We motored up the coast from Dunedin, stopped off at a lovely town called Oamaru to take lots of photos, whizzed past Christchurch and ended up at Hanmer Springs, a resort where they have hot mineral baths and stayed there for 2 nights.

Our visit coincided with an influx of Brownies and Guides who were in the area for their Jamboree, so there we would be bobbing around in a pool of deliciously warm water when suddenly a group of young girls would come bounding in amidst a great deal of squealing and then spend five minutes debating whether to stay there or go to another pool. Loudly. Decisions, decisions. It's soooo exciting being 12.

We bought a book of Charming Places to Stay in New Zealand, full of homely couples proffering bed and breakfast in boutique villas and promising exquisitely toasted organic bread with homemade jams for our morning repast. It all sounded like a marvellous idea at the time. What we're not sure about, on further reflection, is whether we wish to have sparkling conversation with anyone at that time of the morning whilst we admire their hand-crocheted beer mat collection or congratulate them on their outstandingly good taste in damask pelmets and matching tie-backs. Most of the entries helpfully attach a photo of the host and hostess and therein lies their downfall for us. The men look like plump retired bank managers with a penchant for facial hair, and the women show a tendency for coiffed up-do's and blue eye shadow and we start to feel as if we would be staying with elderly relatives, and they may even make us do the washing up and go to bed early. Margo and Humphrey must remain for another day peering forlornly down the drive from behind the net curtains waiting for us to turn up.