No more sleeps

Now while some of us, in the run-up to our family expedition to the Other Hemisphere, have been flat-out toothbrushing mould out of the inner recesses of the shower cabinet, hacking a rotted tree stump out of the hen-run and terrifying the dog by taking her for a public bath and pedicure, others have had the leisure to be playing with the labelling machine.* You might have thought that see-through plastic containers obviated the need for labels, but clearly (ha) not.

There's rather more pre-trip pressure involved in engaging a house-sitter brought up by a fiercely finicky mother than I would have liked; but I'm hopeful that we'll come home to a house that's neater by far than when my own, markedly less fastidiously-raised, daughters have been left in charge.

The weather is being difficult: lots of rain here making the last-minute laundry a challenge; plus it's turned very cold, so it's hard to make the leap of imagination necessary when packing for destination temperatures that are currently ranging, equally unhelpfully, from 16 all the way up to 34.

And then there are niggling worries about unfinished stories here at home when we head off today: what's going to happen with Happy Feet the 3000-kilometre stray Emperor penguin, currently languishing in Wellington Zoo with a stomach full of sand? How many more shakes will Christchurch cop? Will they finally get to the Pike River bodies? Will my poor, dear, skinny old cat cark it while I'm gone? And will the OH be able to find his flight socks in his bag?

* Also, it must be said, booking, organising and paying for just about everything...