Mel Jurd’s wine bar was the hub. The old pub had burnt to the ground in the late fifties. It is said; Mel himself inadvertently put petrol i...

Mid seventies and Cessnock Council had a problem. Land was dirt cheap (sic) and allotments plentiful. As villages around Wollombi shrank, pr...

Heat almost drove me inside. Too much around the middle from years of sedentary work then a sudden move to the country found me seriously un...

Sis dragged me there just in time to stop me going totally ga-ga. We had been nursing Mum twenty-four seven for over a year and were worn ou...

Mirth followed me out the door as I left to find a printer for my twenty-one year old Atari Mega computer, 1989 model. No joy in shops so I ...

There are some things we would rather forget that others would rather remember. In another life I was in Graham (Fatty) Lyle’s band at Chann...

Tiddler in the Bogpond. Read this story of high farce. This is how it came to pass: I pay up They stuff up! Bigpond, Bigpond, ‘Kiss my arse!...

Time: 4 AM every Saturday morning. Place: Newfarm Brisbane (or you-name-it). Scene: Several police cars, sometimes an ambulance or two, sev...

We are all familiar with the term ‘having a tiger by the tail’ and notwithstanding that those words may enjoy other meanings when presented ...

A generation ago Little Sis persuaded Mum, recently widowed, to guarantee a loan to her husband’s employer so he could buy a set of tyres fo...