About Julia
My relationship with food has always been rocky.
Growing up, the catalogue of approved foods was miniscule. One might even say difficult. Not because of allergies or dietary requirements, but because I was a stubborn little girl who insisted on only eating sausages, mashed potato and Weetbix. Literally. It was well known that I would pick the tiny specks of parsley off garlic bread and when eating out at an Italian restaurant, I would ask that my pasta sauce be made WITHOUT onion and garlic (if only I could apologize to the chefs).
With a poem in my pocket and a picture in my head, I started Recipes on Paper. Mostly for selfish reasons. But the main reason I started it is so I can feel close to my grandmothers again. I miss them. I miss their cotton nighties, I miss playing Rummy with them and most of all, I miss being comforted by their cooking.
In early 2021, I was at a fork in the road. One direction would have me travel on the same path I had been headed for many years, and the other path could potentially see me make a small difference in this world. So, I decided to put my big girl knickers on, and I decided to throw caution to the wind. I am not saying I will never practice as a nurse again, or that I won’t ever perform on stage again, but for now, my job is to tell stories. Stories that perhaps would never be told.
One of my biggest regrets today (apart from accidently throwing out my favourite Hanson t-shirt), is not spending enough time with my Grandmothers. Don’t get me wrong, I spent time with them. One could say a lot of time. But what I wished is that I had really and truly soaked up all of their stories. All of them. I wish I had taken notice of every line on their smiling face. Every cheeky smile, every twinkle in their eye and every small, passing giggle. I wish I had held their hands more and watched more Shirley Temple movies. I wish I had learnt how to grow the perfect hydrangea and I wish I had learnt how to teach a bird to say ‘tweety pie’.
But life got away from me and I missed my chance. And I will FOREVER have that dread in the pit of my stomach knowing I could have more memories.
So my goal, the goal of this endeavour, is to speak up so that someone else doesn’t have the same regrets as I do. The moral of the story is: don’t be like Julia.
