I have been blogging now for more than ten years and in that time I have always been careful not to write about people that others might know. This is a matter of respecting privacy, I'm sure you understand. There are exceptions where I do take liberty, say when I feel whoever it is would not mind, and in some cases actually be pleased.
Today I write about Sticks Willington, not knowing if he would mind or not, but I'm confident in that I mean no harm, and in fact my intent is to pay the man my respect and admiration.
I first recall meeting John in the 1980's when he was an electrician working for Ray Cross Electrics, contractors in Pakenham. As an aside Ray Cross was on the bench as a young man in St. Kilda's 1966 premiership team.* His firm installed underground three phase electricity to our pump site on the dam adjacent the creek which crosses the bottom corner of our property. Prior to that we had a rotary engine petrol pump which was high maintenance due to a variety of mechanical problems. The idea of flicking a switch without going down the hill to get water was seductive, despite the considerable cost in borrowed money to get a new electric system set up. I had to grovel at the bank and eventually change banks to get the money.
John lived in Emerald and began working for himself soon after our pump job and it was only natural that we'd call him if we had any problem with the pump system he was most familiar with and he has been our electrician since for all our needs. Over time we have talked about many things including bees and honey, football and cricket, politics, the environment and religion.. He loved a yarn, and was interested in the world around him. He's been a regular honey customer for decades, his favourite honey being ironbark which I did not often have. He was spot on there, I have always felt ironbark honey was excellent and although it could vary a bit from type and district I have clear memory of Vickers Frost's magnificent ironbark honey from the Killawarra forest west of Wangaratta.
My friend Will Marshall knew John well and told me his nickname was 'Sticks', due to his long legs and lofty stature. Sticks and Will as tradesmen often had a drink at the Paradise Hotel after work, the pub being a get together point for the local tradies as well as a watering hole and much business was organized from there. The 0.5 law and the advent of mobile phones has changed this culture. I think it was Willy who told me but it may have been someone else, that Sticks was a real brawler before he married and settled down. He loved a good fight and looked for them in the pubs and lanes in Dandenong, just for entertainment, and he didn't lose. This surprised me as John was always cogenial and gave the impression of mild mannered reason.
Some years ago John's discussions became more philosophical, but it was still a surprise when we learned he'd become a Jehovah's Witness. I didn't see him often but when he came to the farm to buy honey he was not backward in giving his religious views to Elvie and Meredith and whoever else might be there. He retired a few years ago from his electrical and I'd sometimes see his trademark green Landrover wagon with conduit still on the roof parked outside the JW's house in Launching Place Road. They'd meet there every second Thursday before going out on their door knocking missions. As recently as a couple of months ago I saw John in his suit with another man leaving the farmhouse next to Marguerita's when I was going there. Jod told me that John had told him most people were polite but once when he was door knocking a bloke was abusive and threatening and John said it was all he could do to stop himself from dragging the bloke out and giving him a hiding. I had to laugh loudly with Jod as he told me this. Can you just imagine it?
A few weeks ago in all our pre Christmas busyness Elvie said to me she had some sad news. John Willington had rang, telling her it had been found he had advanced pancreatic cancer. It was inoperable and he was not expected to live more than a number of weeks. Apparently he was quite accepting of this fate, I guess there's no choice, and said he knew he was going to a better place.
Last Friday I had to catch the fruit shop and the bank before they closed so I left Gord whippering at the farm and went up the street. I had a little time up my sleeve before going back for Gord so I went round to John's to wish him well, not for Christmas as JW's don't celebrate it, but in general given his circumstance. He was in the backyard with his grand daughter showing her his lush produce. He showed me the Herb Robert he's taking as a self medication to attempt to kill the cancer. He told me he starts Chemo on January 8 and radition to follow. He seemed quite upbeat despite the bleak prognosis. I told him to ring me if he needed a hand in the garden or with anything if he gets too crook. I gave him a jar of honey, redgum, I had no ironbark. He likes redgum too.
I said Gord said if the worst comes to be he won't be forgotten. Some years ago a lady gave me a rock crystal with a light in it that she had brought with her when she migrated from France. It didn't work as the connections inside had rusted as the crystal condenses moisture in cold weather. I gave it to John and he rewired it. We use it every night after I have gone to bed. Gord has it on as I complain about him staying up with the lights on so he sits at his computer with the lovely low watt orange light illuminating.
* (8 Jan 18) I have discovered I was wrong Ray Cross was not part of the historic 1966 Premiership, he was sidelined with a knee injury , but he did play in the losing '65 team which went down to Essendon.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Saturday, December 09, 2017
OK Let's Move On
I was bemused yesterday at the celebratory scenes as the SSM bill was passed in parliament. I'm troubled to understand the demonstrative euphoria shown by our political representatives. I've seen nothing like it before.
I chose not to participate in the debate or the plebiscite vote. In my view of the world there was no need for any of it. I did not like the tone of either the 'Yes' or 'No' camps and their attack on each other. I would not want to take the side of either. I discussed this with my mate RR a few months ago and we agreed it was a total waste of money to hold an unneccessary public vote. The law of the land is made in parliament by our elected reps but for some raeson that escapes me they lacked the fortitude to do it.
From a moral viewpoint nothing has changed for me. Same sex relationships were commonplace before the legislation, and will remain so. Many heterosexual relationships do not involve marriage, not before, and now, even those producing and raising children. It's not for me to make moral judgement. The relationships of other people are not my business.
I have no beef with same sex relationships having the same legal standing as traditional marriage. I have no trouble accepting that the law that now says same sex couples can be married. I have no understanding of the physical attraction some people have to the same sex but I love many people in different ways. I like kindness and decency to fellow human beings. I dislike violence and prejudice.
To me marriage was and is between a man and a woman but I respect the rights of others to have a different view.
The euphoric scenes in parliament as the weak bastards clamoured for kudos baffle me. Much ado about nothing. I wish they could show the same enthusiasm for human rights issues around the world and solving our own problems like the plight of the indigenous and homelessness.
I'm just glad it's over.
I chose not to participate in the debate or the plebiscite vote. In my view of the world there was no need for any of it. I did not like the tone of either the 'Yes' or 'No' camps and their attack on each other. I would not want to take the side of either. I discussed this with my mate RR a few months ago and we agreed it was a total waste of money to hold an unneccessary public vote. The law of the land is made in parliament by our elected reps but for some raeson that escapes me they lacked the fortitude to do it.
From a moral viewpoint nothing has changed for me. Same sex relationships were commonplace before the legislation, and will remain so. Many heterosexual relationships do not involve marriage, not before, and now, even those producing and raising children. It's not for me to make moral judgement. The relationships of other people are not my business.
I have no beef with same sex relationships having the same legal standing as traditional marriage. I have no trouble accepting that the law that now says same sex couples can be married. I have no understanding of the physical attraction some people have to the same sex but I love many people in different ways. I like kindness and decency to fellow human beings. I dislike violence and prejudice.
To me marriage was and is between a man and a woman but I respect the rights of others to have a different view.
The euphoric scenes in parliament as the weak bastards clamoured for kudos baffle me. Much ado about nothing. I wish they could show the same enthusiasm for human rights issues around the world and solving our own problems like the plight of the indigenous and homelessness.
I'm just glad it's over.
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Glad to be Alive
Last week, an aquaintance through correspondence of some years ago, contacted me by email to say that Camelot Park, the last residence of the late Doug Twaits was for sale again, some fifteen years after Doug died and the property changed hands. This aquaintance, Gary, had stumbled across my blog while researching to find a property with an old garden in the area to purchase. We exchanged a few emails at the time with me saying I'd keep my eyes open and let him know if I came across something. My busy life continued on with me never catching up on many things and I was surprised but pleased to hear from Gary who suggested if I was to attend the open inspection day last Saturday he would try to make it, he was interested to see the property and would like to meet and talk to me.
I didn't respond immediately, last week was hugely busy and demanding, with the heat and customers wanting beech foliage. These months prior to Christmas is peak season for us and of course is tandem with prodigious grass and weed growth and also planting vegies and herb seeds. Come night time after dinner I'm exhausted, usually too tired to contemplate much, as my focus is on getting through to Friday night when I can have a wine or several with the knowledge that the next morning is Saturday...no picking.
I rang Gary on Saturday morning as he'd included his mobile number, having decided that yes I could use a rest and would like to see the trees Doug planted in the 1950's again, and I was also pleased to meet Gary, so pleasant had been his email. He said yes he'd try to make it if his wife agreed to it.
I was first there at 2pm on the dot and had a chat to the agents. The asking price for the property was 2.2 mil, way out of my league, but a I had a look through the house which had been extensively done over impressively by the builder owner, and the property did indeed look nice and the trees magnificent. I stood looking down the hill at the dam or pond which reminded of a Monet painting. The mature beech oaks sequoias and Douglas firs stood tall. A car pulled in and parked in the shade and Gary and his wife Jan walked down to the house. I knew it was them because Gary showed recognition. He said on the phone he would recognize me as he'd read this blog over the years so had seen photos of me.
We had a chat for a few minutes before Gary and Jan went in to look at the house and I took off on a tour round the garden. In ten minutes I was back and waited while Gary and Jan took a walk, then we talked about trees houses gardens with some family history thrown in, before we decided to go into town to continue our talk over coffee at the bakery.
I had a little laugh at myself while sitting in the bakery waiting for my long black. So often I see people sitting in this popular venue or on the outside tables and wonder how they can ever find the time to do this, the same as I wonder how those in Gembrook do the same and ride motorbikes all weekend. And here I was in peak season sitting drinking coffee in the afternoon.
But the result of this unusual socializing was that I enjoyed it greatly and especially my comversation with Gary and Jan. We talked about many things, even footy (Jan is an avid Richmond fan, Gary's uncle was a Melbourne trainer in the 1950's). They have three adult children much the same age as ours and we had much in common in terms of background and "life position" on many things, particularly in caring for the environment. It's not often you make new friends at my age and I'm grateful to Gary for initiating this.
My weekend socializing did not end there. From new friends on Saturday to old friends on Sunday, I met up with Rickralph and my first serious girlfriend Jane M. I have been in regular contact with Rr over the decades but had seen Jane once only in the last 45 years, that being in the 1990's when she visited me at home following a randomly inspired phone call I made to her after looking her name up in the Melbourne phonebook. Rick used to go out with Jane's sister Penny and for a couple of years there around 1968-70 we all spent a lot of time together. I have blogged about this before but Rick and I were madly in love with these beautiful girls but after a while they found new pasture and left Rick and I somewhat demented, but, as is usually the way with lost love, we gradually got over it, each in his own way, but there's no doubt the experience helped shape us and influence our approach to life into the future.
For a few years now we have been connected as Facebook friends and a month or so ago Jane suggested we meet up. We arranged to meet at the Wilson Gardens in Berwick which we did at 11am. Penny lives in Tasmamia so didn't come but the three of us had a walk in the gardens after coffee in the visitor centre and then went on in Rick's car to the Cardy pub in Beaconsfield for lunch. It was lovely for three old friends going back almost 50 years to sit and tell each other about their lives, warts and all. Jane is a climate activist, divorced from the father of her two boys, who was a lawyer and a "big mistake". She's a clinical psychologist semi retired, who had a successful carreer, and now she travels extensively with her parner to outback Australia all the way to the Kimberleys in their 4WD.
