Public Service Announcement

Ibought some toothpaste recently, the packaging of which promised a BRAND NEW BRUSHING EXPERIENCE. Don’t you hate it when brushing your teeth feels like it’s the exact same experience you’ve been having since you got teeth? Same. Surprisingly, the toothpaste didn’t do anything whatsoever to change this.

The same week I bought the toothpaste, I went to my first netball game. A family member was playing. Netball is like a foreign language to me, and netball players at school seemed somehow to be a completely different species of human from those of us who (sensibly, in my view) played hockey. But I went along to watch this family member play their first game and here’s the thing… Public Service Announcement: trying something new can be exhilarating.

Learning netball was fascinating. New rules. Figuring out the things that make someone good at it. Listening to the people watching calling things out. Watching a team dance and pivot their way up and down the court.

New board games are like that too. Being taught a new game of cards. Learning Wordle was like that at first. Figuring it out by yourself. Doing the linguistic arithmetic required to get the answer.

New shoes are grouse. The feel of them. The bounce of the runners. The shine of the dress shoes.

When you go to the beach and the sea has done that thing where it sweeps the sand in front of it and there are kind of sea-froth bubbles in the sand and your bare feet are sinking into it and it’s new and fresh and nobody else has been on it so ha ha ha.

Nothing like a blank page. A new project. An unwritten letter. A funny note for a housemate that hasn’t quite formed yet. A creative work that tingles somehow but hasn’t yet taken shape.

New toothpaste does nothing for me, but new pencils? Different story. Look at how your handwriting just improved a thousand per cent. How the pencil marks the page. How it feels in your hand.

New books are pretty great. Library books, second-hand books, brand-new books or borrowed books with their own personalised recommendations. Whole worlds about to be discovered. Connections made. You might laugh, you might cry, you might gaze out the window with a book in your hand – and if there is a better way to sit in a chair, I have yet to discover it. Okay now, time for a quick quiz: you must always what a new book? Fill in the blank. Come on, let’s not always see the same hands. You must always…? Smell a new book, that’s right. Well done. Top of the class.

Stuck? Sick of it all? Got some stupid thing you have to finish and you’ve been putting it off? Move your desk somewhere different. Change some things around.

New plants are pretty wonderful. A small person I know saved the top of the celery from the fridge and now has a small celery forest growing in an old fridge drawer she found somewhere that had no other use. Imagine that. Making whole lives happen. Little ones that you can watch and nurture and that repay the favour by beaming beautifully at you each day. From an old fridge drawer!

Listen to some new music. Mostly, I drive around and around the same block I’ve always driven around, in music land. Recently though, a friend recommended a song and I took the time to listen to it and may I say to the manufacturers of a certain toothpaste: this is how you create a BRAND NEW EXPERIENCE. There were synapses in my brain doing all kinds of things they hadn’t done for a while.

Another new thing I tried a while back was yoga. People who do yoga are always calm and together and have ponytails that look like they’ve been swept into place by blushing red robins and so forth. But I? I do not look like that when I do yoga. I giggle and fall over and shake and sweat but that’s because I haven’t done it before, and doing a new thing is making me – slowly, incrementally – slightly less shaky but no less giggly or sweaty.

Public Service Announcement: sometimes life can get samey. The tiniest thing can change it up. But not toothpaste. If it’s a brand-new experience you’re after, sniff a book or buy a pencil.

Lorin Clarke is a Melbourne-based writer. The second season of her radio series and podcast, The Fitzroy Diaries, is on ABC Radio National and the ABC Listen app now.

Serves 8-12

900g nectarines, stones removed and flesh cut into small cubes 60g white sugar 3 teaspoons lemon juice 3 teaspoons cornflour mixed to a paste with 40ml cold water

125g very soft salted butter 200g white sugar 2 eggs 300g plain flour 150g self-raising flour 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda 1 egg white, lightly whisked

15g cold salted butter, diced 40g self-raising flour 55g soft brown sugar

To make the filling, place the nectarines and sugar into a saucepan with 60ml water, bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until the fruit is just tender. Stir in the lemon juice. While still simmering, gradually stir in enough cornflour paste to reach a thick custard consistency. Set aside to cool.

For the pastry, using a hand whisk mix the butter and sugar together until creamy, then whisk in the two eggs until well combined. In a separate bowl, mix the dry ingredients together. Then, using a large metal spoon, fold them through the egg mixture until well combined. Wrap in plastic wrap and place in the fridge for at least 30 minutes to firm up before using.

To make the crumble, place the ingredients in a food processor and process until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. (Alternatively, this can be achieved by rubbing the ingredients together with your fingers.) Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 170°C. Grease a 22 x 35cm slab tin, 8cm deep. Cut one-third from the pastry, cover and set aside. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the remaining pastry to the size of the tin and press into the sides and edges. Brush with some of the whisked egg white to seal. Spread the cooled fruit mixture over this. Roll out the reserved pastry and cut into long strips about 1cm wide. Place these in a lattice pattern over the top of the fruit. Sprinkle the crumble mixture into the spaces between the lattice strips.

Bake for 30 minutes, or until it is nicely browned. Leave to stand in the tin for at least 30 minutes before cutting into squares to serve.

My earliest memories of the wonders of baking were in my grandmother’s kitchen. The aroma as you walked in the door spelled “Welcome. Sit down, have a chat and something nice to eat.” It was like you were enjoying a cuddle with food.

Her pantry was always stocked with all manner of ingredients so she could whip up something delicious at a moment’s notice. I loved her spirit of hospitality, her enthusiasm for daily baking and her generosity when happily sharing with others. I simply couldn’t wait to get my own kitchen to emulate all that she did.

When our own family of six children came along, we would often go for a drive in the country – in summer these would inevitably turn into a fruit hunt. Many farms or country homes had an honesty box at the gate, offering their excess fruit for a minimal price or free of charge.

There were innumerable instances when the farmer would come out for a chat. These were the most wonderful times – they taught us all about true passion for produce – its flavour, freshness, colour and texture. We learned about berries, stone fruit, apples and pears, and where to find wild growing treasures such as rosehip, quince and blackberries. We were avid foragers long before it became the fashion.

Once home we would experiment with the produce. It was a time of creative mayhem and fun in the kitchen, inviting anyone who came through our door to share a cuppa and enjoy what we had baked that day.

This habit is hard to break. To this day, I simply can’t go past a roadside stall. One of my favourite finds is nectarines. I love their flavour, the bite through the crisp red skin that releases exquisite juices that trickle down your chin. It is a celebration of one of the exceptional fruits of summer, the fruit hunts of decades ago, the creative baking with our children and a special tip of the hat and thanks to my Nan, whose passion for cooking and generosity with food became the inspiration for my lifelong love affair with baking.