It was Boxing Day. Lib went to work. I had a day of peace and quiet ahead and was happy to stay home. It's a lovely thought - not to have to go anywhere at all.
After going back to bed for an hour or so after Lib left at 6.30am, for some semi sleep/blissful meditation/dreaming, I had a half hour of my latest read in the bath ('The Forgotten Summer' by Carole Drinkwater - a bit of a chic lit novel given to Lib by sister Meredith some time ago- but I'm enjoying it).
Now well rested by coffee time, I felt up to the dreaded task of cleaning the oven. I removed all the rails and racks sprayed hot soapy water and went at it with a non scratch scourer. About half the grime came away so I repeated, this time using stainless steel liquid cleaner and a steelo pad. Success. Hard work down on your knees with the odd fingernail bent backwards here and there, and still a few impossible to remove marks, but yes. Success. Also cleaned the racks and rails before putting them back.
Another coffee, check on the horse racing odds and form (no gambling, just make believe bets for a while to see how I would have gone with real bets), a bowl of Singapore Noodles for lunch. I had bought these at a good shop in FTG the Monday before Xmas and secreted them in the outside fridge knowing I'd be glad of them for lunch one day soon.
Before Lib left, in answer to my inquiry, "Is there anything you'd like me to do?" she suggested,
"It'd be good if you could clean up here." She gestured to a section in the living room area where we used to have a wood stove, brick base and sides. We have Dave Dickson's large coffee table there and the tendency for all of us is to put anything and everything there and it gets cluttered and the dust builds up.
So I was into that. Moving books, magazines, wine rack, assorted paraphernalia. Gord had said he'd vacuum as he usually does so after I moved everything and found a home for it, he chimed in before I put the table back. I was outside watering and came in and Gord came up quite close, he had his lips peeled back and he was pointing at his teeth. I have known Gord all his life, he's prone to sign language, and off beat cryptic language. This time I had no idea what he was getting at.
"Bad news. The tooth got sucked up."
"What tooth? What are you talking about?"
"Your tooth."
I twigged. Last Monday week I took Lib to Neerim Sth to have a cataract removed. While she was there and I had a few hours to kill I visited the 'Blerick Tree Farm'. The owner grew up in Emerald and her father used to service my van. I bought a small copper beech tree, can't help myself. I will never see it to maturity and probably will never get to pick any foliage from it. But to me it had symbolic value - the day of Lib's cataract op - and I'd plant it somewhere.
Then a few nights later I sat watching TV to find something rolling around in my mouth. Plucking it out, it was half a back molar, a good chunk of tooth. I put it on the table next to my lounge chair. The tooth it came from had a jagged edge that caught my tongue. Irritated, I tried to file down the sharp edge with an emery board. No luck.
The next evening I told Lib and Gord of my misfortune and showed them the large bit of tooth. I moved it from the table to the railing behind my chair, floor level of the hallway behind. I told them I'd put it in the pot holding the copper beech, so that when the tree was planted some of my DNA would be with it forever. Then I forgot about it.
So my tooth went into the vacuum cleaner. I had searched around and eventually found a metal nail file for sale in $2 shop in FTG, the same day I bought the Singapore Noodles. I managed to file the sharp edges off the broken tooth, much to the relief of my lacerated tongue.
Easier than finding a dentist over Xmas The copper beech will not have my DNA but it will be a great joy to plant it somewhere in the autumn, in the hope it will survive to maturity long after I'm gone.
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
A Reflection at Christmas
On Christmas Eve I'm grateful that this is the first working day day (Mon- Fri) in many months that I have no obligation to pick produce for customers. It's a lovely feeling.
Anticipating an email response I checked my hotmail inbox just now. I don't normally look at the junk items folder but I noticed there were 1138 items there so I opened it. It told me that items are automatically deleted after 10 days so that means I had received an average of over 110 junk emails per day since 14 Dec. A quick scan of these items showed a wide range subjects including how to get strong erections, invitations from mediums telling me how wonderful I am and to click here to find out my future, weight loss schemes, all manner of prizes I had "won", invitation to meet hot Asian girls, how to recognize and what to do if I had a heart attack, life insurance sales...on and on... I would need a week to list them properly. I conclude these emails are attempts to coerce money out of me. I'm grateful the filter system sends them to junk without me having to see them.
