Going away helped. When I come back I feel like going through a bizarre Papal- like soil kissing ceremony because now there is an embarrassing plethora of greenery. Sunsets over the smog that turn you into a very bad poetess, professional work in all sort of theatres, and some little by- blows that come from being slightly well known if only vocally. People smile at me in the street - the smile says who the hell are you but sometimes they SPEAK - "Don’t like your hair"; or "I know the voice but I can’t quite place the face". Christchurch at its friendly, outgoing best - a quality many will not concede. It’s the same "many" who still call this the English city - where this unfortunate comparison began I do not know but compared to English cities we are litter free; doggy doos we’re working on, and although (against the advice of the Regional Council) we’re still burning coal we do know we’ve got a problem.

And the water - the cold, clean, tasteless beautiful Christchurch water, and the clean (not tasteless or cold) beautiful spare lines of City Central, and the jostling malls and the one way system that would work brilliantly if Christchurchians (sorry) would only learn to drive.

And my husband is here so I haven’t got a choice - and I don’t want one.