Slice of Life Story - Scenes From A Supermarket

My final March Slice of Life Story Challenge piece finds me at the supermarket.

I called in to pick up some milk, breakfast cereal and bananas. As I made my way through the ailses I was struck by the following realization...

I am increasingly of the view that people should have to pass a driving test to operate a supermarket trolley. There should be on the spot fines for blocking the aisle, and sudden un-announced u –turns should be banned. It is challenging enough to operate a trolley with the obligatory wobbly wheel without decision challenged individuals obstructing your access to the fruit and veg section while they prop and ponder over heaven knows what. I don’t resent having to gather food in this manner. I view it as a highly evolved form of hunting and gathering that has mercifully eliminated the need to set traps and snares, or fire arrows. That is evolution at its best.

No, what upsets me about the supermarket trolley bash is the consumer who enters the food gathering environment lacking a mission statement; any sort of action plan. They wander the aisles quite aimlessly hoping divine intervention will take hold of their thoughts and guide them to an item they might actually need. I suspect these same individuals are also non writers, because they never carry a list of possible items. They just arrive and create chaos. Maybe someone could greet them at the entrance and demand to see a written plan. I suspect the supermarket shopping experience may be turning me into a retailing fascist.

Supermarket shopping is not to be undertaken by people who lack a a clear game plan. It needs to be performed quickly and efficiently and hopefully when one reaches the check out, all your items will have bar codes and you will be greeted by an abundance of cheerful check out persons ready to zap you through without delay. Now that’s a supermarket special deal I would love to see…

And so I eventually emerge from the supermarket armed with aforementioned items and remember a poem I wrote some years ago inspired by supermarkets and young love. I close this Story Slice Challenge with that poem:

AISLE BE SEEING YOU SUPERMARKET SALLY

I fell in love with a girl
-The girl from checkout three
I fell in love with her
Because, she spoke to me
She said, Do you want a bag with these?

And held up two tins of dog food and super hero underpants for everyone to see
And I was all aglow
As people stared at me.

Her name was Sally Tanner
She was a wizard with the scanner
She zapped and zipped
Zipped and zapped
No item could evade her trap

She was supermarket Sally
In her neatly pressed white blouse
A goddess of the grocery store
Oh, I could watch her zap for hours.

But I saw her kissing Fabian
Beside the Fresh Fruit stand
And after work I saw them leave
And they were hand in hand

She had been my red spot special
But I’m sure that I’ll survive
I’ll transfer all my purchases
To the girl at checkout 5

Slice of Life Story - The Art of Shelling Peas

Whilst browsing our recipe book collection searching for culinary inspiration, I stumbled across an entry in Bill Grainger’s foodies book ‘Holidays’ Below the recipe for Tagliatelle with fresh peas and lemon, Bill extols the value of fresh peas.

‘Fresh peas are so wonderfully evocative of spring and another ingredient we seem to bypass in our modern lives. In an ideal world, we’d all spend half an hour a week on the back doorstep, shelling peas.’

This simple observation set me to thinking of a simpler time before frozen and processed foods made us lazy. I vividly recall as a boy watching my mother sit with a generous pile of peas in her lap and patiently work through the process of shelling them into a saucepan. She would split open the pod before running her thumb along the length of the pod and directing the firm, green contents into the nearby container.

Whenever my Nana visited, it never took long before she was drafted into the pea shelling process as well. There was something calm and contemplative about sitting around shelling peas. Whenever I was allowed to participate in the task, a significant number of peas never made it into the saucepan. Fresh, uncooked peas tasted delicious. I could never understand why so many kids disliked them. Cooked with fresh mint and a pinch of butter, they remain a favourite.

Those days of shelling peas have passed it seems. We now reach into the freezer for the frozen variety. We have substituted flavour and freshness for convenience. We have also lost the therapeutic value of sitting down and exchanging pleasantries as we casually shell peas.

Growing up, peas were a staple in my father’s large vegetable patch. I grew to understand the power of the humble pea to facilitate conversation. Bill Grainger’s reference to them has taken me back to a slower style of living.

Half an hour sitting on the veranda steps shelling peas sounds like the perfect antidote to the sometimes mad rush of our daily lives. I should try it as a de-stressor and memoir connection. Pass the peas please!

Slice of Life Story - Developing Self Belief As A Writer

My mind is on topic choice this morning because nothing influences a child’s attitude to writing more than the choice of topic. If the child is given control over topic choice and if the teacher displays genuine interest in that choice, then there’s usually no limit to the effort the young writer will make. Young writers who are given this power soon develop confidence in choosing appropriate topics for their writing. They are engaged in thinking and preparing for the writing that follows.

Sometimes I hear teachers say, ‘They’re not good at choosing something to write about.” The logical starting point is, ‘What can you do to assist them to improve this aspect of their writing?

Actively teaching them how to make good choices, showing them how to identify a suitable focus for their writing, and harvesting ideas are good places to begin. Teacher modelling is critical to students making improved topic choices. They need to see us in action! They need to see how we narrow down the focus of our own writing. We also need to alert young writers to the potential that lies in everyday events. Learning how to monitor the world is an essential factor in becoming better at topic choice.

Anne Lindbergh said it all with her words, -"Writing is more then living, it is being conscious of living." Closer to home, a five year old, gave me further confidence that learning to monitor the world is the way to go when she quietly informed me, "I'm five now and I can see everything!"

In setting our expectations for writers we need to examine our own practice and provide active support to enable confidence in such things as topic choice to grow. Rather than lamenting what students can’t do, being joyfully literate means setting an example for students to follow

I compare this approach with that of my fifth grade teacher, who owned the topics and merely threw them in our direction each Thursday afternoon. No sense of ownership there. No confidence building in that approach. Very little thinking required. It did however influence many attitudes to writing. When teachers own the writing; when they control it so completely, it becomes merely an assignment set by an adult. -No commitment, no passion, and relief rather than satisfaction.

Slice of Life Story - Join Me For A Cup of Tea?

Sitting on the back deck in the mid morning light of an autumn day my thoughts land on the idea of enjoying a cup of tea. The sun is slowly warming to its task. By mid afternoon it will bring soothing warmth to my shoulders. Right now the air is still crisp after a rather cool night. Remnants of dew linger on the timber deck. This is the pattern of autumn days. Cool nights followed by days of clear blue skies and mild sunshine.

My choice of tea fluctuates between Earl Grey and Green tea these days. I take it black with no sugar. I like to share a cup of tea. I rarely drink tea alone. Drinking tea is a social event. We sit and ruminate. We plan action and solve problems. We review. We speculate. Tea helps a conversation flow it seems.

When I was growing up it seemed there was only black tea and you chose between two brands- Robur and Bushells. Now there are so many tea choices. We even have a dedicated tea shop in town. It is there that I learned of white tea which is tea harvested from the freshest tips of the tea plant. Tea drinkers are spoilt for choice. Australians have traditionally been tea drinkers. Tea came with the British immigrants and flourished. It has responded to the challenge that coffee drinking has posed. I find myself drinking tea at home and coffee when I go out.

