Four times I was lucky, in response to Jett, and thanks for getting me thinking. Too often, we don't remember our good fortune.

Lucky #1: The God Boots, thus called because we believe they were a message from God. Shopping with J², can't remember what for. We walk past the shoe section, and I see them. Knee-high black suede with a clumpy heel but they're still great. I just have to try them on, though I know they won't fit, because I have skinny legs and boots never fit. There are two sizes - 7 and 7. I'm a 7. They fit perfectly, foot and ankle and calf. They were made for me. I can barely believe it. The price tag says $38, and I'm stoked. We get to the checkout, and they ring up as $25.

"Don't say a word, bitch," J² says, shaking his finger at me.

Lucky #2: Grade 11, I was elected as part of my school's delegation to the regional constitutional convention. I wasn't elected the speech-giver, though. Probably because I wasn't popular - too much of a bitch, even then. However, with three days to go before the convention, I was called up by our organiser, my history teacher, and told that because a private Rocky school had two speakers, we were allowed to have an extra speaker too, and I was it. Take this double period off and go and do some research, write a speech. I wrote it in two days, which is the absolute best way to go into public speaking, still riding high on the adrenaline of composition. It was the best speech I've ever given in my life. I've never again managed to recreate the feeling of surfing on the attention of the audience, of feeding off them and back to them and taking it all to tremendous heights. I won the competition, and got to attend the national constitution convention in Canberra. That was a great experience too, but giving that speech remains one of the highest points of my life.

Lucky #3: Mr Chambers. The single biggest influence to shape my personality and creative life since my parents. He was my grade 9 English teacher, but he very nearly wasn't. For the first term, I had Mr... can't even remember his name now. He was awful. I hated him. With a passion. I went on a crusade, hell-bent on getting out of his class. I almost managed it, too. But then they said: "Look, we'll still move you if you like, but this guy's retiring at the end of the term anyway, so do you want to just stay in the class?" I said yes. And the rest, I guess, is history.

Lucky #4: Teetering between ANU and Macquarie, flipping through accommodation brochures, making decisions based on nothing more than glossy photos and which uni's propaganda had the better grammar, I chose where I am today. And met excellent friends, had life-changing experiences, and encountered the man I love.

That was definitely the luckiest moment of all.