It has been nearly a month since an earthquake killed up to 182 people and left hundreds homeless and out of business in Christchurch.
Although recovery efforts are continuing at full speed, daily life in Christchurch remains bewildering for many people who still need assistance.
What can be seen within appears to be a ghost town.
When we were here three weeks ago, there was urgency and panic within. There were cars parked in the streets. Now, the odd 4WD skirts around the rubble of shop-fronts ripped away from their walls.
Peeks down long, quiet streets reveal significantly more piles of rubble where buildings once stood.
Others who have been inside the cordon recently describe the central business district as "shattered" and a "wasteland". Whatever is in there, it seems it will not be something any of us will easily recognise as somewhere we used to know.
It is a hive of activity on the surface, but many of the people who live here are on hold.
Some reckon up to 90% of the old buildings in the once attractive and vibrant London St will be coming down.
Certainly almost every building we can see in that street sports a red sticker.
The people here, like those in every affected suburb, are waiting, dependent on someone to make some decisions so they can get on with their lives.
Now, civil defence says it is threatening neighbouring houses.
"It's been really emotional. It was our perfect little house. You know it was inevitable, but it's hard to watch it come down."
The first month post-quake has been really hard, she says.
"We're only just starting to come out of shock. Everyone's still a a bit bewildered."
It will be sad to see many of Lyttelton's heritage buildings come down, but there are public safety considerations and the town's residents and business people do not want to be sitting around for another six months while someone makes a decision.
"We've got to keep moving forward. Unfortunately, this does have to be an economic decision to some extent. People's livelihoods are at stake."
Moving on, too, are some of the town's residents.
The home of one couple, who did not want to be named, is too dangerous even to be assessed.
He worked from home and his customers worked in Christchurch's CBD.
The last pay cheque will roll in this week, and she has been offered a job in Wellington.
They will leave their beloved Lyttelton reluctantly, but they have to pay the mortgage on their broken house somehow.
"We have no choice but to go."
There are lots of people in similar situations, he says.
The couple are listening to Lyttelton band The Eastern, who are jamming in London St.
The band has spent the past few weeks playing around Christchurch, offering people some momentary relief from the chaos.
As locals walk home from school, swap food and catch up while listening to the band, it is clear that while so many businesses have been destroyed here in London St, it is not really the buildings that are the heart of Lyttelton.
Back in the city's west and northern suburbs, the signs of lives returned to normality are strong.
In Riccarton and Papanui, malls are busy, men in suits have after-work drinks at buzzing bars, restaurants are fully booked and motels all hang no vacancy signs.
Showers work, toilets flush.
A Merivale restaurant manager says they are having a bit of a windfall because the city is closed.
"It's been incredibly busy; we just go and go all night."
People feel a bit guilty, she says, but most are quietly relieved they have not had it worse.
In fact, over much of the city there are outward signs of normality. The kids are going to school, people are running, walking dogs, watering gardens, mowing lawns, having coffee.
But there's not so much of that in the east.
In Aranui, Bexley, Brighton, Linwood and Dallington especially, quake survivors are still leading a far from normal life.
The landscape there is much as the quake left it, with reconstruction efforts yet to begin addressing the serious need.
One month on, homes and buildings are weatherproofed with tarpaulins, piles of bricks scattered in 20 seconds last month are stacked neatly, and the streets, although flatter, are still rugged and difficult to negotiate.
The comparative lack of the sand and silt which were the result of liquefaction is testament to the hard work of many thousands of hands on the ends of shovels and at the wheels of bulldozers.
At the Brighton shopping centre, some shops are open, but not all the ones that are open are doing a roaring trade.
"We have to trade, and it's better to be open than have everything closed. We've got to keep on going," says one shop owner.
In North Beach, Anne Ratahi, her daughter and neighbours in Inverell Pl are beginning to think they might indeed have been forgotten.
Living conditions here are hard.
Sand is everywhere. You cannot dust, sweep or open windows.
"When a nor'wester blows up, you feel like you're in the Sahara."
The street has had power for a week now, and water came on this week, but it's dirty and full of sand. Wastewater drains on to their lawn, so they still have to use chemical toilets, and limit showers and washing.
And they are sleep-deprived, worrying constantly that another shake will cause more damage.
Mrs Ratahi's ill husband has moved to a caravan up the Waimakariri River, because the stress is too much. The family will join him today, not ready to risk another quake as predicted by Ken Ring.
Mrs Ratahi still has a job, but has reduced her hours because she cannot bear being apart from her daughter and granddaughter, in case there is another quake.
Three weeks ago, people in the eastern suburbs were willing to bide their time while the authorities sorted out the city, she says.
Now, "the suits with their hot showers and flushing toilets" need to do something about getting some more people out to the suburbs and sorting the problems out."
People realise the huge size of the job ahead, but talk about heritage buildings and rugby world cup is upsetting many, Mrs Ratahi says.
