‘Where is my boob?’ I looked with consternation as my granddaughter Natalie pulled a pair of bras from the shopping bag in which she had brought me a set of clothes. I had spent two days in hospital with a gastro bug and felt that to go home fully clothed rather than in pajamas and dressing gown would help my self-esteem considerably.

I don't know if other people with Fibromyalgia experience this particular frustration, but I thought I'd talk about it, as it's something I've noticed over the years: The frequency in which I change clothes - in a single day.

I thought I would share with you all some of the work I did today on a little character in my new novel 'Rusted Hearts' - so here is a little speedpaint video.

Maureen, not her real name, discovered that a diamond was missing from her engagement ring.  Maureen was very upset. The loss was so great it felt as if her left hand had been cut off. Maureen and her husband turned the house upside down...

The taxi pulled up before the Maid and Magpie Hotel. The cab door open and David Anstey alighted. ‘Don’t worry too much, mate. It will work out for you,’ the cab driver said as he handed David some change.

I thought I might share with you some of the work I've been doing on the front cover for my new novel. I was playing about and figured out how I could really easily screen record my art sessions...

The election maybe over but we are still being bombarded with the jubilation of the winners and the angst of the losers.

Over a pie, honey log cake and custard slice, I and my family sat in a café after church, discussing the sermon we had just heard. The question arose about revelation of truth, that moment when a camera flash went off in the mind and you thought, wow!

So, I want to tell you all a little story about a time when computers weren't really used for art or graphic design, and it was really strange for anyone even comprehend that they could or would be used in the magnitude that they are now.

Let me begin by painting you a picture. I came from a broken family. My mum and dad divorced before I was four. I lived with mum while my older sister went with dad. I saw dad once a year for two to three weeks, and that is the only contact I had with him up to eleven years of age...

I've been following a bit of a news story the last few days - it's the Brooke Baking Scandal, at least, that's what I've come to call it in my head. Now, I'm not on TicTok, so I don't know anything about TicTok chiefs or TicTok Bakers - but I do love Cookbooks and Baking Books. I love collecting them.

Around this time, every year, I write an email to myself and schedule it to arrive sometime in April, usually after my birthday.

A secret Life… It seems everything has a secret life, even plants. A curious scientist is needed to unravel those secrets. The gardener may have certain suspicions about the secret life of plants, trees and water. We never document those suspicions thinking they are granny's tales and fearful of being considered crazy.

These past couple of days I've really had to knuckle down and push past a fear barrier of mine. The new gym I've been attending has been a bit busier over the school holidays/Easter break, and I don't deal well with - er - people.

Please, ‘Do not let your heart be troubled, trust in God, trust also in Me.’ accept John 14: 1.  Jesus was speaking to the hearts of his disciples knowing he was soon to die.  Christ knew that he was not only going to die but would conquer death forever, opening up the promise of eternity for all who would believe. 

I thought I’d very quickly write down my thoughts on Moonrise. I recommend it. Good science fiction is hard to come by these days, and when I say good science fiction, I’m probably talking about science fiction that evokes within me a feeling of nostalgia—

Do you want to be beautiful?  Then be a friend. You will not wear the sash or the tiara, friendship is not part of the criteria...

Thirty-Six is a bit of a daunting number, I'll be honest. It's closer to forty than I'm overly comfortable being, and that's not to say...

Once upon a time, here in Adelaide there was a place called Glenside Hospital. I can remember walking it's decrepit, depressing halls...

They looked at each other, mother, and daughter. The mother’s eyes filled with pain, in the young woman’s eyes regret, hope and joy...