Word For Word

Yesterday, Mum and I went to Burnside to meet Maria for lunch. Maria is my brother’s wife’s mother, so she’s Eric’s mother-in-law. We found a nice Italian restaurant, Eccoci, in the new section of Burnside Village, and Maria insisted on paying for lunch as our Christmas present.

Maria is not a mean-spirited or unkind person, but she literally just talks at you. She talks and talks and talks about herself. She’ll never ask how you are or what you’ve been up to—it’s all about her, and you can’t get a word in. I remember she once invited me up to her beautiful house in Belair for lunch, so I went along. But she talked at me for over two hours, and I have to say, I didn’t like that. I actually think it’s quite rude to just talk at people. Like I said, she is a nice woman, but I think it’s really unfair to force yourself on people like that.

When I'm on my volunteer calls, I actually love it when clients talk about their lives. They can talk for ages, and I welcome it. But it’s different because I’m asking them questions, we’re engaging with each other, and it’s a genuine two-way conversation.

With Maria, it’s nothing like that. It’s just a never-ending monologue. She talks at you, not with you.

The restaurant, Eccoci, is the kind of place that fits right into Burnside Village. They provided a full Italian-hospitality experience. Our waiter was a gorgeous young Italian man, and when Maria noticed his accent, she told him she was Italian and could speak a little. So they started speaking to each other in their native tongue.  Maria is turning 70 next week, and she is a very good-looking woman—just like my mother. And the young waiter seemed to take a bit of a shining to her; he kept coming over and testing her Italian.

I didn’t get any photos at the restaurant, but walking back to the car I took this photo of a magnificent piece of artwork in the shopping centre. It’s called Super Model by Stephen Glassborow. It was made in 2012 from bronze and patina.

I also took a photo of Santa’s mailbox, which was in the little Christmas section they had set up. I think they had a Santa there somewhere, but he may have been behind closed doors to make the experience a little more exclusive for children.

Last night, I went to a talk at the museum. It was part of their Sprigg Salon series, and the event was called In Conversation with the Butterfly Thief.

When I arrived, I bumped into a man I know who works in events there. He’s so lovely — honestly, everyone I’ve ever met who works at the museum is warm and has a good sense of humour. We chatted for a bit, and then I grabbed a drink.

Below, you can see the crowd having a pre-show drink, and underneath that is a photo I took of the display in the entrance of the museum.

We then walked up the stairs to take our seats for the talk. I took a photo of the grand staircase because, up until recently, when I imagined getting married — even as a mature-age woman — I always pictured having the wedding and reception at the museum. I would have loved to say my vows on that staircase and then ask if they could open up the whole museum so everyone could wander around until it was time to eat in the Pacific Gallery.

The Pacific Gallery is at the top of the stairs and over the years I’ve been to a number of events there. Last night’s event was an interview with Walter Marsh, an author and journalist based in Adelaide. He wrote The Butterfly Thief, which I hadn’t read before but picked up a copy of after the talk. Below, you can see Walter being interviewed on stage.

Walter pretty much told us the whole story of the book last night, but I’m still going to read it because it sounds fascinating. The Butterfly Thief centres on one of Australia’s biggest museum heists: in the 1940s, more than 3,000 rare butterfly specimens—including scientifically essential holotypes—vanished from major collections in Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide. Marsh focuses on Colin Wyatt, a Cambridge-educated adventurer, artist, skier and amateur naturalist who charmed his way into museums, then quietly shipped thousands of specimens to England, tampered with labels and even altered the butterflies’ appearances.

Walter used unpublished archives and museum records to trace the threads between Wyatt’s thefts, the colonial history of scientific collecting and the ongoing impact on biodiversity research and museum integrity.

The talk was really good, but Walter told the audience there wouldn’t be a sequel because he is 100% done with this story. It must have been a monumental effort to research and write this book; when he spoke about the events, he spoke like someone who knew every detail by heart. I can understand why he’d need a break from it. After the talk, I asked him to sign a copy for myself, and I bought another one for Mum, which he signed as well.

I read this article on the Advertiser online about a Victorian prisoner, Andre McKechnie — who was convicted of murder in the 1990s — is suing the Department of Justice and Community Safety and Corrections Victoria for banning Vegemite in prison. He argues the ban breaches his human rights because it prevents him from “enjoying his culture as an Australian.”

Vegemite has been classified as contraband in Victorian prisons since 2006 due to claims it interferes with drug-detection dogs, a claim McKechnie disputes. In his lawsuit, he also alleges the prison system has failed to provide him with adequate food for his wellbeing.

McKechnie is seeking declarations that his human rights were breached and wants the ban overturned. This is not his first legal battle: he has previously launched several lawsuits, including one in 2021 claiming the prison forced him to eat food that didn’t comply with Jewish dietary laws. That case was dismissed.

Public figures have criticised his latest claim. Shadow Corrections Minister David Southwick said prisons should not act like “hotels” and that taxpayers are burdened by “frivolous” cases. Victims’ advocate John Herron agreed, calling such lawsuits a waste of resources and hurtful to victims.

McKechnie is not alone — the article notes several other Victorian prisoners who have complained or taken legal action over prison food, including crime boss George Marrogi, an inmate alleging inadequate nutrition, and a detainee who demanded McDonald’s in court because he “couldn’t live on salads.”

I take human rights very seriously, and I can’t compare taking part in cultural life — or the right to Vegemite — to something like the right to equality or the right to asylum. But even a convicted murderer deserves Vegemite.