Mildura Trip

I'm in Swan Hill. In a motel by myself. Its a little lonely but nice and quiet. I drove all day yesterdah to get to Mildura. I visited An elderly couple Bert and Shirley Penny and stayed with them last night. They were youth leaders in 1946 when Doug Twaits went there to be director of the Community Youth Group run by the council. Lovely people I felt totally comfortable. Went to Robinvale today. Met the daughter of  Henry Buchhecker. Henry was Doug's best mate and was in the 2/7th batallion with him. Doug was captured by the Germans so was Henry but Henry escaped and his was helped by Cretians. He and two New Zealanders stole a fishing boat and rowed across the Mediterranean to Nth Africa. Doug was sent to Austria and was interred for nearly four years.
this is hard writing on my move phone.
Bye for now.

Rickyralph Rides

Rickyralph, my good friend of 51 years, tipped up on Saturday morning. We shared my brunch. We talked, for 3 or 4 hours. It was good to see him and talk to him. Afterwards I felt fantastic. It was a clear late autumn day as still as you like and I went about my chores lighthearted and happy. There were few motorbikes on the main road. They must have all gone to some bike event elsewhere perhaps. The was stillness and silence.

How good is it? That one you have known so long arrives to see and talk to you. Fifty years is nothing. We are connected. I was talking to Lib about him that very morning before she went to work.

He told me a sad story. His relationship with his sister Sue was severed more than a decade ago, they do not see each other or talk. When I was a teenager I very much liked Rick's sister Sue, who in my adolescent eyes was so attractive. She was married with a couple of young kids. I have not seen her in probably 45 years.

She rang RR last year, before ANZAC Day, to ask him could she borrow their father's medals so that members of her family could march in the parade. These medals were bequeathed to Rick, he was his father's only son. Their father Dick served in the 2/2nd pioneers and was shot in the knee at El Alamein. For the rest of his life he walked with a stiff leg that would not bend at the knee. He died suddenly of heart failure in the early 1980's. He would have turned 100 last year.

Initially RR thought no, he's not letting his dad's medals out, then he had a change of heart and said yes. He took the medals around to his sister's house. His sister's husband said he would return them. A week or so after ANZAC Day the medals had not come back. Rick rang sister Sue. There was some acrimony over the ownership of the medals but it was agreed that that Rick could come and get them. When he did there was a set missing. Sue had loaned them to her son. Rick hit the roof, paying out on Sue for all his pent up emotion brewed over years and years.

I told RR that this story was ugly. He went on to say that Sue's daughter Mandy subsequently died of a brain tumour and that because of the incident he didn't feel he could go to the funeral. He sent a card. He learned later that had he gone to the funeral he would have been asked to leave.


In his card he included a quote -

" If I should die and leave you here awhile,
  Be not like others sore, undone who keep
  Long vigils by the silent dust and weep.
  For my sake turn again to life and smile,
  Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do,
  Something to comfort other hearts than thine.
  Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine,
  And I, perchance may therein comfort you. "

                                                             Anon

He told me this on Saturday and sent me the quote at my request.  In the discussion I told him of something I came across on the net, about thought process, the theme being fifteen things to leave behind to improve your happiness. I said I'd send it to him. I know he reads my blog so I list them here.

1. The need to be right
2.The need to control
3. Blame
4. Self Defeating mindset
5. Beliefs of what is possible/not possible
6. The need to complain
7. The luxury of criticism
8. The need to impress
9. Resistance to change
10. Labels
11. Fear
12 Excuses
13.The past
14. Attachment
15. Living to other people's expectations

There were explanations to these which I didn't have time to write down from the audio but it is fairly self explanatory and probably better left to think about anyway.

I told Rick he should try to heal the wounds of the relationship with his sister. Not overtly, but slowly bit by bit, send her now and again a saying, a poem, a gesture. Even if he never sees her again , he should let her know that he would like to heal the rift.

Alexandra vs Gembrook

Gord had missed selection for the Gembrook ressies the last couple of weeks and the team had won both games so he hadn't managed to force his way into the team for last Saturday. He wanted to go to Alexandra anyway to show support. I had said I would go with him if he was picked to drive his car back if he was injured. He wasn't picked but I decide to go with him anyway as I was a bit worried about him driving all that way and back by himself when he doesn't have the best sense of direction and there and back is a long way. It is not as if I don't have plenty to do at home, and knowing I was on museum duty Sunday, the weekend was a write off but there you go, once I had decided and adjusted my thinking around it there was no hardship in it, just the prospect of a day off and a drive in the country.

We left about 10 am, travelling the back way through Healesville and up the Black Spur. we arrived in Alex shortly before midday just in time to catch the butcher where I bought three scotch fillet steaks for dinner as per instruction from Lib who left for work at 6.35 am. It was a good drive and I was enthralled the whole way by the magnificent trees on the roadside; messmates and peppermints to start, manna gums mountain greys,  oaks, mountain ash, then as we went north of the divide box trees and red gums as well. Trees are so beautiful, more and more so as I get older.

The game had just started as we drove into the reserve and I was struck by the trees around the ground, notably a an American redwood near to where we parked and oaks and cypresses. The oaks had lost nearly all there leaves but were still beautiful. I indulged in a pastie and dim sims from the kiosk and a styrene cup of black tea and soaked up the atmosphere of country footy. There is nothing better. The net ballers were going at it on the court nearby and I followed up with a hot dog with sauce and mustard and another cuppa.

The ressies got done like a dinner and as the senior game started i was a little tired so i stretched out on the back seat with my legs dangling out the open door and had a little sleep while Gord fraternised with some of his mates. We left at half time to buy a lettuce as per the bosses instructions, then coming back to the ground on our way past to go home we saw the seniors had extended their two goal half time lead to five so off we went home this time via Yea and Yarra Glen. The downer for the day was listening to Hawthorn flog Melbourne by 105 points.

We arrived home at about 6pm. Lib had lit the fire which I had set earlier and we enjoyed a lovely evening after a dinner of steak, chips and salad. It had done me good to get a change of topography
and scenery and the magnificent sunny day and the wonderful scenery will stay long in my psyche. It was a good decision to have the day off. It was a real tonic after the icy wintry miserable week we had.

Carey and redwood tree

Pests on the Wing

I wrote this last night and submitted it for my Gembrook column to Signpost mag June edition.

Pests on the Wing

On a clear afternoon in early May I was enjoying planting out some seedlings at Emerald when a large flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos arrived, flying at height over my head one way, then back the other and all the time screeching to each other as if in argument about where to roost. They settled in tall eucalypts some distance away but the screeching continued. After a while the flock, which must have contained hundreds of birds, dispersed and smaller groups flew about at low altitude landing spasmodically in shrubs and smaller trees close to me, squawking and carrying on menacingly. The noise was irritating and continued all the while I was working, depriving me of peace and quiet, and frankly my work became unpleasant.

‘A Field Guide to Australian Birds’ says of the voice of this cockatoo, “A harsh, raucous screech terminating with a slight upward inflection; also a variety of guttural screeches and shrill squawks.”

