Holiday Wrap Up

A couple of weeks have gone by since my last post. I've been too tired at night to write. I just want to sit and watch a bit of TV or go to bed and sleep. I have been so busy with work and many things. But tired as I am tonight, and with an aching ankle that I must have stretched climbing a tree today, I do want to continue my summary of our holiday in November. My intention is to condense two weeks into a short post so that I can move on to more recent thoughts in my next post.

Day 4 we went to Noosa. The freeway system with all the exits onto roudabouts had us going round and round. I have never seen so many roundabouts. Because of all the rotations the signs to localities all seemed out of kilter to my inbuilt sense of direction after looking at maps. I was totally bamboozled. When we did get somewhere where there may well have been nice beaches nearby it was terribly crowded and parking was a problem. The whole area seemed to be highly developed along some US style plan. Frankly it gave us the the Heebeejeebies and we quickly got out of there.

On the way out we did find a great place after following a sign to a lookout where the views were 360 and spectacular, somewhere close to Cooroy. There was a school group learning to abseil down the rock face. We took the Mary Valley Tourist road to Gympie where we did a shop and headed back to Eumendie for lunch. Lovely scenery along the Blackall range to Maleny where we looked for accomm, settling on a cabin in a tourist park on the way down the hill to Landsborough. Frankly it was a bit of a dump and overpriced and a co-tenant sang country songs half the night so we hit the road south next day having determined to get to the Lamington National Park to spend the next couple of days, We drove straight through Brisbane on the freeway turning off at Nerang.

After a look at Binna Burra (we didn't like the camp site they gave us, right next to a kiosk thing) we moved on to O'Reilly's campground and put up our little tent. The scenery on the way up was sensational, it was an hours climb up from Canungra along some very narrow and windy roads. With our little butane gas stoves we cooked up a feed of lamb chops and just beat the thunderstorm which crashed all around. It rained pretty hard for a few hours but we kept dry in the tent.

  We stayed two nights and loved the rainforest, the abundant bird life and the walks.

Morgan's Falls

The second night was another storm, we just managed to get dinner in before the deluge.

By this time we still hadn't visited a beach or put a rod in so we farewelled Lamington and headed towards Evan's Head via Beaudesert, Kyogle, Casino an Lismore. We lunched by a little creek near Grevillea where I saw a Scarlet Headed honeyeaters. We drove through a fierce storm near Lismore.

Dingo Creek

We booked a cabin at Evan's Head for three nights and loved our stay there so stayed a fourth.We couldn't catch a fish but we did get caught one evening fishing without the Aerogard and were mercilessly bitten by sandflies which caused us grief for weeks after with unbelievable itchiness. We had a storm close by every night.

I must be a crook fisherman, but I don't mind, I don't like killing the poor things these days

Tiredness is claiming me. I'll have to go to bed. I'll finish the holiday tomorrow night.

Maroochydore

Day 3 of our holiday was a Sunday. After leaving Narrabri we stopped at Moree for shopping and Inglewood for lunch, a picnic in the park. It was on the warm side, and a hungry family of magpies and honeyeaters of a type unfamiliar to me provided entertainment. I remembered stopping in the same park for lunch nearly 40 years earlier on a tour from Gatton college to the New England Tablelands.

The roads were quiet and the travelling leisurely till we passed Warwick and started the descent on the eastern side of the divide, where the traffic increased and the tone of it changed. Other drivers were more aggressive and less communicative and responsive to gesture and signal as it was apparent we were approaching a city. Into Brisbane along a large freeway we went, unsure where to exit to find the most expedient route to the Sunshine Coast which we had decided was our destination for that night.

Dark grey clouds massed mid afternoon as we inadvertently ended up in some hilly part of Brisbane searching for the main highway north. With perfect adverse timing the heavens opened and a gale blew up to a violent storm that proved to be the first of nine in the days to follow. These storms seemed to follow us but in fact they were localized yet widespread throughout SE Qld and north east NSW, and the pattern was for lovely calm sunny mornings which preceded a build up of heavy cloud after lunch culminating in an electrical show with booming thunder and torrential downpour late in the afternoon. Visibility was minimal as we eventually found the main road north. We turned off at Caboolture and nearly had our head on accident soon after as heavy impatient oncoming traffic returned to Brisbane after the weekend.

Badly shaken we continued, thinking Maroochydore would be a suitable overnight stop. We passed a few caravan parks and motels without stopping much to our regret later as Maroochydore was all built up high rise apartments and shopping precincts with no obvious place for late arrival overnighters to find accommodation. We eventually found a caravan park with a palatial restaurant at the front but it had no vacancy. It was now dark, we were tired and exasperated but had no choice but to drive about looking for a motel. We did find one at Mudjimba fortunately. The owner/manager was a most hospitable man who said our predicament was not uncommon in his experience. He was the only old fashioned motel around, most of the other motels had been razed and new high rises built necessarily to increase turnover to pay huge council rates. He suggested on hearing we were looking for a possible retirement place that we try the the Mary River Valley or Gympie where development had not yet reached and to buy in would be more affordable.

Lib, a great improviser with food, prepared a top meal with the microwave and our camping stocks as we watched the late news on TV showing the storm damage wreaked on Brisbane that day. It was washed down with good wine and we slept well until the noise of aeroplanes woke us early, an airport being nearby.

Maroochydore is much changed from the the seaside village described to me by Louise Bullen, a girl I went out with a couple of times more than forty years ago, who wrote to me from the camping ground after finishing her last year at Corowa CEGS and travelling there on her own to live in a one man tent for awhile and "find herself".  I do wonder what became of Louise. I hope she has had a good life and is in good health.      

Lunch at Gilgandra

Having said that our Friday evening in the town of Forbes was quiet, the night was less so. The motel was next to the railway station and at some point not long after we retired a train that must have been about 5 miles long went past, followed by a gathering of noisy hoons somewhere nearby who kept up the revelry for hours according to Lib, although the recall is vague to me who was tired enough to sleep well in spite of it.

After a travellers pantry breakfast in the motel we visited the info centre in Forbes in the old railway station building where the life story of bushranger Ben Hall was prominent. A free movie of 20 minutes on the re-enactment of Ben Hall's brief criminal career and violent death was informative and entertaining and a visit to the cemetery was the result. Apparently Ben Hall was a good man until perverted by corrupt police which seems a similar story to the folklore of Ned Kelly. I don't doubt the veracity of it.

We visited 'The Dish' somewhere near Parkes where we enjoyed morning coffee and reached Gilgandra for lunch, a picnic from the esky ( the makings brought from Gembrook) in the park near the town swimming pool. It was warm to hot but pleasant. We turned off the Newell Hwy here taking the road to Coonamble so that we could relate to Rickyralph next time we see him. He has been visiting there and his relatives ever since I have known him (50 years) so I wanted to take a look. It's also good to get off the main drag a bit. By now the drought, which was noticeable previously, was cruelly obvious, with no hint of green, and little grass, even dried and brown, and hardly any stock. Desolate. The roadside was littered with bottles and cans it looked like God had forsaken this part of the world. Amazing it was to me that there were floods in Coonamble a year or so ago but I reckon it would not have rained a drop since. The Castlereagh River was not flowing and was but a sad series of waterholes in which some hardy kids swam and fished.

The Dish

Coonamble

 We then drove to Pilliga through the scrub. The roadside litter became appalling, and as we approached  Wee Waa we came into irrigated farmland and cotton crops. We stopped at Narrabri and took a cabin in a caravan park where we had a good rest and cooked up the meat we had brought from Gembrook for dinner. Narrabri looked prosperous, a base for agribusiness on a large scale and an eye opener for a couple of southern hillbillies.

From Gembrook to Forbes

On day one of our recent holiday Lib and I rose about 6am and did some final chores and packing and drove off about 8 o'clock. We fuelled up at Yarra Glen and bought a coffee to go. I talked about our family history as we went through Dixon's Creek, explaining to Lib how Lyle and Elvie spent their first year or two of marriage on a few hundred acres there. And of their neighbours the Hargreaves who were to be lifelong friends. Lib found it interesting and let me rave.

Eildon weir was nearly full. I told Lib about my introduction to fishing by George Edwards, Bill's father. My first catch was a brown trout in the Goulburn river where we camped overnight with one of George's WW11 army mates and his son. Shortly after that again with the Edwards, I spent several days at Christmas camping at Bonnie Doon. Billy and I caught 52 redfin in an hour. It was 1967 probably, I can't be sure. Bill and I were supposed to be giving up smoking, but we sneaked a few km along the railway line and bought some fags. When we caught the fish we rowed across the lake to have a smoke on the sly but put our rods in and bang it was on, fish after fish.

After Swanpool we saw the result of a small mini tornado that had ripped through some months earlier. A strip of trees had been broken apart, some knocked over, others with limbs missing, and others sort of sheared of halfway up. It was a peculiar sight.

