We have reached the end of July, seventh of 2012. What a year it's been? I have so many things on the go I tire just thinking about it. I can't complain, I'm alive and kicking and the struggle goes on. To return to my boxing metaphor, I'm well into the second half of the bout, blowing hard, but feeling strong. My guard is still well up to fend off big ones, and the blows to the body have been absorbed.
Our two bathrooms are nearly finished. Will and Liam were hard at it today, and making a hell of of a mess. Washing machine repair man came and fitted a reco pump, the Subaru I took up the garage to have speedo and odometer fixed, not an easy thing apparently and a few trial error things to go through and the car will be out of action as they send the "head' away first to see if it has a fault. Lucky Lib's on holiday and Rob can take hers to Uni. One more session from plumber should have the bathtub hooked up again. I haven't had a bath in weeks, although I've showered everyday of course. I'm hoping plumber tips up tomorrow, although I did tell him we'd have no power as they are doing scheduled works to the supply.
I interviewed Jo Hilder today for a Signpost article. What a fantastic man! There's plenty of adulation for our Olympic athletes and AFL footballers but there are life heroes around us who just do their stuff all their lives and do wonders.
I visited Nigel today, to take him some copies of Signpost he asked for to send to relatives in England. He was devasted that one of his goats died recently. He spent three freezing nights nursing his goat all to no avail. Now his 17 year old cat Voodoo is failing and he's dreading calling the vet to have him put to sleep. Nigel lives for his animals and is stressed out. I feel for him.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
A Changed View of Life
I talked to a man today at some length about life, and death. This year as his wife's terminal illness deteriorated he fed her dinner many times by spoon as she was incapable of feeding herself. Now, a couple of months after her death, he reflects that having endured what he has this year his whole attitude to life has has changed. He can no longer give a stuff about anything. He wants only to walk in the fresh air and work growing his vegies. Nothing worries him anymore. His whole thinking has changed and business and financial aspiration no longer interests him. As much as he loved his wife and grieves losing her he's discovered a freedom of mind and spirit as a result of the loss. Nothing matters anymore, he lives for the day and the moment.
I think I can understand. Another man told me once of a friend's wife who died suddenly of a stroke with no more warning than having a head ache one night and getting up to take a panadol then dying on her way back to bed. This man was successful and they had acres and a lovely house with a pool and everything complete and neat. After his wife died he sat with no interest and asked what did all of it mean to him. It meant nothing he said.
I guess the message is to live for each day and love the one you're with. They could be gone tomorrow.
I think I can understand. Another man told me once of a friend's wife who died suddenly of a stroke with no more warning than having a head ache one night and getting up to take a panadol then dying on her way back to bed. This man was successful and they had acres and a lovely house with a pool and everything complete and neat. After his wife died he sat with no interest and asked what did all of it mean to him. It meant nothing he said.
I guess the message is to live for each day and love the one you're with. They could be gone tomorrow.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Saturday
It has never struck me before, the strangeness of the word Saturday. Apparently its origin is from Roman times, something to do with the planet Saturn. Wickepedia tells me it follows Friday and precedes Sunday, the Vikings practice was to bathe on Saturday, and it is the day of rest for Jews and Seventh Day Adventists.
For me, the strongest connotation for Saturday is football. In my childhood all football was played on Saturday. I loved football and spent all winter kicking a ball on the local oval or in the back yard. Saturday meant going with the old man on his delivery run then to the footy at the MCG (he never went to other venues, the Demons played there every second week, and no other club did), or watching the amateurs who used to be live on the ABC television with the VFL scores periodically put up on the screen in big bold numbers, or later on catching the train from Mt Waverley to the G, usually by myself.
Saturday was footy day. There were six games, all played simultaneously. Radio coverage did five or all six, 3UZ, DB, KZ, AW, XY, LO, and most had around the grounds reports with well known ex footballers providing update scores and comments. To me as a kid, it was exciting and absorbing. The Sporting Globe hit the streets about 7.00pm, and if the Demons won, I'd be up the street to buy it to read about the exploits of Ron and Hassa and Tunna in glorious victory. There was Pelaco Inquest on TV wrapping up the day's results and an hour's replay of the two last quarters of the biggest games. These are my strongest memories of childhood.
In my football playing days it was always Saturday, including junior football at school in the mornings, then Saturday arvos later with Ormond Church of Christ 71-73 then Greta 78-81. Wonderful memories and mateship. In between, in 74 in Qld I'd hunch down over the radio to listen to radio Australia to the match of the day which I'd follow by a bottle of Bundaberg or Beenleigh rum. Mostly from 75-77 I was working with the beekeeping equipment or driving all over, but always with the radio on listening to the footy. Always on a Saturday.
Today, well yesterday now as I woke in the chair cradling Pip a short time ago, was as pitiful a Saturday as I could imagine. My Demons were flogged by by Nth Melbournrne, I did not have a return at the races, not even a place, and Carlton beat Richmond by four points to give Rickyralph a one point gain in our tipping competion. I remain one ahead but was looking for a three game buffer so it is close to the wire from here.
It was cold and wet and miserable and I half watched the footy and half listened to the races as I hunted about from computer to briefcase doing bookwork and tax crap. About 4 oclock I took a stubbie and drove up to the footy oval and watched the last quarter as Gembrook defeated Wandin by 8 goals in the wet.
Just like the old days.
For me, the strongest connotation for Saturday is football. In my childhood all football was played on Saturday. I loved football and spent all winter kicking a ball on the local oval or in the back yard. Saturday meant going with the old man on his delivery run then to the footy at the MCG (he never went to other venues, the Demons played there every second week, and no other club did), or watching the amateurs who used to be live on the ABC television with the VFL scores periodically put up on the screen in big bold numbers, or later on catching the train from Mt Waverley to the G, usually by myself.
Saturday was footy day. There were six games, all played simultaneously. Radio coverage did five or all six, 3UZ, DB, KZ, AW, XY, LO, and most had around the grounds reports with well known ex footballers providing update scores and comments. To me as a kid, it was exciting and absorbing. The Sporting Globe hit the streets about 7.00pm, and if the Demons won, I'd be up the street to buy it to read about the exploits of Ron and Hassa and Tunna in glorious victory. There was Pelaco Inquest on TV wrapping up the day's results and an hour's replay of the two last quarters of the biggest games. These are my strongest memories of childhood.
In my football playing days it was always Saturday, including junior football at school in the mornings, then Saturday arvos later with Ormond Church of Christ 71-73 then Greta 78-81. Wonderful memories and mateship. In between, in 74 in Qld I'd hunch down over the radio to listen to radio Australia to the match of the day which I'd follow by a bottle of Bundaberg or Beenleigh rum. Mostly from 75-77 I was working with the beekeeping equipment or driving all over, but always with the radio on listening to the footy. Always on a Saturday.
Today, well yesterday now as I woke in the chair cradling Pip a short time ago, was as pitiful a Saturday as I could imagine. My Demons were flogged by by Nth Melbournrne, I did not have a return at the races, not even a place, and Carlton beat Richmond by four points to give Rickyralph a one point gain in our tipping competion. I remain one ahead but was looking for a three game buffer so it is close to the wire from here.
It was cold and wet and miserable and I half watched the footy and half listened to the races as I hunted about from computer to briefcase doing bookwork and tax crap. About 4 oclock I took a stubbie and drove up to the footy oval and watched the last quarter as Gembrook defeated Wandin by 8 goals in the wet.
Just like the old days.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Myrtle and Henny
Henny, one of our two black chooks, laid an egg on Wednesday. I didn't check yesterday, I returned home not long before I was due to have a drink with neighbours Steve and Ann at 6.30, as I do every second Thursday. I'll look in the nesting box later.
It may seem trivial that one of our chooks laid an egg, but it fills me with joy. For some weeks I did not know if she was laying or not. I'm inexperienced with this chook caper, and my involvement directly has been less than twelve months.
Close to a year ago, Lib came home from work with two chicks that had been hatched from eggs in an incubator, an exercise to entertain the residents at the aged care facility. She had told me she planned to do this, as the chicks would probably be destroyed now that there was no use for them. I voiced my disapproval on the grounds that we didn't have a chook pen and I had neither the time or willingness to build one. A few days later I came home from work and there were two chicks running around on a sheet in the loungeroom. Dear little things they were, no bigger than the palm of your hand. They had accepted the sheet as their safe territory and would not venture off it. When Lib went to bed she put them back in the cardboard box they'd been transported in.
At this point I could have created a "chickens or me scene" but I didn't really fancy packing my bags and taking off. One chick was whitish yellow, the other black, and Lib named them 'Lemon' and 'Myrtle'. The first few days were no problem, the tiny things were happy in their box with an occasional excursion onto their sheet. Lib fed them and cleaned the box, they became accustomed to routine and familiar with people. On the weekend Lib took them outside, the dogs became familiar also and seemed to take up a guardian role. All kosha and endearing.
Quickly they grew. A bigger box for night time in the laundry, days now penned in the vegie garden which has roofing iron sheet walls to keep out rabbits. Soon they started to jump up onto the top edge of the iron and escape, and nylon bird netting and wire mesh was mishmashed over the top to keep them in. When Lib was home she'd let them out and read a book on a blanket while the young birds scratched and explored. Soon they grew too big for the box and confinement at night in the laundry.
It was now my problem to solve. Thanks to google I ordered a portable chicken coup which had a base cost of about $550. Add on $40 for wheels, $40 for feeders, $40 for ramp to second level and nesting boxes, and freight, and the credit card groaned to the tune of over $800. This still seemed expedient compared to buying posts and wire etc and finding the time to build a chook house. Three boxes arrived at the front door one day and after much cursing and trying to decipher the instructions a Saturday was lost before the chickens happily took up residence.