These cockatoos are about in far greater numbers now than in previous times. Doug Twaits in his Field Guide to the birds of the Emerald and Gembrook Districts compiled in 1998 said, “Like the Galah, Sulphur-crested Cockatoos in the last 20 years have moved into the Emerald and Gembrook grids in increasing number. Their status has changed from rather rare, in that time, to common, breeding residents.”

Genseric Parker in ‘Forest to Farming – Gembrook: an early history’ in 1995 wrote, “Although this area is not the natural home for the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo, several years ago a pair nested in a big tree along the Wallace Creek at the bottom of our property and brought out three young ones. In the following years the same pair has continued to nest.”

They are certainly well established in the area now. They are destructive to fruit crops and can even attack timber in houses at times I’m told. I will have to put up with the dreadful noise.

At least there seems to be fewer rabbits about lately. And there were few flies this summer gone. And the rats and mice did not come into the house with the cold weather like other years. The mozzies were bad, and the European wasps, but the May cold snap knocked them out. We take the good with the bad. Pest populations go up and down, often before we are aware, but I can’t see the cockies leaving.

I was telling Jod about  it today and he said when he was in the fireman job on the railways he and his driver hated seeing flocks of white cockies on the line ahead especially on a bend. They gathered in the thousands sometimes eating the wheat that fell from railway trucks from freight trains. Their beaks were so strong they disturbed the ballast under the rails in their efforts to dig out the seed and therefore the next train was badly shaken by instability and risked derailment unless they slowed down. It was a cause of serious track maintenance.

A Poem... ANZAC Day

Dulce et Decorum est

Bent Double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.-
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen

Notes on Dulce et Decorum Est

1.  DULCE ET DECORUM EST - the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country.

Footytips Tip Nine

After 3 rounds I'm level pegging on 15 with arch rival and good friend Rickyralph, this after he picked 9 winners last weekend to my 7. Gord is leading our comp with 19 and Lib is second with 16.

The round was the first week in which the favourites were obvious and came in too. Indeed in my comp with the VAA beekeepers I also tipped nine.  I varied in our home comp by picking St Kilda in the Friday night game, thinking there would probably be an upset or two and the Saints had been in pretty good form in the first two games, and I took Nth Melbourne over Port Adelaide in the closest to even money game of the round.

The bad news is I put $2 on the 9 game multi with the Saints and Nth, for a $2 loss. The good news is I put $10 on the other, Rickyralph's, for a collect of $94.

But it wasn't all plain sailing for the weekend. I heard a tipster on the radio say that a nag at Mt Gambier in race 3 was (at $2 for $1) like money in the bank. So I thought I'd have a bit of that and hurriedly put on $10 before I left to go to the Pave poetry competition on Sunday afternoon. My account balance went down $20 and I realized I'd ticked the win/place box and had also stupidly put on $10 a place at the return of 1 for $1. Nevermind I thought, I'll get it back. I listened to the race as I drove. The nag ran 4th. Money in the bank like hell!

A Walk and a Talk

I went for a walk last Monday, first time for a few weeks. It was a joyful experience. Along the way at a point where I let Pip off the lead in a safe section I whistled to her as she explored front yards, just so she kept tuned into me and didn't dilly dally too much.

A man heard my whistle and approached to say hello. I hadn't seen him for many months but I have talked to him over a number of years. I won't mention his name as the story I'm about to tell divulges some misfortune he has had, but also has a beautiful element which is the reason I'm telling it.

I'm trying to think of a fictitious name but anything I think of just does not seem right, as his real name does, so I'll labour on with the story using no names. This man has had Parkinson's disease for many years, 15 I think he has told me. He would be younger than me I'd say, perhaps by a decade but I may be wrong there. He has at times seemed so crook that it would not have surprised me if it had claimed him by now. He walked up to me surprisingly quickly and commented on the lovely morning then said he'd not seen me for a while.

I told him I hadn't walked much for many months because I'd been crook and gave him a bit of a rundown. He then told me how well he was going. He said he had to wait ten years for an operation but it had worked. When I asked him what sort of op he said on his brain. He has electrodes in his brain and multiple copper wires from them to other parts and his face, not visible of course. He had to slow down his speech or I struggled to understand him. He said he was now taking no medication and was the better for it, the operation on his brain seemed to be doing its job. But, he added, he has to make sure he doesn't get tazered by the police or apparently it will kill him quickly by upsetting the electrodes and effectively frying his brain from the inside.

Pip came up to us and he said what a good little dog she was, and asked me where the other one was. I told him Snow had passed on, killed by a big dog. He was visibly upset by this. He then mentioned a name, saying that she/he was 17 years old now. I thought he was talking about his daughter.

(He had told me he had three kids from a marriage that was long dissolved. His ex wife lives locally, I have known her for a number of years and consider her a friend, but never realized they had been married and produced the three children until a couple of years ago on my walk I saw her car outside his house picking up the children, and saw his eldest daughter coming and going from his house on foot on occasion. I have seen the children as they have grown up, of course from some distance, and I recall seeing mum and talking to her when she had one child in a pusher and another on her back in a harness. Time flies. I don't want to sound like a nosy parker but I was genuinely surprised when two people I had known separately for years turned out to have been married. When you walk regularly you observe things. I don't think I have spoken to either of them about the union, nor anyone one else, before now anonymously.)

But the man said when I asked did he mean his daughter was 17, that no, he was talking about his old dog. He said he was going to get another one soon as he will be very upset when his old dog dies. I asked him how old his eldest daughter was and said that she was indeed a beautiful girl. He told me her age and said she was beautiful from birth, and happy.

"When she slipped from her mother her eyes were wide open and she had a smile on her face. Some people are just born that way."

That is what he said to me, as I recall it best I can. It just struck me as beautiful and something I wanted to record and pass on.

Medical Update

Last Wednesday I had an appointment with the rheumatologist, this being two months after my previous visit in February when he told me my inflammatory reading on my blood tests had returned to the high levels of twelve months earlier. "This disease has really got a hold on you," he said. In February he had increased my dose of the methotrextate (the second increase, which doubled it from my initial starting point), and also increased the cortisone, saying, "We have to get the inflammation down again, if it hasn't improved in 6-8 weeks we'll have to introduce another medication for you in addition to the methotrextate."

Naturally this was not good news but it wasn't surprising as I had been in increasing pain and discomfort in the weeks leading up to that consultation. But it was not all bad, my liver function was fine and there were no noticeable side effects to the MT either.

This time the news was better. My inflammation levels were down by a third and I was feeling much better too. My liver function was fine again and he left me on the same dosages saying that he expected the results would continue improving to my next appt which is June 3.

Easter came and went. We had some lovely April weather, it is a beautiful time of year with the stillness, the autumn colour and the awareness that the heat of summer and the threat of bushfire has gone till next summer. I had a quiet restful few days yet still did some good work at the farm and at home.The only downer I can think of was the roaring, screaming, droning of motor bikes (different bikes make different noise but it sounds like the riders ride them in a manner to maximize the noise) for nearly all day up and down Launching Place road. It seems the great Australian pastime is now to joy ride on motor bikes on weekends and public holidays. I find it incredible how many there are.

Good Friday

Easter is upon us. I'm not into the chocolate egg thing. What about the execution and resurrection of Christ?

