Well, it has now been three months since I left the shores of Australia (once again) to return to the United Kingdom. My nomadic ways continue and after three years back in the country where I was born, it is time for the next adventure to start…with my new husband. Yes, that’s right…things have changed since I last wrote two years ago (appalling I know), but that’s a post for another day.

14 weeks have passed since I left the sunshine, bugs and sweltering humidity of a Queensland summer to launch myself into the grey, cold clutches of wintery Yorkshire. Don’t get me wrong…I love the UK and my freckle spattered skin prefers the climate here too. But with every siting of a double decker bus or snowflake, comes the reminder of how different this place is to Australia. Which got me thinking…what is it that makes ‘Straya so unique?

‘Straya is a place where we love to leave couches on our footpath, even when Kerbside Collection isn’t coming around for another year…

‘Straya is a place where people fall into one of two camps…those that get Southern Cross Tattoos…and those that hate them…


‘Straya is a place full of people with a keen and sophisticated sense of humour…

‘Straya is where we abbreviate everything

And you have to listen hard to catch what we actually mean…


‘Straya is a place where we try to put a ‘z’ in every name possible…from Dazza (Darren) to Lozza (Lauren) and Kezza (Kerryn).

‘Straya, where shoes are optional…

Here in ‘Straya, we tell it how it is…

Everything can kill you in ‘Straya…


In ‘Straya, we like…err…

This could be your neighbour in ‘Straya…


We’ll try Vegemite with anything in ‘Straya…


You can judge a person by their number plate in ‘Straya…

In ‘Straya, our bins are bird proof, not bomb proof…


‘Straya is full of excellent drivers…

In ‘Straya, comfortable clothing is encouraged…


And lastly…you can take the girl out of Australia, but you can’t take ‘Straya out of the girl…






A Poem For Pop

On the day I was born, right from the start,

A bond was forged, between our hearts.

I, the first grandchild, and you…my Pop,

An unbreakable love, nobody could stop.

My earliest memories, are of you in your shed,

And naps together, on top of your bed.

You pushing my stroller, and beaming with pride,

Watching me play, your smile so wide.

The Pop I remember, from my childhood days,

Has a tool in his hand, and is working away.

He is swimming in a snorkel, and doing his laps,

Or arriving at the door, with a rat-a-tat-tat.

As I got older, our bond grew too,

And at times we noticed, I was just like you.

Determined and stubborn, wanting our own way,

But with me, your will, always buckled and swayed.

‘I’ll bump your heads together’, we often heard,

But action never followed, the threat inferred.

No Pop, you never did have us fooled,

Us grandkids knew, it was we who ruled.

When I moved abroad, you sent me off with a wave,

‘Watch out for those Pommies’, the advice you gave.

You always encouraged me, to chase my dreams,

And hid your sadness, when I decided to leave.

We started writing then, letters sent and received,

‘Dear Granddaughter’, ‘Love Pop’, and all the words in between.

I treasured those letters, of our connection they spoke,

Even though you complained, the postage was sending you broke!

The Pop I’ll remember, is always walking at pace,

And whistling a tune, a cheeky grin on his face.

A story teller of sorts, sharing tales from the past,

Or a swimming technique, ‘This will make you go fast!’

Walking with hat on your head, to the railway and back,

Energy and enthusiasm, you never did lack.

Collecting found objects, from the side of the road,

By the end of your walks, gathering quite a load.

Pop on Tabletop Mountain

When at 80 you asked, that we climb Tabletop,

I looked at you in wonder, would you ever stop?

But you made the journey, proud as could be,

Even if the adventure, ended in Emergency.

Pop on Tabletop Mountain

In later years, I didn’t see you so much,

Though as I wandered the globe, we stayed in touch.

And when I returned, you always took the time,

To have a cuppa, with your oldest grandchild.

You once said to me, ‘Don’t settle for less,

Than a man who will treat you, just like a princess.’

But I think you forgot, it was clear to me,

You were that man, I’d found him already.

I’m sure Pop, you’d say, ‘Stop making a fuss’,

If you were here today, watching all of us.