Tea drinkers litter my family. My parents were such devoted tea drinkers. It punctuated their day. When visitors called in, they had a cup of tea. When a crisis arose they had a cup of tea to contemplate their response. When things slowed around the house, it became time to have a ‘cuppa.’ I recall my father consistently uttering the words, ‘Ah Robur,” following his first sip of each new cup of tea. Tea was a time spacer throughout my parents day. It kick started their day and provided the necessary bookend at bedtime.

The words to an old song have suddenly risen up in my head and refuse to be denied:

I like a nice cup of tea in the morning

Just to start the day you see

And at half past eleven

Well, my idea of heaven

Is a nice cup of tea

I like a nice cup of tea with my dinner

And a nice cup of tea with my tea

And when its time for bed

There's a lot to be said

For a nice cup of tea

So I’ll finish here – I think I need a cuppa!

Preparing For The Test Writing Genre

This is writing like no other writing we do! It’s artificial, strange, and yet we owe it to our students to teach them how to deal with it. If we treat it as a genre study, it can be dealt with more effectively!

The following ideas are presented in no particular order. I am offering them as suggestions. It is aimed at providing students with essential understandings for dealing with this abnormal writing situation. I am not advocating 'test prep' as I have too often seen it practiced. I am suggesting that we teach these strategies in the normal course of writer's worskshop.


Provide plenty of opportunity to write narratives!

Continue to encourage talk as a pre-writing prompt. It encourages thinking, and while students do not get to discuss their writing intentions under the test writing conditions, we certainly need them to activate their thinking around an idea for writing, so talk will facilitate this action. On the day of the test, this action will hopefully take place in their mind. This pre-writing scaffold will support thinking and ultimately the quality of the writing produced.

Teach them to brainstorm ideas. Given the time constraints that the test puts upon them, students need to practice thinking quickly and effectively.

Teach them to how to make a bulleted lis,t or how to document ideas under the headings -beginning, middle, end –a rudimentary plan to guide their writing ideas. This is a critical step in establishing a story framework or sequence. Young writers need that scaffolding.

Discuss and document the difference between the writing we normally do and the artificial writing we compose under the heading ‘test genre’ Do a compare and contrast chart and display it in your classroom. It is essential that the artificial nature of this test writing genre be exposed and known for what it is. That way students are fully versed in what they are dealing with and are therefore, better prepared.

Provide students with the opportunity to practice ‘speed writing’ where they write to a prompt for a designated time period without any external support. Build their stamina for writing through regular speed writing opportunities.
-Write for a set time (start with five minutes) on the topic of … (Choose something with which students are familiar) Repeat this a number of times -say three.
-Write about a strong memory
-Write about a place you know well
Write about an animal you know a lot about.

Calculate the number of words they generate within the allocated time. Make it a personal challenge to generate more words as they become more attuned to writing against a set time limit.

Make students aware of the fact that the person who will assess their writing will remain a stranger to them. Therefore they have a limited time and opportunity to impress this person. Writing an effective LEAD or introduction becomes a significant issue for your students as writers!

Teach students time management of the task.
How much time do they devote to brainstorming an idea?
How much time do they spend listing their writing ideas
How much time should they allow for proofreading, revising, editing at the end?

Practice writing for a set time –say 30 minutes, allocating 5 minutes for brainstorming and planning, 15 minutes for writing and 10 minutes for revising.

Students have to achieve this writing task in the space of roughly one page Beginning, middle and end! This might just be the structure many of them need to have in their head to achieve the outcome required. Maybe three paragraphs could be the objective? -Orientation, Complication, Conclusion.

Slice of Life Story -Your Time Starts Now!

On Saturday mornings a magazine comes with the newspaper that is delivered to my door. The magazine contains a variety of topical articles, some engaging, some merely page fillers. However, it also contains a regular feature entitled, Your Time Starts Now.

This involves a different person answering a series of pre determined questions each week. I always look forward to reading their responses. I am naturally curious about their experiences in life. I often find myself wondering, how would I respond ? How my answers might differ or equate to those printed before me. So today, I put myself to the task of responding to the questions posed.

My earliest memory: Watching my mother go to hospital in a taxi just prior to the birth of my sister and wondering if she would ever come back. Months earlier, my dog, Buster went to the dog hospital (as my parents put it) and never returned!

My favourite gadget is: My Ipod, nothing else holds a tune to it! Although, I am becoming very attached to my iphone. I am ihooked!

My Father told me: Always put things back where you found them.

It’s not fashionable but I love : The comfort of my well worn Sperry boat shoes.

At School: I was totally immersed in the social life that surrounded my day.

I wish I had: More time to travel as well as the money it requires.

I’m very bad at: Aerobics

I'm reading: Stephen King, A Memoir to the Craft Writing -On Writing

I'm listening to: Tim Finn, The Conversation

If I wasn’t me I’d like to be: Jimmy Buffett, singer, song writer, author, storyteller and environmental philanthropist.

I wish I’d never worn: That watermelon coloured suit in the seventies!

If I were a car I’d be: Decidedly in need of repair. High mileage, but still willing to climb hills.

When I was a child I wanted to: Be a jockey. My Father told me I was already too heavy and would probably grow up strong enough to carry the horse. I was totally destroyed by this revelation. I was only five years old.

Slice of Life Story - Photographs and Memories

Photographs trigger memories. I had this clearly illustrated yesterday when a photograph of our old Brooklyn apartment flashed across my computer screen. –I use my picture library as a screen saver and when I walked back into the study there it was –the old Brownstone fourth floor walk up apartment in all its faded glory. For some unaccountable reason, the first thing I thought of was the mouse who lived with us for a while. I had an instant mouse mind movie…

I had never seen a mouse in a dishwasher before. Not until the screaming of my dear wife Vicki, drew me to the kitchen in our new apartment. She ran from the kitchen screaming, “There’s a mouse in the dishwasher! Quick do something!” So I did. I went and had a look for myself. I opened the dishwasher ghingerly and there staring back at me was a tiny mouse. I almost said hi and then remembered that I was dealing with a rodent. Our eye contact was fleeting –literally a few seconds. The mouse scurried away in a flash and though I searched the recesses of the dishwasher, I was unable to locate any sign of our mischief making mouse.

From some distance behind me I heard a anxious cry –“Just get rid of it, please!”
“I think it’s gone,” I replied trying to sound re –assuring.

Later that evening I turned on the dishwasher and never gave the mouse another thought. At the conclusion of the washing cycle, I opened the machine and removed the clean dishes. As it emptied I made a startling discovery. There, lying on its back was one very clean and very drowned mouse. Our week long mouse melodrama was now at an end. No more scampering through the lounge-room. No more skittering beside the wall –and definitely no more hiding in the dishwasher. The mouse in the house had departed. I felt somewhat sad for the mouse and at the same time relieved for Vicki. She could now step down from the chair she was standing on. The dishwasher had become a giant mousetrap. Mickey Mouse beware!

Ah yes, photographs and memories are linked like day to night , sun to moon, or George Bush to incoherent rhetoric.

