Having finally returned from my travels (and yes, there were issues flying home due to flooding in Dubai. I am aware I am cursed, but I had a lovely bonus day in Prague), it’s time for serious self-reflection.
Nat Locke
A lost leather jacket, a towed-away car, missing luggage and a broken ankle. Unravelling and re-ravelling travel arrangements can be tricky, but they sure can make a good story.
Well, it’s finally happened. I’ve tumbled into a great European love affair. I know, right? About time. But if you’re hoping I’ve been swept off my feet by a Swiss chocolatier/skiing champion, I have bad news.
I’m off to Switzerland and asked a friend who now lives there if I could bring her anything. And that is how I became some sort of Tim Tam mule. It got me wondering, what else do expats request from Australia?
It’s safe to say I have strong opinions about hot cross buns, which is why I feel qualified to say some new flavours are just fundamentally wrong.
It was one of those bonds that had been going strong, and then, for no apparent reason, just fell by the wayside. I’m talking, of course, about my lawnmower man.
I started strong: my bed is in the right position, my bedhead meets the requirements, my bedside tables match. It was at rule eight, no clutter under the bed, that I started to falter.
My 2024 goal is to be more stylish. Isn’t that perfect? It’s difficult to define, yet aspirational. And I only have to be slightly better than last year, and some would say there’s a bit of room to move.
My injured knee was recovering slowly, until I slipped on an invisible bit of plastic in a shopping centre, in comical fashion. Now, I’ve found myself the youngest person in the walking lane at my local pool.
This year’s Christmas lead-up has been unorthodox, and I don’t want to jinx it, but I think I might have nailed it. It turns out nothing helps you avoid the shopping centre crush like jumping on a plane.
Nat’s Law states if something can go wrong it probably will, at almost the worst possible time, often involving humiliation. So I hurt my knee. Getting out of bed. The week before a hiking holiday.
Model Ellie Gonsalves has copped backlash for a list of reasons she didn’t want children. But the biological clock doesn’t tick for all, and not everyone regrets not having kids. I’m here to tell you.
Like 130,000 other people, last weekend I went to the Coldplay. Of the truly magical evening, there was one moment that made me feel like a particularly disgruntled boomer.
I was gobsmacked to find my local Mecca full of girls aged about 13. Why? I’m terrified the answer is TikTok, but also I’m fairly certain it is. A bit different to my day, when the gospel was Dolly magazine.
This week, I spent six whole days — IN A ROW — as the single mother of a 15-year-old. Technically, I was an aunty, but now, I have a new perspective on parenting.
In my carefree youth, I would go out Friday and Saturday nights, back it up at the Sunday sesh and still work on Monday. These days, if I go out two nights in a row, I can’t complete basic tasks the next day.
Getting the large formerly cream rug I optimistically bought for a high-traffic area at home onto the verge was a feat worthy of SAS Australia. Jason Akermanis could never. Did I ask for help? Absolutely not.
There is a trend on TikTok called — I’m not making this up — “silent walking”. You might assume this means creeping around in soft-soled shoes. But no. Silent walking is what us gen Xers call “walking”.
I’ve booked myself in to do a hiking holiday in New Zealand at the end of the year, which is very exciting, except for this one thing . . .
As I look back on the series of dodgy rentals I lived in as a young adult, it was a magical, if impoverished, time. It’s a bit sad that the kids of today don’t get to experience it.
When you get on a plane, you wish for an empty seat next to you. So if a stranger sits down, the first thing they see on your face is bitter disappointment. It’s a long way back to romance from there.
I don’t have kids, so I’ve never had to experience the drama of Book Week until this week, when our radio show broadcast from a school. And now I have a glimpse of what it must be like for parents every year.
As sure as the sun will come up tomorrow (long after I have arisen, but I don’t want to go on about it), I will turn off one alarm and snooze until the next one, and repeat this until I’m running late.
There are a few certainties in life: death, taxes, and that my dog will seize any opportunity to escape. As I’m still getting over his latest escapades, I’m sure he’s plotting his next adventure.