Olga, the vulgar brolga from the Mulga

I began something of a mad Productivity Phase late last year. Helpful, yes; I feel much more organised and together. I think I've worked out what keeps me on track and what just adds more work, but, that aside, I think the Productivity Phase is coming to an end. I have an RSS feed of a productivity blog on my f-list, which today had instructions on creating an Emergency Evacuation Kit. That is, and I quote, "a go bag for every occasion — from wilderness rescue to a bird flu pandemic". I don't think I'm ready to be quite that organised.

Dinner with my mother yesterday; as always, entertaining, although I do wish she could restrain herself from talking about "little fingerling things in the bowels" over food. What must lunchtime at the hospital canteen be like, filled with nurses conducting conversations like that? Anyway, she was talking about the elocution lessons she had as a teenager. "Imagine thirty sturdy country schoolgirls in green uniforms chanting, 'Olga, the vulgar brolga from the Mulga'". Memorable indeed (and a great title for a children's book).