All change

I heard something profound yesterday. Just a comment, in passing, from an ordinary guy on the TV who was talking about how lucky he was in his job as Liaison Officer at St Michael's Mount in Cornwall, England.

His name is Pete Hamilton and the words he used were; "I wouldn't change a thing about my life." He then seemed a bit taken aback by his rather weighty statement and said " hang on a minute, let me just think about that... No, it's true; I wouldn't change a thing about my life." Then we saw a shot of him with (I think) his baby daughter in his arms.



St Michael’s Mount, Marazion, Cornwall England
Photo courtesy of www.stmichaelsmount.co.uk

It was such a small moment but it had a huge impact on me. I can't stop thinking about it - imagine being able to honestly say that you wouldn't change ANYTHING about your life? It's kind of a bit mind-blowing.
 
Of course it started me thinking about what I'd change about my life. Given this blog, it's no surprise that living more simply, free of debt and with time to do more of what makes me happy remain top of the list.

But even if all of those things were in place, would I/could I say that I wouldn't change a thing? So much of what Pete Hamilton said is down to attitude. Sure, he lives and works in a beautiful village, he's recently married and has just started a family, exciting times all round. But I got the sense that he's a content sort of person, that not leaving the area he has grown up in was a conscious choice to be happy with his lot rather than a lack of opportunity or ambition. That financial considerations are way down his list of priorities and that his greatest joy is found in the simplest things.

I mention his having stayed near his childhood home because I wonder if my own desire to live and work abroad (more than once) is indicative of a "grass is greener" mentality and thus a mindset destined to disappoint? Had I stayed in my hometown I'm pretty confident that I'd be living a simpler life; debt-free (or at least without the huge expenses the move necessitated) and with lots of time to do more of what makes me happy. Family support, a career uninterrupted by further study, a home bought earlier and some bad decisions unmade would have made that possible.

It would be disingenuous of me to suggest that I regret moving to Australia (or the Netherlands, an earlier adventure) or any of the travel I have experienced since I was 18 years old. I’m a firm believer in the idea that “the world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page” (St. Augustine) so staying in my hometown was never a realistic option for me. Not to mention the fact that I would have missed out on some amazing experiences and very special friends and but still... I wonder if my desire for “different” has in some ways limited my ability to enjoy the “everyday”.

So how do I make Mr. Hamilton’s statement true for me here and now? What steps do I take to find contentment in what is, instead of being distracted by what could be or what might have been?

I know I need to keep going with the things I put in motion when I started this blog. But what else? Have you done it? Are you one of the lucky few who wouldn't change a thing about your life? Are you working towards your own state of contentment? Please share your ideas!

Retro Rooms

Last Saturday we threw a little birthday party for our darling girl. Although her birthday isn’t until the end of the month, an early party seemed sensible in view of me being 55 weeks pregnant. Just as I was congratulating myself on being so sensible and organised the weather conspired against us (again!) and our party in the park looked likely to be rained off. And then I discovered that most retro of party venues - the Scout Hall.

With the help of Agatha’s lovely Godparents, we bedecked the old hall in our Valentine theme with bunting I made from heart-shaped paper doilies and heart-shaped helium balloons. We added some wet weather entertainers in the form of a craft table, a bubble machine and a tunnel and play tent combo, as well as much Valentine-inspired food and drink and a homemade cake (by yours truly) in the shape of…guess what? You got it, a heart!

The result was lots of good old-fashioned fun, just the way a kid’s party should be. We even got lucky with the weather and the kids got to run amok in the playground as planned, as well as at the craft table.



Photos by Siobhan, Victoria and me

Happy Birthday darling Agatha and thank you for two years of pure joy. We love you more than words can express. xx

Speaking of retro rooms and all the fun planning, I'm a little bit excited as my all-time favourite decorating job has rolled around again - the nursery!

This time I'm going for a more modern feel, and by modern I mean circa 1969.

