Wednesday night, brooding with jars and vessel’s and other things on the kitchen bench Whilst the chook cooks and the cakes cool, Leo, Raf’s cat, disrupts the radio – transmission. Cooped up and disrupted, me and you ruffled, Raffled and shitty.
The last time I visited the Moorabbin Oval at Linton Street, it was a chilly, desolate spot. It was winter, and a heavy mist enveloped the ground.
This is Sharon. We met the day after the grand final on a Punt Road bound train. I got on at Caulfield station with Hugo, my only Tiger offspring, and at 14 years and five months of age he has been a devoted fan throughout. Together we have traversed the muddy times, the shock losses […]
I’m sitting in a black vinyl covered swivel chair at Carnegie Hair place, Carnegie, of course.
It’s Friday night, Derby Day eve. I’m no punter, yet I love a racecourse. It is a mystery to me, I know.
Quite a while ago, when I was doing Yr 12, I remember coming across a book by Viktor Frankl. He was an Austrian psychotherapist. It might have been in the Moonee Ponds library, the spot I retreated to escape the noise at home, and to pretend to myself that I was studying. Or, I may […]