DECEMBER
How am I 53?
Of course, it is a rhetorical question. I’m well aware that I’m turning 53, yet it feels like my 50s are slipping by in the blink of an eye. It genuinely seems like just a few months ago when I celebrated my 50th birthday.
Looking back, I must be brutally honest: I loathed my 40s. I despised that decade with a vengeance. Turning 40 was a bright spot—my loved ones were still by my side, and I had an unforgettable celebration with my brother and sister-in-law visiting from the UK. My parents threw a party complete with cake, drinks, and 40 presents. That Christmas Day was phenomenal.
But after that, things took a turn. My 40s were marred by some profoundly difficult experiences. I battled cancer, became a widow, lost close family members, and had to leave a job I’d devoted 30 years to. There were far too many “not nice” moments in those years.
Now, as I approach 53, I reflect on what has changed. My 50s have gifted me something truly special: quality time with my dad. Both of us, now widowed, share a home where I have my own space—lounge, bedroom, bathroom—but it’s the moments we spend together that truly matter. No longer is our time limited to brief visits or dinners out. Our connection is richer and more meaningful; we go to concerts, enjoy shows, and explore new places together. Sometimes we talk endlessly, and other times we sit in comfortable silence.
This decade has allowed me to cherish my relationship with my dad, much like I did with my mom before her passing. Caring for her brought us closer, filled with laughter and late-night NRL games. Now, that same quality time is devoted to my dad and me. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world
NOVEMBER
November: Part 3: Christmas Trees with a twist
Here’s the thing. When you have a birthday on 25th December, Christmas can detract from your birthday. Not intentionally, but Christmas is what everyone associates with December 25. Birthdays take second place. Yes, I know I am in my 50s, not a kid and it should not bother me, but I LOVE my birthday and want to celebrate it. So, this year I made a conscious choice. You are wondering what I am planning right? Oh, I can hear you laughing…. but hear me out.
For what can only be described as years, I have been looking for birthday ornaments for a Christmas tree. Unbelievably, they are notoriously hard to find but find them I did…. Amazon USA! They are sitting in my room patiently waiting for my tree to go up. Instead of tinsel, I have a birthday banner. You can see where this is all going right? It is going to be a birthday tree. There will be the odd plain bauble on my tree but this year I’m debating a girly colour scheme.
There will still be lights on it, after all, nothing beats the lights a-twinkling during the evenings. I can’t say a cold evening because let’s face it, I live in Queensland, and it is hardly cold!! There will be some random decorations on there that stand for family. But most of all, the tree will be unique.
For the first time ever, it’s a birthday tree….Why did I not do this sooner!???
November: Part 2: Christmas Birthdays
Imagine being the ultimate Christmas gift—literally! Yes, that’s me, born on the most festive day of the year. 06:55 on Christmas morning all those years ago! While most people unwrap presents under twinkling lights, I came into the world amidst a chorus of “Jingle Bells” and my mum yelling through labour pains. It sounds magical, right? Well, let’s unwrap the reality of being a Christmas baby.
Firstly, there is the perennial struggle with birthday celebrations. You see, when your birthday coincides with the birth of someone famous—hint: starts with a “J” and ends with “esus”—it’s hard not to feel overshadowed. Everyone will be saying “merry Christmas…. oh yeah, happy birthday.” While part of you wants to say, “sod Christmas, it’s my birthday!” the other part of you has known what was coming.
Gifts? Are they always “combo” presents? “Here’s your Christmas/birthday present!” Sometimes: one gift to rule them all, for both occasions. But this is not always true. My late mum was a superstar. So was my late husband. There was never one present for both. They were strong believers in never missing out on my birthday. Let’s just say, for my 40th birthday, my parents bought 40 presents! That was an amazing day. My husband would always materialise with a special gift, something I’d talked about that I always wanted …. he had a knack for things like that!
As a Christmas baby, you also get to experience the joy of sharing your special day with everyone else. Family gatherings? Check. Office parties? Check. Random strangers in the street humming carols? Check, check, check. It’s like the entire world decided to throw a massive celebration on your birthday, and you are just trying to find a quiet corner to eat your cake in peace.
But let’s not forget the annual struggle of finding a venue for birthday parties or dinners. “Sorry, we’re closed for Christmas” become the only words you hear. Ever tried booking a restaurant for December 25th? It is like trying to find a snowflake in the Sahara—rare and usually involves a lot of compromise. And don’t get me started on the availability of birthday cards that don’t have a Christmas tree or a Santa on them!!
Yet again, my mum came up trumps. When I was a child, she managed to throw me a birthday party every year. Yes, you heard that right. Every year. I bet you’re wondering how aren’t you? Well, let me tell you. She threw me a party every June/July. She made it a “1/2 birthday party” I was like the queen. The mid-year birthday was for school friends. Christmas was for family. By doing this, she made me feel incredibly special.
