Eleven Days of September

My last post was on the morning of August 31. That same day Lib and I left for Lakes Entrance for some R+R primarily, notwithstanding that my motive in the main was to work on the house, painting and whatever else was needed.

We arrived about 5pm to a cold but familiar house. I can't remember what we did for dinner and it is obviously not important. I do know it was Abatacept injection day and I had taken one with me and I performed the jab and we had an early night.

The next morning we slept in, although as usual I was up about seven to feed Pip and let her out for a pee, after which I went back to bed in blissful awareness that I had no usual work routine and could please myself. About 10am after doing the breakfast routine I was still in my PJ's when a bloke pulled up out front and made his way up the stairs. He was tall and lean and wore a hat and looked all the world like something from 'Old Australia', which those of my vintage would recognize as 1960's or before. A Chips Rafferty resemblance. He introduced himself politely and said he was a handyman doing a job soon on a house above ours and needed to get an excavator in from the road above our block. Could he get the excavator in by going through the bush at the top of our block, through the fence at the top, so that he could get it across our next door neighbour's place and into the yard where he needed to work?

"No objection from me," I said,"but I'm not an owner, my wife and her two sisters own it. They'll need to give the OK. My wife is in the shower and sisters could be anywhere, but I'll contact them and let you know. My main concern would be that we don't want anything that will increase the flow of water in storms from the road above into our property as we have serious problems with storm water in the past." He gave me his card with the contact details.

Lib had no objection but couldn't understand what the guy was talking about so I said "Let's go up and have a look." The scrub was thick and we had to push through it  to get to the road above and examine what we thought 'Chips' was talking about. I rang 'Chips' and he offered to come back and show us, and arranged a time, an hour ahead. So i had an hour to kill and started sanding down the back wall in prep for painting. The back of my head was itchy and I had to struggle to get my hands free while up the ladder to scratch it. It kept up itching, I repeatedly scratched, then found a scab on the back of my head. I picked at it and managed to lift a corner. It would not come. I picked and picked, carefully, in the knowledge common to us all if you go too hard at a scab it hurts. This didn't hurt, but I picked and picked and it would not come, till I made a decision to go hard on it, hurt or no.

It didn't hurt but it came away, and as I brought it around on my finger to observe it I could see that it had legs, and was in fact a scrub tick. Now this gave me some concern because I had heard the horror stories of Limes disease from tick bites, an immune system thing, and my immune system had been giving me trouble with the RA business for two years, and that after a trip to Qld and northern NSW when I was attacked by sand flies and suffered severe allergic reaction which to this day I suspect was a trigger to my troubles.

Lib looked closely at my head and said it didn't look like the head of the tick was left behind in my scalp but without cutting and digging she couldn't be sure. There was swelling almost instantaneously. 'Chips' came back and we sorted that, all that was left was to get Pat and Marg's approval, which we subsequently did. I got the back wall sanded down.

The next day the weather was not good but I did a bit of painting in the morning and at Lib's suggestion as rain threatened we went for a drive. We had lunch at Metung, a delicious pumpkin soup and bread and I made calls to P and M re the excavator guy, leaving messages for them to call me back. We drove out to Sarsfield and visited Shirley Hughes's daughter Debbie's place which is now a B+B named Rural Retreats. Graeme Blakewell, Deb's hub, showed us around the amazing property which is in effect an underground house on top of a hill with wonderful views of the Gippsland Lakes.

We made it back to the house in time for me to give the rest of the back a coat of paint before dark. An hour or so later it started to rain and it rained all night, fortunately the paint had just enough drying time and did not wash off.

The next day I went to Bairnsdale and watched the prelim final between Orbost and Lindenow, a lacklustre game really easily won by Lindenow. I met Phil there and watched the game with him, having learned on the phone the day before that he and Marg had had a blue and he didn't know where she was and he hadn't seen her or heard from her in three and half weeks.There's not much I can say about that situation except that it seems almost unbelievable that people who have been married about 40 years can have a blue a few days before they are going on a planned holiday to Qld and a month before they expect their first grandchild. And this in their comfortable retirement. Weird.

Sunday I sanded and painted the side wall. Monday I painted other stuff, rails and beams, and cut the grass at the back and pruned back encroaching trees on the east side. Monday arvo Lib started the big house clean. She had been crook for a couple of days with nausea. Tuesday we did a final clean and packed and left at 9.45 and were home shortly after 1pm. i went picking bay foliage for wednesday's orders. Wednesday Thursday and Fri were flat out. Friday night I was exhausted and knocked off a bottle of red quick time and fell asleep and missed the the second half of GEE/Haw. So glad with Gee winning result. Hope like hell the Bulldogs can finish the job next Friday and get rid of the bastards.

It has taken all of ten days, but the swelling and soreness from the tick bite has eased right off so I think I'm in the clear.
 

Last Day of Winter

Officially today is the end of winter. August was interesting. Plenty of rain, cold weather, wind, is my main recollection. The demands of work were unrelenting with wholesalers chasing blossom, daphne, pieris, bay and variegated pittosporum in particular, with less frequent requests for trailing ivy, jasmine and variegated box, which, along with the pitto have been difficult as the source has been picked over and is hard to find and needs time to grow.

Many times I have lamented my lot at age 64 to be out in the cold and rain picking, however a hot bath at day's end soon convinces me that it greatly preferable to commuting in heavy traffic and sitting in traffic jams. On my odd trips to greater Melbourne for purchasing or medical appointments I wonder at the mental resilience of the thousands of people around me who do this every day. Not a good way to live.

Melbourne! The world's most liveable city, apparently, was the blurb during August. Strewth! I'd hate to driving around the others. I can't get out the place quick enough.The media was also full of outrage at carjackings, home invasions, street violence, homelessness and ice addiction. Somebody is full of bullshit.

May, June, July and August were all cold here in the hills with above average rainfall. I just squeaked through with the wood supply and I'm glad now to see the odd blowie in the house during the day. As the sun comes out and temperatures rise they become more frequent meaning it's not long before I close off the chimney and forget about carting wood into the house till about next May.

August also saw the coming and going of the Olympic Games. They don't interest me anymore I must say, probably because the drugs in sport thing and the gross commercialization and saturation of sport on TV has smothered it for me, or it could be just old age creeping up on me and my wonder of the natural world and gardens and plants overrides all the hype thrown at me. It did not concern me that expectations of more gold medals were not met. In fact I was glad of it, I don't like the tone of the national supremacy that goes with success at the Olympics.

Also I see Sri Lanka gave us a three nil hiding in the cricket. Again I'm glad of this, so I don't have to cringe at the supremacy antics and lack of humility of the cricketers and reporters that goes with it. On our toilet wall is a newspaper clipping of the Aussies being bowled out for 60 in August last year. That was a beauty.

The squabbling goes on. Same sex marriage, plebiscite, yay or nay. The CFA dispute. Uber v taxis, the crippling national debt. On and on it goes, seemingly no resolutions in sight. I should be like Rickyralph. He deliberately doesn't listen to the news on TV or radio. As the Greek proverb goes, "Nothing worth knowing happens more than a donkey's ride from the village."

Speaking of Ralphie, he nailed me by 2 on the post in the footy tipping. If Collingwood had won it would've been a tie but as it happened Hawthorn's last minute win by a point sunk me. Congrats Rickyralph. It was a neck and neck struggle with a head bobbing finish.

My health is good. I got over that neuralgia head business with a couple of weeks of increased cortisone dose as instructed by doctor. I'm back on reduced dose now and travelling well, a little sore around the ribs shoulders and collarbone but working well, surprising myself sometimes how good I feel. I see specialist Sep 14.

September looms. I'm up for it.  

What Goes Around

Last Thursday morning my phone rang, just before I was about to go to do a small gardening job for a friend.

"Hi Carey, it's Kate. You said a while back you could get me a daphne plant if I wanted one. Do you have one?"

"Yes, I've got one here Kate. I'll drop it around later today."

"How much do you want for it?"

"For you, nothing. It's a present."

"Oh come on why would you do that?"

"Because I like you."

I have been friends with Kate for nearly 20 years. She and her her friend Chris were good friends of my old friend Ida who died some ten years ago. Chris died a few years ago after a short cancer battle.
Kate would be well into her seventies, and has lived in Gembrook all her life. I did a signpost article on her a few years back.

I finished my gardening job and after a think about it I decided I didn't want to give Kate the daphne I had in a pot at home. It was one I struck myself about 18 months ago from some cuttings I put in, and it was the only one that took, out of a batch of about twenty or thirty cuttings. Talking later to my friend Huit, who had propagated daphnes and sold them at the market for decades, I learned that the soil I used was way too heavy which is why I had such a poor strike. I repeated the exercise last summer with Huit's advice and all the cuttings seem to have taken but these are too small to give to Kate. About a year ago Huit brought around two trays of his cuttings for me to look after while he was OS for about a month. He was grateful for me looking after them and told me he would give me some plants later in return for me me looking after them for him while he was away, hence my offer to Kate, knowing I was to get some daphne plants when they were ready.

