Wild Bridgie

I find the sketch done of my uncle, Hugh O’Callaghan, when he testified at Bridget’s murder trial unintentionally comical. [1] My cousin...

366 days and some 8 hours ago, I heard the most heart-rending sound. My mother, Mary, gave a kind of hiccoughing, half-cry, half-scream....

Like so many Brisbanites, I’ve ridden (or walked) past the site of the old Brisbane morgue. blissfully unaware of its grisly history. ...

“The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.”[2] Simply put, judging the past by modern standards of behaviour is a...

There’s a rumour in my mother’s family that we have a touch of the sight: an ability to communicate with spirits and predict the future....

For someone who has such an expressive face, Mary, my mother and Bridget’s grandniece, doesn’t smile a lot. Mary’s a cheerful soul with...

Of all the dead rellies I’ve been writing about as I research Bridget’s murder; I’m fondest of Bridget’s mum, Hanorah Talty O’Callaghan....

I have a friend, a confirmed and enthusiastic atheist, who rates the intensity of Catholic churches by the number of crucifixes she...

Do you have any ride-or-die friends? Ride-or-dies are a rare breed of mate.  They’ll stand between you and any threat. They’re also...