With the chanting of monks and a sprinkling of wombat juice, I was delivered into the world at Calvery Hospital in Tasmania some time last century. I think that makes me sound really old these days...

Story telling has always been part of my life. My mother called them lies when I was young. Being one of four children, I needed to be inventive to cast the eye of wrath in another direction when ever trouble brewed within our house, and of course when I was at fault for the trouble.

I learned to skin my first snake at 3. Unlike the Irish who banished their wee beasties from the enchanted isle, we have 3 types of snakes in Tasmania. Poisonous, very poisonous and Oh my, you're about to die. We also have 5 or 6 of the most venomous spiders in the world. Of course now you know why the small Island was the best place to send the most hardened convicts from mother England. Oh, and the island is surrounded by man-eating sharks. I'm not even going to talk about the Tasmanian Devil.....