With the warmer weather we’ve been having these last few days here in Wellington (and possibly the onset of the summer school holidays) it’s that time again when young peoples’ thoughts apparently turn to sex.

I work over the road from the Queens Wharf events centre. At the south end of this ugly barn-like structure there is a large balcony about two stories off the ground that has become known, for reasons that will soon be clear, the “Balcony of Love”.

Some genius people seem to think that while they are on the balcony (this is the clever bit) No-one Can See Them From Below. This is true. However, in an amusing lapse of judgement, they often fail to realise that behind the mirror glass of the row of office buildings across the road there are literally hundreds of people who overlook the scene. And where our amorous couples think they are the first to find this seemingly secluded spot (centrally located, only minutes from suburban transport links), the office workers know that it’s all been done before. Within minutes, the structural integrity of the cheap and nasty 80’s boom construction high-rises is being challenged by a stampede towards the eastern windows.

This afternoon it was the turn of two young women to provide the spectacle. While it was nice of them to thoughtfully provide some light entertainment and a handy source of conversation around the office coffee machine, you’ve got to hope they pick a slightly more private spot next time. Otherwise they might get rudely interrupted, as has happened in the past. Once the police were called in by someone. Another time it was a group of workers from our side of the road.

Early this year (also during school holiday time), a teenage couple spent much of an afternoon “reclining” together on the balcony. (You have to pity whoever gets to go on the bottom – it would surely be a bit hard and cold.) They’d been using the balcony on a fairly regular basis during the previous couple of weeks, and after an hour and a half on this day it was decided by some onlookers that a lesson should be taught. Four people crossed the road, sneaked up the steps, and when on the balcony unfurled large pieces of paper. As if judging the Olympics they each showed a score out of 10 first to the gymnastic couple, then the audience (to the sound of cheers). The young bloke leaped up leaving his partner somewhat exposed while she, apparently in tears, desperately tried to cover herself. The Olympic officials appeared to explain to the couple the size of their audience (gesturing across the road to all the overlooking buildings); the bloke then compounded his error by waving proudly while his partner just looked even more miserable.

They didn’t come back though.