Author: johnmartinauthor
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Those magnificent men in their flying… wheelbarrows
I might have an altitude problem — the result of a spoiled upbringing. Or an updraft. It began in the mid 1960s when I was six, seven, maybe eight. My father was a journalist at the ABC and he sometimes dragged his family along to potential stories at weekends. One time he interviewed a bloke…
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Why we need a smartwatch with sole
I’ve started walking on my hands. Not all the time—just enough to keep the numbers honest. My smartwatch, you see, has developed expectations. Steps must be taken, rings must be closed, and apparently there is a correct time for a grown adult to go to bed. Walking on my hands is my small act of…
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You say goodbye, I say halo
A lot has been written about The Beatles’ flirtation with eastern mysticism, but nothing has been said about my religious experience with the Beatles. Until now. It happened in 1969 when I was a Grade 6 pupil at Lindisfarne North Primary School in Hobart. Sixty-nine was a memorable year for me. Not only was our…
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Take me back to the year 1972
The first hint I might be a Time Lord happened in high school. So I wasn’t panicked when my old mate Orville proudly showed me his new watch. That’s Orville all over. One upmanship. I had just named more Doctors than he could. I stared at his watch face. It said 4:17. I glanced at…
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Fly-fishing trauma with a happy ending
Imagine I am lying on a psychiatrist’s sofa, ready to open my mind to you. Your name is Dr Carl Jung and you are the shrink who popularised word-association tests. You sit on a chair ready to jot down all my reactions and response times. Your opening word is: ‘mother’. My response, delivered at the…
JOHN MARTIN'S TALES 