Stay curious...

Hello everyone, now I know we have all aged since my last post, but hopefully this will make up for the new found wrinkles and grey streaks in our hair. As you may remember or are yet to read, my last post was about the tingles and stirrings of happiness and excitement that adventure can brew. This week we will take a step back. Let's retreat under our blanket cubbyhouses and fairy lights and delve into the realms of curiosity and inner adventure. Within your clouds of blankets I hope you can enjoy these snippets of adventure, imagination and curiosity to be flown away to someplace different.

Curiosity involves a little sprinkle of risk taking. To be curious is to reach out and roll around in something that is unfamiliar. To fall in love with being alive, not through square screens with the swipes of apps but in what inspires, enraptures, challenges and makes us curiouser and curioser.

Now, I confess that I'm not the one for major risk taking. I'm yet to jump out of a plane or spring from a cliff, but risks can start with trying things that are fresh, new, outside your personal comfortable bubble. Try a piece of that spicy food (although it might singe your tongue), eat those marinated insects and snails or even something as simple as watching a film with subtitles. By all means though, go jump out of a plane if you want to... let me know how it goes. 

Moving on, remember our surroundings can provide us with pots and pans full of curious imaginings;

You curve and coil, then stretch and dive as if a wave. You have a mind of your own, making your own choices, at points feeling serene, bobbing cheerfully yet you also go through tough times in a violent dance with the cliff. But the sea salt always sits on your lips and crystallises in your hair. 

You are an autumn leaf that floats away giggling like a carefree toddler with twirls and curls choreographed by the breeze. Moving left and right, up and down, wondering about your surroundings until you find somewhere comfortable to land. Until the next breath moves you, you rest until next time.

If the brown boots of your travels would speak, the tales and fables they possess would allow you to delve back into these adventures. Where some moments have been swallowed into the gapping mouth of forgetfulness. Imagine the stories your shoes would hold?

You are the 10 cent coin that has found a place suffocated between receipts and business cards.  Your current master fails to spend you on tipping a waitress or to a homeless person. Your previous masters have been a florist, a priest, a truck driver and a surf instructor, to name a few. Who will you be passed onto next?

You are this girl, carefully amazed by the cloudy white of a pearl. How could something so pure be trapped beneath the spikes of a shell and the force of the ocean?

Your days that are constant can sometimes be reassuring but is it really something that you want to continue? Sitting at work, at a desk, with the vibrating twangs of phone calls? The continual worries about washing, ironing, the gossip of about the unnecessaries, for we a simply stardust, with absolutely no need for rudeness and unkindness. Now may these be gone and take notice of the weird and random things throughout your day, in particular the little things. I was sitting on the train that shakes like ice in a cocktail shaker and noticed that my hands are coated in porcelain triangles wedged together.

Find through the noise, the embers that whisper your purpose, waiting to be enflamed into a bonfire!

Now I have a plan, for you who want to build your inner crusade for curiosity. Yet the beauty of this inward expedition is that it can begin with the calmness of you, sometimes as simply as staying in your home. Keep asking yourself the whats? whys? hows? and wheres? Also, start with these steps that will let your brain take three deep breaths, start with these and you will enjoy what is simple that is enchanted with tranquility. Start with these and your sense of curiosity will flower. 

* Read at least 20mins every day (or every second day). It's the only way to trek abroad, meet new people, see new cultures and worlds for almost under $20.

* Switch off all electronics for 1-2days.

*Go outside and savour some sunlight before the artificial glare of indoors is all we can get at work and school.

* Even indulge in the splendour of our own private space. Our own castles and four poster mahogany beds without the knocks of annoyance and rudeness.

*Be grateful and empathise with others. Not talking about yourself all the time can unlock something as magical and simple as kindness.

* Don't compare yourself to others. As the wise philosopher Dr Seuss penned "Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is you-er than you. Shout aloud, I am glad to be what I am. Thank goodness I'm not a ham, or a clam, or a dusty old jar of gooseberry jam. I am what I am, what a great thing to be. If I say so myself, happy everyday to me!".

* Write a handwritten letter to someone who you care about, lace it with love, sprinkle some humour and make people smile with words.

