I grew up in Southland and I started school in Bluff. One of my earliest memories is standing beside the electric range, watching my plate being loaded with crumbed oysters again and thinking, "Oh, oysters again!" One of my next memories was watching my mum being helped as she grasped her head in pain. After seven months in hospital, we moved to the big smoke of Invercargill when I was six years old. We were lucky to live in an excellent State house adapted for Mum that was warm, dry, and always made to feel like our own. If my friends had more than me, it wasn't obvious. And when it was, it didn't occur to me that it mattered. I recall my childhood in Invercargill as winterless—warm, sunny days spent tearing around with my friends on my red Cruiser. Likely inaccurate—sorry to the Invercargill people here—but we do remember details fondly when we're happy and when we're secure. It is my quest that all of our tamariki remember only sunny days.