Judi McCrossin

On Anzac Day 2006 the Beaconsfield mine collapsed, trapping Russell, Webb and fellow miner Larry Knight one kilometre underground. When it was revealed that two of the men were alive, Australia prayed and the world waited in hope that the miners would make it out alive. But the rescue was far more complex than anyone ever imagined. Beaconsfield recounts this riveting story of mental and physical fortitude and two very different men who were trapped together for 14 days under rubble in a cramped, pitch-black metal basket no bigger than a dog kennel.

John Safran investigates the food industry.

A first date: he shows up at her flat, several stories up in her building. She's finishing getting ready, so she introduces him to her dog, which loves to fetch a small red rubber ball with blue stars. He tosses the ball to the dog a few times, somewhat distractedly, looks through a book ("Do I have to be me?") on her coffee table, opens the French doors to her balcony, sits down and continues to toss the ball. It takes a deadly carom, but when she emerges from her bedroom ready to go, he stays mum. Outside the building, a crowd has gathered. Will he tell her what happened, or leave it for her to put together? Is there any way out for him?

On Anzac Day 2006 the Beaconsfield mine collapsed, trapping Russell, Webb and fellow miner Larry Knight one kilometre underground. When it was revealed that two of the men were alive, Australia prayed and the world waited in hope that the miners would make it out alive. But the rescue was far more complex than anyone ever imagined. Beaconsfield recounts this riveting story of mental and physical fortitude and two very different men who were trapped together for 14 days under rubble in a cramped, pitch-black metal basket no bigger than a dog kennel.

A first date: he shows up at her flat, several stories up in her building. She's finishing getting ready, so she introduces him to her dog, which loves to fetch a small red rubber ball with blue stars. He tosses the ball to the dog a few times, somewhat distractedly, looks through a book ("Do I have to be me?") on her coffee table, opens the French doors to her balcony, sits down and continues to toss the ball. It takes a deadly carom, but when she emerges from her bedroom ready to go, he stays mum. Outside the building, a crowd has gathered. Will he tell her what happened, or leave it for her to put together? Is there any way out for him?