Okay, so I lied in my last recap when I said it would probably be my last recap for a while. As soon as I found out the lineup for this event, I jumped online to find it had already sold out, and my couple of days of hesitation had cost me a ticket to the lineup I was perhaps looking forward to more than any other WoL event I had attended, ever. So, I moped for a month, then in the days leading up to the event I stalked the Facebook and Twitter pages obsessively hoping someone would have a spare ticket to unexpectedly get rid of. Thanks to Elyse, best person in the world, she found some this morning and promptly snapped me one up. So I headed to the Regal Ballroom, in my new and improved traffic-free route (ie. NOT Punt Road) and met up with Elyse and co!
Marieke Hardy and Michaela McGuire were at Splendour in the Grass (half their luck!) and our wonderful host today was musician and actress (and WoL alumni), Clare Bowditch. The host plays such an important part in these salons, and she did not disappoint, introducing each guest and giving us some kind of insightful comment that tied back to the letters that had been read. And she looked beautiful, as usual. The theme today? A letter to my temptation.
First up was Estelle Tang, writer, bibliotherapist (ahem, awesome!) and personal hero of mine. Estelle wrote to Gwyneth Paltrow, and the weekly newsletter sent out by Paltrow's company- Goop. This was a cheeky letter, relishing in the more outlandish statements made by Paltrow - including the phrase 'I would rather die than let my kids eat Cup-A-Soup' - and poking fun at the ludicrously expensive items on the weekly newsletter available for purchase. Estelle has subscribed to Goop, and continues to read the newsletter every week, and I must confess, I am quite curious myself. Estelle's timing and delivery was flawless, and it was an riotously good letter to kick of the salon with.
Next up was musician Joanna Nilson. She listed a number of temptations throughout her letter, trying to decide what was her biggest one. Her letter was 8 parts hilarious, 2 parts utterly devastating, and included musings on smoking ("a more thrillingly dangerous version of chewing my nails"), booze, marijuana and other, harder drugs (though her paragraph on heroin and its utter shitness was sobering after all the laughing we'd been doing), food (chocolate, cheese...basically everything I enjoy as well) and a glowing reference to the town she was from as "a herpes sore on the twat of the nation". Eventually she mentioned her final temptation - bad men - and listed a Greatest Hits of her "man-baby boyfriends" which, again, had us in stitches. Her accurate and painful description of the depression she experienced after a particular break-up really hit home, and it was this which made her decide she needed to avoid terrible boys above all else.
Judith Lucy, comedian and author, began her letter with the sentence "Annoyingly, I don't have many temptations left". She then went on to wax lyrical about her oldest and dearest temptation - television. Her letter was, predictably, gut-bustingly hilarious and included phrases such as "Mum would have to physically lock me out of the house so I could get some sunshine". Her reading included singing, and a demonstration of how she used to watch a wall-mounted, fridge-sized television (hint: it involved lying flat across the WoL table with her legs crooked as though she were "watching Gilligan's Island with [her] genitals". Impressions of Days of Our Lives (her favourite soap) and the mention of something called 'Dr Feather Weather's Wonderful Workshop' rounded out one of the funniest letters I've ever had the privilege of hearing.
An audible ripple ran through the ballroom as Kat Stewart took the mic. Was it because her character on Offspring is making crazy storyline waves in the show, or was it just because she's amazing? It didn't matter. Kat's letter was an ode to motherhood, and trying to achieve a work/life balance. It was honest, and it was touching. Her love for her son cannot be contained in words, but she did her darndest to communicate it, with phrases like "his laugh makes me euphoric". She spoke about the longing she felt for another baby, a sibling for her son who she adores unconditionally, and the simultaneous longing to continue working, and creating and being artistic, and having a life that was hers, and not held in place by a baby. She mentioned a book, The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood, which sounds amazing (and includes a contribution from Clare Bowditch) that elaborates on the topic. I don't think she knew which longing (temptation) would win out, but it was obvious that this is a subject close to many women's hearts.
