Posts tagged Tim Warrington
#29 I should never forget who gave me wings

My grandmother, Alice Warrington

Alice 17 years oldsmall.jpg

Before I was too young to understand, my grandmother told me to follow my dreams.

"You can be anyone you want to be, if only you have the courage to seize the day," she said.

I told her I wanted to see the world, and so you shall she said with a squeeze and a kiss.

Alice passed away before I got to know her; before I understood the worldly advice of a lady who never left the country she was born in.

Worldliness is a state of mind and not measured by the stamps in our passports.

#27 I should not dehydrate in 40°C+

I was in Sri Lanka. 

The look on this little fella's face says it all: it's hot as hell. 

The look on this little fella's face says it all: it's hot as hell. 

Two weeks in and still the awesomeness keeps coming. 

I arrived at Sigiriya, an ancient rock fortress located in the northern Matale District near the town of Dambulla in the Central Province, sans trusty water bottle.

No matter.

How hot can it possibly be. 


But then one of the locals spied me swooning Jane Austen style and shared their water with me and all was right with the world again.  

Sri Lankans really are the most generous, caring people. 

#26 I should not feed the animals

Technically I wasn't feeding the animals and no kookaburras were harmed during the filming of this picture.

Smoking causes beak cancer

Smoking causes beak cancer

I was at a holiday house in the Blue Mountains about two hours drive west of Sydney.

There was food involved.

I vaguely remember leaving some cheese and crackers on the terrace and someone had left cigarettes on the table.

But Polly didn't want a cracker.

He wanted a smoke.





#25 I should not dress like a large slice of bread

Once again, it seemed like a great idea at the time ... happy days ...

At least it was warm and toasty

At least it was warm and toasty

Come to the party they said.

Never one to give up the opportunity to slip into a costume, the obvious choice to attend a Sound of Music party was to go dressed as bread and jam.

It all went swimmingly until the neighbours, on account of a particularly raucous chorus of 'My Favourite Things,' called the cops. It was spectacular.

The police constables were less enthused.

But when I answered the door thusly attired they were powerless to reprimand me and instead advised us to party hard.

We obliged.

And continued with our tribute to Julie Andrews and the iconic 60's movie.

This happened while I was in Sydney but it doesn't matter where you are travelling around the world, party hard and dance like no one is watching, even if you can hardly move because you're trapped in a huge slice of glittered bread.

Go hard.


#18 I should not move to remote islands to write novels

Inside every reporter, journalist and travel writer is a budding novelist.

Wilson: your only friend while you write that illusive novel

Wilson: your only friend while you write that illusive novel

I travel a lot.

But even when the anchor of domestic normality grounds me and I decide to settle down, I usually end up moving somewhere remote.

One of my bright ideas was to buy a house on a tiny island off the coast of Queensland.

Sound idyllic?

I thought so.


Replace the white sand with mangroves and mud and fill the ocean with Bull Sharks and Great Whites and the occasional Tiger Shark. 

I lived there for a full year, in isolation, writing my travel diaries.

It should have been ideal.

I should have written that bestseller.

What actually happened was I bought a lot of crap off the internet, spent hours rubbing calamine lotion into the countless sand fly and mosquito bites and extracting ticks from my unmentionables.

Power cuts and burst sewer mains kept me distracted too.

Finally, my mother sent me a present: a Wilson ball to jolt me out of my self-imposed exile and remind me that my only human contact was with a piece of spherical sporting equipment.