But amidst the chaos and the occasional gift-wrap mix-up, some believe that being a Christmas baby can have its rewards. I’m often asked, ‘what’s it like to always have the day off on your birthday?’ To which I reply, ‘I usually work, people don’t stop getting sick at Christmas.’ (I was a nurse for 30 years)
So, to all my fellow Christmas babies out there, let’s raise a glass to navigating the tinsel-covered waters of birthdays and holidays combined. It may not always be easy, but it is certainly never boring. After all, who needs a separate birthday when you’ve got the entire world celebrating with you?
Christmas. That day in December where everyone goes mad. The shops are busy. The supermarket is chaos as everyone buys enough food for an army on manoeuvres, even though the shops only shut for one day.
And let’s not forget the lead-up to Christmas. That endless lead-up that starts earlier and earlier each year. This year, we began in mid-September. The supermarkets rolled out mince pies and Christmas puddings. The big stores stocked up on trees, decorations, wrapping paper, cards, and the ever-expanding range of potential gifts. Even Bunnings joined the party, selling all those outdoor odds and ends—you know, those lights you spend hours putting up only to take them down what feels like moments later. Yep, those ones!
I’m answering this from my perspective. It’s getting harder and harder to drum up the enthusiasm. With the loss of my husband and my mum (both of whom just adored the silly season!), it’s now just Dad and me. ‘Christmas’ has become more about my birthday.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have a tree. After all, nothing beats a dark evening with the soft glow of twinkling Christmas lights. It’s not about rejecting Christmas entirely; it’s about reshaping it into something that fits where I am now in life. For me, the season has become less about the rush and the noise, and more about the quieter moments, the memories, and yes, the reminder that Christmas Day is also the day I came into this world. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough of a celebration for me.
So, as individuals, do we celebrate Christmas? That depends on what it means to you.
OCTOBER
Part 2: Random Thoughts
A random thought is almost an unexpected visitor—one that pops into your mind unannounced, without context or invitation. These thoughts often seem unrelated to the moment at hand and can range from the mundane to the profound, from the curious to the absolutely bizarre. They can arrive when you’re in the middle of a task, reading a book, or even drifting off to sleep. One minute, you’re focused on something, and the next, you’re wondering about the nutritional value of jelly beans. But what exactly are these random thoughts, and why do they happen?
Random thoughts are essentially the brain’s way of wandering, a mental side-step from whatever it is that you are doing at the time. The human mind is constantly processing information, even when we’re not actively aware of it. Thoughts, memories, emotions, and ideas are always swirling in the background, and ever now and then, something breaks through into consciousness. Sometimes, it’s triggered by a sensory experience—a smell, a sound, or even the temperature can bring forth a memory or an idea that seems to have nothing to do with what you were focused on. Other times, random thoughts can come from the subconscious, unbidden and without a clear source.
While they might seem out of place or even disruptive at times, random thoughts serve a purpose. Our brains are highly associative, constantly making connections between different pieces of information. When you think of one thing, it can trigger another, even if the connection isn’t obvious. This associative thinking helps us solve problems, create new ideas, and remember important details. Random thoughts are just a natural byproduct of this complex process.
In some cases, random thoughts can even provide inspiration. Many great ideas, inventions, and works of art have come from seemingly random thoughts. The mind’s ability to drift off-course and consider new possibilities can lead to creative breakthroughs. The famous story of Isaac Newton’s realization about gravity after observing a falling apple is a classic example of how a seemingly random thought can lead to profound insights.
However, not all random thoughts are welcome. They can sometimes be intrusive or unwanted, especially when they involve worries, fears, or negative memories. These kinds of random thoughts, known as intrusive thoughts, can be unsettling and difficult to control. Yet, they’re a normal part of the human experience, and with practice, it’s possible to manage them by acknowledging them and then gently steering the mind back to the present.
When you think about it, a random thought is quite simply a glimpse into the vast and intricate network that is the human mind. Embracing these random moments of mental wandering can lead to unexpected insights, new ideas, and sometimes, a much-needed moment of lightness in the middle of a busy day.
Part 1: Talking writing.
I’ve always had a deep love for writing. For as long as I can remember, it’s been part of my life. As a child, I would create handmade cards for family members, carefully crafting rhymes to go inside—almost like a mini Hallmark writer in the making! Whether it was those cards, heartfelt poems, or short stories, I was always putting pen to paper. Sometimes, I’d even write letters. The inspiration for “Unscripted Life” came from something my dad stumbled upon on his computer—a letter I had written to my mum in December 1993, for her birthday. That letter became a cherished memory and the foundation for this project.
“Mum, I actually started writing this letter the other day. I saw a TV programme and someone commented on how her kids didn’t need her any more since they moved out! Well, not true! Don’t ever feel left out or neglected. I’ll always need you!
That is one memory I have of Nan P. She said “Look after your Mum, she’s the only one you’ve got!”. I’ve never forgotten that!