Finally, we had Libbi Gorr, broadcaster and author. Libbi wrote to Kate Middleton. More specifically, she wrote to the temptation she continually gives into - wishing she was Kate Middleton. In fact, one of the only times she didn't want to be Kate Middleton, was when she wanted to be her sister, Pippa, instead. And one of the strongest reasons for wanting to be Kate Middleton, is because her mother is Carole Middleton. The tongue-in-cheekness of this letter was countered by the rather sweet and poignant realisation, that she didn't really want to be Kate Middleton, because wishing to be Kate Middleton means wishing away her own life, and all the richness of it. (Also it would mean wishing away her other temptation of wanting to be Jane Kennedy). She finished by acknowledging how difficult it would be to be Kate Middleton, and how Kate Middleton probably wishes at times that she could be Libbi Gorr - being allowed to tell people to 'fuck off' for example. She listed some affirmations for Kate which we had to repeat back to her, and took her seat amidst of shower of laughter and applause.
In the break I wrote a question for the panel (as we are invited to) without really expecting it to be read. But it was read! Yay! But it wasn't answered, because my question was "Will Billie die on Offspring?" and that would violate the terms of Clare Bowditch and Kat Stewart's contracts to tell us. Boo. It's probably for the best. Because if the answer was "yes", I'd be inconsolable and avoid the show, but if the answer was "no", I'd work myself into a knot of anxiety wondering if it will be Jimmy or Patrick instead, and I really don't want any of them to go. Sigh.
Sunday, 28 July 2013
Wednesday, 10 July 2013
My newest review!
Now live on the Art Smitten website for SYN Media. It was an honour to review this book and you can read my thoughts here.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Women of Letters recap
I tried to treasure this experience more than usual today because I am entering a stage of the year where I may not be able to keep Sundays free anymore. Missing Women of Letters is not fun, but I'm sure I have other anthologies to look forward to, and perhaps more writers will post their letters a few weeks or months down the track on their personal websites (like Bindi Cole and Jess McGuire etc). Anyway, it was just Sean and I today, and we found a far more efficient route to the Regal Ballroom than up Punt Road, so hopefully will use that again! Marieke Hardy looked like Arwen, and Michaela McGuire was MCing once more. Our theme today: a letter to someone I once made cry.
First up was comedian Hannah Gadsby. She wrote to her mother about the two occasions she can recall making her cry, pointing out that her mother too, had made Hannah herself cry more than once. Her letter was hilarious - dry and witty, including an imitation of her mother's voice and discussion of being high on furniture polish. Despite being "sensitive to sound, and hungry" as she was reading her letter, she still managed to finish it on-the-fly, having run out of time to complete the letter before the start of the salon today. Her letter was funny, yes, but also incredibly touching, and a lovely portrait of her relationship with her mum.
Next was writer Josephine Rowe. The lyrical nature of her prose shone through beautifully, writing to a traveling friend (as in, a friend she once went traveling with) who she has lost contact with. Her letter navigated the muddy waters of relationships, things that can go misunderstood and unsaid, and detailed the confusion people can feel with someone even when they feel closer than ever. Very poignant and all read out with a very sore throat, so we were very lucky she was able to attend at all!
Senator Christine Milne was next, writing to the students she taught at Devonport High School during the late 70's and early 80's before embarking on a political career. She made them (and herself) cry, by playing them the LP of "The Snow Goose: A Story of Dunkirk" with music by Ed Welch and the voice of Spike Milligan. Her passion for this story was evident and she expressed her interest to know how the students would react to it today when they listened to it as adults. I've never read/listened to this before, so I'll have to add it to my list...
Musician Grace Knight's letter had the entire room in tears. She wrote to a childhood friend of hers, upon whom she had unloaded terrible secrets. For many years this friend was the only person who knew of the dreadful abuse Grace had suffered, and Grace's letter explored her fear of telling people about it and the effects on her later life, when she punished herself relentlessly for something that wasn't her fault. Then she spoke about forgiveness, and the completely unexpected healing that it brought. This part was the most tender and the most affecting, though her entire letter was beautiful and brave. I think out of all the WoL events I have attended, Grace's letter has elicited the strongest emotional response in me yet. Michaela McGuire thanked her for her bravery also, which made us all cry some more.
Finally (and with a perfect letter to finish on), it was journalist Ramona Koval, writing to her mum. Her letter was funny and sweet and touching, but had the undercurrent of seriousness that tends to pervade letters at these salons. Her mother had spoken to Ramona about having to hide that she was Jewish, in order to keep safe during the Second World War. Baby Ramona than assumed she would need to do the same thing, and subsequently spent several months doing Christian Religious Education at school while her Jewish classmates went off to be taught by a rabbi elsewhere. Ramona gave some gorgeous anecdotes about how she liked the Bible stories and was chosen to be Mary in the nativity play, all before she was found out, but (and maybe it was just because I was still emotionally broken from Grace Knight's letter), I felt quite sad during the whole letter, thinking of the fears of children during the Holocaust continuing through the generations.
