​Anxiety is a thing. A horrible thing. It’s not worrying about normal troubles like your bank balance or other explicable problems, it’s often unwanted, uncontrollable thoughts.

​Pins and needles creeping your skin, the sweats, a big case of the heebeegeebees. 

I’ll make this as brief as I can. No floral prose, no fluff.

We live in New Zealand, a place that is prone to earthquakes.

Scientists conduct a wealth of reports on the risks around where we live.

This way we can choose where we make our homes and therefore where we live, often in populated cities, working in buildings that are owned by other people.

In Christchurch, 185 lives were lost and almost 7000 people were injured in the February 2011 quake.

The great majority of these were in buildings owned by someone else with responsibility to ensure its safety and upkeep.

If you are a worker, you have the right to ask for the property manager’s report after a quake of great magnitude.

In fact, you should be asking for that report. I do not know if you have a lawful right to be shown something like this but you can band together and ask if you feel unsafe. Message each other. Someone will stand up and be the frontperson. 

A good engineer will take time to check a building. They have to sign something, putting their name, practising certificate and reputation on the line to prove your workplace is safe to be occupied.

As an employee, you cannot prove an office is unsafe. It’s up to the landlord to prove to the tenants and your boss the building is safe.

Don't feel stupid for asking. You have a right to feel safe. 
 
 
 

Grandma is 96. She still lives on her own and her brain is sharp as a tack. It's the body that is starting to give way.

I mentioned in last week's column that she had been quite unwell so at the weekend my cousin Chris and I took a roadie to Timaru where we formed a crack nursing team. Or at least some semblance of one.

Christchurch woman Antoinette van Berkel has a dying wish, that her seven cats be rehomed before melanoma kills her.

She was diagnosed with the terminal cancer six months ago. Now finding homes for her seven much-loved rescue cats are top priority.

“I didn’t know how much there was to do when you were dying,” she says.

“All I want to do is get my cats into homes before I die. I want to know they are safe and secure.”