It always gave me the heebeejeebees as a kid, the crucifiction, the nails through the hands and the spear in the side. As an adult now, quite an old one, I'm pretty well unaffected by violence, having been exposed to many forms of it through the media and society for most of my life. I ignore shit really and try to focus on positive things.

So the resurrection, yes, good stuff. It's good thinking, that Christ died for us so that we sinners can be forgiven and have everlasting life, after death. I hope it's true, and I hope I make the cut. I don't get around singing hymns and preaching psalms but I try to live with good Christian virtue.

The Jehovah's Witness people that come here tell me I need to do more to be granted salvation. The Jewish people don't believe Christ existed. The Catholics say you need to go to confession. I'm not sure what Islam says, nor the hindus and budhists, then there's all manner of other sects.

As I see it everyone has the right to believe what they believe, and God is the ultimate judge. Yes I do believe in God. I believe there's much we do not know, about the past, the present and the future, and I hope and pray that the mystery of life and death I will one day understand, even if I have to wait till after death.

Death is a human certainty. Beyond it, I'm uncertain. I can think and believe what I like but it is uncertain. Tomorrow is uncertain. Anything can happen. The saying "Live like there's no tomorrow" can be taken in more ways than one, but I like it.

That's why I like to plant trees. I planted three last week, on our property at Gembrook. Two were eucalypts given to me by my friend Nat who lives in Melbourne, just before Christmas. They were seedlings she potted up, progeny of a big tree in her neighbour's garden. I watered them through summer, always looking around for somewhere to plant them, thinking of the farm or people I could give them to where they would have a good home. They were getting way too big for the pot. I walked around our property and finally found places for them, quite close to each other among other mature eucies but where there was a gap in the canopy and they will get good sun.

The third tree was a rewarewa, or NZ honey suckle that I got as a seedling from Nobelius Park, which is also in the rainforest and it's tall upright form will be perfect.They will be youthful additions to what I call our rainforest and I'll get great pleasure watching them grow. It is uncertain how long we will live here, or in fact how long I will live at all.

So is it "Live like there's no tomorrow?" Or, "Live like there's always tomorrow?"

I'll keep planting things, everywhere I can.

No Flies

We had the loveliest summer. There was hardly a heat wave, few north winds, and enough rain to prevent gardens parching. It has continued through March, a month that often brings scorching heat after a hot summer and causes the earth to set like concrete and crack up. Everything is green and lush and when the sun shines like it did today you could be excused  if you thought we were in the Garden of Eden.

Mind you this is localized to the Dandenongs. In my travels through March I can say it it is exceedingly dry in northern Victoria and southern NSW, and in western Victoria and SE South Australia. Frighteningly so in the case of the latter. There must be so many farmers anxiously hoping for an autumn break.

But on my travels one thing has been obvious to me like never before in my recollection. I have had picnics in Canberra, Adelaide, on the banks of the Murray River, on the beach at Normanville, Christies Beach, Cape Jervis, and one thing has been notable at all these places, as well as when working back here at Gembrook daily.

There are no bush flies. Don't ask me why, I know not. Usually in summer and March there are flies all over you especially in South Australia, but besides on or two here and there, just no flies.

Weird.

15 Days of March

March 1- Gord and I left in his Skoda about 11am to drive to Canberra. We stopped at Bonnie Doon for lunch (junk food), and a pee. In the little garden there monuments to fallen soldiers stand to commemorate the sacrifice of local men in wars. Also a separate one to Stephen Arbuthnot erected by his family. He arrived at Gallipoli on 5 Aug 1915(from memory) and was killed 3 days later along with 450 others in a suicidal attack at 'The Neck'. It filled me with sadness and anger, the stupidity of this. We continued on, not arriving at Canberra till about 6.30pm. Then it took us nearly an hour to find our motel at Narrabunda south of the city. We had seen a golf club bistro advertising near our motel on our way so we headed there for dinner. I ordered lamb shanks from the menu and Gord spag bol. The maitre di approached me after a while, sorry, we don't have any shanks left. I said I'd go spag bol also, he said we do great ribs, I said Ok I'll take the ribs. A little while later he came back saying sorry we're out of ribs, i said that's Ok I'll take the spag bol. He said we do a great Tbone would I like that, I said yeah sounds good. This maitre di was well spoken and smartly dressed in black trousers and white shirt/coat, but he had curly hair sticking out in every direction and a front tooth missing, making him look a little crazy. He told me to replenish my wine free of charge at the bar. I went and got another house wine but paid for it, I didn't want to explain to the barman. A little while later the waitress came with two bowls of spag bol. Gord and I laughed thinking this was as good as a Faulty Towers episode. I was half way through the spag bol when the waitress brought out the biggest TBone I have ever seen. I ate it too and it was the best TBone I have ever had. Gord had to help me eat it (chips and salad too). So we came out in front, and had a great laugh to boot. Next to us was about 20 Irish people on tables joined together so I twigged they were there for the cricket and started up a conversation with a couple of them on our way out. One was the manager of the team and it capped off a happy evening for us. I went and thanked the maitre di, he didn't know I had two mains served but he laughed with me and said it was one of those nights.

March 2 - We slept in a bit then I went to the shops at Griffith to stock up on some things while Gord slept longer. I cooked a breakfast of eggs as we were fortunate that our motel room had cooking facilities (a couple of hotplates in the bench, crockery and cutlery, and a sink, and a good size fridge). it was a lovely restful morning. I made some ham and pickle sandwiches for lunch and we headed off to the war memorial. The visit there did nothing for me really apart from the initial revulsion I felt when I walked in to see the stat emblazoned on the wall that 102,000 Australians had lost their lives in conflicts around the world. The same anger I felt looking at Stephen Arbuthnot's monument in Bonnie Doon was with me as we went through the building. The total stupidity of it. OK you might say Hitler had to be stopped, and the Japs, but that whole business was a product of the stupidity of WW1 and the botched arrangements made following it as the Allies moved boundaries and shored up economic resources in Europe and the middle East. It was one war really with a twenty year break while the initial loser licked wounds and rearmed with revenge in mind. And you can have all the monuments and ceremonies you like, none of it does one scrap for the poor buggers who were killed prematurely, 102,000 of them, in our 115 years of participation in wars abroad. Mind you 25,000 German civilians died in one night in the bombing of Dresden and 70,000 Japanese civilians, mostly women and children, were vapourized by two bombs in Japan. In my view all the pomp and commemoration is a smokescreen to hide the incompetence of the politicians and military command of the day, and a manipulation of future generations to recruit more suckers to serve and die as a result of the decisions to engage us for political and economic reasons.
Following that we went to Parliament House. That place left me cold also, the opulence is sickening, as is the aggrandizement of politicians past and present. And the new artwork, some sort of 3D visual thing featuring a drone bomber cruising around what looked like the treeless hills of Afghanistan looking for targets. It really had me scratching my head, along with the displays of guns (more art). Weird! If I go back to Canberra I will not bother going to either the war memorial or Parliament House. I should have known better. We had tea a pizza restaurant in Manuka it was fantastic.