Slice of Life Story - Searching For A Solution

Last evening I had dinner with the Governor of Victoria. Well, in actual fact more than three hundred people dined with the Governor, but he was at the next table.

We had gathered together to raise funds and awareness of ovarian cancer. The aim of the evening was to raise funds for much needed research into this mystifying disease.

Each year around the world, 200, 000 new cases of ovarian cancer are reported. Of these, 75% are initially reported in the advanced stages of the disease. This is the baffling challenge faced by science. The symptoms of the disease do not make themselves immediately apparent and subsequently go undetected until they are advanced. Ovarian cancer is a disease that is not respectful of age, so women of all ages are susceptible. I was struck by relatively young age of some of the women afflicted by this disease. A global challenge is under way discover more about this mysterious cancer.

It is re-assuring to know that contributing in this small way may assist those doctors and researchers to continue their much needed work to unlock these medical secrets.

As one of the speakers informed the gathering, every man has someone who could be affected by ovarian cancer –a mother, a wife, a partner, a daughter, a sister, a friend. The quest for a cure goes on…

Slice of Life Story - The Primacy Effect

Legendary rock band, The Who have arrived in Melbourne to play a one off concert as part of the Melbourne Formula One Grand Prix racing circus. I have never been a fan of Formula One racing. It does nothing for me and it costs taxpayers money to stage it. It takes over city streets and is environmentally unsustainable.

On the other hand I have always loved the music of The Who. As a teenager I loved the teen anthem, My Generation and the lyric line of Substitute fired my imagination every time it played out.

"You think we look pretty good together

You think my shoes are made of leather..."

The first time The Who toured performed in Australia they performed at Festival Hall in Melbourne. Festival Hall was little more than a glorified barn and the acoustics were not state of the art as they are today. As a teenager, I thought the concert was amazing. The sound the band produced, seemed to my young ears to faithfully replicate their record sound, and their stage energy and presence was something to behold. There was also a sense of anarchy as guitars were destroyed at the conclusion of the performance like a kind of sacrifice to the musical Gods. I never quite understood that bit about all that stage managed destruction though. They quickly left that part of their act behind as the music began to assume greater importance.

Sadly since those days two original band members have left this mortal coil, with only Pete Townsend and Roger Daltry surviving. They have endured like their music.

Throughout our lives we encounter lots of firsts. The Who were my first live rock and roll concert and like many of those first times we experience, the memory holds fast. First times often provide great fodder for writing. They run through our memories in such a rich vein.

Music has always commanded a big part in my life. The first album I bought was Bob Dylan’s classic double album, Blonde on Blonde. I’ll stop there. Those ‘firsts’ are beginning to flood in quicker than I can type. I need to create a list of them in my Writer’s Notebook for posterity and future writing ideas.

Slice of Life Story - Ready to Rehearse Writing Ideas

Writing ideas swirl round in my head. I live with them for days and sometimes weeks before they emerge on the page. I frequently wake up thinking about the possible shape of my writing for that day. I woke up thinking about my writing this morning. Later in the morning over a welcome cappuccino, I even talked about it –further sorting out took place. -Rehearsal for the writing to follow.

I understand rehearsal is critical to my writing. I embrace it. I know it assists me to clarify my ideas; find my direction. Playing with words and ideas in the head is such an important part of the writing process. Think of it like a tumble drier with thoughts and ideas rolling around and around until they are ready to be taken out.

Mind you there are times when all that emerges is a single sock of an idea –along with a bit of fluff attached. It looks and feels incomplete. It is writing in need of further consideration. But that’s okay; it may just require further shaping to align the mind’s vision with the text trapped on the page.

I find myself constantly reminding young writers that while they undertake a significant amount of their writing in the classroom, it is beyond the classroom that most of the ideas they get for writing crop up. I want them to fully understand this fact.

For this reason, rehearsal needs to take place, so that when they walk through the classroom door each morning, they have a vision of their very own ‘hot topic’ for the day. It is another example of the writer as thinker. This is an achievable goal. I have watched the awareness levels of young writers rise significantly when this behaviour becomes part of their writing practice.

I know I need to continue making students aware of their thinking and its potential for alerting them to ideas, issues and the world in general. Modelling my own rehearsal processes provides powerful demonstrations of the writer in action. Hopefully, it fosters the development of such behaviours in the young writers I teach.

Slice of Life Story - Lost For Words

Today I bought a new book from Dymocks book store and in the introduction I read the following:

“Language tells us who we are: because we are the words we use. If we adopt the language of another society we lose our rights to memory in our own kingdom “

These words belong to social anthropologist and author, Hugh Lunn. They are taken from his book, ‘Lost For Words.’ Hugh Lunn, is fearful that we are in danger of losing our language identity; that language is becoming increasingly homogenized and simplified. I fear he may be correct.


We know from experience that language is ever changing and evolving, but television speak has stunted our range of language terms. Shades of meaning have been reduced. Many people are now content to use a few stock phrases to get by. They figure it saves time, I guess. These have replaced a plethora of words and sayings that were once a feature of conversation with colourless grabs. Terms like whatever, tell someone who cares, get over it or get a life have become universal. Our conversational language has become simpified like standardization in the fast food industry.

The rich and colourful terminology once spoken has been replaced by evasive, non descript utterings. You still hear rich phrases used in conversation, but generally they have fallen from favour. They have become language relics.

Let me explain what I mean. My mother gave me great advice over the years. The best of it usually came during those times when I was catastrophising. – love that word.
I would be working myself into a lather and she might offer such rich gems as:

No use crying over spilt milk
These things are sent to try us
Never mind, you’ll survive
Think about the poor people in China. They'd love to have what you have
It's just a scratch, you'll be fine in no time
Nobody likes a whinger Dick
Let's be grateful for small mercies
Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it
We’ll just have to make do with what we have
We’ll just have to start again won’t we?

Today I might hear the simple generic utterance –‘Get a life.’ It is most apparent that expressions have become inhibited.

I find myself using terms and phrases from my childhood that draw blank expressions from generations that have somehow missed out on this amazingly rich expression. Today words such as ‘like,’ ‘nasty’ and ‘puh-leese’ act as conversational glue. Terms as such as ‘Bring it on’, ‘Oh my God’, and ‘In your dreams’ are heard ad nauseum. This style of talk is abbreviated, dismissive and all too common. I believe the idiom has suffered at the hands of modern culture and television’s dumbing down effects.

Over the years I have made a point of collecting in my notebooks expressions that are expressive and original. From my travels around the world, I present the following examples:


“My mother-in-law has a look that could burn holes in the lawn.”

“I feel as welcome as a skunk at a garden party.”

“Stop your gum thumping!”

“That’s okay, you can be the designated basket-case”

“He’s got all the direction of a blow fly in a bottle!”

“He couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a bagful of wheat!”

“You can’t make strawberry jam out of manure”

“That’s better than getting a slater up your nose.”

