The African Queen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flowers Today

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

Abutilons Fuscias Nasturtiums
 

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

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

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

Books

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

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

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

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

UFO

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friday Update

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

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

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

Good Friday Return

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jod's Friend Hector

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

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

Jod and Eric today

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

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

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

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

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

Jod and Eric 50 plus years ago 

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

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

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

The Waning Summer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well It Was a Good Day

Yes. A good day.

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

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

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

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

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

                                                           TAKE OPPORTUNITIES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Good night.

Sensational Rain

There was talk of rain. It started with thunderstorms Thursday afternoon, a few splashes but really nothing to speak of at first. Then during the night a calm descended and light rain came with it and persisted. By Friday morning it was continuous. I looked out the bedroom window at my cuttings of daphnes, viburnums, lemon myrtles, stephanadra, rosemary and lavender in boxes and pots with great joy in my love of mother nature. How great thou art.

I just went outside in the gummies with a torch and checked the rain guage. 64 ml. Sensational.

On Wednesday i picked 40 bunches of variegated pittosporum and came across a little birds nest. An old one now disused. Jod picked up my bunches on the quad bike and I showed him the nest asking him what bird made it. Silvereye he said quick as a flash. It was made of horsehair.

Gord holding the nest

Jod with the bike

Lunch with Cousin Bruce

I had lunch with cousin Bruce Wilson today at the Wheeler's hill pub. Just the two of us. It was originally suggested by Bruce that Meredith and Roger and Lib and I and Bruce's wife Jill should get together for lunch soon, as we did last year. As it turned out I said I would be in Melbourne today to pick up Gordon in the afternoon after his week in the Gold Coast so lunch would be convenient. The others couldn't make it but Bruce took me up on it.

I'm glad that it was only Bruce and myself. We could focus on our own conversation and we talked of many things. Besides having common grandparents on mum's side we had a number of connections obviously- we have known each other most of our lives despite minimal contact and we have shared the same part of history, being born in 1948 and me in 1952. Bruce was called up for National Service and served in Vietnam, and I was called up for NS also but this after Australia's decision to withdraw and I did not complete my service due to the change in politics well known by most.

Bruce is proud of his service in the Australian Army which I can well understand. We exchanged stories of our experience at recruit training at Puckapunyal and of the general intrusion into our lives of being conscripted, right down to our fears and trauma in the lead up and induction into the strange world of the military. I can understand why Bruce is proud and retains many friendships with those he served with and is active with his unit's reunions. I have none of that, not being in long enough, although I do have good memories of the people in my hut. I'm glad it happened.

Bruce is a great traveler. He and Jill have been just about everywhere. He was most interested in our recent trip to Europe and I very much enjoyed talking about it. In fact I talked and talked about so many things and it was so good to have someone interested in all that I said. And I loved his stories too. Army recollections, how he met Jill, thoughts about his parents, our grandparents, and most of all probably talk about plants and gardening.

A very nice day it was for me. Life is good.




 

Trust

Trust. A strong word.

Who do I trust? My wife yes, or we would not have been married for 35 years. My friends yes, or they would not be my friends. My family yes, with knowledge and understanding of their frailty.

It stops about there. I have lost trust in my nation, government ( federal state and local), and bureaucracy, including the police.

Where did this start, this loss of trust? Probably with my call up for National Service in 1972, although I didn't know it then. I was 20 years old, proud and passionate to serve my country as a soldier, in the aftermath of huge public disenchantment with Australia's involvement in Vietnam. In my blind ignorance I followed the path laid out for me in folklore by the ANZAC myth with pride and exuberance.

I have lived my life within the norms of society. I did all the things ingrained into me in my childhood and education. I finished school and found employment, married, took a mortgage and bought property, raised a family. All this I did without really thinking, in the trust and good faith that all I was doing was righteous and worthy in a civilized society.

