It was either 25 or 26 Feb, back in 1985. On either of those days, I landed in this wonderful country for the first time. Kingsford Smith airport in Sydney looked different – very different from anything I had seen prior. In fact, any thing or any where would have looked different for me, seeing it was the first time I had ever left Malaysia (other than for Singapore).

40 years hence, I’d probably see Oz and Malaysia through pretty different lenses.

Some days you feel flat. Today is one of those days. I had a good night’s sleep so that isn’t why. I did have a headache last night, and I’m not sure if that is why.

We’ve been here for almost 3 months now. While it has been wonderful being closer to people who mean much to me, it has also been flat in so many other ways. I guess I knew there would be days like today, when I’d look back and start to reminisce over stuff I enjoyed before coming up here. I knew I’d feel the way I feel now – flat, and wondering why we did what we did. I knew days like today too, will pass. So I guess the challenge is to let this day pass, with as little fall out as possible.

I can’t believe Paul Simon is an octogenarian now. He was the first muso I followed and I continue to listen to him today. I’m so glad he’s still touring, albeit in the US only.

Tress and I used to go out on Fridays. There were a few restaurants or cafes near where we lived in Melbourne, and sometimes, we went with a couple of friends. These Friday soirees were our little TGIF dinners that I looked forward to. During the football season, we’d go for these dinners and come back in time for the Friday night games to start. Yes, we went for these dinners early as late dinners wreak havoc to my sleep.

It has been a while since we had our TGIFs. It would be a long while before enjoying a game of football, particularly in situ, can be on the cards.

The past few Fridays, we have been getting takeaways to get to Kiddo and Mic’s place, and spend Friday nights with the little kiddies. We don’t actually eat anything, the takeaways were mainly for the tired mum and dad.

Last Friday we did the same thing, and took away a couple of pizzas that are now little Abby’s favourite thing to eat. Tress and I would cradle little Zoe and then play with Abby for a bit, before coming home to wind down, with some chocolates or other such indulgent fares. Our lives have become even more sedate, out here in this bush capital.

On Saturday, Tress and I woke early and prepped some “red eggs”. Zoe had turned a month old and we were doing her “full moon” party. It was at Mic’s parents place in the northern suburbs of Canberra. Tress did the eggs, we gave the little fellow a quick walk, and then we headed out to Woden to pick out a cake. We got a choc and raspberry choc mousse cake and it was very good. The little party at Desmond and SL’s finished up just before noon and we then headed to the shopping strip near where they lived to pick up some “angku’s”. They were for the “cafe time” snacks at SBC the next day, along with yet more red eggs that Tress also did.

At SBC on Sunday, a few men were “commissioned” for leadership roles and there was also the Lord’s Supper so the service ran even longer than it usually did. SBC services are longer than St Alf’s but we are slowly becoming accustomed to it. Just like a few more things at SBC. The (much) more “direct approach” (read: prescriptive), the even more laid back approach to Sunday mornings in some ways but much more serious in others. The more “raw” and unadorned music style, the longer sermons (and yes, loads more prescriptive as well). Nothing grossly unpalatable but very different indeed. It does take a bit of getting used to but I’d like to think we’re (I am) getting there.

My reading is now at Ecclesiastes. After countless advice from the preceding “wisdom” books, this is a crescendo of sorts. Wisdom and meaning is elusive. Or it can be. For now, for better or for worse, I care l little if I have/find either or both. One chooses a path and make the best of it. As I used to say to myself and others I care for, having the option is the first (and very important) goal and it (having an option) has already given me a head start. I’m already a “winner” in that sense. I’m liking my life now, warts and all, and sans whatever notwithstanding.

Tress and I now walk most mornings, around the hood. Most mornings, we head north to a dog park. On the way, we are often greeted with the rising sun and we get scenes like these. In the few short weeks we’ve been here, I’ve succumbed and taken dozens of pics like these. I am likely to take more…

A little Italian joint opened up in our new local shopping centre. It bears the same name as the company that employs me. We first encountered this restaurant by walking past it soon after little Abby, our first granddaughter was born. It was in a suburb on the other side of this bush capital. Now, with a new “branch” opened up, it’s a 3-min drive away. So we decided to do a takeaway for our “TGIF” dinner on, well, Friday night. We got just a pizza and a risotto as there were lots of leftovers in both fridges (ours and Kiddo’s). Little Abby loved the pizza (a margherita) so it must have been good. The risotto was also, apparently, very good. It was a bit pricey but by all account, well worth it.

We went back home and for a Friday night treat, I looked up the streaming services and landed on a film about Freud and CS Lewis. Anything with Anthony Hopkins is almost always a treat. The film was surprisingly gripping, albeit in its own way. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed a film that is mainly conversational – since Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson in Marriage Story maybe? The last scene had Freud slipping a book into Lewis’ coat pocket as the latter was about to leave Freud’s home to catch the last train home. When Lewis fished out the book while on the train on the way home, we were showed that the book was his own “Pilgrim’s Regress”. On the front/title page, Freud had scribbled “From error to error, one discovers the entire truth.” It was left to the audience if that was intended to show Freud held his ground or gave in to Lewis, on whether God is real.

On Saturday, we took Milo and our little fellow for a walk from Kiddo’s home and headed for the Kambah ovals, just across the road from the “Kambah Village”. We had been doing that for a couple of Saturdays, and enjoyed the walk that was punctuated with a stop at “L’epi”, an artisan bakery that has beautiful breads, pastries and the likes. We then went to a local market at a school off Kambah Pool Road, before heading home to get dinner ready. When we delivered dinner, Kiddo, who had been unwell, remained unwell so we (I) took her to the hospital and I stayed with her while she was being treated, while Tress stayed with Mic and the girls. That turned out to be an all night-er (sort of). Kiddo stayed overnight for observations and Tress stayed at their home to back Mic up with the girls. As I drove to their home on Namatjira Drive, a mob of roos hopped past and I had to stop as I witnessed the surreal scene played out before my eyes. I had had the windows wound down to keep myself refreshed so the soft thuds as those pads hit the road, were clearly audible as they hopped slowly and assuredly across the road, from Cooleman Ridge Reserve to the parklands across the usually busy road. I was truly in the bush now. I got home late and by the time I was ready to turn in, it was almost 1am.

Just before 7am the next day, Kiddo pinged to say she could leave the hospital so I hurriedly left home and picked her up. We spent the rest of the day just ghosting about, Tress busy with food preps and minding the girls while I took Milo for a walk. We missed SBC and in the arvo, Tress and I took Abby to the shops at Woden. It was to break up the day, and give the little girl and her tired and weary parents a break of sorts.

Last night as Tress and I drove home, I asked Tress if she was happy. It wasn’t a question. I know she is. Has been. I am too, both because she is and because I no longer live for myself. Not sure if it was another error through my error ladened paths to date but not living for myself is a truth a great man once showed as the embodiment of real love. That is probably less equivocal than what Freud apparently wrote on Lewis’ book. I think I’m entitled to think I have fared better than Pontius Pilate. I care/cared, more than he appeared to, about “…and what is truth”. I wasn’t going to wash my hands off this one. I may still be stepping “from error to error” but that is ok.