Monday, December 04, 2023

Liquorland

I was in Liquorland this afternoon. Lib asked me to buy her a sixpack of Carlton Draught stubbies and some wine while Gord and I were out shopping. I was a little disappointed, as Lib had done a dry November and I hoped she'd go on with it and join me down the alcohol-free path. 


I bought two bottles of Reisling and a couple of reds as well as the Carl Draught and was approaching a queue of people at the checkout. A bloke pushing a trolley came from a different angle and I gestured to him to go ahead of me. He looked at my armful and said, "Party at your house tonight?"

"No, this is for my wife, I gave up drinking alcohol a few years ago. Glad I did, it's a costly habit."

"Never mind the money," he said, "It's no good for you either, healthwise.

"You're dead right there I replied, I suppose I'm a lot better off in that regard too."


He was a friendly sort of bloke. He looked about my age, probably older I thought, and he didn't look too well. Rough skin in the face, poor complexion really, grey hair and moustache, a bit scruffy looking. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking? If you are like me you started drinking in your teens, so have been drinking for a long time."


He said, "I'm 63, I started drinking young too. I went to the doctor yesterday, my liver readings were not good. I've got cirrhosis of the liver."  He was then called to the counter. A second service person arrived so we were being served at the same time and as I finished, he said, "See you mate."


I was glad that I've reached 71 in good health. I felt sorry for him as he walked out with his trolley containing a carton of beer and two two litre casks of red. I'm happy to stick to my Coopers AF beer, one a day. A six pack of that is $9 tastes great once your taste buds adapt. The Carl Draught sixpack was $22. I drink alcohol free wine which I buy on special usually for $8.50 a bottle. One glass a day, a bottle does about 5 days.




Sunday, November 26, 2023

Nearly December

 Christmas Eve is 4 four weeks away. Christmas Day will be a Monday event. The question for me is where I'll be. My preference is that I'll be right here, like most days frying up my eggs for breakfast. I have fried onions with them, a couple of cherry tomatoes, sometimes mushrooms, corn cut from the cob topped with fresh basil.

 

I used to have muesli and fruit for breakfast. If Lib wants that I do a bowl for myself while doing hers, but I put it in the fridge and don't eat it till lunchtime or afternoon tea. Sometimes Lib selects to go with eggs like me. Sometimes an omelet. Occasionally an Aldi Kransky sausage with the eggs, in which case Lib just has a little bit of the sausage. Or occasionally a bit of bacon. Now and again she just wants a bit of toast, but I still cook up for myself.


There's a reason for me writing about this. I can imagine some people who may read this thinking, as I've heard them saying about blogging, "Who wants to read about what someone has for breakfast?" I suppose they would rather read about my opinion on world affairs or politics or some family or neighbourhood gossip, something they are more readily entertained with. Fair enough, each to his own.


We are trained to be triggered, by any means possible to get our attention. The fascination with celebrity is a case in point. The headlines in newspapers, the grabs for future TV programs. The louder volume of TV ads, the crazy high-pitched voiceovers, the mad vision in the ads for banks and insurance companies with birds flying off with houses down the street. There are triggers everywhere all day to gain our attention, the aim to gain a response from us, usually the bottom line being to get us to spend money or act/behave/vote in a certain way or accept a situation or philosophy. Fearmongering is a big tool for triggering.


We are conned and manipulated. Watch out for the triggers. They come at you all day. I like to think and write about simplicity. It relieves me from the nutty world. Christmas is part of the nuttiness. It's a huge trigger. Gord has been in my ear about it for weeks, working on me to make a trip with he and Lib to Victoria to have Christmas with Lib's sister Margaret, once we know of arrangements at that end. I've told Gord to talk about it with Lib and once arrangements are made that will suit everyone else, I'll then decide if I want to participate. I stated clearly that my preference is to stay home and look after our plants in pots and the vegie garden and our little old dog who is too old to be left in the care of somebody else. She would have to come with us if I went also. Lib hasn't discussed it with me, but Gord has told me that she has had some communication with sister Margaret, and that maybe Christmas will be at Lakes Entrance (Marg owns the Lakes house that the trio did after Moll and Bill transferred it to them, way back in the 90's. Marg bought out Lib's and Pat's share a couple of years before we moved to SA. Lib's share went into our retirement transition acc) or maybe at one of Marg's girls. Lib's other sister Pat usually has Christmas with husband Michael's family, but if we did go over, we would surely be visiting before or after at Portarlington.


So, watch this space. I'll do my best to fit in but if it all seems too hard for poor old Carey I'll refuse to go. If I did go, I have no desire to visit my family or the farm. Funny that, but the effort to leave after so many years of struggling with so many things has left me with no desire to spark emotions. If I went to Victoria I would like to visit a few dear friends, but I don't think I'd have the autonomy to do that, having one vehicle only and the focus of the trip being Lib's family.


My simple life revolves around my joyful breakfasts, the herbs and vegies in the backyard, working on weeds down the river and nurturing plantings there. A hot bath in the evening, reading a good book, a bit of telly. All the while trying to recognize triggers and avoid responding in the manner intended for me by the trigger.


I used to have my fruit and muesli for breakfast every day. Then my egg lady Sarah at the Saturday morning market, a trained naturopath, suggested I have protein for my first meal of the day. She asked what was in the muesli. I said, "Oats, fruit, lots of good gear" 

Oats are full of starch. Better you have protein, like eggs and meat.

You mean like bacon? I thought it was a Nono. Nitrates and such.

A little won't hurt. We've been eating preserved meat for centuries. Too much is bad. Have your muesli later. If you have protein early, you'll find you eat less and feel better.


I liked what I was hearing, and that's what I do now. In any case, I'm glad I don't live in Gaza, or the Ukraine. I'm able to decide what I have for breakfast and whether I go somewhere for Christmas.


By the way my egg lady is amazing. She told me on Saturday she has a degree in construction (when we were discussing my new boots, she asked if they were steel caps). She met her second husband at a university orientation day, she had 4 kids in tow, and he thought she was their young, employed nanny. Her older kids from first husband start in the 20's in age, and she has 2 boys under 10 with her current hubby. 6 kids total, two of whom have left the nest. She and hubby run their chicken farm in the Inman valley, and she comes to markets Saturdays in VH and Sundays in Goolwa to sell the eggs.