But we’ll think of you often, and share memories of you,

Shed tears of sadness, and laughter too.

May 12th is the day, that you left this earth,

32 years, after I met you at birth.

And while I’ll never see, your smile again,

Our bond and my love for you, will always remain.

Behind the Scenes…

A year ago I took a plunge and started my own business. I permanently abandoned my tertiary degree (pfft, what $25K student debt?) and career as an interior designer to take up a new life folding paper. Yes, you read that correctly…I fold paper. Like a boss.

Origami Crane Mobile

After my three year hiatus in Japan, and armed with a swag of self taught origami skills, I was ready to take on the wedding and home decor market of Australia…and the world. For the last year I have experimented with product prototypes, worked the market circuit, poured over wedding blogs, researched marketing techniques, drowned in Pinterest DIY tutorials, donated to giveaways and tried to get my business name out there in every way possible.

The Toowoomba Telegraph Feature Article

In my first year of business, I was written about in a local newspaper, featured in a number of online blogs and was even noticed by Disney Baby. So to the unsuspecting masses, threefold has the appearance of doing exceptionally well, with very little effort. But small business is like the iceberg that sunk the Titanic…ten percent of it is seen above water, floating along gracefully…while the rest is hidden in the depths, consuming your life…

Behind the scenes…

The terms ‘weekend’, ‘holidays’, ‘9-5’ and ‘overtime’ cease to have meaning.

Popcorn is a meal. Three nights in a row.

$10 sunglasses get repaired, not replaced.


Behind the scenes…

It’s normal to go to bed at 4am. It is also normal to get up at 4am.

Your physician is Dr. World Wide Web.

You realise just how incredibly understanding and supportive your parents are. Over, and over, and over, and over again.

Mum and threefold

Behind the scenes…

You learn how to cut your own hair. Then cut it once. Because of an incident involving hot glue.

You see Margaret at the post office more often than any member of your family. She also knows more intimate details about your life than they do.

You rummage around in box bins regularly…and you’re completely ok with that.

Box kingdom

Behind the scenes…

Driving your car is sometimes a game of chicken with the petrol light.

Uni student habits such as all nighters, last minute trips to the printer and the consumption of energy drinks have made a comeback.

This…“When I first moved to New York and I was totally broke, sometimes I would buy Vogue instead of dinner. I just felt it fed me more.” – Carrie Bradshaw …but with paper…

Origami Paper

Behind the scenes…

You own five watches (purchased in that period when you were a stable adult with a normal corporate job). Three of the watches now need new batteries. The other two are broken.

Your workplace hazards include paper cuts, hot glue gun burns and repetitive strain injuries from folding paper.

People think your workspace looks like this. It actually looks like this…


Behind the scenes…

Hours of your life have been lost to Pinterest. And trying to find the end of the sticky tape roll.

Watching website stats is more entertaining than television.

The contents of your fridge looks like this most of the time:


Behind the scenes…

Spotlight mail is to you what chocolate is to…well…you.

Facebook. WordPress. Outlook. Pinterest. Twitter. Instagram. Linkedin. Repeat.

You do this kind of thing for fun.

Cardboard Castle

Behind the scenes…

A trip to Reverse Garbage is considered a shopping spree and a social outing.

There’s no such thing as casual Friday. The neighbours are lucky if you put on pants to take out the trash.

Money doesn’t buy you happiness, but people buying your products does.

Framed Feather Heart


Having recently written about the joys of my online tinder dating experience, I’m sure you were all left wondering if I found my prince charming amongst all those redneck, chainsaw wielding, married freaks. No? Well tough, you’re going to hear about it anyway. I think it’s worth mentioning that I did actually make it on a few dates after surviving the gauntlet of cyber weirdos…only to find there are plenty of creeps in the real world too.

If tackling the thought of online dating wasn’t enough for this 32 year old single girl to take on, once I had found a few (seemingly) normal guys, then I had to face the necessary evil of a first date. As an Aussie girl, I have never really ‘dated’ per se. In the land down under, we catch guys the traditional way…get really drunk, pash a bloke, and bam, instant boyfriend (I know, we are a classy bunch).