We went into Benalla which we had not done for many years, since the freeway bypassed. When I lived in Wang you had to go into Benalla to pick up the Hume unless you you turned off at Swanpool and went the back way through Mollyullah and Greta, which takes longer. Benalla looked great. We went up the old Hume a little way and took the Yarrawonga Rd. We cut across on a minor road from Lake Rowan to pick up what looked like a more direct route to Echuca but we must have taken a wrong turn and soon we were having quite a time driving along narrowing dirt roads, with a dead end twice, through wheat and canola crops.

We eventually found some bitumen. We burst out laughing when we saw an election poster on a tree with Sophie Mirabella's face beaming. It was just the funniest thing, given that she got the arse from Indi, losing the unloseable safe national seat. She was a regular on Q+A and Gord can't stand her. I should have climbed the tree and taken the poster as a souvenir for him.

We lunched on salad rolls and water on the grass bank above the town beach at Corowa on the Murray. I could see I was going to be on a health food diet for the duration of this holiday. Lib said we both needed to lose weight. I was fine about it, I like healthy food.

At Tocumwal we again saw the aftermath of another mini tornado, this one more recent and perhaps even stronger. I'd hate to be in the path of one of those things. It reminded me that I saw a TV program about the Canberra bushfires of a few years ago. Apparently it was a mini tornado that blew that fire into Canberra from where it was burning but not threatening much. Very scary when you think about it.

As we went north through the Riverina it was a delight to see the various crops including rice plantings and the expansive dry land crops being harvested and paddocks dotted with hundreds of big bales of hay. The further north we got the drier it became. It was soon full on drought but the countryside was interesting, many old homesteads deserted over the decades when prosperous years enabled new houses perhaps, or maybe abandoned in droughts as people sold up to neighbours and farms got bigger to have a better chance. I'd like to study the history of  central NSW. I loved the towns with their big old pubs by the railway stations.

We settled on Forbes as our first stop for the night, in a motel, and went out for a Chinese meal. The town was very quiet we thought for a Friday evening. I guess a lot of farmers were busy harvesting.

West Wyalong

  

Forbes

Home From Holiday

Lib and I sat in the car on Sunday eating cold chicken and a tub of rice, the last picnic lunch of our 17 day holiday. Lib had been driving since Bonnie Doon. She intended to stop at Yea for a Subway but kept going saying she didn't think there was a Subway there. "We'll get a Subway at Yarra Glen," she said. There was no Subway there so she kept going again. By this time we were only about 30-40 minutes from home and I was fine to get home to eat, knowing Gord would have bread and something to put in it but she suddenly turned into the IGA at Coldstream. It was a cold chook left over and reduced to $4 so with a $2 tub of fried rice each it was good.

We travelled about 4,900kms in the seventeen days, up the Newell Hwy to Brisbane then to the Sunshine Coast, the Mary River valley, Gympie as far north as we went, back to the Gold Coast, Lamington National Park, Evan's Head, Woody Point near Illuka, Yamba, then across the Divide to Tamworth, Mudgee, Young, Junee, Wagga Wagga, Jindera near Albury, then Wangaratta where we attended the 40 year reunion of Lib's final high school year.

We saw so much wonderful country and agriculture. Highlights were magnificent scenery, our lunch picnics by rivers or creeks or at town parks, and superb dinners prepared by Lib mostly in relaxed holiday atmosphere. The lowlight was a near head on accident late on day three near Beerburum when we rounded a corner to have a car coming straight at us who was trying to overtake a string of cars over double lines. We escaped collision with inches only to spare it seemed, by driving off the road.

I'll post some photos and give more details of our trip when I have time. I need sleep now after a great deal of activity in my two days back on deck. It's great to be home with all well here, but the grass and weeds have gone nuts and I have catching up to do.  

Afghanistan Withdrawal

I was very pleased to hear of the withdrawal of most Australia's military force from Afghanistan.

Yesterday, I heard on radio 693 the opening of Neil Mitchell's show.

Was it worth it?, he asked. He answered using what our VC decorated soldier Donaldson said to him when he asked him that question.

Donaldson/Mitchell said, "Was WW1 worth it?Was WW11 worth it? Would more terrorist attacks by plane on buildings have happened in the US had we not gone? Would there have been more bombs in Bali? We simply had to go. We had no choice.

My answers to these questions were-
NO
NO
NO ONE KNOWS
NO ONE KNOWS

I don't believe we had no choice. Of course we did.

Later in the program someone said we had to go to Afghanistan because it was issuing phony passports to terrorists to come and attack the US. A question arose in my mind. Would it have not been more prudent to not recognize Afghanistan passports and refuse entry or at least submit them to to utmost scrutiny at the domestic level? Think of the trillions of dollars that would have been saved and the human life as well. That money could have been used in other ways.

My view was in 2001, as it is now, that military invasion or attack by Australia on another nation is abhorrent to me. Sicko stuff.

The Magic of Music and Song

It amazes me how music can reach deep into your soul. A few bars of a song not heard physically but played in your mind can change one's mood and inspire to rise above fatigue and despair. Or a song on the radio out of the blue can lift you out of the day's tedium into dreamtime. And also the sheer relaxing pleasure of playing old favourites on the weekend while you do housekeeping chores or do cooking or preparing. Magic is the right word.

In a conversation with Meredith along these lines she told me three short stories. Firstly, when she visited our grandmother regularly in her last days in 1996, 'old nanna' was 99 years old and failing in memory. She didn't know Meredith's name or who she was but she would sing old hymns word perfect quietly to herself in a semi euphoric state that belied her circumstance.

Secondly, Meredith's husband Roger plays piano at St. Marks church in Emerald. He was playing to a group of people one day, one of whom was a man who had suffered a stroke and had lost his ability to speak. At the the conclusion of of a piece Roger was playing, this man rose from his chair and slowly walked to Roger and said, "That was beautiful, thank you," then returned to his seat. Afterwards he could no longer speak again but there was something in the music that triggered his brain at that moment to enable him to say his words.

Thirdly, and this seems impossible and I have no evidence to support it, Meredith's son in law Matt, a music teacher, told Meredith of an incident in a book he read. A lady who had never played the piano was struck by lightning, after which she could play the piano expertly by ear.

There was a fourth, of a severely disabled person who could not speak but could play the piano by ear, but I don't quite remember any more than that, maybe I'll update this later. I'll talk to Matt to when I see him.

Play it again Sam.

If I Could

As I finished tidying up around the front door and carport yesterday, Sunday, I noticed the rear passenger side window on Lib's car was down a couple of inches. I thought I'd better close it, more than once we've had a huntsman spider in Lib's car and they can be hard to catch. One fell from the sun visor once onto Lib's lap nearly causing an accident.

I forgot to do it. Lib rang me today from work soon after she got there, saying she had some bad news. when she got to work she found our blue wren dead on the floor of the car. I can't tell adequately the emotional distress I felt at that instant, and repeatedly numerous time during the day, including now.

A couple of weeks ago a pair of blue fairy wrens turned up in our garden. I was overjoyed at this as blue wrens had not been seen in our garden for many years possibly two decades. We were invaded by bell birds and all the small birds were hunted out by the aggressive and territorial bellbirds. The bellbirds left in the searing heat of the summer of 2009 and the wrens, fantails and thornbills have come back much to our delight. I'd see blue wrens elsewhere around Gembrook but until two weeks ago they had not reappeared at our place.

I was thrilled by their comeback, the male with his brilliant blue colouring is something to behold and this pair were about every day excitedly chirruping their scritchy call. He spent a lot of time tapping on the lounge room window trying to chase of his rival self reflection, and also on the car mirrors and windows.

He must have flown into through Lib's slightly open window in his exertions and not been able to find his way out again. I'd say he flew about in the car hitting the windows trying to get out and died of exhaustion and lack of food and water in the car. His efforts would have taxed him, and flight for a small bird uses a lot of energy.

The female was about today, calling and looking for her mate. How terrible I felt. As if it isn't hard enough for little birds to survive predation by cats, currawongs, minahs, kookaburras without having the hazard of being trapped in a car and dying of exhaustion.

If I could only turn back the clock, I'd make sure there were no car widows slightly open.

Lamb and Goat's Cheese Burger

Thursday is our quiet day business wise in that no customers come to pick up so there's no time clock pressure to have things ready by a certain time. I had run out of coconut oil (for cooking) and had planned to go to Narre Warren or Dandenong to get some. I had some chicken drumsticks in the freezer that were due for cooking and Lib suggested I make a curry and gave me a procedure so I was into it after she left for work and also preparing a week's supply of chook food (7 containers of mixed delicacies that we give the chooks each evening as we put them to bed). While this was happening I washed the sheets thinking they might dry before the forecast rain, and remade the bed with other ones from the linen cupboard when the rain came early.

