Author: Peter
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The Plinth
Scene 1: The Plinth (Tuesday) Every Saturday, the crowds came.They spilled from trains and buses, jerseys clinging to skin, faces painted in club colours. At the edge of the plaza, the bronze footballer stood frozen—one leg raised, mid-kick, triumph etched into the sinews of his cast-metal thigh. Children climbed the plinth. Tourists struck poses. On…
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The Crush That Wasn’t
I was 17 and had just unlocked the holy trinity of teenage freedom: a driver’s license, a half-reliable car, and parents who happily filled the tank. Enter: her. Sixteen. Bright. Cheerful. Needed a lift home from youth group. Or outings. Or basically anywhere that I could feasibly drive without stalling. I had a crush. A…
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What I Hold
Every so often, I find myselfreaching for the map again,not the one with borders and rail lines,but the one folded somewhere in my chest—creased with names I’ve never spoken aloud,warmed by places I haven’t stood inbut already miss. I hold England like an heirloom—my grandmother in Leeds,the streets she might have walkedwith a loaf under…
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When People Are the Story
What’s your favourite thing about yourself?It’s an odd question, isn’t it? Odd, because I don’t tend to think in terms of favourites. And if I do reflect on what I value, it usually loops back to other people. So perhaps I’d say this: I’m glad that I still care deeply about people. Not in a…
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Still Growing
In younger years, people were always starting things.We started jobs in borrowed suits,projects with foam boards and bright markers,planted basil in windowsills,thinking it would last forever. Now I am setting things down,not out of weariness,but as you might let go of a kite string—watching it rise,not fall. We have an old apartment near the sea.It’s…
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Under Renovation – Leviticus 18–20
Jesusmoved into the houseI barely cleaned. He started in the living room—gentle with my excuses,quietly moving the clutterthat I’d convinced myselfwas furniture. He opened the doorsI’d kept sealed for years.Even the one I’d labelledDo Not Enter: Shame Inside.And he did not flinch. This house—my life—is under renovation.Room by room.Corner by corner.No part off-limits. He is…
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Kindness, with a Key
For me, it would be my car — a 2006 Honda Accord.It’s coming up for its 20th birthday next year and has 250,000 km on the clock. I’m the third owner. I bought it from friends I know well — the kind of people who are fastidious with everything they own. I’d dropped in to…
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A Piece of the Past
I was running a memoir writing course for a group of older adults, including my mother and father. As part of a writing exercise, we laid out a range of objects on a table—simple items intended to spark memories. Each participant was invited to choose one and use it as a prompt for free writing.…
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Where It All Began
Today we began the drive home after two weeks in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales. It’s been a beautiful holiday—sunny days, cool nights, slow mornings, and long walks with the dog along beaches where she could run free. She was wonderful company, curling up contentedly each night after her seaside adventures. We…
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A Reflection on Passion, People, and Quiet Convictions
A lot of my passions begin quietly, relationally, with a gentle nudge toward something or someone worth noticing. Over the years, I’ve come to realise that I’m passionate about a handful of things—though they don’t always shout their name. They don’t always dress up as “passion” the way the world defines it. But they endure.…
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Spring in Sydney
Something in the city is sighing awake.Lorikeet-noise. Jasminespilled over brick walls.Something in the city has learnedto bloom without asking—wisteria elbowing througha rusted trellis,jacaranda softeningconcrete with purple. Magpie shadow, has itmercy? Or memory?Sun-warmed footpath,still cool in the cracks.A waratah flaressomewhere behind the noise—not a flag, but a hush. Something in the cityhas returned—hatchling chirp.Push of small…
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A Season That Sings
What’s your favourite season of the year? For me, it’s spring—without question. There’s something about Sydney in springtime that makes the world feel new again. Not in a loud or showy way, but in the quiet unfolding of beauty—one flower, one birdcall, one longer afternoon at a time. Bushwalking becomes a joy this time of…
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One Traveller
One traveller booked the flight because it was cheap.One traveller booked it because his heart was heavy. One traveller packed three books and didn’t open a single one.One traveller read poetry aloud on a bus in Croatia. One traveller could sleep anywhere, even on cold airport floors.One traveller needed two pillows and a fan to…
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Using Your Time Off to Draw Near
“What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?” It’s a question that often pops up in interviews or icebreaker games—lighthearted, maybe even fun. But the more I sat with it, the more uncomfortable I felt. The premise behind the question assumes a world of excess. It normalises indulgence as necessity. Yet the vast majority of…
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Making It Happen—Without Making a Fuss
I was once given a “Make It Happen Award” at work. It surprised me. I’ve never been the “charge ahead and take the hill” type. I’m not the loudest voice in the room. I don’t pound the table or dominate the agenda. But making things happen can look different. Sometimes it’s a quiet conversation that…
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Before the Days Draw Near
A reflection written for Robert Menzies College, Valedictory Dinner 2024 Remember your Creator in the days of your youth—when light poured freely, even in early mornings,and the world felt carved just for you,like soft clay in young hands. Before the hard questions come,before the weight of wondering presses in,find joy in laughter echoing down long…
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Philosophers Baffled After Agreeing on Literally Nothing About the Good Life
A lively gathering of seven influential European thinkers ended in spectacular confusion this week, after not a single participant could agree on what it actually means to live a good life. The group—which included Immanuel Kant, Georg Hegel, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Heidegger, Jean-Paul Sartre, Michel Foucault, and Jacques Derrida—had reportedly convened at a private members-only…
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Ten Steps to the Heart of God – Leviticus 16
1.The priest washes.Strips off his glory.No jewels, no robe—just linen.A servant,stepping into dangeron behalf of the people. 2.He sacrifices for himself.Even he is not clean.Blood must flowfor him to draw near. 3.Two goats.One to die.One to bear the burden—the scapegoat.A choice not his to make—lots are cast. 4.He steps behind the curtain.Incense thickens the air,a…
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The Company You Keep: How Your Inner Circle Shapes You
They say we become like the people we spend the most time with. If that’s true, then who we’re with is not just a reflection of who we are—it’s a blueprint of who we’re becoming. For me, that influence is both narrow and broad. First and most deeply, there’s my wife.She’s passionate—about wild places, community,…
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Grandad’s Guide to Changing Your Name
Turns out, if I ever need to vanish—say, into a witness protection program, or just a quiet caravan park outside Dubbo—my grandfather’s got me sorted. Now, this is a man who spent most of his pay packet at the pub and left my grandmother with sixpence to feed three hungry boys for a week. Classic…
The Afterword 