All posts tagged: Australia

Blog tales for the Over 50s with positive ageing, dating & relationships

My bed. My cat. My pillow. My son. Yes, that’s the correct order.

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  I’m home in Australia after 3 weeks travelling. I left my cousin’s place in London at 5am Sunday after minimal sleep, and used taxi, train, plane, 3 travelators, plane, bus, & 2 cars to get here. It was by far the smoothest return journey I’ve ever had, and I know not why. Everything just flowed, for the entire 28hr door-to-door ordeal. We even landed 30 mins early from Singapore, which meant I could catch the earlier airport shuttle bus rather than sit around for 3 more hours (which would have felt like a slow torture at that stage). I was deliriously happy to see my Australian sun setting: But not as happy as my cat when he saw me! He even woke me in the night purring and snuggling, but I didn’t mind. I felt the same. I missed him so much But not as much as my BED. And pillow. I can’t begin to tell you how much I  missed my bed and pillow… Son ’17’ is coming over this afternoon after school; I …

‘You have such a three-year pattern! Look at yourself, for god’s sake!’

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The door slams. It’s 1994, in a hot Sydney summer, when even the fat cockroaches in our slummy student house look a bit sweaty. My friend R has left the living room, but her dark mood and comment lingers. I frown back, staring down her words. Am I really a 3-year addict? Does it matter? Obviously it does to her, but I’m not feeling that distressed. The sink pipe knocks as usual while I pour myself a glass of water; is our hopeless landlord ever going to fix that? Well, it won’t matter anyway, if I move out… I’ve lived here for a while now, and it feels like time for a change… to the beach maybe, over at Bondi. How long has it been, this inner city dwelling? Nearly 3 years of hot pavements, squashed terrace houses with fragrant frangipanis, the endless hum of cars and their exhaust fumes. Before that, it was a scruffy flat in Coffs Harbour, with greasy carpets, and peeling paint on all the weatherboards and windows. Did I live …

Soggy not Bloggy 

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It’s been hard being flooded. Not as hard as for folk in the 2 big towns either side of me, who have been devastated by rivers more than 11 meters over their banks. But still very stressful. Not as stressful as being bombed in the streets of Syria of course, but still pretty shit. It came up so fast. Rainfalls of between 500 & 950mm in 24hrs. An entire month’s rainfall in one dreadful night, thanks to Cyclone Debbie. I’ve had a delightful & significant blog post about Episode 7 in my online dating story drafted for days, but it felt too superficial to post it, when so many of my dear friends, neighbours, & community have been coping with up to 2.5mtrs of brown smelly muddy shitty river water through their homes. People have died, including a mother and her children. Houses have literally been swept away downstream. Business stock has been ruined, and flood insurance is incredibly expensive round here, so not many people have it; there are rumours it’s going to be …