I had planned to go to the farm and pick some dogwood before Gord and I went to 'Grill'd' for lunch in Narre Warren. Gord has been wanting to take me there for ages. It was raining lightly but steadily when we got to the farm. Nothing had been picked  and I was disappointed as Shane our main wholesaler had said he'd take 200 bunches of white dogwood on Friday. That's at $7.50 a bunch. My writing class resumes Friday and I do want to go, so I said to Gord, "Coat and all we'll get wet but let's go down the back and pick for an hour before we go off to Narre." To his credit he agreed and did not complain at getting wet, his coat did not have a hood. It's not easy work, especially in the rain, working off a ladder on a steep slope with a pole cutter. I cut while Gord gathered and trimmed, we bunched 25 and tied into bundles of five and left them on the track for Jod to pick up later with the quad bike. So it was a day off with an hours work to help for the next day. We'll never get 200 bunches tomorrow but at least we made a start.

The rain had worked its way through my coat and down my neck, my shirt and singlet was wet. My gumboots had splits in both so my socks were wet. I had dry leather boots in the van and a nice warm cardigan. I did a bit of banking business in Emerald, and paid my fees at the community house for this term's fees for writing class and computer class. Then we headed to Narre. With dry boots and cardigan over wet shirt I was starting to warm up.

The lamb burger was sensational. Gord had one too.We had a big bowl of fries each. Rarely am I so satiated. We moved on to Healthy Life Shop where I bought two big jars of coconut oil. Also to Aldi for a few of our standards.

It was a great day. By the time I got home I'd dried out. Lib had lit the fire. The cool change had come after 30C yesterday. I finished my column for Signpost to submit in the morning after a reread/ edit.I had struggled with this all week, just couldn't pull it together, and would start, then get sleepy like a zombie, no good. Who would think a 300-400 article could be so hard. But after 4 years of it, ideas are a bit thin and perhaps there's burn out.

Grand Final Weekend

We drove down to Lakes last Thursday in a gale. We stopped for a customary picnic lunch (Subway bought in Traralgon) in our park a little west of Rosedale where I love to admire the wonderful old contorted red gum tree. We could hardly get out the car as the wind was fierce and rain poured as we drove in. I hung around till it eased so doggies could have a wee and a stretch while Lib and Rob left first in the I30. Gord and I were in the Kangoo laden with whippy snippers, ladder and tools as well as the dogs and eskies.

The power was off at the house due to the storm when we arrived but was soon restored. We did a little shop and watched the news before a roast dinner to celebrate the 4 of us eating together, not a common thing since Rob moved out. The house swayed on its pylons as the wind blew strong well into the night and the sea roared in the distance.

The dogs locked in the laundry below woke me whining and yipping at 5.45am as dawn showed itself. It's Pip that makes the noise, Snow would wait in patient silence. I fed and released them and read my book for a couple of hours before getting Lib breakfast. The book, 'The Reprieve' by Jean Paul Sartre was one I took home from the Lakes house when I was last there a couple of months ago. I wanted to finish it to so that I could leave it this time. It was a book I found difficult to read and I was so distracted by so many things over those weeks that I couldn't really warm to it. It was set over about 4 days in 1938 in France as the powers of the day met to decide on war or peace over the territorial dispute in Czechoslovakia. It followed the tensions of French citizens in a highly charged expectation of war and mobilization. It did capture something of the mood of the day but would have stronger meaning to someone who lived through that time I'm sure. The title 'The Reprieve' was so because peace won the day, which was short lived of course as we know. I think the book explored the human emotions in the expectation of war, the excitement and hysteria it provokes and the almost self fulfilling momentum that builds with it. I must ask Maria about it. I don't think I quite got it.

As if by magician's wand the wind had stopped and the sea was calm as a lake. The day, Friday, was warm, sunny and still and Gord and I cut all the grass. Saturday the gale returned and blew angrily all day. We had a barbecued whole schnapper for lunch with salad which was the highlight of the day. Regretably Hawthorn won the premiership, as if you didn't know, which capped off what was a miserable year's AFL footy for me.

Sunday the magician was at work again and the weather was still and perfect. I did some painting and tied up a section of side fence that was nearly collapsed by the gale and slashed some ti tree which had grown on the steep bank behind the house with the metal blade on the whipper. I washed the Kangoo, tied the ladder on the roof rack and packed in the tools and Gord and Rob drove home in it Sunday arvo. Lib and I stayed on with the dogs and came home yesterday after cleaning the house, leaving at 11am and reaching Gembrook at 2.30pm with a stop at Tyers, this time tavelling the back way from Myrtlebank to Moe.

A good weekend except for the footy result but who cares anyway. Sadly I had hard luck punting story. Lib, who usually does not participate, asked me to put trifectas on numbers 2,3 and 5. I did, at Caulfield and Coleraine. I'd asked her what number to substitute if there was a scratching, she said 8. I was using Rob's laptop which I was unfamiliar with as there was no mouse making me awkward and slow and a little impatient. In race 2 at Coleraine number 5 was a scratching, so I substituted 8. Not knowing where to put 8, either in numerical sequence or in place of 5, I did both, at fifty cents each, which is what I put on trifectas. At least I thought I did. Number 2 won at 50/1 and the numbers 2,8,3 paid $4800 for $1, so my collect for 50 cents should have been $2400........ BUT......... when I checked I had taken 2,3,8 and 2,5,8. I had mistakenly taken the scratched horse in my haste.* No Collect.

The mad wind thrashed again last night when we got home. The power went out and was off all day. It's calm outside now. The forecast is again for gales tomorrow. Weird weather, even for spring. to change so quickly and often.

* I make a correction (3 OCT). After thinking about this lying in bed it occurred to me that you shouldn't be able to back a scratched horse so I tried to today and you can't. My recollection is that 10 minutes after the race, when I checked my account to see how much I had won, I had two trifectas on that race one of which included the scratched horse as I mentioned above. When I check now I only had one, 2 3 8. Maybe I looked at race 3 immediately under which includes the number 5 which was the scratched horse in R2, or details on my account changed which would be outright fraud and most unlikely. In any case it is still a hard luck story as I intended and thought I had taken the winning combo. Sorry if this bores or confuses but I had to get this down before now forgetting about it.

History Talk Done

So tonight I did my first power point presentation titled 'A History of Emerald' as a guest speaker for the AGM of the Ringwood Historical Society. My colleague and good friend Chris Britton (museum secretary) accompanied me. It went well, I surprised myself with my relative calmness given the nagging anxiety I had endured as I prepared for this over a few weeks, learning the set up at my weekly computer class and gathering photos and notes to tie it together.

Having done it, I understand better the organization of it and would do a better job next time, as I'm sure I lacked rhythm. There's nothing like practical experience. I thought I'd feel great relief when I got home that it was over and I could now put my mental energy to other things. Strangely, there's no such relief, just a slight regret that I didn't do it better, and that I didn't have enough time to tell some anecdotes that I had planned to paint the the picture I wished to about the various eras. A council person was on before me giving a run down on the new Eastland shopping centre soon to be constructed. She was very professional but went on and on using crap words and phrases like "stakeholders" and "iconic" and "state of the art" and "consultancy process" and much of what she said meant nothing to me. But I am a cynic. She went overtime. She invited questions at the end but they cut her off and went straight to me, saying questions to her could come later if she stayed.

So I started late and was conscious of it, the room was warm and stuffy and the audience of about 40 was of senior age, I thought short and sweet was better than to go overtime to get all my talk in. They seemed to enjoy it and applauded warmly at the end. There were some questions. Several people came up to me afterwards telling me they enjoyed my talk and asked more Q's over the supper. It was a happy event for me and I'm glad I accepted the challenge and had a crack.

The good thing is that in my preparation I learned so much, not just about Powerpoint but about the history of the district. I'm sure that's where my relative calmness came from. Knowledge of a broader picture and time frame lets you look beyond daily frustration and strife. As I drove off to pick up Chris, a voice in my head said,

"Go placidly."

About 1900

Hydraulic Sluicing machine Menzies Creek

  

Crook Eyes

A head cold developed for me on Friday, nasal congestion and and an irritated runny left eye, nothing alarming but one of those things that come and go usually pretty quickly (I hope).

Lib got up yesterday full of energy in the mood to go shopping so her and Gord went to Narre Warren early leaving me to my own company and easy pace. I put a few bets on the neddies at Moonee Valley and Echuca and cleaned out the fireplace while the washing machine did its thing. I couldn't smell the magnificent scent of the flowering sweet pittosporum while I hung it on the line unfortunately because of the head cold.

I cooked up a chilli con carne from the recipe on the back of a tin of hot spicy beans which turned out terrific while I heated a tin of pea and ham soup soup for lunch with the delightful farmhouse sourdough bread, that Gord gets from Aldi, toasted with the soup. All well on a gentle spring day. The concarne is in the fridge to give an easy meal next week.

