March 01, 2011


So much has been written and said in the media, twitter, facebook and blogs in the last week about Christchurch's 6.3 magnitude earthquake, that what I've got to say about it seems insignificant. The first I knew about it was when one of those annoying emails from the IT department arrived in my inbox, telling us The Press building had been evacuated because of an aftershock. It took me a long time to register that this quake wasn't just a jolt, and that perhaps people could have been killed. It transpired that The Press wasn't evacuated in the traditional sense; the building had fallen down and people were trapped inside. Death and destruction doesn't happen in little old NZ, especially not on a sunny Tuesday afternoon. Or at least, that was my naive view of things.
I was glued to the newsroom TV as it was happening, as chunks fell off the cathedral and we hoped for a glimpse of The Press building. To see the cathedral without its glorious spire was like seeing Samson without hair. The idea that it could be destroyed, with people trapped inside it, still seems unfathomable.
I went home and hugged Harper extra hard.
Image from here.

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