Dear Florence,

Yesterday I sang in a group for the first time in about a decade. Being in choirs used to be as natural and throwaway to me as wearing jeans or eating toast. Certainly pleasant, but so normal and regular that I hardly bothered to think about it.

Which I suppose is why it didn't seem that big a deal to me that I never got around to joining a choir when I moved to Sydney. I didn't quite comprehend what I was giving up. Yesterday brought it home to me how wonderful it feels to sing with a group of people, to make lovely sounds together, to work toward the common goal of blending voices in harmony. I completely underestimated how bloody amazing those good old endorphins make you feel. Back at my desk in the two or so hours that followed the class I had difficulty concentrating because I just wanted to bask to the glow of deliciousness and happiness I was feeling. I can't believe I willingly gave up that regular experience for so long, but have vowed to make sure I never do so again.

I wrote an essay about dance recently, and floated the idea that combining physical, bodily experience with intellectual focus is perhaps the best way to feel truly engaged in the experience of living. It's just occurred to me that singing is the same; you need to think about what your body is doing to get it right. You need to be open to the experience of what your lungs, throat and mouth are producing, while simultaneously monitoring it. You need to concentrate, and to feel. I am so glad to be back in that space again.


You'd think it impossible, but Monday has just become my favourite day of the week.

Dear Florence,

Well the very exciting news from this neck of the woods is that I am pregnant. Tallboy and I are so thrilled - the night before last he was able to feel the baby kick for the first time. I am now over the difficult daily ritual of "morning" sickness (which for me often lasted until dinner time), and only occasionally feel unwell. It's amazing what a difference wellness makes to one's mood! It's now possible to really relish in all the goodwill and wishes that surround us, and to fully appreciate how nice it is when other people are excited about your own good news.

The weather is just beginning to turn, and it won't be much longer until we can leave our coats at home in the cupboard. For the past week or so, it's been possible to catch a glimpse of the sunset when leaving work, rather than walking straight out into the rapidly falling night. I love Autumn and Winter, yet I can't help but fall prey to a sense of hope and openness when the warmer weather begins to appear after months of burrowing down in the cold.

It's almost exactly a year since we moved from the bustle of Potts Point to our little getaway in the burbs, surrounded by trees and birds. It has been a year of immense change, but I must admit I feel settled and content. As I write this, the cat is curled up on my lap, displaying her own sense of contentment, and accentuating mine. It's been lovely writing this, but the real world awaits...

Dear Florence

It’s been a while between blog posts tarted up (in what some might think a rather naff conceit) to look like letters, but I am back! I have a new job, a new laptop, and quite a lot of homemade stock in the freezer, so I am happy.  

Tallboy and I have just had a brief little stay-at-home holiday. It involved a lot of naps, as well as…. Well I will be honest - it was mostly naps. I managed to squeeze in a bit of culture though - I took a solo jaunt into Chippendale to the White Rabbit Gallery. I really enjoyed it, but I found the streetscape outside and on the way just as inspiring as the artwork inside. I would like to go back in a few months and see a different collection of work. There is a hugely tall wall up one side of the staircase that stretches up three floors, and it is covered in what I assume are more permanent elements of the collection. Now that I come to think of it, this is where I found the stuff I really liked, so I suspect a return visit would be worth it.

I have now had a week back at work (exhausting!), followed by another weekend. Sunday was one of those picturesquely perfect Sydney days, where the sun was bright and the weather was mild. We went for a walk and ended up buying lunch from an utterly adorable cafe and taking it to the nearby oval to watch a baseball game. It was an afternoon of quiet little surprises and simple pleasures.

Later in the evening I christened a new cookbook by making osso bucco with green lentils. The whole apartment was filled with delicious, comforting aromas, and it tasted fantastic. I am very keen to cook some more things from the book, and when I have done this I will give it a proper review. I would write the name of the book here but I am writing this in bed and it’s really warm and cosy so I just can’t find the motivation to get up and double check the title. But it’s fabulous, trust me.