Friday is wind up- prizegiving assemblies for the 50% who turn up, then staff lunch. It's a subdued affair, everyone is too buggared, and I slip away early to the beach. I lie in bed on Saturday feeling the lightness and leisure 6 weeks of freedom brings. First time I've been into the Ferrymead heritage village, I go to a screening of Neverland in the restored cinema....across the road to Greg's pre Christmas bash. On Sunday Gerrard hosts carol singing. Robyn's got symptoms and has a covid test so I'm there by myself but so is everyone else and wine and conversation flow in direct correlation. I sit with the mayor, Lianne Dalzell, and put my foot in my mouth when I ask what she's doing now. "I'm the mayor," she tells me. Very down to earth, I like her. We have a rip roaring piano singalong then I bike merrily home.
Covid fades into the background while I relax, host Suzanne, make Karen's favourite cake, and slow down. But I listen. The case numbers are stable but returnees are bringing Omicron back and epidemiologist, Michael Baker, says if we don't reduce numbers, sooner or later it will get into the community. He knows what he's talking about.....
I forage raspberries and blackcurrants from the school garden, watch the demolition of the Maths block, go to an open mike Christmas celebration with Amana and check out her house fixing. It's built on sand, no wonder the floor sloped in all directions after the quakes. She's living in her van in the driveway but on her way at last.
I've survived the most challenging teaching year ever, ready to kick back for summer.
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