Category Archives: Uncategorized
On Motherhood and Disability . . .
Last week I was fortunate to attend a writing / book event in Melbourne. Margaret Drabble appeared in person at the ‘Wheelers Centre’. I guess the tour was part of a promotion for her newest book called ‘The Pure Gold Baby’ released … Continue reading
Sometimes I’m a pain. . .
Sometimes I can be a bit of a pain! I get anxious when situations are not as I think they should be. . . yep, I confess, I do like the ducks lined up. Ring any bells? Well, I spend quite a bit of … Continue reading
Acceptance. . . an arduous journey. . .
We’ve all heard loose talk about acceptance. It’s as if we just have to make an intellectual decision to accept a situation and then ‘bingo’ it happens. Not always. Of course, it also depends on the nature and seriousness of the matter we are dealing … Continue reading
A little friend goes to school. . .
A little friend who lives in our street is about to embark on a very big adventure. She starts school for the very first time this week. Yesterday, she arrived at our house, all decked out in her new school … Continue reading
Grace!
Recently, I had lunch with five friends from my ‘Writers Group’. As a group of writers we discuss various issues, often related, sometimes unrelated to what one of us is writing about. Mostly we are novelists and so sometimes I think we seek to have discussions … Continue reading
‘People Like Us!’
Recently, I was involved in a conversation with another person who used demeaning language about public housing tenants. The person in question referred to the government as ‘putting them’ in certain areas. As the flavour of the conversation continued, I wincingly objected, only to … Continue reading
A tear for Julia!
On Wednesday I walked the corridors of Parliament House. Just a casual tourist having a quick look around our National Capital. I walked (a little too briskly probably!) past the large portraits of our former Prime Ministers, desperately wanting to … Continue reading
Not just a House!
Yesterday I looked at a house for sale. An old Victorian house with one of those original tiled paths that starts at the gate and continues to the front door. I stepped tentatively into the large hallway and consequently back in … Continue reading
What is an olive?
My son tells a story about sitting in a village pub in Essex, England, with his then girlfriend’s brother. The chap turned to my son and in his wonderful Essex accent asked, ‘What is an olive?’ My son looked bemused … Continue reading
Heather Whitford Roche 