In the beginning, driving between Napier and Taupo (on State Highway 5) is sort of like playing snakes and ladders. It requires alot of concentration due to the serpentine nature of the hills around Te Haroto particularly since
It’s Father’s Day. This time last year I was chatting to my Dad by phone because he lived in Waipukurau in Central Hawkes Bay on New Zealand’s North Island and I lived in Sydney, Australia.
My uncle was a drunk. It’s probably not something family members would probably admit about him, but he was. Denial is subversive to say the least. He was a simple man, leading a fairly simple life.
Infidelity is painful. To be the innocent party in it is gut-wrenching. My dear friend is in this gut-wrenching, god-forsaken place and I feel helpless to help her. Instead, I hide my own tears in a purposeful resolve to listen well, make strong pots of tea (because