* Read, watch, write and do something you love in a small or big way every day. Go for a walk to your favourite place, take up photography, go see a movie or live performances. Escape from the superglue of monotony.

Be curious; this world is a puzzling place. It is curiosity that allows us to piece it together.

Adventure is out there...

Ahoy readers of all ages, sizes, hair colours and fruit preferences. Today's edition will take us all on a bit of an expedition. I will hope to explore the excitement and joy around adventure. Yes 'adventure is out there' and we don't have to go to the other side of the world to find it... it could just be right outside our glass, wood and gauze doors.

I have been incredibly grateful to see some beautiful places around the globe. From the beautiful autumn tones of country NSW with the warmth of wood fires that soon follow, to the peaceful tropical gem of Kiribati, with the people making up for their small land mass with great smiles and welcoming hearts. And from the bedroom-sized pubs of Dublin to the Vatican, where even the rugs and lampposts are imbued with a sense of spirit.

For those who have been recurring readers (thank you), you may recall my diary entries of my travels to the UK with my brother. These have been experiences that have become the flint that strikes my wanderlust. I'm sure a lot of people here share this feeling; a little stirring that sits between your stomach and heart when someone mentions a famous landmark, a specific cuisine, an historical period or plane flight deals; we are willing to drop everything, fly away and be immersed in another part of this world.

                                                           Have we all got our tickets?


                                                                   Let's go exploring!



I do admit it is easier sometimes to just waste away our weekends in bed, scrolling through food videos or celebrity interviews. But this is unbelievably boring. Do rest, when needed. But imagine spending the rest of your free days thumb-tacked to the sticky lounge or a springy bed. Game of thrones may be captivating for a moment, but I doubt in 40 years you will sit there thinking of the times you binged watched it across a week of the holidays whilst others were trekking through national parks or having brunch somewhere new everyday.

The best way to start is to go to some local markets. Food, fashion, quirky gifts and collectibles are the usual residents of these events. Depending on the market and your budget $20 or a bit more, should get you something different and yummy. From personal experience these are hubs of hipster moustaches and rounded clear glasses that sell second- hand denim jackets and overalls. Next door may be miniature succulent plants in teacups and small terracotta pots; reminding you on when you were a kid and would imagine a fairy realm tickling the tops of the leaves. Across from the little village of winged creatures, could potentially hold organic bars or cupcake wrappings of vegan, paleo, vegetarian, herbivore and everything in between, chocolate cakes... each to their own. All the meanwhile, the acoustic strum and angelic hum of a musician plays, twisting and twirling modern pop songs with an alternative edge.


In normal day to day life, another way to explore is to... wait for it... actually have a conversation with a random person. Whether it's a customer at work, a shop assistant, uber driver, person next to you on the train, a simple chat can broaden your outlook. I've had many conversations that start with a comment on the weather, that I usually finish with 'oh well, we can't change it' and then turns to people's travel, heritage and where and what they recommend in the world.


 I know it can be hard, but start by putting your phone down, making eye contact, smiling, then say hi!! Easy right??

Now if these levels seem a bit mediocre for some of you then a day or weekend trip away, may be another adventurous option. Pack a duffle bag with the essentials, book a hotel, hostel, motel, Airbnb, caravan, tent, swag or whatever for a couple of nights and jump in a vehicle and voila your trip has commenced. With this expedition I do recommend taking others with you, just so you know exactly what train to catch, have someone to talk to and you have another's toothpaste because you've forgotten yours. It's a profound experience being completely captivated by your surroundings. Turn off connections with the modern world, except a radio that plays some nostalgic tunes and simply sit beside the smouldering embers with a water's edge continually kissing the land in the distance. A book always helps aswell.


Laughter is exponential, stress descends to nothingness.


And, I'll tell you the best part... lying down and gazing above to the crystals that dress the whole sky. The constellations start to tell stories when you read them enough. They speak the stories of many cultures and religions. A sparkling ceiling that you share with every being in the world.


In other news, I will cast out to you, that it is completely okay to create adventures all by yourself. Sometimes this is the best way to spark your thoughts and creativity. Explore cobblestone streets and market stalls without having to worry about talking too much, or not enough to the other people with you. Switch off the pop songs that blast through your earphones, and let your mind wander. Think of the people that once lived here, what did they do? what did they wear? How are we different? Could you live like this? Explore those quaint museums and second hand shops, wind around the river or climb to the tree canopies. Buy a random and unnecessary keyring or bobble-head. Take pictures but not too many, you want to experience these incredible places through your eyes not the manufactured lens of a camera.

