There’s reality TV, and then there’s reality…

It’s funny how things sometimes run together. Just last week, I was at my local library, perusing the shelves while the kids did their level best to read every picture book possible in the space of 30 seconds, when I came across a book. That’s not terribly surprising — or even terribly funny — I was in a Library at the time, and not, say, a gigantic tub of fondue. Remember kids, fondue and books don’t mix well together, no matter what TV might tell you…

Anyway, this book caught my attention; not only am I somewhat interested in modern Australian culture, but I realised rather quickly that I knew the author in question — she used to be counted amongst a group of my very close friends, although we’d not been in regular contact for some time. In short order, I picked it up, borrowed it and read it cover to cover. Not exactly my subject matter of choice, but Kerrie’s a brilliant and very entertaining writer — and naturally, there was a contextual pro wrestling reference in there to boot.Heh. Pro Wrestling. Boot. Ah, maybe you had to be there.

I was pondering dropping her a line sometime, and got chatting last night to a tech journalist I know at the Australian — he knows who he is — when it transpired, that, true to my self-imposed motto, nobody does ever tell me anything. In this case, the anything that I hadn’t been told about was that she’s as they say, expecting — and that’s undeniably better news than just the fact that I’d read her book. Congratulations young Ms Murphazoid (and, of course young Mr Montgomeryazoid, who was obviously in the right place at the right time…). We should get together to, as the esteemed Mr Rankin is so fond of saying, chew the fat, share some food and catch up.

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