Short Stories

On a cold dark night two mates do the unthinkable! Warning - Do NOT ever do this! Manual for Hitch-hikers Imagine Armidale in mid-winter. Located high on the tablelands of the Great Dividing Range, the town exudes historical charm with its many institutional brick buildings. Wide, neatly planned streets are lined with trees; all are seasonally bare.  From what we can see it appears a prosperous and proud agricultural town. Late at night and really cold, there is the faint smell of wood smoke in the still air; no doubt the more sensible are relaxing close to a lounge room fireplace. As we talk our breath condenses to mist. A myriad of stars are visible in the cloudless sky. I have passed through Armidale several times over the years with my parents on family Christmas migrations, visiting relatives further west. On this occasion however, I am travelling with a mate, Garry. We have been hitching rides all day, slowly heading north from Sydney. It’s not like we ...

A group of friends explore a small island that has come to life - a community transformed. Art at its most poignant & purposeful. The Sea is Blue Again ‘Okay, everyone strike the album cover pose’ , calls Robyn, as she sets the camera timer and runs to join our band of travellers. All eight of us are in the middle of a long stone breakwater that juts perpendicular to the beach into the sea. We are gathered around a large painted sculpture. The air is still, a warm spring morning, blue sky with just a hint of wispy clouds. Gentle waves lap the shoreline and in the distance other small islands, part of what the Japanese call the Seto Inland Sea. Checking the camera and about to set another shot she says,  ‘Hey! The shape of the sculpture mirrors the mountains in the background’. We all turn and marvel, taking a break from our trying to look cool stances. The sculpture appears as an upturned boat, many sets of legs protrude as if carrying the boat along the...

Clumsy westerners meet refined oriental customs in an attempt to discover something of the 'old' Japan. Invaluable bathhouse tips. A Good Nights Sleep Ohayo gozaimasu, ohayo gozaimasu, I repeat to myself slowly and softly having great difficulty with the pronunciation. I was hoping to at least show some respect to our wonderful host who I could hear downstairs preparing our breakfast. It was one of a handful of Japanese words or phrases I knew, Good morning!  My back and limbs are stiff having spent the night on a thin futon in our eight tatami mat room. Jill and I are staying in an old traditional inn located in the remote countryside of Shikoku, the fourth-largest island of Japan. A small cluster of homes and guest houses forming a small village is located either side of the valley road that winds its way between tall and forested mountainous terrain: an occasional small community perched on the side of a misty mountain or snug and tight on a small piece of...

A memoir about a young man leaving the family nest. Rites of passage from a privileged teenager naively encountering the adult world with a never look back attitude. Warning - contains in depth surfing knowledge. Big Sunday  My mother will not be happy!  The 190 Palm Beach bus induced a dream-like state meandering slowly along Sydney’s northern beaches. Keeping to a timetable set for peak hour, approaching midnight there would barely be a vehicle in sight; a snail’s pace. The monotony was like a lull, drifting towards idle thoughts. I would be tired after a long day’s work, my first real job: a drawing office of an architectural firm by day followed by night classes at University. The pattern of my early working life was bordered morning and night with this ninety minute commute. Change became a constant tic. What will my mother say? There was the weight of expectation. I was privileged, although I was yet to fully appreciate the degree. Change felt i...