Mykynos

Enroute Mykynos to Istanbul. having a ball. All well. This costs heaps on ship and I can't get my phone to work on hotmail.

Fly Away

We're off tonight.

Monday Aus time we'll be in Barcelona on our boat.

Gord staying home to look after house and dog.

Love youse all

C

Two Movies Back to Back

My computer crashed a couple of weeks ago and has been at the repairman. I haven't heard from him and I'm using Gord's computer to attend to my email and do other things, so it is for that reason I haven't posted for a while, as I use the his computer when he is not and I'm bound by priorities in that limited time.

It has meant I have watched television more than usual in the evenings and last night I watched two movies. We surfed the menu to see what was on and Lib said she had not seen 'Easy Rider' and asked me had I, to which I replied that I don't think I'd ever seen it through because when I had started watching it I didn't like it and turned it off. In fact I think the first time I watched it was at the drive-in with Rickyralph and we left well before the movie ended because it was not our cup of tea (I maybe wrong there, Rr will let me know, he remembers much).

So Lib and I settled down to watch. I certainly could not remember much about my previous viewing/s. We both found it boring and quite silly in the story line and dialogue, perhaps Jack Nicholson's short role was the only point of interest for me besides the wonderful scenery as the bikers toured across the the USA from California to New Orleans. Perhaps it was message movie, a spoof on US society, but Lib had given up and gone to bed before we could glean what it it was about. All the drug and hippy stuff alienated us. So much bloody nonsense.

I did watch it right through, the landscape and cinematogrophy was enough to hold me. When it was over I sat a bit stunned and despondent by the crap (mostly) I had just sat for two hours watching. The next movie didn't start for 15 minutes and I sat through all this mind numbing advertising and promo stuff, just what we originally purchased the satellite conscription to avoid, and somehow or other I was still watching when the next movie started. It was called 'Keeping Mum' and the only two actors on the info blurb were Rowan Atkinson and Maggie Smith. Now I can't stand Mr Bean, the character just annoys/worries the hell out of me, so I thought I'd be turning in pretty soon.

In my mind I couldn't place Maggie Smith as an actress. The movie started with an attractive lady who was vaguely familiar, and an "F" word or two, in context, that had me laugh a little and watch some more. As it unfolded the lady was a minister's (Rowan Atkinson) wife, and there were family problems between husband and wife and with their two children. They employed a housekeeper who I realised was Maggie Smith and the movie went from there in what I thought was a brilliant script and story line with superb acting. For sure it was a bit over the top but the humour and general good entertainment left me completely surprised. Nothing like a good laugh and unexpected turns in a movie.

I know Lib would have liked it and I'll keep my eye out to see if comes on the satellite stations again and record it for her. The credits at the end showed the the wife actress was Kristin Scott Thomas  and it also had Patrick Swayzee. I thought all the actors including rowan Atkinson were brilliant.

Cricket Karma

Well done Poms. That was a demolition. I enjoyed every minute of it. Before the first day of the first test Michael Clarke said his team would not go in for a drink (they had been invited by the English team) at the end of the test as they wanted to foster a hard attitude and not fraternize with the opponent. What a shameful attitude, and one I hoped would come back to bite.

In today's paper there was reference to a feud between two wives of players which created tension between the husbands, and animosity over the timing of announcement of players non selection. And of course there was an article by Michael Clarke saying his timing was right to retire and with the support of his wife and Shane Warne who asked him lots of relevant questions he realized that yes the time is right. The trouble is that this time last week his article in the same paper was all about how the pressure was on him to perform and he thrived on this and win lose or draw he was not going to retire as he was still hungry and loved getting up at 5.30am every day to work on his body. I just hope the bugger doesn't get a plum commentator's job like most of them do so I have to put up with more of his BS. Not that I watch much.

As you may have gathered in the past I haven't been a fan of the Australian cricket team for many years, perhaps as many as twenty. I barrack for their opposition in every contest. The Australians have been arrogant bully boys for a long time: sledging, spiteful whingers and bad sports, and big heads.

