To any of you who read and like what you see I no longer publish posts on this blog. I was being trolled quite severely so I move to another site. If you comment and ask me I will send the name of the new post to you by email. Thanks for you interest.
Marguerite wasn’t the only person who treated us well. One day I went to the small magasin alimentaire where I bought our few essentials and asked the shopkeeper where I could find a small fishing line as I wished to try my hand at fishing off the wharf. He called to his relatively sour looking…
I still want to know what Marguerite looks like now she is a mature woman. And what kind of a woman she became. She is no figment of my imagination. She was real, as real that is as any girl of twelve can be. I am sure she is beautiful and strong but I’ll have to…
I told you I’d tell you a bit about Fred Finley. This is in the same context as the previous story. Fred was an old bloke when we knew him as kids. He could have been forty or he could have been seventy. We will never know. But he lived in a shack in the…
Papa Borg. I don’t know how memory works. What is going on in the brain. Are there cells that are like the memory on my hard drive, or is something magic happening. And does it get stored in ‘the Cloud’? Since Ian died I suppose I have been letting the ideas of aging and dying…
When Christmas is over and the sounds of the city quieten and there is no one around, then there is little to do but lie on one’s bed and think of days long gone. I did. And now I have to make a confession. I have been told, that I did not complete my early…
I know that this was published only three weeks ago but I’m posting it again just for Remembrance day. Remembrance Day used to be almost as big as ANZAC Day but has declined a bit. So this is my effort for the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month when the guns…
My paternal Grandfather was a theological student and became an Anglican Minister. He visited Australia from England in 1902 and there met my Grandmother. He only stayed in Australia for about two months. They became engaged either then or later. He returned to England and then went to Canada and was one of the foundation…
Someone asked for photos so I immediately messaged my younger brother in Northern Queensland to ask him if he could send a couple. He just as immediately unlocked the 753 safety deposit boxes of family memorabilia and sent me nine. “Is that enough?” he asked. Of course it was enough! I had only asked for…
There is another repost on My Stories Vol Two that some of you will remember. It is at Link
What would you do with an empty silent picture movie theatre if you knew it was about to be pulled down and the land used for highrise units? I guess it would depend a lot on who you were and what you did. But if you were Melbourne’s pre-eminent street artist you would paint it.…
We each and all dream. Often times our dreams are wishes. Daydreams are remembrances or unearned riches. Most of us have dreams as hopes but we do little about it. So I wrote the following poem not for myself; except maybe as an atonement for wasted opportunity. Nor did I write it for the boy…
Since I posted this I chanced to find an old packet of slides. So I inserted a few of them instead of what I got from Google. There are more coming in the next post. They were young. But as only young boys know that they will have true and everlasting love, the young…
I did stop and have another chat with Domenico. This time I took a bottle of Absinthe. I was just a little tired of Cassis. -What is the occasion this time? he asked as he opened the bottle with no hesitation. -No occasion and I was getting sick of your Cassis so I thought you…
It is over six months since I told the story of the old man who drank his last glass of Cassis with Domenico in Acland Street. Today I got on the tram and went down to Acland Street and sat to have a coffee with Dom – it had been a long time. I bought a bottle…
