The Christmas Pudding

By Peter, 70. South Fremantle, WA For my mother, and Norman Lindsay, who first alerted me to the magic, and mischief, of puddings. There’s just a month to go. So Mum’s preparing shopping lists: flour, suet, sugar, raisins, ginger, lemons, cherries, mixed fruits, treacle or golden syrup. Watching out for bargains at the co-op. Sticking… Continue reading The Christmas Pudding

All Day in Retirement

By Ross, 73. Perth, WA I’m prone on the loungeroom couchwhen sunlight beam strikesthe mantelpieceslicking a China dog’s faceteasingmy one opened eye our book club book, one of my fewwindows to the outsideattempted afreshbetween short bouts of drowsingsame five-word sentence, over and over… daydreaminguntil the dogs bring on lunchtimeby licking the fingersat the end, of… Continue reading All Day in Retirement

Of Dipping and Grey Aliens

By Peter, 70. South Fremantle, WA Whatever colour things were,whatever Dad put in the waterturned us then everything elsescummy; transformed sheepinto grey aliens — sleek-headed,snake-eyed, daring to bare teeth. I don’t recall it ever rainingduring Dipping Week when,over-excited, I ran alongsidethat murky baptismal trough,sometimes into Dad’s armholding me back from slipping,when I’d check his hazel… Continue reading Of Dipping and Grey Aliens