So why is that now I'm lacking in trust? Well it took me a decade or so to realize that I had been totally duped about Vietnam and that crap. What a joke on me? The naysayers  were right. I was wrong. Vietnam was a total farce and my nation should be ashamed by its involvement. But we have not learned. We have been involved in wars in Afghanistan and Iraq which really have nothing to do with us and I am shamed and angered.

I pay a small fortune in private health insurance. It is set up so that it comes out of my bank account in a monthly payment direct debit, thousands of dollars in a year. Somehow or other another company got onto me and offered me more benefit at a lower price. Of course I took the bait. Within days the original company was in contact, offering a better deal so I switched back. This is not a new thing, it has happened with electricity supply and telephone service and it makes me the consumer aware that if you are not on the ball you are getting ripped off. The cost of these things goes up above the CPI every year and if you don't shop a around and threaten to leave your existing company you are gouged. And my council rates go up well above the CPI every year for the last decade and there's no shopping around with this, you just have to cop it sweet.

I am constantly harassed by the media about terrorism, the ice epidemic, pedophilia in the church, wife bashing and murder, yet all I see is police with speed cameras and radar guns trying to catch me a few k's over the limit. I see bush fires yet nobody does anything about reducing the risk, I mean by that the removal of fire hazardous vegetation or the prevention of building 'in the bush'.

I could go on and on. I'm pissed right off. I have no trust in government. It is a self serving con job acting in self interest, with no regard for the good of community and people, beyond a facade of bullshit.

Yes, sadly, I have lost trust.

A Week on Crete (7)

I need to finish this for my own peace of mind, although it is well and truly old news by now.Our last full day on Crete was Saturday. We planned not to travel far so as to rest up so we decided to go shopping in the tourist strip at Amoudra beach near Ghazi in the morning, as Lib wanted to buy a few clothes and souvenirs to take home, and lunch again at Liguria Beach where we had enjoyed ourselves so much previously.

It was an overcast day, warm with the odd brief light rain shower. It was quite a tourist area where we parked the car with resort buildings and apartment blocks and all manner of shops restaurants and bars. Lib shopped while I walked up and down the street with one eye on the car to ensure we didn't get booked. There were 'No Parking' signs along the side where I parked but these seemed to be ignored by one and all. A shopkeeper told me we would be OK there, the parking rules were not enforced, but if we had been in Heraklion proper they would have been all over us quickly.

It was a pleasant couple of hours we spent there. You do get the feel of a place by shopping and talking to the shop owners. Those we talked to spoke reasonable English and more than one had relatives in Australia and knew that smoking in public places was not permitted there, which they said would be very hard for them. So many Greek people smoked cigarettes it was alarming. One said she knew the standard of living was higher in Australia and people were wealthier. I guess that has been the attraction for so many Greek people to have migrated.

We walked down to Amoudra beach which was almost deserted. The vacant block we walked through was strewn with litter. When looking out to sea and back to the shore and hills I pictured in my mind the scene in 1941 at the Battle Crete with the sky thick with German paratroopers and gliders, and the dug in Brits shooting them from defensive posts. This was a mental image I carried for the whole week in Crete - German fighter bombers strafing with their air superiority and the allies defending grimly and bravely, taking huge toll on the paratroop divisions but facing inevitable defeat without support from aircraft.

We spent a couple of hours at a restaurant at Liguria beach for a good lunch. It was my intention to listen to the footy Nth Melbourne West Coast Prelim final on my smart phone but I couldn't get it to work. We had picked up to 3AW before through an app Rob put on my phone, but it wouldn't work for the match, I think I would have had to buy something from the AFL so that it was available. While we were there there was a big gathering of Greek people at nearby tables I think preparing for a function that night at the restaurant. The men were large with big bellies and chain smoked and drank beer after beer. The women also smoked. They were a garrulous and happy group.

We returned to our villa about 20 minutes away and went for a walk down many steps to the 'river' which was a small creek really. We met a young pommie bloke who asked us for directions to Estate Kares. We learned later at dinner that he was a dentist on holiday. He had walked from Gazi. This trip to Crete was supposed to be with his girlfriend but they had had a blue and she refused to go. Having paid for it he came by himself. He was well traveled having been to Peru  and the US and worked in New Zealand for a year which is why he didn't have a hire car, he had bingled one there and the financial result was terrible so he no longer hired cars and caught buses trains and walked wherever he went. He was only 26.

