Billy Jack

This time last week Lib and I were in our campervan at Cervantes for our last night on the road before returning to Perth for the weekend. The camp kitchen at the RAC caravan park had to be seen to be believed so new and flash were all the facilities there.

There was a mountain of paperwork and emails to attend to on our return but I will try to copy and paste an email from Rickyralph and my reply as I feel it will provide a valid update in precis of the last few weeks and some of my current thoughts. I know RR will not mind me sharing to a wider readership.

RM

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Yesterday, 7:01 PM

You

G'day Mate,

                          Looking forward to hearing you regale stories of your holiday west. I've been trying to get a dvd of the 1971 classic " Billy Jack " but to no avail. Would love to see it after all these years. Did you know that Tom Laughlin was actually married to the freedom school teacher Delores Taylor in the movie. I didn't know that. Tom Laughlin died in 2013, aged 82 years. He was married to Delores for 60 years. Back in the 60's/70's he opened his own freedom school which was a big hit and still going. He was an activist and did a lot of good work helping people all his life. He ran for president in 2000,2004 and 2008. At the time hollywood didn't like his take on the movie and wanted to change some things so he bit the bullit and went alone changing nothing. The rest is history.

                                                                                       RR

C

Carey

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Today, 11:42 PM

RE BILLY JACK 

I recall that I much liked that movie and the theme song 'One Tin Soldier'. Thinking about it brings memories back. We were at the drive-in I think Toorak, to watch it for the second time. Before it started we were buying food and bumped into Mike Pfifer's parents. I remember saying to Mr Pfifer that it was a great movie. Several times over the years I have wondered if they enjoyed it, and also why they were at the drive-in to watch it. I think Mrs Pfifer had a drinking problem and maybe that was Mr P's way of getting her out of the routine. Funny the things you think of. Of course that was the last time I saw them and they are probably both dead now. More than a decade later and when I was planning to go to to a Camberwell reunion thing I tracked Mike Pfifer's number from the contact list and rang, only to find from his wife that Mike had recently died from cancer. I would have told you this before. At the time I rang, Mike's father was there visiting his grandkids and she put him on. I didn't really know what to say and felt a bit of a goose. I think he told me his wife had died and he lived on the Gold Coast. Life has its sad side.

I often suffer with some "blues" when these thoughts come back to me about things from the past. There are many things I'm not happy about concerning the past, things I regret and would like to have my time again to correct my actions or do so much better. And things I would have liked to have said to people before they passed. I manage to quickly get back on top of it, a good technique I use is to run the jingle of the "The Beverley Hillbillies" through...."Now listen to my story of a man named Jed...etc etc". It seems to blow away my blues  and make me realize that as young people we were/are thrust into a world and situations that left/leave us swimming to stay afloat and not go under.

And that we did Pilgrim, and there's no point recriminating over the past. We have learned, survived and have acquired more savvy. Not perfect by any means, but less mistakes now and more regard for other people and the plight and feelings of others. And importantly, we are much less vulnerable to bullshit.

Yes our trip was fantastic, loved every minute of it. It has been a hard week, returning Monday evening, two big work days Tues Wed then a lot of running around today tidying up many loose ends. A big day picking stuff tomorrow to finish off the week's orders as I did none today.

On our trip, after a night at a B+B (Ascot on Swan) in Perth quite close to the airport, and picking up our camper the next morning, we did two and a half days driving to get to Coral Bay just south of Exmouth. We stayed there three nights as we felt it was so beautiful and to go further north would be further to come back. From there we went back south for two nights at Denham, which we loved also, then south to Kalbarri for two nights before going to Cervantes for our last night with the van. Cervantes is only two hours or so from Perth and we did this as we were to get the camper back before 3pm. We did so and by 2pm were in a cab to take us to our appartment in West Perth which was excellent for two nights as we enjoyed Perth for the weekend and rested up. We bussed out to our same B+B near the airport for Sunday night, by this time feeling that Terry and Evelyn the proprietors were old friends as they made us so comfortable and drove us to restaurants and picked us up at the airport on arrival and took us out there to depart.

It was a great trip.

All My Trials Lord

I worked well all week. Always so much to do. It was good, I knocked over a lot of things.

Come Thursday night Gord said " Hey Dad, we could have pizza tonight. I don't have to go to the footy club, there's a bye this week, so I don't have to get home by six."

So I rang Lib when I finished work and was about to go home. "Hey mate, if you would rather not do the steak sandwiches tonight and have pizza instead, we can do that as it would suit Gord. We can do the steak sandwiches tomorrow."

"OK" she said. "I don't mind."

"Gord wants to go to Pakenham, got his mind set on a 'Bubba's pizza."

" I like 'Dominoes', they're cheap but good, get a thin and crispy base."

