The Chronicle

He could be found on Elizabeth Mall in the centre of Hobart any weekday afternoon, lost and lonely looking for the past. David Mooney had retired from his position as horse racing writer on the Chronicle a year previously and didn’t know what to do with himself during the afternoons and evenings when the horses were not running at Hobart’s track. Horse racing, in fact, held little interest for him, something he had discovered the day he walked down the stairs of the … [Read more...] about Looking for the past

Frankie Allen stood in the lift, his back to the wall, facing the mock-Tudor bar he had just left. He had not looked back when he had pressed the button to summon the lift to the first floor of the Elizabeth Hotel in Johannesburg. Perhaps he didn’t want to look back at the colleagues remaining in the bar, carrying on with their drinking and chatting, carrying on with their lives. But in the split second it took for the lift doors to close Frankie Allen turned around and … [Read more...] about That place ‘over the road’

The assignment was not the one reporter Lucy Archer wanted when she looked at the newsroom diary that morning. Courts were sitting, there might be a juicy case and here she was presented with the prospect of joining a dating agency with the eventual aim of writing a feature article about this growing social phenomenon. She came to Bentley to complain, who always provided a sympathetic ear for reporters with a complaint, a grouse. Bentley always listened, and understood. … [Read more...] about A date that defies destiny

Don Bentley was so engrossed in his book on journalism and that he didn’t notice the young woman looking at him. Not at first. She sat facing him on the Basingstoke semi-fast and her eyes shifted from the cover of Bentley's book, and its title, How to be a Journalist, to Bentley and back to the cover again. After a while, looking up as the carriage rocked and swayed as it crossed the points at Clapham Junction, Bentley sensed that he had attracted someone's attention. He … [Read more...] about All the world’s a stage

As a football referee, Tristan Turner flouted the convention that the man in the middle should be unobtrusive and anonymous in ensuring the smooth passage of play. During games, Tristan Turner would dig the toes of his Adidas football boots into the muddy turf and fling up his arms in an extravagant gesture in the style of Rudolph Nureyev. Turner brought ballet to soccer, explaining that the game was ethereal, it floated across the turf untroubled by physical contact, … [Read more...] about Referee with goals of his own