I'm really hanging out for the bell in the last of twelve rounds in 2012. With three days to go I reckon I'll have a narrow loss on points if I can stay on my feet for this last bit. It has been a rugged contest, I didn't flinch, but I'm quite spent and demoralised.
I met a lady today in the Beenak cemetery. I was returning from Yarra Junction, where I visited Graeme. Graeme rang me on Thursday, he had some some seedlings and seeds for me still, I could come and get them if I wanted. He'd told me a month ago he'd bring them to Gembrook when he next delivered to the IGA and he'd ring me when, but he didn't ring. He told me he had complications with the stomach ulcer that had stopped him coming some weeks earlier, and had to go to hospital again. They found cancer and took most of his stomach out. He showed me the big three week old scar right down his gut. He and his son Dave loaded me up with tomato, onion and capsicum seedlings they would otherwise throw out.
On the way home I took the turn down the dirt road, following the finger board that said 'Beenak Cemetery'. It was a few k's in, I was surprised at the volume of traffic coming out, causing much dust and detracting from the remoteness of it all, as I slowly drove past a winery, a kiwi orchard, then stringbark bush. There was once a town at Beenak, a mill town which followed the gold prospecting of yet earlier time. I expected the remnants only of the cemetery and perhaps a few very old headstones, and solitude, which I want badly. Need badly.
There were a lot of cars outside the cemetery, a funeral service had just finished. I found a car park in one of the gaps created by the cars I had passed and strolled in to have a look around. The grass was freshly mowed, there were perhaps four or five dozen graves scattered about, none of them looking old. I stayed away from the gathering of people and the hearse at the burial site and wandered amongst the other graves. A blonde lady sat alone in the shade inside the fence on a bench seat. The graves I inspected were all recent burials, say from 1980 to the present, migrant people, still born baby, two year old from the same family, young men with photos, probably car accidents.
I remember Meredith telling me she and her boyfriend Ray Hudson were walking in the bush near Beenak cemetery in the 1970's when they saw a Thylacine, quite close, crossing the track in front of them, unmistakably a Tasmanian tiger. Meredith is the sort of person you believe.
I was surprised the cemetery had recent graves only. I walked back towards the van, passing close to the lady wearing sunglasses. I said hello, and voiced my surprise at the lack of old graves seeing that Beenak was once a town. She could not shed any light on it, she said she was here with the funeral group, but did not know the deceased personally, who was a lifelong friend of her mother. She was down from Queensland, visiting her mother who was in her eighties.
I told her I was on my way back from Yarra Junction and followed the sign to the cemetery out of curiosity. The weather was balmy as we looked down the slope at the gathering chatting quite happily with tall stringybarks behind them. I commented that death is not really a sad thing if a person is in their eighties, in fact it's a beautiful thing, the completion of a life and quite natural, and perhaps renewal in some way none of knows about with certainty.
She agreed, but said when death comes to someone in their forties as it did to her husband, by means of cancer, it's a proper bastard. She and her three children were devastated. She said she now lives at Maleny, in from the Sunshine Coast, and she loves it. Her new partner and her have a hundred acres or so and he works with timber and makes furniture etc and she loves it up there where she does a lot of fishing, in the sea as well as rivers and dams. She manages a farmers' co op. Her children are grown up, one in the thirties, and she's now a grandmother.
Another lady came over and began talking to her so I said, "Goodbye, I'll have a look around Maleny one day." She smiled and said I really should.
It has been a tough year. I haven't got the grass cut at the farm yet and I haven't got to extracting honey. I told the florists I was not picking foliage for them between Xmas and New Year. I've had a house full of people for Xmas. As good as it all was, today was the first bit of quiet I had.
That's why I lost on points. I want most of all peace and quiet, I do not have it, not in 2012 anyway.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Merry Christmas My Friends
I'm not much of a one for sending Christmas cards, although I do send a few to my old friends who regularly send me one first. I'm fortunate that I have many friends. Some read this blog. To those I extend my love and best wishes to you. I write for you, and it gives me great pleasure. I hope that Christmas brings you all the love from family and friends that I feel it does for me.
Merry Christmas my friends.
Merry Christmas my friends.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Wood Sorrel
We know it as oxalis. It's damnable in that once you have it any quantity it's almost impossible to get rid of it. The problem with it is that it has a root corm that divies up into many little corms that all become a vigorous new plant. It grows in the warmer weather and is then quite visible if the ground has been cultivated. It proliferates with cultivation and I suggest that the infestation I have at the farm in the vegie garden got a good hold in the days when we used a rotary hoe.
Every cloud has silver lining, that's why I love clouds. Today Meredith picked 15 bunches of wood sorrel (oxalis) for the restaurants. It is an edible herb so at this time of year it also is an income source for us. Not that I'd advise eating it in any quantity. I asked Meredith if she knew how they used it and she said she saw in the 'Epicure' section of the paper where the used a leaf to decorate a dish of salmon mornay.
The restaurant trade as well as the florists keep us very busy in the last few weeks before christmas. I felt some pride today as I looked over the 'Herb and Spice Garden' order waiting for pickup. As well as the woodsorrel there was a bag of dandelion leaves, nasturtium leaves and many punnets of pansies and mixed edible flowers. It's an interesting business we have, rewarding when you can give the customer what they want, and frustrating when we don't have it or so little that it's hardly worth the trouble picking.
Demand for many things goes up and down frequently so to grow too much is a mistake, just as is not growing enough. It's always the struggle, deciding what to grow and how much.
Speaking of weeds I'll be picking green holly bunches tomorrow for Christmas orders. Not like the old days when I'd pick hundreds of bunches a week in the weeks before Christmas.
Every cloud has silver lining, that's why I love clouds. Today Meredith picked 15 bunches of wood sorrel (oxalis) for the restaurants. It is an edible herb so at this time of year it also is an income source for us. Not that I'd advise eating it in any quantity. I asked Meredith if she knew how they used it and she said she saw in the 'Epicure' section of the paper where the used a leaf to decorate a dish of salmon mornay.
The restaurant trade as well as the florists keep us very busy in the last few weeks before christmas. I felt some pride today as I looked over the 'Herb and Spice Garden' order waiting for pickup. As well as the woodsorrel there was a bag of dandelion leaves, nasturtium leaves and many punnets of pansies and mixed edible flowers. It's an interesting business we have, rewarding when you can give the customer what they want, and frustrating when we don't have it or so little that it's hardly worth the trouble picking.
Demand for many things goes up and down frequently so to grow too much is a mistake, just as is not growing enough. It's always the struggle, deciding what to grow and how much.
Speaking of weeds I'll be picking green holly bunches tomorrow for Christmas orders. Not like the old days when I'd pick hundreds of bunches a week in the weeks before Christmas.
Love is Disciplined
I love this.
"Because genuine love requires an extension of oneself, vast amounts of energy are required, and, like it or not, the store of our energy is as limited as the hours of our day. We simply cannot love everyone. Genuine love for a few individuals is all that is within our power.
To attempt to exceed the limits of our energy is to offer more than we can deliver, and there is a point of no return beyond which an attempt to love all comers becomes fraudulent and harmful to the very ones we desire to assist. We have to choose whom we are actually to love. This choice is not easy; it may be excruciatingly painful, as the assumption of godlike power often is. But it must be made.
Many factors need to be considered, primarily the capacity of a prospective recipient of our love to respond to that love with spiritual growth. People differ in this capacity. It is unquestionable, however, that there are many whose spirits are locked in unpenetrable armour that even the greatest efforts to nurture the growth of those spirits are doomed to almost certain failure. To attempt to love someone who cannot benefit from your love with spritual growth is to waste your energy and cast your seed on arid ground."
That is from 'The Road Less Travelled' by M Scott Peck, a psycotherapist who wrote the book based on his many years in practice. I'm reading it at age 60 but wish I had when I was 30 which was about when it was written. I have left out a phrase or two for brevity but it rings huge bells for me, as does most of the book.
In the same chapter, "Freedom and discipline are indeed handmaidens; without the discipline of genuine love, freedom is invariably nonloving and destructive."
Then a little later, "Call it what you will, genuine love, with all the discipline that it requires, is the only path in this life to substantial joy."
We all need a bit of freedom, we all need discipline. This book is helping me understand myself and so much of what has happened in my life. Not that I want to be self absorbed, but it relates to me and those around me and those I have loved and love.
I have worked long and hard lately and have no energy to write about my activity but talking about this book came enthusiastically to me. I'd recommend everyone to have a read of this book which is subtitled 'The New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth.'
"Because genuine love requires an extension of oneself, vast amounts of energy are required, and, like it or not, the store of our energy is as limited as the hours of our day. We simply cannot love everyone. Genuine love for a few individuals is all that is within our power.
To attempt to exceed the limits of our energy is to offer more than we can deliver, and there is a point of no return beyond which an attempt to love all comers becomes fraudulent and harmful to the very ones we desire to assist. We have to choose whom we are actually to love. This choice is not easy; it may be excruciatingly painful, as the assumption of godlike power often is. But it must be made.
Many factors need to be considered, primarily the capacity of a prospective recipient of our love to respond to that love with spiritual growth. People differ in this capacity. It is unquestionable, however, that there are many whose spirits are locked in unpenetrable armour that even the greatest efforts to nurture the growth of those spirits are doomed to almost certain failure. To attempt to love someone who cannot benefit from your love with spritual growth is to waste your energy and cast your seed on arid ground."
That is from 'The Road Less Travelled' by M Scott Peck, a psycotherapist who wrote the book based on his many years in practice. I'm reading it at age 60 but wish I had when I was 30 which was about when it was written. I have left out a phrase or two for brevity but it rings huge bells for me, as does most of the book.
In the same chapter, "Freedom and discipline are indeed handmaidens; without the discipline of genuine love, freedom is invariably nonloving and destructive."
Then a little later, "Call it what you will, genuine love, with all the discipline that it requires, is the only path in this life to substantial joy."
We all need a bit of freedom, we all need discipline. This book is helping me understand myself and so much of what has happened in my life. Not that I want to be self absorbed, but it relates to me and those around me and those I have loved and love.
I have worked long and hard lately and have no energy to write about my activity but talking about this book came enthusiastically to me. I'd recommend everyone to have a read of this book which is subtitled 'The New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth.'
Saturday, December 15, 2012
12/12/12
My friend Leigh arrived at 7.30am with a gentle knock on front door. He came specifically to see me and accompany me on my morning walk, which, I must confess, I have done only spasmodically recently due to pressures of work.
It was an honour that Leigh came to see me. We were teamates in the Greta FC premiership team of 1980. Not only that, we went to the same school in the 1960's, Caulfield Grammar, where we had no personal relationship or contact really, despite being in the same year. It was a big school. He was a year ahead of me in the age group football teams. He ended up vice school captain, I was expelled some time prior to that.
Leigh looked as fit as a trout. A little heavier in the top half perhaps, and white hair like mine, but in good nick. We walked, talked, and exchanged mental energy. We are bloggers, thinkers, seekers of truth, as different as you could be in some ways, (Leigh is vegetarian, does not drink alcohol, is athiest, rides a pushbike for recreation. I love meat, wine, believe in God, and walk rather than ride).
We did not talk football. We have both grown mentally and spiritually, since our time as footballers that brought us together as mates forever. Leigh was at Greta for one year, I for four, it was a lot of things aligning thing that saw us win the premiership that year. Leigh was best and fairest in 1980. He kicked five goals in the Grand Final, and even better, he kicked five goals in the last quarter of the prelim final in an an amazing performance, something akin to Superman, as we clawed our way back from a six or eight goal deficit at half time to overpower Beechworth and win by a street.