 


Wednesday, November 01, 2023

The Harsh Realities

It was a clear morning when I set out on a little road trip at 4.35am yesterday, having set two alarms for 4.00am, both of which went off on the dot. One was a battery clock I hadn't used for years, giving me no confidence, the other my mobile phone, again no confidence, that I'd done it right. A cup of coffee and two crumpets and I was on my way, only 5 minutes after my planned departure. I was surprised that Lib had also woken and showered and climbed into Gord's car with me for the trip to Mt. Barker, a destination about an hour from McCracken give or take five minutes depending on various road conditions. You never know what lies ahead really, but logic said I should be there close to 5.30am when Gord was scheduled to alight from the bus on his return from Victoria. 


As we departed Middleton on the Strathalbyn road Lib reminded me that kangaroos would be out and about. A few minutes later a big red stood in the middle of the road, and I was glad I'd kept my speed down to 80k's and could slow further and veer out of its way. From then on, I was doubly conscious of the possibility of a roo bounding into our path especially when visibility of the roadsides was not good due to trees and shrubs and dips and rises. I kept the speed below 100kph, thinking Gord could wait a bit if I was not there on the knocker. At that hour we were the only car on the road just about, nothing behind us and only an occasional vehicle coming the other way. We went through a deserted Strathalbyn and on to the Mt Barker road.


About 10 minutes out of Mt Barker a car came up behind me, sitting a little too close, the headlights annoying me. The road was a bit up and down with a few bends. With hindsight, if I could press rewind, I'd have slowed right down and pulled over so that he went past. A few minutes later, another big roo appeared on the road. I braked and veered left, missing it. The driver behind me came very close to hitting us I think, his headlights loomed up large and he veered right as I went left to avoid the roo.


There was an ugly WOOF SPLAT sound behind as he ploughed into it. I felt very sorry for the roo. Beautiful big one it was. The car that hit it dropped back but came up again behind and sat close again. He hadn't stopped to check damage. I was thinking, I hope your vehicle is badly damaged, you fuckwit, if you had left good space behind our vehicle you wouldn't have hit it. As we made our way through Mt. Barker he was close behind again and when the road turned into double lane after a roundabout he went past us. It was a tradie ute. Unfortunately he had a big bullbar which probably prevented any damage to his vehicle. I wonder how many roos he's killed on his way to work over time. 


As it turned out Gord's bus had been ahead of schedule. He'd been at the stop since 5.10am. He didn't mind us being a little after 5.30, I'd told him to wait there till 6.00 in case I was delayed then make his way down the hill to Red Rooster joint. He didn't have a mobile phone, his had packed it in on the trip to Mt Barker a week earlier when I took him to the bus to start his holiday. He'd used a phone Robbie lent him to keep us informed while he was away. He visited family at the farm and friends in Emerald and Gembrook, and went to the MCG to watch a cricket match.


On the way home we drove past the dead roo. Wildlife suffers a terrible road toll.  



Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Couple of Steps Back

 Collingwood won the '23 premiership. The No vote won in the referendum.


I really have nothing to say about either event. Best to move on. I'm pretty good at it. Had lots of practice in my 71 years plus some months.


Get this one though. Gord went to Aldi a couple of weeks ago, on a weekend. As is his habit, he parked at Coles McCracken and walked to Aldi, killing two birds with one stone, getting some exercise while shopping. (Funny saying that, killing two birds, Who would? Who did? Origin?)


He made a minor purchase at Aldi, paying with cash, and walked back to Coles and came home. He didn't have his phone with him. Sometime later, a message/notification came through on his phone from Aldi/Google asking the question, "How was your shopping experience/visit at Aldi today."

I ask. How did they know he shopped at Aldi? I can only assume it was by face recognition by a camera that filmed him, as he used no card that would identify him, no phone, nor had a vehicle with registration that may have been recognized. 


I don't like it.

Sunday, October 08, 2023

Herbie Lamble

I see on my Facebook feed that Herb Lamble died. Herb was always warm and welcoming to me. I did a Signpost article on him some years ago. I copy it here.


Tractors, Racing Bikes and Tourist Coaches

In 2013 Herbie Lamble visited the Isle of Man, between Great Britain and Ireland in the Irish Sea, to see the ‘Isle of Man TT’, an annual motorbike championship regarded by many as the most prestigious in the world. It was something Herbie had always wanted to do, and he was one of thousands of bike racing fans from far and wide.

The bikes race on the island’s roads and Herbie stood outside a hotel watching the competitors flash past when a man approached him and said, “Herbie Lamble? How are you these days?”

Herbie had no recognition and had to ask who he was.

“I was Harry Hibbert’s sidecar passenger that day when we could have been killed.”

Amazingly, decades after the day they cheated death, having not seen each other in the interim, they had met again on the other side of the world.

Herbie explains, “Harry Hibbert and I were rivals. On that day I knew I had Harry’s measure. Graeme Biggs was my main threat, so I sat on his tail on his right side. I had a little more power and knew I could outbrake him on a particular corner and get past. Lap after lap I waited patiently, not wanting to move too early. There was a small rise before a sweeping corner. Graeme could see ahead but I couldn’t. He veered right, so I veered left to avoid him. Suddenly right in front of me there was Harry Hibbert‘s bike stopped in its tracks, having spun out.”

Herbie was travelling at perhaps 230-240kph and his bike with brother Ken in the sidecar ploughed straight into it.

“In the instant there was nothing I could do. I thought that’s it, we’re all dead. We went over the top of them; I came off the bike and slid along the bitumen, the leathers saving me being torn up. I was dazed and it took me a while to realize my eyes were open and I was alive. I looked over to see Ken slowly getting up. I was relieved to see him alive. As it turned out we had no broken bones, miraculously, and Harry and his passenger escaped serious injury too. The bike was wrecked though.”

Herbie had broken each of his arms in separate accidents racing in Tasmania and South Australia previously. He raced all over Australia at major events and was regarded as one of the top three sidecar riders in Australia. He came second in the Australian titles and third in the Malaysian Superbike Round, and second in many other events in Australia, being dogged by mechanical bad luck to deprive him of victory a number of times. He started racing bikes in 1969 and gave it away in 1974 and took it up again in 1984 for 8 more years.

