Let’s just imagine going for a bush walk in a national park, say five or ten years from now. As you set off on foot with your smart phone, selfie stick and water bottle, a tribe of kids and adults whiz past on mountain bikes. In the distance, you can hear the throaty buzz of trail bikes traversing the circuit reserved for them on the other side of the mountain. A kilometre or so down…
A long time ago in a faraway land… So there’s me and 20 other foreign travellers, sitting around a bonfire on a farm in the south of France. We are there for the vendange – the grape harvest. It is well-paid, hard work − dawn till dusk − and only rarely can we find the energy to stay up late socialising. Sitting around a campfire under a sickle moon singing, as you do, the Romanian…
What is it about the flag that has us all in a flutter? From the red corner (anti-monarchist, anti-nationalist), it pains me to admit I felt a bit affronted by images of Reclaim Australia supporters wearing the flag like a cape. Fair go, fellas (and ladies), a great many people died in wars on behalf of that symbol. With one exception (Cathy Freeman spontaneously celebrating her epic athletic feat), I reckon people who use the…
A long time ago in a faraway land, a friend mentioned a young colleague’s name for promotion, citing this person’s problem-solving abilities and agreeable attitude. “But he’s a clock watcher,” his boss said, closing the discussion right there (implying by a terse choice of words that my friend was a poor judge of character). The term “clock watcher” cuts both ways in industrial relations circa 2015. The management clock watcher keeps a close tally on…