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- Fly, Road, Rail – A trip north, west, south, east then north again – We head off January 2, 2023
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Irene Waters
Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
I began my working career as a reluctant potato peeler whilst waiting to commence my training as a student nurse. On completion I worked mainly in intensive care/coronary care; finishing my hospital career as clinical nurse educator in intensive care. A life changing period as a resort owner/manager on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu was followed by recovery time as a farmer at Bucca Wauka. Having discovered I was no farmer and vowing never again to own an animal bigger than myself I took on the Barrington General Store. Here we also ran a five star restaurant. Working the shop of a day 7am - 6pm followed by the restaurant until late was surprisingly more stressful than Tanna. On the sale we decided to retire and renovate our house with the help of a builder friend. Now believing we knew everything about building we set to constructing our own house. Just finished a coal mine decided to set up in our backyard. Definitely time to retire we moved to Queensland. I had been writing a manuscript for some time. In the desire to complete this I enrolled in a post grad certificate in creative Industries which I completed 2013. I followed this by doing a Master of Arts by research graduating in 2017. Now I live to write and write to live.
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Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers
Retribution: Friday Fictioneers 6th October 2017
Home. The ferry was more inviting. Jan unwound herself from the bench. “Come on. You can do it.” Almost reluctantly she walked up the hill, guided by the moonlight, to the house she’d left twenty years earlier. Her parents slept. … Continue reading
Wink murder: Friday Fictioneers
It was Andreana’s sixteenth birthday. She chose the games they played, pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, blind man’s bluff and pass the parcel. She’d seen the smile Alec gave Veda. Miserable, she wanted to cry. Instead she … Continue reading
Jacques : Friday Fictioneers
“Jacques, Come to dinner this instant.” Annoyance filled his mother’s voice. “What’s up with you ?” Her husband asked mildly. “Jacques has not taken that diving helmet off all day. Jules Vern really does have a lot to answer for.” … Continue reading
A heart of Stone: Friday Fictioneers
Cassandra looked out from the verandah of the grand columned house they’d built over to the hovel she and Alain had shared when she first came to this valley as a bride. They were happy then. Planning for the future, … Continue reading
Guilt: Friday Fictioneers
Imploring. Beseeching. Would the image of those children’s eyes, the colour of the wet rocks ever leave me? Those rocks were the only reminder now the sea was calm. It held none of the menace of that day. The small … Continue reading
A Halt in the line: Friday Fictioneers
Three days had passed and not a soul had sat in the waiting room. “I’m bored.” Gabe idly flicked through the register book. “It’s unbelievable. No-one has come to us. They can’t all have been bad.” “You wouldn’t think so. … Continue reading
The Pool: Friday Fictioneers
“Darling, it’s exactly what I wanted. And so quickly. I thought council permission would take years.” “It may have if I’d asked permission but I didn’t need it. It’s not attached to the ground. I didn’t need permission for the … Continue reading
One Day: Friday Fictioneers
I was amazed they still lived there. It was over 20 years ago… They’d severed contact when my marriage broke-down. They’d just moved, living in the paddock in a bus. On arrival, we found no house, just a cement slab. … Continue reading
Only one letter difference: Friday Fictioneers
“I thought it’d be a big jet.” Narelle said to the steward. “Not a popular destination.” “I jumped at the chance to nurse in Cooktown. Sun, sand,surfing. Heaven.” “You’ll certainly get the sand and sun.” “ETA four hours.” Narelle settled … Continue reading
Nimbin Style: Friday Fictioneers
In the Apollo Cafe the waitresses ran. The tourists had already visited Happy High Herbs, Bringabong or bought from the one of the long-haired, skinny boys sitting on milk crates and plastic chairs outside the café. Now they had the … Continue reading
Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist) 