My Comic In-Your-Face Feminist Manifesto for the Modern Young Woman

Annie Kerry Cue blog

I’ve written in the media, all types, for 30 years.

And in all this time, I’ve avoided what is quaintly called the F-bomb. But, OMG, I forgot to keep myself nice and wrote this article for The Independent Australia to king-hit the idea of niceness.

I also wanted to suggest to young women that they should be careful what they choose to care about.  

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Tomatoes that taste like Italian Heaven, not flavourless mush

The streets we walk, the food we eat, the people we know and lives we lead become so familiar, so assumed, we hardly notice them at all. So I have travelled halfway across the world at great cost and inconvenience to bring home something vital for a writer namely a yardstick to measure our own culture.

I’m in Italy oohing and ahing over an extraordinary Italian icon, a thing of such beauty it wraps you in total sensory bliss. It is a tomato.

Kerry cue blog one tomato

There are lots of tomatoes in Italy and each one of them, it seems, is a culinary temptress. This red beauty isn’t the supermodel of tomland, all fiddled with, half-starved and fake. It is an earthy, fleshy, full-bodied and ripe tomato and it floods my mind with memories of tomatoes from my childhood. The taste is warm, rich and sweet. Its smell recalls my mother shredding the lettuce and whipping up some mayonnaise from, of all things, sweetened condensed milk, vinegar and mustard. But the women’s mag mayo couldn’t kill the taste of the tomatoes. They were real tomatoes.

Read Canberra Times article here: Pomodori by Kerry Cue

Photo source: josiesjuice blog

The Kinder Nativity Play when … a STAR … a king, a donkey or an angel … is born!

I wrote this when my daughter was in the kinder nativity play. And that was in 1993, over 20 years ago! But little has changed from the delightful yuletide chaos known as the kinder Nativity Play.

No Stephen Spielberg, Fred Schepsi or Peter Weir could bring to life a story bursting with the tinselled excitement or wide-eyed wonder of that choreographed chaos known as the Kinder Nativity Play. The job of feverish direction rests with an experienced kindergarten teacher. And the play has become a cherished Christmas tradition of cherubic grins and dimpled mayhem.

The first problem facing the director involves casting. Kinder kids can be very definite about the part they wish to play. They want a good line. And that line is often ‘Baa’.

Kinder Nativity Play

The kinder teacher is then left with the problem of putting on a nativity play with 25 sheep and no one else. After much begging, pleading and coaxing she can muster one sulking Joseph, a radiant freckled Mary -who is allowed to wear her patent leather shoes and a brides veil – and a donkey, if they can wear the donkey suit.

Full article from The Advertiser, The Herald Sun and The Canberra Times here: CHRISTMAS ACCORDING TO ST JASON

A bird? A plane? An Ozzie Mozzie Zapper!

My first book was published in 1983 so – add old timers accent – ‘I been ’round this here old place a long time’. The following event is one of the oddest experiences I had in the world of publishing. That is, if you don’t count, being ‘heckled’ by Barbar The Elephant at the Sydeny Writers’ Festival.

superboy     2You may think I’m merely a mild mannered reporter. But, dear reader, I have fought a ‘superhero’ battle. It all began years ago when I wrote a book for kids titled ‘How to save the world before breakfast’. Subtitle ‘A magazine for young superheroes’. To cut a long story super-short, D.C. Comics kindly explained to my little Aussie publisher that they owned the word ‘super heroes’ and we could, to cut through the legal jargon, bugger off.

I immediately imagined the D.C Comics legal team was comprised of escapees from Krypton who, having discovered a loophole in the this-planet-will-explode contract,  had escaped early in rockets and re-established themselves on the planet Legalon producing a race of Super Lawyers who were taking over our Solar System by suing the pants off every creature in the Universe.

Suffice to say, a barrister-type friend who, in his legal regalia in a high-wind did look quite Batmanish, pointed out that D. C. Comics were right. They owned the words ‘super heroes’. It was not a copyright matter. It’s a trademark!!!! So my publisher pulped the first book cover and I changed the subtitle to ‘The hilarious first addition of the Superkids Magazine’. And so the book, which gave advice on ‘How to select the right cape for you’ and ‘How to keep your hair neat in a cyclone’, was eventually published.

