About A Boy, Or Boys, Actually

The other day I went to pick up Mr 4 from kindy, Mr 11 and 8 trailing behind me. Both had 'graduated' from the same kindy, replete with caps and gowns. Can you believe it? Five year olds 'graduating'? Anyway, as we filed back out the door, the rather talkative lady who runs the day care exclaimed...

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Bogan Mrs Bean

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that I am a kind of bogan Mrs Bean. Hapless, awkward. Constantly doing bumbling, embarrassing things. Actually it’s been obvious for a long time. Recent events have just emphasised this. For instance, there was the day when I had an  appointment...

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I Must Confess: My Fears & Phobias

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths today for I Must Confess. Today's topic: My Fears and Phobias. Truthfully we could be here for a while. I have so many phobias and fears. Deep breathe. Here goes. BLOOD I am squeamish. Watching RPA or any of those medical type shows where they show...

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Introverts Guide To Getting Rid Of Unwanted Guests

Apparently I can't be funny when I'm in the throes of chocolate-free feral PMS. I'm permanently in a rather delightful mood: I feel like punching anyone who might have the misfortune of glancing sideways at me. Let alone ringing my doorbell. As this old post (which you may find amusing) reveals... Last weekend...

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30 Years: A Fan Remembers

I have never kept my love of the Carpenters a secret. Never been a closet fan. Everyone who knows me will know of my frankly rather disturbing obsession. And they won't get it. So this post isn't for you. Instead of banging on about bogans I am attempting to quietly honour Karen, today, the 30th anniversary...

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Not Another Bogan Holiday

We finally touched down at Sunshine Coast Airport after our dangerous mission, exhausted but relieved.  I braced myself for the next dilemma. Finding our accommodation. I may have mentioned that I cannot read maps.  First of all we had to pick up our car, which wasn't located at the airport....

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A Dangerous Mission

The car came to an abrupt halt outside Sydney Domestic Terminal. "Hurry!" the driver ordered, eyes wild. I opened the car door to searing heat. Within seconds I was sweating profusely. Ten percent heat. Ninety percent nerves. The suitcase thudded next to me. Anxiously, I gripped the handle, aware...

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