By Wellington.live

Wellington is a city that prides itself on its quirks—from wind gusts that snatch umbrellas to the inexplicable chaos of the Bucket Fountain. But long before TikTok and neighbourhood Facebook groups became the venting ground for the city’s oddities, Wellingtonians were already making bizarre requests… directly to the council.

Nestled in the quiet vaults of the Wellington City Archives lies a treasure trove of delightfully strange, sincere, and at times completely unhinged public correspondence. These letters, many dating back to the early and mid-20th century, offer a curious glimpse into the everyday concerns and eccentricities of the capital’s residents. And if nothing else, they prove that Wellington has always been a little weird.

We trawled through the best of the bunch to bring you ten of the most brilliantly baffling enquiries ever sent to the city’s civil servants.

1. “Can You Arrange for Someone to Meet My Wife From the Plane?”

In an era before mobile phones and Uber, communication required a bit more… initiative. One letter earnestly requested that the council “please arrange for someone to meet my wife from the plane, she has never been here before.” No flight number. No arrival time. Just raw, blind faith in local bureaucracy.

2. The Quicksand Collector

Arguably the most mysterious entry in the archives comes from a gentleman requesting “about a little jar full” of quicksand. What he planned to do with it remains a mystery. Council minutes do not record whether the quicksand was procured—or whether the requester sank into it.

3. Butterflies for Dolls – The International Trade Deal

One of the more charming letters involved a child proposing a cultural exchange: a collection of New Zealand butterflies in exchange for Japanese dolls. While the council wasn’t in the import-export business, it’s the sort of wholesome, pen-pal energy we could use more of today.

4. Wanted: A Goatherd

A particularly inventive young Wellingtonian once wrote to the council requesting help in finding a “goatherd” to milk his goats. Whether this was a legitimate business opportunity or a child’s idea of a prank is unknown. Either way, the city was apparently fresh out of professional goat milkers.

5. The Fortune Teller Registry

Apparently concerned about matters mystical, one citizen wrote in asking for a list of all local fortune tellers. It’s unclear whether they were seeking guidance or regulation—but it certainly suggests there was a thriving clairvoyant scene in Wellington at some point. Or at least one very nosy psychic fan.

6. Please Return Our Cow

Another archival gem details a dispute where a resident claimed the council had “accidentally impounded” their family cow. The writer insisted the cow had not been wandering and should be returned “immediately.” While there’s no record of the cow’s fate, this raises some serious questions about 1950s livestock law enforcement.

7. Toilet Paper Specifications

Yes, someone once wrote to the council with a strongly worded complaint about the exact brand and texture of toilet paper used in public facilities. The letter included a suggestion for alternatives, implying an alarming amount of product research had gone into it.

8. Alien Lights Over Lyall Bay

In the 1970s, a spate of letters referenced strange flashing lights in the sky over Lyall Bay. One particularly vivid account described “hovering discs” that “refused to obey known physics.” While the council made no comment on extraterrestrial life, it did suggest the lights may have come from a nearby Navy exercise.

9. A Protest About Seagulls

One letter simply stated: “Too many seagulls. Unacceptable.” That was the entire complaint. No context, no proposed solution. Just righteous indignation aimed squarely at Wellington’s most persistent feathery pests.

10. A Request for Weather Control

Perhaps the most ambitious appeal was from a man convinced the council could stop the wind. “Other cities have calmer weather,” he claimed. “Why can’t you make Wellington’s wind go away?” If only, sir. If only.

Wellington’s Lovable Eccentricity

The beauty of these letters lies not just in their oddity, but in what they reveal about a community: curious, hopeful, whimsical, and wonderfully sincere. Whether it’s someone seeking spiritual guidance, dairy expertise, or cosmic intervention, the people of Wellington have always thought big—even when writing to their local council.

The city archives staff, far from mocking these entries, treat them with a kind of affectionate awe. As one archivist put it, “They remind us that the public once truly believed the council could fix anything—from family reunions to flying saucers.”