Fly Away

In less than twenty four hours Lib and I will be on the plane to Fiji. I have a list of things to do in the morning as long as your arm including packing. We're having dinner in Chinatown on the way to the airport to celebrate Lib's birthday and flight is scheduled for 11.30pm. I hate flying these days. It worries me but I always cope OK.

Two weeks in warm climate must do me good. We discussed taking Rob's old lap top, deciding in the negative, logic being that it'll probably be better to break normal routine. I intend to hand write diary, short and sweet, to post when we return. It'll be a joy to do do lots of reading and walking and whatever else presents.

Bye all.

Where Time Stood Still

I recall saying that I'd post my 'Signpost' article on Nigel Griggs if it were published and it was.

                                                                  Where Time Stood Still

In 1995 Nigel Griggs was attracted by the green countryside and trees at Emerald. His passion for steam trains in childhood was a factor, as was the clock outside the National Bank. Whenever he looked the hands were in the same position.

“I was looking for peace and quiet after thirty years travelling and staying in hotels, and living in cities. I needed a change, a new life. The National Bank clock showed this was a place where time could stand still. The first home I was to own would be in Emerald.”

Nigel grew up in Hatfield, a small town not far from London, in the 1950’s. His older brother Paul, five years senior, was a big influence. Nigel reflects, “Older brothers tend to ignore kid brothers, but Paul involved me and accepted me into his own friends. When I was seven years old I was playing washboard in his skiffle group. We were both crazy about steam trains and spent all our time behind the factories train spotting.”

On Nigel’s fourteenth birthday in 1963, Paul persuaded him to buy a bass guitar. “He had a band but no bass player. I had been studying classical piano for several years but it was a chore. So I gave up piano for bass, a symbolic change because the piano represented the conformity and discipline I had lived with, whereas bass was in a band with no written music and no rules. ‘The Beatles’ had arrived; and like other kids I could feel the world changing, with music leading the way.”

 ‘The Cortinas’ performed locally for two years while Nigel was still at school. Nigel explains, "The Beatles may have had tens of thousands of girls screaming at them, on a local level ‘The Cortinas’ had three or four hundred doing the same thing. I was getting screamed at and chased in the Hatfield shopping centre, fan letters arrived every day, and Mum was always chasing girls from our garden. Mum and Dad took it well; Mum became our manager and Dad built most of our equipment and became our roadie.

Nigel left school, got a job as clerical assistant at the Ministry of Social Security and continued with ‘The Cortinas’, who by now were travelling further afield.  In 1968 the band changed its name to ‘Octopus’, Paul and Nigel quit their jobs and the band went full time. Nigel began writing songs and they recorded a song called 'The River' which became a hit in Italy.

By now they played much of their own material and had followings in many parts of England, but all was not right. “There were differences of opinion and at the end of 1971 we decided to break up. The band had lasted more than eight years.”

Almost immediately Nigel had a call from a drummer friend who lived in America, offering him a job in a Flamenco/Rock group. In Nigel’s words, “Fantastic band but after a while there were problems and maybe I was a bit homesick, so I returned to England and stepped straight into another band which didn’t work out either, then another. After 8 years with one band, during 1972 I spent time with six different bands."

Nigel teamed up with Paul again and they did a few pub gigs around London. In an odd twist, John Carter from the ‘The Ivy League’ was writing and recording pop songs under the mame of 'Kincade' but had no desire to tour or perform. When “Jenny, Jenny, Dreams are Ten a Penny’ went top ten all over Europe, the record company needed a face for the product.

“Paul, I and a guitarist friend became the face for ‘Kincade’. Every few weeks we’d fly to Holland, Spain, Portugal or Germany where we were treated like VIPs and mime songs for TV shows and discos. It was a peculiar situation; fame and the appearance of success but in reality hating the music and struggling to pay the rent."

Disillusioned with the music business Nigel became a 'cabbie' before his luck changed in 1975, playing bass in a millionaire’s band in the south of France. It was, says Nigel,  the best time of his life and the worst. In April 1977 after an arduous audition process with a funk band heading for Greece, he was gutted when he missed out in the final play-off.

