I had mum up here a couple of weeks ago.  We were going to see Les Troyans at the Rialto.  She arrived with a dreadful cough that kept us both awake overnight.  By morning she had virtually lost her voice.  I put her on the bus that afternoon after the opera, and sent a text to my sister-in-law that had I knew she would be in such a state I would have protested her coming to visit me.  J. picked up mum in Invercargill  and she stayed a night with them.  I don’t think any of us are happy with her for putting us through this.

Consequently I have been afflicted with the same deep and raw cough that mum had.  It is the gift that keeps on giving.  (Phlegm, anyone?)  I am slowly recovering from it.  It still leaves a rasping dryness in my throat that I battle with Sudafed and Mycenex.  That has stopped me from getting it so badly as she did.

The bus station has moved from St Andrew’s Street to the corners of Sturdee and Halsey Streets beyond the railway station in an industrial district by the harbour.  This has made it out of the way and impractical for regular bus-users.

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