Scott Boland Fairytale

I have little interest in test cricket these days. I went right off the Australian team many years ago because of their arrogant attitude, including sledging and whingeing when things went against them, and, not least, the reluctance of the selectors to pick Victorians. It was capped off by the sandpaper incident in South Africa which brought disgrace upon our nation.

So for a long time I have barracked for Australia's opponent in test cricket, unashamedly. I had a good laugh last year when India came from behind and won the series. I don't care if you're Australian, English, Indian, Pakistani, Kiwi, whatever, my respect needs to be earned, and is not given blindly through nationalistic hoorah. This extends beyond cricket by the way, to tennis and other sports, in fact into all areas of life including politics and international affairs. 

But in the main, I couldn't give a fig about the result of the test cricket, though I do always like to see Victorians do well. Despite having moved to South Australia where I now reside (and paid well over $20,000 stamp duty to the SA gov and drive a car with SA plates and buy SA'n when I can), in the cricket I follow Victoria, and of course in the footy I'm 100% Melbourne. I'm warming to Alex Carey and Travis Head, but my interest really in the Boxing Day test was for Mark Harris and Scott Boland to do well. Did they ever?

About 6 years ago (I think), we were over here in March on holiday, staying in a caravan park (West Beach?), somewhere between Glenelg and the airport. As it happened Victoria was playing SA at the Glenelg ground and as Gord was keen on the cricket we went and watched on a couple of the days. The Adelaide Oval was unavailable for cricket, maybe some festival was on. The Vics had a strong team and won outright. If it wasn't the shield final it was the game before to get a spot in the final, which Victoria won, for memory one of three shields in a row. There was hardly a crowd at all, we went to the other side of the ground where nobody was and sat on the single row of seats outside the fence behind which was grass.

Young Scott Boland was fielding at fine leg on the fence each second over for a while, and I had quite a chat to him between balls. At one point the batsman made a big hook with a flourish and the ball flew high, I thought for a minute it was going to land on us. Scott took off and didn't get there to catch it, it went so high and had bit of a spinning curve on it from the top edge of the bat. As Scott returned to his position we all had a bit of laugh about how we all thought it was to land on us.

Since then I've kept a bit of an eye on his performances, glad to see he made the Australian ODI team in 2016, hoping he'd one day make it into the test team, which never really looked likely as NSW quicks Starc, Hazelwood, an Cummins had a stranglehold and there was a couple of others ahead of Scott when one of them was sidelined through injury. So I was very happy to see him get a game finally through injury to Hazelwood and workload worry for Richardson and Meser. How lucky is that. I thought he was set up to fail, to be a bit player, bowling only to give Starc and Cummins a rest, rotating with Lyon and Green. At least he'd be able to say he'd played test cricket, if only for one game.

I was very pleased he took a wicket in England's first innings, and made further contribution late with two outfield catches. Robbie was over for a few days at Christmas and I was taking him back to the airport the day after Boxing day. We listened to the cricket on the radio, day 2 of the test, last hour, England batting second time. Starc took two early wickets, Scott came on first change took a wicket immediately then removed the nightwatchman. 2/2

 Next day, yesterday, I watched it on TV. Starc took another wicket, then almost unbelievably, Scott took four wickets for few runs of four overs, to finish with 6 for 7. I was so happy for him. He won the medal for best player of the match. Amazing. It's one to stick in my memory to be recalled every Boxing day, by me while I'm around, and history well past that. And especially by Scott and his family.

 

Miraculous

The magpies came down in numbers this morning, as they do most days, into our backyard for a feed. They warble, and fly down from the neighbour's roof and the tree on the other side, when they see me come outside, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. I think it doubles as an imitation of flight, who knows what the magpies think. A joyous song of thanks from multiple throats and beaks. The young'uns, this past spring's babies, squawk and plead to their parents, waiting their turn, letting the mature birds eat first.  These young are noticeable by sight because their feathers are not so shiny, especially their chest which looks a bit motley or downy. Some are fed in turn by parent's beaks. The squawks diminish to a satisfied gobble, while sometimes an adventurous one will take a chance and feed itself, risking a charge and pecking.

A few months ago, there were no young. The adults would come and hungrily fill their beaks with as much food as would fit, and off they'd fly, presumably to feed babies in nests in the trees, or their mate sitting on eggs. Some time before that, there was no taking food away, presumably before breeding had begun.

When I look at the young magpies, fully grown and able to fly, it amazes me that but a few months ago they were still in an egg, just a couple of centimetres or so long. An egg, high in a tree, supported in a stick nest, through all the late winter early spring gales we had. Miraculous.

I collected seed from the rough barked manna gums, which grow along the river with the red gums and blue gums (leucoxylon - called yellow gum in Vic). I sat the seed pods on white paper in the office for a couple of weeks and they opened up, spilling their seed out like orange sand. I sprinkled the seed into pots and now little eucies are growing, hopefully  to be planted next winter as seedlings along the river reserve where acacia weeds have been removed, part of a restorative project by the Friend's Group. These seeds, tiny as grains of sand, have the potential to grow into very large trees with little assistance other than natural rainfall and sunshine. It amazes me. Miraculous.

As for sunshine, nothing is possible without it. I'm told the sun is 92 million miles away, and is a huge ball of exploding gas that has been doing its thing for billions of years, the provider of energy and life. Trees and plants capture the energy of the sun and this in turn gives us food. Miraculous.

As you read this, consider that by means of an alphabet I learned when young, I can string together letters to make words in a coherent form that records my thoughts, so that you can know my thoughts (hopefully), wherever you are. Somewhere along the way 26  letters were invented which gives us the English language. Not only does this enable me to write, but speak also. We communicate everyday with multiple people in speech which conveys our thoughts, instantaneously for the most part, the sentences or sequences of letters and words just flow. My mate Ralphie sent me a book on Muhammad Ali. It's about 20 cm long and 12 wide, less than 25 mm thick. It contains thousands of words strung together to tell of a man's life, with cultural, political, racial and religious issues in historical context, in a profound account that gives insight into American society. And the English language is one of hundreds, maybe thousands around the world, many using different alphabets or systems. Amazing. Miraculous. 

Of course we read and see the natural world through our window to the world. Our eyes. An intricate miracle in themselves. And behind them our brain, which interprets everything our eyes see. The brake lights on the car front alert us so we don't crash our vehicle into it, for example. 

None of what written here is news to anybody. I have hardly scratched the surface of my amazement. Everyday we are surrounded by miracles. From the depths of the ocean to the mountaintops and into the clouds and space. Mystery and miracle. Miraculous.

  

Movie Matinee

This week for our movie matinee we watched 'The Changeling'. We had seen it before but couldn't really remember it. It's a Malpaso production directed by Clint Eastwood. Without going into the plot, I say that this "true story" shows that indeed truth is stranger than fiction. It's set in Los Angeles, starting in 1928, ending 1935, so it's fairly recent history, as I said to Lib, in the lifespan of our parents.

At one point well into the movie I said to Gord next to me, "I think the overriding theme of this movie is that you should never trust police, the government, or the medical profession." The police in the story were corrupted by their power and motivated only to project a favourable public image. To hell with the truth, or well being of citizens. This hand in hand with the local government. Aided by doctors, medical and psychiatric, happy to serve their masters.

Of course this is not good advice from father to son, especially to one such as Gordon who will remember my words long after I'm gone, so I tempered it with comment that you can't generalize and put them all in the bad basket. There's good and bad present in everything.

As they were about to forcibly put the lead female character, who had been thrown illegally into a psychiatric ward because she was making the police look bad, into electric shock treatment because she refused to comply, I had a flashback to my youth. I remembered my friend Ricky Ralph, who had some sort of adolescent disturbance or mental health issue, was put in a St. John of God hospital for electric shock treatment.

I would not normally mention something like this about someone, I only do because Ralphie told me once that I could write anything I liked about the past concerning him, he enjoyed what I wrote. To quote him, "Don't hold anything back. It's all part of life."

He escaped from the hospital. I was home at Mt Waverley when the phone rang and it was Ralphie. He was calling from a public phone box, dressed in his pyjamas. He wanted me to somehow pick him up. He had no money or shoes. He said the phone box was just around the corner from the hospital, I think in Brighton. I don't think I was yet at driving age. I was aware he'd be out of circulation for a while while this treatment was on, and I was asked by his father not to say anything to anyone about it.

 

I told him to stay there I think, I'd try to arrange something. I can't remember all the detail, I don't think he wanted me to contact his father, but not knowing what to do, I did. His father thanked me. The end of the story was that Ralphie somehow hitch hiked home, pyjamas and all and I think that was the end of the treatment. Ralphie's turbulent adolescence passed and he's had a successful life and is live and well in happy senior years.

