Andrea Edwards

It’s been a pretty intense couple of weeks – well couple of months really, no, no, no, let’s be honest now – couple of years. And that is why my beloved Without the Bollocks is languishing, unloved and lonely. I love this blog more than anything else I do, but I’ve had to throw my hands up and say, it’s OK. You’ve been consistent since 2009, but during this small window of time in your life, you aren’t doing half the stuff you need to do, so BE AT PEACE. Alas, I’m not very good at listening to myself either…  But if my readers love me, they’ll be back when I am…. Right? Please say yes!! Although all evidence points to no. C’est la vie. So what have I been doing, I hear you ask? Well it’s all mostly work related, but one little addition is an elevation in getting out there and speaking to people – both opportunities I’ve created, as well as getting invited to speak at industry events. Wonderful opportunities all, the thing is, sometimes in the hours preceding these opportunities, my bowels turn to water and I’m a bloody nightmare to be around! Steve will verify this point. The smaller, intimate affairs are much easier, but those big industry ones – my word!! This is especially the case when I haven’t had a chance to test my message first. It can only get easier right? It’s not that I have a fear of public speaking. That’s never been an issue for me and I’ve never understood why it’s one of those top fears for us humans. However throughout my career, I’ve usually had to do it on a smaller scale, where most of the people listening to me actually know me, know what I stand for, and understand my passion for the subject I’m discussing. Change that to a room of 150 strangers, presenting content I haven’t taken beyond my business circle, well that’s a whole new world of anxiousness. The thing is, I’ve never had this great desire to be centre stage. Even as a youngster I spent a lot of time on stage, but my favorite memories are always when I was part of something much bigger. I know people think I’m gregarious and can only imagine that being on stage is exactly all I’ve ever dreamed about, but the reality is, it’s not. What I DO have a yearning desire to do, however, is help people achieve more, be more, succeed more, and hopefully make the world a better place while I’m at it. I’ve gathered some pretty handy knowledge over the years, as well as insights, which I believe are pretty useful for others. The opportunity to share what I know is a wonderful thing to do, and I always love it when these sessions go well and people walk away inspired to make a change that will help them be more successful. That feels good and it makes me happy. However the build-up is excruciating, but equally, so is the vulnerability of it all. I didn’t like being vulnerable when I was a youngster, and managed to develop a tough nut persona in my teens. That isn’t a healthy place though, so I put in the hard work on that side of me and re-vulnerabalized myself in the last couple of decades. I like being vulnerable, it makes me more human and a gentler person. But fucking it up on stage, making a fool of myself, slipping in an accidental fuck in a business meeting, and all of that other stuff…. Well it’s squirm material for me. But ‘they say’ to grow you have to face your fears head on and do it anyway. I am doing it anyway. Just wish that feeling in my guts would go away. And with that, I sign off for a two week holiday with my three loves to Vietnam. We haven’t had a two week holiday in more than a decade and I can’t tell you how excited I am that we can get away and see a new place. I also love seeing the world through my boys’ eyes – that’s magic for me. I know they are going to bloody love it and grow a little more as people. So stay tuned for Adventures from Nam. Hopefully I’ll have some time for reflection, while trying to disengage from life for a short time. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I had an epiphany the other day. While the family was out shopping, number two put in a request for a number two. This request used to make me groan, sweat and swear, because the time required for said number two to do a number two was extensive, and when in a sweaty, tropical toilet, it is really, really shithouse!  Throughout all such public toilet adventures with both of my lads, we’ve always had lots of conversations. The main focus of the conversation always went along the lines of this: “Mum are you doing a wee or a poo?” Obviously I was ALWAYS doing a wee. I must be honest and admit I secretly did enjoy our chats, because their freedom to express our shared experiences, while having no appreciation of its inappropriate nature, was lovely, sweet and completely harmless. One day, these conversations will stop too, but not yet, not yet. They’re just not with me anymore. They are big boys now, and as such, they go to the big boy’s toilet. When Steve’s around, he obviously has to endure it, but otherwise it’s between them and any male strangers in the toilet. My job today is to stand outside and wait, hoping the toilet is clean, and that no guest makes the mistake of dropping a massive guff. This happened recently. Thankfully Steve was there. While having the “conversation,” another chap was obviously experiencing some rather intense stomach difficulties. “Dad did you hear that pop-off? It was so loud. Dad there he