things i love #28

Palmer's Cocoa Butter.

Or any thick, yummy smelling moisturiser, really.

But, oh my, this one. This one, I love. It's one I come back to again and again and again, particularly over the summer. It has the most gorgeous smell, like a cocktail of melted chocolate and vanilla ice cream and buttery, fresh-from-the-oven cookies! When you put it on to warm skin, the chocolatey-ness of it intensifies and it reminds me of wandering through Cadbury's in Hobart on a tour of the factory as a child, breathing the warm, heavy scent of cocoa.

When I was a teenager, I used to love reading "celebrity beauty tips" in the trashy weekly gossips that my grandmother used to buy and then pass on to me and my sisters when she was done with them. My mother also had a really cool retro Women's Weekly Beauty Book from 1977 which I used to love looking through too. And in one of these leafing expeditions, I remember reading about one celebrity - I can't remember who it was now - who said that after every shower or bath, she would smother herself in moisturiser, all over. So I, at about age 14, started doing that as well. And, like all things if you do it often enough, it became a habit.

15 years later, I still do it. After every bath or shower, I grab my moisturiser of the moment - currently, it's the above - and don't use very much, but do manage to get moisturiser over every inch of skin possible. And then I delight in the yummy, freshly baked cookie scent of it all :)

And I don't know whether my resulting soft and very supple skin is a coincidence or not, but as most of you know, my body size and shape has fluctuated a great deal over the years, and my skin, while showing a few scars for it, is mostly taut and smooth and betrays very little signs of the body I used to have. I think my moisturising scrupulousness over the years might have something to do with it!

If someone touches my arm or something, one of the first things they say is "oh my, your skin is so soft!" That's always lovely to hear!

I have many favourite body moisturisers - I love the Body Shop's body butters in Brazil Nut, Coconut and Strawberry; Boot's Patchouli and Lavender body butter; and there was a really nice Dove one I used for a while. But Palmer's has been a mainstay in my routine for a while now, and it won't be disappearing any time soon. It's so easy to get hold of too, you can get it in the supermarket in most places around the world, I think, and it's pretty cheap too as I usually score a bottle for less than £4. B for bargain!

Put it on, and you'll smell like a chocolate sundae. That's always a good thing. Be prepared for deliciousness!

What's your favourite moisturiser?

decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse: or, how i met my man

Today it is 40 days until the wedding!! It has an almost biblical reverance to it, don't you think?

So I thought, seeing a few people have asked, I would share the story of how I met the wonderful man who will be my husband in 40 days.

I moved to London in July 2007, and while I was beyond thrilled to be here, it took a while for me to find my feet. In all honesty, it was a bit of a nightmare at first. Job hunting, flat hunting, having to deal with all sorts of other issues that I really didn't need.....it was an incredibly stressful and frightening time. I don't know how I got through it really, because I was so on edge that I barely ate, slept or thought rationally during that time. There was one moment, I remember clearly, where I was sitting in Hyde Park, crying, thinking about going back to the flat I was dossing in, packing my bags, and getting the first plane back to Australia. I didn't want to do it, but it felt like it was slowly becoming my only option. Nothing seemed to be going my way, at all! But finally, after about a million flat viewings, a successful job interview, some tearful conversations with the few people I felt I could be honest with, and a lot of vodka, everything sorted itself out, as it always does when you're where you're meant to be, and I began to feel so much more at home.

During this time, I'd gone on a few dates with some wildly unsuitable people, none of which had gone particularly well, and I was a bit over the whole dating merry-go-round. I was a bit lonely, admittedly, but I had finally accepted in my heart that it was better for me to be on my own than with the wrong person. Been there, done that! And my life, apart from my various romantic disasters, was going great otherwise! I had had a piece accepted for publication in a London magazine. My new job was going very well. I loved where I was living. I had plans for weekend escapes to various European cities I'd always wanted to see. I was SO happy. I woke up every day with a spring in my step. Who needs a guy? I thought, I WANT to be single!!

And so I'd been in London for nearly two months, and one of my oldest friends from Australia, who happened to live here and had been my lifeline since arriving, was having a birthday party one Saturday night - in fact, I think it was her third birthday related celebration that week! It was a beautiful, balmy evening, the first day of September, golden and sun-flecked. The party was at a bar in Notting Hill. Well, we'd started at a very expensive and exclusive place in Notting Hill, where the cocktails cost about what I was earning per hour in my job. The Aussie dollar exchange rate at the time was absolutely shite, it made me quiver in my boots. Everyone says not to think about the exchange rate, but I couldn't help it! Even though I was earning the pound, I worked out I'd spent the equivalent of $70AUD on just two drinks (the exchange rate was about 2.7 dollars to 1 pound at the time). Yikes!!

