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…Dancing is one of the most primitive forms of human art and expression. Watch how even the smallest children will move into dance as soon as the music starts….
Margaret Dunn has a great night of song and dance at the Scottish Ceilidh organised by the St Andrew Society in Perth, Western Australia.
"Busy in my kitchen making marmalade a few weeks ago, the hot spicy aroma of the oranges and lemons bubbling in the pan took me back to another kitchen, another world....''
Margaret Dunn tells of the tasty, unforgettable day when she helped her Aunty Nan to make raspberry jam.
… The little house was full of surprises. I kept finding small stacks of money tucked away in the strangest places. In an old biscuit tin, a fat little nest egg of notes was hiding beside some mouldy shortbread. ... Margaret Dunn discovers stashes of cash as she searches through her Mother’s house.
So when it came to choosing someone to decorate the house should it be the Greeks or the Irishman? Margaret Dunn, a lady of Scottish descent, faces a decision in her Australian home.
Are you the kind of person you think you are? Margaret Dunn muses on the nature of “self’’.
“ An exciting prospect from this bleak winter of discontent - a new life in a sunny, spacious land…’’ Margaret Dunn tells of her decision to migrate to a country on the other side of the world.
“As we neared the mainland of Orkney, a company of seals appeared alongside the boat, dipping and skimming through the water…’’ Margaret Dunn journeys from her home in Perth, Australia, for a holiday in her native land, Scotland.
Margaret Dunn writes a splendidly defiant poem about receiving a replacement hip. She recommends that it should be recited to a hip-hop rhythm, with gyrating hips and flamboyant arm gestures.
When the dark beady eyes of an old fox fur seemed to look at Margaret Dunn as she browsed in a charity shop, she was promptly carried away on an evocative trip down memory lane.
Columnist Margaret Dunn, who is involved with a University of the Third Age writing group in Perth, Australia, has a challenge to the many writers who contibute to Open Writing.
She has begun a short story. Now she wants someone to write the ending.
Completed stories should be sent to peter@openwriting.com These will be forwarded to Margaret, and she will select the one she likes best. The completed story will then appear in Open Writing.
No prizes for the winner. This is just for fun.
In this wonderfully uplifiting column, Margaret Dunn gives numerous reasons for being grateful for her life. Read it - and feel good about yourself and your day.
Margaret Dunn recounts a disturbing dream. She then suggests that some genius might invent a device to record dreams, so that we could play them back on our television screens. "My nightly adventures might present better entertainment than some of the poor concoctions that are showing there at the present time.''
Margaret Dunn does the parking pavane and experiences parking paranoia in a crowded city car par.
The little house was neat and compact. Near the river. Not too far from the centre of Perth. But there were huge Japanese Pepper trees in the garden. Margaret Dunn tells how the monsters of suburbia were finally vanquished.
In this effervescent and nostalgic column Margaret Dunn conveys a lifetime's excitement and delight in going to the cinema.
We start to travel through the ways of ancient disciplines so right for modern times...'' Margaret Dunn presents a poem about a Monday night yoga class.
There has always been a human need to congregate with or own kind, says Margaret Dunn. And these days more and more folk are enjoying social contact by congregating in shopping malls.
In this good-humoured column Margaret Dunn confesses that she has been a procrastinator since her schooldays, when she would rush down the main street of her village as the school bell was ringing, trying to eat a piece of toast. Readers are advised not to procrastinate but to give themselves a treat by reading her column this very minute.
His race had lived on the planet since time began with nothing to fear apart from natural predators whom they had learnt to avoid. Then had come the Oppressors.... What is his race? And who are the Oppressors? Read Margaret Dunn's splendidly crafted short story, and find out.
Margaret Dunn tells us of a letter that arrived at her home addressed to Zoe. But who is Zoe - and could she read it?
This is the time of year in Western Australia when orchards and gardens yield their bounty. Margaret Dunn says "Visitors to my house have been bearing gifts from their overloaded trees - bags of lemons, grapefruit and oranges. My kitchen is like a small fruit market...''
We are delighted to welcome a new columnist to Openwriting. Margaret Dunn lives in the fair city of Perth, Western Australia. (My favourite city. - Editor) Margaret will regularly be sending us words from Western Oz. Here she tells us about St Patrick's Day celebrations in the port town of Fremantle.
