Tag: life

Posted in Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

Friday Feels

Posted on by Sharon

It’s November.

I know. I don’t know where the year has gone either. One minute you’re waking up on New Year’s Day and then next minute it’s November.

It’s one of the good things about writing blog posts – or keeping a diary; you can go back and see that the year hasn’t whizzed by in a flash, and that you have actually done things throughout the year, and March did happen, as did a whole pile of other things. The same could be said of your life though, which is one reason for cramming a lot in: there’s lots to ruminate over, reflect on and remember, and when you do that, you feel the length of months and years and time spreads out, expands, slows down a tad.

But that’s enough philosophising for now. Onto the regular three Friday questions and an F-word.

The questions are:

  1. What made me happy this week?
  2. What town did I most enjoy this week?
  3. Who came back to Australia this week?

And my F-word? Future

But first to the questions.

  1. What made me happy this week? I was at the International terminal earlier in the week, and it was so lovely to watch the interactions between those arriving and those who were anxiously waiting for them. The grandfather beaming at the sight of his tiny granddaughter; the mother weeping at the sight of her grown son; the sons, daughters, grandchildren, second cousins twice removed who each had a bunch of flowers and excitedly presented them to the family patriach as he tried to embrace every crying member of his family at once; the pregnant, exhausted mother, her trolley piled high with bags and car seats, watching carefully as her eldest pushed the soon-to-be middle child in a stroller, looking for a familiar face in the crowd to relieve her of some of her burdens; the young couple meeting, perhaps for the first time (he had a bunch of flowers in what could have been a pre-arranged signal), posing for photos at all points of the arrivals hall. It really was a Love Actually moment, and that made me happy.

    2. What town did I most enjoy this week? Weird question Sharon! I know, but it was a lovely day on Sunday and we went to Kyneton and decided to wander along Piper Street. Kyneton is a strange town in a way. It seems to have three distinct shopping areas, with Piper Street being the most interesting. The buildings are old, the shops are diverse, the cafes are interesting, and the people are lovely. I was told at least four times that the dress I was wearing was some variation of “lovely”. (Just for context, I think it’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever owned.) We had a lovely lunch at Home Grown on Piper – Tim said it was the best Reuben he’s ever had. And then we wandered, and bought things, and chatted with people in shops, and spent ages and $$ in The Stockroom. It was really delightful.

    3. Who came back to Australia this week? Very specific question Sharon! I know, but apart from all the other people who came (back) to Australia this week, the one I know best is Mum. She’s been away for about 6 weeks, cruising on rivers in Portugal, visiting Salamanca in Spain, spending some time in London, a little village near Colchester, and catching up with family in the west country (think Bristol, Cheddar, Bath). I hope when I’m 86 I’ll still be travelling the world like that.
Mum arriving back in Australia


My F-word for the week? Future. More specifically, THE future. I’ve just finished reading Tim Winton’s latest release, titled Juice, and it’s a sobering look at the future. It’s not a happy book it has to be said, but it sure does make you think. This is a book set far into the future – Winton said in an interview that it’s about 300 years into the future – and it’s a warning that if we don’t do something now, we’ll be leaving future generations in a world of pain.

One bit really got me: The main character – I don’t think we know his name – is telling stories of his early years, when he was 16 years old. His world is full of ash and heat so unbearable they have to cover themselves completely and live way underground in the summers. Think a Mad Max kind of landscape. He meets some people who show him images and videos from our time – from now, our present, what they call “the Dirty World”. He says, “We believed that the world was the way it was. That it did what it did. In the way it always would. Because that’s how things were. This idea that our travails were the result of others’ actions had never occured to me. … To be told that my trials were not random accidents but deliberate acts undertaken with the knowledge of their consquences? … It was infuriating to the point of derangement.”

Deliberate acts – the burning of coal and gas to generate juice so that the oligarchs maintain their power.

Now that’s a sobering thought.

If you’re into apocalytic fiction that has more than a tinge of reality, then this is a fabulous read. I finished it very early one morning through the week and cried myself back to sleep.

That’s it for me for another Friday. I’ll see you next week.

Posted in Family, Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

Friday’s 3 questions and an F word

Posted on by Sharon

I’m excited!

Oh hang on. I need to do my three questions and my F-word. We’ll get to my excitement in a sec.