Now there's a perfectly good pizza shop in Emerald which I like very much but I bowed to the want of others. So in the dark we drove to Pakenham, the back way via Split Rock Rd and Toomuc Valley Rd. I ordered the pizza at Dominoes then dropped Gord off at Bubbas, went to get fuel, picked up the Dominoes pizza then went back to Bubbas. It was by now nearing 6.30pm.

The Dominoes pizza was very light in the hand when I picked it up so I was doubtful it was enough for me and Lib, so i said to Gord, "Just wait a minute while I get a few steamed dimmies from the noodle shop, I'm starving hungry and this pizza feels like it's not enough." I thought I'd go mad smelling the pizza all the way home while hungry.

The dimmies were good as I drove home. I came up behind the Pak to Gembrook bus and followed it slowly all the way up the hill and round all the corners, patiently now as I had had something to eat. The bus stopped in the middle of the road at the Bessie Creek Rd corner to let someone off even though it was not a bus stop. I didn't try to go around. I couldn't see if there might be car coming the other way. The cars behind me all did the same, patiently waiting, probably thinking the same as me. "We'll be home soon, just take it easy."

All the way I followed the bus. Just when we got near Gembrook's main street, as the bus was about to turn left, a ute came hairing around the corner towards us, accelerating. There was the dreaded smack on the windscreen as a stone hit the glass.

"Fuck."

I have windscreen cover on my insurance policy, but they only allow you one claim a year and I made one in January. An expensive pizza, about $800.

I try. I really try. But bad luck is just bad luck. Any change to the sequence of events that would have prevented delay would have meant that I would not have been there when the dickhead in the ute did his speed thing.

It's OK. I'm live and well. Worse things happen and people die all the time from bad luck, wrong place wrong time. What's a busted windscreen in comparison?

Happy New Year

We are a week and a half past the winter solstice and have endured ten days of miserable cold weather with dull days of wet air, mist fog and drizzle and near freezing night temperatures. Last night when I got home at about 6pm I checked the thermometer when I fed Pip, it was 6C. When I fed her this morning it said 0 degrees C.

The floor of the house has been so cold that slippers are essential. Even the open fire has struggled to lift our spirits and the wood is damp and cold despite being under cover for weeks.

But this morning the sun is shining brilliantly, I'm waiting for the machine to finish its cycle so I can put the washing on the line and not just dry, but absorb the sunshine. Pip's bedding is already sucking it in on the deck and Pip is stretched out on the carpet by the window.

I told Lib this morning as she went to work to be extra careful and drive very slowly on downhills and corners, there could be ice on the road. Gord has gone to the local footy, Emerald versus Gembrook, always of great local importance. He's team manager of the reserves and it worries him doing all the form filling and organizing but it keeps him involved and gives him a social life that he possibly wouldn't have otherwise.

Last Sunday he took me to a function at the footy club, the guest speaker was former player manager Ricky Nixon. Boy o boy did he have a story to tell. I have to say I admire his courage to stand up and talk about the depths to which he sank and the huge social disgrace and losses he suffered financially, personally, and to his health. He started his talk asking the crowd if any one in the audience had never mucked up or done the wrong thing, please put your hand up. Nobody did. This was after an earlier segment of 20 minutes of stand up comedy which I thought he did very well.
He explained later that the comedy, and the talk about his story, was a big part in his recovery, to face challenge head on after admitting his failures and not trying to lay blame elsewhere. I found listening to this quite inspiring, and helpful to me, as I find at my age now, 65, things flash back to me about my life and events, and my actions at various times, many of which are not good on reflection. We all have skeletons in our cupboards. It's a bit like religion..we have all sinned but can be forgiven and saved. That's an age old message. In Ricky's case, it's don't keep beating yourself up. admit you have been a fool and a dog, and move on and do good and help others. I wish him all the very best into the future. The key word is redemption. There are times in life when we all need to redeem ourselves.

The good news of the day apart from the magnificent sunshine is that our electricity bill came by email yesterday and I was astounded that I was in credit $99 despite the heavy usage we've had with heaters in bedrooms and bathroom and lights on for so long. I was expecting a bill of $700-800. The reason for my surprise was $570 credit paid at the end of the financial year for the long blackouts we suffered during the storms, which when added to our small solar system input and usage discounts put us in credit.

Happy New Year to anyone who reads, especially my friends. May 2017/18 have you in good health and prosperity. We are putting our prices up for our produce, some have been the same for more than five years. If they don't buy that's Ok, there's plenty other areas to put our energy. Yes, things are looking good.

Even the town of Gembrook is having respite. That is until Thomas the Tank and the crowds and traffic comes back, and the tents and rows of portaloos go up. How did that Joni Mitchell song go, something like "Save Paradise, put up a parking lot."  

