Rather than taking leave of my forties at a stroll; turning 50 was a commando roll. In the midst of plans & preparations for our move to Taylors Arm November 29 snuck up on me as the focus suddenly shifted to celebrating my 50th birthday, which until the light dawned -literally- on Sunday morning, seemed notional.
Trying to get the G.O. to celebrate his birthday is like trying to prise a stubborn crab out of its hidey-hole. Unsurprising as he is born under the Cancerian astrological sign. For the first time ever I managed to persuade him to ditch work on a weekday birthday. Coercion that involved me using a precious annual leave day and suggesting he wouldn’t … More Elementary, my dear Watson
The days counting down to our anticipated long weekend away weren’t promising. Quite unwell with a throat infection, by day I tried to convince myself staying home and doing little was self nourishing, and by night I coughed. Neither the G.O. or I got much sleep. On Friday morning I dragged myself to work via … More forty-niner
As far as I’m concerned too many long weekends are never enough, so opportunistically as the G.O.’s birthday fell on a Monday I suggested he take the day off work. Possibly influenced by his daily 160 km commute the G.O. weakened from his it’s just another day stance and agreed, but when I lobbed the … More a simply gorgeous birthday
Mum’s mum, Nanna S. kept two letters written to her by my mother in an era when married and moved less than 40 kilometres away to live with your new husband’s family you wrote home. Nanna had her own reasons for saving these letters for me, but what I read in the lines of my … More Clocking up 70 years
“I grow old … I grow old … I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled” are lines from one of my favourite poems: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot. Beyond that I hadn’t thought much about attaining the age of 50 even though according to my family on the … More the fountain of youth