Back from beautiful Busselton after an unplanned and unexpected holiday in the South West of Western Australia. Walking, swimming, sight-seeing and catching up with friends for a week has been invigorating.
The Golden Age, Joan London’s third novel, is a gem. Like her two previous, highly acclaimed novels Gilgamesh (2001) and The Good Parents (2009), The Golden Age kept me riveted to the page from start to finish.
I’m excited to be part of the challenge. Last year was the first time I’d committed myself to it and I was very tentative. There was no guarantee that I’d be able to complete the task because I was new to blogging. I mistakenly believed that the challenge expected participants to blog, as well as read and review a set number of books. This is not so. You can read about it here.
Cloudstreet river – what a backdrop for Christmas lunch!
‘Will you look at us by the river! The whole restless mob of us on spread blankets in the dreamy briny sunshine skylarking and chiacking about for one day, one clear, clean, sweet day in a good world in the midst of our living. Yachts run before an unfelt guest, with bagnecked pelicans riding above them, the city their twitching backdrop, all blocks and points of mirror light down to the water’s edge.’
Tim Winton Cloudstreet
Once upon a time my children and their families came to my house every year for Christmas lunch. Sometimes there have been as many as thirty or more of us, including my grandchildren. It worked well. In the last few years, though, we’ve begun to rotate to different homes for the celebration. Continue reading “A Cloudstreet river Christmas”
Our family has a long-standing tradition of Christmas pudding making.
It is a precious event in my calendar. I should have known that to write a blog about it would be difficult. There are so many memories, so much to say, that I’m afraid I won’t do justice to the custom. But our Christmas pudding deserves to be celebrated in writing.
There’s great mystique about this family tradition that stretches back as far in my maternal family as this old woman can remember. My mother made a Christmas pudding every year that I can remember. And her mother before her. I am the privileged living link (through Christmas puddings) between six generations of women and girls. Boys are welcome, too!
For the first time that I can remember, I’ve suffered from post holiday blues.
As a full-time worker (and later a PhD candidate) I never experienced such lethargy. The end of holidays always meant I was refreshed, ready to get on with the next thing. Even short breaks were energising. Often, my holiday notebook would bulge with events that I looked forward to. Plans for new ventures bubbled. My energy levels soared.