Now, lastly, before I leave you all to go off to go crazy (in your adventures); my idea of an ultimate adventure is to go off and simply wander and explore, new and exciting places. You may have a different idea of adventure, but mine is to put on a pair of brown boots with worn laces, a pair of jeans and a jacket and stroll around the cobblestoned streets of other cities and countries. Following the cross layout of a Gothic Cathedral encircling the altar with a motley rainbow of stained glass windows and the whispers of visitors and worshippers. The climbing of hundreds of stairs to have a surrounding view of an ancient city or landscape. To hear and attempt to speak the language, whether French, Italian or another, waiting with baited breath to see if they understood you. Attempting cultural cuisines, like snails and local beer. Tasting and touching the snow of another continent. And as a self-confessed history obsessor, to transport myself to the past of the locals; imagining how a 12th century nun spends her days at Montecassino Abbey or the secrets spread in the castles of Medieval Scotland.  The hundred year old terrace houses that capture like photographs, the stories of hope and heartbreak of those who lived in them. A constant period drama loops in my mind as I weave through these places that to some may be archaic, but to me are treasure troves of yesteryear.


Keep in store for the next expedition which we will embark on the exploration of ourselves. Day to day doings of the mind; what enraptures and captivates us.

Even for you homebodies out there, try to get out and explore something different. Even if it starts with trying something different at your favourite restaurant or reading a different genre or getting the bus to the other side of town. It doesn't have to be a world wide travel journey (although that would be nice)...

It's all out there to be gazed upon. Make a promise to embark on your own exploration

I'm stuck...

Welcome back,

I know, I know, I know, it's been a very long time and I send my apologies as I have both a lot of assessments with a ladle worth of writers block. But fear not, as I hope to throw together bits and pieces, knicks and knacks of words that will hopefully cure me from this plague of writers block!!


I'm stuck
wedged
constricted by this
overcast of needing to write,
yet, I have nothing.

Like a freshly-painted classroom wall
before the kids come and create;
they draw, whether crude
or imaginative,
and the wall is no longer bland.

Like a pot of boiling water
before the parent drops
everything from the cupboard
with a splash, spray to excite
the simple liquid with
a spoonful of culinary colour.

Like the clean foot paths
and picnic tables,
until Autumn arrives
bringing the breath of falling
leaves to lay
a patchwork of oranges and reds.

I'm still lost
searching for the right
words to string together
and hang upon my walls
to glisten and shine
for others to read.

                              *                                               *                                             *

                                                     

Dear Reader, 

Yes I bought a typewriter the other day…

I’m hoping it will help me with this little problem I seem to have, where a massive sandstone block is sitting and squishing on the creative lobe of my brain. I am slowly chipping at it with a pick and cutlery, yes I am using a spoon and a fork, to try and come up with something a bit more riveting than an essay about society and culture with a million and one references. 

This old (not ancient) piece of machinery has been at the ink stained fingertips of excited writers, poets, film makers, artists etc. as they transport their ideas from the convoluted maze of their thoughts to a structured, together and tangible A4 page. 

The Great Gatsby was at times whispered or yelled by the keys of the typewriter. F.Scott Fitzgerald in a frenzy of words shares the ash from his cigarette that has hung in his mouth for months with the keys. Filmscripts for Hollywood cinema, Wizard of Oz and Citizen Kane had been words before moving pictures. The sparkling crimson red of Dorothy's shoes were described with black and white materials before the heels hit each other in technicolour. 

Its clinks, clanks and bings are satisfying to a creators ear, with a sense of excitement and trepidation. You can’t as easily erase your mistakes. They are glorified and adapted not erased and forgotten. 

Who knows maybe I’ll discover something amongst the red and black rolls of ribbons and the harshness of the keys? 

