This morning was spent dusting the minutiae of life. Ornaments from family, friends and work colleagues are scattered on the shelving. As I dusted I recalled each gift. The first toby jug given by my mother, an ornament from Spain from my father. Wooden elephants from Africa. The beautiful bird delicately painted on ivory and framed in blue golds and pinks from Iran. The brass horse purchased from the bazaar in Tehran. As I handle it the memory floods back; the smells, the people pushing and shoving their way along the narrow alleys. The shop so much like an Alladins cave.

Dishes from Jerusalem given by a Jewish friend. A vase of Capodimonti purchased on skiing holiday in Italy. A beswick wren bought for me by my husband on our first holiday in Scotland. We drove up from London in our little green Triumph Spitfire. The hood down, the wind in our hair. Numerous plates collected and given as gifts from around the word, Iran, India, Abu Dhabi, Greece, Eastern Europe, Spain, Portugal, Amersterdam. So many memories. The soap stone hand carved chess set from Rhodesia given by friends. Where are they now I wonder as I handle the pieces. A collection of small wedgewood dishes this one from Georgine, that one from Peter, that one from Bill and that one from John. Royal Doulton figurines and toby jugs bought at an auction. As I gently handle and polish them I recall the auction of over a thousand pieces. A collection broken up on the death of the original collector through cancer. The proceeds going to cancer reseach. I think of her each time I hold a piece. She would have cherished the pieces as I do. Little ornaments from my children given as presents over the years. A robin sitting upon a kettle, a mouse climbing a flower stem. Lilliput Lane cottages, this one from my husband - how I dreamt of living in a thatched cottage in Devon when we were first married - his gift telling me that he had not forgotten this dream even though our travels have led us to live life in Australia. The memory lives on in this handcrafted cottage scattered amongst other relics.

The Ercol furniture upon which they sit has begun to age over the past twenty-five years. Here and there a small dent. As I polish I notice little hand marks from my four year old grandson. How he loves coming into this room, looking at my treasures and handling them. Each one has a story which I tell to him and retell. Each toby jug has a life of its own. My father would tell me stories and I now pass similar stories on to him.

Yes my collection has grown over the years. Each piece is a precious memory of places visited and of the people I love and know and are the minutiae of my life.

Ralf Schumacher takes to the gravel pit after a spin in his Toyota during yesterday's grand prix practice at Albert Park.

Mark Webber's first practice session

David Coulthard leaves Pit Lane

All the world is full of the light - a moment in time - a majestical pause that lies between knowledge of what has been and acceptance of what is to come. The fresh air of the morning and the burning splendor of a rising sun. The trees suddenly tremble with the barest breath of air and then are still again. A crying curlew and coralling magpie greet the new morning with their blessing.

The heat has gone out of the day and as we walk over our land. Swallows circle and twitter against a bluish sky..

We look down upon the lights of Mansfield and in the far distance circles of lights of other houses.

I can see nothing but a deepening blackness as night draws in. Clouds scudd across the sky and a new moon can be seen, reeling about like a small boat in the surging sky.

The rumble of a distant storm is reassuringly remote. Occasional dull thunder echoes across the sky ...

I awake in the early morning light and step out into a world of dew and thickening mist. The golden grass undulates in the breeze and the valley below is hidden from view. The wind of the night before has gone. Slowly the mist turns grey and then pink and it begins to thin and rise into the air. The sky which has been invisible is a veiled and tender blue. The grass and trees are scattered with jewelled drops of dew. I stand still and listen to the awakening day. It seems almost silent until Iiperceive the little sounds which are about me as though the earth is stretching and yawning as the sun touches its eyes. Its deep quiet breathing reaches me: the whisper of the small breeze rattling through the gum leaves, the first awakening sounds of twittering small birds. The first rays of sun burst across the landscape. Now the birds are singing in all their glory. Eagles lean high on the draughts of air, letting it carry them where it will as though they are on invisible aerial surf-boards. Down on the ground magpies make darting runs to dig in the soft, rich Australian earth. Kookaburra's laughter echoes across the valley. A beautiful paradise lays under the first sun of the morning.

We awoke to a misty grey cold morning. The distant fields looked bleak and empty as the clouds trampled one into the other and covered the whole sky with greyness.

The air became still as if holding its breath in expectation of what might happen next. Even the birds were silent. Big, splashy drops of rain fell, followed by a penetrating downpour. Puddles formed and reformed. Thunder and lightning echoed above and around us.

Within half an hour the storm had passed and patches of blue sky appeared amongst the clouds. The wind frisked the clouds in a confusing way, until they sailed through the sky at record speed, all torn to pieces, fragmented.

Later in the evening the sun full of dying flames shone out of the distant dark threatening clouds.

The following morning the air was moist and warm and it was one of those perfect days; when the wind brought awareness of being; when the light highlighted beauty. It was going to be a golden day.

I was a little smug yesterday as the wind changed and blew in from the North. Thus the leaves blowing off the trees blew up the driveway and into gardens across the road from us. We had for the first time in months a perfectly leaf clean driveway.