I know I'm supposed to be blindly loyal to my nation's sporting teams, and I wonder where I went off the rails. I think it's something to do with backing the underdog. Perhaps I've felt a bit like an underdog most of my adult life, firstly being a Melbourne supporter and secondly being self employed for 35 years, at the mercy of every petty bureaucracy under the sun. I could go on but this was not intended to be my sob story.

I'm just glad the Gods of cricket brought some Karma, Let's hope the Aussies can gain a little humility and sportsmanship.

Profit

Last week I helped out friends. No big deal, just a bit of gardening for a couple of hours spreading mulch. I sometimes do a bit of work for them. As I finished and was leaving, to where on their property I was to pick some bay foliage that they kindly let me do, my friend said, "What do I owe you?"

I said, "Nothing, I'll get $50 of bay from that tree in no time."

My friend replied, "No, what about your profit?'

I said, "Sometimes getting my bay is more important than profit," as I declined his offer of payment.

I thought about it later and was most comfortable about it. Sure it would have been good to be paid for my time then get some foliage and have a profitable morning. But as it panned out I came away with what I needed to make a customer happy, my friends were happy as they had my help at no cost, and I had a pleasant morning to boot. Goodwill all round, and I know I'll be welcome to pick bay there next year when the trees have put growth back on. And they are happy for me to pick other things they may have as need drives me.

The end of the story is that that goodwill is sometimes more important than profit and money. And it makes you feel good going to bed that you have done something for someone that helps them and at the same time have resisted greed and yet helped your own situation. Good all round.

Let's hope for a good week ahead. The weather was better today (Sunday, although it's after midnight and this will come up posted Monday), a few degrees warmer and no rain. I actually got the whipper going and slashed back a heap of stuff that needed doing. And yesterday, after a delivery guy in a van came into our place (wrong address) the previous day, the wrong way down the drive and couldn't get out without a lot of mucking around, Gord and I patched up the driveway with three metres of crushed rock. It was quite funny really; the truck delivering the rock slid off the driveway as he backed down and couldn't get out after wedging up against a tree. He had to organize a tow out, after we had shovelled off most of the gravel by hand. Just a bit of Saturday morning drama to not let me get too relaxed about life on a daily basis.

Life Goes On

My alarm sounded at 5.30am. Lib set it using my mobile phone. Gradually we are learning to use these devices. Devices plural as we each have one, the same Pendos given to me by my Telco a few months ago to draw us into their web.

It was 6.35 when I pulled in at the farm, 20 minutes late after the said time I'd pick Jod to take him to William Angliss hospital for his appt with the knife to repair his hernia. He was tense and said he hadn't slept much. As we went up Monbulk Rd he said, "Well this might be the last time I travel up this road." He was convinced he would die under anesthetic.

I dropped him off at the admissions at 6.58 and went to park the van before walking back to see that he was successfully admitted. He was having a last fag outside and told me yes they had said it was on he was in and he just went out for a last fag.

I went back to the van and with the help of the cab light and the Melways and my glasses, to only just be able to read the map and small print, I devised a route to Rosie's house in Rowville. It was 7.20 when I arrived and exchanged Meredith's Ignis for the van and headed back to FTG to take M's car to the Suzuki dealer to have a manufacture's defect problem fixed on a recall, something to do with potential fire hazard in the ignition switch. Why me? I had bought the car through the business twelve years ago and it is registered in my name. The date I could first get the car booked in coincided with Jod's op and Meredith's weekly babysitting of her grand daughter Grace for her daughter Rosie who works part time for a vet as a nurse. Meredith's husband Roger had a seminar to go to that day so I was trying to tie it all up.

The Ignis was booked in for 8.30 and I had nearly an hour up my sleeve so I headed to Maccas on the Burwood Highway for a bite and coffee and to use the dunny. Who should I bump into as I went in but Roger who was on his way to the seminar in Hawthorn. He too was after coffee.

I was ten minutes early at the service centre and with three hours to spare before the car would be ready I walked east up the highway towards the shopping centre. I picked up cans for Jod as I went. Some had been well flattened by vehicles, those that hadn't I crushed with my heel.They were all of the usual brands of beveridge cans I find discarded - Coke, Pepsi, Mother, UDL, Jim Bean etc. I picked up some other litter such as squeeze sauce packs and paper wrap, but didn't deviate of my walking pathway. If I was focused on litter alone and picked up bottles and everything I could find I would have soon needed many bags and a ute.