Read Full article published Herald Sun 14 JUL 2004 also The Advertiser (SA): A bird. A plane. An Ozzie mozzie zapper

ANZAC DAY 2014

Michael O'Donnell  20th Rein 14th Batt, 1916

Michael O’Donnell
20th Rein 14th Batt, 1916

My Great Uncle MIchael O’Donnell was killed at Bullecourt, France in 1917. This is the story about a young man who was Court Martialed 3 times, held with enemy prisoners and  finally allowed to go to war following a Senate Inquiry.

It is also a story about duty, loyalty and honour and how much we Aussies have changed today.

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Michael O'Donnell  Postcard 1911 Remembering 1910 March Melbourne to Bendigo

Michael O’Donnell
Postcard 1911
Remembering 1910 March Melbourne to Bendigo

The sound that distinguishes Anzac Day from others is the bugle call. The solitary call of the Last Post reverberates down the generations as a mournful cry for the loss of war.

In the First World War it was the loss of so many young lives and for what? A toehold on some peninsula, a futile charge into no man’s land? The loss swept into every Australian household. Mothers lost their sons.

Young women lost brothers, boyfriends, lovers, husbands. And for fathers, adding to the pain of loss, was the bitter aftertaste of guilt summarised so succinctly by Rudyard Kipling, who lost his own son in that war:

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“If any question why we died/Tell them, because our fathers lied.”

Yet the generation of Australians who served in the First World War had qualities we no longer possess and this is our loss.

Read Full Article here: Echo of the Bugle

Read Edited article published in the herald Sun Anzac Day, 25th April, 2007: Echo of the Bugle

It’s a Long Way to the Top when You’re Getting Old

Rolling Stones Daily Mail UKWith the Rolling Stones recently cancelling their Australian Tour, I was reminded of an article I wrote in 2002 about aging rock stars.

Of course, old rockers should keep on rockin’. Mick Jagger won’t be taking up making bedtrays with matchsticks anytime soon. But Bob Dylan, for instance, can’t go on singing ‘Knock knock knockin’ on Heavens Door’ when half the audience is worried that God may answer. So I rewrote some songs for old rockers with age appropriate lyrics:

Walking the Dog

Rewritten for The Rolling Stones

Granny back

Dressed in black

Silver hair all down her back

Thick hose, bunion toes

She got the pension and she can go

 

Walking the dog

I’m just a walking the dog

Retirees have time to do it

They’ll show you how to walk the dog

C’mon now C’mon

Snowblind

Rewritten for Ozzy Osborne of Black Sabbath

What you get and what you see

Um..dah..dah..dah…is it me?

Um..dah..dah..um…in vein

Dah..dah..um..dah..dah something. Cocaine?

(What was again it Sharon?)

Published Herald Sun (Groupies! When your 64?) 3 August 2002, The Advertiser (SA). Read full article:It’s a Long Way to the Top when You’re Getting Old

My First Day at School Ever

It is easy to forget how a 5 year old thinks. The world looks totally weird to a 5 year old. In 1997, when this article was first published, I received many letters from junior school teachers saying ‘Soooo true.’

kid going to schoolI wented to school today. ‘Cos I’m big. I have a big bag for school. My mum she put my lunch box in my bag and said ‘ Don’t forget to eat it.’ But I won’t eat my lunch box. That’s silly.

 I have a school hat. It’s big. It goes down to my nose. And I have to put my head back, right back, to see things.  And I falled over my bag. But you’ve gotta have to wear your hat because ‘otherwise you’re dead.’ That’s what my sister says. But the teacher’s they don’t wear hats. They’ll be dead soon.

 When we gotted to school my mum wouldn’t let go of my hand. Ami from my kinder was crying.  But I’m big. I can do big jumps. I can do wrestling. I can punch dragons. I can. My sister. She’s Grade Free. She says ya can’t punch dragons ‘cos they will barbecue you with one breath.  But you can punch dragons. When they’re asleep.

 My school is called St Hello Wishes. And it’s big. It’s more bigger than Africa. But my school hasn’t got lions because they eat people. But teachers think there is lions. Because that’s what the teacher says when you go to school. She says ‘Get in a lion boys and girls.’

Get in a Lion, Kids published Herald Sun (24 Jan 1997) and as The First Day of School, The Advertiser (SA 27 Jan 1997). Read full article: My First Day at School Ever

Also, for kids starting High School see: Sometimes It’s the Class Clown that Performs Well in Life