We moved on to a more moderately priced bar a few blocks away, where I sipped the cheapest beer I could find, trying to make it last because I was now going to have to live on pitta bread and cheap Tesco hummous until my next pay day. It was about 10.30pm and I was wondering how much longer I could make my beer last, and then make my excuses.

Tom, in the meantime, was in a flat on the other side of town, with his sister, who had been invited to this birthday bash. He'd come up to London earlier that evening to crash with her that night, as he was starting a new casual job (to earn extra cash) the next day. She lives in a part of London where public transport isn't particularly reliable. He had a car, and so she asked if he would mind driving her to Notting Hill to the party, and if so, he should come along as well, you never know, he might meet someone nice......Tom wasn't keen, as he'd been as lucky as I had in the romantic stakes, ie: not at all! But his sister wasn't going to take no for an answer and he was eventually coerced into putting on another shirt and a splash of Gucci cologne, and driving her to the party.

After finally getting a parking spot about 3 blocks away from the bar, Tom and his sister walked up and attempted to enter the party. There was a bouncer on the front door, and as it was after 10pm it was now £10 each for them to get in. Tom, as mentioned, had come up to London to start a casual weekend job in addition to his full time job, so he didn't exactly have £10 to spare and wasn't impressed! He said a few choice words and then goodnight to his sister, and headed back to the car.

He'd gone about a block when he heard someone running behind him. Convinced he was about to be mugged, he turned around.

It was the bouncer.

"Mate, was it the birthday party you were coming for?" he asked.

Tom said yes, but he wasn't paying £10 to get in, forget it!

The bouncer gestured back to the bar. "No, don't worry, I'll let you in for free."

When does that ever happen?!

And so Tom, a bit taken aback, went back to the bar, and headed downstairs to the party.

At this point in time, I had said my goodbyes to the birthday girl and was literally about to leave. She pointed out Tom's sister, who I had met once before, so I went over to say a quick hello before heading off. I think I'd only said a few words to her when I noticed a very handsome dark haired guy walk over to her (Tom, of course!). She introduced us, we started talking and I knew within a few minutes that my plan of leaving early had gone out the window.

It's hard to explain, but while there definitely were fireworks (!) it didn't feel like a romantic thing at first. It was fascinating, learning all these things about this new person I'd just met, but we chatted so easily it felt like we were old friends. Tom really is the most jolly person, it is impossible not to like him. And I thought he had a wonderful smile, and when he laughed his whole face lit up. I remember us having the most amazing conversation, where it was like everything and everyone else in the room was blurred or on mute. I was just so absorbed in him. I was just being myself, he was just being himself. There were no games, no smoke screens - we weren't trying to impress each other at all. We talked about literature, theatre, travelling, writing - all mutual interests, as it turned out! I bought him a drink when he confessed he was skint and that was the whole reason he was up in London, something he later felt embarrassed about as he felt he should have been more of a gentleman and bought me a drink! But as he told me later, he'd bought more than his fair share of drinks for girls he'd met in bars in his time, who had eventually lost interest and walked away, so he had no reason to believe I would be any different.

Before I knew it, it was nearly 1am and we'd been talking for about two and a half hours! I had no idea how to get home, as the trains were now finished for the night, and I was only familiar with tube routes! Tom offered to give me a lift home, as a thank you for me buying him a drink, and so we left the party to a few raised eyebrows from my friend and Tom's sister (!), and drove through the centre of London, talking all the way, where he showed me parts that I hadn’t seen before at night, like Sloane Square and Chelsea Bridge, and finally we ended up back at my house in Clapham – after nearly two hours, as we got a bit lost! I couldn't give him directions, because I had only been living in the house for two weeks!

I just remember thinking, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed talking to someone so much......I wished I could have stayed out with him all night, I didn’t want the conversation to end! How could it be possible that we'd only met that night, it felt like we'd known each other for years. I was quite disappointed when we eventually found my house. But we swapped numbers and said we should catch up again sometime, but I had heard that many times and so was determined not to get my hopes up. After a chaste but very charged kiss on the cheek, I went inside and into my room, smiling, and thought "what a great guy. I'll probably never see him again, but what a great guy."

