The art of dating when you are in your 40’s is a perilous, soul destroying mission. I blame my misfortune with men on the 'fairy tale factor'... That never ending belief that love conquers all and that one day a prince will come. Reality isn't even close to the fairy tale. Especially when the prince doesn’t just come with baggage – he comes with a bitter, money grubbing ex-wife clinging to his back like a hump.
Friday, August 14, 2026
They Aint Kidding!!
Thursday, August 13, 2026
Wednesday, August 12, 2026
I'm Just A Singer In A Rock And Roll Band...
Who the hell sang that song? Was it The Moody Blues? (Showing my age.) I’ll look it up later!
I remember going to see them when I was pregnant with my second baby. I took my mother because my husband had left me for some skank he worked with and moved to Queensland.
Do I sound bitter? I don’t mean to be. Oh, I hated him by then. I used to go to bed and pray that he’d get killed while he was out drunk one night. My chances were reasonable; he was an awful drunk and was that way most of the time.
Oh well!
Life, as they say, moves on.
Bloody hell. Now I’ve forgotten what I was going to blog about!
Oh—that’s right. The band.
Apparently, I’ve got to practice; which I'm not great at... and some of us are still trying to remember which chord comes after C.
I thought being in a band involved turning up, playing a few songs and perhaps drinking something afterwards.
It does not.
There are songs to choose, chords to learn, rehearsals to organise, photographs to take, blogs to write, logos to design and people living thousands of kilometres apart who somehow need to sound as though they’re all in the same room.
It’s practically a full-time job—and nobody is paying me.
Still, after everything life has thrown at me, being in a slightly chaotic rock and roll band seems like a rather good place to have ended up.
Even if I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing.
Tuesday, August 11, 2026
Being in a Band Is Apparently a Full-Time Job
I always thought being in a band involved playing music.
Apparently, it involves group messages, photographs, logos, blogs, song lists, rehearsals, travel arrangements and trying to find one weekend when everyone is available.
The actual music seems almost incidental.
Our band, Dog Latin Musical Collective, sounds very impressive on paper. We have guitarists, ukulele players, a cellist, violinist and percussion. In reality, half of us are trying to remember which song we agreed to learn, and I am hoping nobody notices that my ukulele contribution remains largely decorative.
Distance doesn’t help. Some of us live in Geelong, others in Melbourne, Queensland and Western Australia. A casual rehearsal therefore requires the organisational skills of an international summit.
Then there are the promotional photographs and the blog, which I manage because I am apparently the least musical and had to make myself useful. We now have logos, mugshots and criminal aliases despite not yet having played a proper gig.
Being in a band is about 10% music and 90% administration.
But I bloody love it. I love the ridiculousness, the laughter and the excitement of hearing a song slowly come together.
One day, we may even get around to playing some music.