Right – so this has been a hard week. Breath a sigh of relief, folks. I won’t be talking about it anymore. I got what I needed to off my chest. Today, I thought I’d bring the fun back in.
To introduce the piece, here’s my author biography from this year’s Emerging Writers’ Festival:
“My first piece of first person writing was in the form of a letter to Santa Claus when I was nine years old. In a frank and moving confession I opened the letter by saying, “I understand if you don’t bring me any presents this year because I have been pretty bad, but sometimes I just can’t help it.”
The following piece of journalism/social commentary was written at roughly the same age, I think. It was either 1987 or 1988.
In case you’re finding it hard to decipher (there are letters missing thanks to my poor wordprocessing skills and my scanner isn’t all that and a bag of chips, either) here’s a transcript:
Newsletter from the Henry Farm
Today John and June branded the calfs. Each and every one of them didn’t like it and did their best to stay away from that red hot polka. The kittens Cordelia, Flipsy-Flopsy and Rose-Red are doing quite well. They are fat as usual.
Newsletter from the Browne Household
On Australia Day the Browne residence went to the Kempsey racecourse for the Australia Day breakfast. It was very formal and boring. (But) the food was the only good thing there, in my opinion. Soon after the speeches began and they were the most boring things you have ever heard.
Now this concludes
the newsletter from
from your future
relative and critic
Karen Browne
I sometimes wish I was as bold in my opinions now as I was then.