It was now my role to let them out in the morning, move the cage each week, and prepare their 'going to bed' food which I did each weekend, putting 7 lots in recycled Chinese takeaway food containers.
All seemed well, I was looking forward to getting fresh eggs. 'Lemon' was the dominant bird showing signs of protecting 'Myrtle'.
"Roosters can be bastards of things," I said, fearing the worst. Lib said they'd been sexed and were both female.
The crowing started at dawn shortly after. Fully grown he was a magnificent bird. He strutted imperiously about the deck and would come to the widow and let rip with "cock a doodle do" almost shaking the house. It was repeated and repeated, much to my dismay. I apologized to all the neighbours saying I was looking for a home for it. Nobody wanted it. "It has to go," I said to Lib. Having raised them from chicks we felt an attachment. Necking him was not something I relished. I was hoping we'd find a home for him.
One day I was hanging out the washing and a hell of a to do broke out and as I rushed upon the scene there were feathers flying and 'Pip' had 'Lemon' pinned to the ground and was surely about to do him in if I did not intervene. Instinctively, and unfairly as I'm sure she was defending herself, I wacked little dog and berated her so severeley that she became submissive from then on to this feathered bully who delighted at every opportunity to attack her and 'Snowy'. It all became too much for me and I tried to get close enough to 'Lemon' to grab him, but he knew what I was up to and always had one eye on me. I couldn't catch him on the day I chose for the deed when no one was around. The next morning I grabbed him as I let them out, after turning away pretending I wasn't looking. I had dreaded doing it but it was quick and clean and I buried him deep and stuck a sheet of iron over him so fox or dog couldn't dig him up.
Myrtle was then alone, not that she seemed to mind. We bought another black chook and the eggs came in due course. They seemed to want to find a spot in the garden to lay and finding the eggs was a challenge until we put a sheltered nesting box on the deck which did the trick. The new chook 'Henny' stopped laying weeks ago, although I wasn't sure if she was laying in the garden again. I couldn't find a stash of eggs, but maybe currawongs or rats took them. Meredith told me she's put eggs down and seen currawongs steal them, picking them up with their feet and flying off.
Chooks can do this, go "off the lay" when they malt, Elvie told me, particularly black chooks. A small thing like seeing 'Henny' back in the nesting box and the resultant egg, amazes me in the significance it has for me, but in a busy life of constant problems and hassles, it was real joy in our house. 'Henny' is the quieter of the two chooks, 'Myrtle' learned some aggression from 'Lemon' and is head chook, but she lays an egg every day and has not yet had a break "off the lay". And I'm learning more about chooks.
It may seem trivial that one of our chooks laid an egg, but it fills me with joy. For some weeks I did not know if she was laying or not. I'm inexperienced with this chook caper, and my involvement directly has been less than twelve months.
Close to a year ago, Lib came home from work with two chicks that had been hatched from eggs in an incubator, an exercise to entertain the residents at the aged care facility. She had told me she planned to do this, as the chicks would probably be destroyed now that there was no use for them. I voiced my disapproval on the grounds that we didn't have a chook pen and I had neither the time or willingness to build one. A few days later I came home from work and there were two chicks running around on a sheet in the loungeroom. Dear little things they were, no bigger than the palm of your hand. They had accepted the sheet as their safe territory and would not venture off it. When Lib went to bed she put them back in the cardboard box they'd been transported in.
At this point I could have created a "chickens or me scene" but I didn't really fancy packing my bags and taking off. One chick was whitish yellow, the other black, and Lib named them 'Lemon' and 'Myrtle'. The first few days were no problem, the tiny things were happy in their box with an occasional excursion onto their sheet. Lib fed them and cleaned the box, they became accustomed to routine and familiar with people. On the weekend Lib took them outside, the dogs became familiar also and seemed to take up a guardian role. All kosha and endearing.
Quickly they grew. A bigger box for night time in the laundry, days now penned in the vegie garden which has roofing iron sheet walls to keep out rabbits. Soon they started to jump up onto the top edge of the iron and escape, and nylon bird netting and wire mesh was mishmashed over the top to keep them in. When Lib was home she'd let them out and read a book on a blanket while the young birds scratched and explored. Soon they grew too big for the box and confinement at night in the laundry.
It was now my problem to solve. Thanks to google I ordered a portable chicken coup which had a base cost of about $550. Add on $40 for wheels, $40 for feeders, $40 for ramp to second level and nesting boxes, and freight, and the credit card groaned to the tune of over $800. This still seemed expedient compared to buying posts and wire etc and finding the time to build a chook house. Three boxes arrived at the front door one day and after much cursing and trying to decipher the instructions a Saturday was lost before the chickens happily took up residence.
It was now my role to let them out in the morning, move the cage each week, and prepare their 'going to bed' food which I did each weekend, putting 7 lots in recycled Chinese takeaway food containers.
All seemed well, I was looking forward to getting fresh eggs. 'Lemon' was the dominant bird showing signs of protecting 'Myrtle'.
"Roosters can be bastards of things," I said, fearing the worst. Lib said they'd been sexed and were both female.
The crowing started at dawn shortly after. Fully grown he was a magnificent bird. He strutted imperiously about the deck and would come to the widow and let rip with "cock a doodle do" almost shaking the house. It was repeated and repeated, much to my dismay. I apologized to all the neighbours saying I was looking for a home for it. Nobody wanted it. "It has to go," I said to Lib. Having raised them from chicks we felt an attachment. Necking him was not something I relished. I was hoping we'd find a home for him.
One day I was hanging out the washing and a hell of a to do broke out and as I rushed upon the scene there were feathers flying and 'Pip' had 'Lemon' pinned to the ground and was surely about to do him in if I did not intervene. Instinctively, and unfairly as I'm sure she was defending herself, I wacked little dog and berated her so severeley that she became submissive from then on to this feathered bully who delighted at every opportunity to attack her and 'Snowy'. It all became too much for me and I tried to get close enough to 'Lemon' to grab him, but he knew what I was up to and always had one eye on me. I couldn't catch him on the day I chose for the deed when no one was around. The next morning I grabbed him as I let them out, after turning away pretending I wasn't looking. I had dreaded doing it but it was quick and clean and I buried him deep and stuck a sheet of iron over him so fox or dog couldn't dig him up.
Myrtle was then alone, not that she seemed to mind. We bought another black chook and the eggs came in due course. They seemed to want to find a spot in the garden to lay and finding the eggs was a challenge until we put a sheltered nesting box on the deck which did the trick. The new chook 'Henny' stopped laying weeks ago, although I wasn't sure if she was laying in the garden again. I couldn't find a stash of eggs, but maybe currawongs or rats took them. Meredith told me she's put eggs down and seen currawongs steal them, picking them up with their feet and flying off.
Chooks can do this, go "off the lay" when they malt, Elvie told me, particularly black chooks. A small thing like seeing 'Henny' back in the nesting box and the resultant egg, amazes me in the significance it has for me, but in a busy life of constant problems and hassles, it was real joy in our house. 'Henny' is the quieter of the two chooks, 'Myrtle' learned some aggression from 'Lemon' and is head chook, but she lays an egg every day and has not yet had a break "off the lay". And I'm learning more about chooks.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Pines
I counted the pine trees close to the road on my walk the other day. There's 34 mature specimens in short section of about five or six hundred metres of Launching Place Rd.
The photo shows the biggest of them all perhaps. It doesn't look massive in the photo, but it is. Note the two trunks at the base. I think they call that bifolate, and it's inevitable that one half will fall one day, as the tree grows thicker and the bark of the two trunks grows toward each of the other creating an outward force that increases with time. As the trunks go up they divide further and high up this tree has eight trunks of substantial size all thrusting skywards and competing for light. There's another couple of big pines behind it which have had the bottom limbs removed, and have ivy growing up the trunks.
I once had no time for radiata pines as trees but now I see them as things of great beauty with their dark bark, rich green needle foliage, and imposing stature. As I get older things looking more and more beautiful.
I once had no time for radiata pines as trees but now I see them as things of great beauty with their dark bark, rich green needle foliage, and imposing stature. As I get older things looking more and more beautiful.
Sunshine Soft and Still
There's wattle blossom breaking all over the place and when the sun shines there's even a few insects about. There's more colour here and there the days are noticably getting that little bit longer. But when the sun goes behind the clouds and is gone for the day, wowee does the cold come back quickly.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Karma
I can't help but smile as I walk past a new house being built on my morning walking route. It's a quite large structure of suburban style brick and tile on a small block. The house fills most of the block in the modern way and the external wall one side is close to the boundary fence and rises above it in an imposing manner that would be a regret to the resident of the cottage there, I think.
That resident, a woman, whom I think I previously posted some months ago told me to "f*** off" when I waved to her as I walked past one day, is rarely sighted by this walker, who would of course give her a big wave on every available opportunity. Now I do try not to have any feelings of angst to anybody, but the smile comes over me as I go past nevertheless, as I think of the woman in the cottage and how the building activity and close proximity of soon to be new neighbours must be giving her new impetus to explore her vocabulary.
The cook up was most enjoyable today. The two crockpots are cooling down outside in the cold of night. The roast lamb for dinner was superb, and I did my weeks supply of chook putting away food (grated cheese, chopped meat leftovers, sorrel/silverbeet, mixed seed, boiled rice, bread), and moved the portable chook house, as well of course as the laundry and fire setting and general clean up. Lib visited her Auntie June, Bill's sister, who turned 90 recently, in the retirement place over Warburton way.
