new local

Perhaps many of my wishes have come true in the form of a new cafe at the end of the road.
A cafe/book exchange with good coffee and wholesome food.
Beautifully decorated.
Jam, teapots and organic bread for sale.
I continue to create excuses as to why I need to go for another walk.
But that's the beauty of it right?
I walk to the cafe. And therefore I deserve the cappuccino.
Free babychinnos too. Wonderful.

geisha girl

this morning, over coffee, i chatted with a friend.
and with envy listened
to her stories of Japan.

kids with Mohawks,
cherry blossom trees.
auburn hair and fake eyelashes;
doe-eyed beauties.

she tells me that one day
in the gion district
she saw a real-life geisha girl.

she was star-struck, my friend
and she followed this geisha
for two whole blocks.

mesmerised by the perfection
the hair
the intricacy of her being

it was only the other day
while sorting through my cupboards
that i found my photos.

i explored the geisha for my final artwork in high school
the artist as the artwork.
i was intrigued.
i still am.

fog

i'm writing in short sentences.
like stream of consciousness.
because i've got the flu.
and my head isn't working.
che now knows what tissues are for.
so even though i'm sick, he's still learning.
he's reading me books.
which i like.

i really don't like being sick.
with a heavy head.
a head that's cranky.
yuk.

but while lying in bed i've been planning an autumn clean
because we'll be cosying in for the next few months
and i'd like things to be just so.

because domesticity is something that i do
i've been blessed with a brand new dryer that senses when the clothes are dry
and a gorgeous new vacuum that leaves no trace of dust.
new kettle too.

i know this space has been neglected of late
and funnily enough i've felt guilty for my lack of words.
so here i am typing through a flu fog
and surprise surprise i do feel better.

perhaps i feel better because of the lemon and honey tea
the warm cardigan
the autumn sun.

I hope you're well.

a bunny named easter

He arrived unannounced in Grandad's garden on Easter morning. Perhaps he was resurrected but I think I'll stick with the more likely story that he ran away from home. Or he decided we all deserved a fairytale-touch this Easter. Twitching his nose and snuggling in for cuddles this little guy won our hearts straight away. He was even patient with us when Ché attempted to pull out his hair - apparently it was a 'gentle' touch. A cute, furry bunny was definitely a welcome sight - and a nice change from the mountains of chocolate we were gifted. Oh dear. My pantry is brimming with milky cocoa goodness. I'm thinking of donating it elsewhere but D won't have a bar of it.

Ché is fond of the coloured foil and not so much the sweet inside. This makes me happy.


The heavy rain today makes me happy too. Perfect autumn weather to coax us inside. Hibernating. Roasting vegetables in the oven. Cosy, warming food. Happy.

cafe racer

I never thought I'd be a bikie-kinda-girl. But ever since this thirty-year-old beauty arrived in our garage I have warmed to the idea of cafe racing. You see it's a 1978 Yamaha SR500. My Dad worked on them when they were first released in England. Daniel bought it, imported a whole load of parts from Japan and turned it into a cafe racer. It's beautiful to look at but slightly uncomfortable to ride. Hence its name. You don't ride on long journeys - you race from cafe to cafe.

My helmet arrived on Thursday and a few hours later I hopped on the back and held on tight. I felt safe with Daniel riding and I loved it more than I first thought. But when we got home my toes were numb and I started searching ebay for a leather jacket. Apparently you are never warm on a bike - it's the adrenalin that keeps you going. I think I want a gorgeous jacket over speed and adrenalin. Just like I want a cappuccino over a beer.

I guess I really am a cafe racer kinda girl.

birthday wishes are so nice

Thank you for all those beautiful well-wishes. My 25th was wonderful. The most amazing flowers from my secret admirer (a.k.a Daniel), gorgeous gifts and yummy food. It was memorable. I loved every minute.

My birthday week coincided with Ché's 18-month-birthday and the little one has started walking. Two hands in front of him, all Frankenstein-esque, he's stumbling around like a little drunk. So sweet and yet heartbreaking. Because he looks like a little boy. It hit me really hard. It still shocks me how deeply I'm connected to him. Last night he cuddled into me as I read him his new favourite story. Just before he nuzzled in for a before-bed feed he said to me: "Muma, oh Muma."

Precious.