I’m going to be brief today – it’s already tomorrow as I write. The day started with another breakfast meeting. We must be in Sydney. This time it’s Jill, my favourite cousin, with her daughter Rhianna and friend, Nadine. Rhianna,
A day of rest, mostly. I tried to encourage thoughts of Things We Can Only Do In Sydney but it was like pushing blancmange. And fair enough – we have done much, and we needed a break from our holiday.
With his son he’d run and play And giggle, breathe and sing And even sleep as long as they Were in a bed sized king. Oh, what a difference a metre makes. A good night’s sleep and a good thing,
First job of the day: pack to leave hotel. First crisis of the day: cockroach in Raf’s bag. First entomological question of the day: did we bring it with us or do we have the hotel to thank? Close inspection
A busy day and late to bed should presage a good night’s sleep. Alas for the unfamiliar sounds of a hotel air conditioning system in need of maintenance and the familiar sensations of repeated knees and elbows to the soft
Under 7 football (a win), a federal election (result pending), arancini and a flight to Sydney for me and the boys. A fullish day. It certainly started well. The conditions were classic football, Australian version. There had been rain to
The Arch Window number 27, in which we enter into correspondence.
The Arch Window number 26, in which we advocate a program of reform.
The Arch Window number 25, in which we don’t mention the bore.
The Arch Window number 24, in which, for one shimering, elusive moment, all is suspiciously well with the world. For the first time ever, this edition of the Window includes sound effects, for which I must thank breyenkatz and