We were ushered as a group up to the third floor, via building zones and taped-up elevators. The hallway felt heated, as did the room when we first stepped inside. It was the usual cluster of chairs, the kind with the oversized tablet-top on the right hand side designed for note taking – the sort of…
Sorry, folks. It’s Friday. My brain cashed in all its chips and went out disco bowling. In absentia, this is the best kind of post I can pull together. But stay tuned for next week. Some exciting things are happening.
The stage is set. The floor is cleared of all obstacles; toys have been flung into the dark recesses of the cupboard. We are ready. It is showtime. Even the cat watches from the doorway. Her tail twitches with anticipation. Keira and I sit on our bottoms, an eager audience. My son sidles and jigs…
Following on from yesterday… “Mr Squiggle show is funny. with Miss Jane Gus the snail and Bill the steam shovel. Gus the snail is cheeky. He wants to be the boss of all Australia.” Now this about the best photo I can get of Gus the bossy, self-centred snail who (I suspect) Corey Worthington derived…
Moving on from last week’s scathing rant against boring public speakers here we have my favourite televisions shows from the 1980s (again, still haven’t put a thumb on it but I think we’re in ’87 or ’88. Maybe ’86?) In my opinion Voltron, Its a Knockout, Mr Squiggle and Playmates were the best. The first…
While I fear it would be disastrously premature to announce anything just yet, let me tease you all just a little bit by saying that soon – if things go to plan – life will be getting very busy. Exciting, challenging, and meaningful. I’ll tell you when I can. {NO I am not pregnant. A…
Right – so this has been a hard week. Breath a sigh of relief, folks. I won’t be talking about it anymore. I got what I needed to off my chest. Today, I thought I’d bring the fun back in. To introduce the piece, here’s my author biography from this year’s Emerging Writers’ Festival: “My first…
I was anxious, even as a child. Especially as a child. Nights were the worst. I could not – and still cannot – sleep without a light on somewhere in the house, except when my husband is next to me, and even then I still prefer one on. When little, if I woke in the…
