It's actually just after one o'clock on Tuesday morning here in New Zealand but my body clock hasn't quite adjusted yet. We arrived on Sunday afternoon which seemed weeks, rather than just a couple of days, after leaving the UK. We both woke up at midnight on Sunday and decided on a cup of tea which I flavoured with salt instead of sugar, mislead by the jar on the worktop in the kitchen in the rented house where we are currently living. Mr absent really didn't like that. We then unpacked our four large suitcases and two cabin bags, returning to bed at four in the morning.
The whole adventure still doesn't quite seem real although I expect it will start having some veracity when I go to collect the girls from school on Thursday afternoon and spend the whole of Friday looking after the two youngest - both boys. They were all in "our" house yesterday afternoon for an hour or so playing very noisy games. Little Max sat himself down in the hall and cried when his mum told him it was time to go home. That made me feel very wanted and loved and my promise that he can come here for a sleepover very soon dried the tears. I am rather less sure about the one-year-old who, of course, has no memory of me and is definitely a bit suspicious.
Although it is now approaching winter, it is still very warm - 22 yesterday - and we had our lunch in the garden. It's chilly at night though. Of course, I packed fur-lined boots and sensible shoes - not a single pair of sandals. Not that I am complaining given the horrible weather we have had in the UK for the past year.
Perhaps now that I have caught up with Gransnet I shall be able to return to bed and get some more sleep in the hope of adjusting properly to NZ time.
Goodnight everyone.
