This week I was very excited to see the publication of my first paper as last author. I smiled when I saw the little envelope next to my name, signifying that I was person designated as the author to whom correspondence should be addressed. This was the first time in which I have acted as team leader, bringing all the other authors together to write a manuscript that was acceptable to myself, my pharma company, and the two rigorous peer reviewers. The study was initiated in 2010, so it feels great to see it now formally published and part of the scientific body of knowledge on epidemiology and health economics.

The protagonist, Francis Mainwaring, is a librarian in Acquisitions at the State Library of New South Wales. Her “absolute obsession” is women’s unpublished writings: “Letters, journals, recipe books, shopping lists, notes to children on scraps of paper, love letters to beloveds, hate letters to mothers… how many unread, unsung words have been written with such excitement, desperation, fatigue, passion.”

The reader gets a glimpse into these lives from the excerpts that the author weaves into the story. Sometimes these extracts are from well-known figures, like botanical illustrator Ellis Rowan, and some are treasured family recipes scribbled on the back of an envelope.

Francis struggles with smartphones, underwire bras, her daughters’ vegetarianism, and her distant husband Phil. Despite working full-time, she still cooks porridge for Phil every morning, makes him sandwiches for work, and keeps his dinner warm in the oven when he comes home late. When her happy-go-lucky daughter Angie announces her engagement to Chen, she wonders to herself if Chen sees his bride simply as “a woman who will cook and clean for free, produce babies for him and bring them up to look after him in his old age.”

The story follows the preparations and aftermath of her daughter’s wedding, as Francis looks to the future and asks herself “do I want my life to be different?” How will she define herself when her daughters have left home and her husband always seems to be somewhere else? Mother of the Bride celebrates friendship, examines the meaning of family, and explores the quest for the perfect dress.

The tale is set against an authentic suburban Australian backdrop. If there’s not a total fire ban due to the scorching temperatures, the family may light up a barbeque on the weekend, followed by scones, ice-cream cake, or pineapple upside-down cake. Holidays are often spent at the beach, surrounded by magpies and frangipanis during the day, and underneath the Southern Cross at night.

This novel gave me a glimpse into the struggles of previous generations of Australian women. The excerpts of their writings emphasised their great struggles and minimal acknowledgement, while the narrative itself underlined the distinct gender roles that are still apparent in modern Australian society. I would recommend this book to anyone who was looking for a light-hearted yet insightful account of the lives hidden inside those Californian bungalows of Sydney’s suburbs.

Available in paperback from Ace press and Australian bookshops, and Amazon kindle worldwide.

The event was held on the fourth floor of the café, decorated with fascinating self portraits from members of bands like The Beatles, The Who, and U2. The windows opened up to the beautiful Grand Place, even more spectacular with its ever-changing technicolour display. We were welcomed by organiser Clo Willaerts, who gave us all a free copy of her latest book Altijd Naakt (Always Naked) on managing ones online identity.

We then met Erik Talboom, the co-founder of co-learning.be, and were introduced to the idea of co-creation using Lego Serious Play. Co-Learning helps companies build teams, design meetings, and improve innovation by leading targeted, fun, and innovative workshops. He grouped us into tables of five, dumped a pile of lego pieces in front of us, and asked us to create symbols of our best friend, our hobbies, and finally, the optimal Hard Rock Café experience. Plus, I was lucky enough to win a co-creation workshop of my own with the fastest tweet of the evening.

The evening ended with a chat with the Sales & Marketing Manager Guillermo Castells and Master Chef Arnel Del Rosario, and I learned that the Hard Rock business was sold to the Seminole Tribe of Native Americans for $965 million in 2007. We helped the chef construct our Legendary Burgers, and then sat down to enjoy dinner and some excellent conversation about artificial intelligence, linguistics, and corporate responsibility.

Thanks to @bnox for another fantastic evening.

To give my friends a taste of Down Under, I served some Melba toast with cheese and precious imported vegemite, veggie cottage pie, damper, and some mini pavlovas for dessert. The damper was a bit of a disaster (over-salted and under-cooked), and no one else appreciated the vegemite, but the rest of the meal seemed to go down well, especially as it was accompanied by gifts of Australian wines, caramels, chips, and chocolates.

We began the discussion by contrasting the world-view of hunter-gatherers versus agriculturalists. A hunter-gatherer may have time for leisure when the season is right, but in early colonial Australia an agriculturalist must work from dawn to dust. A hunter-gatherer sees themselves and the land as one entity, and does not recognise fences or boundaries – if they were to take ears of corn from a field, they see their task as simply gathering food as they have done for 40 millennia. Of course, the Thornhills felt very differently, and felt it was their right to claim terra nullius (land belonging to no one): “here were no signs that the blacks felt that the place belonged to them. They had no fences that said this is mine. No house that said, this is our home. There were no fields or flocks that said, we have put the labour of our hands into this place.” (p93). In Australia, the concept of terra nullius was not overturned until the Aboriginal rights case of Mabo in 1992.