Leigh committed to do a blog post for every day of 2012. I have followed his every word. He's delivered, an amazing effort, I speak two weeks shy of the finale, but he would not slip up now. Along the way he has gone from being unemployed, to finding his dream job, losing and regaining his good woman, and searching his soul. He loves his dog Jezza, and even his cat.
Lethal Leigh, you are a legend. I don't think you missed a game in 1980, in which case I think you would have played 21 games including three finals for the year. And I think you wore number 12 on your purple and gold guernsey.
Once things for sure, we won't see the next time 12/12/12 comes round, not walking this familiar Earthly plain anyway.
It was an honour that Leigh came to see me. We were teamates in the Greta FC premiership team of 1980. Not only that, we went to the same school in the 1960's, Caulfield Grammar, where we had no personal relationship or contact really, despite being in the same year. It was a big school. He was a year ahead of me in the age group football teams. He ended up vice school captain, I was expelled some time prior to that.
Leigh looked as fit as a trout. A little heavier in the top half perhaps, and white hair like mine, but in good nick. We walked, talked, and exchanged mental energy. We are bloggers, thinkers, seekers of truth, as different as you could be in some ways, (Leigh is vegetarian, does not drink alcohol, is athiest, rides a pushbike for recreation. I love meat, wine, believe in God, and walk rather than ride).
We did not talk football. We have both grown mentally and spiritually, since our time as footballers that brought us together as mates forever. Leigh was at Greta for one year, I for four, it was a lot of things aligning thing that saw us win the premiership that year. Leigh was best and fairest in 1980. He kicked five goals in the Grand Final, and even better, he kicked five goals in the last quarter of the prelim final in an an amazing performance, something akin to Superman, as we clawed our way back from a six or eight goal deficit at half time to overpower Beechworth and win by a street.
Leigh committed to do a blog post for every day of 2012. I have followed his every word. He's delivered, an amazing effort, I speak two weeks shy of the finale, but he would not slip up now. Along the way he has gone from being unemployed, to finding his dream job, losing and regaining his good woman, and searching his soul. He loves his dog Jezza, and even his cat.
Lethal Leigh, you are a legend. I don't think you missed a game in 1980, in which case I think you would have played 21 games including three finals for the year. And I think you wore number 12 on your purple and gold guernsey.
Once things for sure, we won't see the next time 12/12/12 comes round, not walking this familiar Earthly plain anyway.
Friday, December 07, 2012
Nice One Cyril
Today while trimming copper beech I'd picked, busily working away to bunch it by 5.00pm when the first wholesaler was scheduled to pick up, I was feeling a little annoyed at my workload which kept me right under the pump till knock off time on Friday. Long gone are my days in the public service when Fridays were a wind down when nothing much was done as you eased into the weekend. Some desk tidying, a few phone calls, long tea breaks, conversations.
This week was tough. The beech picking kept me going all week. Monday night was the last of my computer class for the year. Tuesday evening was the trip to Nunawading to meet the removalist, Wednesday after work the fruitless trip to the mobile blood donor service, Thursday the squeezed in trip to Dandenong for the tap cartridges and meeting with arborist in NHP and resultant late home, and here I was Friday hammering away still.
Through all that I slipped up only once. I took some stock out of the freezer on Tuesday to make a soup, did so on Wednesday morning, a quick favourite of mine, red lentils with carrots, celery, onions and little bacon and acouple of tins of crushed tomatos, putting it in the crockpot to slow cook all day. On my way home on Wednesday I picked a bunch of parsley at Hanna's where I grow stuff and added it, leaving the crockpot on intending to turn it off after my bath. Well I forgot about it and it cooked for another 24 hours till Lib found it and turned it off. It tastes a bit burnt, I think I'll end up throwing it out.
So. Why Nice One Cyril? About 4.00pm, there I was busily trimming and bunching, Meredith came out and said Herb and Spice Garden had rung up. H+S picked up a herb and flower order on Wednesday. I had picked them some broad beans from my garden at Hanna's after those sent on Monday, picked on Sunday, were well received. I just grow broad beans for us to eat, but had a surplus. I was rushed and late but picked the broadies on Wednesday rather than see them get too old and waste, and we sent them with the H+S order.
The message from H+S was that the Chef from the restaurant that received the broadies had rung to say that the the broad beans were the best he'd had for years. We are only talking twenty kilos or so but it just gives me a buzz, to know what I do is appreciated.
Why Cyril? A few years ago we went to a Melbourne/Hawthorn game with Phil, Lib's sister Marg's husband, a keen Hawthorn supporter. During the game as Hawthorn ran away on the scoreboard and Cyril Riolli mesmerized his opponents and the crowd, Phil was heard to comment "Nice one Cyril" on numerous occasion. This of course irritated big time, however the phrase became a bit of a saying in our household when something good happened. Mind you, it also had a good work out in a perverse way when Sydney beat Hawthorn in the GF this year.
Nice one Cyril!
This week was tough. The beech picking kept me going all week. Monday night was the last of my computer class for the year. Tuesday evening was the trip to Nunawading to meet the removalist, Wednesday after work the fruitless trip to the mobile blood donor service, Thursday the squeezed in trip to Dandenong for the tap cartridges and meeting with arborist in NHP and resultant late home, and here I was Friday hammering away still.
Through all that I slipped up only once. I took some stock out of the freezer on Tuesday to make a soup, did so on Wednesday morning, a quick favourite of mine, red lentils with carrots, celery, onions and little bacon and acouple of tins of crushed tomatos, putting it in the crockpot to slow cook all day. On my way home on Wednesday I picked a bunch of parsley at Hanna's where I grow stuff and added it, leaving the crockpot on intending to turn it off after my bath. Well I forgot about it and it cooked for another 24 hours till Lib found it and turned it off. It tastes a bit burnt, I think I'll end up throwing it out.
So. Why Nice One Cyril? About 4.00pm, there I was busily trimming and bunching, Meredith came out and said Herb and Spice Garden had rung up. H+S picked up a herb and flower order on Wednesday. I had picked them some broad beans from my garden at Hanna's after those sent on Monday, picked on Sunday, were well received. I just grow broad beans for us to eat, but had a surplus. I was rushed and late but picked the broadies on Wednesday rather than see them get too old and waste, and we sent them with the H+S order.
The message from H+S was that the Chef from the restaurant that received the broadies had rung to say that the the broad beans were the best he'd had for years. We are only talking twenty kilos or so but it just gives me a buzz, to know what I do is appreciated.
Why Cyril? A few years ago we went to a Melbourne/Hawthorn game with Phil, Lib's sister Marg's husband, a keen Hawthorn supporter. During the game as Hawthorn ran away on the scoreboard and Cyril Riolli mesmerized his opponents and the crowd, Phil was heard to comment "Nice one Cyril" on numerous occasion. This of course irritated big time, however the phrase became a bit of a saying in our household when something good happened. Mind you, it also had a good work out in a perverse way when Sydney beat Hawthorn in the GF this year.
Nice one Cyril!
Thursday, December 06, 2012
No Blood Today
They wouldn't take my blood today. They asked me many questions. I filled out the questionaire, much of it relating to my sexual activity. Mine was straight line of ticks down the 'No' column. We were all set to go, I had the prelim juice box was asked to lie down and get fitted up. This was a different lady.
I'd explained to the previous one that I hadn't been to the doctor for routine health check for a few years. She seemed alarmed at this, admonishing me that I should have my blood checked every year for various things. She checked my blood pressure, it was a little high 157 over 87. I told her that when I used to go to the doctor, for cholesterol monitoring, my blood pressure was high when the doctor checked it, but it seemed alright when I checked it at home. I told her that at that time the doctor said my iron levels were high but not high enough for concern. Someone else had told me that if you have high iron levels you can reduce it by donating blood regularly, that was partly why donating blood had been on my list, but I'd never been able to travel to a blood bank. I went on to say that I don't go to the doctor anymore because doctor always wanted me to take medications for blood pressure and high cholesterol, and I didnt want to, as the statins raised my liver function readings to outside normal, and that my blood pressure readings were the result of white coat fever as it is called. I told her that I had chosen to take a quarter of a soluble asprin tablet every day and walk frequently and eat fruit and abstain from alcohol for half the week as a self help health plan rather than go to the doctor and take prescription medications at considerable cost to me. I think she thought I was bit nutty but to this point I still qualified to donate. She explained that people who donate blood to reduce high iron levels do so with written request from doctor so I should go to the doctor and have my iron checked before the next donation so that it would be within the usual procedure.
The next lady went over a few of the same questions after asking me which arm I wanted the blood taken from and asking me to roll up my sleeve. She said "When did you last have a blood test," or, "When did you last go to the doctor," I can't remember which, so I began telling her the saga last year when I went to the doctor, a different doctor not my usual, with strong pain in my ear and the resultant blood tests of that day showing abnormality in blood cell count, causing me to be summoned by phone call to hospital at nearly midnight and be administered cortisone in case I had temporal arteritis. I explained that subsequent biopsy of arteries and visits to specialist revealed I didn't have TA and follow up blood tests showed I was fine. The whole exercise cost me about $1000, one full missed day for biopsy, and maybe half a dozen trips to Dandenong to visit specialists.
"Is it any wonder I avoid going to the doctor?" I asked.
This lady was on the phone in a flash to head office and before long was telling me that they couldn't take my blood today until I had clearance from my doctor that it was OK for me to donate blood. I politely left explaining that I would go the doctor one of these days for a psa or general health check and if my readings were all good I'd try to donate again in future if I felt moved and had time.
It is not likely. I've had enough of the medical profession and feel happy to live my life out in its natural course. Every day I can walk and work is a blessing.
Other news for the day was that the two new cartridges to fix the leaking mixer taps in our new bathrooms which arrived in the post yesterday are the wrong ones, so plumber found when he tried to fit them. I have to try and squeeze in a trip to Dandenong tomorrow to return them and get the right ones.
And Lib left this morning to go to management meeting in Essendon, missed the turn off just out of the Burnley tunnel to the airport and got lost. She gave up trying to get to Essendon and returned to work at Upper Beacy, ringing to explain how three hours of her day were wasted.
Why is it that everything is so complicated? Oh for a simple life.
I'd explained to the previous one that I hadn't been to the doctor for routine health check for a few years. She seemed alarmed at this, admonishing me that I should have my blood checked every year for various things. She checked my blood pressure, it was a little high 157 over 87. I told her that when I used to go to the doctor, for cholesterol monitoring, my blood pressure was high when the doctor checked it, but it seemed alright when I checked it at home. I told her that at that time the doctor said my iron levels were high but not high enough for concern. Someone else had told me that if you have high iron levels you can reduce it by donating blood regularly, that was partly why donating blood had been on my list, but I'd never been able to travel to a blood bank. I went on to say that I don't go to the doctor anymore because doctor always wanted me to take medications for blood pressure and high cholesterol, and I didnt want to, as the statins raised my liver function readings to outside normal, and that my blood pressure readings were the result of white coat fever as it is called. I told her that I had chosen to take a quarter of a soluble asprin tablet every day and walk frequently and eat fruit and abstain from alcohol for half the week as a self help health plan rather than go to the doctor and take prescription medications at considerable cost to me. I think she thought I was bit nutty but to this point I still qualified to donate. She explained that people who donate blood to reduce high iron levels do so with written request from doctor so I should go to the doctor and have my iron checked before the next donation so that it would be within the usual procedure.