I guess what I want to say is Thank You for the past 22 years. Even though I now have a new family, Mark and the kids, I will always need my Mum!”
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. As a friend from the UK once remarked, “you were always reading too, never without a book.” That passion for words, both written by me and for me, carried me into adulthood. During my studies, I wrote countless university papers on topics like nursing, ethics, and budgets. After my nursing career ended, I began writing more formally. While caring for my late husband during his illness, I completed two writing courses, both achieved with distinction.
Since then, I’ve published a poetry book, a children’s book, and even ghostwrote a book on caring for someone with dementia. I spent almost 3 years writing for a celebrant and her business. Now, my writing has found a home on my website, Madhatterpress.cloud. My work has structure and a schedule, but it’s also become something more—a daily need. Whether it’s drafting a book chapter, writing an email, or working on a website piece, I feel almost compelled to write every day. It’s become an essential part of who I am.
SEPTEMBER
Part 2: Solo Trips
While some women would be reluctant to do solo trips for a size of reasons, I am not one of them. I love them. Last year I had an overnight in Brisbane. Yes, rugby was involved. Yes, a pie and a pint were involved and yes, my beloved Broncos were playing. I also took myself off to Diamondvale Cottages
This year, I am about to embark on my 3rd solo adventure. It is back to Stanthorpe, but I am staying somewhere different this time. Ridgemill Estate and Winery is going to be my base for 2 nights. The Giraween National Park, Stanthorpe Cheese, Symphony Hill wine and a variety of other places will be my points of interest. Last year, I did the Stanthorpe touristy things. This year, I want to revisit a couple of those, but I want to see the granite formations in the national park.
So ladies, let us talk about solo trips. It is an experience that had the potential to transform you. First, packing for a solo trip is an art form. You pack as if you are moving to a new country: “I’ll need three pairs of shoes for different moods, a jacket for every actual and potential climate, and don’t forget the emergency chocolate.” By the time you are done, you have effectively created a suitcase that could rival Mary Poppins’ carpet bag. And yet, you will still manage to forget something essential like, oh, I don’t know, your toothbrush.
When you get to your destination, you are greeted with the first solo traveler dilemma: how to avoid looking like a lost tourist. Your internal GPS has a delightful habit of going haywire, making every street look like the last street you were on. You will inevitably end up walking in circles, each time hoping that this will be the street with the charming café where the waiter smiles sympathetically every time you walk past his door again!
Eating alone can be a whole adventure. You will find yourself inventing elaborate backstories to explain why you are by yourself. “Oh, I’m just a food critic on a top-secret mission to evaluate every single restaurant in this city.” Or maybe you’ll go for the “I’m writing a novel” approach, and then go ahead to order enough food to feed a small army because, why not? The waitstaff will look at you like you are a wandering enigma, but hey, if they’re happy, you’re happy.
Navigating social situations as a solo traveler is another comedy of errors. You might strike up conversations with strangers, who then continue to share their life stories with you in the most unexpected places. For instance, you will find yourself at a bus stop discussing existential philosophy with a street performer while trying to ignore the fact that your luggage just rolled away on its own.
By the end of your solo trip, you will have a newfound appreciation for human interaction and a confidence in your ability to survive on minimal sleep and a questionable diet of local snacks. You will return home with stories that make you sound like a globe-trotting legend, though half of them will involve you getting lost or eating too much.
But here’s the thing. Cheers to solo travel, where every misstep is an adventure, every meal is a feast, and every selfie is a work of art. If nothing else, you will come back with an epic collection of travel anecdotes and an impressive ability to navigate unfamiliar places with nothing but your wits and a trusty map app.
My nickel’s worth of free advice is planning. Plan the trip. Plan your day out. Have your routes mapped out, the lot. Makes life easier. And enjoy every damn second. Life’s way too short.
Part 1: The Average Woman
Define an average woman. Go on, I dare you. What’s average? While none of us will dare to say anything out loud, I would bet that if asked in a survey, you would define yourself as ‘average.’ My take on ‘average women’ comes from living with my dad and hearing quite frequently ‘you’re not like most women, you’ll get drummed out of the sisterhood.’ So, here’s my take.
Remembering things
While the average woman may remember everything, and let’s be honest, most do, I’m a to-do list kinda gal. I have to. To-do lists and calendar reminders. I’d never remember things or get anything done if I didn’t. I am definitely not ‘the average woman’ in this department!
Shopping
Now if you said to a woman, ‘let’s go shopping’, the average woman would race you to the car and already be planning the easiest route around the local centre. Say the same to me. Go on, try it. If it can be ordered online, that’s the way I’mdoing it!!
Multi-tasking
The average woman is like a walking, talking Swiss Army knife with an uncanny ability to do it all. Need a multitasker who can plan a week’s worth of meals while mentally filing away that odd thing someone random said in passing at the grocery store? That is her. In terms of skills, the average woman is a multitasking ninja. She can juggle work, family, and social life. Her life is an intricate web of to-do lists, and somehow, she manages to cross most of the items off before adding ten more. Me? I must have to-do lists and reminders in my calendar, otherwise nothing gets done!! I can’t do it all. I never try and I ask for help. I’m sensible enough to know that there are things women cannot do and while my dad can do those things, I’ll take a side step out of that proverbial sisterhood!
