Not so long ago suicide was something you rarely read about in the press, due to an informal agreement between the media and the “helping professions” not to overly publicise the how and where aspects of suicide, as it is believed to spark copycat suicides. The advent of online journalism, social media and the 24 hour news cycle has more or less consigned that gentlemen’s agreement to the too-hard basket. The Australian mentioned the word…
When I started this weekly essay three months ago, I was aware that from late June it would tend to have the flavour of a travelogue, given that we were about to set off on a three-month expedition across remote parts of this magnificent land. Now at the half-way point, coming to the end of a three-day stop at a bush camp in Karajini National Park, I’m doing it the old-fashioned way: who, what, where,…
So I’m standing in front of a smeary mirror in an outback caravan park washroom having a shave when this old bloke walks in. “Owya goin? “Great thanks,” (continue shaving while Old Bloke goes into a cubicle nearby). “Whereyaheadin?” says the voice from behind the door (rustling of clothing and clang of belt buckle as pants hit floor). “Goin’ to Katherine then headin’ west to Broome,” I say, going with the flow of outback caravan…
I was sitting outside a remote Northern Territory roadhouse in the sun, enjoying a Mars bar, musing on the whys and wherefores of life when I was somewhat startled by the appearance of a troupe of US Marines. I know we’ve been out of touch for a while, but surely this was a ‘friendly’ force… They had stopped off at the Victoria River Roadhouse to buy snack food, use the latrines, saying y’all and howdy…