Writing by Miranda

The Illuminated Letter

2011-07-29T13:56:00.000+10:00

M is for Miranda

Two misty mountain peaks rising from the earth

Magpies carolling

The flow of a meandering stream

Melancholy, mirth, maddening persistence

Scented mangoes, marvellous Melbourne, mad swirl of magenta, mouthful of meringue

Move away! M is here to stay!

The Power of Pets

2009-01-18T17:48:00.004+11:00

a house blessing

2008-09-02T20:55:00.008+10:00

May your house always be a home.
May it be a sanctuary, a retreat, a nest.
May it always support, nurture and offer comfort.
May happiness dwell in the walls
and laughter echo from the ceilings.
May the memories that reside

in your home be of great love and warmth.
May its boundaries be the land
to which you always return.
May your house always be a home.

Set in Stone

2008-01-18T12:22:00.001+11:00

This article was first published in Australian Country Style, March 2005

The Couple

2008-01-02T15:30:00.001+11:00

Body Matters

2007-12-31T17:40:00.000+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 7, Winter 2007

One City - Many Cultures

2007-12-31T17:25:00.001+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 6, autumn 2007

Life Lines

2007-12-31T17:11:00.001+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 5, Summer 2006/07

Having a Bash

2007-12-31T17:07:00.001+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 4, Spring 2006

Watch this space!

2007-12-31T16:55:00.001+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 4, Spring 2006

A Good Sport

2007-12-31T16:37:00.000+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 4, Spring 2006

Nurturing Notes

2007-12-31T16:32:00.001+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 3, Winter 2006

St Aidan's Orphanage

2007-12-31T16:01:00.000+11:00

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This article was published in the bendigo magazine, Issue 3, Winter 2006

Short and Twisted

2007-11-26T14:54:00.000+11:00

I am delighted to be included in Short and Twisted 2007, an anthology of short stories and poetry with a twist.

Kathryn Duncan who edited and published the inaugural anthology under her Celapene Press imprint aims to publish predominantly Australian writers.

Her call for contributions was so successful and the anthology sold so well that she is publishing another in May 2008.

Here is my contribution:

Ariel

Curators at the Atlantis Aquarium fear for Ariel the albino lobster. Ariel, a popular attraction amongst visitors, disappeared from her tank several days ago. No clues to her whereabouts have yet been uncovered.

Mervyn sat despondently at his desk nibbling his nails, disfiguring several paperclips and reading the article over and over. Several of his colleagues offered a cursory smile and nod but he merely scowled at them.

Mervyn Hutch was keeper of Amphibians, Crustaceans and Cephalopods at the Atlantis Aquarium. His charges were the small fry, so to speak, for whom he had prepared meals, cleaned tanks and performed menial tasks for five years. He yearned to be keeper of the dangerous and fearsome creatures – the sharks and stingrays – the reason everyone came to the aquarium. Sometimes, bored with it all, he would poke the blue ring octopus for excitement.

Mervyn sighed and shuffled papers as Lorraine, the Director’s Assistant, waddled over to his desk. The way she moved and dressed reminded him of one of the brilliantly coloured sea slugs in the aquarium tanks. Mervyn felt a surge of nastiness rise in his throat but he swallowed it when she told him about the police.
‘You mean he wants me in his office now?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘And who did you say he had with him?’ His voice rose a couple of octaves and he tried to control his jittering legs under the table.
‘The police.’ There was an edge in her voice that made Mervyn think she knew more than she was letting on. He smiled, his face tight. She didn’t smile back.

Mervyn was responsible for Ariel, a curious attraction at the aquarium. She was a rare lobster and her albinism made her easy prey, so she was kept in a separate tank. Mervyn knew how Ariel felt about being different. Or how he imagined Ariel to feel, for even his tenderness toward her didn’t stretch to crediting Ariel with the whole gamut of human emotions. In the moments when Mervyn needed reassurance he would take Ariel carefully out of the tank, and holding the lobster as close as he could, without being nipped, would stare into the unblinking black eyes and whisper encouragements, while Ariel’s antennae and claws flailed slowly in the air.

