Living through a disaster movie

The thing about living through a disaster movie is that it's a lot more exciting, yet a lot more dull, than you'd expect.

There are hundreds of thousands of stories in this naked, shaken city; this is just one of them...

Sure, being jolted awake at 4.35am by the world turning to violently shaken jelly is pretty freakin' alarming. For a pure adrenaline rush you can't beat the thrill of sheer terror.

However, I didn't actually gain consciousness until several seconds after my maternal instinct/monkey brain/whatever you want to call it had already propelled me out of my bed into my two-year-old son's bedroom. I woke up already running.

In the same amount of time, my husband had blearily realised that his dream about an earthquake wasn't stopping, and fumbled for the bedside light, which wasn't there because it had fallen over.

That's when he ran/stumbled to the doorframe.

I realised as I woke my toddler by flicking on his bedroom light that he was probably the safest person in the house, lying within his solid wooden cot, with its four sturdy walls.

A minute's worth of shaking has never felt so long.

And, once you're sure everyone, including the dog, is all right, that's when you try to figure out who to ring first. Of course, the phone system is instantly overloaded.

And then the power goes off.

Did you know that if you and your loved ones all have cordless homephones and the power goes off, the phones don't work? Something to think about. 

Parents and sisters weren't answering. Husband's sister gets through to us first and urges us to come up the hill (they live in Cashmere) in case of tsunami.

I didn't even think of the threat of tidal waves, and frankly it's low on my list of priorities when strong aftershocks keep jolting us. I'm more interested in checking on my sisters and parents (who aren't answering their cellphones either).

So we load into the car in an eerily dark and quiet city - no streetlights, no sirens, no alarms and surprisingly no noise from the neighbours.

As we pull out of the driveway a neighbour from down the street appears with a torch. He's just checking everyone's OK and tells us some of the chimneys in the immediate area have toppled but that's the worst damage he can see so far.

Thankfully, we soon discover that my parents and extended family aren't reduced to feet sticking out from under crushing piles of bookcases as I'd convinced myself they were.

Assured of their still-aliveness, we return to our surprisingly intact house and go back to bed, but only the toddler can sleep. We stay awake, fully dressed, including shoes, ready to run at the least notice.

Listening to the radio in bed, RadioLive has dropped its home and garden programme to take calls from frightened and adrenalised (but otherwise fine) Cantabs. Over on National Radio, however, they're still, amusingly, playing Storytime. Later when we switch back to check if National Radio has grasped the enormity of the situation, they're playing a Beach Boys classic: Good Vibrations - we are not amused.

After daylight reveals no major damage at our place beyond some broken wine glasses and framed photos, there's relief, but without power or water, there's surprisingly little to do. After a visit from the neighbours, who have a newborn baby to look after, and after we've cleaned up the place, we take the dog and toddler for a walk to survey the neighbourhood.

Along the way, it's obvious that brick structures have been worst affected, with a couple of chimneys and brick walls toppled. A man hammering something on his house suddenly becomes a lot more interesting than on an average Saturday morning.

At the local park we meet a friend, Mason, out walking his dog Coco. He was home alone with his 16-month-old daughter while his partner was at work doing a night at the hospital. Luckily he was sleeping in the same room with her, so didn't have to do the terrifying dash that we did.

His biggest regret was not doing the washing last night. The baby's cloth nappies were rapidly running out. Likewise, I wish I'd thought to do groceries/dishes/washing the night before the power and water went off. Procrastination is its own reward...

And our emergency water supply is cunningly stored in the deep freeze in the garage - must remember to thaw some out...

Anyway, the aftermath of the big quake appears to be relief that no one died, followed closely by a fair amount of confusion (Can I go into work to get my cellphone charger if there's a curfew/restriction on the CBD? Does that count as urgent? Can I park my car in its usual place if the area is cordoned off due to a crumbled building across the road?) then a bit of "what do we do now?" tedium.

Once power is restored, we spend a lot of time on this website, checking out photos of the damage. (Most amusing photo to come out so far as pictured: erotica shop renamed Aches & Cream!)

I assume it'll be work as usual on Monday due to working for an essential service like a newspaper... may have to change my cover story for Your Weekend...