March 3 - I cooked eggs again for breakfast, I love em on toast. We left quite early even though the cricket was a day night match as I was worried about parking. We parked in all day parking below Coles and shopped and toured the Manuka retail precinct. I bought new underwear which I had been meaning to do for ages and cruised a bookshop where I bought Barry Cassidy's book 'Private Bill' about his father who was captured on Crete and spent 4 years in POW camps in Austria as did Doug Twaits whose biography I'm trying to write. We had 'Grilled' for lunch then headed into Manuka Oval for the big match Sth Africa versus Ireland, taking in three bottles of water each and more ham and pickle sandwiches. It was great nights entertainment. Sth Africa blitzed em. The only downer was the amount of children playing cricket in the aisles next to us in the second innings and massing on the fence to get autographs from the Sth African fieldsman. They yelled out rudely with demanding tone to the cricketers  who accommodated them despite this which impressed me. In particular Dale Steyn and Tahir Imran were patient and obliging. It was a noisy night what with all the drums and music and gas jets and the PA system but I enjoyed it. We were well and truly ready for sleep when returned to our motel close to midnight. There were big queues in the car park at the ticket machines before we could get to our car.

March 4 - We left about 8.30am to drive home. Lunched at Lavington and called in our friends the Murrays in Wangaratta. Arrived home at about 6pm. Lib had a roast chook on the go for us. A good trip, Canberra I liked. Hard to find your way around, parking is a problem, there are cops everywhere and I've never seen so many security guards, but I liked the trees - a planting program obviously began a long time ago with many exotic species which are now mature and beautiful. and the the people are friendly enough, a little more aloof than a country town but there's a relaxed feel about the place, and a generally prosperous healthy atmosphere.

March 5 - I caught up on correspondence and paperwork and then did a little bit of picking, rosemary and carrot flowers if I recall, I'm going entirely by memory, I don't keep a daily diary which I should.
I rang Huit and arranged for him to water the pots while we will be away. He came around to see for himself. I had a massage appt at 4pm followed by a chiropractic at the same place in Upwey then I took Pip to the dog sitter at Upper Pakenham. Home about 6.30pm and after dinner we packed bags and pantry for the early start to Adelaide the next morning.

March 6 - We woke at 4am planning to leave at 4.30 but it was 5am when we finally drove off after loading the esky and last minute tidy up. I hate coming home to an untidy house. We had breakfast in Ararat (Maccas I confess) and a picnic lunch at Murray Bridge on the banks of the river. We were a bit tired and cranky and starting to test each other after some 9 hours on the road and by the time we found our motel near the Adelaide airport which we found was overpriced, cramped, dark and outdated, the mood was not good. I rang my Aunt Hatsu and made arrangements to see her late afternoon the next day Saturday and have dinner at her house at her invitation. We then went for a drive looking for the Glenelg Oval where I had read.in the paper the cricket SA vs Victoria was being played as the Adelaide Oval was being used for the World Cup that weekend. We found the ground easily and parking right outside and watched the last hour of play of day 2 on a perfectly mild and gentle evening as we enjoyed a couple of pots of beer. We returned Lib to the motel and Gord and I went looking for some take away food as there was no cooking facility in the motel. The traffic was heavy, it being Friday evening of a long weekend. We found a pizza shop and a BWS for bottle of white wine and some ice for the esky as the motel fridge freezer would not fit our ice bottles to refreeze them overnight.  The pizza wasn't bad. We crashed pretty early and slept well.

March 7 - Fruit and raisin bread (no toaster) for brekky. Off to the cricket. The Vics had made 535 in the first innings and play resumed day 3 with SA on 4/135. We watched the morning session, there were tennis courts behind the bank where we sat on the grass in the shade of a tree so between overs you could turn around and watch some spirited tennis. Adelaide people are big on sport.It was a most civilized setting, a snapshot of the relaxed lifestyle many people enjoy in suburban Adelaide. At lunch in the cricket we had another picnic from our pantry and I left Lib and Gord and took a walk into Glenelg to find a present for Hatsu and a bunch of flowers. The florist packed the stems of the flowers in cellophane filled with water and put the made up mixed bunch in an open box standing upright then in a bag with string tied to make the handles long enough so I could easily carry it. SA was 7/ for when I got back and we went back to the motel to shower. We arrived at Hatsu's about 4pm. It was wonderful see her and give her a big hug after 37 years. We talked and talked and looked at photos and enjoyed a lovely meal of beef stir fry and about 8 vegetables. Hatsu is 83 but very with it. We left after 9pm, back to our miserable lodging, but it didn't matter, we were tired and slept readily. Hatsu had offered for us to stay at her house when I told her we were coming over but I found the motel (with difficulty as it  was the festival long weekend and the Adelaide Cup and the world cup cricket) as there were three of us and I didn't want to impose and make too much work for her. As it turned out it was a good thing as her son Lester was home from Dubai where he is based as an Emirates pilot. We didn't see him as he was out but I was glad that I had made our own accommodation arrangement.       

.
March 8 - Banana and raisin bread again. We packed up and left the Aviator's Lodge Motel by the 10am checkout. It was disappointing and we wouldn't return but it was somewhere to sleep and shower and it was clean enough. I had booked a cabin the Sunday night at Brownhill Ck Caravan Park but there was no hurry to get there so we went to the cricket again for a couple of hours. SA was batting again about 4 down I think. A few wickets fell while we were there before we left to look for Brownhill Ck. We found it thanks to the GPS in Gord's phone. It was warm in the mid afternoon and Gord and I left Lib to rest in the cabin as she wasn't feeling well while we went to find a super market to replenish the pantry. At least we had cooking facilities now and a good fridge with a large freezer to get our ice bottles refroze. Steak and veg for dinner. I finished my book 'The Elegance of the Hedgehog' which I enjoyed after some doubtful thoughts in the first half. It came good and I'd recommend it for a good read. I started Barry Cassidy's 'Private Bill' which instantly engaged me as it started set in Chiltern with his childhood and was an easy style.  Brownhill Creek is only 6km from the CBD but you would think you were well out of the city, as it is situated up a little valley heading into the hills, quite separated from the suburbs close by. It was a pleasant one nihgt stay if a little expensive at $163 for the cabin. the only downer was noisy neighbours who rattled and banged for hours apparently, Lib told me in the morning, I didn't hear it.

March 9 - We checked out and headed south, stopping at McLarenvale info centre. We realized we were close to the nursing home where my Uncle Ron (who was married to Hatsu but they were divorced many years ago) resided and where we visited three years ago but couldn't remember where it was. It was not my intention to visit him but Lib said we should. The volunteer working there gave me directions to a place but it was the wrong one. We found two more that were also wrong, and in trying to find another the GPS kept sending us to a huge mall. We went to Christie's Beach where we had a picnic by the sea. I'd rung the farm to find the correct name of the facility, it was in Seaford, and a local bloke told me how to get there. Ron is 89, it was a miserable visit, he said he was a prisoner there, once you get in you can never get out, he was hoping for an earthquake. He's had an operation for a cancer on his head fairly recently, you could see a part of his skull had been removed, to match an older one on the other side of his head. He could still hold a conversation, is frail, but could get up and walk, as he did when we left, trying to escape. He has Alzeimer's or dementia but retains some of his faculties and all I could think of was what a terrible existence and I hope I don't end up like that. We pressed on to Normanville where we booked a cabin for two nights at the Jetty Caravan Park. We love Normanville having stayed there a few years ago. Lib and Gord had a hit of tennis while I had a cuppa on the cabin porch looking out across grass and Norfolk pines to the sea. The Caravan park manager -Norm-came with linen for Gord's bed. We talked. He was a detective for many years but left the police force in the 1980's after he refused to release a politician from the lock up where he had thrown him. He had him cold and charged him with rape but a phone call came from superiors telling him to release him and drop it, an order he refused. the superiors said they were coming to Pt Augusta to release him which led to Norm resigning on the spot. Lib cooked steak for her and I and a chicken fillet for Gord on the barbie while she enjoyed a red wine. I was AF, difficult to do on holiday but there you go.