The same could be said of me. I was referred to a psychiatrist in my youth, courtesy of the headmaster of Camberwell Grammar, due to indiscretions . He once dressed me down in front of a group saying I was on the lunatic fringe. The incident in this case was a movie at a public theatre in the evening we had to compulsorily attend as part of English subject. We were required to wear a suit. I didn't own one, and defied the instruction to hire one if necessary. Of course I was never really given the opportunity of a rational discussion with him, just the power ranting of a distressed overworked man whose main concern was to project a favourable public image. He picked on me because during the lecture to the group he noticed me not looking at him but artwork on the walls of his office. In this rant he raised other issues such as me having used bad language on the football field. It was quite an ordeal for me to make my way into the city after school to see the shrink and answer a load of personal questions. Fortunately the shrink didn't think I needed any treatment. 

Another friend of mine around the same time also suffered turbulence in adolescence and for a time was sent to Larundel Psychiatric Hospital. I recall driving out to see him there as he was allowed visitors. I don't know the extent of his treatment, but he was on medication ongoing and did have issues, in holding employment and with some unacceptable social behaviour. I lost track of him and didn't see him for decades. He died in his early fifties, cause unknown, he lived alone and was not found for some time. I went to his funeral, his brother told me he was misdiagnosed as a youth and given wrong medication.

As far as the government goes, I have no trust or faith. Before I was 21 years old I was a conscript in the military. At the federal election in 1972, whilst a conscript, I was unable to vote (the voting age had not yet been lowered to 18). How nutty is that? And now, politics in this country seems a shamble. Pork barreling, water theft, anonymous donations, scandal after scandal. Lack of integrity, accountability.

As for the police, in my lifetime there has been almost unbelievable, well documented corruption in Queensland, NSW, and Victoria. My sister was married to a policeman for 10 years during which time I witnessed some appalling actions and attitude.

I try not to be negative or cynical, to remain positive. Maybe we'll have comedy next week for our matinee. 

Schoolies

 Last weekend we had "schoolies week". Apparently every year Victor Harbor attracts thousands of kids who have finished their last year of secondary school in Adelaide, with a break last year due to Covid. I went into town Friday morning to pick up a DVD* I'd ordered from the shop in the main st.  

*'Rainmaker', starring Burt Lancaster and Kathryn Hepburn. This movie came up in discussion with neighbour Helen when she said one of her daughter's second name was Mellissa. It sparked my memory of this movie in which KH played the role of Mellissa. Or MELL-is-AA, as Burt said she could be if she wanted. I told Helen about that and also that when I meet a check out chick with the name tag Mellissa, I ask if they'd ever seen 'The Rainmaker'. They never have, not surprisingly as the movie was made in 1956. I said to Helen I'd love to see that movie again and she said it's probably available on DVD. So next time I was in town I asked in the old DVD/record shop and the owner said he could order it in. We have arranged for a matinee in our 'theatre' tomorrow to watch the movie with Helen who hasn't seen it. 

The shop guy also told me he would not be open after lunch that Friday nor Sat and Sun because of schoolies. He said in the past they have invaded his shop in large numbers and yahood and knocked things off and he couldn't do anything to stop them there were so many. As I drove in I saw hundreds of schoolies walking the streets, road closures and speed restriction signs along with 'event' signs. Most of the kids were presentable in dress and manner, many in shorts and Tshirts, despite the drizzly rain and what I thought was cold temperature. There were also heaps of police present, at one end of town under a tree was a dozen or so bike cops. Apparently a music festival is organised in a camping ground near the hospital and another venue in the town is facilitated, the idea being to keep the revelry in controlled location where alcohol isn't permitted.

The weekend came and went without drama, the best behaved schoolies weekend ever according to reports. We could hear the music from our house into the wee small hours, but it was far enough away to be no problem. It did get me thinking though, of the time 50+ years ago when I left school. I remember little of it, there might have been a session or two at a local pub but nothing memorable. There was no such thing as schoolies week then. When I looked at the kids in the town they looked so young and fresh I could not imagine myself that way.

The world has certainly changed. Mobile phones didn't exist. Television was black and white. No FM radio. No computers, at least people didn't have them, although the technology was just kicking off. Most families drove Holdens, Fords or Chryslers, made in Victoria or South Australia. No Kias or Hyundais. Toyotas and Nissans were newbies and sneered at. The Vietnam war was front and square and on TV, us school leavers had the conscription ballot ahead of us in a year or two. The hippy thing was in full swing, kaftans, long hair and marijuana were all over the place which was a nice change really to the tobacco/alcohol culture which led to record lung cancer, heart disease and road toll. No compulsory seat belts. There was a certain recklessness. I suppose it's still there, the young ones still get pissed, and pop yippee pills and worse. 

Maybe that's what schoolies week is about. Recognition of the dangers, and trying to address it with the least possible damage. Would I like to be 18 again? Part of me would like another go, to do things better and avoid some traps. The other part of me says, no way would I go back to all that uncertainty. 

Looking forward to watching 'The Rainmaker' tomorrow.

* 24 Nov.  WE watched The Rainmaker. I enjoyed it. Unusual movie. Produced from a stage show, and the script and acting was like a stage performance. I was wrong about KH's character being called Mellissa. She was Lizzie. Burt L (Starbuck), told her about MELLisSUN in a moving scene. Just shows that after a couple of decades the memory can be unreliable.

For The Record

 Lib and I had our second AZ shot on Friday 15 Oct, having had our first one in July. We didn't have any adverse reaction to the first. Lib said the injection site had mild soreness for a couple of days, I didn't have that at all, as if I hadn't had it.

It was the same after the second shot. Then, last weekend I developed soreness in my chest bone at the top of the ribs, and across the top rib, first on my right side then on the left. With that I also had stabbing pain in that area when I moved or turned, extending under my arm round to my back, and into the neck. It was really quite severe. I remembered too that I'd had stabbing pain, with movement, for a couple of days in what I thought was a ligament at the top of  my right leg prior to the chest pain. After a couple days of it I said to Lib if this continues I'd better go the hospital and have them check my heart with an ECG or whatever they do, just in case I was having some sort of heart issue. It was the weekend so I was thinking I'd do that Monday if the improvement didn't come. I was marginally better on Monday and after a few more days of gradually diminishing discomfort, by Friday, I was fine, no more soreness or pain. Relieved I was.

I had suspected a heart issue because I'd read that heart attack symptoms are not always obvious and can be pain in the neck shoulders and arms, not in the central chest. And I couldn't work out why I had soreness and pain in that area as I hadn't hurt myself straining lifting or falling or being hit by something. Then it dawned on me that maybe it was a side effect of the vaccination which took a week to manifest. I googled side effects to second dose AZ and it said possible symptoms were chest pain, muscle pain, joint pain, as well as fever and temperature (which I didn't have). I had also heard it said somewhere that reactions can come a week or two after the vaccination.

So my conclusion, unconfirmed of course, is that my discomfort was a reaction to the vaccination. I can see no other explanation. I don't think the doctor or the hospital would have been able to say what it was, and as it turned out I was fine after a few days anyway without any expensive testing. All's well that ends well. For now at least. Who knows tomorrow. Today I took my sandshoes and socks off at the beach and walked in the shallows in bare feet. Gee it felt good. I plan to do this every day now if I can, weather permitting. And who knows, a land lubber like me may even be swimming in the surf soon. There was one bloke swimming there today. How good would that make you feel? I think I want some of it.

For the record too, I have a tomato plant in the back yard nearly 4 ft high. Never in my life have I had that at end of October. It was a seedling bought at Bunnings late August. And we picked our own basil leaves yesterday for our spaghetti dish, from pots I seeded in August. Much fun.

I Had A Dream

I had a dream last night, as I do most nights. In my dream the Demons won the premiership. Then I realized it wasn't a dream.

But seriously, I did dream last night. As usual, I could remember little of it, about all I could remember was that a bloke I knew many years ago, Milton Lilburne, was in it, and, in the dream, I was looking at some old kiwi fruit vines he'd pruned hard. Now I haven't seen or heard of Milton for maybe 25 years so why he should be in my dream I don't know.

Milton, an ex Kiwi, had a kiwi fruit farm at Avonsleigh. He bought it from an old bloke named McClean, who had it as an established plantation way back in 1973. When we planted Kiwi fruit in 73 at Chamomile Farm in one of our early escapades we were told of McClean's orchard by the Dept of Ag horticulture advisor (Harold Marshall was his name...gee my memory surprises me) from Knoxfield. Kiwi fruit were a novelty back then. My father Lyle had some discussion with McClean, I think they got on OK. I did most of the grunt work in 73 putting up the trellis, then pulling them out many years later when we needed the ground for other things.

