Golden, golden days. Gone.

December 1998 Living with Barry was working out great.  Brady spent every second weekend with her Father, Jack. I continued working a demanding schedule, working all hours and flying all over the world, until a turning point in a cold transit lounge somewhere in tired Europe, enough was enough. I resigned, finishing up in December 1998. So the call went out – ‘Christmas at the Pink … Continue reading Golden, golden days. Gone.

Rabbits don’t mind what colour flowers they eat.

23 November 1998 Dear J, Do hope you have a beaut birthday.  Pop is gradually coming better, it’s a long slow process, he had more x-rays last week but he is so weak and he just runs out of puff but he is eating a lot better again so should get his strength back. No veggie garden this year, have got a couple of tomato … Continue reading Rabbits don’t mind what colour flowers they eat.

Kept my matches in my pocket and left this bridge standing.

  This is a letter I received from Jack’s mother. I have always ensured that Brady has had full contact with her father and his parents since our split, and to this day Brady still spends every second Christmas with them in the UK.  I feared Vito my father-in-law, I found him very prickly. Carmela is a wonderful person, the unseen go-between of factions of the family … Continue reading Kept my matches in my pocket and left this bridge standing.

Thirty & Oh So Happy

September 1998 Barry’s house under construction (below) – it was to become a much loved home and provided the walls for years of wonderful memories, love and laughs. It was affectionately known as the Pink House (yes the front was rendered in parts and painted a light shade of pink – much to Brady’s gleeful delight). Barry asked Brady and I to move in with him, which … Continue reading Thirty & Oh So Happy

One of my personalities is a Belgian pirate, perhaps I should let him out more often.

I found this amongst J’s paperwork.  It is a copy of a letter to an ex-colleague Tariq who was travelling overseas.   Tuesday, 5 May 1998 Tariq, So here it is, you thought I’d forgotten you, huh? It’s just that I seem to have lost the knack for letter writing.  But how are you doing?  Picked up that Murdoch kowtowing job yet? Wrap your lips ’round … Continue reading One of my personalities is a Belgian pirate, perhaps I should let him out more often.