A Love Letter to my Dearest Friend on the Occasion of her Birthday

Dear Dette,

Thirty years ago we found each other at high school and I am forever grateful that we did.

We were together through the teenage angst incredibly important dramas of our late adolescence. We created our own styles together, sewing and knitting clothes (urg, remember the black polkadot jodpur things I made? And our anti-fashion stance of mixing colours that we thought shouldn't go together...only to find pink and yellow were the "new black" of 1982 and the competitions to see who could be clothed for the least money - curse those undies, they always bumped up the total cost).

We felt passionately about so many, many things and causes and talked endlessly about our hearts and who was trampling all over them or who we wished would trample on them a little bit...staying up all night giggling insanely, eating "magic" french onion dip in my bedroom window.

Since then we've both had relationships and break ups, joy and sorrow but your friendship has remained a strong constant in my life, like a pair of warm and loving arms always there to catch and comfort. I am continually inspired by your courage, strength, kindness and creativity . You really do make me a better person.

When we were 17, we imagined the sort of old ladies we would one day become. We vowed to be as naughty as we could possibly be and exasperate everyone with our tricksy ways while we wreak havoc in our super-fast shiny red sports-cars. I'm looking forward to that in another 30 years.

Happy Birthday.

Love Anki

Some Music for You

One of Australia's most brilliant bands, The Drones, performing Kev Carmody's "River of Tears".

Here he comes again

I'm prejudiced.

Against.

Mauve.

Mauve has never done anything to me and yet I can't even stand the sound of his name. Mauve. Yuck.

It's a truly visceral affect he has on me. I hide my prejudice. When the Wisterias are in bloom, I naturally ooh and aah with everyone else but inside I'm shuddering...Mauve. Too much Mauve. Yuck.

As with any prejudice, I see him everywhere, I distrust him and am uneasy when he's around. He seems to sneak into so many colours and try to ingratiate himself. The silvery, mother-of-pearly colour that I yearned for in the dining room has him lurking in the darkened corners. And now he's threatening to show up again in the pale grey colour that we have chosen for woodwork at the front of our house.

Dulux Lunette

. . . not to mention the colour we've chosen for the walls.

Dulux Bilby

The Historian keeps saying, "Look, if you're going to stare at the colour long enough, you're going to see it. Relax, and get that look of disgust off your face, it's grey . . . . . . . . . .with a hint of purple".

But I know that wily character Mauve, he lulls you into a false sense of security with his purple-ness or his pink-ness but he's still Mauve under it all.

Maybe I need to accept him. Embrace him. Plant a Wisteria and name the house "Mauve Manor".

Pssst...I've changed the main colour...that should foil Mr Mauve...

Dulux Raku