Life’s a mess. Let’s laugh about it together.

I've got a theory. The butterfly stroke wasn't invented to improve swimming. It was invented by another country that had finally had enough of Australia winning everything in the pool. Picture the meeting. "Right, Australia keeps winning the swimming. Any ideas?" "We could train harder"..... "Nah" We could build longer pools"..... "Nah" "What about colder water?"..... "Nah" "We could make them swim uphill"...... "You're an idiot." A long silence. Then someone quietly says, "W

When you are young, an older man can seem incredibly sophisticated. Not sophisticated in the actual sense of the word, necessarily. He may know nothing about fine wine, international politics or which fork to use at a fancy restaurant, but he has a car. His own car. A car that does not belong to his parents and does not require a large red P plate stuck to the front and back before he can leave the house. Already, he is practically James Bond. He also has a proper job and, ev

There are certain things in life that nobody ever actually teaches you, yet somehow we all know the rules. Take lifts. At no point during my schooling do I remember a lesson on lift etiquette. There was no worksheet. No practical assessment. Nobody stood at the front of the classroom and said, “Right, children. Today we’re going to learn what to do when you enter a small moving box with strangers.” Yet somehow, regardless of where you are in the world, we all seem to know exa

There are two main human models available at birth. Nobody gives you a brochure, but it turns out one comes with considerably higher ongoing running costs. I’ve been thinking about all the stuff women have to do simply because we were issued the female model of the human body. Not stuff we choose to do. I’m not talking about hair colouring, fake nails or owning fourteen pairs of shoes when we regularly wear three. I mean the compulsory stuff. When we are born, there is really

When we had our brown standard poodle, people would stop and ask, "Oh wow... is she a full poodle?" A full poodle? Of course she is. Look at her. I always had a little chuckle because, yes, she was. a full poodle. The original version. No Labrador, Cavalier, or Golden Retriever hidden somewhere in the family tree. Just... poodle. It was the first time it dawned on me that the poodle had somehow become the minority in its own gene pool. Somewhere along the way, the oodle took

My husband said to me the other day that it is on his bucket list to own chickens. A surprising statement for a number of reasons, the first being that we live in metro Sydney. The second being that I do not recall chickens ever making an appearance on any list of dreams, goals, ambitions, or random life wishes. Not on the bucket list. Not in passing. Not even in his ‘Year of the 50s’ jar, where various other ideas have been floated over time and remain pinned on the wall as

When you are born, you are given your own bed. First, it is a bassinet or cradle, which for a tiny human is basically a luxury penthouse with excellent wriggle room. Then you move into a cot, perhaps with a dummy, a comforter and one loyal teddy, but even then, the whole thing is still yours. Every inch of it. Then you graduate to a single bed, maybe later a king single or a double, and for years your bed belongs entirely to you. It is your sanctuary, your recovery ward, your

I realised the other day that I had become another household device. It wasn’t like it happened overnight. It crept in slowly, building over time, until I had one of those lightbulb moments and thought… hang on… I’m basically a “Hey” device. Not “Hey Siri.” Not “Hey Alexa.” Not “Hey Google.” But “Hey Mum.” The moment it’s said, it’s like my whole system switches on without me even agreeing to it. No consent. No loading time. Just… activated. I’m convinced the Hey Mum device g

Many things quietly determine whether an office runs smoothly. Strategy. Leadership. Culture. Shared purpose... and forks. Specifically, the complete and utter absence of them. In one of my previous workplaces, we had enough forks. Life was stable. Lunches were eaten with dignity. Then the pandemic arrived, and our once fully stocked kitchen transformed into what can only be described as a Year 9 camp facility. All communal cutlery and crockery vanished overnight. In its plac

Many of you reading this either work in an office or have a friend who does and has mentioned “hot desking” at least once, usually with a tone that suggests it’s both progressive and mildly inconvenient. For anyone fortunate enough to have avoided it, hot desking is when you don’t have a permanent desk. You check in, scan the floor and try to “bags” a seat before someone else does. Ideally before you even leave the house. Otherwise you arrive late and end up hovering awkwardl