We rang Gord to learn West Coast had beaten North and he also told us Hawthorn had beaten Fremantle the night before.

Georgie our new friend who worked at the villa cooked up a mousaka from her mothers recipe for dinner. We didn't cook for ourselves that last night as we were leaving at 6am to get to the airport early as we had a flight to Athens at 7.30am. We washed down the mousaka and icecream with a bottle of the good wine we had bought at Gazi and some house red to boot. We settled our account with Emmanuel (two dinners two breakfasts and some cold beer here and there) and packed up before going to bed. All we had to do in the morning was get dressed and load the car.

It was a relief to get the car back to the airport with no damage and make our way into the terminal. The good thing about an early get away on a Sunday was very light traffic with little chance of being held up, only by a puncture or something, which did happen to us once returning a hire car to Perth airport. It was hugely crowded even at that hour but we made our flight no problem despite being slugged 45 Euros each as our ticket did not include check in luggage. I didn't get upset about it as I think our travel agent Mary had warned me this might happen. A New Zealand couple we met at Dubai airport were upset about it saying they had copped 75 Euros each leaving Santorini.

So our week in Crete came to and end as we watched the Island from the plane. There were big concrete bunkers visible as we left the coast and I thought these were probably relics from the German occupation 1941-1945, and my Battle of Crete images flashed back. The sky was clear as a bell when we landed at Athens 30 minutes later. We had a seven hour wait at Athens for our connecting flight to Dubai but this was not difficult, it gave us some relaxation time and there's a museum there and lots of historical information about Greece which we found most interesting.

We got to Dubai at about 10.30pm. We were picked up by our transfer the Arabian Court Hotel in Old Dubai opposite the Old Museum, where we were to stay three nights in total. We did a fascinating Dubai city tour first day and walked around old Dubai, and a trip to the Dubai Outlet Mall the second morning followed by a desert sands safari dinner in the afternoon and evening. Dubai is mind blowing, incredible and almost unreal. Not my cup of tea, but worth seeing.

The next day saw us at the airport again for the gruelling trip home- 7 hours to Singapore, an hour there, back on the plane and another 7 hours to Melbourne. Lib took sleeping pills which didn't make her sleep just made her almost incoherent and uncomfortable and fidgety and she almost drove me crazy. I didn't know about the sleeping tablets till she was talking to sister Margaret at Christmas, I just thought she was over fatigued, but she was zombied out.

Was it ever good to see Rob when he picked us up at Tullamarine? Lib crashed asleep in the car on the way home and then went straight to bed when we got home.

And so ended our amazing trip to Europe. It was Thursday morning before the Grand Final. I wish I had missed that crap too.

Pat's 70th

My apologies to friends on Facebook who also read this blog, as I'm about to copy and paste from F to here, because I have friends who read this blog but who don't participate in Facebook. So this is doubling up for some but updating others which I do because i'm short of time. I'm taking dog Pip to  a vet appointment at 9.30 am and I have some picking to do before it gets too hot as the forecast is for 41C.

Lib and I drove to Warrnambool yesterday (Sunday) to attend Pat McKenzie's 70th birthday. It was great to share the occasion with Pat and Carmel and their children and grandchildren. Others there from our Greta football days were Brent and Lynne Everall, Biil and Jackie O'Brien and Kay Pink. After a gathering at the Warrnambool Golf Club in the afternoon we went round to Pat + Carmel's and kicked on with a barbie and much good cheer and reminiscing. When Pat and Carmel came to Wangaratta in 1978 I had lived there two years but did not feel in any way at home there. Pat joined the Dep't of Ag as a dairy inspector and we had offices next door to each other. Pat talked me into playing footy at Greta when he took up the assistant coach job there. He was a superb full back with a great country footy history. I was single in those days and had dinner at Pat and Carmel's house one night a week most weeks. Their friendship greatly changed my life and the next few years were highly social thanks to playing footy again and mixing with many good friends of my age group. They had three young kids and baby Peter no 4 arrived while they were in Wang. Pat later quit the Dep't of Ag and joined the ambulance service where he worked till his recent retirement. Many thanks to Pat and Carmel for what you did for me all those years ago and for the great day we had yesterday. It was wonderful to see the kids grown up with families, and all such decent good people.