Mr Carruthers’ office was at the end of a carpeted hallway. Mervyn was introduced to two police officers: one male, one female. His boss, usually a dour-faced man, wore a bright and triumphant expression. Mervyn sat near the door with his hands folded in his lap. He looked expectantly at the male officer, but it was the policewoman who appeared to be in charge.
‘Thank you for agreeing to answer our questions, Mr Hutch.’ Her voice seemed too big for the tiny room. ‘We would have preferred to interview you at the station but Mr Carruthers thought you might feel more comfortable here.’
Mervyn nodded attentively.

Mervyn’s grand scheme for self-advancement occurred to him one evening as he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling fan and listening to his mother hum in the kitchen. Mervyn had concluded his lack of promotion was because nobody knew what he did or how good he was at his job. He tried smiling and being pleasant but that seemed to make them suspicious. To get ahead, Mervyn concluded he’d have to draw attention to himself. He wrote down his ideas and drew arrows in different colours in a complex flow diagram with notes and brief explanations in the margin until he had The Plan.

‘We believe Ariel’s disappearance may be part of a larger plan against the aquarium and it’s excellent reputation,’ the policewoman said.
Mervyn looked around the room. There was a dusty yellowing plant in one corner and a slime-tinted fish bowl in the other. Papers spilled from the bookcase and sat piled on the floor.
‘There’s a high probability a person or persons within this organisation may be responsible.’ The policewoman allowed the words to hang in the air.
Mervyn opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows in a look he hoped conveyed his surprise.

Mervyn had read somewhere that albino lobsters were so valuable, armoured vans were used to transport them from the docks. He concluded that an albino lobster would be highly sought after, making Ariel a prime target for kidnap. His strategy was this: he would smuggle Ariel home and keep her in an old tank he could rig up to keep her safe - the aquarium would start receiving threats to her life. The police would be sent on a false trail searching shipping containers and intercepting delivery vans. Meanwhile, he would become a vigilante and take matters into his own hands to rescue his beloved Ariel. He would liberate her and, as a result of his bravery, he would be showered with accolades and applause and receive his new position: Head Curator of Ocean Creatures.
A thrill of anticipation burst in the pit of his stomach as he contemplated his ingenuity.

‘Now, Mr Hutch, if you could just tell me in your own words what your movements were on the day of the lobster’s …’ the policewoman glanced down at her notebook, ‘on the day of Ariel’s disappearance?’
‘I was here like any other day. Did the usual feeding and cleaning … routine stuff really.’
‘And Ariel?’
‘Ariel was in her tank all day. She was there when I left.’
‘Did you see anyone acting suspiciously?’
Mervyn seized on an idea. ‘There was Hungi, the cleaner. He was being strange, come to think of it.’
‘Can you describe what he was doing?’
‘He was dawdling. Working awfully slowly. He kept looking around him. His bucket was larger than usual …’ Mervyn paused.
The policewoman’s brow creased slightly. ‘Are you sure about that, Mr Hutch?’
Mervyn knew that he’d been waffling and thought that perhaps he had overdone it. ‘You know, now that I think of it, well, I couldn’t be absolutely certain …’ Mervyn trailed off, his palms sweating.
‘Mr Curruthers reported you received a series of envelopes. Can you tell me about them?’
‘They were on my desk. I usually leave it clean, so I couldn’t miss them. They were unmarked. There was a scrap of paper in each one and I could tell they were part of something else. It wasn’t clear what it was from the first one, but I soon worked out it was to do with Ariel.’
He remembered the fun he had with the ransom note. Taking a digital photo of Ariel on his mother’s white oval platter and typing Give in to our demands or the lobster gets it underneath and then cutting it up so to make it a jigsaw puzzle. He delivered one piece to himself each day.
‘You sound angry, Mr Hutch,’ said the policewoman in a tone Mervyn suspected she used for speaking with bereaved parents and young children.
He stared at the ceramic No Fishing sign in the fish tank. He felt a familiar wave of disappointment sweep over him. He hadn’t expected it to turn out this way. Finally he said, ‘An innocent lobster has gone missing and you’re not doing anything about it!’
The policewoman narrowed her eyes and Mr Carruthers tightened his grip on the desk.
‘Mr Hutch, are you aware the aquarium has security cameras?’ She pressed a button and pointed to a small monitor.
A small balding man with large ears appeared on the screen. He wore gloves and held what looked like a pair of pliers.
Mervyn breathed out audibly, realising as he did so that he’d been holding his breath. His eyes remained fixed on the monitor. The man went over to a tank window and vanished behind it. The water in the window swished around violently. The time on the bottom of the screen showed that several minutes had elapsed when the man came back into the camera’s vision. He was carrying a box. The footage ended.
Mervyn shifted in his seat.
‘Mr Hutch, is there anything else you would like to tell us?’
Mervyn stayed still. Maybe if he remained motionless they’d forget he was there. Perhaps if he didn’t say anything they’d realise it was no use.
‘Mr Hutch, this is a very serious matter. I need you to answer the question.’
‘Which was? Sorry, I didn’t catch it.’ He was stalling, the way he did when his mother tested him on his times tables.
‘Is there anything else you would like to tell us - anything different?’
His time was up. He knew that but he just kept staring ahead at a stain on the carpet.

