Autumn is a time of contrasts. You begin wearing shoes and socks, then change to jandals – then back to shoes and socks. A day begins misty then clears to sunshine. Leaves are turning yellow and falling, and new flowers are coming out. Fruit is ripe, and birds are making the most of the myrtle berries and grapes before they rot.

Changes are happening in the city all the time. The new Court Theatre opened this week. A few doors down the street, the old Isaac Theatre Royal with its traditional architecture reminds us of the past, even when it is zhooshed up at night.

The End of the Golden Weather fits for the first performance at The Court Theatre. The play reminds me of the beginnings of professional theatre in NZ (I saw Bruce Mason perform it solo in the 1970s) and of a time when summer centred on the beach, and families ate afternoon tea from tea trolleys and played charades – and many made sport of the less fortunate. We still do, it seems; more brutal when it is government policy.

It makes me think of what has changed and what hasn’t. I change from my sixties (freedom: I may do as I like) to my seventies (I may do as I like but can I?) this month. It is daunting (checking for signs of decrepitude), yet I’m curious to know what comes next (not the decrepitude bit). It’s plays, books, the newspaper and history which remind me that a lot changes in the world and a lot does not. That’s why Shakespeare – and Bruce Mason – remains relevant. I’m still waiting to see what we can achieve to redeem ourselves.

The astronauts in Orbital circling the earth continually, get the big picture. They see night turn to day, note weather patterns changing, and observe other evidence of our impact on the planet. They conclude that the solution to our survival is not in outer space.

I can imagine what they see, but I’m pretty short-sighted, just living in the moment: Is it time to put extra blankets on the beds? what’s for dinner? what’s the weather like? what will I wear today? – that sort of thing.

Time may change me

But I can’t trace time.

– David Bowie gave us a masterclass in adaptability and re-inventing yourself. Even he sounded uncertain when he sang ‘Ch-ch-ch-ch -changes’.