Snacks
My mum was the queen when it came to hidden snacks. When I was a kid, it took me years to find where she was hiding the Twiglets from me. I tried the same trick once only to be told by my stepson, ‘it’s ok, I know where they are!’ But she was the connoisseur of snacks. She knew the best chocolate to stress ratio and always had a secret stash somewhere only she knew about.
Emotionally, the average woman is a bit like a Wi-Fi network—she is always connected. She’s fluent in the unspoken language of eye rolls, sighs, and the ever-potent “fine,” which means ‘everything’ except fine.
In short, the average woman is anything but average. She’s a delightful mix of contradictions, skills, quirks, and heart. She’s capable of extraordinary things, all while making it look like she’s just having another day. So if you ever meet her, remember she’s not your average woman—she’s ‘the’ average woman, and that is something special.
AUGUST
Part 2: Five years and one wish
Five years ago, I lost my husband—not in a supermarket or a park, but to the relentless grip of autoimmune diseases, Myasthenia Gravis and Guillain Barre Syndrome.
Here I stand today, five years on, older and perhaps a touch wiser from the challenges life has thrown my way.
If I had just one wish, I wouldn’t ask for much. I would wish for one more night. One more night to share with him all that has unfolded since he left us. I would tell him of the ‘northern branch of the family’, updating him on his mother and brothers, and recount everything that has shaped our family. I would share news of the ‘southern family’, stories of his children and grandchildren, showing him cherished photos.
I would proudly reveal my writing journey, displaying the books I’ve authored and guiding him through my website, where he could read every word. I would excitedly recount my experiences writing about Band of Brothers and the friendships it has brought into my life. And, of course, I would showcase my cooking skills, knowing how much he loved my food
But most of all, I would tell him how much I miss him.
I miss his presence outside dressing rooms, offering his opinion on outfits.
I miss his cheerful call for breakfast outings.
I miss his request for a cup of tea, catching me feigning sleep.
I miss the comfort of his hand on my back as we fell asleep, his silent reassurance.
I miss the countless calls throughout the day to share the little joys.
I miss his surprises—concert tickets, theatre outings, and spontaneous holidays.
I miss the ferocity of his love and how it made me feel so safe.
I miss him.
Part 1: Getting older…
Turning 75 is a remarkable milestone, and on the 29th, that milestone belongs to my dad. I have a favorite photo of him in his late 30s, holding a camera—my enduring image of him. How can he be 75? Yet here we are. He joins the elite club of wisdom and charm, the club whose membership fee is surviving youth and middle age while staying sane. My dad is entering the ’75 club’ this month, and to celebrate, we’re heading to Warrior Restaurant.
Dad is a legend. He’s the one who stands at the door when I open it “just in case.” When I seek advice, he’s there. When there’s a job to be done, he does it for me because “that’s what dads are for.” He’s always been there—a man with a dad joke for every occasion, who loves his pale ale, but above all, he’s mine. The first man in my life, a daughter’s first love.
Age may have slowed him down a bit, but when his finger presses the shutter of his Canon R5, it’s as if a new surge of energy flows through him. Watching him pursue his hobby is like witnessing a master at work. I stand and smile as he captures his images.
His style hasn’t changed much over the years; he prioritises comfort over fashion—and rightfully so. He’s earned the right to choose joggers and a t-shirt when needed. He’s a man of priorities, principles, and integrity.
Beyond the dad jokes and his easygoing manner, he’s a living, breathing manual of life lessons. He’s taught my brother and I countless lessons: that growing older doesn’t mean growing up, that love, kindness, humour, and a good pale ale are life’s essentials. Most importantly, he’s shown us how proud he is and that no matter how old we get, we’ll always be “the kids.”
Dad at 75! May your years ahead be brimming with love, laughter, and countless more stories to share. Love your kids!
JULY
Part 2: Solar Power
Solar power has emerged as a force in the global energy landscape. Utilising the energy from the sun, solar power harnesses photons emitted by the sun and converts them into usable electricity through photovoltaic (PV) cells or solar thermal systems. This technology not only offers a sustainable alternative to fossil fuels but also promises significant environmental and economic benefits.
Picture the scene. You have solar power in your home. It’s giving you back a couple of dollars a month and you know it needs upgrading. However, there are other things that are much more important at the time. Dad has had solar in place for years but over the last few years, it’s never really been effective. So, once he got around to it, he called for quotes, and we were all systems go. The system was put in and explained to us and we were off and running. The first month, the power bill was $0. Now Dad is up to $500 in credit with the power.
