When the Penny Drops

I had a penny-dropping moment once and it was blinding. A moment when you felt compelled to look around and check that no one else saw the obvious creep up and slap you. I was in a cafe, staring up at one of those ridiculously high counters. Why did I have to stand on tippy toes to pay for my coffee? Up there, three plastic containers were stacked on top of each other. Small, medium, large; plastic, environmentally catastrophic. They were filled with rice, with the prices handwritten on the lids in thick black texta.

Happy Everything!

Do 21st birthdays really matter? The one at our house last weekend did. Family bonding at its best. In the grog shop the weekend before, where debates raged over the best brand of cider, and in the café on the corner where we decided on the menu with a wise caterer who recommended lots of carbs. On the night, in the kitchen with the extended family, well away from a tent that contained most of the mischief and afterwards with just a few left, to scoff mud cake over a cuppa and a chat.

Why Mr Glover Doesn't Need Facebook

When writer and broadcaster Richard Glover wrote a column about his 20 favourite Facebook faux pas, his last point ruffled the feathers. “Posting a link to your own work…as if I’d ever do something as egocentric as that.”

Mr Glover doesn’t need Facebook. He has a longstanding gig on ABC radio, a weekly newspaper column, eight published books and a well-stocked website. Other writers are not so well established. For them, Facebook and Twitter are occupational necessities.

Food Stuff

The other day a tiny bird usually perched on top of a most sensitive literary radar flew down and sat on my shoulder. "Tweet tweet": have you heard about the latest literary sensation? No, not the smutty one. This little birdie is channelling a seriously influential publishing fat cat and apparently his novel is a winner. I’ve only read the first chapter so far. This evocative tome sets every bodily sense jigging. I can see the film. I can suggest actors. I can imagine awards ceremony sometime. Because the book's all about food and food stories are always winners.

Leonard

The Serious Writing Course (TSWC) is over. Now that I don't have to beg for Tuesday night soup and sourdough from the cafe with no food or convene with the lovely group of similarly conflicted-when -it-comes-to-writing souls, I have to make do with my man. I shove his greatest hits into the CD socket, place the headset over the ears and turn up the volume. It will be Him who gets me to the end of this book from now on, not Tuesday nights at TSWC. Anthem, Dance Me to the End of Love, Show Me the Place...

But first, let me recall for a moment, the best concert ever:-