Canberra

By Tracy

I'm in Canberra, surrounded by fallen leaves and yellow-crested cockatoos which are loud and beautiful. It's very cold tonight. I was here at first as a guest of the In the First Person conference at the National Library; then tomorrow night to read in Geoff Page's Poetry at The Gods series, alongside Jan Owen, whom I've never met before, so I look forward to that.

I find the architecture and the whole geometry of Canberra very daunting, but I'll talk about that another time. Being away from home is a strange emotional -- and physical -- wrench. I feel as if part of me is missing. What's more, our little boy got a bug yesterday, and though John tells me he's much better today, it still feels unnatural to be so far from him, despite the fact that he's in the very best hands. I have nothing but cliches for this! I'm impatient to feel the good weight of little Tim in my arms or on my knee again, or pulling at the wrinkles in my elbow, as he often does...