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On holidays

South Broulee

Here we are on holidays

And we are doing a bit of this

Rock pools

And a bit of this

Kiss blowing practice

And even some of this

South Broulee













Write on Wednesday … losing

‘I can’t stress how important it is that we behead this fiend.’

Write On Wednesdays

‘I can’t take it anymore, it’s ruining my life.’ Read More

Tense day in mamaland

Yesterday I was tested as a mother.

This morning, as I was preparing to listen to two lovely people on the radio. I was also in the bathroom, before nine, trying to unblock the sink. While I was trying to do this, my toddler was opening cupboards. He opened the cupboard which contains, among other things, a plastic box full of small ramekins and pyrex dishes. These are great things to bang together, they make fantastic noise. Until they break. And I heard that noise and bolted to the kitchen. I was too late. Toddler was griping the broken piece of glass in his fist. I was there two seconds too late. He gripped and it cut into his thumb. Read More

The wood AND the trees

I have been in a persistent funk lately. Since Easter really. It’s a bloody long time. Read More

Write On Wednesday … He filled his glass

He filled his glass, emptied it, and fell silent, immersed in his own thoughts. Just wait here, she had said. Wait? Here? For what? It’d been more than five years since he had seen her. Six years? Maybe seven years? Long enough to have thought he’d never see her again. Long enough to have forgotten all about the promises he had made. Wishes they had long ago left behind unfulfilled, bubbled up in his mind. Read More

Help me chose the book for Write on Wednesday

I need some help. (No not like that!)

This week on Write On Wednesday, I have to chose the eighth book from the shelf and use the eighth line from the eighth page to start a five minute writing exercise. Fine except which shelf? Read More

Write On Wednesdays … I remember


Write On Wednesdays


I remember leaning in, taking hold of his arm and giving it a good sniff. I inhaled his smell. Deeply and luxuriantly, I breathed him in. I couldn’t say why I wanted to smell him, only that I did. He was bemused but allowed me to press my nose to his forearm. At this stage of the wonder at meeting someone who he really liked, I think he would have let me do pretty much anything I liked.

The smell was exquisite to my love worn and tired senses. It was manly and clean and warm. I liked it at once. Perhaps, I had read something about new lovers and how the pheromones attract, like moths to a flame. Perhaps I temporarily took leave of my senses. I don’t know now.

It was very late in the evening. It was to be an anti-climatic inhale. Soon he would graciously thank me. Tell me how much he enjoyed my company. And suddenly he would be gone. Forever after that moment there would be a him shaped hole inside my soul when he wasn’t right there next to me.

That smell of his warm delicious skin remains with me. Now, it is so familiar to me, I can’t perceive it again in quite the same way.

Write On Wednesday … I failed


Write On Wednesdays

This week’s task for Write it Wednesday was about dialogue.

Specifically, Detective Dialogue: For this exercise you need to be a little bit sneaky. And brave. You need to be around at least 2 other people (or a small child who will happily chat to himself and/or imaginary friends). Write down a conversation/ dialogue exchange as you hear it.

Now I totally failed this task.

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On reading

On Reading

The collision of the book and digital reading

The internet has not impacted upon my reading habits in the slightest. I still pass my eyes from left to right across the lines of text, just as I always have. I still read line by line, turn from page to page; just as I always have. I still pick and chose. I still seek inspiring texts (to read). The internet has no impact on my reading habits, but the book says the internet is ambitious, and the book is honourable. The book fears there will be worse come in its place, that will lay waste to its carefully nurtured kingdom of readers and writers.

Books are my friends, faithful and just; they line up in my study like soldiers. They look down on the interloping screens from their posts on the battlements high on the walls.

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Coldest day for a long time

Write on Wednesdays – this is an online writers group writing exercise – thanks to InkPaperPen and to The Rhythm Method.


Write On Wednesdays

(This is a warm up exercise, to limber up my writing muscles. I am supposed to write about myself right now for 60 seconds and give you some insight into me using all five senses.) Ready? Set? Go

Today was the coldest day for a long time. Right now I am lying on the couch full of cheese toastie, pumpkin soup and chocolate self saucing pudding. I feel warm and cosy for the first time all day. I have a heat pack against the 7th and 8th vertebrae of my spine. These are the ones that defeated the osteopath, in spite of her best efforts at lunch time. The 4th was compliant, eventually. My neck and back do feel better.

I can hear the clattering of dishes from the kitchen. Questions keep coming about what to do about this or that. The heater ticks and whirs. The grey cat lies right under it. Stretched full length. At the back of my neck a draught breezes past me, reminding me of the glacial chill of the wind today.

Much Ado About Nothing

Last night, Robert and I took Talking Boy to see Much Ado About Nothing.

In preparation for this we ran through the story (such as it is) a few times. Talking Boy was worried it wasn’t in “normal English”. I worried that he would talk all the way through it. We talked a bit about the theatre and seeing plays. We reassured him it was a comedy, a rom-com in fact and that he would enjoy it. (Or else I thought quietly to myself.)

Much Ado About Nothing

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When my husband does the dishes … Kerri Sackville’s booklaunch part two (A)

It is taking an incredibly long time to deliver on my promised part two of the story of Kerri Sackville’s book launch. I just read @TwitchyCorner’s account. Her part one. It’s such a big story it needs to be told in stages! There is also, perhaps, something like collective amnesia induced by champagne, occurring.  So to tide you over and to pique your interest, while I stuff around writing all the things I am supposed to be writing – like a review of the book for HerCanberra.com.au – par exemple – here is part two (A). The teaser to Part Two.
Some of my favourite moments from after the official ‘launching bit’ and the after party.

@Woogsworld diving into my cleavage to get a better sniff of my perfume (Fracas – for the record).

Giving @deemadigan a lecture on the ACT Legislative Assembly and how it is unicameral.

Dragging @alexricia around to meet people after she had an attack of the shys.

Saving my phone number to @indydreaming’s phone as DUDE! (This only came to light much later – like last week!)

Asking @electric589 why I always imagined the distance between Ariel Booksellers and Dinosaur Designs on Oxford Street, to be much shorter than it actually is, only to cut him off dead when he started to give me a totally serious and sensible answer about spatial perception.

Waiting what seemed liked hours for a pizza with @lgcollard @BenisonAnne @yvettevignando and @Nicky_Lavigne When it finally arrived, after what was actually hours, it was delicious, but we had all pretty much lost interest and were talking about sex. Again.

The Architect whispers sweet nothings to The Author

More more more – and then some – soon.

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