Tennyson, me, and the problem of ‘self’

Originally posted May 2009 It has been said that my favourite poet would often sit alone as a child and mutter to himself, “Alfred, Alfred, Alfred…” over and over in some sort of attempt to figure out the problem, the complexity, of self. His self. Goodness, don’t we all? We emerge from childhood into a fiery adolescence, then that…

Seven years

This is one of my favourite photos from our wedding day. It is almost certainly the most candid one. We were walking back from having the formal shots being taken up on the headland; it was about a million degrees and I, for one, was looking forward to getting back to the guests, eating, loosening up my…

Interviewed elsewhere today

Sharni asked me some questions about blogging. Here are my answers.