We had to leave early today for other commitments, so we didn't stay for questions, but if this does turn out to be my last Women of Letters event for a while, I feel pretty lucky that it was this one.
First up was comedian Hannah Gadsby. She wrote to her mother about the two occasions she can recall making her cry, pointing out that her mother too, had made Hannah herself cry more than once. Her letter was hilarious - dry and witty, including an imitation of her mother's voice and discussion of being high on furniture polish. Despite being "sensitive to sound, and hungry" as she was reading her letter, she still managed to finish it on-the-fly, having run out of time to complete the letter before the start of the salon today. Her letter was funny, yes, but also incredibly touching, and a lovely portrait of her relationship with her mum.
Next was writer Josephine Rowe. The lyrical nature of her prose shone through beautifully, writing to a traveling friend (as in, a friend she once went traveling with) who she has lost contact with. Her letter navigated the muddy waters of relationships, things that can go misunderstood and unsaid, and detailed the confusion people can feel with someone even when they feel closer than ever. Very poignant and all read out with a very sore throat, so we were very lucky she was able to attend at all!
Senator Christine Milne was next, writing to the students she taught at Devonport High School during the late 70's and early 80's before embarking on a political career. She made them (and herself) cry, by playing them the LP of "The Snow Goose: A Story of Dunkirk" with music by Ed Welch and the voice of Spike Milligan. Her passion for this story was evident and she expressed her interest to know how the students would react to it today when they listened to it as adults. I've never read/listened to this before, so I'll have to add it to my list...
Musician Grace Knight's letter had the entire room in tears. She wrote to a childhood friend of hers, upon whom she had unloaded terrible secrets. For many years this friend was the only person who knew of the dreadful abuse Grace had suffered, and Grace's letter explored her fear of telling people about it and the effects on her later life, when she punished herself relentlessly for something that wasn't her fault. Then she spoke about forgiveness, and the completely unexpected healing that it brought. This part was the most tender and the most affecting, though her entire letter was beautiful and brave. I think out of all the WoL events I have attended, Grace's letter has elicited the strongest emotional response in me yet. Michaela McGuire thanked her for her bravery also, which made us all cry some more.
Finally (and with a perfect letter to finish on), it was journalist Ramona Koval, writing to her mum. Her letter was funny and sweet and touching, but had the undercurrent of seriousness that tends to pervade letters at these salons. Her mother had spoken to Ramona about having to hide that she was Jewish, in order to keep safe during the Second World War. Baby Ramona than assumed she would need to do the same thing, and subsequently spent several months doing Christian Religious Education at school while her Jewish classmates went off to be taught by a rabbi elsewhere. Ramona gave some gorgeous anecdotes about how she liked the Bible stories and was chosen to be Mary in the nativity play, all before she was found out, but (and maybe it was just because I was still emotionally broken from Grace Knight's letter), I felt quite sad during the whole letter, thinking of the fears of children during the Holocaust continuing through the generations.
We had to leave early today for other commitments, so we didn't stay for questions, but if this does turn out to be my last Women of Letters event for a while, I feel pretty lucky that it was this one.
Saturday, 15 June 2013
I FOUND IT
I came across this website ages ago, and promptly forgot how I got there, and couldn't remember the title. After spending forever Googling things like 'tiny gardens' and 'miniature gardens' and 'tiny outdoor settings', I had long since given up finding it. Then I was in Readings Carlton, and saw THIS:
Such an adorable little book, available for purchase here.
But it made me finally remember the original website I had searched for (the same website that has now made this book). Everyone check it out when you need a little bit of a boost. It's guaranteed to make your day.
http://thepotholegardener.com/
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| Naw! |
But it made me finally remember the original website I had searched for (the same website that has now made this book). Everyone check it out when you need a little bit of a boost. It's guaranteed to make your day.
http://thepotholegardener.com/
Sunday, 2 June 2013
Conundrum
I don't really know how to begin this, or even where to go with it. I am writing this because I don't know how to feel, and I wonder if it's just me or if everyone has a different opinion?