However three days later he met 'Split Enz' in London and after a couple of auditions was offered the job. Success followed, relentlessly touring throughout Australia, New Zealand, Europe and North America until 1985 when they decided to call it a day.

Today Nigel still creates music, gardens, and looks after abandoned animals including three goats and two sheep and his cat Voodoo. He visits his Mum, Phyllis, in Hatfield every year or two; she is 92 and still lives in the same house.

After 17 years the NAB clock has gone.... but Nigel is staying.    

   

Join in The Chorus

Well it was a fantastic effort by the Kangas to defeat Essendon after losing two players to injury in the first quarter. In our tipping comp Rickyralph and I were deadlocked and I'm now one up, although I was late getting my tips in and the Eagles/ Geelong game was over before I sent him my tips. If he lodges objection I'l have to dock myself a point leaving us again level but I think he'll accept that I wouldn't cheat after the event and acknowledge my Eagles tip as valid.

I tipped the Swans to beat Collingwood and therefore missed out on a 9 from 9. I had four 9 game multibets, mine, Libs, Rickyralph's, and Cassie's. Cassie is a young friend of mine with an uncanny ability to win the tipping competition she is in. She gives me her tips and I put $2 on for her and $3 for me each week. So I lost $20 on the footy this weekend and had a poor go at the races except for Lady Jodalyna last race at Cranbourne which returned $46 for my dollar each way and balanced up the weekend. Ironically Robbie was away for the weekend so I put his tips in for the round and he (I) got nine right, but I didn't back his (my) tips.

Why

Here I am
aged sixty
wondering
Why

Why am I not dead
I should be
will be
Inevitably

Life is cheap
look road toll
think Tobruk
We all die

Why is it
why why why
I don't know
Do you

Babies die
mothers die
soldiers kill
I live

Here I am
for now
tired sleepy
why

I breathe
I eat
I see
I hear
I dream
I love
I cry
I know not

Why

A Foul Day, A Foul Mood

I was wrong last night about the weather being fine today and bad on Thursday. Gusty wind blew all night and this morning and the weather cracked up before noon with rain and severe cold. It was no fun at all although I did manage to get a bit of bookwork done, after a small bit of picking. I have nothing much to sell at the moment.

It's been one of those days when everything annoys me. The dogs and chooks have irritated, every time I go out the door they seem to be underfoot. Tonight Pip especially has sooked and grizzled, and wants to sit on the chair she wants to sit on, not the one I have prepared for her. She really wants my lap but I'm up and down. In the end I put her outside with her coat on, much to her disgust as she's been sleeping inside most of winter.

Most of all my thoughts are annoying me. Politics, business, local council, customers, whatever runs through my brain annoys me. The boys are in and out of the room I tried to watch TV in, rattling cups and getting snacks, making noise and mess, nothing on TV appealed, I turned it off. Now this blog is annoying me.

Why? I can't tell you. I feel like I'm going stir crazy. But I'm not in jail. Or am I, in some sort of mental prison created by bad weather and media bombardment about carbon tax, gay marriage, escalating utility prices, financial crisis, the Olympic games, my miserable football team? There's so much I want to do before our Fiji trip in a week. I just want to get stuff done, but there's so much stuff and so little time. I am stir crazy. Everything is needling me. I feel my fuse burning.

I'm about to retire but before I do I'll brown some mince meat and toss it in the crockpot with onions and garlic and tinned tomatos etc for a spaghetti sauce while I take green tea. Maybe then I'll be soothed enough to sleep.

For sure I need a holiday.

July Rainfall

The July rainfall figures are up in the post office window. We had 125 ml compared to the 38 year average of 112ml. That's seven months out of seven above average for the year. 125ml may not sound much to a Queenslander where they have regular torrential downpours in the wet season but on top of the six previous wet months and three months of cold temperatures and little sunshine, well it's been slippery and miserable. It's been wet in early August too already, although the last couple of days have been dry with a bit of wind to dry out the surface. It's shortlived though. Tomorrow should be alright if the red sky tonight is a clue, but Thursday is forecast again as bleak, cold and wet.

