Kahil Gibran wrote that your children are not your children. Even as a student in the 1970s I recognised the truth in what he said. And it turns out, bringing up children is a series of letting goes, from taking your hands off the back of the two-wheeler bike to walking away on the first … Continue reading Letting go of the children (or, I've not got Alzheimers yet)
Our Facebook posts of our trip to Croatia and Italy show sunshine, coffee and pastries, cocktails, wine and beautiful landscapes. What the photos don’t show is the crazy, exhausting whirlwind of unfamiliar people and places in unseasonably hot autumn weather. Or the sense of being caught up in a mindless global madness to visit the … Continue reading To Dubrovnik and beyond: busy but beautiful
A journal of journeys around Wellington harbour by bus, car, and on foot in the month of July.
After years in the corporate world, I was more than ready to embrace the role of earth mother. Of course, that's not quite what happened.
My efforts to pin down the family connection to the poet William Wordsworth have been like the clouds that float high above the hills and vales of the Lake District which inspired him. They’re real but constantly moving; they seem sometimes to come together, then they change direction and are off again. Like family history research, they are quite unpredictable.
An ode to Wellington where despite the winds, spring brings quiet exhilaration and exuberance.
Two small-town girls go to stay with their Nana and Pop in the city and discover they live life in a much richer way.