March 10 -  We slept then packed a picnic and drove to Cape Jervis where we again picnicked by the sea looking out towards Kangaroo Island. We took a walk then watched the ferry load it's cargo of vehicles including a team of tree loppers with trucks and trailers. It was interesting watching the skilled drivers backing the semis with inches to spare. The ferry left as another from the island came in to berth. The weather was kind, Lib took a swim back at the beach, and had another hit of tennis with Gord. I consumed 'Private Bill', eagerly reading about the battle of Crete where Bill Cassidy was captured. Another barbie for dinner.

March 11 - We reluctantly packed up and hit the road, stopping at Strathalbyn to shop. We had another picnic at Wellington before crossing the river on the ferry to continue the long drive home.
We reached Horsham late afternoon and found a motel. Take away Chinese for dinner from the Horsham Palace opposite Coles. To our surprise and pleasure it was great food, the best Chinee we'd had for ages. We watched a James Bond movie on TV -'Skyfall'. I actually enjoyed it, usually I can't get interested in James Bond movies at all. The noise of trucks was high but I'd bought ear plugs when I was out getting the Chinee which did work and we all slept well.

Natural art at Strathalbyn

March 12 - A pleasant run home it was through the big smoke Melbourne after stopping at Ballarat for Subway lunch. It's always nice to get home although there was a lot of washing to do. I picked up Pip, she looked great and was happy. I visited Huit and thanked him for watering our pots and seeds and cuttings, and enjoyed a coffee with he and Wilma.There was much mail and email to go through. One email was from my old school friend Janyne with whom I had recently been reconnected after more than fifty years. She lives on the Gold Coast but said she was coming to Melbourne as her mother had had a fall and broke her leg in three places. She suggested I give her a ring on her mobile to arrange a get together while she's down.


March 13 - Back to work after a slow morning catching up on paperwork and phone calls. A little bit of picking, altho I can't remember what it was. Rosemary perhaps. And oh yes, after my writing class I put some borage and edible chrysanthemum seed in and planted out some of the cornflowers we had in pots. Lib put these seeds in trays for me one day when she was off work. The ground was fallow and mulched down with straw through January and Feb, and Gord did some forking over while I was at the writing class. Meredith Jod and Elvie had done well while I was away and kept the ship on course. They're pretty tired though and are glad to have me back. I rang Janyne and arranged to meet her for lunch the next day at the Box Hill Rsl opposite the hospital where her mum is.

March 14 - I was excited and a little nervous at meeting Janyne after more than fifty years. She was waiting patiently in the foyer when we arrived 15 minutes late. I had phoned from a traffic jam 10 minutes earlier saying we were close. She was the only person sitting there so I knew it was her. Whether I'd have recognized her if I didn't know she'd be there, I'm not sure. In retrospect I probably wouldn't have although I said at the time I think I would have. Janyne said she wouldn't have recognized me. We both of course look very different to our primary school days. As we talked over a drink and then lunch in the bistro and afterwards, Janyne seemed more and more resembling the girl I remembered. The same eyes and expression, the voice inflection, the lively personality and sense of humour were all there. Lib and Janyne got on very well. We talked of many things; our school days, our parents, our children, our friends past and present, holidays, dogs, health. We did not talk about sex, politics or religion, there was no need, we had too much other to catch up on. We have much in common (including white hair which was probably what threw us a bit at first). Janyne will read this but I don't think she will mind me telling something of her life. I know of two other people only from my primary school days whom I know have at some point read my blog, but I doubt they still do. Janyne the person will be unknown to my usual readers. She married at age 19 and had two children a boy and a girl and lived in Melbourne. After seven years she and her husband divorced and she met her second husband Ben with whom she was with for 36 years till he died about 16 months ago. Janyne had two more children with him, another boy and a girl, to make a family of four children, who are now of course well into adulthood and settled, and have provided Janyne grandchildren. The family moved to Brisbane in the late 1980's and later Janyne and Ben moved to the Gold Coast.
Ben became sick with polymyalgia in 2003 then I think pulmonary fibrosis and his health worsened over time as he waited for a lung transplant, then lungs became available at the last minute, just before he would have been too ill for the operation. The transplant was successful but as time passed he had other problems caused by the anti rejection and other drugs. It was one thing after another including a hip replacement. He needed the other hip done but he was diagnosed with a brain tumour for which he underwent extensive treatment before it eventually claimed him. So he was ill for about twelve years in total during which time Janyne worked mostly full time while also looking after Ben and helping him through all the medical procedures. She speaks of him with great love and admiration saying he was an amazing man who never complained.  He was 55 when he first became ill, as was Janyne's dad when he had the stroke that started his downward run. It made me think that I haven't done too bad to reach my age with no health issues until this RA this last year, which is manageable and nothing by comparison.
I'm very pleased that I have renewed friendship with Janyne, a friendship I hope and trust will last for all our lives. As we said goodbye I had a tear in my eye. It was a great experience for me. She's a charming lady.

March 15 -  After a nice sleep in I was on roster duty in the Emerald Museum in the afternoon. Volunteer Beryl was with me, she goes every week with whoever is on roster. It was Beryl's 86th birthday but she would not miss a week on museum duty so her family came and had afternoon tea in the park for which I stayed on for for a little while. Beryl too is a charming and amazing lady. I'm a lucky bloke to know and have known many women of quality, especially my good wife Lib who's a ripper.  

Back Home Again

Lib, Gord and I have today (yesterday now) returned from a driving holiday which saw us visit Adelaide and my Aunt Hatsu. We spent last night in Horsham and were away for a week. Pip was so glad to be home too when I brought her home from the dog sitter at Upper Pakenham, mind you she is happy when we go to the sitter and is always fit and well on pick up. My friend Huit watered our pots while we were away.

Prior to the week away I was only home for one day following a trip to Canberra with Gord to watch the world cup cricket between South Africa and Ireland, which was a four day trip, one on the way up, two in Canberra, and one coming back. Lib stayed home for that one.

Both trips were successful and I'll post more about them next time after I have collected my thoughts and attended to many pressing things which is the way of it when you go away.

Enjoying Life

When Nelson Mandela was released from prison, 25 years ago in February 1990, he said he felt that he'd climbed a very big hill only to see many hills ahead. This after 26 years of incarceration. He went on climbing the hills. I know this detail because there's a newspaper cutting paying tribute to Mandela's life, dated 8 Dec 2013, three days after his death, pinned to the wall of our toilet.

