Wednesday, 29 January 2014

In Another's Shoes

I’m sitting on the picket fence.  Balanced precariously, deep in thought and scanning the street.  I watch the cars go by, twitching ever so slightly when they do.  It would be so easy to walk out in front of one by mistake; to feel the hot granite on the pads of my feet.  A fly buzzes around my face and I swat it away, agitated that it’s ruining this time for me.   I get distracted with it and try to catch it, or at least injure it in a way that makes it squirm around in circles next to me.    

I’m locked out of the house and I’m hungry.  Half an hour ago I was inside in the cool, then I made the mistake of leaving; forced to wait with patience I don’t really possess. 

I could go for a massage, around my shoulders and my temples; soothing into my skin and relaxing the muscles that are now spasming from sitting on the fence.  I would close my eyes and grin; maybe even softly purr my thanks. 

Suddenly I feel sick and I heave, losing my balance and falling; landing square on my feet.  I choke and splutter over the grass and then stagger away onto the pavement.  For a moment I still feel sick, but then I swallow and feel my strength coming back.  I have no idea when I’ll be able to get back into the house so I decide to go for a run around the oval, my feet padding against the grass, the sun warm on my back.
I become exhausted and plonk down onto my back, staring up at the sky and the trees and the birds.  My ear twitches.  I stretch out and yawn, flipping onto my stomach with bits of dry grass sticking to my back.  I wonder what it would be like to fly.  I wonder why the kid across the oval is kicking that ball.  I flinch when another car speeds passed.

I’m bored so I pick myself up and stroll back into the gates of home; listening to the dinging of a bell.  I perch on the front deck.  She should be home soon.  She’ll open the door for me and I’ll sprint in, munch on some food and collapse on the bed in the third room, stretch out and fall asleep, dreaming.    


If you didn’t pick it up,
this is told from the point of view of a cat.
Now read the story again :)

Thursday, 23 January 2014

When We Were Little; a 90's Kid's Trip Down Memory Lane

When we were little, the boys sat on one side and the girls sat on the other, because boys had cooties, but so did girls, and only the ‘tom-boys’ were cool enough to play soccer with the boys at lunch time. 

When we were little we watched Postman Pat, Noddy, Blinky Bill, and of course, Round the Twist.  There was the old Playschool, the good quality Bananas in Pyjamas, Thomas the Tank Engine, Pingu and Brum.  We watched the ones you might not remember – Budgie the Little Helicopter, Johnson and Friends, Gumby and The Trap Door.  And we loved them all, even though some may have creeped us out at the time.

When we were little, the girls played Mildred Hubble, The Saddle Club, Charmed and H20, Just Add Water.  Because yes, we were that lame. 

When we were little we collected CD’s.  ‘So Fresh’ was one of the best.    

When we were little it was still baa baa black sheep and ‘vegie monster’ was cookie monster and he ate cookies, except he didn’t actually eat them because crumbs just flew everywhere instead. 

When we were little we would fall asleep on the couch and wake up in our own warm cosy bed.

When we were little we sat on Santa’s lap at the shopping centre, telling him what we wanted for Christmas while we bounced with excitement, and somehow didn’t notice that his beard is clearly fake. But we believed because we were young and na├»ve, and why couldn't a fat man in red slide down the chimney to fill our stockings with gifts and our hearts with joy?
When we were little The Easter Bunny seemed legit, and the tooth fairy would leave us gold coins under the pillow or in a jar of water. 

When we were little, computers were chunky and bulky and to connect to the internet you had to ‘dial up’, listen to that awful noise it made and then you couldn’t use the phone.

When we were little, jumping off the swings whilst you were swinging pretty high was considered “living on the edge”.

When we were little we played Gameboys, with Pokemon and Mario, and the first ever Playstations, with Spyro and Crash Bandicoot.  Then Tamagotchi's were invented and we hung them around our necks from sexy lanyards.    

When we were little we spent more time outside and less time on electronic devices.  We played hide and seek and 44 home and sometimes even Wavo. 

When we were little the classic Nokia’s had snake.  It was a simpler time. 

When we were little, staying up passed 10pm was a treat. 

When we were little we weren’t allowed to have bare feet in the playground sand because there might be syringes, although I’ve never actually seen or heard of a kid stepping on one. 

When we were little we played marbles in primary school, trying to collect the most out of anyone; especially the big colourful ones. 

When we were little, it didn't matter who was dark skinned, who was white, who was Asian, who was skinny, who was fat, who had glasses and who didn't.  We were all the same.  

When we were little, that annoying tune from the Mr Whippy van was the most exciting thing in the world (and for some of us, it still is). 

When we were little we all were a part of, attended a, or heard about a primary school ‘wedding’, binding two little kids together in ‘holy matrimony’ (I doubt we could even pronounce that back then). 

When we were little we couldn’t step on the cracks or we would break our mother’s back.

When we were little we believed that if we pulled an ugly face and the wind changed, we would stay that way forever.

When we were little we didn’t have to worry about money, a job, what to study at university, the ending of relationships, or a broken heart.  We didn’t have responsibilities and dinner would always be on the table for us without a second thought.  We didn’t have to pay for fuel or watch what we ate or pick what to wear every day.  

And when we were little, we just couldn't wait to grow up.   

Budgie the Little Helicopter 


 Johnson and Friends 

The Trap Door 

Saturday, 11 January 2014


She stands on a jetty, the wind blowing wisps of blonde and brown hair around her face.  In her right palm she clutches a silver necklace tightly.  She lifts her arm into the breeze, pulling it back, ready to throw.  Then she stops.  She slowly brings her arm back down and opens her hand.  It reveals a silver heart, from which two chains fall, silver balls on the end of each.  She gingerly touches the smooth, cold heart, grasping it in her fingers and running them down the chains to the baubles.  Then, in one swift, unthinking motion, she hurtles it into the sea.  She waits for the “plop” and then she turns around and sprints away. 

With a sparkling green mermaid tail she dives into the sea.  She opens her eyes underwater and swims as fast as she can to a point beyond the jetty.  She lifts out her hands and begins fossicking in the sand, clouds of murky clusters rising around her as she moves along the ocean’s floor.  The idea is that if she can find the necklace, if the sea doesn’t swallow it whole; lost for all eternity, then it is meant to be.  And if she can’t, well, then she just has to let it go.