Anna Chinn's blog

How would a person go about growing a brain by the age of 30 these days?

"How're you going there?" asked my longest-serving friend.

An article that appeared recently in our World Focus described a new robot that can learn tricks it has not been programmed to do, by consulting the internet as to what is required.

A lemon is rolled on the kitchen bench, pressed under my palm. The jug boils. A knife's wad of honey is dropped in a mug. The lemon, its juices primed, is slit open and squeezed into the mug. Boiling water is poured and the knife stirs. Finally, a nugget of ginger is tossed into the vapourous brew.

Normally, when you finish writing a blog post, you snap shut the laptop, relieved to have got the thing done for the week. You snap yourself up from the couch, and stretch, and head off for a bath before bed.

The boy did not understand there had never been a wall. We were walking past all that concrete and rusty rubble that has tumbled out of the eroding dunes on Middle Beach, and he kept referring to the time "when the wall got knocked down".

This week, I spent Tuesday and Wednesday collecting photographs for a Pecha Kucha presentation on the topic of "Things I found in the gutter yesterday".

This blog hereby becomes an asylum for readers who seek refuge from rugby. Come one, come all, but especially come women; those more likely to feel oppressed at this time.

Crack photographer and ODT illustrations lady Emily Cannan was in a bad mood one recent night, and not just because she had arrived at work to find a half-eaten raspberry bun lying in a slop of cream on her desk. Subeditor Anna, the regular author of this blog, said, "Ach, you just need to take some photos, woman!" and off they went for a wander.

A small group of women undertook a beautification project at the old chief post office last week. They undertook it at night because the lawfulness of the project was unclear.