Old Janus, the god of January, has been living up to his two-faced reputation before the month has turned up on the calendar. Janus looks forward and back. So u…
Third Age
Third Age: Bye bye, Santa. Hello, robots.
It’s that time of year, but Shirley Stott Despoja wonders, is it time to let go of Santa? Meanwhile, an algorithmic revolution rolls on and, like it or no…
Third Age: Waiting for the 11 O’Clock Horse
Upcoming Remembrance Day celebrations bring Shirley Stott Despoja to reflect of children roaming freely, strict manners and a world powered by horses.…
Third Age: The Age of Rage
A few weeks ago I excoriated someone on Facebook who laughed at the aged. It is true that the cause of the aged is hampered when people find our frailties, of t…
Third Age: Jane Austen, Prince Charles and a Birthday at the Dentist
The media have been quite taken with the 200th anniversary of Jane Austen’s death.…
Third Age: Buck Up Virginia
Ever since I read No! I Don’t Need Reading Glasses, Virginia Ironside’s sprightly book about growing old defiantly, I’ve been waiting for her Krakatoa moment. I…
Third Age: Quentin Bryce’s Quick Ink
Shirley Stott Despoja reflects on Quentin Bryce’s remarkable, life-long practice of letter writing through Dear Quentin: Letters of a Governor-General.…
Third Age: A Fit of the Giggles
Should any young parents have wandered into this column of the Third Age, I beg you to listen to me this once. Do not punish or even reprove your children when …
Third Age: Synaesthesia, Old Friend, I Miss You
I caught myself acting my age the other day. I found myself conforming to the stereotype of dithery old thing. The name I wanted stayed on the tip of my tongue …
Third Age: Festival Fury in Times Gone By
The Adelaide Festival and the Fringe have packed their tents and stolen away, and a grand time was had by all. Some say the old town has never looked better. Th…