I think of all the alternative terms that were once used just to explain something that was 'considered 'good' Words such as ripper, corker, beauty, pearler, humdinger, ripsnorter, bobbydazzler, cracker, and bottler were once commonly heard synonyms in school playgrounds. So many of them have faded from conversation. They have gone down the gurgler!

It is not merely nostalgia that makes me long for this rich and colourful use of language. I am concerned that future generations may miss out on this expressive language as we increasingly adopt a generic kind of communication. We’ll no longer value such wonderful terms as dunderhead, dingbat, nong and ninny.

People will stare in utter disbelief when I attempt to describe someone as being ‘a few sandwiches short of a picnic.’ I know I’ll be down in the dumps and feeling as miserable as a bandicoot when that happens. Forgive my bellyaching, I’m just being a grizzleguts and like Hugh Lunn, I too am lost for words.

Slice of Life Story - Finding Your Voice

Writers are readers –avid readers. Writers carry within them an enduring love of words and remain keenly interested in how other writers write and what they write.

For these reasons I scour book shops for books about writing and writers. It is where I found, ‘Writing The Memoir’ by Judith Barrington. This book aims to provide a practical guide to the challenges and dilemmas in crafting your own true stories. In the book, Barrington makes the point that in order for the reader to care about what you make of your life, there has to be an engaging voice embedded in the writing –a voice that captures a personality and breathes life into the words. The author further states that memoir requires that the reader feels spoken to.

It is timely that I am reading this because next week I have to teach a class of 10 year olds that voice is a critical element of effective writing. Sometimes voice in writing is referred to as personality on paper. So my planning will attempt to hold true to this ideal.

I will search my book collection for examples of writing where a sense of voice is apparent. And as these young writers tell stories from their lives; their personal narratives, I will look for the emergence of voice in their writing too.

Slice of Life Story - Mystery of the Stolen Olives

In our front garden stands a single olive tree that was planted about nine years ago. From the outset it has been a prolific provider of olives. Interestingly for the past three years someone has arrived in the dark of night and harvested the entire crop of olives. We have been shocked to discover our favourite olive tree devoid of olives. Whoever is perpetrating this nefarious act is meticulous –as well as sneaky. Not a single olive is left behind, whether on the tree, or on the ground surrounding the tree. It is a continuing mystery. A conundrum of puzzling proportions.

I have made enquiries with an Italian friend of mine, an olive expert, in the hope of finding a solution. I thought maybe the curse of Strega-Nona might be able to be invoked. My friend suggested hanging an evil eye ornament in the tree as a deterrent to any would be olive-nappers. Close circuit video for a single olive tree may be considered a tad extreme, and sleeping under the tree in June is a health hazard. Naturally, I remain perplexed by this continuing theft.

At present the tree shows the beginnings of another bountiful harvest. Small green olives hang in abundance from its branches. Come late June they will be black, plump and ready for harvesting. The process of curing them should begin. I am full of anticipation. I feel the writer within should be able to make use of this real life mystery taking place on my doorstep –well, not far from it!

Slice of Life Story -The Danger of The Screen

I listened to Professor Susan Greenfield, a neuroscientist from Oxford University discussing her theory that ‘screen technologies’ may be having a detrimental impact on child development if used excessively. She admits that at this time her view has not been tested. However, she expresses a concern for the dulling of creativity and imagination where children are not interacting in normal social intercourse, but indulging in repetitive narratives that many screen technologies present. The nature of these technologies mean that the same discourse is repeated and this is by itself limiting cognitive development and sensitivity. You finish the game and start again. You watch the video and then watch it again. It is the game that holds sway. You respond to the game, not the emotional response of another human being. You don't respond to the emotional impact of your actions because it is not reflected in the screen characters.They don't smile, cry, and laugh when you take action. By contrast real life narratives are irreversible, one off interactions that are ever changing and varied. Their is an ever present emotional response.

I grew up as part of a generation that experienced minimal contact with screen technology. Our play was largely inventive. We created our own mind movies, thus stimulating the imagination. I mean, I was almost eleven before my family bought a television! In hindsight, how lucky I was during those formative years?

Parents who ration their children’s viewing of screen technologies appear to be onto something quite critical here. Children who fill their playing time in meaningful interaction and narratives with responsive humans would appear to be better placed to develop creativeness, empathy and imagination than those sucking up hours of one on one technology.

Don’t get me wrong, I love technology and embrace its use. My Ipod and my computer form part of my life support unit. But I have balance in my life and crave the stimulation that social discourse brings. However, I find myself strongly aligned to Professor Greenfield’s view that children’s exposure to technology requires careful consideration and monitoring. I am noticing what appears to be an increasing number of young people who exhibit symptoms of what may well be the results of over exposure to screen technologies. They lack the verbal skills to clearly articulate their views, they appear de-sensitized to natural phenomena, and they exhibit a general lack of ‘spark’ The subtleties of language escape them and they take verbal triggers quite literally. They appear to have missed those rich narrative interactions that emerge from regular real life conversations.

Susan Greenfield has sparked my thinking. I feel a need to investigate further and read more on this issue…

Slice of Life Story - A Lemony Snippet

In the supermarket today I noticed that lemons had reached the astonishing price of $1.28 each! -Now, I understand that we are experiencing a global economic downturn, global warming and a protracted drought, but lemons at such prices is almost incomprehensible. Imported lemons at that! It seems locally grown lemons are unavailable. Last week, I searched for lemons, but the shelves were empty.

My desire for lemons is predicated on the need to start my day with the juice of half a lemon in a glass of warm water. It is reputed to cleanse the liver –and let’s face it, a clean liver is an admirable goal. But $1.28 per lemon is beginning to stretch the friendship.

The irony of my lemon lament is the knowledge that growing in my backyard is a stand of five lemon trees that are laden with lemons. There must be at least one hundred lemons hanging from the limbs of my lemon trees. I only planted them two years ago, so the lemon harvest is remarkable.

The problem is that none of them are showing any sense of urgency to ripen. They are plump and green and they are staring back at me in a passive aggressive manner and refusing to mellow to yellow.


So my life remains bitter sweet…

Slice of Life Story - Grabber Leads!

It is always gratifying to observe a group of students make a genuine breakthrough in their learning. Today I watched a group of young writers grapple with the challenge of writing 'grabber' leads. Their teacher urged them to write leads that aroused curiosity and interest. To scaffold the learning the teacher had provided powerful modelling of her own by using Aimee Buckner's 'Try Ten' strategy from the book, 'Notebook Know How -Stragies for the Writer's Notebook'

This strategy involves writing ten different leads to a writing piece before choosing one with which to run. The teacher chose as her topic the recent devastating fires that had afflicted so many lives in Victoria, Australia. She wrote from first hand experience given that the fires had come so close to her home.

The power of this modelling proved compelling. Her grade three students when asked to produce five lead samples embraced the challenge with a zeal that was not present in their writing a matter of weeks before. They had initially produced basic recounts that were generally list like and began with basic statements such as "One day" or "On the weekend"

The change lies in the teacher's willingness to be a risk taker and try to lead by example. Writing for and with her students, guiding and leading the way forward has proved to be the catylyst for change. Using the writing of her students to guide her instruction, and allowing herself to be informed by what her students are producing has provided the impetus for developing the writing. The last few weeks have been about generating content, experimenting, and building confidence. As they have written, she has taught into the language generated.