Herbie was born in 1946 and grew up in Cloverleigh Avenue Emerald with three younger brothers, Robert, John and Ken. Their father Bert worked locally in the Forest Commission and their mum was from the Jones family who were early settlers in Emerald. Her grandfather owned Jones’ store around 1900 on the corner of Monbulk Road where Woolworths is now.

Herbie went to Emerald Primary School and Ferntree Gully Tech. His first job was at Hasset’s Machinery in Ringwood which sent him to David Brown Tractors for training, giving him the mechanical background used through his working life. After 2 years he went to work at Herb Sherriff’s garage in Emerald for three years before returning to Hasset’s.

In 1969 he bought the ELTO garage, near the Emerald Lake turnoff, where he stayed till 1974, coinciding with his first bike racing stint. In 1974 he went into business with his friend John Tolley as mowing contractors ‘Tolley and Lamble’ on a handshake agreement successful for 22 years. They had a contract with the City of Knox mowing roadsides, ovals and parks and did extensive work for the Board of Works through Melbourne’s eastern suburbs.

In 1992 Herb and wife Vicki bought an ’87 Custom Coach with the intention of using it as a mobile home to travel around Australia, but first took it on a trip to Birdsville with seventeen local blokes who contributed to the costs. The trip was so successful it gave rise to a new venture, ‘Lamble Tours’, which this year celebrates 20 years of business. Herb and Vicki have driven and escorted coach tours extensively through Victoria and New South Wales and all over Australia including southwest West Australia, north to the Kimberleys, Alice Springs, the Flinders Ranges, Cairns, Townsville, the Sunshine Coast, the Gold Coast. They have also conducted tours to Canada and New Zealand where they hire coaches, and Vicki has done river cruises in Europe.

A remarkable road travelled since Herbie’s days at the single building Emerald Primary School in the 1950’s.


Not long after I wrote that Herb sold up in Emerald and moved to Benalla in retirement. Brother Jod worked for Herb driving tractors slashing for some years. Herb owned Elto when we were first in Emerald in the early '70's and was always friendly and helpful whatever problem we presented to him at the garage. 

 

 


Friday, September 22, 2023

Spring

The first Prelim final is tonight. I hope the bounce favours the GWS and I can finally be rid of Collingwood for the year. Can't see it happening though. A GWS victory would mean probably a Brisbane/ GWS Grand Final, given that Brisbane are strong favourites in the 2nd prelim. That seems a preposterous idea/eventuality. 


It's been a while since I last posted on 15 Aug. Lib and I did a trip to the Yorke Peninsula for a week or so. Loved it. Broad acre cropping. Wheat, barley, lentils, canola, all looking like a good year, paddocks stretching to the horizon. A lot of small towns on the coast, obviously it's popular for summer holidays. In late August it was peaceful and uncrowded everywhere we went. I hadn't been there before. Most impressed. 3 nights at Moonta Bay, 2 at Edinburgh, and 2 at Balaklava on the way back.


Jimmy Buffet died as September kicked off, aged 76, after a three-year battle with cancer I think. I liked Jimmy. I became a fan of his music in the 70's after enjoying Come Monday and buying an LP at Disclocation (record shop) ran by Des Sheridan and his wife Carol in Wangaratta. I wonder if Des and Carol are still alive.


The Demons sealed a spot in the top 4 while we were in Balaklava, beating Sydney in Sydney. Not that it did them any good, as they lost the next week to Collingwood. An agonizing game for a Melbourne supporter to endure after Brayshaw being poleaxed in the first 10 minutes taking no further part, and several easy shots for goal missing in the last quarter giving C'wood victory by 7 pts. Then Carlton the next week getting up in the last minute, again after several easy shots at goal missed, and dreadful field kicking. If the C'wood one was agonizing, the Carlton one twisted the knife.


Then that night or next day, Ron Barassi died, aged 87. For what seems like all my life, at least in the conscious memory, RDB has been such a prominent figure, a revered figure, a tangible link to the glory years of my childhood when Melbourne won 6 premierships in 10 years from 1955-1964, four of them beating C'wood in the Grand Final. He went on to coach 4 premierships, resurrecting Carlton first then Nth Melbourne.


Then this last week Roger Whittaker died. Aged 87, he died of a stroke. I was a fan of Roger Whittaker back in the 70's after he shot to fame with Mexican Whistler and Durham Town. I had several albums over the years and his voice somehow conveyed optimism and love of life. He was like a good friend I turned to when Music and song could give me what people couldn't. Gordon Lightfoot died last May 1. He was 84. He wrote some brilliant songs, probably The Canadian Railway Trilogy ranks at the top of my all-time favourite songs.


It's a strange thing, being this age. It's like a progression, waiting to hear who's next. I wonder how Bobby Skilton's travelling. Maybe I'll hear something of him on Brownlow night next Monday, if I can bear to watch it. Kris Kristofferson is in his eighties, Paul Simon? All these larger-than-life figures make wonder. Lib and I were talking. Carly Simon? Anne Murray?


On a bright note, the sun is shining on this glorious spring day and the veggie garden is jumping for joy. 

Go GWS tonight.







Tuesday, August 15, 2023

Presence

 I came across a quote, I think on a Facebook feed, by John Eldridge. I didn't know who he was, so I googled, to find he's an American author, writer of Christian themed books.

The gift of presence is a rare and beautiful gift. To come unguarded, undistracted - be fully present, fully engaged with whoever we are at that moment.

That's how I feel when I work down the river reserve. My focus is on what is immediately around me. I hear bees working in the flowering wattle. See fairy wrens flitting about in the understory. Crows and magpies in the distance. Young ducks swim on the lagoon.

Perfect Peace.

No thought of war in the Ukraine. Referendum. Cost of living. Housing crisis. Brody Grundy. Score review. Julian Assange. Interest rates. Addiction.

Just trees and birds and seeing results of previous work. 



Tuesday, August 01, 2023

The Ashes (2)

 I was very pleased to wake to the news that England won the fifth test. Two all for the series.


England should/would have won back the Ashes by winning the series were in not for rain depriving them of victory in the fourth test.


Pity about that. Really though, I couldn't give a stuff about the cricket.


