The end is nigh...

OK - we are rapidly approaching Juno's first birthday which means, for those of you that have been paying attention, I have been posting for the last 11 months. My intention had always been to retire the blog after a year and present it to Juno when she turned 18 as a sort of journal of the first year of her life, from her chronically sleep deprived parents perspective.

There have been a few of you, however, who have protested that this is not the correct course of action. That you actually enjoy reading these posts and following our rather insular lives in this quaint little backwater. Well, I say, put your comments where your mouths are: if you want the blog to continue, click the little comments link at the bottom right of this entry (next to the pencil graphic for the remedial amongst you) and send a message saying that the blog must go on, otherwise it will be far too easy for me to just pack it up and get on with something constructive...

It is your choice.

Frangiapanis

We made it back from 2 weeks in Oz and it was, to quote some old duffer, the best of times and the worst of times.

The best? Dad's 70th birthday lunch, relaxing on the beach at Avoca and catching up with old friends (thanks for the wheels, Pete).

The worst? Juno and Jess being savaged by sea lice (bluebottle larvae) in the nipper's pool at south avoca, the sleeplessness that this -and the moving around- ocassioned and the cost of living in Sydney. $10/kilo for organic apples? You'd think the little buggers didn't grow on trees...

Anyway, we made it safely back to Wellington (just). Left a balmy Sydney, prob 25odd degrees, and flew into one of Wellington's southerly gales. Only time I have ever even thought about praying on an aircraft. Paramedics got on board after we had finished taxi-ing to resuscitate some poor woman who had obviously not landed here before.

It got better the next morning when (this is the first week of March remember, and while technically summer is over, you still hold out hope) I had to get up and light the freakin fire - that's right: back to a crisp 11 degrees. Yeah, real good to be home, eh?