makar [ˈmækər]
n (Literature / Poetry) Scot a creative artist, esp a poet
[a Scot variant of maker]

Tuesday, November 27, 2012


 
I don't drive. Some people seem to think that this is the most interesting thing about me. I really hope it isn't so, but it is, of course, a little unusual for an Australian mummy not to drive. Anyway, for the record, the reasons I don't drive are:

I haven't got my license.

I am not very co-ordinated.

I am easily distracted, especially by the demands of small people.

I panic.

I am scared of crashing and hurting my children.

I don't have time to learn right now.

Sometimes, I wish I was like one of the other mums in their shiny cars. When it's raining, or very hot, when we're late and miss a bus, when my daughter is whinging about walking, when there are strange characters traveling with us who make me feel wary, when a parcel gets taken to some depot in the middle of nowhere, when I have to race around and there just isn't time to do everything...but mostly I don't mind not driving. It slows me down in a good way; it forces me to keep things simple. I love walking because you see so much, and it keeps us fit. I like using public transport because it makes sense in terms of the environment, but most of all, I really like the way it brings together different people. My daughter has made friends with a girl from her school who catches the bus with us. There is 7 years between them. If it wasn't for the bus, they would probably never have connected. There are other kids from other schools who ride the bus; now we know the faces of so many people who live around us. We chat with old people, other mums and dads, people going to college, or work. We have all manner of random conversations on our journeys. For lots of kids, catching the bus or the train is a novelty; my children do it every day as a normal part of their life. Even if I do eventually learn to drive and become like all the other mums, I hope they still feel at ease on the bus, in amongst all those interesting people. 





Monday, November 5, 2012

As we watched the kids run down the most beautiful beach to meet their grandparents, my other half sighed, and said "It would be nice to live here, wouldn't it? Maybe I could write some really successful blog or something." I wonder how often that sentence gets uttered on holidays...
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