After lunch I put Lib's electric battery hedge trimmer in the van and went down to Vilma's neighbour's place. We crossed paths walking a few weeks a ago and she told me it was due for a trim. It's only about a forty five minute job but the hedge is almost hard up against the fence between her and Vilma and that side of it needs to be done from Vilma's place and is hard to get at because of the fence so the lady asks me to do it as she knows I'm a friend of Vilma's. I parked in the lady's drive where a large a sweet pittosporum in the centre of the circular drive is in full flower. Again I couldn't smell it but it looked so beautiful giving a rain forest feel as the lower branches have all been removed and the canopy extends out and down. It would be an excellent windbreak and shade provider in hot weather was my thought.

I went home and did some gardening,clearing some thick wire grass and weeds, including sweet pittosporum seedlings which need to be removed every year or two if you have mature ones that drop seed like I do, or they will take over after a period of years and nothing else will be there. By the time I finished both my eyes had swollen up and I was struggling to see at all with the weeping fluid. Lib washed them with a saline solution and I watched the footy last night and slept in the spare room waking with both my eyes glued tight shut with gunk.

I rang the doctor thinking I'd get a scrip for something to put in them but being Sunday there's a message telling me to ring a locum or go to William Angliss hospital casualty in Ferntree Gully. Never mind I'll tough it out today, they are still swollen and weeping and slightly painful. I have dosed up with Vitamin C and will probably be much improved tomorrow in any case. I hope so as I will then have saved whatever the locum would have charged or the doctor tomorrow plus whatever the medication would have costed me.

Lib and Gord were very happy with their shopping buying  clothes and a new vaccuum cleaner.

It's a lovely sunny day. I'm going to the museum where Roy Kendall is on roster duty and I've arranged to interview him for a Signpost article in a future edition. I may squeeze in a little more gardening at home afterwards.

It's Never Dull

I walked my way through the forest in Gembrook Bushland Park on Monday to pick bunches of forget-me-not flowers where they grow prolifically along an edge. It was a warm day, the first in quite a while where I'd put on a short sleeved shirt and no T shirt underneath. The forest was still and the treetops glistened in the sunshine, birds chattered. I thought to myself how lucky I am to have this opportunity, this wondrous place on my doorstep almost. To see a place that has not changed much since white settlement. There's concrete brick and bitumen all over the place and cleared land and changed landscape, but here in Gembrook Park there's 65 acres of remnant bush that's never been cleared.

I picked the bunches and was about to make way back when Pip and Snow started barking at somebody moving along the track. I walked towards him in case the dogs intimidated him but when I got there he was happily patting them. He was a big bloke with a camera with a big lens, around his neck. We exchanged pleasantries about the lovely day and I apologized for the dogs to which he said was no problem, he liked dogs. He said he hadn't been in Gembrook Park for eleven years, but he loved the place, and said something told him to go there today and he was so glad he had, he was feeling so much better after being crook for a long time. I had noticed he walked gingerly, not a limp, but carefully and slowly.

I asked him where he was from, he said "Italy", but then corrected himself and said, "My dad was Italian, but I've lived in Berwick since leaving Gembrook. We went on to explain that his dad bought a property in Maisey Rd in about 1970 if my memory is good. It had an old house on it, and Rudy, he said his name was Rudy, and his wife moved into it around 1980 and raised their kids in what were very happy times with few modern luxuries. They were pretty isolated, but it turned sour after noisy neighbours spoiled it with motorbikes roaring up and down and wild parties going all night. They'd built a new house and turned the old one into a woodwork gallery and his wife ran yoga classes. I'm not sure when in this story, but Rudy's wife became ill with cancer, and died fairly recently. He has two boys at University. He spoke of his own recent illness with some uncertainty and a foreboding tone.

He gave me his card, 'Rudy Azzola  Contemporary Artist', and said he also writes poetry. His father had an interesting history he said, coming to Australia when twelve years old after being placed in an orphanage in Italy when his father died, then when his mother remarried and relocated to a sugar cane farm in Nth Qld. she went back and got him and brought him to Australia. Rudy wrote up his dad's story and visited his home village where he received much publicity and appeared on a TV show there telling his father's story.

I think Rudy said the new owners of the property in Maisey Rd neglected it for a decade and it broke his father's heart before he died, as he loved it. It has been sold recently he said to a young couple. The penny dropped. I was stopped in the street by a young bloke recently who asked me how he would find out about the history of a place he and his wife bought in Maisey Rd as it's a fascinating place and he and his family just love it and they are doing it up as it was a bit run down. I told him I'd keep my ear to the ground and come out one weekend and have a look but I'd ring him first. His number has been sitting written on an envelope in front of my computer for a few months, I just haven't got around to following up. Now I think I may have something to tell him, if Rudy's old place is his place it is a nice coincidence. I told Rudy I'd email him to establish e contact in the hope he can tell me more of his father's story, and to suss out information for the young bloke.

Now today, I picked bay foliage at a farm house in Gembrook, a friend's parents' old place. The old timber house is there too, and a third house very small, where I was asked to get rid of a beehive some months ago so they could finish knocking it down, must have been the first residence. With the very old sheds and assorted machinery the history of the place steeped into me.

I then took the dogs to JAC Russell Park so they could have a wander and saw AJ sitting on a bench enjoying a "Gold". He brought my attention to crimson rosellas nesting in the hollow of a messmate tree, quite low down. Mum and Dad came and went and occasionally you'd see a little beak stick out of the hole. AJ said he's watched them rear young there three years in a row.

Tonight I was determined to make some head way on a talk on the history of Emerald I've agreed to do shortly for the Ringwood Historical Society, but the file on the UBS stick wouldn't open so I couldn't access the power point slides I'd done at computer class. A problem to solve at class tomorrow night, but I was hoping to have more of it done tonight. Instead I watched a DVD compiled of old movies made by Bill Ford of life in Cockatoo in the 1950's. It was great and has helped my mood to prepare for the talk. I'm so glad to have watched it as Marg Treloar lent it to me last January and it's high time I returned it.      

Karma

After a dinner of roast chook with a bottle of McClarenvale Pirramimma shiraz 2007 which Gord gave me for father's day I fell asleep in the chair with Pip on my lap.

I just checked my sportingbet account to make sure I wasn't dreaming and yes there was a deposit of $194 for my tip 9 multiple ((for $5 bet) in the last round of the footy, and there's $50 in my bonus bets too, and a congratulatory message from Rickyralph in my hotmail.

So I swooped home to win by a nose in a photo, one after being 4 behind going in to the last round. Fairy tale stuff.

Bedtime now. Sweet dreams.

Vale Johnny Boy

John  and Raylene and Lib at Lakes Entrance 2007

Last Thursday was quite a day. A memorial service for John Harkins was held at Dandenong South at 3.30pm. John was married to our friend Raylene, who worked with Lib for twenty odd years at Salisbury House and lived at Emerald until moving to the Peninsula, maybe about five years ago. We shared many happy times and it is hard to believe John is gone. He was 62. He had heart bypass surgery a couple of years ago. John and Raylene broke up some time before that. We kept contact with Raylene but not John which sadly is often the way of it when a marriage splits. No intent on our part, just how it went.

Thursday was also Lib's birthday. I arranged to pick her up at work at 2.30pm or shortly after. Gord and I in Gord's car were a bit late at 2.55. Leaving Berwick I decided not to take the freeway, continuing instead south along the Clyde Rd to pick up Thompsons Rd which would take us across to the Dandy Frankston Rd where the service was to be. I'd had a quick look at the Melways in the morning. I took Glasscocks Rd instead thinking it too went right through. On the Melways 2010 there were two sections of the road marked with broken lines, and I wrongly assumed they'd have been built by now. We became lost in all the new estates where the roads all seem to go around in circles with roundabouts and bollards and fancy light poles everywhere. Not good for the blood pressure.

We arrived at 3.45, 15 minutes late. John's children Nicholas and Emily were giving their tribute and we heard John's sister's eulogy in entirety. The poignant slide show of John's life to the music of Joan Baez and Cat Stevens brought welling tears. John loved music, song and good wine and I don't think any evening in his company passed without him pulling out his guitar and leading a sing along.

The service concluded at about 4.15 and after ten minutes or so afterwards talking to Raylene and family we were on the road at 4.30 as the rain started to fall heavily and the heavy cloud darkened what was left of daylight well before it should. We were entrapped in a massive traffic jam. It took 90 minutes to get from Dandy South to Narre Warren where we had planned to buy Lebonese takeaway for Lib's birthday dinner. Robbie was coming up from Melbourne for the birthday. It was close to 7.30 when we arrived home after picking up Lib's car at Upper Beac.

Almost a five hour round trip from the time Gord and I left home.

Books Read Lately

A writing class colleague, Barbara, whose work I enjoy when she reads it out at class, talked about author Cormac McCarthy when we were asked to bring in sentences we liked. I hadn't heard of him at all but Barbara said she'd bring me a book of his to read which she duly did, three in fact. 'All The Pretty Horses', 'The Crossing', and 'Cities of the Plain'.

