Travelling in The Netherlands last week, and a friend pointed out the Stolpersteine discreetly placed in to the cobble stones on the street. The first ones she pointed out marked the names of three members of the same family, and the date they were killed in Auschwitz. The oldest was 27, the youngest was 3.
“What are you training for?” he said…. “Nothing exactly,” I replied “just so glad to be able to move again!” I had met this couple briefly the night before in the pouring rain at the campsite when I had knocked on their door to see if they minded if I pitched at the end of
“Tomorrow night I will sing for you,” I said, just about holding it together, voice quavering and suddenly feeling a mixture of bravery and terror at the same time. I was at a creativity experianza, a weekend workshop of storytelling, singing, dancing and much more. Something that not too long before I would have pretty
So Monday morning of Week 3 saw an early start as heading over to the other side of the country…. When looking at the map to get to Napier I had two main options, one windy one up through the hills or one through Palmerston North. The latter would mean I would be doing that
Week 1 finished having just had a great mini jamming session with my friend and her son, the next day saw the three of them leave for a trip to Auckland, with me in charge of three dogs….. This may not seem a big thing for many, but when I came to NZ nearly 5 years