I recently spent 10 days in Melbourne, my first time back since Christmas. I tried to catch up with as many people as possible, and the number one question I was asked was ‘How’s life in Sydney?’. It wasn't as easy to answer as I thought.
Well, this is not something I ever thought I’d be writing about. If you’d asked me 18 months ago about my adult swimming journey you would’ve received a very short answer: I can’t swim.
Why is it that a new year always makes us hopeful that things will be different, better, this year? The older I get the more 1 January just feels like any other day, but there’s still something about the calendar ticking over another year that makes just a small part of me feel that maybe something new is coming.
Today marks 30 years exactly since I came into the world. That’s 30 years of generally making my way in the world, and I don’t want to go all Kylie Jenner on you, but in that time I’ve realised some things. And I’m still realising some things.
It’s probably a combination of genes, 17 years of ballet training and four years at a selective entry school, but I am well and truly a perfectionist. I have two rules in life: if you’re going to do it you need to do it perfectly, and if you can’t do it perfectly then don’t attempt it at all.
Growing up I was such a bookworm. Reading is something that’s stayed with me, except that now I’m an adult I don’t have a lot of time for reading anymore.
I’m going through a real podcasts phase at the moment. I find podcasts to be a really accessible format to digest content, and there are so many around on pretty much every topic. When a new episode of one of my favourites drops, putting in my headphones and hitting play really feels like sitting down for a chat with some old friends.