Majestic Huntly, on a rainy Sunday, before and after closing time
Alright, I'm a crummy photographer. But how can Paul Scott and so many other members of the Aucklintelligenstia continue to sneer at the little coal town on the Waikato, when the mixture of chimneysmoke, diesel fumes, and toi toi spores can give the evening light such sutble modulations, as it glances off the muddy river? Beats me. How did the sneerers lose their sense of the exotic? Would they also sneer at Coleridge's Xanadu?