The strawberries keep coming
It’s mid autumn here in Broken Hill, the leaves are turning on the grapevine and the grass has slowed its growth but the strawberries just keep coming. Three weeks ago … Continue reading
Enjoy the view
There’s a big red bench in Broken Hill, planted on top of the slag heap that divides north from south. The treeless expanse of broken rock is studded with old … Continue reading
Beating heart of Broken Hill
I drive out to the desert most days, park the car on a patch of dirt and set off towards a line of hills. In late afternoon the coming night … Continue reading
Pick me. I know you want to.
Pick me. I know you want to. Besides you’ll be doing me a favour I might only have a few days left, one or two at most. What if today’s … Continue reading
Why I don’t cut the lawn. Or drive at night.
I don’t cut the lawn because Clyde doesn’t have a lawnmower. Besides, I’d be doing Joe out of a job. Joe cuts the lawn, has done for years, and he … Continue reading
Strawberries in the Desert 
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