A while ago I wrote about some bad experiences with taxi drivers. It recently occurred to me that I also had a good experience story to tell, so this piece is to redress the balance.
One Friday afternoon, my boss suddenly decided I needed to go and visit a client in a suburb somewhere out west. Upon leaving the client site, I spotted a taxi on the other side of the road.
I waved, I didn’t think he’d seen me, I wasn’t sure if his light was on, then suddenly in the blink of an eye, there he was. I jumped in, gave my destination, sat back and looked around.
The passenger side dashboard and the centre console were covered in notices – messages in black ink printed on white paper, blue-tacked to every available surface. [Click link below to read more....]
Alcohol used to be a socially acceptable drug, but it’s been getting a bit of a bad rap lately, what with coward punches, lockouts and those government ad campaigns reminding you that by 3am you’ll be slumped in a Kings Cross gutter with your kickers in the air.
Caffeine on the other hand seems to tick all the boxes. It’ll liven you up just enough for any occasion, while still keeping you capable of driving a car and making positive life choices. Caffeine is so socially acceptable that your grandmother invites you round to drink it, your boss provides it free of charge in the workplace kitchen and there’s a whole festival dedicated to it in The Rocks each year. [Click link below to read more....]
The other day, the boyfriend and I got caught in an almighty downpour and he said my next blog post should be about the futility of umbrellas, so here it is.
We met around 6pm on an unexpectedly wet Tuesday evening. I dashed into Woolworths at Town Hall, seeking shelter from the storm, and there you were, a little blue umbrella with white dots. You were the very last umbrella on the stand, but you were perfect.
A piece I wrote a few weeks ago for thebigsmoke.com.au, commenting from my previous experience of City 2 Surf and other running events:
I started to write this piece about getting older and it turned into an appropriate piece to publish on Mother's Day (if you're in Australia, it's Mother's Day today - go and call your Mum!).
The nice people at The Big Smoke website decided that my writing was good enough to publish. The link to my first published post is below.
The Big Smoke is a very good opinion writing website, which you should check out when you have a chance. Look out for more contributions from me later this year.
Saturday, it’s a Saturday! De La Soul nailed the Saturday vibe in that track, don’t you think?
What happens on your typical Saturday?
Wake up in your own time, no alarm to break your dreams on Saturday. Have the breakfast you really want and take your time eating it while you channel surf between cartoons and pop videos. Read the paper, it’s the only day you have time to get past the headlines. Save the magazine and the travel pages for later, because there’s a beautiful day outside.
It was the British summer of the year 2000. In the previous year, a new television show concept had launched in the Netherlands. A group of strangers living in a house together, their every move filmed and every word recorded. The contestants had no contact with the outside world except for the disembodied voice of their keeper, Big Brother. In the year 2000, Big Brother arrived in the UK.
I am aware that some of my friends ride bikes. I am aware that in many lovely cities such as Cambridge and Amsterdam, many people ride bikes. Some people ride bikes for legitimate reasons, although if you are not a courier or a postie, please explain. But are you a person who happens to ride a bike sometimes, or are you one of those damn cyclists?
Nicki Ranger is a freelance writer currently based in Perth, Western Australia.
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