6AM: Cellphone rings. Worse than irritating. A sliver of bleary optimism: gosh, perhaps it's work ringing to say that my abundant talents are not required for another week after all. Better still, I can go back to sleep.
Reach out to answer it and discover it's the alarm. Bugger. Go back to sleep anyway.
6.40am: Wake in a panic. Will miss my flight. At least won't have to suffer ignominy of full-body search or X-ray exposure of extra holiday contours. Panic subsides as it dawns that I am, in fact, travelling by car. Have already missed the first self-imposed 7am departure deadline.
7.30am: Showered and dressed, throw luggage in car roof box, attach bicycles to rack at back, cram in odds and sods, shoes, books, laptop, guitars, dog basket and water.
Scoff muesli and fruit, say goodbye to assembled layabouts and ne'er-do-wells who remain bleary-eyed and in holiday mode.
8am: Coax dog into back via unfolded back seat. Head for Takaka. National Radio has item on full-body screening at airports. Phew! Good to be on solid ground.
8.20am: Stop at BP in Takaka to fill up. Purchase Bounty bar and Go Natural Almond and Cashew snack. Emergency rations in case of torrential downpours, flooded rivers, multiple car pile-ups and other unpredictable unnatural disasters.
8.30am: Wave metaphorical goodbye to Takaka. Nobody notices. All sensible holidaymakers are still in bed. Beautiful day, hardly a cloud in the sky.
8.50am: Halfway up the Marble Mountain. Is it my imagination or is the temperature gauge steadily rising? Inner voices of paranoia and apathy run through alternative course of action: stop and check or blithely drive on.
Apathy keen to press on - I know, I know, we've got one heck of a journey ahead; paranoia notes that if car blows up, we won't be going anywhere. Stop car and raise bonnet. Oil and water OK.
9.10am: View from top of the mountain out over Tasman Bay towards Nelson spectacular. Consider stopping to enjoy it. In a rare display, apathy insists we keep moving.
9.25am: Riwaka: smugly turn off at Swamp Rd for little-known short-cut along west bank of Motueka River. Cross over swollen, muddy waters to east side just north of Ngatimoti. Now in cruise control. Wilco on the car stereo. Dog quiet in the back.
11am: Pull up outside Rivers Café in Murchison. Stretch dog's legs and visit nearby vacant parking lot (with attendant plastic bag in case) for canine comfort stop. In cafe, order long black and chocolate brownie. Sit down opposite food cabinet. Notice chunky bacon and egg pie. Immediately regret choice.
11.35am: Shenandoah Highway here we come. Pass hitchhiker near turn-off to upper Buller Gorge. Begin mental discussion on merits of stopping when, 400m further on, pass another one. Apathy shrugs, paranoia mutters darkly about axe murderers. I overrule both and pull over.
12.30pm: Springs Junction. No sign of axe. Still alive.
12.45pm: The Lewis Pass - beech forest and rain. My passenger is a would-be film-maker. He has a film idea and doesn't know how to get it made. Occupational hazard, I suggest.
2.15pm: Culverden canine comfort stop. A nor'wester is building.
2.35pm: Waipara - paranoia notices petrol gauge is alarmingly close to empty. Even apathy is moved when the warning light comes on.
2.40pm: Amberley - have traversed all manner of possibility for funding comedic reality-come-mockumentary TV series involving a community of gay aliens saving the whales.
Actually, that's a fib: my passenger is afraid someone is going to steal his idea (told to me in confidence), so I'm not about to broadcast it.
Though I do try to suggest that - in terms of getting it made - someone nicking his synopsis is about the least of his worries. Fill up with petrol. Wave off hitcher and head for Oxford down Scenic Inland Route 72.
3.30pm: Toy with lunch at Jo Seagar's Oxford Café and Cooking School. Instead walk dog again and grab mince pie from proximate dairy. Take bite. Throw rest of it in rubbish and head on south over gorgeous Waimakariri and Rakaia gorges.
7.30pm: Join queue at Hampden Fish and Chip shop. Note endorsement on counter from Dunedin mayor.
7.50pm: Pull into layby at beach north of Shag Point. Tuck into feed of blue cod and chips. Mr Chin not wrong. Gulls hover in front of windscreen, settle on bonnet and mew for the leftovers. Paranoia insists could be in Kiwi version of Hitchcockian horror movie. Check windows sealed tight.
8.50pm: Centre City New World: Brrrr! Summer? Purchase essentials. Head for Peninsula. Night but still light. Dog very pleased to be home.
