(no subject)

Melbourne is wreathed in smoke. If I were writing a steampunk novel with London fog and its incumbrances, the atmosphere here would help a great deal. Alas, I'm not, and my face feels flushed and consumptive. In fact, I feel very Victorian all round.

Apart from the smoke, life is wonderful. I just spent a few hours with Glennice Whitting and Wendy Dunn and we talked and talked. I noted a thousand and one things to be blogged, both this morning and last night, but the smoke has fogged my brain and they're all submerged.