Today provided a watershed moment. During the share time, at the conclusion of the workshop, students read examples of their 'grabber leads.' It was immediately evident that they understood the importance of using words to engage the reader. Their writing showed the value of their teacher's investment. One girl wrote, "How could I tell Dad that I was scared and didn't want to do it?" She had managed to arouse interest and tease the reader just enough to want to read on. Many of her fellow writers had achieved exactly the same level of reader interest. Their notebooks were filled with possibilities.

What a buzz! My heart sang for these young writers and their teacher. Great leads had come from her great lead.

Slice of Life Story - Fear of the Dark

Having spent the last three days in Sydney enjoying the wonderful company of my grandson, Cooper, I have noted that in many respects he is relatively fearless. He is willing to try new things and is most trusting. He climbs and runs with a genuine confidence and spirit. He displays persistence when faced with a challenge and clearly wants to be seen as independent. Not bad for a three year old.

Spending time with him set me to thinking about some of the fears and concerns that visited themselves upon my own childhood. By comparison to Cooper, I was a wimp. Particularly, when it came to the dark as I recall...

Darkness in my early years was associated with fear. Fear of things that lurked in the dark. Fear of the unknown creature that was waiting to pounce. Fear of snakes that lay at the foot of my bed. Fear of someone hiding beneath my bed. With my phobia well developed it was little wonder I had a night light in my bedroom as a child. Not a really bright light that lit up the whole room, just a globe that provided a dull glow and removed some of the night shadows from my room. I would further request that my bedroom door not be completely shut. The shaft of light provided a comforting link with the outer world of my parents. The night light didn’t rid me of the snakes at the foot of my bed. I still slept scrunched up in the foetal position, my toes unwilling to explore the far reaches of my bed.

Darkness presented me with real problems when we visited my Nana’s place. Nana's toilet was for me, inconveniently located in the laundry away from the house. You had to go out the back door, down the steps, past the fernery to the attached bathroom. It faced towards the garden and away from the house. Huge palm trees stood to attention in front of you whispering the secrets of the wind and playing to fertile young imaginations. Worse still the bathroom had no light. You sat in the menacing gloom hoping not to put your hand on a spider. I would get my mother to stand at the back door landing and talk to me while I gingerly negotiated the dangerous route to the darkened room. As long as I could hear her voice I felt safe.

Slice of Life Story - On The Water

Sunday in Sydney brought with it a ferry ride on the harbour. Sailing past the majestic Sydney Opera House with its pitched sail roof canopies was uplifting. It glowed white in the bright autumn sun. Boats of all sizes flitted across the waves as our ferry forged its way to the Circular Quay terminal. Sydney can be seen at its best on such days.

There is something quite soothing about travelling across water. It calms the soul and some of life’s concerns somehow just seem to drift away.

I am fortunate enough to live within walking distance of the ocean. It affords me an escape when the ideas are not flowing in my writing. On windy days it blows away the cobwebs. The sea is also an inspiration for ideas. Beachcombing brings with it unexpected treasures –sea-glass, shells and driftwood.

Along one fence at home there is an odd assortment of found objects collected from beach visits. Numerous balls, flippers, buckets, spades, single discarded thongs (flip-flops) hang brightly from the fence reminding us of what the sea brings, or more precisely what humans leave behind.

Slice of Life Story - Risk Assessment

Avalon Beach, north of Sydney was recently in the news when a young man was severely mauled by a white pointer shark while surfing. He suffered significant injuries to his leg and was fortunate to survive.

This morning I stood on the rise overlooking this same stretch of beach with my grandson, Cooper. We watched young surfers ride their boards in those same dangerous waters. They appeared unperturbed by the recent incident. It is often the way with youth. They perceive themselves as immortal, danger-proof, shark proof. Such is their bravado that the desire to surf outweighs any potential danger. Older heads would take a more considered view of matters and err on the side of caution. Life has a way of making risk a more formidable foe. A surf patrol boat constantly cruised the waves and at one stage a helicopter zoomed along the coast. I have little doubt that they were insuring that the waters were safe.

Our particular beach activity was a little more pedestrian. With Cooper in tow, we traipsed over the exposed rock-pools in search of crabs and periwinkles. We held hands to support each other in case the rocks proved slippery. As humans we assess risks on a variety of levels.
Today the surfers were untroubled and so were the crabs… but everyone appeared to have fun.

Slice of Life Story - Scenes that take you back

Today in the company of my grandson,Cooper, I watched an old seaplane take off from Palm Beach, situated on Sydney’s northern beaches. As it gathered speed across the water, the lumbering craft slowly lifted into the air. I felt a sense of relief as I watched it become airborne; the engines whining and straining to deliver the power necessary for lift off. The pontoons that support the plane’s body appearing like oversized feet.

I had instant flashbacks to old black and white movies, Humphrey Bogart, and smugglers. The plane swung back towards the land before passing overhead at a comparatively low altitude.

The entire experience was like a flashback to a bygone era. The small boy that still resides in me and the small boy standing beside me, holding my hand thought the whole scene was just plane wonderful

Slice of Life Story - Becoming A Life Long Reader

Today I am flying to Sydney to spend some quality time reading, sharing books, playing games, and generally having fun with Cooper, my grandson. The fact that we live in different cities makes the time we spend together all the more important. Cooper is three years old and has wonder in his eyes. He loves having books read to him, so my suitcase will contain some new titles for us to share.

Multiple readings go with the experience. The phrase-“Read it again!” is a familiar refrain when Cooper and I gather to share books. He will ask me to come sit somewhere he considers special so we may have a ‘chit chat’ (his term, not mine) The last time we sat down for an in depth discussion the topic was ‘roofs,’ Cooper chose the topic and away we went. I look forward to new revelations and discoveries.

By the time Cooper reaches school he will clearly possess that essential set of literary understandings that the late Don Holdaway identified so many years ago. He has been launched on the journey to becoming a life long reader and I look forward to sharing the wonders of books with him for as long as possible.

Slice of Life Story - Talk, Question, Wonder!

The child of my youth appears to have gone the way of tape recorders, cassette players and the like. At the very least they are an endangered species. When sharing childhood experiences with today’s generation of students, I realized that our respective childhood experiences are literally a world apart.

My generation grew up in small houses with big backyards. The focus of our daily existences was the world outdoors. We had extraordinary freedom to explore our immediate world. The children I now work with, (and I’m talking in general terms here) live in bigger houses, with small backyards and the focus of their lives is frequnelty indoors. The growth of technology in its myriad forms calls them like a siren to remain under cover. X box, computer games, dvd’s win out over an outdoor lifestyle. Freedom extends to the front gate for many of these children. The world has become a more potentially dangerous place. Anxious parents control so much of the time children spend beyond school. Many children’s lives are timetabled. This leaves little time to explore, create and generally discover the wider wonders of the world. The kids that do live this kind of life are the lucky ones.