"Frankly, who gives a fat rat's ass about heritage buildings? We are facing going into a winter living like this and they are worried about a few bricks - which have already killed some people. As far as I'm concerned, those buildings are historic, let them be history," she said.
"Our city is in ruins. If they want this city to get going again, they need to sort out the people, not the rugby."
She is not alone in her frustration. Down the road, pensioner Pauline O'Connor sums up the feeling of many.
"I want to get back home. It's just this feeling of being displaced. I'm not sleeping. I think if I can get back home in my own environment, I'll be a lot better."
Sadly, for many Christchurch people getting "back home" will not be possible in a physical or emotional sense, for a long time.
And for those who do still have some semblance of a home or a business, even the thought of holding on until someone gets things fixed must indeed be bewildering.
So much has been achieved, but much more needs to be done.
THE SITUATION:
• 70,520 buildings have been assessed.
• 1516 residential buildings have received red stickers (unsafe to enter).
• Of 1666 heritage buildings inspected, 844 have received red stickers.
• Of commercial buildings inspected: 1487 received red stickers; 1460 yellow stickers, and 3629 green stickers.
• Water has been restored to 95% of households, but only 84% of households can flush their toilets. People in east must continue using chemical toilets. The whole city remains on a boil-water notice.
• 550 properties outside of the CBD are still without power, although more than 3000 homes are running on generators, but people in eastern suburbs are urged to conserve power to avoid overloading.
• 153 schools (94.4%) are expected to be open by Monday
• 41,849 chemical toilets have been ordered; just less than 17,000 have been distributed.
~ Life goes on ~
• The contractor Paul
Dumbleton's last month has been busy.
The Fulton Hogan contractor narrowly missed being hit by bricks smashing down around him in Lyttelton's main street; his Linwood home is unliveable; his wife and children have been in Auckland since the quake, he is preparing for their return this weekend, and he has been working 12 hours a day since February 22 cleaning up debris in Lyttelton's streets.
"We go around and clean up one pile (of rubble), go around clean up another and do it all again. We're trying to keep the streets clear and people safe. It's gonna be a long time before this is over."
• The home owner
It has been a difficult and emotional month for Lynette Baird, whose dream home in Lyttelton was demolished this week.
She and her husband have both been out of work since the quake, but count themselves lucky they have found a place to rent for 12 months, while they convince the council to let them rebuild their dream home.
• The pensioner
The best word to describe the last month is "unreal", Brighton woman Pauline O'Connor (69) says.
"The only time I had similar feelings, was when my son and husband died a month apart. This has brought back those feelings of grief, and that feeling of limbo, not knowing where you are or what you are doing."
Since the quake Mrs O'Connor has been spending nights in the flat of a friend of a friend across the city in Redwood, and days at her home in Palmers Rd, slowly righting the mess.
She would dearly love to move back into her house, but can't use the toilet because the drains in to the house are broken.
She hopes to get her hands on a chemical toilet in the next few days, as there is a three-week wait for plumbers and drainlayers.
"I think I would just sleep better if I were here. Now the lounge is back to normal I feel a lot better. It's amazing how comforting those little daily jobs like scrubbing the floor can be."
• The mother
Gaylene Creedon has three children - two teenage daughters and an 11-year-old son.
After a week living in the garage of their Aranui home, two weeks back in the house, but without power or water, the power came on a week ago. The water comes on sporadically.
Her son will go back to school next week, but she doesn't want him to really.
"It's pretty scary with the kids. It's just the thought of them being there and what if there's another quake and I can't get to them."
Someone from the Earthquake Commission said the house was probably OK, but they couldn't guarantee it won't fall over if there is another big quake.
"I can't wait till this is all over, but you don't know when it's going to stop. That's the problem."
• The eastender
Anne Ratahi nearly bursts in to tears when she thinks of the past four weeks.
"It's been stressful, very, very stressful."
The water is on, but won't drain away. They have already been told no more work is going to be done on the mains on their side of town for three weeks, and no-one has come to tell them if their home is safe to be in.
She describes it as "living nasty". And she doesn't see an end to it any time soon.
"I do actually think they might have forgotten us out here. You tell John Key to get some more people out here helping us."
But she is not holding out much hope things will happen for people in the eastern suburbs any time soon.
"Come back in another month and I can guarantee it'll still be like now."
• The teenager
"It's just different now. Everything's different." Half of Linwood 17-year-old Amelia McIlroy's home was destroyed in the February quake.
It's weird living in half a house, but at least it's the good half : the kitchen, bathroom and lounge that survived, as well as her sleepout bedroom. But then, everything is weird, she says.
Some of her close friends have left town, and from next week she will only go to school in the mornings.
Pupils from another school will use her school in the afternoons. On Wednesday, there were toilets at school. On Thursday, some pipes broke so portaloos were brought it.
"Except you don't want to use them because someone might push it over while you are in there ... The earthquakes are freaky too, because you don't know when they are going to happen and you jump and you look to see if anyone else jumped.
"Everything's a bit weird."
