Welcome and greetings from Aortearoa, the land of the long white cloud. This is my last day and I am hoping that it is not one that will end in tears.

Much has happened since I last wrote - an encounter with albatrosses, a spot of cannyoning, a cruise along Milford Sound, where I finally got to see dolphins, star gazing at Mount St. John (which included some tuition on using my camera for astro-photgraphy - I got a shot of the Southern Cross which I am hoping will look good on the big screen) and a fishing trip that both Pete and I got excited about but which failed to happen.

I have a plan for my writing when I get home and intend to elaborate on my adventures over the coming weeks.

For now let's get back to those tears. I was saving my last day, here in sunny, beautiful Christchurch for something special - my very own Maori tattoo. A sort of personal fridge magnet to link me to this land and it's brilliant, friendly people forever.

A Maori tattoo is a bit like harry Potter's wand - you don't choose it, it chooses you. Every mark represents something personal and shows your ancestry and family. Shaun, my Maori tattoo artist is drawing my design as I type this in the internet cafe across town. My tattoo will include my three children, which is fantastic. But somewhat alarmingly it has to include a reference to their mother too, my ex-wife. Naturally I have protested that my ex left enough scars on my heart and wallet without being forever painfully inscribed on my upper arm, but Shaun insists that this is the Maori way and must be done.

I initially suggested that I could have a nice band around my arm.

'No, mate. Those are for girls. You don't want one of those,' insisted Shaun. Maybe he can't draw bands.

I'm not sure what my design will look like but there will be some spirals to represent eternity and new beginnings. Shaun also insists that the ocean is there too. I have complained that being someone who suffers greatly from sea sickness the last thing I want is waves on my arm. Again, Shaun has stood firm. I am a traveller from across the sea and this must be shown.

So, whilst most of my friends and family are tucked up in bed back home I am being marked for life down under.

My new mate Shaun reckons it will take about and hour and half for him to complete his work of art. That sounds like a lot of pain to me. I wonder if it's too late to have "I (heart) NZ" instead?

Tomorrow I do my Doctor Who trick and travel back in time, arriving in London on Friday morning. I somehow doubt I'll be wearing my shorts next week but whatever the weather I'll be wearing short sleeves to show off my tan and Shaun's handy work.

Right, just time for a beer before the pain begins.

Cheers.

Live long and prosper.