Singing a song of Sixpence. 💛 During a major decluttering, some dusty life vests turned up at our Blue Mountains Home. Dear me, they were very bulky compared to modern ones. And as I was ripping up old diaries I found this gem from the early 1980s.
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WHO GIVES A FIG? I DO! I love Sydney; for the harbour, the museums and theatres, but particularly for it’s amazing old fig trees. Could there be a more iconic image of the city than in the photo below? Sydney sandstone and fig roots inextricably entwined. That
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Sixty years ago I was a wide eyed, sharp eared kid growing up on Tasmania’s North West Coast. One weekend my mother and I visited her brother’s family in a nearby town. Over afternoon tea my aunt described an incident that had taken place a few days
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Each Australia Day, commuter ferries race down Sydney Harbour, decorated with bunting and loaded to the gunnels with cheering supporters. They remind me of well dressed matrons competing in the hundred metre dash at school sports days. In 1984 the exertion proved too much for the aging
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