Of the naming of chooks …

... there is no end. Names matter. My parents apparently disagreed about what my name should be, one wanting to call me Beverley, the other one (I’m not sure who wanted which) wanted to call me Robyn. They compromised and gave me both names, Beverley Robyn, then proceeded to call me by my middle name.... Continue Reading →

The tower of cushions

When I was very young my parents owned and worked a chicken and cattle farm. It was only forty acres, not at all big by Australian standards, but for me, it was enormous. I wandered around with Mum and Dad, helping them … or so I thought. But one day, the family mythology tells, I... Continue Reading →

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