Fish stew and red wine

28 April 2017

31 was excellent. The day of turning 31.

There’s a hood in Geelong I don’t really know, but there’s nothing like discovering a hood that’s new. So given it’s the new location of one of my BFF we set about eating and drinking it.

We settled into Bistro Plume where we shared a new Live Wire Pinot Noir with chicken liver parfait, blue cheese and figs and honey and then fish stew. (Which was a 10/10 and surrounded by fennel and beans and tomato and dill.) A special birthday chocolate fondant with vanilla bean ice cream topped it all off in a very lip smacking kinda way. The blue cheese and honey was especially delicious. I think because the honey was just right.

Richie cooked us all pasta for dinner and we sat around the fire switching quickly between laughing and story telling and snoozing and snuggling. The perfect type of April 27 night.

The gang asked what I would do for 31, I told them I would blog every day. They laughed and thought  loudly to themselves “ANOTHER FREAKIN’ BLOG?!” which I could hear.

Just the inspiration I needed…

Today is 31

Today is 31.

April 27 2017.

Thirty was excellent fun, thirty was hens and weddings and married and new precious little Spoodle non Spoodle Basil.

Thirty one is a treat. Every birthday is a treat, I preach and preach and preach that until the cows come home. Birthdays are a treat some people don’t get to have, and their families would come knocking at your door if you didn’t want your birthday so their person could have theirs instead.

But…. the cows have come home. For the first birthday ever (and only ever so slightly as I really do love a birthday) the preciousness of time is really slap bang on my dial. Which is not such a bad thing, but merely a ‘get yo shit together girlfriend’ type of thing.

So this morning I heard tales of Tess who is starting her new adventure, and I was looking at gorgeous little Loz who has her hand designed bathers swimming all over the world and I summoned summoned summoned my creative calling. (Knowing that I can’t paint and can cook but can’t really photograph the food and want to sew but am left handed and would lose ten fingers in 20 seconds if I tried…) Then realised that it really has been there all along, but that it’s been motivated by the twenties. I’ve always known it was writing, but I thought it was writing for hundreds of thousands of followers and free international trips to Rome to eat Pizza and hanging out with Zoe Foster at book club. But what I realise now, thanks to 31. Is that this isn’t for anyone else, it’s only for me. It’s to tell my tales and in a medium that once upon a time would have been a diary, it’s now a blog. Where the big wide world can see it. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s our world.

I am however sure of the challenge of 31. The challenge of less scrolling, more slowing, tip tap typing tales and truths and doing it every day until the cows come storming in with 32 ringing around their neck.

At 31: I’m watching: The Crown I’m listening to Slow Living Podcasts and dreaming of vegetable gardens and campfires. I’m eating semi vegetarian (Monday-Thursday) because I like it and because I feel like it makes me feel healthier, happier and lighter. (And also because I love Basil so much and that’s been very insightful). I’m not reading anything. But I should be.