The beautiful girl is now a beautiful wise lady. After she moved on from me when she went to university she lived with a bloke for 5 years until he just disappeared, then she lived their housemate whom she fell in love with once the other was gone. This lasted for some time till his recreational drug use soured the relationship and Jane on the rebound married her husband and began raising two boys while pursuing her career. The marriage split. The previous partner moved in to live in a bungaloe in the backyard of her house in Melbourne with two of his children. His drug use was worse. It could not continue.
It was surprising to me that Jane had such a tumultuous time in terms of relationships but she recounted all this with good humour and a sense of fun at participation in life. She's passionate about climate change and her activism includes her in various protests in Melbourne and interstate and is almost a full time thing. She loathes corruption, greed and bullshit. Rick and I are like minded with her on that. Penny has two daughters and is also divorced, living happily single. In contrast Rick's and my marriage have endured, 38 and 36 years respectively.
We are all still alive and well after nearly half a century, in pretty good nick, and glad to be alive.
I didn't respond immediately, last week was hugely busy and demanding, with the heat and customers wanting beech foliage. These months prior to Christmas is peak season for us and of course is tandem with prodigious grass and weed growth and also planting vegies and herb seeds. Come night time after dinner I'm exhausted, usually too tired to contemplate much, as my focus is on getting through to Friday night when I can have a wine or several with the knowledge that the next morning is Saturday...no picking.
I rang Gary on Saturday morning as he'd included his mobile number, having decided that yes I could use a rest and would like to see the trees Doug planted in the 1950's again, and I was also pleased to meet Gary, so pleasant had been his email. He said yes he'd try to make it if his wife agreed to it.
I was first there at 2pm on the dot and had a chat to the agents. The asking price for the property was 2.2 mil, way out of my league, but a I had a look through the house which had been extensively done over impressively by the builder owner, and the property did indeed look nice and the trees magnificent. I stood looking down the hill at the dam or pond which reminded of a Monet painting. The mature beech oaks sequoias and Douglas firs stood tall. A car pulled in and parked in the shade and Gary and his wife Jan walked down to the house. I knew it was them because Gary showed recognition. He said on the phone he would recognize me as he'd read this blog over the years so had seen photos of me.
We had a chat for a few minutes before Gary and Jan went in to look at the house and I took off on a tour round the garden. In ten minutes I was back and waited while Gary and Jan took a walk, then we talked about trees houses gardens with some family history thrown in, before we decided to go into town to continue our talk over coffee at the bakery.
I had a little laugh at myself while sitting in the bakery waiting for my long black. So often I see people sitting in this popular venue or on the outside tables and wonder how they can ever find the time to do this, the same as I wonder how those in Gembrook do the same and ride motorbikes all weekend. And here I was in peak season sitting drinking coffee in the afternoon.
But the result of this unusual socializing was that I enjoyed it greatly and especially my comversation with Gary and Jan. We talked about many things, even footy (Jan is an avid Richmond fan, Gary's uncle was a Melbourne trainer in the 1950's). They have three adult children much the same age as ours and we had much in common in terms of background and "life position" on many things, particularly in caring for the environment. It's not often you make new friends at my age and I'm grateful to Gary for initiating this.
My weekend socializing did not end there. From new friends on Saturday to old friends on Sunday, I met up with Rickralph and my first serious girlfriend Jane M. I have been in regular contact with Rr over the decades but had seen Jane once only in the last 45 years, that being in the 1990's when she visited me at home following a randomly inspired phone call I made to her after looking her name up in the Melbourne phonebook. Rick used to go out with Jane's sister Penny and for a couple of years there around 1968-70 we all spent a lot of time together. I have blogged about this before but Rick and I were madly in love with these beautiful girls but after a while they found new pasture and left Rick and I somewhat demented, but, as is usually the way with lost love, we gradually got over it, each in his own way, but there's no doubt the experience helped shape us and influence our approach to life into the future.
For a few years now we have been connected as Facebook friends and a month or so ago Jane suggested we meet up. We arranged to meet at the Wilson Gardens in Berwick which we did at 11am. Penny lives in Tasmamia so didn't come but the three of us had a walk in the gardens after coffee in the visitor centre and then went on in Rick's car to the Cardy pub in Beaconsfield for lunch. It was lovely for three old friends going back almost 50 years to sit and tell each other about their lives, warts and all. Jane is a climate activist, divorced from the father of her two boys, who was a lawyer and a "big mistake". She's a clinical psychologist semi retired, who had a successful carreer, and now she travels extensively with her parner to outback Australia all the way to the Kimberleys in their 4WD.
The beautiful girl is now a beautiful wise lady. After she moved on from me when she went to university she lived with a bloke for 5 years until he just disappeared, then she lived their housemate whom she fell in love with once the other was gone. This lasted for some time till his recreational drug use soured the relationship and Jane on the rebound married her husband and began raising two boys while pursuing her career. The marriage split. The previous partner moved in to live in a bungaloe in the backyard of her house in Melbourne with two of his children. His drug use was worse. It could not continue.
It was surprising to me that Jane had such a tumultuous time in terms of relationships but she recounted all this with good humour and a sense of fun at participation in life. She's passionate about climate change and her activism includes her in various protests in Melbourne and interstate and is almost a full time thing. She loathes corruption, greed and bullshit. Rick and I are like minded with her on that. Penny has two daughters and is also divorced, living happily single. In contrast Rick's and my marriage have endured, 38 and 36 years respectively.
We are all still alive and well after nearly half a century, in pretty good nick, and glad to be alive.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
I Lost My Dog...Twice in One Day.
I went to Rose and Adrian's place to pick green beech yesterday. It was warm and stormy. Working away the thunder started and I upped it a notch, aware Pip in the car would be scared and panicky. I had placed twenty bunches in big buckets in the van so they could drink while I picked more. Finished finally I tied the ladder and pole on the roof and loaded and looked for Pip.
Gone.
I called I whistled. No Pip. She had been in the back of the van. The cab was barricaded from the back but she had got through before and the windows in the front were wide open to allow air in. She was gone, presumably run off in high alarm because of the prodigious thunder which was loud enough to scare me too.
I called in at the post office and the vet, told them in case someone found her and reported. I rushed home hoping she had found her way there, but knowing when dogs go troppo in thunderstorms they lose all orientation and just run.
I opened the side door to take out the foliage and out jumped Pip. She had crawled in behind the buckets and had been hiding. I can't describe my feeling of relief, so great it was.
I went to the farm, climbed a tricolour beech and sawed the top out of it with a handsaw. Pip was happy in the van and jumped out as I organized the ladder and tools. The sun shone, the sky was clear, I left te door to the van open so she could jump back in if she wished, normally she does after a while exploring, the van is her refuge.
I was up the tree and the clouds quickly rolled in and the thunder started again, very loud. I finished cutting the top off the tree and came down to trim and bunch. I checked the van to see that Pip was safe. She was not there. I called and whistled. No Pip. I continued my work, bunching. No Pip.
I had to catch the fruit shop before it closed and order pizza for tea and shop. I did this and went back to the farm to look for her. No Pip. I rang Lib, said I couldn't find her. I called on the neighbours, looked everywhere, whistled called. No Pip. I figured she done a runner in total panic at the thunder.
I thought I'd call on the local vets on my way home to report her missing in the hope that she had not been killed on the road by traffic and someone may have taken her to the vet, which is what I would do if I found a panicky dog in a thunderstorm. At the Emerald clinic the receptionist was on the phone and I had to wait. I could hear a dog whimpering in tghe back room. It was a most familiar sound.
"I have lost my dog." I said when the lady got off the phone. "What kind of dog?" she said. "A Jack Russell."
"We have one that a lady brought in a couple of hours ago. Come with me."
Sure enough it was Pip. I can't tell you how relieved I was. Boy o boy has Pip been spoilt this last 30 hours since I found her. She's a beautiful creature and we thought we had lost her.
Gone.
I called I whistled. No Pip. She had been in the back of the van. The cab was barricaded from the back but she had got through before and the windows in the front were wide open to allow air in. She was gone, presumably run off in high alarm because of the prodigious thunder which was loud enough to scare me too.
I called in at the post office and the vet, told them in case someone found her and reported. I rushed home hoping she had found her way there, but knowing when dogs go troppo in thunderstorms they lose all orientation and just run.
I opened the side door to take out the foliage and out jumped Pip. She had crawled in behind the buckets and had been hiding. I can't describe my feeling of relief, so great it was.
I went to the farm, climbed a tricolour beech and sawed the top out of it with a handsaw. Pip was happy in the van and jumped out as I organized the ladder and tools. The sun shone, the sky was clear, I left te door to the van open so she could jump back in if she wished, normally she does after a while exploring, the van is her refuge.
I was up the tree and the clouds quickly rolled in and the thunder started again, very loud. I finished cutting the top off the tree and came down to trim and bunch. I checked the van to see that Pip was safe. She was not there. I called and whistled. No Pip. I continued my work, bunching. No Pip.
I had to catch the fruit shop before it closed and order pizza for tea and shop. I did this and went back to the farm to look for her. No Pip. I rang Lib, said I couldn't find her. I called on the neighbours, looked everywhere, whistled called. No Pip. I figured she done a runner in total panic at the thunder.
I thought I'd call on the local vets on my way home to report her missing in the hope that she had not been killed on the road by traffic and someone may have taken her to the vet, which is what I would do if I found a panicky dog in a thunderstorm. At the Emerald clinic the receptionist was on the phone and I had to wait. I could hear a dog whimpering in tghe back room. It was a most familiar sound.
"I have lost my dog." I said when the lady got off the phone. "What kind of dog?" she said. "A Jack Russell."
"We have one that a lady brought in a couple of hours ago. Come with me."
Sure enough it was Pip. I can't tell you how relieved I was. Boy o boy has Pip been spoilt this last 30 hours since I found her. She's a beautiful creature and we thought we had lost her.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Ode to Jane
I haven't seen my friend Jane for a few weeks, but I think of her often, probably daily. There are many triggers in my routine that spark thoughts of her and leave me feeling the better for it, such is the charm and grace of this lovely lady. I have no doubt that had we been born closer to each other and met at another stage of our lives, I would have fallen in love with her, and she would have been a wonderful life partner. In the forty odd years that I have known her she has never been anythng but warm and welcoming with a down to earth matter of fact approach to life and the world that does not detract from her sophistication and obvious intelligence.
Sometimes I go months without seeing her, such is the nature of my busy and demanding life/work schedule. Every year for about three decades I have picked copper beech in summer from the massive tree in her front garden. Also in spring I pick blossom from her pieris. In winter I pick up the fallen autumn leaves from the deciduous trees in her garden which carpet the ground and often I pick camellia foliage. The leaves I take home in bags and put them out in my garden as mulch, and as I admire my garden and its beauty I'm thankful to Jane's leaves for playing a part.
