The train stopped and two guys, one bearded and one clean-shaven, got on. They were broad-shouldered and solid — the built to last types — and serious-looking too. They sat down at the back of the car and I put my head down and resumed my reading.
I looked up when one of the guys, the bearded one, walked past again. He walked all . . .
On the fridge at my work there is a sign about the milk. The sign says that company milk is for use in regular teas or coffees only. If you want cereal or porridge in the morning then you better get some private milk.
There are other signs too. There is a sign about the spoons: everyone is meant to wash their own and return it to the cutlery . . .
The list of places in and around the city of Adelaide which may rightly be described as being some form of ‘hell in paradise’ is much shorter than the list simply labelled ‘hell’. One place on the former must surely be the McLaren Vale region. At least on a long weekend in June with a wine festival going on.
The . . .
When I was at university and it was a big thing my friend went on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? This was the original Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? when they were actually playing for a million dollars every Monday night and they had those lifelines, like the ‘fifty-fifty’ and the ‘phone-a-friend’.
Even though I . . .
Alex is my barber. John and Sam also work at the shop but their names are not on the door mat.
Alex is sixty-five years old and hasn’t had a day off for at least the last twenty of those. He still works six days a week and has the shop open for the first customer by seven-thirty, sharp. I see him carefully counting out the till as I . . .
The second time I moved out of home I rented a small unit in the inner-south suburb of Black Forest. I only stayed there a year. That was enough.
A person from work still lives in the suburb and describes it as ‘a place where many people with a social conscience live’. I have no idea what that means but it’s a pleasant . . .
The following took place on a Qantas flight from Sydney to Adelaide on a Friday evening. I was seated in the last row of the plane, window seat. In the aisle seat sat a young lady, twenty at the most, and plain and nice. Last to board was the young, scruffy-looking guy in the middle seat. He had a double crown and a bad double crown at that, . . .