The next lady went over a few of the same questions after asking me which arm I wanted the blood taken from and asking me to roll up my sleeve. She said "When did you last have a blood test," or, "When did you last go to the doctor," I can't remember which, so I began telling her the saga last year when I went to the doctor, a different doctor not my usual, with strong pain in my ear and the resultant blood tests of that day showing abnormality in blood cell count, causing me to be summoned by phone call to hospital at nearly midnight and be administered cortisone in case I had temporal arteritis. I explained that subsequent biopsy of arteries and visits to specialist revealed I didn't have TA and follow up blood tests showed I was fine. The whole exercise cost me about $1000, one full missed day for biopsy, and maybe half a dozen trips to Dandenong to visit specialists.
"Is it any wonder I avoid going to the doctor?" I asked.
This lady was on the phone in a flash to head office and before long was telling me that they couldn't take my blood today until I had clearance from my doctor that it was OK for me to donate blood. I politely left explaining that I would go the doctor one of these days for a psa or general health check and if my readings were all good I'd try to donate again in future if I felt moved and had time.
It is not likely. I've had enough of the medical profession and feel happy to live my life out in its natural course. Every day I can walk and work is a blessing.
Other news for the day was that the two new cartridges to fix the leaking mixer taps in our new bathrooms which arrived in the post yesterday are the wrong ones, so plumber found when he tried to fit them. I have to try and squeeze in a trip to Dandenong tomorrow to return them and get the right ones.
And Lib left this morning to go to management meeting in Essendon, missed the turn off just out of the Burnley tunnel to the airport and got lost. She gave up trying to get to Essendon and returned to work at Upper Beacy, ringing to explain how three hours of her day were wasted.
Why is it that everything is so complicated? Oh for a simple life.
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
Head Cold
Four weeks ago a sore throat at the back of the nose developed and I've had a head cold ever since. At times in the first week I felt quite lacklustre and unenergetic. Since then I've felt OK but for the voluminous quantities of mucous and phlegm produced at the back of the nose and I do much blowing out of great gobs of gluey muck. I'm tiring of it. I can't recall ever having a head cold last four weeks before.
Since my fruitless trip to Nunawading last Wednesday to meet the removalist who didn't show I've carried my mobile phone everywhere, not normal for me, waiting for them to call. The call came at 3.30pm today (yesterday) and I was there at 5.00 to open the door. I'm so glad that's off my case.
After ringing around this morning trying to find out when it was happening, unsuccessfully, I went to my friend Pat's to cut up a large limb that split off a flowering gum a while ago. Pat's husband Mal finished work about last May but he's gone back to help the engineering firm and is currently in Brazil working at a mine somewhere a long way from anywhere.
It rained on and off. It's cold now too. After Pat's I went to Sue Jarvis's place to pick green and copper beech. Sue and husband Ian have a nine acre garden, a veritable arboretum that is stunning to see and looking sensational now. It's amazing what they have created and I must get some photos to post one of these days.
Tomorrow I have booked in to give blood at the Red Cross mobile service at Upwey at 5.10pm. I have felt inclined to give blood for years and finally I rang to enquire after seeing the request in an email receipt for some raffle tickets I bought over the phone. I guess they test my blood first. they asked a lot of questions on the phone. If I feel good about the experience I'll try to donate blood regularly.
I can hear rain on the roof. I'll take my head cold to bed.
Since my fruitless trip to Nunawading last Wednesday to meet the removalist who didn't show I've carried my mobile phone everywhere, not normal for me, waiting for them to call. The call came at 3.30pm today (yesterday) and I was there at 5.00 to open the door. I'm so glad that's off my case.
After ringing around this morning trying to find out when it was happening, unsuccessfully, I went to my friend Pat's to cut up a large limb that split off a flowering gum a while ago. Pat's husband Mal finished work about last May but he's gone back to help the engineering firm and is currently in Brazil working at a mine somewhere a long way from anywhere.
It rained on and off. It's cold now too. After Pat's I went to Sue Jarvis's place to pick green and copper beech. Sue and husband Ian have a nine acre garden, a veritable arboretum that is stunning to see and looking sensational now. It's amazing what they have created and I must get some photos to post one of these days.
Tomorrow I have booked in to give blood at the Red Cross mobile service at Upwey at 5.10pm. I have felt inclined to give blood for years and finally I rang to enquire after seeing the request in an email receipt for some raffle tickets I bought over the phone. I guess they test my blood first. they asked a lot of questions on the phone. If I feel good about the experience I'll try to donate blood regularly.
I can hear rain on the roof. I'll take my head cold to bed.
Monday, December 03, 2012
Back Then
Cut me a bit of slack. I fell asleep in the chair after my dinner of roast chook. It's now after midnight, meaning it's no longer the 2 Dec. That day 40 years ago was when Gough Whitlam and the ALP swept to power. I was twenty, a national serviceman, at Puckapunyal, this day was our march out parade after completing recruit training. Back then, the voting age was 21, so I didn't have a vote.
Back then I was anti Gough. Brainwashed by propoganda and ANZAC bullshit.
I was wrong. Gough was a great man. How I wish politicians of today shared his courage. We are a puppet of the USA. I went out to dinner last night in Berwick. The whole suburban vista is a mirror image of life in America. It stinks, and I leave out the obvious swear word descriptives that spring to my mind in deference to those quality people who read and do not like bad language.
Forty years on. Here I am. It's a hard thing, to realize you were duped, in such a profound way. No effing way it would happen again. Unfortunately Australia is no more than a puppet state of the US.
Just look around. It's sick man. But I'm not part of it. I'm out there growing vegies and clinging to my values and doing what I can.
Gough you are a legend.
Back then I was anti Gough. Brainwashed by propoganda and ANZAC bullshit.
I was wrong. Gough was a great man. How I wish politicians of today shared his courage. We are a puppet of the USA. I went out to dinner last night in Berwick. The whole suburban vista is a mirror image of life in America. It stinks, and I leave out the obvious swear word descriptives that spring to my mind in deference to those quality people who read and do not like bad language.
Forty years on. Here I am. It's a hard thing, to realize you were duped, in such a profound way. No effing way it would happen again. Unfortunately Australia is no more than a puppet state of the US.
Just look around. It's sick man. But I'm not part of it. I'm out there growing vegies and clinging to my values and doing what I can.
Gough you are a legend.
Saturday, December 01, 2012
Summer
Checking my emails just now after coming home from Lib's work Christmas dinner, I realize it's after midnight and in fact now the first day of summer. My father Lyle would have turned 87 on this day if he was still with us. He died in 2007, but the first day of summer will always provoke strong memories.
I'm not about to go into an deep reflection about Lyle, our relationship or my family history. Those of you who knew my father would remember him fondly. He was an unusual man. He told me that his old football coach said, "Lyle, if you could time your leap with the arrival of the footy you'd be a champion." Something akin anyway. Dad was the perfect build for a footballer when I think of it, close to 6 feet tall, strong, athletic, a good high jumper in his youth. He played ruck rover and his leap enabled him to actually do some ruckwork. In that era anything over six feet was considered tall. He had a long left foot kick on him, drop kicks a specialty, which continually astounded my mates and I when we were kids. When I was about 12 or 13, he nearly forty, he was proudly showing his skills one day when he did a hammy or a quad, I'm not sure now. He carried a lump in his thigh from that day on and often rued it, right up to his last days. His football coach got it pretty right, when I think about it. He had unbounded energy and enthusiasm, he just didn't get the timing right.
Dad loved footy. He strongly disliked many things - alcohol, smoking, horse racing to name a few, but he loved footy, and taking his son, me as a kid, to the footy, and watching his son play footy. Brother Jod couldn't/ wouldn't/ didn't go near a footy so his interest focused on me. Our relationship through my childhood revolved around this. The time we shared together was kicking the footy or playing cricket in the back yard. He had high expectations of me, which I did not fulfill. That's the way of it, often.
My sons didn't play footy, except for one year Gord did at the Gembrook U10's. It's funny you know, when I had two sons I always just assumed they'd play footy like I did, and love it like I did. But they didn't. They follow the AFL and the Demons like I do, but as for playing - no way. Gord has a strong frame which could have developed into a potent weapon, and Rob showed tremendous athletism and skill as a youngster, but it just wasn't on.
I started out with intentions of writing about my activities this last week, which have been arduous and testing, and the disruption to my phsyche by the removalists who are moving Rob's friend Hao's furniture from Adelaide to the flat in Nunawading, which has still not arrived, and has caused me to be on call all week, and a trip to meet them to let them in, a fruitless exercise as they did not turn up.
Hao and Robbie are in Singapore on route to Vietnam, I'm waiting on the next call.
I'm not about to go into an deep reflection about Lyle, our relationship or my family history. Those of you who knew my father would remember him fondly. He was an unusual man. He told me that his old football coach said, "Lyle, if you could time your leap with the arrival of the footy you'd be a champion." Something akin anyway. Dad was the perfect build for a footballer when I think of it, close to 6 feet tall, strong, athletic, a good high jumper in his youth. He played ruck rover and his leap enabled him to actually do some ruckwork. In that era anything over six feet was considered tall. He had a long left foot kick on him, drop kicks a specialty, which continually astounded my mates and I when we were kids. When I was about 12 or 13, he nearly forty, he was proudly showing his skills one day when he did a hammy or a quad, I'm not sure now. He carried a lump in his thigh from that day on and often rued it, right up to his last days. His football coach got it pretty right, when I think about it. He had unbounded energy and enthusiasm, he just didn't get the timing right.
Dad loved footy. He strongly disliked many things - alcohol, smoking, horse racing to name a few, but he loved footy, and taking his son, me as a kid, to the footy, and watching his son play footy. Brother Jod couldn't/ wouldn't/ didn't go near a footy so his interest focused on me. Our relationship through my childhood revolved around this. The time we shared together was kicking the footy or playing cricket in the back yard. He had high expectations of me, which I did not fulfill. That's the way of it, often.
My sons didn't play footy, except for one year Gord did at the Gembrook U10's. It's funny you know, when I had two sons I always just assumed they'd play footy like I did, and love it like I did. But they didn't. They follow the AFL and the Demons like I do, but as for playing - no way. Gord has a strong frame which could have developed into a potent weapon, and Rob showed tremendous athletism and skill as a youngster, but it just wasn't on.
I started out with intentions of writing about my activities this last week, which have been arduous and testing, and the disruption to my phsyche by the removalists who are moving Rob's friend Hao's furniture from Adelaide to the flat in Nunawading, which has still not arrived, and has caused me to be on call all week, and a trip to meet them to let them in, a fruitless exercise as they did not turn up.
Hao and Robbie are in Singapore on route to Vietnam, I'm waiting on the next call.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Sun Too Hot
I left the Adelaide Oval at lunch in the cricket. Australia was all out for 550 odd and Sth Africa 0 for 3 in reply. Six hours in the sun yesterday and two today were all I could stand although I enjoyed the cricket, and especially sharing it with my son Gordon who's a real cricket fan who barracks strongly for Sth Africa.
Gord's favourite player is Jaques Kallis and he didn't let us down with the ball yesterday taking two wickets as first change before he went off with an injury. If the cricket gods were not with SA yesterday I hope they are today and that Jaques is fit to bat and makes a good score for Gord. We came here as it was probably Gord's last chance to see Jaques live, there being no SA test in Melbourne this time and Jaques long career must be coming to an end.
