My wife's family has had a weekender or bach in Kiwi-ese on Lovett Bay near Church Point for fifty or more years. The bay has gained some recent publicity as the fictionalised location of 'Salvation Creek' in which a romanticised view of the local floating population is part of the setting for a living with cancer book. My best friend is dying of prostate cancer and he and one of his fellow end-of-lifers call this approach to discussing cancer an "organ recital".
I spent new year's eve at the house on my way back from London in 1986 and perversely feel protective of a place I have a one-step removed connection with. My daughters are the fourth generation of the family to belong there. There's something about being an incomer that gives desperation to developing a sense of belonging. Like a cuckoo.
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