A Postcard from Berry

A Postcard from Berry

Greetings from a small patch of heaven in NSW. I had only intended to come down to Berry- a 2.5 hour drive south of Sydney for a few days. Yet, nearly a week on, I’m still here.

Why?

It could be because the air is clear, the paddocks rollicking and the lament of cows in neighbouring fields in the morning always manages to make me smile.

It could be because despite the haven it offers from the hectic pace of Sydney, there’s still plenty of promises of civilisation here. The village has an independent supermarket, decent butcher, wine store, two gourmet providores (with Sydney prices), chemist and post office. Ducking to the shops …

Black Pepper, Balsamic Strawberries with Chocolate Cream

This is about taking things to the limit.

It’s something I’m familiar with. I’m not just talking about The Eagles’ song, which is perhaps, the world’s best tune to belt out while driving through country roads on your own.

It’s about getting to the edge and realising with a pricklish snap that you probably need to pull back a bit.

A confession. I have been running on sheer adrenaline for the past four weeks. A  gut-churning, mildly frenzied, borderline mania which is my persistent downfall. If I was a character being analysed in a Robert McKee ‘Story‘ workshop, this would be my inherent flaw. It’s both what has worked well for me so …

Oxtail Ragu

 

This is not a drill.

It’s taken a while for me to clock this. When I wake in the dark to the sound of mewling, it occasionally takes a good 15 seconds for me to work through the thought processes; ‘why is there a cat in my room?’ Did we buy a cat?’ No. It’s not a cat. It’s a baby. Oh god. It’s my baby. And he needs to be fed. Again.

This is not a drill.

My still-too-skinny son is really here. True, he’s been here for four weeks now, but some things can be a slow burn of realisation.

Like the fact his head smells like an Italian antipasto platter – …