At the same time I know not a lot about her life before I met her. She's a private person despite her ability to have wonderful conversation, which is rarely about her. She has always maintained some mystery to me. I know she lived in Sydney as a young person, I know she lived in Perth for a time where she worked possibly, I'm not sure, for the ABC. I know she lived in St Kilda with her husband before they moved to Emerald. I once aked her if I could do a Signpost profile about her but she declined politely.
I recall meeting Jane and her husband at the farm in the late 1970's, but if I'm wrong there it was the early 1980's after I'd returned to work at the farm. I was working in Wangaratta 1976-1981 and often came home for weekends. She was small and pretty and well dressed in a skirt with a matching jacket top and impressed me with her easy smiling demeanor. Her husband was garrulous if memory serves me well, also well dressed in a tweed jacket and tie. I think he was retired and talked much about the stock market where he invested for both his livelihood and hobby. They married late and had no children. They were in the family room at the farm as my father had the habit of inviting everyone in much to my mother Elvie's annoyance.
I don't know how long after this it was but husband died suddenly, so for most of the time I have known Jane she has been a widow, at least for the the last three decades that we've had friendship. Through this time until she had a car accident about five years ago, she worked for a few specialists in Melbourne, writing up reports etc in a broad sort of secretarial role. The Volvo she drove had an altercation with a tram which finally ended her employment when well into her eighties.
Our friendship started when we were short of copper beech and my father Lyle said to me that Jane T had said we could take foliage from her tree as it was way too big and encroaching on the house spouting. In the thirty years since I've never met a more warm hearted person so willing to share anything in her garden. "My garden is your garden," she often says.
Jane lives in a side road that enters and exits the main road in Emerald that I drive each day I go to the farm. Many times I say to myself I must call and see Jane soon and have a cup of coffee with her.
I last saw her a few weeks ago. I pruned a large tibouchina for her while Gord transferred some of last autumn's leaves from the big wool bales 'Big John' had put them into, to our small bags that we could lift. We did this also the previous week, and two weeks before that I had picked tall camellia foliage for a customer who buys tall foliage every Friday. 'Big John' is Jane's rear neighbour whom I have known for many years and who shares my regard for Jane, and looks after her better than a son would. He drives her to her many medical appointments and keeps a daily watch on her.
On one of our recent visits I was so pleased to see Jane in her garden on a rare sunny day after weeks of bleakness. She was wearing a black shirt with colourful bright pink and white markings and she was getting about the garden on her walking frame picking daffodils. Her smile beamed and it was obvious she was thrilled to be outside. Gord waited in the car outside as I was only going to be ten minutes. I told Jane I'd come to the door when I was finished to get some hemp oil she said she had that might help Lib's rash. I went into the back yard, picked my bunches, and with quite a load on my shoulder I took it out to my van without turning as I went through the front garden and put my load in the van. Then, returning to go to the front door to say goodbye and get the hemp oil, I was horrified to see Jane lying on the cold ashphalt with a pool of blood near her head. I had walked past her without seeing her a few minutes earlier. She looked like a thin broken insect but was still conscious.
I was scared I'd break bones lifting her such is her frailty. In retrospect probably I should have got blankets and made her comfortable and called an ambulance. Jane and I decided that I should help her get inside, which she had been trying to do before I saw her. With great difficulty and as much care as I could I helped her to her feet and half carried her inside as she could manage only a shuffle with her feet.
We managed to get to the bathroom where I bathed her headwound which had a large swelling. Jane said she didn't want me to ring an ambulance, they'd take her to hospital where there were idiots. She did not like my suggestion that I ring my doctor brother-in-law, not wanting to be a nuisance. I insisted that I should get the ambos to check her out, saying she may get delayed concussion or bleeding internally. She eventually conceded that I ring 'Big John'. "I'm on my way," was his response and he was there in two minutes.
John has been through other fall incidents with Jane and I was relieved that he immediatly backed my judgement and rang for an ambulance. It came within half an hour, they had much equipment and asked Jane many questions. "How old are you?"
"Ninety," she said, but she did not know what day of the week it was, nor the date, unlike her, so she was concussed. They took her on the trolley with their bright lights to the ambulance through the dark of the cold evening which had set. I was relieved to get John's call later that night that she was stabilized and would be in hospital a day or two.
When I saw her the following week she was apologetic to have caused me inconvenience. She's banned from going outside now but remains optimistic that her situation will improve.
Jane is a dear friend and a magnificent brave lady. An inspiration to me as I approach any difficulty that comes along.
Sometimes I go months without seeing her, such is the nature of my busy and demanding life/work schedule. Every year for about three decades I have picked copper beech in summer from the massive tree in her front garden. Also in spring I pick blossom from her pieris. In winter I pick up the fallen autumn leaves from the deciduous trees in her garden which carpet the ground and often I pick camellia foliage. The leaves I take home in bags and put them out in my garden as mulch, and as I admire my garden and its beauty I'm thankful to Jane's leaves for playing a part.
At the same time I know not a lot about her life before I met her. She's a private person despite her ability to have wonderful conversation, which is rarely about her. She has always maintained some mystery to me. I know she lived in Sydney as a young person, I know she lived in Perth for a time where she worked possibly, I'm not sure, for the ABC. I know she lived in St Kilda with her husband before they moved to Emerald. I once aked her if I could do a Signpost profile about her but she declined politely.
I recall meeting Jane and her husband at the farm in the late 1970's, but if I'm wrong there it was the early 1980's after I'd returned to work at the farm. I was working in Wangaratta 1976-1981 and often came home for weekends. She was small and pretty and well dressed in a skirt with a matching jacket top and impressed me with her easy smiling demeanor. Her husband was garrulous if memory serves me well, also well dressed in a tweed jacket and tie. I think he was retired and talked much about the stock market where he invested for both his livelihood and hobby. They married late and had no children. They were in the family room at the farm as my father had the habit of inviting everyone in much to my mother Elvie's annoyance.
I don't know how long after this it was but husband died suddenly, so for most of the time I have known Jane she has been a widow, at least for the the last three decades that we've had friendship. Through this time until she had a car accident about five years ago, she worked for a few specialists in Melbourne, writing up reports etc in a broad sort of secretarial role. The Volvo she drove had an altercation with a tram which finally ended her employment when well into her eighties.
Our friendship started when we were short of copper beech and my father Lyle said to me that Jane T had said we could take foliage from her tree as it was way too big and encroaching on the house spouting. In the thirty years since I've never met a more warm hearted person so willing to share anything in her garden. "My garden is your garden," she often says.
Jane lives in a side road that enters and exits the main road in Emerald that I drive each day I go to the farm. Many times I say to myself I must call and see Jane soon and have a cup of coffee with her.
I last saw her a few weeks ago. I pruned a large tibouchina for her while Gord transferred some of last autumn's leaves from the big wool bales 'Big John' had put them into, to our small bags that we could lift. We did this also the previous week, and two weeks before that I had picked tall camellia foliage for a customer who buys tall foliage every Friday. 'Big John' is Jane's rear neighbour whom I have known for many years and who shares my regard for Jane, and looks after her better than a son would. He drives her to her many medical appointments and keeps a daily watch on her.
On one of our recent visits I was so pleased to see Jane in her garden on a rare sunny day after weeks of bleakness. She was wearing a black shirt with colourful bright pink and white markings and she was getting about the garden on her walking frame picking daffodils. Her smile beamed and it was obvious she was thrilled to be outside. Gord waited in the car outside as I was only going to be ten minutes. I told Jane I'd come to the door when I was finished to get some hemp oil she said she had that might help Lib's rash. I went into the back yard, picked my bunches, and with quite a load on my shoulder I took it out to my van without turning as I went through the front garden and put my load in the van. Then, returning to go to the front door to say goodbye and get the hemp oil, I was horrified to see Jane lying on the cold ashphalt with a pool of blood near her head. I had walked past her without seeing her a few minutes earlier. She looked like a thin broken insect but was still conscious.
I was scared I'd break bones lifting her such is her frailty. In retrospect probably I should have got blankets and made her comfortable and called an ambulance. Jane and I decided that I should help her get inside, which she had been trying to do before I saw her. With great difficulty and as much care as I could I helped her to her feet and half carried her inside as she could manage only a shuffle with her feet.
We managed to get to the bathroom where I bathed her headwound which had a large swelling. Jane said she didn't want me to ring an ambulance, they'd take her to hospital where there were idiots. She did not like my suggestion that I ring my doctor brother-in-law, not wanting to be a nuisance. I insisted that I should get the ambos to check her out, saying she may get delayed concussion or bleeding internally. She eventually conceded that I ring 'Big John'. "I'm on my way," was his response and he was there in two minutes.
John has been through other fall incidents with Jane and I was relieved that he immediatly backed my judgement and rang for an ambulance. It came within half an hour, they had much equipment and asked Jane many questions. "How old are you?"
"Ninety," she said, but she did not know what day of the week it was, nor the date, unlike her, so she was concussed. They took her on the trolley with their bright lights to the ambulance through the dark of the cold evening which had set. I was relieved to get John's call later that night that she was stabilized and would be in hospital a day or two.
When I saw her the following week she was apologetic to have caused me inconvenience. She's banned from going outside now but remains optimistic that her situation will improve.
Jane is a dear friend and a magnificent brave lady. An inspiration to me as I approach any difficulty that comes along.
Saturday, October 07, 2017
Not Cured
Regrettably, my optimism that my RA had gone into remission was not reality. I had a scheduled (three monthly) blood test in early September and rang my rheumatologist a few days later to hear the results. Not good. Markers had gone up to alarming levels and he advised that I get straight back on the meds.
"But I don't feel too bad," I protested. "Surely I'm getting better, surely it will it improve from here, I'm a bit sore in the ribs and back, but surely I won't collapse into pain and misery."
"Wait for it," he said. "It comes back, it takes time, but it will, the markers show it is."
So I took his advice and here I am a month later feeling good and working well. I had been in denial, deluding myself with wishful thinking. It's OK. The meds got me on top of this thing and as much as I would like to be free of them and the possible side effects, the fact is I need them.
In the meantime much has kept me busy. I have been pruning and renovating at the farm which gives the side benefit of collecting next year's firewood. I have been picking foliage and flowers in an extremely good spring due no doubt to the good rainfall of the last 12 months. The remainder of spring looks entirely promising and I thank God I'm fit and well and up to the task.
We have been so lucky to have had the rain. It was a long cold miserable winter and September wasn't much better but we had over 100mm of rain in each of July, August and September and for that I'm thankful. So many other districts are well down.
I've endured the Richmond juggernaut and am so glad the footy season is over. One not be remembered with any fondness. But I have endured so many undesirable results over the last 5 decades that it is now easy to switch off and ignore it. There is so much more of consequence to focus on. It was a delight to see the kids out on the oval at cricket practice the other day.
There's much more I could write but time prevents at the moment. Hopefully I can lift my game and write more of the last months events next week.
