February 10. Day 41. Energy to burn

Teenage males, as anyone who has ever owned one will tell you, have the capacity to eat you out of house and home (mine doesn't but it is the exception that makes the rule). But with my niece Scarlett and her boyfriend Alex on an overnight stay at the beach I got to see it first hand. Yesterday we did lunch at this most awesome little Japanese place at Peregian. Alex chose a pork belly dish which looked like a big fat bowl of awesome. Like bacon only more fatty. So at Alex's suggestion we went back today. Now here's the thing, we all hesitated over the regular or large bowl and each settled on large. It was large. But this was not a challenge likely to defeat us so we conquered and then sat there feeling happily full. All except Alex who went and ordered another bowl of the same and ate that too. All of it. With extra Japanese mayonnaise for good measure. And look at him. Not an ounce of fat on the boy. That's so unfair. But then I might be able to get away with it too if I was charging up the dunes chasing the dog, or piggy backing my sweetheart or jumping the waves. And when I settled for an afternoon nap, Scarlett and Alex were heading off for a game of lacrosse, as you do. I guess the boy's just got energy to burn. Just watching it makes me tired.

February 9. Day 40. Pot of gold

If there's a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, I was a happy little leprechaun today. The beach on a stormy Monday afternoon with my fur friend Rumple is my definition of pay dirt. It is a little reward I allowed myself because Drama Teen is on school retreat and if he's retreating so am I. The place I always retreat to is the beach and frankly I need a reward because one of the things I had to do before he went was write a letter, a secret letter which will be presented to him during the stay. This is not just any letter but a letter of affirmation. I had to write a letter saying just what my son means to me. Holy hell. Some things are too hard for words. They just are. Writing is my "thing" but writing such a letter was seriously, seriously difficult. Getting the tone right so it sounds sincere but not wanky is like walking a tightrope without a net. Finding words for which there are no words is a challenge, let me tell you. And once you put it in writing it's forever. A girl needs a little lie after that and there's no better place for a little lie down than a room at the beach

February 8. Day 39. You're being watched

If watching crime shows made you any sort of an expert on solving crimes, not only the Queensland Police but in all likelihood the FBI would be calling on my services for their major cases. But of course watching the same episodes of Law and Order SVU as often as Foxtel replays them really only makes you sad. But while fictional, there is one thing you can take as an absolute truth from these crime shows - you are being watched. Every move is recorded somewhere, you kind of get that but normally you don't see it. But if you happen to look up as you walk by the Mantra at South Bank you may just see the eyes on you. The Mantra has a rather awesome glass-sided pool which overlooks the street from about two storeys up. As a regular in that part of town, I know it's there but it still takes me by surprise when I look up and I see goggled eyes starting back. The way the bodies hang suspended is also rather awesome. What's more I don't think it's such a bad idea to remind yourself that you are being watched. It's not paranoid, you don't need to be a detective, it just is.

February 7. Day 38. Try, try again

The English language is filled with affirmations selling the benefits of never giving up. "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again". "Practice makes perfect". That one about getting back on the horse. You know the stuff. I saw that in action in Musgrave Park this afternoon where over and over again a group went through manoeuvres obviously designed to ensure form and style were as close to perfect as possible.  Remarkably close to Musgrave Park today there was another bloke who won't take no for an answer and was having another go. Lawrence Springborg led the conservative opposition to defeats in three election defeats in 2004, 2006 and 2009. Those sorts of public defeats would be enough to make many a mere mortal take his bat and ball and go home and lick his wounds.  After all there's a very fine line between perseverance and sheer bloody minded stubbornness. But Springborg put himself up for LNP leader and won the endorsement of the partyroom. Frankly I admire him although I rate his chances of being around for another go at challenging for the premiership to be virtually nil. But I was wrong about John Howard. I predicted the end of his political career after two unsuccessful terms as opposition leader. Later he went on to be Prime Minister for 11 years. Springborg might prove me just as wrong. One thing is for sure. Remember that guy that gave up? Neither does no one else.

February 6. Day 37. A lot of noise

 The attributes are as follows:

• They are extremely noisy, are aggressive, they communally defend their territory and exclude others 
• Males outnumber females
• Some people regard them as a nuisance

This, according to the Brisbane City Council website, describes the noisy miner. This also describes the behaviour of our politicians at the moment.
Harassing, predatory, self protection behaviour is unbecoming in a feathered friend and it is certainly unbecoming in our leaders.
It was unbecoming in Rudd/Gillard/Rudd and it's unbecoming in Abbott versus whoever the challenger is either next week  or when it finally comes.
This is why the public regards politicians in such low regard. This is also why the conventional wisdom about Australians not voting out first term governments is no longer holding true.
Seriously you lot, stop feathering your own nests and start thinking about those who put you there.

February 5. Day 36. Freedom walk

Those who think the school days were the best of their life obviously didn't
a) put as much pressure on themselves as I did in the senior school years and
b) go to university.
The university years were where the fun really started and continued into the early employment years.
Uni is where
1) you really meet your tribe. People with very similar career aspirations, interests and outlook
2) the serious partying happens
Time (and possibly the serious partying) means that I can no longer remember that many people outside my close circle from the uni days. But one name stands out - Peter Greste. For three years from 1984-1987 Peter and I were in the same journalism classes at the then Queensland Institute of Technology. I remember him because even as a student his talent shone. He was always going to make a great journalist. What I didn't know about Peter was what an amazing human being he is. No-one who has seen how Peter and his family have behaved during and now after his 400 days in an Egyptian prison could be anything but gobsmacked by their quiet dignity and toughness. Like so many others I heard Peter address the media from Brisbane's South Bank following his prison release. He talked about the little things you miss - like sunsets and stars. But most of all he talked about the other journalists still in jail for doing their job and the need to keep up the fight for their freedom. As someone who trains the next generation of journalists, I couldn't agree more. So my image from today also comes from South Bank very close to where Peter spoke. To me it speaks freedom and the little things

February 4. Day 35. Wilting

Now it would be wrong to suggest that I go through life as fresh as a daisy, but today I was a particularly washed out, colourless version of myself; a mere shadow of a functioning human.
In the first instance I would have diagnosed tonsillitis apart from the small fact I still remember the jelly-and-custard-thing post the surgery to remove the tonsils. And in any event, just as I concluded I'd clearly eaten razor blades, the congestion came and lastly the wheeze. Eventually the need for air results in taking Ventolin. I hate Ventolin. It gives me the shakes. Big time. But breathing is good. Very good so I take the drugs and whinge about it.
What a delicate little blossom I am but I am a little blossom with air in my lungs which beats the alternative. Washed out I may be but at least I live to fight another day.