Welcome to the sometimes painful, often preposterous, essentially playful world of the woman who brought you 'The Grass Was Always Browner' -- a tell-all memoir of my Sydney-based childhood, originally titled 'Dancing with Dingoes'. There's some dancing in it.
Monday, June 19, 2017
24 years ago today
Face to face for the first time. Photo taken by the midwife.
It was twenty-four years ago today
Following thirty-five hours of pain
That the doctors said at least you tried
But baby's had enough, baby's tired
And giving me a form to sign
To waive responsibility if I died
A needle took the pain away
As the midwife took out the razor blade
Which was guaranteed to raise a smile
When she shaved off a mole and cried:
'You didn't tell me you had a mole, child!'
And I said: 'I forgot, I've got a lot on my mind'
But what's a bit of blood between wives
In the best cause of furthering lives
And the mole was forgotten in a flash
When to the surgery we did together dash
For the show to end all shows to begin
Applying the weapons of mass reproduction
Under bright lights with a tug and a cry
He did emerge finally, he did arrive
And they said I'd like to introduce to you
Your firstborn babe, he's bloody but brand new
And it certainly was a big thrill
Though I was shivering all over with a sudden chill
Then a week later, it didn't take too long
They said: you can take him home, go on, go on
And so we did twenty-four years ago
And today he still lives at home
Which is fine
We're all good with that
When we go away he looks after the cat
Happy birthday, Conor James, there's no pleasure without labour pains.