The days are slowly stretching out as we enter the last month of winter. The predictions are for El Ninio to belt us in summer, and the heatwave in Europe and America, along with bushfire, does cause some anxiety for what lies ahead.


Putting aside that, I had some anxiety of my own with some weird sensations in my fingers and hands recently. Tingling in finger tips, spreading to hands generally, a numbness with loss of feeling. It went away and came back a few hours later. Was this some sort of warning sign of an impending stroke, or even a slight stroke in progress?


I asked Lib what she thought. Should I go to the doc and get checked, or to the Em Dep as a precaution? The doc would probably refer me to neurologists or others and there'd be expense and wait times. We decided if it persisted, I'd front up at hospital and ask them to run their gadgets over me.


Lib did a bit of googling and found the solution to this dilemma we think. A while back a friend (in Qld) in conversation on the phone, told me he makes marijuana butter with M'a that he gets from his son. I told Lib this and she said she'd like to try it; it may help with her long Covid which has been persistent. So, I asked around and sourced some and made some butter. I didn't strain out the solids as my friend does, they were finally chopped in the butter and ingested with the butter and biscuit. Lib wasn't happy with it, said it made her dizzy. It was sitting there in the fridge, so I started having it on a bickie when I had a bath, as I usually do with my dips from the Greek ladies.


This morning the numbness in the hands came while I was talking to Lib. With the help of google she found that a common side effect of edible M'a is exactly that, pins and needles and numbness in the hands and feet. I don't like it so that's the end of that experiment. The source where I got it said he'd take the rest back and make an oil out of it (he has a still) that you take by one drop under the tongue.


Life is a learning experience. I'm relieved I'm not having a stroke or heart attack. Or am I? I'm having trouble using my left index finger to push the Shift key. Good thing I married a nurse.


Seriously, I'm sure I'm fine. We are going to visit ex-neighbour Helen this arvo. She's in Estia Aged Care here. We visited a few weeks ago and I have some nice orange chocolate for her. It was enlightening to visit her. She recognised us no prob, seems well and happy, and we joined in the carpet bowls with the residents for their activity session. The sad thing was seeing so many old people in wheelchairs, on frames and in various stages of dementia.


There but for the grace of God. There's something to be said for going out quickly with a stroke or heart attack. Better that than a partial freak out that leaves you severely incapacitated and at the mercy of what may be.




Thursday, July 06, 2023

The Ashes

I have a mild interest in the Test cricket, as do many Australians. As a boy my interest was strong. Ball by ball radio commentary was listened to intently wherever it was played in Australia, and if it was in England, I'd go to bed listening to the newly invented transistor radio, usually falling asleep by the lunch break. I'd play cricket in the back yard, throwing the ball against a brick wall and facing up to it with the bat as it returned. I'd play a whole test match in my head that could take hours. The Aussies were my heroes. The Poms the enemy. That was in my pre-teens and early teens.

 

One of the good things about now being in my seventies is comparing the views I had a young person with those I have now. Cricket has changed. The world has changed. I have changed. There are so many attitudes I had as a young man that I no longer hold. It's sobering. Case in point. As a young man I was a binge drinker. Now I'm a non drinker. Alcohol was seen as something exciting, a way to have fun, unwind, celebrate. Now it is seen as something that stopped me reaching my potential. But telling that to the 20 year old me. No hope.


When I watch the cricket now, the result of the game is of no consequence. As with all sport, the result, (who wins) really has no importance in the real scheme of life. This is a realization developed over more than half a century of observation. The magnification of the significance of winning, is built up by media. A huge industry of commentary, prediction, analysis and opinion. It gets kids in. They consume media, attend games, buy sponsors products. Ex cricketers (and footballers) are commentators, and used in advertising solar panels, air-conditioning and motor vehicles.

 

I watched the first Ashes test in England with more interest than normal, because Scott Boland was in the team, and I like the guy. I hoped he did well, and because he was playing for Australia, I hoped Australia won. Scott was dropped for the second test. No mindless national parochialism for me, so I hoped England won. They may well have, except for the run out of Bairstow in appalling circumstances. The guy walked out of his crease at overs' end to talk to his captain and was run out because the keeper threw the ball onto the stumps before the umpire called "Over."


Pathetic. I'm not here now to debate it along the lines of "spirit of the game," or the "rules of the game." My opinion is it was weak as piss. I would rather lose with honour than win with shame.


However, I'm not surprised. Australia has an unfortunate historical record. Greg Chappell's underarm. Sandpapergate. Nasty sledging. Warne and Waugh giving information to bookies. It could be argued they should have been banned for life. I think Warne was rubbed out for a year on a drug thing. There's been huge public debate about all of this. One thing is sure, it's all publicity, with politicians weighing in and headlines everywhere. The controversy fuels the media beast and turns a mouse into an elephant.


Gord gave me a book on my birthday, 'Lillee and Thommo', (subt "their deadly reign of terror,") by Ian Brayshaw. Happenstance, I'm reading it now. Back in the day I was a staunch barracker for Australia, cheering every Pom wicket to fall, gleefully watching their batsman squirm in pain after being struck. Now I see the attitude as something sick and ugly. It was following similar ugliness on the 1970/71 England tour when John Snow intimidated and belittled the Australians.

 

These days the cricketers (and footballers) are multi-millionaires. My youthful illusions gradually disintegrated. In sport, and politics. I was a victim of propaganda in my early life.


There are a lot of people laughing all the way to the bank.

 




Thursday, June 15, 2023

This Old World Keeps Right On Turning

It's June already. Even halfway through. Shortest day of the year next week, winter solstice.

A Kris Kristofferson song is running through my head repeatedly.

This old world keeps right on turning for the better or the worse,

and if all I ever get is older and around.

from the rocking of the cradle to the rolling of the hearse,

the going up was worth the coming down.

Something close to that, I don't recall the song title. I had a memory flash that 2 June was Annette Traghard's birthday. It may well not be so. Memory flashes are unreliable. She became Annette Welsh sometime in the '70's. 5 June was World Environment Day, the theme being let's rid the oceans of plastic. I did my bit for the environment in the afternoon that day, weeding on the river reserve, as I do every other day when I can. 6 June I was in the dentist chair with Ah Ling and Trylock peering into my mouth, offering suggestions as to future crowning and possible implant where I lost a tooth extracted 3 days before our move interstate in 2021. With the bad timing of the toothache, and no time for root canal option before we moved, I opted "Take it out." ($4500 for the implant- no thanks) My next dentist appt is 19 June for a filling where a rear molar is cracked.

