My mate Samantha Turnbull (no relation, mores the pity) is impossible to stick a compliment to. Shes tricksy and evasive, and even the most earnest words get politely turned away (to be fair, shes unfailingly polite in dismissal). And the most irritating part is that shes genuinely magnificent––a wonderful journalist, an endlessly loving and kind Mum, a brainy and supportive friend, and a feminist champion (she has FOUR anti-princess kids books being published in February, that she just rustled up while on maternity leave). This week she took me to a poetry slam (my first) and performed a poem she had written. It was so good it gave me goosebumps. She didnt want to hear it. I muttered, laughingly, that I was going to out her state of human excellence on social media. (IN YOUR FACE Turnbull! Try and squirm out of this one!) This is not the poem she performed this week, but from when she was a finalist in the Australian Poetry Slam competition in Sydney. She KILLED IT BECAUSE SHE IS AWESOME.
Posted on: Fri, 12 Dec 2014 05:32:19 +0000
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