The three regular questions I respond to each Friday are:

  1. What am I proud of this week?
  2. What am I excited about?
  3. Where are the flowers?

My F-word is favourite.

  1. What am I proud of this week? I went shopping. In a shop. Not only that, the shop was in a shopping centre. There were lots of shops and heaps more people. And I spent well over an hour there and bought things, of the clothes variety. Now, that might not seem like a big deal for many people and not a source of pride, but for me, it was. Some time ago, can’t say exactly when, but in the last few years, I’d developed a level of anxiety that meant being in shops caused unpleasant physical and emotional distress. I can’t say why it caused this distress – something about feeling trapped is as close as I can get to it – but it was real, if invisible to others. I can go to cafes, and I can work in an office, but there is something about a supermarket, a department store, IKEA, a clothes shop, that causes me to feel severely uncomfortable. That caused me to feel severely uncomfortable (although just writing about it now is doing terrible things to my insides).

    Telling myself to put my big girl pants on hadn’t helped – there is no shaming yourself out of anxiety – instead, I had psyched myself up in the days preceding the shopping trip (I didn’t tell Tim in case I couldn’t go through with it), and told myself there was nothing to fear, that I wasn’t going to be trapped, and that no one was going to hurt me. I practised a week before by going to the supermarket and despite having some wobbles I managed to do my first proper grocery shop in a very long time.

    So with my mantra ringing in my ears – no one is going to hurt you, there is nothing to fear, you won’t get trapped – I went shopping. Apparently, I still balled my hands into fists when I entered a shop, but enter it I did. I didn’t raise my balled fists in a defensive gesture when people came towards me as had become my unconscious habit, and so looked less like someone about to hurt others, and no one hurt me.

    If you’ve ever had anxiety, you’ll know it really is something to be proud of.

  2. What am I excited about? Chase is coming to visit this afternoon!! For those who aren’t in the know, Chase is my youngest son (second youngest child). He lives in Queensland and we don’t get to see him very often. Well, to be more correct, he lived in Queensland, until this week. He’s now moved to Victoria, and he’s coming to visit. What his move means is that once he’s found a house, the rest of his family will be moving down too, and that means, for the first time in 10 years I’ll have one of my children and two of my grandchildren living in the same state as me. It’s very exciting. I’d made up the guest room bed before breakfast, done a shopping list, and am psyching myself up so that later this morning I’ll be able to go to the supermarket to buy things to cook a meal for my boy. Awww!!

  3. Where are the flowers? Last week I suggested that I might take some photos of flowers on the weekend and share them with you in this week’s post. I didn’t take any photos of flowers, but I did take another photo for my black glove series. Of a dragon fruit. It was gross. But photographically interesting.
Thanks as always to Tim for donning the black gloves

And my F-word? Favourite. Guess who’s my current favourite?

Hahahaha.

Trick question! Mothers don’t have favourites.

That’s it from me for another week. I’m off to the shops!

Posted in Family, Life, Melbourne, Mid-life blogger, Photography

Far out, it’s Friday!

Posted on by Sharon

Fridays seem to come around much more quickly since I’ve started blogging regularly.

It’s time for another three questions and an F-word.

This week’s F-word is fragility, but before I get to that, I’ll respond to the three regular questions.

  1. What made me happy this week?
  2. What was I most proud of this week?
  3. How did it feel to see a particular something in real life for the first time?

I’m going to answer all three questions at the same time, because they all have the same answer.

This. This is what made me happy this week. The publication of this book.

It won’t come as any surprise to those who read this blog on a regular or semi-regular basis to know that I’ve been excited for some time to see this book in real life.

Well, last night I got the opportunity to do just that. Last night, October 3, 2024, the book was launched by the Royal Historical Society of Victoria. It was a packed house – standing room only – with loads of people eager to view and buy the book.

In case you don’t know, the story of my (very minor) involvement goes like this:

I was retired briefly in 2022 and part of 2023 and decided to join U3A (University of the Third Age). I joined two groups – a photography group with U3A Hawthorn, and a book club with U3A Deepdene. Both were interesting and educational and great for meeting new people and hearing new ideas and perspectives.

The U3A Hawthorn group were invited by Richard Broome, president of the RHSV, to contribute images of Melbourne’s lanes to the society primarily for the purpose of creating a second edition of Weston Bates’s book published in 1994, titled Essential but unplanned: The story of Melbourne’s lanes. Sixteen members of the group eagerly scoured the city’s laneways looking for just the right angle and light and spark of interest. All up, we produced 3000 images.