When I came back from Wangaratta in 1981 I kept bees as a sideline and Milton approached me to put bees in his kiwis for pollination. I did this one or two years, then the next year I think I'd reduced my hive numbers so I put Milton onto Redpath's Beeline Apiaries who either provided the bees or arranged someone else. I regarded Milton as a friend, he'd pop in to the farm with his wife. They both worked at Monash University, Milton a lecturer in law, his specialty was contracts. He was about 50? and I recall him drinking a can of beer at his orchard quite early in the morning.

As I lay awake this morning a whole heap of memories flooded back from the years at the farm, including the above. I couldn't think of Milton's wife's name for a while but it did come to me. Christine. I think she was a second wife, a good bit younger than Milton. As I write it has come to me that during the time I knew them Christine gave birth to a boy, named Wilson if I'm correct. He'd be about the same age as our boys now. None of this may be accurate. Later they bought a house and some acres on the old Emerald Rd on the way to Monbulk, just north of the creek at Butterfield Park. None of this matters but I'm excited by the memory of it and am pleased to write it down. They were looking for things to grow as foliage or other ideas. I suggested they plant euc pulverulenta along their fence and they did.

When I entered a contract with Australian Herb Supplies (originally Melbourne HS) in the late 1980's which gave them exclusive rights for 10 years to our produce, for a sum, there was in the contract, that AHS had to buy a minimum $amount each year. AHS had the contract drawn up by solicitors Klieger, Katz and something and when I was telling Milton about it, after I'd signed, he asked to see it. I showed him and he pointed out that the problem with that minimum clause was that I'd be left doing all the hard stuff they couldn't easily get elsewhere. That is exactly what happened, in pretty quick time. He also said it was a shabby document that was full of holes if challenged and frankly wasn't worth the paper it was written on. I had this is mind when things didn't go well, and found other customers. AHS continued as a customer for a couple of decades in cordiality, no-one mentioning the contract. Funnily, in the Herald Sun a year or two later I read that solicitor Katz was up for murdering someone. Don't know how that ended. AHS sold to a big NSW company several years back. They bought from us for a few months then wanted a supplier contract signed with stipulations about guaranteeing supply or something so we said no thanks and never heard from them again.

So I lay in bed thinking back over all this, and many other things, and people, from that era. When I got up and saw our Demon friend, my thoughts were very much with florist Ben who gave it to me.

For many years Ben came to the farm and bought posies and foliage, maybe 48 weeks a year. He was Jewish, his shop I think was in Balaclava area. He was probably our favourite customer through the 90's, so pleasant and reliable, always payed happily without question. He was a big footy fan, he followed Nth Melbourne. I can't remember his surname. He knew Joe Gutnick who was president of the MFC and very high profile at the time. Nth Melbourne had a strong team winning flags in 96 and 99. Around that time I gave Ben an LP record of the 1977 Grand Final replay (North won) by 3KZ, with the commentary by Ian Major and Jack Dyer, which I'd purchased at the time. I figured he'd get more pleasure from it than me. He was rapt. The next week he turned up with that Demon carving which I've had since. Being a bit of an entrepreneur he'd commissioned a guy in Bali, where he went every year, to make these things in AFL club colours. He had prototypes of most teams and was intending to have them produced in big numbers to sell in Australia, but the AFL said no he couldn't do it, to do with licensing or something. The Balinese guy was a bit confused with gridiron Ben said, hence the ball in the right hand raised to throw.

To end the Ben story, he died of oesophageal cancer in a few short months after diagnosis about ten years ago.

We have some great Demon stuff made by our friend Owen Murray.  A lead light candle surround, ceramic shields and other inlaid glass window hangers. I don't have to dream about a Melbourne premiership anymore. It's reality. We have plenty of reminders, and the finals and other games recorded. Not sick of watching them yet. 

New TV aerial

 Last night I watched two old fave movies on the new 55 inch TV that Lib and Gord bought. They were "In the Heat of the Night" and "Once upon a time in America". They were on at the same time so I decided to watch ITHOTNight, seeing I had to choose one, and I reckon the first half hour or so of it is brilliant, and OUaTiAmerica is a very long movie. I switched during ad breaks back and forth and the two finished almost together after midnight. Having seen the movies multiple times in the past and knowing the plot, it was easy to switch with the ads and enjoy them both. They contain some great scenes and dialogue, and in the case of the OnceUaTiA, the music is hauntingly beautiful.

We've had this TV a couple of weeks and I had to get a TV antenna man to set it up in our lounge/theatre room. I hadn't been in a hurry to get a TV and connection prior to this because when we moved in the TV we brought with us wouldn't pick up signal from the aerial connection in the wall in the family room and I had an antenna man come and he put a booster on the old aerial and ran a connection to a point in Gord's room. This cost us $440, which seemed a bit steep to me, but no matter we needed a working TV. Channel 7 reception still broke down in the evening sometimes (we're in a bit of a reception hollow we were told), but Foxtell worked OK and most of our viewing was satellite. The man said if we still had trouble we'd need a new aerial, cost maybe $1000, so I was in no hurry.

When L and G bought the new TV it was time to move. I thought I'd try a different antenna guy, not because I was unhappy with the previous, but the thinking was a second opinion would be worthwhile as I'd already had one estimate. The new guy was someone who had been recommended to Gord by the lady who runs his mindfulness class. To cut the story short this guy came back three days after my initial call, having paid a visit to see the same day I called. He installed a new aerial on the existing big pole attached to the house and tuned in the new TV, total cost $295.

I gave him $320 cash, said the extra was goodwill. I told him the other bloke said maybe $1000 or upwards. He told me he knows that guy well, he's semi-retired and deliberately charges high because he can, and only needs a few jobs a week to do well.

So there you go, it pays to get more than one quote. 

The Lemon Tree

We had lemon trees at Gembrook and it was always a pleasant thing, to go out and a pick a lemon, or several, whenever they were needed. Also I supplied my friend Ralphie for some years and after Maria left her farm and moved into Emerald I regularly took her lemons. To me it's comforting to look out the window to a tree laden with lemons. If for seasonal reasons lemons were a scarce on my trees there were a few mature ones at the farm and I had friends with trees.

When we moved to McCracken I was well aware our house had no lemon tree. After seeing the price of of them in shops over the years I was resigned to paying high to get lemons. So one of the first things we did after the unpacking and organizing was to find a nursery and buy a lemon tree. We bought a 'Eureka' and left it in its pot on our concrete patio, against the house, over winter. It blew over a few times in strong winds and I was itching to get it in the ground. We planted it late August, when I hoped danger of frost biting the new growth had passed.

It now stands in pride of place behind where the large sycamore was before we had it removed, a nice sunny position. Lib has made a garden around it with blocks and I've planted some thyme, sage, oregano, chives and garlic chives, and mint at the back, in the hope that these will thrive in the years it will take for the lemon tree to obtain size.  

 

       The pot obscures the lemon tree but this pic shows the garden. The garlic in the pot in the foreground seems to be doing well. I planted them in a pot in April, having brought some bulbs from Gembrook, and not having any place yet organized in the garden for them. I also planted some mint we brought with us in the pot left of the garlic and it's jumping now with the warmer weather. The other is silver beet I planted at the same time. That big Chinese pot we brought with us, now standing on the stump of the removed sycamore. Thousands of baby sycamore seedlings are coming up everywhere but they're easily weeded. Not in the pic but I have parsley, basil, dill and coriander coming up in pots. Behind the lemon tree, if you look closely you can see a tomato staked beside the fence.

We are enjoying this early gardening. In the foreground of the pic below is Gord's osmanthus that he brought. That section was there already as a garden but was dominated by arum lillies, grasses, and agapanthus which we removed. Lib wanted a path through it hence the pavers and we planted two purple hop bushes on the fence, a red cordyline, a bangalay palm, a mandarin, an eriostemon (now known as philotheca) and a small tree/shrub whose name escapes me but it supposedly has fragrant flowers in summer. This area is much a work in progress, we'll have to see what does well and prune and discover as we learn our new environment. In this lower shot you can see a planter box at the back. There are three of these, for annual herbs and vegies as the season goes. The beech tree is in the middle of the grassed area, but has not yet shot to leaf. It'll be an interesting first season. I planted some pumpkin seeds in pots in August and yesterday planted the seedlings, which were doing well, outside in the gully yesterday where they can be rampant (if they grow, I'm dubious about the soil out there).  

The Copper Beech

 Winter a couple of years ago Lib was having cataracts removed at the private hospital in Neerim South when I visited a local nursery as I had time to kill. The nursery I had been to previously when I bought an advanced lemon tree a year or two before as a gift for my friend Maria when she moved into her current house from her farm on the Macclesfield Rd. It saved me $135 to go pick it up rather than delivered.