I’ll keep you posted, 

Sincerely, 

Apprentice of Writing…

                                         (mine looks nothing like this, but hopefully one day)



                    *                                                         *                                                     *


I think I know what will cure my writer's block;

• A plane ticket 
• Fake gold embodied note books that you can get from any good bookshop.
• The scenery of the Scottish countryside near a Loch.
• A pen. Not just any pen. One that when you pick it up it becomes apart of the movements and contortions of your hand. The words seem to glide not from your hand but straight from the magical ink of the pen. 
• Dublin would be nice!
• New typewriter ink. Just as a back up. 
• A comfortable chair back home under the warmth of the sun with the grass a bit to high and the dog bouncing around. 
• A teacup with floral patterns. Maybe a matching saucer but can be bargained. 
• A cafe in Europe somewhere, anywhere. 
• Endless supply of Dad's pumpkin soup or Saturday soup. 
• Unlimited access to Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London. 

Feel free to be generous and give to another! 

Thankyou for your help, I hope you enjoyed the ride. 

If you've kept up with this saga of writing, never forget to 'Embrace your weirdness' and check off your own list. I promise to try and be a bit more active. Enjoy, laugh and smile...

Embrace your Weirdness...

Be it weird and wonderful, bizarre and beautiful, you and I need to embrace our quirky qualities!!


Pick them off the floor and pin them above your bed. Smile and wave at them when you wake up, take them with you throughout the day, show them to others whether they are your friends or new faces that you come across. Keep them close to you at all times and at night when you attempt to sleep or if you are lucky enough to dream, pack them away under your pillow case for the morning. Mould and craft them if need be, with a pinch here and there, but don't, please don't change them too much, because once they are lost, I'm afraid, they may never be rediscovered. Sew new patches on top of old, with bright pops of canary yellow and emerald greens, gloomy blacks and dessert oranges, until you have a patchwork of colours and textures. Once you have your collection of oddities display them in your own life exhibition, to let everyone discover you. I don't mean the person they briefly say 'hi' coming back from class or at work, but the person they can talk to hours upon hours about the most random of topics, with no questions asked.

If people question your stencils and patterns, don't listen to them! If they mock and insult your choice of baby blue or the way the rough velvet matches with the silk, ignore them! They do not deserve to even glimpse at the workings of this creation for they may either be far behind, or haven't even started their own yet. Use their negativity and convert it through your sewing machine to help your piece gleam with uniqueness.


By all means I am still in the planning and creating stages of my patchwork of quirkiness, but I do believe I already have compiled throughout these 20yrs alot of fabrics, colours and textures that mix and match with each other. One day my project will be completed, but that's far from now.

This is what my collection includes currently;

• When drinking tea, there must be a perfect balance between milk and hot water. Personally, this means just enough so the tea is warm and does not scald your tongue when drinking with the colour of an almond. 
• I know the complete playlist of George Ezra's album off by heart as I have played it on repeat no less than 1000 times in the 3 yrs since its release. And I am almost at fangirl mode as I will see him in concert in July.  
• When in conversation I tend to say random historical facts about anything that mostly is related to the topic of the chat, but also can be very random at times. Like the fact that in many English Medieval Courts they used to eat peacocks and would have polar bears as pets!!  Interesting hey?!? 
• I may have a bordering obsession with James Dean that has flourished over the last few years. For you who don't know he was an actor in the 1950s and made 3 films, died in a car crash in his aluminium car named 'Little Bastard' in 1955 after filming Giant... I could keep going but for your sake I'll stop now. If you have any questions I'm more than happy to answer them!!! 
• My sister and I have seen Moulin Rouge and Grease so many times, that quotes from them sneak into our daily conversations which most of the time no one understands.