Solastalgia

Last Thursday I went out to gathersome firewood such was the state of our dwindling stocks and the ferocity of the chilly winter temperatures. This was the third time lately I had done this. There I was happily sawing up a few small dead trees I'd spotted on the roadside not three minutes drive from our house when a woman pulled up in her car and walked back to where I was working. I stopped the saw and gave her my attention.

"Do you have a permit to be be doing this?" she asked.

"No, I don't," I replied. "Should I have one?"

"Yes," she said. "That is private property on the other side of that fence and this is council land along this road."

My immediate reaction was to tell her to go home and wash her husband's shirts or do something anything useful but I bit my tongue.

"I won't be long, I'll just fill the trailer with what I've cut and I'll be off in a short time. I'm sorry to intrude on you."

With my concilliatory manner, her disposition changed and she explained she didn't know who I was or where I was from, and that she owned the land on the other side of the fence and didn't want people coming down her road cutting firewood. I answered that I lived in Agnes street as I pointed to the ridge and said I'd been gathering wood along here and thereabouts a couple of times a year when my stocks ran low for thirty years. No one had ever suggested I should have a permit before and frankly it had never entered my head. In my view I was doing everyone a favour. I continued, saying I was pleased to meet her, I had wondered who had bought that block, and that I wouldn't cut wood there again if she objected. She said it was OK by her, now that she knew I was local.

But my mood had darkened. I felt like a stranger in my own town. My days here are numbered. I relate this story because slowly but surely Gembrook has changed, just like Emerald has changed and both towns and indeed the district are not the same as they were. Frankly Emerald is buggered and Gembrook is almost. A trip to Pakenham is stuff of nightmares. I look forward to leaving the district. It's a difficult thing to put into words.

This morning on the ABC I  heard a bloke who'd written a book about the Hunter Valley mention a new word he'd come across, "Solastalgia". It's the phsychological effect of the changed environment when people suffer a sort of homesickness while they are still in a place. The changed environment means they miss the place, even though they are still there. It was a term invented by an environmentalist referring to the Hunter Valley and the massive changes that have occurred, particularly with the mining of cold seam gas. It's a mishmash of the words nostalgia, desolation, solace. It is me.

I'm suffering Solastalgia. I'm no longer comfortable here. I'm in a constant state of homesickness. I've felt it in Emerald for years, and now it has seeped into Gembrook. I'll be happy to move on and leave the district to the developers and new residents, sooner rather than later, when circumstances can be arranged for it to be.

Long Ago

I was just checking the footy scores here and there by google, especially the O+K and by accident came across  Best and Fairest winners, Baker Medal I think it's called.

Scanning through the list of winners the name of John Lappin appeared four times, although in his first he could not be awarded the prize due to suspension during the year. He obviously was around the same age as me, as that first year was 1971 and his last award was in the early 1980's. Along the way he was also runner up four times and a footnote says he won the comp B+F in another league in I think 1976.

I remember playing on him as my direct opponent and he was too good for me and he remains in my memory as one of the best I have played with or against. He could be niggly and didn't like close attention but he could outmark me and was good all round. There were a number of Lappins in the Chiltern team and there was always another one close at hand.  One of them got me with an elbow once knocking me out briefly and leaving me needing 14 stitches above my left eye.

Also I noticed another direct opponent Con Madden in the winner's list. He was runner up twice as well and was a good footballer who could also make you look silly. He played for Beechworth who were very strong at the time. He was classy and could kick 70+ metres.

Our coach in 1980 Geoff Lacey was also a comp B+F winner, in the early 1980's after I had left. He was also a runner up a couple of times previously. He was an amazing work horse at the coal face from first bounce. He was as tough as nails he probably would have won a handful of Baker medals if he wasn't so quick to give one back.

PS I have edited this post today(15 NOV 2015). I add that teammate Terry Wadley won a Baker Medal in 1978 before leaving to play at Wangaratta magpies the next year. Terry was first rover that year and had explosive speed and had a great year that year, my first at Greta. He was strong and powerful in the legs and loved a run bouncing the ball. He came back to Greta in 1980 and played in the premiership.