But the next day he texted me, and that was when the butterflies and dreamy smiles started! I stalked him a bit on Facebook, looking through the photos of him and saving some of the ones I liked on my computer so I could just look at them whenever I wanted (turned out he had done the same thing with photos of me!!). We sent each other excerpts from our writing projects, and talked every day either via email or text until we finally met up again that Saturday for dinner…which was the best date I've ever had. Tom recreated it when he proposed last November :)

The whole thing was so unexpected, as I had finally decided, for the first time since becoming single, to just enjoy life and concentrate on me. But, looking back, I think the timing was perfect. And, as crazy as this sounds, I think I’ve loved him from that very first night.

I love telling the story of how we met. Everyone exclaims over the amazing coincidental-ness of it all, and we just smile at each other, because it truly was the last thing either of us expected, given what we had both been through in the years before. Most of all, our story reminds me of the magical connectedness of things. Our story is no more extraordinary than the millions of other true stories about a chain of events that concludes with meeting the love of your life, but to us it is extraordinary....because we might never have met otherwise! I've always been fascinated with the "what if..." factor in people's lives and how those lives might have turned out had one fork in the road been taken rather than the other. I'm reminded of that wonderful line by (who else) TS Eliot - "In a minute there is time/For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse." Imagine, if I hadn't gone to the party at all, or Tom had stayed home alone in his sister's flat? Imagine if the bouncer hadn't run after him? Imagine if I had left when I was planning to, instead of hanging around just a few minutes longer? You could never have planned it. And yet, in the impeccable timing of those few precious minutes, there were the seeds of a new life.

And that's why we're getting married on September 1st this year - because it's three years to the day that it all happened, a day that could have been like any other were it not for the magical twists of fate that led us to each other.

And that giant cliché is so true - stop looking, for that is when love will find you.

operation buff bride

Well, Sweaty Bride, maybe!! These were taken yesterday after doing Level 3 of the 30 Day Shred!! Yowzers!! I moved on to that level last week, after weeks and weeks at Level 2! I wish I had some "before" shots, because my arms have improved out of sight since doing this workout DVD!

Not long to go now, friends! The wedding countdown is officially on! I have 44 days to be drop dead amazing, and hence.....

Operation Buff Bride

has been launched!

After a few weeks of discipline and fortitude, it is proving to be just what I needed!

I have a gorgeous dress to wear - not dissimilar to the one I showed you a few months ago - and even though it does fit, I know it will look even better if I give it my all between now and the wedding day!

Image found via Random Bites (as are so many other inspiring things)

So I've been running/yoga-ing/30 Day Shredding (either of the three, or a combo) every day for the last few weeks. I've also been following a pretty clean diet - as clean as I feel comfortable doing, I'm certainly not obsessive about it. I've cut back on the treats, and not eating as much cheese (sob!) and I have noticed that I don't feel as bloated after meals any more now that I've cut the dairy back. Sigh. I love cheese, but it doesn't love me. I actually get a gut when I eat it. I kid you not.

I've been eating a lot more raw vegetables, more legumes, and switched my breakfasts around so instead of a smoothie nearly every day I'm mixing it up with baked beans, or porridge, or granola, or eggs. This bride isn't going hungry - I'm just being more mindful. And in the lead up to the wedding there's been loads of social things on, so when I go out with friends I just enjoy and try to make the healthiest choice possible. Pretty simple really. It's what I already do - just better. But my hen night is coming up so maybe I'm speaking too soon!! ;)

This is what today looked like, for example:

On rising: Hot water with fresh lemon

Breakfast: Small portion of porridge with almond butter and banana

Snack: Homemade hummous with raw cucumber, broccolli and yellow pepper

Lunch: Small portion smoked tofu, vegetable and blackbean stirfry with 1 cup brown rice (leftover from last night)

Dinner: 1 wholemeal wrap with 1 vegie burger, homemade hummous, homemade baba ghanoush, sprouts, watercress, rocket, spinach, baby tomatoes and avocado

Snack: Chai latte with soy milk, strawberries

See what I mean - just good wholesome stuff. It feels great! I was planning another meal this evening, but it has been 29 degrees here today and I didn't feel like slaving over a hot stove - so vegie burgers it was!!

For the past couple of years I've let myself pretty much have whatever I like, within reason, knowing that I'll burn it off with a run or yoga, or there is plenty of room in my jeans anyway (!) but with an event like this where the photos are going to be on display forever (well, that's what they tell me! ha ha) I don't mind making a bit more effort and being a bit more aware of what I'm putting in my mouth so that I'll look good and be proud of myself. It's a good lesson really - and since I've made the effort to be more mindful, I've noticed how easy it is to just have food because it's there or because you can....learning to listen to that voice that tells you whether you're really hungry or not again is a big wake up call!

