Moments of history

My mother sent me a box of memen­toes from under her house (and yes, those of you who know my cup­boards well enough are going to say, “what!? *more* rubbish?”). In it was a folded piece of A4 paper, made into a card, writ­ten on in pencil. “Dear...

Fame part II

I now have con­firm­a­tion that I am emin­ently for­get­table. *grin* Walked past Dorothy Porter in the street today, smiled and stopped her. She taught me poetry for two semesters at UTS (admit­tedly in 1991 or some­thing, but still) and I’ve seen her mul­tiple...