saturday, best day ever


Had a great coffee with the two girls, in Newtown, today. Just across the road from Stacks of Wax. Maxed out on wax after the caffeine. My car is so small that we only just fit three of us, and all the candles, on the way home. Wedding prep list – illumination CHECK.

We’re all at an age that there’s so much joy in time spent together. Smiles and so much laughter today.

First thing was breakfast closer to home. Ice whipped our legs while we queued for a table. Apparently the eggs benedict was ‘best ever’ and worth the wait and the shivering…

Then, the last dress fitting. I don’t know how to describe the love felt in that shop. What a wonderful job that young man has – creating such beautiful taffeta things, making countless women so happy.

We did the tiniest bit more shopping between bridal wear and candles, along with a mad dash through rain and an abundance of giggling.

Tonight, with the heater struggling to take the frost off us, and the cats a pair of curly curls in amongst us…we ate schnitzel and cabbage together, watched the rugby and talked about the holiday to come.

Probably a whole day of ‘best ever’. Saturday.


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Size does matter


Tell me about your childhood home, specifically where were you living at the age of twelve?

I loved that house so much. My life was a mass of confusion at twelve though. Is that common? Perhaps it is – a jumping point between innocent time and hormones. The beginning of knowing you’re going to be responsible for how the hell it all turns out. One foot on your way…

Anyway I loved that house. Through childish eyes it was huge. We lived in a frigging mansion. Our backyard was a national park. No really, it was five or six bedrooms depending on your configuration, and several other rooms including a big old country kitchen, and all surrounded by verandahs.  The front verandah for skateboards, ping pong, large lunches on wet days. Reading and piano on the back verandah. Out the back door, and down the path to the washhouse, memories of blue-o, and double concrete tubs, a wringer maybe? That’s hazy… and the coal pit at the back under the house. How lucky is the parent whose child thinks scooping the coal is fun!  One bathroom, normal back in the day but wow, the waiting! Solid dark dividing doors, leadlight windows, high ceilings with roses and plaster mouldings. Endless nights tracing those patterns til sleep…

The house and land took up probably three normal size blocks, not counting the paddock down the side. Obviously not a national park! but wonderland for a child, a private forest and a great green expanse for any and all ball games and the running of my imagination.

You can never go back, but when I did, and looked with adult eyes, I found that it was actually a big house, a large block of land and while Yes, Virginia, size Does matter, in terms of a home it isn’t the physical size that makes it big. The biggest thing about my childhood home was the innocence, safety, and happiness I felt there.



mind monologue


write 20 minutes stream of consciousness and hit the publish button


There’s a very weak, tiny patch of sunlight in the side garden. I was lured out to sit in it but turned out I had to sit right up against the basement skylight, and tilt my head that way, to just catch it. Attempt to get my fifteen minutes of Vitamin D thwarted today.

Apparently it’s a thing in Australia. Vitamin D deficiency. We’ve been indoctrinated into staying out of the sun, avoid skin cancer. Now we are being re-educated that we need 15 mins a day to avoid osteoporosis. It’s a fine line isn’t it. The health juggle. Anyway, no luck for me in the garden today. I’ll have to replenish my bone cells another day… must remember! 

My son in law has made an amazing garden out the back. Even so, I don’t want to stay here. The gingers have gone feral – absolutely wild! When he planted he told me they’d grow upwards and give privacy from the apartments behind us. They’ve grown out and down. It’s all good, we got some of the much desired (by me) privacy with other plants, and the gingers are just spectacular. I still don’t want to stay here. In the back lane, birds have taken up residence in the council planted trees with a vengeance. Their voices joined in choir are just soul lifting. And for that I am indescribably grateful, my joy overflows but I’d still rather move… I can see the city buildings through that gap in the trees. The roofs of the street behind us, one corrugated iron between two old fashioned slate tiled. Iron roof functional, financially the better option, but mmm fugly.

I walk back in to the kitchen, to look through the back doors at the garden and try to imagine I’m seeing it for the first time. A friend visited yesterday and I’m being her. I see a lot of dead foliage – did she think it messy? It’s his idea of art. When a palm frond drops from the top its beauty isn’t over – it’s moved to a different part of the courtyard, and is decorative. 

The big cat is pacing. Hoping on hope to get outside herself. Not today sweet thing. I can live without the worry of imposed home time which cats don’t respect. Dusk becomes the witching hour and once passed the feline is out for the night. On the prowl. So today, with no one else home, I’m keeping you safe. 

My back hurts. I should go for a walk but something in the lower back is complaining. Instead I might just curl up on the couch and sleep for a bit. I haven’t done that in a while actually – it used to be a common occurrence. I have two hours before I need to think about mother’s dinner and I haven’t been sleeping well at night. 

I’ve done all I need to do today, and a little extra. So why not zzzzzzzzzzz.





beach birds


kookaburra welcome 

brush turkey day one



wild rabbit day two


king parrot 

brush turkey day three



lorikeets late to the party day four, ate from my hand


possums running races on the roof every night


wedding down at whalie night three

so much rain, the cold is coming and the first fire night four

one more day, one more night


where would you go


I’ve had times when I couldn’t walk to the letter box, and I travelled all over in my mind, through other wanderer’s words and photos never expecting that to change.

