buckle-up

At a time when social distancing has us hunkered down, it’s been a time for catching up with my family in Sydney. There is almost ten years separating me from my younger brother, Greg. Well, nine years and four months actually. There’s only a few days short of two years separating me from my younger sister, Judy. For as many years as I can recall, it’s been my brother Greg who has been the better looking brother, but with the passage of time, we are beginning to look similar. In many ways, it’s as if our genes are kicking in and we begin to look more like Buckles and clearly of a lineage that we can trace to East Anglia, the mighty river Deben and to Woodbridge.   This particular river winds its way to the English Channel nearby to Felixstowe. Decades ago, I drove to the small town of Woodbridge where grandfather Reginald Victor had spent his youth before migrating to Australia. Having heard all the stories from him through the years the mighty river Deben left a lot to be des

As dawn broke the other day it was a spectacular reminder that, despite our worst fears, the sky really isn’t falling nor is the earth coming to a standstill. Given all the headlines, including those telling us we are on a war footing and facing an invisible enemy, there is still beauty all around us. I am not trying to trivialize the pain and suffering many of us are experiencing other than to just take note that this too will pass … Too simplistic? Too insensitive? Well, not exactly! Being a couple that survived a month on a Princess cruise in February with little more than a bad case of strep nevertheless, just two weeks later, we were diagnosed with the flu. In our case, it was only Influenza B and we were advised to self-quarantine for a fortnight but as that came to an end, we felt no better. Blood was drawn and x-rays taken but we look good (as far as that all goes) and yet, sad to say, we are a little more lethargic than we normally are at this time of year.