Our dear old mum died recently. We miss her everyday. Here's a little insight into her life via some words I wrote to read out at her recent "celebration of life", which we had on her birthday just among close family.

"Mum grew up just round the corner from where we are now, Dave and Kath’s only child. She talked about her childhood with great fondness, despite difficult periods when Kath would take to her bed and Denise and “daddy” would look after the house. She grew up with a love of animals, music and reading, attended St. Joseph's and eventually went to college and qualified as an infant's teacher, her first gig on the lake at Wangi Wangi. It was around this time that she first encountered the dashing young Michael Braggett, and although it was a bit of a “slow burn”, they were married in 1959 and the rest, as they say, is history! 

Universally loved and admired, Mum carved out a career in teaching, raised 4 children, ran a lively household, supported a busy husband and even after retirement, volunteered as a docent at the Newcastle Art Gallery. She was a highly intelligent, cultured and loving presence in our lives, yet I’m going to outline some of the quirkier aspects of the mother we all knew so well. 

Mum the athlete: Mum’s idea of walking consisted of the short walks to her car and back. Mum reckons she played tennis as a teenager, but I never saw her take part in any sporting or exercise activity apart from the “Alexander Technique”, which seemed to consist of lying still on the floor with a paperback under her head.  

Mum the dietician: Despite raising us on a healthy diet of meat and three veg, mum herself wasn’t overly fond of fresh vegetables and as the years went by, she was increasingly drawn to desserts and other sweeties as her staples. She spread lashings of butter on toast and cakes as well as squeezing lemon on just about everything else. She also had exacting requirements for presenting food: making a sandwich for her was a difficult task ruled by size and quantities and even the shape of the completed sandwich! This paled in comparison, however, to making a pot of tea, the rituals of which made a formal Japanese tea ceremony look like child’s play! 

Mum the singer: Singing for the little kiddies at school accompanied by piano playing was one thing, but there was nothing like our nervous anticipation of the 1st hymn at mass each week. Mum’s superb soprano voice would soar above all others as she sang with great volume and gusto, leaving us squirming with embarrassment! Later on, we were quite proud of mum the singer but earlier on, not so much! 

Mum the zen master: When I was six, I saw a sash window fall at our old house in Pride Avenue, and cut most of mum’s fingers, which were dripping with blood. She cried, but only silently, so as not to upset her little children. This serene calm became a hallmark and there are countless examples over the years. Mum never voiced a word of complaint when Kiss or AC/DC was playing at ear-splitting volume when she returned home from work each afternoon, but she did break with tradition once when I gave her a mouthful of cheek, kicking me up the backside when I ran past only to break her toe in the process! When I crashed her car through the back garage wall, after getting my feet caught up in the pedals in my first driving lesson and as I sat shocked with debris strewn all over the car, mum calmly stated, “Perhaps you’d be better off not wearing thongs next time”! I also remember arriving home from Japan after nearly two years away and mum said, “Oh, hello there you’re back!” as if I’d just stepped out to get some milk! 

Mum the medical expert: Despite no formal training in the medical field, mum had an encyclopaedic knowledge of most medical ailments, especially anything she, or the family, was inflicted with. Mum took her role as a doctor’s wife quite seriously and seemed to absorb knowledge from Dad by osmosis. She could rattle off the Latin root names of all manner of diseases and ailments, sometimes with tongue twisting dexterity...which allows me to neatly segue to... 

Mum the linguist: Mum pronounced words with such confidence and gravitas, that most were unlikely to question, let alone challenge, their accuracy. She’d occasionally drop one or more into conversations, with “menu” and “ceramic” springing to mind. She even pronounced some French or Japanese words in front of Cassy and me with such authority that we questioned ourselves and had to look them up when we got home! 

Mum the practical joker: Mum always enjoyed a good laugh, yet she rarely initiated the joke herself. One notable exception was at Dad’s 60th birthday party. held in this very room. Throngs of family and friends were gathered, canapes were nibbled and the champagne was flowing. The catering also included some cakes for dessert, including a large lemon tart emblazoned with the word “Citron” in large letters and chocolate writing. Father Gerard Mackie, one of the friends in attendance, asked mum about the word’s significance. Quick as a blink, deadpan mum replied, “Oh, that’s an old family name of the Braggetts, in fact, it’s Michael’s middle name.” Father Mackie then, armed with such interesting conversational fodder, proceeded to tell most of the room, until sheepishly, mum had to publicly declare that “Citron” was not actually dad’s middle name after all! 

