makar [ˈmækər]
n (Literature / Poetry) Scot a creative artist, esp a poet
[a Scot variant of maker]

Saturday, December 22, 2012





I haven't read nearly enough this year (I wonder why...), but there have been some very interesting and even brilliant books gracing my bedside table.


The one that I enjoyed more than I thought I would: All That I Am by Anna Funder

The one that lived up to the hype: Bring up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel

The one that I wish I'd written: Past the Shallows by Favel Parrett

The one that made me cry: Charlotte's Web by E.B. White

The one that I cooked from most: The River Cottage Family Cookbook

The one that I loved reading aloud: The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo

The one that started so well: A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan

The one that I'm reading now: The Paperbark Shoe by Goldie Goldbloom


And the ones that I'm excited about reading next year?

NW by Zadie Smith

The Life by Malcolm Knox

May We Be Forgiven by A.M. Homes

The Mousewife by Rumer Godden



Sunday, December 2, 2012

Now



We are a couple of dreamers; always fantasising about the future, forever imagining a more beautiful existence. He went to med school because his head was full of the fantastic tales of his grandfather’s travels, and he dreamed of living overseas and having his own adventures. I write because I love ensconcing myself in the minds of other people and imagining myself into their worlds. When we lived in a tiny and mouldy bed-sit in London, we would spend our Sunday mornings in bed, drinking tea and eating toast, and pawing over a photographic book of flawless Australian beaches. We imagined our children running on the white sand, swimming in the clear warm water, the sky a startling and perfect blue above them. With luck and foolhardy resolve, we somehow made it happen.

But it is so easy to get caught up in dreams. You can forget to enjoy what you have. You move onto the next dream and you grow accustomed to the dreaming, always imagining something better, some place else. You can fail to see that what you have, right now, is pretty damn wonderful. Last year, around the time we found out we were expecting baby number three, we made the decision to stop obsessing over questions of “what next?” and to put aside the five and ten year plans. We decided to live in the now, and to invest, emotionally, in the beautiful place we live.

Little children are all about the now. Their needs and demands anchor us to the present. They draw our wandering minds back to the immediate. They force us to see that now is the moment, and that building a sandcastle on the beach is the most perfect thing we could be doing on a Sunday morning.

Today we released the happy home “Now”, which we received earlier in the week from Kellie at 1000 Homes of Happiness. We left it in our favourite place to be on a day when the sun is shining and a gentle breeze is blowing: under the shade of some trees down by the beach. I hope someone finds it and pauses to see the beauty, all around, in that moment of stillness. 






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