google-site-verification: google935433b691795853.html KRISTY BERRIDGE

Sunday, 4 December 2016

Who Asks Who?
Talk of marriage has sprung up more than once in my household this week and to say that I'm both pleased and petrified by the thought would only be an admission of truth.

I suspect it might be the dream of many women globally to have the love of their life proclaim their undying devotion and desires for a future unending and filled with marital bliss. I'm not all that different, I even wonder occasionally how he will do it; billboard proposal, one knee, ring in a wine glass?
The truth is, the thought of our beloved lavishing us with hefty bouts of attention and adorning us with jewellery is a major drawcard to the sacred union, but what if your partner insists the shoe be on the other foot? What if he refuses to propose in the hopes that you do all the hard work for him?

Enter the modern man; expectations of equality have been raised by the modern woman, so why wouldn't he expect the idea of marriage proposals to be a two-way street?
I can't say I disagree, but even the modern woman wishes that romance was a candle not so quickly extinguished by the ideas of the 21st century. We want our cake and to eat it too and perhaps this is grossly unfair in this day and age, but when my boyfriend wishes I'd propose the idea of a life together, pick my own ring and organise everything before, during and after; I almost want to slap modern day feminists for inciting this role reversal!

When did this happen? When did my partner suddenly decide that he too deserved to be lavished with the attention and surprise of pending nuptials?

I have no answer and flatly refuse to give into this bid for equal rights. Perhaps I am selfish and old fashioned, but I'm also more than aware that on the relationship see-saw I don't ask for more than a partner can give and in this instance, I can keep teetering, bouncing up and down with the currents of our relationship until bended knee and extravagant rings appear.

Kristy :)

Sunday, 27 November 2016

A List ...

I recently went out with a long-time friend that I had not seen in quite some time. As life usually goes, time gets away from us all and before you know it, eons have passed and everything you once knew about your friendship has changed.

This isn't always a bad thing. Change is about growth and more often than not it can strengthen the ties that originally bound you as friends or even help you to better understand the differences.

We've known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper and back then we had grandiose ideas of saving the world, living together in a cubby house and never to be shackled to the ideas of the seemingly expected and ordinary.

Both now fully inducted into the world of adulthood, I took the route of random travel and creative solutions to my career which have never been particularly successful. I have bounced from job to job and ideas of my ultimate form of bliss. I may have seen the world, but I'm perpetually restless and without family. She on the other hand, studied hard in the science and mathematics field, earned herself multiple degrees and met the love of her life and started a beautiful family.

Never have two people been poles apart yet so closely linked by the ideals of our past. This of course was uncovered during our recent discussion about our successes and failures ... the things we still expect and want from a life only part way through.

She spoke to me about a list, nothing unheard of and most commonly known as a bucket list, I was curious. What was the point of writing random lists of the seemingly unachievable during our declining age?

Her answer was poetic; to write it down is to hold oneself accountable for your desires unfulfilled and yet it's completely achievable should you actually believe that your ambitions are worth pursuing.

I was floored and have thus considered that the list was not a flight of fancy anymore, but perhaps a true challenge to be pursued with vigor to not only enrich my life, but to remind me that regret would be ultimately more unfathomable than attempting to continue to invest in dreams unfulfilled.

Kristy :)

Sunday, 20 November 2016

Monogamy becomes Monotonous?

When you become a couple; ergo, your single status is annihilated and you’re suddenly inhaling each other’s poo particles in the bathroom each morning, it’s amazing how quickly the mystery you’d worked so hard at maintaining is tossed aside in lieu of comfortability.

It begins with gas emissions. First these were simply a strange concept neither of you discussed nor indulged, but once in the comfort zone, many partners feel this is the green light to explore warming the bed sheets or easing the burden of a rather large meal by ‘tooting’ their appreciation.

Suddenly everyone’s burping, farting and regularly leaving the toilet bowl desecrated. There’s no more mid-week bonks on the kitchen bench and clipping fingernails becomes an afterthought. Do I even mention the weight gain and decidedly lacklustre attempt to brush one’s hair on the weekend?

