Good friends aren’t hard to find


On Sunday night I saw old friends, whom I love so much but don’t get to see enough as they live in Sydney.

After lots of wine and laughter, the conversation turned serious, and I, of course, cried at their love and understanding and how good some people are. What I love about old friends is that you can be honest with them and them with you.

I am big on crying. I cry when people win things on the radio. I cry when I see tenderness to children and animals, I cry when I see everyday heroism.

I started to tell a story about how generous two friends were when I was caring for my brother, and how one day they just put money in our bank account because they knew we had none, as I was at the hospital everyday and Dave hadn’t worked because of his own illness.

As I started to tell the story, I started to sob at how fucking kind they are, and how they helped us eat and pay the rent that month.

And then I told them of how another friend turned up with a box of fruit and vegetables and $200 and a hug.

Or the note my dear friend left for my husband in the letterbox, telling him how ace he is when he wasn’t so sure.

And then I sobbed my way through a bottle of wine while recalling the last two years while my dearest friend held my hand and my other friend topped up my glass.  We then shared war stories and disappointments and joy in others and celebrated that people we love are still with us.

What I love about these particular friends is that they are actually the best cheerleaders to have in your life. If I was cleaning houses for a living, they would be telling everyone how good my cleaning is, and how I’m taking over the world one house at a time, and they would mean it. It’s not false praise. Their belief in their loved ones is why they are so successful in life.

At one point they said they didn’t think they did enough to help us. But my husband said, “Just you both calling to check in, was enough of a reason to think it’s going to be okay.”

So call your friends. Old friends, new ones, ones who are having a tough time, ones who are taking over the world, tell them you think they’re going to okay, they’re amazing, and they’re doing just fine.


Sending love to you.


30,000 emails in one day.

For those who know me well, they understand I slip in and out of my hippie sandals. Sometimes I abhor magical thinking, and other times, it’s all that keeps me on the planet.

Lately, it’s too hard to ignore. There have been many signs and connections all around me that I just have to accept and be grateful that I made it through the last two 23 months, and see what’s happening as the culmination of an insane time.

The final nail in the coffin came yesterday when I realised my emails hadn’t been clearing off the server, and I had 30,000 emails to download, sort out, and clear, starting from 23 months ago. The start date of this walk down memory lane was 1/1/14, to be exact.

If that isn’t a kick in the face to remind you to see what happened I don’t know what is, so I spent most of last night making faces as the emails came through, and I rewound through the fuckery of 2014/15.

Illness, broken limbs, cancer, depression, illness, financial stress, failure, cancer, illness, pain, death, cancer, pain, grief.

I used to keep a “good things jar”, where I listed all the good things that had happened to our family throughout the year and read them aloud on New Year’s Eve.   There have been few good things in the  jar for the past two years. Don’t roll your eyes at me! I am serious. If it could break or get sick, or leave, or fuck up, this was the time that it did.

HOWEVER, don’t we all feel better after a storm? Don’t get me wrong, I would change much of the last two years and while I am a better person for going through the shitstorm, I wish it didn’t have to be at the cost of others death,  pain and loss.

It’s not that I’m pessimistic now, far from it, the only thing that got me through the last two years was hoping that it would get better and slowly, very slowly, it did.

Now  I have one emails in my inbox. One.  Unbelievable.

So if you have emailed me over the past week, and I haven’t responded, it’s not that I’m rude, I literally didn’t have any  space for them. But I’m all clear now.

Bring on the good stuff.






Before I speak, I have something important to say.


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