So I went round to Huit's house. I hadn't seen him for about six months. I had a cup of coffee with Huit and his wife. They are dear friends. They told me they were a little concerned that Huit was suffering loss of memory and had an appointment booked for the next day to investigate it. I asked Huit if he had a couple of daphnes I could buy, thinking he would give me a couple in return for my favour of a year ago. he said yes and he showed me two lovely plants and asked me what I thought they were worth. I said I don't know I was happy to give him what he wanted.

Huit said, "Is $15 too much?"

"Not at all," was my my reply. I parted with $30, thinking well you win some and you lose some, I had left it too long and Huit had forgotten about me looking after the cuttings and our arrangement.

I went round to Kate's and gave her one of them and took the other one home, now having two to plant including my own.

Next day I was busy with various things in the morning, then before I got about my picking, I thought I'd go down to a neighbour's place and have a look at some wood that she, Bronwyn, said I could have when I bumped into her at the post office a month or so ago. I had forgotten about this and had been scrounging wood here and there the last couple of weeks along the roadside to get through to the end of winter. It has been a long cold winter and we've had the open fire going every night for months. This lady is relatively new resident, I met her when I used to walk every morning, she was jogging often, and I learned she had come from Wales after meeting and marrying an Aussie at the Master's games somewhere in Europe. Her husband was an ex VFA footballer who was a top middle distance runner after football and they clicked at first meeting. At that time, two or three years ago, she told me they had some wood they wanted removed and I took it and gave them some honey. At our meeting a couple of of months ago at the Post office she asked me how the bees were going and I explained I'd got out of it really but helped a lady with hers and gave her some Gembrook honey that Leanne had given me from our recent extract, and she followed up with with the offer for me to come and see if the wood was of any use.

The wood was perfect for my needs, good dry wattle to compliment the little remaining big eucy logs I have left. I put five barrows of it in the van, it was quite a long way from the back of the property to where I could park. Bronwyn's husband David (Sheehan) was home and came out and we talked. I remembered him well, he played for Dandenong in the VFA from 1967 into the 1970's, in the halcyon days of the VFA when it was televised live on Sundays after World of Sport. It was top football and entertainment and the competition was tough and brutal between Dandy, Port Melbourne, Preston and Sandringham and others. There's plenty more wood there, and David said if I ring him and arrange a time he'll put it in his trailer and bring it around with his tractor to the front to put straight in my van. How good is that?

I left there and drove down to another friend's place down Collie road. He has several daphne bushes down towards the bottom of a gully that I have picked flowers from for a few years. Sometimes the frost spoils the flowers as it falls heavy down the gully. But not this year, despite the cold and wet there's been little frost. My daphne is all picked out but this comes later because of the cold site. I picked 12 bunches, to follow the 20 each of the last couple of weeks and some blue gum and banksia as well.

It was just one of those good days when all falls into place. While I was a bit miffed at parting with $30 for Huit's daphnes the previous day I was totally blown away by the goodwill of good people straight after. This is a common thing for me. Generosity is a beautiful thing. The more you give, the more that comes back, sometimes indirectly, sometimes later, but it is a truism.

By the way, after three doctors visits and increasing my cortisone dose (temporarily) on advice, my headache went away and I'm fine and dandy. I know not if the headache was related to the RA or the reduced cortisone dose of a couple of weeks ago. I see the specialist mid September, before which I will have reduced cortisone again and we'll tell him about it and see what he says.

  

One Degree C

I stepped outside this morning a little after 6am. The thermometer said it was 2C on our deck. I went back inside and did the breakfast thing as Lib was going to work. Juice, muesli with fruit, toast and peppermint tea.

As we ate breakfast, Lib was full of instructions. Ring the doctor, make appointment, tell him you have had a headache for three days, tell him you have RA, tell him you had suspected temporal arteritis a few years ago, tell him you had shingles twice and the symptoms were similar.

My head sang with electric shock every ten or so seconds. I took two panadols, to follow the panadeines and ibuprofens I had been taking for the last couple of days. When she left I went back outside and checked the thermometer, it was now 1C. I went back to bed and lay quietly after saying a prayer that the the pain would stop.

Thank God it did. I woke again at 9.30am. The sun was shining. It was like medicine. I did the laundry, set the fire, did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, made the bed. In between I rang the doc. Mine couldn't see me till next Tuesday, Brother in law Rog was booked out till mid August. I found one with an appointment free at 4.45pm.

After taking a 400mg ibuprofen when the head whacking started again, I got about my work. No pain, feeling great, I picked foliage and daphne and bay dropped it at the farm before my appointment. Doctor seemed unphased, asked questions, was interested in my history.  He offered no answer, I didn't expect he would. Suggested I have blood test tomorrow (pathology was by now closed), as I expected he would.

So to patholgy tomorrow for blood test. Doctor again on Monday to see results. I'll keep you posted. Is it related to the RA? Or is it a recurrent freak show to the shingle thing of the past, or the head splitting suspected arteritis episode. I don't know... I'll bet they won't either. and I'll bet no one will be any the wiser when, hopefully, things have returned to normal .

But I had to go to the doctor, the shingles thing can deteriorate the longer it is left, it can seriously affect the brain, they can arrest it if they get it early. He didn't go that way. I have no choice but to play it out.

I'll let you know.

Ugly Sign

I parked today in in Gembrook's main street, as I often do, to buy something at the local IGA or go to the post office newsagency There, right in front of me, planted in the strip between the road and the footpath is a large sign telling me of the bushfire rating of the day. It's in the form say, of a fuel gauge on your car dashboard, but instead of a needle that indicates the level of fuel in your tank from empty left, to right to full, this one goes from low, green, through to red with black stripes for Code Red. In between are the ratings, moderate, high, severe, extreme.

Today the sign indicated that that the fire risk today was low. Tell me something I didn't know! of course it has shown me this every day for July, and for all of June, and all of May, and most of April. Before that I don't recall, I guess that for March, Feb, Jan and Dec, the needle moved around from low through to extreme, someone would have manually moved it when necessary as it has no automated ability to move according to the weather conditions.

Gembrook is not alone with this sign. I have seen them situated in just about every country town the length and breadth of Victoria. I have often wondered about the total cost of this and who pays for it, although I'm sure that ultimately it's the tax payer.

My point is this - it's a total waste of money, besides being an ugly affliction to the streetscape.

Do I really need to be told today that today was a low bushfire rating? And when it is a hot day come December and the wind picks up, do I really need to be told that the bushfire rating is high? And what if it's 45C with a howler gale? Do I need the sign to tell me it is extreme? And if there's smoke in the nostrils and ash dropping, the code red indicator may be a little late!

Every man woman and child should be well aware of fire danger without the need of a sign to tell us. There's something terribly wrong if we need to go see a sign to tell us. And all this stuff about bushfire strategy plans is very suspect. The instinctive thing is to not be downwind in bush land on a hot windy day, and if there's the smell of smoke or sign of smoke in the distance, get the hell away from timbered areas and into cleared farmland, or the concrete jungle.

It's seems simple to me. No need for the ugly expensive signs. And no need for all the in-fighting we've seen with the CFA and the unions and government policy. The common enemy is the bushfire and it needs united effort of the highest management quality of all resources. All this bickering makes me sick. It's silly squabbling over the spoils of the war chest, the multi billion dollar war on bushfire, most of which is wasted money. I don't care who's in charge so long as the chain of command and the intelligence is the best possible.

It should be automatic that all of us are watching the horizon and smelling the air on a hot day and make sure we are not in the path of a potential fire storm.

No need for those silly bloody ugly signs.

 

A Big Week

From Shirley's place

It was indeed a busy week. Detail would bore you. I picked, weeded, pruned, wrote. Today I rested, pretty much. I did the household things I normally do and finished pruning Lucy Pepi's roses and whipper snipped her back lawn.

Spring is coming with a rush. Japonica, witch hazel, daphne, it's all go.

I am pleased to say I am working well. I have little pain since I went on the Abatacept weekly injections, combined with the methotrexate and low dose cortisone I'm almost pain free and have enthusiasm and surprise myself with my vigour.

I love this pic of little Pip. And luculia on a winter's day, and gardenia from Shirley Hughes now at our front door.

In my van with the autumn foliage

Scented beauty

The Good the Bad and Rickyralph

Let's start with Rickyralph. He's now level pegging with me in the footy tipping.  He tipped Hawthorn and I Sydney last weekend. The Hawks stole it with a bit of help from the umps.

Now the Bad. Melbourne has lost 14 games in a row to the Saints, and 24 of their last 25 at Etihad Stadium. Damning stats.

