The days edge into the haze of the last of summer and still, the grass seems to be flowing in green waves before your eyes. In the evenings, windows open and crickets talk along the fence line, probably about the weather. Beside me on the couch is A, my husband ... READ MORE
These pieces I write are really letters to you and I thank you with all I have. Each week I write another column as I did at ‘The Age’. Then I decided to write novels. It went well for a while. But maybe I left my run too late, and ... READ MORE
Six months ago, we signed a contract to sell our house. Once it was sold, we would then downsize. Plenty of people do it and it seemed simple. Our children were forty-one, thirty-nine and thirty-five, old enough to withstand the shock. I’d been against the move for years but suddenly ... READ MORE
Kate was always a terrible packer and today was no different. Into the suitcase went the pencil that was supposed to have come from Venice topped by a small St Marks’ lion, five poetry books, winter pyjamas and her old sandals. It would be hot and damp, but she never ... READ MORE
At the beach, the air itself seems blue and the sea is the colour of blue whales. Out there, white dashes are cresting waves because after the heatwave, the wind is high and fresh. During the recent searing heat, we dashed down to Melbourne to meet our new granddaughter, and ... READ MORE
‘I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you, that I almost believe that they’re real I’ve been living so long with my pictures of you That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel.’ The Cure Cricket drones on the radio and brings a ... READ MORE
As someone long prepared for the occasion In full command of every plan you erect Do not choose a coward’s explanation that hides behind the cause and the effect. – ‘Alexandra Leaving’ by Leonard Cohen The first cold night here in this unsteady summer, the new house was surrounded ... READ MORE
It was winter and the sea lay like a line of rope against the edge of the light sky, fat with fog and spitting icy mist. The six of us went towards the water, in dark coats with hoods up. We looked like monks. One brother cradled the urn that ... READ MORE
As always, the idea seemed okay. Alan had two weeks off, one to write and one to relax. I’m working on another book, part of which concerns an Italian. Alan joined the dots and said, ‘Why don’t we go to Italy for a week? ‘ I find travelling less fun ... READ MORE
In the first hospital, the waiting room is heaving with the tide of the unwell. An enormous man sits at the triage desk. He’s a giant egg in a red jumper and when he draws himself up to his full height, his shins are crimson sores. He walks as if ... READ MORE