goes again. He did a BIG fart Dad.” (Yes we are moving beyond pop-off to fart. That had to happen too.) Steve was obviously suppressing his giggles, while trying not to encourage the conversation, but there is nothing that can be done. My boys are at the age when they think bodily functions are the funniest thing on the planet, and all we can hope for is that day to come to an end too. And soon. I just felt sorry for the guy on the other bog. A peaceful bog he did not have. But part of my epiphany was linked back to an earlier blog I wrote – Motherhood a Series of No Mores. In this I talked about all of the things I decided to stop doing for the boys. I was just done. I’d had enough. It included wiping their arses after they were out of nappies – check. Amazing how quickly they sort themselves out there. Opening Chuppa Chups – check! There is always, ALWAYS a will to open a Chuppa Chup and will is all that’s required to get a result. But of course, now they’re at the series of no mores with me. I obviously can’t take them to the toilet anymore. There are certain conversations they’ll only have with their dad now. When trying clothes on in shops, I can no longer drop their dacks in public and do it quickly. We need the privacy of a dressing room and no mum, you can’t come in. The journey of the parent is fascinating. Our boys are bloody hilarious, and every day I see how the world is starting to shape their thinking and influence their ideas. But they are still connected to the core of who they are, even if it gets chipped away at every day. We’re such complex creatures us humans, so trying to help my boys stay connected to their core is my job now, but it’s completely out of my control. I can’t be there every minute of the day. I can’t shield their hearts from hurt. I have to let them find their way, and with the no mores building up for this mumma, it creates distance too. This is a good thing and a sad thing. I always knew I had to let them go, but it hurts a little bit every time they pull away just that little bit more. Sigh… Bloody kids. I love ‘em to bits, but crikey, what a ride! Anyone want to share a favorite ‘no more’ memory – whether it’s one of yours or one of theirs? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

When I went to Australia a few weeks back, I spent some long overdue time with my brothers (Paul & Mark), sister (Phillipa), as well as my mum, Kath. It was really nice and I am thrilled for Paul that he finally found his bride. However, because I haven’t been around my family for nearly six years (how did that happen?) it was interesting to watch and observe. Definitely a case of watch them, see yourself.   Paul in the middle One thing I’ve always known is my family has always been pretty out there compared to most. Let’s just say there was always a lot of energy in the family, because we’re all a bit manic. I always remember a lot of people around our family often wondering how the bloody hell we all keep moving, thinking, speaking, shouting (mainly mum) and running at the pace we did, but it appears it’s in the genes. At one point, Mark was talking about how he hates people walking in front of him, feeling like he’s constantly being tripped up by slow walkers. I totally get that. Worse for me is someone who stops and talks to me in a doorway – as my husband knows so well. Speak to me but keep moving love, and DO NOT trap me in. Although I have come to appreciate that walking fast when there’s nowhere to be is completely pointless – slow down and enjoy the moment right? Also a benefit of living in the tropics is you walk slower because it’s too just bloody hot to walk fast. I’m still quick for Singapore though. Paul showed a different manic side – this time when opening stuff – and there’s a lot of stuff to open during a wedding. I am equally guilty of this, as are my kids. When opening anything, if it is not immediately responsive, what do you do? You rip it apart that’s what you do. You know that patience virtue thing? I didn’t get a lot of that either. Mark and Phillipa My sister Phillipa lives her life at such high velocity, it’s hard for anyone to keep up. Whether she’s teaching, conducting, hosting a radio show, mothering, or decorating the most amazing cakes, she can spin your head around at the pace she lives her life. And then there’s my lovely mum Kath. Bloody hell mum, I just got out of bed, give me a chance to turn around and make it. My mum’s home is always ALWAYS clean, and nothing stays in the wrong place. Mum is definitely the one who gave all of us those impatient and manic genes. My dad is definitely the calm one of the clan – although I got my “headiness” from him. Thanks dad. I’ve often wondered why I can’t just sit back and enjoy the ride – appreciating what I’ve achieved and being OK with that. I’ve always tried really hard to master it – with meditation, mindfulness practice, etc.. – but there’s always something else I want to achieve, a new goal to be set, a new ambition to nurture. I can’t help it. This thing lives inside of me and as Queen sang “I want it all and I want it now.” I was out with my mate for drinks the other night and she said you need to learn to be patient when I told her things weren’t moving fast enough in one area of my life. I know, I KNOW but I can’t. The drive exists and if I get freed up in one area of my life, a new opportunity has some