More on Shit

I did talk to Elvie and Meredith about the sewage coming to our house in Mt Waverley and the toilet in Nanna and Poppa Williams house in Hartwell (that I could not remember). Elvie said the toilet there was inside and had the customary chain flush from a cistern on the wall above. She also said as far as she could remember the house at her home was connected to sewage all her life. She was born in 1928. She did say that her mother told her that her house in Donald St was the first in the area. I can't imagine that this house would have been connected to sewage at first but only old nanna could tell us and she died in 1996 aged 99. Old nanna was apparently so very lonely there at first during the day not having any neighbours, as their house was the first in the area. As time went by and other houses were being built around her she said it was a great comfort hearing the tradesmen and particularly their whistling as they worked. This area was known as East Malvern, then later as South Ashburton. Newer parts of Ashburton east of Warragul Rd were not built till the 1950/60's.

My recollection of the toilets at Mt Waverley Primary school were vague, except that they were rudimentary so I asked Meredith if she remembered. She did, saying they were disgusting, a handful of cubicles for the girls which were covered with roofing, but outside the cubicles there was no roof, a concrete floor and no hand basin, just a single tap in the corner which ran onto the floor into an open drain on the concrete covered with moss and slime. She said it was rarely cleaned, if ever. There was no piped sewage and the pans removed from the back by the dunnyman. There were many times turds on the floor because cubicles were full and it was a a totally freak out disgusting situation which was not changed until new toilets were built in her last year there which would I think have been in 1965.

My last year at that school was 1963 so I would have had the old toilets for my entire time there. This was baby boomer time and that school had more than 1000 pupils in the 1960's.  Meredith's recollection sparked some memory of mine which concurred with hers. It was frowned upon to ask to go to the toilet during class time and only if you were desperate for a crap were you allowed to put your hand up in class and ask permission to go to the toilet. Once when I did when I got there a kid from an older grade was balling his eyes out as he was trying to clean himself up after not making it and shitting in his pants outside the cubicles. The shit was on the floor and I had to step around it and him. He was a grade older than me and I always felt a little intimidated by him but I was moved by the abject misery of his situation. I guess we have all shat our pants at an inopportune time at least once in our lives. Good thing is we can put it in the past and move on.

Great Works

Great Works

I have been thinking about my septic tank cleaning of the other day and my wonderment at the huge task it is to deal with the effluent from a large city. My knowledge of the city’s sewage system is limited but it starts with a toilet or toilets in every house where people sit and open their bowels to dump their waste. (This in itself amazes me because it can be said that humans have a hole at the top into which we place our food and nourishment to provide sustenance and energy, and a hole at the other end of the alimentary canal where the waste is expelled. Attached to this of course is a set of arms and legs and a brain and lungs and various other organs and senses that enable us to function. Much of what we do in our daily lives is directly connected to the need to provide food to put into the hole a the top.)

The flushing of millions of toilets goes on every day and the effluent is piped from the household into a sewage system that runs down the street and joins with other pipes from other streets. I remember when I was a boy the sewage system came to our street in Mt. Waverley, prior to that we had an old timber dunny detached from the house with a wooden structure to sit on including a toilet seat, with a pan underneath to hold the weekly dumpings. A man with a truck filled with little compartments to hold the pans brought an empty one on his shoulder into the backyard. He’d go to the back of the dunny, open the trapdoor and drag out the full pan, put the empty one in then hoist the full one onto his shoulder. The dog used to bark and snarl at him but he was totally oblivious, ignoring it, as he walked unhurriedly back out to his truck. I guess he drove all the full cans to a tipping point where he tipped out the contents then hosed clean the pans, although I never thought to enquire what happened or where it went.

The sewage coming was a joyful thing, our house had been built with an inside toliet room about ten years prior, in expectation that a sewage system would follow. For about the first ten years of my life this little room was used for storage of things like gumboots and raincoats. I remember as a small boy I woke in the middle of the night busting for a pee and it was either raining heavily or I was too scared to go out to the outside dunny and in desperation I pissed in a gumboot, then promptly forgot about it the next day and not rinsing out the boot and drying it out. You can imagine the stench some time later when dad went to put on his boot. I did own up to this misdemeanor and was surprised that there was not serious punishment but rather much laughter, which recurred as the story was told over many years.

There was a big trench dug along the back boundary of our block and indeed the whole length of the street. From memory there was a digging machine of some sort but I think there was also a lot of hand digging as well because of difficult access. I recall there being a lot of mud and mess and it was great when it was all over and we had an inside functioning toilet. No one enjoyed going out to outside dunny on cold wet nights with a torch thinking about the red back spiders that hid in the woodwork beneath your bum. Little sister Meredith was always too frightened to go out by herself at night and many was the time I had to go out with her and wait till she was done.