Bathing in Bliss

The last three nights I have had the pleasure of a hot bath after some weeks of missing out. The new tub is a little shorter and is made of fibreglass instead of iron at variance to the old one. Also the shape is not as comfortable.

But thirty years in one tub no doubt left me biased. I'll grow familiar with the new, three days is hardly fair to compare with thirty years, even though i know in my heart that this one is not a patch. I'll adjust. It's that wonderful hot water that's the key.

Or new bathrooms are now fully functional, although not quite finished entirely. They are fantastic, the grot is no more, it's like being in a fancy hotel. Plumber has been paid and payment to tiler and carpenter is not yet finalized but it looks like total cost will come in at $10 -11,000 which isn't bad for two bathrooms totally new, and close to our initial budget guess.

Down to the Wire

Rickyralph has drawn level again in our tipping comp. He tipped Geelong of course, being a Geelong supporter. I went Hawthorn, whose form was undeniable. The Cats jumped away to a seven goal lead n the first quarter. Hawthorn pegged them bacck slowly to lead late in the last quarter. The Tomahawk as Rickralph knows him took a mark on the siren and kicked after he bell from outside 50 to win the game. That's two weeks in a row Ricyralph has picked up a point on the last kick of the day.

Five rounds to go.

Peace Man

Elvie gave me this pearl yesterday.

"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependant on anybody"

1 Thessalonians 4:11, 12

Park Birds

What a wonderful place Gembrook Bushland Park is for birdlife.

 Birds recorded Gembrook Park Flora & Fauna Reserve 29.1.12-26.4.12 with our small bird observing group.

            Australian King Parrot

            Australian Magpie

            Australian Magpie-lark

            Australian Raven

            Black-faced Cuckoo Shrike

            Brown Goshawk

            Brown Thornbill

            Common Bronzewing

            Crested Shrike-tit

            Crimson Rosella

            Eastern Rosella

            Eastern Spinebill

            Eastern Whipbird

            Eastern Yellow Robin

            Galah

            Golden Whistler

            Grey Butcherbird

            Grey Fantail

            Grey Shrike-thrush

            Laughing Kookaburra

            Lewin Honeyeater

            Pied Currawong

            Rainbow Lorikeet

            Red Wattlebird

            Rose Robin

            Rufous Fantail

            Silvereye

            Striated Pardalote

            Sulphur-crested Cockatoo

            Superb Fairy-wren

            Wedge-tailed Eagle

            White-browed Scrubwren

            White-naped Honeyeater

            White-throated Needletailed Swifts (flying over Reserve)

            White-throated Treecreeper

            Yellow-faced Honeyeater

            Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoo

Introduced species:

            Common Blackbird

            Common Mynah

            Common Starling

            House Sparrow

           

           

No Bath Today

Plumber didn't show. I hope he does tomorrow. After three days abstinence I indulge on Thursdays and I hope it will be christening the new bath, with a bottle of red wine and a weekend magazine from the Australian that Annie keeps for me and gives me a bundle now and again. She's a ripper is Annie, but without a bathtub I haven't kept up with my reading of current affairs and opinion.

I heard a good one today..."Art is the umbrella in the shitstorm of life." I really like that.

I fed the bees again today, fourth time this winter. I'm so pleased all 5 hives have survived so far. I'll feed them again in a couple of weeks before we go to Fiji and with a bit luck they'll be OK when we get back in early September and able to gather their own supply then but the weather is the key to that.

We've had a couple of better days, but it's still freezing now. I have an electric sealed liquid heater under my thighs and a warm winter jacket on and it's still a struggle here in my office because of the cold. We've nearly run out of firewood again and I'll be out in the morning with trailer to try to find some dry stuff to keep us going till Fiji. The boys won't light the fire while we're away, they'll use electricity and gas to be sure. I've had the open fire going every night for three months bar one when we all went out.

To all who read this I hope you are well and keeping warm. I've ordered three metres of crushed rock for tomorrow morning delivery in order to repair our boggy driveway, and not before time, so the morning will be busy and I have stuff to pick as well as the plans to get some wood. Enough prattle, sweet dreams await I hope.