To celebrate International Women’s Day, here’s one of my fave inspiring women, Amanda de Cadenet in action.
I love this woman’s photography and the way she works to portray women through her photography of all shapes and sizes. Her lovely photos are always a joy to browse. She has a wonderful community site, for women which is located HERE
And here’s a link to her official Blog as well which you can find HERE
amanda photo link
How refreshing to know we have finally reached Autumn in Sydney. The humidity is still high but thankfully nowhere near the recent heat wave.
I’m also nearing the end of my edit for Poets Cottage, also an enormous relief. I’ve reached that stage where it’s becoming difficult to read the MS one more time.
I’ve been busy planning my daughter’s sixth birthday party (Pirates & Princesses). This is taking enormous energy and is drama on a high scale. In fact I was so engrossed in my edit and life dramas that I missed a couple of very important medical appointments for Daisy.
Sometimes it’s hard to live in alternate worlds when you are working with fiction. And being a stay home mother has its own challenges of trying to juggle domestic artistry and a small child on top of writing.
And last night wasted a few hours of my life, which I’ll never get back, watching the Academy Awards.
I used to be a big fan of the Awards but there’s something repellent about the smugness and preening on the red carpet. For me the highlights of the night were:
Shaun Tan’s Award for best animated short film.
Penelope Cruz’s va va voom, sexy post-baby body and radiant smile.
Helen Mirren who is always spectacular.
Florence Welch also spectacular with her dramatic hair, and pale skin in Valentino.
And Helena Bonham Carter who I adore and can do no wrong. I love the fact she wore a gown designed by Alice In Wonderland costume designer, Colleen Atwood, as a reminder of what the awards should be about.
Helena is a true original and dazzles – unlike all the over-plucked, waxed, bronzed, bleached and perfect tube women.
I am being harsh here and last night David pointed out, as a couple of fashion commentators on FOXTEL heavily criticized some of the frocks and women, that this sort of attitude filters down to the school yards and results in bullying. Even though my retort was that the celebrities are over-paid squillions of dollars to deal with this sort of sniping, I concede that he is right. I should really have just turned the television off earlier.
Happy Autumn days if you are in the Southern Hemisphere. Hope this season is filled with abundance and fiery creative passion for you.
Autumn Fires by Robert Louis Stevenson
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
How exciting to read that a manuscript of Enid Blyton’s has popped up in a children’s book centre. Although Mr Tumpy’s Caravan doesn’t sound my ideal Blyton (I prefer Famous Five or the boarding school stories), there’s something so Blytonish about this lost manuscript suddenly appearing.
It’s grim to think in the future that, thanks to our technology, lost manuscripts languishing in dusty, spider-filled attics suddenly materializing may well be a romantic happening of the past. Computer files seem so impermanent, don’t they
And so I’m celebrating this historical moment along with other Blyton fans around the world with a toast of ginger-beer and keeping my fingers crossed the powers-that-be don’t decide to ‘modernise’ Mr Tumpy’s Caravan before publication.
In our house we read a lot of Blyton. My daughter adores the Faraway Tree and Wishing Chair books and never tires of them. She also loves Blyton’s books which are about children – rather than the modern trend of using animals in place of children. And I’ve been slowly collecting all my old Blytons that my mother sent to op-shops when my back was turned. Tony Summerfield of the Enid Blyton Society was quoted in the London Telegraph as certain there are no other Enid Blyton manuscripts sitting around. It’s still lovely to imagine that somewhere out there are early drafts of Famous Five or a mystery never seen.
And so, if you are interested in a fantasy of a caravan with a mind of its own, a dog-headed dragon and a princess, then cheer along with me that Mr Tumpy’s Caravan has been discovered.
You can read more on Mr Tumpy here
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QCQTr8ZYdhg]
I heard this in my local supermarket as I was doing very late-night grocery shopping. It seemed to transform every shopper there into a better place instantly
On the 14th February in the year 1900, a group of schoolgirls set out for their annual Valentine’s Day Picnic. Some were never to return…
What was the secret of Hanging Rock?
Every Valentine’s Day I’m reminded of my favourite Australian movie, Picnic At Hanging Rock, which is based on the book of the same name by Joan Lindsay.
When I first saw this haunting, eerie movie in the 70s, I was terrified. After many repeat viewings, it still creeps me out. I’ll do a longer post about this one day as it’s such a fascinating film and I also love Elvira Madigan which Picnic was heavily influenced by.
Picnic At Hanging Rock is my bookclub (Magic Hat Bookclub) pick this month. Joan Lindsay is a fascinating character and so I’m looking forward to this discussion.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08e9QqQP7sY]
But the Peter Weir movie will be forever associated in my mind with the 14th February. On this day every year, I see white dresses, corsets, elaborate cards, birds soaring in a brilliant blue sky, parasols, the menacing rock and the enigmatic Miranda.
A little bit of Rock trivia: Joan Lindsay married her husband on St Valentine’s Day. The day always had a special significance for her which is why she set her novel on the 14th February.
Enjoy the day and night dedicated to love.
Returning from Tasmania is always difficult. It feels to me like entering back to grey-and-white Kansas in Sydney from the sparkling Tasmanian Oz. But return we must for the big smoke is where David works. And yet, the Tasmanian soil seemed alive to me when I tread on it. The sea, the sky, the air sang and sparkled. Everything feels crisp, new and more beautifully shaded in Tasmania.
I spent an hour a day walking the magical Nut in Stanley. Here my only company at times were hundreds of pademelons, blue wrens. rabbits and air blowing from Antarctica, said to be the purest in the world. As I walked, the panoramic views stretched for miles of sea and sky. The landscape looks at times like the moors in Haworth and the coastline is very Cornwall in places. It’s an incredibly gothic, spectacular place and both David and myself are more than a little Nut-obsessed.
I was very proud that five-year-old Daisy climbed it one day and didn’t use the chair-lift. It was on the Nut, I received another idea for a book and a title. Stanley is a most inspiring place for me!
And so I have come full circle. Poets Cottage began in 2007 with my last holiday in Stanley. Now I am editing it and it will be a published book.
I spent some of the week in the Captain’s Cottage editing and it was a humbling experience to share the edit with that delightful cottage in the most enchanting of fishing villages.
I was also most fortunate to personally meet and thank several locals who inspired the book and provided material that I could use. Warmest congratulations to Marguerite Eldridge of Stanley for her Australia Day award honours in the creative arts. Marguerite and her partner Lin were very instrumental in Poets Cottage, providing the title, and also inspiring the character of Birdie Pinkerton. Marguerite’s books about life in Stanley were also of great help in my research. It is wonderful to see this talented and gracious lady be recognised for her creativity at this stage of her life. I’m very grateful I got to personally thank her and she didn’t object to my daughter taking over her house and biscuit barrel!
We visited close family and it was joyful to see Daisy play with her cousins and relatives and delight in the magic of houses with large backyards, trampolines and sandpits. Always hard to leave but this trip even more so. And every day I see myself back on the Nut feeling that icy wind rush through me and the earth singing as I walk on her. There’s no place like home.