On the way home we visited the Terang cemetery where my great great grandparents are buried. Charles Henry Brown died in 1906. He had changed his name- he was really Karl Bruhn, a German sailor from Hamburg who went to sea when he was 14 and on his seventh voyage round the oceans of the world, often to Melbourne, jumped ship and disappeared into the Victorian countryside. He married Emma Parker who came out from England with her family as a young girl in the 1850's. Meredith has copy of a newspaper cutting in which three men including Karl Bruhn were "wanted" for absconding. He must have got this sorted out with official permit as the marriage certificate in 1860 names Charles Brown. He developed a successful maize threshing business and moved around the Western District and was respected in business. Emma Parker's family farmed somewhere out from Geelong and she died in 1929 aged 87. They had six kids that reached adulthood and two that did not. Their daughter Anne Elizabeth Francis, known as Francis, married Robert Williams my grandfather's father. He was a baker in Terang, (as was his father I think and his son my grandfather). They had 8 boys. There's a sad story there that Meredith told me, perhaps I'll write about that next time.

Meredith and her husband Roger had Charles and Emma's grave restored in the last few years.

A Bit Dry

31mm of rain for December is a miserable figure, less than half  that of the lowest of other years since 2008. My friend Glen keeps these records and he sent me them with his New Year best wishes on Jan 1.

Total rainfall for 2015 was 783 mm, also the lowest since 2008 which is as far as my figures from Glen go back, and well down on our annual average for the last 100 years which is I think about 1150mm.

All that rain in December must have come the night after Christmas Day, as there was about 34mm in our gauge in the morning and some of our guests were up early packing up their tents as water was just starting to come through as dawn broke. Glen recorded just the 31.33mm for December - my gauge which is not good for precise reading showed 32-34mm.

Since then, for January, while Sydney and much of NSW was being dumped on, and indeed many parts of Victoria, we had the princely sum of 5mm of drizzle one day, just enough to wet my shirt through while I was picking beech for a customer one day and make me cranky.

I helped my friend Leanne with her bees last week. We chose Thursday as it was the best day for both of us. It was mild and intermittently overcast with a crisp breeze tending south. They were as savage as hell. There was some messmate flowering and with the changeable weather, and wildly varying temperatures from one day to the next, it was the perfect recipe for savage. I had a veil with holes in it at the top and the bees got in and belted my face as well as the hands and up my sleeves.

But we got the honey off not that there was much, way too dry for any honey to speak of from blackberries or clover and cold miserable weather in late October scotched any chance of a flow on the silvertop which did flower well but did not yield. In the burst of hot weather in October I put some foundation frames in the hives to stop them swarming and they drew them out and and put brood in them. Leanne was happy to get some honey anyway and it is a task behind me now. I doubt there'll be honey later so dry it is and the weather so erratic.

I guess the next thing could well be a deluge and flooding, which is what happened after the last El Ninio cycle, but that has occurred elsewhere already.

 

A Week on Crete (6)

On the Friday of our week on Crete we drove to Retimo and continued to Vrises  and took the turn off to Sfakia. I was now more comfortable driving and we half knew our way around. You could certainly easily spend longer on Crete than we had and there are many areas we did not go and famous gorges and walks that we did not have the time for.

The road up into the mountains was good sealed bitumen and a comfortable width, not a narrow dangerous track I'd been half expecting.

