General News
27 January, 2026
A Mum's World: Summer tales
It’s times like these that I remember there are select days during the Wimmera summer.
When the only sensible activity on the menu is sitting very still with a damp tea towel draped over your head, positioning yourself as close to the air conditioning system as is humanly possible, or plunging headfirst into a swimming pool to reduce your core temperature.
This kind of stifling heat can only mean one thing, it is, of course, the perfect time to throw open the doors of the closest secondary college to enforce the attendance of thousands of overheated teenagers, hyped up on hormones, wearing slightly ill-fitting uniforms.
To survive the elements in close proximity with their peers, supervised by one hundred instantly frazzled adults, hoping everyone understands the importance of toeing the line to avoid a mutiny.
We will all have to drag ourselves away from watching the Australian Open on telly, although watching the tennis players pouring with sweat often makes me feel just that little bit cooler somehow, but much more out of shape.
As the athletes fly around the court, leaping and lunging, I take a minute to straighten up when I get off the couch to make myself another cooling cup of hot tea.
Tennis on the telly does give me the opportunity to regale my family with stories of one summer when I worked at the Australian Open, and that French filmmaker took me back to his penthouse and tried to bed me.
He was so experienced at seduction that I didn’t even know it was happening until I snapped out of my bubbly Aussie country girl naivety to smell the roses.
I’m pretty sure it was when he wanted to show me his jacuzzi that the jig was up.
The irresistible beauty attributed to me in that French accent is difficult for my gorgeous young daughters to believe, as I tell the story while balancing the aforementioned cup of tea on my post-menopausal belly in between sips.
So embarrassed by my stupidity at the time, I kept it under wraps for years, then I used to pull that survival story out to share with my daughters as a cautionary tale when they headed out into the world.
homely Chaplaincy office to deal with everyday teenage tragedies daily from now until Christmas.
Nah, I didn’t fall for it then, and I definitely wouldn’t fall for it now.
I can’t wait to get back to school, actually. With my staycation behind a whole lot of beautiful people and me to meet in front of me, it will be worth all the perspiration and squeezing into my ill-fitting clothes to do so.
Then again, not much clothing is required in this heat – just a whisper of linen and some sandals should cover it.