The Good? I took Rickyralph's tips for a 9 multiple, as well as mine, but in each I had a saver with Port Adelaide as well as North, as I reckoned Port might get up. So I was almost barracking for the Saints to beat Melbourne on Sunday, and one of my 4 tip nines, $5 each, came in paying $179 for my $20 outlay. At least I was happier than usual when my team loses, which is often.

Election

My prediction of a landslide LNP coalition victory was certainly wrong and it seems the event has got us nowhere. For my part I voted at about lunchtime at the local primary school after standing in a queue. The best part about it was seeing and talking to my friend Dulcie who was handing out Greens voting pamphlets.

The Emerald Secondary College had sausage sizzle going but I didn't see one person buy a sausage, the people on the queue were not in the mood for them at $2.50 each and $1.50 for a can of soft drink. there were many people I had never seen before including a mum and dad in front of me with three rowdy kids. The bloke bent over to pick up his demanding toddler every second minute then put it down again, each time his bum crack exposed, the mum, whose hair at the ends was died bright pink, was speaking very loudly to the other two in banal kiddie speak and I was finding it all hard to take. There was woman with purple hair, blokes with grotty track suits and sneakers and baseball caps, and shaved heads and bits of metal stuck in lips ears top and lobes or eyebrows. Another pair of parents with metal facial paraphenalia and black clothes attended a baby in a pram, the mothers arms and the backs of her hands heavily tattooed.

It was  relief to see my friend Barbara come out of the voting area, she spotted me and came over to me. I noticed she had a handkerchief in her mouth covering her lower lip and realized straight away she had not found her lower teeth. Mum told me she had called in top pick up a posy last Friday at the farm and she was distressed because she had lost her lower teeth somehow and was upset and couldn't really talk properly with mum. Barb told me the posy was lovely and she had the box and tin it was packed in in her car and if she could give it to me it would save her taking it back to Elvie. I said yes and followed her to her car after asking the bloke behind me if he would let back in the queue in a few minutes.

The day had started badly when Lib on her way to work was distracted trying not to spill her cup of tea and got her front wheels off the gravel and slid nose first into the shrubbery, thoroughly bogging her car. She took Ian's Subie instead and I rang her work to say she'd be a few minutes late. It was dark still and cold and wet,  and besides not being able to see I couldn't have got the car out easily anyway so I pretended it wasn't there and got on with the laundry before going to back to bed for an hour or so.

I baked some Cippollini onions in prep for our visitors coming the next day, to add to the numerous dishes Lib had prepared, and bought a tomato and bacon quiche at the bakery as instructed and also a chicken breast which I cut up into small pieces and baked in the oven with the onions. These dried out meat treats I give to Pip at different times and a batch lasts a few weeks. I set the fire and organized wood for a few days and before I knew it Lib was home from work. I found a tow rope and managed to pull Lib's car out forwards with the Subie in low ratio after cutting away shrubbery. There was little damage, just a busted headlight protector.

I didn't watch must of the election count on TV, I watched a bit of footy and fell asleep in the chair.
My prediction may have been wrong but I do think our nation is in serious crisis. Turnbull talks of 'Jobs and Growth' but the only businesses proliferating around this district are coffee shops, pizza shops or real estate agents. Jason Wood has promised money to do up the local footy club rooms, and those at Officer, and has pledged $5mil to Puffing Billy to set up a Heritage Centre at Emerald Lake Park to attract hordes of Chinese tourists (the last thing I want to see I might add) - pork barreling at it's best, like the $8million Police station and the $2mil firestation at Emerald from the Libs after the state election before last.

Hopefully the phone will be a little quieter now that politicians and survey seekers will be taking a break. The calls will now be from the multitude of charities that are forever seeking money. The media was full of tales about beggars in Melbourne recently, homeless people camping and asking for money. These charities are sophisticated beggars, always wanting money. The telemarketers rattle of their spiel with hardly a break for breath, the theory is - "keep em on the line, make em think they've taken up your valuable time as you crusade for good, they'll give you something if you you make em feel they've used up your valuable time."

Just like the car salesmen tactics described brilliantly in Stienbeck's 'The Grapes of Wrath', which I'm re reading now after 40 years, and realizing how relevant the theme is in today's world. The telemarketers work on commission just like the car salesmen.

There's something seriously wrong with government in this country and we are in a real mess. And now we have Pauline Hanson back! What does it say about us?

  

Normie's Yellow Rose

Normie's Rose; 10 days after the funeral service it still is beautiful. Norma's favourite flower was the yellow rose and her casket had them dominating and we were invited to take one home.

Nearly There

Next Saturday we finally reach election day after the longest campaign in my recollection.

My phone rings daily, my mailbox is full of election stuff, Jason Wood's photo with Malcolm Turnbull looks at me everywhere I drive, and the radio talkback is constantly going on about it, and it is in every newspaper front and square.

It looks to me that it will be an annihilation. Turnbull will be returned and Labour will be decimated, perhaps the ruination of the Labour Party forever, maybe it is totally finished.

As disappointing as Turnbull is to me, it was a master stroke to get rid of Abbott. Abbott gave Shorten some chance.

So, my call is early. Labour is finished. It does not surprise me. Unionism is finished.

Sadly, it is a comedy of uselessness. Australia is cruelled by greed and laziness.

A country driven to point of ruin by self interest greed and laziness.

On a Winter's Day

I woke this morning and went outside to relieve the full bladder to be enthralled by the jousting magpies whose warbling and acrobatics have delighted me all this month.

It must be the first sign of spring as these beautiful native birds presumably are asserting territory in the prelude to the mating season. A group of about 8 birds have been darting and chasing in twos or threes from tree to tree in spectacular competition accompanied by magnificent song during interludes when resting in perches.I think it must be parent birds chasing away young from last year's breeding prior to this years, as I believe happens.

There was plenty of sunshine this morning to cheer the spirit of this pilgrim as I soaked up the luxury of a day at home after a tough week. On Thursday I woke and opened the back door to find only one gumboot where there should have been two. Must be a neighbour's dog doing devilment was my conclusion, the same creature that regularly pulls things out of the recycling box at the back door during the night, chewing up yoghurt containers and foil that has had food traces in it.

Gord and I went to 'Blossoms' funeral that same day, at the Springvale Crematorium starting 11.15am. I'm glad we went. She was a good friend. I'm saddened that I will not see her again. Norma had said what she wanted at her funeral service and I was a little disappointed for two reasons. Firstly there was no mention of her marriage to Henry and her time at Emerald which was about a decade, and secondly, the concluding song at the service was 'My Way' by Frank Sinatra. I would have preferred something better, if you listen closely to the lyrics of that song it is not a nice song, it is a selfish construct, and I read somewhere it is the no 1 choice for funeral service songs. Normie could have done better surely. Nevertheless I teared up a bit.

From there we went on to Mentone pick up some beekeeping supplies in prep for next spring. It rained all the way and the traffic was horrible. We late lunched at Parkmore shopping centre then went to FTG where I bought some new 'Oliver' work boots and then on to Lowes at Knox where Gord wanted something or other. All the way traffic horrible. Melbourne is a hell hole. I finished in Tecoma for a massage and Chiro adjustment and got home in the dark after what seemed like a whole day driving in traffic, which it was really. Exhausting.

Friday was not the quiet recovery I hoped for. Orders came in at 10.30am for a whole lot of stuff extra to what I had already known about and planned to do at leisurely pace. Therefore followed 7 hours of picking top pace no break to speak of in drizzly shitty weather. Completing that we went to Monbulk to pick up the take away Chinee for dinner and to shop at Aldi and the green grocer, and drive home in the dark and drizzle without my glasses which I had left at home. Exhausted again.

Sadly, there was another vanishing incident to outdo the gumboot of the previous day. I do like dim sims, steamed Chinese home made ones. I bought 6, two entrees of three each, so that I would have some for left overs to have with the fried rice and noodles that are always left over for the day or two following. Well, after taking a drink of white wine and getting in my footy tips to Rr and placing a few footy multibets I took a bath. I'd seen Gordy eat a dim sim and his spring rolls before heading to the bath then when I came out I had a plate of SFrice and Singapore noodles and checked where the dim sims were, yes fine in the fridge, I'd have them tomorrow. Now I do like Chinese food but my tastes are simple... dim sims, fried rice, noodles. I leave all the other sloppy stuff to others, I'm happy to leave all that.

I was completely peeved when I went to get a dim sim or two yesterday to have with the left over rice. Lib took them to work for lunch and of the whole 6 I bought I had narry a one. The others had eaten the prawn entree and the spring rolls and all my dim sims to boot. I was left with all the sloppy stuff.

Fried up in the pan though it was pretty good.

Footy Tipping

Well were almost to the halfway mark of the season.