• I spent between $50-$100 (actual price will not be disclosed) on an ink quill as an impulse buy. 
• I sometimes make weird facial expressions and noises when talking. They just seem to happen randomly sometimes but I just go with it and people laugh :D I think it's me just laughing at myself. 
•  And I am never, NEVER!! Able to take a nice looking photo when posing on the first, second, third or every single shot !! I'll smile but then the photographer is taking too long so my face starts weirdly twitching or I'll be doing something at the moment the camera flashes. And I'm always mid-blink aswell, even if we're not in the sun. 
• I have a peculiar variety of interests, mostly that I love music and movies from the 50s-60s and all bits and bobs that are 'out there', retro and vintage, like my numerous teapots, fob watches, wax stamps for letters and my record player. I'm also hoping to add a proper typewriter to this collection. Perhaps this is my biggest quirk, that I am an old and eclectic soul. 
• Downton Abbey, Peaky Blinders and Call the Midwife are without a doubt cinematic masterpieces in the television realm. Second to them is Love Child, and almost or period (historical) dramas. Enough said!! Everyone needs this viewing experience! 
• Some people might have an athlete or politician as an inspiration but mine is legitimately Miranda Hart. She is wonderful, weird, very bizarre and British. 
• I also have a love hate (mostly adoration) for books shops. Mostly because I never seem to be able to leave a bookshop without buying something, or if I did have enough stamina to break free of the words and pages that are screaming for a reader to free them from their mundane shelves, it's because I couldn't decide what to get, so nothing it is for now...  
• Every time I tell a story to someone I never do the old 'long story short' method, I tend to go into unnecessary detail that side tracks sometimes from the actual point, but I'm just adding interesting detail.
• My most used word/phrase seems to be either 'Buddy' or 'Oh dear' which I say sometimes without even realising. But do not fear I am working on paying more attention to my use of the first word. 

Nevertheless, over my 2 decades of living, I have acquired these weird, bizarre characteristics that I am happy to keep, store and grow for the next however many decades. These are just a few examples that I can think of right now as I perch myself in a procrastination daze whilst looking over the ever growing Sydney Skyline. If any friends and family are out there who have any more weird facts/qualities they notice of me, let me know so I can cut them and add them to this patchwork.

For you, who is reading this. Have you started your weirdly wonderful creation? It's never too late to find those colours and fabrics and start sewing them together with a needle and thread. For one day you'll have a conglomeration of colour and quirks, textures and tastes, fabrics and layers of rarities...

Miranda Hart

James Dean

The Saxophone Player on the Street Corner...

A Friday in October passed by with the hustle and bustle of Sydney city-goers. They head back home to put on those comfortable $2 Kmart shoes and the trackies of a similar price that although are not stylish, they trump any $600 branded dress that is only worn once. These pants can last years, if not decades for some, and when spoken to could share some incredible stories of happiness and heartbreak. They seem at least one size too small but you can never let them go as they seem to almost know apart of you. You know what ones I am talking about?

Or many of these walkers by are youthful bachelorettes that race home to draw on their face and recreate their eyebrows the wrong shade of brown. Although they say, that going out is to not bottle that one compliment from the 10/10 from work or the British exchange student from class- it is. As they slip into this suffocating grasp of a tiny nude colour dress, they wonder is it 'worth it'?

Whether home or outbound these passers-by have a destination yet they do not stop to value and immerse themselves in the expedition and its spontaneous discoveries.

This was my spontaneous discovery, when I was heading home to find those trackies.

On this Friday evening the sun pastels the sky in the pinks and blues as if it were a newborn nursery. I finished ten hours of work and only wanted to be home, to get from the station to home without walking the distance. As if only I could press a button and be back in the comfort of my college's brick walls but spectacular view of Sydney's skyline. I rushed through Redfern station with this urgency to weave in and out of the dawdlers.

I am then slowed not physically but mentally by a simple melody.

The soulful ooze of a saxophone engulfed my path. The suffering of its long-drawn-squeezed notes spoke of the pain and torment of its master. She replicated the greats of American jazz, a female archetype of the lonesome and tortured Southern musician.

The elderly woman slouched on a dirty street stone, surrounded by few belongings. It was just herself and her saxophone. Her charcoal and silver curls framed her chestnut face. Her eyes closed above her pursed lips and as she played her saxophone revealed the deep dimples in her cheeks. If you only saw her face in that moment you would believe she was at peace, yet her slashed over coat that seemed to have been chewed on by moths and mice unravelled a different circumstance. Her cotton pants were riddled with cigarette burnt holes the size of coke bottle lids. Upon her feet rested a pair of black thongs that could no longer stop the bottom of her feet from brushing against the ground.  

You wonder, why does she not sell it and buy necessities? Why must she find herself leaning against a gum-coated street pole, hoping that the wanderers will stop in their paces and go without a few coins? Perhaps she looks at these youthful walkers and ponder upon her own situation, how can I become like this? What have I done she may think? How did I fall into this situation? What must I do to revive what I once had, or what I could have?