His mother smiled, ‘You said you had a surprise for me and, well, you know what I’m like around surprises. I found it and thought what a treat! So expensive too! And I knew you wouldn’t mind me preparing something special for my wonderful and clever boy.’ She kissed him on the cheek. He leaned forward to lift up the silver-serving dome.

He felt three pairs of eyes on him. No one stepped forward. No one said anything. Only the bubble of the tank filter punctuated the silence.

Turning Over A New Leaf

2007-11-19T13:06:00.001+11:00

Valuable memories and special moments deserve to be recorded and preserved in a unique and beautiful way. And thanks to Simon and Belinda Dart, makers of hand-bound treasures, the opportunity is available to do just that.

Located in the historic gold-mining city of Bendigo, Central Victoria, their shop SBLibris, stocks a collection of elegant albums, notebooks and journals.

They create their off-the shelf range and custom made requests using English, Italian and Japanese decorative papers, aged & hand-dyed leather and metallic embossing. They also provide restoration and binding services.

Simon trained as a landscaper before changing vocational direction as a book-binder in Melbourne. In 2002 he & Belinda went overseas for Belinda’s teaching career and a simple urge to travel. A week before leaving for the UK Simon trawled the internet and found Abbey Bookbindery in Surrey, close to where the couple were planning to live.

“They wanted someone with 10 years experience,” says Simon of the ‘pair of hands wanted’ ad posted by the bookbindery, which was formerly run by monks. “I responded saying I only had four and they said ‘come and see us when you get here’. So I did and it all fell into place.”

For the next two years Simon developed & honed his craft.

“The sort of work we were doing was so diverse. I was poring over how old some of the books were but the rest of the binders didn’t blink. We don’t have a concept of those sorts of ages in Australia.”

Amongst the treasures he restored during his time in Surrey was a seventeenth century Dutch bible. Binding limited edition collectors’ items, such as the deluxe version of Nelson Mandela’s autobiography and signed music band histories, worth up to $AU10 000, were also highlights.

Toward the end of their time overseas Simon and Belinda started to contemplate their future and discussed starting their own business. During a six week trip to the Europe they kept re-visiting shops that inspired them (particularly in Italy), that sealed their desire to create something similar.

Returning to Australia they settled in Belinda’s home town and opened SB Libris in April 2005.

“We knew there weren’t any bookbinders here,” says Simon of the decision to set-up shop in a regional area, “We could see the place had an appeal from a lifestyle point of view and it’s certainly a town that’s popular with visitors.”

Located in Bendigo’s arts precinct, the renowned art gallery and stately performing arts centre are just across the road. SBLibris shares an area with antique shops, boutiques and cafes. Locals have been quick to take advantage of Simon’s skills and the most unusual request he’s received has been from a resident with an antique music box that needed restoring. Simon took it on trusting that he would adapt the sewing, precision gluing, trimming, collating and dyeing skills learnt as a bookbinder.