I'm pleased to say I'm leading our home comp, on 70. Gord is next on 69, Rickyralph is 67, and Lib brings up the rear on 58. Rickyralph keeps banging away but has so far not been able to to bridge the gap on me that I established early on.

The funny thing is that he tipped 9 last week and caught up on me one as I only had 8, but because my tip was speculative on Melbourne beating Hawthorn, which didn't happen, I put $5 on Rr's tips with Sportingbet and collected $88 for the 9 multiple.

Cheese

The crisis in the dairy industry has made big news recently and I sympathize greatly with dairy farmers. I heard it said somewhere in the media that we should all make sure we buy Australian milk in order to support the dairy industry.

We don't buy a lot of milk but I have never even considered that the milk we buy is from anywhere other than Australia. It is incomprehensible to me how or why we would import milk when we have so much of it here, and if we did how it could be competitive on price after travelling from overseas.

It has also been said we should eat more cheese and i have been doing my best. Cheese I love and I snack on it most days when I come home from work with a few dry biscuits. Also it is my habit to put grated cheese over certain left over meals say like tuna rice or risotto as I heat in the pan with a sprinkle of cayenne pepper. Mumma Mia! Grilled cheese on toast with or without tomatoes is also a treat, melted cheese is a delight.

And there are so many types of cheese to enjoy. I adore grated Parmesan on my spaghetti sauce and don't mind some blue vein now and again.

And let's not forget that great companion to cheese - wine.

Oh how I'm looking forward to getting home tomorrow night to enjoy the open fire and some Friday night wine and cheese. Even a terribly dead and boring footy match like Essendon and Hawthorn will not be able to spoil that.

Vale Normie

The phone rang today, my mobile, at about 3pm. As it rang I was taking out the cards in the bottom draw of our kitchen with the intent of writing a birthday card for my friend Norma who was to turn 79 years old next Thursday the 9th of June. It has been a custom of Norma and I to send each other a tattslotto ticket and a card on our birthdays for the last twenty years or so. I thought I'd post it on my way up to watch the last quarter of the local footy, to save me having to do it next Monday and risk forgetting.

The mobile phone was in my office and I quickly dropped the stack of cards I'd taken from the drawer and managed to take the call before the caller hung up. It was my friend Craig, a young man of great quality whom I met through Norma some 20 plus years ago, and who through all that time I have had business dealings to our mutual benefit albeit on a small scale. He was a young man just left school when I met him, and with his young lady companion Leanne was embarking on a career in the nursery industry. They married and started a wholesale tube sale business on line and have gone on to great success and have two children. I regularly get plants from Craig, and he regularly takes cuttings at the farm and NHP. No money changes hands, our dealings are on a favour basis in the best of spirit.

Craig told me he had received word from his mother that Norma died on Friday. In the card I was about to write her I was to say that we, Gord and I, would be down to visit her in the next week or so. It has been my habit to visit her a couple of times a year. Gord and I last visited in February, after she had moved from Banyule to Balwyn after the subsidized housing she was in sold up for development and she had to find somewhere else, this time a Catholic church residence, a tiny flat.

Norma had a florist shop in Armadale through the 1970's My father used to sell posies and vegies to her on his deliveries. She married foliage grower Henry from Emerald in the 1970's and lived with him at Emerald in the 1980's after she concluded her business. She visited the farm regularly to buy vegetables and we picked foliage and flowers on their property.

In the early 1990's Henry took ill, Normie went to court, to go for an out of time settlement 19 years after their marriage as they had separated within one year, lived apart for some time then got back together although divorced. It was an an ugly situation with great acrimony between Norma and her husband's daughter, her step daughter. I could write much about the dramatic events at the time which involved me coincidentally but there is no need for it in this post.

Norma came out of it with a pay out which was taken out almost completely by $110,000 legal costs and she was basically penniless for the last twenty years or so, living on a pension and paying rent.

She was a powerful personality who pushed me to the limit of my patience at times but through it all she was a great friend who offered her best wisdom even if it was sometimes a little overbearing. But she was always there as a friend, on the phone, and when I visited. She was a brilliant cook, her soups were magnificent and she taught me much. She was a raconteur and had an interesting life. In the late 1950's she went out with Big Bob Johnson, Melbourne ruckman and forward, and she was friends with Bart Cummings and cricketer Keith Miller.

I will miss her greatly. She has been there to pump up my tyres for such a long time, and I'm very sad that I'll not see her again. Not on his plane anyway.

Count Your Blessings

On the phone a couple of weeks ago I asked a lady friend to have lunch with me. She declined as she had an appointment on the day I was suggesting and couldn't make it. I was disappointed, but it was important that I had made the invitation, for reason that I will explain.

There was nothing in my invitation of a picnic in the park that could be seen as untoward. The lady is a casual friend whom I have known for some years. I first met her through an involvement I have in a local organization which caused us to liaise now and again and see each other incidentally over a period of years. Our contact was cordial, polite, respectful, pleasant if I think back, she is one of those people you are always pleased to see, who leaves you feeling a little better about the day and the world in general.

Years passed and our involvement ceased on an organizational level but we bumped into each other shopping every couple of months or so and always had a yarn in a warm friendly exchange. The lady, younger than me by a decade or so, had an interesting local family history and in her own right her life story justified me to ask her if I could do a profile on her for Signpost magazine. She agreed and it was on the agenda but I didn't get around to it before I stopped writing for Signpost at the end of last year.

A couple of months ago we met shopping in Woolworths and I apologized for not having followed through and explained that I had ceased doing the Signpost articles. She was not concerned, and told me that her mother, who would have been an important part of the story, had died recently.

I then said that I had not got around to doing a profile on her good friend's father either, I had asked him about it once and he was reluctant but told me to try him again later when he didn't have so much on. She asked did I hear about her good friend. I said no.

"She died on Christmas Eve".

This floored me. She went on to say that her friend woke up with a splitting head ache and after no improvement she sought medical assistance but before any could happen she collapsed and an ambulance was called but she died quickly from a massive stroke, aged about 50, leaving a husband and teenage family. My friend and this lady were close friends, and both were part of the organization that I had dealt with over a number of years as mentioned above.

As we continued our chat in the supermarket she told me she had had a terrible time. Her mother died, her friend died shortly after, then her husband walked out on her, all in a matter of a couple of months. Apparently her husband, a policeman, had been having an affair for years and leading a double life unknown to her totally until he walked out, leaving her with two teenagers. Worse still, he was behaving with animosity and intimidation over the nuts and bolts of the separation.

I could scarcely believe all that I was hearing as this lady friend had always been of such pleasant nature and warm character, and her family situation as read by me was of perfect harmony and good citizenship. She teared up while telling me about it and we hugged and said that we must have lunch and a walk in the park where we had been involved in community affairs over a decade or so. I said this as a gesture of friendship, with understood but unspoken offer of counsel to help her through her trials.

As weeks went by I rang her a couple of times to arrange a picnic lunch but she was not home. Gord kept reminding me to do it, he was with me when we had met in the supermarket and he was as equally moved as I was by the lady's misfortune. Eventually I found her home but the day I suggested was unsuitable to her. I'm sure my offer was appreciated and served its purpose as a show of support and friendship and I must contact her again soon.

I hope she comes through it OK. Life can be a real bastard.

I count my blessings for my good fortune.

Goodbye to Autumn

The weather changed two or three weeks ago and we lit the open fire, as we have every night since. It's a great thing and especially so when firewood supply is no problem and the wood you have stored is well seasoned and dry from the rain. Not that I'm on top of it totally, there's a lot of wood exposed to the weather, I haven't yet got it all under cover in the shed but have had some there and some under tarps so I'm OK for now. There's dry spell forecast now for a few days and my plan is to barrow a lot of wood into the shed for the next month or so. I would have done it this weekend but I took the day off yesterday, at Lib's urging, to go with Gord to Powelltown to watch the Brookers, and I did museum roster today.

Gord wasn't playing, he has been training but is only offering his services if they can't get the numbers. So far the ressies have had enough. I felt it would do me good to go with him yesterday. I have been to Powelltown with him the last two years, two years ago it was his first game I think. I love the drive to there. There are some beautiful trees along the way, even the messmates somehow look better along the road nearing Powelly.

We arrived shortly before quarter time in the ressies. Gembrook had 3 goals 2 on the board and Powelly 5 behinds, which was the score at the break, The second quarter was all Poweltowns as they caught up on the scoreboard and really should have gone in well ahead at halftime but missed many shots. Gembrook were fumbling and looked quite inferior. I bought a meat pie at the canteen and a coffee. The pie was so hot I had trouble eating it without burning my mouth. I did burn my mouth. The lady put milk in the coffee without me asking for it, it was luke warm and insipid but the cost of both was $5.50, not bad hey.

