Rocktober is an annual event on a certain blokey radio station where across the month they play Cold Chisel every fifteen minutes.

I’m starting my own series of themed months including Woktober in which I eat endless bowls of noodles. Jocktober means I’ll buy a new pair of underwear or eat haggis daily. Stocktober requires me to make gallons of soup or huge money on the currency exchange. In Hocktober I drink German white wine.

And Frocktober demands I get about in a dress. As is tradition.

I visited a place I worked at fifteen years’ ago and saw that this passive aggressive pissive sign is still there! Inaccuracy is always fashionable.
Got lost hiking near Chapel Hill and ended up taking refuge in the winery! It’s what Bear Grylls suggests.
Max’s school turned one hundred and he sang in the choir at the celebrations. Coincidentally, I was in my final year at Kapunda Primary when it also had its centenary!
The Kimba krew went to Barley Stacks winery where despite missing the wedding of Nug and Loz we all became friends for life.
I was chaperoned to the National Wine Centre by Claire one lovely Saturday. In the blind-tasting we scored a respectable 0/7.
The Whitlams personally invited us to The Gov last Thursday night. Sort of. OK, not really, or at all.
Rupert published one of my stories in The Australian. Payment is me being allowed to remain in his country.

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