All the equipment Simon uses is pre-loved and with histories of their own, including the guillotine bearing a US patent stamp and the laying press that Simon thinks might have originated in a shipping yard. (The press is a conversation piece: Simon jokes that once the press is retired he’d like to take it home and use it as a coffee table.) Amazingly, Simon located everything he needed locally by looking in the newspaper classifieds.

Simon and Belinda admit that there’s so much more to think about and learn in terms of running a business then they’d imagined but they’re excited about their future.

“Our main passion is creating the hand-made range,” says Simon, “We’ve got so many ideas!”

Recently the pair added imported quality pens and stationery to compliment the range as well as drawing upon the skills of a local calligrapher for those extra personal touches. There are plans for items such as address books, as well as using Indian and Australian decorative papers.

All in all it’s foreword bound for this early-thirties couple who have not only had the brave notion to persue their dreams but the courage to follow through.

This article was first published under the title Bendigo Bound in Australian Country Style, October 2006

Going With The Flow

2007-11-19T12:34:00.000+11:00

Aretha and Nina are grazing serenely in the afternoon sun, while a number of their sisters loll beneath an ancient eucalypt. Their kids, bleating excitedly behind a fence, are being hand fed.

This idyllic rural scene is the result of seven years hard work by former Melbourne dwellers Carla Meurs and Ann-Marie Monda, who name each of their 30 Saanen and British Alpine goats to provide a sense of family history. The Famous Female Singers, the Periodic Table and the Fruit Trees families have all made Sutton Grange Organic Farm, in central Victoria, their home.

Carla and Ann-Marie knew the 80-hectare property was the right place to realise their vision for an integrated holistic farm.

“Having enough land is important for a venture like this, especially for a goat who is a browser and likes to move around,” says Ann-Marie. “As an organic farmer, you’re always thinking about the health of your soil, because that directly relates to the well-being of your animals, pastures and the quality of produce.”

Happily, the land is rich in perennial native grasses that flourish in the sandy granitic soils. When combined with hot summers and cold winters, the result is milk that makes cheeses with a distinct ‘terra’ flavour.

The decision to quit city life and the teaching profession was shaped by apprenticeships in Australia and overseas. Aged in their mid-40s, the pair travelled to Europe in 1993 and gained valuable knowledge on a mixed enterprise traditional Irish farm. They returned after a year and spent nearly four years working on various organic farms, including a stint in Western Australia with renowned cheesemaker Gabrielle Kervella.

The overseas trip taught them to appreciate a European “buy and eat only as needed” approach. At the farmers’ markets Carla and Ann-Marie try to educate their customers about the need to eat the cheese right away.

“There’s still a lot of work to be done in that area,” Carla says. “So many people have had their first taste of goat’s cheese via the supermarket. Those have a completely different taste from a fresh cheese, which may only be three days old.”

They encourage their customers to taste their full range, from the just-made Fromage Frais to the mature Veloute, and offer plenty of ideas on how to use the cheeses. Used as a cream substitute, or mixed with herbs and poached or grilled, or simply added to a salad, there seems to be no end of ways to enjoy them.

“It’s more delicate than cow-based cheeses and has a finer texture,” Ann-Marie says. “Many people can tolerate it better.”

The organic range is popular with chefs and won a gold medal at the recent Australian Specialist Cheesemakers’ Association annual awards.

“‘Wholly Goat’ was our original name but it became ‘Holy Goat’ instead,” Carla says. “We thought at first that people might find it sacrilegious; but when we thought about it, it was an accurate choice because of the way we treat our animals and our reverence for them — how we farm and treat the land with respect.”

This philosophy of working with nature’s rhythms naturally extends to their work.

“You know when the milk changes,” Carla says. “A heavier curd is great for mature cheeses or a springtime flush [when the growth of green feed and the kidding season see greater milk production with a lower protein count] makes a lovely fresh cheese. You know the cheeses intimately, what they smell like.”

The cheeses vary in appearance, some with yellow wiggly rinds, others with a blue mottled exterior, and the pair mention having to take care that certain cheeses don’t meet in the maturing room or “you’ll have changelings on your hands”.

From cheese names like Black Silk and Pandora to the logo depicting two women protecting their goats, everything about the farm has a distinctly female influence. This is hardly surprising for, as Carla and Ann-Marie point out, “Looking after the goats has traditionally been women’s work.”