I was coming out of a show at the Opera House the other night, Now You See Me, which was bloody brilliant. The kind of show that makes you walk out feeling slightly superior, like you’ve just absorbed culture and talent by osmosis. Then I hit the pavement and immediately returned to reality, right there between the Opera House and Circular Quay. Reality, in this case, looked like a parade of camera-holding devices. Not cameras. Not even people holding phones like normal human

Why Every Car Should Come with Dodgem Bumpers, Multi-Tone Horns, and a Wind-Out Hand with Attitude The Need for Dodgem Bumpers If driving were a test of patience, I’d fail before I even got the keys out of the fruit bowl. Not because I’m a reckless driver, I use indicators, check my mirrors, and have only reversed into one wheelie bin in the last three years, but being on the road brings out a very specific type of rage that only other drivers truly understand. There’s just s

I was at a work conference recently, and something caught my eye. It was not unique to this conference. It happens anywhere with a designated dance floor. Nightclubs, weddings, pubs with questionable carpet, even cruise ships. Every venue with a dance floor has the same strange phenomenon. The dance floor sits there like a shiny rectangle of possibility. It does not matter if it is in the middle of the room, tucked in a corner, or awkwardly near the buffet table. It is the on

Honestly, if there were medals for losing school hats, lunchboxes, drink bottles, jumpers, you name it, my boys would be standing on that podium, waving proudly to an adoring crowd. The national anthem would play, I'd shed a tear, and the commentators would remark, "Look at that consistency, year after year, they’ve delivered." My two boys, aged 9 and 10, have mastered the fine art of losing their stuff at school (and other places). It doesn’t matter if it’s labelled clearly

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”– Bilbo Baggins The other day, I went to the city. Yes, that city. The one just over the bridge. A wild 10 kilometres from my house. Please, hold your applause. Now, to the untrained eye, this might seem like a regular outing, but if you live on the Northern Beaches, you already know that crossing the bridge is pr

There are two types of people in this world: those who change the toilet paper roll… and the rest of you. To the latter group, I have questions. Deep, soul-searching ones. Like: Are your arms broken? Is the cardboard tube invisible to your eyes? Or are you just waiting for the Toilet Paper Fairy to do her rounds? Are you on a permanent toilet paper roll changing strike? Because every workplace ladies’ toilet I’ve ever entered features the same tragic scene, a lone, empty card

Privacy? I vaguely remember her. She was once a constant companion, but now, she’s more like an old friend who moved overseas and forgot to send a forwarding address. I used to have spaces across the house that were private. You know, rooms where, when you went in, you wouldn’t be followed or interrupted. We call them the BC Days. Parents will know what I mean when I say BC or AC days, and no, I’m not making a religious reference. They are the Before Child and After Child day

Every dog owner has their own secret (or not-so-secret) quirks when it comes to their pets. Some let their dogs sleep in their beds, some prepare elaborate home-cooked meals, and some (okay, me) have a standard poodle who runs the house like she’s royalty. Meet Frankie. A princess, a food critic, a bed hog, a super dog, and the ruler of our household. The Royal Walks Most dogs get excited for their daily walks, bounding across fields and sniffing every questionable object in

They say getting older is a privilege. They say it’s full of wisdom, self-acceptance, and an appreciation for the little things. What they fail to mention is that it’s also full of mysterious aches, rogue chin hairs, and a deep suspicion that furniture is getting lower. The Aches and Pains, Nobody Warned Me About Remember when you could wake up, roll out of bed, and start your day without needing a full-body diagnostic? Yeah, me neither. These days, getting up in the morning

Primark.... a world all its own... go in if you dare! Primark is an overall 'unique' experience. But just like anything talked about enough, like a movie that got a bad film review, you think, ‘I just must see it'. That was why I went. Oh, and of course, because I know of no other place to buy flat work shoes for £3.46! When I arrived in London, I met a few local Aussies who had been here for a while. I asked for their top tips or hints for London. Most said, "get an Oyster