space to jump in. I know it is exhausting for Steve. I feel the exhaustion of being with me in him often. But I can’t help it, I really can’t. He knew that when he married me too. I was reading something recently that our most productive and successful years are usually in our 40s-60s. When I read it I thought of course, here I am in the heart of the time when I can probably achieve my best work, and yet here I am also in the time of being a hands on mum with young kids. That’s why you do the procreating thing earlier, so you can be free when your best time comes up. Doh! Oh well, life twists and weaves, opportunities ebb and flow, and I continue to run full pace into everything, doing too much, taking new things on, agreeing to more, more, more. I will continue to work on quieting my mind, trying to get more peaceful, more grateful, etc.., but it seems, perhaps, I just need to accept this is who I am and should relish in my thirst for life. Based on my trip to Australia, I think I can say it’s definitely in my genes after all. Anyone else relate to being completely manic – in mind, body or spirit? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

Chatting it up with Oprah In case you didn’t notice, it’s Mother’s Day and I think that’s fairly universal, except maybe in Europe? As I’ve written about before, I’ve always had mixed feelings about Mother’s Day, but it comes around every year and of course, it must be celebrated. One of my big struggles about this day is the women I know who haven’t had their chance to become mothers. It’s worse now with social media – there is no escaping the day. I can only imagine how hard that is. I never thought I’d be a mother. I spent years alone, never finding the guy that had the qualities necessary to be a dad for my kids. I was always determined that if I didn’t meet him, then I’d accept a life with no kids. It was better that way. But I did find Steve and the output is two magnificent sons that make us laugh and scream every day. The minute I was pregnant, the big change I noticed is that my life was no longer my own. I wasn’t a private human being living in my own world anymore. From being touched by complete strangers when I was pregnant, to blokes I didn’t know well enough talking about my boobs and breastfeeding, all the way through to well-intentioned people providing advice and insights when you’re little lad is struggling… My world got crashed in on by people in ways I never imagined before. I haven’t always liked that. Little angels In the journey of parenting, we’ve had a very turbulent time – mainly with our Lex. The worst part of that turbulent time is the opinions of people who have no idea what they’re talking about, but feel entitled to share it with you anyway. It takes a lot of strength to grin and bear it let me tell you. I’ve never been rude to people (even if I was screaming inside) because it’s not who I am. If I expressed everything I felt in all of those situations, people wouldn’t like me very much. The reality is, people think they’re helping, but have no idea what you’ve done, what you think, the worries you carry inside (and share only with your husband) and the mountains you’ve scaled for your child already. We’ve left no stone un-turned with the Lexster, and the journey is ongoing, but one thing I can tell you is this: we’ve always been right. He just needs time to develop at his own pace after missing out on the first four years of development due to hearing issues. The hearing issue is fixed and he’s going to be OK, even if we wish he’d bloody hurry up and get on with it…. But nah, that boy does things on his own timeline. I admire him for that and WE need to be patient. He’s an expensive child that one. We’ve experienced some brutal times along the way with Lex too – including being abused by a teacher (that was fucked let me tell you) – and getting kicked out of schools, rejected by other schools, and at many points along the way, left us wondering if we’d  have to move countries to help him move forward. All through this, Jax has been a solid and happy little man, until recently when his teacher told us he’s having confidence issues. Really? Jax not confident? Bloody hell, how do we help him? A new project commences, because what’s more important than confidence and self-respect? They met lots of famous people at Madam Taussads, Singapore So for me, being a mother has been a struggle and it hasn’t always been a lot of fun. Equally, I have massive ambitions for myself, and these ambitions are only getting stronger. I want to make a positive contribution to the world in my own way, so keeping that dream alive is really critical to who I am. But equally, I take the family responsibility seriously. I have seen the results of parents “fucking it up” and I don’t want my boys to be those adults. I can’t guarantee that they won’t be, but I don’t want to look back and know it was something I missed along the way – like making sure they know I love them, believe in them, respect them and value them. If you go back through my blog you’ll find many posts railing against the duties of being a mother. The first 7-8 years were not amazing. They were grueling and confusing and hard and horrible and frustrating and exhausting and much much more. But they were also amazing and beautiful and precious and divine and funny and adventurous and fascinating and so much more of that. Being a mother is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done. But I tell you one thing that’s undeniable. I love those two little dudes with a passion that scares the hell of me sometimes. Anyone else not had the easiest journey in the early years? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I was in Australia last weekend for my big brother’s wedding – first time marrying at 47 – hoorah! Congrats Paul and Jennifer. You’re perfect for each other and I wish you years of peace and bliss together. You both deserve it. Anyhoo, as I was meandering around Geelong and the surrounding towns, I was really struck by something I didn’t realize I missed, until I saw it again. And that is strangers being really courteous, thoughtful and kind to each other. Not big things, tiny things, but it was really nice to be around it again. Fish & Chips on the beach in Queenscliff I know it won’t sound like much but a very small example. Paul, Jax and I were having fish and chips on the beach in Queenscliff. As Paul was tidying up and getting ready to put all of our rubbish in the bin, he took a moment to stop and ask the table next to us if they wanted the ketchup (aka tomato sauce) we didn’t use. It was such a tiny thing and it really struck me – because I wouldn’t do that in Asia. Community is much closer to home in this region and that is something that takes a lot of getting used to when you move here. Later that day, when I was helping set up the wedding at the golf course, I met a couple of golfing dames and we were having a nice chat. This guy came up, asking for directions to the loo, and one of the ladies stopped everything she was doing and walked him far enough in the direction of the toilet so he knew where he was going. When he came out, he walked up and said a hearty thank you. She could’ve just pointed, but she didn’t, she went that little bit further. He could’ve gone back to the golf course. He didn’t. He wanted to express his gratitude. For the five days we were in Australia I noticed these small interactions between people everywhere we went. Small acknowledgements that another human being was in the mix, as people did something to cater for another person in their physical periphery. I couldn’t help but wonder how amazing that must feel to people who might be living alone? This openness to strangers is a strong part of the Australian culture, and I wonder how many Australians even know it’s special? I didn’t realize it was until this trip when I really noticed it – like it was the first time. It reminded me that I miss that wonderful, open culture of my home country. It’s a great thing. Jax loved the sea weed! I love living in Asia and I love living in Singapore. It’s been 12 years now and it’s been very good to us. But it is a nation of strangers in many ways too. Another small example. When I first arrived in Singapore, there was a footpath I used to get to lunch. On rainy days, you had to stay on the path, because it was muddy everywhere else. In the early days, I remember being very shocked as I walked this path, when the three people walking towards me side-by-side wouldn’t move to accommodate me. What, you want me to walk in the mud? Why can’t one of you just move? It was perplexing. I soon learnt to walk and read, or walk straight and firm, with no eye contact. That was the only way people would get out of my way, and if they didn’t, my shoulders came in handy. It still happens, and I’m definitely used to it, but I have days when it absolutely shits me to tears – because my humanness is not being acknowledged. It’s like I’m not even there. However, I love being here, and I know it is the great privilege I’ve had to live in so many parts of the world that has given me the ability to appreciate the wonderful bits of culture each country has to offer. We’re all just very different.   So my Aussie friends, I know life can be hard yakka, and I know the world looks pretty sucky right now, but you have something wonderful there, treasure it and keep up that kindness to those around you – no matter who they are. It’s certainly a quality that will bring me back home one day. For those who’ve lived in other countries, what have you appreciated about your homeland you’ve only been able to notice because you left? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I broke my toe over Chinese New Year. It was the weirdest thing. Steve and I were sitting on the couch and we noticed a flying insect. You don’t get too many flying things in Singapore so it gets your attention. Then we realised it was a bee, but when we looked up, it wasn’t just one bee, we had a swarm flying into our home. Shite!   Up we jumped, I grabbed the insect killer and ran around closing doors and windows. That’s when it happened. Moving briskly out of our bathroom, I slammed my toe right into a clothes rack with metal legs, and it hurt, like really really. But I had doors and windows to close, so I kept going, and as I moved around the house, I started saying ow, ow, ow, OW!! Oh my god it hurt. Toe stubs usually hit hard and fast but then it goes. However this was different – it was a grower, and my word it blossomed into a world of pain.   