It has been a busy 6 weeks in the lead up to Christmas. When last week started I was so glad it was nearly over and we'd get a bit of a break soon. We'd been fortunate that for the most part the weather over weeks of picking beech foliage (and the spring blossom prior) had been cool and mild with plenty of rain in our part of the world. Just the odd hot day or two, manageable. Then last week there were two hot days forecast and by Wednesday I was tired but pleased that I'd worked through the heat and picked high volume to keep the greedy customers happy. Friday was forecast 44C so I put in a big effort Thursday to do most of Friday's picking. Our main wholesaler had given me a big order for Friday pick up - herbs not beech - which I also did as well as the weekly order of foliage that another customer picks up on the weekend. I was relieved the main guy didn't order beech for Friday and assumed his shed had plenty in it and he'd want none left over next week.
Lib and the boys left for Lakes Entrance Thursday morning. Lib had a week off following the procedure to remove a cataract on the Monday at Neerim South. So come Friday morning I woke confident the day would hold no problem for me other than a comfortable amount of picking to finish the order for the weekend lady. I got up on the roof early to cover the skylight with a tarp to keep the house cooler and cleared the downpipes of leaves while up there as a possible thunderstorm was forecast with the change to come that night. I came back inside for breakfast and the phone rang - Meredith, to tell me the wholesaler had rang and wanted 30 bunches of copper beech for that afternoon. With no hesitation I said "NO, I'm not doing it at this short notice, not in that heat forecast." So I jibbed it, but justifiably at my age given the extreme heat and strenuous work required working off a ladder or climbing the tree.
Melbourne's temp that day was 43.5C. The thermometer at home recorded 40C max. Horsham and Hamilton in the state's west had 48C. I came home to a hot little house after doing some watering, digging up the garlic in the vegie garden at the farm, and going to Monbulk to shop at Aldi. I opened all the doors and windows to get a little air movement, removed my sweaty clothes and poured a sherry to follow the light beer I'd had on the way home. All good, time for some peace and quiet in relaxed solitude.
I didn't turn the aircon on. There by myself I saw no need. I don't really like it anyway. I thought of my childhood. No aircon. I thought of my five years in Wangaratta, a hot place in summer, in various rental situations. No aircon. Camped in a caravan through summer in the Mallee with a beekeeper I worked with, summer 74/75. No aircon. A wet towel over the head and another on the feet. How things have changed. Aircon is a recent innovation. Now just about every building in Melbourne has aircon belting away as soon as the temperature rises into thirties. No wonder there's a shortage of energy.
Our microwave oven packed it in a few weeks ago. Lib and Gord were discussing the purchase of a new one. I thought about it and spoke up.
"I don't want another one. I use it only to heat up my pre brewed herb tea every morning, I can just as easily do that in a saucepan on the gas, almost as quickly. And anything else I want heated, say left over pizza occasionally, I can do in a small frypan with a lid, on low. And Gord you can heat your oats the same way and your packet meals. Let's save the money and not buy another microwave."
This suggestion was greeted with disapproval, but two days later Lib said, "I agree with you about the microwave. Not having one will also free up bench space."
So much of what we spend on is unnecessary. And it starts with crap like Christmas. We've had Black Friday sales and early Boxing Day sales and constant infuriating advertising to make us buy things we don't need. It's the consumerist economy. Constant indulgence, entertainment. Buy Buy Buy!
CRAP CRAP CRAP!
Anticipating an email response I checked my hotmail inbox just now. I don't normally look at the junk items folder but I noticed there were 1138 items there so I opened it. It told me that items are automatically deleted after 10 days so that means I had received an average of over 110 junk emails per day since 14 Dec. A quick scan of these items showed a wide range subjects including how to get strong erections, invitations from mediums telling me how wonderful I am and to click here to find out my future, weight loss schemes, all manner of prizes I had "won", invitation to meet hot Asian girls, how to recognize and what to do if I had a heart attack, life insurance sales...on and on... I would need a week to list them properly. I conclude these emails are attempts to coerce money out of me. I'm grateful the filter system sends them to junk without me having to see them.
