Each Christmas my family seems to have some sort of fight, be it big or small. It doesn’t quite feel like Christmas without one. Sometimes the fights are serious, over big decisions relatives have made. Other times they are pettier over things like who forgot to flush. And sometimes the fights are because we really want to play with that sparkly wrapping paper…
This afternoon there was a knock at the door. In my previous house when I lived next to Matt the drug dealer I chose not to open the door unless I knew who it was, but for some reason in my new leafy street I feel a bit safer, or maybe it was just my Saturday good mood.
When I opened the door two elderly ladies greeted me with a smile and introduced themselves. They were from the local church and were inviting people in the neighbourhood to join them for Christmas mass. Continue reading
I wrote this piece a few months ago in response to a news story about an eldery woman who had died in her home in Surry Hills and her corpse lay undiscovered for eight years. If you missed it you can read the original story here.
This week I heard the news that an elderly woman could have been dead in her home for up to eight years before her skeleton was discovered. This really upset me. When I found out she lived in Surry Hills I was shocked even more. The house of Natalie Wood was right around the corner from where I live. A street I frequently walked down. A house I rushed past on my way to work, not noticing its dilapidation as my head was too filled with tasks for the day ahead to notice anything around me. Now I’ve taken notice. And this new has filled me with a mixture of emotions.
It has come to my attention that I have a LOT of kiwi friends. I find the people irresistible and the more I know about New Zealand, the more it makes me smile. Pondering my fascination with our bro’s across the ditch, I have put together a list of the reasons I love kiwis.
I’m turning 27 this month and like a pair of wedgie undies to a hungry bum, the birthday blues have crept up on me.
Every year, a week or so before my birthday I start to feel a little down. I find myself wanting to stay in and be anti-social. I conduct far too much research on cupcake home delivery than could ever be healthy. I secretly plot all the ways I could spend my birthday wallowing in my own self-pity. And the weird part is I’m not even quite sure why. I love parties so why would I want to celebrate on my lonesome?
There is no greater guilt for Aussies than when you’re trying to impress someone visiting and the weather is shit. It’s December in Sydney and I’m still using my winter doona, wearing ugg boots and tempted to put the heater on in the office. La Niña you’re a bitch! Just ’cause you’re not ‘bikini ready’ for summer you’re spoiling it for the rest of us!
Seriously though, it’s an embarrassment. Particularly because a lot of my overseas friends will be visiting or returning home this summer. They arrive off the plane in their thongs and Bonds singlets expecting to be greeted with blue skies and balmy nights, and this is what they get?