Silence!

When I taught teenagers back in the olden days I would often use songs that I could turn into a part of the lesson. Songs like Dylan’s “I will not go down under the Ground” or “Last thoughts on Woodie Guthrie” or Australian songs about War and peace. I also used Simon and Garfunkle’s song…

Another ANZAC story

Before I met Marguerite, her school teacher and the Harbour Master in Port-Vendre all those forty-two years ago I met some other Frenchmen and women in a small village. It was on the way from the North and down through the centre to Marseille. Now there are some details in what I have to tell you…

An ANZAC Day post.

I do need to put the following poem on for today. Wilfred Owen was an English Army Officer who wrote many poems about war but only four were published while he was alive. He was killed in France on 4 November 1918, one week before the signing of the Armistice. He was awarded the Military Cross for…

Coxiella burnetii

I just stole something off Facebook. One of my students was a young Japanese girl who couldn’t speak English when she arrived in Australia. But she was a great student. In English she excelled at learning off by heart Shelley’s ‘Ozymandias’ and a couple of Shakespearean soliloquies.In fact she was good in all academic areas. So I…

Show & Tell

One day, after Marguerite had taken Daniel for a promenade dans le poussoir she told me that tomorrow I must be ready early, and dressed nicely and to behave myself. She would not explain anymore than that. You need to understand that this was all in her very simple way of talking which she thought would…

The Harbour Master

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…

Marguerite

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…

A case of misadventure. Chapter The Last.

It was well after one o’clock and all I needed was a chance to sleep. I was safe from Hank and Marken and the two goons. I took my shirt and trousers off and crawled into bed. My first thought as I closed my eyes was that tomorrow I would like to have a chance…

A case of misadventure Chapter eight

After my second whisky the idea started to make sense. Now, whenever I come up with a good idea I usually try to include a lady in it. Preferably one who is easy to look at and has a sense of humour. The trouble is that most ideas I have had, that include a lady…

A case of misadventure. Chapter seven

The next day or two didn’t do my hiatus hernia much good. The acid build-up in my stomach had me drinking vanilla milkshakes instead of Boag’s Draught or Sullivan’s Cove single malt. This was the culinary low point of my geriatric years. I really don’t trust any police officer or organisation that is happy to…