And, to be fair, their apprehension can be understood, if not shared, for the macho ambience of some New Zealand pubs hasn't changed all that much since the days of the six o'clock swill. We of the Big Dry do not go totally unquenched, of course. Bars are legal in local sporting and social clubs. Lights blaze invitingly from golf clubhouses long after dark has fallen across the fairways. Moreover the area is ringed with bottle shops just a metre or two into friendly territory.
Cars return home heavy-laden.
But one Saturday morning in the near future we'll once again ignore the dire strictures of the yellow flyer and have our say at the polling booth. It would be pleasant to drop by the local for a pint and a chat afterwards. We live in hope. A nearby constituency went wet last election - and there have been no reports of the end of civilisation as we know it. This article is one of a regular series of 'letters' from readers living all over the world.