This is the story of my first love and the journey to track down the person three decades later.

Part 1 HERE set the scene, starting where it all began, back in the mid 1980’s. Now comes PART 2…

2022 was the year my mother passed away (my father died in 2005). The realization that I was suddenly a little more alone in the world was the catalyst for me trying to bring more connection into my life.

I started with a fairly frenetic series of attempts to join a bunch of social clubs, none of which I ended up sticking with.

There was a cycling group, a ping pong club, a Sunday morning tennis meet-up, several writers groups – both in person and on-line – a mens group, a dragon boat club – and a number of others I now have bare recollection of.

What I discovered about clubs is that many if not most friendships between members are already well established. Finding your people and comfort level in those environs can be harder than you first thought and takes time and effort.

When the path forward seems littered with too-hard obstacles, people sometimes look to their past for meaning. And that is what I next did.

I set about trying to track down several old school friends. Overall, that endeavor leaned to the disappointing side, with the realization that time had indeed moved on and whatever connection had once existed had now faded beyond recognition.

Around this time, I began watching a tv program called LONG LOST FAMILY. It’s a show that tracks down and reunites people who’ve been searching for each other for many years. Here’s a sample (all videos are around 2 minutes in length) –

From this point, the idea started to formulate about seeing if I might be able to locate Tracey. I shared first with my wife and then later with my wife and daughter who Tracey had once been in my life. I explained I was curious to find out where this person might be now and what direction their life had taken. They said they understood my inquisitiveness and were ok with me trying to find out some information.

The other reason I wanted to go digging up the past in this way – which I did not share with my wife and daughter – had to do with the weird mental prison I had erected over the years connected to this period of my life.

My four years with Tracey during my early twenties was so blissful and idyllic that I found myself sometimes returning to this time in my head as a comfort, whenever present-day reality with all its stresses and pressures, bills and frustrations became too much.

I could see the illusion and error of comparing a barely-begun adult life back in my twenties, when Tracey and I were still living at home with our parents, to my present-day reality with all its mature-adult moving parts and responsibilities.

Against all logic, that didn’t stop me however, from going there in my head. I wanted to free myself from those nostalgic shackles and I was pretty certain I knew just the way to do it.

I needed to give those perfect yester-year memories a modern update. And the way to do that… was to find Tracey.

In a decade of blogging, this is likely the most personal post I’ve ever written.

It’s a story that more belongs to 2025, but it’s taken near on 12 months for me to process exactly what happened.

Tracey and I met while we were both students at Griffith University in the mid 80’s. I was nineteen and Tracey was a year younger.

We were in the campus theater group together and were both involved in a play called HE WHO STRIKES THE SILVER SURFER.

We became girlfriend and boyfriend and were together for four magical years.

We enjoyed so many wonderful times together, including an overseas holiday to New Zealand, going remote fruit picking, camping getaways, celebrating each other’s 21st birthdays, stocking a newly built 7/11 store together on the Gold Coast and attending EXPO 88 on jointly purchased 6-month season passes.

There were hundreds of passionate letters and a similar number of long, long phone calls exchanged between the two of us. It was truly a special time with so many happy moments.

I recall we even read the same 663-page true-crime book FATAL VISION. That takes some doing!

Tracey was my first love of what I would term my young adult life. Our time together was intensely physical and full of new experiences and milestones for us both.

Together we were on the cusp of entering the adult world. It was an exhilarating, innocent time full of lasting, beautiful memories. I don’t recall a single argument between us… because there were none.

The story you will read over the next few weeks is what happened when I went looking for Tracey more than three decades on.

It’s a story full of twists ‘n turns, unexpected surprises and intrigue. I never expected it to unfold the way it did. Even now, 12 months on, I can scarcely believe it all really happened the way it did.

Six years ago, during one of many gallantly waged campaigns to thwart idleness amid the Corona-vacation, I set upon the task of compiling a list of my favorite 50 actors.

Topping that list (which you can read HERE) was Michael Douglas. A few spots down at #5 was the mumble overlord himself Sylvester Stallone.

This month, these two Hollywood behemoths have both dropped their (cliche alert!) ‘long-awaited’ (by me) memoirs.

A magazine headline for such a rare, historic and… oh alright, hokey occasion as this might read something like – THE ITALLION STALLION VS GORDON GEKKO: WHO WRITES THE BETTER TELL–ALL? Or maybe something like this –

All this bookish excitement got me to wondering if Stallone and Michael Douglas had ever appeared in a movie together.

