Articles
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5 days ago |
theguardian.com | Katie Cunningham
It wasn’t my first period, but it was within the first year of getting my period. I was only 13 years old and, when you first start menstruating, you never know when your next period is going to arrive. I was away on holiday with my family, playing in the hotel pool with some new friends I’d just met. There was definitely a boy there I fancied.
The kindness of strangers: I thought my wages would be docked but the customer I’d overpaid returned
1 week ago |
theguardian.com | Katie Cunningham
It was Christmas Eve, 1977. I was 20 years old and working on the desk at a credit union as a teller. Management thought it was a wise idea to offer our customers a glass of champagne with their withdrawals that day, so I had been helping myself to a small glass of bubbly as I handed the customers one. By the end of the day I was unsurprisingly a bit tipsy and, when I balanced up the till, I realised I was $20 short.
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2 weeks ago |
theguardian.com | Katie Cunningham
I was visiting the US as a 23-year-old with my mother and her sister. On a whim, the three of us decided to road trip across the border to Vancouver to catch the tail end of the city’s 1986 World Expo. We assumed we’d be able to find accommodation when we got there – and we were wrong. With no mobile phones or Google to guide us, we traipsed from one hotel to the next, before the inefficiency of such a tactic dawned on us and we headed for Vancouver’s visitor centre.
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3 weeks ago |
theguardian.com | Katie Cunningham
By the time I was 19, my life had spiralled out of control – I was homeless and destitute, my infant son was living with my abusive mother and I was addicted to heroin. I’d had a pretty dodgy childhood; my father died when I was very young and I was left with my mother. At 16, already very traumatised by what I’d experienced at home, I ran away and ended up living in Sydney. It was 1996.
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4 weeks ago |
theguardian.com | Katie Cunningham
The Vaucluse foreshore is the sort of place you go to forget your problems. In this quiet pocket of Sydney’s eastern suburbs, trees form a protective canopy overhead, tiny beaches interrupt the bush, and the harbour unfurls across the horizon in all its glory. It is here, on a dazzlingly bright blue day, that Sarah Wilson is telling me there can be no hope for the future. The Guardian’s journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more.
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I spoke to Australia's B-girls to find out how Raygun going viral is affecting the local scene https://t.co/jhfOAm2mpL
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