But it seems like this way of finding men might be a little outdated (if not completely inappropriate if you’re over the age of say, 23) so I put on my big girl pants, prepared a swag of small talk topics and braced myself for the dating world. After all, as my (also single) cousin pointed out…’first dates are just for them to prove they aren’t axe murders…you don’t meed to impress them’. Armed with that very sound advice, the last six months of dating went like this…

Date 1: I didn’t recognise Mr Muay Thai Boxer when I met him…because he was around (no pun intended) 5-10kgs heavier than his tinder profile photos suggested. His hobbies included making jokes about my age (he was younger) and stroking his own ego. After my hasty exit 30 minutes into our coffee date, I received a message from him asking ‘So…how did I do?!’ Apparently he mistook the date for a job interview, so I promptly told him he was not right for the position and wished him the best of luck in finding something more suitable elsewhere.

Date 2: Never turned up. That’s right, I was stood up. I was left standing at a bar in my favourite high heels waiting for Mr 32 Year Old Kiwi Triathlete for half an hour before my dignity got the better of me. I still haven’t heard from him, and had hoped that he was hit by a truck or something equally worthy of a Sex and the City episode. Alas, facebook informs me he is alive and well…and has apparently changed his name. Perhaps as a security measure after angering another girl he stood up?

Date 3: Was not actually born out of internet dating…it was the ubiquitous set up by friends…which started well enough with Mr Smoulderingly Hot 29 Year Old French Personal Trainer but two weeks later ended with Mr Misogynistic Opinionated Ignorant Jerk who wanted me to sew his clothing, make his dinner and fetch his lunch…all while telling me he was right and I was wrong about everything.

Date 4: Was with Mr 34 Year Old Car & Hip Hop Loving Workaholic…one of the first guys I ‘met’ on tinder. On paper he was a great match…another self starter, goal driven, hard worker and ambitious. Which meant of course that neither of us actually had time to meet. Ever. We had one fantastic date months ago and a second never materialised…

Date 5: Actually restored my faith that there are still some decent guys out there. Mr Cute Sporty Englishman picked me up for our running date…which Mother Nature promptly ruined with an afternoon storm. So our run turned into coffee…the banter was good and the company great…but there was just no spark. Even if there had been, we did get around to that run after deciding to be friends…and I’m pretty sure my pathetic running skills would have sidelined me as potential girlfriend material anyway.

Date 6: Approached me through Instagram…he got extra points for the creative blind siding. Mr Nerdy Handsome French/Canadian DJ pursued me from afar with gusto…and was quite possibly the perfect guy for me. That was until reality kicked in and the (slight) distance issue became apparent.

Dates 7 & 8: Were the final nails in the dating coffin. These were planned dates with Mr I’m Actually Still in a Relationship With My High School Sweetheart and Mr I’m Going to Lead You on Because I’m Hoping to Ditch My Girlfriend Really Soon. I must thank tinder for leaving me with very little faith in the honesty of men as I probed both guys enough with pointed questions to find out this information before actually meeting with them.

I thought maybe my unfortunate luck with dating was contained to life in Japan, but clearly this is a global phenomenon which may follow me wherever I go. As such and after these experiences of the last six months, I’m officially retreating from the dating world and back to my happy single life until conditions improve*.

*Yes, I’m aware conditions are unlikely to improve.

Tinder Surprise

I have a confession to make…I recently started online dating. I’ve always hated the concept, but since returning home I’ve become aware that the dating pool potential amongst my (now married) friend circle resembles a muddy puddle. So I decided to build a bridge over my online dating prejudices (and the muddy puddle) and brave the sea of single men out there in the online dating world. If for no other reason that to dispel the rumours that I am gay (yes, the question does arise when one has been single for as long as I have).