This discussion also brought up stories of the Irish Travellers (also known as Minceir or Pavees, or an Lucht Siúil), with some members of the club demonstrating their knowledge and fluency in Irish. Nomaic people such as these often set up halting (caravan) sites on common lands or private plots. How do we reconcile the rights of those of us who believe that we own these particular squares of land with those who have been travelling freely for generations?

We decided that owning land was so important to William because in England, it is this characteristic that distinguishes the gentry from the commoners. He yearns to own land, so vital after is humiliation as a waterman in London. “He let himself imagine it: standing on the crest of that slope, looking down over his own place. Thornhill’s Point. It was a piercing hunger in his guts: to own it. To say mine, in a way he had never been able to say mine of anything at all.” (p 106). For the first time he had status, and “His voice was rich with the pleasure of being able to shout to another person.”

Though in order to bend this “thumb of land” to their will, the Thornhills attempted a very British approach, with British crops and British agricultural practises. This seems laughable to us now, with our easy access to the world’s information at our fingertips, but for those that had spent their whole lives by the Thames, what else did they know? Like most settlers at that time, the Thornhills emigrated to Australia under duress.

The group was divided over whether or not Sal and William were happy with their lot in the end. They had status and a fine house, but at what price?

“The Secret River” is now an assigned text for English courses in many states of Australia, yet our treatment of the indigenous population continues to be dismal. Throughout the 20th century up to the 1970s, children were forcibly removed from their families by the church and the government. In the year 2000, more than 250,000 Australians walked across Sydney Harbour Bridge to say “Sorry”. However, it wasn’t until 2008 that the government formally apologised for these actions.

The air was thick with confetti, and the street cleaners and their mechanical gluttons followed behind us, trying to clean up the mess as best they could. Despite their efforts, I could still spot little circles of colour between many of the cobblestones for the next few weeks.

Into an eighteen month old toddler:

He now has a full set of teeth, can feed himself (messily), wave and give a high five, loves to climb stairs and throw balls (“bal” is really the only word of his I can understand), and happily babbles away to himself constantly. His hair is growing, and he remains in the 85th percentile for height (85 cm) and weight (12.4 kg). He often has a runny nose, but he rarely gets a fever. He sleeps from 8pm to 6:30am every night. He loves putting on shoes, hats, and holding up a telephone to his ear and saying “ja ja ja”. When he smiles he sometimes gets a cute little dimple under his left eye.

• Safe
• Cheap
• New Country
• Kid’s club for toddlers

Looking at our options, it appeared that Sousse, Tunisia was our best choice. It also had the following perks:

• Direct flight under 3 hours
• Warm
• Sunny
• Within 90 minutes of 5 world-heritage sites

The day before we left, I quickly scanned the web to make sure that I had everything covered. Smartraveller.gov.au had given the country a yellow light (the same level as Mexico, Costa Rica, and India), no major incidents in the news, and Brussels airport was looking snow free. Though when I checked that no visa was required for UK and Australian citizens, I started to panic. I couldn’t believe that I had been so cavalier as to not check this earlier.

Having previously teased JT about not checking if he needed visa to Australia, and Adrian for Romania, I was now facing the same crisis myself. The Tunisian embassy was already closed for the week, so I had to do some quick googling to try to come up with a last minute solution. Most official websites stated that a visa must be obtained well in advance, but someone called BigBurp claimed in a 2010 web forum that Australians and South Africans were able to get a visa on arrival at Tunis airport, as long as they were able to pay in Tunisian Dinar. It wasn’t much to go on, but I exchanged some cash in Brussels and the next day boarded the plane with my fingers crossed. I had visions of Adrian using his UK passport to spend a week in our pre-paid hotel room by the beach, while Hayden and I were cooped up in our small apartment in rainy Brussels. However, a very friendly team of officials at Tunis airport happily created tourist visas on the spot, and we passed smoothly through immigration before our luggage trundled down the conveyor belt. I was so grateful for this stroke of luck that I promised myself I wasn’t allowed to complain about anything for the rest of the trip, and I would be much more careful about checking visa requirements in the future.

Indeed, it was a terrific holiday. For the first couple of days I did very little apart from send Hayden to the kids club and then nap, read, and relax at the spa. Mid way through our break I had regained some vigor, so we spent the remainder of our time visiting the World Heritage Medina of Sousse, city of Kairouan, Amphitheatre of El Jem, Archeological Site of Carthage, and the Medina of Tunis.

Hayden seemed to enjoy his first time in Africa – playing soccer, climbing up the stairs, eating sand, throwing food off the balcony (“uh oh”), waving to everyone, refusing vegetables, and indulging in the many treats brought to him by the waiters. Having a kids club made things so much easier for us; it was fantastic to be able to take a complete break for a few hours each day and then spend some quality time together. It was a fitting way to end the year and return to Brussels filled with sunshine and renewed energy for 2013.

A beautiful article that explores the creation of these roundabouts can be found here.

His main nutrition comes from spoon-fed purees, while his main food education comes from sharing our meals. When he was nine months old, he would eagerly open up his mouth at the sign of any incoming spoon.

