When I left my hometown in rural Victoria to become a journalist, I did so to change the world. Back then, men drank beers in the front bar, women drank shandies in the women’s lounge and no one drank wine.

I’ve worked in and around journalism, communications and politics for the best part of three decades  – time that has flashed by and has been a fascinating journey. Along the way, I worked across most areas of journalism including print and television, built award-winning communication and public relations teams, worked as a media adviser to various politicians and corporate leaders and became a step parent.

One of the great advantages of experience and age is you get to look back at where you’ve come from:  Sometimes with wisdom, sometimes regret. This blog is a collection of my stories, divided into four sections:

Henry and Me deals with growing up in Beazley’s Bridge, on the edge of the Victorian Mallee plains where summers were big, clear, blue-skied times.

Dancing with the Devil deals with the stories of those ordinary, unremarkable people, who, in a nanosecond, made a decision that irrevocably changed their lives, leading them to a dance with the devil. You don’t need to look at the underbelly to see human flaws. Most are hiding in plain sight. They are stories of addiction, crime and maybe redemption.

Curmudgeon (Noun, A person (especially an old man) who is easily annoyed or angered and who often complains; a grump revels in being difficult and obtuse. Often found hiding in caves away from direct sunlight. Guaranteed to rain on your parade at every turn) deals with a grumpy old man’s view of today.

Photos of my journeys through various parts of Australia and elsewhere.

These are my stories. Some might even be true. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.