But unwilling to commit to the serious dating sites like RSVP or eHarmony just yet, a friend recommended tinder. Tinder is a facebook connected app that tells you the name, age and common likes/friends of guys in your area…all conveniently downloaded to your phone for free in just a few (drunken) seconds. With a speed dating approach you can see up to five profile pictures of potential datees and a ‘tagline’ and then swipe left or right to say ‘NOPE’ to, or ‘LIKE’ the person. If they right swipe you too, then it’s a match and the chatting (or silent standoff) can begin.

But what I have learnt is that getting to the match stage is like running the gauntlet of cyber frogs in search of one Prince Charming. No actually, not even Prince Charming…just one decent guy. After a few short months in the world of this dating app, I have seen it all (and far more than I ever needed to) in what you might call Tinder Surprise

  • Save the topless photos for those other sites. Nothing screams ‘I’m a genuine guy seeking a meaningful connection’ like bare flesh.

Bare Flesh

  • ‘Smoker, but trying to quit’ is code for ‘Im not actually trying to quit…I’m just hoping I’ll get you to fall for me before you realise it’ (the classy picture with the cigarette in your mouth gave it away).

Trying to Quit

  • Take off your sunglasses…I need to check if you have psycho eyes.
  • What part of chopping your old girlfriend or child out of your profile photo makes you think I’ll find you endearing? And no, leaving your current wife in the picture is no better.



  • Just because you wear hats in all your photos, doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re bald. I’m single, not stupid.
  • With that profile picture, are you looking for a date, or a bunny for your Playboy Mansion?!


  • Posing with your labrador/husky/other manly type dog will score you extra brownie points. Photos of you cuddling up to your cat/s or chihuahua will not.
  • I want to know about you…not your beauty regime (even if you are an American Psycho fan)…

Beauty Care 1

Skin Routine

  • ‘I don’t really know what to write here’ is not what to write here.
  • Some risqué profile pictures are amusing…

Nude 1

Pants Down

Nude Golfer

  • Others just make you look like an escaped mental patient…or a chainsaw murderer in training…


Jaeger Monster


  • And while we’re on the topic of profile pictures, none of these really grab me either…

Body Builder


Hens Party Pic


  • BTW, if u rite like u’ve nvr bn to skool or red NEthing but txt msgs ur hole life, 4get it! i h8 th@…srsly.
  • When did all you crazy rednecks get together and decide that chicks really dig animal killers?!

Kangaroo Redneck

Dead Animal 2

Dead Animal

Dead Animal 4

Dead Animal 3

  • Honesty is an admirable trait…but not always


To The Point

Married Pig With Kids

  • But then again, I will know when you’re lying…

Tony Stark

Luke Wilson

It gets to a point after you have unwrapped the foil and eaten the chocolate where you begin to wonder if all the Tinder Surprise toys are broken or have a screw loose at best. That’s when tinder throws you a curve ball and you actually think twice (rumours be damned) before swiping left…



Or you breathe a huge sigh of relief when you open the app to discover…

No Matches

Needless to say, my first experience of online dating did not sit well and I have since deleted the app. From here on in I am going back to my happy single life and leaving the gauntlet for the other brave ladies out there. But then again, there’s always this charming man who found me on facebook…

Facebook Approach

Gone Postal?

I haven’t voted in an Australian election since I was at university…which the Australian Electoral Commission reminded me of with a $300+ fine earlier this year. The fine was waived after I (AKA Mum) made a sheepish apology for failing to inform them I had moved to Japan. At least I think it was waived…they never wrote back to confirm. Anyway, I am now back in Australia and no amount of excuses or apologies will get me out of the task this time around.

Yes, I know, I already hear all you political buffs out there scorning my lack of interest in how my country is run…ready to launch into a lecture as to why I should vote for one party or another. I appreciate that to some, this Saturday, 7th September is an opportunity to stand up and have a say in who we should have leading our country. I myself, will not be one of those people. Not because I am not voting…but because I have elected (see what I did there?) to vote from the comfort of my own home, via postal vote.