The third quarter was much like the second, Powelly on top but not dominating the scoring. At the last break Gembrook was behind by a small margin. On top of the reserves ladder, Gemmy had to pull something out, The last quarter was a hard slog. Halfway through the quarter after two or three desperate acts I called early, they would win, and they did. I had a pasty during this. it was red hot like the pie but with lots of sauce and me going out the back away from the throng i ate it slowly in peace, this time with a straight black tea from a tea bag. Another $5.50 well spent.

The senior game kicked off and Gembrook looked ordinary. It's quite stark the contrast between the ressies and the seniors. It's obvious straight away that the standard of footy is higher, and some of those on the field are actually very good. Again, Gembrook did not look convincing, at half time scores were about level and with a number of Powelltown players looking confident and competent, it looked to me like the home side would win the game.

I went inside the Powelltown clubrooms at half time, not the changerooms, but the social room with all the pictures on the wall of past premiership teams, cricket and football. I was looking for an old teammate of mine from the early 1970's, Allan Warburton. He was a carpet layer, and just how I got onto him I don't know but he installed the carpet in our house extension in 1985. He said he was still playing footy for Poweltown. I had well and truly given it away by then. I found no mention of him on the walls which did not surprise. Al would have been at the end of his footy when he played there and while he was a good strong ruck rover he wasn't a star, although on his day he could dominate. His brother Lloyd was captain coach of Ormond Church of Christ in 1971-73. Lloyd was an excellent full forward, ex captain of Melbourne U19's. He kicked 150 goals in our premiership year of 1971 in the modest Eastern Suburbs churches League E grade. He was only 5 foot 9 inches in height which prevented him going on in the VFL as he was a genuine full forward type player but he had big strong hands and an excellent lead, very hard to stop. We had a good team in a competitive comp which had some excellent players despite its lowly status. We were runners up in D grade the next year and just missed the finals in C grade the following after a season mauled by some ugly brawling and fighting incidents on field after which the club wound up. I had three happy years of footy and social life there and didn't play again until 1978, except for some games at Qld Ag College in 1974 in their inaugural team in the SE Qld comp. Many of the players in that team were new to Aussie rules and we were poleaxed most games, once by 50 goals against Aviation, a team from the Oakey Army Aviation base which was comprised mostly of blokes from the south who'd played Aussie Rules all their lives. It was humbling and embarrassing but I have fond memory of it and the brave effort of my teammates who were on a hiding to nothing but loved it.

I have gotten away from my point but that is the beauty of blogging, you can do that. After half time Gembrook gained the upper hand emphatically and kicked eight goals to nought in the third quarter. It was impressive with hard working little blokes driving forward and strong defenders sending the ball back. The best of it was when big Clarky, the 36 or so year old co coach getting a lovely tap at a centre bounce down to a running captain Ricky Causer whose long well placed kick to full forward where Andrew Ship took a hanger from behind. Just classic footy. Shippy didn't kick the goal he gave a little pass to someone very close. It broke the back of the opposition.

Gord and I drove home slowly so as to minimise the chances of hitting a roo or wallaby, one of which jumped across the road in front of us quite close, and after Lib's altercation with one a couple of weeks ago I didn't want to be putting in another insurance claim.

It was nice coming home to a roaring hot fire that Rob and Lib had going when we got back after a little shopping in Yarra Junction. I had set the fire in the morning, which will be my habit most days if not all for the next three months or so.

An Unusual Day

I took a day off today. Thursdays are normally my quiet day and I had a massage appt in Tecoma scheduled  for 4pm, so when Merle asked me was there a chance I could attend a function in Berwick on behalf of the Friends of Gembrook Park I said yes I could. Not that I had any desire to, but I badly wanted a haircut and thought I could easily be down that way doing that and fit in the function which I was told was to start at 12.15pm and run for half an hour only as the Minister for Social Services was on a tight schedule.

It was an announcement of the volunteer grants to organizations in the Latrobe electorate, $99,000 to 26 organizations who had successfully applied for a grant. I had had nothing to do with our application but the chap who did it was away in Qld and Merle could not go. I went because I could, and I was curious. It was held at the new Impaired Vision school in Berwick which was an impressive place as were the students and the staff who had a small assembly to welcome everyone and kick it off. Local Federal Member Jason Wood and Christian Porter the Minister both spoke briefly and it was a short and sweet announcement followed by a tour of the school.

Apparently Jason Wood had been instrumental in achieving funding for the school around the time of the last election and this was news to me. The children who spoke at the assembly were most impressive and it showed me how important it is that disabled kids get opportunities to progress and play a valuable role in society. As part of the assembly a girl played a little organ and two other kids put an Australian flag in a stand and everyone sang the National Anthem Advance Australia Fair.

Everyone except me that is. Not out of protest, anyone can sing what they like is my view, or not sing if they don't want to. I remembered singing the National Anthem thousands of times at school like an obedient parrot, in those days it was 'God Save the Queen', and I have often thought if I could go back I'd not sing and say "no thanks not for me". I just don't see the point in singing it on cue, or making kids sing it. A bit like when I went to church recently and everyone was up and down singing like a parrot from a cue card numerous times. I just don't get it. It doesn't do it for me. I know politicians are big on national pride and allegiance to the flag and all that stuff, and there was no shortage of signage on the roadsides showing pictures of smiling Jason Wood and Malcolm Turnbull advertising the one billion dollars they were to spend on the Monash freeway if re-elected. There was a even a very large one looking straight at you as you drove into the school.

And the kids also thanked the elders past and present of the indigenous tribes for the use of the land we are now occupying, something like that was the wording, at the start of the assembly. I have seen this down at council meeting when I attended one a few years ago, and I believe it is done at State and Federal Parliament. It seems much like lip service to me, tokenism. A bit like saying we do this because we recognize we took your land from you, now we can get on with the development. The plight of indigenous people in Australia is as desperate as ever, and I was shocked on a visit to Central Australia a few years ago.

With that of my chest, let me say I had a great day. I had a haircut in Pakenham. I went to a bloke I'd been to before in an arcade off the main street knowing he was an avid Melbourne fan and could fill me in on the club news, but he was closed for two weeks. There was a lady barber Meagan who does men next door, a Sydney fan, but she had three blokes ahead of me so I looked in the window of the lady's hairdresser on the other side of my bloke and there was no one in there and the lady said come in she'd do me straight away. She was a total delight, Soni was her name, an Indian migrant from the Punjab, she has owned the business 2 years and her husband is a truck driver and they have a six year old daughter, after migrating nine years ago. She only charged me $15 which is what the man next door does. Sometimes you meet people who give your spirits a lift and she did that.

After the meeting in Berwick I went to drop some lemons in to Rickyralph round the corner. He happened to be home as he worked night shift in his new job last night, and he was so happy Gord and I called in. We talked for an hour over a couple of cups of tea before Gord and I went to Fountain gate then onto Aldi at FTG and my massage at Tecoma. My session with masseur Lisa was exquisite euphoria, her hands like magic as she worked for 45 mins on my lower and upper back and shoulders and neck.

Big Roo

Lib hit a big roo on her way to work yesterday. Fortunately she kept the car on the road after having no time to brake or swerve, it just appeared suddenly and she collected it left front. It damaged the front panel and bonnet and the side panel around the wheel.

She was able to drive on to work and rang me at 7.05am. I went and looked early arvo after reporting it to our insurance co. I was surprised at the extent of the damage and drove it to Officer to Berwick Body Repairs which is accredited with our insurance. They were excellent last year when they repaired Gord's car after he swerved to miss a wombat causing him to hit a stationary object on the roadside.

You never know what's coming on any given day. We're told it will cost us $600 excess and it will be about three weeks before we get it back. We're lucky to have Ian's Subie to use in the meantime. Let's hope another roo doesn't jump in front of it. They are a real hazard this time of year along that road, on Lib's way to work in the early morn.

Poor Lib. It gave her a fright. We're feeling lucky that she was not injured. I feel sorry for the roo, it was just doing its thing. It disappeared from the roadside after the accident Lib said but I can't see that it would survive after such a violent collision and I hope it was not a slow death. There's terrible carnage to animals and birds on the roads.

Gord took this photo while I was giving Lib the keys to the Subie. It looked far worse from the side 

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Election Called

Somehow PM Shorten just doesn't sound right. But then I never thought PM Abbott would have happened either. I think it'll be a returned Turnbull Government, but I suppose anything is possible in the next eight weeks.

There's not much difference between them anyway. I was surveyed a couple of years ago by Jason Wood's office (our local member for Latrobe). His office asked me what I thought was the most pressing local issue, and for the nation. On both counts I answered the environment, closely followed by affordable housing.

So, I'll be voting accordingly.

Simple as that.

Dr Phillip

I worked a little today, Sunday. This because a customer, my best customer, asked could he have 20 bunches of purple wattle to pick up Monday morning, meaning it would need to be picked Sunday.

