Little slideshow from the #Sydney #ChineseGardensOfFriendship – #gopro #icu_australia
AS I turned the gas back on this morning to fire up the heater, I noted that we still have a month of summer left.
As a fair skinned red head the season change cannot come soon enough. Sure I love going to the beach, but I prefer it to be overcast so I can spend more than 10 minutes in the sun. Only two per cent of the world’s population has red hair, and most of them live in the northern hemisphere. This may explain a few things about how people react to red heads in the southern hemisphere, I like to call it ‘the red head effect’.
Red heads seem to have an effect on the perceptions of those around them, and we can find examples of this throughout history. In Ancient Greek literature, the philosopher Xenophanes spoke of the blue eyes and red hair of the Thracians. Roman historians described Boudica, the Celtic queen of Iceni, as tall and terrifying with a mass of red hair over her shoulders. Even Homer wrote about red haired mythical characters in the poem The Iliad. It is thought that Judas Iscariot may have been a red head, and is always portrayed as one. If you had red hair during the time of the Spanish inquisition you were accused of having stolen the fires of hell, and you were burned as a witch. Geez, do we get a bad wrap much? Being a red head myself I’ve noticed people respond to you differently, especially if things get a little testy.
Recently I was reminded of this on a road trip, when I stopped to get drive through lunch. There was a hold up in the line, so the driver behind me decided to start shouting at us. I rolled down my window and politely asked… click here to read the full story.
The above is an excerpt from my column that you can find at the Goulburn Post.
There is no medicine like hope. No incentive so great and no tonic so powerful as the expectation of something better tomorrow.
Orison Swett Marden
Sugary little bastards.
My midweek ritual of hot chocolate and late brekky with my wee men is no more, and I didn’t think I was missing them.
Until they sat my hot chocolate in front of me. Those two little marshmallows are stolen by my wee men every time. But not today. And I had a little bit of a wobble for the first time about the kids being at school, didn’t see that coming. Those damn marshmallows.
The smallest one has had his second day at school. I found myself loitering outside the school gate about half an hour early than I needed to, he emerged looking hang dog tired. Crawling up my body as if I was a tree and cuddling me like a baby would. Man do I feel guilty.
But I can also see small hints that he is picking things up already, the change from my baby to a boy is happening. Well who am I kidding, it has already happened, but he’ll always be my wee man.