I don't think it's a bad thing that I've refocused like this, not at all. I know I've probably been having too many treats lately and have had a rather blase attitude to my fitness, and it feels good to be back to basics and making more of an effort. I'd been bored with my exercise routine for a while before getting the 30DS and my new Shiva Rea DVD - but as I reminded myself, being bored with my routine isn't an excuse for not doing anything at all!! If I'm bored, I need to mix it up!

I know that it's a bit vain to be making all this effort just so I can look good on my wedding day, but with certainly not as Spartan a regime as I had in 2006, I just would hate to put my dress on on the day and think "if only I'd just made a bit more effort".... so anyway, please don't judge me ;) I'm doing this the healthy way, and I feel very pumped and excited by the changes in how I look and feel. I've noticed lots of my favourite bloggers going back to basics lately, and so I'm joining in the fun too :)

I think anything works - if you really want it to.

Also, as I mentioned, I'm on Level 3 of 30DS!! Yeah baby!! Have any of you done Level 3?! Oh God, that last strength circuit with the walking pushups and the plank raises...I just want to die!! The plank raises absolutely CANE!! I sometimes get so much sweat in my eyes I have no choice but to drop back to the beginner moves instead of being a bad-ass, but I'm getting there! No going back!

In addition to the "buff" side of things, I've been making an effort to cultivate wellness and vitality in other areas of my life. I've been writing more, spending more time with kindred spirits, and trying to find time to practice yoga more than I had been, and not just the power vinyasas, the more quiet and thoughtful poses as well. I go for long walks every day. I listen to inspiring podcasts and uplifting music. I've booked massages and other girly things to nourish my spirit and make me feel spoiled! I've been taking better care of my hair, nails and body as a whole, making the time to do maintenance things like eyebrow waxing, etc. It's amazing what just putting in a small amount of effort will do - it really does give me such a confidence boost! And when you feel good about yourself, everything else in life seems to be so much more manageable. Well, I think so, anyway!

Tom and I have been enjoying planning the wedding together - we've done pretty much the whole thing on our own, and it really reflects who we are, which I'm so proud of. It's only a very simple, intimate affair but that was just what we wanted. I really am so excited!!!

The countdown is on!!

face to face with a crystal ball

I see a lot of dinners in Paris in my future.

I was really touched by the responses to the post I wrote a few months ago, imagining a conversation with my former self, the 2005 me.

The me who spent most weekends alone with a DVD boxset, a pile of books and few blocks of chocolate to hand.

The me who couldn't wear skirts without tights, even in the height of summer, as otherwise there would be painful chafing that would require half a tub of talcum powder to relieve.

The me who wanted so much more out of life and was heartbroken and resentful she wasn't doing what she wanted to do.

Without the aid of occasional journals (I barely wrote back then) and the few photographs I didn't destroy, I would barely remember that me, that life.

I still am astounded sometimes at how much my life has changed since then. I actually had a moment on my 29th birthday two months ago, in Paris. I was sitting with Tom and we were outside the Shakespeare and Company book store, enjoying the breeze and the view, debating where we'd go for an afternoon tea pit stop, and I just remember thinking wow. I'm 29 and I'm Paris! Who saw that coming?

It's incredible what can happen when you decide to take charge of your life and your future. When you don't sit back and wait for things to change, you make them change.

While I wouldn't choose to relive every experience I've had between 2005 and 2010, I am rather proud of the woman I have become because of them. Everything that happened, good and bad, has led me to my present situation, and for that my gratitude is boundless.

A lot of comments on the aforementioned post raised the idea of the future. What might 2015 Phil say to the 2010 Phil? It's a very valid question. I thought about 2015 Phil calling the present me, and what conversations might ensue. Who knows what the next five years hold?

But I decided maybe it was best not to go there.

Kathryn brought up the very good point - while it might have been comforting to know that things would get better, things would change and my dreams would come true, would 2005 Phil have actually wanted to know all that has happened in the past five years before it all happened? Would it have scared her? Would the knowledge of the hard times that lay ahead, as well as the good times that would come out of them, have been a burden to carry around? I think one of the reasons some people make themselves unhappy is worrying about the future before its even happened.