But it was a pleasant walk despite the constant roar of thousands of passing trucks cars and buses. I looked at the trees along the road, quite a collection of eucalypts including iron barks, yellow box, long leaf box and some I was not sure of, and oaks and elms and various understory. Their was surprising birdlife of cockatoos, corellas, lorikeets, wattle birds, mynas, and a small wren type.

I sat in the mall for a while playing with my mobile phone and making some calls. I'd planned ahead to have some phone numbers so I could do some business I'd been struggling to find time for. I had a roast beef roll and more coffee in a caff. It was nice to have a few hours at slow pace.

Leaving the mall I saw a nice dog on a lead just outside the big sliding doors. It came straight up to me very friendly so I patted it and talked to the lady on the other end of the lead. She told me it was a whippet kelpie cross named Maggie nearly one year old. We talked dogs and shortly a little boy came out of the big sliding doors carrying bread rolls. It was the lady's son Spencer who went in to get the rolls while his mum waited outside with Maggie. We walked off down the highway together and talked as we went. She told me her name was Tina and her husband, a robotics engineer, came from Emerald. She turned off into the housing estate that is now where Ferntree Gully tech used to be and we wished each other well. She has another son at school. It was a delightful interlude that sometimes comes when you least expect.

The Ignis was ready when I got back the dealer at 11.30 and I drove back to Rosie's and swapped vehicles again. I did some shopping at Chemist warehouse and Aldi drove back to Emerald where I fueled up and did the green grocer bit and went to the farm. I picked 10 bunches of variegated pitto that had been ordered then for the last couple of hours I cut and painted blackberries in our dogwood row.

Strangely, a day I dreaded turned out to be pleasant. We rang the hospital. Jod's op was all good, he's fine and Roger is going to pick him up tomorrow. I'm home for a much desired day at home pruning and tidying while Lib and Gord are driving to Yea for the Gembrook footy.

Looking Back at Life

I had a thought on my morning walk today. In fact I had many thoughts and saw things of great beauty which I will record but first let me tell the significant thought that came front and centre to me like a bolt of lightning.

My passion for life has not diminished with the passing of years.

Yesterday Rickyralph visited me again. He rang first to say he would come to return three books I had lent him. I said that Lib and Gord would be at the local footy but I would be home and we could have a yarn and a cuppa. He loved the books I had lent him which were 'The Narrow Road to the Deep North' by Richard Flanagan, 'Life is So Good' by George Dawson and Richard Glaubman (George Dawson was an American negro who at age 98 decided he would learn to read and write), and 'My Brother Jack' by George Johnston.

I'm grateful for many things in this life but one of them is that my parents sent me to Malvern Grammar in 1964 after I had completed primary school at Mt. Waverley State school, for if this did not happen I would probably not have met Rickyralph. We talked at length yesterday about books- we have similar tastes in literature- and other things, agreeing that we are very different people holding a different view of life to what we were/had as teenagers or young adults. But we have mellowed similarly, from thinking the same then to both now having similar views.

As he left he walked down our drive with short little steps so he didn't slip, his gait and greying hair on the back of his balding head made him look like an old man. I called out to him, "You look like an old man."

"I am an old man," he called back. "Hey, go and have a look in the mirror when you go inside."

We laughed and he drove away.

I was happy this morning that the expected blizzard that the weather bureau and media had been warning us about was not reality. I don't know why they do this, and scare good decent folk with their dire predictions which often are a total furphy.

I took a brolly and needed it as light rain fell on the way back. Yes it was cold and a tad inclement but there was certainly no blizzard and still there is not. The thermometer on my deck said it was 5C at 9.30am when I got back, which remained so until 1pm when it dropped to 4C which has held till now. Yes, it is cold, but there's no wind, no hail no snow and definitely no blizzard. Nothing you would not expect on a mid July day.

