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I prayed last month. And not just a quick mumble before the Sunday roast but a proper “Are you there God?, It’s me, Ben” supplication.
It has been a while since I have been to any place of worship so the gnawing sense of guilt and obligation propelled me to a pew three rows from the front.
The old place – about 4km from the Perth CBD – may be considered sacred but whoever does the maintenance is less than devout. The paint is fading and anyone average height or above has their ears around their knees when taking a seat. Continue reading →
Fishing and writing go together like the ALP and Howard-era immigration policies. The Compleat Angler was written by Izaak Walton in 1653 and is widely considered to be one of the earliest sporting books ever published.
If Ernest Hemingway wasn’t drinking or hunting or passing on suicidal genes to his offspring, he was fishing. I present to you my own fishing tale and, like all good stories, the main character learns a lesson. Continue reading →