The evening meal was accompanied by an 'Exile' Barossa Valley shiraz and followed by the now customary kip. I woke to watch Amla score his triple century for Sth Africa in the test against England in a record partnership of 370 or so with Jaques Kallis, who in the opinion of Gord and myself, is the the best cricketer of the past two decades bar none. For some reason which we probably can't explain we are Sth African supporters in cricket. We barrack for anyone who plays Australia, but Sth Africa is our preference. Weird hey.
That resident, a woman, whom I think I previously posted some months ago told me to "f*** off" when I waved to her as I walked past one day, is rarely sighted by this walker, who would of course give her a big wave on every available opportunity. Now I do try not to have any feelings of angst to anybody, but the smile comes over me as I go past nevertheless, as I think of the woman in the cottage and how the building activity and close proximity of soon to be new neighbours must be giving her new impetus to explore her vocabulary.
The cook up was most enjoyable today. The two crockpots are cooling down outside in the cold of night. The roast lamb for dinner was superb, and I did my weeks supply of chook putting away food (grated cheese, chopped meat leftovers, sorrel/silverbeet, mixed seed, boiled rice, bread), and moved the portable chook house, as well of course as the laundry and fire setting and general clean up. Lib visited her Auntie June, Bill's sister, who turned 90 recently, in the retirement place over Warburton way.
The evening meal was accompanied by an 'Exile' Barossa Valley shiraz and followed by the now customary kip. I woke to watch Amla score his triple century for Sth Africa in the test against England in a record partnership of 370 or so with Jaques Kallis, who in the opinion of Gord and myself, is the the best cricketer of the past two decades bar none. For some reason which we probably can't explain we are Sth African supporters in cricket. We barrack for anyone who plays Australia, but Sth Africa is our preference. Weird hey.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Cook Up Tomorrow
My nocturnal habits of late are continuing. The night is peaceful. I put some chicken frames with a few root vegies and herbs in the crocky on low on Friday night when I got home. I forgot all about them till tonight when I got home after a working bee in in NHP this morning, then a bit of work for Shirley Hughes pruning a big cypress in the afternoon. That's Ok, 24 hours on low is good for stock. I turned of the crocky after I showered and just now strained the liquid off and put it the fridge so the fat gells on the top for removal in the morning. I put some lentils and beans in a dish to soak and tossed in some brown rice and barley, so I'm ready to cut up up vegies in the morning for a soup. Lib took out a kilo of beef mince so I'll do a spag sauce too, and cut up vegies for to go with our roast lamb tomorrow evening. I can bowl it all over quickly on the morrow as it's all well organised.
At the working bee today we pulled a lot of ivy from a trouble spot, mulched some fruit trees, cleared leaf litter from the drain behind the museum, and Roy Kendall, a champion of champions, attacked the kiwi fruit, in the sense of cutting it back. It was not good timing for a working bee, July is inhospitable and there were other things happening. But because of those dedicated people who came to help we really did do some good work. And I left feeling fantastic.
Now I'll sleep very well.
At the working bee today we pulled a lot of ivy from a trouble spot, mulched some fruit trees, cleared leaf litter from the drain behind the museum, and Roy Kendall, a champion of champions, attacked the kiwi fruit, in the sense of cutting it back. It was not good timing for a working bee, July is inhospitable and there were other things happening. But because of those dedicated people who came to help we really did do some good work. And I left feeling fantastic.
Now I'll sleep very well.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Capital Works
Tonight I attended a dinner at the Cultural centre in Pakenham, held to announce the recipients of CWgrants for 2012/13. The NHPEM cracked it for some stonework steps down to our car park. It was not an event that I happily attended but our treasurer Dennis sort of dobbed me in and picked me up and drove me which meant I could avail myself fully of the liquid refreshments without the worry of driving home, so it was not all bad.
As it turned out I had a thoroughly good time. The lamb shanks were tough but tasty and a bone shot off my plate onto the leg of the lady sitting next to me, who discreetly lent over and said close to my ear, "Nobody saw that." What an amazing lady she was who made the evening worthwhile. While she was attacking her shanks a little later her fork slipped off and took up residence on the lap of the bloke on her other side. "F***," she said. "Nobody saw that," I said. The bloke passed her fork back with no fuss.
My highlight was when a Councillor from another ward approached me without my solicitation and thanked me for my passion. He was aware of the controversy our committee was embroiled in earlier this year and seemed to enjoy my reference to the two bastards we have in our ward. Maybe this bloke was on the panel that adjudicated on the selection of recipients for CWgrants, which I had learned from a council officer did not include councillors from our ward. In any event he impressed me greatly and is someone I would not hesitate to contact in future, not that I intend to have any involvement in council politics. Not now, not ever.
I had to laugh really as the councillors and council managers all tucked into dinner along with the recipients. The tone of it, in the speeches also, is one of how wonderful it is that we have volunteers, and how wonderful is the council to recognize this. The laugh is that we the ratepayers pay for every morsel and drop and every brick or nail or wire. It's all all our money that these bastards gloat and preen over spending something for us, and making us feel so privileged to receive it.
I spent the day at home today cleaning up after the tradesmen, and booking airfares and transfers to the Fijian island next month. This is sounding better and better and better by the minute.
As it turned out I had a thoroughly good time. The lamb shanks were tough but tasty and a bone shot off my plate onto the leg of the lady sitting next to me, who discreetly lent over and said close to my ear, "Nobody saw that." What an amazing lady she was who made the evening worthwhile. While she was attacking her shanks a little later her fork slipped off and took up residence on the lap of the bloke on her other side. "F***," she said. "Nobody saw that," I said. The bloke passed her fork back with no fuss.
My highlight was when a Councillor from another ward approached me without my solicitation and thanked me for my passion. He was aware of the controversy our committee was embroiled in earlier this year and seemed to enjoy my reference to the two bastards we have in our ward. Maybe this bloke was on the panel that adjudicated on the selection of recipients for CWgrants, which I had learned from a council officer did not include councillors from our ward. In any event he impressed me greatly and is someone I would not hesitate to contact in future, not that I intend to have any involvement in council politics. Not now, not ever.
I had to laugh really as the councillors and council managers all tucked into dinner along with the recipients. The tone of it, in the speeches also, is one of how wonderful it is that we have volunteers, and how wonderful is the council to recognize this. The laugh is that we the ratepayers pay for every morsel and drop and every brick or nail or wire. It's all all our money that these bastards gloat and preen over spending something for us, and making us feel so privileged to receive it.
I spent the day at home today cleaning up after the tradesmen, and booking airfares and transfers to the Fijian island next month. This is sounding better and better and better by the minute.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Holidays
Lib's organized a couple of weeks in Fiji at an island resort when she takes some long service leave soon. Not a fancy hotel type resort but a self contained cottage with few modern amenities, no television for example and frankly I don't know a lot about it except that there's lots of walks through lush vegetation. Lib got onto it through a work colleague who goes there on some sort of time sharing arrangement. We now have to arrange air travel to and from and transfers.
Two weeks in one place in a warm climate appeals at the moment, with beach nearby and forest surrounding. Our last holiday, as in travelling some distance, was Adelaide last November, and Magnetic Island off Townsville the year before that. It was Alice Springs in 2009, then Florieu Peninsula SA in 2008. The big one was Peru 2005, and we did south west WA in 2004. These have been since the boys grew up, just Lib and I except for Adelaide last year when Gord came as we were going over largely to see Robbie who was living there at the time. And I add Bali, 2007 I think.
As the boys were growing up it was mostly Lakes Entrance where Lib's family have the house. We did driving, camping family hols to Queensland, The Grampians, and Tasmania through the 1990's while the boys were young. There's a lot of happy memories.
There's a way to go before our trip but lots of walking, lunch picnics and reading books sounds good to me. It's been a long cold winter. I'll keep you posted. Lib has Robbie's old lap top, maybe I'll be able to post from there, or maybe I'll have to hand write a diary and type it up when I get back.
I can't complain at what life has dished up to me, in fact I'm lucky, and very grateful.
Two weeks in one place in a warm climate appeals at the moment, with beach nearby and forest surrounding. Our last holiday, as in travelling some distance, was Adelaide last November, and Magnetic Island off Townsville the year before that. It was Alice Springs in 2009, then Florieu Peninsula SA in 2008. The big one was Peru 2005, and we did south west WA in 2004. These have been since the boys grew up, just Lib and I except for Adelaide last year when Gord came as we were going over largely to see Robbie who was living there at the time. And I add Bali, 2007 I think.
As the boys were growing up it was mostly Lakes Entrance where Lib's family have the house. We did driving, camping family hols to Queensland, The Grampians, and Tasmania through the 1990's while the boys were young. There's a lot of happy memories.
There's a way to go before our trip but lots of walking, lunch picnics and reading books sounds good to me. It's been a long cold winter. I'll keep you posted. Lib has Robbie's old lap top, maybe I'll be able to post from there, or maybe I'll have to hand write a diary and type it up when I get back.
I can't complain at what life has dished up to me, in fact I'm lucky, and very grateful.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
She Blew Today
It was the sort of day today that had you ducking for cover and looking about to make sure a flying piece of roofing iron was not hurtling at you with decapitation a possibility, and eyes were regularly cast anxiously skyward at bending tree trunks and branches. I was at Keith's picking some flowering camellia and the gusts were so powerful the roof was lifted off the chook house and set down again with an almighty bang about a metre off centre. We managed to drag it back roughly into place and Ros wired it down before it was taken off again. Through it all the sun was shining and at least the ground surface has dried temporarily. I say temporarily because rain is forecast tomorrow with possible hail.
