Last day of February, last day of summer, last day of furiously drawing and posting and panicking. We woke up to the news of a huge earthquake in Chile. A tsunami alert was in force for the whole east coast of New Zealand. When I was a kid I was terrified of tidal waves (we didn't call them tsunamis then). For the first five years of my life we lived in a place called Plimmerton, in a little house right across the road from the sea. Behind the house was a steep hill, almost like a cliff, and for years I had dreams about frantically trying to haul myself up it, as an enormous silent wave ploughed towards the beach.
After a strange edgy day of speculating about tsunamis, we went down to Parnell Baths to watch a bevy of swimming beauties perform in the water, and to have a swim ourselves. It was hot, it was blue and sparkly, everyone looked incredibly happy, and I thought (as I have many times this summer) how lucky we are to live in this place. It's easy to take it for granted. It's easy to overlook the little but great things and spend far too much time moaning about the government, the end of summer (I don't believe it) and the weather. Crazy.