In time I may get around to describing how we have overcome the horrors of the last 4 years. Suffice it to say, for now, that my lover and I have been able to reduce our mortgage repayments to next to nothing by subdividing the land on which our house stands. We keep our house and have a smaller mortgage and back yard to look after. Hooray!

If I said that we had to survive on the smell of an oily rag with no surplus for the niceties of life, let alone the occasional treat, I would not be lying. Somehow we managed to feed ourselves and meet our financial obligations, albeit watching our debt increase as unexpected expenses intruded on our hopes and dreams.

My time for reading and writing has been severely limited, but I am hopeful I will gain more free time in the near future for being creative.

The stress and tension we have suffered caused us both much depression and only the thought and knowledge that no matter how bad things got, there were many others on the planet who were much worse off than us. Many years ago I had asked myself how I could justify living in Australia with all its advantages and luxuries. I thought that if I devoted myself to doing my job and living as best I could for the enrichment of human experience, then perhaps I would offset, for future generations, those who suffered in the lands of misery where I could not even go.

Some might think that was just a rationalisation so I could do whatever I wanted. Perhaps at times it was, but I have never given up hope of doing something worthwhile; of providing whatever goodness I could for the human condition. So, to find myself facing the bleakness of poverty in old age limiting even being able to smile or crack a joke, has been a sobering experience. It seems that desperation and despair are never degrees of the horror that can befall any of us; when you lose everything you are left only two things, hope and the intangible possibility of finding love, making love. It's not until you are faced with desolation that you finally realise that love is something you get by giving it away to someone else. Therefore, we can't hope for love, we create love. Our hope is for a life that goes on long enough to create love with, and for each other, wherever you may live.

To those who gave us their love and help during these years of turmoil, and you know who you are, we could say thank you, but we will simply love you for as long as we live.

Now where did I put that folder of notes for stories, and will I be able to make sense of them?