-
Future-me called… and current-me better make some changes…
Future-me is not going to be pleased when all she can fit into are pants with elasticated waists. It’s time for Current-me to take some action.
-
My father and I and the things I miss…
Every time around this year I remember my dad. He died 9 years ago. I watched him breathe his last over Skype, which feels ironic in these times. Still, I managed to fly backwards and forwards to London several times through the course of his decline, for which I am ever grateful. I still miss…
-
Travelling, Covid style
How can we travel, if we can’t travel? We found a way to at least dream about it a little.
-
Growing Up
It’s home time. I’m taking the red eye from Perth to Sydney, which leaves at the rather uncivilised hour of 5 minutes to midnight. I’m rounding off this rather spontaneous trip with a rather spontaneous glass of white. I haven’t done spontaneous for a while. I think I used to be more spontaneous – I…
-
14 days in a Camper Van (and it rained a lot!)
14 day road trip in a campervan up the NSW North coast – Australia
-
Tell yourself a new story
Tell yourself a new story One that does not begin with shame Or the erroneous notion of being born broken That your very existence is flawed In need of redemption Or that life is a rehearsal In pursuit of eternal reward A promise of future paradise Bought with death and destruction And the oppression of…
-
The Silver Fox
The old silver fox laid down his head Burrowed down and took one last breath Before falling into an eternal slumber, The peaceful sleep of the dead. They gathered around his fallen form And crying a river of tears, told his life stories Which fell like rain on to the place where he lay Beneath…
-
Hopelessness
Prejudices rule the world Black and White Always fight Arab versus Jew And “we’re better than you.” A little boy with big, brown eyes His hands raised Germans praised The Korean girl screams The American dreams Humanity perverted Hope deserted. Hide your face in shame Dreams in vein An evil reign Cry my child cry…
-
The Rituals of our Remembering
In the shadow of Autumn In the season that invites retreat With red leaves shed like tears To pool beneath The ages old arms Of ages old trees We light a candle We light a candle for you Who loved the flickering promise That dances in the flame’s orange-blue heart We light a…
Travel with Sharlene 