I'd seen on the website the owner, or one of, was named Crestani. I remembered there was a bloke who lived on the Beacy Rd Emerald who had a laurel hedge at the front and he allowed me to cut foliage from it back when I used to sell a lot of laurel. He was a self made mechanic and panel beater and worked on damaged cars that he bought cheap and did up and sold. He impressed me with his knowledge and generosity so for some years he serviced my van. He sold up many years ago and I recalled he went to Neerim South.

So it was with some glee that I found his daughter was the proprietor of the nursery and I called there while Lib was having her eye op. Had a nice chat and bought a small copper beech as a memento. I took it to the farm the next summer where I knew it'd be watered if we were away. It was still there the next summer, I didn't know where to plant it, no room at home and with dozens of mature beech trees at the farm I would have had to make room for it somewhere to no real advantage.

So it came with us last March when we moved to McCracken. There's really no room here for a beech tree over time as they grow so big. But seeing as we removed a large sycamore in our back yard in the months after we got here we decided to plant it in our little patch of grass where it will one day give summer shade but not reduce sun in winter. While I'm alive and able it will not grow big and trouble neighbours as I'll prune it desired size and shape.

I feel a strong attachment to this little tree. I look at it every day expecting it will burst bud into leaf some time in October as did the trees at the farm. Beech foliage was such a big part of our business, I picked it every week from November to March for forty years. I haven't seen one beech tree in gardens around here so I'm hoping the soil and rainfall will be suitable although I do hold some reservation. Definitely a beech tree is of symbolic value to me. So here's hoping.

The tree is the foreground of the photo. You will notice it's grand final day. I'll post another photo in a month or two if the tree successfully springs into foliage and growth.

Small things can bring great joy.

The Red Gum

When we moved into our McCracken house in March one of the first things I had on my list of things to do was to arrange pruning of the red gum tree growing in the gully adjacent, on the south side of our house. As it wasn't on our property but had limbs growing over our house, I had firstly to find out who owned the gully the tree is growing in, before I could make arrangements to have the overhang removed. The gully is about 10 metres wide and is between us and number 10.

I assumed the local council owned the land and thus the tree so I went there to inquire and get permission to have work done on it. Not so. The lady at the desk looked in her computer and told me it was not council land. To find out whose land it was I had to fill out a form and was duly given the name of a Land Company and an address in Adelaide. It was suggested that I write to them. I asked was that one and the same company as owned the golf course to the rear of our property, which is where the gully leads. It seems to be a man made drain past a few houses and under our road into the Hindmarsh river. They could not tell me that, emphasizing I would need to write to them.

Write to them I did. After doing so I thought I might save a bit of time by visiting the Country Club that includes the golf course, which I did, taking a copy of my letter. The chap in reception told me "No, we don't own that land, it's not our tree." So I went home and waited for a reply to my letter. A few weeks past and after no response I rang the Country Club again and asked to speak to the manager. When I introduced myself, surprised that I was able to get to him after being told he was not available when I visited on the earlier occasion, he said he had my letter on his desk, it had been sent to him by head office.

Now in my letter I had said I was having a contractor remove a tree in my backyard we didn't want, and this contractor said he did work for the Country Club, and he would cut back the red gum at the same time. He quoted $350 to remove completely the tree in the backyard, and $200 for the red gum, which he said he could do with a pole saw standing on the roof. The manager said he appreciated my offer to pay for the pruning of their tree, but because of work cover issues it'd be advisable if they were paying, so get the contractor to bill them for the red gum. OK with me (I'd had a quote from a different company - $2000 for the red gum and $400 just for two limbs to come off the one in the back yard). My contractor said he was busy and couldn't do it till the end of April.

Into June nothing had happened till one afternoon the tree man rang, said he'd had a cancellation and could do my tree today. Yes please. There was only a few of hours of daylight left  and he and his son worked hard and got the backyard tree down safely, no easy job as it was a large brute with branches overhanging neighbour's fences on two sides, the tree being corner placed, and growing right out to our house other side. He was happy I paid him cash, an extra $50 so happy was I, but they didn't have time to do the red gum, and I told him anyway I didn't want anyone on the roof working with a pole saw - I'd had solar panels fitted and they'd broken 15 tiles installing, the tiles are a dodgy sort for walking on. And, I wanted more off the red gum, I wanted limbs taken back further than my boundary, done in accordance with industry standards for best management of the tree. I said it might cost me more but I was prepared to pay myself to have it done properly. He said he reckoned he could get a cherry picker in to do it, so I said OK can you contact the Country Club to get their permission and book me in. I contacted the Club too, and the green's manager said yes OK. 

Weeks went by, no action. Getting pissed off, I ran The Arborman company in Adelaide and booked in an assessment. They said a verbal report would cost me about $260 and a written one $360-500, depending on the tree. I said OK. They don't do the work but would put me onto expert arborists who would. Seeing as it was not my tree and it was as Plan B thinking I'd need another arborist (unknown to the Country Club) who'd be climbing the tree and taking off more than originally discussed, I need to have all bases covered. In early August The Arborman came. He said the tree was sound, he didn't feel we were in much danger from it, but yes, it could do with overhang over the dwelling removed. I asked was it helpful to him if I paid cash and if so how much for a written report. He was happy with $200. He said he'd email the report. It took three weeks to come during which time I wondered if I'd been shafted.

So there I was with a written report which I emailed to the Country Club manager along with a quote from a one of the recommended arborists for 1200 plus GST (total 1320). He agreed (me paying) just wanted to know in advance when work was scheduled on their property. The arborist told me he was coming Friday 17th. Yippee! (His quote was done from the photos the Arborman had sent him and google photos).Blow me down if the first contractor didn't msg me Wednesday morning saying he had a cherry picker booked for the day and he could do our tree later that morning. I said good one let's see what you can do. An hour later he turned up towing a mini crane, a self drive thing that he could get in close enough to the tree from our house side. He operated it from the bucket and had a pole saw for extra reach. He and his son were there for not much more than an hour and when they finished what to me was a great job, amazing, I asked "What do I owe you?"

"$250," he said. I gave him $300. I told him the other quote for the work that was to happen Friday was $1320. He said, "Where's he coming from, Melbourne? I could only laugh and thank him. I cancelled the other fellow who was coming from Adelaide.

All the prunings were left the gully. I pulled them out Friday and cut up the wood. I've given some wood to an old bloke at the back who has a pot belly stove, and left the heavier stuff out with a sign for the young bloke who took the wood from the the other tree a few months ago.

I took all the tops to the tip in Goolwa today, it's a recycling joint so they mulch it up and sell it. End of tree saga. Sorry to be long winded, I had to get it off my chest, before I could move on and write on other things. It's been a big distraction for me for the six months we've been here.

 

The Story of San Michele

When Gord and I travelled to Wangaratta in early May our first night stopover was at Charlton where I had booked an overnight van in the caravan park. We were late arriving, well after dark, and the park operators had told us by phone they'd left out a key as they had to go to a function and would not be there. Everything in Charlton had closed down when we got there so all we had for dinner was a muesli bar each Gord had brought, and courtesy tea/ coffee and biscuits in the van. 

Next morning, hungry, I went for a walk early to the bakery in the main street where I indulged a hot meat pie and coffee. On the way back to the park I passed a book swap stand. I had nothing to exchange but I didn't think anyone would mind if I took an old looking well worn paperback, as I'd left McCracken without the book I was reading, James Michener's Iberia. The book I picked out was The Story of San Michele, by Axel Munthe. I chose it because on the first page, blank otherwise except for the title at the top, was written by hand, "To the driver, from the passenger, I'll never forget twelve marvellous days from Venice to Rome." That was enough to excite my curiosity.

I came back to McCracken without having started reading the book other than a cursory look at the introduction one night before falling asleep. I put the book aside and continued Iberia for about the next month till I finished it. I read it slowly and attentively, absorbing the atmosphere of Spain and it's culture and geography. A long book of 900 pages of small print, I finished it with satisfaction that my knowledge of the world and history had greatly improved, and so glad I had read it.

Our new neighbour Helen, hearing in conversation of my birthday not long after we moved in, had kindly given me a present, a book titled Jennifer Government by  Melbourne author Max Barry. I felt it should be next cab of the rank. It was easy reading, full of action in short chapters with an intriguing plot based around several main characters in a futuristic society largely run by private corporations that usurped power from government and threatened total dominance. Interesting, entertaining, enjoyable, and a complete contrast to Iberia. 

Finishing that I picked up The Story of San Michele. I laboured through 2 prefaces and an introduction wondering where on earth it was going before the storyline in earnest began to unfold as a self told lifestory (I chose those words rather than an autobiography because of the style). Along the way now three parts through I'm finding it quite brilliant with some really profound views on life that seem relevant today despite being written about 100 years ago. So much so that I want to copy a paragraph I read today, here on this blog for my friends to read. I have probably expressed similar sentiment to them privately in the past, albeit less eloquently.