I personally HATE this trend towards laziness, because that’s exactly what it is … laziness. When did it become okay not to respect your partner’s vested interest in you? When is it okay for a woman to stop dressing to impress or a man to release all bodily functions? I for one vote to always keep the mystery, attempt to re-claim romance regularly and to maintain a high standard of hygiene, otherwise what’s the point of monogamy if suddenly it becomes monotonous?

Just my view …

Kristy J

Wednesday, 16 November 2016


I was talking to a friend today about the plethora of opportunities available in regards to career. She’s at the tender age of twenty-one and has the world at her feet. As far as I’m concerned, she’s sitting on the precipice of a multitude of exciting and varied paths that many people take for granted … she’s doing that now.

Take me; I’m an interior designer, practice manager, receptionist and writer. I mean, good God! Clearly I have trouble making decisions and thus I have many regrets about my scattered choices—namely not choosing a career that can make me squillions of dollars.

While my dear friend is unfortunately caught in that same rut of indecision, I could do no more than encourage her to take a step back and consider something grander than our monotonous nine-to-five job. While she shrugged her shoulders and lingered no longer than ten seconds on my advice, I started plotting my life as a travel writer. I figured I could fly to exotic destinations and swing from the trees like a monkey and ride African wildebeest like a jockey. Or can I?

Surely quitting my feasible existence and taking up the whimsy of ‘what if?’ would be preferable to wasting my life on data entry?

It’s a mixed bag, isn’t it? While some were smart in their choice to pursue higher education or due diligence in lucrative careers and apprenticeships, my friend and I—despite our massive age difference—are very much tied to a menial existence based on poor choices, indecision or fear.
It’s so interesting that with so many opportunities out there, we often baulk at a chance to change our life because it either takes us from our comfort zone or we feel inadequate. And so, we tend to complain about our current set of circumstances, knowing that we are the only ones with the power to change our existence, but remain unwilling to be culpable.

Perhaps it’s time to stop make excuses and start moving forward with a solution. I’ll keep you posted.

Kristy J

Friday, 11 November 2016

The Doctor!
Do you ever head to the doctors and exit your appointment even more confused than when you entered?

Well, take The Cockney; he’s middle-aged, in good general health, but like many of us, concerned about our aging issues and how best to maintain a good standard of healthy living. Gone are the days where there’s nothing we can do about our high blood pressure or rising cholesterol; there’s a medicinal or natural solution to most situations and given The Cockney’s obsession with staying fit, active and healthy, he goes regularly to the doctor in search of it.

Last night we were seated at dinner (our weekly romantic date) and discussing his latest visit with his general practitioner. I know, not exactly scintillating stuff, but I have to tell you he made me laugh so hard I almost spat my drink clear across the room.

Picture this; I sat sipping on my lemon, lime and bitters, pretending to be interested in his latest results for his cholesterol and dietary requirements when he tells me the doctor sent him for blood test and sample collection. Naturally I started to listen, as taking blood sounds semi-serious to those of us that generally run right past those clinics in a bid to ignore whatever health concerns can’t be diagnosed without peeing in a cup.

Anyway, next thing I know he explains that the doctor hands him a cup and says, ‘I need a sample’.
My dear, sweet Cockney glanced at the little plastic cup and yellow lid and failed to ask the most paramount question of all: ‘What sort of sample?’ And thus, he headed off to the bathroom, clueless, but determined not to fail in this medical mission.

With baited breath I sat waiting for the punchline. When I asked him exactly what he’d filled the cup with, his response had been, ‘Well, I went with what I needed to do most, so went with that.’
Drink now expelled from my lips and my laughter shaking the very foundations of the restaurant we sat in, I explained that he probably just wanted a urine sample.

‘Oh,’ The Cockney answered. ‘Well I guess that explains the look on his face when I handed back a full jar of my poo.’

Kristy :)