We came over by plane on Wednesday evening. Rob came too. He's staying with his friend Hao till Dec 2 when they fly to Vietnam for a holiday. Hao is moving to Melbourne with work and he and Rob are to share a unit in Nunawading next year. Rob has finished Uni and hopefully will find a job. I'm going to Melbourne first thing next Monday to pick up the key to the unit, and will have to go down again to meet the removalist from Adelaide with Hao's stuff to let him in. Gord and I fly back tomorrow.
I'm in an internet cafe after having a much needed haircut. There are a lot of Asian voices around me and one who must be having trouble with some sort of game keeps yelling out "What the F***".
I'm out of here.
Gord's favourite player is Jaques Kallis and he didn't let us down with the ball yesterday taking two wickets as first change before he went off with an injury. If the cricket gods were not with SA yesterday I hope they are today and that Jaques is fit to bat and makes a good score for Gord. We came here as it was probably Gord's last chance to see Jaques live, there being no SA test in Melbourne this time and Jaques long career must be coming to an end.
We came over by plane on Wednesday evening. Rob came too. He's staying with his friend Hao till Dec 2 when they fly to Vietnam for a holiday. Hao is moving to Melbourne with work and he and Rob are to share a unit in Nunawading next year. Rob has finished Uni and hopefully will find a job. I'm going to Melbourne first thing next Monday to pick up the key to the unit, and will have to go down again to meet the removalist from Adelaide with Hao's stuff to let him in. Gord and I fly back tomorrow.
I'm in an internet cafe after having a much needed haircut. There are a lot of Asian voices around me and one who must be having trouble with some sort of game keeps yelling out "What the F***".
I'm out of here.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Gavrilo Princip
An email from friend Leigh Candy told me after my last post about the assasination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand that it was Gavrilo Princip, a Serb, who got him, so I checked Wikipedia. The motivation was resentment at Austria taking over Yugoslavia. He got the wife with a second shot from a pistol after she instinctively threw herself over him to protect him on 28 June 1914.
Gavrilo and five others set out to kill him when he visited Sareyevo to open a hospital. They lined the streets as the open topped car travelled through. One of his mates threw a hand grenade which the driver saw coming and accelerated away from. It went off under the fourth car seriously wounding two occupants and several onlookers. Later the Archduke was on his way to the hospital to visit the injured when his car stalled right in front of Gavrilo who grasped his opportunity.
Too young to be executed Gavrilo was jailed for 20 years and died in prison in 1917 from complications from a broken arm. He had suffered tuberculosis in prison and was emaciated.
The house Gavrilo lived in was destroyed in WW1, rebuilt and destroyed again in WW11, and again in the 1990's war. What an amazing war history all in one century?
My friend Dirk the painter in Gembrook tells me he visited Yugoslavia in the 1980's He won a big prize offered by a paint company at the paint shop he buys at. He found it a beautiful and friendly place with warm people who'd fall over backwards to help you and show hospitality. He could hardly believe it when later the places he visited were torn apart by the savage war and so many massacred.
Leigh's good woman is Serbian and came to Australia to escape the ravages of war.
None of us has any say in where we are born or the circumstances of the time.
Gavrilo and five others set out to kill him when he visited Sareyevo to open a hospital. They lined the streets as the open topped car travelled through. One of his mates threw a hand grenade which the driver saw coming and accelerated away from. It went off under the fourth car seriously wounding two occupants and several onlookers. Later the Archduke was on his way to the hospital to visit the injured when his car stalled right in front of Gavrilo who grasped his opportunity.
Too young to be executed Gavrilo was jailed for 20 years and died in prison in 1917 from complications from a broken arm. He had suffered tuberculosis in prison and was emaciated.
The house Gavrilo lived in was destroyed in WW1, rebuilt and destroyed again in WW11, and again in the 1990's war. What an amazing war history all in one century?
My friend Dirk the painter in Gembrook tells me he visited Yugoslavia in the 1980's He won a big prize offered by a paint company at the paint shop he buys at. He found it a beautiful and friendly place with warm people who'd fall over backwards to help you and show hospitality. He could hardly believe it when later the places he visited were torn apart by the savage war and so many massacred.
Leigh's good woman is Serbian and came to Australia to escape the ravages of war.
None of us has any say in where we are born or the circumstances of the time.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Human Blight
They say that learning about history assists you to conduct yourself better, and I don't doubt it. I have nearly finished reading a book about Captain Bligh and the mutiny on the Bounty, as fascinating a story as I have ever read, not least because the mutiny took place in Polynesia and Captain Bligh did indeed discover the 'Fidgee Islands' where we recently holidayed.
I quote the first paragraph of the concluding chapter-
"Liquor, in the end, did for both Bligh and Christian - McKoy's still on Pitcairn, and McArthur's in New South Wales. Bligh's career, and Christian's life, ended in divided, corrupt alcoholic and isolated communities far from home and the forces of law and order."
I recommend Richard Hough's book 'Captain Bligh and Mr Christian, The Men and the Mutiny' first published by Hutchinson and Co Ltd 1972, Arrow edition 1974, which is the one I read, Lib found it in an op shop and gave it me last birthday. An ripper read, it surprised me completely.
Whilst on history, let me tell something else I came across, in a platypus newsletter. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand whose assasination in 1914 triggered WW1, visited Mossvale in NSW in 1893.
He was reported to have felt intense joy at shooting a platypus during a three day hunting spree in which he killed 300 native animals including kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, echidnas, emus and koalas.
What can I say?
I quote the first paragraph of the concluding chapter-
"Liquor, in the end, did for both Bligh and Christian - McKoy's still on Pitcairn, and McArthur's in New South Wales. Bligh's career, and Christian's life, ended in divided, corrupt alcoholic and isolated communities far from home and the forces of law and order."
I recommend Richard Hough's book 'Captain Bligh and Mr Christian, The Men and the Mutiny' first published by Hutchinson and Co Ltd 1972, Arrow edition 1974, which is the one I read, Lib found it in an op shop and gave it me last birthday. An ripper read, it surprised me completely.
Whilst on history, let me tell something else I came across, in a platypus newsletter. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand whose assasination in 1914 triggered WW1, visited Mossvale in NSW in 1893.
He was reported to have felt intense joy at shooting a platypus during a three day hunting spree in which he killed 300 native animals including kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, echidnas, emus and koalas.
What can I say?
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Can You Believe It?
Last Saturday I burned off a heap of prunings from Hughsie's garden, which had been laying next to a driveway at home here for some months. Allan was alive when I did the job, so I could probably go back in this blog to tell you exactly when it was done, but for now let me guess and suggest last autumn
It was quite a big job, pruning large tree camellias in Allan's neighbours place that encroached over the fence and harboured huge blackberries that came over. Allan teed it up with his neighbour that I should do the reparation, and I did so in three stages, each requiring a trailer load of prunings to be removed. Amongst the camellias was an old lilac and a native shrub with a big head that were also cut back as a matter of common sense.
I dumped the three loads at home to burn in the future after it had all dried out which brings me to last Saturday. The material had all well dried out. The leaves had all browned and fallen off so it was branches and sticks that burned quickly and fiercely with almost zero smoke, the way it should be. It took over an hour to work my way through the pile , throwing on to the fire at a rate to keep it going, but not too hot causing everything it the vicinity to be singed.
Near the bottom was a branch of lilac, about four foot long, with a green shoot on it of about four inches. The constant moisture of the last six months must have encouraged this stick to do a survival of the species thing. There were no roots on the other end, but strong root nodules if that's the correct term. I found a spot to plant it. If it survives and grows I'll be totally astounded, and thrilled to my back teeth.
If it does, you'll find me cutting four foot branches off lilacs late next autumn and planting them as cuttings, to get a row of lilacs with a bit of size to them going, quick and easy. Nature is amazing.
It was quite a big job, pruning large tree camellias in Allan's neighbours place that encroached over the fence and harboured huge blackberries that came over. Allan teed it up with his neighbour that I should do the reparation, and I did so in three stages, each requiring a trailer load of prunings to be removed. Amongst the camellias was an old lilac and a native shrub with a big head that were also cut back as a matter of common sense.
I dumped the three loads at home to burn in the future after it had all dried out which brings me to last Saturday. The material had all well dried out. The leaves had all browned and fallen off so it was branches and sticks that burned quickly and fiercely with almost zero smoke, the way it should be. It took over an hour to work my way through the pile , throwing on to the fire at a rate to keep it going, but not too hot causing everything it the vicinity to be singed.
Near the bottom was a branch of lilac, about four foot long, with a green shoot on it of about four inches. The constant moisture of the last six months must have encouraged this stick to do a survival of the species thing. There were no roots on the other end, but strong root nodules if that's the correct term. I found a spot to plant it. If it survives and grows I'll be totally astounded, and thrilled to my back teeth.
If it does, you'll find me cutting four foot branches off lilacs late next autumn and planting them as cuttings, to get a row of lilacs with a bit of size to them going, quick and easy. Nature is amazing.
Monday, November 05, 2012
Two Big Ones
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| The Big Tree at Olive's |
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| Sappho Rhodie, Copper Beech, Big Tree |
It began my friend Olive's demise, about 5 years ago, when it dropped a limb which clipped the corner of her house. Olive had some trauma dealing with her insurance company and the stress seemed to trigger her into dementia or paranoia, a deterioration that was rapid and culminated in heart attack and death, death which she had told me she would self inflict by not eating if ever she could not look after her one acre garden.
In the second photo, the big messmate central and in the background appears incidentally when today I took a photo of Sapho rhodie with copper beech foliage behind, an alluring vision in front of our carport. The big messmate in the background is a superb specimen, younger than Olive's by a good margin I'd say but imposing and a roosting place for the owls I hear at night.
Trees rule. We tamper at our peril. We will be gone. They will reign.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Correction / Good News
I was in the bath earlier, listening to the local FM radio station hoping to hear results of the council elections which were held last Friday, by postal vote.
Rather than go back and change yesterday's post I must make a correction. Not that anyone would be aware unless you were there at the time, but of course my mate Ian (Punjab) would know, but Andy Mitchell did not get engaged to one of the Cantillon twins, it was Kay McCauley, a sultry blonde, sister of Pam who was in my class at school. The radio station was playing rock and roll songs of the era of my adolescence such as Johny O'Keefe, Gene Pitney and memories flooded back, especially the correction I mention. I knew Punjab would pick up on the error. His mum, who died last year, remarried to Reg Cantillon, the Cantillon twins' father, some time after her husband and Ian's father died. It was the music bringing this back to me.
But the news is - EX COUNCILLOR AND MAYOR ED CHATWIN was dumped.
He did not stand for Ranges Ward, depriving me of the pleasure I would have had to put him last on the ballot. He stood for Central Ward in some sort of cunning move.
I'm enjoying a bottle of Beresford cab sav, a top drop.
Below is from the Berwick Leader -
UPDATE 7.37pm: CARDINIA will have five new faces in its nine-seat council chamber at its next meeting.
Voters dumped Mayor Ed Chatwin, who tried to switch from Ranges ward to Central, but welcomed back a former councillor and mayor, Kate Lempriere.
Cr Graeme Legge failed to hold his seat in Ranges ward.
Voting went to the wire in several cases, with preferences deciding the outcome and overall shape of the new council.
The end result appears to be a largely independent mix of councillors, elected mainly on local issues.
Rather than go back and change yesterday's post I must make a correction. Not that anyone would be aware unless you were there at the time, but of course my mate Ian (Punjab) would know, but Andy Mitchell did not get engaged to one of the Cantillon twins, it was Kay McCauley, a sultry blonde, sister of Pam who was in my class at school. The radio station was playing rock and roll songs of the era of my adolescence such as Johny O'Keefe, Gene Pitney and memories flooded back, especially the correction I mention. I knew Punjab would pick up on the error. His mum, who died last year, remarried to Reg Cantillon, the Cantillon twins' father, some time after her husband and Ian's father died. It was the music bringing this back to me.