Now to beauty of this wintry morn on my walk. I saw Louise going to church. I saw a large stag deer's head sticking out from the back of a ute in Inness Rd. It must have been shot yesterday or last night. Even in death it was magnificent. I saw an oak tree standing stark and bold, it's twigs and swollen buds tinged pink against the dark background of a massive pine tree. There's a wondrous beauty in deciduous trees in winter.

I just rechecked the thermometer. It's still 4C. I'd better go fill the firewood barrow at the front door for the evening ahead. I lit the fire this morning and will have to keep the wood up.

A closing thought as I look back.

I have no personal bitterness or resentments about my life.

A Busy Few Days

On Saturday I donned my journo hat and attended a luncheon at the Gembrook Cockatoo Football Club which was a reunion of the 1965 Gembrook Premiership team. Cockatoo was incorporated ito the name in recent times. I was invited by the lady who is the unofficial historian with a view to me writing an article on the event for my Signpost Gembrook column. Gord was playing in the reserves but I didn't get to see his game much as I was talking to the old timers and listening to the speeches by Federal MP Jason Wood and the captain and vice captain of the team and taking notes. Towards the end the old fellows got together and let rip with the club song.

As this function finished and prior to the start of the senior match the players of both Gembrook and Emerald, the reserves who had just played and seniors still fresh and clean, lined up in guard of honour as close friends and relatives of the three teenagers killed in a car accident last week formed a circle and a minutes silence was observed. The lost three had close connection to both clubs. It was very moving, on what was a cold wintry day, when I got home mid afternoon to light the fire it was 4C on our deck.

On Sunday 5 July on what was the 100th anniversary of Doug Twaits' birth I met his widow Lynne at Camelot where Doug and Lynne lived during their married life of about 20 years. I had not been back there since Doug died in 2002. The property of 12 acres is a large garden of mainly exotic species of trees that Doug planted in the 1950's when he lived there with his first wife. The picture below is of Lynne after she had just tied a feather in a tree above where Doug's ashes were spread. The feather is a symbol of old warriors in Nth American Indian spirituality which Lynne was into in a big way, and in which Doug, who had never been spiritual or religious, became strongly interested in his later years.

The next photo is looking down from the house into the gully. At the top of the dam a spring rises from mother earth. In the early days of there was a eucalyptus oil still on this site. The deciduous trees either side of the dam were planted by Doug and are mainly pinoaks on one side and beech on the other as you go down. There are also many conifers and two large sequoias, as well as camellias and rhodies and all manner of shrubbery. It's a magnificent place of tranquility and sanctuary for wildlife hidden away right in the heart of Emerald, and in Lynne's words it is a sacred place. She and her friends held ritual ceremonies there. I rang the owner last week and got permission for Lynne and I to visit. He bought the property from Doug just before Doug died in the car accident, only a matter of days afterwards.

I had busy day picking on Monday and today I had a monthly museum meeting at 4pm followed by the Biennial General Meeting. I had reports to write up for that as outgoing president and I'm bushed now and shouldn't be doing this but something drove me to record the above before I can now retire to blissful rest.

Sad End to June

It had been my intention to do a post before the end of June but I didn't feel I had much to say. It has been a dry month, apparently we have entrered an El Ninio phase, my friend Glen who records the rainfall told me yesterday only 35mm of rain had fallen for the month in Gembrook. It is dry underfoot which is good in a way for someone like myself who works outside. And there has been no problem to easily find dry kindling wood under the trees for the fire each day.

Business has been brisk. We are kept going picking flowers for the herb and spice people and foliage and spring blossom for the florists. Not that it's spring yet but some of the early trees start in June as does the japonica which is in full swing now. I have had other commitments also and last weekend I attended an historical society conference all day Saturday and then helped Rob and Hao cut back the garden on Sunday at their flat as they are moving into Hao's house in the next week or so and didn't want to risk being slugged for their bond money by leaving an excuse for it in the form of an overgrown garden.

A highlight of the Saturday conference at Ringwood was the talk by Bruce Postle who was photographer at the Brisbane Courier mail for some years then more than 20 years at the Age in Melbourne. He showed many wonderful photos on a slide screen and gave an insight into the story behind them. The conference was attended by historical societies from all over Melbourne's east including the Waverley Historical Society. Each society including us had a table display and sold books, I bought 3 of theirs and gave them to Jod who was rapt.

