Every autumn, Dad and Mum picked berries while my brother and I, with our sieves, fished for yabbies and tadpoles. Once caught, we placed them in our glass jars to take home as pets. I liked to watch my tadpoles slowly turn into frogs, if they didn’t die or get eaten by our cats first.Read more "Exploring Adelaide Hills"
I think the water reflecting the sky, all silver, the people on the wet sand, a mirror, swaying and twisting for cockles captured my attention. I’d been there, on the glassy surface, watching for bubbles, grinding my heel into the bog, feeling for the sharp edges of shell and plucking out the cockles that snapped shut when exposed to air.Read more "Fantastic Fleurieu–Goolwa"
Koalas, if there were any, remained hidden. Mating season over, cold day, and these marsupials preferred to hide in lofty gum trees, getting high on eucalyptus leaves and sleeping. The Swiss visitors then set their hopes on seeing koalas in the wild at Morialta. Perhaps Morialta koalas are more sociable.Read more "The Fantastic Fleurieu"
‘What?’ Kirk slid onto a beanbag sized cushion as if he were God’s gift to a galaxy full of females. ‘Cat got your tongue?’
He jumped up, stretched and flexed his muscles. ‘I won’t bite.’
That’s not the story I got from Boris.
Ten minutes later, Dad dragged himself over the last ridge and limped to the summit. There, he sat on a rock and rubbed his knee. ‘O-o-oh!’ He inspected the damage, red and swollen. ‘I tripped and fell on my knee. I hope I can get down alright.’
‘You better,’ C1 laughed. ‘You can’t exactly camp up here.’
‘It’s the pollution. I must warn you about this planet. The laws on this planet are, that there are no laws. Every man does as he sees fit, to quote the Bible. When I read about Sodom and Gomorrah, I think of this planet,’ the Commander added. ‘Remember your spiritual armour, you will need it. And don’t forget your guardian angels, too. And whatever you do, stick by me, don’t go wandering off on your own—it’s a demonic jungle out there.’Read more "Out of the Chocolate Box (57)"
Driver picked her crowded teeth with the end of a paper clip.
We sat at the bridge of the “Storm”, a small craft, but we did nothing, and the computer did everything: Navigation, piloting, maintenance—you name it, the machine did it, even serving tea and coffee.
‘I suppose a hundred years has passed back there,’ I said.
‘Oh, no my dear, nothing like that! Time doesn’t pass that quickly.’ Driver corrected. ‘Only a few months really.’