Category Archives: My Mother and Me

Imaginary Good

“Why is it, that doing something, is so much harder than thinking about doing something? This fascinating existential question confronted me recently while I was thinking about my mother’s solar panels. She lives in a suburb where roofs outnumber trees … Continue reading

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Burke & Wills and Me

I’m standing at Redfern Station waiting to catch the train to Canley Vale to visit my mother who lives exactly 9.2 km from there along the Orphan School Creek bike track. Usually I catch a bus from the station to her house … Continue reading

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The Next Big Thing

“Bowl head! Bowl head!” “Stupid wog! Look at her hair!” I’d thought my 1920s Parisian style bop was quite sophisticated. “Did your mother put a bowl over your head to cut your hair?” one of them snarled, as the rest … Continue reading

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A Sapphire Blue Sydney Sky

“We’re going to stick it where the sun don’t shine.” That’s not actually what he said. It’s just what I imagined he was thinking. I blame such crassness on several days of ‘low residue white food’ diet followed by 24 hours of … Continue reading

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Bugs, Birds and Bees

Recently I was talking to my mother. My phone call interrupted her in the shed where she was wrestling with the pesticide pump. She was removing the original hose and replacing it with a longer one. By way of making conversation I … Continue reading

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When the Moon is Missing

My mother is a busy woman. Not only is she a retiree with a very healthy social life, she is a lawn bowls champion at state and national levels. Finding time to catch up can sometimes be quite a challenge. A … Continue reading

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The Curse

I am thirteen years old. I have just discovered blood in my underwear. I have heard the horror stories. I have witnessed the distress in the girls’ toilets. I know this is a curse. I know that now I should not touch pickles, wash … Continue reading

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