It has been a busy 6 weeks in the lead up to Christmas. When last week started I was so glad it was nearly over and we'd get a bit of a break soon. We'd been fortunate that for the most part the weather over weeks of picking beech foliage (and the spring blossom prior) had been cool and mild with plenty of rain in our part of the world. Just the odd hot day or two, manageable. Then last week there were two hot days forecast and by Wednesday I was tired but pleased that I'd worked through the heat and picked high volume to keep the greedy customers happy. Friday was forecast 44C so I put in a big effort Thursday to do most of Friday's picking. Our main wholesaler had given me a big order for Friday pick up - herbs not beech - which I also did as well as the weekly order of foliage that another customer picks up on the weekend. I was relieved the main guy didn't order beech for Friday and assumed his shed had plenty in it and he'd want none left over next week.
Lib and the boys left for Lakes Entrance Thursday morning. Lib had a week off following the procedure to remove a cataract on the Monday at Neerim South. So come Friday morning I woke confident the day would hold no problem for me other than a comfortable amount of picking to finish the order for the weekend lady. I got up on the roof early to cover the skylight with a tarp to keep the house cooler and cleared the downpipes of leaves while up there as a possible thunderstorm was forecast with the change to come that night. I came back inside for breakfast and the phone rang - Meredith, to tell me the wholesaler had rang and wanted 30 bunches of copper beech for that afternoon. With no hesitation I said "NO, I'm not doing it at this short notice, not in that heat forecast." So I jibbed it, but justifiably at my age given the extreme heat and strenuous work required working off a ladder or climbing the tree.
Melbourne's temp that day was 43.5C. The thermometer at home recorded 40C max. Horsham and Hamilton in the state's west had 48C. I came home to a hot little house after doing some watering, digging up the garlic in the vegie garden at the farm, and going to Monbulk to shop at Aldi. I opened all the doors and windows to get a little air movement, removed my sweaty clothes and poured a sherry to follow the light beer I'd had on the way home. All good, time for some peace and quiet in relaxed solitude.
I didn't turn the aircon on. There by myself I saw no need. I don't really like it anyway. I thought of my childhood. No aircon. I thought of my five years in Wangaratta, a hot place in summer, in various rental situations. No aircon. Camped in a caravan through summer in the Mallee with a beekeeper I worked with, summer 74/75. No aircon. A wet towel over the head and another on the feet. How things have changed. Aircon is a recent innovation. Now just about every building in Melbourne has aircon belting away as soon as the temperature rises into thirties. No wonder there's a shortage of energy.
Our microwave oven packed it in a few weeks ago. Lib and Gord were discussing the purchase of a new one. I thought about it and spoke up.
"I don't want another one. I use it only to heat up my pre brewed herb tea every morning, I can just as easily do that in a saucepan on the gas, almost as quickly. And anything else I want heated, say left over pizza occasionally, I can do in a small frypan with a lid, on low. And Gord you can heat your oats the same way and your packet meals. Let's save the money and not buy another microwave."
This suggestion was greeted with disapproval, but two days later Lib said, "I agree with you about the microwave. Not having one will also free up bench space."
So much of what we spend on is unnecessary. And it starts with crap like Christmas. We've had Black Friday sales and early Boxing Day sales and constant infuriating advertising to make us buy things we don't need. It's the consumerist economy. Constant indulgence, entertainment. Buy Buy Buy!
CRAP CRAP CRAP!
Saturday, December 07, 2019
Kevin Murray - Fitzroy Legend
I watched a show on Fox Sports Thursday night on the merger of Fitzroy and Brisbane in the mid 1990's. It told of Fitzroy's (and many other clubs') financial strife in the decade prior to the merger, and of Brisbane's early difficulties after entering the fledgling national competition. It was a tumultuous time as the VFL transitioned to the AFL with growing pains.
