One of the great things about this time of the year in Wellington is the film festival. Two weeks of celluloid surfeit. For me, it’s like a mid-winter ritual; you emerge from a fortnight of dark cinemas and discover that spring is almost here. This year, though, I’ve only booked for a relatively modest ten films … in previous years I’ve often gone for more than double that number … it can become a bit of overload, I admit, but that too is all part of the experience. But a more modest personal programme has meant that only once this year have we had films back-to-back, giving a bare half-hour to grab dinner in-between. Courtenay Place has many fast food outlets, so not a problem really, especially near the Embassy where they tend to be a bit better quality. The other night, though, we were at the Paramount and for some bizarre reason, we went into Burger King! My first burger of the century, I think, and not a pleasant experience. Something crumbed and sold as chicken in a sawdust-y bun. However, true confessions time, I did enjoy the fries, and the chocolate sundae was somehow delicious in its artificialness. Which reminds me – we met a woman in Samoa who creates with chemicals food flavours; that sundae was probably a fine expression of her particular art. Anyway, at least Burger King sustained us during the second film, but I certainly wasn’t tempted to return any time soon.
And so ends my once-in-a-century hamburger encounter.