“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”

DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)





31 July 2017


Three stubbornly creative men I've known for centuries have quietly shared a Cancerian birthday lunch together for forty years or sumpin impossible in that direction.

Secretly. Or at least privately.

This year, for the first time, they invited guests. 

Milton Wordley, centre left, John Nowland, front right, and Neville Sloss, extreme right, were the party boys.

We a had real long slow graze at the long table at Paul Petagna's Sellick's Hill Wines. Jeez it was good. The Pomodora Madonna of the high order slow family lunch, Annika Berlinghieri, the St Annika and Satanika of the woodfire and polenta all over the table heavens with tomatoes does this every weekend with the deadly Bec.. You gotta go.

I was too busy telling lies and eating to squeak foodporn snaps but I did get this cuteness of the Robyn Mick Milton Anne Marie gang ... the Wordley brothers are the ones in the shirts

... always a bit frontier scary taking photographs of great photographers but here's Milton at his back door by me ... skinniest house in Adelaide ... happy 21st Milt!

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