Roxburgh never disappoints, and it was no different this time. A week after the mass murder in Christchurch I stopped baking for the 2 minutes of national silence, then went into the village to get more ingredients, a bit downcast. There, on the main street, outside the chemist shop, the chemist was playing his bagpipes. I stood and watched and talked with a couple who told me their grandchild was learning an instrument through the local school, so I told them about my young cousin doing the same thing. A young girl walked along the footpath and started a highland dance in front of the bagpiper. At the end of the piece, they bowed to one another. It seemed an appropriate tribute to the memorial, but afterwards my cousin told me the chemist plays every Friday afternoon for half an hour.
One day we took a drive out of Roxburgh and onto the Old Man Range (four-wheel drive only). There were deep ruts in places which was a little nerve-racking, though everything went fine. We had bikes on the back of the truck (which we hired from the bagpipe-playing chemist), so while Kevin drove the vehicle back down the same way we’d come up, my cousin and I biked along the tops until we were above the Roxburgh township, and dropped back down from there.