During this pre sewage time at Mt. Waverley I recall now that when we went to my grandmother’s house in Ashburton there was a flushing toilet (outside) with a cast iron cistern suspended on the wall with a chain coming down to pull to release the water.  I think my other grandparents at Hartwell had a flushing toilet inside the house but I can’t remember any details so I must ask mum and Jod and Meredith if they remember. The grandparents’ houses would have been built in the 1920’s in Nanna Wilson’s case in Ashburton, and thereabouts for dad’s parents in Hartwell. As these suburbs were established the sewage was connected up earlier being closer to the city, and Melbourne’s sewage system I believe began in the 1880’s with a series of beautiful brick tunnels/pipes built in a labyrinth under the city in what was an engineering masterpiece for its time. This I learned from a visit to Spotswood pumping station when we had young kids at school. I think there was a gravity feed mostly to this site then with a huge steam engine driven pump the effluent was sent out to Werribee. I think this pumping station still operates but now with deisel or electric pumps. The guide telling us this at Spotswood said the most amazing things are found in the effluent as it is screened before pumping, including things like fingers and toes and bits of bodies and human foetuses.

Apparently prior to this sewage system Melbourne had reached crisis point. Human waste was dumped after manual collection on any vacant land and then main dumping stations which were filled to overflowing and serious disease resulted not to mention the stench. All of this I’m sure could be factually documented but this is not the purpose of my narrative here.

My sixty buckets of shit was a trigger that brought all these things to mind. This is what is happening to me at age 65. I reflect on things that have happened, or are happenning, and memories come back out of nowhere, some vague, some explicit, some pleasuring, some horrible and distressing. We carry around a bucket of shit with us from our past. It’s better dumped, maybe that’s what this about, I don’t know. I just know I’m going too write it all down.

Day Out With Thomas

Speaking of a bucket of shit, tonight I’ll be attending a meeting of the Puffing Billy Working Group which is a sub group of the newly formed Gembrook Community Group. The notice of this meeting came in an email –

 “There is a meeting at **** ****’s home on Tuesday 13th June at 7pm for the PBR Working Group to discuss the results of the Stakeholders working group meeting and to nominate representatives to be on the stakeholders working group and formulate a list of the concerns and issues to be resolved by the stakeholders working group including possible solutions for these concerns and issues  I encourage all members to attend this very important meeting.”

**** ****** Convener PBR Working Group “

There was a stakeholder’s meeting last week at the PB railway station which I did not attend and which was a follow up to a stakeholder’s meeting in May which I did attend. At the May meeting I was disappointed with the outcome as no concession came from PB Railway that there was to be any less, or any restraint of plans for, PB events in Gembrook for the 2017/2018 spring summer autumn season. The PB CEO said he could not give any assurance and he would take it to the Railway Board at their next meeting and was happy to meet with us again after that to tell us their decision. I told my fellow Working Group members that I did not think they would reduce the number of events or put plans on hold as they were requested. I said I would not attend any more meetings with PB staff as they were full of bullshit and made me want to spew up when I had to listen to it.

There were 20 events for the 2016/2017 season which in my view, shared by many, that this was an over the top intrusion to our town in terms of crowds and congestion of traffic, noise and dust. It was part of the PB Master Plan to make Gembrook the ‘Event Hub’ for Puffing Billy in order to increase patronage at the Gembrook the end of the line and make it pay and not lose money as it had been. So all the Thomas events were shifted from Emerald. That’s it in a nutshell. Many residents, of which I’m one, had objection to this and we have now become referred to as stakeholders.

On advice from politicians and Cardinia council whom I had written to in protest, I joined the new Gembrook Community Group which was formed largely as a result of this intrusion to our town with no consultation. The GCG established a sub group called the PB Working Group which I signed onto. I see in the notice of tonight’s meeting that there is to be a stakeholder’s working group formed. I’m doubtful at this point that I’ll participate any further beyond attending tonight to hear the result of last week’s Stakeholder’s meeting. A friend who did attend told me the PB CEO said there was to be no change to the number of events, but I want to hear what other strategies other people may have in mind, if any, before I make the judgement to dump this bucket of shit and move on.  

There have been umpteen meetings since the first information night held by PB on the 28 Sep last year when I first voiced my strong opposition. Here we are in June just a few months away from the new season’s events and PB have conceded nothing despite all our exhotations with council, politicians and State Tourism. They all say they support PB and cannot do anything about the events held in Gembrook.

Yes, time to dump this shit and move on. Thomas the Tank Engine is a nonsense built on the back of a commercial British TV show and a huge offshore toy company which takes a big whack of the revenue. Perverse social engineering. It indoctrinates kids with herd like mentality needing to be entertained by events and hoopla rather than educating them with things that matter, such as the natural environment and connection with mother earth. Kids don’t need much to be happy and they thrive with nature and activity. A bit of open space and bush or a bat and ball or a footy gave me a very happy childhood.     

