Lindsay Johannsen: 30 books

It was 1973. "Look at this!" I said, showing my bride a picture in a magazine. "What IS it?" she asked. "It's an elemental flying machine," I replied. "I'm going to buy one." (And here I quote the BBC's famous Goons: "Are you mad?" / "I have a certificate." / "But it will mean certain...

When the elderly recluse Ebenezer Gower died he left his run down Sherbert Valley farm in north Queensland and all his worldly wealth to the Parish of the Upper Sherbert, his idea being that a small agricultural high school be established there for the boys of the area. The most valuable part of the...

A look at the old rascal's life … not so much wasted exactly; more seemingly let drift. Yet things are not always as they might appear…

Dreams are just dreams, right? And as Jack Cadney says in my towering literary work "McCullock's Gold", how can dreams have any meaning when everything in them is so crazy? …And yet, on rare occasions, someone dreams some winning lottery numbers or which horse will win the Melbourne Cup....

Don’t ask me. I mean make of this what you will. The question is, where does this stuff come from? OK; I had a temperature, felt like a dog's breakfast generally, and the missus was feeding me her aspirin, honey, lemon juice and 240Volt OP rum alleged cough mixture. (I mean this can't...

This is one of those "Getting to know the author" things, or more accurately, "Getting to know the author as a feral eight to eleven year old" (or even, "Getting to be thankful you never had the misfortune of meeting the author as a feral eight to eleven-or-more year old"). Whatever the case, my associates...

As the years mount one’s outlook on life can mellow, and oft with this comes an inclination to rail less vigorously against the elements (you might say), to see one's failures in a softer light and to be less reticent in trumpeting one's triumphs – though softly still and with elemental decorum....

A poem dedicated to my late wife ... of our meeting, our fifty six years together, and reflections on life and being alone.

I wrote this little piece some years back for my grand daughter's tenth birthday. It's a story about a girl on the cusp of turning ten, her grandfather, an antique music box and some very special magic. It turned out a little longer than I’d intended, as it happened, but, you know, you get that....

Being an account of me and the Missus’ random wanderings about the UK circa 1998. It comes complete with genuine Aussie observations and insights, pithy comments and rambling asides, as we show you the sights, soak up the “culcha”, have adventures and land on distant rellies unannounced. I took...

A poem, wherein a bushman from the late eighteen hundreds reflects on his life and times as a gold prospector…

During the nineteenth century many an expedition set out to explore the vast Australian interior. Some achieved their goal and some were beaten back by conditions or hostile inhabitants. Others met with disaster – sometimes due to circumstance, occasionally of their own making – and one or two...

In my earlier days I was quite the foolhardy young rake and had a great many outrageously wild and exciting adventures. This is not one of them.

The essence of this story is true, Dear Reader. Ahh me; I wish I could claim it as my own but it was related to me by the individual himself. One has merely devised a means of passing it on to you.