That was it – a fucked toe – SO annoying! It got fatter and fatter and fatter, and it wasn’t ‘til a month later I thought hey, maybe an x-ray would be a good idea? That’s when I got that little photo taken to discover I did, in fact, break it. On the mend now, but crikey, who knew how much a toe could hurt? The reason I didn’t do anything about my toe is what’s the point? Every time I’ve had anything foot related checked out by the doctor, they just tend to look at you with a little shrug and say keep it up and ice it, that’s all you can do – right?   However my main discovery of the experience has been how bloody vulnerable toes are around children. We are fully accustomed to the culture of removing shoes when entering our home in Asia. We actually quite like it and believe it will follow us wherever we go, unless that place is cold and then we’ll wear Ugg boots. In the meantime, bare feet and clumsy children – oh my GOD!   Jax landed a beauty on my toe recently and the most common utterance in the house this last month has been “watch my toe, WATCH MY TOE!” But they’re seven and eight right, and there’s something spectacularly unaware in kids this age. They stumble around, standing on your feet, hitting their dad in the nuts, smacking me in the boobs, knocking things over, breaking things, and just creating unintentional chaos. That’s a kid’s job. But who knew how often your toes were a battleground for children?   Well I do now and I’m certainly looking forward to this baby healing – mainly so I stop panicking every time my boys come anywhere near me. I’m also hoping it’s not going to be one of those aches that curses me into my dotage. That’s definitely one of the things you think about as you start getting crusty around the edges. One thing for sure though, the next time the bees come, I won’t be so focused on their eradication. I’m not allergic, so who cares? A bee sting or two would have been a lot nicer to deal with.   Ho hum, there you have it. Anyone else in Singapore have a swarm of bees descend on their apartment? Not normal right?   Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I was talking about my Army days with the boys the other day. It’s not the first time I’ve talked about it, but it obviously still hasn’t registered in their memory banks that their mum was once a soldier. A musician soldier, but I still had to do basic training and in the Australian Army, all soldiers are really soldiers. It’s a serious business. Anyhoo, Jax looks at me and musters all the authority a seven year old has, saying: “Mum you weren’t in the Army. Girls can’t be in the Army. Girls can only be princesses!” What? Why would you say that? Of course girls can be in the Army. They can be prime ministers, presidents, police officers, CEOs, nurses, doctors, professors, whatever the hell they want to be! Jax was not convinced. So I pulled out my photo album and showed him some pictures of that glorious time in my life back in 1992. Here’s one of my favorites. Fierce huh?  Well it wasn’t a joke and if you were too delicate, you got your arse kicked, especially by the male sergeant and corporals. They were definitely of the opinion that the military was no place for a lady. Screw them. I’d prove them wrong. Then again, I was never a lady. But Jax has some funny ideas about girls. He tells me girls can’t be funny, they can only be pretty when I tell him having a funny girlfriend is the most important thing. No Mum, only boys can be funny. Imagine how this all resonates with me for a second? My son, MY son, declaring that girls are not capable of being funny, or a leader, or a warrior, or whatever the hell they want to be. Naturally I’ll spend the next 20 or so years making sure these ideas are slapped out of him, but where does it come from? At the end of prep, we had a little end of year show and there was a video featuring all the kids talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. For some reason Jax wanted to be a rugby player, and while there’s a very strong chance this could happen, at that point, he’d never played or watched a match. Where did he get that idea from? But all of the girls – split 50/50 – had two ambitions. Half to be mums and the other to be princesses. There is, of course, absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to be a mum, but the princess ambition is a little more unlikely if we do the numbers right? Only one Aussie princess in all of history, so our little Aussie angels have a fairly unlikely chance of achieving that one. It could happen, nothing is impossible, but… When I see stuff like this, I always wonder why young girls don’t want to be something else at that age? Did I dream of being a princess or a mother at five, six and seven? I can only ever remember wanting to be a police woman when I was young. I got close to doing it too, although I’m glad I didn’t. Do we not talk to them about these things from a young age? I mean many of these girls had working mum role models, so it’s not that. I just find it curious that their imaginations are not as fired up to be firemen or policemen, or other stuff like our little dudes are. Is it the movies they watch? The cartoons? It’s hard for me to know because I don’t watch girly TV and movies. Anyone else know? In the meantime, my little Jax is getting a big fat lesson in girl power. Right now he’s watching YouTube. Oi Jax, pause that a sec. What jobs can girls do when they grow up?  “They can be policemen, presidents, firemen, and racing car drivers mum.” Good he’s learning. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