But the news is - EX COUNCILLOR AND MAYOR ED CHATWIN was dumped.
He did not stand for Ranges Ward, depriving me of the pleasure I would have had to put him last on the ballot. He stood for Central Ward in some sort of cunning move.
I'm enjoying a bottle of Beresford cab sav, a top drop.
Below is from the Berwick Leader -
UPDATE 7.37pm: CARDINIA will have five new faces in its nine-seat council chamber at its next meeting.
Voters dumped Mayor Ed Chatwin, who tried to switch from Ranges ward to Central, but welcomed back a former councillor and mayor, Kate Lempriere.
Cr Graeme Legge failed to hold his seat in Ranges ward.
Voting went to the wire in several cases, with preferences deciding the outcome and overall shape of the new council.
The end result appears to be a largely independent mix of councillors, elected mainly on local issues.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
I Can Hear Music
I spent most of this afternoon on the shed roof. First I raked off the sticks and leaves, Then I swept off the dirt, then I scraped with a steel brush, then I swept again. Then I painted the bad spots with killrust fisholene oil. I had my small transistor radio on the racing channel, and I was half listening in between the noise of brush and broom.
I had done this cleaning of the roof six months ago, but didn't have any fish oil, so I purchased a tin of it but didn't get around to applying it to the roof and the leaves and sticks built up on the roof again. I knew it would be a job requiring a number of hours which is why I hadn't managed to do it.
So it was good to get at it, after trips to Fiji, Wangaratta, Lakes Entrance and numerous storms adding to the litter build up on the roof, even if it was at the expense of cutting grass and getting vegie seeds in and constructing rabbit barriers which is also pressing on my to do list.
For some reason I had two songs going through my head all afternoon, Beach Boy music, 'I Can Hear Music', and 'Wouldn't it be Nice'. This evoked strong memories of my youth. I remembered a carload of us driving to Ballarat to get some Ballarat Bitter which wasn't available in Melbourne. It would have been in 1969 I think, and it must have been a Sauturday as the pubs weren't open on Sundays back then. We were in Laurie Mitchell's Zephyr sedan. It was hotted up with twin carbies and extractors and supposedly a racing camshaft but this may have been bulldust. The car was previously Laurie's older brother Andy's, after previously being their mum's. Andy became engaged to one of the Cantillon twins who lived in our street, and he moved on to more sedate and appropriate wheels.
There we were coming back from Ballarat all necking from bottles, including the driver, big bottles, stubbies were not yet invented. There was no 0.05 law. The rest of us were not yet at driving age and of course did not own cars. The Mitchell's were quite wealthy. Their father Mort owned Spaceline Homes, a prominent building company of the time. We had a billiard table at home and both my parents worked which was unusual then, and many of the neighbourhood youths congregagated at our house as a base. We played pool and billiards, cards, watched TV, drank coffee and tea. Everyone smoked and boozed at every opportunity. The boozing was not done at our house. My parents were wowsers and disapproved but were working long hours and frankly we had little to do with them. It was a bit of a wild time.
It's funny the things you remember while working on a shed roof, thinking back more than forty years ago. There was a certain freedom of youth, the Vietnam war was in full swing, all of us youths faced the marble ballot, I think that added to gungho attitude we had. Laurie did get called up later. I haven't seen him for more than forty years I'd say. We all sort of got scattered about as you do as you become adults. I met Andy and Mort one day in the Austin hospital, must have been 1985 as I was visiting my father after his heart bypass surgery. They were doing a bedside vigil, Mrs Mitchell was dying and not expected to live more than a few days.
The Beach Boys seemed to capture the zeitgeist of the late sixties early seventies. It was freedom music to my generation.
I had done this cleaning of the roof six months ago, but didn't have any fish oil, so I purchased a tin of it but didn't get around to applying it to the roof and the leaves and sticks built up on the roof again. I knew it would be a job requiring a number of hours which is why I hadn't managed to do it.
So it was good to get at it, after trips to Fiji, Wangaratta, Lakes Entrance and numerous storms adding to the litter build up on the roof, even if it was at the expense of cutting grass and getting vegie seeds in and constructing rabbit barriers which is also pressing on my to do list.
For some reason I had two songs going through my head all afternoon, Beach Boy music, 'I Can Hear Music', and 'Wouldn't it be Nice'. This evoked strong memories of my youth. I remembered a carload of us driving to Ballarat to get some Ballarat Bitter which wasn't available in Melbourne. It would have been in 1969 I think, and it must have been a Sauturday as the pubs weren't open on Sundays back then. We were in Laurie Mitchell's Zephyr sedan. It was hotted up with twin carbies and extractors and supposedly a racing camshaft but this may have been bulldust. The car was previously Laurie's older brother Andy's, after previously being their mum's. Andy became engaged to one of the Cantillon twins who lived in our street, and he moved on to more sedate and appropriate wheels.
There we were coming back from Ballarat all necking from bottles, including the driver, big bottles, stubbies were not yet invented. There was no 0.05 law. The rest of us were not yet at driving age and of course did not own cars. The Mitchell's were quite wealthy. Their father Mort owned Spaceline Homes, a prominent building company of the time. We had a billiard table at home and both my parents worked which was unusual then, and many of the neighbourhood youths congregagated at our house as a base. We played pool and billiards, cards, watched TV, drank coffee and tea. Everyone smoked and boozed at every opportunity. The boozing was not done at our house. My parents were wowsers and disapproved but were working long hours and frankly we had little to do with them. It was a bit of a wild time.
It's funny the things you remember while working on a shed roof, thinking back more than forty years ago. There was a certain freedom of youth, the Vietnam war was in full swing, all of us youths faced the marble ballot, I think that added to gungho attitude we had. Laurie did get called up later. I haven't seen him for more than forty years I'd say. We all sort of got scattered about as you do as you become adults. I met Andy and Mort one day in the Austin hospital, must have been 1985 as I was visiting my father after his heart bypass surgery. They were doing a bedside vigil, Mrs Mitchell was dying and not expected to live more than a few days.
The Beach Boys seemed to capture the zeitgeist of the late sixties early seventies. It was freedom music to my generation.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Busy Day
The dogwood was early this year. We picked sixty bunches for today's pick up and some snowball and mollis to go with our mixed bunches and bits and pieces.
I took four photos on Meredith's camera, Roger emailed them to me, I have so far only been able to upload two onto this post, the process seems to be playing up, but I'll try again now. If not successful two is better than none.
Robbie helped me. He's reloading everything onto the computer I use usually as it had been playing up for a while. I started a computer course on Wednesday night, for eight weeks, intermediate level at the Emerald Community House, so my skills should improve. I started learning about Excel this week, Robbie has installed it for me so I can do my work book at home.
The dogwood looks beautiful but as I said yesterday it doesn't show up well in a photo.
I took four photos on Meredith's camera, Roger emailed them to me, I have so far only been able to upload two onto this post, the process seems to be playing up, but I'll try again now. If not successful two is better than none.
Robbie helped me. He's reloading everything onto the computer I use usually as it had been playing up for a while. I started a computer course on Wednesday night, for eight weeks, intermediate level at the Emerald Community House, so my skills should improve. I started learning about Excel this week, Robbie has installed it for me so I can do my work book at home.
The dogwood looks beautiful but as I said yesterday it doesn't show up well in a photo.
Friday, October 19, 2012
More Photos for Lesley
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| At Laurie and Joyce Begge's |
Today I came across some more spring colour, better than the photos of the previous post.
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| In Fay Gerber's garden |
Lindy lent me her camera to take these shots. It had a zoom lens. I should have zoomed in on things. The lilac, purple in the background, was stunning but doesn't show up in this photo. We picked all our lilac at the farm as I did at home so couldn't take a photo. Lindy picked most of the waratahs and took them to Fay yesterday. Dogwood doesn't really photograph that well from a distance but it's a most beautiful flower up close. Lindy's partner Ian put the photos on a 'stick' for me. The truth is photography is not a subject at which I am skilled.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Gardener's Delight
The six weeks since our holiday have not been idle ones for me. At the farm we have busied picking spring blossom including prunus, lilac, viburnums, pieris, malus, rhodie, mollis azalea and dogwood (I will have left something out). Our garden here in Gembrook has astounded me with its colour and beauty. As well as the above mentioned the flowering of camellias, mintbush, and waratahs, things we no longer harvest for sale, has been prodigious, and with the luscious splurge of new green foliage, I have commented to myself numerous times that this is surely the best spring show I have ever seen. Or maybe it's just that the older you get (now at 60) you appreciate things more.
How wonderful it is to be 60. Old enough to have a lot of memories, but still young enough to be effective and productive, there's little I can't do that I once could and that which I don't I probably never should have anyway. More ladies look more beautiful to me than they ever did, from young to old (although I wish they'd drop the tattoos). By and large I have more empathy for my fellow man than I did in years gone by and I have clearer picture of what I find acceptable or otherwise, and how I like to conduct myself, with less chance of stuffing up.
A highlight for me this week was Robbie's 25th birthday. He's nearly finished his honours degree. It was a pleasure which suprised me with its depth as I lit the Weber for our Sunday roast and reflected on our success, to have our youngest child reach a quarter of a century. Both Gord and Rob are fine citizens. We are all in good health, touch wood. There's much to be thankful for in our bountiful lives and garden. And not least is good friends and neighbours.
There's nothing remarkable about our achievements, many people raise kids successfully and have harmonious families, including grandchildren which Meredith and many friend's enjoy, that we have not as yet, but I'm pleased when I reflect.
The two young fools who sped past me on trail bikes in Cockatoo this evening on my way home, missing me and an oncoming car by inches, made me realize it can be over in a flash. It would only take a car or truck coming the other way to deviate a few feet. It happens. I watched Australian Story last night. Rod Laver had a stroke at aged 60 and would have died had he not been 100 metres from a specialist emergency hospital. I'm happy to go to bed each night, and get up in the morning. I have no great expectations from here on.
Goodnight.
How wonderful it is to be 60. Old enough to have a lot of memories, but still young enough to be effective and productive, there's little I can't do that I once could and that which I don't I probably never should have anyway. More ladies look more beautiful to me than they ever did, from young to old (although I wish they'd drop the tattoos). By and large I have more empathy for my fellow man than I did in years gone by and I have clearer picture of what I find acceptable or otherwise, and how I like to conduct myself, with less chance of stuffing up.
A highlight for me this week was Robbie's 25th birthday. He's nearly finished his honours degree. It was a pleasure which suprised me with its depth as I lit the Weber for our Sunday roast and reflected on our success, to have our youngest child reach a quarter of a century. Both Gord and Rob are fine citizens. We are all in good health, touch wood. There's much to be thankful for in our bountiful lives and garden. And not least is good friends and neighbours.
There's nothing remarkable about our achievements, many people raise kids successfully and have harmonious families, including grandchildren which Meredith and many friend's enjoy, that we have not as yet, but I'm pleased when I reflect.
The two young fools who sped past me on trail bikes in Cockatoo this evening on my way home, missing me and an oncoming car by inches, made me realize it can be over in a flash. It would only take a car or truck coming the other way to deviate a few feet. It happens. I watched Australian Story last night. Rod Laver had a stroke at aged 60 and would have died had he not been 100 metres from a specialist emergency hospital. I'm happy to go to bed each night, and get up in the morning. I have no great expectations from here on.
