Monthly Archives: March 2014

A brief history of craft

Having been primary schooled in the tradition of Rudolph Steiner, my youth incorporated considerable craftwork.  As young students we were immersed in the world of watercolour paints, knitting, crochet, woodwork, leatherwork, soap stone carving, ceramics, even french knitting.  The foundations were laid much more firmly than I thought at the time, as I was recently […]

Phones and Fiction

“You say you are quite prepared to write novels in which people go around with personal electronic devices in their pockets” writes JM Coetzee to Paul Auster.  “I must say I am not.  The telephone is about as far as I will go in a book, and then reluctantly.  If people are continually going to […]

Mary Poppins

Last week, a friend from abroad (well, Scotland) came to stay with me. One of my more academic and intensely cerebral of friends, she has the kind of analytical eye which perceives social connections within the world with laser beam accuracy and verbally articulates her findings in the most enviably eloquent fashion as to leave […]

How to be a prize c**t

A couple of years ago, someone I loved told me I wasn’t sharp.  Intellectually sharp, that is.  When I took umbrage at this he explained that he was by no means inferring I wasn’t smart, simply that unlike others, I lacked the ability to think quickly and articulate myself smoothly when put on the spot.  […]

A morning with water bears

My recent throng of apocalytpic dreams is now bordering on the ridiculous*.  If I wasn’t such a cynic, I’d say the universe was priming me for some sort of cataclysmic event and it is through me that the aliens will communicate their warning before cherry-picking worthy candidates to beam off this doomed rock, like the […]

On Networking

A very dear and hard-working friend of mine has made a name for herself amongst political circles. The “unfucker” they call her: if a situation or event seems fucked up, they request her services to help unfuck it. After much volunteering along the campaign trail, she has proved herself an indispensable component in the great […]

A Life of rent

My parents didn’t own their own home until they were in their forties – well, my mother just into them and my father perhaps slightly shy of them.  Before that, we rented.  Four houses in total but the house at 2a Wylde Street, Telopea, a northwest suburb of Sydney, is the one to which most […]