watch video Even though I have lived in the southern hemisphere since I was six years old, Kath Tait’s song about prejudice and xenophobia resonates with me. My folks immigrated to New Zealand, taking up residence in a two-horse North Island town in the 1950s. Kids at our school had strident voices and peculiar accents. I was a novelty – a six-year-old boy with a broad east coast Scottish accent. Women would come into the…
One bitingly cold Toowoomba morning at 4am I dragged myself out of bed for an assignment. The Chronicle’s chief of staff had asked me to cover the dawn service on Anzac Day, so I started at the local RSL, where returned servicemen were getting an early start on coffee and rum toddies. In the early 1980s, the Anzac Day service took place in the middle of Ruthven and Margaret Streets at the 8m tall Mothers’…
Roll up, roll up, see the tattooed lady We were mingling with herds of people last week at Suncorp Stadium (the Broncos won). On the train getting there, I espied an attractive woman in her late 20s, wearing a backless, strapless dress held up by natural means alone. While I was admiring the healthy tone of her skin, the fine down at the nape of the neck etc, she half turned to reveal what in…
We were at home on a sunny Sunday morning, getting ready for a house concert. Our two musician guests had just got out of bed when two well-dressed men wearing suits and hats came to the front door. They were clutching literature and, from the weighty look of their satchels, they had much to show and tell. She Who Reserves The Right to Edit This Stuff When It Affects Me (Ed.) said: “No thank-you. None…