On our way home tonight we had to give way to a CFA truck which was in a hurry and turned off at Avonsleigh when it met up with another truck. I gave it no more thought till I was in the bath and heard on the tranny 7pm news that a car had hit a tree in Phillip Rd killing 3 teenage passengers, two girls and a boy.

I have been feeling a little anxious due the Greek financial crisis thing as Lib and I are booked into a week on Crete in September. Who knows what will happen, or if we have to cancel. It wouldn't be much use going if we couldn't buy petrol for our hire car.

And I have had some pain and tightness return as I have reduced the cortisone. It's a bit depressing. But in comparison to the unfortunate families of the three young people killed tonight I have nothing to complain or feel down about.

Mildura Trip (3)

I'm weeks behind I know that but I wanted to finish this off as its been rolling round in my head.
I had some breakfast with Bert Penny on the Saturday morning before he left about 8.30am. I talked a little while with Shirley before I too left to take a photo of the Methodist church where Doug and Dot were married in 1946.

I bought a long black coffee at Macca's and headed off down the highway towards Ouyen in bright sunshine and feeling happy knowing I had two days to get home at leisurely pace in my own company which I have always liked, and the scenery of rural Victoria, always a total pleasure.

There was a Mallee flowering on the roadside, which must be an early, or late, variety, so I pulled up some way down the track to look at the buds. I broke off a twig to bring home to consult a tree book when I got home. It is still behind me here in the office and I have not yet researched it. There was quite a bit of mallee firewood about as limbs had broken from the trees and I had my chainsaw in the van so cut some up and loaded several armfuls into the van. It was dry and and gave wonderful heat to a number of fires when I got back. I was amazed at the amount of litter  so I picked up some cans for Jod.

I turned off on the road to Robinvale thinking I might find where Doug's friend Bucky had lived and have a chat to his neighbours. Henry Buchecker was Doug's best mate from their army days. I knew Henry had died as Bert Penny had told me. Anyway I was in no hurry and couldn't recall ever being to Robinvale before except to perhaps pass through on my way to beekeepers conference at Mildura in the 1970's. I hadn't worked out my route home although I had a rough idea of going through Ballarat to find the house Doug grew up in. Deanie Twaits, wife of one of Doug's cousins, had given me a photocopy of a photo of the house and I knew the name of the street it was in, but not the number.

Gas Engine

Henry Buchecker Block 36B

The Murray at Boundary bend -black box tree in foreground

Ron and Nance Tonkin's house Maryborough

The drive to Robinvale was totally charming as I travelled through irrigation farms of vegetables, almonds, grapes. I was struck by the immense value of the Murray River to agriculture and as a water supply to towns along its length, including cities like Mildura.

Lettuce

I pulled into a Robinvale servo and fueled up, and as I paid I bought a map of Victoria from which to plan my route home. The man serving said "What are you looking for," when I asked him where the Info sign was in Robinvale. I told him I would like to know where Henry Buchecker lived before he died as I was researching some old soldiers. He then said, "Hang on a minute mate while I serve this bloke, Bucky's daughter just walked past with another lady not five minutes ago, I'll tell you where she lives." He then asked another bloke to show me, and he told me to follow his car which I did. The daughter wasn't yet home from her walk so I went to the museum opposite the servo and found a picture of Bucky among the soldier settlers, and I had a good look around and one of the attendants gave me a demo of an old gas engine that 120 years ago powered a generator for lighting in a 32 berth shearing shed.

When I went back to Henry's daughter's place she was home and we had a long chat. She was the youngest of six children and her family had a magnificent garden around the house on their fruit block thanks to Doug who brought up trees and shrubs on his regular visits. When the block was sold the garden was bulldozed. Henry moved into the old people's home where daughter Carol works. He died a few years ago.

I drove on to Swan Hill. The road follows the Murray closely so it was most interesting. It was about 4pm when I checked into a motel. I played with my smart phone trying to do various things and listened to the Demons get thumped by Port Adelaide. There was a Vietnamese restaurant across the road which provide me dinner after a flutter on the pokies at the RSL. I lost $20 quickly so got out of there fast.