In my down times, which are not all that frequent but can be persistent- with a tendency to snowball till shaken off- that is how I feel, that life is a succession of problems. I feel tired, of one problem after another, I feel trapped by external forces, dragging me down and grinding away my peace of mind. Tired of constant harassment and demands that deprive me of 'freedom'. Small things the size of a pea seem like a football. The proverbial molehill looks like a mountain.

Yet unlike Nelson Mandela I have never been incarcerated. I have freedom of choice every day to use my time however I wish. I can indulge in a glass of wine, watch television, go for a walk, kiss my wife, enjoy home cooking, take a hot bath, talk to friends, rub my dog's velvet ears, or smell the fresh air or rain or sit and watch the sunset, every day of my life if I so choose.

The point is that it is up to me. I can choose to dwell on negatives or problems and let them dominate me, or I can revel in the freedom I have and the beauty around me and just deal with things as best I can as I have the need to.

Yesterday I met a man who had recently fought a battle with cancer. He has fully recovered but there are no guarantees. He said every day is a bonus and he lets nothing get him down now.

None of us have any say in where we are born or the circumstances. Much of what comes to us is out of our control. How we respond is up to us.

I'm enjoying life. We have booked a flight to Europe and a Mediterranean cruise and a week on Crete for later this year. How good is that for something to look forward to?

Frank's Stone

Since my last post about Frankston I have been trying to remember who told me a story about how Frankston got its name, but it still escapes me.

I think it was a local person, whose great/great grandfather was a carpenter (or a ship's captain with a team of carpenters). He had the contract to build the original pier at Frankston, this before there was anything much there at all, and before it was named Frankston. He had a number of blokes working for him and an aboriginal youth named Frank. At the end of each day's work Frank took a walk on the hill above the pier and sat on a large stone on the hill and watched the sunset. The stone became known as Frank's stone, as did the locality as time went by, and over time it was shortened to Frankston.

I'm sure that whoever it was that told me this story was not pulling my leg, and they firmly believed it to be true. For the life of me I can't remember who it was, but as I have been writing this it came over me that I was told it in the corner store/supermarket in Emerald on the Monbulk Rd corner. It has also just come over me that the person telling me shared my surname, Williams, but I still can't put a face or identity to the person.

The mind can play tricks and start you believing things that are not accurate when you try hard to remember things, so I may be barking up the wrong tree away from the scent, but I'm sure the story is what I was told, not something I dreamed. I think it was an old bloke I got chatting to in the supermarket perhaps.

I always liked the story.



 

Frankston and Ghani

Last Tuesday we took Gord's Skoda to the dealer in Frankston. I had booked it in the previous week, having to wait till Tuesday as apparently they are busy and have no vacancies for days ahead. They said the earlier we get it there the better chance there would be that it would be finished that day as it would give them more time to source what part they may need. We left a little after 6am and were waiting at the gate 5 minutes before the place opened at 7.30.

By this time we knew what the problem was. A broken plastic elbow at the base of the windscreen washer bottle. The previous week in an attempt to avoid a day wasted going to Frankston I jacked the car up and took off the front right wheel and the panel lining the wheel area and the engine and found the broken elbow. I glued it (which didn't work, I found out later), and put it back and the panel and the wheel having wasted two hours but at least I knew what the problem was. I had hoped it might be as simple as a loose hose. I rang them at Skoda Frankston and told them what the problem was in the hope they would get the necessary part in before we went there, to avoid wasting a day going down there to be told what I already knew, and that we we would have to come back when they got the part. The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley (Robert Burns 1785 Steinbeck 1937).

The service people were polite and suggested we wait in the lounge, which we did, while the mechanics, who start work at 8am, examined the car and would give us an estimate on how long it would take. We discovered when booking the car in and providing them with the VIN that there had been a recall on that model and they would look into that too when we brought it down, to see if our vehicle had had the defect fixed. I sat in the plush lounge suite and read a Wheels Mag for ten minutes before falling into a blissful warm sleep (having an erotic dream) before being woken by the service clerk to tell me the car would take 2.5 hours, would we like a lift into town, and they could pick us up again later.

"How far is it?" I asked, to be told it was 5 or 10 minutes walk.

"No we'll walk," I replied. "We'll walk back about lunchtime."

"That'd be good, it will definitely ready by then," he said.

It was warm already at about 8.30 when we set out. The joint at the base of my big toe had been giving me buggery for a few days, to do with the RA, but walking slowly was not too bad although I limped to keep the pain minimal.We had a cooler bag and waterbottles and I was feeling strangely relaxed and pleasant. It was a day off for me, and here we were exploring what seemed like Car City. In my imagination I was in a foreign land, so different was it to my usual environment. We went past Suzuki, Kia and Mitsubishi dealerships, various mechanical repair shops, tyre fitting places, car upholstery, brake specialists. None of these were open as it was before 9, the street had litter everywhere, there was a railway line on the other side of the road. The grass in the nature strip was brown and what plants were in front of businesses were stunted and usually damaged and misshapen. It was real grungeville. A guy in a hurry passed us, he had short hair and a tattooed scalp I could plainly see as he went past, and various rings in his face and ears, otherwise we walked almost with the footpath to ourselves except for an Asian couple I suggested we follow as I reckoned they'd be going to the mall or shopping precinct.

The Asians turned at a corner where there was a big motor bike shop which advertised 'Harley rides on the Bayside'. Behind it was a tattoo shop, then a pawnbroker. We continued down to the Bayside Mall which was quiet and almost empty at the early hour. Shop keepers were arriving. We found a food court that had a 'Healthy Habits' eatery open and we indulged in a not so healthy egg and bacon roll and coffee. It was lovely having nothing pressing to do. As the people numbers increased I watched them walk by and noted their clothing. All shapes and sizes and ages. There were a lot of security people, most of whom looked like they could not secure nor stop anything but they had walkie talkies so I guess they would quickly have numerical advantage for most eventualities.

I was most impressed watching the two ladies working in the 'Healthy Habits'. They were pleasant when they served us and worked diligently when there were no customers preparing rolls carefully and arranging them for display with real purpose. It was early in the day but I thought how hard it would be working there all day on your feet dealing with food and people and then having to clean up. It looked like a franchise type shop, I don't know if one or both were owners or employees but I could feel nothing but admiration for them. This feeling extended to other employees in this mall and shops. It would not be easy working all day in this enclosed environment. There was a general good feeling about the whole place and the people working and shopping there. People getting on with their lives the best they could with no sign of disharmony. In fact there was a friendliness exuding that surprised me. I did not expect to find this at a mall in Frankston.

I wanted a hair cut, and to shop at Chemist Warehouse type place, these were two other objectives of mine for the day. There was a 'Big Chemist' in the mall so we headed there first thinking we'd check prices there and compare with 'Priceline' which was close by. I found all I wanted easily at the 'Big Chemist' and the price seemed good so with my basket loaded with a tub of Glucosamine, some CoQ10, Ethical Nutrients liquid fish oil and Gord's stuff, we went to pay. The young lady serving me had a name tag 'Ghani' and my curiosity roused as she did not look at all of ethnic background as I would expect if I came across a name I had not heard before in my nearly 63 years.

