Reading back through my archives, I found last years entry about ANZAC Day. The same message still stands. I'm proud of being Australian. It's something that can only be understood, but not adequatly explained.

It's who I am.

This year, Anzac Day was a bit weird. I was in London and couldn't get to a Dawn Service. I wore my slouch-hat pin with pride, touching it throughout the day to make sure it was on straight. It's strange not being able to share it with anybody.

However, this year, Anzac Day also had a sad note. My nana died.

Ruby Doyle.
1914-2003
Did us all very proud.

She taught me how to play (and cheat at) cards. She shared my enjoyment of Cricket. I inherited her fingers, her chin, her cheeky grin. She taught me how to bake scones and how to play the piano.

Hey, Nan.
I'm not married yet!
*hahahaha* No, no special fella in my life. We're not all as lucky as you were.
I remember how you used to laugh and say: "Ooooh! You watch, Jack Doyle! When I see you in heaven, I'm going to kill you for leaving me all alone!"
You used to smile and tell the story of how you met, how you were the "short fat one".
But you were always short to me, Nan!
Yes, you should have put that brick on my head a long time ago!
Love you too, Nan.
I'll miss you heaps.
Say Hi to Papa for me.