Angela Bensted

The Blog

This is where I practise

Gray day

March 7, 2018

A gray day is remarkable here in this city of hard blue skies and flat line thermometers. And when the gray day comes with rain the locals lose the plot, abandoning public transport to travel by car, averse to puddles and umbrellas and possibly wet hair. So when I drove to the cultural precinct for…

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Secrets within

March 7, 2018

I walked into the kitchen at eight o’clock tonight and retrieved a half-full bottle of wine from the fridge. I poured a glass and ripped the plastic wrap from a magazine that arrived in today’s mail, the Queensland Writers Centre quarterly. I leaned against the kitchen bench and made space amongst the bread crumbs and…

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Sports writing

February 18, 2018

Wedged against the window at 38,000 feet, I’m flying home after three days in Melbourne, where I wore my communications hat at the Junior National Fencing Championships. The job has a wobbly definition.  It doesn’t involve much writing. But I do a lot of listening, gathering personal stories and history. I also take a lot…

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(Almost) Daily Notes

Weekend away

April 22, 2018

“Would you like the creamy pesto pasta or the ham, coleslaw and potato salad?” They both sounded good to me. Any meal which doesn’t involve planning, shopping or cooking on my part is always a winner. But forced to choose I selected the ham salad. Delicious. More on food The flight attendants continued down the…

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Confession

March 9, 2018

I have a confession to make. But first, my day. Urgent I woke anxious, worried about the tax return I haven’t done. A list of questions from the accountant first hit my in-box last December. A gentle reminder followed in February. A phone call a few days later. Then yesterday, as I was scribbling notes…

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Gray day

March 7, 2018

A gray day is remarkable here in this city of hard blue skies and flat line thermometers. And when the gray day comes with rain the locals lose the plot, abandoning public transport to travel by car, averse to puddles and umbrellas and possibly wet hair. So when I drove to the cultural precinct for…

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