I was going to write a big screed over on Sarah’s blog but then belatedly remembered that I actually have a blog of my own. So consider this an extended comment on that post over there.
We used to find them (the false scorpions Matthew refers to) inside our damp Mt Cook flat. In a mad panic I rung the museum, only to be told that they were not to be worried about. Such innocent times, and I, just an innocent lad from the colder south lands where such creatures are unknown.
Yes, it was in that flat I encountered my first cockroach, and marvelled at the mushrooms growing in the rotting floor under the bed.
O happy times, that cold power-less winter of ’92. We dutifully froze, Becky and I, saving power while around us the mould crept down the walls and into our lungs.
How relieved we were (and our families too) when we at last departed for the sunlit uplands of Mt Victoria.
And since then, we have vowed never to live in a house without a northerly aspect.