Of those 3000 images, one of mine was chosen to be on the front cover of the book.

  1. Seeing my photo on the cover made me very happy.
  2. I am super proud that one of my images was chosen to be on the cover.
  3. It feels great to be able to flick through the book, read about the fascinating history of Melbourne’s lanes, and see the fabulous images selected from the 3000 images that were contributed. The ones not used will be held by the RHSV in their collection to be used at any time someone is doing research on the city.

It was a great project to be involved with. It was also really great to catch up with others from U3A Hawthorn’s photography group.

And so to my F-word for the week: fragility

While I’ve been feeling happy and proud, there’s also been an undercurrent of deep sadness in our household this week. When a family member is desperately ill, you’re reminded of the fragility of life.

I’m not going to get deep and meaningful here or look for quotes on life’s fragility – but at the moment it’s looming large in my heart and that’s why it’s my F-word this week.

Posted in Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

It’s Friday … you know what that means

Posted on by Sharon

In case you don’t know what it means, it’s Friday and that means it’s time for another 3 questions and an F-word post.

Today’s three questions are:

  1. What made me happy this week?
  2. What am I looking forward to next week?
  3. What am I doing this long weekend? (Yes, in Victoria we have a long weekend because it’s the eve of the AFL Grand Final. Don’t ask me, I don’t know why that requires a holiday either … but I’ll take it anyway. Well, actually, I have a long weekend every week because where I work has taken the brilliant decision of having a 4-day work week and every Friday is my day off. But it means Tim is home today and that means we have plans. More on that later.)

My F-word for the week: Fabulous. Read on to find out why.

First, to the questions.

  1. What made me happy this week? One of the projects I’ve been working on culminated in a presentation this week. Tuesday morning to be precise. It was to be a 20-minute presentation that took many more hours to prepare than to present, but the preparation was worth it.

    I was confident, I knew what I wanted to communicate, I talked about assumptions (something I don’t get a chance to talk about enough these days), I was clear and, those in the audience (an Expert Advisory Group from the Victorian Department of Health) said things like, “thank you Dr Pittaway for your insightful presentation”. That felt good. I felt so good afterwards that I craved a biscuit with my celebratory cup of tea. Trouble is, I have a problem with supermarkets, so while I could present to an audience of over a dozen experts, walking into a supermarket was a whole different kettle of fish. But I was so happy I did it anyway.

  2. What am I looking forward to next week? This one has me so excited that I clap my hands with glee everytime I think about it. Which is often. When I was retired (over a year ago now), I joined a photography group through U3A. Every second Monday we’d go to a location and take photos, and the next week we’d show five of our best. The group had been photographing together for many years (as many as 16) but they welcomed me into their midst. I was part of the group for about six months before I stopped being retired.

    One of the group members knew someone who knew someone who was the President of the Royal Historical Society of Victoria. The RHSV had the idea of publishing a second edition of a book originally published 40 years ago, focused on Melbourne’s laneways. U3A members were sent out into said laneways with the task of capturing up-to-date images for the new edition. I happened to be part of the group involved in that project. The book has now been published and is being launched on Thursday, October 3. That’s Thursday next week.

    And I’m SO excited. Why?

    I’m glad you asked. I’m super excited because one of my images is on the front cover.

    I’m more than excited. I’m chuffed. And proud. And I can’t wait to go to the book launch and see it for myself. And I’ve been told, by Diana from U3A, that there will be a copy waiting for me there!

  3. What am I looking forward to this long weekend? I’ve made a list:
    * Taking some more photos for my black glove series
    * Planting the rest of the snow in the summer plants that it’s been too wet to plant
    * Our annual Grand Final party. We don’t watch any football through the year (apart from the odd occasion I get to watch my grandchildren play football – rugby and AFL), but we started a tradition about 18 years ago of having a grandfinal party while actually watching the grandfinal on telly. One year we even went to the GF Eve parade and then to the celebrations the day after the GF because Hawthorn had won for the third year in a row and the celebrations were being held at the local oval (we lived near Hawthorn at the time) and it was on the way to the train station. It’s only ever Tim and I – although one year my friend Rosie attended too (well, she had to because she was visiting from Tasmania at the time) – but we really live it up! (Emma, I heard you laugh at that from here!!) I wasn’t here last year so Tim had to party on his own, and come to think of it I wasn’t here the year before either, but I’m determined to attend the party this year so Tim doesn’t have to party on his own for a third year in a row.
    * We’re also going out hunting for retro motels to photograph and I’ll do some drawing.