I was pretty sure they hadn’t and an internet check confirmed that. They did come close however, back in 1984.

Sylvester Stallone was originally offered the lead role in the film ROMANCING THE STONE. At the time, Michael Douglas was attached only as the film’s producer. After Stallone turned down the role, Douglas decided to cast himself as the lead.

Stallone did share the screen with Kirk Douglas (Michael’s father) in the 1991 movie OSCAR in which Kirk played the father of Sly’s character.

Did someone say DESERT ISLAND READS?

Given a choice of surviving weeks and months of coconut-water induced hallucinations on a godforsaken sandbar in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with only books for company, these two memoirs would absolutely make it into my packed luggage.

There’d be a 3rd book inside that waterproof suitcase, the 1992 seminal psychology classic WHAT TO SAY WHEN YOU TALK TO YOURSELF by Shad Helmstetter. On a desert island, practically speaking, Shad’s book might just be the difference between only slightly losing your grip on reality and all-out dodging the rescue ships.

Anyway, all of that is a round-about way of saying if you’d like to check out the latest episode write-up on GILLIGAN’S ISLAND : THE COLOUR YEARS then go ahead and click HERE.

Last year, SCENIC WRITER’S SHACK brought you the story of Brisbane-based author Doug Rowell (HERE).

Doug was having quite the time of it going up against a company called XLIBRIS PUBLISHING who he claimed had dudded him royally on multiple fronts.

Now comes a similar hard luck story involving disgruntled authors and an Australian company called STARFISH BAY PUBLISHING.

Australian news show A CURRENT AFFAIR broadcast this story on their program last night –

What’s starfish and 1960’s tv show GILLIGAN’S ISLAND got in common? Go HERE to find out.

I’ve been enjoying the heck out of an old Hammer Studios film titled THE HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN.

Campy horror with a quintessentially English flavor set in the Victorian era makes for one gi-normous crackup in my book. It’s not out and out silliness like the Carry-On movies but more subtle, gothic-spiced weirdness and absurdity that’s on show.

The acting is deliciously theatrical, while the sets are lavish – comedically so. A vibe of horny decadence (took me a few attempts to nail down that description) pervades many scenes.

Heavily made-up starlets with over-sized ‘heaving bosoms’ and coiffed hair do their best to spill forth from restrictive corsets and brassieres.

Amid the cobwebs, decorative candelabras and brightly lit fog pouring into every frame, THE HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN (1970) is a retro feast for the eyes that makes for one helluva funny, dramatic and unhinged watch. I loved it!

In the clip below, look out at the two-minute mark for the rib-tickling dig at English manners when Victor Frankenstein (played by actor Ralph Bates) introduces himself to the marauding monster with a welcoming extended hand and a cheerful “How do you do?” What a riot!

The scene below shows how THE HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN so perfectly blends the macabre with an air of upper-class refinement and privilege, resulting in a strange alchemy that keeps you entranced. Well, it did me.

Two proper English gentlemen – circa 19th century – resplendent in poet shirts with flared bishop sleeves and silk caveats draped around their necks – discuss the spoils of pilfering body parts from an anatomy class.

And then there’s the monster himself. You couldn’t really call him it scary. Goofy and odd-looking would be way more on-the-money. Played by 6’7″ (200cm) tall bodybuilder David Pearse wearing a giggle-worthy prosthetic skull-cap, it would be another 7 years before the same ‘actor’ would don the Darth Vader suit for the first STAR WARS film.

The British movie production studio known as HAMMER FILMS ended up making a total of seven FRANKENSTEIN movies. By all accounts, THE HORROR OF FRANKENSTEIN was the campiest and most satirical of them all.

To be frank (do you like that?) this post is close to three weeks late. August 30th, believe it or not, is the official day for NATIONAL FRANKENSTEIN DAY. Oh well, next year…

The day after this delightfully decadent gothic retro-watch, I stumbled upon this mini writing contest online –

With all things Frankenstein still fresh in my mind, naturally I came up with…

If you’re keen to give this comp – which offers cash prizes – a go, all the details can be found HERE

Pleasure again awaits you with this much deserved bonus clip.

