On Christmas Eve the butcher (snr) was quite insistent that we come along to an event that was to be held on the 27th. From mid-afternoon, he and his son would be butchering a whole pig in a piazza just down from their shop, and there would be a party. This was clearly a major event that we were not to miss. We made our plans for the following days around it.
The bar is ubiquitous in Italy. Like the piazza, it is a space where people pause and meet. Here, in Anghiari, my favourite bar is the Caffé Garibaldi, located in the main piazza, where, not surprisingly, there is a statue of the man himself. 
There are three other bars within less than a minute’s walk from this one, all of which have a constant stream of people dropping in as they go about their daily activities. Continue reading Caffé Garibaldi
For the past few months, I have been having Italian lessons with a wonderful teacher who has insisted that I just speak – ‘avanti, avanti’ – without thinking about making perfect sentences, without worrying about making mistakes. ‘Keep it simple’, my teacher says, ‘listen’, and ‘ask questions’. This is the way to make contact. If you are thinking about grammar and how to construct your next sentence, you’re likely to lose contact. Continue reading Learning Italian
It is Wednesday, centuries-old market day in Anghiari. The main (medieval) piazza, which is referred to as piazza mercatale, has been filling with stalls since before 6 – we have heard the busier than usual early traffic coming down Corso Matteotti this morning. The market spills over this main (renaissance) road, through a loggia, into another more recent, 18th century, piazza that becomes Viale Antonio Gramsci. There’s a mix of stalls – clothes, cheeses and salumi, the porchetta van, and fruit and vegetables. I recognise the same people, located in the same places, from previous stays here. We are drawn, down the street, to the sense of life in this weekly ritual. Continue reading Market Day
Yesterday I arrived in Anghiari, a mediaeval town in eastern Tuscany to which I have been returning over the past 12 or so years. It is early morning and the bells are ringing around the town, one set after another.
Continue reading Anghiari, December 2015
When my father-in-law died, after many years of sickness and many months in hospital, his wallet was in the drawer of the bedside cabinet. And in this wallet was a photo of his two daughters. Aged around 5 and 3, their hair in ribbons and pigtails, Anita and Ina are sitting side by side on a bench in a Sydney park, their feet unable to reach the ground. Continue reading A Photo in a Wallet
‘There, but for the grace of God, go I’
Renowned Bondi figure, Bill ‘Yooka’ Symonds, died in September 2015 at the age of 93. His twin brother, Curly, died 6 days later. In 2007, we interviewed Yooka in connection with research we were doing at the Norman Andrews House, a Bondi drop in centre for the homeless. We asked Yooka to tell us about his voluntary work (for which he received an OAM).
Continue reading Bondi: Yooka Symonds
On my recent visit to Sicily and Crete I was reminded repeatedly of the place, in South Australia, where I grew up. Looking at a hillside of olive trees in Sicily, I would find myself in a primary school geography lesson, lost in pictures of ‘the Mediterranean’. I couldn’t now say if my fascination with ‘the Mediterranean’ had been a fascination with places in the Mediterranean or with South Australia’s classification as ‘Mediterranean climate’. But, while in Sicily and Crete, I had an overwhelming feeling that these seemingly faraway places were somehow inextricably connected with the place of my childhood. Continue reading The time and space of childhood
My father has recently died; and my mother died 10 years ago. So, my siblings and I are now engaged in the process of ‘going through’, ‘sorting out’ our parents’ belongings. I have trouble finding the right way to describe this activity, emotionally complex as it is, for we are now having to make decisions about things that have had significance in our parents’ and our past shared lives. It is a difficult and painful process, but one that brings with it moments too of lightness, surprise and joy. One way or another, this experience feels meaningful. Continue reading Belongings, Adelaide, June 2015
The Mirror warned that Britain yesterday was to be hotter than Barbados and the Sahara. The Telegraph offered readers a range of alarms and advice:
• Stop staff travelling in rush hour, health officials urge
• Britain braced for hottest day in a decade
• Heatwave could buckle train tracks and melt roads, travellers warned
• What men should wear to work during a heatwave
• UK heatwave in pictures: Scorching weather sears Britain Continue reading The hottest July day on record
