Courtesy of Professor Tan C H, while describing the development of the exception that a husband may rape his wife without any legal consequences whatsoever.
While doing my Entertainment Law exam paper, with the brilliant observation of Goodwin J, on the right of Vanna White to sue.
Courtesy of Pacific Dunlop v Hogan, in yet another brilliant observation regarding the conceit of the Australian population.
As I drove into Sime Road today, it occurred to me how many of these old people had been doing this for years. The rain was feathery, just like in the poem, but they sat at the edge of the tombs with their legs dangling off the parapet, their feet worn and old, with those white and blue plastic slippers we all know. Their backs were hunched and they looked at the ground. Was it fatigue? Was it indifference? Or perhaps just nothing at all …? What were they tired of? Maybe it was age, and the weight of obligations. To do this year in and year out, futilely tidying the grave of somebody whom no one remembered or knew. Perhaps the very act spoke to them of their mortality in a way the young could never understand. A hope that somebody remembered, even as everybody else forgot.