The Charming Quirks of Others - Alexander McCall Smith

The Charming Quirks of Others is the seventh novel in the Isabel Dalhousie series, a series which is also known as the Sunday Philosophy Club series, although I don't think the Sunday Philosophy Club ever really existed. I should probably declare my hand early - I love this series. I haven't read any other books by McCall Smith, not even the first para of the acclaimed No 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. And I don't think I want to, not at the moment anyway. But I do adore Isabel Dalhousie, even when she's driving me crazy.

The Sunday Philosophy Club came into my life accidentally. Three years ago, a friend sent me the first two books - The Sunday Philosophy Club and Friends, Lovers, Chocolates - when I was facing a long period of illness. They proved to be the perfect antidote - gentle, thoughtful, philosophical, humourous, engaging and slightly romantic. They are also set in Edinburgh, a city I've had a long love affair with. It began with a short acquaintance during my first overseas trip and continued through the pages of novels, mostly Ian Rankin's Rebus series.

Rebus' Edinburgh, of course, is pretty gritty. It's the Edinburgh of pubs and pool halls, council estates that brush against historical sites, the crime scene and the morgue. Isabel Dalhousie's Edinburgh is far more genteel. Hers is the Edinburgh of concert halls and art galleries and, in this novel, of old schools and Sir Walter Scott's home, Abbotsford. But as in the Rebus novels, the past is never very far from the present and by page 3, Isabel is once again reflecting on the Stuarts.

There's always a bit of a mystery in Isabel's life - philosophically, she can't resist requests for help - but the mystery is really (I suspect) just the excuse, the technical framework on which to hang the story. This time around, Isabel is asked to look into a poison-pen letter.

I don't read Isabel Dalhousie books for the mystery, though. I read to revisit the deli run by Isabel's niece, Cat, where the coffee is always fresh and the Italian newspapers are delivered daily. I read for the gentle, surprising relationship that has developed between Isabel and Cat's former boyfriend, the beautiful Jamie. I read too for the housekeeper, Grace, who believes in the afterlife and goes to 'meetings' to contact the dead. And for the war between Isabel and the deliciously named Lettuce and Dove. Mostly, though, I read for the charm of the writing, for the sheer joy of reading this:

He shook his head. 'You're doing it again. Inventing things. Whole stories now. Making them up.'

She got to her feet. 'But that's what the world is all about, Jamie. Stories. Stories explain everything, bring everything together.'

Stories explain everything.

"Every Day is a Blessing"

Jane and Glenn McGrath on ABC's Enough Rope in 2004

I have been deeply saddened by the news of the death of Jane McGrath on Sunday. Surprisingly so. I didn't know Jane. I don't know her family. I only knew of her through her appearance on ABC's Enough Rope and through the many magazine stories I read last year as I went through my own treatment for breast cancer. She was a constant presence in the magazines and, perhaps, a more realistic 'role model' for breast cancer patients than Kylie or Belinda Emmet.

The news of Jane's death has made me think of many things. It has plunged me back into the maelstrom of my own tussle with cancer. Most days, these days, I can almost forget that 12 months ago I was down a breast, hairless, and in the middle of chemo. Most days, despite the breast form and the short hair and the daily tablet, life is 'back to normal'. Jane's death is a reminder that cancer is a serious opponent and that once it has entered your life, you are never quite free of it. Even if you are one of the lucky ones who only have to battle it once.

Jane McGrath used her experience and her "celebrity" for good. The McGrath Foundation aims to fund breast care nurses in hospitals across Australia. In the ACT, we are lucky to have three breast care nurses funded by the ACT Government. I cannot sing their praises enough. My breast care nurse was and continues to be a tremendous resource. It was Bethel who lead J and I through the medical maze that you enter with a diagnosis of cancer. She explained procedures. She gently raised the possibility of a mastectomy, preparing us for the surgeon's recommendations. She showed me photos of mastectomies and breast reconstructions so that I wouldn't be completely horrified by what had happened to my body after surgery. And more than 12 months down the track, she is still only a phone call away, answering my questions, providing referrals, and advice, and an ear. Everyone who is diagnosed with breast cancer should have access to a Bethel ... and the McGrath Foundation is a very practical recognition of this.

Mostly, though, I have been thinking about Glenn McGrath's tribute to his wife. I've been thinking of their children, James and Holly, facing the rest of their lives with only memories of their mother. I've been thinking about Glenn's comment that he never took for granted his life with Jane, that "every day is a blessing". Every day is a blessing ... even when work is frustrating and a small boy is insisting on doing things in his own way, in his own time. Every day is a blessing and we should celebrate each one with a smile, a laugh, and the joy of being alive.