REAL STORIES
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Sunday, October 22, 2017

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I didn’t plan this journey. Every journey has a beginning and a perceived ending – destination. But this one? I didn’t know where it originated and therefore I had no idea where it would end.

On a cool May morning in 1998, I collapsed at the super market in our community and was rushed to Hilltop Hospital, a private medical center. At the hospital, I was diagnosed with cerebral malaria, treated, and discharged after three days. Within a week of recuperation at home, I was back at the hospital, diagnosed with meningitis. The earlier cerebral malaria diagnosis was incorrect. After six... Read More

I’m met at the airstrip by Toi my guide, with a vice-like handshake and welcoming lei of yellow bougainvillea draped around my neck. Two skinny girls in grass skirts and goosebumps serenade to the strains of a ukulele played by a man in a knitted jacket over an Hawaiian shirt. It’s winter on Easter Island.

Toi’s home is on the coast, by the main village of Hanga Roa. He swaggers around his clapped-out Kombi, kicking tyres with dusty sandaled feet. “The roads, they are no good here. I must be checking for tomorrow.”

That night we walk a beach strewn with stranded sea cucumbers... Read More

Image: http://www.911truth.org/

This image brings the tears and memories back

I have been wanting to do this blog for a while and plucked up the courage after a chat with someone today who had a story to tell of their own http://andthemoonseesall.wordpress.com/

So thank you to them for their discussion with me on how hard it was for them on that day and what memories they have, they were honest and still 12 years on you could feel the hurt

I was just back from picking my kids up from School, my two sons who were at primary school, aged 8 and 10 and I walked in the... Read More

On my last night in Prague, I’m dining with Bohdan at the Jindrisska belltower; a rustic restaurant occupying the top three floors. Panoramic views span the famous `one hundred spires’. Just above us hangs the c1518 St Mary’s Bell, our tiny table and chairs tucked between great Gothic beams. A flickering candle catches empty pilsner bottles and throws shadows on dark wooden walls. We’re eating rare venison in red wine, wild boar, potatoes and asparagus spears.

Bohdan is a busker and a bear of a man; close cropped hair, a still boyish face and an incongruous grey bush of a beard. Most... Read More

I’m back in Johannesburg for an extended African stay, after an absence of over 35 years. There's no immigration paperwork, and I'm simply issued a visa at the airport. From Perth it's been an 11hr flight, across the Indian Ocean, skirting Mauritius and Mozambique.

The city is waking to another sky of azure blue, the signature of a high veldt winter. But there are looming clouds: the uncertain health of the elder statesman Nelson Mandela, a remarkable man having once inspired a young Barack Obama to urge his college board of trustees to divest South African investments as a protest against... Read More

Straight from a long lunch, I raise my umbrella and head for the pedestrian bridge. Crossing the river, I turned onto the station path; Melbourne cold and soaked after 6-days rain. I recall the soulful sounds of an upright 2-string Vietnamese fiddle commingling with the distant strains of bagpipes that echo from under the bluestone bridge. There’s the flash of a tram – all green and gold – city-bound clatter and the clang of a bell.

Looking at my watch, I’ve shaken the umbrella and turned to drop down the steps, I scan my ticket after dodging smokers engrossed in that final cigarette... Read More

I met Becky in the supermarket dairy aisle; a vivacious 40-something, born and raised locally. I’d seen her around, but we’d never met before Ed reappeared. I asked how my old friend was. “Not so good,” she said. “Still can’t sleep. And he really struggles with ANZAC Day. He won’t see a doctor. I’m hoping he’ll finally talk to other Vets.” Becky stared blankly at the shelves of milk. “What else can I do? I love that man.” A self-conscious smile and she turns away. I head home thinking of Ed and the upcoming reunions across Australia and New Zealand.

Ed’s an old school friend, us both... Read More

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