Fran Collins – Burnside Writers Group

Fran Collins: Obsession

It’s interesting how a singular activity can become an obsession. Sometimes with good outcomes. Sometimes not. My particular obsession provided all things positive. It was born in 1988 and was a personal challenge to reduce the time it took me to reach the top waterfall of Edith Falls, south of Darwin. After four years ofContinue reading “Fran Collins: Obsession”

Fran Collins: Hiding in Plain Sight

Xavier pulled up at the kerb and parked his 1995 Holden in leafy Rosewater Street,where his aunt had resided for decades. His rangy long legs cleared every secondstep leading up to the front door. He rang the bell. No response. He rang the bellagain. No response. He pressed the bell a third time holding itContinue reading “Fran Collins: Hiding in Plain Sight”

Fran Collins: An Invitation

Sitting in a café in Broome in the monsoonal heat of the Kimberley, I struck up a conversation with an American woman. She introduced me to an unconventional way of living. ‘How would I like to volunteer on a station out of Derby in an exciting new enterprise? It’s a unique project. It uses ecology-basedContinue reading “Fran Collins: An Invitation”

Fran Collins: Then I Fixed It

What a scorcher was that Melbourne summer of December, 1967. The Bureau of Meteorology had predicted bush fires for the Dandenong Ranges and fire bans were in place in early October. Residents perched on ladders were zealously clearing their guttering of dried leaves and other combustibles. Blinds drawn, windows closed, and where no blinds protectedContinue reading “Fran Collins: Then I Fixed It”

Fran Collins: An Adventure into Nature

An impulse to bend rules and indulge in some ‘risky business’, along with a big injection of hormonal lust, saw me accompany the sexy, blond-haired Sven on a trip to Banias Falls. Nineteen seventy-three. We were volunteers on Kibbutz[i] Amiad, in the Golan Heights, a stone’s throw from the Sea of Galilee and 40 kilometresContinue reading “Fran Collins: An Adventure into Nature”

Fran Collins: After The Storm

Nineteen seventy-three. Another missing person. Close to home. Home was the Al Akbar Apartment House, West Bank, Jerusalem. It was a thirty-minute walk along a dusty goat track to the Jaffa Gate in the Old City, where I worked. Sitting here in Adelaide, in my kitchen in 2021, I celebrate the forty-eighth anniversary of ourContinue reading “Fran Collins: After The Storm”

Fran Collins: Lost In Translation

‘I promise you it won’t be difficult or dangerous, really Fran.’ A simple request of deep friendship from my friend, Sinead. Belfast, 1973, a city besieged, with search checkpoints located strategically at turnstiles at the entrances to the CBD. Skeletal remains of buildings partially blown away, walls plastered with graffiti, evidence of a city atContinue reading “Fran Collins: Lost In Translation”