I’m in the front conservatory, the wind is noisy and there’s a tree that keeps scratching the side of the house.

When the light is on in here you can see your reflection in the glass roof. If you’re really lucky you’ll see the stars when the light turns off. I’m sure it’s nothing compared to back home.

I’m wearing those panties that give me a muffin butt. I too am undecided as to how I feel about that.

Space scares the fuck out of me.

When my brother and I were little we used to get first-night-at-the-bach syndrome on the first night of every holiday up here. It meant we noticed every bug, every sound and every itch and it was hard to get to sleep.

We had a fantail up here years ago. It flew in the house. I wonder whose death it was linked to. Superstitions are horrible unless practical, I’ve decided.

Do you think it’s okay to pray the ghosts out before bedtime on the marae? Because it’s not that I’ve been taught to do that by anyone but it’s what I always thought I would do. I wouldn’t want to make anyone mad out there in godworld but surely they’ll understand.

Love, me.