Old skool atmosphere and opulence abound, including but not limited to – the grand fireplace complete with dancing flames, the over-sized bookcase to die for, the bejeweled chairs, mounted wall swords and austere portrait paintings, not to mention the plenitudinous candelabras and crystal glassware.

And keep watching at the end for the image that comes after the immortal line, “Now we’ll drink a toast… to the reunion of old friends”.

Reading kicks have taken me to some fun places over the years.

What’s putting the wind in my sails of late is all things TITANIC.

This binge kicked off after reading a historical novel titled THE MIDNIGHT WATCH.

It hooked me from first page to last, like a ship’s anchor embedding itself in the ocean floor – martime-y lingo if you please!

THE MIDNIGHT WATCH is the story of two ships – the TITANIC and the CALIFORNIAN.

Most everyone knows the story of the TITANIC. The SS CALIFORNIAN was the British cargo ship that was closest to the TITANIC when it sank. It is the ship accused of ghosting the TITANIC by ignoring its distress signals and refusing to come to its aid when needed.

The CALIORNIAN did eventually arrive at the sight of the tragedy in the North Atlantic Ocean, some 6 hours after the TITANIC had already descended to it’s watery grave.

By that time it could render no assistance. That job had already been done by the passenger steamship RMS CARPATHIA, which raced to the scene from 96 kilometers away to rescue 705 survivors from lifeboats.

The writing in THE MIDNIGHT WATCH is intricately, superbly, not to mention engrossingly detailed.

The nuts ‘n bolts (and rivets) minutiae of early 20th century ships and life at sea – things which for me had previously held little curiosity – came alive and kept me glued to the pages every bit as much as a captain staying with his ship (mari-timey!)

Upon (not to be confused with ‘a pond’ – which is more or less what the North Atlantic Ocean is a gi-normous version of) finishing the novel, I read a little about the author.

That’s when I understood why the story was threaded the way it was, with so many thousands of ship ‘n sea interesting specifics and technicalities (which I loved!).

Before becoming a writer, David Dyer was a lawyer at the London legal practice whose parent firm represented the TITANIC‘s owners in 1912. As well, he has also worked as a cadet and ship’s officer on a wide range of merchant vessels, having graduated with distinction from the Australian Maritime College.

Anyone remember those DUMMIES books from back in the late 90’s?

For someone on a TITANIC reading kick, naturally that was my next port of call. Jeepers! Am I crushing some interesting morsels and factoids with this one!

And after that? After that arrives in the post tomorrow. It’s the newly released (April 2026) story of the lone Aussie survivor of the TITANIC, Evelyn Marsden. Yep, this latest reading kick of mine looks to be currently unsinkable.

Is there a smooth-seas segue from TITANIC to GILLIGAN’S ISLAND? Well, not here there’s not. Instead, I’ll just say – fans of GILLIGAN’S ISLAND should click HERE.

JOEL STICKLEY is a British author, performer and creative writing tutor. A while back he published a book amusingly titled 100 WAYS TO WRITE BADLY WELL.

One failed ‘method’ the author highlights is fiction writers trying to inject tension into their stories with the inclusion of the adverb ‘suddenly’, – like we all knew how to do back in the 5th grade.

Kind of like this…

Suddenly, the room went deathly quiet. Then, just as suddenly, the doctor spoke.

‘I’m suddenly not so sure about this,’ he said, suddenly.

Just as he was saying this, he caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun round just in time to see the sudden arrival of an unexpected figure.

It was the soldier from the day before, suddenly limping in with blood on his hands. Suddenly, the doctor understood what had happened.

‘I feel suddenly… cold…’ the soldier suddenly whispered before suddenly collapsing. With quick, sudden movements of his expert but suddenly shaking hands, the doctor suddenly began to tend to the man’s wounds.

‘Nurse,’ he suddenly barked, ‘I need bandages and morphine. And make it sudden.’

Before he could suddenly save him, though, the soldier was suddenly dying in his arms. The doctor suddenly leaned in to hear his sudden last words.

‘Tell my wife…’ the soldier suddenly rasped, his breathing suddenly urgent and sudden. ‘Tell my wife… I suddenly… love her.’

And just as suddenly, there’s this from the time machine…

Suddenly in the mood for a bit of GILLIGAN’S ISLAND? Go on then… click HERE

Florence Henderson (1934 – 2016) had an entertainment career spanning six decades.

