Friday, March 29, 2013

The Easter Fish

The humble fish has a fair amount of connection with mankind at this time of the year. We rarely give them any credit for the part that they play; however there is one who cares for these critters, and it pleases me to bring many accolades to,........wait for it,........  the Oyster Bunny

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Why Write

I write words, I put thoughts on paper, not great thoughts nor great words,
But themes that may induce some enjoyable thought in others.
I cannot reach out and touch all those that I seek to please,
I only have hope that I find those that will be my sisters and brothers.
A family of like minds where we communicate for the sake of joy,
For the pleasure of saying the things that calm the troubled mind.
Inspire happiness, or love, or the most delightful things of life,
Using the word like a gentle caress, maybe even a lovers toy.
To stand and talk face to face to some is a waste of thought,
For whilst you speak they travel mental roads, different tracks.
To place the written word before their eyes, commands attention
Yet the fault lies with the ones whose power to learn, often lacks.
The written word, like ink stains in the cloth, like brands upon stock,
Sits in perpetuity, waiting for someone to seek another's mind.
And then, in decades yet to come, you may strike a resonant chord,
That, my brothers and sisters of the pen, is the power of the written word.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

In remission

The Adventures of Old Pete and the camel trip will have a rest for awhile.  They have arrived at Marrakorpa and Elk's little home on the Prarie.

Words have caught up with me, and I am on another story for teenagers at the moment.

So folks, I hope you enjoyed the trip of insanity and intrigue with Old Pete and Reddie (taken from a real person) and the almost clothed Heidi.

We shall return, I feel sure.

Sunday, March 17, 2013


Did it move for you?  Someone might ask, or someone else may say, "get moving", or just the simple "move it, but let me tell you, moving from one house to another is not fun at my age. It is frightening and should only be done if nothing else is available. I mean, it won't matter when they move me to the hole in the ground, or to the retirement home for the daft drovers and stunned station hands, but have a few senses left - moving house is for the birds.

I have lost a goodly part of my life, my sanity, my friendships and my bank account on account of this account.

Ya' know, I had no trouble moving house when I was droving or working on stations, it was only when I set down roots that I started to gather encumberances around me, like a wife and kids and all the garbage that goes with that combination.

When I was droving I moved  house every night. I woke up, rolled the swag, the cook loaded it on the truck with the other blokes' swags and that night you were in a new 'home'.  Now that is simple, hey?

Even working in the shearing sheds,  your 'house' consisted of a room in some quarters somewhere on the Outback plains, and your possessions were the swag and a few bits of tattered clothing. Never a spare pair of boots or an extra hat, as they were extras, as mentioned.

So now that I have moved house, using a moving truck would you beleive, and I am without the burden of the encumbent wife, and even if I weren't, the kids would not be around when the move took place in case they were designated to help.

I am now a massive four mile from where I was before; a bit like droving, I suppose. Sheep do not move that fast if you let 'em rest up.

One thing that I am happy about - I am just as close to you people that I talk to, and that is great. I am still pushed around by the delightful publisher of mine, the sweet Fiona Gatt.  If you think I am only crawling, I won't argue wiff' ya.