Waipu is a teensy dot at the Eastern coast of the Northland, about an ninety minute drive from Auckland. It has the hugely popular campsite Uretiti (you're-a-titi) which of course sounds fantastic and has an equally fantastic price. The site fits neatly along the beach in a free-for-all style where you can just park where there's space. The place is swarming with laughing children and colossal family camper vans which creates a sort of comfortable atmosphere, similar to a busy park, where everyone feels safe and the dabs are kept an eye on by everyone in a vague sense of community.

The showers here are free but freezing cold, equal to the temperature of the sea but on a sweltering hot day like today it has proved to be more of a blessing than a burden.

The beach itself is colossal and welcomes a sea that resembles a mill pond, as flat as a pancake. Despite this fact there are a few hard core children dabbling about on surfboards or body boards, determined to make the most of a day at the beach - I admire their grit.

As a mildly amusing aside, back at our campsite I have found that I have grown massively in terms of confidence when using a public toilet. In the past if someone were to rattle the door and attempt to enter my stall I would have hoisted my knees up to my ears and remained deftly quiet and lowered them down again only when I thought all was well and the entire bathroom had been vacated - the shame of someone knowing that I was dropping trow was just too much to bear. Now however, I leave my feet gallantly planted to the floor and boldly shout, 'Occupado!' at whoever is outside. A trivial matter but one I have progressed in no end.

With another book finished on the sand and my last cold beer swilled down, Chelsea set about making us some food. When I popped my head out of the van to see if she needed a hand I saw her holding an egg under the water with a tea spoon whilst it was sitting on the gas stove. Perplexed, I asked what on Earth she was doing. It transpired that she had never boiled an egg before (she's 27) and as the egg was sat upright in the water (because of an air bubble inside) she felt she had to hold it under in order to 'Make sure it cooked properly.' Needless to say I am now happily single and roaming NZ alone, someone that has lived for over quarter of a century and has never boiled an egg clearly can't be trusted.