My mate Michelle, we met in India – 1995 This week marks 20 years since the eventful day I departed Melbourne’s International Airport with a one way ticket to London, via Nepal, India, China, Hong Kong, and Bangkok. I remember the tears of my departure and the well wishes – with many saying I’d be back within a couple of years. Even though I knew returning within two years was very unlikely, I never denied the possibility because who knows where life takes you? The only thing I knew for certain was my hunger to get out there and see the world was my strongest desire of all, and I wanted to get all I could out of the adventures the future offered me. Over the last 20 years I’ve lived in London, Boston, NYC, Sydney, Singapore, Phuket, Noosa, and back to Singapore. In every country/city I’ve lived, it’s given me an opportunity to explore neighbouring countries – both for work and for fun – and I’m not even sure how many I’ve been to. The numbers never mattered, I just know that when I’m on the road, seeing a place for the first time, or going back after decades since my first visit, I feel alive in a way I can’t explain to people who just don’t get that same feeling from travelling. It is the central pulse of my life. Why do I love it so? The appetite was born in 1992 when I visited Egypt, Jordan and Israel – my first time out of Australia. To be in such a dynamic part of the world, with history going back hundreds of thousands of years, where civilization started, where the modern religions started, where so much of what we take for granted started; well I was completely hooked. It wasn’t easy travelling there as a young woman alone – and it’s still not easy today – but to be in the midst of it was electrifying. Nathalix and Saskia, at my wedding in Koh Samui 2005. We met in London in 1996 The other part that drew me in were the people I met along the way. Most were amazing, some were complete arseholes, but I became hooked on meeting people from different walks of life and understanding their journeys, plus why they thought the way they thought. I also became hooked on having my thinking challenged – my values, my ideals, my beliefs… it was all challenged and turned upside down, inside out, and mostly, it gave me the wisdom to reject the programmingand keep the good bits worth holding onto. Throughout my travels I’ve spent A LOT of time on my own. While not easy and often lonely; silence is amazing. When you have no choice but to contend with yourself, and every day you have experiences to challenge that thinking, the person that comes out the other side is often a lot different than the one who went in. I know people who spend thousands of dollars on therapy to do this, but my therapy was to travel and face myself, day after day, until I got myself to a clearer place.  Facing my mind, more than anything, is something I value from my last 20 years. It’s been liberating. On my journeys, I’ve made many friends. People who I cherish and will always cherish. A global family, many of whom I haven’t seen for far too long, but we’re still connected, still in each other’s lives and the impact they made on my soul remains to this day. Some people you connect with immediately even if the time together is short. Some are with you for a lifetime. I definitely got addicted to people. Addicted to the ease at which people can come in and out of your life, making such an impact. Kev, in Boston circa 1999 My career has been awesome to keep my dreams of wandering alive. Landing in London at the beginning of the technology revolution, working in marketing and communications, it ensured I have been able to get jobs that kept me on the move, experiencing new places/cultures, meeting people who were changing the world, exploring new thinking, making sense of new ideas, etc.. Sure, it hasn’t been a seamless career journey and I’ve never reached the top of my game – whatever that is. But then is that what I wanted? No it wasn’t. In fact, I’ve constantly made decisions that didn’t allow that to happen, because the only thing that is important is freedom. Freedom is still the only thing I value. Being hunkered down, not being able to fly, well I just can’t do it. That dream doesn’t speak to me. In all the wanderings, I’ve remained Australian. I love my country and every day the yearning to return is there. It’s never gone. My community is there. My family too. But do I want to go back yet? I’ve tried twice and the world pulls me out again, on the road, wandering, seeing, experiencing. I never get bored of it and Australia feels so far away from that. But now my boys are getting to the age where they want to know their grandparents. Who is this uncle they hear me speaking about? Cousins – who are they? But only half of us is Australian, the other half is British, so we need to ensure that is catered to as well, and Singapore is still almost half way between the two…. What to do? Where to go? When to go? Singapore has been amazing. I can’t believe it’s been more than 11 years. The opportunities Steve and I have professionally keep us here. It’s a gorgeous life for a family. It’s a safe life. The boys go to incredible schools and Lex is getting the support he needs to flourish. It’s always warm. We have a wonderful community. But we also have a wonderful global community that started here but people have moved on