Sixty Buckets of Shit

Today 10 Jun

I lifted the lid of the septic tank cautiously using a spade at first to prize it loose. When I could get my fingers underneath it I braced myself over it with knees and shoulders square and lifted the concrete plate which was about 2 foot by 18 inches and perhaps 3 inches thick.

Immediately visible on top of the mass in the tank was solid shit packed like a cake. I started shovelling it out into two twenty litre buckets. There was not much smell at this point, the packed old shit was crusted and thick, needing slicing with the spade to lift chunks into the buckets. It was a dry day but cold, perfect conditions for the task. In warm weather I thought, the stench would be unbelievable, like it was the last time I did this about 13 years ago, when the system was obviously blocked and toilets and laundry sink were not clearing properly and urgent action was necessary. On that occasion the septic tank man couldn’t come for four days so I took to investigating myself rather than have inoperable toilets and washing machine till he did. I found the blockage in the entry to the tank and amid the swarms of flies I cleared the solids from the tank and tipped them into a big hole I had dug in the garden.  I cancelled the septic man having solved the problem myself.

This time I was onto it before there was a serious problem. When Lib was in the shower before going to work early one morning recently I was outside doing something, probably taking a piss, and I heard the water going down the pipe from the vent outside the laundry. Instead of the customary constant tinkle of running water there was an odd sound like “whoop, whoop, whoop,” as if there was a build up of water that forced its way through at intervals of a few seconds. Hello I thought, after all these years there could be an obstruction looming as the septic tank clogged with solids.

My assessment was spot on. For more than a decade I’ve put a bacterial cleaning agent into the septic tank weekly via the toilet and this has done well, thirteen years between tank cleaning is a good result. But it shows that manual cleaning is inevitable, whether that be by commercial pumping out which is recommended every five years, or by spade and bucket which has been my choice this last two times. I had a large hole dug out under the trees into which I had poured the grease from the grease trap a couple of months ago when I cleaned it. The grease and liqid had disappeared into mother earth, so the hole was used again.

I quickly filled the hole with solids from the tank. I didn’t dig another hole, I thought I’d just keep piling the shit up and cover it with dirt and debris when I finished, or else I’d never finish before the light ran out given that we are nearly at the shortest day of the year. I stopped counting at sixty buckets but there were not many more. I got the concrete lid of the tank back in place with great difficulty and covered the now big mound of shit with dirt leaves and old cardboard packaging. I took of my clothes and soaked them in the launry trough with disinfectant and took myself to a long hot bath where I scrubbed up far more assiduously than usual.

That is the shit from three or four people over 13 years. Imagine the volume for the population of a city like Melbourne. My hat is doffed to the authority responsible for dealing with it, not just Melbourne but in all cities worldwide, it’s a huge task without which society would break down with disease and filth and stench. 

A Wild Night

I just checked the rain gauge, nearly 50 mls fell overnight, mostly in bursts of five or ten minutes now and again through the night. This followed an earth tremor which spooked Pip into intense shivering. She had been behaving strangely for some time prior so she must have known something was going on. I had to nurse her for a couple of hours afterwards as she wouldn't leave my lap.

Another "terrorist" incident yesterday, a lone wolf nutter in Brighton, a minor incident compared to what has happened recently in Britain and Europe. Every time it happens the political leaders come out and say "we remain united and defiant and will not cowered by these terrorists who are trying to destroy our way of life and culture," something like that, Malcolm Turnbull the latest this morning.

I think maybe it's time to look closely at our foreign policy. We have military presence in Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria and have had for long time at great financial and political cost not to mention the loss of innocent civilian lives. This terrorism is response to that in my opinion. The US spends $3 billion per month to hold up in Afghaistan (I saw this on Lateline last week, and are about to increase their numbers so have asked Australia for more, so that Af'n does not be a feeding/ breeding ground for terrorists). I don't think it is achieving, in fact is counter productive.

Perhaps we are seeing the collapse of capitalism. Communism ran its race. Rule by corporation and big business has perhaps now ran its race.

Interesting times.  

Are You Going to Scarborough Fair

Parsley sage rosemary and thyme,
Remember me to one who lives there,
she once was a true love of mine.

Fabulous Friday

As I stepped outside at 7am to scrape the porridge pot into dog's dish this morning I was greeted by a rose pink palate in the eastern sky behind the sparse crown foliage of the messmate and peppermint trees. Magnificent. I heard the garbage truck entering the street so I went inside and got the skin I had peeled from the chicken breast that I'd cut up and put in the oven to dry out as dog treats. The chicken is easier to cut into small pieces without the skin, and the gluey mass of skin is hardly fit for little dog. I put boots on and walked up to the bin that Gordon had taken up to the street last night. The truck does our side of the street on the way back and we are the last so there's a few minutes grace to get to the bin before the truck picks it up. On the way back I inspected the tiny eucy seedlings growing from seed I collected from a special tree on a trip a while back. I put some dry dog minis out for the birds and noticed as I took my boots off that in ten minutes the eastern sky had changed to a delicious bright yellow on the clouds against the now blue background which had been grey a short time earlier.

