International Oyster Card

I am going to start playing the lottery.  There are only 4 million people in New Zealand so my chances of winning are much greater than when I used to play at home.  My aim is to win enough money to secure unlimited travel between the UK and NZ for my family.  I would like a kind of Oyster Card situation so I just wander into Auckland airport, bleep my card through the gates and hop on the plane as and when I please.  Business class would be rather nice but I don't really mind.  I miss trains, shopping in Boots, pubs, the trees, front doors of terraced houses and plugs with 3 prongs.

My parents fly out here at the end of August but I have started nagging my mum to see if she can slip in a quick visit before then too.  I am playing on the parental guilt thing as I know how powerful it is when my children use it on me.

Stand too close and you'll be covered in it

Despite being rather a frantic, excitable person I don't tend to get stressed by too much.  I can roll with the punches as well as the next man.  For two weeks however I have felt increasingly anxious to the point were the last three days have been spent in a state of nauseous panic.  A tennis ball of sick felt lodged in the base of my throat, held back by the faintest pressure, ready to expel itself bileous and green in a broken, teary breakdown.

I spoke to my Dad and the husband and voiced a few of my niggling worries.  They both had the same thing to say.  Life is for enjoying, particularly in the now.  Don't worry about things too much.  It was such welcome, calming and simple advice.  Then I read an article about someone trying to let go in various ways.  Thank goodness for Dads and husbands as well as random advice from strangers.  This morning I still feel nervy but I no longer feel like I'm gliding here and there with a face of pinched muscles and a brain smashing round in cavernous darkness.

Royal Wedding highs and lows

There were two highlights for me.  The first was witnessing the warm, real and ordinary love between the bride and groom.  Although it was an enormous affair watched by billions and meticulously choreographed to within an inch of its life it was a grand spectacle of the monarchy butit was also just a wedding.

The second highlight was seeing London stick out its chest, hold up its chin and show off its beauty, history and ability to throw a party to the world.  I felt so very proud of my home.

Although I would love to have been in the UK to join in the celebrations I was lucky enough to go to a party thrown by someone who clearly understood the need for some pomp and circumstance.  Champagne flowed all night and trays of delectable little bites were laid out on the best linen.  Pews were arranged with the TV as the altar with pink bows flowers and programmes decorating our 'Westminster Abbey'.  A framed pic of the happy couple kept an eye on you in the bathroom and you were reminded to 'Keep Calm and Carry On' in the hallway.  It was absolutely everything a royal wedding party should be - attention to detail and appearance of paramount importance but delivered with tongue in cheek frivolity.  With that in mind, there were only highs, no lows.

Toodle pip

My parents left on Wednesday. During the 3 years we have lived here this was their fourth visit. This was easily the hardest goodbye. As we become more established in New Zealand I realise the possibility of us moving back to the UK fades and their visits become more and more bittersweet. I enjoy their company intensely whilst being stingingly aware of its fleeting nature. During the last two weeks of my parents' trip here I started to get anxious. The goodbye loomed and I dreaded the cold, grey smoke which I knew would hiss into my chest and expand it with loneliness.

Wednesday morning and we kissed and cuddled at the airport. Teary and sad I didn't watch their plane depart as I normally would but turned and walked out.

My loving parents are generous enough to come over often and visit us in our home where I live with my healthy husband and children. Getting blue and upset because I miss them seems like navel gazing self indulgence when you consider what so many others are facing in Christchurch and Japan as they try and cope with the new face of their lives and future.

With that in mind I have opted for a smile every time I think of my ma and pa and feeling lucky for all our time we have together. Because they live so far away, when they come to stay we never while away our time with the daily communication of chores and time passers but instead really relish our time together. We have done nothing more adventurous than build sandcastles, swim in the pool, eat ice cream and read stories, all within a 2km radius but it has been glorious.

lovely pic taken by Quinn O'Connell Photography

The furthest point on the planet

I miss my parents. In quite a consuming way. I think about them most of the time. It isn't just because I love them, it's because I enjoy their company so much. I love chatting to them, we like doing the same sorts of things, they make me feel great about myself, they make me laugh, they are positive and generous and they love life. I never feel like I need space from them and however much time I spend with them, it feels like it's not enough.

When we decided to move to New Zealand in 2007 I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get on the plane and fly to the furthest point on the planet away from them. In my 'the world revolves around me' fantasy (which the husband assures me it doesn't) my parents live next door. We live in a chocolate box cottage with wild flowers climbing all over the walls and apple trees dotted through the garden offering dappled shade. We are continuously planning adventures and there is a constant stream of people of all ages through our house, drinking tea, eating cake and quaffing wine whilst doubled over with exquisite laughter. All my mates live within spitting distance and our children run wild with each other. All this takes place in Devon, the Isle of Wight or Stamford in Lincolnshire where I went to school.

I also miss English things like people saying "ooh, I'll put the kettle on" as a reaction to any drama ranging from missing out on a parking space to a death in the family. I miss the kind of dry humour found particularly in the north where my parents live. My Dad recounted a conversation he overheard between two elderly gentlemen yesterday. "Hello Frank, it's been a while hasn't it? How have you been?" Frank replied "Well I woke up this morning so I can't complain."

Since returning from Auckland last weekend I have felt rather unsettled and raw. That always excacerbates my homesickness. My parents rang today and told me they have booked their tickets to come and visit in January. I'm so lucky they are happy to travel here as often as possible.

The photo was taken by the lad as I stood on a chair to talk to my neighbour over the fence. It tickles me to see the world from his height.