As 2014 breathes its last, I am more than ready to turn the telescope around and look through the right end for once in my hitherto unadventurous life. With this in mind, I have revised my travel plans and allowed for the possibility of major changes further down the track. I'll still go away for three months in the northern hemisphere summer of 2016, but now hope to spend six weeks in the UK and six weeks in Canada, with a focus on Vancouver and Toronto for wheelchair friendliness alone. I will
My Dad just asked me what I wanted this year. I said, in all honesty, nothing. I've got to do some serious downsizing over the next twelve months and I can't be surrounding myself with crap I don't want or need. I won't even get the latest season of Doctor Who on DVD or blu ray (an annual tradition since 2005) because I haven't watched two thirds of it yet. I saw the first four episodes and didn't like them, so why waste money?
I spent most of last Christmas visiting my mother in the hospita
... that my mother and I moved into the only home I've ever known. With a little help from her parents, she scraped together the cash to buy this house outright and cleaned herself out in the process. I was not yet four years old, but I remember the gravel driveway (long since paved) and the bomb site of a back yard that, with years of hard work, love and attention, eventually became the beautiful garden I can see through the window of what is now my office.
I have a lifetime's worth of memo
'Anyone who's ever said "excuse the mess, my house looks like a brothel" has obviously never stepped inside one.'
So began Vivienne Reid's column in the third and sadly final issue of Australia's Black Magazine (Brimstone Press, November 2008). At the time I read her article, I had neither stepped- or indeed pushed my wheelchair- inside such an establishment, nor did I believe I would ever have a reason to. Through teenage years and beyond, I told myself and anyone who would listen that I di
So said Steve Hogarth when talking about 'The Space' in the liner notes to Marillion's Best of Both Worlds collection.
The song, and his sentiments, popped into my head as I read the article below and ticked far too many boxes.
www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life/all-the-lonely-people-20130826-2skkz.html
I read the story, and others like it, to try and make some sense of the emptiness and melancholy that have been my constant companions since my mother died. When most people lose a
Tonight on my way home I saw a young girl bidding a tearful goodbye to her mother, who waved to her from a taxi and promised she would see her tomorrow.
At least you'll get to see your Mummy again, little one. I have to wait until I run out of tomorrows. I wanted to hug her and tell her how lucky she was but, in this day and age, I'd be arrested.
Once upon a time I would never have noticed a scene like this. Now it upsets me. So it goes .
When this wound scabs over, I will remember t
Two of my very favourite places, located quite near me and run by the same people, closed today. I don't know the whys and the wherefores, but knowledge wouldn't change the result. Bastard buggering fuck .
I feel like i just lost some of my best friends, with benefits, and they were right on my doorstep. This situation, no pun intended, sucks. I'm sorry for the ladies who lost their jobs, but most of all I'm sorry for the customers (one in particular) who, if not for places like these, woul
