Featured Writing on Tall And True

Friday evening peak hour, and I'm driving home via the local Chinese restaurant. The queue at the nearby petrol station stretches until the weekend. I'd skip it, but Mel reminded me about the kids' Saturday school sports when she texted me to collect takeaway for dinner tonight. And I won't have time to stop for fuel while ferrying Tommy and Tess across town tomorrow morning.

Before I became a dad at forty, I was an uncle in my thirties. I loved playing uncle with my nieces and nephews, and from the experience, I knew I'd love being a dad, too. Some of my nieces and nephews are now in their thirties. But my youngest niece is nine, and she likes to write stories with Uncle Robert.

The four of us went on a cheap surfing trip to Bali in our twenties. We rented a beach bungalow, hired clapped-out two-stroke bikes, haggled over tie-dyed singlets in the markets, and ate on the streets. It was a long time ago. But I've never forgotten the week I spent in bed, writhing with "Bali Belly".

A trip to springtime Japan clashed with the April 2026 Not Quite Write Prize. I've submitted a story for every flash fiction competition run by the Not Quite Write Podcast since July 2023. But I couldn't dedicate a weekend to writing a 500-word story while holidaying in Japan with my family. So I wrote a haiku.

I set off in my son's old HiAce van on a road trip to Uluṟu with my 14-year-old dog, Jet, in September 2025. We spent six days at Uluṟu's Ayers Rock Campground, Jet resting while I walked and rode a bike at Uluṟu and Kata Tjuṯa. Neither of us was keen on the long drive home in the van.

I read the news today. Oh boy, it's March 30th! You say it's your birthday. It's my birthday, too. How old? Well, when I was younger, so much younger than today, I sang along to the Beatles' "When I'm Sixty-Four" (trying not to sing out of key). But now I am sixty-four. And I need a little help from my friends.

Jez closed her eyes, took a deep breath, savouring the hot, dry air of the sauna in her nostrils and the sweat on her skin. It had been another stressful day. It began with getting the kids ready for school and packing their bags for the weekend with their father. And then she'd worked back late at the office.

Episode 107 (8 December 2025): Bernie sat by himself on the far side of the emergency department waiting room. Elsie and Rita were sitting together, near the doors to the operating theatres. Elsie was sobbing, and Bernie wanted to console her, but he couldn't face Rita's wrath again. "It's all your fault, Bernie!" she'd shouted at him.

The reality TV game show host and former three-term president was grumpy. And not just because the makeup artist used the wrong orange skin tone on him or that his show's ratings were lousy. He wanted to fire the three remaining contestants on Trillionaire Survivor. But B, Z and M kept cheating and surviving!

In 2019, approaching the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I found a timely book in a secondhand bookshop: The Berlin Wall, 13 August 1961 – 9 November 1989 by Frederick Taylor. The book inspired me to write about my contrasting visits to Berlin as a backpacker in 1987 and 1995.

Two disclosures. Firstly, I've known Ashley Kalagian Blunt for several years, from her work at Writing NSW and conversations on social media about our writing projects. Secondly, I am not a big reader of crime fiction. But I know it's a popular genre, and after binge-reading Dark Mode, I can see why.

The writer John Banville observed, "Memory is imagination, and imagination is memory. I don't think we remember the past, we imagine it." I have vivid memories of my early childhood (I believe they're memories, not imagination), which is why the #5YearOldSelfie challenge on social media caught my eye.