Author: diantheories

I love stories, listening to them and telling them. I would ultimately love to dedicate myself to celebrating and sharing stories from all over the world.

On moving and taste

I am moving a long way from where I live now, which is a practice I’m used to. #gypsycurse


It’s been six years since I first moved down to Melbourne craving culture and vibrancy, and I’ve explored and loved this city very much. But I’m really very cold now, and it’s time to migrate home for picnics and storms (separately). My cat, Trogdor, needs some sun in her old bones.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from moving city to city it’s that you will find yourself blending in eventually. A place will absolutely influence your tastes over time. Everything will seem different in a new place, even you, though there will always remain something at your core that belies your homeland.

It’s subtle. The buildings suit the climate, the prevailing tastes of certain boom periods dominate architecture, and complimenting your home must take these details into account.

The lifestyle influences your wardrobe from a place of practicality; textiles, textures, lengths and hues. The culture invades your imagination, peopling it with new heroes and heroines to emulate – even if it’s just that tall girl Emma down the pub who wears that perfect shade of red lipstick all the time and looks flawless.

Also, it’s what’s at the shops, right? Prevailing tastes have got you there.

I remember moving from Brisbane to Melbourne promising to remain a tropical parrot amongst the sea of pigeons, which is to say that I would continue wearing bright colours. I would not be changed!

winter in Melbourne

I was punished for my naivety.

My first winter I wore a cotton jacket over a cotton hoodie and cried because it was bitterly cold. Now I wear almost entirely black woolen things.

In the great wide world there are many types of beauty, many joys to be had, many different ways to live in and with the surroundings. That’s often why we move, to change.

As I prepare to move home I reflect on the tastes I had when I left. Time has certainly changed them, as has new influences.

I have collected a vast amount of material possessions through op shop enthusiasm, hard rubbish opportunism, and share house living. My house is adorably and eclectically decorated. But it is a Melbourne home. It is with relish, the same relish that I usually have for collecting things, that I am currently jettisoning most of my belongings. They were from here and remain for here.

I don’t know what my next home will be like, or my lifestyle, or how my tastes will change. I am excited to find out.


Whether collecting or jettisoning possessions I find the following services incredibly helpful, thrifty and environmentally friendly: gumtree, diabetes Australia’s collection services, ebay, council rubbish pick up, and local community swap/sell groups on facebook.


The Great Catsby

I live in a neighborhood full of young families with pets. Accordingly, the main street boasts a vet, two luxury pet stores and two doggy groomers to meet demand. It is impossible to walk anywhere in this suburb without being accosted by cats demanding pats, because they outnumber humans and are very much in charge. I have my own furry friend/overlord, a grumpy old lady-cat named Trogdor.


I have also been forcibly adopted by my neighbour’s cat, Johnson, who is unshakably convinced that my house is his house too.


“Why you no let me in?”

He lays in wait listening for a door or window to open, then bounds in, scarfs all the food he can, and later barfs it up on the front porch.

Despite this, he is an absolute sweetheart.


Now because my own cat, Trogdor, is rubbish at defending her territory, and Johnson is friend to all creatures, our backyard is something of an animal thoroughfare. Some are regulars from around the place, occasionally I get strays, and very occasionally I get a regular stray.

I started to notice a ginger comet flashing through the garden now and then. One evening this ginger bullet shot right past me, so I sat down and started to call and click – and a sweet little fellow ran straight up to me for pats. Belly pats even!



His fur was filthy, matted, dreadlocked right down to the skin, and filled with fleas. His skin was scabby where he had scratched himself too much, and he was battle scarred. Underneath his thick fur his tummy gurgled fiercely, and he was not desexed.

I was puzzled. Surely he couldn’t be anyone’s pet considering the condition he was in, but he certainly wasn’t feral – he was so tame and friendly! I fed the little rascal and gave him some flea treatment. I tried to cut off the worst of his dreadlocks and give him a bath, but he was quite distressed by the process.