6 June was also DDay, the anniversary of the Allies invasion of France in WW11. That event reminds me that it is also Ann Harry's birthday. Ann used to run the Gembrook PO agency when we lived there, a delightful lady, I had sent her a greeting in the mail, and thought of her while I was mouth open in the dentist chair. She and her husband Greg have since sold the agency. 

7 June was a working bee for the Hindmarsh River Estuary Friends Group9. Lib came with me. The group planted over 100 native trees, shrubs and grasses in areas where weeds had been previously removed. Great stuff. 9 June was the anniversary of my old friend Blossom's birthday in 1937. I think Bloss died in 2014, as it is in my head she died aged 77. I didn't think she'd make that age; she was a big woman with history of illness. 10 June rings a bell, but I can't recall why. 16 June is my friend Amanda's birthday. She lived in Gembrook when we were there, in our street for some of it, and had kids at school with ours. Divorced, she lives in Melbourne now. I sent her birthday greeting also, she probably got it today. Nice to think of her getting the mail. My niece Rosie has her 42nd birthday next week. I remember she was delivered in the cab of the Toyota Land Cruiser tray ute outside the Dandenond hospital. They didn't quite make it inside. Lib and I were in the throes of moving from Wang to Gembrook and were in Emerald at the time.

As I write this, I recall that I was frustrated totally on the morning of 5 June, having been on the phone to Centrelink for nearly 3 hours. Abbreviated, the story is that some weeks previous we applied for a Seniors Health Care card for Lib, as she had reached the enabling age in March. I already have one. She already had a Low Income Health Care Card, which we had both successfully reapplied for in January (it doesn't renew automatically each year). Due to some confusion over Clink wanting to see our 2022 tax returns which don't exist as we earned no taxable income that year, it was required we had to ring them. That meant a wait time on the phone listening to music for a couple of hours, then a lengthy discussion sorting out. We are self-funded retirees receiving no part pension so I couldn't understand why it was so hard when Lib already could claim pharmaceuticals at subsidized rate on her Low Income Card. We were told Lib would get the card but I don't hold my breath. I want her to get it because the Low Income one has to be applied for every year, quite a rigmarole, and if I drop off the perch at least she'll have the Senior's Health Card, automatically renewed, if she chooses not to bother with the annual reapplication for the LI card, as I suspect she wouldn't. I do it, because if you have that one, you get a concession from the SA government off rates and water bills, which the straight Senior's HC card doesn't give you, unless you receive a government pension. That is how I understand it and I don't know why it is all so complicated.

While I was frustrated angry waiting on the line to talk to CLink, I rummaged through hard files to make sure I had what they might want in terms of Lib's retirement from work. I found an invoice from Tower Fire Arms in Doncaster Melbourne for a shotgun that Tower was to sell on consignment for me. In a hurry when we migrated to SA I couldn't organize sale of this gun, or interstate gun license in time, so I left it with Tower as a solution. Not ideal, because it really was Gord's gun, given to him by Lib's dad Bill when Gord was a boy, following the introduction of the new gun laws in the 1990's. It was a Cashmore double barrelled 12 gauge stamped on the barrell second prize 1888 Melbourne Show, with a leather case. It was a family heirloom handed down from Bill's grandfather ending up with Gord, which made it my problem. I'd had to jump through hoops to get a gun license and invest in storage lock up safe. I renewed this license a number of times over the years and eventually as we were moving interstate Gord agreed to overcome his sentimental attachment and try to sell it as the best option at the time of our move.  I rang Roland at Tower numerous times to see if he'd sold the gun. He always had some reason why he hadn't, Covid, his wife had a stroke, was always vague about the gun as if he couldn't remember it. Rather than stress about I'd concluded we'd never see a dollar for the gun, there was nought I could do. 

Bored and angry waiting on the line for CLink on landline, I rang Roland at Tower on the mobile and had to remind him of the gun and the paperwork I had in my hand about sale on consignment. He said he'd try to find out what happened to the gun and said he'd ring me back in a day or two. He'd said that before, but never did. When I came out of the dentist's on 6 June, Gord was not at the car, having wandered off somewhere. He had the keys. I looked at used cars across the road, the prices were staggering. My mobile buzzed. Bugger me it was Roland. Said he'd sold the gun some weeks ago and would send me a money order for $400 tomorrow. He asked me for my full name and address, which didn't say a lot about his record keeping. 

I still doubted the money order would arrive and said so to Gord. I forgot about it. It came in yesterday's mail, a pleasant surprise. Gord and I went to the PO and cashed it, and Gord got his money. If I hadn't got stirred up over CLink I probably never would have rang Roland again as I'd given up on it. God knows how much the gun was really worth, might have been '000's. I'm just happy it's no longer unresolved.


Friday, May 26, 2023

STREWTH

 🌏 Zali Steggall MP Retweeted

The PWC stench just gets stronger “the private consultancy of the man who was PwC chief executive at the time of the leaks has received 17 government contracts since April 2021, totalling more than $6.2 million. Luke Sayers (also the president of Carlton Football Club) is a friend of former treasurer Josh Frydenberg (former number-one ticket holder at Carlton).. (cont)

Kissinger 100

 

Henry Kissinger at 100: Still a War Criminal

Forget the birthday candles, let’s count the dead.

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Henry Kissinger is turning 100 this week, and his centennial is prompting assorted hosannas about perhaps the most influential American foreign policymaker of the 20th century. The Economist observed that “his ideas have been circling back into relevancy for the last quarter century.” The Times of London ran an appreciation: “Henry Kissinger at 100: What He Can Tell Us About the World.” Policy shops and think tanks have held conferences to mark this milestone. CBS News aired a mostly fawning interview veteran journalist Ted Koppel conducted with Kissinger that included merely a glancing reference to the ignoble and bloody episodes of his career. Kissinger is indeed a monumental figure who shaped much of the past 50 years. He brokered the US opening to China and pursued detente with the Soviet Union during his stints as President Richard Nixon’s national security adviser and secretary of state. Yet it is an insult to history that he is not equally known and regarded for his many acts of treachery—secret bombings, coup-plotting, supporting military juntas—that resulted in the death of hundreds of thousands. 