I loved the planning and accessorising of Agatha's room (as well as the pointing at walls and floors as Andy got to work with his handy roller). I settled on a concept (red and pale blue with a vintage vibe), chose the fabric for the cot sheet and skirt and took it from there. I had completely free reign, working behind closed doors until I reached the point where I could give Andy "the reveal".
 
This time there are limitations. We're renting now so painting floors and walls, hanging multiple pictures and putting up shelves is out of the question. The room is small, so a chest of drawers is a no-no, as is a piece like the vintage wardrobe we lovingly restored and painted for Agatha's room. And, Andy keeps his clothes in that room (though not for much longer Sonny Jim!) so even a reveal is off the agenda.

Yet does this faze me? Not one jot! It is merely more of a challenge. I have already decided on a gender-neutral colour scheme of orange and yellow with a "weather" theme (though theme is really too strong of a word). Below is my digital pinboard both with ideas and actual purchases. I won't say which is which as you're going to be the recipients of my "ta da!" moment in lieu of Andy.
 
So, here is the (conceptual) before:



Clockwise from top left: Zü cloud cushion from French Blossom, Follow the Wind print by Naoko Stoop on Etsy, Kartell storage units from Replica Furniture, Tarika in Blue - Kumari Garden fabric and Orange Riley Blake Dots fabric both from Etsy, Leather pouf  from Moroccan Pouffe and Skojig lamp from IKEA

Stay tuned for the after!!

 

Washout

This weekend was our "babymoon". Time and funds are a bit tight so we booked a short stay somewhere close to home in order to maximise time away and to allow us a little luxury.
 

We chose a rather swish two bedroom apartment with direct poolside access at the 4.5 star Sand DunesResort on the Sunshine Coast. The resort is renowned for its huge, fabulous pool and the one minute walk to beautiful, unspoilt Marcoola beach.

We had visions of lolling around in the pool for hours on end, picnics on the sand and Agatha's first experience of the ocean. Buckets and spades were set aside, a beach tent borrowed and new swimming cossies purchased. We were all so excited.

And then came the rain. And the severe weather warnings. This was followed fairly swiftly by that sinking feeling that comes with the knowledge that your best laid plans (and also your plans B, C and D) are scuppered.

But then we decided "ah, stuff it (stuff it real good)!" This is OUR special weekend and we're going to make it wonderful.

On the afternoon of our arrival we swam in the pool as the rain fell and loved it. We set up the beach tent in the dining room and played house. We picnicked in style on the living room floor. We watched “The Muppets Take Manhattan". It seemed like we were going to make lemonade from lemons.

And then came day two. On our second day in "paradise" we were greeted by 125km/h winds and an official exhortation from the police urging people to stay off the roads unless in an emergency. We saw a Dad and his young son get into the outdoor spa at our resort while the storm raged around them. Moments later the boy was hit in the head by a metal chair carried across the pool by the extreme wind (he wasn't too badly hurt thankfully).

That evening we decided upon homemade burgers on the grill since a BBQ was out of the question and a DVD so that we didn't have to venture out. Cue a total loss of power halfway through our dinner preparations. A loss of power that was still in place when we checked out on Monday morning. 

We tried really, really hard to make the best of it, to turn negatives into positives and to focus on fun family times. But sometimes, when things go completely awry they isn't room for serendipity, just disappointment. I felt especially sad for Agatha who pressed her face to the window several times and said "outside!" in the hopes she could run and play and swim. We wanted so much to relax and instead spent the days on high alert and the nights listening to the howling wind and lashing rain. We couldn't wait to leave.

And yet we have it so much better than so many others in Queensland who have lost their homes or worse in these floods. We go to bed tonight knowing that each of us is sleeping peacefully in our beds, safe and sound and that puts us among the most fortunate people on earth.

We never did get to walk on the beach or introduce Agatha to the ocean. But that's okay, it will all be there waiting for us, next time.

Caravan of love

Today is a special day for two reasons.

