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Five amazing weeks in New Zealand introducing our delicious Ramona to our beautiful family and friends but still it is nice to be home. (Adjective central!)

Nice to eat a Welcome Home cake baked by our housemate.

Nice to not have to worry about the odd stealthy wee slipping out in a corner. (Ramona’s, for the most part.)

Nice to just “wake up and see what happens”;  to not have to make decisions about what to do, when, where, how, with whom. (Even though those whats, whos, hows and wheres were brilliant!)

Nice to see Ramona remembering her favourite spots; cupboards filled with precious crockery, wobbly stools to climb, corners to sit and do stealthy wees in.

Nice to ride on my bike to my favourite local haunts (of the charity shop variety) – and in a stroke of serendipity to find the EXACT toy that Ramona fell in love with at her Grandma’s house in NZ. Lush, eh. It is a sign of true love that I bought it for her, it not being vintage or wooden but being loud, massive and plastic. (Middle class? Me?!)

But mostly nice to come home and feel like this is home. That despite the lure of laidback, warm and stunning New Zealand, we are exactly where we are meant to be. For now, at least.

(This is a wicked embroidary number, eh? Found it at Melissa’s. *Adds to list of things to make one day.*)

One response »

  1. Nice to have you home.
    If you make me one of those I will bake you brownie and mars bar crispy cake alternately every week for a year.


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