"The gods sell all things at a fair price, said an old poet. He might have added that they sell their best goods at the cheapest rate. All that is really useful to us can be bought for little money, it is only the superfluous that is put up for sale at a high price. All that is really beautiful is not put up for sale at all but is given to us as a gift by the immortal gods. We are allowed to watch the sun rise and set, the clouds sailing along in the sky, the forests and the fields, the glorious sea, all without spending a penny. The birds sing to us for nothing, the wildflowers we may pick as we walk along the roadside. There is no entrance fee to the starlit hall of the Night. The poor man sleeps better than the rich man. Simple food tastes better in the long run than food from the Ritz. Contentment and peace of mind thrive better in a small country cottage than a stately palace in a town. A few friends, a few books, indeed a very few, and a dog is all you need to have about you as long as you have yourself. But you should live in the country. The first town was planned by the Devil, that is why God wanted to destroy the tower of Babel."

Suffice to say I'm enjoying retirement.

Think About it

 A quote from Annie Grace today (The Alcohol Experiment). I like it.

 Think about it. If you’re standing on the train track and you’re aware the train is moving towards you but you don’t take action and move off the track - awareness did not help you.

My Dilemna

 I'm in remission from Rheumatoid Arthritis, which is, I'm told, classified as an auto- immune disease. Something triggered my immune response some years ago to attack my own body, is how it was explained to me. The something trigger? Noone knows for sure what it was. It may well have been allergic reaction to sand fly bites in the month or so before onset, but that is my opinion only, not shared by medicos. 

I don't want to go over this history in much detail or this post will become too lengthy for my patience. But summarizing it may help me with my dilemna. Briefly, when I was wracked by soreness and stiffness which came on quite suddenly, I was diagnosed as having polymyalgia and given daily cortisone tablets which did alleviate the pain and enabled me to work and function reasonably normally. After about 12 months on the cortisone the doctor said my blood test markers still indicated a problem and it seemed my polymyalgia had morphed into Rheumatoid Arthritis, this an official diagnosis after referral again to the specialist (Rheumatologist). I was put on a drug called methotrexate and weaned off the cortisone over time. A year or so later the methotrexate seemed to be working as I functioned normally but yes with some discomfort and pain fluctuating in my feet and shoulders particularly. The Ologist, whom I was seeing every six months, after analyzing my 3 monthly blood tests, said I should try a second drug to more fully alleviate the symptoms, sulphur something or other. Some months on this did not improve my discomfort or blood test markers, but by having been on two drugs and not reaching a particular level of improvement measured by the blood tests, I now qualified to take Abatacept (a Biomard, all these things apparently supress the immune system) treatment done by self injection. This I could get on the PDS at a cost of $40 per month for four weekly injections. The full cost it said on the box for four injections was $1000. I was on this for two years or so and the pain reduced further and my markers improved but were always a bit above normal.

A couple of years ago a friend who had suffered RA told me he had been on the methotrexate and sulphur drug for years but he took tumeric supplements and weaned himself off the drugs and was now fine. His example enboldened me to try. First I stopped the methotrexate weekly tablet, against the advice of the Ologist who said I needed both in tandem. Some months later after no deterioration I took the plunge and stopped the injection, again against advice. A year or so on I'm the best I have been for years, no drugs, no pain other than sore toes now and again which is temporary, alleviated by a couple of doses of Ibuprofen. And I have not even had that for a couple of months.

So my dilemna is? Do I want to play around with my immune system by vaccination that introduces something to my immune system in order to teach it to fight the same thing in the form of Covid transmission via the community? There has been 16 months of hysteria about pandemic and vaccination and yet I'm in good health and there's no Covid where I live, nor where I have lived during that time. I don't know anyone, friend, relative or neighbour who has been Covid positive. Do I take onboard the medical advice that says everyone should be vaccinated? If I followed medical advice I would be on Methotrexate, Abatacept (immune suppressants) cholesterol lowering drugs and blood pressure drugs, none of which I currently take (all of which I have taken in the past). I'm happy to be taking none of these and be 69 and in good health. I accept I have a limited life span that is nearing completion.

It's joyful not to be getting blood tests every few months. My dilemna is with me every day but I take comfort being drug free. I gave up smoking 30 years ago, and alcohol 18 months ago. Freedom is precious. I started going AF 4 days a week because methotrexate and alcohol do not go well together and liver function needs monitoring. Lib's breast cancer came, treatment followed. I gave up alcohol altogether, to help Lib in her recovery. Alcohol and cancer/drugs do not go well together. Then Covid came. Through all this I continued operating the business of Chamomile Farm up to March this year. We've moved interstate.

I'm so grateful to have good family, friends and colleagues to have supported me through this tumult. I don't know if it will be heart attack, stroke, cancer, Covid, car accident, falling tree, who knows what, that will take me. Better not to spoil life by fear of death, which is inevitable no matter how many drugs you take. Some may bring it sooner. All have side effects.

 

Singing Honeyeaters

 There are 5 house sparrows sitting on the roof ridge of the house next door. I can see them from my office chair through the open venetian blinds and window. In the time taken for me to write that, they have come down onto the table on the back patio, picking up scraps and crumbs left after the magpies came down for their feed earlier. 

The magpies are almost tame. They come every day, a number of times. I don't put food out for them till I see them or hear them calling me. In the time it took me to write that, they called. I went out and put some food on the table and they're indulging. There's two sparrows now on the ridge next door, waiting, and two crested pidgeons. There was a fly catcher on the table earlier. After them the fairy wrens come, seemingly finding miniscule specks left by all the others.

I make a mix of boiled eggs, cheese and bread (and left over cooked meat if I have it) chopped fine,  to which I add a couple of spoons of Wombaroo - Insectivore Rearing Mix bought from a pet shop. According to the pack this contains a long list of ingredients including meat and fish meal and various oils, acids, vitamins and minerals. They love it.

And I love watching them come and eat. We're very lucky to live next to a treed river reserve with an 18 hole golf course to the back. A bird haven really. There are big numbers of galahs and black cockatoos in particular, and New Holland Honeyeaters, and a multitude of water birds in the lagoons on the river. The big flocks of corellas have gone away for now. I saw a pair of unfamiliar birds on my walk on the golf course the other evening, little ones flying close to the ground a bit like martins, they stopped after short flight and ran like dotterils. They were light brown with white underwing. I haven't consulted the bird books yet. (Have since - think they are Australasian Pipits) 

I was walking by myself with Pip on The Bluff a few weeks ago and saw some birds I didn't recognize. I had binoculars but couldn't get close enough to have a good look. There was maybe 20 of them in the low vegetation but as I neared they took off. One or two settled where I could see them and I had a bit of a look. Like a sparrow from the back, but bigger, and with paler chest it seemed. I consulted a bird book when I got home but couldn't find it. When Marg and Phil were here we went out to Granite Island for a walk and there were numerous of the same bird amongst the coastal shrubs and with notable call. Quails were prevalent also. This time I got a closer look and Margaret and I reckon they're the Singing Honeyeater, from our check in Fleurieu Birds by Peter Gower, an excellent book. It says there are 28 species of birds on Granite Island including the Little Penguin.

An Interesting Encounter

A young man arrived right on the appointed time of 1.30pm last Monday to talk about solar system installation. Lib was responsible for initiating this meeting, having answered an advert online somewhere. I was happy about this. It was always my intention to get solar power when we got around to it.

J had rung earlier to confirm the appointment, and asked could I have ready our last electricity bill so he could do his sums re the necessary size of system. Well no, I couldn't, we've been here less than three months and haven't received a bill yet. He asked me could I call my supplier and ask them for details of my usage since we've been here. This I did, it required me to go outside to the meter and tell the guy on the phone the readings so he could work out the cost of our electricity since we arrived. (For the record 72 days $273 usage to yesterday, but first 4 days after connection we weren't here). 

With the service charge of something close to $1 per day it appears our quarterly bill would be about 90 days X $4 per day plus $90 service, so total probably about $450. I had been wondering, given that we now have electric cooktops, a dishwasher used probably twice a week, and an electric garage door, things we didn't have previously. Mind you being autumn we hardly used the airconditioning at all for heating or cooling, so probably the bill could double in winter quarter, and higher than autumn in summer if it's stinking hot. Allowing for some variation, the annual cost should be in the area of $2500. About $6-7 per day, which is pretty good when you think all you do with that electricity.

It was quickly obvious J knew his caper. First thing he wanted was to look at the meter. I told him that an electrical engineer friend back home had told me that the meter would need upgrading probably, "I suppose you know about all that, you'd be an electrician?"

