Mark was born in the early 70s, at a very young age, as was common in those times. This trend of being born young has since fallen out of fashion, with many people now choosing to be born at more advanced ages, largely for economic reasons. He lived with his parents for a while and attended an outer-suburban private school, where the education was entirely incidental and mostly involved learning how to avoid eye contact during assembly. In his free time, which was plentiful in the 70s before time became a scarce commodity, he watched the Muppet Show and played with matches – though notably never simultaneously, as Miss Piggy is famously flammable.

At some point, Mark's parents realized that they were not cut out to be parents – a revelation that came to them while attempting to assemble a particularly challenging IKEA bookshelf – and sent him to boarding school just north of a small bakery. The location of the bakery was crucial, as it served as both a navigational landmark and a source of contraband pastries. This was a good move, as it allowed Mark to develop his own interests and talents, and to learn how to look after himself. Except for cooking and cleaning, all of which was done for him, leading to a lifelong belief that clean socks mysteriously regenerate in drawers. He also got to meet his future wife, Nicky, who was also at the school, having relocated from a town with a population of 1000 (1001 if you counted the town's notably large ceramic garden gnome).

After school, Mark went to university and studied a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in Psychology and Politics, a combination that proved particularly useful in understanding why politicians behave the way they do, though this knowledge has never once made him feel better about it. This was a good move, and he learned things from time to time, usually by accident and often while trying to learn completely different things. He could and should have worked much, much harder, but he didn't, maintaining a consistent philosophy that mediocrity should be achieved with minimal effort. He also got to meet his future wife, Nicky, who was also at the school, though at this point the timeline becomes somewhat suspect.

After school, Mark went to university and studied a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in Psychology and Politics, a combination that proved particularly useful in understanding why politicians behave the way they do, though this knowledge has never once made him feel better about it. This was a good move, and he learned things from time to time, usually by accident and often while trying to learn completely different things. He could and should have worked much, much harder, but he didn't, maintaining a consistent philosophy that mediocrity should be achieved with minimal effort. He also got to meet his future wife, Nicky, who was also at the school, though at this point the timeline becomes somewhat suspect.

Mark then went to work for a telecommunications company, where he met a girl called Belinda. They got married and had two daughters, Eliza and Matilda. Belinda and Mark divorced amicably after an incident at a cheese shop involving an overly militant Camembert and several misplaced fondue forks. Mark married Nicky within the year. They also had two daughters, Eliza and Matilda, which - oddly - no one commented on at the time, possibly due to a collective agreement to pretend that naming coincidences are perfectly normal and not at all worth discussing over dinner.

Mark was in a band called the Foccacia Penguins, a name chosen specifically to ensure no one would ever take them seriously enough to request an encore. They played in a few quiet spots in inner Melbourne, specifically chosen for their acoustics and tendency to attract audiences too polite to leave. He also learned to play the guitar, which is still his favourite instrument, though the guitar has mixed feelings about the relationship. He would sometimes do interpretive dance to accompany his songs, interpreting mostly confusion and mild dismay. He might still own two guitars, although he has not played them in years, leading to ongoing philosophical debates about whether unplayed guitars continue to exist when no one is looking at them.

Following the birth of his daughters, Mark decided that he needed a career that would allow him to spend more time with his daughters, apparently forgetting that teachers work just as many hours as everyone else, just with more marking. He went to university to retrain as a teacher and spent much of his time at university being frustrated and considerably disillusioned with the whole process, a state that perfectly prepared him for actual teaching. He took a job as a teacher of Computing at Geelong High School, where he has been ever since, explaining to successive generations of students why turning it off and on again is indeed a valid troubleshooting step.

When Shannon came to visit, Mark took her to the beach. They had a great time, and Shannon got to see the ocean. The next day, Mark took her to the beach again, displaying a remarkable commitment to repetitive entertainment. They had a great time, and Shannon got to see the ocean again, which had thoughtfully remained in the same place. On Tuesday morning, they went to cheese shop, presumably a different one than the infamous incident of marital dissolution.

Mark is interested in many things, but is not very good at any of them, a trait he has elevated to an art form in itself. He is learning to code, and this website is the result. It is not very good, but it is a start, and like all starts, it contains the seeds of future mediocrity.

Mark is married to Nicky, and they have four daughters, Eliza, Matilda, Elsie and Esme, all of whom have learned to answer to any combination of these names due to their father's tendency to cycle through them all before landing on the right one.

Mark's siblings are Brendan, who is a teacher of Dance (a profession that requires significantly more coordination than Mark has ever possessed), and Freya, who has a Buick dealership in the valley, selling cars to people who are absolutely certain about what year it is.

Mark has refused to deny rumours that he used AI to write this text, maintaining a level of strategic ambiguity that suggests he either did use AI, or wishes to appear interesting enough for people to think he did. The truth, like many things in Mark's life, remains pleasantly uncertain. If you want to follow Mark on the socials - and there really is no reason you should - you can do this on Blue Sky