It’s all about utilising your appliances at the right time. Put the dishwasher on first thing in the morning. Then you have all day to recoup the energy you have used. The same with a washing machine.
Economically, solar power offers diverse advantages. As technology advances, the cost of solar panels continues to decline, making solar energy increasingly competitive with traditional fossil fuels. This cost reduction, coupled with financial incentives such as tax credits and subsidies, has spurred widespread adoption of solar power throughout residential, commercial, and industrial sectors.
By harnessing the natural energy of the sun, solar power offers environmental, economic, and social benefits that position it as a critical component of a diversified and resilient energy portfolio. Its working well for us!
Part 1: In the Bleak Midwinter
Imagine this: you’re dreaming of a white Christmas, sipping mulled wine, bundled in warm clothes, and with radiators on full blast. But in Australia, winter greets you with kangaroos bouncing through fields of wildflowers under a surprisingly warm sun. Welcome to the quirky, topsy-turvy world of an Australian winter!
In the land Down Under, winter hits its stride in June, July, and August. Australians dust off their Ugg boots (yes, they’re genuinely worn here) and fire up the BBQs. Winter barbies are a thing. Why? Because nothing says “chilly weather” like a sausage sizzle.
Having lived here for almost 20 years, I’ve become well-acclimatised to the Australian weather. I arrived in February 2005, stepping off the plane in jeans and a t-shirt, right into the sweltering heart of a Queensland summer. Hot was an understatement. Over the years, I’ve adjusted, my bedding fluctuating between sheets, duvets, and blankets depending on the season. In summer, I’m always in shorts or dresses, but as the temperature drops, my wardrobe selection changes.
Winter in Australia offers a unique blend of mild confusion, unconventional festivities, and the kind of laid-back humour that Aussies excel at. In places like Brisbane and Darwin, winter remains mild, with temperatures typically staying between 15 to 25 degrees Celsius (59 to 77 degrees Fahrenheit). The warmer weather means outdoor activities are still in full swing. Hiking, beach trips, and outdoor festivals remain popular, ensuring that the spirit of summer lingers even in the cooler months.
In rural areas, the landscape transforms with winter rains bringing lush greenery and vibrant wildflowers. It’s a season that invites exploration and adventure, a time to appreciate the natural beauty that flourishes even in the cooler months.
For those who’ve grown accustomed to the traditional images of winter, Australia’s version might seem a bit strange. But it’s this very uniqueness that makes an Australian winter so special. It’s a season that combines the familiar with the unexpected, blending cozy comforts with outdoor adventures. Winter wonderland? Not quite. Winter weird land? Absolutely! And it’s this quirky, laid-back charm that makes it a season to look forward to each year.
JUNE
Part 2: He would have been 60
June 15th is less than a week away and my late husband Mark would have been 60. It seems strange to say that when his 50th birthday feels like it was yesterday. For his 50th, we went away to Kewarra Beach Resort in North Queensland. I arranged a private dinner for the two of us, with our own chef and wine waiter. We had a table under a gazebo outside away from the busyness of the restaurant. It was divine. They printed our own personalised menus for us, and the night was perfect.
When we came home, we went to Portabellas restaurant in Albany Creek for a meal and celebrated again, just the 2 of us.
I have a feeling if he were here for his 60th, it would be a private celebration again. But he’s no longer here. This is the 5th birthday he’s been gone for, and they never get easier. You always think about what you would have been doing.
All I can say is I would wish a happy birthday to the man that loved me fiercely, protected me and made me feel so safe. The man that was my best friend. The man that made 25 years of marriage feel like 25 minutes. The man that gifted me so many wonderful memories. Thank you, my soulmate, and 831, always.
Part 1: Home Alone
June – seriously, how did that happen already? Here we are at the start of June, and I’ve just had the house to myself for several days. Dad has been away with the camera club, so I’ve been home alone. Dangerous territory I know!! I’ve had a few chores to do and took care of those. Shopping, Cotton Tree Meats for marinated chicken thighs for dinner. Haircut and nails done, check car tyres, repotting plants, change dads’ bed and my bed. Sort out a few cupboards chucking away what’s no longer required. Several loads of washing and even managed a quick beer at the brewery. Sitting down with a good book was high on my list too. Currently I’m reading ‘Leading America’ by Sean Spicer. I keep up with American politics and have an interest in it.
It’s a strange feeling when I’m home alone. Dont get me wrong, I’ve never been one of those women who worries about things happening when I’m at home, but I guess it’s so strange as I’m used to dad and I being together. I’d like to say the house is quiet, but the music is on. It usually is with me, whether it be headphones or the speaker! Todays the speaker. The music is a mixture. Some of my favourites. Some of Marks and some that invoke memories. I’ve also been watching some favourite Friends episodes on Netflix.
So, all in all a bit of everything. Tomorrow (Sunday) is destined to be a rainy day, so I am in all day. After all, the chores are done and my excitement for Sunday is a bacon and egg brekky and a shower!