I read them over a few months. Barb said to read them in order (as listed above) as they are a trilogy. I returned them to Barb on Friday. I loved them. Reading them was like leaving my world behind and being absorbed in the place and time in which they were set, New Mexico and Mexico largely in the 1940's, the main characters being young men in a rural western working environment very much horse orientated and searching for meaning in a changing world. They are great stories and the writer in simple language describes the natural world that is so powerful and brutal and the actions and movements of people and animals that unfold the narrative. There are no quotation marks in the dialogue and little punctuation but there's no difficulty understanding who's saying what. There's philosphy coming at you from almost every page and some of it is rivetting. There's reverence for the horse as a noble beast and respect for the peasant whose kindness and wisdom is heroic. I almost cried in places. That's how I describe it anyway. It has changed the way I see things. The world is not the same tomorrow as it is today.

I have started a new book, 'The Reprieve' by Jean Paul Satre. I'm only up to page 19 and I'm struggling to get into it after the easy pace of Cormac but a sentence stood out to me on page 14-

"It must be rather grim to hope for nothing except that life might continue indefinitely in its present course."

Not in My Backyard 2

The post I did last week I presented to my writing class last Friday.

It was not appreciated by my colleagues and according to my teacher Maria it lacked focus. Such is the way of it when you put your views forward. It was suggested that I work on it to improve it in terms of getting my point across, that being that I think there are far more important things to be worried about than a McDonald's store being built in Tecoma.

Things like impending cataclysmic climate change consequences and massive inequality in the world. So I have edited my previous post, not changing it greatly but a little structurally. Read it again if you wish.

I don't say it's good writing, or deeply meaningful, but it did provoke at writing class. It was said a stand has to be made somewhere. Fair enough, but I'll draw my own line; where, how and with whom.

As it happens the media dropped off the issue this last week, I didn't see one report on it. The three big issues dropped down to two - the Essendon drugs thing and the Federal election.

If I may comment on those-

Shame, shame, shame on Essendon and those responsible for going down the path they did, and more shame on them not recognizing their culpability. And a staunch Essendon supporter said that to me today.

As for the election, the ALP is $5.50 for $1 today. That's enough for me stake a bit of hard earned in what is realistically a two horse race, despite the overwhelming media support for the Libs and the almost idiotic performance of Rudd courting of the youth vote. Lets rock and roll!

Not in My Backyard

The protesters to McDonald's at Tecoma say that VCAT didn't consider public opinion when they overturned the council decision and allowed McDonald's a permit. I don't know the intricacies of VCAT's decision but I don't think VCAT is there to adjudicate by public opinion poll.

I know it costs money to go there. When I objected to Cardinia Council's proposal to issue itself a permit to remove thousands of sweet pittosporum trees from council roadsides I was told council was proceeding despite my objection and that I could appeal to VCAT if I liked. When I looked into that I found that it would cost me hundreds of dollars to lodge an appeal, I would have to make myself available on the day the case was to be heard in order to present my submission, and should my appeal not be successful I would be liable for the costs of the council. Touche. There was no way I could undertake that at the time. They took out the trees. The trees are growing back fortunately.

In the Tecoma / McDonald's case it seems to be a matter of zoning and the site is zoned commercial. To deny Maccas and allow other fast food and hamburger joints is discriminatory. Unfair. That's why there is such a thing as an appeals tribunal.

The horse bolted long ago. When I lived in Melbourne pre 1972 I don't think McDonald's existed there at all. I bought the best hamburgers ever at Angelo's fish and chip shop. When I went to Wangaratta in 1976 I'd regularly indulge two with the lot from Nick, the Greek guy's take away opposite my office. Now there are Maccas all over Melbourne, in country towns of any size throughout Victoria, and strategically located along freeways. There's even one in Kandahar I read somewhere. McDonald's do their homework, they put franchises where traffic flow or population demographics tell them it will be profitable. And they are.

The protesters may as well throw cream puffs at B Doubles on the freeway.

My parents moved out of the city forty years ago to escape the increasing traffic snarl, choosing the quiet country town of Emerald. Tecoma also was a quiet little place, although much closer to suburbia and inside the electrified train network. Emerald now has a peak hour traffic jam through the main street, not as choking as that in Tecoma but getting there.

The gate was opened years ago. We as a nation embrace automobile culture and its connotations such as fast food and soft drinks, shopping malls, satellite suburbs. We lap it up like the cat with the cream. McDonald's in Tecoma is a tiny pimple on a destructive cultural giant that has been rampaging for decades.

Emerald will be next, as night follows day. Then, down the track, could it be? Gembrook? No thanks, not in my backyard. But I'm.....temporary.....and compared to the millions of refugees being displaced or about to be by climate change I have little to complain about. I'm sure they would not mind a McDonald's close by.

It would mean they have somewhere to live.

I have no beef with a McDonald's franchise opening in Tecoma.

Gembrook Park Erosion Work

I've been tonight to the Friend's of Gembrook Park AGM. I have been Treasurer for some years so I needed to report on the year's expenses and income. There's not much to the job as we have only half a dozen on the committee and only a couple of dozen transactions so the paperwork is minimal. It's an incorporated committee of Cardinia Council and we receive a five hundred dollar annual grant for expenses. We only have one or two meetings a year and most of the committee's work in the park is in the form of weekly working bees for a couple of hours on Thursdays, which I don't attend. I do a bit down there now and again in my own time, and I assist secretary Merle here and there conferring with discussion should she contact me. Merle is the driver of the group.

I am happy tonight following the meeting as our council liaison man showed us before, after and in progress slides of the erosion control works in the gully which commenced in April and were recently completed. Gembrook Bushland Park is a 29 hectare remnant of native vegetation that has never been cleared. Bushfires burnt much of it in the 1920's but is has escaped burning since then. It suffered from run off and silt from farmland to it's north, and storm water from the town introducing weeds for many decades prior to 2000 but erosion of the gully cranked up with the development of the farmland between the reserve and the main road, which came after the land was rezoned from agricultural to residential. The increase in storm water was multiplied something like four times, being channeled into the same gully with appalling result. We as a Friend's group expressed concern over about a ten year period, and after much public anger and frustration at meetings where consultant's recommendations were tabled, and dispute and indecision and argument over various options presented, at last when council managed to get a some state government financial assistance, the project commenced.

Works of about $80,000 were done last year on the water retarding basin above the park, and about $120,000 this year on piping the outfall from the basin about 80 metres down the gully and past the erosion head to a point that has been stabilized by rock, concrete, soil and revegetation. The gully back up from the erosion head has been replanted with thousands of plants through 'geo matting' and the job has been done with minimal disruption to tree ferns and other vegetation. Furthermore, a very old and huge mountain ash tree that was likely to soon fall over because of the erosion has most probably been saved (touch wood).

The pipes are designed to take all the water, that is in less than in a one in five year rain storm, underground to the point below the head where the gully levels and spreads out and a small creek begins from a spring. In a one in five year event the water will cascade over the top of the ground as it always has. Everyone is hoping a one in five doesn't happen in the near future so that the vegetation establishes well enough not to be washed out. A few years would be good but the longer the better.

We are all so pleased that the work has been done so well and indications are that it'll work, provided we don't get a huge storm any time soon. The contractor is engaged to come back every month for twelve months to keep the plantings weed free and spray deterrent on the plants to repel wallabies from eating them out. After years of watching the damage happening and lobbying as a group, it does restore some confidence in local government engineers and environmentalists to see such good positive work done. Even if it never probably should have been necessary, had appropriate planning and initial safeguards happened.

    

Every Day is a New Day

The world will not be the same tomorrow as it is today. Everyday is a new day.

Don Smedley rang me the week before last to tell me his brother Len had died. I last saw Len some months ago when Gord and I visited him in a care facility in Pakenham where he had been in ill health for some time. I became friends with Len's dad Lionel in the 1990's and regularly visited him at his Mt. Burnett garden where I picked foliage and blossom. I became good friends with Lionel's sons Don and Bob and their wives who lived either side of Lionel and Len moved in with his dad, and stayed after Lionel died in 2002. Len had allergies if I recall and was on cortisone for a long time. This resulted in osteoporosis and ultimately blindness which was when he left the old family home to go into care. When I saw him he was wheel chair bound and on his way outside for a smoke. He had three cigarettes a day, one of his few pleasures he said, along with listening to the radio. I'll not forget him or his friendship. There's a wake for him at the Gembrook sports ground next Sunday which I'm hoping I can attend.

