Old Bulls


At 3 am this morning the world welcomed the arrival of my first grandchild. I had flown back over to Australia for the event and was thrilled to lay my eyes upon this little ball of new life. My wife however had to stay in the Solomons as she couldn’t get the time off to accompany me.

When I got back home it was still dark. The morning birds were beginning to sing, the air was cool and crisp and the world was nurtured in that early morning silence I find so intoxicating.

I “texted” my wife to give her the details and found myself overwhelmed with desire for her. I mentioned this to her and laughed it off as a subconscious survival-of-the-fittest scenario between the young bull (my son who has now created a child) and the old bull (me) threatened by a possible take over of the herd.

I also made mention that my thoughts were detailed and x-rated. Like all old (and young) bulls, my mind rapidly facilitated an obvious text-sex situation as I awaited my wife’s saucy reply. What would she say? How would she instigate such a passionate feast? What delightful evil would she embrace? 

My phone signalled.

I prepared myself. Her reply?


The old bull slept.


Crocodiles and wasps

Wasps are more frightening than crocodiles! As I walked a lonely trail on an island in Isabelle province over Easter, I disturbed a sun-bathing croc who abruptly lunged my way. Fortunately his intention was to slip into the swamp a metre in front of me to make his escape, assuming I was more a threat to him than he to me! My response was calm. I found a stick and proceeded to poke around the water as I wanted to take a picture of him. In a million years I would never stand one meter from a wasp nest and poke it!



As I climb into the pool pump pit, I steal a glance at the growing swarm of wasps 6 inches above. My instincts tell me to run. The pool however must stay clean. As I lean over to switch the power on I can feel them watching me. Why do they vibrate in unison like that? Which one will make the collective decision to attack and when? Tomorrow I must go in there again.


Wet wasps

It’s been raining here in the Solomon’s for 2 weeks. John the gardener inadvertently moved the piece of tin that covers the wasp nest. As I scan then focus on the now exposed nest I realise with a quickening of my heart that they have multiplied. And they’re wet! And they watch me.