"But I don't feel too bad," I protested. "Surely I'm getting better, surely it will it improve from here, I'm a bit sore in the ribs and back, but surely I won't collapse into pain and misery."
"Wait for it," he said. "It comes back, it takes time, but it will, the markers show it is."
So I took his advice and here I am a month later feeling good and working well. I had been in denial, deluding myself with wishful thinking. It's OK. The meds got me on top of this thing and as much as I would like to be free of them and the possible side effects, the fact is I need them.
In the meantime much has kept me busy. I have been pruning and renovating at the farm which gives the side benefit of collecting next year's firewood. I have been picking foliage and flowers in an extremely good spring due no doubt to the good rainfall of the last 12 months. The remainder of spring looks entirely promising and I thank God I'm fit and well and up to the task.
We have been so lucky to have had the rain. It was a long cold miserable winter and September wasn't much better but we had over 100mm of rain in each of July, August and September and for that I'm thankful. So many other districts are well down.
I've endured the Richmond juggernaut and am so glad the footy season is over. One not be remembered with any fondness. But I have endured so many undesirable results over the last 5 decades that it is now easy to switch off and ignore it. There is so much more of consequence to focus on. It was a delight to see the kids out on the oval at cricket practice the other day.
There's much more I could write but time prevents at the moment. Hopefully I can lift my game and write more of the last months events next week.
Sunday, September 10, 2017
Goodness Gracious Me
The footy season went bad on me in the last round as I have previously noted. Not only did Collingwood jump out to a five goal plus lead at quarter time in the last round and ultimately win the game but the Eagles jumped Adelaide early and won in Perth to sneak into the finals ahead of Melbourne by a small margin of percentage and the skin of their teeth.
And RR did me in the tipping by one, which came down to the last game of the home and away round as they call it, Richmond V St Kilda. I tipped against Richmond most of the year. I have a longstanding distaste them which stems from the rivalry with Carlton in the 1ate 1960's and early 1970's. In a period 8 eight seasons Richmond won four premierships and Carlton three. When Ron Barassi joined Carlton in 1965 I followed Carlton come finals time as my team Melbourne was pretty much nowhere in those years. Richmond bashed their way to the 1973 Premiership and famously Neil Balme broke Geoff Southby's jaw with a round arm king hit in the first quarter putting him off the ground for the rest of the match. Southby was brilliant at fullback in his early seasons and he never really returned to that stellar form subsequently. There were other ugly incidents in that match including Kevin Sheedy, who took the bash tactics to Essendon after his playing days.
That was the second year in a row that RR won the tipping. My only consolation was that I came equal first in Lib's work comp, which cost $30 to enter but gave me $191 as prize money. I also came third in the beekeepers comp, and in both those comps I scored higher than my tips total in the home comp which includes RR. I vary my tips a bit as I can't remember who I tipped and I submit them at different times. So RR was lucky really, and he was on the Richmond wagon.
I should have sensed yesterday that my fortunes were on the up when Cooter Cha Cha won the first race at Kilmore yesterday and paid 25/1. I'd put a dollar on each way the night before at fixed odds of 50/1. Then Sydney cheered my mood further by flogging Essendon in the elimination final. While this was happening I was out gathering three trailer loads of firewood for next winter.
I was in the bath listening to the start of the Port Adelaide/ Eagles game and the Eagles skipped out to an early lead. We had Indian takeaway from the local for dinner which Gord went up to get and it was delicious as I sat by a hot fire with a bottle of red. Port ground their way back and hit the front and it looked all over for West Coast but they got a late goal and the lead before Port drew level and the scores were tied on the bell. In the extra time of 5 minutes each way Port got out to two and half goals lead and again it looked all over. Two goals to the Eagles and it still looked like a Port victory until with seconds to go the contentious free kick for a high tackle was paid tp Luke Shuey and the siren went. He kicked truly after the siren to give West Coast an amazing win.
Goodness Gracious Me!
And RR did me in the tipping by one, which came down to the last game of the home and away round as they call it, Richmond V St Kilda. I tipped against Richmond most of the year. I have a longstanding distaste them which stems from the rivalry with Carlton in the 1ate 1960's and early 1970's. In a period 8 eight seasons Richmond won four premierships and Carlton three. When Ron Barassi joined Carlton in 1965 I followed Carlton come finals time as my team Melbourne was pretty much nowhere in those years. Richmond bashed their way to the 1973 Premiership and famously Neil Balme broke Geoff Southby's jaw with a round arm king hit in the first quarter putting him off the ground for the rest of the match. Southby was brilliant at fullback in his early seasons and he never really returned to that stellar form subsequently. There were other ugly incidents in that match including Kevin Sheedy, who took the bash tactics to Essendon after his playing days.
That was the second year in a row that RR won the tipping. My only consolation was that I came equal first in Lib's work comp, which cost $30 to enter but gave me $191 as prize money. I also came third in the beekeepers comp, and in both those comps I scored higher than my tips total in the home comp which includes RR. I vary my tips a bit as I can't remember who I tipped and I submit them at different times. So RR was lucky really, and he was on the Richmond wagon.
I should have sensed yesterday that my fortunes were on the up when Cooter Cha Cha won the first race at Kilmore yesterday and paid 25/1. I'd put a dollar on each way the night before at fixed odds of 50/1. Then Sydney cheered my mood further by flogging Essendon in the elimination final. While this was happening I was out gathering three trailer loads of firewood for next winter.
I was in the bath listening to the start of the Port Adelaide/ Eagles game and the Eagles skipped out to an early lead. We had Indian takeaway from the local for dinner which Gord went up to get and it was delicious as I sat by a hot fire with a bottle of red. Port ground their way back and hit the front and it looked all over for West Coast but they got a late goal and the lead before Port drew level and the scores were tied on the bell. In the extra time of 5 minutes each way Port got out to two and half goals lead and again it looked all over. Two goals to the Eagles and it still looked like a Port victory until with seconds to go the contentious free kick for a high tackle was paid tp Luke Shuey and the siren went. He kicked truly after the siren to give West Coast an amazing win.
Goodness Gracious Me!
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Footy
In a disastrous last round RickyRalph pipped me by one to take the 2017 title. We both tipped six in round 23 leaving him one ahead.
And the Demons dipped out of the finals because West Coast beat Adelaide by more than 2/3 goals and took eighth place narrowly on percentage.
So be it, if you are not good enough you don't make it.
From here frankly I have little interest. but will be pleased to see Essendon and Richmond arseholed at some point soon. I can't see anyone other than Sydney or Geelong winning the flag. Adelaide has no balls and GWS are a threat but have really never done anything to this point so I just can't see it happening for them. Mind you they would be a favourable result for the AFL so I'm watching closely.
Well done RR you did me on the knock. I'm more interested in the horses these days. Funny how I have changed in my old age but I have no desire to go to the footy at all, AFL that is, it seems such a massive con job.
And the Demons dipped out of the finals because West Coast beat Adelaide by more than 2/3 goals and took eighth place narrowly on percentage.
So be it, if you are not good enough you don't make it.
From here frankly I have little interest. but will be pleased to see Essendon and Richmond arseholed at some point soon. I can't see anyone other than Sydney or Geelong winning the flag. Adelaide has no balls and GWS are a threat but have really never done anything to this point so I just can't see it happening for them. Mind you they would be a favourable result for the AFL so I'm watching closely.
Well done RR you did me on the knock. I'm more interested in the horses these days. Funny how I have changed in my old age but I have no desire to go to the footy at all, AFL that is, it seems such a massive con job.
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
What a Wonderful World
Tonight I reflect briefly on my last ten days or so and the world we live in. It abounds beauty and amazing people, which counteracts the ugliness and bastardry of which there is also plenty.
A week ago today I spoke to my surgeon in the private hospital, St John of God, Berwick. The previous day he performed keyhole surgery to repair hernias on each side of my groin. He said, "I was very happy with the operation and the placement of the mesh. We are giving you some painkillers to take home. Don't be a hero. Take the painkillers. You won't feel like doing anything for a few days, then you must be very careful for a couple of weeks. It is important that the mesh settles in well with scar tissue and does not separate. Leave the dressings on for a week and the staff will make an appointment for you to see me on Monday week."
He was right about the painkiller, a strong narcotic, I was very sore and needed it for a few days or more, before reverting to panadol and ibuprofen which I kept up for a few more days. There was three holes in a row in my abdomen starting next to belly button and going down, an inch or two apart. I took a long deep bath tonight and soaked the dressings and removed them. All seems well, I'm not in much pain or discomfort but still do not feel robust and since I have been home I have been walking around and working on light duties both home and work, carefully of course.
I have not had any RA medication since Aug 2 and have not collapsed with the RA but i do have some stiffness and soreness developing in the chest, upper back, ribs and upper arms, but it is not bad and I'm hoping it does not escalate in the coming week or two as I want to stay off the medication if I can. I have a scheduled blood test late next week and I'd like to see what the results are after a month of no meds.
In the last two days I have met and talked to two amazing people, both ladies, one a Gembrook neighbour just around the corner, B, and the other K, in Clematis.
Both these ladies helped me with some firewood. B and her partner had some trees down some years ago, wattles and peppermints, and I have availed myself of some of it this past two years when I have been short. Some of it has gone to balsa and is not much good but it is of some heat value when mixed with more solid stuff. There was always an open offer to get more this year but I didn't make it there till yesterday. I had quite a long talk to B who revealed that for 12 months she had been recovering from an operation to repair her hamstring that had torn from the bone at the top of the leg, which explained why I had seen her walking not her usual running over some months. She had her first race since the injury last weekend, a ten miler, and was thrilled about it. She is aged 65 and has been a serious athlete in Europe and Australia. She also told me she's blind in one eye after the retina detached and has has serious problems including an operation to save her limited sight in the other eye. The problems have returned and she has an appointment shortly with a specialist to see if anything can prevent her from going blind in the near future. She is extremely anxious as anyone would be. She also shared with me her excitement at the expected birth in six weeks in England of her son and his wife's child. She attended their wedding a few months back in the UK. Her son and his future wife were in Australia last Christmas and B said it was her best ever and the baby must have been conceived on their holiday to OZ.
I have known K for more than thirty years. She worked at our farm as a casual in the garden in the 1980's. She had two sons by her first marriage one of whom is the same age as Gord and was at Emerald Secondary the same years as Gord. K's marriage split and she became a working single parent. She had a relationship with another man which did not last but gave her twin boys who are now young men. She basically raised these on her own. Along the way she became very sick and would have died but for a liver transplant. She offered me some wood last year that had been her shed for many years after she had a tree down, she no longer relying on firewood for heat as her circumstances did not suit all the hassles with it. I didn't get there last year but after my op I went to her house as I was short of wood and looking for some easy stuff because of my soreness and recovery.
So these two marvelous ladies helped me in my hour of need. How lucky am I? Both these ladies love their garden and watching the birdlife and both told me lovely stories. These exceptional human beings would never throw a piece of litter onto the roadside, as neither would any of my friends or people I associate with.
