Down to earth with a thud today, driving across town before breakfast to collect The Ballerina from a sleepover. On the way home I shopped at the butcher, the greengrocer and the supermarket, buying dry-aged rib steaks, nutty muesli, yoghurt and a box full of veggies. Then toilet paper. At home I washed and hung…

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Resolve Departure heralded good intentions. No champagne, no sugary post-meal treats. Instead, the flight from Brisbane to Hong Kong was all water and fruit and naked salad. Seven days and a couple of extra kilos later I’m returning home, strapped in and waiting to push back, cursing my lack of discipline. Bircher muesli with fruit…

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I’m curled up in bed with an empty teacup beside me watching Lethal Weapon. The movie could be seen as a cultural touch stone, the first in a good-cop versus bad-drug-dealer franchise featuring slide guitar, gunfire, explosions and 1980s profanity. Am I drawing a long bow? Maybe. The rest of the day is easier to…

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End of day The hotel bar has toffee walls framed by wide timber architraves. Punters sit in deep tub chairs upholstered in leather and pale gold chintz. Or there are sofas with cushions in caramel, coffee and beige; fat, v-necked, kept in shape with plumping and karate. We drink whiskey and mock tails and nibble on…

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“This probably sounds terrible mum, but it tastes just like the Spaghetti Bolognese from The Gap Tavern,” The Ballerina said to me tonight as she twirled piles of pasta round her fork and into her mouth. “Not terrible at all my darling,” I responded, secretly chalking up a maternal win as I finally witnessed my…

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