Goodnight.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
FIJI DAY15/16
Friday 31 Aug was our last full day on Naigani and we were determined to make the most of it. We rose before dawn to wait for Toka the fisherman to come at the appointed time of 6.00am to take us out deep sea fishing, the trawling with heavy gear stuff that we'd never done before. At the shore in the dark Paul from Christchurch was waiting with his young son. Toka came from the direction of the village loaded with fuel containers. He'd started the generators at the rear of the resort on his way. It was daylight by the time we took off, heading east towards Ovalau Is.
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| As the sun rose |
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| Lib and Paul, Naigani in the background |
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| But you can see clouds building |
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| The bush behind the beach |
Saturday 1 Sep after our last meal in the restaurant we packed in our bure and went to the boat loading area. It was overcast windy day. Some staff gathered to farewell us with a traditional song and we departed Naigani about 10.30.
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| We will remember these people with fondness |
Our man and driver was not there to meet us as he said he was but another Indian fellow with a van was so we had room to give Mark and Tracy a lift to Suva. They were intending to catch a public bus but were glad of a free ride in comfort for the 80km or so. We said goodbye to them in Suva where our driver left us for an hour to have lunch. An hour or so out of Suva, our driver Vinnit who took us Nadi to Natovi two weeks earlier met us and we transfered to his Forester for the trip back to the Novatel Hotel where we had our final night.
Next day we took a cab to Port Denarue, a very upmarket resort area with a boat harbour with many expensive yachts and cruise boats. It was worth seeing but not to our taste so we didn't linger after a lunch and some shopping and caught public buses back to Nadi and the Novatel, where our bags were in the store room.
Our flight was at 6.00pm. We managed to get a bottle of water on board with us. It was uneventful and totally boring except for the spectacular lights of the big city of of Melbourne as we descended on a perfectly clear night. The cold air was a shock leaving the plane but there was something welcoming about it. Gord and Rob picked us up, it was well after midnight when we arrived home much to the delight of Snow and Pip.
BULA VINAKA
Thursday, October 11, 2012
FIJI 13 /14 - Something Strange
Wednesday Day 13 of our Fiji holiday saw us looking for pippies again in the morning, so much had we enjoyed the previous day. We were quite good at finding them this time and quickly had a good bag. It was low tide and a villager was catching fish by sneaking up to the water's edge and throwing a net out to where he saw surface disturbance and then pulling in the net. I went over and he had a dozen and a half little fish in the net that he was sorting through. They were only about 12 cm long but he kept them, I guess they have a way of utilizing fish that size.
When we went back to the bure we put the pippies on the table on the verandah and Lib took a photo of them. We then took the pippies to the kitchen, offered them to the cook or kitchen hand who accepted them gratefully but made no suggestion of cooking them so we went back to our bure for lunch and a read. The room staff made up our bure while we did this, they came in each day and made the beds and swept and filled the water filter. The power was off as it was every afternoon till about five, and we went for some afternoon exercise,walking to the summit. We were away for about an hour and we couldn't understand why all the lights in our bure were on and the ceiling fans were going, and the air conditioner. We hadn't used the aircon once till this point, the temperature always being warm but comfortable.
Our joint conclusion was that the man (usually it was a lady but this time it was a man) who cleaned the bure must have turned everything on as he cleaned without realizing it as the power was off and nothing would have turned on with the switch. I couldn't work out how someone would accidentally turn on every switch, but it seemed like nothing to worry about.
The next morning I woke fairly early and got up to enjoy a cup of tea and read in the front room. Lib was still asleep in the bedroom, I was wearing underpants and a singlet only, when about 7.30 Weiss was on the veranda and he knocked on the glass sliding door.
"Your early checking the water Weiss," I said, feeling a little odd in my underwear as I let him in. I had no clothes handy so I just acted normally as if it was not unusual to have someone knocking on your door unexpectedly while you weren't dressed.
"No, I haven't come to check the water, i just thought I'd pay you a visit and have a talk," he said.
I told him to sit down, and I did too, and we made small talk for a few minutes, then he said nervously, "Actually Carey, there's something I want to ask you."
"Go ahead Weiss."
"Would you be able to lend me ten dollars? I owe Heppy ten dollars, it's pay day tomorrow, but he wants his money back today, I'll pay you back tomorrow."
"Yeah no worries Weiss." I went to the bedroom to get wallet. I only had F$50 notes. "I've only got a $50."
"That's alright I have change." I gave him a fifty and he gave me two twenties. I told him he didn't have to pay me back.
"Oh no I must pay you back," he said. He thanked me and went on his way. After he left it occurred to me that it was strange he had forty dollars to give me change when he asked me for ten, but then he might have been ten short for what he owed Heppy. It seemed a bit odd though. Some days earlier at Lib's insistence I had given Weiss F$50. We liked Weiss, he impressed us with his politeness and assistance and how he made us feel so welcome. Lib had spent some time talking to him on our boat trip to Levuka the previous week. He was on the trip to go to the hospital to get medicine, he didn't say what for. He had a long term plan to go to Australia and do floral arranging, he said, and he was saving all the money he could for that purpose. Lib wanted to give him $50 for him to save to go to Australia one day. He may be 18 or 19 years old, I'm not a good judge.
After breakfast the tide was well out and it was overcast so we decided we'd go for a walk and gather more pippies. We looked for the camera and couldn't find it. We looked hi and lo and couldn't find it. We always left it on the table in the front room. We remembered the last photo we took was of the pippies at lunchtime yesterday. Lib said she put the camera on the table, as always.
It must have been stolen we concluded. We never locked the bure, in fact we didn't have a key, we weren't given one. My wallet was always with me, and I hid it if I went snorkelling. It didn't seem like a place for thieves.
We went to Heppy's office and reported the stolen camera. He said one was handed in yesterday, some kids had found it on the beach, he went to get it from lost property. Sure enough it was our camera. The kids had left with their family this morning.
We'll never know for sure how our camera got from the bure to the beach, or how everything in our bure was turned on when we went for a walk the previous day. The kids that found our camera on the beach were in the bure next door to ours the first day they arrived, but their parents asked for another one nearer the pool so they moved. We reckon the kids got in our bure and stole the camera and turned all our switches on, but when they found the screen was broken they handed it in saying they found it on the beach. The bure next to ours where the kids family had been, also had lights on in it even though it was vacant, when the generators worked, so the kids had probably been in there and turned things on too.
And it may explain Weiss turning up early to ask for ten dollars, to see if we'd had our money stolen too. He knew our camera had a broken screen, Lib told him about it on our trip to Levuka, so when it was handed in he would have recognized it as ours. Maybe the kids told their parents they found a camera or were seen with it and their parents made them take it to the office. They were young kids, under ten. The family was English, but had lived in Suva for 9 years. He had a diving business.
I hope this has not been too boring. I did want to write about this, and the whole Fiji holiday. It was a memorable and fantastic holiday. Weiss didn't give me the ten back.
Pippies
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| Fisherman |
When we went back to the bure we put the pippies on the table on the verandah and Lib took a photo of them. We then took the pippies to the kitchen, offered them to the cook or kitchen hand who accepted them gratefully but made no suggestion of cooking them so we went back to our bure for lunch and a read. The room staff made up our bure while we did this, they came in each day and made the beds and swept and filled the water filter. The power was off as it was every afternoon till about five, and we went for some afternoon exercise,walking to the summit. We were away for about an hour and we couldn't understand why all the lights in our bure were on and the ceiling fans were going, and the air conditioner. We hadn't used the aircon once till this point, the temperature always being warm but comfortable.
Our joint conclusion was that the man (usually it was a lady but this time it was a man) who cleaned the bure must have turned everything on as he cleaned without realizing it as the power was off and nothing would have turned on with the switch. I couldn't work out how someone would accidentally turn on every switch, but it seemed like nothing to worry about.
The next morning I woke fairly early and got up to enjoy a cup of tea and read in the front room. Lib was still asleep in the bedroom, I was wearing underpants and a singlet only, when about 7.30 Weiss was on the veranda and he knocked on the glass sliding door.
"Your early checking the water Weiss," I said, feeling a little odd in my underwear as I let him in. I had no clothes handy so I just acted normally as if it was not unusual to have someone knocking on your door unexpectedly while you weren't dressed.
"No, I haven't come to check the water, i just thought I'd pay you a visit and have a talk," he said.
I told him to sit down, and I did too, and we made small talk for a few minutes, then he said nervously, "Actually Carey, there's something I want to ask you."
"Go ahead Weiss."
"Would you be able to lend me ten dollars? I owe Heppy ten dollars, it's pay day tomorrow, but he wants his money back today, I'll pay you back tomorrow."
"Yeah no worries Weiss." I went to the bedroom to get wallet. I only had F$50 notes. "I've only got a $50."
"That's alright I have change." I gave him a fifty and he gave me two twenties. I told him he didn't have to pay me back.
"Oh no I must pay you back," he said. He thanked me and went on his way. After he left it occurred to me that it was strange he had forty dollars to give me change when he asked me for ten, but then he might have been ten short for what he owed Heppy. It seemed a bit odd though. Some days earlier at Lib's insistence I had given Weiss F$50. We liked Weiss, he impressed us with his politeness and assistance and how he made us feel so welcome. Lib had spent some time talking to him on our boat trip to Levuka the previous week. He was on the trip to go to the hospital to get medicine, he didn't say what for. He had a long term plan to go to Australia and do floral arranging, he said, and he was saving all the money he could for that purpose. Lib wanted to give him $50 for him to save to go to Australia one day. He may be 18 or 19 years old, I'm not a good judge.
After breakfast the tide was well out and it was overcast so we decided we'd go for a walk and gather more pippies. We looked for the camera and couldn't find it. We looked hi and lo and couldn't find it. We always left it on the table in the front room. We remembered the last photo we took was of the pippies at lunchtime yesterday. Lib said she put the camera on the table, as always.
It must have been stolen we concluded. We never locked the bure, in fact we didn't have a key, we weren't given one. My wallet was always with me, and I hid it if I went snorkelling. It didn't seem like a place for thieves.
We went to Heppy's office and reported the stolen camera. He said one was handed in yesterday, some kids had found it on the beach, he went to get it from lost property. Sure enough it was our camera. The kids had left with their family this morning.
We'll never know for sure how our camera got from the bure to the beach, or how everything in our bure was turned on when we went for a walk the previous day. The kids that found our camera on the beach were in the bure next door to ours the first day they arrived, but their parents asked for another one nearer the pool so they moved. We reckon the kids got in our bure and stole the camera and turned all our switches on, but when they found the screen was broken they handed it in saying they found it on the beach. The bure next to ours where the kids family had been, also had lights on in it even though it was vacant, when the generators worked, so the kids had probably been in there and turned things on too.
And it may explain Weiss turning up early to ask for ten dollars, to see if we'd had our money stolen too. He knew our camera had a broken screen, Lib told him about it on our trip to Levuka, so when it was handed in he would have recognized it as ours. Maybe the kids told their parents they found a camera or were seen with it and their parents made them take it to the office. They were young kids, under ten. The family was English, but had lived in Suva for 9 years. He had a diving business.
I hope this has not been too boring. I did want to write about this, and the whole Fiji holiday. It was a memorable and fantastic holiday. Weiss didn't give me the ten back.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
FIJI Day 12
Just as we were turning into the bush Tracey's voice boomed, "Where are you two off to?" I don't know if they'd seen us and followed, but there they were. They'd asked us where the track was before and we'd told them but they were keen for us to show them how to get to Picnic Beach so up the hill we all went. We took them across the top through the bush farms/plantations to where the descent became steep and from where they couldn't go wrong, then we went our own way following a track through the plantations heading south hoping to end up at Sacred Bay.