The rainfall figures for June are up in the Post Office, 158 mm, 42 mm above the 38 year average of 116mm. For the first half of the calender year we've had 718mm, 189mm more than the average of 528mm. And the first half of July has been very wet. And cold too.
I've been up late doing book work There's still a way to go. I've never been busier in my life but much of the work doesn't pay tangible rewards in the present. You only hope that what you are doing has some positive result somewhere along the line I'll stop grizzling and go to bed, where perhaps some sweet dreams are lying in wait.
The rainfall figures for June are up in the Post Office, 158 mm, 42 mm above the 38 year average of 116mm. For the first half of the calender year we've had 718mm, 189mm more than the average of 528mm. And the first half of July has been very wet. And cold too.
I've been up late doing book work There's still a way to go. I've never been busier in my life but much of the work doesn't pay tangible rewards in the present. You only hope that what you are doing has some positive result somewhere along the line I'll stop grizzling and go to bed, where perhaps some sweet dreams are lying in wait.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
More Mess and Mud
There are drop sheets, old towels, sheets of plastic and even an old quilt spread out along the hall from our frontdoor to bathroom no.2. I hastily found them this morning and set them out as some sort of token resistance to the dirty boots of the three tradesmen who traipsed in and out all day. The mud covered sheets are still there, waiting for more of the same tomorrow.
I left them to their banter and demolition noise, going early to Hanna's where I took my solace in more forking of mother earth. Just me and the dogs in the quiet of the clearing morning chill. About a half an hour in I felt something under the fork and before I remembered that there was a 90mm PVC pipe underground taking water from the garage roof to the above ground water tank, it started spouting out from the ground. From a six inch spout it quickly dropped away but sufficient water escaped the pipe to make the immediate area a muddy bog. As the pipe goes down from the roof then underground and up the side of the tank it means there's always water in the pipe up to the height of discharge into the tank, if you get what I mean.
I went home to look for a couple of joiners. Couldn't find any, and the plumber working on the bathroom had none either. He told me about a fitting that was available (I can't remember the name of it - plumtech sleeve?) that made the repair much quicker and easier than using couplings and my plan was to pick one up in Emerald later today and repair the pipe tomorrow. But it nagged at me so when I was up the street I called into the garden supply place and lo and behold they had joiners.
It's a tricky job, you need to cut the pipe just right, dig the earth away from the pipe both sides so you can lift it and put the new bit in then lower pipe so it all sort of slips together just right and is set by the quick setting glue. Those who have done it will know exactly what I mean. Well I buggered it up first time and had to go and get another joiner and a bit more pipe. This time it worked with Gord there to help bend up the pipe. Relieved I was, yet disappointed by the waste of time incurred.
There was another bed I wanted to dig which was also over the pipe so I thought I'd go and find the pipe to avoid a similar event which would be tomorrow now as time had slipped away. I went over and probed carefully here and there with the fork and bingo, I went a little too firmly, hit dead centre the pipe with more water gushing and more mud. This time there was only one hole on top of the pipe so I improvised a repair with a sleeve of pipe left over from the previous repair. I won't know if it has worked till the next rain as if it leaks I'll know then, when the pipe fills with water again. I haven't reburied the pipe so I can see what happens.
I had a museum meeting at 4.30pm so I prepared a hasty report and got home about 7.00pm. Denny had been around looking for the key he had given me to his front gate. He'd come back from some weeks away and his wife was not home and she had the key, he forgot to tell her to leave it. So I was off out again to return his key.
A trying day. No hot bath to comfort me, that bathroom is now in a state of destruction/reconstruction. No alcohol to console me, Mondays - Wednesday are alcohol free usually (AF days). At least we have a shower and toilet operable in the nearly completed first bathroom. At least too it's stopped raining for now. Halleluyah!
I left them to their banter and demolition noise, going early to Hanna's where I took my solace in more forking of mother earth. Just me and the dogs in the quiet of the clearing morning chill. About a half an hour in I felt something under the fork and before I remembered that there was a 90mm PVC pipe underground taking water from the garage roof to the above ground water tank, it started spouting out from the ground. From a six inch spout it quickly dropped away but sufficient water escaped the pipe to make the immediate area a muddy bog. As the pipe goes down from the roof then underground and up the side of the tank it means there's always water in the pipe up to the height of discharge into the tank, if you get what I mean.
I went home to look for a couple of joiners. Couldn't find any, and the plumber working on the bathroom had none either. He told me about a fitting that was available (I can't remember the name of it - plumtech sleeve?) that made the repair much quicker and easier than using couplings and my plan was to pick one up in Emerald later today and repair the pipe tomorrow. But it nagged at me so when I was up the street I called into the garden supply place and lo and behold they had joiners.
It's a tricky job, you need to cut the pipe just right, dig the earth away from the pipe both sides so you can lift it and put the new bit in then lower pipe so it all sort of slips together just right and is set by the quick setting glue. Those who have done it will know exactly what I mean. Well I buggered it up first time and had to go and get another joiner and a bit more pipe. This time it worked with Gord there to help bend up the pipe. Relieved I was, yet disappointed by the waste of time incurred.
There was another bed I wanted to dig which was also over the pipe so I thought I'd go and find the pipe to avoid a similar event which would be tomorrow now as time had slipped away. I went over and probed carefully here and there with the fork and bingo, I went a little too firmly, hit dead centre the pipe with more water gushing and more mud. This time there was only one hole on top of the pipe so I improvised a repair with a sleeve of pipe left over from the previous repair. I won't know if it has worked till the next rain as if it leaks I'll know then, when the pipe fills with water again. I haven't reburied the pipe so I can see what happens.
I had a museum meeting at 4.30pm so I prepared a hasty report and got home about 7.00pm. Denny had been around looking for the key he had given me to his front gate. He'd come back from some weeks away and his wife was not home and she had the key, he forgot to tell her to leave it. So I was off out again to return his key.
A trying day. No hot bath to comfort me, that bathroom is now in a state of destruction/reconstruction. No alcohol to console me, Mondays - Wednesday are alcohol free usually (AF days). At least we have a shower and toilet operable in the nearly completed first bathroom. At least too it's stopped raining for now. Halleluyah!
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Bogged
The shower screen man left a message late Friday saying he was coming before lunch time Saturday, much to my relief. He rang again Saturday morning about ten saying he was on his way just leaving Narre Warren. I then went out to move three vehicles, Lib's, Gords, and mine so that he could drive into the carport for easy unloading and access. I parked Lib's on the grass track behind the Subaru that Rob drives, then Gord's behind it, then I intended to put my van behind them, leaving the driveway clear for the screen man to do his stuff then drive straight out down the drive and out our lower gate.
The ground being so wet the van wouldn't quite get off the drive as I had to go uphill on the grass, which by now was getting a bit chopped up. The van slid sideways so I thought I'd back down onto the drive and drive out and around and leave the van up the top. This juggling vehicles business has been a trial while this bathroom reno has being going on with all the wet weather and mud and slop.
I backed a little too far, my left rear wheel going onto the grass and spinning when I tried to move forward, sliding me further sideways as even th gravel of the driveway is covered in mud here being the lowest part of the drive. I was stuck. The van was half on the drive half off.
The screen man took about twenty minutes only and left having to back out up the drive the way he came in. I roused Gord and Rob , we tried to drive and push the van out, no go. I found a long towing strap I have never used for the purpose I bought it, that is pulling trees down in a desired direction when felling. I hooked one end on the Subaru and the slack right around the van (mistake- this pulled the van along but not up on to the drive and we had to stop when the van became wedged in under an escallonia tree). Next attempt was a rope conventionally hooked through a towing eye under the van which I should have done first, after the shrubby tree was cut of the van, and all was well, it came out. I was holding up the boys who were heading off to the football.
Last night we had a great dinner at our neighbours Steve and Ann and followed it by watching DVD's of Cat Stevens and Cher concerts. What a good way to spend a winter's night.
So our screen is in, the tradies will be back tomorrow to start on the other, and we slowly grind our way forward.
The ground being so wet the van wouldn't quite get off the drive as I had to go uphill on the grass, which by now was getting a bit chopped up. The van slid sideways so I thought I'd back down onto the drive and drive out and around and leave the van up the top. This juggling vehicles business has been a trial while this bathroom reno has being going on with all the wet weather and mud and slop.
I backed a little too far, my left rear wheel going onto the grass and spinning when I tried to move forward, sliding me further sideways as even th gravel of the driveway is covered in mud here being the lowest part of the drive. I was stuck. The van was half on the drive half off.
The screen man took about twenty minutes only and left having to back out up the drive the way he came in. I roused Gord and Rob , we tried to drive and push the van out, no go. I found a long towing strap I have never used for the purpose I bought it, that is pulling trees down in a desired direction when felling. I hooked one end on the Subaru and the slack right around the van (mistake- this pulled the van along but not up on to the drive and we had to stop when the van became wedged in under an escallonia tree). Next attempt was a rope conventionally hooked through a towing eye under the van which I should have done first, after the shrubby tree was cut of the van, and all was well, it came out. I was holding up the boys who were heading off to the football.
Last night we had a great dinner at our neighbours Steve and Ann and followed it by watching DVD's of Cat Stevens and Cher concerts. What a good way to spend a winter's night.
So our screen is in, the tradies will be back tomorrow to start on the other, and we slowly grind our way forward.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Joining the Dots
Late today Meredith was on the phone at the farm, talking to a lady, Cynthia, she told me after the call finished. Cynthia is from Wagga Wagga and was in West Australia visiting her father Phil Allchin. Phil is in his nineties and served in WW2 with my father in law Bill Meek, in the same unit for 5 years.