This week while debriefing with teachers, I noticed a recurring theme. Teachers are lamenting a general lack of world knowledge among their students. They feel that they now are doing a lot more compensatory teaching. Trying to encourage greater student awareness of the world around them is consuming more of their teaching time. Encouraging sensory awareness, noticing small natural wonders, celebrating simple pleasures have assumed a greater importance. Rejuvenating the sensory perceptions of students has become something that requires attention.

An experienced teacher told me that she thinks our childhoods were more like the adventures of Tom Sawyer. The childhoods of two many of today's children lack that element of real adventure. Maybe she'r right. Coddled, constrained and covered in anti bacterial makes it difficult to live childhood as it was intended.

Ben, a young teacher I work with told me today that ants invaded his classroom. He decided to investigate the matter more fully and took his class on a mission of discovery to find where the ants were actually coming from. They tracked them down to a tree outside the classroom where the ants were found in mass profusion at the higher reaches of the tree. They watched the ants and discussed the possible reasons as to why the ants were there and in the classroom. They drew the ants and some even decided to write about the ants. One student drew a picture of the tree with a huge ant ‘castle’ in it. Ben and his students had shared a teachable moment. It was an invaluable chance to wonder and speculate.


It is evident that rich conversations in the home have been replaced by watching and viewing. We have a visual generation, but verbally they are often undernourished. This points to the increasing importance of conducting quality conversations in the classroom. Talk is a critical pre writing requisite. When kids have the opportunity to articulate their writing intentions; to discuss and clarify ideas, they generally produce more effective writing pieces.

Slice of Life Story - TV Viewing and Health Issues

I have just watched a report on television about the American health system. On the evidence presented, the system appears to be morbidly obese, in danger of collapse and only a major operation will save it.

To think that almost fifty million people living in the U.S are not covered by any form of insurance, many others have inadequate cover and the cost of basic services is prohibitive is an anathema in such a developed country. Drug companies appear to exert so much power over the running of the health system. How did this happen?

I viewed a documentary on America’s health system way back in the 1980’s titled, ‘Don’t Get Sick in America.” It presented a scary picture back then. This latest report makes the earlier assessment positively glowing by comparison.

I recall having cause to undertake a blood test whilst living in New York. I was totally shocked when I was charged in excess of $1500 for what I considered a basic procedure. Back in Australia the same blood test would have cost me nothing as it is covered under our national health program. I then required a follow up scan. I was most surprised to receive a phone call asking me to have $700.00 ready on the day of my appointment to cover costs. The women on the phone informed me in an officious tone that without prior payment the procedure would not proceed. I presented with the money on my appointed day, but was shocked when the receptionist informed me that a further $90 dollars was required to cover the cost of the dye used for the scan –or was that scam?

I was lucky, my costs were eventually reimbursed. I am painfully aware however, that for many American citizens that is not an option. They pay dearly for treatments –sometimes with the very homes in which they live.

Opponents of nationalized health tend to use emotive terms such as socialism, communism etc to scare people away from any attempt at reforming what is clearly an ailing and discriminatory health system. Drug companies spend obscene amounts of money lobbying politicians to protect their privileged position.

Ironically, most developed countries around the world offer their citizens national health systems- and surprise, surprise, for the most part they function more than adequately.

I recall an American friend who required on-going medication following along battle with breast cancer who had her medicine changed by her insurance company to a generic brand and then changed again to a generic of the generic! But that wasn’t the scariest aspect of these events. All these changes took place without informing her. It was only when she exhibited unexplained side effects and began to make enquiries, that she discovered what subterfuge had taken place. How unprincipled is that? How can that happen? Why does such power rests with the insurers?

I’m not sure where that rant came from –oh, yes I do, a twenty minutes segment on television. Well, at least I was paying attention. Whether it’s a good example of a persuasive piece is debatable, but I do feel much better. Good health everyone and I mean Good Health!

Slice of Life Story - Renovations and Revisions

Today, it is a public holiday in my home state of Victoria. –and what a glorious day it is 26 degrees Celsius (79 degrees Fahrenheit) A gentle breeze and bright blue skies. We are blessed. A barbecue lunch and a glass of shiraz and the living is easy. You will note the positive vibe of my message…

Today, we have also started yet another house renovation. This time we are removing part of the wall in our upstairs bedroom and installing floor to ceiling cupboards against one wall. The bathroom adjoining the bedroom is being given a major makeover as well.

It was Bob Dylan the singer, not Bob The Builder, who said, “We spend our lives in a constant state of becoming.” House renovations seem to exemplify Dylan’s words. Houses morph and change continually to reflect the changing needs of the occupants. Children grow, move out, return again, then finally leave for good to make their own house renovations. A bedroom gets converted into a study, a room is added, a deck extended, a kitchen upgraded -and so it goes. The house becomes something different with each revision. Hopefully the changes make a difference to the functionality of the living space and add value to the appearance of the dwelling.
The process of renovating always involves a degree of upheaval, disturbance and mess. One of the few accurate things I recall Donald Rumsfeld ever saying was, “Change is messy.” On that one thing alone, Rumsfeld and I agreed.

Each of us copes in different ways with the challenge that change presents. It becomes important to retain a vision of the end product. I am usually okay with the idea of change. We live with change all our lives. So it should be easy; yes? But, this is the family castle, and the change affects just about every aspect of our daily living, so it is constantly reminding you of its presence. They say having relatives stay with you is a bit like fish –after three days they begin to smell. This renovation will take longer than three days.

And so I am indulging in some positive self talk today. Reminding myself that the disruption and upheaval is only temporary and the end result will be worth the time, money and effort.

Renovating has clear connections to writing. Both are inclined to get a little messy before they realize their objective. Both require a vision and persistence on the part of those directly involved. Both require patience.

Okay, I’m better now.

Today, the wall has been removed and the space instantly appears bigger; the ceiling somehow higher. Progress always has a way of boosting the spirits.

-And the best thing is, so far nothing smells…

Slice of Life Story - Meeting With A Blue Tongue

Today our dog Boo found a large lizard at the bottom of the garden. Boo is an exceptional little dog. Highly intelligent, loving, and extremely quiet; she rarely barks, so she has no future as a watch dog. However, when Boo and the lizard crossed paths, she began uttering a throaty noise that drew my attention and so I felt compelled to check things out.

I initially thought she was choking on a large bone, or something similar. I found her standing a suitably safe distance from a large Blue Tongue lizard, doing her best imitation of a bark. It was akin to a throaty cough. It was difficult not to laugh. The lizard slid away to a less threatening section of the garden and Boo, suitably impressed with her efforts as a canine warning device, followed me back to the house.

I sat down in the study and Boo took up her usual position lying on top of my foot and snoozing while I worked at the computer. Her adventures of doggy derring-do were over for the day it seemed. I resumed my writing focus after this brief distraction, content in the knowledge that we were safe from uninvited reptiles.

