A Luculia Winter

I’m a mass murderer of luculias. At last count I’ve killed six of them, though one of the six died because it wasn’t potted up correctly at the nursery. I reckon I could get off that with a grievous bodily harm rap.

Ritual or routine?

Growing up, footy, for our family, was a matter of ritual. Each season developed its own rhythm, its own timetable, and we would find ourselves doing the same thing at the same time each week. Church, school, Saladas and Vegemite and Adventure Island after-school and then kick-to-kick, Monday’s newspaper to read, and F-Troop, being allowed [Read more]