Cograts and more 2

Well, I'll try again. I'm so scared of blogging (a) because I can't compete with the family philosopher and (b) the machine keeps publishing stuff before I've even started. However...

First, big congrats to Alice and Jack - I think that's great! Mind you as a flower child of the sixties, I did think that MARRIAGE (there, Robert, I said it) went out the window long ago. But the nicest people keep doing it, so it must have something going for it. Also, in this case, I spoke to Jack's old English teacher (Ms Owen, Jack) and she thinks he's a bit of OK.

Next, big happy birthdays to anyone I've overlooked in the last twelve months. (That should cover it.) Maybe I should add in the next twelve, just in case.

Am still meaning to bore you all with London and Dartmoor, but can't do so until the film is developed and I see where I have been. However I'll finish the roll this week (Melbourne Cup at the Bellvue Hotel in Paddo should provide a plethora of big hats and fascinators tomorrow) and bring the piccies on Sat (not Sun, as I had in my diary until corrected by the aforementioned philosopher).

Spent five days last week at Jan's farm near Maitland - still very dry and dusty, but it was good to get out of town and do nothing - although I did take my homework with me. The nice thing with this uni marking is that I can do it wherever (but not whenever, as there is a deadline). Went to Rosehill races on Saturday - never been there before, it's as good as if not better than Royal Randwick, but I'm not fussed as I never was a horses man - even though I could ride Rex on the farm without saddle or bridle. But that's different and was a long time ago. The past is a different country (who said that? - no prizes, no texting).

Tommy Murphy's new play is previewing to packed houses. It's called Holding the Man. It's adapted from a memoir by Tim Connigrave. When Tim was a good Catholic Melbourne schoolboy (under the Jesuits, half his luck!) he fell in love with the Aussie Rules captain and, surprise, the love was reciprocated. They lived together - a sometimes stormy relationship - for the next fifteen years until John (the footy player) died of Aids in the 80s. Tim wrote their story and died in the early nineties. I have been editing Tommy's drafts and wiping away the tears each time I finished - it is beautifully written. And to my complete surprise and pride, Tommy has dedicated the published work to me.
If you hang around long enough, the rewards come along. I'll be seeing it later in the month.

Well now, let's see if I can publish this bugger...

Hugh