Yes I did it. I also picked 10 bunches of Mexican Sage at Keith's, and a little extra for Elvie to use in her mixed posies. This to make the exercise of driving to Emerald a little more worth while. It rained on and off for most of the day. I have to go the specialist tomorrow so rather than say no (they would have to wait until Monday afternoon pick up) it suited me to work today and get it out of the way, leaving tomorrow comfortable for my 2.00pm appt.

Purple wattle you may know is a type of Cootamundra wattle. I planted a row at the farm some twenty years ago and several trees at home. I used to sell quite a lot, then for whatever reason no one asked for it and the trees deteriorated. These things are better if you cut them regularly so they put on new good growth. If not cut they deteriorate.

So for now there's a renewed interest, albeit by only one customer that buys from our wholesaler, and probably fleeting. While I was picking I thought of Phillip, who, a couple of years ago bought good quantities of wattle foliage and blossom. He was a good customer who paid on the nose and bought a lot of stuff we would otherwise have not sold.

He was a nuisance in that he wanted stuff outside my normal routine but the benefits outweighed the negatives so I did my best to get what he wanted. He was a likeable guy. He was a doctor, working in emergency at Dandenong Hospital, and studying to be a surgeon. But he loved floristry and plants and gardens and flowers, and worked in his time off for a florist. He always had a camera at hand and was always taking pictures of flowers and trees.

He was a big bloke, half Asian looking but dark skinned. Very handsome, and well spoken and extremely polite. He said his mother was Vietnamese, and his father a black American serviceman.

This went on for a year or so. He was a little unreliable, not turning up when he said he would, but with the good excuse that he was unable to get away from his work at the hospital and had to work long shifts. Sometimes he'd turn up with an unusual vehicle, saying the florist's van was unavailable so he had to hire one.

Then he just stopped coming. He owed us a small amount of money but the weeks and months passed and we assumed he wouldn't return. In the meantime we picked up another customer a lady from Monbulk, who fills the Phillip Gap. In conversation one day she told us that she knew Phillip and he was a total fraud, he was not a doctor at all. We have not seen him since.

To the footy. Keith was happy his Saints had such a good win. He reckons ruckman Hickey set it up by nullifying the influence of Max Gawn. Maybe too, but I just think the Saints were better all over the paddock. Keith is eighty years old +. He recently had an operation to have a pig's valve inserted in his heart where his own was failing. Now on the other side of his heart, the valve is leaking, top and bottom. He thinks they can't give him another pig's valve. maybe due to age. He is out of breath very quickly. But in his eighties he keeps his business selling camellias going and still drives all over Victoria delivering to nurseries.

A great thing about my lifestyle is the people along the way. Keith is a great favourite and his wife Jenny is a beautiful lady with the the most lovely nature I have ever come across. They recently celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. Fantastic.

The African Queen

I finished 'The Horse Whisperer' the other day. I confess I choked back tears more than once in the latter stages of this book.

Lib went to a market Sunday before last, I think at Berwick. She came home with a book for me, 'The African Queen' by CS Forester, which she picked up for two three dollars. Now it's strange what can come back to you after more than 50 years but my response was immediate.

"I read that at school at Malvern Grammar as an English text, it's a great book. And I can tell you a line that is on page 84."

I flicked to page 84 and sure enough I was right. I'll cut to the line, it completed the chapter, this at the time Rose and Charlie Allnut became physically intimate.

"put her arms round Allnut's slight body and press him to her breasts while he did his will- her will- upon her."

Don't get me wrong, I'm not turning into a silly old smut. It's just that I had this flashback to my youth with amazing clarity. You can imagine how that line excited the 12 or 13 year old boys in 1964 or 65.

I look forward to reading it again but I've started another book, 'Unholy Trinity' by Denis Ryan and Peter Hoystead. This is Denis Ryan's story of his pursuit of paedophile priest Monsignor John Day while he was a detective in Mildura and how his efforts to have Day prosecuted were thwarted at every turn by the heirarchy of the Catholic Church and Victoria Police. I'm only 25 pages in but it's spine chillingly scary that such evil could exist and be protected. I bought this book through Booktopia after seeing it on the internet somewhere.

I love reading books. I can't imagine myself ever being bored or unhappy or dissatisfied with life, whatever happens, so long as I can read books. I find my mother's predicament, failing eyesight, most unpallatable. She has not been able to read books or print- unless it's abnormally large- for some time.

The weather has been fine and warm for a week and I have been busy with garden tidying and putting a coat of stain on the house. In spare time that is. I got honey of the bees for Leanne to extract, manna gum I think. Work has been pretty full on too. Bring on tomorrow, I have a 45 minute massage session booked in the afternoon with my Lisa at Belgrave Chiropractic and I can hardly wait, so good does it make me feel, during and after. Had my 7th Abatacept injection tonight. It must be doing me good, because despite being sore around the ribs and shoulders, I seem to have more mobility these last few weeks and more energy. I've surprised myself with my productivity and general higher spirits.

Flowers Today

I picked some flowers for the restaurants today as I do most Mondays and Wednesdays, as well as my foliage. The photo below shows some of them after I put them on the work bench at the farm for the ladies to pack.

Abutilons Fuscias Nasturtiums
 

I also picked elderberry flowers from a bush in a creek bed on the south side of Emerald which are not in the photo. At least it's light work and and interesting. Often I also pick rocket and borage flowers, and calendulas, but Meredith had enough at the farm to do these herself today. It always a bit of a struggle having what they want in the quantity the wholesaler wants. They've been strong on fennel flowers for a few months but they are finished now.  Most things are seasonal. Coriander and dill are finishing. Hearstease, pansies are hard to have when they want them. Often when things are flush there's no demand, I suppose because chefs access gardens themselves or there's plenty at market cheap. 

In truth I'm just glad we have our customers both wholesale florists and herb/restaurant people and that by good fortune as much as good planning, we have enough produce to  provide our income. One things for sure, industrious we are, and always trying to keep things rolling.

Tomorrow is forecast fine and warm and I'll have a look at the last couple of beehives that I look after, with a view to readying them for winter. I have a plan to put the bees in new hardened foodgrade polystyrene hive material next spring (imported from Finland), just because I have never heard of this or tried such before, and to get a couple of good queens of quiet stock, perhaps my last hurrah in beekeeping as I'm aiming to make life as simple as I can from here on and reduce my activity. The bees are not mine really, I have given them away, but I'm still helping as the new owners learn. It's a case  of necessity really, as well as desire, to slow down and have less work to do. The clock keeps ticking.

Books

I'm currently reading 'The Horse Whisperer' by Nicholas Evans and am enjoying it immensely at about half way through. I watched the movie a few years ago with Robert Redford in the lead role. My memory of it is not strong but I know I enjoyed it thoroughly, and the book, from which I assume the movie morphed, is grabbing me.

There's something very beautiful in the relationship between animals and humans, something that moves us all as a great connector between us and nature. I have never had much to do with horses but they are closely allied to man as are dogs and cats with whom I have had closer affinity.

The book I read immediately previous was 'All the Light We Cannot See' by Anthony Doerr, a long novel of over 500 pages set in WW11 France and concerning a French blind girl and a German youth, whose life stories came together towards the end, most improbably I thought, but it made for a good read that I'd recommend. To me it portrayed the stupidity of that part of history while giving a glimpse of the humanity in the circumstance.

Both these books were given to me as gifts by Lib, who consistently through our time together has provided me with reading material which has greatly improved my understanding of the world and how it works and my part in it.

UFO

About an hour ago I put two slices of fruit loaf in the toaster for supper and made a cup of coffee. I went outside to put a couple things in the deck fridge and took a little walk to empty the bladder in the garden.

As I happily peed away my eyes scanned the evening sky. A star, more yellow than the others in the north east sky seemed to be moving. I watched it closely, and it moved not in a continuous direction but back and forward and up and down, not much but perceptibly to me with my glasses on. I went in and called Gord who took a minute or two to come out. During this time the star went out, that is, its light faded and disappeared, but after I told Gord about it it came back on. He said yes he could see it moving,  and with eyes better than mine he said it was changing colour too.

We watched for a few minutes, it continued it's erratic small movements which we could discern from the tree branches close to the line of vision, and its light faded and came back or varied in its hue and configuration, if that's an appropriate word for it.

So I went and got the binos, the powerful ones that Boongus left here, and I had a good look at it before passing the binos to Gord. With the binos, and Gord concurred with all that I'm about to write when we described what we saw to each other, it looked about the size of the moon would to a naked eye. It was spherical and seemed to have many tiny lights on its surface which came on and off in different colours and in different parts of the sphere which gave the thing an overall different shade as the lights moved around and ranged through yellow, white, blue and  red.