A few weeks ago I reported on Facebook and Twitter that a guy had smacked my behind in the middle of crowded Swanston St. I was standing at the ATM, and completely lost in my own thoughts - when it happened, I was so shocked, all I did was turn around and yell 'OI!' at him (in a typical fit of eloquence appropriate to the situation, obvs.). I was still waiting for my money to come out of the machine, so even as he shot back, 'Settle down' and kept walking, I couldn't follow him. Not that I wanted to.
It was a bloody horrible feeling. Having your personal space invaded is bad enough, but to be caught completely unawares, touched in an intimate place (and quite forcefully too, it really hurt), 100% against your will is a very disempowering feeling. Also, the fact it happened in a crowded street was humiliating. I was feeling all shaky, but trying to appear unaffected because I didn't want anymore unwelcome attention. I collected my money and waited until I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd up ahead. He was walking quite slowly, (I think accompanied by another person, it was hard to tell), and he looked unsteady on his feet. Whether he was under the influence of something or if that's the way he is normally, I have no idea. I hung back until I was sure he was some way up. There was no way I was going to walk in front of him. I started walking, hoping I wasn't going to be late for work because I was hiding from some dude who was taking his sweet time up Swanston St. I kept catching glimpses of him as he was further up, and I saw him do the same thing to TWO other women. My eyes weren't on him constantly, so I don't know if he got anyone else, and the only thing I was brave enough to do was tweet about it and put it on Facebook, telling people he was headed north of Swanston St. The thought crossed my mind to call the police, but what could they have done? Even if he was still around when they got there, they had no proof that he had done anything wrong, and as not one single person protested when he did it to me at the ATM, I wasn't counting on witnesses.
What I should have done, is run after him, and told him off loudly. That way it would have warned other people around us, and maybe he wouldn't have had the opportunity to do it to those other women. But, and I am really ashamed to admit this, I was scared of him. All he'd done was smack my bum - I should have been stomping all over him in protest. But he was much bigger and taller than me, and because he looked drugged, or at least drunk, and obviously had no qualms about keeping his hands to himself, I was afraid of him hurting me again. I crossed the road when I was sure he was far enough away from me, and I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind.
A few days later I saw him, chatting to a busker on the intersection of Bourke and Swanston. I got that horrible sick feeling in my stomach and just avoided the place entirely. He wouldn't have known me from a bar of soap, but I didn't like the feeling I got when I saw him, and hoped I wouldn't again.
Then.
The other night I was walking around the city at night with a group of people. It wasn't late - perhaps 7pm. I saw him again. He was sitting with another guy, who looked scruffy and dirty and cold. They were sitting on cardboard boxes, leaning up against vending machines under the cover of a train station. I stared at him. And instead of feeling that hot, bubbly sick feeling in my stomach, I just felt overwhelming sadness. And I thought instantly about my house, and my warm bed, and my fridge full of food, and my computer, and my bank balance, and my university course and my health, and all these things that I have right in front of me, ripe for the taking and the using and the discarding when I'm finished with it. And I thought of how angry this man had made me and how silly that anger seemed now.
Not to blow my own horn, but I give a lot of money to charities and sponsees, and I will try and give money to homeless people when I have cash on me. It's partially a generosity thing, but partly a faith thing too. I always end up with enough money for the things I need, and I firmly believe that giving away money doesn't make you poorer, because it always finds its way back to you somehow in some form. Some people will call it karma, for me it's more of a spirituality thing, but I've done it for quite a while (okay, pious-y lecture over, sorry guys).
I didn't approach him. I didn't give him any money. I kept walking.
I am still afraid of him. And I am still mightily pissed off with him and with any person who thinks it's okay to touch someone inappropriately without their consent. But I am chastened by the fact that I never considered this man's circumstances, and I was so conflicted about what to do in this situation. It wasn't even a self-important judgement call like 'because this man has assaulted me, he doesn't deserve my money'. It was more of a weird, fear thing. And it was so much easier to keep walking and pretend I hadn't seen him. I'm not proud of myself. I don't know how to feel, or what the right thing to do or think would have been. I wonder what other people think about this and if anyone wants to let me know?
