This has been the week of extreme activities in Queenstown and the west coast glaciers, where you’re supposed to do crazy stuff at risk of peril.
I walked into a pole in a campsite and gave myself a scar that looks a bit like an appendectomy (it was dark!). On over-exerting the trolley luge the track gave me a bosh to the elbow and some extra ventilation in my new jumper (no excuse). Jo walked into a bollard and walloped her knee (broad daylight). Jo’s derriere had a close encounter with the floor on the slippery ice of the walk up to Mount Doom (insufficiently soft landing). I had a gastrointestinal disagreement with some cheese that we’d picked up at a cheesery we visited on the drive, which meant a reluctant extra day with the alpine views of Franz Josef and a delay to our helicopter ride (waste of good Stilton).
All of that in addition to the headbanging in Barry, of course.