Weird. I have no idea what it was. Could it be a satellite with a shiny surface reflecting light from all over space? But would a satellite move like that? I have never believed there are aliens from outer space visiting Earth, but this thing did look like a spaceship of sorts. I'll go with satellite, but I'm very curious now. I'm going out now before I go to bed to see if it's still there.

When I went out just now there was cloud cover and no stars visible.

Friday Update

I can report that I have had the best three days in recent memory (months) from a pain point of view. The savage unrelenting pain in my right arm stopped. I'm still stiff and sore in the shoulders and upper back and ribs but that is not too bad and i'm walking around and working fine and dandy. Let's pray that it stays that way. I do.

Those who know me understand that I'm not a big fan of the AFL. But I can't cut off from the footy. And tonight I had great entertainment as it turned out from the Richmond/Collingwood game. The first half was as much crap as you would ever hope not to see, but there was something about the wringing tussle on the scoreboard that promised some sort of a finale. And did it deliver; the second half was exciting as both sides lifted and despite the multitude of mistakes it turned out to be a great contest with the Pies getting up with the last kick to win by a point. I just had to laugh, it was great.

Maybe my abatacept injections are working. Who would know? But I am so greatly relieved of pain.
Touch wood, cross fingers, pray, I'm doing it all, begging that this respite continues.

Good Friday Return

We left last Sunday after midday after I picked some flowers round the traps and took them to the farm, which I'd normally do on the Monday. Lib is on holidays and I felt I owed it to her to go with her to Lakes if I could, and besides I don't really want to get into bad habits like not doing things together and living separate lives.

Being Sunday we had a roast lamb for dinner cooked in the little old oven in the Lakes house which for some reason always cooks a superb roast. It was good to lie in bed listening to the ocean breaking in the distance. I didn't sleep well, my painful shoulders have been bad lately and are worse at night, particularly my right arm which aches in the bicep and at the back of the arm as well as the the shoulder and it goes down to the forearm and wrist. I take variations of ibuprofen and panadeine at different times of the day and night but frankly the pain remains.

The main purpose for me to go to Lakes with Lib besides not being a party pooper was to do some work on the house. The house is 45 years old or more and is owned by Lib and her two sisters. It was gifted to them a long time ago by Bill and Molly well before they died but when their advancing age and the long distance from Wangaratta made the house on a steep hill with lots of stairs no longer practical as a holiday venue for them. Recently one of Lib's sisters has indicated she wants out and Lib and the other sis have decided to buy out her share and keep the house.

Over the last five years or so we have done some replacement and repair work to rotting timber and painting and there was major expense with the collapse of the big retaining wall behind the house which basically was paid for out of Molly's estate after she died.There's a lot of work necessary in the future including more timber replacement and inevitably a new roof as well as new windows and plumbing repairs, hot water service, new side fence which is falling down. I'm happy to go along with Lib and keep the house as she has been involved with it since she was about 15 years old and loves going down there... there's an emotional attachment to the house that links to her parents. Lib has worked hard all our married life and deserves my support to keep the house.

Monday was a bit of a write off as it rained but I managed to buy some things at the hardware store in preparation. Monday night was cold, my arms gave me buggery but Tuesday was good for working. Wednesday I was on the roof lying on my belly round the edges sanding the timber below the roof and then painting soft and bare patches with wood hardener and then a coat of paint. Gord was with us to help me thank goodness. We were due to come home on Thursday but because we missed a day with the rain we decided to stay an extra day after establishing that my friend Pat could water my pots  and cuttings at home for another day.

Wednesday night I had my third weekly injection of Abatacept and I don't know whether it was that or the red wine I dosed up on, but I had my best nights sleep in ages. I don't normally participate in alcohol Monday to including Thursday (as I have explained before alcohol and methotrextate do not sit well together and I take the MT on Monday nights) but I did this night as I was so exasperated that with all this medication and experimentation over two years I had actually been in more pain this last two weeks that I could recall over the period, the worst part being that it's now in my right arm which is the main factor in just about all the work I do, or even getting dressed.

Thursday I spent filling rotted timber holes with builders bog, these treated with wood restorer the day before and needed time to cure, and painting the rust spots on the roof and capping with rust converter. A coat of paint over the bog, then a second coat this morning. All this work is stop gap maintenance but it buys us time to do the major works down the track, bit by bit as we can. And I feel good having done it. I didn't get to walk on the beach or read my book but I could see the ocean and the fishing boats from the roof and it was as good as a holiday, not withstanding the pain factor which is there anyway what ever you do, be it trying to scratch your back or feed the dog or anything at all.

We drove back today with the heavy Easter traffic going the other way. It was a good drive back. My arm is pretty good even though I haven't had any pain tablets since two ibuprofen at 8am. I'm hopeful I'm only a few more injections and massages away from remission.

I had no wine yesterday or tonight so I look forward to a nice wine tomorrow night, with or without a Demon victory to celebrate.

Jod's Friend Hector

On this Labour Day holiday today Jod's old friend Eric Neil from Syndal tech days of the early-mid 1960's visited him at the farm. I spent a half hour or so talking to them both about days gone by and about Eric's family. Eric has a twin brother Don who lives in Perth and some years ago Jod went over and stayed with him for a week or so.

I had only vague recollection of Don and Eric who are identical in appearance, but I remembered them being at our house in Mt. Waverley. They had an older sister Nanette whom I never met but Jod reminded me last week when talking about Eric's visit that he had a crush on her way back then and carved her name into his forearm with a knife. Jod, Don and Eric were a couple of years older than me. Don was the quieter of the two apparently and a brilliant wood carver and makes walking sticks and knives and many other things. There was a younger brother, Les, but I don't think I ever met him, and another sister, and an older brother Perry whom I met a few years ago when he visited Jod. Eric still works as a chippy as he has all his working life and for a long time has worked at the Hazlewood power station. All the Neils were creative and talented, and could do anything with their hands, according to Jod.

Jod and Eric today

I was glad I took the time to talk to Eric, he had many good stories and it occurs to me that last 50 plus years of the Neil family would make very interesting reading as a social history record of recent Australian history . Not that I will get far into it here but just a snippet will explain somewhat my point.

So there were six kids in the family. They lived at Notting Hill and their house was surrounded by paddocks. Their father was of Scottish origin and a commercial painter by trade. He was a heavy drinker Jod says. He would take two big full size cans of Fosters with him to work wrapped in newspaper and have one at morning tea time and the other at lunch. Around afternoon smoko he'd say he was going to look at a job, but go to the pub. Don and Eric were with him one time and before morning smoko, Eric, who was the prankster of the twins, took his beer cans out of the bag and sat them in in the hot sun for a while then shook them vigourously before wrapping them again in newspaper and put them back. You can imagine what happened when he opened the first can, then the second, and he went nuts.

 Older brother Perry went to Vietnam, as a conscripted soldier in one of the early intakes. He was seriously wounded when his company was ambushed. They thought they were setting up an ambush on the basis of intelligence, but in fact it was a trap. Eric said that Perry remembered seeing a Vietnamese hurrying across a field with a rocket launcher on his shoulder. He took a shot at him and thought he got him but at almost the same time an explosion sent him flying as a rocket went off close by. A piece of shrapnel passed through his midriff and came out his back and also left his penis dangling by threads. He remembered being loaded onto a helicopter on a stretcher and seeing one of his mates also come on board but with two hands holding his guts from falling out completely, and with a lot of dirt and sticks adhering to the whole mess. Perry was patched up and his penis sowed back on properly in hospital where he was for a long time and amazingly survived. He was told he'd never walk again and would probably not survive more than five years. He was in a wheelchair and constantly dosed up on painkillers, for years I think.

I don't know how it came to be but Perry somehow got off the drugs and out of the wheelchair and fathered two children and is alive and quite well today. The ambush killed 16 Australians and wounded 32 and Eric said it was reported in the Melbourne press on Labour Day in a tiny article on page 3, while the front page had pictures of the King and Queen of Moomba. It was Australia's second largest Australian engagement in Vietnam he said, Lon Tan the largest. He said it was the Coral battle or something I didn't quite catch, but I have not checked it to be accurate with the name.

Don joined the army after leaving school and spent 9 years as an army cook and also went to Vietnam. Eric said he was also in hospital there, with blokes in beds around him who had their hand/s blown off of or arm/s or leg/s, or other horrific injuries, and when they asked how he was injured he felt a bit bad saying "cutting onion rings", but in the tropical conditions a cut would blow up quickly if not treated properly and infection could lead to the loss of limb or partial. In later years Don worked as a cook for mining companies. He married and raised a family but his wife died recently from cancer. Eric married and still is and has grand kids.

Jod and Eric 50 plus years ago 

Nanette married twice and spent years working in the Mt Argyle mines in WA. She didn't have children and lives with her sister who never married, in Oakleigh I think. Not long after the Syndal tech days the family moved to Korumburra.  Brother Les was a mechanic and now lives in SA, at Hawker Jod thinks.