I’ve ticked Japan off my imaginary list – was the first place, and for the longest time only, that I really really had to go… 

Over time I’ve found a couple of places, that I didn’t even know I wanted to be, are magic and now deep in my psyche. Fields of  longing…to be there again. To stay when I arrive. 

So, I can’t list the top 5 places that I’ve always wanted to visit – the list changes as I age, and as I discover the world’s corners slowly, and unexpectedly.

Here’s my current thoughts :

  1. Ireland – in July and August I will stand where my ancestors stood. There’ll be lots of photos, and no doubt tears 😉
  1. I’d like to revisit Japan, Italy and USA – yes dear reader I KNOW that’s three 🙂 but I made up my own rules and added a subcategory.
  1. Greece – ancient buildings to stand in awe of. 
  1. Lots of this country that I haven’t seen – for example Ayers Rock/Uluru.
  1. Tibet, Nepal, India – another cluster, and I just think it’s all too late in this life for me to get there…

Everywhere is a long way from Australia! Unless a few things in life change I believe it’ll be Ireland, America and that’s it for this list other than local jaunts. Things do change though, don’t they 😉







after the parade


I’ve lived here for 20 years now and it happened by chance. I never meant to live here, I didn’t want to live here.

Driving back from dropping the little one in the city today I realised, I haven’t embraced my environment in all that time. We live in the hub of city life. Turn your head that way there’s the redlight district, any drug that exists, the crime bosses. Look back over your shoulder and there’s a homeless guy on every corner. Keep going straight along this parade route and it’s lined with the most unusual of the LGBT spectrum. Do these sections of community coexist so closely in all cities?

Sometimes I can see the colour and excitement, others the black dog and side show alley and it scares and saddens me. Even on the sunniest day.

Last weekend colour was everywhere. Music. Celebration. My cousin marched for the first time. There’s a lot of gay in my family. It’s the confused ones I worry about. I wish an easy life for everyone – I know I’m naïve.

Today it was just dirty and seedy. The green ‘walk’ pedestrian wave dumped hospital workers in scrubs; a large bouncer all dressed in black; a couple of walking wounded, eyes glazed, struggling to lift one leg after the other going not even they know where; and a pair of beyond middle age tourists onto the road, in front of my car. It’ll be the same next time the lights change.

No one’s cheering on Oxford St today.

Same street, keep driving, the designer labels and coffee shops welcome you to the edge of wealthy town. Where’s the line (is it a specific set of traffic lights?) that says ‘if you don’t know where you fit in life turn back, you fit back here; if you like to lunch and shop or watch those that do you’re almost there’?

Could everyone on that side of the line please come over to this side for one day and see just how much they could help. There’s a beautiful long street of diversity crying out for everyday colour. Time to get involved.


other people’s stories


Twelve people came to our office yesterday to learn.

People watching is often interesting but condensed like that I found it good for mindfulness. Good for realising that everyone has something going on. All these bodies walking around with their own insecurities and challenges.

Two were late. One because he slept in – I know him. The other told me during a break that he’d first gone to our old location – quite a walk out of his way early in the morning.

Phones on silent but one call taken outside, and from her end of the conversation I know that her car had broken down this morning.  And after picking her up and delivering her to us, her daughter was now dealing with mechanics, tow trucks…

Before we all parted company one, way too young to have three children surely, told me her youngest had thrown up in the car on the early morning drive and so…she was looking up buses on the net/phone. The car was going to need some detox time.

Too easy to get caught up in my head with this and that disturbing me. Everyone has something going on, everyone has a story to tell.

Every single sentient being’s story is important.

Light a candle tonight at 8pm (AEDT) out of respect for refugees / asylum seekers #LIGHTTHEDARK 


it’s Tuesday in oz, what are you doing?


9.30am youngest daughter walks in having been at boyfriend’s overnight and sees me sitting on the couch. Could be that I woke up, sat here, nothing has happened.


I woke before 6 to a strange tapping sound. I thought the small cat was playing with something and kept calling her, quietly. When I got up I let my ears lead me and found that a crow was pecking at the skylight, on the stairs up to the attic. I hope he doesn’t break through and fall in…


Put mother’s pills out for the morning and let her carer in. Fed the cats.


Chat with son in law as he prepares his food to take for the working day. Quick turn around the tiny garden together while he shares what will happen next – backyard blitz in progress, happy face. Retractable awning with a tilt has been ordered, palms a plenty to be delivered tomorrow. Instant tropical privacy screen from the flats behind us.


Hugest truck ever appears around the corner. What is it doing here? It can’t fit in our street. Next time I look the truck driver and another passerby are changing a neighbour’s flat tyre. That’s why he’s here. Karma – causes and conditions. There is no such thing as a coincidence.


I’ve answered about 10 work emails, blog comments. I’m waiting on a grocery delivery. And a phone call from a friend in Boston.


9.30am – nothing has happened yet, I’m just sitting here.


(oh and the fires continue to burn, cousins on standby to evacuate – I wish they’d just come down out of the mountains already, be safe)