MALINI'S BLOG

The Hobbit, Three Paintings and Coming Home.

The end of every year is a weird time for me. There is a combination of panic (oh my god, the year’s ending and I haven’t actually started it yet), …

What the Heart Wants.

We exist in the space between where we are and where we would like to be. So much of our life force is spent in imagining we should be other …

These were my TOP TEN PICKS of 2017.

For Coffee For the past two years, I have been nurturing a mild coffee addiction, rarely missing a morning ritual consisting of one flat white with almond milk, sipped slowly …

2017: The Year I Lost My Mum (and Gained 927 Miracles)

My earliest memories of my beautiful mother are of her sitting at her desk, surrounded by piles of papers, writing. Mum wrote thousands of letters in her long life. She …

Life is made up of Small Good Things.

I was driven to binge-read Alexander McCall-Smith wonderful series, The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, as a distraction from an extreme and sudden injury to my back.

Three Years On: How Coffee Saved Me.

There were days when I would stand in front of his photograph and plead with him. “WHY did you leave me?”

How I Tackled My (Ridiculous) Fear

Yvonne calmed me down and proceeded to give me some simple steps. She chuckled as I repeated them back to her so I would remember them.

5 Things I learned from my mum.

Mum was the champion of reframing before it was invented! She could always put a spin on something so that it became much better than it appeared.

A Hole in the Desert Sky

Four and a half thousand kilometres away, in Perth, Western Australia, the man who would become my husband a decade later was also a planet-nerd

Bitter with a Soft, Sweet Centre. 2016, You Surprised Me.

I come back to the present with a start and look at the empty seat beside me and that’s when I start crying into my coffee.

My Year of Burning Hands

“Would you mind swapping places with me? I’m feeling a bit scared about sitting on the edge!” she asked.

Why I’m So Much Like My Old Dog.

My little dog Layla is 14 years old. That’s 98 in human years. She’s partially blind, quite deaf and she often trips over nothing.

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