with finials, look very much at home.

We turn back. A friend passes, walking her dog. She's been walking this brute, a German shepherd, since our teen was in a stroller. We say hello. Further on, another woman approaches, walking two dogs. We keep left, by the railway line, so she can pass - but she walks straight at us. We hold our course. “Too close”, she says as she passes.

March 28

Day three

Bella

IT'S Saturday, Day Three. I sit at my keyboard, stewing, while my wife darts about. She's not happy – and it's not just me or this heightened state of anxiety. She's worried about Bella.

Bella is the most adorable Orpington hen. An integral part of our family, she leads a gang which once numbered five. But she's been ill this week and we worry about losing her – because we love her, and because her death would impact the other three girls.

We bathe and dry Bella, then release her in the chook run.

“I'll get some leaves”, says my wife.

“I'll come with you”.

We drive to a park and gather leaves for the chook run. We work in silence. We take the scenic route home. Again there are people out, walking and biking. But today their expressions look grim.

April 1

Day seven

The leak

THERE'S a leak in front of our neighbour's house. I noticed it last week. It was a trickle then, issuing from a freshly cut square in the pavement. The leak came first, I suppose. Contractors must have cut through the asphalt to get at it. They'd done some work and backfilled the hole. What was there before, I wondered. A water toby?

Work resumed this morning. I return from my walk to find a water truck there and a man knee deep in the hole. The man - Jacob? - is wrestling: with a water blaster and a vacuum hose. His mate, a skinny bloke, stands by. I bide my time.

They cut the engine and I wander over. “Making progress?” The man looks up. He shifts his earmuffs. “I live two doors up. There's another leak there. It's coming from our water toby. Just thought I'd mention it while you guys were out here”. The man looks at me.

“We can't just jump on it. You'll have to report it. Phone the council and they'll give you a number”.

“Phone the council”, says his mate.

The engine starts back up.

Work continues, all day and into the evening. That's odd. I go for a walk. Returning, I meet a surge of water. I hurry along the street. Ahead I see lights, a digger, piles of rubble. I count four water trucks. The men look worried. They stand around the hole, which is appreciably bigger. There's a guy on a cellphone. I smile at their misfortune. I go inside. I'll make a coffee. I turn the tap on. There's no water. 

City Walks offer guided walks showcasing Dunedin's history, architecture and urban renewal. The essential introduction to Dunedin, and the perfect way to discover your own city.