What happens when a British publicist sells his company and trades a city slicker life for a dilapidated house in rural Tasmania.
I did say I’d try and be a bit more regular, but I’ve failed. Here are some snippets straddling the summer. When I listen back, I think there’s a slender theme running through. I hope you enjoy it. It’s a labour of love, and whatever they say about the pervasiveness of podcasting, it’s a privilege to be able to shout at the sky and share what I’m noticing however small the audience might be. Thanks for listening, and if you get a chance, please leave a review or share this with a friend. More soon.
Months since the last exciting episode. Sorry about that. Here’s an update of sorts. I hope you like it.
How the exhibition went, what next, animals of the valley, local kindnesses, the 1957 telephone directory, where am I from, etc
A short update ahead of a bigger episode midweek after I’ve launched the exhibition. Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter.
The book I fail to name is, of course, Gulliver’s Travels, but I didn’t have time to re-record it.
Larrikins, street names, barbers, provisions, the Wild West, floods and camping in a car overnight.
In praise of meatloaf, the story of a missing island, coincidences, lists: that sort of thing.
Pies, flies, why rich people are thin, how to make a house a non fungible token and a trip to the town of Banana.
What happens when a restless British publicist sells his company and decides to move to a dilapidated old bank building in rural Tasmania.