A few weeks ago I reported on Facebook and Twitter that a guy had smacked my behind in the middle of crowded Swanston St. I was standing at the ATM, and completely lost in my own thoughts - when it happened, I was so shocked, all I did was turn around and yell 'OI!' at him (in a typical fit of eloquence appropriate to the situation, obvs.). I was still waiting for my money to come out of the machine, so even as he shot back, 'Settle down' and kept walking, I couldn't follow him. Not that I wanted to.
It was a bloody horrible feeling. Having your personal space invaded is bad enough, but to be caught completely unawares, touched in an intimate place (and quite forcefully too, it really hurt), 100% against your will is a very disempowering feeling. Also, the fact it happened in a crowded street was humiliating. I was feeling all shaky, but trying to appear unaffected because I didn't want anymore unwelcome attention. I collected my money and waited until I caught a glimpse of him in the crowd up ahead. He was walking quite slowly, (I think accompanied by another person, it was hard to tell), and he looked unsteady on his feet. Whether he was under the influence of something or if that's the way he is normally, I have no idea. I hung back until I was sure he was some way up. There was no way I was going to walk in front of him. I started walking, hoping I wasn't going to be late for work because I was hiding from some dude who was taking his sweet time up Swanston St. I kept catching glimpses of him as he was further up, and I saw him do the same thing to TWO other women. My eyes weren't on him constantly, so I don't know if he got anyone else, and the only thing I was brave enough to do was tweet about it and put it on Facebook, telling people he was headed north of Swanston St. The thought crossed my mind to call the police, but what could they have done? Even if he was still around when they got there, they had no proof that he had done anything wrong, and as not one single person protested when he did it to me at the ATM, I wasn't counting on witnesses.
What I should have done, is run after him, and told him off loudly. That way it would have warned other people around us, and maybe he wouldn't have had the opportunity to do it to those other women. But, and I am really ashamed to admit this, I was scared of him. All he'd done was smack my bum - I should have been stomping all over him in protest. But he was much bigger and taller than me, and because he looked drugged, or at least drunk, and obviously had no qualms about keeping his hands to himself, I was afraid of him hurting me again. I crossed the road when I was sure he was far enough away from me, and I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind.
A few days later I saw him, chatting to a busker on the intersection of Bourke and Swanston. I got that horrible sick feeling in my stomach and just avoided the place entirely. He wouldn't have known me from a bar of soap, but I didn't like the feeling I got when I saw him, and hoped I wouldn't again.
Then.
The other night I was walking around the city at night with a group of people. It wasn't late - perhaps 7pm. I saw him again. He was sitting with another guy, who looked scruffy and dirty and cold. They were sitting on cardboard boxes, leaning up against vending machines under the cover of a train station. I stared at him. And instead of feeling that hot, bubbly sick feeling in my stomach, I just felt overwhelming sadness. And I thought instantly about my house, and my warm bed, and my fridge full of food, and my computer, and my bank balance, and my university course and my health, and all these things that I have right in front of me, ripe for the taking and the using and the discarding when I'm finished with it. And I thought of how angry this man had made me and how silly that anger seemed now.
Not to blow my own horn, but I give a lot of money to charities and sponsees, and I will try and give money to homeless people when I have cash on me. It's partially a generosity thing, but partly a faith thing too. I always end up with enough money for the things I need, and I firmly believe that giving away money doesn't make you poorer, because it always finds its way back to you somehow in some form. Some people will call it karma, for me it's more of a spirituality thing, but I've done it for quite a while (okay, pious-y lecture over, sorry guys).
I didn't approach him. I didn't give him any money. I kept walking.
I am still afraid of him. And I am still mightily pissed off with him and with any person who thinks it's okay to touch someone inappropriately without their consent. But I am chastened by the fact that I never considered this man's circumstances, and I was so conflicted about what to do in this situation. It wasn't even a self-important judgement call like 'because this man has assaulted me, he doesn't deserve my money'. It was more of a weird, fear thing. And it was so much easier to keep walking and pretend I hadn't seen him. I'm not proud of myself. I don't know how to feel, or what the right thing to do or think would have been. I wonder what other people think about this and if anyone wants to let me know?
Sunday, 26 May 2013
Women of Letters recap
More Women of Letters goodness from the Regal Ballroom in Northcote! It's a quicker post than usual, but that has more to do with the limited time I have to write this post, rather than a reflection on the quality of the event. It was, as always, simply wonderful. (And FOOD! They've introduced a veggie menu and I had the pizza and it was bangin'.)