All in all, a creative and lavish party weekend!

So why my F-word of fabulous? Well, I’ve had a fabulous work week, I’m looking forward to a fabulous book launch, and who can say no to a fabulous grandfinal party complete with gourmet delights like cocktail savs and party pies?

Not me, that’s for sure!

Here’s a sneak peek of the image on the cover of the Laneways book.

Hozier Lane, Melbourne Photo ©Sharon Pittaway
Posted in Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

Friday’s 3 questions and an F word

Posted on by Sharon

It’s Friday again. Not sure how that happened, but here we are.

Last week I wrote my first ever 3 questions and an F word post and because no one read it (apart from my sister) I thought I’d send another post into the void.

The premise is, that you respond to three questions and then choose a word beginning with F and write about that. The three questions are:

  1. What made you happy this week?
  2. What made you sad this week?
  3. What are your plans for the weekend? (I think. I can’t actually remember, so I made that up.)

What made me happy

Work. Yeah, I know, strange answer, but there you go.

I’ve been working on a project about perinatal mental health screening, specifically in Indigenous communities in Victoria. The Department of Health are updating the screening guidelines and basically wanted to know what would make the screening process more culturally safe. So they asked me to ask some midwives, maternal and child health nurses and others of that ilk, as well as Aboriginal parents how the screening process could be improved.

On Friday last week, I went to a playgroup to talk with some parents. One little fella, 14 months old, toddled up to me and put his head on my knee as I introduced the project to the mums. He then reached his arms up and so I picked him up for a lovely cuddle. He came back later for another one.

Now, I’m not a hugger but cuddling babies is a very different kettle of fish. I highly recommend it.

And then this week, I finished the report the Department said I had to write, because apparently, just talking to people wasn’t enough. I finished it – wait for it – one whole week early! Some big days of writing and editing, but the draft is in and now I’m waiting for the feedback.

So work was good this week.

What made me (really) sad

I was scrolling through Instagram last night and one of the posts I stopped to read made me really sad. Disturbed. Concerned for where we’re headed as a society.

Tarang Chawla is a Melbourne man whose sister Nikita was murdered by her boyfriend in 2015. Tarang speaks out strongly about men’s violence towards women – you might have seen him on TV or follow him on Instagram like I do.

Last night as I was scrolling, I saw this post.

Source: Tarang Chawla’s post on Instagram

I swiped to read the other slides and was horrified by what I read. You might have seen this story on the nightly news or online. Apart from giving voice to the horrendous violence of this act, Tarang’s wider point is about media reporting.

Source: Tarang Chawla’s Intagram post

I won’t include the next slide in Tarang’s post, but the Australian media reporting of Kristina Joksimovic’s murder is deeply disturbing.

Tarang makes the point that women’s lives have become clicks. More clicks = more revenue.

Source: Tarang Chawla’s Intagram post

What views are being shaped by the grotesque reporting of Kristina Joksimovic’s murder?

Whose views are being shaped?

There were other reports I read on women’s murders this week, and on the dehumanising treatment of women – see the MFW Facebook page if you want to read more – and they all made me sad. Not only because of the treatment of women, but also because of how this treatment is being reported in our ‘news’ media, and how our views are being shaped by this reporting.

I was going to apologise for bringing the mood down, but I won’t. This is happening, we consume this reporting. What’s it doing to us?

Plans for the weekend

Mum arrives tonight for a weekend visit, and I had thought we might go to the Kyneton Daffodil and Arts Festival.

I just checked the forecast though and tommorrow’s high of just 8C and up to 8mm of rain isn’t inspiring me to get outside.

So we’ll see.

What I’m really trying to say is that we have no plans.

Sometimes those weekends are the best.

[Breaking: I just this minute received a text message reminding me of a dental appointment tomorrow morning. I’ve already put it off once, so I’m thinking I should get my big girls pants on and just go.]

F-word

Fancy.

Yep, that’s my f-word for the week.

We’ve had some more painting done inside and the place feels fancy.

And looks fabulous.

Love this colour: Bean Counter (Dulux)

So that’s it. My 3 questions and an F-word.

Thanks for reading Deb!

