Angela Bensted

The Blog

This is where I practise

A better bio

November 24, 2017
better bio

An article appeared on my screen recently claiming to answer the perennial question ‘What should I include in my personal bio?’. As someone who struggled for days with the ‘About’ page on her website and recently took more time to write a 50-word bio than the 1200-word story attached to it, I read the article…

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Homeward bound

September 29, 2017
Homeward bound

Resolve Departure heralded good intentions. No champagne, no sugary post-meal treats. Instead, the flight from Brisbane to Hong Kong was all water and fruit and naked salad. Seven days and a couple of extra kilos later I’m returning home, strapped in and waiting to push back, cursing my lack of discipline. Bircher muesli with fruit…

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Artistic endeavours

September 28, 2017
artistic endeavours

I’m curled up in bed with an empty teacup beside me watching Lethal Weapon. The movie could be seen as a cultural touch stone, the first in a good-cop versus bad-drug-dealer franchise featuring slide guitar, gunfire, explosions and 1980s profanity. Am I drawing a long bow? Maybe. The rest of the day is easier to…

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(Almost) Daily Notes

Rainy day fun

Rainy day fun

November 18, 2017

Is three o’clock in the afternoon too soon to document the day? I’m waiting for The Ballerina to emerge from the dance studio and this seems like a more productive use of my phone than aimlessly scrolling through social media. Rain Today’s wet. The sky is white grey and the rain is falling in fat…

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Ian Fairweather, Bus stop,1965

Every word counts

November 17, 2017

Today was not a Fun Friday. I didn’t do yoga, shop, coffee and chat with The Bestie. No, today was an office grind day. Tax toil I finished the final Business Activity Statement for the quarter, but not without some stumbles. The bank account refused to reconcile, forcing me to go back two quarters and tidy.…

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Are you busy today

Are you busy mum?

November 16, 2017

The Champion is sound asleep on the sofa; face down, one leg straight, dangling, the other pulled up to her chest. She sleeps like me. And snores like her father. She’s been up since 5:30 this morning running the adult squad at the swim school where she teaches part time. University is over for the…

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