I could talk about “Mum the teacher” where she had enormous respect from all her colleagues, including some of my friends with whom she worked, “Mum the philanthropist”, who sponsored all sorts of worthwhile causes over the years, even winning a car through a charity lottery once! There are countless other facets of mum to speak of and remember but mostly, of course, “Mum the mum”. She had an enormous impact on our lives and we miss her in all sorts of ways and we find ourselves thinking of her daily. We love and miss you, mum! "

Here's an album I've made of some photos of mum.

 "Walking through the high dry grass
Pushing my way through slow
Yellow belly black snake sleeping on a red rock
Waiting for the stranger to go...."

The opening to the iconic Midnight Oil track, "King of the Mountain" had always conjured up vivid images for me of the Australian outback, a landscape which we'd dipped our little toe into over decades of motorbike trips to dusty, country towns on the edge of the outback. We'd been keen to venture to the "red centre" for the vast majority of that time as well, but time and logistics and lack of real will were all against us! 

I suppose like a lot of people, we'd prioritised overseas adventure for our "big" holidays and when we lived in Asia for so long, we were also drawn to the relatively short flight to Europe for our Christmas breaks. Suffice to say, we'd neglected some classic Aussie rights of passage, but we're slowly making up for it, starting with our circumnavigation of Tassie late last year and our travel to Uluru just last week!

We'd opted to travel independently, so we hired a car for the duration of our five days. Picking up our brand new hybrid Camry at Uluru Airport, we found it not as luxuriously appointed as the Merc, but perfectly comfortable and zippy. We caught an initial glimpse of the rock on the way to the hotel and it was an electric thrill to see such a well known landmark in real life. After settling in to our very slick digs at "Sails in the Desert" we went out in the car to the sunset viewing carpark inside the Uluru National Park, using our Parks Pass for the first of many times.

The desert in the foreground was blooming from recent rain and the tufted grass was almost azure with splashes of purple wildflowers dotting the canvas of green plants and cherry red soil. The rock itself was a sleeping giant of pink and red contours, craggy ridges reflecting the light and blood red gullies folded into the curves of the rock at once wonderous yet foreboding. It was just so huge! Time and again in the next few days we marvelled at its change of character and colour and light, but also its impossibly immense, sheer bulk.

The hotel on extensive grounds that were curated and watered to provide an oasis in the desert was very comfortable, but the main eating option was the on-site restaurant which was a buffet. Each night we demurred on the chance to attend the buffet, rather choosing a small meal at the bar with accompanying glass of wine or beer. I don't like buffets. They seem to be heavily populated by overweight, greasy and pasty-faced yobbos who have questionable hygiene. They also seem hell bent on stuffing their gullets with as much food as possible in order to get their money's worth. There, I've said it! 

We attended the Field Of Light dinner and installation one evening and it was a sumptuous multi-course meal out in the desert under the stars that was preceded by a cocktail party watching Kata Tjuta and Uluru as the sun went down. It was a unique experience and we were happy we'd made the effort to attend. After dinner, and a talk about the star constellations, we walked the extensive field of light art installation which although impressive, couldn't outshine the natural beauty in our peripheral vision.

One day, we arose in the dark and drove (carefully to avoid wildlife) out to the sunrise viewing decks to watch the sunrise over the rock and the play of light change the colour and mood of the rock as we watched. An artist painting this scene would need to remix his palette of colours second by second to render the scene accurately: it was cold and sparkling and beautiful. We'd done a reccy the day before so we drove confidently to the Mala carpark straight after this to start our walking trek around the base of the rock. We took our time, stopping often to take photographs, have a drink, or simply to marvel yet again at the size and different facets of the rock as we moved around it. Hours later we'd achieved our goal and not a minute too soon: the tiny bush flies which luckily stay away till around midday, had started to swarm into our eyes, mouth, nostrils and ears. Those Chinese tourists with the head fly nets didn't look so silly after all now!