"Yes, I'm an electrical engineer with solar experience. I've not long come back from Africa where I spent 3 years installing solar farms in Ethiopia and Somalia, employed by the UN, so this is pretty basic stuff." He had a quick look at the roof and the aspect and said it looks good to go. He explained the hacienda style tiles weren't ideal, not good to walk on, there may be a few broken but the team will bring some spares to replace them. He looked at the usage figures, said a 5kw inverter should be right, 18 panels. "We've had a cancellation, we can install on Thursday next week if you'd like, that would suit us, so I can give you a couple of hundred off."

We sat in the loung with a coffee and I asked him about Africa, wondering how it was he came to work there. His story, as I remember it, began when he was at school. His best friend was a South Sudanese refugee who came here with his mother and two siblings after fleeing war in Sudan. The father had been in the army and had not been seen for some time before they fled and was believed dead. The friend and his two siblings had witnessed two brothers murdered by rebels.

His friend told him that when they were kids in their village they used to sell coloured stones to Europeans and tourists who came through their village, and they used to think "How stupid are these people who will swap money for stones."

J and his friend finished school and went through university and as adventurous young men made a decision to go back to Sudan and find some of this coloured stone they now knew to be gold. When they arrived they were stopped by armed men at the airport who forcibly took them to a government building, to no less than the head of government offices, where Jay's friend was staggered to find his father was there, he was not dead, and had progressed to be a high ranking official.

So the young men had some safety to travel and indeed did find the village and the old childhood haunts of his friend. They found trace of gold and had assays done from soil at different depths, at considerable personal cost. The result was yes there was a lot of gold and could be mined profitably. Jay sent info to companies in the US and Australia and within hours his inbox lit up. They went with a Sydney company who offered to do everything for a 25% cut off the top. There was time lag in getting anything approved and in the meantime J and his friend were close to much violence from rebel activity and there was fighting at other mines in the area with many people killed. They did not like the disruption and danger mining was causing local people. They caved, too dangerous, pulled the pin on the deal and got out of the area.

By way of J's friend's father's contacts, he was offered a job with the UN working on installation of solar farms in relatively safe areas. His contract was for three years. He said Ethiopa is approaching almost total energy independance through solar farms, and by removing methane from trash, and incineration to generate electricity. This he said, was because they were starting from scratch with virtually no infrastructure so they could do things in a big way correctly, not hamstrung by existing interests. I found this quite amazing.

He said that he approached the UN with plans to build solar farms in South Sudan because he had an attachment to the people through his friend's family and village. This got no legs, nor did his attempt to start a school to educate the villagers in agriculture. He concluded that there's much corruption in the UN. There is, yes, large moneys given to various causes but it usually doesn't happen. There's huge mineral wealth in Sth Sudan which attracts foreign interest and capital, but J said it's necessary to keep the people poor and in debt, so the wealth from these resources goes out, and not to the Sudanese. His words, not mine. I believe it. Could it be he's an extaordinary liar or completely deluded? I have known amazing liars in the past but this bloke didn't seem like one to me.

J returned to Australia. He's involved with a clothing store company in Adelaide who donates girl's clothing on a regular basis. The figure of $10,000 for shipping container load was mentioned, how regular I don't know but J organizes the consignment. He raised this issue with the clothing company, 'Savers' I think it is, because rape is common, most girls and women in the villages walk around naked as they simply don't have clothes. There's little education for young people, many have never read a book. Many can speak multiple languages, eg English, French, German, Arabic as well as their own tongue, because there's always been plenty of foreigners coming to exploit, and learning language comes so naturally to them. Basic verbal communication is survival.

J said, aswering my questions, he's 27 years old. Most of the Sudanese here are very intelligent, many had little if any education, and had witnessed horrific violence and killing. Some were child soldiers. His friend from school is in Australia working as a biomedic engineer. He builds prosthetic limbs using robot technology. 

We agreed to buy the solar system from the company J works for. It's scheduled to be installed next Wednesday. Later I googled solar systems, and since then my inbox has been inundated with offers, at cheaper "from" price than our agreement. Who knows if J did a number on us? Gut feel says stay the course. Solar installation is very competive here in SA Many of the prices advertised have asterisks with terms and conditions, and I think the price quoted is variable depending on how much you pay up front. You can select to pay less up front with payments coming off your electricity produced. 

You live and learn. Certainly learning continues into retirement.

 

 

 

 

New Holland Honeyeaters

For about the last month there's been large numbers of New Holland Honeyeaters around our house and in the river reserve. Noisy little things they are as they move about in agitated jerky jump about, not still for long. They're in groups, numbering in excess of twenty, not staying for more than a minute or two then coming back maybe an hour or so later.

There are many bird species in this area. We wake to magpies warbling and galahs chirruping. The galahs are often in flocks of hundreds, and many roost in the red gum next to our bedroom at night.They give warning of the dawn and a few, surprisingly, can be heard in the dead of night, flying too, because you can tell they're on the wing as the noise moves. I haven't seen the corellas lately but a few weeks ago huge flocks of what looked like a thousand birds were a regular sight, and sound, flying very much higher than the norm of the galahs. Black cockatoos are also bountiful, never before have I seen so many. A few weeks ago they were in groups of maybe 20-50 birds when seen, typically flying low at tree top level.

Our neighbour Mark is a birder, often seen getting about with binos, told us that the NH Honey eaters group together this time of year before pairing off soon and dispersing to breed. Similarly the black cockatoos. Apparently they all get together in this area for a while before moving off in smaller breeding groups to an area not far away that has many native pines as abunadant food source.

Birds are amazing creatures. There's many water bird species along the river; ducks, coots, herons, cormorants. I have not yet tried to identify them specically but it's lovely just seeing them when we walk. Last night we saw a pair of hooded plovers scurrying along the water's edge at the beach near the river mouth. The lagoon had swelled for a couple of days following the rain but last night we saw the opening had braeched some time in the previous 24 hours and the lagoon had spilled into the sea.

Every day fairy wrens frequent our backyard usually a few at a time in number and sometimes with a brilliant blue mature male. Wattlebirds are commonly seen, and heard. Hopefully as we are here longer I'll be able to see more species not so easily sighted. Apparently there's a rare bird around here, thought to be nearly extinct. I must ask neighbour Mark what it is, the person telling me didn't know the name. He did tell about the Red Necked Stint, a small bird which leaves here around April and migrates to the Arctic circle each year then returns in our spring. How wonderful is that?

After the Reunion

It felt like coming home on the Monday, indicating how well Gord and I have adapted to our move to McCracken, less than two months earlier. Driving from Kaniva through to Bordertown, Keith, Coonalpyn, Tailem Bend, Murrary Bridge, Strathalbyn I felt gratitude for my good fortune. I was thankful the trip had been a success with no mishaps. Thankful to have seen many friends and enjoyed their company. 

All the way across and back, the landscape was breathtakingly beautiful to me. Mostly dry cropping and sheep country, but some vineyards and irrigated lucerne, and some beef cattle. Agriculture. How lucky are we to have such beauty and open space. Uniquely Australian landscape. The real Australia. Teeming with wildlife and magnificent flora. Surely our greatest asset in a global sense. Let's hope future governments can learn to best preserve it. When we got home and hooked by the media tentacles the focus is on all sorts of arguing, bickering and hype about so many things - road accidents, freeways, sexual misdemeanors in parliament house, gas led recovery, quarantine fiasco, footy, vaccines, budgets, debt, Xi Xi Ping, Harry and Meagan, LGBT rights, illicit drugs, domestic violence etc. It's easy for people to be immune from the roadkill, species extinction and environmental damage. They are overwhelmed with crap. The vocal protest minority is derided as ratbags. So are the poor. The wealthy count their wealth. No wonder many people seek comfort with alcohol, drugs, gambling, and maybe the tattoo craze has some foundation in this brain overload.

Reading my previous post, I realize I didn't name the four players  from the 1980 grand final team who have died. Brett Rumsey was killed in a vehicle accident not long after 1980. Keith Rowan also died in a car accident, shortly after he was married I believe, also long ago. Mark Kelly died before our 30 year reunion, liver failure. Andrew George came to the 30 year reunion, he was recovering from bowel cancer treatment and made the trip from WA for the reunion, but died a few months later. Naturally I have fond memories of these blokes and again it reinforces my feeling of gratitude for my good fortune in life. I'm blessed to have been born in Australia, at a point in time that has precluded me from participation in war. I have not been injured, killed or maimed in road accident as many thousands of my generation have. I have dodged serious illness. This by good luck not management.

At age 69 I take no medication (except for the odd painkiller if arthritis flares) or drugs, prescription or otherwise, and am in good health. I was born into good family and married a great lady who has been a wonderful companion. I have met and enjoy/ed many friendships with amazing people. Yes I'm full of gratitude. I'm ready to be the best I can be in future in this last phase.   

