I have a difficult relationship with flags and the past few weeks haven’t helped. From the loutish behaviour of a few English football supporters in Marseille, to the feverish nationalism surrounding the Brexit vote, to the trampling of flags following the exit of the England football team from Euro 2016. Flags have a lot to answer for.
It’s 3.30am in Canberra, and I’ve managed the jet lag from my trip home badly. For an hour now, I’ve had this line from a song going round in my head: “Twenty-five planes this year, and it’s only July.” It’s from a favourite Everything But The Girl song and, as sleepless thoughts go, it took me on an interesting journey.
The start of the long journey back to Europe.
There are few things guaranteed to grab my attention more than an article about some new type of aeroplane that has the potential to shorten journey times between Australia and Europe to a matter of two or three hours.
The recent test flight of a hypersonic rocket looks completely terrifying, but then I suppose rail travel struck the fear of God into many people too, when it was first invented.’
About a year ago, as part of a writing course, I was tasked with writing a passage about the food that most reminded me of being a little boy. I chose my mum’s rice pudding, the scent of which would fill the house for hours before it was ready. The wait was agonising.
A few weeks ago, Mini-CBRbound decided that, for his own school writing project, he would blog about his favourite foods from his childhood in Denmark. Watching him rediscover all those tastes has been a wonderful experience.