By this time I was inspired to my back teeth with the prospect of another day, and the promise of an evening meal and wine, the wine from which I had abstained all working week as is my normal habit. I have had a full week of activity some of which was different, including a trip to Neerim South to pick up an advanced lemon tree last Monday, for my dear friend Maria as a present.

On the way back I visited a friend, an old football team mate Leigh Candy in Warragul where he has retired from the Education Department. He has a lovely renovated house almost in the heart of town and has been busy making over the garden to his taste and interest in native plants. A streak of blue dye through his white closely cropped hair showed he has maintained some eccentricity. It was not related to his support of the Carlton Football Club he assured me when questioned, and said until recently it had been a pink streak, just something he had gone with in company with his partner's daughter and he actually liked it. Back in our football days Leigh turned up wearing caftan and thongs whatever the weather and smoked a pipe, the contents of which were dubious. He talked of yings and yangs and things of which I knew nought. I remember our coach 'Lace' saying to him at half time one day when he was having a quiet day, "Look Lethal, I don't give stuff about yings and yangs, just get the footy." Get the footy he could when his yings and yangs were right. He kicked five goals in our preliminary final resurgence from a mile behind, four in the last quarter, and followed this up with five in the Grand Final in what he said he knew was his last game. And a premiership and Best and Fairest award in his last season.

That Monday night I had a meeting with the Puffing Billy working group to prepare for the stakeholders meeting with PB and council bigshots and politicians the next day. The pollies in the end were apologies. There was no real progress to come from this meeting, only assurance from PB that they would work with Gembrook Community Group to address the problems to the mutual benefit of all parties. The CEO said he could not agree to putting the Thomas Tank Days planned for spring summer autumn 2017/2018 on hold, as we requested, he would need to take this to the board. Their decision would be known by us at the next meeting scheduled early June. Meetings meetings meetings, no change to plans yet. I do not believe they have any intention of altering their plans. Farce.

On Wednesday Gord and I planted Maria's tree in the position in her garden that she chose when we mowed her grass on Tuesday. It looked lovely. The Trini Lopez hit song 'Lemon Tree' (very pretty) from the 1960's  was in my mind. Maria wasn't home when we planted it but she rang and was so happy. I was so happy too. If I had done nothing else for the week, after enduring the torture of these PB meeting and all their bullshit, the pleasure I gained from seeing that tree in the ground safe and sound and hopefully to thrive in the future is huge. It got a bit knocked around on the trip back from Neerim as I had to lay it down in the trailer and the bouncing caused a lot of soil to fall from the 40cm pot, and the trunk to move up and down weakening the roothold. But I think it will be alright, it is well staked and it's a good time of year to plant.

I stopped at Bunyip on the way back from Warragul and bought a battery powered Husqvarna chainsaw which I can't wait to test drive, and get on with my pruning and removal program planned at the farm over the next couple of months.

A pleasant day today with rain coming, I worked well yesterday to get most of the picking done to make today light. A good football game it should be tonight between Geelong and Bulldogs, by the fire with a bottle red. Fabulous Friday.

So It Goes

Life is busy and dynamic on a daily basis. There's much to see, do and respond to, and so little time to analyze and make sense of it. There are four things I want to write about since my previous post.

1.  Finally, week before last, I made it to the skin cancer clinic for a full body check up. This started in February before our NZ holiday. You know how it is, before a holiday you rush to get things done. There was a growth on my forehead just in the hairline in an area of discolouration or darkening, it had been there for some months. I went to the doctor for appraisal. My bloke was on leave somewhere (working in a remote indigenous community where doctors are needed but scarce) so I saw someone else at the clinic in Berwick. This guy said it looked suspicious but it would need a longer consultation and a nurse booked also so a piece could be taken and sent for biopsy, so comeback after my holiday and book a long consultation and a nurse. I did this and booked a long session with my doc after our holiday. The clinic rang a day before my appt and said my doc, whom I must say I like and have confidence in, said he didn't want to go cutting at something he hadn't seen. I said that's fine, the thing had shrunk and I had been considering cancelling the whole thing, but look hey seeing as I'm booked just change it to a short consult and I'll parley with my man about it. He looked at it and said he didn't think there was anything to worry about but there was just one small area that was suspicious and he referred me to a skin cancer clinic where he said they have a much better camera and it would be a good idea at my age to have a check anyway due to my outside lifestyle, my age, and because I take methotrexate which gives you a greater chance of contracting melanoma. To end the story I got the all clear. The skin doc I saw, a dark skinned fellow who said he came from India, a big strong guy, told me the growth was a wart, that is why it came and went and he froze it off. In answer to my question he said he had trained in India and Australia. I said India scared me simply by virtue of its huge population of a billion people. He said yes there's  a lot of poverty but 20% of the people are very wealthy, which means 200 million very wealthy people. Mind boggling. He said I should get a check up every year or two because of the methotrexate.