Also, one of the podcasts I listen to when I need a boost is Episode 3 of Two Fit Chicks where Alison is interviewed, and she says quite rightly that you "shape the details as you go along" with your dreams and goals in life, you don't need to worry too much about how you will get there. If you already knew all the details, what would be the point?

So, even though I'm confident the next five years holds some great times, I think I'd like to be surprised when they do happen! I'm not going to put too much pressure on myself. I definitely have things I hope to have achieved and be doing by the time 2015 rolls around, but I remain certain that whatever does happen will happen for a reason.

I have goals for myself, but I also like not knowing what's going to happen. One day Tom and I talk about buying a house and having a vegie patch, a chook shed and little baby - the next day we're ready to chuck everything in and go travelling again. We don't know, we're always changing our minds. We're going with the flow. That's ok with me.

What I do know is that I'm not afraid, of anything really. Apart from rats, and things happening to people I love - both of which are out of my control! A life lived in fear is a life half lived, as they say in Strictly Ballroom - and I've already lived my life like that, and I have no desire to ever do it again!

The thing I did find very interesting about this whole 2010-2015 thing is that, even though I didn't end up making a five year plan, the idea of it didn't make me break out in a cold sweat.

After my first marriage broke down four years ago I stayed away from long term plans of any kind for a long time. Anything that even hinted it might tie me down left me cold and instantly turned me off, which I guess was understandable. I needed to live that way for a while. I needed to live life without a plan, without expectations, without security, without time limits, without restraint. It was very much a "pay-as-you-go" kind of life. It was fun, but it wasn't easy. We are conditioned to live with a plan, to always be thinking about the future, and it's frightening to be living your life in a manner equivalent to riding in a very fast car without a seatbelt. It's scary to chuck in your secure well-paying job, buy a round the world ticket, and bugger off to somewhere where you know nothing and no one. While there are no guarantees in life anyway, living this way really hammers that home for you.

But it was also exhilirating. The furthest I planned something in advance was a month - two at the most. The only thing I was committed to was living in the moment. It opened me up to people, places and experiences I might not have noticed or been available to take up otherwise.

I regret nothing, in other words :)

Four years down the track, and things are different for me now. I've calmed down and grown up a bit, and got a few things out of my system. I'm a bit more cynical (which is a bit sad, sometimes I wish I could trust people as easily as I used to) and far less naive. I've learned, and continue to learn, what I do and don't need in my life. I am very, very excited about the future. And I am excited that I have found someone amazing to share it with.

Getting married again is a huge leap of faith for me. I was scared about it for a very long time, even though I knew almost straight away that I wanted to spend my life with Tom. I wondered whether it was too soon. I also (predictably) worried about what other people might think, and feared their judgement. But then one day I realised that I was thinking about it way too much, and the only person judging me was myself. I had to forgive myself for my mistake. I also had to get over the fear I had of it all happening again. First of all, everyone was so happy for us! And as for it being too soon or needing more time on my own, it's very convenient to romanticise my single life, and forget about the loneliness that occasionally accompanied my solo adventures.

A while ago I talked to someone who had had an experience almost identical to mine.

"How do you know when you're ready for this again?" I asked him.
"You don't," he said simply. "You just have to take a leap of faith, and trust what you have."

And I do trust what I have. I look at my first marriage and I know why it didn't work. I look at the marriage I am about to embark upon, and I know why it will. I am so much more present in this relationship. Complacency and bottling up my feelings have no place in my relationship with Tom. Unfortunately, much as I hate to admit it, I was very naive and immature in my first marriage. At 20, I had no clue what marriage was really about beyond the superficial idealism and I didn't have any idea who I fundamentally was as a person. Nor did I have the courage to pursue what I truly wanted, rather than what I (or others) expected of myself: this only came with getting older and wiser.

I guess something else I was frightened about by getting married again was that my freedom would be curtailed like it was before. This fear has proved to be groundless. In April I went away for a whole week, on my own, to a writing retreat in Scotland. I go away with girlfriends for city breaks all the time (well, a couple of times a year! It feels like all the time!). Sometimes I take myself off for the afternoon to a cafe or a museum with my journal, and I relish that alone time. And has Tom kicked up a stink about any of this? No - but why would he? He knows what I need to be happy, and for me to be happy I need to be able to do my own thing sometimes. I get this, and so much more, with him. Maybe I still don't really have a clue about marriage, what it is or how it works - but I'm willing to give it another shot. That's something I never thought I'd say four years ago.

