“But Daddy I Love Him” by Wil

David paused. James had just asked him if he wanted to go fishing Saturday afternoon, a regular thing they’d been doing for a few years. David realized he was going to have to tell James at one point or another that he had found a new girl. He’d known James since they kept tadpoles as pets. Since their mothers arranged birthdays for all the neighbourhood kids and the present of their dreams was a caterpillar tracked remote controlled car rumoured to be capable of 80km/h.   Continue reading

Revolution by Wil

Cars can teach us about revolution. Without it they are nothing. For a car to move forward, the engine and consequently the wheels must have a revolution. This is usually a trouble free matter but there a few things about how it can go wrong which can inform attempts at other types of revolutions.Firstly, don’t accelerate too much. If you do that, you will do a burn out and might get arrested. For good reason. Some burn outs can cause fire… Continue reading

Glass by Wil

I have an uncle who is a glass artist. When I was a kid, I never really had much appreciation for his work

but I used to love walking into his studio. This is not like any other studio I have seen. It had what I can only describe as a glass studio smell. Slightly acrid. But clean. The place always had a sense of calm. Three or four rooms. Bigger than any other studio I’ve been in, come to think of it. Electric and gas kilns. Within these – fire, intense heat.  Continue reading

Secret by Wil

Archeology can change your life. Archeology can lead to personal growth. It doesn’t even have to be impressive archeology. For those particularly prone to life-changing events like me, it can be something quite minor. Like an article about excavating a 150 year old house in a small city called Adelaide at the bottom of Australia. No, it wasn’t the house of my ancestors, I wasn’t involved in the dig – heck, all they were looking for were sets of dinner plates. So what could be so inspirational about that? How could one get excited about archeology of the mundane, about a not very ancient house in the suburbs of a backward, quiet sprawlopolis, a report on a search for crockery?  Continue reading

Socks by Wil

I’ve sometimes wondered what it’d be like to write an autobiography. But then I get slightly embarrassed for even thinking about it. My life is nothing like what you see on bookshelves. So why choose the above title? Shouldn’t I be scurrying along with my average anonymous little life?  Continue reading