Wednesday, 3 October 2012

My Muse is a whimsical lass

The car turns around the bend I throw my head back To catch a glimpse of her by the window We have an intense resemblance, I know we do, She is me  From long ago, From a forgotten era From another world I dare not bring her along to work She is awfully naughty, you see Peddling dreams, spouting poetry, And what a boisterous laugh she has I’m afraid she’ll ruffle some feathers here And leave me to do all the explaining (And oh! I am so terrible at that) And so I leave her at home I bet she is not pleased with that But...

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Move over, London! Sydney is my new love.

For a long time now I have been wanting to stage my life in London. And because I haven't been able to so far, I have been pining for the city with the kind of longing and unquestionable admiration I have for all things nineteenth-century English. This is something I have never been able to rationalize or explain, even to my self. The language, the accent, the mannerisms, images of the beautiful English countryside that Enid Blyton and other authors have filled up in my head over the years, anything even remotely English comes across as tantalizingly...