I hope that my story can comfort and inspire people who might also be inwardly crucifying themselves over past mistakes. I hope you can see that it is never too late to chase those dreams and live the life you want. While very little can compare to the kind of heartbreak and despair I went through four years ago, regardless of how painful it is at the time, you really will move on - in fact, you can be happier than you've ever been in your life. I hope you know that your life really can change and transform into everything your heart desires - if you want it badly enough and are prepared to get uncomfortable sometimes. And the journey doesn't stop when you see that magical number you dreamed of seeing on the scales, or that impossibly tiny number on a tag inside a pair of jeans (sizes are bullshit, for starters! I was a size 14 and a size 10 in the same shop last week!).

It's not easy, it really isn't. I know it might seem that way, but this blog only shows you some parts of my journey. I choose to focus on the positive, happy things because that's the kind of person I am and what I personally choose to focus on in my life- but there's been plenty of sad, scary times.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that sometimes I really, really wish some things hadn't happened to me. I wish I had known better. But, I didn't. So I've tried to put right the things I was able to, walked away from the rest and I've got on with my life. And the pay off for being brave has been enormous. While life is certainly not perfect and there are still lots of things I want to sort out and accomplish and get over, I am so grateful for where I am right now. And if anything had been different, maybe I wouldn't be here....well, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be. And that's something I really wouldn't change!

So, to get back to the original topic, I'm pretty certain 2015 Phil will be very happy. I think she'll be enjoying life very much. She might have even run a full marathon, done a yoga retreat in India, had a baby, and written a book or two - who knows! I hope she's done all four :)

For now, I'm going to keep living in the moment - and the moment is pretty darn great.

So, my friends, don't crucify yourself for the bumps in the road. Once you've picked yourself up and dusted yourself off, those bumps and detours can actually lead you to some really amazing places. Don't ever think that you're stuck. No one is, ever. Your future is always in your hands.

Image from Positively Present Tumblr.

write club

Image via weheartit.com

I made a wonderful friend on the Arvon course I did in April. We met up for a reunion drink a month ago and had such a great time we decided to try and keep the energy of the course we did going and....dum da da dum.....start a writing group!!

I've wanted to start a writing group for....ever! So I'm very happy!!

But of course, being class-A procrastinators, the aim of the first meeting was to come up with a catchy name - on hearing about our quandry, Tom suggested a Pet Shop Boy's parody as a temporary solution, which was "The Writing -That Doesn't Have a Name But Eventually Will Have A Name - Club" but Nat (my friend) found that a bit of a challenge in designing the club logo and catchphrase!

So, somehow, "Write Club" has stuck. Nat came up with it - it's a play on Fight Club. We've even got the motto - "bare knuckled writing"!!

So far we've been meeting fortnightly over dinner and wine to share our thoughts on the other's work. It's been so motivating, inspiring, and....fun! At our last meeting a week ago, I was quaking in my flip-flops a little because not only had I read her fantastic first 3 chapters, but I hadn't heard from her since I handed over my first draft for her perusal , so had assumed that maybe she didn't like my first 6 chapters, and that my novel was like my most recent cup of coffee - weak, poorly made and overpriced.

But I was wrong, as usual. She was so complimentary!! Her first words to me were "I loved it!" which thrilled me to bits!! We talked a lot about the characters, which she felt were very well rounded and with a good balance of action and introspection. There were a few specifically Australian things I mentioned that she didn't get - which I will probably rework - but otherwise, I came away absolutely glowing from her comments and kindness. Her novel is amazing, and I feel privileged to be getting a first glimpse at it. She's kept working steadily on it since we met at Arvon, and at our last meet, she popped open a bottle of champagne to celebrate her latest milestone - 40,000 words! I hope to meet the same milestone myself in the next few days :)

Write Club is proving to be wonderful so far. I've been so supported and encouraged to face my fears and continue to tell the story, regardless of what might conspire to throw me off course. How bright and wonderful the world is when you are in the company of a kindred spirit.

But of course, I've now broken the first rule of Write Club, which is......never talk about Write Club!

interview with me at suburban yogini

Rach and me at a bar in Camden two weeks ago! World Cup fever and mojitos :)

The lovely Rachel interviewed me for her latest series my yoga story over at her superb and inspiring blog, Suburban Yogini. Rach is as fun and bubbly in real life as she is in her writing - and we've bonded over our mutual nostalgia over all things Tasmanian! If you're into yoga I guarantee you'll get a lot out of her lovely blog - do stop by and tell her I sent you!

things i love #27

Remember my things I love series I did in May?

