Most of us can probably remember where we were when we heard Christchurch had been hit by another earthquake - and this time they hadn't dodged a bullet.
Almost immediately, reports started coming in from the broken city that people had been killed and many more were believed to be seriously injured. Buses and cars had been crushed under collapsing shop fronts; people were trapped in buildings that had gone from seven storeys to two in a matter of seconds.
I was due to meet a friend for lunch at 1pm in Grey Lynn. She turned up ashen-faced after hearing the breaking news on the radio. "It's Christchurch," she said, "and it's really bad".
We abandoned lunch and headed for my place where we watched the scenes of devastation with growing fear and incredulity. Her dad and sister lived there. Her husband was at a conference there and until she made contact with them, we feared the worst.
I went to work that night on the radio and throughout the night terrified Cantabrians and worried friends and relatives from around the country phoned in, desperate for information.