Kissinger’s diplomatic conniving led to or enabled slaughters around the globe. As he blows out all those candles, let’s call the roll.

Cambodia: In early 1969, shortly after Nixon moved into the White House and inherited the Vietnam War, he, Kissinger, and others cooked up a plan to secretly bomb Cambodia, in pursuit of enemy camps. With the perversely-named “Operation Breakfast” launched, White House chief of staff H.R. “Bob” Haldeman wrote in his diary, Kissinger and Nixon were “really excited.” The action, though, was of dubious legality; the United States was not at war with Cambodia and Congress had not authorized the carpet-bombing, which Nixon tried to keep a secret. The US military dropped 540,000 tons of bombs. They didn’t just hit enemy outposts. The estimates of Cambodian civilians killed range between 150,000 and 500,000.

Bangladesh: In 1970, a political party advocating autonomy for East Pakistan won legislative elections. The military dictator ruling Pakistan, Gen. Agha Muhammad Yahya Khan, arrested the leader of that party and ordered his army to crush the Bengalis. At the time, Yahya, a US ally, was helping Kissinger and Nixon establish ties with China, and they didn’t want to get in his way. The top US diplomat in East Pakistan sent in a cable detailing and decrying the atrocities committed by Yahya’s troops and reported they were committing “genocide.” Yet Nixon and Kissinger declined to criticize Yahya or take action to end the barbarous assault. (This became known as “the tilt” toward Pakistan.) Kissinger and Nixon turned a blind eye to—arguably, they tacitly approved—Pakistan’s genocidal slaughter of 300,000 Bengalis, most of them Hindus.

Chile: Nixon and Kissinger plotted to covertly thwart the democratic election of socialist president Salvador Allende in 1970. This included Kissinger supervising clandestine operations aimed at destabilizing Chile and triggering a military coup. This scheming yielded the assassination of Chile’s commander-in-chief of the Army. Eventually, a military junta led by Gen. Augusto Pinochet seized power, killed thousands of Chileans, and implemented a dictatorship, Following the coup, Kissinger backed Pinochet to the hilt. During a private conversation with the Chilean tyrant in 1976, he told Pinochet, “My evaluation is that you are a victim of all left-wing groups around the world and that your greatest sin was that you overthrew a government which was going communist.”

East Timor: In December 1975, President Suharto of Indonesia was contemplating an invasion of East Timor, which had recently been a Portuguese colony and was moving toward independence. On December 6, President Gerald Ford and Kissinger, then Ford’s secretary of state, en route from a visit to Beijing, stopped in Jakarta to meet with Suharto, who headed the nation’s military regime. Suharto signaled he intended to send troops into East Timor and integrate the territory into Indonesia. Ford and Kissinger did not object. Ford told Suharto, “We will understand and will not press you on the issue. We understand the problem and the intentions you have.” Kissinger added, “It is important that whatever you do succeeds quickly.” He pointed out that Suharto would be wise to wait until Ford and Kissinger returned to the United States, where they “would be able to influence the reaction in America.” The invasion began the next day. Here was a “green light” from Kissinger (and Ford). Suharto’s brutal invasion of East Timor resulted in 200,000 deaths.

Argentina: In March 1976, a neofascist military junta overthrew President Isabel Perón and launched what would be called the Dirty War, torturing, disappearing, and killing political opponents it branded as terrorists. Once again, Kissinger provided a “green light,” this time to a campaign of terror and murder. He did so during a private meeting in June 1976 with the junta’s foreign minister, Cesar Augusto Guzzetti. At that sit-down, according to a memo obtained in 2004 by the National Security Archive, a nonprofit organization, Guzzetti told Kissinger, “our main problem in Argentina is terrorism.” Kissinger replied, “If there are things that have to be done, you should do them quickly.” In other words, go ahead with your savage crusade against the leftists. The Dirty War would claim the lives of an estimated 30,000 Argentine civilians.

Throughout his career in government and politics, Kissinger was an unprincipled schemer who engaged in multiple acts of skullduggery. During the 1968 presidential campaign, while he advised the Johnson administration’s team at the Paris peace talks, which were aimed at ending the Vietnam War, he underhandedly passed information on the talks to Nixon’s camp, which was plotting to sabotage the negotiations, out of fear that success at the talks would boost the prospects of Vice President Hubert Humphrey, Nixon’s opponent in the race. After the secret bombing in Cambodia was revealed by the New York Times, Kissinger, acting at Nixon’s request, urged FBI director J. Edgar Hoover to wiretap his own aides and journalists to discover who was leaking. This operation failed to uncover who had outed the covert bombing, but, as historian Garrett Graff noted in his recent book, Watergate: A New History, this effort seeded “the administration’s taste for spying on its enemies—real or imagined.” 

In 1976, Kissinger was briefed on Operation Condor, a secret program created by the intelligence services of the military dictatorships of South America to assassinate their political foes inside and outside their countries. He then blocked a State Department effort to warn these military juntas not to proceed with international assassinations. As the National Security Archive points out in a dossier it released this week on various Kissinger controversies, “Five days later, Condor’s boldest and most infamous terrorist attack took place in downtown Washington D.C. when a car-bomb, planted by Pinochet’s agents, killed former Chilean ambassador Orlando Letelier and his young colleague, Ronni Moffitt.”

It’s easy to cast Kissinger as a master geostrategist, an expert player in the game of nations. But do the math. Hundreds of thousands of dead in Bangladesh, Cambodia, and East Timor, perhaps a million in total. Tens of thousands dead in Argentina’s Dirty War. Thousands killed and tens of thousands tortured by the Chilean military dictatorship, and a democracy destroyed. His hands are drenched in blood. 

Kissinger is routinely lambasted by his critics as a “war criminal,” though has never been held accountable for his misdeeds. He has made millions as a consultant, author, and commentator in the decades since he left government. I once heard of a Manhattan cocktail reception where he scoffed at the “war criminal” label and referred to it almost as a badge of honor. (“Bill Clinton does not have the spine to be a war criminal,” he joshed.) Kissinger has expressed few, if any, regrets about the cruel and deadly results of his moves on the global chessboard. When Koppel gently nudged him about the secret bombing in Cambodia, Kissinger took enormous umbrage and shot back: “This program you’re doing because I’m going to be 100 years old. And you are picking a topic of something that happened 60 years ago? You have to know it was a necessary step.” As for those who still protest him for that and other acts, he huffed, “Now the younger generation feels if they can raise their emotions, they don’t have to think.”