Me and the saxophone, is this all for me?

I paced past her and the forlorn tune faded once I reached the archaic terrace houses of Redfern. These houses that squeeze together as if to protect themselves from Sydney's constant wind, are laced in the spirit and facade of 1920s. Both they and the saxophone player seemed to have survived long enough to have witnessed suffering, as a victim of discrimination and heartbreak, of broken hopes and tenuous reliance on others. They have aged through affliction that has ached eternally. Whatever endeavours have failed within their walls are displayed in full glory in the splits of the concrete, the rust of the metal of the verandah and the over-grown consumption of the shrubbery that climbs upon the facade.

Yet it is in this ruination amongst the age of modernity that the truest strength is illuminated.
The strength that all sufferers possess is often turned into something beautiful...

As though one refuses to let their plight destroy an element of magic in their lives.



In my moments of rushing and speed walking when I was only absorbed in my own world, it was her and the melodic moan of the saxophone that shimmered. A moment was paused and replayed again and again. I hope that you who are reading this will appreciate those moments where everything encompasses one another.

Even in the midst of urgency you are able to slow down your whole journey and focus upon something so profound and particular...

'A Very Temple of the Winds'

               
                  'Pile of Stonehenge! So proud to hint yet keep thy secrets'- William Wordsworth

                             


Tuesday 3rd January, 2017.

Oh my Jesus was this morning a bit chilly and early, but it did pay off.

We had a 6:30am wake up to get the Underground to Gloucester Road  and meet our tour guide Rosie for the 8am bus to Stonehenge, Bath and through the English Countryside.

Stonehenge was something spiritually absorbing. These stones that are believed to be 5000 years old are resting in what seems to be in the middle of nowhere but nevertheless perfectly compliments the English hills and farm lands.
Finally, after five days in the city we got out into the crisp English air. It was about ten-ish when we arrived yet it felt as though it was 8am as the sun was still stretching awake and the frost refused to leave the comforting embrace of the grass blades. Yet, the colour palette was extraordinary, 'postcard' perfect as they say, with the sun peaking through stones that will hopefully eternally stand. Nothing to be heard except for the modern clinks and clanks of the other tourists with the ignorant moans and groans of children. But peace prevails and fulfils the atmosphere of the region.

Definitely something every anglophile and/or wayward traveller should experience.

Sometimes, a perfect combination of the omnipotent's creation and the creation of man marries and reflects peace, spirituality and something powerfully calm. This is what we need even today, so much more today.



                                        *                                *                                   *



We popped back on the bus and after an hour and a bit we arrived in the architecturally unified beauty of Bath. Rosie gave us 3hrs to explore on our own this city.

Of course you can't explore Bath without visiting the baths themselves. The fusion of ancient Roman baths that were revitalised by the Georgians was interesting to say the least. The Georgians and the Romans believed that the hot springs possessed healing qualities that would mend all ailments and was often prescribed by doctors throughout the Georgian period. The water itself was perfectly warm as it invited the visitor into its calming properties. It would have been nice if we could still swim, even though they are ancient baths, after being in a terribly chilling winter, warm water is welcomed at any time! Yet, the archaeology is too fragile and priceless to risk many thousands of tourists swimming and ruining the heritage listed city.

After this we went on a bit of a self guided city hike, through the traditional Georgian centre with a not so traditional lunch of Hawaiian pizza. The Circus and the Royal Crescent are the most expensive areas in Bath that house politicians, millionaires, actors and businessmen who are aligned one by one in exactly the same Georgian architecture which emanates the British ideals of sameness, uniformity and conservatism with a pinch of privilege that has in some cases trickled down to today. Definitely different to the relatively 'modern' buildings back home in Australia.