2. This last week was tough. I had a museum meeting Tuesday which I chaired as the pres was away and a Puffing Billy Working Group meeting on Wednesday night. This PB business is taxing, it destroys my peace and calm and saps my mental energy. The longer it drags the more my dislike for it grows. Thursday I had to take Elvie to the eye doctor in the morning, 10.30am in Berwick. The receptionist said there was quite a queue and I could expect a time of one and and half hours to two hours so I went shopping for some nice bread at Coles, the sourdough light rye is great and I bought 5 loaves for the freezer. Then I took Pip for a walk and visited the receptionist at my dentist in the same street, a lady of Sri Lankan or Indian origin who delights me when I go to to the dentist. As I entered the street outside the little court I saw a young lady pushing a pram and she stopped and said her baby loved dogs. I picked Pip up so baby could see her close and asked the lady what was the baby's name, by this time baby was smiling and showing happiness. She said 'Santiago'. That's interesting I said, "Why Santiago?"

"Because my husband comes from there."

I told her I had been to Santiago, and that I found it to be a beautiful place but very crowded, and that there were stray dogs everywhere in the city in large numbers. Our conversation was invigourating. She told me her husband's name was Rene and his family migrated in 1988 and moved to Endeavour Hills. Her name was Flavia and she came with her family from Madras India also in 1988 when she was one year old, and she also grew up in Endeavour Hills. Her husband works for a bank looking after investment clients. You have to admire people who uprooted their lives and migrated, to Australia or anywhere. Such a huge thing to do in life. Flavia was a lovely lady whom it was my great pleasure to meet. I told her I write a blog and how to look it up, and that I would post about our meeting, when I get a chance. I hope she does. Hi Flavia. I wish you happiness and a great life for Santiago.

3. Last week nearly knocked me out. Besides the above, I was busy workwise with many orders for foliage and flowers made more difficult by other demands. Thursday I was flat out catching up and exhausted. But a great saving grace was a visit by my sister in law Margaret on Wednesday for lunch with her daughter Liz and Liz's 7 month old baby Patrick whom I had not met previously. My thoughts beforehand were on the PB meeting and all the angst I feel. But meeting Patrick transformed my mood. This wonderful little fellow smiled and squealed and grinned and seeing Lizzie, whom I have known all her life, as a mother now, and Margaret as a grandmother, lifted me out of my pit. It was beautiful. New life is wonderfully uplifting.

4. Lastly, I'm reading a fantastic book, titled 'Unbroken' by Laura Hillenbrand. It's the life story of Louis Zamperini, an American middle distance runner whose 1940 Olympic aspirations were shattered by WW11. He joined the airforce and was a bombadier in the South Pacific. A plane he was in searching for other lost airmen went down and he spent 46 days days drifting on a raft and nearly dying of thirst, starvation and exposure with two others, one of whom did die before they were picked up by the Japanese which began a long period of almost unbelievable hardship and suffering. There is so much in this story that is enlightening to me of the immensely dangerous existence of these brave young airmen. The attrition rate was high. Libby got this book from somewhere after seeing the movie, she told me I should read it. I had no interest, I saw a snippet of the movie where Louie was being beaten by the Japs and suffering extreme pain and I thought I can't handle that. Then Rickyralph came up one day and saw the book on our bookshelf and said to me it was a great read I should read it. I said no thanks I can't stand such pain. Rick said, "But it is more than that, it's a whole life story." Anyway after finishing my last book and asking Lib did she have one for me she picked up 'Unbroken' and I gave it a go. It is riveting, enlightening, and most of all inspiring.

It is almost unfathomable, the madness of war, and sadly, that it is a good theatre for psychopaths, like the Japanese corporal 'The Bird", Louis Zamperini's tormentor. Just reading about World Wars 1 and 2 is harrowing and confronting. But history is history, and we need to learn from it.

And so it goes.

Quite a Month

In the month plus a couple of days since we returned from New Zealand I have endured considerable irritation firstly by 4 days of Thomas the Tank Engine events over two weekends, and four rounds of AFL football some of which I have enjoyed but has frustrated me greatly, twice by my teams inability to press home an advantage when they have worked hard to get into a winning position, and of course the umpiring, which seems to have deteriorated even further, not helped by two strange variations to the rules or interpretation to rucking contests and deliberate out of bounds, which at times seems farcical.