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| Mark Tracey and Lib |
We didn't get all that far when came across a village farmer who was friendly and courteous but said politely that we were on his farm which was OK but there was no reason for us to keep going that way, it was just people's farms. We took the hint. He said his name was Toka (must be a common village name) and he told us the names of trees and edible plants and enjoyed answering our questions.
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| Toka the farmer with a bunch of Taro |
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| This lady was so nice |
Mark and Tracey came back quite late to the resort, after walking back around the shore not wanting to go up the steep ascent. They left it pretty late and had to go quickly to beat the tide they said.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
FIJI DAY 11
Monday morning was the best weather we'd had on the island. Clear blue sky, no wind, calm sea. We decided to kayak round the north end of the island to Picnic Beach.
By now we were feeling relaxed and confidant on Naigani. We knew most of the staff and our way around and the routine, even getting a kayak off the rack and heading out did not have that self conscious element we felt the first week. We'd been waiting for a calm day to venture out of sight of the resort in a kayak around to the other side.
Mark and Tracey from Sydney turned up on cue just as we were about to leave. They were back from their morning scuba dive. They were out on the dive boat every day, except the one when it was cancelled because of the weather. They had a knack of finding us when they weren't diving, "What are you two up to," Tracey's loud voice would demand before you'd seen her.
"Were off to Picnic Beach, perfect day for it."
Mark chimed in, "The young czech bloke kayaked round there last week. He reckoned it took him 20 minutes to get to the point."
Off we went, Lib in front, me in the rear trying to remember to co ordinate with Lib's paddling. The water was blue green and clear then deep blue as we were over deeper sections. There was a gentle swell right to left that hardly affected progress and I was surprised at how quickly we went. Checking the watch it was right on twenty minutes of steady paddling as we reached the point and turned left to travel the north of the island. It was much quicker than walking along the shore on the slippery rocks. The gentle swell of two or three feet was now coming from behind us and pushing us along. It was exhilarating.
We reached Picnic beach in about forty minutes or so since leaving the resort, again we we had it to ourselves and there are some times in life that you remember clearly forever and this day will be one for me. We decided to make use of the calm weather and continue around the island. We didn't take the camera for fear of getting it wet but we did on the following Friday, FIJI Day 15, so I'll put up a couple of snaps when I get there. This shot below is someone else kayaking in front of the resort but it gives an idea of the scene.
It was a solid paddle down the west side past Sacred Bay and then past Cannibal Caves. The sea became rougher as we rounded the south side back to the east side. Now we we were heading into a bigger swell coming directly towards us and a head wind. The last half hour or so past the native village and back to the resort was hard work. The circuit took us about two and a half hours of which half an hour was stoppage time on the beach.
As we returned Mark and Tracey were about to leave on an afternoon diving trip. "Did you go right round? Was it hard?"
"No it was good mostly, but the last bit was a bit tough, the sea was rougher and the wind stronger."
The Czech guy was with them. "I went round last week, it took two hours and the last bit was hard."
We had a little rest in the afternoon, well pleased with ourselves that we'd rowed around. We didn't set off intending to, it was meant to be a stepping stone for a circuit later in the week. Next time we said to each other, we'll take flippers and snorkels and camera and lunch at Picnic Beach.
By now we were feeling relaxed and confidant on Naigani. We knew most of the staff and our way around and the routine, even getting a kayak off the rack and heading out did not have that self conscious element we felt the first week. We'd been waiting for a calm day to venture out of sight of the resort in a kayak around to the other side.
Mark and Tracey from Sydney turned up on cue just as we were about to leave. They were back from their morning scuba dive. They were out on the dive boat every day, except the one when it was cancelled because of the weather. They had a knack of finding us when they weren't diving, "What are you two up to," Tracey's loud voice would demand before you'd seen her.
"Were off to Picnic Beach, perfect day for it."
Mark chimed in, "The young czech bloke kayaked round there last week. He reckoned it took him 20 minutes to get to the point."
Off we went, Lib in front, me in the rear trying to remember to co ordinate with Lib's paddling. The water was blue green and clear then deep blue as we were over deeper sections. There was a gentle swell right to left that hardly affected progress and I was surprised at how quickly we went. Checking the watch it was right on twenty minutes of steady paddling as we reached the point and turned left to travel the north of the island. It was much quicker than walking along the shore on the slippery rocks. The gentle swell of two or three feet was now coming from behind us and pushing us along. It was exhilarating.
We reached Picnic beach in about forty minutes or so since leaving the resort, again we we had it to ourselves and there are some times in life that you remember clearly forever and this day will be one for me. We decided to make use of the calm weather and continue around the island. We didn't take the camera for fear of getting it wet but we did on the following Friday, FIJI Day 15, so I'll put up a couple of snaps when I get there. This shot below is someone else kayaking in front of the resort but it gives an idea of the scene.
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| A Kayak in front of the resort, looking more or less ESEast |
As we returned Mark and Tracey were about to leave on an afternoon diving trip. "Did you go right round? Was it hard?"
"No it was good mostly, but the last bit was a bit tough, the sea was rougher and the wind stronger."
The Czech guy was with them. "I went round last week, it took two hours and the last bit was hard."
We had a little rest in the afternoon, well pleased with ourselves that we'd rowed around. We didn't set off intending to, it was meant to be a stepping stone for a circuit later in the week. Next time we said to each other, we'll take flippers and snorkels and camera and lunch at Picnic Beach.
FIJI DAY 9 /10
Saturday was the day a number of our new friends were leaving. John and Jenny and Seth and Sarah from Los Angeles, Paul and Odette from Montreal, Terry and Kristie from Florida, and Andrew and Gill from Sydney all gathered about 10.30 to board the boat back to Viti Levu. The staff gathered to sing a traditional farewell song for them and Lib and I said our goodbyes.
Lib had come down with the very sore neck and swollen glands and had fever as well so after the farewell we went to the little store (which opened for half an hour each day if anyone turned up) to buy some panadol, then we went back to the bure to read and rest. Lib stayed resting till dinner, I took an afternoon walk to the summit before happy hour.
I'd stopped making diary notes diary notes by this point so my comments for the rest of the trip will be from memory totally and brief, but there's yet to come some interesting stuff I'd like to record and some more photos I'd like to put up so I'll persist over the next few days to finish my commentary of our Fiji trip.
Sunday was a rest day if I remember, with Lib still a bit crook. I took a solo walk in the afternoon, it was from memory the worst day weather wise, with the wind at its worst and some drizzly rain.
New people hadarrived on the Saturday return boat, Paul and ? from Christchurch NZ, Nobby and Ray and wives from Murray Bridge in SthAust and Jim and Patricia from the Gold Coast.
I just checked and we took no photos on days 9 and 10, probably because Lib was crook and we didn't do much anyway. I made a serious dent in Michener's 'Carribbean'.
Lib had come down with the very sore neck and swollen glands and had fever as well so after the farewell we went to the little store (which opened for half an hour each day if anyone turned up) to buy some panadol, then we went back to the bure to read and rest. Lib stayed resting till dinner, I took an afternoon walk to the summit before happy hour.
I'd stopped making diary notes diary notes by this point so my comments for the rest of the trip will be from memory totally and brief, but there's yet to come some interesting stuff I'd like to record and some more photos I'd like to put up so I'll persist over the next few days to finish my commentary of our Fiji trip.
Sunday was a rest day if I remember, with Lib still a bit crook. I took a solo walk in the afternoon, it was from memory the worst day weather wise, with the wind at its worst and some drizzly rain.
New people hadarrived on the Saturday return boat, Paul and ? from Christchurch NZ, Nobby and Ray and wives from Murray Bridge in SthAust and Jim and Patricia from the Gold Coast.
I just checked and we took no photos on days 9 and 10, probably because Lib was crook and we didn't do much anyway. I made a serious dent in Michener's 'Carribbean'.
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
FIJI Day 8
After breakfast we walked to the summit and instead of returning the same way we continued along the track which wound it's way back around the hill and came out back at the resort at the staff quarters, after which we took our books and read by the pool. Lib swam.
We had lunch in the bure and in the afternoon went on the village tour. Our escort was Weiss, I think all the resort guests came on the tour, perhaps 16 people.
A senior man, Raoul I think his name was, greeted us and gave us a talk about village and some of the history. The village used to be on the top of the hill where they were safer from marauding tribes coming by canoe as they had look outs constantly watching for encroachers, and a bit of a fort as a last resort. The missionaries came about 100 years ago and it took about 20 years but the chiefs eventually agreed to put away the war clubs and live in peace. They then relocated the village down to where it is now on the shore. Raoul gave a demonstration of blowing the conch which one man is elected to do for one year to call a village meeting. There were basket and mat weaving demos and a carva ceremony. The village was super clean and tidy and the villagers so warm and friendly. It was a memorable visit.
It was explained that before the resort was built in about 1980 the main source of income was dried coconut powder, the only commercial crop, their other farming of bananas, cassova, taro etc being for their own food. Going way back a white man lived on the island, an escaped Irish convict from Australia named George Riley who escaped by boat and befriended the chief on Naigani who allowed him to build a house there. Riley's descendants lived there right up till the resort opened if I remember rightly and the resort restaurant was once the Riley household, if I'm right. Since the resort opened the villagers have employment and income and electricity from generator a few hours a day for cooking and washing machines etc and even TV in many houses. The diesel to run the generators is costly.
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We had lunch in the bure and in the afternoon went on the village tour. Our escort was Weiss, I think all the resort guests came on the tour, perhaps 16 people.
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| Lib and Weiss |
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| Raoul with conch and kids under vessy tree |
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| Roaul and me |
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| Carva ceremony |
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Grand Final Day
Lib left for Lakes last Wednesday with Gord and I came down yesterday evening. I brought Robbie's old laptop with me and arrived about 7pm. I'm sitting at the dining table facing the ocean which is postcard blue in the bright sunshine and flecked with thousands of whitecaps in the strong wind. Lib's gone for a walk to Bunga before we fire the barbie to cook our steak and sausages, I'm listening to the races at Mornington and Morphetville, there being no city Melbourne meeting probably because the footy grand final is on.
Lib's taking a long time so I'll leave of here to finish later and go and light the fire.
Well, here I am Sunday morning finishing my post. Same table same view, Lib and Gord are yet asleep. Lib came back as I went down to light the barbie yesterday and took over the cooking, she loves cooking on the open fire in the little barbie. Lunch and timing was good, the game starting as we finished.
What a great game and Sydney are deserving winners. I enjoyed the game and result as much as if my team won it I'm sure, but you could argue that I wouldn't know as the last time I experienced that it was 1964 when I was 12 years old.
I'm heading home today, I'm about to slip down the street to see if I can find some bog or putty to repair some rot I found late yesterday before I go. I don't think hardwares are open here on Sunday and I don't think the supermarkets stock that stuff, but I'll try.
Lib and Gord will come home tomorrow.
CHEER CHEER THE RED AND THE WHITE
Lib's taking a long time so I'll leave of here to finish later and go and light the fire.
Well, here I am Sunday morning finishing my post. Same table same view, Lib and Gord are yet asleep. Lib came back as I went down to light the barbie yesterday and took over the cooking, she loves cooking on the open fire in the little barbie. Lunch and timing was good, the game starting as we finished.