First, it is exactly twelve years since Andy and I went on our first date in London. We met below the clock at Waterloo Station at midday and proceeded to take in a “Women at War” exhibition at the Imperial War Museum before catching a bus (From Lambeth Walk no less) to Piccadilly Circus where we indulged in a curry and a drink or two. A few more drinks were had in Soho before we met up with some friends of his and hit a nightclub that only played incredibly hip 60s music. We parted at 4am in different black cabs (but not before he’d stuck the lips on me) with the knowledge that something rather wonderful had just happened. We’ve been a couple ever since and I can honestly say that we’ve had a blast. So here’s to you Mr. L, I love you, like you and appreciate you; you’re the cat’s whiskers and the bee’s knees.

Second (and almost as importantly) today is the day I bought my first Vintage Caravan Magazine. Somehow, this publication managed to get up to issue 11 without me knowing about it but there’ll be no more of that! I will henceforth be an ardent subscriber.



Caravanning is cool

I have always wanted a caravan. And by always I don’t mean since it became kind of cool to be into all things kitsch and vintage. I mean that when I was a kid I used to ask for a “Gypsy” caravan for Christmas (I never got one, though I did receive an excellent beanbag and a Womble one year).

There is something magical about caravans; they appealed as a sort of giant dolls house on wheels when I was a child, a home in miniature with cute gingham curtains and sofas that transformed into beds. The extravagantly decorated Romany caravans represented freedom, a life off the chain, filled with adventure and warm nights punctuated by music and dancing, firelight and stars.

As an adult I came to see the humble caravan as a way of establishing a “room of my own” (though I’m fairly confident a van is not what Virginia Woolf had in mind when she recommended it). I’ve long held the dream of buying an old caravan and renovating it, turning it into a study/craft room/reading and tea drinking space, parked permanently in the back garden. And I’ll confess that I know this is where the kitsch would come in as I simply couldn’t resist the pull of retro colours and a vintage fit-out.

 

 

But lately I have come to the realisation that the caravan can be all of the above: a miniature home, a mode of transport, a taste of freedom and a special space for the things we love to do. Inspired by this knowledge I have just floated the idea of towing one along the Great Ocean Road, an idea met with surprising enthusiasm by Andy. The thought of our midgets (plural! Only 10 weeks to go…) running in and out of the van while we cook dinner and chat about where we might head tomorrow - knowing that a complete change of plans is only a turn of the steering wheel away – fills me with the sort of joy that makes you squeeze your eyes shut and raise your shoulders a little bit.

 

 

Currently we aren’t in a financial position to make the dream a reality but I will make it happen, watch this space. In the meantime there is caravan porn (my new mag even has a centrefold in the shape of an 8-foot 4-inch 1950s caravan called Jellybean) and time to create the perfect van… on Pinterest at least.

 

 

Happy travels y’all!

It's not the end of the world

Today is an important day. Not because the world is ending (it isn't) but because I just withdrew from my postgraduate studies.

I have long wrestled with this decision. I started my PhD with the dream of becoming a lecturer in British and Australian Literature. I lectured and tutored during my studies and I loved it, teaching a subject you truly love is wonderful. Researching a subject that inflames your intellectual passions is wonderful. What isn't wonderful is the reality of being a paid academic. The huge amounts of paperwork, the constant pressure to bring money into the department, journal articles and conference papers which have to be produced in your own time, the very long working weeks and the discrepancy between hours worked (and compensated) and output expected. Put bluntly, the dream was just that and reality wasn't doing it for me.

 Letting go of a dream is hard. I feel a certain sense of shame and of failure if I think of my decision as "dropping out". But if I can reframe it as simply changing the dream then it becomes freeing, an opportunity for change. I wasn't enjoying it anymore so I stopped doing it. How radical!

As W. C. Fields once said: ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There’s no point in being a damn fool about it.’