Their plan is to build a milking herd of 60 and grow herbs to flavour an extended range of cheeses. But in the here and now they recognise the need, as Ann-Marie says, “to find the memorable days: it’s important to treasure those. Our memories are being part of this incredibly beautiful farm, the moon rising, an amazing sunset.”

This article was first published under the title Herd All About It in Australian Country Style, May 2006

Cherries Amour

2007-11-19T12:18:00.000+11:00

At this time of year I start to go all a quiver. Not at the prospect of the festive season or summer days ahead. Rather it’s the thought of fruit: red, glossy and luscious that sets my heart racing.

From approximately mid-November until mid-January the gorgeous cherry is available. I’ve already spied some for the princely sum of $25 a kilo. And although the urge to satisfy my craving is strong I understand the value of waiting.

Cherries evoke wonderful memories for me...

My two younger sisters & I used the heart shaped fruit as earrings to complement our fashion statements from the dress-up box. And although we’re now adults, whenever I see the scarlet gloss of cherries I am reminded of our childhood days.

I also recall my parents growing a cherry tree in their orchard. I seem to remember it grew very well but the birds were more canny then my mum and dad. Despite nets and assorted paraphernalia designed to frighten away thieves only a handful of home-grown cherries made it into our mouths each season.

A decade ago I travelled to the USA for six months, on my first trip of independence. Holiday romance featured strongly and a new beau planned a trip to Lake Michigan. On our travels north we passed through Traverse City, the cherry capital of America. In July and early August, the countryside is dotted with stands, markets and u-pick signs offering cartons of sweet, dark cherries - quart for two bucks.

The Bohemian cut-glass bowl, received as a wedding present, has pride of place on the table during cherry season.

And I still recite, ‘Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor, Richman, Poorman, Beggarman, Thief’, with my cherry pips. The ditty, once thought, to help young lasses discover the occupation of their true love.

I like to gobble fresh cherries as they are, yet out of season I use sour morello cherries to make my late mum’s Banana & Cherry Flan. An unusual taste combination but one I assure you that works!

Of course it’s not all about memories…

Soon I hope to visit Japan, when the cherry trees are in spring blossom at the foot of Mt Fuji. And then there is the box of cherry liqueur chocolates I’m hoping for at Christmas.

This article was first published in CV Week, 18 November 2004

Do As The Romans Do

2007-11-19T11:40:00.001+11:00

If you’re renovating the bathroom or planning a clean up of your garage you might want to consider the worth of those dusty or ugly tiles.

The rejected, discontinued, recyclable and out-of-date are favourite materials of Kyneton-based mosaic artist Esther Rose.

As a fourteen-year-old Esther received a book on mosaics from her Italian-born father, a stonemason. Although drawing and painting have always been a part of her life it was not until her father created a mosaic for the family home that the seed planted decades before began to take hold.

Esther enrolled in a local neighbourhood centre course, she was so impressed with her father’s efforts, and a couple of years later attended an intensive mosaic course in Ravenna, on the northeast coast of Italy.

“Roman mosaic is more art than craft and I knew that was the style I wished to learn,” she says.

Over four weeks she developed her historical and practical knowledge of mosaic starting with the fine art of cutting tiles, “lots of band-aids were provided and there were plenty of cut fingers!” recalls Esther.

Returning to Australia inspired, Esther began the on-going trial and error of design, technique and materials. She loves the shape and flow and restrained colour use of Roman mosaic.

Although the ancient designs provide inspiration for her artwork, which includes mirrors, garden furniture, wall and floor panels, Esther is constantly experimenting with contemporary materials such as concrete sheeting and pavers.

As a result of recent house renovations Esther has moved out of her husband’s shed and into a studio of her own. With three walls of glass windows the small room is light filled and bright with shelves of colour-grouped materials, tubs of glue, ice cream containers filled with cut tiles and a grout colour wall chart.

“In Ancient Rome there were many people involved in the making of a mosaic but I don’t have a slave,” laughs Esther yet she enjoys the solitude of working alone and can happily immerse herself in all aspects of her art for hours.

