ae .. cos aint that some important shit ay ..

what am i learning ??

that everyone is scared.


they just disguise it differently.

& for them, that shit aint working no more.

for me : i’ve got 10 years + of dealing with fear, to know how to deal with it ..

& all of a sudden, i am even more grateful af for every single thing i’ve been through.

kpm ©



my Nan.

I am made up of many nuances … some of which come from those that have loved Me; those whose genetics I carry. We all have these … I guess some we may not have known, but I’m pretty sure they’re there; lurking in the background.

For Me, one such lovely creation, is my maternal Nan.

I guess I didn’t fully appreciate who she really was and all her strengths, whilst she was alive. But thats typical isn’t it … never really appreciating what you have until its gone.

I do believe though, that even after these people, or things, that have ‘touched’ our lives, have gone, they leave an imprint and therefore never truly ‘leave’ us.

My Nan was raised during the Wars and lived through the Depression. Her and her sisters and brother, lived a life that was hard but also full of ‘learning’ rarely seen nowadays. They were able to ‘play’, create and work like we spend half of our lifetimes trying to get a little taste of.

Nan was especially sensitive to the ‘pain’ of others … and I believe this is one part of her that I inherited. Not that I’ve seen it as a blessing really; but I’ve come to appreciate what it was in her … how she ‘outworked’ that insight. Nan knew when to touch my hand; pat my head; tuck me in; make me macaroni cheese; ring to talk or listen; she knew when to tell a story about where she came from and what she was raised like; she knew when to laugh about the funny things she had experienced; she knew how to love Me.

From her also comes my creativity; my need for peace; my love for ‘pretties’; my love for Shoes!! My intuition and my ability to design … to see beauty when others don’t. My love for dance and music.

My Nan was all these things … and she was what would be termed now, as ‘mentally ill’ … but in her era she was labelled ‘neurotic’, over emotional and over sensitive. As a woman, I get what they did to her now. She was an outspoken woman. A woman well before her time. A entrepreneur and a business woman. And she pissed men off … especially doctors and ‘professionals’. And instead of showing her the compassion and understanding that she showed others, they fried her with ECT first and then pharmaceuticals second. In my lifetime though, she overcame both of those things and still lived hard and gritty. She was still running her own business when she was in her eighties … nearly 5 years before she died.

I miss her. Everyday. I do wish I had’ve really appreciated everything that she was. But I am eternally grateful that She Was! That subtlely, she taught Me; to trust Me; to also say what I need too … even when no-one agrees, or likes what I say – I managed to get that one down packed alright!

I love that she is My Nan. I love that I am her moko, and that she loved Me massively. That she is Me and I am Her. That she left Me stories to tell. That she left me with endurance and strength.

“I Love You Nan …. Thankyou for your songs … Thankyou for your presence xoxo”

nan & little me

kpm ©


family, is all there is really

Well, its been an awesome weekend with the mokos and daughters and partners of and the partner and the neph and my mama.

They all came…to help us say goodbye to the house…to help the mokos say goodbye to the house…to see where we would be going…

And we laughed and ate and slept and sang and ate some more…drank plenty of delicious coffee and ate some more.

It was beautiful…

And I remembered…

That this is what home is about…the people that your surrounded with…the love that comes form those people…and the love that you give back to them.

In the next house…those same people…my family…will still come…with all their laughter and tears and screaming and eating…they’ll continue to take up space on my couch and throw all their washing in my washing basket…even though they don’t live here. They’ll still come and create dishes and argue and sing and eat all the food…they’ll share memories with me…I’ll share memories with them.

We’ll love and laugh and eat…wherever we are :)

I love them…all of them




all in a days learning…

After all the stress that has surrounded losing this house and trying to find another…plus all the other shit that’s been going on…I decided not to go and view the house scheduled for today.

I’m over it.

But it meant the partner was left to do the ‘scope’, ‘check out’, ‘ask pertinent questions’, ‘get a feel for the place’, ‘check the ceilings’ etc. Usually I wouldn’t leave this type of thing up to the partner…his scope usually involves…how big is the garage or shed…and that’s it. But off he went…looking about as defeated as I felt.

He returned about 15 minutes later. Not good I thought.

He didn’t seem all chipper and positive…he still looked tired…and slightly defeated. But he gave me a run down on the ‘cons’, and there were plenty.

The water catchment is ‘yah’ big…about the size of a bath.

Its dark.

It’s damp.

It’s dirty.

There’s no windows in one room.

It smells.

There’s mould.

It’s a shitty yellow colour.

Oh…the ‘pros’ – it has a garage.

And I pretty much said what he was thinking…’it’ll do…I don’t really give a fuck at this stage of the game’. So we are in agreement…finally.

Anyways…later on today, I got to thinking…

When we first decided to move out here…well actually, I desperately wanted to be by the beach and I fought with the partner for years…and as I got worse…he finally ‘gave in’, and we started looking for a house out these ways…In a nutshell.

So, when we started looking, all I wanted was to hear the sea. I didn’t really care about anything else. And as we continued looking around we figured out that beach properties, rentals in particular, are way shittier than we expected, especially for what we could afford. So our expectations…well actually…the partners expectations, dropped slightly. And when we found this place, it ticked all his boxes…garage, back yard, ‘fluffing around’ space (which is apparently different from a man cave…it’s more spacious…oh ok)…and it didn’t LOOK like a complete dive.

It ticked my boxes too. I could hear the sea. And…it had white walls, open space, log fire, fruit trees…but they weren’t all the things on my list. Just the first thing…too hear the sea.

So somewhere along the line we got particularly fussy and spoilt and comfortable and spoilt. Now that’s not all bad I think…it’s been healing…for both of us.

But up until today, I had forgotten that I still have what was on my original list…even if we get this next shit hole house…

I will be able to hear the sea.

And for the partner…he has a garage :)

And the rest of it…who cares! Compared to a tent on the back lawn of his auntys…the potential new shit hole, looks like a palace right now. And the thing with me and my learned partner…we’re resourceful :)

ps: we got the shit hole house!

kpm ©