These days, getting that first spoonful in is a major challenge. He will wave his hands emphatically while shaking his head vigorously, almost panicing at the sight of mashed vegetables. When he opens his mouth to scream for help, Adrian will try to slip in some food. Hayden will reluctantly swallow, realise he actually likes the taste, and then eagerly open his mouth for more, pretending that the last five minutes of protest never occurred. However, if Adrian takes more than 45 seconds between spoonfuls, or opens another jar of exactly the same food, the food refusal begins all over again.

He enjoys sitting at the table with us, though if left to his own devices, he doesn’t eat much of what is in front of him. He refuses to touch anything slimy or warm. However, he does enjoy eating cherry tomatoes (but not regular tomatoes), washed and dried kidney beans, and bread. He quickly gets full, and enjoys feeding carrots to Adrian, ensuring that the whole chunk gets right into his mouth.

After the session, I went up to the Directrice and tried to stumble my way through a question. Immediately she said “We may talk in English if you wish.” (This is happening more and more frequently in the French community – the only people I seem to be able to practise my French on are the elderly ladies who live in my apartment). The Directrice told me that over half the students come from non-French speaking homes, with first languages including English, Dutch, Indonesian, Japanese, Turkish, and Arabic.

I have been taking online French classes complemented by half-hour Skype conversations, but I feel that only my accent is improving, while my comprehension and vocabulary is diminishing. I am forgetting how to conjugate. I think that I need to return to face-to-face classes with regular tests if I am ever going to be able to master this language enough to have a decent conversation with Hayden’s friends and teachers.

Brussels’ Winter Fun celebrations begin tomorrow night. For the next month, the streets will be lit up with artistic light sculptures and lined with wooden huts selling hand-made treasures and tasty treats. There will be events for all the family, including parades, shows, as well as a skate-rink, carousels, and a Ferris wheel. It is one of my favourite times of the year.

30 November – 27 December

Winter Markets
Two kilometers of picturesque huts filled with desserts, crepes, smoked sausages, hats, scarves, and gifts. All the items are hand-made and sold by by small businesses.
Place Sainte-Catherine to Grand Place.

XmasTree
The controversial electronic XmasTree. Not a pine-needle in sight – instead it is composed of steel and tv-screens, with an integrated stairwell with a panoramic view over the Market Square. The stairwell is open from 11:00 AM to 4:00 PM; no children under 3 are permitted.
Grand Place.

Sound and Light show
6:00-10 p.m., every 30 minutes.
The facades of the Market Square engage in a dialogue with the XmasTree using over 1600 LEDs.
Grand Place.

Saturdays

Freestyle Ice-Skating demonstrations
4:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m.
Place Sainte-Catherine

Thursday 6 November

Light Parade and Fireworks
6:30-7:30 p.m.
Fantastic characters, such as goblins, elves, giants, jugglers, and musicians amble along the streets of Brussels for an hour.
The parade will start at the Stock Exchange, go down the Rues Orts, Dansaert , Lepage, and Marché aux Porcs and wind up in front of the big wheel with fireworks launched behind the big wheel.

Sunday 9 December

Puppet theatre
2:00-2:30 p.m. and 3:00-3:30 p.m.
Performed by the Petit Théâtre de la crèche Gravelines.
Early Childhood Office, 17-18 Place Sainte-Catherine. RSVP: christel.demeyer@brucity.be

Saturday 15 December

Magic Show
2:00–3:00 p.m. and 3:30–4:30 p.m.
Abracadabra.
Early Childhood Office, 17-18 Place Sainte-Catherine. RSVP: christel.demeyer@brucity.be

Saturday, 22 December

Family Music
2:00-3:00 p.m. and 3:30–4:30 p.m.
1,2,3, on with the music… parents and children will be caught up in a whirlwind of songs.
Early Childhood Office, 17-18 Place Sainte-Catherine. RSVP: christel.demeyer@brucity.be

Friday 4 January

Fire Parade
6:30 p.m.–7:30 p.m.
To mark the last weekend of Winter Wonders, a parade fills the streets of Brussels with sparks, smoke, and light.
Market Square > Stock Exchange > Devaux > Sainte-Catherine >Vismet> Big Wheel

Les Samaritains request that the shoe-box is filled with around ten food items that are non-perishable, easy to open, and ready to eat. There are dozens of drop-off locations all around Belgium. More details can be found at shoe-box.be

Last week we celebrated “America Day”. The menu consisted of cheeseburgers, pulled pork, cornbread, meatloaf, macaroni & cheese, and fried chicken, with apple pie and lime pie for dessert. I think they deliberately chose to exclude fries from the menu.

The chefs also included this informative flier on each table:

When he is a little older I hope that he will be able to enjoy the French books – they do have a native speaker who reads aloud to children, but unfortunately the sessions are only on Wednesday mornings. So for now we are sticking to the small but satisfying English selection. We chose Where’s Spot and The Special Egg to take home with us.

Next week we will visit the bibliotheek, and Hayden can teach me some Dutch.