Born Again Funeral Junkie – a response to growing up atheist

Growing up, I used to think funerals were exotic things that other people’s families had — like a holiday house — something just a bit out of our reach. My family didn’t ‘do’ funerals. We didn’t even ‘do’ death. As for any talk of an afterlife, well, don’t even go there. When I was seven Mum’s father died. He lived in a country town far from Sydney, so we rarely saw him. My brothers and I were not told of his passing, but I overheard a phone call between Mum and her brother. I could only hear her end of the call. She was worked up, almost shouting...

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Did I Wait Too Long? (Ageing with Billy Joel)

Okay, I’m outing myself – when I was young, I was a little in love with Billy Joel. Even after I’d moved on, his early stuff could always transport me. Just a few bars from Piano Man, Italian Restaurant, She’s always a Woman and I’m back there at a particular time and place, filled with a sense of endless possibility. I hadn’t thought about Billy Joel in quite a while. Then in February...

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SPECTACULOUS!

We’re on Foehr, the island in the North Sea, where Martin’s parents spent their later years. Our kids used to call it the Snow White Island. Thatched-roofed cottages and fields dotted with lazy Friesian cows really do give it a fairy tale quality.

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