Black cockatoos – their mournful cry carrying far and wide – intruded on a day which should have been free of birds, one devoted to another favourite subject of mine, Victorian history. I was in the middle of a tourist presentation called Louisa’s Walk, a stroll intoTasmania’s convict past that embraces the Cascades Gardens in South Hobart and the nearby site of the Cascade Women’s Factory, when the yellow-tailed black cockatoos paid our party a call. The life of Irish … [Read more...] about Lament for a life lost
Blog
The Chronicle’s dancing queen
SOMETHING was in the air. The staff of the Chronicle in Davey Street couldn’t quite put their fingers on it, but something was definitely afoot. ``We’re speaking in bloody cliches,’’ said Don Bentley when the matter came up during the sub-editors’ dinner break. ``Cliches or no cliches,’’ said the sports editor, Peter Mirowski. ``It’s the winds of change, and they’re blowing up a storm.’’ The Chronicle had been trying to secure the services of a sports sub-editor for 18 … [Read more...] about The Chronicle’s dancing queen
The naked truth
ONCE a week when Don Bentley worked in Townsville, he would go on walk-about during his break. Bentley usually went home for dinner but on Wednesday nights he had a night off from this routine. On Wednesdays his wife took their young son to play roller hockey and this gave Bentley an opportunity to visit some of the many pubs that dotted the Townsville city centre, or its beach and port-side fringes. Bentley loved pubs and his favourite during his time in Townsville had … [Read more...] about The naked truth
The end of an era
DON BENTLEY slumped down in his armchair in front of the television set. He was in shock and at first Bentley’s wife looked at him in silence. After a few minutes, she said tentatively, quietly: ``Everything all right dear?’’ Bentley said nothing. He sipped at the glass of shiraz he had just poured, his eyes fixed on the television, watching a cricket match being beamed from England. ``So how did it go?’’ his wife said again. Don Bentley had just returned home, early, … [Read more...] about The end of an era
Old habits die hard
Don Bentley could not look at a keyboard without tasting the tarry, sweet tobacco of a Players Navy Cut on his lips, or feel the stinging sensation of blue tobacco smoke in the eyes. The smoke, the rat-tat-tat of the manual typewriter, the clattering of telex machines; it was a heady mix of the journalism of his generation. A journalist without a cigarette dangling from his or her lips, or a smoking fag in an overflowing ashtray, was missing a part of equipment as vital to … [Read more...] about Old habits die hard