My age cohort talks frequently about retirement. But does anyone ask Margaret Atwood when she’s retiring? I had an epiphany about retirement while planting onions this week.
The line between truth and fiction is stretched thin to the point of invisibility. We encounter this line constantly, in the media, and in memoir. Memories are fallible. Do we care?
Mullygrub – an excellent word with a four-hundred-year etymology that has taken it from referring to a headache to referring to an Australian bowling an underarm cricket ball. Or is that the same thing?
Music is a powerful force to uplift and unite us, as I remembered when we sang along with 2000 people in Tim Finn’s recent concert, reliving his hit songs.
The general election is coming, like Christmas but even less fun than hearing Snoopy’s Christmas every day for two months. The hoardings are up. So how do they look?
Ski touring is a relatively risky activity. We had a trip planned but deliberated mightily over snow conditions, including likelihood of avalanches. Should we go? Luckily we did.