Monthly Archives: October 2011

Sunday Mail column for Sunday 23 October 2011: the one about your Year 12 grades


Despite the fact that it was twenty-two years ago (good grief, I’m just going to pour myself a stiff drink and contemplate that for a moment) and my hair made me look like Jon Bon Jovi, I can still vividly recall how I felt during those last two months of high school. Excited, of course. But also terrified. Terrified at what did – or didn’t – lay ahead. Terrified at whether or not I would cope at university. That’s assuming I even got a high enough score to get into the course I wanted to do. (Guess what? I didn’t). I remember being terrified knowing the group of people I’d spent the past five years with were all heading off in different directions. And that I’d kinda taken it for granted that all those faces – some loved and some loathed – were no longer going to be a part of my daily life.Continue Reading

Sunday Mail South Australia column for Sunday 2 October 2011


I learnt a major life lesson this past month. And it involved steak, mashed potato and a mariachi band. Sort of. In a way. Stay with me.

I’ve spent the last seven weeks on the road, travelling around the country doing a series of author-speaking engagements in regional shopping centres. I know. Look out J. K. Rowling, I’m coming for you. One food court at a time.  But the truth is the whole experience was terrific.Continue Reading

Sunday Mail South Australia column for Sunday 11 September 2011

Look what a difference a beautiful dress made to Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman … (let’s forget she was a hooker …)

It was easier when I was younger.  Forget shops. Back then when I longed to get my hands on a fabulous frock all I had to do was head straight to mum’s wardrobe in the spare room. At the age of five I would regularly struggle into a dress I thought was the most glamorous thing I’d ever seen. It was a long, slinky, black number with a red sequin diamond on the front – very 1977.  Very Ginger Grant from Gilligan’s Island. Sure when I pulled the material over my head and smoothed it down I was swimming in black but I didn’t care. Instead I swished around in that dress, mum’s cork platforms on my feet, catching glimpses of myself in the mirror whilst pretending to mix martinis and make small talk with my dear friend Baby Alive. This dress-up ritual, which occurred whenever mum and dad were out or asleep or watching Bjorn Borg play tennis, lasted right up until my brother caught me. He somewhat harshly pointed out that in his opinion I looked like Klinger from MASH.Continue Reading

Sunday Mail column for Sunday 21 August 2011


I haven’t seen a movie this year.

Okay, that’s not entirely true.  Yesterday I curled up on the couch and watched that cinematic sartorial masterpiece Pretty in Pink (is it just me or did James Spader looked 38 even when he was 18?).  And just last week Brad convinced me to watch a made-for-TV adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray, which taught me two things:  1. Oscar Wilde clearly took a lot of drugs and 2. No, that’s about it. Oscar Wilde clearly took a lot of drugs.

But the thing is, I haven’t seen a movie this year at the cinema.  I haven’t gotten dressed up (“dressed up” being code for wearing something other than trackie-daks) and left the house and bought some popcorn and paid an exorbitant amount of money for an adult ticket and sat in a cinema and been glued to the previews and watched a movie on the big screen.Continue Reading