I have posted about this connection before. I came into contact with Phil some years ago in a round about way through the niece of my friend Ida in Gembrook, Glenda. Through Ida, who died several years ago, I learned that her brothers George and Hap Atchison were in the 2/2 anti aircraft.They are all long passed on, but I made contact with Phil at Glenda's urging because she had regular contact with him around the ANZAC time of year, having met him numerous times at reunions with her dad George.
Phil was moved that the son in law of Bill Meek had sought him out. At the end of a letter he asked me off handedly one day did I have a great great grandmother by the name of Hannah Williams by any remote chance, seeing that my name is Williams. Well it turned out that yes I did, and the Hannah Williams in question was indeed Phil's great grandmother. Amazingly Hannah was a Wilson, my mother was a Wilson, before she married an Allchin who died, and then she married a Williams who is unrelated to my Williams side. There was a child from the Hannah / Allchin union who was raised by people named Hand. In another strange twist Phil married a Hand from that same family.
I may not have all spot on but Meredith is working on it as she and Cynthia are both into the family tree thing. There are more strange twists.While visiting her father Phil in WA Cynthia was going through his paper work as he's starting to fail being well into his nineties, and she found a letter from Meredith to Phil asking some questions re his family.
Bill Meek and Phil Allchin were in the same unit in the war because the both lived in a Brighton, a street or so apart and joined up at the same time. They already knew each other. I find it uncanny that while Meredith and I were growing up in Mt. Waverley, Cynthia and her sisters were growing up in High St Rd Mt.Waverley. All this has come to light because I so happenned to meet Libby in Wangaratta and marry her, and then befriended Ida through whom the dots started to join up.
Cynthia said she'll come down from Wagga Wagga and visit Meredith to further research. Meredith is chuffed and so am I.
I have posted about this connection before. I came into contact with Phil some years ago in a round about way through the niece of my friend Ida in Gembrook, Glenda. Through Ida, who died several years ago, I learned that her brothers George and Hap Atchison were in the 2/2 anti aircraft.They are all long passed on, but I made contact with Phil at Glenda's urging because she had regular contact with him around the ANZAC time of year, having met him numerous times at reunions with her dad George.
Phil was moved that the son in law of Bill Meek had sought him out. At the end of a letter he asked me off handedly one day did I have a great great grandmother by the name of Hannah Williams by any remote chance, seeing that my name is Williams. Well it turned out that yes I did, and the Hannah Williams in question was indeed Phil's great grandmother. Amazingly Hannah was a Wilson, my mother was a Wilson, before she married an Allchin who died, and then she married a Williams who is unrelated to my Williams side. There was a child from the Hannah / Allchin union who was raised by people named Hand. In another strange twist Phil married a Hand from that same family.
I may not have all spot on but Meredith is working on it as she and Cynthia are both into the family tree thing. There are more strange twists.While visiting her father Phil in WA Cynthia was going through his paper work as he's starting to fail being well into his nineties, and she found a letter from Meredith to Phil asking some questions re his family.
Bill Meek and Phil Allchin were in the same unit in the war because the both lived in a Brighton, a street or so apart and joined up at the same time. They already knew each other. I find it uncanny that while Meredith and I were growing up in Mt. Waverley, Cynthia and her sisters were growing up in High St Rd Mt.Waverley. All this has come to light because I so happenned to meet Libby in Wangaratta and marry her, and then befriended Ida through whom the dots started to join up.
Cynthia said she'll come down from Wagga Wagga and visit Meredith to further research. Meredith is chuffed and so am I.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Bathroom Standstill
A week ago yesterday a shower screen man came to measure up. I rang him last Friday to ask when we could expect installation. His phone was not attended so I left a message. He rang back Monday morning saying our screen was being built that day and would likely be installed tomorrow or Wednesday. He'd call us to arrange a time.
With no call eventuating I rang him this morning (yesterday now as it's after midnight). He said he'd ring this afernoon to arrange a time. I said I wouldn't be here, and told him to leave a message. No message. In the meantime Will and Liam have been asking when can they come and demolish second bathroom to start reno which we are trying to delay till first bathroom is operable or we'll have no where to shower or bath. We are at the mercy of the screen man. If the screen isn't installed tomorrow Friday (today) it puts everyone's plans for early next week up the creek and our tradies may have to move on to other jobs and who knows then when they'll be able to return.
And so it goes. After a few days of blissful relief from the rain a cold front came in again this afternoon and the forecast is for a horrible wet few days. I have much to do outside but if bad weather confines me there is at least also much bookwork to catch up on for the end of financial year accounting and last quarter BAS due end of this month. Sometimes I think I'll go nuts.
To finish the day on a pleasant note I report that I made a lamb mince filling today for tacos/burritos for tomorrow night's dinner (today's), with onions, garlic, chillie, tomato, beans. Rain or no we can sit by the fire and enjoy Mexican food Friday night and watch the footy after dinner.
With no call eventuating I rang him this morning (yesterday now as it's after midnight). He said he'd ring this afernoon to arrange a time. I said I wouldn't be here, and told him to leave a message. No message. In the meantime Will and Liam have been asking when can they come and demolish second bathroom to start reno which we are trying to delay till first bathroom is operable or we'll have no where to shower or bath. We are at the mercy of the screen man. If the screen isn't installed tomorrow Friday (today) it puts everyone's plans for early next week up the creek and our tradies may have to move on to other jobs and who knows then when they'll be able to return.
And so it goes. After a few days of blissful relief from the rain a cold front came in again this afternoon and the forecast is for a horrible wet few days. I have much to do outside but if bad weather confines me there is at least also much bookwork to catch up on for the end of financial year accounting and last quarter BAS due end of this month. Sometimes I think I'll go nuts.
To finish the day on a pleasant note I report that I made a lamb mince filling today for tacos/burritos for tomorrow night's dinner (today's), with onions, garlic, chillie, tomato, beans. Rain or no we can sit by the fire and enjoy Mexican food Friday night and watch the footy after dinner.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Meagan the Barber
My hairdresser Leanne is unavailable this week. She usually cuts my hair in her house but her father was entering palliative care when I called her and has since died. Today I tripped down to Pakenham to do some shopping and thought I'd get a cut whilst there. I grabbed a late lunch at a sushi bar in the new mall complex before finding the barber I had used once before when Leanne was unavailable.
He had a queue lined up so I went to an express cut ladies place that had a sign up for men too. Again there was a queue, mostly kids lined up before school goes back. So I walked planning to go to Todd and Sweeney in the main street where I used to go years ago. He kept putting the price up so I found Leanne. I found another shop at the back end of an arcade off the main street, near Retravision, there was no one in the shop but no sooner was I in there than a lady's voice came from behind me saying "Here I am I'll look after you."
I recognized her straight away, she used to work in 'Sweeney and Todd' and sometimes cut my hair there. She's been in her shop cutting men's hair now for four years and a good job she did too today. I remembered she was a Sydney Swans supporter and we had a good chat about the footy. Good sort too. It cost me $19 which isn't bad considering she would have rent and overheads. Leanne does me for $15 but she works from home and would have less costs, so she does alright. Todd Sweeney was $22 when Gord went there a while back he told me, and it's probably $24 now.
For many years Lib cut my hair, but she got sick of it, and I can understand that.
I stocked up on red wine at Dan Murphy and the usual items at Aldi I like to get every few weeks eg soda water toilet paper canned food tea bags, a lot of the staples that you can save quite a bit by stocking up on. I bought a new phone and answering machine for the farm too, which was another motivation for the trip, the old machine stopped functioning.
I finished my Nigel article tonight, after sending it in this morning, I revised it down tonight to 820 words after some discussion with Nigel to get his OK and suggestions. I have just now resent the revision to the editor and hope it comes out with the changes as the final version reads better.
Not much else to say. I hope I'm not boring the pants off you with this mundane prattle but I'm tying to be disciplined and post each day, in the hope something good will come sometime. I feel one brewing. I'm sick of the Olympics before they have started, at least the adds on TV. And the swimmers are complaining that the government doesn't pay them enough while they swim, so they can swim without financial worry. Poor buggers.
He had a queue lined up so I went to an express cut ladies place that had a sign up for men too. Again there was a queue, mostly kids lined up before school goes back. So I walked planning to go to Todd and Sweeney in the main street where I used to go years ago. He kept putting the price up so I found Leanne. I found another shop at the back end of an arcade off the main street, near Retravision, there was no one in the shop but no sooner was I in there than a lady's voice came from behind me saying "Here I am I'll look after you."
I recognized her straight away, she used to work in 'Sweeney and Todd' and sometimes cut my hair there. She's been in her shop cutting men's hair now for four years and a good job she did too today. I remembered she was a Sydney Swans supporter and we had a good chat about the footy. Good sort too. It cost me $19 which isn't bad considering she would have rent and overheads. Leanne does me for $15 but she works from home and would have less costs, so she does alright. Todd Sweeney was $22 when Gord went there a while back he told me, and it's probably $24 now.
For many years Lib cut my hair, but she got sick of it, and I can understand that.
I stocked up on red wine at Dan Murphy and the usual items at Aldi I like to get every few weeks eg soda water toilet paper canned food tea bags, a lot of the staples that you can save quite a bit by stocking up on. I bought a new phone and answering machine for the farm too, which was another motivation for the trip, the old machine stopped functioning.
I finished my Nigel article tonight, after sending it in this morning, I revised it down tonight to 820 words after some discussion with Nigel to get his OK and suggestions. I have just now resent the revision to the editor and hope it comes out with the changes as the final version reads better.
