Mountains, oh mountains o’things

I have a sad, sore, out of sorts babe who was immunised this morning, teething and waking in the night starving, and so the things are mounding up…

Dishes.

Laundry.

Short stories I am trying to read for inspiration. It’s very slow in coming, and just leads to admiration (ahem… jealousy…) of other people’s cleverness. There is a very cool short story of Eleanor Catton’s in the latest issue of Sport, and another by Bernadette Hall, which features an English teacher named Laura. Since she was my tutor last year, I couldn’t help reading with fascination. Of course, any story that uses my name is a winner with me, whether it’s The Garden Party, or Twin Peaks.