The Winter of Our Discontent

I find that several things get me through a cold, wet winter.

1. Drinking ridiculous amounts of tea.
2. Cooking and eating large, hearty meals like pork with cider and dumplings, or coq au vin, or sauerkraut with plenty of sausage ...
3. Wearing sunshine on my feet.


4. Imagining, and occasionally making purchases towards, a summer wardrobe.

It is a well-documented fact that I hate dressing in summer, as I have nasty pale freckly skin that I do not especially like to bare. I also have hideous legs. And I'm bad at floaty garments, as I am not tall. This makes an Australian summer quite challenging.

This year, I am going to do better. I will:

1. Try to wear dresses. I have my eye on a sort of 'utility chic' khaki coloured silk number. Wow, I made that sound awful, didn't I?
2. Wear white jeans or even try to find a skirt.
3. Wear shirts that don't cling. I'm slowly building a collection of silk chiffon blouses.
4. Wear a jumpsuit. No, really, I had to. It's silk/linen and really quite nice on, especially without the horrid pink scarf in the Net-a-Porter pic (only horrid because it is mostly definitely not a good colour on me).

The September Issue

I know, I've used this blog title before. But this time I have a good reason - I recently took on a new (part-time) role as section editor of a magazine, and my first issue is ... September.

This explains why I am choosing to resume my blog - I'm avoiding deadlines, in the time-honoured tradition of journalists everywhere. That is all I will say about the job, because it is Very Boring.

Right now, apart from avoiding deadlines across all my writing jobs, my life is taken up with a mixture of domestic stuff, family, yoga, planning our trip to NYC and baseball. I know, it's not even summer yet. We're signing people up for next season. Blood from a stone, etc.

I never played sport (unless forced). It is a mystery to me how I have ended up being a soccer/baseball/sailing mum. No doubt it is something to do with the fact that I produced kids with a maniac runner, who is currently defying logic by running faster as he gets older. Sunday was Sydney's annual City to Surf run, and Andrew ran a PB of under 54 minutes; poor Holden missed out on the run as he had to play football. Phoebe, at least, carries my fine sporting genes and slept through it all ...

And speaking of lunacy, my brother recently walked the 750km Camino de Santiago (Way of St James) pilgrimmage in Spain. No, he is not Catholic. But his name is James. And walking 750km is his idea of a holiday.

It is 10 degrees C in my office (a corner of the garage), and pouring rain outside. I am wearing three layers of wool, thick tights and a disconsolate expression.