A man with a posh accent has just called New Zealand an “earthquake factory”.
It's no secret the slither of land I call home sits atop one of the twitchiest fault lines in the world, but even I was surprised by the stats: between 10-15,000 earthquakes strike the country each year.
The reason I'm watching ITV news from my couch in the middle of the afternoon is that I simply couldn't focus today. I spent the morning obsessively watching video clips of the devastation and death from home and emailing friends in the Garden City. One sent me stories of his sister helping a woman out of a flooded lift, another wrote of not knowing where her husband was, while someone else reported losing their house and pets.
In the end, it was all too much for me and they sent me home. I'm trying to work, but keep reading the same sentence over and over, yet nothing much is sinking in. Once again, my heart goes out to those poor folk in Christchurch. To echo our Prime Minister, John Key, it is indeed NZ's darkest day. At least 65 dead and many more feared trapped amongst the rubble.
If I was religious, I'd start praying about now but in the absence of faith, I cleave to the TV and internet for news.
I have no other words today...