8 or so weeks on the run…

No sniping ....... yet
No sniping ……. yet

I am enjoying the wonderful absence of urgency and stress. We have had two weeks at home after the trip to New Zealand and there is plenty of time to do anything that needs to be done, but nothing seems particularly important.  I love lazy mornings with slow starts, problem is my lazy mornings can easily run into the afternoon.

Make new friends but keep the old

One is silver and the other gold

This old refrain keeps echoing through my mind. These eight weeks have been full of precious new and old friends and family. The intensity of the delight in reconnecting with people has surprised me.

We have had many conversations with friends about how much you need to work at our stage of life.  Could work look differently than it does now? Longer leave periods? Part time? Less stressful jobs? Can you retire too young? How much money do you really need to retire? How do you have Continue reading

Touching the ghost of my childhood

Yum - Fairy Floss
Yum – Fairy Floss

I left New Zealand when I was 19 years old, my first experience of running away. Since then I have tried to come back every two or three years to see my family. Each time I feel compelled to reach out and touch the ghost of my childhood and wonder whether others have similar experiences. I devour chocolate fish and pineapple lumps, (New Zealand confectionary delights), candy floss, mixed lollies sold in paper bags, hokey pokey ice creams, spearmint milkshakes which must be served in an icy cold aluminium container and for a savoury dish, bacon and egg pie with sliced tomato on top. I could buy these in Australia but somehow it would be traitorous to eat them there.

Then there is the drive past the family home, sold when my mother died 15 years ago, Continue reading

Drowning in documents

imageThis week I discovered an unusual way to get to know people.

As I have said, one of the major reasons for this blog is to develop the discipline of writing often so that I will actually complete the book that I am committed to. It’s the life story of my friend, a Forgotten Australian, so called because they were abused and neglected in institutional care. The working title for that book is now Not Forgotten, who knows what it will be called eventually.

This week I received the medical records from the practise Continue reading