Kaniva

 A week ago on Sunday night Gord and I stayed at the Kaniva Midland Motel. We wandered up the road and bought take away pizza about 7.30pm at about the only place that was open in town. After eating in our room and a bit of TV we retired to bed. I lay awake for some time listening to the intervals of dead quiet between the rumbling of semi trailers passing not 50 metres from our room on their way to Adelaide and Melbourne. Kaniva is closer to Adelaide than Melbourne. 

Whether I'd trained my brain (having stayed at this motel before), or I was just in good mental state, I'm not sure, but the noisy trucks didn't bother me. Oddly I enjoyed listening, alternately to the quiet, then the approaching then receding vehicles. My overriding feeling was one of gratitude. Gratitude that I was alive and well to listen and think, and reflect on the past few days. And the past few years. And decades.

Gord and I set out for the trip to Wangaratta on the Thursday about lunchtime in his Skoda. We left the new Skoda with Lib who stayed home to look after Pip and the house. She didn't feel up to the travel so soon after our recent move. I'd booked an overnight van at Charlton, thinking we'd get the big leg out of the way first day, leaving a shorter trip for the Friday to Wangaratta. Not yet familiar with the roads in the district I took a wrong turn and ended up nearly at Mt. Compass, so we backtracked which cost us half an hour or so. Crossing the Vic border cost us another half hour I hadn't reckoned on, so when we reached Nhill at 5.30 SA time I realized we were going to be later than the 6pm arrival time I told the caravan park lady. I rang her, she said she'd just rang me and left a message to say they were going out and would leave the van unlocked and some instructions outside the office with sign in form.

We turned off at Dimboola in fading light and headed towards Minyip on minor roads following directions on Gord's GPS app on his phone. It was soon dark and Charlton was an hour and a half away. It was flat wheatfield country. We went through Minyip and Donald and our eastward course had us driving straight at the huge rising moon, as spectacular as I'd ever seen. I said to Gord, "The whole trip is worth it already just to be driving watching that moon rise."

Reaching the caravan park about 7.30 everything was closed in Charlton. We had no food other than a small muesli bar each that Gord luckily had packed, and a biscuit with the tea and coffee in the van. We slept well. I rose early and wandered into the town and had a pie and coffee at the bakery. I left Charlton with some affection for the place after a long chat with the caravan park people when I paid them, and some shopping at the local Foodland which was deserted except for us and run by a youngish Asian lady. I felt sorry for her, the shop was big and so neat and clean but very little fruit and veg, which suggested to me if she bought much it wouldn't sell, a conclusion reached as there were no customers other than us on a Friday mid morning. Maybe the locals do a big shop in Bendigo an hour or so away once a week or fortnight. Maybe there's some reticence by locals as the shop is run by Asians.

I had arranged when we booked the van to stay the Sunday night also on our return, but changed this realizing it would be better to go further on our way home on Sunday, to make the run home on Monday shorter. It was a lovely drive to Bendigo via Bridgewater where we stopped to buy vanilla slices which according to the park lady won the prize for the best vanilla slices in Australia. A good sight to see was a huge plantation of young mallee trees presumably planted for oil distillation. A good carbon soak and I think possibly the indicator of more commercial growing of native flora in the future. Heartwarming.

Morning coffee and lunch was with Lib's sister Pat and hubby Michael and son James, at Junourton just out of Bendigo, where we have visited many times over forty years but not recently. This was why we did the big travel leg Thursday, so that Friday was leisurely with less than four hours easy going on the road. It was unusual to visit there without Lib. Through Lib, I had known Pat and Michael for more than forty years from when they were a young married couple till now retired teachers, and known James since birth. We had salad rolls for lunch followed by Bridgewater vanilla slice.

We used Gord's GPS app to find the shortest route to Wang. As P and M's is on the Heathcote side of Bendigo. I would always in the past gone through Heathcote and Puckapunyal to get to Seymour on the Hume freeway to go to Wang. This time we took a minor road north to Colbinabbin to pick up I think the Midland Hwy then Rushworth, Murchison and on to Violet Town to pick up the Hume. All these towns brought memories back to me of people and times from my days as as apiary inspector for northeast Victoria, an area with Bendigo one point, Swan Hill in the north, across to Corryong in the east. How lucky was I to have that experience in my twenties? Working alone for the most part, travel, learning about flora and fauna, life, and meeting rural people. I'm grateful.

Another heartwarming sight was a huge solar farm somewhere on the eastside of the Hume heading north to Wang. A sea of solar panels, an indicator of the future. We did a little shop at Coles before going to the Murrays where we were to stay for two nights. On the very site Lib and I used to live in a rented house when we first got together, when the Hume Highway passed right past our front door before construction of the Hume Freeway bypassing Wangaratta. Soon after we left Wang "our" house and others were demolished when a KMart was built.

It was unusual to be at the Murray's without Lib, but as usual Owen and Di were fine hosts. They have been great friends all our forty years of married life and knew Lib when she was a girl living with her parents Molly and Bill next door to them in Valdoris Avenue. Di turned it on, as usual, this time a seafood risotto with mussells prawns and shrimp. We watched Richmond demolish the Bulldogs after half time, indulging in more Bridgewater vanilla slice for puddy. 

Driving out to Greta the next morning for our 1980 premiership year reunion (40 years plus one for Covid) the feeling of gratitude was strong. How lucky had I been to live and work here for five years, and to play footy with mates representing a proud farming community, which took on other communities and towns, and in 1980 was successful, hence the reunions every ten years. The road out to Greta was pretty much unchanged, just a few more newish fancy houses along the way. The roadside trees seemed larger, not surprising as much time had passed, with some magnificent specimens of yellow box, white box and forest red gum. Having recently read Peter Carey's 'The True Story of Ned Kelly' I had visions of Ned and his crew on horseback in the district in the distant past. A rivetting story, how accurate I don't know, but nevertheless revealing of the lifestyle and hardships of the early settlement of the district. 

Unnervingly I struck a mini traffic jam entering the football club reserve at a few minutes after 12, as attendants observed Covid proticol and collected entrance fees from the several cars that arrived at the same time. Parking behind the changerooms and walking in the first person I met was John Tanner with his wife Val. John is now 86 or 87, I'd been told this the night before by Owen who'd bumped into him a day or two previous, also that John's wife's name was Val which I would not have remembered otherwise. Their son Barry played in our 1980 team on a half back flank. Another son Greg was playing at Wang Rovers in 1980 but later coached Greta, after I'd left. There was also related Saus Tanner and Mick Tanner who were getting long in the tooth when I played, and didn't play in 1980, but I think were members of the premiership teams in the 1960's. The Tanner name is synonomous with Greta as is O'Brien. There were three O'Brien's in our 1980 team, Paul full forward, Billy centrehalf back, and Franny forward pocket. Barry Tanner was the first teammate from 1980 I spoke to. After explaining our move to SA and telling him of Lib's breast cancer and treatment he told me of his recent experience of lung cancer which required removal of part of his lung and chemo, and also for a secondary brain tumour. Barry being five years younger than me, it reinforced my gratitude for my good health.

Of the 22 players in the 1980 team, which includes interchange and 2 emergencies, 13 were present, 4 deceased. I think Russell Harris was an apology having had two knee replacement operations a couple of days earlier, and I think Leigh Candy was also an apology as he wasn't there, for what reason I know not, but I have kept in touch with Leigh and know it was his intention to attend, so something must have prevented him. Noone could tell me why or where Terry Wadley was except to say he has withdrawn generally from contact although still in the district probably. David Kemp and Brian Thomas had been uncontactable. Besides the players it was good to see Laurie Wallace and David Dinning who were treasurer and secretary in 1980, and numerous other people and supporters connected to the club, some back then, some still. For my record of the event the attending players were Geoff Lacey (Captain Coach), Des Steele (ex CC 77/78), Pat McKenzie (ex ass coach), Bushy Dinning (president in 1980), F, W, and P. O'Brien, Tony Fisher, Brent Everall, Barry Tanner, Richie Pell, Trevor Sessions and myself. It was great to meet again with these people, and many others like Ian George, Frank Ryan, Merv Graham, Naishy, Benny Ellis, Kay Pink, Anne Lacey, Stuart Russell, John Shanley, Gary Wadley Gary and Smokey Hogan (apologies for many others whose names don't come readily right now) and relive happy memories of a time, half a lifetime ago. They were great days.

