My Grandpa … And Yours
My Grandpa … Mine could whistle a blackbird as good as the real bird Watched, red-shanks in the estuary, drew finches and yellow hammers, built nest boxes, so he could study them closer Stood five feet eight; average height, average weight, wore white shirts and blue ties, Had a moustache, Old Spice Drove very slowly, Listened to me play my guitar, he thought it was the radio! Would have enjoyed, you like tropical fish, saw me, every Wednesday Mine and you, |
and Yours
yours, sound like a horn with his mouth, better than a real huntsman. rode, horses at the races, fed them, groomed them, till they shone like conkers. six foot, tall for a jockey, thin as a rein. Always blue jeans and jodhpur boots. a nose, like a pommel. Smelt of horse manure. too close to the car in front. taught me how to show jump. Said I needed more practice is amazed, you’re allergic to horses. Visits you most years, Christmas and Easter. and yours, smile from the photographs next to my bed. |
Many will disagree, but World War III is too great a risk to run by involving ourselves in a distant border conflict
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5 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
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23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
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2 mins