Boom or bust? A dispatch from my home in the Hunter
Our local cinema has been shuttered for decades. Our long-term bank closed its doors – and its ATM – ages ago. But there are signs of life.
Our local cinema has been shuttered for decades. Our long-term bank closed its doors – and its ATM – ages ago. But there are signs of life.
I’m going tell the story of the most traumatic event of my primary education – something that accelerated my exit from formal education at the ripe young age of 15.
So next time you’re in LA, add this to your agenda – as well as Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills and the stars in the pavement. It’s as big a star as any in Hollywood.
Guesstimates about the most intelligent humans – the likes of Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Einstein, Faraday, Shakespeare and Newton – abound. But IQ doesn’t really matter these days.
I can barely detect the difference between red, white and rosé. Poor eyesight and palate. Chablis? Claret? Don’t ask me. As far as I know it could be vinegar or raspberry cordial.
The tyranny of fashion endured by our women is as heavy-handed as forcing Islamic women to don the burqa.
Gough Whitlam would always cross out one of my l’s on personal or official correspondence, insisting that Philip was suitable only as a prenom, and Phillip was for surnames. But I’m not to blame.
Though I’m deaf, it’s a long time since I’ve heard utter, total, restful silence. Silence in which to think. Or not to. In a world of endless noise and relentless racket, humans seem afraid of it.
‘All politicians, irrespective of place or time in history, come in one of three categories: Straights, Fixers or Maddies,’ once quipped Tony Benn. To which group does a new generation of world leaders belong?
Thinking back over the perils of a long life, I recall many near-death experiences. All in all my continued survival is a tad, well, miraculous. Odd for an atheist. Thanks, God.
Original URL: https://www.theaustralian.com.au/author/phillip-adams/page/2