Next day I drove to Kerang and turned off to Bridgewater, then Tarnagulla, a fascinating old town looking like it hasn't changed in 100 plus years, Dunolly, Maryborough, onto Ballarat where I looked for Doug's old house in central Ballarat. There were many old houses similar and I couldn't be sure which was where Doug first lived. They were all of the period and are heritage listed I believe.

In Maryborough I came across Ron and Nance Tonkin's house where I stayed sometimes while I worked for them in late 1974 and early 1975. Most of that period I was camped in the Mallee with Ron's brother Jack in a caravan in heatwave conditions of close to 40c or more every day. We went back to Maryborough with a load of honey supers, then returned to the bees. It was nostalgic for me. Ron, Nance and Jack are all long dead. I stayed in a back room with a ghost who visited. It was weird. This ghost stood over the bed when I woke in the middle of the night, watching me. Don't know who it was. It disappeared when I moved. I didn't like to say anything to Ron so I didn't mention it. Later I planned to ask him one day when I met him, if I ever did again, but it didn't happen. 

As I left Ballarat a bitingly cold southerley change with rain came and my drive home through Melbourne and into the hills in dark wet conditions was tedious. I was home about 6.30pm, Lib and Gord had the fire going and a roast on. 

*When I have inserted the photos on this post they do not go where I want them to, which would have made for better reading, but have bunched up and are out of sequence. Sorry about that.

Mildura Trip (2)

It was around mid May (2015) when I finally felt I could take the time to visit Bert and Shirley Penny in Mildura. I’d rung them more than a year earlier, say April 2014, to talk about Doug. I spoke to Shirley Penny on that occasion and she immediately said, on hearing that I was to write Doug’s biography, what a wonderful man he was and what a strong impact he had made on many young lives. She said Bert was having on operation to remove cataracts in May, so I should leave my visit till June. Well Mildura’s a long way from Gembrook, at least 600km so I knew I’d need three free days to go up and interview the Pennys and come home again. Three free days in a row are hard to find when always there’s work at farm and home then family commitments and trips that had precedence.

In early March Gord and I drove to Canberra to watch a World Cup cricket match, and then Lib and Gord and I went to Adelaide soon after, again driving. I’d enjoyed both these driving trips despite the hours stuck behind the wheel so the prospect of driving to Mildura and back was not so daunting, in fact it was now attractive and viewed by me as another little holiday.

I rang the Pennys again, after finding their number in my Doug file, in a letter that Brian Weightman had written to me after my enquiries started in early 2014. Brian, the father of champion Richmond rover of the 1980’s, said that Bert had retained friendship with Doug and had visited him a few times at Emerald. It was Shirley I spoke to again who said, after I told her I could come up next weekend or the one after, that next week was difficult as Bert was helping his daughter move from Redcliffs back to Mildura so the second weekend would be better. Then they were going away on a cruise for a few weeks early June. I said I’d ring next week to confirm.

Next week I rang and spoke to Shirley first then Bert. In my mind I would go to Mildura on the Friday and stay in a motel that night and visit them on the Saturday afternoon and then come home on the Sunday after another night in the motel. Bert said he was organized to cook on a barbecue for a club or something on the Saturday and also was helping his son move afterwards. He suggested I come up on the Friday and stay at their house and we could have our discussion on the Friday night as he’d have to leave quite early on the Saturday morning. I was not in a position to pick and choose so I agreed. He asked me when I was leaving Gembrook and I said I’d leave about 10am after getting a blood test done in Emerald for a medical appointment I had early the next week.

Bert said with no hesitation, “Get the blood test done on Thursday and leave at 9am Friday. Stop every couple of hours and have a walk about and a drink of water. Allow 8 hours and get to our house in daylight if you can as it’ll be hard to find in the dark.”

I could tell straight away that Bert at age 87 was full bottle. I took his advice and did the blood thing on the Thursday. I drove out of my driveway at 9.02am after a busy morning and as it happened I found the Penny’s house as the light began to fade, having followed the directions Bert gave me on the phone. When I knocked on the door it was 5.05 pm.

