Value for Money?

(C) Julie Boyd 2010 We seem to cost more as we get older- or does it just seem that way? So when do we become cost-ineffective? Dogs, cars, people. We all get too expensive to run any more. Then what do we do? My first car was a Mini. Chatsworth I called him, I have […]

The House At Number 2

© Julie Boyd 2010 ‘I’ll walk in front. That way the yobs’ll slow down to perve at me, they always do.’ It was Saturday evening and my gorgeous twenty-something, blonde-haired daughter and I were walking down the road to take the dog to the beach. There is no pathway, and those drunk on a lethal […]

Please Take My Son

(c) Julie Boyd ‘Will you please take my son?’ She stood on the front doorstep of my newly acquired, tiny, ramshackle home, a stunningly beautiful woman. Her long dark curls rioting around a face that would have painters swooning. Gold hoop earrings swung like halos that had slipped, ever so slightly. A brightly patterned skirt […]

You’ve Got Male

(C) Julie Boyd 2010 I wonder if a pelican’s saliva is poisonous? The question danced across my brain as I looked down at the large, healthy-looking fish- a mullet, or a bream I’m no expert – but definitely not a baby snapper – that had just been dropped at my feet. My dog took matters […]

DJ’s MUM Died Today

© Julie Boyd DJ’s mum, Jedda, died today. It was very sad and he’s distraught. My boy doesn’t know what to do to comfort his friend. She was a little dark-haired dynamo and a wonderful mum. Everyone knew her. She usually hung out in the front yard and was always up for a chat whenever […]

ESTUARY

©Julie Boyd Riva, Skoi git art ov the eschewry. No Chelsi , ya havta go in the car wiv your Mum. As my small canine companion swam towards River and Skye ever hopeful of a pat, I couldn’t help smiling at the irony of their names and situation, I wondered whether ocker Mum would remember […]

Childhood Trauma

© Julie Boyd My earliest memory is of being used as a cricket wicket by my brother and his big boy mates. I was happy standing behind the batsman till I got knocked out by a wild swing from Mickey Elliot and he had to run and tell my Mum he’d killed me. He hadn’t, […]

COMING HOME

© Julie Boyd ‘Hey, mate, can I ask you a question?’ ‘Yes, miss. How can we help you?’ It was 2am and I was lost in the middle of Sydney. I’d just spotted two young cops standing on the street and pulled over beside them. Too tired to even bask momentarily in the unlikely compliment, […]

DREAMS

(C) Julie Boyd Last night I had sex with George Clooney and a very pleasant experience it was too. I’m surprised that I remember, but glad that I do. There was furniture involved. A house across the street from where my parents lived had a large shed full of furniture, including some of mine. I’d […]

1833 – A Personal History

(C) Julie Boyd Ainsley Harriott is an African-English chef. Last night on TV I watched him trace his family history back to the time of slavery. It all seemed a little surreal until I looked at some dates that were important to him, and suddenly realised they were also important to me. My son had […]