The smell of Scotch makes me want to puke. That’s an astonishing thing for a Scot to say. Let’s call it a physical memory; traces of a bender with no recollections to go with the nauseating smell. Our State of Origin friends gathered on Wednesday for food, wine, conviviality and (as it turned out), a fairly subdued evening as our team was soundly beaten. I’d forgotten to get some sparking mineral water or what we…
Dear readers, it’s time for those of you who don’t like rugby league or sport in general to get back to posting cat and dog photos on Facebook. Today we ask the unthinkable: why not scrap this faux State rivalry called State of Origin and let footie players get back to their own teams? Each year at this time, professional rugby league players face a massive conflict. If you’re good enough, fit enough and have…
So I’m walking the dog in unfamiliar territory – Brisbane bayside suburbs. I have my little black plastic dog doo bag tucked into the hip pocket of my jeans, as one should. But it seems many people in this particular suburb don’t give a shit about dog shit, if you’ll pardon my Flemish. If you’d taken a plastic supermarket bag and a trowel on this walk and could be bothered, you’d end up with a…
So I’ve just been to the dentist for a clean and descale. It’s a must-do, twice-yearly chore. As I walk back to the car I’m looking for suitably long grass to spit out the remains of the fluoride wash. As I near 70, I’m hearing dental horror stories from my peers. Most of these anecdotes involve four-figure quotes for implants, bridges or crowns. I still have most of my own teeth and a couple of…