Sime says

Ball sports are my thing: marbles, mini golf, even pocket billiards. I'm pretty handy at games requiring reasonable hand-eye coordination. That is until my neighbour came to play. Gui Huong is his name. I call him the $8 million dollar man.  He earned the price tag after purchasing the house next door and with the deal done became the first neighbour of Asian extraction to share my picket fence. Prior to the grand poobah's arrival, his son Jamie or "Jaimheeee" had moved into the luxe pad.  Jamie studied in Australia and his command of the English language smoothed troubled waters that could have arisen when the South China Sea met Middle Harbour. When Jaime was absent  iTranslate dismantled the language barrier between myself and his father. There was not a word of cheeky Chinese coming from me and zero sino-Sydney slang from Gui Huong. Chinglish was replaced with wild gesticulation. It took just a few days before I was bailed up by a beaming Gui Huong in t...

Leaving the beach behind and with a fishing rod and bucket in hand I bush bashed my way upwards through pandanus palms, papyrus and thick woodland before entering a patch of grass rimmed by a raspy cliff. My secret fishing spot lay 70 metres below. Beginning the decent, I inched along like a limpet. The bucket cracked against the cliff face and the mushy contents of bread, squid and thawed prawns oozed through the base, creating a burley trail dribbling down my leg. My sunglasses fell from my head and plopped into the ocean. Safely back at sea level I caught sight of my quarry. Big and blue they were: Girella cyanea; an azure frenzy of fish that soon stripped bait and snapped my line with frustrating regularity. I caught two trophy-size beauties but lost a lot of tackle in the process and was determined to rescue the last hook snagged on a rock at the water’s edge. That’s when my world turned upside down. Picked up by a voluminous swell of seawater, within seconds I was oc...