She was a singer, recording artist, film and television actress and Broadway musical leading lady. She also hosted several long-running cooking and variety shows over the years.

She is one of those performers who will always be remembered for one role, which in her case was the part of wife and mother Carol Brady in THE BRADY BUNCH (117 episodes/1969 – 1974).

Her auto-biography LIFE IS NOT A STAGE traces her early childhood, rise up through the ranks of musical theatre, stardom and later career highlights.

Henderson was the youngest of 10 children raised in rural Indiana. She learnt to sing at age two, and after numerous early successes in musical theater debuted on Broadway in the musical WISH YOU WERE HERE in 1952.

From 1958 -1961 she became the face of General Motor’s OLDSMOBILE, appearing in many ads and sponsored tv spots for the car brand.

She was also the very first female guest host of THE TONIGHT SHOW.

Her role as matriarch Carol Brady in THE BRADY BUNCH was initially offered to her best friend Shirley Jones (now aged 91), who went on to star in a similar role as mother Shirley Patridge in THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY (1970 – 1974).

In this scene from the THE BRADY BUNCH Season Two episode titled ‘Coming-Out Party’ – Carol Brady gets a surprise diagnosis when a doctor attends the house for her daughter Cindy…

Florence Henderson appeared in a number of movies in the later part of her career, including …

She competed on DANCING WITH THE STARS at age 76 –

Her autobiography is written in a warm, down-to earth conversational tone. I finished it in a week. For a slow ‘n steady / ‘dip in–dip out’ reader, that’s the literary equivalent of a standing ovation.

ACT – TING is a 6-part mockumentary comedy series set in a failing London drama school. It’s pretty funny. If you wanted to take a look, click HERE.

Fans of GILLIGAN’S ISLAND really should click HERE.

Mermaid-mafia and water warrior types of the swimming pool – we salute you!

Poseidon-class, nuclear-powered submarines envy your ability to motor up and down those roped-off water lanes, all the while a picture of liquidy concentration.

What we’re curious about though – besides whether you really can sweat under water- is “What in water-logged tarnation do you aqua-men and ladies think about while you’re, er… ‘kicking back’ ?

It can’t all be about stroke correction and counting laps, can it?

Well, can it?

It can’t. And it most definitely isn’t. Even the most focused, water-tight mind will eventually begin to wander and experience the dreaded ‘laps in concentration’.

When that happens, the lap-swimmers mind ends up resembling less a titanium-plated sleek super-sub and more the type of rickety, driftwood raft Tom Hanks’s character somehow managed to cobble together in CAST AWAY.

Or is you prefer, more like the time Penelope Pitstop teamed up with the Ant Hill Mob to cross the river. Actually, the stroke technique of the two brown hats at the back isn’t that bad.

Dust off the embarrassing speedos and get ready with the leaky googles.

It’s time to take a deep dive into the wacked-out, random thoughts more likely really going on in the chlorine-soaked mind of the humble pool lap-swimmer.

Fans of the classic TV show GILLIGAN’S ISLAND really do owe it to themselves to click HERE.

Mermaid-mafia of the swimming pool – we salute you!

Poseidon-class, nuclear-powered submarines envy your ability to motor up and down those roped-off water lanes, all the while a picture of liquidy concentration.

What we’re curious about – besides whether you really can sweat under water – is “What in water-logged tarnation do you aqua-men and ladies think about while you’re, er… ‘kicking back’ ?

It can’t all be about stroke correction and counting laps, can it?

Well, can it?

It can’t. And it most definitely isn’t. Even the most focused, water-tight mind will eventually begin to wander and experience the dreaded ‘laps in concentration’.

When that happens, the lap-swimmers mind ends up resembling less a titanium-plated sleek super-sub and more the type of rickety, driftwood raft Tom Hanks’s character somehow managed to cobble together in CAST AWAY.

Or if you prefer, more like the time Penelope Pitstop teamed up with the Ant Hill Mob to cross the river. Actually, the stroke technique of the two brown hats at the back isn’t that bad.

Dust off the embarrassing speedos and get ready with the leaky googles.

It’s time to take a deep dive into the wacked-out, random thoughts more likely really going on in the chlorine-soaked mind of the humble pool lap swimmer.

Fans of the classic tv show GILLIGAN’S ISLAND owe it to themselves to click HERE.