It’s 1975, a week before Grand Final day in Sydney, my father tries to convert me. He is an avid Roosters supporter: they’ve overcome Manly and are playing St George in the Grand Final. One of my earliest football memories. He buys me a Rooster’s jersey. I’m ten. Dad, Mum, two of my brothers are…
As I see it…searching for normal
A topic of discussion among my friends, family, colleagues has been: will life ever get back to normal? I’m no Nostradamus and I suppose what is normal? Normal 100 years ago was not flying anywhere. Normal 500 years ago was drowning, burning witches. Normal 1000 years ago saw the Roman Empire as the super-power. And…
As I see it…300 days between flights.
As a frequent traveller pre-COVID, I enjoyed (endured) 300 days between my last flight pre-COVID and my return to flight as Australia came to grips with a COVID normal state. My first flight was Canberra to Melbourne. Canberra had pretty much avoided the dramas, while Melbourne had finally negotiated a harrowing winter and extreme lockdowns.…
As I see it…travel and photography
As a family, we often travelled in Australia: Gulgong and rural NSW, the Snowy Mountains, Canberra, the Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast. My first memory of overseas travel is a trip to Lord Howe Island. We flew out of Sydney Harbour on a sea plane to Lord Howe. I loved the flight, everyone else was…
As I see it…hard Work
Mum, bless her soul, writes in her journal in 1982 how happy she is. She has four wonderful boys and a loving and hardworking husband. She writes that Dad has worked so hard and he has provided her and us with a wonderful life. She discusses his work at the pubs we owned, his hard…
As I see it…time and memory
The concept of time weighs heavily with me, even before that crisp August morning. The day you, Mum, died. 29 August, 2017. Judgement day. I have always been fascinated with time, so much so that one of my major assignments in high school was based on time. I researched the great philosophers who have examined…
As I see it…sight
As you’ve read, I’ve got pretty crappy eyesight. Mum writes in her journal, July 1967, when I’m 18 months old: I feel for him so, although it doesn’t worry him at all, he does everything he should for his age, in time I think something may be done, so I must learn to live with…