Not much else to say. I hope I'm not boring the pants off you with this mundane prattle but I'm tying to be disciplined and post each day, in the hope something good will come sometime. I feel one brewing. I'm sick of the Olympics before they have started, at least the adds on TV. And the swimmers are complaining that the government doesn't pay them enough while they swim, so they can swim without financial worry. Poor buggers.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Raising a Sweat
I was up at Hanna's again this (yesterday) morning, forking over some ground. I'm sure the rhythmic steady exertion is good for you, so long as you don't go too hard at it. I couldn't help but think of what Dave Dickson's friend 'Frosty' used to say, something about "Nothing better than sweating over a live fork." Well my fork wasn't live, it's a four pronged stainless steel variety but I did raise a sweat, and there's a good feeling of reward for effort at the end when you survey the result.
The photo shows the patch of freshly turned earth and the fork I speak of. That's 'Snowy' guarding the entrance of a wombat burrow, I think Pip is down the hole when I took the photo. The rain held off for me. Not a bad workplace. Better than being stuck in a traffic jam.
I worked on my Nigel Signpost article tonight, deadline is tomorrow. I was reasonably happy with it and will go over it again in the morning. I found it hard to condense to 800-850 words, it's still about 930 after working it down from 1150.
The photo shows the patch of freshly turned earth and the fork I speak of. That's 'Snowy' guarding the entrance of a wombat burrow, I think Pip is down the hole when I took the photo. The rain held off for me. Not a bad workplace. Better than being stuck in a traffic jam.
Monday, July 09, 2012
Forking for Walking
I didn't walk this morning. Instead I packed the dogs in the van and drove to Hanna's place. As the rose of dawn came over the hills in the east I was busy forking over ground in preparation for the fast approaching spring. Rain is forecast again so I want to get a wriggle on. After a couple of hours I had a good half of the patch I was working on done which exceeded my intentions. I then put some broad beans in where I had dug earlier and planted some pansy seedlings in the garlic bed where a fair amount of the garlic didn't come up, rotting in the ground instead.
If it's not raining I'll be there again in the morning to continue. The dogs love it there because rabbits are prolific and they get more exercise chasing them than with me walking them on the lead. The rabbits will be a problem with my herbs and vegies, my intention is to put temporary barriers around the beds using weedmat and garden stakes but at this stage it's an idea only and may not work. It needs to be something I can put up and take down quickly and easily.
There's a garden bed in a cage where Harry used to grow strawberris and grapes. I planted silverbeet seedlings in there yesterday. The wire sides needed a bit of repair here and there (I saw rabbits in there last year).
Our bathroom renovations are on hold as we wait for the shower screen man to do his installation after coming to measure up last Wednesday. As soon as that bathroom is done, work on the other can begin.
If it's not raining I'll be there again in the morning to continue. The dogs love it there because rabbits are prolific and they get more exercise chasing them than with me walking them on the lead. The rabbits will be a problem with my herbs and vegies, my intention is to put temporary barriers around the beds using weedmat and garden stakes but at this stage it's an idea only and may not work. It needs to be something I can put up and take down quickly and easily.
There's a garden bed in a cage where Harry used to grow strawberris and grapes. I planted silverbeet seedlings in there yesterday. The wire sides needed a bit of repair here and there (I saw rabbits in there last year).
Our bathroom renovations are on hold as we wait for the shower screen man to do his installation after coming to measure up last Wednesday. As soon as that bathroom is done, work on the other can begin.
Sunday, July 08, 2012
A Winter's Day
I fed the bees today. It was a few weeks since I had done this so I was a little concerned that my last feeding had lasted them through the dreadful cold and wet that we have endured lately. All colonies had survived and seemed to be ready waiting for me. I had lovely cool smoke from the needles of the Mexican pine near our front door and disturbed them as little as possible during the exercise of refilling the trays with the candied honey and sprinkling it with white sugar. The bees came up licking as I did this and you'd swear they know the routine now.
They are away from the house a bit in an area where we seldom venture. The dogs never follow me there, perhaps past experience has made them wiser. There's some thick undergrowth behind the hives and while I was doing the feeding there was a familiar sound coming from the scrub. It was 'old scritchy' the whipbird cackling away like an old grump, a most welcome sound given the harshness of the winter. The whipbirds for several years have come to breed in our garden or closeby, remaining through the spring asthey raise their young, then disappear as the weather heats up in summer. It was heartwarming to notice them for the first time this season, in what is surely a sign of the approaching spring. They have not started the 'cracking' and answering yet but I'm waiting for that now.
After feeding the bees here I went up to 'Sunset' to feed the hive at Mark and Jane's and as I got out the van two magpies were warbling outrageously in unison in another promise of the nearing spring season.
Not far to go now. Still seven weeks of winter left supposedly but I think spring will be early just as winter came in weeks early. There are terrible heatwaves scorching the U.S. Perhaps we'll cop an extreme summer to follow spring.
They are away from the house a bit in an area where we seldom venture. The dogs never follow me there, perhaps past experience has made them wiser. There's some thick undergrowth behind the hives and while I was doing the feeding there was a familiar sound coming from the scrub. It was 'old scritchy' the whipbird cackling away like an old grump, a most welcome sound given the harshness of the winter. The whipbirds for several years have come to breed in our garden or closeby, remaining through the spring asthey raise their young, then disappear as the weather heats up in summer. It was heartwarming to notice them for the first time this season, in what is surely a sign of the approaching spring. They have not started the 'cracking' and answering yet but I'm waiting for that now.
After feeding the bees here I went up to 'Sunset' to feed the hive at Mark and Jane's and as I got out the van two magpies were warbling outrageously in unison in another promise of the nearing spring season.
Not far to go now. Still seven weeks of winter left supposedly but I think spring will be early just as winter came in weeks early. There are terrible heatwaves scorching the U.S. Perhaps we'll cop an extreme summer to follow spring.
Rickyralph Draws Up
The footy didn't work out for me today (yesterday). None of the roughies I wanted got up so the $660 stays in the Sportingbet vault. Worse, Rickyralph caught up two on me, I had North and Essendon. We are now level with a third of the season to go.
After my customary kip after dinner I woke up thinking about the many things I want to do tomorrow and decided to start now so I've spent the last hour cutting up vegies and adding it all together with some stock I made late last week from some chicken frames that were reduced to 99cents. Talk about a second wind, I'm as fresh as a daisy. It's a bit of a discovery, this finding an extra couple of hours in the middle of the night. It's actually the best time for me. My time, no distractions, master of myself.
If there's any joy to be had from the punting today (yesterday) it's that I had one dollar each way on Glaneuse each way at Flemington, race 6 I think. It fought it out to win narrowly at 40 to one, returning me $50.50 for my two dollars and recouping the $16 I lost on the footy tipping in total, and my unsuccessful running doubles at Flemington and Warrnambool, plus a small profit.
I backed Glaneuse because I heard its trainer Mick O'Leary interviewed on the radio some time ago. I don't remember detail but he was a reconteur extraordinaire with some fantastic stories of his successful horses and his love of the game came through. One story in particular involved a horse owned by a bloke who was up for murder and in custody for much of the horse's career.
I do find the horse racing industry interesting. It attracts a diverse range of society, from non conformists and desperadoes through to established conservative wealth right to the queen, if you get what I mean. Every race has the horses and jockeys lives at risk and somebody's house riding with them. I love the vernacular.
My father Lyle used to say that horse racing was from Lucifer's pit, as was alcohol. You could argue forever but I enjoy both. Evil is evil, and you can find it everywhere if you want to, in politics, the police force, the church. To me a glass (or bottle) of red and a wager on a nag is harmless good fun.
I'll go and add the mashed potato to thicken and noodles to the crocky and let it simmer away and go to bed. You know what I'm having for lunch tomorrow with fresh bread.
After my customary kip after dinner I woke up thinking about the many things I want to do tomorrow and decided to start now so I've spent the last hour cutting up vegies and adding it all together with some stock I made late last week from some chicken frames that were reduced to 99cents. Talk about a second wind, I'm as fresh as a daisy. It's a bit of a discovery, this finding an extra couple of hours in the middle of the night. It's actually the best time for me. My time, no distractions, master of myself.
If there's any joy to be had from the punting today (yesterday) it's that I had one dollar each way on Glaneuse each way at Flemington, race 6 I think. It fought it out to win narrowly at 40 to one, returning me $50.50 for my two dollars and recouping the $16 I lost on the footy tipping in total, and my unsuccessful running doubles at Flemington and Warrnambool, plus a small profit.
I backed Glaneuse because I heard its trainer Mick O'Leary interviewed on the radio some time ago. I don't remember detail but he was a reconteur extraordinaire with some fantastic stories of his successful horses and his love of the game came through. One story in particular involved a horse owned by a bloke who was up for murder and in custody for much of the horse's career.
I do find the horse racing industry interesting. It attracts a diverse range of society, from non conformists and desperadoes through to established conservative wealth right to the queen, if you get what I mean. Every race has the horses and jockeys lives at risk and somebody's house riding with them. I love the vernacular.
My father Lyle used to say that horse racing was from Lucifer's pit, as was alcohol. You could argue forever but I enjoy both. Evil is evil, and you can find it everywhere if you want to, in politics, the police force, the church. To me a glass (or bottle) of red and a wager on a nag is harmless good fun.
