I’m sitting on a bench at Buraneer Point. Far below me is the blue ribbon of the Port Hacking River.
Continue reading “Jean of Buraneer”Tag: mother
The Last Christmas
The first time I cook a turkey is a week before my mother dies.
The Power of a good hug
We all know the rules of social distancing in these Covid times. The idea of masking up and the importance of doing the right thing.
Continue reading “The Power of a good hug”Mum
On New Year’s Eve, I sit on the bank of the Murrumbidgee River with my friend, Em. She slaps and curses at the mosquitoes buzzing around her ankles. A fish jumps in the middle of the river and a mopoke hoots its mournful cry. Our hurricane lamp is a beacon for moths. Our warm champagne tastes silky smooth and sweet in the darkness as we toast in 1985. Continue reading “Mum”
The Pelvic Floor Coffee Club 