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There is, we agree amongst us before Saturday night’s show time, a particular smell to a theatre. Not just this one – the Levin Little Theatre – but possibly to each of them dotted around our country in the towns that have been careful enough to keep them…

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Knowing where you come from can be a tricky thing for some of us. I grew up, for example, in a town my family settled into shortly before I was born, and then left once I’d flown the coop – which makes it my hometown, but not where my wider family is from.

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Whenever I hear anyone talking disparagingly of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, it reminds me of that time I spent in a war zone.

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International Women’s Day is one of my favourite lady-celebrations. Low-key as it – and increasingly observed via offers of retail discounts for things women are supposed to adore, like small appliances and lingerie – it has a proud history.

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Don’t get me wrong, this is one of the things I love about us, that we are less jingoistic that our neighbours (Aussie Aussie Aussie, oi oi oi) and way less than the noisiest nation on the world stage currently, the United States of America, oft described by its citizenry as “the greatest country in the world” and currently being made great again.

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When my uncle had his DNA done and reported evidence of Romani genes, it made sense. I feel ancestral travellers over my shoulder, itching to move on and equally keen to take their treasures with them into the next place.

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Some people can afford art in their houses, but all of us deserve fascinating things to look at in shared spaces …

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“This is a mother/daughter thing?” she asks us. We confirm that it is, this whole day of hot pools and spa treatments and cocktails. And then to be helpful I add, pointing at myself, “I’m the mother”.

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I love my freelance life. You celebrate when they choose you, try to be philosophical when they don’t, evolve, and embrace the challenge of making a calendar of random events work together. There is magic and wonder when it all falls into place.

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A breakaway offers all the things associated with longevity, the very goals recommended by health experts…

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You don’t have to be a full-on Grinch to feel triggered by shopping mall carols and incessant reminders to have a Very Merry Christmas …

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Mostly I am too busy enjoying being an old hag to register these things. The glorious thing about being this age is you’re not bothered about being this age…

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I’d love someone to come up with a way of doing a mammogram that feels less … crushing? Pretty sure that’s not how they check for testicular cancer...

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On any given day if you ask a mother what she thinks of JD Vance’s “childless cat ladies” who he says are “less invested in” and less valuable to society, this woman will get a faraway look in her eyes and sigh, “Aspirational”.

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Father’s Day can be tricky for people who don’t have a dad to celebrate. Some people never had a dad, or don’t have the kind of dad you’d make a card for. Or maybe you had a pretty great dad, but he’s not around anymore...

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It’s only as I’ve been drawing a picture of who my grandmother was that I’ve realised this is the kind of nana I am choosing to be.

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What really is fascinating is that our wish lists - given urgency by age or a diagnosis - so often involve things that are terrifying.

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The goal should be to buy, if not the Ferrari of winter coats, then at least the best quality you can afford…

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Then I saw a look on her face which was familiar to me. The look I’ve seen at many points throughout Holly’s life… and you see her face and think, “Right now you look exactly like yourself”.

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We all need places where we are not “other”, where we metaphorically and literally speak the same language, where we are not seen as the odd one out.