I'll go and add the mashed potato to thicken and noodles to the crocky and let it simmer away and go to bed. You know what I'm having for lunch tomorrow with fresh bread.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Who'd Have Thought / Please
Just for a bit of fun I put a dollar on a Carlton victory against Collingwood in a nine match multi for the round, including Melbourne to beat Richmond, North to beat West Coast and Brisbane to beat Sydney. I took three other 9 game multis that had Collingwood to win to kick off the round putting $5 on each, making a total of $15 down the drain tonight. So I'll be hoping for three more upsets tomorrow that would land me $660 for my dollar should Melbourne, North and Brisbane get up and the other faves come in.
In hindsight I should have taken a Carlton victory more seriously, given the history between these two, but pre game I did not give them a chance. This result has breathed life into the competition. Prior to tonight's game I could not see anyone beating Collingwood for this year's flag, so well were they travelling.
Thank you Carlton. Carlton has provided two of my lifetime highlights in football, the 1970 GF, and the 1999 Prelim. Last year's GF wasn't bad, nor '72, '75, '77, '79, '80, '81, '82, and '64, '66, '60, although I was a bit young then, as in '55, 56. 57, 59. I have pleasant warm feelings about 2001, 02 and 03. Notably regretfulful results at the time, were '58, '69, '71, '73,'74, '76, '78, '84, '85, '88, '90, '91, '93, 2000, 2010. My feelings for and against clubs fluctuates over time depending on changing personell and circumstances, and who's playing who in the end. Often it's the lesser of two evils for me. Not that any of it matters. But.....
Please, not Collingwood for the 2012 premiership. Or Essendon. Or Hawthorn.
It's time I was in bed. I fell asleep in the the chair after the footy again (Taster's Choice cleanskin). And so ends this day, with hope and promise for the morrow.
In hindsight I should have taken a Carlton victory more seriously, given the history between these two, but pre game I did not give them a chance. This result has breathed life into the competition. Prior to tonight's game I could not see anyone beating Collingwood for this year's flag, so well were they travelling.
Thank you Carlton. Carlton has provided two of my lifetime highlights in football, the 1970 GF, and the 1999 Prelim. Last year's GF wasn't bad, nor '72, '75, '77, '79, '80, '81, '82, and '64, '66, '60, although I was a bit young then, as in '55, 56. 57, 59. I have pleasant warm feelings about 2001, 02 and 03. Notably regretfulful results at the time, were '58, '69, '71, '73,'74, '76, '78, '84, '85, '88, '90, '91, '93, 2000, 2010. My feelings for and against clubs fluctuates over time depending on changing personell and circumstances, and who's playing who in the end. Often it's the lesser of two evils for me. Not that any of it matters. But.....
Please, not Collingwood for the 2012 premiership. Or Essendon. Or Hawthorn.
It's time I was in bed. I fell asleep in the the chair after the footy again (Taster's Choice cleanskin). And so ends this day, with hope and promise for the morrow.
Friday, July 06, 2012
Time Flies
For most of the last twenty years I've picked bay foliage from the garden of an old house in Emerald. Most but not all because for a few years the trees were infested with scale insects and in a few others the demand for bay lulled or I was busy with other things. The house changed hands in 1996 and the new owner, Nigel, was happy for me to continue picking there on the two or three times a year when I needed a small amount of bay, or some helleborus or geranium or box or other bits and pieces.
I interviewed Nigel today for Signpost magazine for a profile I hope will appear in August in what will be the celebratory 100th edition. I chose Nigel because I wanted something a little different from my usual format which is becoming a little routine and predictable.
Nigel is different to the other people I've profiled because he's younger (62) and his working life for the most part has been as a musician, or otherwise in the music industry. When he was 14 and still at school in England, he was coerced by his older brother Paul to buy a bass guitar and join a band he Paul was forming, The Cortinas. They performed live around London doing cover versions of Beatle songs and others for two years while Nigel was still at school, then two more while Nigel worked as a clerk for the Civil Service. At age 17 Nigel and Paul, who was 5 year senior, quit their jobs and the band shifted from semi professional to full time. It was a family affair with mum as bookings manager and Dad road manager driving them and the equipment around in his van.
The band changed its name to Octopus to refresh and Nigel wrote songs as they continued for another four years till the early seventies. They then became the Kincaids for a year or two touring Europe performing the song "Jenny, Jenny, Dreams are Ten a Penny", which had become a hit, along with others, but which had never been performed live by the creators who did not want to perform or tour. They'd go away for a week or two to Holland, Spain or Germany where they were treated as "stars" and do TV and stage gigs miming. They were a front for the Kincaids, a band that never really existed. When this finished Nigel branched out on his own in the early seventies and joined a band in Hollywood following which came stints in numerous bands, all of which were short term.
In 1977, in England, Nigel auditioned for a bass player role for a band that was going to Greece for a 3 or 4 month attractive tour and from a large field of applicants, and after being called back time and time again to audition, the field narrowed down to two and one final audition "play off". Nigel, by this time really wanting to join and needing the steady and lucrative income, gave it all he had but missed out. He was gutted after the build up and effort, but as so often happens in life, it turned out for the best. A couple of days later the phone rang and he was offered the bass player spot in 'Split Enz' at the same time Neil Finn joined. If he'd gone Greece he'd have missed out on the 8 years of success that followed as 'Split Enz' toured Australia, England, the US and Canada.
If I can translate Nigel's story into an article acceptable to the Signpost editor and it makes the August edition I'll post it on this blog at the end of the month. I fell asleep in the chair after dinner of the oxtail stew and mash which turned out superb. Abstaining from alcohol since Sunday night I made up for it tonight with a bottle of Barossa Reibke which put me into glorious slumber. Waking up after midnight here I am fresh as a daisy after two black coffees in the wee hours. Off to bed now but I know I'll lie there mindmapping my Nigel article, trying to reduce the story down to the 800 or so word restriction I have and yet capture the essence of it in a way that will entertain the readers and perhaps add a message. Maria says all the time, you have to ask yourself, who am I writing this for, and why. So I have to work out the angle from which to approach it.
I interviewed Nigel today for Signpost magazine for a profile I hope will appear in August in what will be the celebratory 100th edition. I chose Nigel because I wanted something a little different from my usual format which is becoming a little routine and predictable.
Nigel is different to the other people I've profiled because he's younger (62) and his working life for the most part has been as a musician, or otherwise in the music industry. When he was 14 and still at school in England, he was coerced by his older brother Paul to buy a bass guitar and join a band he Paul was forming, The Cortinas. They performed live around London doing cover versions of Beatle songs and others for two years while Nigel was still at school, then two more while Nigel worked as a clerk for the Civil Service. At age 17 Nigel and Paul, who was 5 year senior, quit their jobs and the band shifted from semi professional to full time. It was a family affair with mum as bookings manager and Dad road manager driving them and the equipment around in his van.
The band changed its name to Octopus to refresh and Nigel wrote songs as they continued for another four years till the early seventies. They then became the Kincaids for a year or two touring Europe performing the song "Jenny, Jenny, Dreams are Ten a Penny", which had become a hit, along with others, but which had never been performed live by the creators who did not want to perform or tour. They'd go away for a week or two to Holland, Spain or Germany where they were treated as "stars" and do TV and stage gigs miming. They were a front for the Kincaids, a band that never really existed. When this finished Nigel branched out on his own in the early seventies and joined a band in Hollywood following which came stints in numerous bands, all of which were short term.
In 1977, in England, Nigel auditioned for a bass player role for a band that was going to Greece for a 3 or 4 month attractive tour and from a large field of applicants, and after being called back time and time again to audition, the field narrowed down to two and one final audition "play off". Nigel, by this time really wanting to join and needing the steady and lucrative income, gave it all he had but missed out. He was gutted after the build up and effort, but as so often happens in life, it turned out for the best. A couple of days later the phone rang and he was offered the bass player spot in 'Split Enz' at the same time Neil Finn joined. If he'd gone Greece he'd have missed out on the 8 years of success that followed as 'Split Enz' toured Australia, England, the US and Canada.
If I can translate Nigel's story into an article acceptable to the Signpost editor and it makes the August edition I'll post it on this blog at the end of the month. I fell asleep in the chair after dinner of the oxtail stew and mash which turned out superb. Abstaining from alcohol since Sunday night I made up for it tonight with a bottle of Barossa Reibke which put me into glorious slumber. Waking up after midnight here I am fresh as a daisy after two black coffees in the wee hours. Off to bed now but I know I'll lie there mindmapping my Nigel article, trying to reduce the story down to the 800 or so word restriction I have and yet capture the essence of it in a way that will entertain the readers and perhaps add a message. Maria says all the time, you have to ask yourself, who am I writing this for, and why. So I have to work out the angle from which to approach it.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Not So Wet North of Divide
My post two days ago about the high rainfall this year was accurate for Victoria south of the dividing range but I read in the Weekly Times that northern Victoria has been well under its average rainfall figures this year with some areas is serious trouble due to insufficient rain for the grain and cereal crops. I had been aware of this in May but with the deluge here since then I assumed they too would have had good rain, so I was surprised to learn of it.
The weather is fine for the next few days so I hope to get a few jobs done including getting some feed into the bees. I have fed them twice so far using a mixture or half candied honey mixed with dry white sugar, spreading it in trays under the lids. Tecnically it's a no no to feed bees honey but I have some which I couldn't sell or eat a couple of years ago when a rat ate its way through a straining cloth and drowned itself in the foot or so of honey left in the tank. Big bugger too. So I put it in jars intending to experiment with a foliar honey spray on plants but didn't get around to it.
You would not feed bees honey from an unknown source because of the risk of introducing disease but as this is my honey that doesn't concern me. The other reason not to feed bees honey not in sealed combs is that it can cause hives to rob others in a frenzy, fighting and killing each other and wiping out weak hives. This hasn't happened so far, the days are so short and temperature so cold I've got away with it. It was a risk worth taking as they would have died of freezing by now. Without honey they can't keep warm in their cluster.
