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Beyond the picket fence

not quite as it seems…

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Fabulous food

Culinary Catastrophe

When asked by my Japanese hosts what I liked to eat, being an ignorant and over-confident twenty-year-old, I replied: Everything. At home in Australia, perhaps the most avant-garde dish I would face after answering as such, would be tripe, trotters or tongue, but I was seated in a small eatery in Tokyo, and I was the only gaigin among its local customers. Continue reading “Culinary Catastrophe”

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The twenty-one year itch: how spaghetti saved my marriage

In a few days it will be Valentines day, our twenty-second together. I wanted to share my first post with you and let you know that today my home is full and brimming with our belongings, my fantasy home mentioned below has been well and truly dismantled (for the moment!). This is the natural course of a relationship. There are no secrets to happiness and a successful marriage, all I can suggest is to enjoy the good times when they arrive. Laugh, live and love…

Beyond the picket fence

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It is Sunday afternoon and I sit alone in my car outside the supermarket. I can’t stand to be at home. My husband’s negative energy smothers me and the weight is too much to bear, I am left feeling breathless and defeated.

Only the previous night we were laughing together, we booked tickets to America for a family holiday next year. We were planning our future, our last few holidays with our teenage children. He placed his arm around me as a comfort as I became upset about how quickly time was passing. This morning he pulled the rug out from under me. A surly greeting from our teenage daughter caused him to explode and set off his usual fireworks at the kitchen table. We ate in silence punctuated by his temper. Tears welled, although I did not allow him the satisfaction of seeing them fall.  After all, passive aggression is my strong point.

I retreated to our bedroom where the tears spilled, tracking their well-forged path to the damp…

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We have to break-up

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‘I just can’t be your friend anymore.’ Kellie’s words spilled out between her sobs as she sat crumpled on the pavement. She looked towards Dave who was pacing around nervously.

Kellie had been the source of my first heart-break. We were nineteen. She was flirtatious, foul-mouthed and fiery, but above all she was fun. A dangerous kind of fun. If this was The Great Gatsby  then she would be Jay and I would be Nick. Kellie was an eternal party and I tagged along for the ride, curiously attracted to the illicit fun. For Kellie, the bigger the party the better; there was no such thing as a small gathering or a quiet night at home. Her boyfriend, Dave, seemed to prefer the smaller ones.

One evening he proposed that a night with just the three of us (and plenty of alcohol) would be the perfect party. Continue reading “We have to break-up”

Help! My body has been taken over by a middle-aged woman.

I am on a mission. Again.

A month ago

‘Just two kilos, that’s all I ask,’ my gym buddy Debbie said as she shovelled a corner of muffin into her mouth. ‘That’s it, I’m starting tomorrow, are you in?’

‘I’m in! Actually, I’ve started today.’ My God that muffin looked good, it was so big that it was more like a  small cake than an actual muffin. Raspberries and chocolate oozed from its sides. Perhaps just a taste. ‘This morning I even chucked out my secret stash . . .’ Continue reading “Help! My body has been taken over by a middle-aged woman.”

When you always have fillet steak do you sometimes crave sausage?

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While dining out with friends recently, we discussed the topic of Hugh Grant cheating on his then girlfriend Elizabeth Hurley, with Divine Brown a Los Angeles prostitute. Some of my friends were quick to judge and share their opinions. When I voiced my shock that he could cheat on one of the most beautiful women in the world a male friend quickly interjected:

“When you have fillet steak each night sometimes all you want is a bit of sausage…”

Continue reading “When you always have fillet steak do you sometimes crave sausage?”

The twenty-one year itch: how spaghetti saved my marriage

090621-divorce-hmed-4p.grid-6x2

It is Sunday afternoon and I sit alone in my car outside the supermarket. I can’t stand to be at home. My husband’s negative energy smothers me and the weight is too much to bear, I am left feeling breathless and defeated.

Only the previous night we were laughing together, we booked tickets to America for a family holiday next year. We were planning our future, our last few holidays with our teenage children. He placed his arm around me as a comfort as I became upset about how quickly time was passing. This morning he pulled the rug out from under me. Continue reading “The twenty-one year itch: how spaghetti saved my marriage”

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