Posted in Life, Writing

Stories

Posted on by Sharon

There’s a car parked across my driveway, blocking me in.

It’s not actually a car, it’s a van. The pool man, come to check the chlorine levels, and clean the filter. At least I hope he’s come to clean the filter.

It’s grey out and raining. Miserable. A day for staying inside, curled up in a comfy chair reading a book Alison just told you about: Smart ovens for lonely people by Elizabeth Tan. She scanned one of the short stories and I read it and loved it as she knew I would.

When the van is gone, there will be no excuse not to leave for work. I like my work, which isn’t something I’ve been able to say about all the jobs I’ve had. The one before this one was the worst of all, but it led me to this one and it’s one of my favourites. I get to write and interview people and co-design workshops and listen to people and be warm with the heater Kerry, my boss, brought in for me yesterday.

It’s a warm workplace and I am the oldest there. By a long shot. It feels strange to be the oldest, to feel the store of stories welling up inside me every time we sit down for lunch together. I mostly refrain from sharing. Because … you know. Old people and their stories.

I listen to old people and their stories. Stories of removal and disconnection and abuse and am thankful for the warmth of the workplace. It provides a blanket to shield me from the hurt and pain of others’ stories. I write about them, these other stories, in a report for the client, wondering if anything I say might make a difference. Wondering how to say something that will help make a difference.

The van is gone. My path is clear. I’m off to make a difference.

Posted in Life

Threads and connections

Posted on by Sharon

This won’t be of any interest to others, but I’m going to blog about it anyway so that I remember this feeling of having my mind just slightly blown.

There are two threads to this story, and I’ll start with the more recent one. The two threads lead to a connection.

In July 2021, while I was working at Deakin University, a new staff member joined our team. I was instantly drawn to her – she was warm and down to earth and just the right person for the role we had.

Airdre, for that is her name, joined our team remotely – we were still in the throes of COVID lockdowns – from Lismore in northern NSW. We finally met in person in Melbourne in December 2021, a month after I’d been made redundant and days after Airdre finished her 6-month contract.

We got on like the proverbial house on fire.

In early January 2023, my mother and I visited Airdre in her beautiful home in Lismore, on our way north to Queensland.

Since then, Airdre has moved to Melbourne and we’ve co-authored a book together, titled Enacting a Pedagogy of Kindness to be published later this year (I thought a little plug wouldn’t go astray).

That was thread one. Thread two is a tiny bit more convoluted. Bear with me.

Some members of the family have been engaged in a photography challenge that’s been going for a few years now. We have a weekly theme, take photos that align (tangentially in some cases) with the theme, post them to our Facebook group and then we catch up over Zoom for a chat each Sunday night. The active members of the group are spread across three states of Australia, with others joining sporadically from other states and the UK.

Our theme last week was ‘flat’. I had taken a photo a few years ago of Pittaway St, in Kangaroo Flat (near Bendigo) and so posted that image. It’s not often I see a street sign with my name on it and I remember being quite chuffed at its existence.

I had done a search some time ago for the Pittaway of Kangaroo Flat the street was named after and had discovered a William Pittaway, convict, sentenced to 14 years in Van Diemen’s Land for sacrilege (he stole some church silverware and was caught pawning it). He obviously moved to Victoria after he’d served his sentence, as many Van Diemonians (as they were called) did, and his wife and children joined him here to live out their lives peacefully.

Turns out he’s not related to us.

Well, not that we know of.

Anyway …

On Sunday night, after our weekly family catch-up, I thought I’d find him again so that I could be sure about the story.

I didn’t find the same information, but went down a rabbit hole and came across cemetery lists of Pittaways around the country. One of them was Alice Pittaway (nee Duroux) who is buried in Lismore. I knew that Alice was my great-grandmother and that she had died aged 47 in 1933. She’d gone out one morning to water the garden, had felt unwell, gone inside and had died before medical attention could be summoned.

I dug out Alice’s obituary and noticed the address of the house she’d lived in. I did a search on Google Maps, but there was no such street in Lismore, so I rang Mum and asked to her confirm the details. Mum is into family history and I knew she’d know.

She did. She also told me that my aunt, Lyn (Dad’s youngest sister) had visited the house in Lismore in 2013. This morning, Mum sent me one of the photos Lyn had sent her.

Standing on the stairs was Colin, Lyn’s husband … and on the verandah … was Airdre!