I left about 3.30pm to visit my mate Grub at Hansonville. He wasn't at the reunion when I was. He turned up after someone rang him to say I was asking after him, but I'd left to go to his place. I got to his place, no-one was there, my phone rang, it was Pat McKenzie saying Grub was at the footy ground to see me. I went back, to be told he'd gone home with his son Greg to see me, so back to Grub's. There they were sitting in the shed having a stubbie. I well knew Grub had had bad times with cancer of the face some years previously, and he had visited us at Gembrook maybe five years ago, so I had seen him post op. He'd lost an eye and half his jaw and part of his forehead in an operation to remove the cancer.  I was fully prepared when Bushy told me don't get a shock when you see Grub, but it did surprise me how small and elderly he looked. He said he'd recently turned 72, which is amazing really, because they gave him a 10% chance of surviving the operation and one year, then 50% chance of another 5 years, and he's nearly made another 5 years after that. He's had broken arms and a shoulder, bowled over by cattle while working as his bones are brittle from all the chemo and drugs and if ever I've met a tough bugger it's Grub. The skin patch over his eye had a perforation which required him to regularly wipe the blood, and where part of his forehead had been removed it had sort of sunk in since I last saw him. Lovely for me was to feel the love for him from his son Greg which was obvious without words, just watching and listening to them tell me things of farming and their lives. Grub moved our furniture from Wang to Gembrook in his cattle truck in 1981with David Dinning. He wouldn't even accept petrol money. In our first year at Gembrook Grub and wife Kerry attended Bill Forge's wedding in Dandenong and left baby Greg with us to babysit overnight. Here we were forty years later, and to see father and son together was just beautiful. It must have been hard for Greg who has a wife and young family but he truly is a fine young man. A chip off the old block, he insisted on going home (he has a house a few minutes up the road) and getting me a lump of beef and some lamb chops from his freezer for me take when I left. Just as Grub would always do when I left all those years ago.

Grub, Peter Younger, was treasurer of Greta Football Club in the late 1970's when I went there but had handed over to Laurie Wallace in 1980. I lived at Moyhu in 1979 and every Tuesday night had tea at Grub and Kerry's in the old farm house which is now derelict. Grub lives in a small place across the road with a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom and the shed with a wood heater and a good supply of firewood stacked along the back wall. Grub and Kerry divorced many years ago.

I was only with Grub and Greg an hour before leaving to visit my friends and ex neighbours at Moyhu John and Nicky Bridges. That also was a lovely experience, but quite a contrast to Grub. Both John and Nicky are in such fine health and appearance that it belies their age. They look so well. They live in the same house a little south of Moyhu on the Whitfield road. John's father had a dairy farm next door to the dairy farm of Clem and June Larkins where I rented the 'Peezy house'. June Larkins is John Tanner's sister. She's still alive in her nineties living in Wang but Clem died many years ago, as did John's parents. In my single days living at Moyhu I regularly had dinner at John and Nicky's or a barbie on weekends. They were young parents of Kate and Sean, busy with life, John I think worked at the CRB and helping his dad milk the cows etc. They are grandparents multiple times now. Sean is a groundsman at the Gabba in Brisbane and Kate lives in Melbourne. We crammed a lot of talk into an hour and a half or so on many subjects including news of people and footy and politics. Yes I was very lucky all those years ago to be welcomed by such people.

It was then back to Wang, dark now on the drive back. Gord had stayed in Wang at the Murray's and we all went out for dinner to D'Amico's Italian restaurant. I noticed Wangaratta had not been left out of the Tattoo craze. Waitresses and patrons adorned with colour and artistry.

We hit the road next morning about 10.30, lunching at McDonald's Bendigo, pretty much retracing our route through Donald and Minyip after leaving St Arnaud. What we hadn't been able to see in the dark the previous Thursday night was a huge windfarm consisting of about 30 or so wind turbines. Another sign of a changing world with a promising future, hopefully.

So Kaniva, Sunday night. Quiet as a mouse except fot the trucks. I lay in the motel bed thinking over all of the last few days, the last few years, decades. There's something about Kaniva I like. I could live there. A good place to reflect on life. Lib never would come at it. Too hot in summer. Too far from the beach, the big shops, facilities generally. But no hustle and bustle, no ridiculous price for housing, quite close to the little desert national park. The only real worry is the Western Highway through the town but I think that'd be easy to avoid finding or building a house. Not really an issue for now. Happy in McCracken.

   

 

Las Marismas

I'm reading James Michener's 'Iberia'. Over the last couple of decades I've read a number of Michener's novels; Alaska, Texas, The Carribbean, Hawaii, Mexico and Centennial come to mind. They are epic novels that plot family history over generations with detailed geographical connection. I've enjoyed them all.

Iberia is different in that it is not a novel; more a literary travel record of his experiences in Spain and his affection for it. I find it interesting, and although I'm only a third of the way into it I have learned much about Spain's culture, history, geography, flora and fauna, and governance over centuries. He examines architecture, music, painting, literature, and religion, with a relevance to history and the landscape. He asks the question, "Why did Spain, a pre-eminent world power of great military strength and wealth, dominant in exploration, the arts and trade, lose most of it's power and influence?" He gives explanation. Although written in the 1960's, he also gives warnings of the dangers of tourism as a panacea for economic malaise, which I find relevant to today.

So far he has described a number of towns and regions; Badajoz, Toledo, Cordoba, and I'm now into a chapter Las Marismas. I had never heard of this area before but Michener's excitement and passion is easily recognized in detailed description and stories. It's a large tidal swampland in the south west of Spain where the Guardalquiver River swells and spills over flat land in the winter rainy season. There's a twofold tide action, one directly from the Atlantic Ocean and one coming up the Rio Guadalquiver. This creates a massive wildlife reserve providing breeding conditions for hundreds of bird species particularly water birds but many others also. Many of these are migratory birds which return to Africa and Europe after breeding so it's recognised as a natural wonderland of great importance to the ecology of many nations, not just Spain. The fact that it floods every year has preserved it being destroyed by agriculture and commercial development. The birds and deer an other animals have provided a summer hunting ground for Spanish aristocracy for centuries such is the proliferation of wildlife.

Michener expresses concern (early 1960's) that there's political pressure to drain the swamp by preventing flooding with earthworks and levees which would be an ecological disaster. I checked on google. A National Park or the equivalent was set up in 1969 which has preserved much of Las Marismas. Probably my days of international travel are over but if I were to go to Europe Spain and Las Marismas would be a priority.

When I was house hunting with Rickyralph after Christmas we drove from Goolwa to a little town called Clayton. We went via Milang and for about 10 km we drove along wetland bordering Lake Alexandrina. It was teeming with waterbirds. Lake Alexandrina is where the Murray River flows before entering the sea near Goolwa. An Australian version of Las Marismas perhaps. I can hardly wait to explore that coast when we get properly organized and all the household and transition stuff done. We're getting there but still things to do. Tree removals/reducing around the house, and getting blocked storm water drains and downpipes cleared are first on the list. Then the reunion next weekend at Greta. I have sold my van, I think it will be picked up in the next couple of days. We traded Lib's Hyundai last week on a new Skoda Karoq. We're retired but busy still.  

  

Reunions

It says at very bottom right hand corner of my computer screen that today is the 14th of April 2021. So what, you might think? The actual date has little significance for me. I know it means we are 2021 years beyond the death of Jesus Christ, and as far as I know the 14th of April signifies the same day in every yearly cycle that the sun and earth are in the same positions in their revolutions. There's a lot of mathematics and physics in this but men smarter than I have worked it out. The clock and calender were invented, the computer was invented, and now I know what day it is. There's a rail of connection in this with others, putting us all on the same lifetrain, from which we alight at different points.

It is more than 40 years since I was in the Greta football team that won the premiership in 1980. The scheduled 40 year reunion was cancelled due to the Covid pandemic and is being held on Saturday the 1st of May. At great logistical inconvenience due to my recent relocation to South Australia, and the various associated tasks with setting up the new residence, it's my intention to attend this reunion. There's an RSVP address on the invitation but no date, so I'll reply that I'm likely to attend should it be possible, and rely that I can turn up, or not, on the day. The pull is strong to meet my old teammates in our advancing age, and to visit the Greta environment, of which I have fond memory.

A more formal invitation, to a "50 Years Chapter Lunch", to all Camberwell Grammar School Alumni who left in 1971 or before, has an RSVP date of the 23rd of April for function date 2nd May 2021. Could it be possible for me to be at the Greta lunch on the Saturday and the CGS lunch on the Sunday? I've heard of going to great lengths for a free feed but that might be going a bit far, literally. I have 9 days to think on this, accepting "day" being the word given to the time it takes the Earth to do a rotation, relating to the calender. 

There has also been talk of another 50 year reunion, that of the Ormond Church of Christ premiership team of which I was a participant in 1971. I spent 3 years in that team and the pull to attend would be strong, to meet up with some very good people in our advanced years, most of whom  I have not seen since that happy phase in my life. So far there's been no date set for this other than "later in the year if it can be arranged". Later in the year seems feasible, I will have had more time to settle in Sth Australia and perhaps ready for a trip home to Victoria. I don't feel ready for an early May trip away.

"Time, Time, Time, What has become of me." I think those words were in a Simon and Garfunkel song. " But look around, the leaves are brown, and the sky, is a hazy shade of winter."