Meredith told me last week that Ian Lucas died. Despite Ian being 96 it was a surprise as he was always so fit and drove his car still. I picked foliage and flowers in Ian and his wife Frieda's garden for many years where they lived in Benson St Emerald. They were wonderful gardeners with a farming background on the Mornington Peninsula. About 5 years ago or so they sold up as Frieda, who was a couple of years older than Ian, was deteriorating with Alzheimer's. They moved into Emerald Glades care facility when Frieda's care became too much for Ian. Frieda died not long after. I visited Ian now and again but Meredith was a regular visitor and Ian visited her at the farm alternately. He had a problem with circulation in his toes and had one amputated a a couple of years ago. He went into hospital to have another one off about a month ago and had a slight stroke while waiting for his op. He was still in hospital when he died peacefully one night. It could be said that he probably wished it so as he would not have liked losing his mobility if the toe thing continued and he couldn't walk or drive. Ian was a tough old bloke but a complete gentleman. He drove a tank in WW2 and had strong conservative views of his time but he was an old softie when it came to animals. I wrote a Signpost article on him a couple of years ago.

The worlds changes, every day, one way or another.

I had the weekend off with no work. It was cold and miserable. On Saturday I went to a Landcare function in Upper Pakenham where the guest speaker was a Dr. Mary Cole who talked about fungi. It was a brilliant talk. I learned so much and came away uplifted by a feeling of greater connection with this earth that supports us all. on Sunday Lib and I went to Casey Fields to watch the Essendon Bombers VFL team play Casey Scorpions which is Melbourne's VFL affiliate for the benefit of 'foreign' readers. This we did at the invite of old friends Gerard and Megan O'Brien from Wangaratta whose son Zac was playing for Essendon. He did alright too and I noticed he was listed in the best players in the Sun. But there was a freezing gale blowing that made the game unattractive from a spectator viewpoint. Lib and I came home so glad that we went. We feel a Wangaratta connection still after 32 years away and were glad Gerard rang us with the suggestion.

On Monday I made two soups, a bean soup using our beans from the freezer and a pumpkin soup, both in crockpots that chugged away all day. Tomorrow night my computer class resumes, I want to learn how to do power point presentation among other things.

 

Can You Believe It?

There's a blowfly buzzing around me. I can't stand them in the house. A goodly number came down the chimney today. It was so warm for July.

I watched a bit of cricket and fell asleep. It's now 2.14am. Past bedtime. Poms are 4/234. First day Lords second test. In the first test last week I found myself barracking for Australia. Fist time in about 15 years. More. Because of Ashley Agar. That was ......fantastic.

Gotta go to bed. Just had to post. All's well sort of.

Winter Wind

It blew strong most of today and the warning this evening was for gales during the night. Strangely it's deathly quiet outside now, not hardly a movement on the trees when I went out to wee and let Pip do same before we retire. Pip sleeps inside while Snow prefers out.

This is my first post for 3 weeks. I have thought of many things to write about in that time but at night after I have taken care of other things I can't remember what they were. I am after all getting on a bit and I think the brain is shrinking quicker than I'd like.

I have been busy at every turn. My friend Ian and his son Jethro arrived from Canada on June 19 and stayed till the 26th when they left towards Queensland in Lib's old Subaru which Ian bought in 2011 when he was last here but left with us when he went home. We have registered and insured it in the meantime and used it which was handy when Robbie was going up and down to Uni. Since then Gord gives it a run to Pakenham now and again or to the big malls so his car doesn't get dented and scratched in the car park battlefield. ( As it did when he went to the movies costing him $900 a while ago) Ian will be back some time in August before returning to Canada and I don't know if he will keep the Subie, or if we'll bother keeping it reged and insured if he does.

Earlier in June I had Museum and Park meetings to attend and report on and a project at the farm has been a priority. The first half of June was wet wet wet. I told Ian to bring some sunshine which he did, the second half of June was dry and sunny. The pattern now is for change with strong wind all day today, lulling this evening and just picking up again now as I can hear.

Lib has had a serious cold and bad cough for a couple of weeks. I have come down with the nasal extravaganza this last few days which is just now getting into my chest with serious irritation and hacking.

Our museum and park has its Biennial General Meeting next week. I have a President's report to prepare. I have said I'll stand for Pres again as no one else has indicated to putting their hand up. I have put in too much time there to walk away and leave my colleagues in the lurch They are a good crew and we have seen off the wolves. The new councillors are supporting and I have recently learned our special request for $30,000 for a paid part time museum curator for one year in this year's council budget has been granted and our app for a CWG for solar panel energy system also successful. The new mayor and councillors are a breath of fresh air into the district and I will stand by my "yours in commitment to achievement" sign off by accepting nomination for the next term, as much as I'd like to reduce my load. I have Signpost interviews and articles to do by next week also. There always seems to be deadlines for me to meet.

Winter has its downside but I love it. Even the wind is cleansing and fresh.

The Sweetest Victory

Noticing his Kangaroo cap, I said, "Hello Ken, I didn't know you were a North Melbourne man."

"Yes I am, but I’m Noel." I’d mistaken him for another of similar age and appearance. I'd been nodding to both these men for some time thinking they were one and the same.

I said he must be pulling his hair out at yet another narrow loss. North had gone down to Gold Coast after jumping them early and leading by five goals at quarter time. Noel agreed it was demoralizing, a mystery to him.

I asked how long he'd been a North supporter and he said he joined North in 1958 when he was about 16 years old. North made a public statement that if they won the premiership that year they'd buy all their members a box of chocolates. That won Noel's support. They didn’t win a flag till 1975.

I sympathized with him for the season's disappointments explaining that I was a Melbourne Demons supporter, say no more, but I had a soft spot for North since the 1970's when Ron Barassi signed to coach, and because recent 200 gamer Michael Firrito is from Gembrook, and our dog 'Snow' came from the Firrito's around when Michael was drafted.

Next day a young boy was bouncing a footy on his way to school. He said his team was the 'Hawks'. Footy crosses barriers of, class, religion, race and gender. Some women I know are fanatical.

I see the local braves training on miserable, cold, dark evenings, working to improve their fitness, skills and teamwork. All credit to them. Every week one team wins and the other loses. It is uplifting and humbling. Lessons and good habits can be carried into broader society.

I don't believe winning is everything. I'd rather be a loser who gave his all than an ungracious winner who had all the luck or advantage. But to win against the odds, when the chips are down, that’s the sweetest victory.      

  

The Automobile Age

Amazing as it seems my lifespan has seen more than half the 110 or so years that we have been driving around in motor vehicles. This has dominated the economies of  'the west' and probably still is the dominant factor in the much talked about global economy.

This thinking came to me during an email exchange during the week with son Rob who lives in Melbourne sharing a flat with a friend. I intend to elaborate more of my thoughts in a future post but for now I copy the exchange here, hoping Rob won't mind me putting his correspondence into the public forum.

ROB

Hello

Just been the usual - yeah I got Mum's email but forgot about replying -  nothing to report here really so that's why you haven't heard from me.

Hope everything went well at Lakes, did you all end up going together on the weekend? New deck? The football is beyond complete rubbish.  I was watching it on the iPad Foxtel (thanks to your account details), but stopped mid way through to watch the Da Vinci Code, which is saying something.

Took Hao's Barina to get 120,000km service today ($700) and was also quoted $900 for replacement of a water pump for the timing compartment thing that is drip-leaking coolant. Think the mechanic profession is the way to go for $130 an hour don't you!

Have been thinking about adopting a kitten what do you think? Don't know if it'd destroy carpet and things. But it would be cool.

good night

CAREY

A few months before I parted with my Suzuki I left it at Clapperton’s for a routine service at 180,000km and when I picked it up they said they put a new water pump in cause it was leaking, and without asking me (they couldn’t) they changed the timing belt at the same time which was due at 200,000 as it needs doing every 100,000 and the major component in changing the timing belt is labour taking off water pump to get in there. Whole job cost me about $600. Good I thought for a water pump timing belt in effect a major service. Clappo charges $77 per hour inc GST. Car maintenance is a financial minefield, and we are at the mercy of the economy, how it works, and the integrity of human beings, which is hard to assess before the event. It’s hard to be sure what they actually did for Hao’s $700 service. The whole car industry is set up for profiteering from start to finish including salesmen, finance, tyres, crash repairs/insurance, fuel, road maintenance and safety and regulation enforcement. It is a major factor in capitalism and frankly it is the basis on which economies and the world runs and if I could, I would not own a car and if I was GOD I’d ban them.

 

See how you wound me up. As for football, I have no interest nor comment. Only that if I could be GOD I’d trash the AFL.

 

Dad

ROB

For the Barina they say the timing belt change is 60,000km or 4 years. It was changed in 2010 so has at least a year to go... But I might suggest that he get the whole thing done in one go, the he can forget about timing belts for 4 years. And shop around at different mechanic places.