Ha, I thought, no blowing the driveway tomorrow but on waking this morning I discovered the wind being contrary had changed direction and all those leaves that had blown across the road has blown back into our driveway. So there I was at 9.30 am this morning out with the blower when a car pulled up to view our 'For Sale' board.

I gaily ignored said car and continued on with the blowing. Knowing that it was possible I could get a call from the estate agent and knowing that the house was not in show condition I dashed inside to wash floors, clean no.2 son's bedroom and bathroom and hoover the black dog hairs off the white carpet.

I then dashed back outside to hoover up all those leaves that I had blown to the bottom of the driveway and then rake the grass of leaves and then clean the pool of leaves. By which time is was around noon. You could say I was totally leafed out but knowing I could have a call any moment I then tackled the rather large ironing basket. (Strange how few things are mine to iron and how many are no.2 son especially as he now has a new girlfriend) Still no call. Right I thought, I may have time to prepare dinner before said prospective buyers knocked on the door. Still no call. By 5.00 pm I was sitting with gin and tonic in hand finally relaxing. When husband appeared I tell him of prospective buyers car viewing our board. He laughs and says "they probably saw you blowing all those leaves and it put them off the house!" He's probaly right but boy what a day!

PS: the wind is still blowing in the wrong direction and the driveway is full of leaves again - I've given up trying to talk nicely to the gum trees - I just might stop hugging them and get out my axe instead!

It seems as if I never move at a pace slower than a dead gallop. From the first second in the morning, when I climb out of bed, until the time at night when I drop off to sleep – wondering what jobs to do the next day – there is never a dull moment, dull or otherwise, that I can call my own. Keeping the house tidy and clean twelve hours a day, just in case we have an inspection is a hard job. I have discovered that housekeeping requires the use of all known muscles – and some which we have not yet developed – plus a considerable amount of intelligence and all of the virtues. Other jobs tax a number, or perhaps all, of these resources, but housekeeping is the only one that’s run on the basis of the 140 hour week.

Waking in the morning I have that awful feeling that I am in debt to the day. I have a terrible sense of urgency, a need to hurry because I know that, the minute I open my eyes, I’m behind with the work. Housekeeping is like owning money to a loan shark who charges one hundred per cent interest. You work all day to pay off the debt, and the minute you awaken the next day you find that you owe exactly as much as you did the day before!

Somehow is seems that one never catches up with the housework. My feet swell, my hands puff up and my back aches and at times my head spins - there is always something more to do. I wonder how I ever managed when I worked full time! Take this morning for instance; up at 7.30 am bathroom cleaned and scrubbed, bed made and then it was time to water the garden before the heat of the day. It’s hot today, very, very hot, up in the high 30’s. Because our watering system covers the lawns as well as the garden beds we have to water manually as we currently have water restrictions as lawn watering has been banned. So for an hour this morning I watered and watered the front garden and then for another hour I watered and watered the back garden. I was finally back in the house at 10.00 am by which time the washing machine had finished its cycle and it was time to hang out the washing. The cat needed feeding and watering and then it was time to clean the other bathrooms, wash floors, clean the kitchen and hoover through. After a quick coffee it was time to prepare the dinner. It is now 1.00 pm and there is still much to do! I have the patio to sweep, the outside windows and furniture to wash but it’s far too hot for any of those jobs. The wind is extremely high today and the gums have decided to shed as many leaves as they can which all fall in the direction of the pool - another job and as for the driveway, well let’s say that will be a job for tomorrow! Fortunately, I can’t find any more urgent housework to do so I’ve settled down at this computer to write.

The house is peaceful and the dogs are asleep at my feet gently snoring. I am awaiting the return of my grandson Devon, who will spend the next few days with me. A hush will still preside over the house when Devon sweeps in for all of fifteen minutes or so - he’s a wonderful, quiet, polite little boy but then bhe seemingly erupts with a loud explosion and life gets more than hectic. Things change quite a bit when Devon is around as one constantly has to stop, sit, play, read and feed him. Devon roars around the house with all the grace of a stampeding elephant. In reality, he is nothing more but a self-propelled appetite with a seemingly insatiable craving for food, information and attention! Life is never peaceful and quiet. At the moment at the age of four he is a Harry Potter fanatic. He has a very good memory and can recite all the magic spells he’s seen on two of the movies. Sticks become wands, the household broom can fly, a dark towel becomes his cloak and at times I am sure he lives in a very different world from us ordinary mortals. Send him into the garden and he disappears with the two dogs into nooks and crannies. I can never relax when he is in the garden as we have a pool and yes it is fully fenced but I always worry that somehow and in someway he will magic himself into the pool area - after all my son Geoffrey, when he was four, managed to open the pool gate by standing on his push along car!

It is the first time that I have cared for my cerebral palsey grandson, Hamish, and what a day it has been. It's now 10.15 pm and I've finally rocked him to sleep and laid him in his cot. Not once has he cried through the day. We've had a wonderful time together. We've played, sang and laughed our way through today but when he arrived here last night he was full of tears and I wondered whether my offer to care for him for a few days, so that his Mum could have a well earned rest, was the right thing to have done. But after my initial fears everything has worked out.