After a bit of a lay day where we visited art galleries and cultural centres (impressively nestled in the shadows of the rock, camouflaged with brush roofs and earthy colours) we set off early to make the 50km drive out to Kata Tjuta ("The Olgas"). In some ways, this group of ochre coloured domes is even more awe inspiring than Uluru itself: it's certainly more extensive and even taller. The indigenous name means "many heads" which is a simple but appropriate description. We opted to do the challenging full circuit of the group known as the "Valley of the Winds" walk, a grade 4 hike. At times, bouldering up steep sections of rock and gravel, at others inching our way down precipitous slopes of loose gravel and thigh-burning cliffs, while also tramping along roads of tennis ball sized rocks and humping our way up endless slopes, we were well and truly exhausted at the end! Once again, we managed to avoid the worst of the flies and were glad of our prepared water supplies and snacks. Sensational vistas and bush silence were our companions with the odd flitting of brightly coloured birds....I sincerely hoped there were no yellow belly black snakes sleeping on red rocks!

It was an amazing adventure and after a plane ride, hotel stay in Sydney and a train trip back to Newcastle we settled back in to daily life with good memories and an enhanced appreciation of the power of the vast outback to inspire and delight. So much so, that we eagerly attended the latest in the Mad Max franchise, "Furiosa" the other day to see if anyone got safe passage across the wasteland...after hours of red desert, petrol belching trucks and motorbikes and frightening, dystopian scenes of all descriptions, we're still not sure!

Here is the full album of the trip.

Time's been whizzing by and we've been having fun!

Surfest was as exciting as it is each year, some of the world's best surfers converging on Merewether Beach for a week and the associated hoop-la set our little beachside hamlet alight. Many of the drone shots on the coverage captured our unit overlooking the action, but try as we might, we couldn't quite time it to be on the balcony when it was flying over!

Our nephew, Michael is a delightful, uber-intelligent young man who has carved a professional niche for himself in Canada after following his equally charming sweetheart back to her home country. Lucky for us, the couple decided to wed in Australia, and we were able to attend the ceremony on a clifftop in Merewether and a reception in town when they made a flying visit for the nuptials. It was a lovely day and evening and Helen and Neil as well as Michael and Arielle spoke eloquently to entertain the assembled family and friends.

Cassy's birthday was celebrated with a lunch at the "hatted" Yellow Billy restaurant in the Hunter Valley. They served us one spectacular morsel after another, each surprising and innovative, using ingredients in different ways and clever combinations. Their home garden provided most of the vegetables and we were full in the stomach and happy in the soul by the time we hit the road in the afternoon after a bounteous three course feast with accompanying wines.

A catch-up phone call with Ross in Dunedin highlighted the fact that they would be travelling the following week to their "wee batch" in Queenstown for the school holidays and suggested we needed to see each other soon. After a quick check with Cass, I texted Ross back and suggested we could crash the second week of their holidays if it suited. He and Ains were very enthusiastic, so we booked flights then and there. They picked us up from the airport, just a 10 minute drive away from the bach, and we had a very special stay in their recently renovated A-Frame. We spent hours chatting, eating Ross' beautiful home cooked dinners, drinking red wine and generally having a good laugh and solving the world's problems! Each day we had adventures that were variously enervating, invigorating and fun, including hiking up to an alpine lake in The Remarkables, catching water taxis across the sound, checking out historic villages like Arrowtown, or catching cable cars up vertiginous mountains before flying halfway down again on a luge!!

We attended a MusicaViva concert with Mark and Erin recently and were mesmerised by the elegant, impossibly young and ridiculously talented Esme Quartet from Germany as they transported us away to other-worldly realms with some sublime music. Just recently, we dined with Wayne and Josie to celebrate our birthdays at Bella Italia before going to King Street Hotel to see Pseudo Echo, the second time for us in just a few months. They were similarly skilled and polished as before, but both the two and a half hour wait for them while standing in a crowded venue, as well as a mind-blasting, crazy-distorted sound mixing made for a less than spectacular result. We felt sorry that Wayne and Jose hadn't seen them at their optimum with us in Launceston!

Oh, and I did the obligatory birthday push-ups again: did I mention that it gets harder every year?! Up top for a while and here later.