"That's an interesting name."

"Yes, it's Arabic, my mother got it from a book she liked. 'Dunes', by Frank Herbert, there was a series of about six."

"I haven't come across them, although I am a keen reader."

"They're science fiction, they were popular when I was born."

"I'm not into science fiction, but I'll look out for them. You must have an interesting mum."

"Yeah, she's a physicist."

"What does your dad do?"

"He's an electrical engineer, but they're both unemployed at the moment. I didn't get any of those science genes."

"My son has an honours degree in biotechnology but can't get a job in that field. Science education is not necessarily the answer. People skills are important."

This charming lady Ghani was about my sons age, and as attractive as I found her myself, I could only think how lovely it would be if I had such a daughter in law. I envy my peers who have this, whose children have married and brought them new family.

We said a warm farewell. Ghani asked me my name, which I took as a compliment. I told her I was not from around here and was unlikely to come back, but it was a pleasure meeting her. She was one of those people that we all meet from time to time who have an impact on you. Just some chemistry.

From there we found another food court, pretty much deserted at that hour, and I found a nice quiet corner to catch a nap while Gord checked out JB HI FI and some other. Gord found me at eleven and had a salad rap but I was not yet hungry and passed. We walked back to Skoda, the car was not ready, I had another nap on the lounge suite till they called us.

There was no charge, but they could not source the part locally, they have ordered it from Germany it will take three weeks, they'll call us, we'll have to come back to have it fitted no charge. They had sealed the old broken elbow they said, it should be OK till the new part comes in. I was not concerned. At least eventually, it would have a happy ending. Another day off, another little holiday.

I picked up some bulk honey at Dingley on our way home, then went to Fountain Gate where i had a lamb burger for lunch and a haircut. It was a Sri Lankan lady that cut my hair. She was very nice and had a lovely smile, all teeth.

So the dreaded trip to Frankston turned out to be a great day. In Narre Warren a large paunchy young fellow walked past wearing a T shirt that read, " Fuck you, I'm from Frankston." It did not offend me. I realized that, having just spent a morning there, the problem was with him, not Frankston.

I look forward to going back to get the the Skoda washers fixed. One thing's for sure, I'll be going to see Ghani.


  

The Roomster

Yesterday, Saturday,31 Jan, Gord and I, accompanied by Pip who rode behind the cargo barrier in Lib's Hyundai, set out on our mission to Tullamarine to inspect a vehicle with a view to purchasing. Lib went to work in Ian's Subaru so that we could take her car better suited to travelling with Pip, as she's confined to the rear and cannot come through and want to sit on my lap which is a distraction.

We met Rob at the MacDonald's on the corner of Wellington and Springvale Roads then picked up the Monash and found our destination easily in an industrial complex not far from Melrose Dve which runs off the freeway. Parkhill Consultants Pty Ltd is the name of company we were meeting, and we looked around the car park to see the 2012 Skoda Roomstar we had travelled to inspect, but no sign of 'John', whom we had talked to on the phone to arrange the appointment. Gord had come across the Roomstar on the internet while researching Skodas as a possible suitable vehicle for him.

Gord sold his Mazda 2 about a month ago to Jod. The Mazda is a little beauty, a 2011 model that Gord bought new and has only done 25.000km. Jod needed a car because his Suzuki Sierra, which I bought new in 1990, needed considerable repairs in the end to keep it running and roadworthy and it was not worth it. Jod gave it to the mechanic who had helped him, and it is still is use as a farm vehicle, a 4x4 motorised wheelbarrow if you like, on the mechanics father's farm.

When his Suzuki was no longer viable as road transport, we loaned Jod Ian's Subaru Forester as a temporary solution till he found another car. Ian approved, happy to help. As he lives in Canada he's pleased we use his car now and again, to keep it in good running order. Gord uses it mostly, as he has a sentimental bent, and he takes it if going to a mall where he was not comfortable leaving his Mazda, as it was damaged once by unknown other vehicle in the car park. It cost him about $1000 to repair. It's a sad fact of life most of us can relate to, the dings and scratches that happen to your car in parking lots while we shop. Also the Subaru is bigger than the Mazda and Gord uses it to take his whipper to the repairman or purchase something large. Just to round off this explanation, the Subaru we purchased in 1998 and Ian bought it from us sight unseen in 2010, when we were about to trade it in to buy our current Hyundai. He was coming to Australia for three months with his son and thought he'd buy a car and sell it when he left. He drove the Subie to Qld and WA but left it with us and returned in 2013 with his other son and used it again. He plans to return in 2016 and use it again. Jod wanted to buy it but Ian did not want that, so we have had this vehicle shuffle, with Gord happy to help Jod out by selling him the Mazda, and look around for something with a little more carrying capacity.

Which is how we found ourselves in Tullamarine yesterday shortly before the appointed noon meeting time.

A man approached after a while and introduced himself as Saintjean. He said that over the phone he just calls himself John as he's tired of explaining every time how his name is spelt, and where the St. comes from. Apparently his grandmother was French. He gave us the keys and said "take it for a drive" which we did. We all liked the feel of it- good firm ride, punchy turbo petrol 1.2 litre engine, 5 speed manual. The car itself is a little odd in its design- small front side windows and windscreen, while the back windows are large and the feeling is roomy. It apparently was designed by two different people in front and back halves which were joined together. Definitely a quirky car, but as the back seats are easily removed it is quickly converted to a small panel van which is what Gord was looking for.

Returning to the factory site we decided yes we'd buy the car. That is Gord would buy the car, Rob and I supported his decision. The asking price was $15000 plus stamp duty transfer fee about another $660 all up. St.John quickly said he'd take $15000 flat when we pointed out that the rego expired on 20 Feb. So we went upstairs and did the paper work and handed over the $13000 bank cheque and $2000 cash and came home. Rob followed me in the the Skoda, Gord not being confident driving across the city in unfamiliar territory.

Unfortunately when we got home Gord could not get the windscreen washers to work. He put more water in but it leaked out the bottom to a puddle underneath the car. There's no way to get at the water bottle reservoir to see if it has a leak or if a hose loose or disconnected. You can't even get to it from underneath, it's completely sealed off. I rang St. John, he really didn't want to know, but said I should take it to Skoda as the car still has new car warranty, or if they were difficult he'd get the mechanics in the factory next to him to fix it, if I brought it back.

The nearest Skoda dealer is in Frankston, and I loathe the thought of another trip to Tullamarine. Either will cost me a day. It may be cheaper getting the local bloke to fix it at our cost than driving about wasting time to have it done at no cost out of pocket.

There's always a risk, when purchasing anything. Let's hope we get over this without anymore surprises.

The Ankle

In my last post I told of my agonizing day and my fears for the next day.

That same night, about 3am, I woke as I usually do after not taking alcohol for the day, in need of a pee. I wondered to myself as I swung the legs out of bed, how this was going to go, half expecting an agony episode to get to the can. I have had numerous of these traumatic incidents resulting from crook ankles in my football playing days and, worst of all, pinched nerves in my lower back. I don't pretend that I'm on my own in this, most humans of my acquaintance can tell a similar tale.

