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I need to remind my students that writers need to read more like scholars than like members of the general public. What reminded me was this.

I ought to explain that I'm not planning on sounding like Roland Barthes anytime soon (though I do have an instruction book that teaches me his very special language). It's rather that if I read for more than general enjoyment then I learn vast amounts from what I read. And that's what I'll be teaching my Tuesday class. That if they want to write in their own voice, it helps to be able to identify what goes into the voices of others.

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e-Review copies are available for Life through Cellophane. Things are happening!

In lesser news, I spent today and yesterday with very close friends.

Just today, I discovered the 'off' switch that will stop a child crying and bought some Goulburn Stout (for Conflux-attending friends to enjoy, if they are so inclined) and found out some fascinating history about Hovell (he of Hume-and-Hovell - every Australian schoolchild learns of Hume and Hovell and we all forget everything except the linked names) and his special relationship with the Goulburn train station (near the Hume Highway, of course). I also found out the history of the fake Viking ship that now sits in the Goiulburn Brewery: it was used for the first smorgasbrod ever served in Australia, at the Menzies Hotel, then bought by the brewery because of its links with Hovell and his Viking ancestry. His Viking ancestry turned out to be maybe-Norman.

Jenny (my friend who was visiting) commented that people tend to tell me things. I assumed that everyone gets told these things. How sad to be in a world where no-on informs you that a railway station was built where it was for the personal convenience of a retired explorer. Or where you fail to find out that Melbourne used to be (administratively) part of Queanbeyan.

I love this last factoid. It means I have not moved from the region of my birth. All those decades and all those miles later, I still live in the theoretical vicinity of Queanbeyan.

Morning tea was at lunchtime today and we had the most magaing hot chips, at the Bushranger Hotel (associated with John Dunn, from Ben Hall's gang) which is opposite the Dreamer's Gate. Lunch was at 3.30 pm and I had a chocolate eclair. Dinner will be very late and sadly healthy salad, out of necessity.

PS For anyone wondering, the air is faded and only slightly pink. I'm getting a rather nice reaction to the dust and I get bigger each time I'm outside for too long. I intend to float like a balloon into the wide pink yonder, when I get big enough and round enough.

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A celebratory Wordle:


Now it's time to enjoy the weather shift. Though I'm not sure that 'enjoy' is quite the right word.