Slice of Life Story - Saturday Newspaper Indulgence

Saturday morning and the pace slows. I gather the morning newspaper, lying in the driveway in front of our house. I then spend the next couple of minutes extricating it from the plastic wrap that is protecting it from the elements. For someone who is keen to get in touch with the news of the moment, this problem solving activity creates some level of frustration.

Once the paper is freed from its cling wrap covering, it is down to some serious reading. The smell of the newsprint and the sheer pleasure I gain from reading the world is all that is needed to activate my Saturday.

Last evening Melbourne suffered an earth tremor that measured 4.6 on the Richter Scale. It was described as an earthquake, but it hardly qualified as such. I was sitting on the couch at the time watching yet another police drama when the room began shaking. It was all over in a matter of a few seconds. I expected this event to make it to the front page of this morning's news, but no, it received three paragraphs on Page three.

Newspapers do hold the eminent news position they once held, but because I have always read them, I remain loyal. Mind you, I also get my news from the internet, just in case events have been updated. I also receive news feeds on my phone, so I pretty much have it covered.

I am grateful to newspapers though, because they played a significant part in my becoming a reader. As a child, I scoured the newspaper each day for sporting results and articles. In those far off days, I would begin reading from the back of the newspaper because that is where you found all the sports related information. Sport was my passion. These days, I begin at the front and gradually work my way to the sporting section. My need for a sporting fix has lessened. My needs and interests have broadened considerably. However, newspapers remain part of my morning routine and sniffing around in the newsprint remains an enduring pleasure.

Slice of Life Story - Juicy Verbs Can Make A Difference

Teaching young writers to embrace the idea of revision is not as difficult as it is often made out to be. If we approach the challenge from the view that a good piece of writing becomes even better with the application of a range of revision strategies, it is possible to change the pictures students hold in their heads. -the view that revision is either irksome, or unnecessary.

I often find myself chanting the mantra –Revision is the magic behind great writing.

To break down this resistance to revision, we need to teach student writers a range of revision strategies that allow them to witness the power of revision to almost instantly transform the writing, giving it greater clarity and reader connectedness.

Today, I worked with a Grade 4 class with whom I had not previously spent class time. We began by looking at some of their writing samples. After a short discussion, we agreed that our goal for the lesson was to ‘polish’ them a little.

I talked about verbs and how they provide the muscles for our writing. I showed them how I look closely at the way I have used verbs in my own writing. I refer to the verbs as needing to be vivid or juicy. I explained that these special words need to be active, rather than passive. I shared examples of writers I admire and how they use verbs to elevate their writing to greater heights.

I then invited them to look again at their own writing and underline the verbs they had used. We talked about junk verbs like ‘went’ and ‘had.’ I referred to these verbs as five cent verbs and encouraged them to look for five dollar replacements. They scanned their writing pieces for verbs with an immediate intensity. They were acting out the role of text detectives.

-And then we harvested the changes which I listed for all to see. They gave me strolled in place of walked. They gave me plummeted in place of fell. They gave me discovered in place of found –and the words kept coming, as they eagerly shared their simple revisions.

Following this, I encouraged them to find a partner and read the original version of their writing and the new and improved version and see what they noticed about the two versions. I wanted them to experience the before and after effect.

So now they had a strategy for revising verbs and they seemed to be enjoying the task. One small step in breaking down resistance to revision. Viva la verb!

Slice of Life Story - Avoiding Brain Drain

Returning to a class of third graders after an absence of two weeks, I began by asking them if they were able to remember what we had focused on during our previous session together. They thought for a moment and then began to recall some of the writing ideas we had previously examined. I was most impressed when they mentioned that we had been looking at the ways in which writers gather ideas. It was then a student seated at the back of the group raised his hand enthusiastically looked me directly in the eye and told me,
“ We did lots of brain-draining.”
“Close,” I said. “I think you mean brainstorming, although sometimes it does feel a little draining.”
Ah yes, from the innocent we often get refreshing honesty and accuracy.

Now that their prior knowledge had been activated, it was time to move into the new workshop. This time we were looking at the craft strategy of ‘inside/outside’ (physical world/emotional world) The teachers and I had noticed that much of their writing of personal narratives concerned itself with the physical, or outer world. Students were basically writing recounts of events that were list like in structure. I modelled an example from my own writing where I wrote about my fear when as a small boy I was asked to collect eggs from my grandfather’s chook pen (chicken coop) and my concerns about his feral rooster. In my writing I tried to achieve some balance between the physical world (chickens, rooster, collecting eggs, enclosure etc) and the inner, or emotional world ( the sense of fear that manifest itself in my increased heartbeat, sweaty palms, wobbly legs.) I shared an extract from Roald Dahl’s The Witches (Page 63) where Dahl's small boy narrator, describes the inner fear he suffers when he is faced with the prospect of being discovered by the witches as they gather for a meeting. We then discussed what they noticed about the writing models they had read.

I then invited the students to practice this strategy for themselves in their independent writing. These previously inhibited or ‘safe’ writers then produced some wonderful examples of writing that clearly showed they understood how to apply ‘inside/outside’ to their writing. They wrote about their fear of attempting things for the first time. They wrote about fear of the dark. One student wrote about the fear and trepidation he felt when his mother suffered breathing difficulties and he had to call for an ambulance. Another student wrote about her fear of going to the opposite end of the house on her own in the evening. Their writing was refreshingly honest and emotionally charged. There was a tension and clarity to the writing. It had a wow factor.

In tying up the threads of the lesson, I asked the children what they had discovered about writing from the lesson. One boy replied, “ I have learnt that it is important to have a balance between the inside and outside world in your writing. It makes your writing more interesting to read.”

In debriefing with the teacher of this class, she, like me, was suitably impressed with the way their writing had been elevated in quality by the use of this single strategy.

We had started out with brain-draining and ended up with something quite the opposite.

Slice of Life Story -Savouring Small Moments

I woke early this morning. I woke in the twilight zone –that brief period of half light just before sunrise. Outside the bedroom window a chorus of pre dawn birdsong drew my immediate attention. A cacophony of noise, sounding like an orchestra in warm up phase grew in intensity as I slowly emerged from a state of sleep.

Fully awake, I marvelled at the intensity of the chirruping. I was mesmerized by the massed voices of the winged warblers; their voices merging and colliding in the morning air as they strived to outsing one another.

After a time, the volume subsided somewhat, and identifiable voices emerged. The lilting song of the thrush contrasting with the sharp shrill song of the parrots, the joyful cackle of the kookaburras and the soft, low cooing of the doves.

The volume softened further until it was merely a twitter, before the carolling of the magpies rose up. What a glorious and somehow fitting finale they provided. This symphony of the morning had heralded the dawn of a new day and as I lay there in my bed, relishing those precious minutes before I hit the ground running, I reflected on how fortunate I had been to hear this morning performance. Small moments and simple pleasures are there to be savoured.

Slice Of Life Story- Travelling With A Mentor

Today finds me reading Jerry Spinelli’s ‘Maniac Magee.’ Not for The first time, I might add. This book is beginning to show the obvious signs of significant handling. It has that warn,yet loved look about it -for this book is clearly a personal treasure –a mentor text.