The ugliness and bastardry I referred to at the beginning of this post? When Lib and I were driving up the coast Rd north from Perth we were astounded by the huge amount of litter on the roadside for hundreds of kilometres. Bottles, cans, plastic bags, you name it every sort of rubbish and debris just chucked and left. If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would struggle to believe the scale of it.
Then last Monday I went to the dentist in Berwick (to get a second opinion to my bloke who wanted me to get a crown for about $1500... I have decided against... my teeth can break away at their own pace and will probably outlast the rest of me anyway) and I stopped at Aldi in Beaconsfield to shop on the way home. I crossed the highway to go to the organic butcher and was disgusted at the amount of litter strewn through a low hedge and garden in front of the shops. Cans, bottles, takeaway food containers, butts, bags, wrappers, straws. Right in the middle of the shopping centre.
What is the matter with the % of people that trash our country. It's a national disgrace. It should be cleaned up nationwide and I don't care if taxes and rates need to be raised to do it. It is said that if a place is cleaned up people are less likely to litter and it is logical. I find it scary to hear how are our oceans are becoming so polluted with plastic and this is a follow on from our trashing of the land.
Thank goodness for all the good people I encounter that enable me to feel "What a Wonderful World."
For how long, who knows? There are many good things happening to repair the environment so l live in hope.
A week ago today I spoke to my surgeon in the private hospital, St John of God, Berwick. The previous day he performed keyhole surgery to repair hernias on each side of my groin. He said, "I was very happy with the operation and the placement of the mesh. We are giving you some painkillers to take home. Don't be a hero. Take the painkillers. You won't feel like doing anything for a few days, then you must be very careful for a couple of weeks. It is important that the mesh settles in well with scar tissue and does not separate. Leave the dressings on for a week and the staff will make an appointment for you to see me on Monday week."
He was right about the painkiller, a strong narcotic, I was very sore and needed it for a few days or more, before reverting to panadol and ibuprofen which I kept up for a few more days. There was three holes in a row in my abdomen starting next to belly button and going down, an inch or two apart. I took a long deep bath tonight and soaked the dressings and removed them. All seems well, I'm not in much pain or discomfort but still do not feel robust and since I have been home I have been walking around and working on light duties both home and work, carefully of course.
I have not had any RA medication since Aug 2 and have not collapsed with the RA but i do have some stiffness and soreness developing in the chest, upper back, ribs and upper arms, but it is not bad and I'm hoping it does not escalate in the coming week or two as I want to stay off the medication if I can. I have a scheduled blood test late next week and I'd like to see what the results are after a month of no meds.
In the last two days I have met and talked to two amazing people, both ladies, one a Gembrook neighbour just around the corner, B, and the other K, in Clematis.
Both these ladies helped me with some firewood. B and her partner had some trees down some years ago, wattles and peppermints, and I have availed myself of some of it this past two years when I have been short. Some of it has gone to balsa and is not much good but it is of some heat value when mixed with more solid stuff. There was always an open offer to get more this year but I didn't make it there till yesterday. I had quite a long talk to B who revealed that for 12 months she had been recovering from an operation to repair her hamstring that had torn from the bone at the top of the leg, which explained why I had seen her walking not her usual running over some months. She had her first race since the injury last weekend, a ten miler, and was thrilled about it. She is aged 65 and has been a serious athlete in Europe and Australia. She also told me she's blind in one eye after the retina detached and has has serious problems including an operation to save her limited sight in the other eye. The problems have returned and she has an appointment shortly with a specialist to see if anything can prevent her from going blind in the near future. She is extremely anxious as anyone would be. She also shared with me her excitement at the expected birth in six weeks in England of her son and his wife's child. She attended their wedding a few months back in the UK. Her son and his future wife were in Australia last Christmas and B said it was her best ever and the baby must have been conceived on their holiday to OZ.
I have known K for more than thirty years. She worked at our farm as a casual in the garden in the 1980's. She had two sons by her first marriage one of whom is the same age as Gord and was at Emerald Secondary the same years as Gord. K's marriage split and she became a working single parent. She had a relationship with another man which did not last but gave her twin boys who are now young men. She basically raised these on her own. Along the way she became very sick and would have died but for a liver transplant. She offered me some wood last year that had been her shed for many years after she had a tree down, she no longer relying on firewood for heat as her circumstances did not suit all the hassles with it. I didn't get there last year but after my op I went to her house as I was short of wood and looking for some easy stuff because of my soreness and recovery.
So these two marvelous ladies helped me in my hour of need. How lucky am I? Both these ladies love their garden and watching the birdlife and both told me lovely stories. These exceptional human beings would never throw a piece of litter onto the roadside, as neither would any of my friends or people I associate with.
The ugliness and bastardry I referred to at the beginning of this post? When Lib and I were driving up the coast Rd north from Perth we were astounded by the huge amount of litter on the roadside for hundreds of kilometres. Bottles, cans, plastic bags, you name it every sort of rubbish and debris just chucked and left. If I had not seen it with my own eyes I would struggle to believe the scale of it.
Then last Monday I went to the dentist in Berwick (to get a second opinion to my bloke who wanted me to get a crown for about $1500... I have decided against... my teeth can break away at their own pace and will probably outlast the rest of me anyway) and I stopped at Aldi in Beaconsfield to shop on the way home. I crossed the highway to go to the organic butcher and was disgusted at the amount of litter strewn through a low hedge and garden in front of the shops. Cans, bottles, takeaway food containers, butts, bags, wrappers, straws. Right in the middle of the shopping centre.
What is the matter with the % of people that trash our country. It's a national disgrace. It should be cleaned up nationwide and I don't care if taxes and rates need to be raised to do it. It is said that if a place is cleaned up people are less likely to litter and it is logical. I find it scary to hear how are our oceans are becoming so polluted with plastic and this is a follow on from our trashing of the land.
Thank goodness for all the good people I encounter that enable me to feel "What a Wonderful World."
For how long, who knows? There are many good things happening to repair the environment so l live in hope.
Monday, August 14, 2017
Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude
It was a winter's day, cold and harsh, the 17th of June, not yet two months ago. Gord as team manager of the Gembrook reserves had to go to Warburton where Gemmy was playing Warby Millgrove. I went with him as he is not confident driving to places he has not before.
Not far from Gembrook about 10am as I drove Gord's car I narrowly missed a large wallaby that jumped out from nowhere seemingly hellbent on leaving an impression on the front of the Skoda. We got to the footy ground on time, the same ground I took Gord and Rob to as players for the Gembrook U/12's cricket some two decades earlier. On that occasion we were bowled out for 9 runs team total with young Rob, aged 10, not out 0 after stonewalling for nearly half an hour in an heroic effort.
So I had my share of nostalgia as I said "Good luck" to Gord and took a walk into town. I was looking for a needle threader, you know one of those little fine wire things that you stick though the eye of a needle then put the cotton through it then when you pull it back out hey presto the needle is threaded. The one I had that had given me two decades or more good service had broken some time ago and I could not find one to buy anywhere at Emerald or wherever I asked in recent times, leaving me unable to sow a button on clothing for maybe 12 months.
It was so nice to be on my own meandering in the Warburton shopping centre main street. In a bric a brac store I found a needle threader in a sowing kit for $3, then a little further down talked to a lady in a lace and things type shop who introduced me to self threading needles and I was so happy to have solved this problem that I celebrated with a curry pie at the bakery, following a pork roll at a small Vietnamese cafe. Absolutely delicious both. In between all this joy I shopped in an opp shop and bought two books for a dollar or two each. One of these caught my eye because it was a collection of stories, " Australian Stories for the Heart". I noticed the name Margaret Court on the front page as one of the contributors, and as she was a large figure in my early recollection of sport and had also been front and centre in the news at that time because of her outspoken comment against same sex marriage, I made the purchase.
Back to the footy frankly I had no interest in watching so I took a walk along the Yarra River. I sat on a bench seat in some sort of playground area enjoying some winter sunshine. Looking into the river at the water gently cascading over rocks it occurred to me that the scene would have been the same for centuries probably, same river, same rocks worn smooth over however long. Two ducks came down with the current like two little boats bobbing and weaving, easy as you like, just steering their way through with minimal effort, like magic. At that moment I felt close to God. Whatever happens to me or the nation or the world that river most likely will flow exactly the same for many more centuries and the ducks will ride the current.
Gembrook Reserves got wopped and the seniors also, and as a matter of update both sides have not won a game for the season to now with I think only one game to go. The winter dragged on with merciless cold until Lib and I took off for West Australia on July10. I took my Australian Story book and read a bit each night in the campervan as of course we had no television. I was surprised to find it was a book of religious stories, mostly with a theme of getting to know Jesus. The Margaret Court one was about her desperate battle with depression that happened to her after her tennis career was over and she was married into the very wealthy Court family, with the world at her feet she should have enjoyed life to the full but instead she was miserable and in the depths of despair and insomnia and contemplating suicide.
Then she discovered a bible verse 2 Timothy 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." Over and over she said it day and night and somehow the fear started to diminish. It changed her life completely.
As the debate continues over this marriage equality thing and the plebiscite I have to say I don't agree with same sex marriage. By all means give same sex people who form a civil partnership equal legal rights to that of a married couple, but I agree with Margaret Court that marriage is between a man and a woman. Frankly I don't see why there is so much fuss about it. Margaret Court is entitled to her opinion, and should not be attacked for it. Homosexuals can live as they like, and should not be discriminated against in law or otherwise.
Each night on our holiday I said to Lib I'll just read a little more of my Jesus book before turning out the light. Many of the stories were quite corny and over the top, most only a few pages long, some maybe five or six. But they were all easy and interesting, some quite inspiring, and one in particular riveted me. Without going through the book to find it, it related the story about the crippled man whose friends in desperation to get him to see the miracle worker Jesus came in through the roof to a meeting of big wigs and Jesus. They lowered their friend down and Jesus said to him "Take up your mat and walk", and he did.
The first week of our holiday I was in much discomfort with my rheumatoid arthritis, more pain in my upper back and shoulders and ribs than I have had for a long time. We crossed the Tropic of Capricorn and I soaked up the warmth and the coral reef and the smiles of every man and woman I met. As we made our way back south my pain had eased and by the time we were in Kalbarri I felt fantastic, no pain and just feeling so well. We watched numerous whales from the cliff as they spouted and breached and the world looked so beautiful I turned and said to Lib, "I think I'm cured."
Now I don't know about that really. But let me say, as I prepare for surgery to repair two hernias this coming Tuesday, I did not take my medication last Monday (methotrexate) nor did I inject my weekly abatacept on Wednesday, on advice from surgeon who said not to, and I have not collapsed into a painball as I feared. In fact I feel bloody good even with a little soreness about the chestbone and ribs.
And every day I thank God for it and ask for continuing help to get me through.
Yes. I have had a big change of attitude. The funny thing is I don't know what I did with my needle threader and the self threading needle I bought that day. I'm hoping they will turn up.
