I like to write. I like to write about anything and everything and in the seclusion of my own space, whether at home, in a coffee shop or in the bush. But I can’t see the point of it unless other people read what i write. On this site you will find my passion for drama, history, unionism, and simply the pleasure of being creative with words. I like being me and I like being me in whatever I write; I hope you do too.

I have a fascination with words written on the page.

They let me into the world of the writer; the way the words are put together, what they say, and how they say it. I can see when they were written with care or in a rush  and if the person had a light touch or a heavy hand.  I look to see if the words just flowed or were carefully considered.

The page takes me to another time and another place. If I can actually hold the page I’m holding the very paper that was in that place and the words are actual marks made by the writer’s hand at that time.

I understand how an archivist might feel holding the journal of say Captain Cook knowing Cook had been in his cabin off the coast of Australia, scratching his impressions onto that very page. That journal was actually there.  

So it is for me every time I look at an old letter or document. I can’t help but think of the writer in that time and place making those marks to say something to someone.

He could never have imagined what his future would bring; that he would go to war and be gassed on the battle field; or that that grandson would one day be sitting, writing about him, and the words he wrote, more than a hundred years later.