It was a seasonal weathery afternoon at Dickington Manor. Miss Harriot Crumbley had been invited to attend her friend Sir Theodore Dickington’s monthly tea and scones viewing, when an unexpected visitor had come along: death. And he’d brought a fresh plate of murder with him.
We've been an awfully patient bunch in 2020. As we transition into a different normal filled with even more waiting, The Penny Mint wants to provide a soundtrack to your doctors queue, your train delay and everything in-between.
There is nothing like the bond that lives between kids and old people, and while I'm sure Bill would actively contest the idea that he ever reached "old age", the sentiment remains true. I couldn't put a name to it, but something special happens whenever memory and imagination meet.
Everyone has their own clock, but no one can really see or knows when the clock will stop for them. Some don’t even want to know when their clock will stop, happily living in ignorance as those around them watch their seconds fly by them.
The Penny Mint acknowledges the land on which we work, perform and reside: on Boonwurrung, Woiwurrung and Wathaurung Country. We extend our deepest gratitude to the elders and ancestors who have told their stories and sung their songs on this land for more than 60,000 years. We acknowledge that this land was never ceded, and no treaty has ever been reached. This always was, always will be Aboriginal land.