The Witching hour...

There are witches among us.

As Halloween grows near, it seems the right time to talk about power and spells, although this is not about cackling and cauldrons.

Happy birthday dad...

Today would have been my dad’s 82^nd birthday.

It’s been 21 years since I was able to celebrate his birthday with him in person, and even then, on his 61^st birthday, I would have been away at uni. I hope I remembered to call him, I think I did, even at that stage I knew his health was bad and I feared losing him. Every time the phone rang early or late at night my heart skipped a beat, desperately hoping it wasn’t the call I feared. When that call did come, at 8.30 am on 9 February 1993, I had been deeply asleep, and my only thought was crankiness that I’d overslept and would be late for my meeting with my honours-degree supervisor. I never made that meeting.

Past postcards: It’s time to meet the Muppets…

I admitted to my friend Ingrid last night that I’ve always had a bit of a crush on Rowlf the Dog from the Muppets. Hey, the heart wants what heart wants. Don't judge me! 

Echo and Narcissus

The real story was that Echo and Narcissus had known each other for many, many years. That’s not the popular version, where Echo is cursed by a vengeful goddess to always repeat the last word spoken to her and Narcissus, meeting her in the forest, disdainfully rejects her in favour of his one great love: his reflection.

Echo and Narcissus by Gabe Walker

Out of the labyrinth

He was lost and she had found him. She just appeared one day, a friend of a friend, uninvited truth be told, but fitting right in with a smile and a laugh.

Theseus had been struggling through the labyrinth but Ariadne made it like a stroll through an exotic garden. She’d charmed the chimeras, griffins and basilisks, inviting those fearsome beasts to join them for a tea party. Needless to say the Minotaur was no threat either, Theseus had his arrows at the ready, but the old monster just lowed gently when she playfully scratched him behind his craggy horns.

The Siren's Song

Her songs once drew sailors, heroes and adventurers to her side.  She sang of fabulous places and faraway spaces, entrancing them and bringing their fantasies to life.

A Game of Thrones…and Egos…

People say living in Canberra can be dull, but I’ve decided the next few months are a chance to inhabit a world that appears to be a combination of Elizabethan politics and Westeros.

To whit: the rule of the redheaded and childless queen Julia Gloriana (Juliana?) is undermined by rumours that she knifed the previous ruler, a mercurial and strange albino whose ghostly presence refuses to depart this earthly realm.

Betwixt assassination attempts by her own advisers the queen is forced to defend herself from the one with the sobriquet of The Mad Monk, who stands against the age of reform with a growing power base of conservatism.