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Over the last few weeks, I’ve become a perfume tart. There, I’ve said it. After faithful service to Elizabeth Arden’s Green Tea splash for the past two years, I’ve turned my back on loyalty and branched out.

It started when I met the boy from the bike shop, who I’ve been hanging out with after buying a helmet I didn’t need and giving him my phone number afterwards. A few days before our first date, I went to my favorite store on Brunswick Street, Klein’s Perfumery and after much deliberation, bought the most beautiful perfume called Stella. I couldn’t help laughing when the sales woman showed me the description on the box - “as opinionated and moody as a rebellious young Italian beauty”. I’ve been described as opinionated and moody, also rebellious. Young might be stretching the envelope, but a chunk of my family background is definitely Italian … and it smells like blood oranges, my most beloved citrus ever.

So Stella was my constant companion until I went to Bali. I spent that week devoid of any scent except the slightly metallic undertone of the well water we bathed in, and the occasional frangiapani behind the ear. When we came home, I couldn’t resist going to the duty free shop and perusing the perfumes. I bought a bottle of Chanel No 5 and have spent the last week remembering how much I love the smell, which reminds me of my mother, and a crazy producer I used to work with on Blue Heelers.

On Friday I went into the city to buy jeans, and ended up at the Jo Malone counter in David Jones. I’d been reading about her blue agave and cacao perfume in heaps of magazines and wanted to try it, but it was way too chocolatey for my liking - possibly the first time I’ve ever said such a thing! I sampled a few of the others, and fell in love with the nutmeg and ginger fragrance, which is light and gorgeous - perfect for summer. Now the only hard part is deciding which one fits my day best.

Last night (wearing the Jo Malone perfume), I went to see La Clique, a circus/burlesque show at the Famous Spiegeltent. Trying to describe the show in words is almost impossible, so let me just say I have a new training goal in mind, which is to become so strong I can lift my body just using fabric swathes hung from a convenient location on a ceiling … I’m figuring I should have it down in a couple of weeks … (!)

One of the performers was an unbelievable female acrobat who had fabric swathes just like the ones I mentioned, and she’s replaced Lara Croft as my hero. Thank God my wrist is up for weight training again!

Today I’m loving: the idea of three days off next week, so I can get myself organised.

After the picture perfect location for my last post from gorgeous Bali, I’m now writing from a house in complete disarray as I prepare to (finally!) move over the next four to five days. Please understand this is a theoretical projection, so if I’m still posting about moving in two weeks, try to be patient with me …

This week has been the weird aftermath of all travel - coming home, feeling like you’ve changed, but nothing is different. Miss M has suffered from jet lag, or JL as it’s come to be known, and has been slightly tough to deal with, but I think I’ve probably been just as bad.

By far the worst part of our return was nothing to do with sleeping or eating patterns, missing the tropics or strange reactions to drinking coffee again. It was my inability to open my freezer.

I think it was the third day after we were home we’d gone to the supermarket and I’d bought some frozen cherries to make a summer pudding with. As I tried to put them into the freezer, I was met with staunch resistance. Not just “oh, that’s hard to open so I have to put my back into it”, but “that freezer is stuck solid, and even my foot up on the fridge isn’t giving me the leverage I need”. After ten solid minutes of yanking with all my might, finally the mighty door swung open to reveal an ice cavern the likes I haven’t seen since “Touching the Void”.

Any normal person would just have defrosted the damn thing and been done with it. By I had a whole lot of things in there that would’ve had to be thrown out, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I scanned my kitchen implements for the most suitable ice chiselling device, settling on my favorite wooden spoon.

Soon chips of ice were falling on the floor, but my beloved spoon lost several large chunks of wood in the process, so I turned my attention to leverage, and grabbed a large carving knife. I was careful not to put my hands anywhere near the blade, and had pretty good success getting some large pieces of frozen material out, but soon the knife started terrifying me as I had visions of myself lying in a David Lynchesque pile of blood covered ice.

My final choice was a hammer, and if I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve gone for this immediately. I smashed through the ice within moments, and even managed not to pierce the intrinsic workings of the freezer. I was quite proud. So I say defrosting is for chumps - what you really need is a destruction crew of one, with a nicely hefted hammer.

This morning I opened the freezer with no effort, and felt it close securely after shutting the door. Aaaah, sweet relief!

Today I’m loving: going to the Spiegeltent tonight to see La Clique (even if it is the 11.30pm show!)

It’s been far too long between posts, so it seems only fitting this one comes to you from the main street of Ubud, Bali, where Miss M and I are catching up on technology after four days of very different living.

Bali is so beautiful and so overwhelming, I thought it might be easiest to make a list, in no particular order, of my favorite things here.

*Lying in our woven hut listening to the torrential rain on the roof. Closely followed by sitting in the Chinese pavillion watching and listening to the torrential rain falling all around us.

*The place we’re staying. Matahari Cottages is amazing, and if you’re going to Ubud, please stay there. It’s jungle setting, fabulous staff and outrageous afternoon teas are too awesome.

*Frangiapani flowers littering every street you walk on. I still can’t help picking them up, it seems so criminal to walk on them. I still love the white ones more, but the pink ones smell slightly coconutty, which makes them quite appealing.

*The monkey forest - oh, those cute monkeys. I still have monkey paw prints on the pants I wore there, and once they realised we had bananas, they weren’t going to let us get away. One climbed onto my shoulder and I patted it, but the guide said “if you do that, they bite you”. It probably won’t surprise you to know I took my hand away quite quickly.

*The temples - everywhere. Why can’t my house have a temple? I think I may build one when I go home.

*The food. I think I’ve gained heaps of weight eating the breakfast and afternoon tea at Matahari, to say nothing of the outrageous dinners we’ve been having. Also iced ginger tea at Nomad - out of this world.

*Well dogs. I have never seen so many dogs in my life. Apparently the ones without collars are stray and are known as well dogs. They look nothing like dogs at home, but are so gorgeous I want to pat all of them. After the monkey forest experience, and hearing they like to bite tourists, I’ve restrained myself. Just.

*The other wildlife. At Matahari, we’ve seen three different types of frogs, geckos by the dozen, who seem to make some kind of noise like a squeaky toy, butterflys as big as birds, and an amazing snake about the width of my little finger which was striped lengthways in lime and black. It was so pretty I spent about ten minutes watching it. The insects are also incredible, although the bees are a little too big and friendly for my liking.

So we’re here for another two days, then leave on Saturday. I’ve abandoned my watch, which is probably the most liberating thing I’ve done for years, and have no idea of the time, and rarely an idea of the day. We make no plans and just wander around. The only thing dictating our day is Miss M, who sometimes is a little overwhelmed by everything, but for the most part has been an incredibly mature travelling companion for a spoiled Western eight year old in a poor and totally culturally different country.

Today I’m loving: learning a new balance pose in our yoga class today, which we did in a beautiful open air studio in the middle of a rice paddy, with butterflys and lizards on the wall, and ducks providing the soundtrack. That’s how I’ll always do my yoga from now on, when given the choice!