I thought I'd surprise you all with a few more! :)

Soup.

I am quite mad about soup. It's one of those meals that manages to satisfy your stomach and soothe your soul at the same time.

I remember my love of soup beginning when I was a teenager. I would scour my mother's old recipe books and make soups for lunch on the weekend and during school holidays. I remember having weird ones with mushrooms, sherry and chives in them, and more homely ones that were basically pureed vegetables with a big dollop of Promite stirred through. I made potato and leek, minestrone, and chicken and corn.....and sometimes I'd just be lazy and heat up a can of Rosella tomato and have it with toast. I must (sheepishly) admit that in those days it wasn't so much what something would taste like that I was worried about but...how many calories did it have in it? How much fat? Oh, what a waste of time and effort that turned out to be! I lost 25kg the year I turned 16, but I'd put it all back on, plus more, by the time I was 22. But that's another story! I, as you probably guessed, learned to love my food again and develop a better relationship with it. But my love of soup has always prevailed.

My mum makes one of the best soups in the world - sweet potato and pumpkin. Whenever I make it now, I make it exactly to her recipe, and the first mouthful from the stockpot is always heavenly and squeezes at my heart a little, because it tastes like home.

Some of my favourite soups have been discovered by trying them in a cafe or restaurant, and then trying to recreate it at home. When I lived in Hobart, there was a wonderful cafe called 4Lunch which always had an impressive line up of soup cauldrons. A friend and I got a soup from there one day which was moroccan chickpea and lentil. It was so incredibly amazing that I looked up recipes on the internet, and tasted and tweaked until I got it just about right! I still make it now.

Another of my favourites is a version of minestrone which has short pasta, vegetarian bacon, and every vegetable in the world you can think of, topped with a dollop of chunky homemade pesto.

Soup really is one of the most nourishing meals I can think of. It can be as light as you want, or a thick and hearty complete meal in itself. It's all I want to eat when I'm ill or feeling a bit delicate. Last week we were in Wales with Tom's family, and I was beset with pre-monstrosity. Tom's mother gave me a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, laced with barley, and suddenly my horns disappeared and all was right with the world.

Even though it hasn't been "soup weather" in London lately, it has certainly cooled off and after today's ferocious, almost horizontal, downpour I knew exactly what I was in the mood for. When the sun has disappeared from the sky, the air is cool and the clouds are black, a bowl of something warm and delicious is just the ticket!

Tonight's was butternut squash, chilli and lime.

Would you like the recipe?

I made it up, based on the offering in the staff canteen today! It was 1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into chunks, 1 onion, 1 medium fresh red chilli, 2 cloves garlic, 1 knob ginger, a bit of sweet chilli sauce, the juice of two limes, and vegetable stock. Simmer it all together for about half an hour, then whizz. Simple.

The other soup I love, that is my never fail soup when I have a cold, or just want to whip up something impressive for unexpected friends on a rainy Saturday lunchtime, is this one, which I was introduced to by a workmate when I lived in Melbourne four years ago. We used to go to the Queen Victoria markets on Tuesdays at lunchtime, as it was a short walk from our building, and do our fresh produce shopping. It took me ages to learn to shop for one! I always bought so much stuff! But anyway, I remember her picking up a bunch of English spinach and asking her what she was going to make with it. She told me about the soup, and gave me the recipe. I've never looked back, apart from, when I stopped eating meat, replacing the chicken with Quorn fillets and the chicken stock with vegetable stock. Even with those amendments, it's still an absolute winner. Try it, it's absolutely glorious.

So, while I'm grasping at every last drop of summer sunshine and gorgeous muggy heat in the air, I'm not too despondent knowing that summer will breathe its last at some point, the autumn leaves will start falling, it will start getting darker earlier, and there will be soup.

What's your favourite soup?

Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,

Game, or any other dish?

Who would not give all else for two p

ennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

Beau - ootiful Soo - oop!

Beau - ootiful Soo - oop!

Soo - oop of the e - e - evening,

Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

- Lewis Carroll

your salinger

I love second hand book stores. The charity book stores in the UK are excellent, and when I used to live in another part of London there was an excellent Red Cross shop on the high street about 20 minutes walk away. Tom and I used to spend most Sundays going there, to "the Muppet show", as he called it, because the people who used to run it were...well, a cast of surreal characters, let's put it that way! But it was an excellent bookshop, you never knew what treasures you might unearth.

