Riding home from yoga and breakfast, sometime just after 11. The Sunday 8:30 class is a nice way to start the day, as is an almond milk latte from Reuben Hills. It's getting cold out, and there was even a little rain, so I was happy I'd packed my favourite Portland flannel and trusty rain jacket for the short ride across the park. The afternoon was pretty special too - I took my cousins Tess and Lucy, a few of my aunties and my grandmother to see Women of Letters in Marrickville. I've been wanting to get along to one of their readings for ages, and somehow managed to find seven last-minute tickets just before the event sold out. I'm a letter writer from way-back and love that the structure continually changes, themed around different ideas so it remains fresh and interesting. The six lovely ladies reading last week were diverse, funny, intelligent, heartfelt and beautiful. I especially love that the readings aren't filmed or recorded in any way, that the content of the letters isn't published, so the time feels really special. It must be terrifying to share a personal story with a room full of strangers, but these writers, comedians, and performers all put their hearts on the line and it was amazing to be a part of it. I'd been a bit worried that my grandmother might not cope, her hearing isn't good and the venue was dark, but we found her a comfortable chair and a mineral water and she had a ball.