No shortage of goats

It was a hot day, our hottest on Crete, and it gave a feeling for how hard it would have been for the evacuating soldiers marching through these rugged mountains on what was in 1941 a narrow unsealed road not much more than a track in places, at the beginning of June which was summer. Doug Twaits' 2/7th battalion fought some rear guard action at strategic points like tight hairpin bends and narrow passes to delay the pursuing German forces. It had been a command decision to march across Crete and evacuate from the South of the Island as it was further from the German held Piraeus and Athens from where attacking aircraft came. There were evacuations from North Crete with disastrous result and loss of life.

Typical scenery with olive trees plentiful

I had read Barry Cassidy's book 'Private Bill' which recounted his father's experiences on Crete and his subsequent capture and internment. Bill Cassidy was wounded and in hospital at the capitulation but his best mate was evacuated on a ship from North Crete which was sunk and he was lost, which could easily have been bill Cassidy's fate. On a trip to Crete as research for his book Barry drove the route of the evacuation march, as we were doing, and he told of a war museum between Kares and Asifkou run by a bloke called George. George's father, also George, was I think about 14 years old when the occupying Germans left in 1945 and he immediately began collecting war memorabilia which was scattered all over the countryside. He ultimately displayed this in a private museum which young George continues after his father died. He is passionate about his collection and receives no government support, and relies on donations from visitors. We easily found the museum following George's own signs from the main road down into his village. When we pulled up he appeared out of nowhere and was a wonderful enthusiastic host who showed us his huge collection of weapons and gear and historical information. We concluded with a slash of oozo and warm hugs and handshakes. It was a memorable highlight of our day and week.

Museum host George

Nearing Sfakia the road became a steep winding decline with views out to sea

There was quite a lot of cars at Sfakia as people caught ferries from there to other places but we managed to find a park and had a nice lunch at a restaurant right on the water after viewing the memorial near the little beach.

9000 in total were left behind

Doug Twaits was one of those left behind. He didn't escape capture like some, he was not well enough, having drunk water from a polluted well. Those marooned at Sfakia were marched 30 km by the Germans back across the mountains. Doug achieved this with great difficulty and was admitted to hospital in Georgepolus where he spent some months suffering Amoebic Dysentery and was expected to die at one point. This was a British hospital manned by staff who had chosen to stay with their patients rather than be evacuated, but there was a lack of medical supplies as these had been confiscated by the Germans and sent to Germany. Doug was eventually transported to Germany with other patients despite the doctor in charge maintaining they were not well enough.

General Freyberg evacuated but before doing so he oversaw the evacuation from his command cave on the hill above the beach. He was appalled at the lack of discipline and order as troops clamoured to get on the boats taking soldiers to the ships.

Freyberg's cave above Sfakia

When I talked to George at the Asifkou war museum, I said to him I had trouble comprehending why these armies would come Crete and proceed to annihilate each other. I was fully aware that Crete was regarded as strategically important, for the Brits to protect their Mediterranean shipping and North African bases, and for Hitler to protect German oil supplies from Rumania, but it still seemed like madness to me, the huge logistic cost, and that of human life. George said, "It's politics, it was all politics." I wonder how Doug felt at the time and after 4 years of incarceration. He said he was happy to join the army when war was declared as he had grown up in a "God, King and Country household". All I can say is, to repeat, madness.

I think the date is May31- a clipping in George's museum

 

  

A Week on Crete (5)

After our restful day at the beach I suggested to Lib that we drive east as we had not seen that side of Crete yet.I was wanting to yet go west again before we left, to take the road south from Retimo to Sfakia which was the evacuation route marched by the allied troops in 1941. This would entail going over the same road to Retimo that we had travelled the first two days and I knew Lib would prefer a change. There were still two days after this day, and I thought after we did the run east I'd propose that we went to Sfakia the next.

Before picking up the national Highway we drove into Tylissos to see the archaeological site which was most interesting - ruins slowly being excavated after being found quite recently, they are 3500 years old from Minoan times and are thought to be residences of wealthy people at that time. It's amazing to think this civilization predates the Roman Empire by a long way. The reason for the disintegration of the Minoan culture is not known definitively.