With trepidation I put my weight on my left foot, expecting a dagger strike. Instead there was a loud clicking noise from my foot. I hesitated then continued, relatively pain free. Again in the morning I could walk, yes a little painfully but no stabbing crippling pain. A bone or a ligament in my foot must have found its way back into place, that was the loud click.

My friend Vince rang in the morning. He had read my blog post of the previous evening and offered to come and help. The man is a retired osteopath with healing hands, who now lives in Inverloch, but still a healer and philosopher.

I told him of my miraculous recovery. He said, "See what can happen when you put it out there, a call for help. The world works in mysterious ways."

Then he said, "I'm pleased you are reading Victor Frankel's book."

I hadn't mentioned Victor Frankel in my post, the author of the book 'Man's Search for Meaning', which I did mention as a means of coping with my pain.

Vince said everybody should read it, particularly now with world affairs so disgusting and dangerous.

I agree.

I Don't Need This

On Saturday I went to the farm and did a bit of slashing down the back in an area that had been badly neglected for a year or two. A black wattle tree had fallen leaving an area hard to get at by anyone cutting grass, so my main man Gord had not done there, and I had forgotten about it.

I was not there long, maybe an hour with the metal blade on the whipper and I got most of the rampant blackberries. There are plenty of blackberries down there in other places so don't have the idea I'm caught up with the maintenance, there are some useless trees and shrubs that need removing and the blackberries keep coming.

I was there long enough to strain my ankle on the unlevel ground, not badly, but enough to cause me discomfort that evening. Sunday I was on duty in the museum, and decided to drop in to Hanna's on my way home, to see what needed doing there, and dig a bit of garlic which I should have done two weeks ago as some of the tops have died off too much and shriveled away. I must have aggravated the ankle as it was worse last night.

Then this morning I could hardly walk on it, the pain was severe. I had told Hanna that I'd come back this morning and tidy up with the whipper around my growing plot which does look a hell of a mess, and I didn't want to let her down, and I wanted to dig the rest of the garlic.

The phone rang on cue, it was Elvie asking me to bring a bucket of chinese lanterns for the Herb and Spice people. I told her my predicament and asked her to tell the foliage wholesaler if he wanted beech today I may not be able to do it as I can barely walk.

Luckily Lib was home and she strapped my ankle with adhesive bandage and I dosed up on the panadeine as well as my normal cortisone. With my boots on over the bandage I could hobble about and I hobbled about whippysnipping at Hanna's while Lib dug the garlic. Good job she did too and she helped my pick the lanterns at another place also. When I arrived at the farm I wasn't feeling too bad, so down the back I went to pick copper beech that wasn't too hard to get, where we hadn't yet cut this year, as until I did the cutting on Saturday you could hardly get to he back of a couple of nice young trees. Jod picked this up with the quad bike and took it up while I started on some green beech for the other wholesaler who had already put in an order for Wednesday. I didn't think I could do it tomorrow as I have meetings all afternoon to do with the museum and Nobelius Park.

Jod came back and helped me and we got it done. I can hardly walk on it again now. I took the bandage off in the bath and the poor old ankle is really stabbing with pain when I put weight on it. God knows what it'll be like in the morning. I'm going to take painkillers now and go to bed.

Lib is home again tomorrow and will strap it again.

You probably don't want to hear this tale of woe. I'm reading a book at he moment  called, 'Man's Search for Meaning', written by a psychiatrist who was a holocaust survivor of Auschwitz. He says enduring suffering to enable purposeful action gives existential meaning, and pain and suffering can give meaning itself, in it's endurance. That probably needs tidying up but I want to get this posted before midnight and be in bed. I'll talk more about this book another time.  

Shepherd's Warning

It was 5.45am this morning, right on the appointed time, when I dropped Gord off in Glen Waverley at the house of one of his friends. They were taking a cab from there to the airport for a flight to New Zealand. Heading back home eastward the sky was lit by a beautiful red sunrise, and a radio announcer pronounced the old adage -

"Red sky at night, shepherd's delight
Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning."

There was heavy rain forecast for the day, but when it would arrive was the question I was asking. I bought a long black at the Macdonald's 24 hour and fueled up and checked the tyres and oil in Lib's car. The announcer said as I drove through Emerald at about 6.30am that the temp was 24C, which was the forecast max, so all there was left to happen was the rain.

I got home and picked some variegated pitto that was ordered but is scarce at the farm at the moment and went inside to have some breakfast and take Lib hers in bed. She had the day off. I worked tidying up a Signpost article with some amendments that my subject had requested when I discussed my draft with her the previous evening.

I had to be at the farm at 10.00am to pick Elvie up and take her to the rheumatologist in Dandy. I didn't know what time I'd be back at farm but I knew I still had 10 bunches of green beech to get to complete an order. I had unpleasant visions of getting up a tree down the back in the afternoon in pouring rain. So I called in on a friend I knew in Emerald who had a green beech in her back yard, hoping I could cut some off quickly and throw it in the van and leave it when I picked up Elvie, for Jod or Meredith to bunch.

It worked perfectly in the 20 mins I had to spare and I drove to Dandenong with Elvie, into the rain building to heavy, grateful for my good thinking which meant I didn't have to get wet later. We were on time for the 10.45am appt but the parking was bedlam and in the end we waited more than an hour in the waiting room. Elvie's blood tests showed her inflammation had gone up again but specialist did not want her back on cortisone so there are more extensive blood tests scheduled for Feb and Mar and another appt in Mar. It's like going round and round the mulberry bush.

We got back to the farm and I had lunch. Oddly it was still dry there even though it had already rained quite heavily in Melbourne. I decided I'd go down the back and start cutting beech for the next day but as I was was preparing to do that the rain started so I went home instead. Lib had gone out to a funeral. Tragically the son of a lady who had worked with Lib for many years committed suicide last week, aged 34.

I lay down for a short kip and fell asleep for three hours. The rain has continued on and off but it has not been as heavy as forecast. I hope it's not too wet tomorrow, besides our normal wholesaler another customer has rung an order so i'll be busy. At least I can be sure tomorrow will not be hot.

Now and Again, You Win, and Laugh

Today as is the norm on a weekend I put a few bets on the gee gees. There was racing at  Warrnambool and also Werribee. I take running doubles, 50 cent bets, through the card, using trainers I like as selections using a sequence formula of my own. It is fun, checking my account balance at the end of the day. No running double collect today. That's OK, You go a streak of loss, then the numbers work out and there's a good collect.

But today I made a good profit despite none of my running doubles selections getting up. I also put on some bets $1 each way for horses that take my fancy, or trainers, I have another list of trainers that I back for win and place, just $1 each way. Last week I landed Beliveau at $114 a win for $1, and a good running double for a weekend profit of $200.

Today, now get this, I was putting on $1 each way on Balzac, race 8 Warrnambool. Aaron Purcell is on my list of W+P trainers. I made a mistake and instead of moving the the mouse after clicking on $1 a win, I clicked again, not on a place bet, but again on the win. So I effectively but unintentionally put $11 a win on the horse instead of $1 each way. I cursed quietly at the time for my stupidity as i confirmed the bet without realizing my error.

Can you imagine my pleasure when I checked the account this evening to find that Balzac won and and the payout was $135.30.

You do have to laugh.