by On my last day in New Zealand, it’s currently 21 degrees. The perfect temperature, and not something I’d bargained for when I packed those winter woolies. I can hear the bellbirds in the garden. This morning I had a decent walk up the Downs with Dad. I’m very impressed by my parents’ fitness. They walk most days, and Mum also has her golf and occasionally her tennis. In Geraldine you’re not restricted to walking on the flat, and they take advantage of the undulations to get their heart rate up. On our way back we bumped it my cousin’s daughter, Kylie. I remember when she was born – probably in 1988, during the height of Kyliemania. She was a very good rugby player, and now she’s got four kids. I really am in the crawler lane, aren’t I?
Dad got an email this morning to say that his sister had been admitted to hospital. Just for one night I think, but the email was devoid of any hows and whys. Dad spoke to her at the weekend. She was depressed and hadn’t got out of bed or eaten proper food for ages. Dad tried to give her some advice to help her break the cycle, but he got “you don’t know what real depression is like” and there was nothing he could do.
A long, arduous journey awaits, including an eight-hour stay in Singapore – one of the better airports to spend eight hours in. I suffered very little from jet lag when I arrived in NZ – I doubt I’ll be so lucky when I get back to Romania.
My parents’ place today, with some building work in the background
