Writing woman by Liz Hicklin

The voice of a retired widow, with time to indulge in the glories of our Peninsula. I wake every morning to a view of the bay; fishing boats, still on glass, cruise ships leaving, distant view of the You Yang’s, sail boats bobbing in the evening.

University of third age offer a myriad of courses from computer to Confucius, poetry to philanthropy. I bask in its glory. Meeting friends on the coffee trail, the library, cinema and markets. Woodland drives, koalas’ echidnas and ‘roos even the occasional cow!  Vineyards with tastings around every corner.

When safe and cosy, wrapped in contentment, I sink into downy cushions with my latest book club novel. This is my voice.

The Wind by Muriel Cooper

The Wind       On a windy day at the Portsea back beach, Grandpa Henry, Connor and Meredith, and their children, Kylie, and Finn are walking along the sand. Henry is carrying a shopping bag.        Meredith says,     “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know. I think...

Winter Words Week 4: Sufficient by Danielle Hughes

MICROFICTION MANIA MONTH 2020 Read the 150 words (or less) works of our weekly winners who were given specific place, character and word prompts to write to.This was a People’s Choice voting initiative for our members during lockdown.Co-Winner: Danielle Hughes Word:...

The Ferry by Muriel Cooper

The Ferry Miles sits on the balcony at Sorrento overlooking Port Phillip Bay and the ferry terminal.   "What're you looking at through those binoculars uncle Miles?" Nick asks.     "I'm ferry watching."      "Is that like train spotting?"     "A bit."     "I could...

Writing woman by Liz Hicklin

The voice of a retired widow, with time to indulge in the glories of our Peninsula. I wake every morning to a view of the bay; fishing boats, still on glass, cruise ships leaving, distant view of the You Yang’s, sail boats bobbing in the evening. University of third...

The Swim by Muriel Cooper

The old beagle looks up from his basket. His muzzle grey and his eyes bleary.“Come on, Barney, my old darling. Time for your walk.” He perks up when he sees the lead, his tail wags, he struggles out of the basket and licks her hand as she clips it on his collar.  They...

The Stingray by Miranda Gillespie

I go down to the bay in the dark.  We meet at the pier; dressed alike in our second skins.  The sun begins to come up somewhere behind Arthurs Seat, air-brushing the sky turquoise.  We shiver and wrap our bare arms around ourselves while we wait for the stragglers;...