He came back every evening for a week. We christened him “The Great Catsby” and took him to the vet to be de-sexed and washed. The vet told us he was two years old, and confirmed that he was no one’s pet. There was also nothing to be done about his matted fur but to shave him.



The vet tried to leave Catsby with a layer of down so he wouldn’t get sunburn, but unfortunately some of the worst matted areas had to be shaved off right near the skin, so he was a bit patchy. The fur left on his head, legs and tail tip gave him a very comical appearance. The neighbors called him the lion, my housemate called him the gremlin, cars would slow down in the street to look at him.

But Catsby didn’t seem to notice that people thought he looked bizarre, he was deeply fascinated by all the new wonders of domestic life. Like microwaves.


And cuddles.


And pillows.


And bits of mesh nailed up to the fence to encourage tomatoes to grow that fall down a bit.


And he has been the sweetest, friendliest little guy.



A year later and his fur has grown back thick and lovely, his belly is always full, and he is friends with a rabbit.



But even though we’ve taken the cat out of the wild, we haven’t taken the wild out of the cat. You still have to watch your biscuits, toast or tofu around him because he will genuinely eat anything, and all too often I’ll be summoned to the back door to see something like this.


A mustache of mischief.

The Great Catsby has brought us endless delight, and my heart breaks to think of how hungry and unhealthy he was when we found him.

There may be a Great Catsby living under your house and you don’t even know it yet. Please keep your eyes peeled and your hearts open.


Melbourne in Winter is not the wonderland that Tourism Victoria would have you believe. The season moves triumphantly into this city like a hated relative at Christmas time and won’t leave.


There’s nothing for it but to make soup.

This Broccoli, Spinach, Potato and Basil soup in particular. This soup is magic soup and here’s why:


1. Cheap: If you double the veggies and stock then you have dinners for a week at a very low price. The soup “accessories” of sour cream, pesto and bread can be skipped if your budget won’t stretch, and you’ll still eat very well.

2. Easy: If you are a novice cook, it’s as simple as heat, stir, boil, wizz up, serve.

3. Healthy: It’s a very healthy and hearty recipe, and vegetarian too. Vegan if you substitute or skip the pesto and sour cream.

4. Delicious: So delicious.

5. Green: This soup is green. I now add in a few handfuls of green beans at the same time as the broccoli – which takes it to another level of greenness, because the greener it is the gooder it is.

It is a hearty, healthy, cheap, easily made bowl full of evergreen lighting up the deep dark winter months. MAKE IT IMMEDIATELY AND STAND WITH ME AGAINST THE DARKNESS.

But it is not the only soup.

Do you love Mexican food but wish it came in soup form? Enter Black Bean, Sweet Potato and Red Quinoa soup to answer your prayers. This soup is a bowl full of summertime.



Now this soup is not cheap, and it is not as easy as the first soup, but it is amazing for these reasons:

1. Nachos/Salad/Soup: It’s kind of all of these things, and all of these things are the best.

2. Healthy: The beans/sweet potato/quinoa combo are a steady foundation of iron, vitamins, protein and fibre, and that’s not even counting your fresh salad toppings.

3. Corn Chip Croutons: Because why have I not being doing this my whole life?

4. Golden Brown: The cumin/chilli/sweet potato base of this soup is spicy, yellow and warming – like sunshine in my veins.

5. Impressive: People will think you are some kind of genius, and if you make this soup? You ARE.

So if you feel like a bowl full of delicious spicy sunshine which will impress your friends, and intimidate your enemies, then this is the soup for you.

There is one last soup I’d like to discuss here. This soup is a beet and black lentil borscht. Now, this soup is not cheap, and it is not easy to make, and it is not to everyone’s taste. I’ve messed it up as many times as I’ve perfected it.

But when it works?


When it works it really works. I think of it as a blood tonic, not just because that’s very much what it looks like, but because it genuinely feels restorative. The rich colour and flavour of the broth do wonderful things to the body and mind. Although, unlike the other two recipes, I’m unable to eat this soup continually for days. It’s just too rich and distinctive.

So there you have it, a traffic light of soups to keep the winter blues at bay.