The theme today was 'A Letter to the Person Who Told Me What I Needed To Know', and Michaela McGuire was back as MC! First up was actor Saskia Post, writing to her stepmother. In beautiful, lyrical prose she spoke about the life lessons she'd learned and it painted a realistic and touching portrait of the relationship between the two of them.
Up next was comedian Kate McCartney, and her letter was addressed to Twitter, or the Twitterverse in general. This was one of the funniest letters I can remember ever hearing, but it also came directly from the heart, as Kate recounted how the connections that she made on Twitter have changed her life and have also done a lot for her sense of self-worth.
Next was singer Kate Cebrano, who couldn't be there in the flesh, but sent in a video of her reading her letter to the band that gave her a job singing for them at the age of sixteen. She's had a successful career spanning a couple of decades, so it was lovely to hear about where it had all started.
Then there was actor and Playschool sweetheart Justine Clarke and her letter was brilliant - I think it was the highlight of the day for me. She wrote to her partner, and thanked him for teaching her that romance did not necessarily mean life playing out like an MGM movie musical. The Regal Ballroom exploded with laughter when she told us about their days of early courtship. She was on a road trip with him, wondering, hoping if it would be the day they finally said 'I love you'. Her heart leapt with joy as he turned to her, somewhat hungover and exhausted, and told her quite sincerely, 'I love utes'. It only took her a second or so to realise she hadn't quite heard what she'd hoped.
Lucky last was poet Telia Nevile, and she was writing to John Hughes - more specifically, to his catalogue of films. Amazingly, music from the soundtracks played as she spoke, and those swelling anthems sounded completely badass. Despite her experience of high school not quite measuring up to the representation of high school presented in the films, the films have an irreplaceable hold on her heart.
This was all followed, as usual, by a break and a Q and A with the speakers, and then, THEN, they told us it was Marieke Hardy's birthday and we all sung along, to her extreme mortification. But I hugged her as I was leaving and Sean got her to sign his mother's book, so it was a winning day all round :D
The theme today was 'A Letter to the Person Who Told Me What I Needed To Know', and Michaela McGuire was back as MC! First up was actor Saskia Post, writing to her stepmother. In beautiful, lyrical prose she spoke about the life lessons she'd learned and it painted a realistic and touching portrait of the relationship between the two of them.
Up next was comedian Kate McCartney, and her letter was addressed to Twitter, or the Twitterverse in general. This was one of the funniest letters I can remember ever hearing, but it also came directly from the heart, as Kate recounted how the connections that she made on Twitter have changed her life and have also done a lot for her sense of self-worth.
Next was singer Kate Cebrano, who couldn't be there in the flesh, but sent in a video of her reading her letter to the band that gave her a job singing for them at the age of sixteen. She's had a successful career spanning a couple of decades, so it was lovely to hear about where it had all started.
Then there was actor and Playschool sweetheart Justine Clarke and her letter was brilliant - I think it was the highlight of the day for me. She wrote to her partner, and thanked him for teaching her that romance did not necessarily mean life playing out like an MGM movie musical. The Regal Ballroom exploded with laughter when she told us about their days of early courtship. She was on a road trip with him, wondering, hoping if it would be the day they finally said 'I love you'. Her heart leapt with joy as he turned to her, somewhat hungover and exhausted, and told her quite sincerely, 'I love utes'. It only took her a second or so to realise she hadn't quite heard what she'd hoped.
Lucky last was poet Telia Nevile, and she was writing to John Hughes - more specifically, to his catalogue of films. Amazingly, music from the soundtracks played as she spoke, and those swelling anthems sounded completely badass. Despite her experience of high school not quite measuring up to the representation of high school presented in the films, the films have an irreplaceable hold on her heart.
This was all followed, as usual, by a break and a Q and A with the speakers, and then, THEN, they told us it was Marieke Hardy's birthday and we all sung along, to her extreme mortification. But I hugged her as I was leaving and Sean got her to sign his mother's book, so it was a winning day all round :D
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
'Just Follow Me' - my first published work! (Back in 2008, I mean)
Okay, I know the writing is nothing special, but this is sentimental, dammit, for so many reasons. Not least the fact that it's a tribute to my Dad and they published it in the Father's Day issue in September 2008. Anyway, you can't read it (unless you enlarge the pic), but it's proof of my first publication. Yay.
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| Sorry about the crappy quality. |
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