Back when it was legal in Victoria, we had a couple of school families over for dinner. We lit a big fire in the fire pit; cooked up a storm; and gathered around our long table for a meal. We chatted and told stories, and gradually the talk turned to politics. At this point, one of my teenage daughters entered the conversation; and she set out her strong and considered opinion on the intersection of power and violence ...
Like me, my mother was an ordained Baptist minister; but unlike me, she had endometriosis. Among other things, this meant that her menstrual periods were excruciatingly painful, and came upon her suddenly, in great floods. And so my childhood is studded with high stress memories of her period suddenly starting while we were out. There'd be an intake of breath, then a quick hissed exchange between my parents, then a frantic search for a public toilet before disaster struck ...
Tonight we gathered around a fire pit in the church carpark (current COVID restrictions put the kybosh on a bonfire in a local paddock); and we marked the winter solstice. You can read the liturgy here.
When I first introduced the man who was to become my husband to my extended family, not one but two different people said to me, “Wow! We never thought you’d meet anyone, let alone a Collins Street lawyer.” Never mind that my husband’s office was on Queen Street; the message was clear. All my life I’d been told by family, church and society that no man wanted an outspoken wife ...
One of my happy places is Little Creatures brewery in Geelong – or any big barnlike place which serves hot chips, a decent pint, and a place to hang out with family and friends ...
