Archive for August 2017

Punching bag

My name’s Angela and I sell things online. Not for the money, just to offload stuff. I’m a chucker and there’s not a sentimental bone in my body. Soft toy you’ve had since infancy? Binned. School magazine collection from the 1970s? Consider it compost. The Husband is afraid to stand still in case I size…

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What kitchen?


Anybody would think the fridge had broken or the stove had gone kaput. I haven’t cooked all weekend. We’ve had cheese platters and take-away Thai food and explored the suburbs looking for an afternoon coffee. Tonight we should have eaten left-over cheese and green chicken curry. Instead we picnicked at Mt Coot-Tha, picking up karage chicken…

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Bored games

The dog woke me this morning at seven with a bark, an old dog’s querulous protest at some passing shadow. The tan and white pup, a now-grizzled blend of spaniel, pug and papillon, is deaf and almost blind. Yet somehow the dog senses when his universe has been disturbed. Somewhere in our street something had moved. Since coming to this house, where the dog’s fee…

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The struggle is real

Today’s challenge was to grab people’s attention with clever social media, to make people stop swiping and read my post, maybe even like it, or share it with their friends. Since February I’ve been managing communications for Queensland Fencing. It’s fun. I enjoy it. Not sure I’m brilliant at it, but occasionally something I produce will gain traction.…

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Wood for the trees

Are there ground rules for claiming writer’s block? You know, thresholds? Do you have to be a published author or at least earning a regular income from word craft to qualify as being ‘blocked’ when you stop? I’ll ponder this as I write. That’s The Socialite in the picture above and The Mutt beside her.…

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