“So you’re half?”
“No, I’m double.”
My Japanese students looked at me, perplexed.
“I’m Greek and Australian,” I explained. “I’ve got the benefit of two cultures.”

“Here,” said my cousin, plonking Olivia onto my lap. “Can you feed her while I hang out the washing?”
As she perched on my knee, my six-month-old niece gazed longingly at the jar of baby food in my other hand.
Right, I thought. How hard can it be to feed a baby?

When I was 15 I had a single-minded vision: I wanted to be a journalist.
There were no other options.
I was so focused on this goal that I selected only one preference as my choice of further study when I sat for my final high school exams.

“Err… shouldn’t there be another plane in front of us?”
“No, we’ll be winched up.”
“How, exactly?”
“There’s cable attached to a V8 motor a mile down the paddock.”
Strapped into the glider, we sped down the grassy field, pulled along by the distant motor whirring at full throttle.