There were many interviews with prominent people including Ross Oakley, Jonathan Brown, Alistair Lynch, Robert Walls, Greg Miller and so on, but the person most impressive to me was the man who was the face of Fitzroy when I was a kid. Kevin Murray.
The VFL in the early 1960's was very much Melbourne suburban with Geelong the distant family member, the away trip to Geelong dreaded by Melbourne teams due to the long bus ride to play there, almost comical today nearly 60 years on. I have a football magazine publication of 1962 in which an article talked about the future and possible changes. It had the byline "Fitzroy vs Fremantle?" Absurd to me at the time.
The face of the VFL in the early sixties were the captains or star players from each team - Ron Barassi, Ted Whitten, Bob Skilton, Graeme Arthur, Kevin Murray, Verdun Howell and John Nicholls come to mind. Kevin "Bulldog" Murray was Fitzroy's star player who represented Victoria regularly and was highly regarded as a gentleman from the rough school; hard, tough and wiry but totally fair.
Kevin Murray kicked off the Fox sports show on the merger talking about his childhood growing up in Fitzroy, selling footy records on Saturdays at both the Fitzroy ground and Collingwood's Victoria Park, both in close walking distance from home. His father was a member of the Fitzroy 1944 premiership team. His two brothers played reserve and U19 footy with Fitzroy. Kevin lived and breathed footy and Fitzroy all his life. He spoke of his career and the pain of losing so many games through lean years and the agonies of Fitzroy's financial demise. He passed Jack Dyer's then record number of games, this despite going to East Perth for two years as captain coach in the mid sixties, where he won a best and fairest and took East Perth to a losing grand final. He supported the merger with Brisbane and was a public spokesperson for it, arguing that Fitzroy's history, colours, theme song, would be preserved along with the name "Lions". Other interviewees said without Kevin getting behind it they doubted Fitzroy people would have got on board and enjoyed the huge success of the 2001-2003 triple premierships.
I was moved by Kevin's story, his humility, his integrity. I have not met the man, but he looms large as one of my favourite people. I was moved to blog post.
Kevin won the 1969 Brownlow medal. He has worn it around his neck every day since, such is his pride, and his desire to share it with whomever he meets that may like to see it, especially Fitzroy people and kids. He was 31 years old when he won it, after being runner up in the early sixties.
I remember when Kevin won his Brownlow I was in Lorne with Rickyralph and we listened to the count on radio. I checked Wikipedia and found that the count was on September 6, which would be right as it was held the Monday night after the the last round, not the Monday before the grand final as it is now. It was a popular win the football world such was the admiration for Kevin Murray and the fact that he'd finished second and third previously, and was hot favourite in 1962 but came nowhere when bolter Alistair Lord bobbed up (Wikipedia is wonderful).
It occurred to me that Ralphie, whose birthday is late September, would not have had is driving licence, which he got on his 18th birthday I think, as he would have been 17 on September 6. So we must have hitchhiked down there in the September school holidays. He was still at Caulfield GS doing year 12 and I was at Camberwell GS repeating year 11 after being expelled from Caulfield late in 1968.
This restrospection made me wonder where did we sleep, if we did not have a car. I then remembered that numerous times when we went down there we slept in the pavilion structure that was on the beach front. I can't remember if we had sleeping bags or just stretched out on the benches but it must have been cold. Ralphie would probably remember, his memory of our youth is far better than mine.
I also recall listening to Lionel Rose beating Fighting Harada for the world bantamweight championship in Japan, on the radio at Lorne. Was at night I think. Wikipedia tells me that was Feb 27, 1968, so we must have been hitching and roughing it again. I would have been 15 nearly 16 and Ralphie 16.
It seems like a different world now, almost unbelievable is our past, like a different life. But seeing and hearing Kevin Murray as an 80+year old man, who has had strokes and heart attacks, still honourable as he was then, make me realize that yes my adolescence did happen, somehow Ralphie and I survived, helping each other.