Airdre, my friend and colleague, the one I’d visited in Lismore, had lived for 20 years in the same house my great-grandmother (and my great-grandfather and my grandfather and his brothers and sisters) had lived in all those years before.

Two different threads … leading to a one slightly mind-blowing connection.

I sent the photo to Airdre this morning, and she was suitably (and appropriately) confused. How did I have a photo of her from 2013 when I only met her in 2021? Who was the man on the stairs? What?

What??

I’m glad I wasn’t the only one whose mind was blown.

Posted in Life, Writing

And just like that …

Posted on by Sharon

End of December 2017 – we head to Europe for a cold Christmas. Paris, the UK for actual Christmas, back to Paris, then Venice for New Year, then Prague.

Beginning of January 2018 – we arrive home to the warmth of an Australian summer.

End of January 2018 – Dad passes away.

End of November 2018 – I discover a lump in my breast.

End of December 2018 – formal diagnosis. A trip to Tassie for Christmas with the kids and grandkids.

Beginning of January 2019 – a trip to Queensland for more family, then home for surgery.

February-March 2019 – radiotherapy treatment, confronting and strange.

April 2019 – the beginning of (endocrine) hormone treatment. A pill every day for five years. Regular check ups with my surgeon, medical oncologist, and radio oncologist. Confronting and anxiety inducing. I think I called it being discombobulated back then.

Early December 2019 – a trip to Singapore to attend a conference. My cough and difficulty breathing when I get home a concern but it cleared up after a time.

Late December 2019 – January 2020 – to Sydney for Christmas with Mum and friends. Bushfires. Smoke for air. Death and destruction. Hands being shaken that didn’t want to be. Exhaustion. Logging on to apps we didn’t know we needed, glued to social media. The fires closing in on my sister’s house, then turning away suddenly, not far from the front gate. Her watching on from the UK. Safe. Kind of.

March 2020 – COVID. The world shuts down.

Lockdown #1: Tuesday 31st March to Tuesday 12th May. A total of 43 days that seemed longer in the living of it.

Borders closed. Shortages of toilet paper, dried goods, patience. Working from home. Board games in the evenings. Lives lost, exhaustion, death and disease. Daily press conferences. Numbers, stats, people’s lives … and their deaths. Masks, homemade at first, then N95s. No handshakes. No flights. No gatherings. Dis-ease.

Blur.

Just get through it. Take the moments when you can. Zoom, photography, connection. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Get tested.

We become ‘distancers‘ … uneasy, wary, but at least our hands are clean.

Melbourne’s Lockdown #2: 9th July to Tuesday 27th October. 111 days of boredom, coping, not coping; working from home, living in trackpants.

Blur on steroids.

Blurgh.

End of October 2020 – the measures are working. Cases reducing. Doughnut days are here (to stay?). Still masking, washing our hands, working from home. But no deaths, fewer new cases. Doughnut shops sell out by mid-morning.

A circle of hope for the weary and un-easy.

December 2020 – a trip to Tassie for Christmas, taking the moments when we can. Family, connection, a circle of hope for the weary.

February 2021 – no more doughnut days. Melbourne’s Lockdown #3: A short, sharp five days from February 13 to 17.

March 2021 … – check ups, anxiety inducing and painful, but necessary and reassuring when they’re done.

53 weeks of distancing, still working from home, still masking on the odd times we go out. The talk of a ‘COVID-normal’ world. No idea what that means.

Melbourne’s Lockdown #4: from May 28 to June 10. 14 days that feel like another lifetime.

June 2021 – Tim goes to the doctor who sends him to a specialist who sends him for tests.

The results come back. It wasn’t the news we wanted to hear.

July 2021 – Melbourne’s Lockdown #5: Friday 16th July to Tuesday 27th.

Tim’s surgery is scheduled right in the middle of those 12 gruelling days. Complications mean his 3-4 day stay in hospital stretches out over 13 gruelling days.

Breast surgeon check up for me. All clear.

August 2021 – Melbourne’s Lockdown #6: Thursday 5th August to Thursday 21st October. 77 soul-sucking days. Seems no end to it.

Tim starts chemo. Eight three-week cycles, with a week off in between each cycle.

Six-months of it.

Blurgh.

September 2021 – an earthquake, Victoria’s largest in 200 years, because … well, why not?

