After over a month away from the blog I find it difficult to pick up where I left off. There are half a dozen unfinished drafts, and none of them seem like the next step to take.

It’s been a busy time, with uni starting and all of the reading and writing that that entails, but there’s also been a litany of winter illnesses, mine and the children’s. I even had a case of adult hand, foot and mouth disease, and wasn’t that just a barrel of laughs. The head cold that came on days afterward, coupled with the sleep deprivation brought on by a certain 2 year old cutie makes me think of those layers of stratification of the earth where you can physically see the passage of thousands of years, layer by layer. I think of the layers of my tiredness, the hundreds and hundreds of nights that I have been woken four or five or ten times by my not-sleepily-gifted babies. I am tired. Life goes on.

I will be happy when Winter is over, with the dark and the rain and the cold, but I am lucky


so very lucky.

All whom I love are happy and healthy, and all is well.

So, fragments of life…

I am absolutely the most annoying mature aged student in my units! I’m studying online and I do the equivalent of “pick me! Pick me!” In online discussions instigated by the tutors. I can’t help it, I am honestly just really excited about being there.

I just finished a book by Australian writer Rod Jones last night called The Mothers. It is about several generations of women from 1916 to the present and their experiences of having babies out of wedlock. It resonated because my mum had a a baby when she was 16 and was sent to a Catholic Nunnery very much like the Salvation Army one mentioned in the book, The Haven, which was a real place. There are several generations of women in my own family who suffered shame at the hands of a hypocritical society (which punished mothers but not fathers of children). It was really interesting because it was set in various suburbs of Melbourne in which I have lived and was very well researched. I discovered at the end that it was semi-autobiographical.

Rod jones

I highly recommend it.

It was a library book, incidentally, and some reader before me had seen fit to offer her opinions throughout the text at various points in pencilled grey cursive. She was fairly opinionated. I felt like countering her opinions in my own little annotations at times.

Library book opiner

I’ve been listening to The Cure, since nearly everyone in the whole of Australia seems to have gone to see them on their tour in the last week or 2. I saw them in 1992. It was funny listening to them again, and remembering every word, being taken back to the girl that I was when I was listening. Music has that evocative power, like a long forgotten scent, to bring up an era as though you are there again.

In September I am going to the One Night Only premiere and showing of a film about Nick Cave called One More Time With Feeling on the eve of his new album launch. If you’re not a fan, you may not know that his 15 year old son died tragically in an accident last year and he hasn’t really shown his face since then. I wondered if he would ever make music or write again.

I am also going to see Australian writer Richard Flanagan doing a talk for the Melbourne Writer’s Festival in September. I am such a big fan! I am too tired to know whether I have written on the blog about my experience writing him a letter when I was 21 after reading his first fiction novel, Death of a River Guide and the amazing letter that he wrote back. I hope that I get to meet him and get a book signed. Is anyone else going?

I am loving Pip Lincolne and her ever cheering whimsy and wisdom (and delicious food) in the world. This piece of hers went viral last week, even being shared by Ruby Wax, and with good reason. Please go and read it, you will love it..

I am reading the most beautiful volume of poetry by Australian poet David Malouf. Beautiful in cover and words. One of the many things that I most adore about poetry is the way that you can just open a book randomly and find the most poignant descriptions of some small thing that is so incredibly perfect for the moment in time where you stand right at this very point in time. I opened today, on this perfectly blue and sunny Sunday that felt like a crack into the coming Spring and the end of illness and tiredness, and there was this poem, All Souls (I hope I don’t get into trouble for sharing this, but I do so in the spirit of advertising his talent to the world, and sharing his crafted wonder).

David Malouf poem

Well, that’s it for me and these fragments of my life, or what’s going on right now and all around. I hope that things are going well for you, and I hope to be popping in here much more often. I especially want to stop being so slack and get some more children’s book reviews going, because Zanni Lousie is hosting a link up on Tuesday’s for children’s book related articles and I want to be there. In the mean time, go and check her gorgeous blog out here.

Oh, and late in the piece, but my sister, Indigo Perry’s breathtakingly lovely and profound ribbon of experimental poetry was published in literary journal Otolith today. It blew me away and rocked my world. You can read it here

Linking up with the lovely Kylie for #IBOT