|View of the ranges on the way to Cardrona|
|beetroot, apple, celeriac soup from Amisfield|
|The Remarkable Sweet Shop in Arrowtown|
|Dad's half-demolished Fergburger, "Sweet Bambi"|
Being sick sucks, but the light at the end of this germ-ridden tunnel is the feeling of 'hey, my throat doesn't heart anymore' or 'I shouldn't need this medicine tomorrow', and just that general feeling of wellbeing that you yearn for when you've got five layers of clothing on indoors and you're still feeling a chill. Hot lemon & honeys (with ginger, if you have it) helps. So do vitamin C and eccanacshia tablets. Or, you know, not getting sick in the first place.
Gone are the days when "the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail". Thanks, Facebook, Skype, Twitter, and company, and even their predecessor - email. As much as the lovely internet is convenient, writing and receiving letters is personal, thoughtful and nostalgic. I wrote postcards to two of my friends from Queenstown, one friend is fairly local with the other far far away, while my Mum completed her weekly letter to my sister who's at University this morning. To be honest, I write letters because I like to receive them. When you open your mailbox to find a hand-written envelope addressed to you, the world's a better place.