Kevin "Bulldog" Murray is still a great role model.
There were many interviews with prominent people including Ross Oakley, Jonathan Brown, Alistair Lynch, Robert Walls, Greg Miller and so on, but the person most impressive to me was the man who was the face of Fitzroy when I was a kid. Kevin Murray.
The VFL in the early 1960's was very much Melbourne suburban with Geelong the distant family member, the away trip to Geelong dreaded by Melbourne teams due to the long bus ride to play there, almost comical today nearly 60 years on. I have a football magazine publication of 1962 in which an article talked about the future and possible changes. It had the byline "Fitzroy vs Fremantle?" Absurd to me at the time.
The face of the VFL in the early sixties were the captains or star players from each team - Ron Barassi, Ted Whitten, Bob Skilton, Graeme Arthur, Kevin Murray, Verdun Howell and John Nicholls come to mind. Kevin "Bulldog" Murray was Fitzroy's star player who represented Victoria regularly and was highly regarded as a gentleman from the rough school; hard, tough and wiry but totally fair.
Kevin Murray kicked off the Fox sports show on the merger talking about his childhood growing up in Fitzroy, selling footy records on Saturdays at both the Fitzroy ground and Collingwood's Victoria Park, both in close walking distance from home. His father was a member of the Fitzroy 1944 premiership team. His two brothers played reserve and U19 footy with Fitzroy. Kevin lived and breathed footy and Fitzroy all his life. He spoke of his career and the pain of losing so many games through lean years and the agonies of Fitzroy's financial demise. He passed Jack Dyer's then record number of games, this despite going to East Perth for two years as captain coach in the mid sixties, where he won a best and fairest and took East Perth to a losing grand final. He supported the merger with Brisbane and was a public spokesperson for it, arguing that Fitzroy's history, colours, theme song, would be preserved along with the name "Lions". Other interviewees said without Kevin getting behind it they doubted Fitzroy people would have got on board and enjoyed the huge success of the 2001-2003 triple premierships.
I was moved by Kevin's story, his humility, his integrity. I have not met the man, but he looms large as one of my favourite people. I was moved to blog post.
Kevin won the 1969 Brownlow medal. He has worn it around his neck every day since, such is his pride, and his desire to share it with whomever he meets that may like to see it, especially Fitzroy people and kids. He was 31 years old when he won it, after being runner up in the early sixties.
I remember when Kevin won his Brownlow I was in Lorne with Rickyralph and we listened to the count on radio. I checked Wikipedia and found that the count was on September 6, which would be right as it was held the Monday night after the the last round, not the Monday before the grand final as it is now. It was a popular win the football world such was the admiration for Kevin Murray and the fact that he'd finished second and third previously, and was hot favourite in 1962 but came nowhere when bolter Alistair Lord bobbed up (Wikipedia is wonderful).
It occurred to me that Ralphie, whose birthday is late September, would not have had is driving licence, which he got on his 18th birthday I think, as he would have been 17 on September 6. So we must have hitchhiked down there in the September school holidays. He was still at Caulfield GS doing year 12 and I was at Camberwell GS repeating year 11 after being expelled from Caulfield late in 1968.
This restrospection made me wonder where did we sleep, if we did not have a car. I then remembered that numerous times when we went down there we slept in the pavilion structure that was on the beach front. I can't remember if we had sleeping bags or just stretched out on the benches but it must have been cold. Ralphie would probably remember, his memory of our youth is far better than mine.
I also recall listening to Lionel Rose beating Fighting Harada for the world bantamweight championship in Japan, on the radio at Lorne. Was at night I think. Wikipedia tells me that was Feb 27, 1968, so we must have been hitching and roughing it again. I would have been 15 nearly 16 and Ralphie 16.
It seems like a different world now, almost unbelievable is our past, like a different life. But seeing and hearing Kevin Murray as an 80+year old man, who has had strokes and heart attacks, still honourable as he was then, make me realize that yes my adolescence did happen, somehow Ralphie and I survived, helping each other.
Kevin "Bulldog" Murray is still a great role model.
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