I do have a safety net with an option to return to my studies without penalty as long as I do it within two years. That's a possibility but 20 years is more likely. There's so much I want to do.

First up is to write more and perhaps to try and get something into in a non-academic publication. I want to learn, once and for all, to sew. I want to work (post maternity leave) in a marketing communications/PR role for QLD tourism or the museum or a charity I feel strongly about. I want to enjoy time with my midgets without feeling I "should" be studying. In short, I want to do more of what makes me happy.

The decision I just made will allow me to do (or at least to attempt) all of those things.

In replacing the "dream" with goals that are different, though equally meaningful, it feels a little bit adventurous - as though I'm sailing away from the safety of the harbour and into the big wide blue.

It's an important day, but it's not the end of the world.

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Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas and a splendid New Year. I hope it's a time of love, laughter and happiness.

In Loving Memory

Last week a good friend of mine passed away. Suddenly, unexpectedly and far from home.

His name was Elwin and he was one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life.

Elwin was Dutch and moved to Brisbane not long after Andy and I. As I had lived in Amsterdam for a year when I was 20, we shared a “Dutch connection” that meant I was always the lucky recipient of three Dutch kisses whenever we met.

Just thinking of this wonderful man brings tears to my eyes but it also makes me smile, he is one of the very few people I know where I can say with conviction that he was truly happy. He absolutely lived the dream of doing more of what makes us happy. Elwin loved fast (red) motorbikes, skydiving and cats. He played soccer and samba drums. He worked hard, had signed up for his first triathlon and loved to hang out with his many friends. He was generous in every way and an absolute natural with the kids in our group. One of my fondest memories is of how sweet he was with Agatha, I would have loved to see him become a husband and a father; I know he would have nailed it.

Agatha enjoys some toe-tickling fun with Uncle Elwin (left)

Last year, when I was heavily pregnant with Agatha, Andy would drive me home from my job in the city each day. Perhaps three times in the first fortnight a man on a moped would pull up at our window at the traffic lights and give it a little knock. We’d wind down the windows and there would be a smiling Elwin on his way home. We’d manage a brief chat before the lights changed and we were both swallowed by the traffic. Ever since then, whenever we were in the car and saw someone riding a moped, Andy and I would say “there’s Elwin” – even if the rider was clearly an elderly woman – and maybe once or twice more we got it right and it was our friend. It has become such a habit that I know we’ll do it again - only now with the knowledge that it never will be Elwin again, it never can be, he has gone.

All of Elwin’s friends and of course his beloved family feel his loss keenly; he was the sort of person you meet rarely – utterly good, extremely kind and completely devoid of bitterness or malice. But not so good as to be no fun, he was blessed with cheekiness and a great sense of humour; he smiled and laughed a lot. He threw himself into everything - sometimes literally as with skydiving - and enjoyed every minute of the ride, grinning all the way.

His was a short life but it was a full life – a life well-lived. The sort of life I aspire to live and the reason I created this blog. I don’t want to use my friend’s death as a “lesson” of some sort but I can’t help but be inspired to want to do better. To seek out every opportunity for joy, to eradicate the stuff that brings me down, to embrace happiness and to try everything. I think Elwin left a little of that behind in everyone who was lucky enough to spend time with him.

I know that this is not the most eloquent of eulogies; my emotions are pretty raw at the moment and my thoughts are scattered. But I hope it does some justice to Elwin and how very special he was.

I’ll miss you friend, go gently.

Short But Incredibly Sweet

First I have to say a heartfelt thank you to those of you who read my last blog post and sent personal messages of support and understanding. It meant so much to me.

And now for the wonderful, amazing, overwhelming news that I received yesterday afternoon. The results of the Amnio show no abnormalities whatsoever! It looks like our beloved little baby is perfectly healthy. I don't mind admitting I wept tears of relief on the phone to the doctor and then onto Andy's shoulder for about 15 minutes afterwards.

I am carried away by gratitude and joy. How lucky are we?!