People have been offering suggestions on subjects I should blog about. It's very thoughtful, because blogging can be a grind. Since I launched housegoeshome - almost a year ago - I've written 411 posts and my brain does get constipated sometimes. My sister pulled me aside at the school fundraiser on Saturday night to tell me about a friend of a friend who went for a massage in Oxford Street... Continue Reading →

School fundraisers are a bugger to organise. I take my hat off to the amazing women who made ours happen last night. Freaking awesome dedication. I got exhausted just watching them transform our local pub into a Venetian palazzo. My paltry contribution was to tie endless knots in endless helium balloons and eat free hot chips, before popping home to shave my... Continue Reading →

As I squatted on a nature strip the other night, wiping Sprog 1's dog-poo-covered sandal on the wet grass, I cursed its deep treads. As I sniffed the floor of the car for stinky bits, I cursed the person who didn't pick up their dog's poo after it was extruded. As I realised Sprog 1 had trodden on her new library book with the dog-poo-covered sandal ... I breathed a huge... Continue Reading →

What's with all the Disney child stars wanting to get saucy way too early? Britney Spears, Vanessa Hudgens, Miley Cyrus ... sex tapes, naughty photos, going commando ... You didn't see Haley Mills carrying on with that sort of nonsense. Ah, those were the days, or the Sunday nights to be more accurate. Curled up on... Continue Reading →

I need more shoes. OK, need probably isn't the correct word. I would like a new pair of shoes. I'm going to a school fundraiser on Saturday night and I don't think sneakers will cut it. Sneakers don't say "masked ball" and that's the fancy theme. I've got loads of high heels in my wardrobe, but I can't totter around in them all... Continue Reading →

I've always been blessed in the tress department. During my teens, Dad would marvel at the abundant strands he'd find hanging from light fittings, clogging drains, covering the carpet. It didn't matter how many I shed, I always had plenty to spare. Unfortunately, as I've grown older, I've started growing strands in other places. Wrong places. Frida Kahlo places. And worse. The... Continue Reading →

I thought the most brutal part about going to the gym would be the exercise, but I was wrong. Fighting your way into the classes is way tougher. I'm usually a pilates junkie - no sweating, lots of lying down - but my instructor has gone on holidays to eastern Europe (she'll fit right in, she looks just like a Russian gymnast ...... Continue Reading →

A quick message for my Novocastrian followers. Apologies to the rest. But it can't go unsaid. I feel so, so sad tonight.  Not only are 66 sub-editing jobs being sent off-shore to New Zealand, but 13 journalists have lost their jobs at AAP as well. No doubt more retrenchments will follow. There was a better, more economical, Aussie way... Continue Reading →

I got stalked by the paparazzi once. Sort of. A junior researcher at The Chaser thought it would be funny to stake out my house with a fake photographer. Except he didn't do his homework very well and went to my old house, which I hadn't lived in for five years. The owner rang me, most distressed, asking if I could make the pesky fellow go... Continue Reading →

Oooooh, it was a tough decision this week. The mags offered up everything from free burgers to umbrellas and shock exclusives to entice me. The weather has been totally miserable in Sydney today so that the free umbrella should have swung me, but I was in the mood for warm and fuzzy. Pop over to Village Voices... Continue Reading →