One day, not so long ago, somewhere between three and four decades, but who’s counting, I had the misfortune of accidentally sending the garbage bin in the bathroom crumbling to the floor. Whoopsies. Dad heard the crash and commotion, popped his head in. “It was an accident Dad. I didn’t mean to.” He gave my noggin a brushing, said “You know what, if I clean that up for you, do you promise to clean it up some day if accidentally knock it over too?” Do I? Of course! What an id

I was never big on the paranormal, more as a defence mechanism than a true disbelief. Sneaking a viewing of Poltergeist as a young’un led to so many sleepless nights that I think my fragile little mind simply decided the notion of all that frightening mumbo jumbo was just not worth entertaining. And that’s fair enough. I’m still scared of the TV the moment the reception falls out. They’re here…farkin’ oath they are! But there was a moment I was reminded of recently thanks to

The chooks are more dependable than clockwork in this outer realm of Indonesia, up bright and chirpy, cuckooing their way through the dawn.

Peter always treasured the world that was going on around him. You’ll find these people along your way, kind souls who are stoked simply on being alive. There’s a calm to be found in their presence, a sense that all is the way it should be, and it’s bloody beaut just like that. Something he especially loved was taking a few minutes at a lookout. I’m sure at similar moments when he wasn’t with me he’d light up a joint to mark the moment, but when it was me and Super Dad, we’d