It was a good drive up. I went the back way through Yea and Seymour to Bendigo via Puckapunyal and Heathcote, a route I knew well from my years in the Dep’t of Agriculture, and many trips to Bendigo over the last thirty five years to visit Lib’s sister and her family, often buying honey from Wardy at Heathcote also, when we used to sell a lot of honey at the farm. From Bendigo on it was pretty much all new to me, not having been to Mildura for a long time. The road wasn’t busy and it was nice to be in expansive open space.

It was lush green scenery when I left home and it started to get drier as I approached Seymour, worse the nearer I got to Bendigo, then worse again as I travelled north-west. There were large areas that looked like they had been harvested last year, with stubble and little if any new growth. I don’t know if these were left fallow as a rotation or simply hadn’t been ploughed because it has been too dry. There were large paddocks that looked as if they had been sown but no crop was showing, while others had a tinge of green in the drills. Oddly to me these worked paddocks seemed to have more growth the closer I came to Mildura. This is explained when I read last week’s Weekly Times that said crop prospects were a little better in the Mildura area than other parts of western Victoria as they were luckier with autumn rainfall.

I was surprised when Bert Penny came to the door to find that he was a tall man of robust stature. As he was 87 I had expected an elderly gent quite frail. There was nothing frail about Shirley either; again I had been expecting a little old lady. As soon as I walked in the door I could smell pea and ham soup cooking. Bert showed me my room, I returned to the kitchen and we got straight down to talking about Doug, with me making notes with pen and pad. Shirley led the conversation while Bert busied with other things and contributed here and there but happy to let Shirley have her head. After a while he went to the stove and attended the food, saying the soup had burned, and then mashing potatoes, and stirring another pot or two. The soup had a burnt taste but with a bit of pepper to overide it was still delicious. The main meal was chicken casserole followed by a cup of tea and buttered fruit loaf. Bert did all the dishes.

Bert and Shirley Penny

Bert bought this fountain from Doug and Dot's nursery in Essendon in the 1960's

As their story unfolded it became obvious that Bert was at home in the kitchen, Shirley revealing that she had been a City of Mildura Councillor for 13 years and also Mayor for a term, so Bert had much experience cooking dinner. Shirley had also been awarded an Order of Australia and had met the Queen twice. Bert was a master builder for most of his working life after leaving school at 13 and working for a bus company where his job was to go under the buses an hose them clean from the mud that built up from the unmade roads. As it was wartime and most of the men had gone he graduated quickly to changing wheels and tyres and other basic mechanical maintenance, then by the time he was 17 and a half he had a special licence issued to him and he was a bus driver. He used to pick Shirley up and she said he was quite rude telling her to get down the back of the bus. She didn’t like him, but she could see him looking at her in his rear vision mirror.

They were both in the Youth Club run by the Mildura Council but the males and females had little interaction and were quite separate. In 1946 Doug took up the position of Director of the Youth Club, it was shortly after he had returned from Europe where he had spent 4 years in Stalag 83. It must have been part of a work program to give returned soldiers employment. Doug had been a Australian champion featherweight wrestler before the war and a fitness expert and all round sportsman. He taught the boys, many of whom were from very poor families, wrestling, weightlifting and gymnastics. In this year Bert at 19 was older than the other youths and had been made president I think by the council. Shirley, also 19, was leader of the girls, so she and Bert saw more of each other and romance developed.

At the same time a lady from Emerald, Dot Fisher, had taken a job at the Youth Club as supervisor of the girls group. Doug and Dot fell in love and married that year in the Methodist church. Without checking my notes to confirm I think Shirley was in the bridal party. Doug’s contract was for one year and he and Dot moved on to Queensland at the end of it.

Doug and Dot 1946

Methodist church built 1912

Bert did night school carpentry and building construction and Shirley worked in a fashion shop. They have four children, two sons who are master builders also, and two daughters and six grandchildren. This of course is an abbreviated version of Bert and Shirley’s story from the top of my head without referring to my notes, but I have to say I have been bursting to blog about these two wonderful people with whom I clicked so readily because of their warmth and hospitality. Exceptional people I have been lucky to meet and who made my trip to Mildura rewarding and confidence boosting.

  

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.