Dear Mum. We’ve shifted to a magical paradise. A beautiful river with deep mermaid swimming holes twists through our home, there’s a wooden playground, swing bridge, ducks, flying fox and apple orchard. We’re in Mother Nature’s private garden but I suspect she’s having a good chuckle watching me deal with the critters. Surly black vultures … More Mother Nature’s Chortling.
Dear Ax Hey you. I am at Camp America, just like you thought. Except extract the rich kids and input ghetto kids in your imagination. These children come from tough worlds; one girl was sent home because of bullying and was picked up in her father’s SUV that had just been nailed with 18 bullet … More Brainstorming Away.
Dear Milo. I think we’ve shifted to your idea of heaven. A genuine steam train comes through camp every single day and we can get on it by flagging it down with a special train wave. It puffs for fifteen minutes up the tracks to a place called North Spur, where there’s a BBQ lunch … More Locomotion Bliss. Dear Milo…
Dear Tina. If our husbands want us to stick around, then radically changing what they do every few years is one way to keep us keen. Your chap has become a movie actor, larking with Ray Winstone and doing fight scenes with Temuera Morrison. That’s turned you on. Mine has become a member of the … More Wife Keeping 101. Dear Tina…
Dear Melissa. You know I will always blame you when I’m feeling challenged by the Dimple. You introduced us. He’s winding me up, dropping arresting bombs about camp – now that we’re on the road and there’s No Going Back. At our farewell family dinner in Auckland, he said, ‘Angela will have to drive around … More Too Young To Be Widowed.
