This post is essentially my confession: confessions of a fortnight misspent in Melbourne’s dens of iniquity and raw fish.
It’s the last day of my 20s. The title of this blog has been unashamedly borrowed from Douglas Adams and here I’m going to borrow another of his deliciously pithy phrases: Don’t Panic.
Sunshine, sunburn and skinny dipping — it was the polo weekend!
Bibbity bobbity beau?
This week, my clothes were given new homes — some more salubrious than others.
Some helpful tips, from my smug and wise 2014 self, to my 2015 self.
And I am a freaking typical Libran.
Dear Santa, define “good”.
The smell of burned toast and wet food scraps in the sink always reminds me of my time living in Canada.
Of Christmas spirit(s). Oh what fun…