When you are little, one of the first words you are taught, in Australian English anyways, is the word, “Ta”. A simplified version of “thank you”, it is one of the first things parents want to teach their child. To be grateful. Naturally a year or so later, we graduate to the complete expression and the word disappears from our general vocabulary.

But something I have found fascinating, and probably only me who does think this is fascinating, is this word comes back later in life. I could be completely wrong, like when I swore He-Man was based on a real person. I began to note down a theory that a lot of Australian men between the age of about 30 and 45, casually say the word “ta” in everyday conversation.

Here is an example I have scientifically noted down for you:

“Hey mate, can I have a sausage roll please, with sauce.”

“Sure” *gets sausage roll*


I began to notice this about five years ago and would tell people this. They would go, “Oh ok, cool!”.

Then came the day, only a few months ago, as a newbie to the decade that is the thirties, where I accepted a coffee at the local coffee shop and without thinking…  I said “ta”. I was thankful and now in an Australian male in his 30’s type of way.

Life huh.



Music Sunday – “Solo Dancing” by Indiana

I may be a little slow on the uptake on this song, though the subtle drive through this song is what I love.

I promise to start writing more again soon. What a year.

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There Once Was a Little Bear

I was searching through my mac for a random word, when up came 100s of emails from my Mail. Then I discovered this, and I have no memory until now, of actually writing this. I wont edit it or change it. But I wrote it based on my own story when I first was coming out. It was titled, “Bedtime Story”.

Bear cub forest

There once was a little bear. He lived in a town a little way from the big city and enjoyed the wild forest around him.

He would go off by himself, and explore, because he felt different from the others. He would fill his mind with many fun adventures.

Pirates and wizards and monsters and space ships. The other bears would make sure he felt different, by always laughing at him or not making friends with him. Though he seemed happy enough and his family loved him.

Though one day, he decided the town was not where he belonged. And packed his bags and walked far far away.

On his journey he met many funny characters. In the woods he met a squirrel. He had never seen one before and found it most curious.

The bear told him he was from a long long way from here and the squirrel asked him many questions. The bear wasn’t used to someone taking so much interest in him, and found it most peculiar.

It was getting dark, so the squirrel had to say goodbye and head home, but the bear didn’t mind. He just smiled. He had made a friend.

Finally the bear got to a great city. It was much bigger than the city that lay by his town at home. He stood in awe at the bustling place. He found some lodging and settled in.

He would venture out every now and then, timidly at first, but then when he noticed people walked by and didn’t look at him, he walked with a slight spring in his step. He soon got courage to talk to people. The other bears would be polite back, and some would make conversation. The bear thought this was great. No one knew him but he was beginning to make friends.

Eventually Bear had many friends, and was constantly hanging out with them. The days of the forest and his imagination dimmed.

Though he had many friends, he still felt alone. Like no one fully understood him. But he didn’t dwell on it much because it wasn’t a feeling he had in words.

One day, he and his friend Rat were having lunch. Rat spoke up and said he knew of a friend once who grew up in a large plain surrounded by mountains.

He gave Bear his address and Bear wrote to him, to say hello. The other bear wrote back, the following day. He told of his life in the plains, and how he moved to the north, away from where he grew up, and the adventures he had gone on.

The letter arrived and Bear smiled as he read it, nodding and understanding all he wrote. He wrote back, and this begun a correspondence, two bears who understood each other.

Many moons past and Bear had finally made his way to the land of the long white cloud. Many adventures had gotten him there, and the next thing that felt right to do, was to travel there, and visit the other Bear finally.

He made his way out of the port and there was the other Bear, grinning. They gave each other a big bear hug and went on many adventures together.

The time came for Bear to leave. He didn’t want to feel alone again, but he had to go. Time wasn’t allowing. But they reminded each other, their lives had had a hole filled in them, that they didn’t think would ever be filled.

No matter what happened, they had a best friend in each other.

The boat sailed, and the last image Bear had of the other bear, was his paw on his heart, smiling. Knowing that the adventures had only just begun.


Music Sunday – “Self Control” by Kate Boy

Kate Boy is made up of an Aussie lead singer Kate Akhurst and three Swedish bundles of talent. Love the funk behind it, it feels different to the other standard schmuck out there. Looking forward to seeing where this band go.

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Music Sunday – “After the Curtain” by Beirut

For some reason, when I heard this song for the first time, it hit a nerve. Struck a chord. Made me happy. Perhaps to others it sounds like a guy saying “oohhhhhohhh” a lot but its beautiful.

Thanks Beirut. For many of your songs.

