I walked all the way from Ruatoki

It's holidays again but we haven't had a chance to go on many of the adventures we had chalked up - Dan came home on the last day of school with an evil germ which slayed him for days and, more seriously, the poppet, who has been the sickest ever; listlessly, rackingly, heartbreakingly sick.  She's just getting better now, this morning she spoke for the first time in days (all right Mum) and took some interest in her breakfast and her toybox.

So these holidays so far there's been a lot of chicken soup, daily visits to the doctor and the chemist, and, almost on repeat, Whirimako Black's Late Night Plays, which calms a baby with a 40 degree fever; cheers a baby fighting sickness on every front; soothes a baby who sleeps in fitful 5 minute bursts and restores exhausted parents when they sit down for a minute and put their feet up. 

I don't know why this woman isn't world famous.  I saw her a few years ago in Whakatane and I'll remember it till I die, this smoky voice, low lit, sexy black presence in the corner making you feel like she was singing in her front room and you were all friends and family.  Of course I know why she's not - she sings in te reo Maori.  After this she'll probably be Richie bloody McCaw.

And on that note, not feeling too sanguine about this semi.  We can but hope.