One of the things I love about second hand books is the history in them. Whose shelves did they sit on, who read them, where might they have gone to get to this moment with me holding them in my hands....there was sometimes a clue or two, sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes the donors to the bookshop left bookmarks in the pages. And not just your usual bookmarks - a business card from another country, a movie stub or bus ticket, and once a card that must have been sent with a bunch of flowers, saying that they hoped the recipient was "feeling better about life". I wonder what on earth happened there?!

I especially love finding books that have unusual thought provoking inscriptions. Whenever I was given a book as a child, the giver always wrote in it. My grandfather always gave me books, and seeing his handwriting in them, when he has been gone for sixteen years and my memories of him are fleeting, is wonderful. It is a legacy of sorts.

About two years ago, in my Red Cross bookshop, I found this copy of Franny and Zooey:

And inside:

I bought it for the inscription!

So, who were Caitlin and (her) Salinger, I wonder?! Were they lovers, or just friends? It was given on Valentine's Day too. How did it end up in the Red Cross bookshop? Did they have a falling out, wherein she was determined to rid herself of anything the man had ever touched, anything that had a memory of him attached.....or was it just not her cup of tea and she was in a charitable mood one day?

Who knows!

But it's going in a book.

Have you ever found something really cool in a second hand store?

keeping it REAL!

One of my favourite posts on this blog has been quoted on this poster that is going to be put in all secondary schools in the greater Shepparton region of Victoria, Australia. Initiated, designed and distributed by REAL magazine, the poster, in their words, "exposes the truths of digital manipulation, shares experiences, challenges and successes of young women, empowers readers to respect their bodies and minds and aims to inspire girls to achieve their potential".

I have so much admiration for the REAL team, and the philosophy behind the magazine. For years I have bemoaned the sad reality that a lot of magazines in the marketplace do very little to help vulnerable young people and their self esteem. I'm glad things seem to be slowly changing, with the use of "real women" in ad campaigns and photo shoots, and the Body Image Advsiory Group in Australia is doing great work too, which I applaud. The world needs more intelligent and empathetic media, print or otherwise, that encourages young people to embrace life and who they are instead of feeling pressured to live up to impossible physical standards. Communicating with young people about self esteem and empowerment issues is something I am very passionate about so I'm thrilled to be involved in this!

The quote they've used from my post is:

There is no such thing as "normal". We all come in different shapes and sizes. Everyone's body is different. If both of your parents are tall, well built people, then chances are, that's what you are too - and you must accept that. But the only thing that really matters is what you think of yourself.

The whole post, edited and modified, will also appear as an article in REAL in the near future, which is very exciting! When I first wrote that post, I wanted to get it out there where young people could read it and hopefully be helped by it. It took me over four years to find it a home - but better late than never, as they say! I know that being a teenager can be a very isolating experience, and there are some things that you just can't or don't want to talk to your parents or friends about, so I hope my words will be the equivalent of a virtual arm around young shoulders and saying "you're ok, more than ok, just as you are."

Thank you Erin and the REAL team for including me in the poster!

Let me know if you see it around anywhere :)

cabinet of curiosities

You all know how much I love tea!

We only have a tiny cupboard for food storage in our kitchen (weird to think I once had a walk in pantry when I lived in Australia!!) and until a few weeks ago, approximately a quarter of it was taken up with tea! Boxes and boxes and boxes of it. I didn't even know what teas I had anymore, that's how crowded it was in there. The solution? Get a pretty cabinet just for tea!

I'd been after a special cupboard/cabinet to house my tea obsession for a few months. The only one I liked was about £130, which seemed a bit extravagant! So I put the tea cupboard to the back of my mind and, attracted by the huge red sale signs, wandered into Laura Ashley in Knightsbridge a few weekends ago, purely on a whim. And that's of course when you're always going to find what you were looking for.....when you stop looking. (Which I'd say is true of most things in life).

Not only was it just what I wanted, but on sale too! Double score!

My lovely fiance was handyman and hung it up for me, and then we filled it with the tea boxes - and found many that we'd forgotten were even in there! Pukka green tea! Rooibos! Twinings chai! Oh my.

The food cupboard then got a clean out - how does stuff leak out of packets so easily? - and now everything has a home and we even have enough room for our enormous "what if there's an earthquake/snow day/apocalypse" stash of soy milk, brown rice and red lentils. We kept grinning at each other and the little tea cupboard like we were some kind of geniuses - who would have thought such a tiny thing would make our lives a bit easier?

But it was far too hot to celebrate with a cup of tea, so we had a beer instead ;)