Postal Vote Package

It’s a good thing too, because when I opened up my postal voting package this week, I burst out laughing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the leadership of our country should be approached with a pretty serious tone from the candidates trying to win our votes, right? That’s my view on things at least…even if I suffer political apathy, the people who actually want to lead our country need to be fairly businesslike about the endeavour. Yet here I am, with my postal ballot paper and pen, left wondering, have all the politicians gone postal?

The first party to catch my eye after skimming over the usual suspects was One Nation. No matter how much time passes, whenever I read those two words, all I can think of is Ronald McDonald and this…

Hardly a great start to my voting process for the political future of Australia. The next party option however provided me with a glimmer of hope…

Building Australia Party

Surely these guys are a bunch of tanned tradies sporting manly facial hair and getting around in sunnies and high vis shirts…because they’d get my vote for sure. But if they don’t turn out to be tool wielding superheroes paying home visits to do my odd jobs, then maybe I can look to give this next party my vote?

The Pirate Party

You know, once they are done pillaging the seas and being the only thing between Stop The Greens well, stopping The Greens. At this point as I was examining my postal ballot card, I was beginning to understand why one of my friends said it reminded her of a kids’ novel. But then again, I don’t think kids’ books contain this kind of thing…

Sex Party

And yes, in case you were wondering, I did misread ‘Shooters and Fishers’ as ‘Hooters and Fishers’…I’m sure it had nothing to do with having sex on my mind. Even if I could stop thinking of them as ‘Hooters and Fishers’ now, I recently read a piece of chalkboard wisdom saying: ‘Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you’ll never see him again’. On that note, I’m not sure I really want a bunch of hooters and fishers running Australia.

So what are my other options then? Oh…more amphibian loving politicians…


I could always go for one of those very serious sounding parties nestled in next to the fisherman, but everyone knows they’ll never win…your party name has to be five syllables or less for ease of pronunciation on the national news. So I guess as a nicotine hating non-smoker, that just leaves me with one last option then…

Smokers Rights

So now you might understand when I say that while I have had this postal vote in my possession all week, I have yet to put pen to paper and choose my poison. On a (slightly) serious note, if you do want to make your vote count but like me, don’t know much about politics or the parties’ policies, head to Vote Compass. Answer the questionnaire and they will give you a guide as to which political party best aligns with your future vision of life in Australia.

Of course (hypothetically speaking), to get a valid option, you might want to avoid answering ‘neutral’ or ‘I don’t know’ to 90% of the questions…

Happy voting!

Picture This…

Yes, I know…long time no post. I’ve been home in Australia for three and a half months now and paperdoll has taken a backseat to the adventures of resettling back into life here. I admit it…and I apologise. What can I say? I love being home and every time I sit down to write paperdoll I get distracted by…well…everything.

Having said that, lately the first signs I may be missing Japan have crept in (natsukashi)…it started with a craving for ramen…then there was an emotional reaction to a letter from one of my past students…and let’s not forget that living with my parents again has me pining for my 42m² Japanese apartment. Every. Single. Day.

Yes, I have begun to miss Japan and all of it’s crazy, quirky ways. But much like A Picture Says a Thousand Kanji, when I am missing Japan and need a fix, I can just picture this

Sleeping in Japan

Japanese student letter

English signage in Japan

Japanese dessert



Takeout menu

Japanese antenna

Japanese fashion

Japanese Kit KatsEnglish sign in Japan

Japanese laundry

English in Japan

Japanese Hello Kitty Mask

Japanese shredder

Japanese Aquarium sign

Japanese glitter suits

Japanese Pepsi flavour

Japaese toilet paper

Japanese Clothing Engrish

Japanese fashion

Funny English in Japan

Japanese Architecture Osaka

Japanese Beauty Products

Japanese giant vegetables

Japanese sign

Train etiquette in Japan

Japanese gift explanation

Japanese fashion

Japanese trinkets

Japanese fashion

English textbook Japan

Japanese ice cream

Japanese toilet slippers

English in Japan

Japanese fashion

Japanese signage

Japanese cars

English in Japan

English in Japan

English in Japan

Japanese fashion

Japanese beauty products

Japanese toilets