The drapes are drawn, the tones are hushed, and the air is heavy with grief and anticipation. The patriarch hovers between life and death on the dank, crumpled bed, propped on stained pillows, surrounded by his court. The elder son, the younger son, the adviser, the physician, all with their own secret hopes, fears and…
Scandi-voir
We’re on the ferry from Puttgarden, Germany, to Copenhagen. Bleak skies, choppy, grey water, the mournful cries of gulls. Grim Scandinavians frown into their shot glasses around me while I sit in the bar, reading. Then, from somewhere unseen, Wallander’s ringtone. I know it’s not Sweden—not quite—but my stomach drops. It always portends some alarming…
Notes from the Eurozone
A café at Schiphol Airport—Amsterdam. I ask for a decaf soy latte. The waiter tips his head back a little. ‘We have no soy milk,’ he says. ‘No soy at all?’ ‘No. Starbucks has soy milk.’ There’s a challenge in his expression. Am I the type to decamp for Starbucks? Or am I a sophisticated…
Don’t be sorry! Ask away.
I was at our doggie playgroup last Wednesday afternoon, talking to Rose (another human), and mentioned MS in passing. Dean had been listening. ‘So, is that what you’ve got? MS?’ He was new to the group and we hadn’t had that conversation yet. ‘Yep.’ I gave him that wry, weary smile. If you have MS,…
A clear answer to an unclear question: Helen Caldicott on SA’s nuclear future
Dr Helen Caldicott, anti-nuclear activist, humanist, physician, returned to Bermagui on 10 February during a week when South Australian Premier Jay Weatherill’s Nuclear Fuel Cycle Royal Commission was preparing to deliver its “Tentative Findings”. Dr Caldicott was speaking at the Bermagui Institute dinner; her topic was “Nuclear South Australia”. The speaker shared anecdotes from her…
To sleep, perchance.
Hush, the babies are sleeping, the farmers, the fishers, the tradesmen and pensioners, cobbler, schoolteacher, postman and publican, the undertaker and the fancy woman, drunkard, dressmaker, preacher, policeman … And the anthracite statues of the horses sleep in the fields, and the cows in the byres, and the dogs in the wet-nosed yards; and the…
Mud, sweat and fears
I often think of Nelson Mandela as I wait, door ajar, for my shower to warm up. I have done so for years, ever since I read his autobiography. Mandela, imprisoned on Robben Island, had to endure cold showers for 30 years. It gets pretty icy on Robben Island. And I whinge about waiting 15…
Will Steffen: a chilling message about a warming climate
Upon hearing that the planet had warmed by one degree Celsius, a conservative politician said that he could get on a plane in Melbourne and get off in Sydney an hour later and find the temperature higher by a comfortable six degrees, so what’s the problem? In fact, a global rise of one degree has…
Cooling my heels
If I do end up in a wheelchair, at least I’ll be able to wear nice shoes again. Are you shocked? I was, when I realised I’d had that thought. But I was having fond memories of working in Amsterdam in my mid-twenties, and how surprised and delighted I was to be able to walk…
A ring, a rock, an ambulance, an angel
Since I was 28 I have worn a ring on my right hand, a cabochon star ruby set in a gold band. Also known as corundum ruby, this complex, plum-coloured stone is the bedrock that nurtures ruby crystals – the bright, red, glassy stones more common in jewellery. In sunlight the hexagonal crystal structure shines…