Hamish at 15 months is a wonderful little boy. He cannot yet fully sit-up or crawl but he has his own unique way of getting around by rolling very, very quickly and one cannot leave him on the floor for a minute alone before he is off with steps in the house it can be quite fraught!

He copies everything and will learn something really quickly once shown. He has difficulty with his speech due to his paralyzed palate but he certainly makes it known when he wants something or doesn't want something!

Because Hamish is slightly underweight he has to be fed about every two hours and feeding is a long drawn out process as he still has a little difficulty swallowing mashed food-++. He seemed to enjoy the menu I prepared for him. The dietician allows him to have sugar with his cereal and other fruits so he thoroughly enjoyed the stewed plums with lemon juice and loved my other concoction of mashed mango, avocado and banana.

He loves music and being read to and became extremely excited at the sight of a book. He also watched Disney's Snow White during his supposedly quiet time in the playpen and I could hear him chuckling. I crept close to the playpen and yes he was watching and following the video and was laughing at the antics of the dwarfs and was literally singing along to the tunes in an untuneful way.

He is a real joy and a very special little boy one cannot but help but love him.

When we dropped Devon off last night after a weekend with us, Devon was most upset that Hamish was not going to be there and told his Mum and Dad that he would miss him and would have no one to play with. We told him that it was time for Devon to have his own special time, just like Hamish did, with his Mum and Dad and that Hamish would be back home within a couple of days.

Yes, I can blow bubbles and kick my legs

Well Christmas is nearly upon us and I've still all the presents to wrap but with Devon still with us, trying to secretly wrap all the presents is beyond me. I was planning to wrap them last night but he didn't go to bed until 9.30 pm. After dinner I promised he could watch Toy Story on our DVD player - it didn't occur to me that this four year old knows exactly how to re-run the DVD player and he actually swopped Toy Story once it had finished for Toy Story 2!

It's hot here today so this morning, after breakfast, we went out to the pool area and he splashed around quite happily for an hour and a half. Now we're back in the house and I really should be doing the house work but I've found myself in the study fiddling at the computer!

Still I have watered the garden whilst Devon was still in bed asleep and the washing and ironing is done so all is not lost. All I really need to do is to run around with the hoover and a duster which won't take me long.

Devon should be picked up shortly though he tells me he doesn't want to go home but wants to stay with me. I ignore this and tell him that his Mummy and Daddy really miss him and that he'll be back to spend some of Christmas Day with us. He's not really appeased and he tell's me that he will miss me also. Is it me he will miss or is it the pool, the garden andthe Disney channel on Foxtel!

It is quiet here, almost sleepy - the muffled traffic drone from the road below travels up towards me. Our house lies in a sheltered spot, nestled, so to speak, in the middle of its acre, surrounded by huge lemon gums. In front of the house rises the undulating grass and behind, you look down upon a sweep of coastal plain. You can see quite far and in the far distance the bay and across from that the You Yangs. Just now Spring is about to end and everything looks lush and green. It's very hot, oppressively still weather today; the houses below shimmer in the sun. There is an affinity between the earth and the sky as the houses melt into the haze.

Our house, an angled building, seems to grow out of the earth. Its roof tiles are covered in moss and although less than a quarter of a century, it seems older as if it has stood here for a long time.

The earth has a damp smell and on the air hangs the scent of eucalpt leaves. The garden is a riot of colour, geraniums, pansies, daisies and roses. Native bees and insects swarm creeping and flying amongst the flowers. The sky is a silver-grey blue, with a drift of wind clouds, the gum leaves whisper their secrets in the slight breeze. The birds are silent in the heat. Nothing moves ...

I've been running around like a mad thing, tidying the house, polishing and doing all the things one should be doing when a house is about to go up for sale. It's not a good night for photos as a high wind has arisen and rain is predicted. The tidy driveway and garden are now awash with leaves. I shall go out with the blower shortly and no doubt all the neighbours will laugh seeing me do battle with the wind.

It's taken me six months to get the house ready for sale. I've had that many workmen in and I've spent hours in garden, planting and weeding. But it was well worth all the hassle as everything looks superb now ... I'm sad to have to sell but Terry is adament that he wants a shorter jorney into work and who can blame him. Bayside, city living will have its advantages but I will miss the peace and quiet and the privacy this house affords us nestled as it is on an acre.

Just don't ask!

After rain showers, the sun sets ...

Another year and the garden bursts into a riot of colour after the dull winter months. A golden daffodil nods its head in the weak sunshine covered in morning dew, dripping like diamonds.

From San Francisco to the snow at Mt Buller - what a season - one of the best in 25 years. Bring it on ...

These photos were taken from our room on the 26th Floor of the Hotel Westin on Union Square

My brother Carl buys an American hotdog - Palm Beach

Naples on the Gulf of Mexico across state to Fort Lauderdale - the sun began to shine. Numerous alligaors were spotted alongside the wire fencing

The rain just kept falling

Boca Raton
Palm trees and sunshine, blue oceans, humidity - a typical Florida welcome

Delray Beach

Resident Gecko