Annie Warwick was born in England but has lived in Australia since she was 4, in Queensland, New South Wales and more recently Tasmania, where she lives in the middle of a deep, dark deciduous forest with two delicious young men and a geriatric cat. She concedes, with some regret, that she is lying about the two delicious young men.
She trained as a health professional somewhat later in life than is usual, having been preoccupied with child-raising and office duties. She doesn’t have a PhD, however she has an ex-husband who does. Her son shares his London house with a plethora of woodwind instruments, and isn’t afraid to use them or to lift his voice in song. She is quite happy to bask in their reflected talents.
Annie has written a multitude of poems and vignettes, as well as the terribly droll Arachnophobicon, all unpublished. She looks forward to, one day, no longer being a health professional, so she can roll around ecstatically in the mediocrity of her own spare time: travelling, raising chooks, making soft furnishings, learning to play the piano again and, of course, writing.