That is a bathtub fed by an aqueduct from a circular water tank at the rear

Care was needed not to trip or turn an ankle

We left and followed the signs to the Tylissos Snail Farm where a young lady Vassiliki (?) gave us an educational tour. The snails were not long out of the hibernation of summer and were now breeding. The snail house needed shade and the right humidity and conditions suitable for their particular location so there was a lot of trial and error- what was right in one location wouldn't necessarily be right in another. The snails were taken before marketing to a special house where they are fed a special diet (white flour I think) for three days to clean them out.Most of their snails went to market on the mainland.

We then picked up the highway and drove east, turning off taking a road into the mountains to the Lasithi Plateau. We stopped at a lovely village called Mohos for coffee

 Then on to Tzermando where we had lunch. It was very steep and mountainous on the way up to the plateau but the road was all sealed and good.

 On the trip back down from the plateau the views were again spectacular and we passed through several villages one which had an amazing cafe adorned with ripe tomatoes. It was a real work of art.

More rugged scenery enthralled us on the way down to Agios Nikolae which is a large town on the east side of Crete

A Week on Crete (4)

After 2 days with a lot of driving we decided to stay close to home this day, and do the Liguria beach thing. Emmanuel had told us that Liguria beach was about 20 minutes away and very beautiful so that was our plan. Winding road down from the National highway took us to the little town. We parked our Focus and walked along the pavement past the restaurants and appartments on the shoreline with the beach and the Mediterranean Sea to the north.We found a nice restaurant, Micheals, where we had a delightful lunch. It was a family affair, Michael senior and his son waiting on us in turn with exquisite manners while I think Mrs was doing the cooking. Lib had the fish and I had the lamb kebab.The beer was good and the mood relaxed. A few tourists were there, Germans i think, including a beautiful mother and daughter it seemed.

After lunch we sat on the beach in the shade of an umbrella and took a swim. It was hot and muggy and even for a pretty much non swimmer like myself the water was alluring. The Germans were stretched out in the sun. I walked into the water a little surprised at how slippery the rock base was that I had to cross in the shallows. Not only that but there was considerable debris in the water that caught on my feet, like plastic bags and litter. It distracted from the exercise although the water was most refreshing. I had suffered a severe head cold and nasal congestion for two weeks and believe me it was good to get in the salt water and blow it all out.

With all the litter in the water i was reminded of something my brother in law Phil told me when he went to the Greek Islands a couple of years ago. He was on a boat and it anchored so the passengers could take swim. after diving in he was horrified to see a human turd floating by, destroying the illusion of the pristine blue water. I think the turd came from the boat toilet if I recall the story correctly. This reminded me of what our guide at had said at Kusadasi on our tour to Ephesus. As we drove past a beach not far from the port he said it was a popular swimming spot for tourists who didn't realise that raw sewerage was discharged into the bay. not until at least a floating surprise went past their eyes, or worse. Such is life. We are quite spoilt in Australia with our magnificent coastline and clean beaches and coastline by comparison to Europe.

We returned to our villa via the supermarket in Gazi and bought wine and supplies. The Greek wine we found to be excellent, and inexpensive at about $5-6 Aus a bottle, no kidding, really excellent.

The Missing Boot

A huge week it was. I lost my glasses last Tuesday, a distressing thing.

I was doing a whipper snipping job. I put on my safety glasses and put my seeing glasses in my left chest pocket. It crossed my mind if that was the best thing, perhaps I should put them in the bucket with the tools where the safety glasses live, but I thought no they'll be safe in the pocket and can't get scratched.

Two hours later i took off the safety glasses and reached into my pocket only to find my seeing glasses were absent.... lost somewhere along the way. I quickly looked for them but no luck and left thinking well that was an expensive morning.

I rang the optometrist and ordered a new pair with inexpensive frames and moved on mentally.

It was a hell of a week. Culminating yesterday, when I was picking beech by climbing a tree at the farm, thankful for cool conditions. Out of no where a rain squall came while I was still up the tree and soaked me. I came down and went up again later and the rain came again. I was wet through, and cold with it. we persevered and bunched all the beech but i was cold and suffering. I went shopping later and was wet for hours till I got home and hit the hot bath.