MAY
Part 2: The hole in my life
Five years into this journey of widowhood, and the notion of moving on seems unnatural. How could anyone expect me to simply “move on” from the love of my life? For 27 beautiful years, he and the memories we shared were my everything.
How does one move past the flood of memories that permeate every corner of life? Memories that refuse to be tucked away, triggered by the smallest things—a familiar melody, a comforting scent, a cherished piece of clothing. They’re a constant presence, a reminder of a life once shared, and they refuse to be ignored.
That’s without considering those everyday reminders that punctuate the days, each one a reminder of what’s been lost? The songs we loved, the meals we savoured, the destinations we dreamed of exploring together. They’re not just moments; they’re threads woven into the fabric of my existence, of the life we had.
The truth is you can’t move on. And perhaps, you shouldn’t. Instead, you carry those memories forward with you, each one a testament to the love that defined your life.
It’s been almost five years, and the void left by their absence remains gaping. It’s not just the loss of my husband; it’s the absence of a partner in every sense. The one who shared date nights, who stood side by side with me in the kitchen, who knew when to offer solace without words. The one who brewed my morning coffee without a prompt, whose presence beside me in bed brought comfort and security. He was my protector, my confidant, my fiercest champion.
That void will never be filled, but in carrying his memory forward, in cherishing every moment we shared, I know I can find some strength to navigate this journey called life, my ‘part 2.’
Part 1: Pearl Wedding
Last year for my birthday, I got a set of pearl stud earrings. Nothing abnormal in that I hear you say. Nice gift you’re thinking. But they were more than a nice gift. They had meaning behind them. Let me tell you the story.
On the 6th of May, it will be 30 years since I stood at Langton’s Registry Office and said ‘I do’ to my late husband Mark. Thirty years! While I’ve never been a lover of pearl necklaces, I wanted to get something to mark the occasion. Pearl earrings were my choice.
Thirty years is an anniversary to be proud of. I just wish we were celebrating together.
APRIL
Part 2: Life with Dad
Losing both a husband and a parent within such a short span of time is an incredibly difficult experience. It’s a journey marked by grief, pain, and the challenge of navigating life without those we hold dear. For me, the loss of Mark in 2019 and then my mother in 2021 plunged me into a world that I never could have anticipated.
There’s no handbook for coping with such profound loss, no easy roadmap to follow. Instead, you simply find a way to keep moving forward, even as your heart feels heavy with sorrow
Moving into dad’s home and renting out my own house might seem unconventional to some, especially at the age of 52. It’s not the typical narrative we expect for someone at this stage in life. But for me, it’s been a lifeline, a source of unexpected comfort and connection. In the wake of tragedy, it brought my father and me closer together in ways I never imagined.
When you’re young and living on your own, visits to your parents often revolve around holidays and special occasions. You drop by for birthdays, share moments during Christmas, and perhaps stop in after work, conscious that you have things to do and places to be. But now, under the roof of dad’s home, I’ve been gifted something extraordinary: time.
Living with my dad has given us the chance to truly connect, to have those deep, meaningful conversations that we might have missed in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It’s a precious gift, this one-on-one time, where we can reminisce about the past, share our hopes for the future, and simply be present with each other in the moment.
While it was tragedy that brought us together under one roof, it’s also brought us closer than ever before. In the quiet moments of shared meals and late-night conversations, I’ve come to realise that despite the pain of loss, there is still beauty to be found in the love and support of family. And for that, I consider myself truly fortunate.
Part 1: Easter: I am not religious but I will take the chocolate
So, here’s the thing. I’m not religious. There we go, I’ve said it out loud. I’ve never been the religious type, although like most babies of my generation I was christened. I think back in those days, it was just the done thing to do. Anyway, I digress.
You may be wondering what gave me the idea for this post. I was asked in an email recently about whether I ate Easter eggs. Not a controversial question, but as I am usually one not to go in for the commercialisation of everything it was a reasonable question from the person that asked me. I answered the question and said, ‘yes of course I have Easter eggs, it’s chocolate. Why wouldn’t I?
Now anyone who know me or my family will be laughing, smiling, giggling (insert as appropriate) when we talk of chocolate. My mum was a chocoholic. Another of my relatives that I can think of loved chocolate. Whenever I went with her to pick up the Chinese takeaway, the owner of the shop put a chocolate bar in the bag…. but why oh why would youput chocolate in a bag of hot food. Defies logic doesn’t it. Not for this relative. She would tear off the corner before we got home and drink the liquid chocolate!!’
But there is something about Easter egg chocolate. It’s what they call ‘cheap chocolate’ compared to good old-fashioned Cadbury’s. It tastes better. Don’t ask me why, it just does.
MARCH
Part 2: Time
Do you ever think about time? Here’s what I mean. It’s Monday, the week stretches out ahead. You do everything that’s needed all week and then the weekends here. Before you know it, it’s back to Monday again. Time flies fast. Agree?
