‘Rosemary, that’s For Remembrance’ ~ a reflection on Shakespeare’s old hometown

The harshest European winter for over one hundred years and there I was in a short-sleeved blouse in Warwickshire. Stratford to be totally accurate and staying at the Greensleeves Guest House just over the bridge to the north of the town. In the afternoon of the first day of my stay I visited the church […]

‘Are you a girl who used to be a boy’, then the follow up ‘are you Finn’s Mum?’ 

Rāhui Day 29 (31): Shit, it’s those odd numbers again. Oh well, just have to live through them, I guess.  Hard to believe it a month since I sat in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs at Maungakiekie and watched my Cushla coaching, our Finn shooting arrows, and George Corbett trying to strangle me. I […]

I’ve never seen myself as a number. Ever.

Yesterday I took the coward’s way out and said nothing about ANZAC Day and the mindless jingoism that surrounds this faux commemoration. My news feed was filled with blood red poppies, sepia photographs of young men in uniform, long dead heroes smiling at the dead eyes of thousands of long-dead cameras. We deny the conversation […]