Not far from Gembrook about 10am as I drove Gord's car I narrowly missed a large wallaby that jumped out from nowhere seemingly hellbent on leaving an impression on the front of the Skoda. We got to the footy ground on time, the same ground I took Gord and Rob to as players for the Gembrook U/12's cricket some two decades earlier. On that occasion we were bowled out for 9 runs team total with young Rob, aged 10, not out 0 after stonewalling for nearly half an hour in an heroic effort.
So I had my share of nostalgia as I said "Good luck" to Gord and took a walk into town. I was looking for a needle threader, you know one of those little fine wire things that you stick though the eye of a needle then put the cotton through it then when you pull it back out hey presto the needle is threaded. The one I had that had given me two decades or more good service had broken some time ago and I could not find one to buy anywhere at Emerald or wherever I asked in recent times, leaving me unable to sow a button on clothing for maybe 12 months.
It was so nice to be on my own meandering in the Warburton shopping centre main street. In a bric a brac store I found a needle threader in a sowing kit for $3, then a little further down talked to a lady in a lace and things type shop who introduced me to self threading needles and I was so happy to have solved this problem that I celebrated with a curry pie at the bakery, following a pork roll at a small Vietnamese cafe. Absolutely delicious both. In between all this joy I shopped in an opp shop and bought two books for a dollar or two each. One of these caught my eye because it was a collection of stories, " Australian Stories for the Heart". I noticed the name Margaret Court on the front page as one of the contributors, and as she was a large figure in my early recollection of sport and had also been front and centre in the news at that time because of her outspoken comment against same sex marriage, I made the purchase.
Back to the footy frankly I had no interest in watching so I took a walk along the Yarra River. I sat on a bench seat in some sort of playground area enjoying some winter sunshine. Looking into the river at the water gently cascading over rocks it occurred to me that the scene would have been the same for centuries probably, same river, same rocks worn smooth over however long. Two ducks came down with the current like two little boats bobbing and weaving, easy as you like, just steering their way through with minimal effort, like magic. At that moment I felt close to God. Whatever happens to me or the nation or the world that river most likely will flow exactly the same for many more centuries and the ducks will ride the current.
Gembrook Reserves got wopped and the seniors also, and as a matter of update both sides have not won a game for the season to now with I think only one game to go. The winter dragged on with merciless cold until Lib and I took off for West Australia on July10. I took my Australian Story book and read a bit each night in the campervan as of course we had no television. I was surprised to find it was a book of religious stories, mostly with a theme of getting to know Jesus. The Margaret Court one was about her desperate battle with depression that happened to her after her tennis career was over and she was married into the very wealthy Court family, with the world at her feet she should have enjoyed life to the full but instead she was miserable and in the depths of despair and insomnia and contemplating suicide.
Then she discovered a bible verse 2 Timothy 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." Over and over she said it day and night and somehow the fear started to diminish. It changed her life completely.
As the debate continues over this marriage equality thing and the plebiscite I have to say I don't agree with same sex marriage. By all means give same sex people who form a civil partnership equal legal rights to that of a married couple, but I agree with Margaret Court that marriage is between a man and a woman. Frankly I don't see why there is so much fuss about it. Margaret Court is entitled to her opinion, and should not be attacked for it. Homosexuals can live as they like, and should not be discriminated against in law or otherwise.
Each night on our holiday I said to Lib I'll just read a little more of my Jesus book before turning out the light. Many of the stories were quite corny and over the top, most only a few pages long, some maybe five or six. But they were all easy and interesting, some quite inspiring, and one in particular riveted me. Without going through the book to find it, it related the story about the crippled man whose friends in desperation to get him to see the miracle worker Jesus came in through the roof to a meeting of big wigs and Jesus. They lowered their friend down and Jesus said to him "Take up your mat and walk", and he did.
The first week of our holiday I was in much discomfort with my rheumatoid arthritis, more pain in my upper back and shoulders and ribs than I have had for a long time. We crossed the Tropic of Capricorn and I soaked up the warmth and the coral reef and the smiles of every man and woman I met. As we made our way back south my pain had eased and by the time we were in Kalbarri I felt fantastic, no pain and just feeling so well. We watched numerous whales from the cliff as they spouted and breached and the world looked so beautiful I turned and said to Lib, "I think I'm cured."
Now I don't know about that really. But let me say, as I prepare for surgery to repair two hernias this coming Tuesday, I did not take my medication last Monday (methotrexate) nor did I inject my weekly abatacept on Wednesday, on advice from surgeon who said not to, and I have not collapsed into a painball as I feared. In fact I feel bloody good even with a little soreness about the chestbone and ribs.
And every day I thank God for it and ask for continuing help to get me through.
Yes. I have had a big change of attitude. The funny thing is I don't know what I did with my needle threader and the self threading needle I bought that day. I'm hoping they will turn up.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Billy Jack
This time last week Lib and I were in our campervan at Cervantes for our last night on the road before returning to Perth for the weekend. The camp kitchen at the RAC caravan park had to be seen to be believed so new and flash were all the facilities there.
There was a mountain of paperwork and emails to attend to on our return but I will try to copy and paste an email from Rickyralph and my reply as I feel it will provide a valid update in precis of the last few weeks and some of my current thoughts. I know RR will not mind me sharing to a wider readership.
There was a mountain of paperwork and emails to attend to on our return but I will try to copy and paste an email from Rickyralph and my reply as I feel it will provide a valid update in precis of the last few weeks and some of my current thoughts. I know RR will not mind me sharing to a wider readership.
G'day Mate,
Looking forward to hearing you regale stories of your holiday west. I've been trying to get a dvd of the 1971 classic " Billy Jack " but to no avail. Would love to see it after all these years. Did you know that Tom Laughlin was actually married to the freedom school teacher Delores Taylor in the movie. I didn't know that. Tom Laughlin died in 2013, aged 82 years. He was married to Delores for 60 years. Back in the 60's/70's he opened his own freedom school which was a big hit and still going. He was an activist and did a lot of good work helping people all his life. He ran for president in 2000,2004 and 2008. At the time hollywood didn't like his take on the movie and wanted to change some things so he bit the bullit and went alone changing nothing. The rest is history.
RR
RE BILLY JACK
I recall that I much liked that movie and the theme song 'One Tin Soldier'. Thinking about it brings memories back. We were at the drive-in I think Toorak, to watch it for the second time. Before it started we were buying food and bumped into Mike Pfifer's parents. I remember saying to Mr Pfifer that it was a great movie. Several times over the years I have wondered if they enjoyed it, and also why they were at the drive-in to watch it. I think Mrs Pfifer had a drinking problem and maybe that was Mr P's way of getting her out of the routine. Funny the things you think of. Of course that was the last time I saw them and they are probably both dead now. More than a decade later and when I was planning to go to to a Camberwell reunion thing I tracked Mike Pfifer's number from the contact list and rang, only to find from his wife that Mike had recently died from cancer. I would have told you this before. At the time I rang, Mike's father was there visiting his grandkids and she put him on. I didn't really know what to say and felt a bit of a goose. I think he told me his wife had died and he lived on the Gold Coast. Life has its sad side.
I often suffer with some "blues" when these thoughts come back to me about things from the past. There are many things I'm not happy about concerning the past, things I regret and would like to have my time again to correct my actions or do so much better. And things I would have liked to have said to people before they passed. I manage to quickly get back on top of it, a good technique I use is to run the jingle of the "The Beverley Hillbillies" through...."Now listen to my story of a man named Jed...etc etc". It seems to blow away my blues and make me realize that as young people we were/are thrust into a world and situations that left/leave us swimming to stay afloat and not go under.
And that we did Pilgrim, and there's no point recriminating over the past. We have learned, survived and have acquired more savvy. Not perfect by any means, but less mistakes now and more regard for other people and the plight and feelings of others. And importantly, we are much less vulnerable to bullshit.
Yes our trip was fantastic, loved every minute of it. It has been a hard week, returning Monday evening, two big work days Tues Wed then a lot of running around today tidying up many loose ends. A big day picking stuff tomorrow to finish off the week's orders as I did none today.
On our trip, after a night at a B+B (Ascot on Swan) in Perth quite close to the airport, and picking up our camper the next morning, we did two and a half days driving to get to Coral Bay just south of Exmouth. We stayed there three nights as we felt it was so beautiful and to go further north would be further to come back. From there we went back south for two nights at Denham, which we loved also, then south to Kalbarri for two nights before going to Cervantes for our last night with the van. Cervantes is only two hours or so from Perth and we did this as we were to get the camper back before 3pm. We did so and by 2pm were in a cab to take us to our appartment in West Perth which was excellent for two nights as we enjoyed Perth for the weekend and rested up. We bussed out to our same B+B near the airport for Sunday night, by this time feeling that Terry and Evelyn the proprietors were old friends as they made us so comfortable and drove us to restaurants and picked us up at the airport on arrival and took us out there to depart.
It was a great trip.
Friday, July 07, 2017
All My Trials Lord
I worked well all week. Always so much to do. It was good, I knocked over a lot of things.
Come Thursday night Gord said " Hey Dad, we could have pizza tonight. I don't have to go to the footy club, there's a bye this week, so I don't have to get home by six."
So I rang Lib when I finished work and was about to go home. "Hey mate, if you would rather not do the steak sandwiches tonight and have pizza instead, we can do that as it would suit Gord. We can do the steak sandwiches tomorrow."
"OK" she said. "I don't mind."
"Gord wants to go to Pakenham, got his mind set on a 'Bubba's pizza."
" I like 'Dominoes', they're cheap but good, get a thin and crispy base."
Now there's a perfectly good pizza shop in Emerald which I like very much but I bowed to the want of others. So in the dark we drove to Pakenham, the back way via Split Rock Rd and Toomuc Valley Rd. I ordered the pizza at Dominoes then dropped Gord off at Bubbas, went to get fuel, picked up the Dominoes pizza then went back to Bubbas. It was by now nearing 6.30pm.
The Dominoes pizza was very light in the hand when I picked it up so I was doubtful it was enough for me and Lib, so i said to Gord, "Just wait a minute while I get a few steamed dimmies from the noodle shop, I'm starving hungry and this pizza feels like it's not enough." I thought I'd go mad smelling the pizza all the way home while hungry.
The dimmies were good as I drove home. I came up behind the Pak to Gembrook bus and followed it slowly all the way up the hill and round all the corners, patiently now as I had had something to eat. The bus stopped in the middle of the road at the Bessie Creek Rd corner to let someone off even though it was not a bus stop. I didn't try to go around. I couldn't see if there might be car coming the other way. The cars behind me all did the same, patiently waiting, probably thinking the same as me. "We'll be home soon, just take it easy."
All the way I followed the bus. Just when we got near Gembrook's main street, as the bus was about to turn left, a ute came hairing around the corner towards us, accelerating. There was the dreaded smack on the windscreen as a stone hit the glass.
"Fuck."
I have windscreen cover on my insurance policy, but they only allow you one claim a year and I made one in January. An expensive pizza, about $800.
I try. I really try. But bad luck is just bad luck. Any change to the sequence of events that would have prevented delay would have meant that I would not have been there when the dickhead in the ute did his speed thing.
