Tag Archives: Family

the heist

It’s Sunday morning and the sky is clear. The football season is over and the cricket hasn’t started. I have no deeds to do and no promises to keep. I mooch around the house for a bit. I consider getting … Continue reading

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sixteen kinds of hurt

When my Dad was mad he’d threaten me with sixteen kinds of hurt. There was the clip over the ear; the smack on the chops; the belt across my buttocks; the gut punch; the double fisted shirt grab; the single … Continue reading

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way out west

It was a long drive, ten hours or so, undertaken in the heat of mid-February. Vinyl seats in the P76, dog at my feet, the handmade yellow trailer behind. It was the beginning of our long migration, our time of … Continue reading

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Allan Moffat

Some weeks ago I found myself at woollies looking at an aluminium rendering of my Father’s hero packaged with chocolate fudge. There he was, Allan Moffat, with forty eight cubes of something related to chocolatey-ness. I stared the first time … Continue reading

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Boo Radley’s house

Gentrification is old news, it’s been going on for a long time, but not in my neighbourhood, at least not until recently. I’m part of it, we got our place fixed up, and we’ve done the renovation thing. Nice kitchen, a cleanable … Continue reading

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glad animal action

I’m sometimes asked why cricket caught my imagination so strongly when I was a kid. I usually answer that it was something to do with masculinity and those magnificent moustaches that early eighties Australian test players sported, especially fast bowlers. … Continue reading

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don’t you think the joker laughs at you?

I’ve tried to quit smoking about six hundred times and I fail. I fail to actually stop.  At precisely the same time I’m saying I don’t want to do this anymore I am sucking on a cancer stick and loving … Continue reading

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