Have you noticed how time flies even faster the older you get?
This is a common experience for many people. But why does it happen?
Routine and Familiarity – As we age, we often settle into routines and become familiar with surroundings and experiences. When life becomes more predictable, there are fewer new and novel events to mark the passage of time, making it seem like time is moving more quickly.
Comparison to Past Experiences – As we accumulate more life experiences, each new period of time may feel relatively shorter when compared to the entirety of our life. This is because the proportion of time represented by a year, for example, becomes smaller as we accumulates more years.
Neurological Factors – Some research suggests that our brain processes time differently as we age. The neural mechanisms responsible for time perception may change over the years, leading to the feeling that time is passing more quickly.
Busy Lives – In today’s fast-paced world, we often lead busy lives with numerous responsibilities and activities. A packed schedule can contribute to a sense of time slipping away, especially when there is a constant focus on meeting deadlines and managing obligations.
Lack of Novelty – Children often experience time more slowly because everything is new and novel to them. As we age, we become more accustomed to our surroundings, and fewer new experiences create a sense of time passing more quickly.
The perception of time is subjective, and individuals may experience it differently. But for me, as I am getting older, the weeks are moving faster, the years come around faster and I wonder where it all went? Have the best times of life already passed us by?
Part 1: The Rugbys back!
It feels like it’s been away forever but the nrl is back. March 2 is the first official game of the season, and this year that game is being held in Las Vegas at Allegiant stadium. I know, you’re going to ask if I am going and much as I would have loved to jump on a plane to Sin City, it’s not an option.
So, I will be watching some online, and some in person. I tend to pick and choose my games to go to. I like Broncos v Storm/Cowboys/Rabbitohs…a game that you can really get your teeth into, if you know what I mean.
My seasonal NRL wardrobe is back in its rightful place ready for the get-go in March. The Bronco’s anthem is on my Spotify playlist and all I have to say is good luck boys and “Let’s go Broncos.”
FEBRUARY
Part 2 – “Valentines Day”
Valentine’s Day, a day that often seems to revel in the splendour of romantic relationships, may hold a unique place in the hearts of those navigating the waters of singledom. For many, February 14th is more than just a celebration of couples; it becomes an opportunity to redefine love, cherish individuality, and find joy in the independence that comes with being single.
The journey of being single on Valentine’s Day begins with a realization—a realization that being unattached does not equate to being incomplete. It is a state of mind where one recognises the beauty in solitude and the freedom to explore personal passions, goals, and aspirations without the constraints of a romantic relationship.
In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, singles may choose to reject societal expectations and redefine the narrative surrounding this celebration of love. Instead of viewing it as a day exclusively for couples, it becomes an opportunity to celebrate the diverse and multifaceted nature of love. To step away from the commercialisation of the day.
As the sun sets on Valentine’s Day, singles may find themselves with a renewed sense of appreciation for the richness of their lives. The celebration of love, untethered from the confines of a romantic relationship, becomes a journey of self-love, friendship, and personal growth. The day is not defined by the absence of a romantic partner but rather by the abundance of love that exists within and around each individual.
What if that partner absence is due to loss? What if you’re a widow? How do you approach Valentine’s Day then? Is it looked on differently? Well, that all depends on how your Valentines was prior to your loss. My late husband was a romantic. As someone said to me once, ‘you’re a right proper team.’ The difference was he would not buy things on Valentines Day. His theory was (and he was right) that he didn’t need to be told when to say, ‘I love you’. He would tell me every day. He didn’t need to be told when to buy me flowers. He would buy me flowers when he decided to, which happened to be weekly! Any presents he ever bought were sporadic in arrival. A much better way to dictate love. Unexpected gifts and flowers. So now, Valentines Day for me means the same as when he was alive. Commercialised and money grabbing!! Harsh as that sounds!
In embracing singledom on Valentine’s Day, however that single life has come to be, it’s time to contribute to a broader cultural shift—one that acknowledges and celebrates the diverse expressions of love. It’s a day to break free from the mould of societal expectations and redefine love as an inclusive, multifaceted experience that extends far beyond the boundaries of romantic entanglements. The single individual emerges from Valentine’s Day knowing that the commercialisation takes the charm away and that real love is spontaneous.
Part 1 – “Parental Loss”
Who holds the title of your closest confidante? The question may seem trivial at first, especially when delving into a topic as profound as parental loss. Yet, there’s a reason behind this seemingly casual inquiry. My mother, you see, was not just a parent; she was my female best friend. Some might dismiss this as a cliché, but the truth lies in the unique bond that evolved between us over the years.
During formative years, a parent is often perceived simply as that – a caregiver. However, as the sands of time shifted, so did the dynamics of our relationship. My mother became more than just a maternal figure; she morphed into my closest companion. We ventured out for shopping excursions, shared leisurely lunches, and, remarkably, she even embraced my interest in rugby league. A true testament to our bond, she willingly embraced my passions. Whether seeking advice or engaging in casual conversation, her voice at the other end of the phone brought comfort and solace. We reveled in laughter, savoured shared moments with ice cream on lazy afternoons, and reveled in the simple joys of life. Yet, she’s no longer with me. Come February 24, it will mark three years since her departure.