Esther says she achieves an enormous sense of satisfaction from creating mosaic.

At night she awakes with ideas and patterns dancing in her head and that’s just the way she likes it.

This article was first published in CV Week, 14 October 2004

Queens of Pud

2007-11-19T11:23:00.000+11:00

Neat rows of muslin swathed puddings line the stainless steel bench.

An oversized mixer with a giant creaming paddle and a gleaming two-foot oven await action in the new kitchen of Castlemaine-based business Pud for All Seasons.

Long-time friends Karen Kelly and Cassi Gunter launched their venture in March 2004. Initially selling only at local markets they are now also distributing their puddings in delis, restaurants and cafes throughout Central Victoria.

Production has doubled to 160 puddings a week, hence the move from Karen’s domestic kitchen to larger premises at the Castlemaine Enterprise Centre. Yet as Karen and Cassi tell it there may never have been a business at all.

“We were asked by a friend to host a stall at the Buda (Historic Gardens & Homestead) Christmas Fair and decided that puddings had the right seasonal flavour. On the day it rained and hailed and we hardly sold anything. In fact we spent the next month desperately trying to get rid of our leftover puddings. ‘OK’, we thought, ‘no more of that!’”

Twelve months later they were again making puddings for two local food and wine events but on these occasions they sold out and received orders. The timing seemed right and a business was born.

Using Karen’s great-grandmother’s pudding recipe as a base they have created three flavours – Traditional Plum Pudding (also available gluten free), Brandied Peach & Cinnamon and Double Choc & Orange with Cointreau – which they make, package, promote and distribute themselves.

Visiting local markets is a big part of their research and the feedback they receive has led to the creation of new products such as matching sauces and gift baskets.

Their vision is for the humble ‘pud’ to become a staple dessert and grace tables all year round.

“Because of its long shelf life, it really is a perfect standby for all occasions from a formal dinner party to an indulgent night in front of the fire, as well as the perfect gift to buy for someone who has everything!” said Karen.

Word of their traditional and contemporary puddings has spread to the city, tantalising Melbourne tastebuds, with interest from ‘Toorak dames’ to the Victoria Police.

As newcomers to the small-business world Karen and Cassi believe that a sense of humour is definitely important, as are their different strengths and experiences.

They admit they’ve got plenty to learn but in the meantime they’re having fun creating original taste sensations and raising the status of the ‘pud’.

This article was first published in CV Week, 30 September 2004

Laughing in the Rain

2007-11-19T10:25:00.000+11:00

I’ll admit that I’m not at my best in the morning. And even less so on cold, rainy weekends at 8am.

However, my interest has been pricked by the concept of a club dedicated to laughter – seriously! So I’ve risen early to test whether increasing laughter in my life can help me greet the day in a sunnier way.

I’m the first one at the playground, home to one of Bendigo’s laughter clubs.

The air is cool, damp and refreshing. Mist rises off the grass and the squawks of the galahs chorus overhead. Other early risers trundle into the milk bar across the road. Down the hill at the oval they’re setting up for the footy matches of the day.
Soon there are four of us, the numbers low because of the inclement weather but I’m informed that in summer the group can grow to forty and a wonderful energy is created.

Rugged up with bright beanies, raincoats and gloves the group is a humorous sight to begin with. We start with a warm up and the laughter begins…The Cardigan, The Lawnmower, The Shy Girl and The Elephant are some of the actions we practice interspersed with a hearty chorus of ho ho ha ha ha, deep breathing and yogic stretches. Everyone laughs at the same time and eye contact helps to enhance and stimulate the experience.

Soon simulated laughter leads to spontaneous outbursts. A car honks its horn at our crazy antics and we wave back. It’s all rather funny and very, very silly.

The group members say they’ve been filmed and photographed by curious onlookers hanging around the fringes of the park. Often the kids waiting for their sports games on the oval join in, whilst their parents hold back, like children with noses pressed up against a lolly shop window.

After about half an hour we finish up with an affirmation, the rain now falling in long gentle lashes.

And as I leave I’m feeling lighter and, yes, definitely happier. So much so that I burst out laughing when I step in dog poo on the way to the car.

This article was first published in CV Week, 12 August 2004