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Music Sunday – “Who Are We Fooling” by Brooke Fraser feat. Aqualung

This song is a few years old now, but I keep coming back to it. Musically, it is just beautiful and simple. The words, powerful. Such a realistic and beautiful summary of love and relationships.

Brooke has always been an inspiration to me. Before and after I came out, she remained consistent with no matter how I felt, her words still remained comforting. So I am very thankful. From the time I saw her perform in a local pub near my house, to the Recital Centre in Sydney, I held the memories attached to her songs close.

And on a cold winter Sunday afternoon, this makes good background music while you are baking some kind of muffin. Not even the baker (me) has any idea what type of muffin this is. But the fact I am baking, not the muffin, is what is important right?

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Music Sunday – “Cut Your Teeth” by Kyla La Grange

When I first heard this song, it sounded familiar but not sure why. Then it kinda just clicked, it felt like I was listening to a song from the early 90’s while in the back seat of the family van. But then new elements come in gradually, and I became addicted to this song and also the remix. Kyla has a great future ahead of her, her new album is out and is different from the usual pop out there at the moment. Something like quirk pop. Will also admit that she does sound a little “Robyn-esque”.

Original Version:

Kygo Remix:

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Music Sunday – “Rescue” by Yuna

The thing I like about this song, is that so many people try and rescue. But not everyone needs rescuing. Life comes from within. First Day of Winter 2014. Happy June!



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Keep startin at 30.

I type a paragraph, then it saves as a draft and then I go and watch a TV show. Then a month goes by.

I sit down, write another paragraph and then I have to like someone’s post and then read my newsfeed.

My 30th birthday goes by. A few months go by. For some reason writing isn’t as easy as it comes sometimes and I like to talk about that often because it is easier than ACTUALLY writing.

My mum gave me a 30th birthday card with a meerkat on it.

I like to write along one line of thought, because it saves the 1000’s of thoughts rushing at once. I can trace with my finger along one line of thinking, and let it flow. Though which one to choose.

I can leave my house happy if I know I have written something down. So often I leave my house unhappy.

This morning I found document after document of my thoughts from early 2000’s, mostly about the time when lots of change was happening. I am proud of my writing and thankful to my 21 year old self for writing. Because he gives me perspective, he reminds me of where I am now and also encourages me for my own future. 30 is an awesome number and a great age. A sense of self is something everyone has and we all misjudge how much we are truly aware of our own self, though we also overestimate some areas that we think are true, when they are not. About who we are, how we act or process things. 30 has always been there, up there, for someone who is under 30. Same with 40 or 50 or.. 100. You just assume it will always be there, and then you ARE that number. And you are slightly pressured to assess what that number feels like. The same as the number before?

Anyways, thanks 30. No pressure to be anyone else but me. May the stories continue.

Lloyd Falling Water

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The Pickle: One

Photo Credit - Kajo55 Flickr

Photo Credit – Kajo55 Flickr


Purple ugg boots scuffed the pavement, while the screams of children echoed nearby. Final day of school holidays and the local amusement park was lapping up the attention. Winter held things at bay until school broke out, and it would feel the cold again when those purple boots were dragged back to class. But for a short few weeks, winter did not matter.

Show bags were swinging, almost hitting the ground each time. Stooping down to look inside, the smell of the plastic stronger than the sweets inside. The dirt beside the pavement was filled with old pine needles and cigarette butts, but they made the perfect resting spot for her. The garish red wall of the fun fair’s entrance, her back support. As she looked around, her concern for her mother was lacking. Screaming of a different kind to that in the fair beside her is what she avoided. The park across from her, usually home to the few local wanderers, a happy father and son were throwing a football. What is so happy about that? Looking the other way, the sun blurred her vision, every now and then a passer by allowed her to see the market thriving with dawdling pedestrians.

A cheeseburger pickle landed in the dust beside her. Looking up, her brother. “Want a pickle? Ha ha ha G-FORCE!!!”

Ignoring him was best.

“Mum is looking for us! See her?”

Over near the market, the white polar fleece waddled along, looking around. It was at least a half attempt at searching. She would give her that. Wind chimes and scarves hung across the stall beside her mother, her hands randomly touching them.

“We should really go over to her.”

Cigarette butts and a gherkin were better company right now.

Two girls walked by giggling, and they seemed to be wearing yeti vests. A lot of girls seemed to be these days. Except her. Her purple ugg boots, worn at the toes and the heels, had been Dane’s attempt at being cool with her. Some people said they shouldn’t be worn outside. Purple was her, so she didn’t care.

The cool breeze from the nearby bay, made her wish the jacket had been thicker. Thicker than her skin.

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