I was getting wound up about it too, as you say society necessitates that we rip each other off in order to survive. I'm particularly bitter being fresh out of the "degree factory." This video is worth thinking about when you have the time http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEpDUeHjTtQ&feature=youtu.be&t=17s

 

Winter Nigh

Since my last post I have purchased a new work van, a Renault Kangoo which goes well so far, touch wood. I would have gone for another Suzuki but the APV from 2005 have not been built to take a tow bar so I went for the next cheapest small van. It was a pleasant trip second half of last week to Lakes Entrance to meet up with our old mate Willy to build a new deck on the side of the house. The Kangoo is full of electronic wizardry like cruise control and CD player, aircon, digitized display showing fuel consumption, range, fuel used, average speed and so on, all at fingertip, so long as you know where the button or lever is.

We've started lighting the open fire in the evenings, and I've had a few good feeds of wild mushrooms. The autumn leaves have all but gone to ground and the days are short, we are only a few weeks to the shortest day. I picked pittosporum garneti and calendulas and climbed a tree to pick Mexican hawthorn berries today and went to my computer class. It was a bright moon coming home, I turned off my headlights and drove easily without, so good the illumination, just for fun, but quickly turned on again if a car came the other way.

Winter is nearly here. Winter is lovely. In its own way. Bees rest, weeds slow down. It's good to snuggle into a bed heavy with blankets. For a while. I'm dreaming a lot. Earthquake dream the other night, real and scary. A football playing dream another, back at Greta. A funeral dream, in the country, a lady I knew well died. Lib was with me, we argued, I stormed off before the service, took the car, Lib can walk 20k's back, then softened and left the car for Lib and walked, thinking nothing is better than walking anyway.

It's late. I watched Q+A about religion. Interesting. Bill Gates tomorrow. Martina Wainright next week, musn't miss that, will have to leave comp class early. After Q+A I watched Footy Classified, then caught up on email. Must go now to seek dreams, to fly in the unconscious, if lucky, at worst some hours of solitude, and drifting in out of with pleasant thoughts in the conscious. I think of many things and many people in the wee hours. The mind needs the dark and quiet. I love quiet.

So ends this day. Good night.

Down to the Nitty Gritty

I so needed a haircut. Hairdresser Leanne snipped, clipped, buzzed and nudged as I told her that my last haircut was exactly two months earlier in Auckland, New Zealand. It was on the day of our flight home and I was attracted into the shop by a sign I’d seen the night before, offering 50% discount, just as the shop was closing.

It turned out the discount applied to haircuts done by students from the hairdressing school, and none were in at opening time next day, so I had to pay full fare. Never mind. The barber had enormous implants in his stretched ear lobes and was heavily tattooed, including his face, but he was congenial and gave me an excellent cut.

Leanne is a mobile hairdresser. She told me she met her husband when she was training. He volunteered to get a free haircut and was her subject in an exam. It’s amazing where a cheap haircut can lead.

They married and moved to Gembrook 30 odd years ago and Leanne worked at Lillian Granieri’s Gembrook Hair Centre, which was located in Redwood Road and also in Emerald in the main street, I think in the old telephone exchange. Lib was a customer. In those days Lib cut my hair to save a few dollars but I couldn't return the favour.

After Lib tired of cutting my hair I became itinerant and grabbed a haircut anywhere when I had a little time, or when the hot itchy feeling of a bushy head of hair in warm weather drove me to urgency.

These days I ring Leanne whose two girls went through school with our boys. She’s an avid Richmond fan so we talk footy too. She isn’t always available when I need her so I still pop into barber shops and hairdressers where I might be when the urge to be refreshed and invigourated by a clipping takes hold.

It’s one of life’s little pleasures.

Footnote - I’m told there was a men’s barber shop and billiard room in Gembrook in the 1930’s, where the supermarket is now.

Henryk Rejmers

Lib and I have been down to Lakes a couple of times lately, last weekend, and about a month ago. The first visit was a bit of R+R and our friend Will was going try to get to get there to look at options for building new steps/deck at the rear side as the existing were removed due to the substantial excavations that went on to do the new retaining walls. These walls are up but backfilling has not yet been done as the contractors are busy with emergency work elsewhere. The cost of the work is now tallied to $93,000 which is staggering and demoralizing, this cost shared by three families as the house is owned by Lib and her sisters.

As it turned out Will couldn't make it then so we arranged to go on the weekend just gone which was his first available opportunity. We drove down Saturday and came back Sunday. We discussed a few options with Willy and he's been given the green light to get it done asap which will be in a couple of weeks from now.

On our visit in April we met neighbour Dorothy one day who is now on her own after her husband Henryk died last year of mesothelioma, that ghastly form of lung cancer that is contracted through exposure to asbestos dust and usually takes about 30 years to manifest. Tears welled in her eyes. Henryk was 87 and had an amazing life story some of which I had heard about previously as Dorothy and Henryk were good friends of Lib's parents Molly and Bill.

I found a little book at Lakes house which I brought back with me. It was an account by Henryk of his story, beginning in 1925 at birth in Poland. He was the youngest of thirteen children born to his mother and father who lived in Warsaw at the outbreak of WW2 in 1939. Henryk and his family survived the bombing and strafing but Henryk was arrested in 1941 aged 16 while he was out shopping for material for his mother and press ganged by train to Germany where he was sent to a work camp. He was never to see his mother  and father again, indeed it was some 47 years before he went back to visit his siblings. He escaped the work camp eventually and travelled far, eventually being captured by police and put to work on a farm where he was when the Russians came. He wanted to get out of Russian occupied Germany get so he took off and managed to get through the Russian lines.

After quite a while in refugee camps he migrated to Australia and ultimately and worked  off his two year obligation to work where he was told with a team in the south east of  SA cutting down trees so that pine forests could be planted. The only tools they had was an axe each and a sharpening stone and a file and it was very hard work. He met and married Dorothy whose father worked in the forest camp and eventually moved to Adelaide where he worked for the Council then bought a service station. After several years this was bought out by a neighbouring company who then employed Henryk and Dorothy. They bought a house in Adelaide and lived there till the mid sixties, raising three kids. Henryk was a motor mechanic but had no trade certificate.

Morwell was the next call. Dorothy's sisters married two Italians and Henry and Dorothy visited them in Morwell where they lived, and decided it was time a move to Morwell where there were good opportunities. Henryk started work with the SEC at the power stations and sat exams to have his fitting and turning certificate approved. He worked there until retirement in the mid 1980's, when they moved to Lakes.

Hendryk had a hard working life beginning with slave labour in the German factory. For years he did not have enough to eat and suffered all manner of hardships along the way. He never saw the inside of a hospital as a patient till his mid eighties. He must have picked up some asbestos dust cleaning brake drums out as a mechanic or in the power stations where its use was extensive. A sad end to a fine man.

The inside cover of the little book I read had writing by Henryks hand-

'To Bill and Molly Meek, from Hendryk - November 1996'.

In his acknowlegements he thanks Molly and others for inspiring him to write the book. I'll never go to Lakes without fond memory of Hendryk, and Dorothy, whose house is for sale, she's planning to move to a unit closer to town where she won't need to drive if she chooses not.



 
    

Mellowing

Last Friday, the day after Anzac Day, at writing class, a discussion was had re the dawn service at Anzac Cove, which is of course held on the anniversary of the first landing on Turkish shore in 1915, in line with Anzac Day services held all over Australia.

Teacher Maria presented an opinion piece by a writer whose name escapes me- there was a big crowd in for the first class of the term and not enough handout sheets and I was late so missed out- but from memory the guts of the article was that the correspondent had no desire to visit on the day to be among a crowd of tourists who were there largely for the celebratory party atmosphere and the 'notch on the belt'.

I sympathize with the author's view. I don't like crowds for starters and I have reservation about Anzac Day anyway as a means of paying respect and remembrance to our fallen soldiers. The Gallipoli campaign was the first major military exercise of our new nation and was a disastrous failure costing 8,000+ Australian lives. I don't for a moment dispute the hardship, grit and heroism of our soldiers. As a kid in school in the 50's and 60's Anzac Day it was drummed into me. The preparations at school must have happened the day before because I think it was a public holiday then as it is now, and I recall being home on Anzac Day watching the television and being fascinated by the historical portrayal of the landing and the stories such as Simpson and his donkey.

Memorial services and marches on Anzac Day were first held in the latter years of WW1 and were used as recruiting drives for enlistment. After the war the fallen were remembered in solemnity and the day was an opportunity for reunion for veterans wishing to participate. Many did not including my grandfather who served three years in Palestine and France and who was teetotal and disapproving of the boozing at the reunions.

World War 2 followed, then Korea, Vietnam, and Afghanistan and Iraq and peace keeping force participation in various parts of the world, and Anzac Day has been expanded to include all those who suffered and served in all of these conflicts.

At class last week one member, Big John, voiced his objection to the article, calling it the most pompous thing he'd ever read. Big John said the writer came across as thinking he was above the service at Anzac Cove with the throng of young people. John said, "Good on them I say, they are only trying to connect to their ancestors. I have been there, it's the most moving experience, one that changes the lives of those who attend forever."

