kathy flett, a journalist living and working in london, describes going home to australia unexpectedly
I crept up to the back, dodging some of the animals that might give me away: Eric the goal; Wylie Tousers and Bo, the sheep; Murdoch, Pugsley, Benny and Nellie, the dogs; and Foster, the galah; while Don Carlos, the Arab stallion, snickered and eyed me warily as i eased open the door. At the end of the corridor my mother was stared. And carried on staring. Then her jaw really did drop. And after that there was some running and hugging and tears, and i thought : the 13,000 miles to Australia is a very long way to go to surpise your mother, but worth it
My 16-year-old brother tried to be cool when we collected him from school (a 30-mile drive,half on dirt roads) but live never seen him lost for words before. Last time i saw him at my wedding , he had a pudding-basin haircut and was the same height as me. Now anachingly handsome young guy with expensive tastes in go-faster footwear, he is 5th 11 and growing. My runaway husband wouldn't stand a chance. Indeed when Johnny threatened to kneecap him. I was touched.