November 2021 – redundancy. Am I retired now? I sure am tired now.

December 2021 – regular mammogram, ultrasound, medical oncology check up. All clear.

February 2022 – Tim finishes chemo. An end to it.

April 2022 – car crash. No one was hurt … except the car.

Blurgh.

September 2022 – the College of Extraordinary Experience, Poland.

October 2022 – Germany, Belgium and the UK. Extraordinary.

December 2022 – regular mammogram, ultrasound, medical oncology check up. All clear.

2023 – retirement? Maybe.

February 2023 – U3A. It’s what retired people do. Photography group. Book club. New views, new ideas. Getting out. Is this normal? COVID normal or normal normal? Who can tell?

April 2023 – new job. Helping seniors with technology. Re-invigorated. Re-energised. Re-connected.

May 2023 – Multiple Births Association volunteer. Cuddling babies. Bliss.

July 2023 – change of direction, this time into real estate. Starts out well enough.

August 2023 – move out of the city into our own home.

December 2023 – regular mammogram, ultrasound, medical oncology check up. All clear.

March 2024 – yet another change of direction. A consultant now. Writing, editing, transcribing, interviewing.

May 2024 – today. May 12. Mothers Day as it turns out. My last day of pills. One pill every day for five years. Today’s will be the last.

And just like that …

Posted in Life, Mid-life blogger, Writing

Change part 2

Posted on by Sharon

I finished my last post by saying it wasn’t a biggie – all that change at once – but of course it was.

One of the biggest biggies is the decisions about what to take with you to your new place. You look in your cupboards and under the bed, and behind the laundry door and you think ‘what is all this stuff? Do I really need it?’

What do you take? What do you get rid of or give away/rehome/recycle? I have letters – handwritten ones – from my grandmothers dating back to the 1970s. I’ve carried them with me through the countless moves from NSW to Queensland to Tasmania to Victoria. Each time I pack up to move, I come across them and I get a little frisson of pleasure when I see them.

I have a basketball pennant from 1973 when I played in the Shoalhaven ABA Miniballer winter comp, my Year 12 highschool reference from 1983, and my acceptance letter from 1993 when I applied to university (plus my very first university student card).

I loved playing basketball
My first ever student card from 1993

I have airmail letters from my sister who lived in England for a year in 1992 (apparently I made a tape for them – I’d just started working in radio so probably thought I was very professional!). I have a newspaper clipping from 1994 when I interviewed Jeanne Little and copies of run sheets from the Kick Arts show I used to do on community radio in Launceston in the early 2000s. I have a letter from the Tasmanian Department of Tourism, Parks, Heritage and the Arts thanking me for agreeing to be part of the media team for the Olympic Art event in 2004 which I wouldn’t have remembered if I hadn’t kept the letter. I have letters and cards from former students that bring back floods of memories.

I could throw them all away and no one else would be any the wiser. And I came very close to doing that yesterday when I found them again. But they are documents of a life. Of my life.

When my children are going through my things after I die, I’m sure they’ll ask, ‘why did Mum keep this … and this … and this?’ But I hope they’ll read some of those letters and cards and documents and get a better sense of the life I’ve lived.

One thing in particular I came across yesterday was the script of a speech I gave when I was involved with Toastmasters in the early 2000s. I started with a story of a bird I’d set free when I was five years old and finished with the story of setting myself free many years later. It was a cage of “you can’t” – you can’t go to university, you can’t go to work, you can’t make it without me, you can’t live outside this cage.

But what had been called stubbornness in my youth developed into an ocean of resilience. I believe that the bird I set free when I was five made it … that its resilience and determination to survive allowed it to enjoy its freedom … just as my resilience and determination have allowed me to.

So while lots of change at once is a biggie, I have an ocean of resilience and determination to help me weather it.

And I have documents of my life to remind me of that.

Posted in Life, Travel

Marathon experience

Posted on by Sharon

I planned but I didn’t prepare. And that had consequences for later.

I’d arrived in Berlin on Saturday afternoon, and on Sunday morning it was time for the Marathon.

The Berlin Marathon is a big event. Huge. So big that the accommodation reserved for us was about an hour out of the city by train, all other city accommodation having been snapped up months earlier. Much of the public transport was disrupted on Sunday morning, especially closer to the centre of the city and even the hop on-hop off bus wasn’t running. Ironic really.