Having witnessed my parents cope with their own experiences of parental loss – my mother losing both of her parents within a mere six weeks – I thought I was prepared for the inevitable. I was aware of her illness, cognisant of the looming reality, but nothing, absolutely nothing, readied me for the void left by her absence. Losing my female best friend was an indescribable loss that reshaped my world in ways I never fathomed.
The void created by parental loss is unparalleled, defying attempts to be filled by any means. Even the presence of the surviving parent falls short in bridging this chasm, not by any fault of their own but by the fact that the gap left behind is uniquely irreplaceable.
My mum was certainly unique. She was funny. She was an extrovert. She knew what she wanted from life. She had an amazing memory. She loved her family unconditionally. She had time for everyone. Do I miss her? Absolutely. More than words can convey. What can I offer to end this piece?
Just these six words.
‘I hope I made her proud’.
JANUARY
Part Two – “Plans for 2024”
In the unfolding narrative of 2024, I’ve decided to let the script of my life remain unscripted—though, I admit, there’s a touch of irony in that declaration. While I jest about the lack of a concrete plan, a few intriguing ideas have taken root in my mind, providing a loose framework for the coming months.
February, I’ll be delving into the realm of Valentine’s Day, navigating the nuances as a single woman. No Mark to share the day with, no bouquet of flowers to decipher—it’s a fresh perspective on a day so often associated with romantic entanglements.
March heralds the return of rugby, and I’m ready to dive into the excitement of the sport that never fails to captivate. The thrill of the game, the camaraderie of fans, and the unexpected twists on the field will undoubtedly be fodder for spirited discussions.
As we see May unfurl, I’ll be reflecting on what would have marked the 30th year of marriage, our pearl anniversary —a poignant journey that deserves its moment of contemplation. The highs, the lows, and the myriad of experiences that come with such a significant milestone will find expression in my musings.
June brings a unique celebration, tinged with humour and warmth, as I commemorate what would have been my late husband’s 60th birthday. A lighthearted flashback of his quirks and endearing traits promises to paint a vivid memory of the man who brought laughter and love to our family.
In the heart of winter, August becomes a canvas for conversations about my dad and the annual acknowledgment of his birthday. It’s a big birthday for him, a ‘diamond jubilee (75) birthday’. It’s also an opportunity to delve into the complexities of navigating life as parents age—a universal experience that carries both poignant moments and unexpected joys.
Of course, these are just glimpses into the mosaic of my unscripted year. There are surprises and uncharted territories that I’m keeping close to the chest, adding an element of spontaneity to the unfolding narrative. After all, life’s most enchanting moments often emerge when we least expect them. So, here’s to embracing the unscripted journey of 2024, with its twists, turns, and the delightful surprises that lie ahead—some of which are reserved just for you.
Part One – “Ringing in the New Year”
The allure of New Year’s Eve has always managed to elude me. As the clock strikes midnight, signalling the transition into a new chapter, I find myself among the minority who prefer the embrace of a cozy night in, rather than braving the crowds and confetti. I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve willingly stayed up to witness the turning of the calendar, and truth be told, I’m perfectly content with my decision.
For me, the true magic of the New Year unfolds the morning after, when the world is hushed, and the remnants of celebration linger in the air. While most are recovering from the revelry, I find solace in the simplicity of watching the fireworks on repeat, savouring the spectacle without the pressure of the ticking clock. The warmth of a morning coffee and the indulgence of an egg and bacon roll in hand create a comforting ritual, far removed from the frenzy of the previous night.
Now, as for resolutions, I’ve adopted a refreshingly straightforward approach – a resounding “nope.” There’s no well-worn notebook beside my bed filled with earnest promises and ambitious plans for the year ahead. It’s not that I lack aspirations, but rather, I’ve observed the ephemeral nature of resolutions for many. How often do those well-intentioned pledges made in the throes of New Year’s optimism withstand the test of time? It seems the allure of change is often eclipsed by the familiarity of routine.
In a world where resolutions are as transient as the fireworks that painted the sky the night before, I’ve chosen a different path. Instead of setting myself up for potential disappointment, I prefer to navigate the course of the year with a flexible mindset, open to the unexpected opportunities and challenges that may arise. After all, life’s journey is more like a winding road than a linear path, and I’d rather savour the twists and turns than adhere to a rigid set of resolutions.
So, while the world embraces the tradition of bidding farewell to the old and ushering in the new with resolutions in tow, I find joy in the quiet moments of reflection, the simplicity of morning rituals, and the acceptance that growth and change are not confined to a single night but unfold organically throughout the year. Cheers to a year of spontaneity, resilience, and the courage to embrace the unknown.
