I am not known for my patience. One of the features of my childhood was the long car journeys from Whangārei to Wellington, where we were from, and back again. I vividly remember that last hour of the journey where all you wanted to do was "Is it over yet? Is it over yet?", and all the time you wanted some magic Tardis to take you to that finishing line. So we would see Pukerua Bay or we would see the Brynderwyns over the hill. But the truth is every revolution of those wheels, bit by bit, takes us there, every gesture by every ordinary person. 