The front cover has a burn seared into it because on one occasion I unwittingly used it to block a projector screen and the heat was too intense. Consequently, the book incurred third degree burns. It has become a talking point among the students with whom I work.

I have lost count of the number of times I have read extracts from this text in celebration of the writing craft. Jerry and his words go with me to all the schools I visit. He is a fellow teacher of writing; a friend I turn towards constantly for support. He frequently assists me to make a point about what makes writing so wonderful, so empowering. I love his use of repetition, his short punchy sentences, his evocative use of show, don’t tell. I love the way I develop strong visual images when I read his words, and the ease of connection I make with the characters and their foibles; the strengths and failings.

I discovered the writing of Jerry Spinelli when I first arrived to work in New York in 2001. Before that time I had not heard of him. A fellow education consultant. Michael Collins informed me that I would be doing myself a great favour if I started reading a book called ‘Maniac Magee’. I took his advice and have purchased and read numerous Spinelli texts since that time. ‘Maniac Magee,’ remains my all time favourite though. I use it for so many literacy related lessons.

Today Jerry Spinelli will help me teach a demonstration lesson to Grade 3 teachers using the writing craft strategy ‘inside/outside. I will highlight the way Spinelli writes about the physical and the emotional world to assist the reader to make stronger connections with the text. I will show students how I also use this strategy to help me in my writing. I will ask them to share with me what they notice. Then I will invite them to try it out for themselves in the independent phase of the lesson.

So as I pack my bag and head to the car, my friend and mentor, Jerry Spinelli is sharing the journey, sharing the teaching load. I always drive though…

Slice of Life Story -Writing In Different Places

I do the majority of my writing nestled comfortably in my study. Surrounded by books and life treasures, I am able to write freely. However, I have been making a conscious effort to write in different locations in recent times. My favourite alternative writing place currently is café ‘Via Boffe’.

To enter this inviting, little diversion, evokes an immediate celebration of the senses. As I step into this authentic replica of the traditional Italian café, the pervasive aroma of coffee meets me at the entrance,. Snatches of conversation float on the air as regular customers come and go. This place is warm and friendly even to the uncertain stranger. Tasty pastries direct from Isla di Capri catch my eye and freshly prepared lunch delights whisper ‘eat me please’ as I seek out a place to commence my writing. As a regular, my coffee arrives without a formal request. There is a comfort is this familiar ritual. I choose to sit at the front window where I can view the street and the passing parade of street characters. Two women guide a third as she parks her monstrous four wheeled vehicle into a parking spot directly outside. This event takes more time than one could imagine, but eventually they succeed in manoeuvring the massive machine into a position almost parallel to the curb. A coffee beckons after all that effort. A beautifully restored Pontiac Parisienne, leisurely drifts past. It’s magnificent ming blue duco dazzles in the early morning sunlight. Dog walkers on a mission, zip past the window, pulled ever onward by panting pooches. Shopkeepers opposite set up the trappings of their street displays. For now, this is my window on the world.

Today, I am thinking about marbles. Memories of marbles. Their patterns and colours and the games we played as children in the school playground. I am thinking of the different types of marbles and their strange names –steelies, blood reels, glassies. I am thinking of the language peculiar to the playing of marbles. Strange words, long forgotten like –fernudgin. Someone would call out ‘No fernudgin!’ This meant no moving your hand forward while playing your shot. The aim of which was to try to knock your opponents marble from the ring drawn in the dirt, surrounding the pool of marbles. Any marble blasted clear of the ring was yours to claim ‘for keeps.’

Why am I thinking about marbles? Well, a recent conversation with some Grade 3 writers about childhood games had me making a list of the games we played as children. One of the students read my list and asked me about playing marbles. The conversation shared with that student got me thinking more deeply about my marble memories.

So today I find myself sitting in my favourite café, sipping a cappucino and thinking about marbles. The seed of an idea planted by a brief conversation with a fellow writer has suddenly surfaced after several days of germination. -That essential rehearsal period for a writing idea has done its work. -And I love it!

Slice of Life Story Challenge -Summer From Hell

Every day for the month of March I am participating in the Slice of Life Story Challenge and posting an event for each day. The idea comes from Stacey and Ruth from Two Writing Teachers They kindly provided the logo you see.

As the name implies, I will attempt to capture and document daily slices of life as they present over the coming month.

Here is the first entry:

Sunday morning found me indulging in a bit of hedge trimming with our new electric whiz bang trimmer. I could have been forgiven for imagining I was wielding a light sabre but that’s just a momentary regression into boy land. As I trimmed and sliced, I realized that it is now officially autumn in Australia and our summer from hell is over. Devastating bushfires have demonstrated the awesome brutality that fire can deliver. This was indeed a summer never to be forgotten. Two hundred and ten lives, in excess of two thousand homes and two towns have been lost to the monster flames that tore across my home state of Victoria in February. The February dragon came calling and left us stunned with the ferocity its brutal attack.

The community response to the largest natural disaster in our nation’s history has seen an outpouring of support and compassion that provides one with such re-assurance regarding the human spirit. The survivors have been overwhelmed and require government and community support that is sustained. It will need to last for years. I think of Hurricane Katrina and the lack of co-ordinated effort that initially was visited upon the victims of that hideous storm. We do not want to repeat that lamentable performance.

We should also learn the lessons that this hellfire brought down on our fellow citizens. A number of factors transpired to create this maelstrom. Years of drought made the landscape parched, and the forests tinder dry. The day the fires occurred was the hottest recorded day in our history, and the wind that fanned the flames was monstrous in its intensity. These factors conspired to create a conflagration beyond comprehension. –despite our history with summer fires.

There will now be a Royal Commission into these horrible events. We must learn from what has taken place. We cannot accept these terrible losses as mere circumstance. I suspect that stronger building codes will result. I also feel that managing the fuel that builds up in our forests will require more rigid monitoring and maintenance. Clearing trees and undergrowth close to family dwellings will also be discussed. Environmental considerations will need to find a balance with practicalities of living in fire prone areas. More effective evacuation plans and fire bunkers will no doubt be examined by those enlisted to undertake this important enquiry.

And so I have completed my hedge trimming, and bid farewell to a sad summer. It will live on in infamy as our community tests its resilience moving forward. Many will rebuild their homes, others will decide to move on to places they consider less vulnerable. Communities will cling to the spirit of renewal and hope. Bouncing back requires all of us to play a part. I decided the other day to go though my change jar and found I had over one hundred dollars in loose change. I took it to my favourite coffee hangout, 'Via Boffe' and donated to the Red Cross appeal to assist families in rebuilding their lives. Now that felt good… It was not an original idea. Someone on television suggested we all go through our coin collections and donate to the cause. So I took up the challenge. I will now turn my attention to creating a rain dance. Heaven knows, we need buckets of precip right now! Years of below average rainfall, have left us thirsting for soaking rains. The spectre of global warming is all too real.