I always miss home, mum and parents, my brother and sister, my friends, but it's usually a wee quite trickle in the background. It's only when I go home or see someone from home that it becomes so much more acute.
I have just had the most excellent couple of weeks on the road in New Zealand with my dad. Taupo for the floatplane, bungy and Craters of the Moon. Rotorua for Mt Tarawera and more geothermal stuff. We just made it over the unsealed, windy, hilly Waikaremoana back road to Napier on a quarter tank of petrol, stopping off along the way in a tiny rural village for the best mussel chowder I've ever had. Frolics in Napier were followed by a tour round the semi-ghost towns and wharfs of the East Coast before landing in the Bay of Plenty. Or rather the Bay of Bugger All as it has now been rechristened, since torrential rain and galeforce winds scuppered all available activities in the area except for the excellent Classic Flyers Museum. So we fled to a more weatherproof option and went blackwater rafting in the Waitomo Caves before cruising homeward. Oh and wine, there was lots of wine all along the way.
It's been a very special fortnight with my dad and I can't quite believe it's over already. I'm going to miss him lots and it's reminded me all too sharply of how far away home is.
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