Gosh - less than a week ago I was swanning around in my bikini in Croatia and now I am swaddled in thermals back home.
It was a nasty step downwards from floating on the superyacht to flying on budget airline Easyjet, but leaving London (much as I love it) and arriving back here on a perfect winter's day was the greatest up of all.
The tricky bit has been getting back to real life and real work.
As I whizzed round the Wakatipu New World, I bumped into Tracey Campbell.
We asked after each other's children and, with alarming foresight, I told her ours had been of so little concern I should start being anxious.
Our darling children have made sure we know we're back from holiday.
On our first night home, we managed to stay awake until about 9pm.
Then the dreaded phone woke us at 1am. Missed it.
It rings again. It's the police.
Our last government tried very hard to remove the teeth, claws and manly bits from our police, but the cop who stopped our sweet baby on Frankton Rd had definitely hung on to his, and his common sense.
With a nose for trouble, he realised our sweet baby and his friends were having more fun than they should.
Although there was nothing our darling could be charged with, an hour or so standing in the cold waiting for parents furious at being roused from their warm beds had far more impact than anything the police could do.
Day two held more thrills.
Another sweet baby went skiing at the Snow Park.
Cue the dreaded phone call.
A and E was full to bursting and they recommended coming back the following day after 11am.
The next morning was even busier. The receptionist rang Queenstown Medical Centre to see if there were any appointments but it was walk-in only. Hard to do when only one leg is working.
The wonderful thing about living here is that there are angels, like Lyn Donnelly.
She heard the hospital receptionist mention the name and by the time we arrived, she already had the one-legged ex-skier's file out, a wheelchair waiting and a doctor at the ready.
Fabulous service - shame she couldn't have organised a better diagnosis, but there are limits.
Apart from all this, it is marvellous being home.
Yoga at Lake Hayes Pavilion looking out at the glassy lake shivering as rowboats pass over, bumping into familiar old faces - and young ones - drinking REAL coffee again.
Some things have changed: Arrowtown has become an interior designer's heaven, with all the new shops in the main street.
There's a new and useful sign at the Millbrook corner pointing out which way to Coronet Peak (well overdue!).
I meant to catch up on some reading on the direct flight from London but almost the only catching up I did was on sleep.
One book that really interested me was Anne Lamott's Imperfect Birds.
Daughter Rosie is 17 and causing her on-and-off alcoholic mother Elizabeth all sorts of problems.
Lamott has written some great books on how to write great books, including Bird by Bird.
It is a shame she has used Imperfect Birds to display so many different examples of "interesting" writing.
The story would have been better if your attention wasn't always being drawn to the writing styles.
It's a great look at the permanent parenting problem of finding the balance between caring too much for your children and caring too little, and managing to care for yourself enough as well.
Hideously familiar territory ... and Lamott tells many wonderful small stories within the bigger story.
Hope you all stay well out of range of police and hospitals and enjoy this beautiful winter.