While I was in Jod's little house at the farm I couldn't help taking a shot of this pic on his wall of him and Chad Morgan of many years ago, probably early 1970's.

We are very lucky to have survived so many decades and have so much to look back over, good and bad, mad and sad. Old friends are a great thing to have.

The Waning Summer

It was a cool day today, almost too cool, with a misty light drizzle for most of the morning. This follows several mild days and a decent shower of rain the other night, hardly enough to register in the gauge but cooling yes, and envigourating to the garden. Last week we had mild overcast mornings, as still as can be, followed by warm and sunny balmy afternoons that had me looking for shade.

For all money, it looks and feels like autumn has come early, although there's some hot weather forecast for early next week. For sure March can be stinking hot, but it does seem unlikely now.

I had a rheumatologist appointment on Monday. It went as I expected. My blood tests showed inflammation levels were still up. It appears the combination of methotrexate and sulphasalazine is not working so he wants me to go on another drug soon, Abatacept, a biological DMARD. I am to get more blood tests next week, (for an extra raft of screening that must be done before I can go on it) and then see him again on March 7 with the anticipation of then taking the Abatacept, with the methotrexate still, and dropping the sulphur one. The Abatacept can be taken a variety of ways but he said probably best for me is to self inject once a week.

I have not taken prednisolone since October. I know if I take this I can function freely without much pain but the side effects of long term use are a serious risk and I was on it for nearly two years, long enough for me to rest my mind and get off it unless I'm desperate. I was taking therapeutic doses of Panadol Osteo daily for some weeks which helped but I have backed right off that too to give my system a break. I pop a couple of Paracetomol+Codeine at night and a couple of Panadol Rapid in the morning, trying to limit to 4 tabs a day in total which does take the edge off it, with some days when I take nothing at all. I'm OK, still able to do most things but more slowly and carefully. My blood test readings of last week showing the inflammation was no surprise because my pain barometer told me it was so.

This medical stuff weighs down the mind, but I have to say my enjoyment of life is high. With the detraction of less than perfect physical health comes a greater appreciation of all I'm grateful for, and it seems, enhanced receptors for the beauty around me. On Monday on my way back from the specialist I happened to look to my right into the houses on the hill east of Stud Rd as I went down the hill towards the creek, on Heatherton Road, to see a magnificent Atlantic Cedar boldly dominating the scene. I had never noticed this tree before, not surprisingly, as one is usually focused on driving in traffic. It was majestic in shape and size and admirable for its soft blue colouring. It literally made my day and I will watch for it every time I go to Dandenong.

On Tuesday I had a meeting to attend in the museum late in the day and went for a stroll afterwards to let Pip have a walk as she had been in the car while I was in meeting. In a row of golden maples that we planted some years ago, I was happy to see that one that had struggled for three or four years (when planting it the dirt fell off the root ball when we cut the bag off, on an unusually hot September day, and the tree was shooting), had come good, and was catching up the trees either side of it in the row. This was enormously heartwarming to me.

The big tree in the row was there already when we planted the others to make a row. Adjacent is a row, right of photo, is a row of red maples, planted above Gus Ryberg's memorial tree at the same time as the golden maples, also to make a row. Imagine the magnificent autumn colour when these trees reach maturity in the years ahead.

Well It Was a Good Day

Yes. A good day.

I took Lib some breakfast in bed- juice and peppermint tea with vitamins before toast and black tea- before I had to dash at 9.30am to open the museum for a bus group of seniors that was coming at 9.45am.

I was 2 minutes late. And there were three other people there to open the museum so I was a little pissed about that. They came at 10am, the 9.45 was a ruse to make sure we were there. There was no reason for me to be there at all, when I was under the understanding that there was no one to do it but me.

The bus group were good. They could not get the bus past the arch, as the go around was restricted by two limbs on the red oak. The bus was a very big high bastard. The patrons had morning tea where they could go no further and then walked down to the museum.

They left at about 12 midday. I dashed to Shirley's to cut some grass. Shirley died just before Christmas, pancreatic cancer. I'm still looking after the place for her daughters as they are preparing to sell the property, just starting now.

I was back at the museum at 1.30pm as I was on roster duty. Beryl and her grandson James were also there. Beryl is an English lady by descent, in her eighties, who goes to the museum every Sunday and shares duty with whoever is on roster. I could write a lot about Beryl. I did a Signpost article on her once, if I can find it I will copy it here.

                                                           TAKE OPPORTUNITIES

“I’ve used one of them,” Beryl Bartacek said to me once in the Emerald museum.  She was talking about a farm implement I can best describe as a scoop, pulled behind a horse for moving soil. She explained her first job on leaving school was on a farm.

Beryl was born in March 1929 in London. Her family moved to Hornchurch Essex where Beryl spent her childhood and attended the junior girl’s school.

She remembers bomb shelters being built in the school grounds during the war. Until they were finished the kids came to school for half a day then were sent home for the other half with homework to do. Hornchurch was between London and the coast and a large aerodrome right next door was often a bomb target.

Beryl and her friends watched dogfights above during the Battle of Britain. With the airfield so close most of the boys, including her two older brothers and the boys across the road, wanted to be fliers. They survived the war, but the other end of the street did not fare as well and many sons were lost. Everybody hoped the telegram man didn’t stop at their house, knowing what it would mean.

Beryl wanted to attend agricultural college and needed do a year’s full time work on a farm first. Her father, who worked for a wholesale fruit and veg firm at Covent Garden, had farmer contacts and in 1946 Beryl moved to Suffolk to a large mixed farm which grew many grain and vegetable crops including potatoes, sugar beet and kale. There were 1000 black faced Suffolk sheep, pigs, and milking cows. There were three tractors that did the heaviest ploughing; other work was done by draught horses of which there were fourteen in work and three stallions. Beryl worked in all areas of the farm progressing to working a team of three horses harrowing.

The manager of the farm was an Englishman who’d moved to Australia and married an Australian girl. Just before WW2 he’d gone home to England for a holiday with his bride but was caught out by the war and couldn’t return. His stories gave Beryl a desire to one day travel to Australia.

Much to her disappointment Beryl could not gain a place at agricultural college, preference being given to returned servicemen. At her mother’s insistence she left the farm and started work as a bookkeeper for a Swedish import firm. She enjoyed this and often lunched by the Tower Bridge. London still had plenty of vacant land after the WW2 bombing.

One day on a bus going past a school she looked into a classroom at the kids and was moved to say to herself, “That’s what I’d like to do.”

She enrolled at teacher’s college and after two years of hard work, most days being from 9.00am to 7.30pm., she qualified as a teacher and worked in new estates where the schools were crowded and class sizes large.

At the end of 1954 she boarded a ship and alighted in West Australia. She went to the Education Department in Perth telling them she was a qualified teacher looking for work. She was posted for six months to Pengilly in the south west wheat belt, then to Roebourne near Karratha in the north, teaching indigenous children of all ages who’d had little schooling.

Roebourne had three shops and a pub, where Beryl stayed as there was no alternative. Texas oil men with their rigs parked in the street were fellow guests. ‘’They were rowdy and hard to like.” She received an allowance for her accommodation and saved all her wages as there was nothing to spend it on.

At the end of the year, cashed up and keen to see more of Australia, she caught the Trans Australia train from Perth to Adelaide, then Pioneer bus to Melbourne and Sydney. She met future husband Karel on a visit to the Tooronga zoo. He had been working in Tasmania for 8 years after coming to Australia from Czechoslovakia as a displaced person.

On to Brisbane, then Mackay, where she walked into the hospital and said she was looking for work. They gave her a uniform and she became a nurse for some months. It was then another bus to Mt Isa, Tennant Creek, and Darwin, then Alice Springs, back to Adelaide, and to Tasmania to visit Karel.

Now out of money but still with a return ticket she left for England before returning to Tasmania in1958 when she and Karel married. Karel worked at a newsprint mill and Beryl worked as a teacher. They moved to Melbourne in 1965 with their three daughters, living in South Oakleigh before coming to Emerald in 1993 where they enjoyed retirement and made valuable contribution to the Emerald Museum.

After a recent interval which saw the passing of Karel and Beryl undergoing hip replacement, she has rejoined the museum committee with typical enthusiasm.

“I’m fortunate that my Christian faith has held me in good stead.” Her advice to young people, including her seven grandchildren, is “to take opportunities as they come, and follow through. Things work out.”

So i have a long standing relationship with Beryl. After an hour or so of chat wit Beryl and James I went out and pruned a couple of of fruit trees. I have been going through the little orchard there pruning in my spare time as the council failed to do it in the winter.

We had a lovely roast beef for dinner and I'm now well and truly ready for the sack.

 Good night.