What a great game and Sydney are deserving winners. I enjoyed the game and result as much as if my team won it I'm sure, but you could argue that I wouldn't know as the last time I experienced that it was 1964 when I was 12 years old.
I'm heading home today, I'm about to slip down the street to see if I can find some bog or putty to repair some rot I found late yesterday before I go. I don't think hardwares are open here on Sunday and I don't think the supermarkets stock that stuff, but I'll try.
Lib and Gord will come home tomorrow.
CHEER CHEER THE RED AND THE WHITE
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
School Holidays
It's school holidays at the moment, which is of little significance to me except that there are no young ones walking to school bus in the mornings. I miss them. I like to wave and say "G'day have a good day" to the regulars I cross paths with. I love their youth, their nervousness, their seriousness that breaks into a smile sometimes when they return my offer of greeting. I was once like them. I understand far more than they know I do.
One day not long before we left for Fiji the teachers were on strike for more money, so there were no kids that day. A few days after we got back the teachers were on strike again, no kids again. I love seeing the kids. I really do feel for them. The week after we came back their was a Four Corners' program on youth suicide which is apparently statistically on the increase to alarming levels.
I don't have any answers. I do know kids ask themselves the meaning of life, and have self doubt and fears of failure in this capitalist, competetive, winner and loser society we thrust them into. It sucks. The best things in life are free for most us; fresh air, sunshine, friendship, love, nature. I don't have to own it, and money can't buy it. It's all there every day if I'm open to it. I don't worry about the meaning of life. I don't know what it is. I had this discussion with my son Rob just the other day To me it's a mystery we all share, whatever paths we follow. I don't think the dentist who screws me $80 for a ten minute examination and clean, or the specialst who charges $110 to read my blood tests last year are any happier than me. No wonder then the plumber gets ideas and ups his fee. We've had the cops on strike this year, the ambos, and the fire brigade too. They all want more,more, all the time. It's not the answer. If I could think of an answer, best I could offer, "Open your your eyes and your heart." But I don't want to preach.
I just wish the teachers' union would bugger off and stop setting such a terrible example and let me enjoy seeing the kids go to school.
One day not long before we left for Fiji the teachers were on strike for more money, so there were no kids that day. A few days after we got back the teachers were on strike again, no kids again. I love seeing the kids. I really do feel for them. The week after we came back their was a Four Corners' program on youth suicide which is apparently statistically on the increase to alarming levels.
I don't have any answers. I do know kids ask themselves the meaning of life, and have self doubt and fears of failure in this capitalist, competetive, winner and loser society we thrust them into. It sucks. The best things in life are free for most us; fresh air, sunshine, friendship, love, nature. I don't have to own it, and money can't buy it. It's all there every day if I'm open to it. I don't worry about the meaning of life. I don't know what it is. I had this discussion with my son Rob just the other day To me it's a mystery we all share, whatever paths we follow. I don't think the dentist who screws me $80 for a ten minute examination and clean, or the specialst who charges $110 to read my blood tests last year are any happier than me. No wonder then the plumber gets ideas and ups his fee. We've had the cops on strike this year, the ambos, and the fire brigade too. They all want more,more, all the time. It's not the answer. If I could think of an answer, best I could offer, "Open your your eyes and your heart." But I don't want to preach.
I just wish the teachers' union would bugger off and stop setting such a terrible example and let me enjoy seeing the kids go to school.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
FIJI Day 7
Thursday of week one was a quiet day, with a kayak session after breakfast followed by snorkel at low tide in front of the resort.
This time we took a single kayak each and paddled for about an hour in front of the resort. I felt we'd reached a bit of confidence with kayaking and the plan was to pick a nice calm day and paddle round to Picnic Beach soon. And to kayak around the island if weather permitted was also a goal berfore we left.
To snorkel at low tide we had to walk out to the little island at the front of the resort and then some more across rocks to reach water but it was worth it. I was by now also reaching a level of confidence with the snorkel and enjoying it far more than at the start, keeping up with Lib and sharing the maagnificent underwater scenery.
After our picnic lunch in the bure we had a sleep in the afternoon. We'd selected vegetarian stir fry for dinner, after which we talked to Andrew and Gill Stringer from Sydney who had arrived on the island the previous day. Most of the arrivals and departures were on Saturdays apparently but there were a few during the week. Of the five couples that arrived on the previous Saturday including us three were staying a week and Tracey and Mark from Sydney were staying for two as Lib and I were.
Gill and Andrew were from Sth Africa originally. They went to Canada soon after marrying in 1979 with Andrew's work with an accounting firm and because of the political turmoil in Sth Africa were not in a hurry to return home and lived in Canada 8 years. With a young family they migrated to Australia after deciding they wanted to bring up their kids in a warm outdoor climate similar to what they grew up in with the traditional summer sports. Interestingly Gill's background was Spanish but she was raised in Sth Africa. Andrew's grandparents of one side had migrated to Sth Africa from Kyneton Victoria no less in the ealy 1900's. After the Boer war there was depression in Australia and a Kyneton resident returned from that war telling his grandfather he should try Sth Africa for work. It was a British colony. So grandfather and his brother hopped on a ship to Sth Africa and found work and liked it there so they brought out their fiances from Kyneton and married them straight away almost on leaving the ship.
This time we took a single kayak each and paddled for about an hour in front of the resort. I felt we'd reached a bit of confidence with kayaking and the plan was to pick a nice calm day and paddle round to Picnic Beach soon. And to kayak around the island if weather permitted was also a goal berfore we left.
To snorkel at low tide we had to walk out to the little island at the front of the resort and then some more across rocks to reach water but it was worth it. I was by now also reaching a level of confidence with the snorkel and enjoying it far more than at the start, keeping up with Lib and sharing the maagnificent underwater scenery.
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| The small island in front of the resort. The other large island in the background is Ovalau island on which Levuka is situated. |
After our picnic lunch in the bure we had a sleep in the afternoon. We'd selected vegetarian stir fry for dinner, after which we talked to Andrew and Gill Stringer from Sydney who had arrived on the island the previous day. Most of the arrivals and departures were on Saturdays apparently but there were a few during the week. Of the five couples that arrived on the previous Saturday including us three were staying a week and Tracey and Mark from Sydney were staying for two as Lib and I were.
Gill and Andrew were from Sth Africa originally. They went to Canada soon after marrying in 1979 with Andrew's work with an accounting firm and because of the political turmoil in Sth Africa were not in a hurry to return home and lived in Canada 8 years. With a young family they migrated to Australia after deciding they wanted to bring up their kids in a warm outdoor climate similar to what they grew up in with the traditional summer sports. Interestingly Gill's background was Spanish but she was raised in Sth Africa. Andrew's grandparents of one side had migrated to Sth Africa from Kyneton Victoria no less in the ealy 1900's. After the Boer war there was depression in Australia and a Kyneton resident returned from that war telling his grandfather he should try Sth Africa for work. It was a British colony. So grandfather and his brother hopped on a ship to Sth Africa and found work and liked it there so they brought out their fiances from Kyneton and married them straight away almost on leaving the ship.
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| A few of the boys putting a roof on |
FIJI Day 6
Wednesday was the day of the tour to Levuka, the old capital on a large island, at a cost of F$80 each or A$50 thereabouts. It was about an hour's boat trip. This was where Fiji was ceded to the British in 1874. There's a large fish cannery there, a hospital, a museum and quite a lot of shops. Several of the resort staff including Frank (skipper), Mila, Weiss, pronounced Wice, Toka, all Naigani villagers, came for the outing and stocking up, and another, the bloke who sang and played guitar in the restaurant each night whose name escapes, also came as his home was there, high up on a steep hill that he pointed out. We later met his wife and kids on the shopping strip.
Our main purpose besides sightseeing was to stock up on tuna cans and sardines etc for our lunches, and of course wine and beer as much as we could comfortably fit in our bag. Food supplies other than potato crisps and Twisties, Pringles were not available on Naigani, obviously they wanted you to eat in the restaurant. We'd taken the two meal package, breakfast and dinner, leaving lunch to be what we had brought which wasn't much, and or what we could knock off at breakfast like a few slices of toast and fruit (concealed in our floppy hats which were in hand not on head). The 2 meal package was F$65 pp so that was F$130 each day or about A$80. If you add a bottle of wine, F$40, the cost was getting up. Those prices aren't bad when you compare them to any restaurant in Aus, but who eats every day at a restaurant?
We enjoyed the trip and lunch on the balcony of a second floor restaurant. Fish chop suey was my fare at about F$8 while Lib went the chicken chop suey which was quite salty I noticed when I finished it for her. Toka sat at our table. He solemly said grace before eating, and asked us if we were of a particular church to which I replied "Not really, you could say Church of England I suppose."
In answer to my question he said his was "All Nations".
I asked him could I get him a drink as I went the bar and he said "Yes thanks, a soft drink." Later, as if to return my gesture, he carried our heavy bag from the supermarket to the boat. We only saw the museum in the last ten minutes before we were due to leave but in our quick look I was fascinated and could have spent hours there I'm sure.
The only downer for the day was a painfull neck that developed and got worse during the day. At the back of the neck, in the muscles at the side, most irritating to turn the head or look up or down. I thought maybe the snorkelling had irritated, I spent much time self massaging which I think annoyed Lib a bit because it distracted me from whatever she was saying or pointing out. Wives don't like that. I had a few jabbing pains in other parts like feet, knees and elbows, but not alarmingly. The neck was sore for a couple days, but not to stop me doing anything.
Three days later Lib's neck got very sore, same place, and she had quite pronounced swelling, and other pains like I'd had, and she also had a fever. We decided it must have been a virus.
Our main purpose besides sightseeing was to stock up on tuna cans and sardines etc for our lunches, and of course wine and beer as much as we could comfortably fit in our bag. Food supplies other than potato crisps and Twisties, Pringles were not available on Naigani, obviously they wanted you to eat in the restaurant. We'd taken the two meal package, breakfast and dinner, leaving lunch to be what we had brought which wasn't much, and or what we could knock off at breakfast like a few slices of toast and fruit (concealed in our floppy hats which were in hand not on head). The 2 meal package was F$65 pp so that was F$130 each day or about A$80. If you add a bottle of wine, F$40, the cost was getting up. Those prices aren't bad when you compare them to any restaurant in Aus, but who eats every day at a restaurant?
We enjoyed the trip and lunch on the balcony of a second floor restaurant. Fish chop suey was my fare at about F$8 while Lib went the chicken chop suey which was quite salty I noticed when I finished it for her. Toka sat at our table. He solemly said grace before eating, and asked us if we were of a particular church to which I replied "Not really, you could say Church of England I suppose."
In answer to my question he said his was "All Nations".
I asked him could I get him a drink as I went the bar and he said "Yes thanks, a soft drink." Later, as if to return my gesture, he carried our heavy bag from the supermarket to the boat. We only saw the museum in the last ten minutes before we were due to leave but in our quick look I was fascinated and could have spent hours there I'm sure.
The only downer for the day was a painfull neck that developed and got worse during the day. At the back of the neck, in the muscles at the side, most irritating to turn the head or look up or down. I thought maybe the snorkelling had irritated, I spent much time self massaging which I think annoyed Lib a bit because it distracted me from whatever she was saying or pointing out. Wives don't like that. I had a few jabbing pains in other parts like feet, knees and elbows, but not alarmingly. The neck was sore for a couple days, but not to stop me doing anything.
Three days later Lib's neck got very sore, same place, and she had quite pronounced swelling, and other pains like I'd had, and she also had a fever. We decided it must have been a virus.
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| Levuka from the jetty |
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| Main street Levuka |
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