One year ago today at 4.35am I was woken in my hotel room, seven storeys high in Christchurch's Cathedral Square, by the biggest earthquake I had ever experienced.
I had flown down to Christchurch for just 24 hours, landing in sleety showers. By evening the skies had cleared and frosts were developing.
Several hours later the quake hit - and I remember it vividly, as if it was yesterday. I could feel my hotel tipping over, then swinging back. The windows close to exploding, lightning flashing from the ground and that terrifying, minute-long rumble.
I remember thinking my time was up. I couldn't even move to a doorway, and if I could would it help me if the building fell down? I won't say my life flashed before me, because it didn't. I just thoughts of loved ones and how much of my life I had wasted in sadness since my marriage ended a few years back. "Time to make a fresh start if I survive this," was something that flashed through my mind. "I'm not wearing enough clothes to run out of my hotel room," was another.
And then it was silent. Well, almost. The building continued to sway for several minutes. All I could hear was the sound of glass windows grinding against metal frames. The eerie sound haunts me to this day. As does the sound of the cathedral bells clanging for several minutes, all out of time.