I found myself in a bit of an ethical and emotional pickle whilst formulating this blog post and my latest video.
You see, as a vegan, I feel very aware that I may be judged negatively for the experience I’m about to share with you.
But I’ve just got to square my shoulders and bear that, if it does come to that.
See, in January, when my British boyfriend visited me here in Australia, we took a trip an hour and a half up the highway to Currumbin Wildlife Sanctuary, so I could introduce him to some of Australia’s most famous native animals.
I’m a proud Northern Rivers girl, which you may have gathered from my ongoing Northern Rivers series.
My region is a very beautiful place – there’s no doubt about that.
While I generally tell people I’m from Lismore, I only really say that because it’s a regional centre that more people know the name of, and it’s where I work.
In fact, the truth is I grew up in Alstonville (Until I was 8), and Wollongbar, and apart from stints living in Sydney for study, and in Lismore itself, I’ve lived in the same house in Wollongbar since 2000.
Here’s one random thing you probably didn’t know about me: I grew up around old cars.
A LOT of old cars.
My Dad’s side of the family have been involved with the vintage car club in our region since it’s inception, and so I grew up sitting in the backseat of old Chevy’s and Plymouths.
When I was a child we would spend weekends on car rallies in the car my parents had at the time, a 1929 Chevrolet.
I remember bouncing up and down along bumpy old roads on the weathered leather seats (no seatbelts in these old cars, of course), and the struggle it is was to put the windows in or out – no up or down, no winding down the windows in these old cars, no, the panes were carefully removed from the latches if you wanted some air, and would have to be securely lodged back in if you changed your mind.