Image of a moment that is no more,
But one more memory shared, of this fair shore.
Blue of the harbour and red of the wine,
Light and shadow playing in the sunshine.

Happy faces at every mention
Of formal notice of our intention.
We will wed at the British Consulate.
Harbour-side mid-week lunch to celebrate.

With family and friends it will be regal,
‘Though same-sex union here’s not yet legal.
Some people, our decision, it astounds;
The dissonance of living still abounds.

Cheerful corner

This is a glimpse of the morning sun pouring through stained glass in the door that goes to the front garden. The light is diffused as it passes through a curtain decorated with appliqu├ęd leaves in shades of green. Combined with the wall colour, candle sticks and Cirque du Soleil painting; a warming church-like scene.

I find the term ‘drawing-room’ a trifle pretentious, however after dinner we do withdraw to this east facing, cheerful, cosy and comfortable place.

Status junky

After forty years of standing politely in line I will do all in my power to avoid queuing. At first I found the random gathering around bus stops in Australia confronting. Now I welcome the opportunity to move strategically forward, without barging, pushing or treading on someone; I retain my British integrity after all!

My biggest gripe is while waiting to board an aircraft. The ‘premium’ passengers likened to jewels and precious metals are ushered quickly through the gate. The remaining colour labelled passengers shuffle along the slow lane.

On one occasion while rushing to the departure gate I failed to notice the signs. Upon reaching the front of a line I was instructed to join the correct one; a mile long snaking line of non premium passengers. This experience reinforced my dislike of being herded; even if I am flying cattle class.

The solution I have found is to travel light and be the last passenger to board the plane. I sit in relative comfort as I await the end of the meandering line. There is plenty of time for a toilet break before boarding which counteracts the low probability of being able to use the dubious in-flight facilities. Even though the likelihood of space in an overhead locker is slim I stow my carry-on under the seat in front of me.

I am a status junky, sorely tempted to fly Sydney to Melbourne return before end September to earn enough status points to become a silver frequent flyer- I haven’t, yet . . . . . .