Within an hour, brother dearest and I parted ways. I wandered down to the Jane Austen Centre to have a lil' tour about her life, writings, family and spinsterhood. The staff were very eager in their regal period costumes and similarities to Austen's characters, yet it must seem Mr Darcy was absent, as was Mr Bingley who is my favourite. With a quick browse, a few pictures and a nibble at some Georgian butter biscuits, I waltzed back through the cobbled stone streets and arrived near the meeting point to catch up with Carl. And guess where I found him, yes, guzzling down a pint of some local lager in a small corner pub about 3m x 3m wide. In this moment I discovered that this was his 5th pint in the last hour which equates to about 2 and a bit litres of beer. Yes, yuck, exactly what I was thinking. This amount of liquid would soon have grave consequences for him but hilarious observations for me.

We hopped back on the bus, when about 30 mins into the journey back, Carl loudly (due to his mild drunkenness) screeches that he needed to pee...alot.

The tension, the pressure, the pain, builds and builds and builds until I am apprehensive that my brother, a fresh 18 year old almost man is about to pee himself in front of 20 strangers we had only spent the last 4 hours with. Yet our only interaction with everyone seemed to be as little as breathing the same air as them.

He was curled up with his hands down his pants to try and do as much as possible to stop international humiliation. So, he then races up to Rosie asking when we were about to stop, and then goes back to ask her if we could stop earlier because he was well past breaking point. Once we reached the servo, he waddles speedily to the bathroom as though he had a stick shoved in an uncomfortable part of his body. Once he finished up it was as though he had been spiritually enlightened, as though he had received some sort of divine revelation. Holy guacamole, I have never laughed that much I swear, as usual it ended past the point of tears and aching stomachs.

We ended in London with a flaky and processed sausage roll for dinner, which seemed to be a skinless frankfurt sausage wrapped in cardboard puff pastry that probably had been hardening there in its warming rack the whole day. Delicious!



Anyways, before I leave you, I would like to present a literary picture of the English Countryside which was divinely beautiful and magical, even in winter.

The colour palette of the landscape is gorgeous and unique with emerald greens of the earth, pastel blues trimmed with baby purples of the sky cuddling up to one another. The soft blood orange and peach light falls upon the wired tree branches. These winter months refuse the necessity for greenery and floral blossoming as the apricot sunset kisses all within its path and glorifies the months often hated...

So here's a story from A-Z...

Wait, hold up, before you start log out of Facebook, disable the filters and dog faces, mute the hearts and 60 second videos and stop the left and right swipes. I know yes, I know it might be hard for some of you when it feels like you're imitating 127 hours by cutting off a limb with a blunt knife but some people get the best from the worst situations.

Now, I have your hopefully complete attention!! Although it only just made me think that I have to back track a bit, keep your phone on but only for a bit, put it on Do Not Disturb mode and mute messenger for once you have read my electronic inscription I hope for you to ponder, tinker and go out and how crazy is this, but go out and talk to someone without a device to distract you. 😱

Tell me a story, one that wraps its words through my mind, outreaches and tightens the cranks or unlocks new compartments. Whether it makes us happy and ecstatic or even plunges us into deep contemplation... May it be of something small yet beautiful, like when in a winter's chill the sun's warmth settles upon your face or even may your tale be of something epic, as though you have trekked through some rugged trees amongst the emerald forestry away from the city.

Now you, yes you, this story may be of love. Please tell me, of your experience with this emotion that seems so foreign. Describe in vivid details, compare it to nature, food, film or something random that encompasses happiness.

Or you, yes I'm talking to you, whether you're the one on public transport with the uncomfortably stratchy seats who is randomly smiling at your phone or trying to get out of talking to that weird family member who comes around every few months and gives you unnecessary gifts like hair scrunchies. Now, your story could be about your studies, which to tell you the truth if its anything to do maths or economics I may have a micro sleep, but if you're passionate it may be interesting. Or your verbal story could entail a bit of a rant or an opinion of worldly affairs.

Yet, it is you I hope, who will take the time to out pour all your tales of travel and adventures. Please, please, please if I can't travel at the moment physically, at least allow me through your words to explore the world and all its fascinations. To delve into the freezing winters of Europe, the singeing heat of the Australian sun or the cosmopolitan maze of the worlds biggest cities. Also, even in the small country towns I find interest, where not much happens but there is a beauty in its simplicity and boredom. And with these images, I may hold onto something of the world until I shall save enough and have the right opportunities to relive these moments for my own.

Are you ready? Now you can hold the button until it turns off!



Now tell me a story, a real story... As we all have one to tell.