Against my better judgement I agree to play in the mixed with an Italian player, Masimo de Dominico.  When I check the draw and see that in the first round we are playing against the first seeds, Ilie Nastase and Helen Gourlay I sincerely regret my decision.  Maximo is not the ideal mixed partner.  He lollipops his second serve and plays from the baseline.   The volley is not in his repertoire.

Masimo and I argue about who will serve first. Although my serve is better than his, he insists, as he is the man, on serving first.  Otherwise what will everyone think, he says!

He misses his first serve.  I stand nervously at the net.  I try to stare through Nastase.   I can see him lining me up

Masimo’s second serve is pathetic and only just makes it over the net.  Nastase shows no mercy and belts the ball straight at me. It is almost a direct hit.  I only just manage to scrape the ball away from my body at the last moment.

I am really mad at Nastase..  They are a much stronger pair and will win anyway…

But Nastase is enjoying himself.  The look on his face reminds me of my first boyfriend when I was 5, who used to throw stones at me and pull my plats.

All through the first set, he continues to belt every ball straight at me.  I receive 15 direct hits.   We lose the set 6 -1.

I am about to explode.

I tell Maximo that I am not going to stand at the net anymore while he serves and stand at the back line.  Maximo tries to insist that I stand at the net.

But there is no way I am going to stand up at the net and cop any more of that shit.

Songs to Markus


These two songs I wrote for my husband when I first met him.

We did not invent the wheel

One day when we were traveling in the Northern Territory  in the East Alligator Region of Kakadu, I visited the Ubirr Art Gallery.  It is not an ordinary Art Gallery.  It consists of a group of rock outcrops on the Nadab Floodplain where there are several natural rock shelters that have a collection of Aboriginal rock paintings some of which are several thousands of years old.

It was there I met Wayne, a young aboriginal boy, who was guiding a party of tourists through the park.  Wayne talked so exuberantly about the art that I couldn’t resist asking if I could join the party and offered to pay.  He was only too happy for me to come along but wouldn’t accept any payment.  I wrote this poem for Wayne.

We did not invent the wheel

We had to be content to travel by foot

But still managed to cover long distances

Through rugged lands in scorching temperatures

By walking in the early mornings and avoiding the heat of the day


We did not invent the telephone

But we know how to communicate with nature, the earth, the sky, the wind, the sun and the moon

And we can express ourselves in community with each other

And send messages to faraway places


We did not invent the aeroplane

But in our minds we often fly to other places and times

When we are walking along collecting our food for the day, fishing and hunting

Sometimes we can look down at ourselves from the sky


We did not invent the computer

But we have our ways of storing knowledge and passing it on through the generations

By the stories that our art communicates on rock faces

And the explanation of our laws which old men tell by the campfire

Or when they show the young boys how to fish and hunt


We did not invent the watch

Because for us time does not exist

And has no relevance to how we live

For it is the season that dictates what eat, where we sleep

And whether we stay or move on

And the sun and the moon who tell us when it is time to wake or sleep


We did not invent money

Because in our culture we share what we have with each other

With our family and our tribe

So we have no need for it


We did not know about a lot of things

But we have always known how to think outside the square

And look at things in other ways

We often see a different picture of how things are












PEDRO RODRIGUEZ-FUERTES- 26/03/33 to 11/06/2020

It is more than 40 years since I’ve seen Pedro.   He rings from downstairs in the hotel lobby just as I’m about to go down for breakfast.  I’m not at my best – not having yet had my shower and washed my hair which is in dire need of it. Fortunately I have my hat on. I have definitely been caught out. One would certainly prefer to present oneself at their optimum in these circumstances.  Pedro oscilates between being charming, vital, engaging and off with the fairies.  He insists that we all go to the Cathedral Museum to see his painting and have our photos taken in front of it – all three of us – as requested by Alex.


Excerpt from “A Spanish Love Affair:

When I wake up, for the first few moments, I feel totally disoriented until I turn my gaze to the other side of the bed and look at Pedro.  He is still fast asleep. His skin is glowing in the early morning light, his hair glistens and his eyelashes, which are thick and lush, are resting languidly on his cheek.  He is a perfect specimen in the looks department, I decide after  giving him another careful examination.  I feel my heart beating a my eyes linger on his face and body.  I still fell such a strong attraction to him, my whole body feels alive when I’m close to him –  I feel like I’m going to burst.

But what am I going to do about the sex part?

My favourite photos


The southern part of Western Australia is beautiful.  There are so many natural wonders.


These photos are from a permanent exhibition at the sculpture park behind the Visitors’ Centre at Northcliffe “Out of the Ashes” created after a huge bushfire in 2017.

Some of my favourite trees from Walpole.

Green pool and elephant rocks in Denmark.

And my favourite place – Margaret River.