Once upon a Sunday morning – and I’m talking about the days before smartphones could do everything but make the coffee – there was a ritual. You woke early, made a pot of coffee that was strong enough to be a breakfast drink in its own right, and reached for the paper. The physical sensation of turning those pages – that quiet crack at the spine, the slight rustle as you flipped from headlines to the bottom-right corner where the curious little yarns hid – was as much a part of the morning as the coffee steam rising off your favourite mug.
Not so this Christmas in Mairangi Bay.
I’m staying in this lovely seaside suburb on Auckland’s North Shore for the holidays – a community of sandy beaches, cafés, boutique shops and a surf lifesaving club that reminds you this is holidayland, not just another suburb. Mairangi Bay has grown from a holiday spot in the early 20th century into a full-blown village where you can stroll from the beach to the shops in moments and, traditionally, pick up a coffee and a paper.
But on this Sunday morning, I walked into five coffee shops – all packed with people, laughter and the scent of flat whites – and not one carried a physical newspaper. Not at Woolworths. Not at the fruit market. Not even at the lotto ticket point. Not a single newspaper in sight.
And I found myself wondering: when did the coffee and paper ritual slip away?
It’s not just my imagination. Across Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand, print newspaper readership has been declining for years as digital news consumes more of our attention. In New Zealand, recent data shows average issue readership of major metropolitan dailies falling nearly 10 per cent over the past year, with print circulation slipping too.
Australia, meanwhile, tells a slightly more nuanced story. While many titles have seen declining print numbers, some mastheads – particularly The Australian -have actually increased both print and digital readership amid a challenging media landscape. Still, the general picture across our region reflects a shift: people read news differently now.
But this shift doesn’t lessen the ache I feel when there’s no paper to hold on a lazy Sunday.
The Pleasure of the Physical Paper
There’s something tactile and irreplaceable about a newspaper. A digital screen is bright and fast, but it never gives you that little thrill of turning to a story tucked away on page 44. It doesn’t let you find an odd cartoon you missed last week. It doesn’t encourage idle exploration – the way you might glance at a recipe in the holidays, or read an unexpected feature about a local festival – exactly the sort of thing that helps you know a place you’re visiting.
On holiday – even at a favourite place like Mairangi Bay – that’s what I want. I want to read about the broader world and the local stories that make that place unique. These days, we Google, scroll and tap, but we rarely linger in the way reading a print paper encourages.
Why Mairangi Bay Still Feels Like a Community
Maybe that’s why Mairangi Bay itself feels so comforting. It is a coastal community with a village feel – beach walks, cafés, a farmers’ market, art centre and clubs that bring people together. Unlike the transient rush of city life, here you can wander from a surf lifesaving club on the sand to a latte at a café without feeling rushed. People talk to each other. They smile at dogs on the footpath. Some gather around lunch tables that spill onto pavements.
That sense of place – the community vibe – makes the absence of actual newspapers in cafés all the more poignant. You can have a friendly chat while you wait for your order, but you can’t hold a local story in your hands.
Perhaps the paper is still out there somewhere – tucked under a seat cushion, or in the glovebox of someone’s car. But downtown North Shore’s cafés not carrying them feels like a quiet shift in how we experience mornings. Our rituals change, but the longing for something familiar – something that slows us down – doesn’t.
A Holiday Treat Worth Holding On To
For me, reading a paper on holiday is a treat. It’s a way to slow the brain, sip the coffee properly, and learn something unexpected – the sort of thing that doesn’t always translate to a screen. It’s practical too: local news sections often tell you about the community you’re visiting – events, markets, weather features, profiles – stories that paint a richer picture of a place than anything algorithm served up.
In Mairangi Bay, a place that’s quietly lively without being frenetic, that rhythm fits perfectly. There are beaches to walk, art to admire, local wines to sample and people to watch. But flipping through an actual paper, discovering something tucked in a corner of the weekend edition – that, increasingly, feels like part of a holiday that’s slowly disappearing.
Maybe next Christmas I’ll bring a stack with me. Because some rituals are worth holding on to. Maybe the local cafés will even put one out – if enough of us ask for it.