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Buried in the backstreets of South Dunedin is the old gasworks. No-one these days knows where it is, although in times past everyone went there: to buy coke for the open fire, or tar for sealing rooves, or, for many, to work. It used to sprawl over several blocks, built with no concern for aesthetics, but purely for functionality: in this is was quintessentially modern. Now it is confined to a smallish site in Braemar St. where some of the old machinery has been restored and made to function again. There are some crumbling brick buildings, a very Freudian chimney and some huge old machines turning quietly, pushing non existent gas into non existent holding tanks. There are tables of worn old tools and a massive coke furnace sitting cold and empty. There is the evidence of an explosion that happened more than a century ago and safety notices for the workers of thirty years ago. A small group of people is working to preserve it and restore it. Some of the equipment dates back to the 1860...

I pass this dinghy often when I am biking or walking or driving around the Otago Peninsula. I like it. The boat that is, although I like the peninsula also. And the biking and walking and driving now that I come to think about it. I have photographed this boat many times. Every time I pass it looks different. Every time I see more of it. Re - vision. The boat is obviously cared for, useful to someone but I've never seen it used. It's waiting, expectant, hopeful. Like me, tonight I finished my services today for the last time in a long while. The old pattern of the week is shelved for a while because this week I start my sabbatical. In the past, sabbaticals have been frantic fact finding mission with some urgent purpose so that I can justify (to myself) the time out and the expenditure. This time it's going to be a little calmer. Clemency has a limited amount of time off, and when I do the bit with the airliners she's going to come with me. In the meantime, the doctor ...