I left work early yesterday, we had an appointment to see our midwife. And I went across to where I park the car (we've only recently bought a car for the first-time and because it's still a novelty, we drive it into work more than we should), to find the lights still on. Still on as in been on all day.

There aren't many sounds deader than the sound of a dead battery, as you forlornly turn the key, cursing, "fuck, I am stupid", out loud.

Which meant a run back to the office and organising my sister to come pick up me and Deb and get us home in time.

The reason the lights had been on was that Wellington experienced its heaviest downpour of rain in over 20 years between 5.30am and 7am that morning. There wasn't much wind or anything, just solid sheets of rain beating down on the house as Deb and I lay in bed listening. I love the sound of rain on a roof.

So, driving in, I had the lights on, peering through the wipers into the gloom and rain. And I even thought, "remember to turn the lights off before you get out". It was one of those thoughts you have where you know you won't forget it; and promptly do.

Our mid-wife is a wonderful, capable, no nonsense woman. I suspect most mid-wives are like that. It must come from dealing with so many pregnancies and mothers and babies and fathers and families. I find it reassuring.

We went round to my parents for dinner while I organised for the AA to come and run some jumper leads to the battery and start it up again. That worked fine, so by 7.30pm I was sitting down for dinner.

During Easter 1968, Wellington experienced its worst storm ever. The ship Wahine, which ran between the North and South Islands was attempting to enter Wellington Harbour when the storm hit - suddenly, ferociously.

The Wahine lost control, and hit a reef at the harbour entrance, tearing off one propeller and gorging a hole along its hull. Drifting helplessly down the harbour, the Wahine eventually snagged on some rocks, buffeted by the seas and wind. It began taking on water, and listing dangerously from side to side. Around 1pm in the afternoon, the order was given to abandon ship.

Some 51 people lost their lives in Wellington Harbour that day. Drowned, dashed against rocks, or killed by hypothermia as they lay washed up on the shore.

My father was a harbour pilot at the time. He received the mayday call from the Wahine that morning and tool the pilot launch out into the harbour to the ship. He manouvered the launch close enough for someone to jump from the launch to a rope ladder on the side of the Wahine and climb aboard. He rescued people from the water after they had jumped from the ship. He received a medal of bravery for his actions that day.

As a kid I was always inordinately proud that he had a medal like that, showing it off to people who came visiting.

The American TV channel Discovery recently did a series called "Shipwreck" and the Wahine disaster was featured on it. My Dad was interviewed for the programme and featured on it.

They had sent him a copy of the documentary, and last night he showed it to us.

I've probably never told my Dad, but the programme reminded me again why I am so proud of him.