The weather is fine for the next few days so I hope to get a few jobs done including getting some feed into the bees. I have fed them twice so far using a mixture or half candied honey mixed with dry white sugar, spreading it in trays under the lids. Tecnically it's a no no to feed bees honey but I have some which I couldn't sell or eat a couple of years ago when a rat ate its way through a straining cloth and drowned itself in the foot or so of honey left in the tank. Big bugger too. So I put it in jars intending to experiment with a foliar honey spray on plants but didn't get around to it.
You would not feed bees honey from an unknown source because of the risk of introducing disease but as this is my honey that doesn't concern me. The other reason not to feed bees honey not in sealed combs is that it can cause hives to rob others in a frenzy, fighting and killing each other and wiping out weak hives. This hasn't happened so far, the days are so short and temperature so cold I've got away with it. It was a risk worth taking as they would have died of freezing by now. Without honey they can't keep warm in their cluster.
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
PAG Meeting
We at had a Park Advisory Group meeting at the museum today, from 3.30 pm to about 5.30pm. I organize these in my role as park curator. It's a way of planning and organizing works in the park seasonally, and covering ground that the full Nobelius Heritage Park and Emerald Museum committee would struggle to do in the time available at our monthly meetings. I make a curator's report to the full committee meetings which is largely based on the summary of the PAG meetings. The full committee then aproves proposals or otherwise.
So why am I telling you the reader this? Because tonight, following today's meeting, I feel greatly proud and privileged that I am part of a group of amazing people who continually front up giving their time to the cause, which is the park, our heritage, and the community. Present today were Dennis, Beryl, June, Gary, Chris, myself and Wendy from Cardinia Shire Council who is standing in for Mark Reynolds, the CSC Open Space Manager on leave through July.
We have been through thick in thin as a Committee of Management and despite my tiredness preventing me writing up a summary of the meeting tonight, I'm moved to write of the appreciation I feel for my colleagues. We have had a big first year of achievement, the first of our two year term of this committee and as president I take great heart that we can back it up with a big second year.
The mames I mentioned above are some not all of the great contributors and apologies were received today from Steve, Kevin, Roy and Bob. There are COM members who do not usually attend PAGs and my gratitude extends to them also although it was particularly today's meeting that moved me to post.
There were several items on the agenda but possibly for me the best was the decision where to plant the white dogwood tree I've had in a pot for twelve months, which is to replace one that died some years ago. Also it was decided to follow this planting next year to make it a row of three or four consistent with the guidelines of the Vegatation Management Plan. I'll find a few more layered plants in my garden and pot them up in preparation. Also important was the parley and planning for the new dwarf conifer garden, hopefully to happen after permit from council, due to the heritage overlay, and approval from Heritage Victoria which has recently included the NHP site on its state register.
We are carrying on the good work.
So why am I telling you the reader this? Because tonight, following today's meeting, I feel greatly proud and privileged that I am part of a group of amazing people who continually front up giving their time to the cause, which is the park, our heritage, and the community. Present today were Dennis, Beryl, June, Gary, Chris, myself and Wendy from Cardinia Shire Council who is standing in for Mark Reynolds, the CSC Open Space Manager on leave through July.
We have been through thick in thin as a Committee of Management and despite my tiredness preventing me writing up a summary of the meeting tonight, I'm moved to write of the appreciation I feel for my colleagues. We have had a big first year of achievement, the first of our two year term of this committee and as president I take great heart that we can back it up with a big second year.
The mames I mentioned above are some not all of the great contributors and apologies were received today from Steve, Kevin, Roy and Bob. There are COM members who do not usually attend PAGs and my gratitude extends to them also although it was particularly today's meeting that moved me to post.
There were several items on the agenda but possibly for me the best was the decision where to plant the white dogwood tree I've had in a pot for twelve months, which is to replace one that died some years ago. Also it was decided to follow this planting next year to make it a row of three or four consistent with the guidelines of the Vegatation Management Plan. I'll find a few more layered plants in my garden and pot them up in preparation. Also important was the parley and planning for the new dwarf conifer garden, hopefully to happen after permit from council, due to the heritage overlay, and approval from Heritage Victoria which has recently included the NHP site on its state register.
We are carrying on the good work.
Monday, July 02, 2012
Wet and more Wet
Somebody in Gembrook records the rainfall and has for the last 38 years, and puts the monthly figures up in the post office window. Every month this year, Jan - May (June's aren't there yet), has shown higher rainfall than the 38 year average which is also displayed. I added up the difference today and the five months have had 150 mm more rain than the 38 year average.
I'm sure June will also show a much higher figure. There was 40mm showing in my gauge today, and I recall tipping out 90mm the week before last after a few day's rain, which was the second big rain for June, I can't remember how much there was in the first one but I'll be watching the window chart to see the June total.
Everything is saturated. Our block is on a gentle slope and it's easy to slip on the grass, the surface being so soft and unstable. Liam who is doing tiling in our bathroom renovations slid off the driveway when he touched the brake and became bogged as he left today, not being able to get his wheels back on the firm driveway, which is covered in slosh in any case at the bottom of the slope.
So July continues the wet. The record rainfall in the 38 years recorded was 1996. I remember it well, it rained every day just about from March to September, then October was bone dry and the muddy ground dried out and set like concrete. The driest year of the 38? It was 1997, which started the long protracted drier period causing severe restrictions and Melbourne's water supply getting dangerously low a couple of years ago, after filling in '96. They got as low as 26% and are now at 70% and rising.
Who knows what the rest of winter and spring will bring? Nothing would surprise.
I'm sure June will also show a much higher figure. There was 40mm showing in my gauge today, and I recall tipping out 90mm the week before last after a few day's rain, which was the second big rain for June, I can't remember how much there was in the first one but I'll be watching the window chart to see the June total.
Everything is saturated. Our block is on a gentle slope and it's easy to slip on the grass, the surface being so soft and unstable. Liam who is doing tiling in our bathroom renovations slid off the driveway when he touched the brake and became bogged as he left today, not being able to get his wheels back on the firm driveway, which is covered in slosh in any case at the bottom of the slope.
So July continues the wet. The record rainfall in the 38 years recorded was 1996. I remember it well, it rained every day just about from March to September, then October was bone dry and the muddy ground dried out and set like concrete. The driest year of the 38? It was 1997, which started the long protracted drier period causing severe restrictions and Melbourne's water supply getting dangerously low a couple of years ago, after filling in '96. They got as low as 26% and are now at 70% and rising.
Who knows what the rest of winter and spring will bring? Nothing would surprise.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Nine from Nine
I cleaned up this weekend, tipping all nine winners in the footy. Not that it was a hard task, most of the games were gimmes. There are 5 in our our tipping comp, myself, Lib, Gord, Rob and Rickyralph. The round was so predictable that as well as my nine from nine, Ric, Gor and Rob scored 8, and even Lib managed 7, and believe me Lib is hopeless.
For the record Rob leads with 86, I have 84, Ric 82, Gor 78, Lib 72. The real contest is between Rickyralph and myself, the loser buying lunch for the winner. I lost 4 in a row, won last year, and am heading for sweet success this year. I put $5 on my tips at Sportingbet as I do every week, it was my first collect, $44 was the payout. I invest $5 each week on my tips and Lib's, a total of $140 for the year so far, so I'm well behind. I always respect Lib's tips and put on the $5 regardless of how wrong I think they are. Some years ago Lib collected $1300 on round one when a few roughies got up.
Speaking of roughies, the trifecta at Launceston on race six paid in excess of $15,000 for one dollar today. And at Mudgee on a seven race card, one paid $7,000, and another $10,000. I'd like to be on one like that one day. I had an interest there because Warrnambool was abandoned before a race was run and Ballarat after race 3.
It was a cold wet day. I did an ox tail in the crockpot this am after my walk and getting Lib mushrooms on toast for breakfast in bed. The thermometer showed 8C about midday and 6c at 4pm. I'm thinking of Lesley who left Mackay a few days ago for 3 months touring the Kimberleys in 4WD's. If I have one regret at being poor it's not being able to do stuff like that. But I don't complain. Lib is talking long service leave and a holiday to Fiji in August. How good is that?
For the record Rob leads with 86, I have 84, Ric 82, Gor 78, Lib 72. The real contest is between Rickyralph and myself, the loser buying lunch for the winner. I lost 4 in a row, won last year, and am heading for sweet success this year. I put $5 on my tips at Sportingbet as I do every week, it was my first collect, $44 was the payout. I invest $5 each week on my tips and Lib's, a total of $140 for the year so far, so I'm well behind. I always respect Lib's tips and put on the $5 regardless of how wrong I think they are. Some years ago Lib collected $1300 on round one when a few roughies got up.
Speaking of roughies, the trifecta at Launceston on race six paid in excess of $15,000 for one dollar today. And at Mudgee on a seven race card, one paid $7,000, and another $10,000. I'd like to be on one like that one day. I had an interest there because Warrnambool was abandoned before a race was run and Ballarat after race 3.
It was a cold wet day. I did an ox tail in the crockpot this am after my walk and getting Lib mushrooms on toast for breakfast in bed. The thermometer showed 8C about midday and 6c at 4pm. I'm thinking of Lesley who left Mackay a few days ago for 3 months touring the Kimberleys in 4WD's. If I have one regret at being poor it's not being able to do stuff like that. But I don't complain. Lib is talking long service leave and a holiday to Fiji in August. How good is that?
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