Originally published by Clifton Courier, November 6, 2019

I really enjoy flying.

I mean, I’m one of those people who stresses about getting to the airport early and panics that I’ve unwittingly packed explosive devices in my toiletry bag, but I generally enjoy the whole experience.

I put on a slouchy jumper and leggings, I create a gentle but emotionally-charged playlist and make sure I book a window seat so I squeeze in some decent looking-out-the-window-longingly time.

Another perk is the opportunity to indulge in magazine time, namely, the airline publications that assume you’re a high-flying go-getter with expensive taste. I recently flew to Melbourne for a wedding and was delighted to find the inflight magazine had a lot of interviews for me to pretend I was partaking in. My favourite had to be the one where they pick a chic person and ask them about their city. The one I was reading was about a Canberra lass and her recommendations for visitors.

I, of course, played along, pretending to be a chic person being interviewed about Clifton. I invite you do to the same.

When my friends are in town, I take them for a drink at… this obviously depends on the time of day. If we’re kicking off a daylong session, I’ll take them to the beer fridge in the lounge room so they can admire Dad’s maroon feature wall and collection of XXXX stubby holders, which subtly makes it clear what state they’re in. But if it’s an evening session, I usually like to start off with a few Maguire House specials – XXXX Golds from said beer fridge, Kaluha and milk in a tall glass with ice, Jameson and ginger ale or whatever premixed drinks friends left here last time – out in the front yard to enjoy the view of Mount Molar as the sun sets. It’s usually a pretty spectacular show and is particularly “you’re in God’s country now” if there‘s horses or cattle on the paddock across the road. Then I like to take them on a bit of a pub crawl, stopping in at each venue as I make the same joke, being, “we have one grocery shop and three pubs; we’re a town with our priorities in order”.

For breakfast make your way to… the stovetop, where Mum and Dad have cooked up a bunch of tomatoes and mushies and whatnot, which makes for a great greasy sauce-like by-product that soaks into your toast and mixes with the butter to create a taste sensation. I used to struggle to recreate this slightly sloppy concoction, but I’ve since realised the secret ingredients are garlic and a blissful ignorance of breakfast pomp. I also like to ensure my guests are eating local bacon, which has a salty, wholesome thickness you can’t get from the big supermarket chains.

Clifton’s best gallery is… the library foyer. And that’s not just because I really, really enjoy the smell of that joint. It has this bookish building material kind of smell that is extremely calming. It probably should be made into a scented candle.

If you want a romantic experience… go for a drive a few minutes out of town with a picnic rug and set up somewhere with a clear view of the sky so you can look up those bright, light-pollution-free stars. When I had my 18^th birthday party a few moons ago now, the stars actually got more attention than my sweet strobe light. If have a knack for talking out of your arse, you can make up your own constellations with complicated backstories, but me sure to bring something to pick at if you run out of fake myths. I recommend a hot chook, because hot chooks are bloody delicious and it comes with extremely romantic activities such as picking stuffing out of the cavity where its internal organs were removed and cracking the wishbone with your greasy pinkies. Be sure to offer you grand amore the skin before you tuck in, because this is a seduction scene after all.

For a day trip go to… the Condamine River, and hope to heck there’s some water in there.

The best-kept secret is… Who the heck was behind the great fruitcake heist of 2016. I’m just waiting for the true crime podcast about it.