The future of inner-city living looks bright; the future of gardening, dim
Wednesday, 4 March 2026
Joe Bennett is an award-winning Lyttelton-based writer, columnist and playwright. He is a regular contributor.
OPINION: My mental image of Christchurch city centre no longer matches the reality of Christchurch city centre, so I went on a walking tour of the reality. I found much to admire.
In the eastern frame I admired the architects’ ability to fit six new houses where only one had stood before. The future of inner-city living in the Garden City looks bright; the future of gardening, dim.
In the Margaret Mahy playground I admired the range of hi-tech play equipment. From my own childhood I recognised only the swings and the slide but resisted the urge to have a go. I also resisted the urge to linger. As a solitary ageing male in such a place you feel the policeman in your head moving you on. But the children seemed very happy.
There is much to admire about the new stadium, Te Kaha, such as its ability to pop into view unexpectedly, blocking off a street. In a flat city the stadium is squatly dominant. There’s an essay to be written on the parts of Christchurch from which the stadium can’t be seen.
On Kilmore St I admired a cottage that had survived from the 19th century. Two rooms, a low stud, iron roof, weatherboards, and a veranda opening directly onto the pavement. When built, that veranda looked out on a street of mud and horses. In time it looked out on men marching to Gallipoli or Tobruk. Today it looked out on ceaseless cars, young people on their way to a music festival and a rash of pert little townhouses.
In the area behind Cathedral Square once known as Little Bosnia I admired the queue of tourists for the tram. When the tram was proposed in the 1990s I scoffed. Why reinstate what had been ripped out years ago? Why build public transport of no use to locals? The idea was an obvious dud. Every tram I saw on my little tour was packed.
In Cathedral Square I did not admire the barriers that still surround the ruins, but I did admire the timeline printed on them. Apparently the restoration of the cathedral will be completed in 2027.
In Victoria Square I admired the trees that had grown to mask the town hall. I also admired the town hall for refusing to become less ugly.
When I lived in town 30 years ago I would often stop on Gloucester Street bridge to gaze into the waters of the Avon, as pretty a river as ever graced a city centre, and admire the trout that lived in it. The river flows as prettily as ever but I could find no trout.
The blank bulk of Te Pae, the new convention centre, is like a hockey puck warped. Having admired its windowless exterior I made a bid to admire its windowless interior, but was rebuffed by a flunkey with a condescension that made me shudder.
Outside on the footpath I nodded hello to a man pushing his infant in a chair, before we were both nudged aside by a slow-moving car. Quite legally, apparently, for here is a mixed-use thoroughfare, an experimental free-for-all. I admired the novelty of the idea but reserved judgement on its wisdom.
Across the river stood the ruins of the Provincial Buildings. Many years ago I went in to admire the wooden debating chamber. On the riverbank the council have erected an information board.
“Described as the ‘pleasantest room in Canterbury,’ architect Benjamin Mountfort designed the 1864 Bellamy’s wing in Gothic Revival.”
On my way back to Lyttelton I thought admiringly of the late Mr Mountfort, not only for his enduring architecture, but also for having been likened to a room.