It's OK. I'm live and well. Worse things happen and people die all the time from bad luck, wrong place wrong time. What's a busted windscreen in comparison?
Come Thursday night Gord said " Hey Dad, we could have pizza tonight. I don't have to go to the footy club, there's a bye this week, so I don't have to get home by six."
So I rang Lib when I finished work and was about to go home. "Hey mate, if you would rather not do the steak sandwiches tonight and have pizza instead, we can do that as it would suit Gord. We can do the steak sandwiches tomorrow."
"OK" she said. "I don't mind."
"Gord wants to go to Pakenham, got his mind set on a 'Bubba's pizza."
" I like 'Dominoes', they're cheap but good, get a thin and crispy base."
Now there's a perfectly good pizza shop in Emerald which I like very much but I bowed to the want of others. So in the dark we drove to Pakenham, the back way via Split Rock Rd and Toomuc Valley Rd. I ordered the pizza at Dominoes then dropped Gord off at Bubbas, went to get fuel, picked up the Dominoes pizza then went back to Bubbas. It was by now nearing 6.30pm.
The Dominoes pizza was very light in the hand when I picked it up so I was doubtful it was enough for me and Lib, so i said to Gord, "Just wait a minute while I get a few steamed dimmies from the noodle shop, I'm starving hungry and this pizza feels like it's not enough." I thought I'd go mad smelling the pizza all the way home while hungry.
The dimmies were good as I drove home. I came up behind the Pak to Gembrook bus and followed it slowly all the way up the hill and round all the corners, patiently now as I had had something to eat. The bus stopped in the middle of the road at the Bessie Creek Rd corner to let someone off even though it was not a bus stop. I didn't try to go around. I couldn't see if there might be car coming the other way. The cars behind me all did the same, patiently waiting, probably thinking the same as me. "We'll be home soon, just take it easy."
All the way I followed the bus. Just when we got near Gembrook's main street, as the bus was about to turn left, a ute came hairing around the corner towards us, accelerating. There was the dreaded smack on the windscreen as a stone hit the glass.
"Fuck."
I have windscreen cover on my insurance policy, but they only allow you one claim a year and I made one in January. An expensive pizza, about $800.
I try. I really try. But bad luck is just bad luck. Any change to the sequence of events that would have prevented delay would have meant that I would not have been there when the dickhead in the ute did his speed thing.
It's OK. I'm live and well. Worse things happen and people die all the time from bad luck, wrong place wrong time. What's a busted windscreen in comparison?
Saturday, July 01, 2017
Happy New Year
We are a week and a half past the winter solstice and have endured ten days of miserable cold weather with dull days of wet air, mist fog and drizzle and near freezing night temperatures. Last night when I got home at about 6pm I checked the thermometer when I fed Pip, it was 6C. When I fed her this morning it said 0 degrees C.
The floor of the house has been so cold that slippers are essential. Even the open fire has struggled to lift our spirits and the wood is damp and cold despite being under cover for weeks.
But this morning the sun is shining brilliantly, I'm waiting for the machine to finish its cycle so I can put the washing on the line and not just dry, but absorb the sunshine. Pip's bedding is already sucking it in on the deck and Pip is stretched out on the carpet by the window.
I told Lib this morning as she went to work to be extra careful and drive very slowly on downhills and corners, there could be ice on the road. Gord has gone to the local footy, Emerald versus Gembrook, always of great local importance. He's team manager of the reserves and it worries him doing all the form filling and organizing but it keeps him involved and gives him a social life that he possibly wouldn't have otherwise.
Last Sunday he took me to a function at the footy club, the guest speaker was former player manager Ricky Nixon. Boy o boy did he have a story to tell. I have to say I admire his courage to stand up and talk about the depths to which he sank and the huge social disgrace and losses he suffered financially, personally, and to his health. He started his talk asking the crowd if any one in the audience had never mucked up or done the wrong thing, please put your hand up. Nobody did. This was after an earlier segment of 20 minutes of stand up comedy which I thought he did very well.
He explained later that the comedy, and the talk about his story, was a big part in his recovery, to face challenge head on after admitting his failures and not trying to lay blame elsewhere. I found listening to this quite inspiring, and helpful to me, as I find at my age now, 65, things flash back to me about my life and events, and my actions at various times, many of which are not good on reflection. We all have skeletons in our cupboards. It's a bit like religion..we have all sinned but can be forgiven and saved. That's an age old message. In Ricky's case, it's don't keep beating yourself up. admit you have been a fool and a dog, and move on and do good and help others. I wish him all the very best into the future. The key word is redemption. There are times in life when we all need to redeem ourselves.
The good news of the day apart from the magnificent sunshine is that our electricity bill came by email yesterday and I was astounded that I was in credit $99 despite the heavy usage we've had with heaters in bedrooms and bathroom and lights on for so long. I was expecting a bill of $700-800. The reason for my surprise was $570 credit paid at the end of the financial year for the long blackouts we suffered during the storms, which when added to our small solar system input and usage discounts put us in credit.
Happy New Year to anyone who reads, especially my friends. May 2017/18 have you in good health and prosperity. We are putting our prices up for our produce, some have been the same for more than five years. If they don't buy that's Ok, there's plenty other areas to put our energy. Yes, things are looking good.
Even the town of Gembrook is having respite. That is until Thomas the Tank and the crowds and traffic comes back, and the tents and rows of portaloos go up. How did that Joni Mitchell song go, something like "Save Paradise, put up a parking lot."
The floor of the house has been so cold that slippers are essential. Even the open fire has struggled to lift our spirits and the wood is damp and cold despite being under cover for weeks.
But this morning the sun is shining brilliantly, I'm waiting for the machine to finish its cycle so I can put the washing on the line and not just dry, but absorb the sunshine. Pip's bedding is already sucking it in on the deck and Pip is stretched out on the carpet by the window.
I told Lib this morning as she went to work to be extra careful and drive very slowly on downhills and corners, there could be ice on the road. Gord has gone to the local footy, Emerald versus Gembrook, always of great local importance. He's team manager of the reserves and it worries him doing all the form filling and organizing but it keeps him involved and gives him a social life that he possibly wouldn't have otherwise.
Last Sunday he took me to a function at the footy club, the guest speaker was former player manager Ricky Nixon. Boy o boy did he have a story to tell. I have to say I admire his courage to stand up and talk about the depths to which he sank and the huge social disgrace and losses he suffered financially, personally, and to his health. He started his talk asking the crowd if any one in the audience had never mucked up or done the wrong thing, please put your hand up. Nobody did. This was after an earlier segment of 20 minutes of stand up comedy which I thought he did very well.
He explained later that the comedy, and the talk about his story, was a big part in his recovery, to face challenge head on after admitting his failures and not trying to lay blame elsewhere. I found listening to this quite inspiring, and helpful to me, as I find at my age now, 65, things flash back to me about my life and events, and my actions at various times, many of which are not good on reflection. We all have skeletons in our cupboards. It's a bit like religion..we have all sinned but can be forgiven and saved. That's an age old message. In Ricky's case, it's don't keep beating yourself up. admit you have been a fool and a dog, and move on and do good and help others. I wish him all the very best into the future. The key word is redemption. There are times in life when we all need to redeem ourselves.
The good news of the day apart from the magnificent sunshine is that our electricity bill came by email yesterday and I was astounded that I was in credit $99 despite the heavy usage we've had with heaters in bedrooms and bathroom and lights on for so long. I was expecting a bill of $700-800. The reason for my surprise was $570 credit paid at the end of the financial year for the long blackouts we suffered during the storms, which when added to our small solar system input and usage discounts put us in credit.
Happy New Year to anyone who reads, especially my friends. May 2017/18 have you in good health and prosperity. We are putting our prices up for our produce, some have been the same for more than five years. If they don't buy that's Ok, there's plenty other areas to put our energy. Yes, things are looking good.
Even the town of Gembrook is having respite. That is until Thomas the Tank and the crowds and traffic comes back, and the tents and rows of portaloos go up. How did that Joni Mitchell song go, something like "Save Paradise, put up a parking lot."
Monday, June 19, 2017
More on Shit
I did talk to Elvie and Meredith about the sewage coming to our house in Mt Waverley and the toilet in Nanna and Poppa Williams house in Hartwell (that I could not remember). Elvie said the toilet there was inside and had the customary chain flush from a cistern on the wall above. She also said as far as she could remember the house at her home was connected to sewage all her life. She was born in 1928. She did say that her mother told her that her house in Donald St was the first in the area. I can't imagine that this house would have been connected to sewage at first but only old nanna could tell us and she died in 1996 aged 99. Old nanna was apparently so very lonely there at first during the day not having any neighbours, as their house was the first in the area. As time went by and other houses were being built around her she said it was a great comfort hearing the tradesmen and particularly their whistling as they worked. This area was known as East Malvern, then later as South Ashburton. Newer parts of Ashburton east of Warragul Rd were not built till the 1950/60's.
My recollection of the toilets at Mt Waverley Primary school were vague, except that they were rudimentary so I asked Meredith if she remembered. She did, saying they were disgusting, a handful of cubicles for the girls which were covered with roofing, but outside the cubicles there was no roof, a concrete floor and no hand basin, just a single tap in the corner which ran onto the floor into an open drain on the concrete covered with moss and slime. She said it was rarely cleaned, if ever. There was no piped sewage and the pans removed from the back by the dunnyman. There were many times turds on the floor because cubicles were full and it was a a totally freak out disgusting situation which was not changed until new toilets were built in her last year there which would I think have been in 1965.
My last year at that school was 1963 so I would have had the old toilets for my entire time there. This was baby boomer time and that school had more than 1000 pupils in the 1960's. Meredith's recollection sparked some memory of mine which concurred with hers. It was frowned upon to ask to go to the toilet during class time and only if you were desperate for a crap were you allowed to put your hand up in class and ask permission to go to the toilet. Once when I did when I got there a kid from an older grade was balling his eyes out as he was trying to clean himself up after not making it and shitting in his pants outside the cubicles. The shit was on the floor and I had to step around it and him. He was a grade older than me and I always felt a little intimidated by him but I was moved by the abject misery of his situation. I guess we have all shat our pants at an inopportune time at least once in our lives. Good thing is we can put it in the past and move on.
My recollection of the toilets at Mt Waverley Primary school were vague, except that they were rudimentary so I asked Meredith if she remembered. She did, saying they were disgusting, a handful of cubicles for the girls which were covered with roofing, but outside the cubicles there was no roof, a concrete floor and no hand basin, just a single tap in the corner which ran onto the floor into an open drain on the concrete covered with moss and slime. She said it was rarely cleaned, if ever. There was no piped sewage and the pans removed from the back by the dunnyman. There were many times turds on the floor because cubicles were full and it was a a totally freak out disgusting situation which was not changed until new toilets were built in her last year there which would I think have been in 1965.
