Column: The Road To Nowhere

Hello, this is Sarah speaking. I have taken over the column this week as Martin and I are having a few well deserved (cough cough) days off and I have spent the past four days catching up with my family in Christchurch.

Has it really been four days already? My trips down south always seem to go so fast, probably because most of my family lives there so much of the holiday is spent in the car flitting between their houses.  Christchurch was designed in a similar way to Hastings; it's a grid. You take a road in one direction and you keep going in that direction so it's easy to navigate around. Or it used to be. These days travelling through Christchurch city is like making your way through one of those mazes where the walls are constantly moving.

On Sunday, we decided to meet some of the family at the Riccarton Market, a place I have been countless times over the years. "Are you sure you know where you're going?" my partner asked. "Yes", I replied huffily, "I did grow up here." Of course I grew up there pre earthquake and the roads have changed a lot since then. Not wanting to admit defeat, I carried on travelling in completely the wrong direction long after I realised I had no idea where I was going. My partner (Ye of little faith) had the GPS going the whole time, leading to many heated discussions over which was the correct way. When I finally relinquished control (after realising the only road I was taking us down was the road to divorce court) she was able to quickly and efficiently guide us to our destination.

Although there was one point where the GPS told us to go down a road that no longer existed. Ha! One point to me.

Clearly my grandparents realised my terrible sense of direction might hinder my ability to visit them when I'm in town, so recently they all moved into the same retirement village. Granny and grandad's house is now just across the lawn from Grandma's house and even I can't get lost between the two.

Sadly, my Grandmother has dementia so she doesn't really know who I am anyway.   Visits can be a little upsetting but on the plus side, you get offered chocolate biscuits every couple of minutes and can eat as many as you like without looking like a pig.