Christchurch, I may joke of the place, have a less than flattering moniker that I apply to it, but this week, I have been saddened and made grim by the events in Christchurch. The earthquake, in a few brief moments changed so much and it is still incomprehensible for me.
I have been lucky, my family and friends down there are all safe.
On Wednesday evening my niece and a friend of hers flew up to escape the dreary horror, and get some sunshine and respite. I collected them from the airport. The scene at the airport was quite surreal, with large numbers of police, victim support and civil defence staff. Many of the travellers arriving from Christchurch can best be described as refugees and were looking quite scared/bewildered/relieved/sad. It certainly rammed the human cost of the events home to me.
I have had some real moments of sadness in seeing the ruined buildings, many of which were an integral part of my childhood and youth, they always appeared to be robust and impregnable in their stone and masonery construction. Something to stand for ever.
Now those crumbled wrecks are proving to be some very pointed reminders to my past, and things that have been lost.
Quite odd, as I bear little fondness for Christchurch. But gone forever are the places I roamed as an angry teen, places of groping teen angst, music and mischief.
I will probably go down sometime soon to give a little comfort and assistance, but at the moment I'm not needed there.
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