The Lady in the Glove Box

  When I wait for her to do a spot of shopping I wait in it. When she’s getting ready to go out, I wait in it too, the sun like a lamp., with my stash of magazines: New Yorkers, National Geographics and that lady in the glove box, Olive Kitteridge. It is my loo, my library, my study, My five-seated reading room, My Chapman’s Homer. My car really takes me places.     Continue reading The Lady in the Glove Box

My Biography

  My biography is out. My grand-daughter in Brisbane was assigned with the rest of her Year 12 English class a 1000 word non-fiction piece on any topic of their own choosing. Tina chose me. We did a number of phone interviews. I directed her to a few of my websites and many of my publications. We shared some memories. The first seven years of her life were spent at our house and nearby. She took notes. She wrote and wrote and cross-checked with me. Tina handed it in before Easter. We nervously awaited the results. She just phoned me. … Continue reading My Biography

Fifty Shades of Brown

                                                       My friend calls it ‘scum’, The fifty shades of brown that patina The glass sides Of the black coffee cup; But I call it an Abstract of Accidental Art, A ‘Blue Poles’ Of blotches and bands. Most people drink from their cup; I hold mine and study it. Continue reading Fifty Shades of Brown


It was as though the gazania had suddenly sprouted wings broken free of its earth-bound roots seeking freedom in the sky, surprising even the dog who took after it like a rover the ball trying to wrestle it to the ground; but the cloth-white butterfly scorned her clumsy attempts, sailed away beyond our thoughts and knowledge. For a while we eyed everything but the rest of the garden absolutely refused to move. Continue reading Surprise

Further Thoughts on the Apocalypse

  Not one. All summer. Their absence is alarming as their past invasions. They have even retired from our screens. There used to be films in which ants were as numerous and invasive as refugees from Syria, Think ‘The Naked Jungle’, ‘Them’. Now they don’t even get a look-in in David Attenborough documentaries. Have they merely taken a sabbatical from our kitchens, or have they retired permanently to their underground bunkers, these doomsday preppers of the insect world? Continue reading Further Thoughts on the Apocalypse