So, I have been given a blog award, troubled poet that I am (I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not – I’m feeling a little insecure – hah! – about the portrayal of my emotional stability around here lately) which as far as I can recall might be my first. Thanks Ally!
Soph drew it to my attention that the gorgeous house I stayed in with friends, courtesy of Penguin Books, in Daylesford last year was featured on the design files last week. You can see more of it here. You can also have a peek inside the designer’s (I chatted to her a few times on
The tide seemed to be extremely high in my little part of Sydney Harbour while I was out jogging this morning, so much so that I had to hang off a wall and inch my way along the edge of a cement culvert thing to stay out of the water (I didn’t want my shoes
OK, so I know there are much more important things going on in this world than my hair part. Up until a couple of years ago I had a sponsor child in a little country in the Caribbean called Haiti. Her name was, and hopefully still is, Dina. I have a file in my filing
Last week I thought I would attempt to make the momentous decision of whether my hair would look better parted in the middle rather than on the side. This momentous decision was prompted by some horrid-looking Christmas shots I saw of myself, taken from the side that the part is currently on (I thought it