Hello dear blog! Need I share my latest excuses for dropping out of the blogosphere over the past few months? At the end of August, we packed up the past five and a bit years of our lives into boxes (and sent a large percentage of it to second hand stores and the local tip) and moved 500km across the state to our new home.
I went through a stage recently where the only books I’d read were non-fiction. Whether they were biographies, documentaries or even just ‘inspired’ by real events – they were on my reading list, and most often they were pretty grisly.
People often asked me why I chose to read so many books about tough times people had gone through, and my response was always “Because I feel like if I’m not learning something, I’m wasting my time”.
While I’m not music guru, I have been to a decent handful of music festivals of all shapes and sizes over the years.
If I was giving advice to any festival first-timers though, it would be this – start small and stay small, because the experience will nearly always outlive any other.
Yesterday I walked out of a bookshop on cloud nine – the only way to describe the feeling of adding a brand spankin’ new book to your ever-growing collection. That smell. The crisp, clean paper. No creases in the covers. No late night snacks dribbled on the pages. Thousands upon thousands of unread words just waiting to find their way into my memory bank. Bliss!