I was leaving by train the following weekend and wanted to make sure I knew how to get to the Berlin Hauptbanhoff without the issues I’d faced the previous day. So I thought I’d have a practice run. On Sunday morning. While the marathon was on and public transport was disrupted.

No tram for me today – train all the way. The train station was a mere 500m from the hotel, it was a crisp, clear morning and a walk in the fresh air would help blow away some of the remaining jet lag. One train from Spindlersfeld Station to Schoneweide (2 stops – the bonus being how lovely that word is to say), and then another train (10 stops) to the main station. Easy.

I bought my ticket, marvelled at the lack of ticket barriers, and enjoyed the train ride(s). I saw runners on the marathon route as the train drew closer to the main station and so once there and familiarised with the route and the station, I followed the noise, over the Spree River, through the Spreebogenpark, to Otto-von-Bismarck-Allee. Crowds of people lined the street, cheering on the runners. They had all kinds of noise-makers – one woman was banging two saucepan lids together – and they weren’t afraid to use them. I walked in the same direction as the runners and soon came across the 7km mark.

Crowds lining the streets to cheer on the runners

I kept walking, not at all sure where I was going or what I was doing, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I came across the 8km mark. I was a bit like Forrest Gump at this stage, although with less facial hair, and just kept walking.

More runners than cheerers at this point

Near the 9km mark there was a man standing on the side of the street holding a punching bag out in front of him. On the punching bag was a photo of Vladimir Putin and an invitation to punch it. Many runners used a little bit of their precious energy to give it a good wallop.

9kms and still going strong – the runners that is. Me, not so much.
I wonder if the smiling man had seen the sign on the window.

Over the past year, various members of the family have been involved in a weekly photography challenge. We catch up on Sunday evenings to chat about the photos and how our week has been. 7:30 on Sunday evening in Australia translated to 10:30 on Sunday morning in Berlin, so as 10:30 approached I searched for a cafe. I found one – the Röststätte, on Ackerstraße – which just so happened to be on the other side of the road.

Yes, that meant crossing the road. Yes, crossing the road down which hundreds of runners were running. Crossing in front of them. Cutting through them to reach the other side. I had seen a number of people step nimbly across the road, not getting in anyone’s way, so knew it could be done. I started out confidently, timing my not-so-nimble steps with what I thought was a gap in the group of runners. It turned out not to be a gap, and so I got half way across the road and stopped. They ran around me like I was a boulder in a stream. One man kindly told me I was going the wrong way, but I could tell already that a marathon wasn’t for me (sorry Jen).

I eventually made it across – hoping I hadn’t cut time off someone’s personal best in doing so – and found a quiet corner in the cafe.

After our catch up, I kept walking until I came across the U Rosenthaler Platz (an underground train station). I slowly made my way down the steps to the platform, got off at Brandenburger Tor, made my way slowly up the steps to the street, and headed towards The Brandenburg Gate – which was very close to the finish line.

The Brandenburg Gate – only a km or so to go at this point
Almost done!

When Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline played over the loudspeakers the whole crowd, including many runners, joined in. It lifted their spirits in a way that few other songs did and seemed to give many an extra boost of energy as they drew close to the finish line.

By the time I got back to the hotel later that afternoon, my right knee, which is problematic at the best of times, my feet and my calves all let me know, quite forcefully, that I had overdone it.

I walked over 12kms that Sunday – nothing like a marathon, but it was a distance I had not adequately prepared for.

I had also, I realised with a big dose of ‘I can’t do this’, not adequately prepared for the reality of meeting a group of strangers, travelling by bus with them to a different country, and then spending 5 days with them at a conference. WhatsApp messages had started coming through earlier in the day – of people’s arrival times in Berlin, invitations to meet up for a walk/drinks/dinner, information on COVID testing centres. Dinner was arranged for 7pm for those staying at the hotel, and in a fit of bravery (of course you can do it Sharon!) I headed for the meeting place in the lobby.

As I headed towards the group I noticed they were all men. At that point my bravery jumped ship and I veered off into the hotel restaurant to have dinner on my own.

What had I done? Why had I said yes to this when I so easily could have ignored that particular email? Two years ago I’d been all for stepping out of my comfort zone, but now, right at this minute when I was on the cusp of stepping out, I wasn’t so sure. In fact I was positively sure that stepping out was something I definitely could not do.

It wasn’t only the knee, calf and foot pain that kept me awake that night.