As he enters his second century, there will be no apologies coming from Kissinger. But the rest of us will owe history—and the thousands dead because of his gamesmanship—an apology, if we do not consider the man in full. Whatever his accomplishments, his legacy includes an enormous pile of corpses. This is a birthday that warrants no celebration.

 

Tuesday, May 23, 2023

The Moose

 

Hello Carey,

A drunk moose got stuck in a tree. It sounds like the start of a bad joke, but it's actually a true story that happened in Sweden back in 2011. This moose made the poor decision to eat fermented apples and ended up highly inebriated and stuck in a tree. It's a funny story, but it also highlights the fact that alcohol can lead to poor decision-making, even for animals.

And it’s not just Swedish moose that have been known to have one too many.

In Canada, a group of birds ate fermented berries and ended up crashing into windows and cars. In Germany, two hedgehogs spent the night locked up in the zoo after indulging in a discarded beer bottle. And then there’s the drunken bees. Bees can get drunk from fermented nectar, and become very dangerous flyers, often causing accidents.

These stories may be amusing, but they also demonstrate that we're not alone in our issues with alcohol.

We humans are no strangers to making bad decisions when we've had a few too many drinks. I'm sure we've all had nights where we woke up and thought, "What on earth was I thinking?" Maybe we sent a text we regretted, said something we shouldn't have, or ended up in a situation we never imagined we would be in.

But the reality is, alcohol lowers our inhibitions and impairs our judgment, making us more likely to do things we wouldn't normally do.

When we drink, our brains slow down. Like wayyyyy down. Alcohol interferes with the brain's communication pathways and can affect the way the brain looks and works. Alcohol makes it harder for the brain areas controlling judgment to do their jobs and suddenly we understand how the moose ended up in the tree.

Making better decisions is something we can all use help with - even when we're no longer drinking.

After all, it isn’t just alcohol that we use to numb out.

Mindless Facebook scrolling, storm eating, there are so many other ways we often find ourselves making poor choices. These 3 tips can help you make choices you can live with -

1) Practice mindfulness. Be present in the moment, pay attention to your thoughts and feelings, and make conscious choices. By taking a step back and thinking about the consequences of your actions, you can avoid making impulsive decisions you’ll regret later.

2) Don’t do it alone. We all need people we can turn to for advice and guidance to help us make better decisions. It’s helpful to have a sounding board when we're feeling uncertain. And they can also offer practical solutions to our problems, and help us stay accountable.

3) Put it off if you need to. Impulsiveness and trusting your gut isn’t always the best choice. Often we need to gather more information and combine it with what our intuition is telling us in order to make better choices.

The thing is - most of these animals don’t know any better. They can’t do their research or make a conscious choice to make better decisions. They need to rely on their survival instincts. We have so many more resources at our disposal yet, we often choose to be the moose.

xxAnnie

P.S. Have you been the moose in the tree one too many times? Had enough? 

Wednesday, May 03, 2023

Vale Fisky

 A couple of years ago I had a friend request on Facebook from Darrell Fisk. I remembered Fisky from my time in Wangaratta when I played footy at Greta from 1978-1981. Greta was a happy place, I made many friends there, some close, some casual, but it was great for me personally at the time to be involved in such a warm friendly environment. I was of course more than happy to accept Fisky's friend request.

I'm not a frequent poster on FB, but I do check it most days. Fisky was also an occasional poster, but I found him to be of good humour and interesting. A Saint supporter, football evoked a comment from him now and then and I enjoyed picking up on his banter with his mates.

A few weeks back with the Saints starting the year winning everything it occurred to me that I hadn't seen a post from Fisky for a while. It's not unusual for friend's posts not to come up on my feed, so I thought I must have missed his. I searched and looked at his site and saw that along with a birthday wish from me last September, there was one other that had RIP. I messaged Bill O'brien who played at Greta when I did in the 1980 premiership, Bill also being a friend on FB. A few days later Bill answered my question as to Fisky's status, to learn that he died last July. In a very sad accident, he was out cutting firewood with his sons when a tree hit him and killed him.

Fisky was born in 1958 I learned when I googled him and found funeral details. He would have been 63 years old, 6 years 5 months younger than me, so he was in the younger circle at Greta, and we didn't play as teammates in the same team to my recollection. 

It was a shock to learn of his passing by such a means, some nine months after the event. I'm grateful for every day that I lay my head down at night for the safe passage of the day. Random accidents can happen to anyone anytime. I feel for Fisky's family. I'm sorry he didn't get to see the Saints win another flag.

Wednesday, April 19, 2023

What is the Matter with These People?

 There are now four field umpires at AFL games. The standard of the umpiring has not improved. In fact it seems to have deteriorated.

There seems to be weird differences in games and from game to game in interpretation of the rules. Decision making on things like a push in the back, whether it be in marking contest or general play is so inconsistent that it puts me off watching. I could go on and on about other rules, incorrect disposal, keeping the ball in play (sufficient intent), dissent, protected area and 50 metre penalties, play on, "stand" on the mark. It seems to have lost all sense of reason and is beyond understanding. Now dangerous tackle. 

The killer for me was in the Port Adelaide/Western Bulldogs game. 4 minutes before 3/4 time, in a very tight game, Cody Weightman of the Bulldogs was running in front of his opponent Burton chasing a loose ball into full forward. An almost certain goal was expected at a crucial point in the game. Burton pushed him fair square in the middle of the back causing him to fall over. No free kick, and the ball was cleared. I could not believe a free kick was not paid; it was so obvious.  What is the use having a rule stating a push in the back brings a free kick if it's paid only occasionally. 

I'm not a Bulldog fan, but that one made me think the game is corrupted and the umpires are in on it big time. 

Crap is crap and the umpiring this year is CRAP.


