Jason stepped with infinite care. He had waited at the threshold of the tomb, hoping his eyes would adapt to the darkness. But in vain: he could make out nothing. Only the sensation from the tentative sliding of his bare feet revealed anything about his surroundings. Sand, no obstacles; his outstretched hands encountered only air.Continue reading “Don Sinnott: An Audience with Elysus”
Category Archives: Don Sinnott
Don Sinnott: The Best of Times: The Worst of Times
Is it the good times or the bad times that stay with us? Is the mental glue stronger for joy or for sorrow? For me, Grade 4 is doubly anchored by that glue. My teacher that year was a disciplinarian with an emphasis on rote learning. Memory has never been my strong point; I developedContinue reading “Don Sinnott: The Best of Times: The Worst of Times”
Don Sinnott: A Holiday with a Difference: Part 1
October 2004. With funding for me to attend a three-day conference in Toulouse, in the south of France, my wife and I opted to build this into a shared four-week French holiday, including a week cycling. Cycling? What were we thinking? Neither of us was more than a very occasional cyclist but we committed toContinue reading “Don Sinnott: A Holiday with a Difference: Part 1”
Don Sinnott: The Birdsville Track: 1978. What Could Possibly Go Wrong
The bitumen stopped at Maree. We had driven our Holden Kingswood sedan, towing our camper trailer, to the only fuel outlet in town. Our friends, in their borrowed much-travelled Land Cruiser, waited behind us for their turn at the pump. We drew some comfort from travelling in company with a four-wheel drive vehicle as weContinue reading “Don Sinnott: The Birdsville Track: 1978. What Could Possibly Go Wrong”
Don Sinnott: Anchored in Thames Estuary – September 1843
The story so far… John, the carpenter on a ship leaving London bound for Adelaide, has noticed an attractive young woman, Bess, on deck among the steerage passengers who boarded the day before. He’s approached her and tried to impress by referring to their route, with apparent knowledge, to the colony of South Australia. SheContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Anchored in Thames Estuary – September 1843”
Don Sinnott: The Boss
Charles swivelled from his screen, his face a mix of irritation at the interruption and resignation about his open-door management policy. Edmond Brice stood in the doorway. ‘Sorry to interrupt you, boss, but I need to talk. If it’s convenient. Maybe it isn’t…’ He had read the look on Charles’s face. ‘Sure, come in Ed.Continue reading “Don Sinnott: The Boss”
Don Sinnott: Houseboat Holiday
It ticked all our boxes: an indulgent few days on a luxury Murray River houseboat, with guided walks each day over sections of the cliffs and floodplain, restaurant-quality meals and a comfortable bed. We found ourselves a generation removed from the other seven guests (and two generations from the two guides and the boat manager)Continue reading “Don Sinnott: Houseboat Holiday”
Don Sinnott: A Tale of Three Couples—Saturday arvo flicks, late 1950s
He wore his school pants—the only pair of longs he owned—and she wore her fourteenth birthday dress, a less comfortable fit than it was a year ago. They slid into their ticketed seats for the Saturday afternoon film, the girl clutching the gifted box of Jaffas, and self-consciously linked hands. As the Val MorganContinue reading “Don Sinnott: A Tale of Three Couples—Saturday arvo flicks, late 1950s”
Don Sinnott: Amateur car repairs, 1970s
Just a minor collision. A lady shopper reversing in the car park didn’t notice my wife, Wendy, driving past behind her. There was a crunch of deforming metal as her car’s rear end embedded itself in the passenger-side door of our car. The post-collision discussions lacked any heat—it was clear who was at fault andContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Amateur car repairs, 1970s”
Don Sinnott: Recollections of the Heysen Trail, South Australia
We’re loggers. Not the timber-cutting kind, but the kind who log their notable events in a journal. For years we’ve recorded recollections of journeys that bring a warm inner glow, peaks of joy and depths of gloom. We don’t intend to have others read our journals—although perhaps a later generation might skim them after we’veContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Recollections of the Heysen Trail, South Australia”
Don Sinnott: Murphy’s Law
Of course he was familiar with Murphy’s Law: ‘If anything can go wrong, it will.’ And its corollary, ‘If something can go wrong in multiple ways, it will go wrong in the worst possible way.’ Brett found these thoughts unsettling as he ruefully surveyed his crumpled car. Both Murphy’s law and its corollary seemed toContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Murphy’s Law”
Don Sinnott: January 1844*
A sailing ship, the Augustus, leaving Adelaide under a captain Duff and scratch crew has grounded off Encounter Bay and the captain has returned to shore in a rowboat to seek more crew members. The previous captain, Hart, and his crew have left belongings aboard which now must be retrieved. The two captains rent aContinue reading “Don Sinnott: January 1844*”
Don Sinnott: Memories of Mongolia
‘Let’s go somewhere different this year.’ Back in 2013, with international travel an expectation of our retirement plan, and a border-closing pandemic unthinkable, I had set my wife a challenge. An hour spent surfing travel sites and she emerged from the office triumphant. ‘How does a yak trek in Mongolia sound?’ Mongolia? My blank stareContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Memories of Mongolia”
Don Sinnott: Zooming the Branch Committee
The ‘old-timers’ had memories of smoke-filled rooms, with big-bellied men, shirts dishevelled and slackened ties askew, shouting over each other as they jabbed the air making their point. Clay had no experience of that era but, even in the more civil times in which he had joined the local branch committee, he’d known some roughContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Zooming the Branch Committee”
Don Sinnott: Walkers Follow Ridge
Today’s start point for our walk is near Woolshed Flat, a whistle stop on the Pichi Richi rail line, halfway along the pass between Quorn and Port Augusta. A road, now badged the southern section of the Flinders Ranges Way, shares the pass with the rail line and crosses it at several points. Whether youContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Walkers Follow Ridge”
Don Sinnott: House Hunting
They were rosellas. No doubt about it—dead ringers of those on the sauce bottle. The brilliant birds appeared in our yard a few weeks ago, paired off for the breeding season. But surely it’s still winter, the sap has yet to rise, avian ardour must lie dormant. Yet there they were, a devoted couple, clearlyContinue reading “Don Sinnott: House Hunting”
Don Sinnott: COVID Daze
Dan wasn’t a party a party animal. Never an expert in small talk, at social gatherings he either kept to himself or found a soulmate for a one-on-one chat. At work he was more attuned to planning business strategies in his own headspace than to the interactive ‘brain-storming’ sessions his management periodically called. His firmContinue reading “Don Sinnott: COVID Daze”
Don Sinnott: Dirac’s Lecture
Lectures—I’ve had a few. I recall some as soporific, mechanically delivered verbal sludge. Others had me hanging on every word from a skilled communicator. Yet one lecture I recall most vividly, although delivered in a droning style, had me on the edge of my seat. A group of theoretical physicists emerged in the early decadesContinue reading “Don Sinnott: Dirac’s Lecture”
Burnside Writers Group 