I was recently invited to read a short story at a writer’s event called Melbourne Sub. This event gave writers the opportunity to read their work in front of an audience. The Picnic is based on an event in my family in 1902. Emma and her ma, Hepzibah, were my grandmother and great-grandmother, respectively. They were pioneer women living on the Hay Plains in far west NSW. They were kind, resolute and stoic. I am proud of them both. This is their story.
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Last Drinks
Two significant events happened on Sept 25, 2021. The first was that the Melbourne Football Club won their first Grand final in nearly 60 years. The second one was more personal; I stopped drinking alcohol on this day. For those who know me well there are two surprises. One is that I care about football, and the other is that I’m on the sober bandwagon. No one is more surprised than me.
Continue reading “Last Drinks“My Father’s Hats
The last thing I could do for my father was to place the old tweed cap on his head as his body was wheeled out of the house. Once the cap had sat snug on his head, but now it fell down over his nose. Not that it mattered now. The ravage of cancer had shed his body away to nothing. ‘He can’t go without his hat,’ I said.
Continue reading “My Father’s Hats”Broad city and me
I’m feeling a bit sad and discombobulated. Broad City is done.
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The Need for Top Gun
I recently stepped outside my comfort zone and watched Top Gun.
America, my beautiful
My love affair with America began with TV in the 1970s.
The Last Christmas
The first time I cook a turkey is a week before my mother dies.
Podcasts. What the hell are they?
I’m a late convert to podcasts. My introduction was on a camping trip when a friend sat on a chair for five days straight as she listened to Serial. I didn’t get it.
Continue reading “Podcasts. What the hell are they?”A very pandemic birthday
I woke with a start on the eve of my birthday. It was 4am and my heart was racing. I woke from a dream where the sky had turned inky black and the turreted faux-Dakota building apartment complex across the valley – burst into flames.
Continue reading “A very pandemic birthday”Crush- Imaginary boyfriends – An update
Enough of the doom and the bloody gloom- I’m going to write something frivolous and have some fun.
It’s been three years since I last wrote a list of my crushes- named The Fucket List- Desirables Living and Dead. Maybe I should call it the dinner party list, the top 10 people I’d like to meet or simply, The Imaginary Boyfriend List.
The Pelvic Floor Coffee Club 