That same morning, when I went out to put on my boots, one of them was missing. Where did it go? I don't know. A dog or fox must have taken it. Sadly, these were the best boots I had ever owned and I had had them for a couple of years. They were made by Oliver's of Ballarat and I was quite attached to them.

Today i had a day of rest. the ground dried out and I did some weed spraying here and there around my haunts. Then I went to the place where i lost my glasses and spent a half hour looking for them. Much to my great joy I found them after walking up and down in a grid search.

The boot remains missing.

I Went to Church Today Oh Boy

Yes I did. I was invited to attend to say a few words on the occasion of Jean Hayne's farewell. I was happy to do so. Jean has been editor of Signpost magazine for 15 years and has built it from a four page newsletter to a 32 page magazine produced in colour and highly regarded in the district. It has been an honour and privilege for me to contribute for these last 6 years of course made possible by the wonderful Jean whom I love very much.

There was a big crowd in when I arrived on the the dot of 10am. I was ushered to a seat in the front row by the lady who had invited me, she was waiting at the main entrance for me, to sit with two other presenters and the minister. I was hung over. We had a party at our house the previous evening to celebrate Gord's 30th birthday, his idea, which of course Lib and I supported and endorsed and did our best to facilitate. It was a late night but the people Gord invited were very special people, loving and gentle and moderate and I don't think anyone over indulged  alcohol except perhaps myself and Lib over a long night during which we did our best to be good hosts. I had no breakfast. My stomach churned and growled, I had taken my morning medication of some sulphur drug the rheumatologist put me on last Wednesday.

The venue was St Mark's Anglican in Emerald, a progressive church which is hugely popular and does great work for youth. My sister Meredith and her husband Roger are parishioners as is my niece Annie and her children. A band started proceedings with a Christmas song, then 2 or 3 three more songs. We had to stand and sing along. I stood but did not sing. There's no way I'm going to sing like a trained parrot reading the the words on a big screen. I grew up with a religious greater family. My grandparents forced me as a child to sing Jesus songs at Christmas, my secondary schooling included the forced singing of hymns, on a regular basis. I hated it. It put me off church and organised religion for life and consequently attending church was not on for me once I attained freedom of choice as an adult. Not that I have anything against it for them that wants to behave so but it is not for me.

If I thought about it more, I probably wouldn't have stood up either. We were up and down like a lavvy lid. Stand up to sing, sit down, stand up to pray, sit down, there's a subserviance in it all. Now do as I say. But look I don't want to offend anyone, it's better that I just stay away. The minister's sermon was all about being a servant of the Lord. This is fine, I have asked God to use me to good purpose at important times in my life, but this is a personal thing for me, I don't desire to exhibit my servitude to others or at the demand of other people.

The reverend said prayers following the songs then a 'rapper' girl came up and we had another singalong to rap music. She wore a very tight skirt and had a cap on sideways, and told us all to come to morning tea afterwards and perhaps buy a goat for someone impoverished overseas. This I did do, but I did not join in the rap singing.

The two speakers before me were excellent. Strangely I was not nervous, I had prepared a short script for a 3 minute talk a couple of weeks earlier and I read it but knew it well enough to pause here and there and look around the audience and speak directly to Jean when I needed to, particularly at the end. As far as I could tell it went over alright.

Just the same I was relieved greatly that it was over. It is not the sort of thing I would choose to do on a Sunday morning but I was happy to do it for Jean. I went home and took a pillow and an air mattress out onto the deck and slept for a couple of hours after putting some horse bets on. I woke and started cleaning up after the party. Gord and his sleep over mate and Lib were in slumber mode. I went up and did some whippering at Hanna's and came back and did the vegies for our roast lamb, then had a bath. We watched West Side Story, a great musical made in 1961 still relevant today for its anti racism message. It has some beautiful timeless songs.

Now for a big week ahead.