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Examiner
  • Annie Dear: New Year's means the beach – not snow – to me

  • Right now, as I write, it is very peacefully snowing. I’ve been here 13 years now, and I still absolutely adore to watch the snow fall.

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  • Well, happy New Year, dear people.
    Right now, as I write, it is very peacefully snowing. I’ve been here 13 years now, and I still absolutely adore to watch the snow fall.
    I must confess I’m not too crash hot on driving in it, or walking through it, but to sit and look at a soft snow fall has to be one of the most peaceful enterprises in the world. It’s simply so quiet and gentle – it just has to give you a warm fuzzy feeling.
    Way over the other side of the world, my darling daughter and her gorgeous husband have awoken to a new year already, and have no doubt planned their New Year’s Day with thoughts of the beach and of lunch on the promenade.
    Despite having been here all this time, that is the one thing I can’t – or more to the point, won’t – get used to.
    All my life my new year has always revolved around a beach. As we speak, I should be sitting out on the deck, listening to the roar of the surf, eating Queensland mangoes with the juice gushing up to my armpits, and thinking ahead to chilled wine and prawns for dinner.
    I should be hot footing it across the sand, accompanied by the odd “ooh” and “ouch” on my way to the surf, so that I can swim out through the breakers, feeling like I’m wallowing in warm champagne, feeling the tingle of the salt on my skin as I swim up the wave to be deposited in bubbles on the other side.
    I should be coming in off the sand, luxuriating in the shower as my skin gives a brief shriek at the slight shiver of sunburn. I should be planning my deep sea fishing expedition for later in the week, and I should be attempting to battle on with the 2,000-piece jigsaw puzzle set up on the coffee table.
    I should be cutting up the meat to feed the kookaburras, and mixing nectar for the lorikeets and parrots, and I should probably by now be starting my fourth or fifth book.
    But you can’t go back, now can you? So instead I sit looking out into the garden to see the whisper soft snow fall, and watch the antics of the odd intrepid squirrel – an exotic vacation it’s not, but – it’s home.
    And after all, home is where the heart is.
    Happy New Year everyone. May 2013 bring you every joy and piece of good fortune you could possibly want, and may your year be the best ever.
     

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