Three years later and still writing my little heart out. Last week, as I was deep in end-of-the-week pints of beer at the Cricketer's, this site hit three years. For a while there I wondered if I'd make it to three; I've been distracted and tired of late, a bit bored I suppose, but here I am. And so glad I made it, of course.

I'm thinking of how to better structure my time and my writing for this next year ahead too. I feel like I need more purpose to it. I'm thinking how I might like to work towards something more, something different, something harder. 

So three pictures, three frames from my weekend, squinty and too-revealing but maybe a reflection of how I am here, trying to see the world and give a little of myself. Oh, and a circle, because symmetry.  




IMG_3992.JPGI'm trying hard not to be overwhelmed by the season. Just a few days in and December might be wearing me down. Awake before 6 with one hundred things to do, at work by 7, long days, always something on, not enough yoga, too much wine. On Monday I stayed in to write cards and listen to Christmas carols - sitting on my bedroom floor, ribbons and paper everywhere, it felt like every other year. It felt like that delicate balance between sending out love all happy and festive, and being exhausted. Full of lists and obligations and a heavy sadness for another year gone by. I spoke to my sister yesterday, she'd been up baking gingerbread for her class till 11 PM the last three nights (because that's what teachers do). She was tired, she was stressed. Tonight I was early to meet friends and found myself with an hour at North Bondi. And sitting here just now writing this, watching the water and thinking about the month ahead, a school of dolphins came in and started diving by the rocks and close to shore. Actual dolphins. I don't know that I've seen dolphins in the wild before (or I can't remember when I have). I don't know that I've had quite such a resounding put-your-damn-worries-away-and-wake-up-to-the-moment in the wild before either. The silvery grey of the sky as the heat of the day slowed and the storm rolled in, their playful tails in the few soft waves, the nowhere to be for an hour and the thought that December just happens once a year all fell into place. It wasn't a bad Thursday.


IMG_2509.JPGTwo whole years of Sugar Mountain today. Hard to know what to write about after two years of ramblings - I like to think of it as 'the sweet life' (see above, left), but I suppose it's just my small corner of the world to remember the things I like and the things that matter and the things that make me happy. It was supposed to make me write more, and I have, which is nice. Some of it has been personal, some of it GROUNDBREAKING, some of it romantic, some of it spectacular, some of it silly and all of it a dream to write.

So you have here two very grainy out of focus selfies to celebrate two years. It's late afternoon and very sunny, I'm drinking Earl Grey and listening to Gillian Welch with the window wide open and I couldn't be happier about the whole thing.

Thanks for coming by, eh… xxxxx


20140715-183858-67138082.jpgI think I've mentioned here before how my sister and I send each other postcards every month or so - have done for almost 15 years, from all over the world, from different cities and states and countries, to just a few streets away. Yesterday I got this one, just in time to make my Monday lovely - James Taylor is a dreamboat, we grew up with him in our house and his voice feels like home. I remember when I moved back to Adelaide, at 22, heartbroken after four years in London and all a bit lost, and my parents took me to see him at the Festival Theatre. He was about the kindest and most gentle-man you could meet (next to my old dad). He thanked everyone for coming with so much genuine warmth, and said 'you know, it just wouldn't be the same without you'. It made me smile. Something in the Way She Moves is one of the most romantic songs I know. So intimate, the parts of the relationship that go unspoken but nurture you all the same.

Thanks Katy xx


20140616-094840-35320511.jpgRiding 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.