Tuesday, March 14, 2023

Neighbour Helen

 It was our neighbour Helen's 78th birthday on 25 February. In the two years we've lived here she has been coming to visit on more days than she hasn't. In the beginning she'd come sometimes 3 times a day. If it was morning I'd offer a cup of tea or coffee, late afternoon a glass of wine. It became a bit much, she'd let herself in without knocking, if the front door was locked she'd go round the side gate and come in through the back yard.


We had to set some rules. I rigged up a lock for the side gate. I told her not to come in without knocking. This took a while to sink in. I had to keep the front door locked, and if I went out and the garage was open, lock the door from the garage to the house and from the garage into the back yard. I didn't let her in if she came in the evenings and knocked on the door. I said we didn't want visitors in the evenings. She kept trying now and again. 


Before Christmas I came home one day and Gord told me there was loud banging out the back. I looked over the fence but couldn't see anything, there's a big bush between where I was looking and the court where Helen's front of house is. Her house is immediately behind ours with access from the court, the house next to us on the corner of our street and the court.


About an hour or so after Gord heard the banging my phone rang. It was Helen's daughter ringing from Hobart. She said Helen had gone to drive her car out but forgot to raise the electric door. The door was totalled, and probably the car. The police and ambulance were there she said, Helen was not injured, but could I go see her to make sure she was OK. The ambos and cops, two cars of each, were still there when I got there. She was shaken but OK. They asked me to check on her in the morning. She was Ok.



After that incident had no car. She had managed to damage every panel somehow and pulled the control off the wall. She must have panicked with the noise and gunned it. I have been doing some shopping for her by way of a list, and a few times she has asked me to take her to Coles or an appointment, say at the ophthalmologist or to her bridge session. It was a nuisance, but you do this for a neighbour in need. When she called in the mornings, we'd usually do the quizz out of the Adelaide Advertiser (I kept them for that purpose), that was easier than trying to make conversation. She'd stay only twenty minutes or so, then go home to "get back to the dog." 


She didn't come in on the morning of her birthday. Lib and I went to take her a card and a block of chocolate, and some left-over curry and rice from a delicious dish we had the night before (made by Jethro, Ian Sinclair's son. Ian, Jethro and Kulan were staying with us). The dog Peppi was barking from inside, but Helen didn't come to the door. We could hear the television going. The door was not locked, I opened it and called out to her. No answer. We didn't want to leave the curry outside, so we went in, still calling out. No Helen. We put the gear on the bench and went out, but as we did Peppi bolted out and into the court. He ran towards our road. I was worried he'd be hit by a car, and we hurried after him calling. As we neared the corner who should appear but Helen, all dressed up with handbag, saying someone had been supposed to pick her up for lunch for her birthday but didn't show. I asked who it was, she said she couldn't remember. She went home with Peppi trotting after her, we'd told her we'd left stuff on the bench.


The next day, Sunday, she came in at lunch time, without knocking, shopping bag in hand, and asked would I take her to Coles. OK I said but I'd have my soup first. I offered her soup from the pot, and she sat and ate with us and our visitors. I then took her to Coles. We were there quite a while, she fussed about, and I watched from a distance while she fumbled around trying to self-checkout. when I drove back I saw a police car parked in our street opposite the entrance to her court. No cops to be seen. I drove to her driveway and there was an ambulance parked outside, not across her driveway, but outside her house. I thought there must have been a problem with another neighbour in the court, but there was no one to be seen. I offered to help Helen in with her shopping, but she said she was fine, and I saw her slowly walking towards her front door.


A couple of hours later our neighbour Deb (other side) knocked on our door saying that the neighbour next to us on the corner of the court, Sue, had seen Helen arguing with a large chunky lady and later leave in the ambulance. It hadn't occurred to me that Helen had anything to do with the ambulance as she was with me and seemed fine when I dropped her off.


A lady who knew Helen knocked on the door later and told Lib what happened. Helen had been wandering in the street and was vague when another lady who lived up the road asked her if she was alright. She was messing with her phone but couldn't use it properly. That lady took her home and found the house unclean. I had noticed the sink grimy when we were there on the Saturday, and the house smelt of dog, but I wasn't looking for problems at that point. She'd rung the police and ambulance. Helen then must have come into our place asking to go shopping before they got there, and they were out looking for her when I came back with her. She'd been taken to Flinders hospital in Adelaide for assessment. 


 A few days later neighbour Sue told me a friend of Helen's (her "boyfriend" Trevor, who was a frequent visitor to her house) told her that Helen had discharged herself from hospital, having taken $1000 from her bank account, but left her handbag behind at the hospital and was wandering somewhere, no one knew where she was. I texted her daughter a few days later, she replied Helen was found in a stranger's place and taken back to hospital where she'd be for another week for assessment, but it was unlikely she'd be able to live alone again. That week is up, we've heard no more. Oddly, after all the times we felt annoyed by her visits, now that she's gone, we sort of miss her.  I suppose we'll learn from Catherine what happens, I think she was looking for an aged care facility in Hobart.


 

Monday, January 30, 2023

Happiness

I watched a TV show recently on happiness. It was an hour-long episode, first of a series. I don't need to watch the others. It was quite scientific, with a number of University PHD people from various places in the US giving testimony to their research detailing the measurements from all sorts of experiments, on the brain and its function, using a lot of technical terms that went way over my head.

The one that registered with me was a guy who had his students write a diary for three months. Every night before retiring to bed they were required to write down three things that they were grateful for. At the end of three months when these people were tested it was found this group was way happier by the brain measurement of whatever they used to measure, compared to the control group who were not asked to do this.

I understood immediately that this is what I do in my own way. Most nights when I lie down before sleep comes, I review the day, thinking of what I'm happy about and grateful for. This is like a prayer of thanks to God or Mother Earth or whatever it is that has bestowed on me the many things I'm grateful for. Years ago, I wrote the words "Love and Gratitude" on two slips of paper. One I stuck on the fridge, so I see it every day in the kitchen, the other I stuck inside my wallet, so I often see it when I extract notes.

The TV show concluded that by writing down each night what they are grateful for, it caused a focus of thinking to be on these things rather than things you did not have and thinking that acquiring them would be a solution to finding happiness. Pretty basic. I concur precisely and was pleased I already knew what all these professors and costly research were discovering.

I hope I'm not sounding smug. I know it's a simplification, but the words "keep it simple stupid", are often most appropriate.