My last year at that school was 1963 so I would have had the old toilets for my entire time there. This was baby boomer time and that school had more than 1000 pupils in the 1960's. Meredith's recollection sparked some memory of mine which concurred with hers. It was frowned upon to ask to go to the toilet during class time and only if you were desperate for a crap were you allowed to put your hand up in class and ask permission to go to the toilet. Once when I did when I got there a kid from an older grade was balling his eyes out as he was trying to clean himself up after not making it and shitting in his pants outside the cubicles. The shit was on the floor and I had to step around it and him. He was a grade older than me and I always felt a little intimidated by him but I was moved by the abject misery of his situation. I guess we have all shat our pants at an inopportune time at least once in our lives. Good thing is we can put it in the past and move on.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Great Works
Great Works
I have been
thinking about my septic tank cleaning of the other day and my wonderment at
the huge task it is to deal with the effluent from a large city. My knowledge
of the city’s sewage system is limited but it starts with a toilet or toilets
in every house where people sit and open their bowels to dump their waste. (This
in itself amazes me because it can be said that humans have a hole at the top
into which we place our food and nourishment to provide sustenance and energy,
and a hole at the other end of the alimentary canal where the waste is
expelled. Attached to this of course is a set of arms and legs and a brain and
lungs and various other organs and senses that enable us to function. Much of
what we do in our daily lives is directly connected to the need to provide food
to put into the hole a the top.)
The flushing
of millions of toilets goes on every day and the effluent is piped from the
household into a sewage system that runs down the street and joins with other
pipes from other streets. I remember when I was a boy the sewage system came to
our street in Mt. Waverley, prior to that we had an old timber dunny detached
from the house with a wooden structure to sit on including a toilet seat, with
a pan underneath to hold the weekly dumpings. A man with a truck filled with
little compartments to hold the pans brought an empty one on his shoulder into
the backyard. He’d go to the back of the dunny, open the trapdoor and drag out
the full pan, put the empty one in then hoist the full one onto his shoulder.
The dog used to bark and snarl at him but he was totally oblivious, ignoring
it, as he walked unhurriedly back out to his truck. I guess he drove all the
full cans to a tipping point where he tipped out the contents then hosed clean
the pans, although I never thought to enquire what happened or where it went.
The sewage
coming was a joyful thing, our house had been built with an inside toliet room
about ten years prior, in expectation that a sewage system would follow. For
about the first ten years of my life this little room was used for storage of
things like gumboots and raincoats. I remember as a small boy I woke in the
middle of the night busting for a pee and it was either raining heavily or I
was too scared to go out to the outside dunny and in desperation I pissed in a
gumboot, then promptly forgot about it the next day and not rinsing out the
boot and drying it out. You can imagine the stench some time later when dad
went to put on his boot. I did own up to this misdemeanor and was surprised
that there was not serious punishment but rather much laughter, which recurred
as the story was told over many years.
There was a
big trench dug along the back boundary of our block and indeed the whole length
of the street. From memory there was a digging machine of some sort but I think
there was also a lot of hand digging as well because of difficult access. I
recall there being a lot of mud and mess and it was great when it was all over
and we had an inside functioning toilet. No one enjoyed going out to outside
dunny on cold wet nights with a torch thinking about the red back spiders that
hid in the woodwork beneath your bum. Little sister Meredith was always too
frightened to go out by herself at night and many was the time I had to go out
with her and wait till she was done.
During this
pre sewage time at Mt. Waverley I recall now that when we went to my
grandmother’s house in Ashburton there was a flushing toilet (outside) with a
cast iron cistern suspended on the wall with a chain coming down to pull to
release the water. I think my other
grandparents at Hartwell had a flushing toilet inside the house but I can’t
remember any details so I must ask mum and Jod and Meredith if they remember.
The grandparents’ houses would have been built in the 1920’s in Nanna Wilson’s
case in Ashburton, and thereabouts for dad’s parents in Hartwell. As these
suburbs were established the sewage was connected up earlier being closer to
the city, and Melbourne’s sewage system I believe began in the 1880’s with a
series of beautiful brick tunnels/pipes built in a labyrinth under the city in
what was an engineering masterpiece for its time. This I learned from a visit
to Spotswood pumping station when we had young kids at school. I think there
was a gravity feed mostly to this site then with a huge steam engine driven
pump the effluent was sent out to Werribee. I think this pumping station still
operates but now with deisel or electric pumps. The guide telling us this at
Spotswood said the most amazing things are found in the effluent as it is
screened before pumping, including things like fingers and toes and bits of
bodies and human foetuses.
Apparently
prior to this sewage system Melbourne had reached crisis point. Human waste was
dumped after manual collection on any vacant land and then main dumping
stations which were filled to overflowing and serious disease resulted not to
mention the stench. All of this I’m sure could be factually documented but this
is not the purpose of my narrative here.
My sixty
buckets of shit was a trigger that brought all these things to mind. This is what
is happening to me at age 65. I reflect on things that have happened, or are
happenning, and memories come back out of nowhere, some vague, some explicit,
some pleasuring, some horrible and distressing. We carry around a bucket of
shit with us from our past. It’s better dumped, maybe that’s what this about, I
don’t know. I just know I’m going too write it all down.
Day Out With Thomas
Speaking of a
bucket of shit, tonight I’ll be attending a meeting of the Puffing Billy
Working Group which is a sub group of the newly formed Gembrook Community
Group. The notice of this meeting came in an email –
“There is a meeting
at **** ****’s home on Tuesday 13th June at 7pm for the PBR Working Group to
discuss the results of the Stakeholders working group meeting and to nominate
representatives to be on the stakeholders working group and formulate a list of
the concerns and issues to be resolved by the stakeholders working group
including possible solutions for these concerns and issues I encourage
all members to attend this very important meeting.”
**** ****** Convener PBR Working Group “
There was a stakeholder’s meeting last week at the
PB railway station which I did not attend and which was a follow up to a
stakeholder’s meeting in May which I did attend. At the May meeting I was
disappointed with the outcome as no concession came from PB Railway that there
was to be any less, or any restraint of plans for, PB events in Gembrook for
the 2017/2018 spring summer autumn season. The PB CEO said he could not give
any assurance and he would take it to the Railway Board at their next meeting
and was happy to meet with us again after that to tell us their decision. I
told my fellow Working Group members that I did not think they would reduce the
number of events or put plans on hold as they were requested. I said I would
not attend any more meetings with PB staff as they were full of bullshit and made
me want to spew up when I had to listen to it.
There were 20 events for the 2016/2017 season which
in my view, shared by many, that this was an over the top intrusion to our town
in terms of crowds and congestion of traffic, noise and dust. It was part of
the PB Master Plan to make Gembrook the ‘Event Hub’ for Puffing Billy in order
to increase patronage at the Gembrook the end of the line and make it pay and
not lose money as it had been. So all the Thomas events were shifted from
Emerald. That’s it in a nutshell. Many residents, of which I’m one, had
objection to this and we have now become referred to as stakeholders.
On advice from politicians and Cardinia council
whom I had written to in protest, I joined the new Gembrook Community Group
which was formed largely as a result of this intrusion to our town with no
consultation. The GCG established a sub group called the PB Working Group which
I signed onto. I see in the notice of tonight’s meeting that there is to be a
stakeholder’s working group formed. I’m doubtful at this point that I’ll
participate any further beyond attending tonight to hear the result of last
week’s Stakeholder’s meeting. A friend who did attend told me the PB CEO said
there was to be no change to the number of events, but I want to hear what
other strategies other people may have in mind, if any, before I make the
judgement to dump this bucket of shit and move on.
There have been umpteen meetings since the first
information night held by PB on the 28 Sep last year when I first voiced my
strong opposition. Here we are in June just a few months away from the new
season’s events and PB have conceded nothing despite all our exhotations with
council, politicians and State Tourism. They all say they support PB and cannot
do anything about the events held in Gembrook.
Yes, time to dump this shit and move on. Thomas the
Tank Engine is a nonsense built on the back of a commercial British TV show and
a huge offshore toy company which takes a big whack of the revenue. Perverse
social engineering. It indoctrinates kids with herd like mentality needing to
be entertained by events and hoopla rather than educating them with things that
matter, such as the natural environment and connection with mother earth. Kids
don’t need much to be happy and they thrive with nature and activity. A bit of
open space and bush or a bat and ball or a footy gave me a very happy
childhood.
Sunday, June 11, 2017
Sixty Buckets of Shit
Today 10 Jun
I lifted the
lid of the septic tank cautiously using a spade at first to prize it loose. When
I could get my fingers underneath it I braced myself over it with knees and
shoulders square and lifted the concrete plate which was about 2 foot by 18
inches and perhaps 3 inches thick.
Immediately
visible on top of the mass in the tank was solid shit packed like a cake. I
started shovelling it out into two twenty litre buckets. There was not much
smell at this point, the packed old shit was crusted and thick, needing slicing
with the spade to lift chunks into the buckets. It was a dry day but cold,
perfect conditions for the task. In warm weather I thought, the stench would be
unbelievable, like it was the last time I did this about 13 years ago, when the
system was obviously blocked and toilets and laundry sink were not clearing
properly and urgent action was necessary. On that occasion the septic tank man
couldn’t come for four days so I took to investigating myself rather than have
inoperable toilets and washing machine till he did. I found the blockage in the
entry to the tank and amid the swarms of flies I cleared the solids from the
tank and tipped them into a big hole I had dug in the garden. I cancelled the septic man having solved the
problem myself.
This time I
was onto it before there was a serious problem. When Lib was in the shower
before going to work early one morning recently I was outside doing something,
probably taking a piss, and I heard the water going down the pipe from the vent
outside the laundry. Instead of the customary constant tinkle of running water
there was an odd sound like “whoop, whoop, whoop,” as if there was a build up
of water that forced its way through at intervals of a few seconds. Hello I
thought, after all these years there could be an obstruction looming as the
septic tank clogged with solids.
My assessment
was spot on. For more than a decade I’ve put a bacterial cleaning agent into
the septic tank weekly via the toilet and this has done well, thirteen years
between tank cleaning is a good result. But it shows that manual cleaning is
inevitable, whether that be by commercial pumping out which is recommended
every five years, or by spade and bucket which has been my choice this last two
times. I had a large hole dug out under the trees into which I had poured the
grease from the grease trap a couple of months ago when I cleaned it. The
grease and liqid had disappeared into mother earth, so the hole was used again.
I quickly
filled the hole with solids from the tank. I didn’t dig another hole, I thought
I’d just keep piling the shit up and cover it with dirt and debris when I
finished, or else I’d never finish before the light ran out given that we are
nearly at the shortest day of the year. I stopped counting at sixty buckets but
there were not many more. I got the concrete lid of the tank back in place with
great difficulty and covered the now big mound of shit with dirt leaves and old
cardboard packaging. I took of my clothes and soaked them in the launry trough
with disinfectant and took myself to a long hot bath where I scrubbed up far
more assiduously than usual.
That is the
shit from three or four people over 13 years. Imagine the volume for the
population of a city like Melbourne. My hat is doffed to the authority
responsible for dealing with it, not just Melbourne but in all cities worldwide,
it’s a huge task without which society would break down with disease and filth
and stench.
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