This is what 2004 meant to me:
My new Apple iBook G4.
Julius Emmerson, aged four, as a kookaburra in the Hughes Pre-School 2004 Christmas concert.
McSweeney’s No 13.
Two boys riding bikes without training wheels.
New Yorker subscription.
A whole world of previously unheard music (much of which has previously been mentioned in these pages).
Making only one late-night visit to Canberra Hospital’s emergency ward for the entire year.
Carl Emmerson’s (now aged seven) great progress with both swimming and reading, although not both at the same time. His excellent taste in music is also a never-ending source of surprise and delight.
Blogging.
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings @ the Playhouse, Canberra.
The feeling that, after almost six years in Canberra, we now have a solid circle of friends up here (even if some are away on foreign service) and that, even if we haven’t yet earned the right to call ourselves “locals”, we can at least call Canberra home. Which is not to disregard all of our loyal friends in Melbourne and elsewhere, with whom we have been in much less frequent contact than we would like.
"Knock knock." "Who’s there?" "Cowsgo." "Cowsgo who?" "Cows go moo, not who." And other jokes told by four-to-seven-year-olds.
Adrienne’s uncanny ability to think in three dimensions. (And, ahem, her seemingly limitless patience with my frequently erratic and unhelpful behaviour throughout the year. There, I’ve said it.)
The continuing allure of Santa Claus.
