01 December, 2015


Over the last 7 years, I have walked my dogs past this garden hundreds of times albeit slowly and it's not unusual for me to be carrying them by the time we reach these roses at the top of the street. Another lesson learned. Attuned non-sporting dogs choose sporty owners because they know it keeps their wheels turning in alignment #angles #winwin

Dec 7th - there is nothing like the celebration and euphoria experienced upon winning a major tournament or league in the sporting world. But in the real world, there is no energy available to celebrate following a long, hard fought victory. On the eve of India's independence in 1947, Ghandi slept. It was just the start of something bigger. 

December 12th



It was a normal Friday morning. Everyone launched with enthusiasm over a cafe breakfast call while I docked myself quietly in bed. It is the festive season. What we take from the night, we steal from the day. I curled up with my friends cat in the upstairs bedroom, dreamy in thievery. There were pilots and passengers waving goodbye at the end of a nearby Kingsford-Smith runway, where they had relocated my bed or simply Inner West Sydney, low flying planes, keen and fresh overhead. This is Sleeping-in. Thinking-in, Feeling-in, Dreaming-in. That Qantas plane and me. Twin Engines. If I lay there long enough and strong enough, I usually take off too. 


Everyone returned. The A/C was off and the cat had moved over to conquer the open window and reign over the tree studded view across suburbia. Regal in effortless accomplishment. I sat up in bed drinking a take home coffee and token of understanding. Unintentionally, I demand alot of them. Instructions came in from Air Traffic Control - “you need bread”. Nothing else. Just fresh, crunchy, chewy bread. One of the oldest foods on the planet to meet and greet the newest December 11th wrinkle on my face. The bread shop was next to the Lebanese Restaurant where we dined yesterday afternoon and by foot, about 3.3km’s, according to G-Maps. I have fluorescent yellow running shoes now, I knew we could manage the return trip together.


Take off was a walk/jog mix. Mainly the jog happened when I grew edgy along some of the weathered and worn streets from Petersham to Newtown. Fringe city living relies on a developed sense of cool caution and I didn’t have one. Just fast looking shoes. G-Maps started off confidently with me but as the streets grew narrower and the route more complicated, our satellite signals grew fuzzier and we were losing each other. I wasn’t on my usual frequency, probably because of my bent-on-bread city-fear-coated feet. I was unmoved when I heard Australia St, Church St, Victoria St and only when I heard “Turn Left at Rose St in 10m” to find there was no Rose St (I could only see O’Connell St)… did soft focus flare up and dissolve fear. 


I abandoned G-Maps, joined King St and found the bread shop on Missenden Rd. For the return trip home, I wanted an alternative, safer route. I continued down Missenden Rd armed with sweat and a loaf of bread challenging G-Maps for a re-route. “Turn South down Carillon Ave” and basicaly, “return the way you came.” Missenden was hard to shake though. A vibrant, busy street flapping about with open invitations to all so I plucked one out of the air and pushed G-Maps for something else… until it stopped directing altogether? I tried to double back to Carillon Ave only to reach a dead end behind the hospital. 


The general area was Royal Prince Alfred Hospital and a lot of my extended family members are nurses so it was already feeling safer and familiar. Busy was the battle-speed call and a childhood memory assured me there was no busier road in Sydney then Parramatta Rd at the other end of RPA. And it’s true… the adventure had evolved into a battle somehow? I was fighting the clock, direction, fear and instinct. Music was my trip companion as usual and shortly after "Chevaliers de Sangreal' was selected for the first time that late morning, I looked up and St Joseph’s Catholic Church at Camperdown was across the road. I have passed by lots of Churches on my travels but not one that stares at you like this Church does. I stopped, entered the pedestrian crossing and stood teary-eyed on the pavement admiring the music and street art I had fumbled and stumbled upon. 




Post event research proved there is a Rose St, although even narrower and more unbelievable than most streets. I was unaware of passing Sancta Sophia College on Missenden Rd and if I was in High Alert Living mode I would have tuned into their ‘Walk in Wisdom” motto on the day. 


... for the 31st of December


A 2001 photo of my Mother and Grandmother in the middle of Australia. LOCATION: Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park @ "Sounds of Silence". We had no idea it would be our last trip together before our lives changed forever. I recall seeing my Mother under a big tree talking to a group of strangers while I sat at a round table alone with my Grandmother and the stars, the cool desert air rising up through our seats and clothing and into our bones before it met our small glasses of warm, spicy, red dessert wine with shivering instruction "Drink Up!". So we laughed together and polished off our cups and any other cups left on the table. 

2001-2015. THANKYOU