I remain loathsome of violence and war and the flag waving patriotism that accompanies it, which is where it hatches from its egg. Yes, I would like to visit Anzac Cove. But not on Anzac Day. I'd like to go there to contemplate the horror and stupidity of war in my own solitude, and grieve for the soldiers who lost their lives and those maimed and scarred emotionally for life. Not only for the 8,700 Australians and the 2,000 plus New Zealanders killed, but also the 10,000 French, the 21,000 from the UK, and God knows how many Turks (Wikipedia does not give a number) who were, as God knows, protecting their shores from invasion.

But I doubt I ever will go there. I can grieve the fallen from here. And I prefer to carry my loathing of war and violence with me daily. I would prefer to see national reverence for Remembrance Day, which marked the end of the conflict, and is appropriately named.

However, I am mellowing. Big John is entitled to his opinion. So are those who choose to go to Anzac Cove on Anzac Day.

Just as I'm entitled to mine. I'm no wowser, but when I see retired Major General Cosgrove advertising beer on the television in the lead up to Anzac day, I can't help but feel I'm not in step. Thankfully.




    

Chook Drama

Not long after we returned from NZ Lib's chook Myrtle went AWOL. On the first day of its absence I was concerned at lock up time when Henny hungrily followed me to their pen but Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. She'd been scarce for a day or two and reluctant to go in the previous couple of evenings so I thought she must be broody and have a nest somewhere.

Oh well, Foxy Loxy'll have a nice supper, I'll get another young bird, a brown one like Elvie's. She says they don't get broody as much as black ones.

A couple of days later I spotted Myrtle briefly, eating some of the bread I'd left out for Henny.

You little bugger.

No sooner had I seen her with some amusement on my part that she's survived than she was gone again, not to be seen for another couple of days. This time I'd returned from my walk and put the dogs dishes down to feed them then turned and walked a few paces back towards the shed when I heard a flapping noise and a dog squeal. Turning around I saw bully Myrtle hopping into Snowy's breakfast. She has it all over Snow who runs the other way when she employs the charge she learned from Rooster Lemon, whom you may recall met his demise last year.

You horrible savage chook.

I shoohed the thing away for poor Snow and stood guard while she ate her food. Pip is oblivious to all Myrtle's aggressive tactics and therefore the chook does not trouble her. There's a pecking order with the chooks and the dogs and Snow's at the bottom.

Over the next couple of weeks I looked high and low in the garden and shed for Myrtle's nest a number of times, and crawled under the house with a torch more than once looking for the stash of eggs. It was baffling me. Then one day I saw Myrtle on the deck, I had been nearby and hadn't seen her approach, then she disappeared again so quickly. So for umpteenth time I looked under and behind everything and being more thorough than previously I got down low and looked into the back of Pip's kennel. Sure enough there was the black feathered fool. As I reached in to pull out the bedding the stench hit me. There was a dozen and a half eggs in there some of which were broken.

You stinking horrible idiot chook.

I threw everything into a garbage gag, bedding and all. Rotten eggs exploded as I did this and it still stank to high heaven so I triple bagged it and put it in my neighbour's bin - they have moved out and their house is for sale so that was OK. Pip's kennel has a flat roof with a bit of carpet on top and I'd seen her lying on top of her kennel. I thought it was because of the warm balmy weather, but I now knew better, and also why a fox hadn't got it.

Within a day or two Myrtle was back to her normal nutty self; harassing, aggressive, noisy, always after food when you walk out the door. Both chooks are now laying in the shed, next to the fridge, against the back wall. I don't mind that. It's a stretch to get the eggs but at least I know where they are.

  

Back in the Hunt

In the footy tipping Round 5 I had 9 winners from 9 games to claw back 3 on Rickyralph, who slipped up on Collingwood, Richmond and West Coast.

I feel like the the big game fisherman slowly reeling in the mackeral soon to be gaffed.

I had $2 on my multi 9 tip. It paid $45 only in total as there were some shorties in there like Geelong, Sydney, Hawthorn and Brisbane, and the others were less than or around even money.

Besides the collect it was nice to see Collingwood smashed by the Essendon steamroller. Essendon will get theirs soon enough I reckon but not next week as they play the GWS in what could be some sort of record AFL deficit. I reckon GWS will set a record for long odds.

Footy Tipping

Rickyralph has jumped me this year. After 4 rounds he leads 26 to 21. He had a perfect 9 in round 2 followed by two sevens, leaving me floundering.

In our criss cross emails this week he mentioned the passing of his dog Dodge, at 14 years of age from liver disease a few weeks ago. Dodge started getting very thirsty some months ago and when he went off his food altogether it was time to call in a vet friend to put him to rest.

Rick is still grieving and I feel great sympathy for him. He and Dodge had a special bond that humans and dogs can have but the depth of which is uncommon. Rick has aged from 47 to 61 over Dodge's life and inevitable as everything is it still leaves a great emptiness I'm sure, as I have often imagined should I lose my girls.

I have great determination though to improve my tipping and take the title for the third successive year. At this point there are 18 rounds yet to go.

Good Harvest

Towards the end of a difficult season I can report that the last month has provided a bountiful harvest at Hanna's where I grow most of my vegies. Corn, beans, carrots, zucchini, button squash, tomatoes potatos, silver beet have all been delicious and herbs like parsley dill, basil and rocket and have been plentiful too and also shared with my friends. There's some good pumpkins that'll last a while, hopefully through to when pumpkin may go to $5kg like it did last year. We had some parsnips and capsicums too, in small amount.

I've put in some brocolli here at home and a row at Hanna's and some at the farm, and over the next few weeks should get some broadies in and garlic too. The silver beet and parsley should pick into the winter and I've put some seed in as well, and seedlings tend to pop up all over the place by themselves too. I've never done very well with onions, but I'll try some.

I'm lucky to have had Hanna's place, it has good deep easily worked red soil. I'm sure wherever I go in the future, as long as I'm able, I'll be growing vegies. I love the work getting them in and going, and the harvesting, and especially the eating. The limiting factor in my recent years has been a lack of time and little sunny open position both at the farm and here. We became very tree and shrub orientated through the nineties and noughties, responding to demand. We over planted certainly, and with a lot of stuff that is now no longer wanted by the market.

I can't say the same about a honey harvest, it's been another miserable year.  I have yet to pack the bees down for winter, but I fear they'll be very light on for stores. I may give the bees away. I went to the trouble of setting the shed up to extract honey but for poor return. I put all the tools and accumulated 'stuff' in the wood shed. My electric uncapping knife did not agree with the new switch board we had put in when we had our solar system installed, tripping the circuit breaker continuously which makes knife unuseable. The sheds are still in disarray and I'm hoping for a couple of weeks yet of fine weather to reorganise everything and get the firewood under cover. It's scattered all over the place.

I'm losing enthusiasm for many things, working bees is one of them. AFL footy is another. Business leaves me cold. I have no desire to catch up on bookwork and plan new strategy for next season and take on the big tasks of necessary garden renovation.

All I really like to do is grow vegies, take walks, watch birds, read books, and write, which is why I'm telling you this. Life is about leaving things behind as we go down the road. Not wise to deny it. Once I was a baby, a child, a teenager, a young man. The body ages but the spirit grows. Everything changes. I must. My profile talks about a simple life. It's time to live it.

But there'll be winter vegies, and spring is just round the corner. And a federal election. How dreadful.


 

Elise Petit (2)

I'm very pleased to say that I located Elise through facebook and learned that she did get her purse back. She emailed me as follows. It made me feel happy.

hi!! Sorry for the response times. I'm backpacker and I haven't often internet... THANK YOU VERY MUCH for my wallet. I thought it was lost but Australian people are very honest and nice. It was mportant for me, i had my french credit card, etc... You saved my travel!!!  I asked your phone number at the policeman but he didn't want to give it me. Sorry for my english...  Thank you a lot!! Have a good day!! Fortunately that people like you still exist!! Updated to Elise Petit March.

More (Creeping City)

I have wondered how it is that for many years the block of land on the corner opposite St.Silas church on the Pakenham road has remained vacant.

Not for much longer.

I have picked wild carrot flowers on this plot for many years

The backyard of the house in background ( my old friend Ida's) has been subdivided off  and  all trees and shrubs removed prior to more construction.
 

I do not resent this development which is smack bang in middle of town and inevitable, sad as it is in my selfishness that that the landscape along my walk is changing so rapidly. You would think there would have been a building on this site at sometime previously given its central location, but not so in my 32 years in Gembrook. I must ask one of the Gembrook lifetimers. I have been asked to do a talk for the Gembrook senior citizens on April 10, so there'll be an opportunity then. My friend Joyce Begg who gave me the invite grew up on the property on the other corner (where now the community centre stands) which was a dairy farm in her childhood. I'm flattered to be asked so I accepted. I can choose my own topic and should be OK with a general talk about my activities and livelihood at Chamomile Farm. I loathe public speaking but can't seem to get away from it.