Memories of my grandmother

The grandmother: revered There is something about grandmothers that verges on the folkloric. I recently read this article titled “The Sacred Wisdom of our Abuelas“ and it’s not the first time I’ve heard how a person’s grandma inspires them. My husband and my most recent housemate both speak with deep love and admiration for their grandmothers, particularly the paternal ones. It occurred to me that … Continue reading Memories of my grandmother

A Big Deal? Melbourne Cup memories, millennials and Michelle Payne

I first discovered that the Melbourne Cup was a Big Deal when my kindergarten class ran our own sweepstakes. There was no money involved, of course, and I don’t recall watching the race, but every 5 and 6 year old in the class drew a small piece of paper from a Danish cookie tin. Thus were we each assigned a horse. Being a very rational … Continue reading A Big Deal? Melbourne Cup memories, millennials and Michelle Payne

What have you done for the first time this year?

Five firsts for 2016

I have a friend who, at the age of 29, saw, smelled and heard the sea for the first time. And then, for his 30th birthday, he went ten pin bowling for the first time.

Which got me thinking: is this what my life has come to? Is there, as Solomon laments, nothing new under the sun for me? What significant “firsts” have I experienced this year?

I racked my brains and they are few but fine …
Continue reading What have you done for the first time this year?

My biography, as told by my booze

A personal atlas of alcohol.

Before you get the wrong impression, this post is not about booze-filled nights from my backpacking days. It’s an anthology of anecdotes and memories, linked by a common theme: alcoholic beverages.

My discovery of different drinks parallels some important memories. These are what I’d like to share with you.

So let me take you from my childhood, all around the world and back home again. In this brief autobiography, I’ll let the alcohol do the talking. Continue reading My biography, as told by my booze

Seeya, Sydney

You cried the day I left. Well, I like to think grey skies and rain spattered across the windshield means I meant something to you. Part of me wants to say you were a detour. But that would be unfair on you and, frankly, inaccurate. My life the novel, and you’re a chapter – no less vital to the story than the ones that preceded you, or the ones that will be … Continue reading Seeya, Sydney