Mother of the Bride is Adrienne Sallay’s second novel.

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 Her “absolute obsession” is women’s unpublished writings: “Letters, journals, recipe books, shopping lists, notes to children on scraps of paper, love letters to beloveds, hate letters to mothers… how many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.

Advertising is supposed to be aspirational. Therefore I think you should stop using Belgian beaches in your promotional material. I do not want to know that the only place that I get to wear this new outfit will be on a freezing rock under a grey sky near some frosty water:

Just for the record, beaches really should look like this:

Now I have visited every Australian capital city. We have just returned from a three day safari through Kakadu national park, starting in Darwin. I sat next to the driver, and he pointed out dozens of birds, monitors, and marsupials as we drive through the lush green land. I saw goose hawks, blue-winged kookaburras, brolgas, magpie geese, whistling kites, sulphur crested cockatoos, cattle egret, blue-faced honeyeaters and galahs.

My favourite animals were the agile wallabies that surrounded our campsite on the first night. Cute little creatures that looked at us with complete alertness, bounding off if we got too close. I even got to hold an orphaned joey who had been adopted by humans at the Didgeridoo Hut art shed. Some of the smallest creatures built the biggest nests – cathedral and magnetic termites building stark red towers over five meters tall, standing out against the bright green grass. We also saw short-eared rock wallabies, an owl, and sadly, cane toads everywhere, even throughout Kakadu.

We also got to experience the less friendly natives – crocodiles and dingos. We went on a jumping crocs cruise on the Adelaide River, where they drag huge chunks of meat through the water to encourage five-meter long crocs to jump out of the water next to our boat, and learn that tourist boats equal food. Not the smartest idea, but a terrifying and majestic sight to see a 240 million year old species lunge at prey. Like seeing a T Rex in action. Our last camp site was visited by dingoes, howling at each other throughout the night.

Our days in Kakadu were also filled with sweaty hot long bush walks through the outback, however they always ended with a delightful and refreshing swim in beneath a waterhole – a very iconic Australian experience. In one place, we were greeted with large illustrated “saltwater crocodiles swim here and will eat you” signs. Our guide insisted that it was just the government covering all bases, and the area was it was too high for the crocs. I was so over-heated that I trusted him and swam in the water, but now I can no longer mock those German tourists who get eaten in the Northern Territory after ignoring the signs.

We saw some amazing Aboriginal art sites ranging from 1 000 to 20 000 years old. Striking and beautiful symbols of the world’s longest continuous culture. Despite the government apologising for its genocide, the missionary spirit is still strong in the government’s handling of indigenous regions, as signs stating “no alcohol no pornography” were quite common throughout the region.

No alcohol, No pornography

Photo by onlineoffroadtours

It was bittersweet to return to Canberra after two years away. There are so many wonderful people there, and it is such a unique city – the bush capital. Small and delightful, yet with excellent institutions. Walking through the Australian National University, where I spent seven years of my life, made it all come flooding back. I was able to catch up with so many friends, and eat and laugh and drink with them and hear about how their lives have changed. It was so easy to be back – instantly I had a strong support network and knew the ins and outs of the city. My final weekend culuminated with a party at the Cookie Jar II – such a familiar and welcoming atmosphere. It broke my heart to leave them all behind again. I had one last dinner at the Pancake Parlour – home of my Pink and Purple Pancake Parlour Party for my birthday a few years back – and then turned my back on my hometown, and started by journey to Belgium.

Pancake Parlour