There’s this guy who lives in my street. Called Dutch. Rides a motorbike. Looks like the type of cat who’s already gone through a few of his nine lives. Lives in the front half of a rented place at the bottom of the hill. Dutch, of course, is not his actual name. I don’t know […]
A visit to the local secondhand bookstore over the holidays wasn’t enough (bagging Malouf, Lessing, Armanno, Lewycka, Modjeska, Murakami, Astley); we fell into the Lifeline Bookfest on the weekend. I think we came home with about 100 books. The joy was in stumbling into titles that have always been on the “to-read” list: Silent Spring. […]
1. My friend Helen was the best punchline rememberer of them all. All the best jokes died with her. 2. Actually, there is no number 2.