The Thomas Tank thing has caused me to attend three further meetings in the last month, to add to the five I attended since last September before our holiday, relating to Gembrook now being the 'Event Hub' of Puffing Billy. At all of these I have been outspoken in opposition, alas no fruit has come from my efforts, the latest situation being that the newly formed Gembrook Community Voice group is to conduct a survey as to whether residents want all these events, or what changes they would like to the program and management of traffic etc. I wait with bated breath the results of this survey in the hope there will be some data as a result that supports my opposition to this fiasco inflicted on us by the PBRailway Board and the Cardinia Shire Council, without any courtesy or consideration to residents in a disgraceful act of belligerance.

But putting all that aside, and the state of world affairs, which includes the real threat apparently of thermo nuclear war at any moment, cruise missile attacks in Syria following the use of chemical weapons and the mother of all non nuclear bombs dropped in Afghanistan, I have enjoyed some joyful moments.

Firstly, outside our bedroom window is a shallow bird bath on a metal stand under a tree fern. It was designed and made by a friend of mine some twenty years ago, Peter Van Ketchwick, affectionately known in Gembrook as Peter Potter before he moved away more than a decade ago. Peter sold pottery at the Gembrook market and worked from his home 'Sunset' where he was kind enough to let me pick cherry laurel and other foliage from his old garden which was seriously overgrown and weed infested. In return I slashed his grass with my heavycut mower now and again and did some weed removal.

One day Peter showed me one of his innovations, a bird bath stand made by three steel rods of about 5/8 inch twisted together to form a strong upright, and the ends of the rods bent out at the bottom to form a stand. The ends at the top were similarly splayed out to form a platform, with a rim welded to it, for a shallow pottery dish to sit in and serve as a bird bath, elevated from the ground by about 4 feet. I bought one as a Christmas present.for my mother in law Molly who lived in Wangaratta.

Molly loved it, and for many years she watched small birds in her front garden sustaining themselves in her bird bath, through her loungeroom window, or sitting on her front porch. When Molly died some five years ago the family tripped to Wangaratta to move all the stuff from her recently sold house and the birdbath that brought Molly so much pleasure found its way back to Gembrook.

I was taking Lib breakfast in bed a week or so ago and I noticed the thornbills, which we see often, flitting about outside the window and taking it in turns to have a plunge and splash. Others commonly seen are the grey fantail and eastern spinebill, the dish being probably too shallow for the larger birds.This day I noticed other birds, similar in size and colour to the thornbills, but with noticably red feathers about the face. There was a colony of them, maybe a dozen or more, and I can only conclude from reference to bird books, that they were red browed finches. Some years ago I was picking in the garden and a large number of them came by quite close to me and that time I concluded they were red browed finches so I'm thinking that was what these were the other day, although the red on their faces seemed to be more on their chins than their foreheads. Mind you I didn't have my glasses on.

Another joy was having my 65th birthday. It was always a target I hoped I'd reach. Not that I'm retiring, but throughout my life I always wondered if I'd make that milestone and it's nice that I have. My niece Annie had her 40th birthday the day before and her daughters Ella and Evie turned 12 and 10 shortly after.

The other thing that brings me joy every day is being surrounded by trees. I stand on our deck in the morning and look out at a vista of shades of green and autumn colour in all manner of subtle shapes. Trees are a tonic to my mind and spirit, and memories of their beauty on our recent holiday in New Zealand flood back to me in my quiet meditation, leaving me in an almost hypnotized trance of peace.

Easter Monday

The day started out well with a good sleep in. Friday, Sat and Sunday we were up at 6am as Lib worked. I was up briefly at 5am Monday. Pip came to our room and woke me as she does if she wants to go outside, and due to a muscle strain around my shoulder blade which troubled me all Sunday, I took 2 ibuprofen tablets and a cortisone with a cup of tea and a biscuit and peanut butter. You take these things with food and not on an empty stomach.

I went back to bed and slept till 9am then cooked Lib tomatoes on toast with fresh basil for breakfast. I picked a lot of tomatoes on Friday when I went out to Margeurita's to clear some room and turn ground over to plant broccoli seedlings she'd bought. The ones I cooked yesterday were cherry toms in a small frypan, done with as low heat as I could and left for some time so juice comes out and slowly thickens. They were delicious.

I was quietly busy right through Easter but at a leisurely pace. After a few hours at Margeurita's on Friday I picked some cherry laurel foliage around the town for an order of fifty bunches for Monday morning pick up. Saturday I finished the laurel picking and washed and graded all the tomatoes picked the previous day and generally tidied up round the house and rested. Sunday I picked bay foliage for an order for Tuesday (today) pick up and did an hour at Margeurita's pruning a photinia hedge before taking the laurel and the bay to the farm.

A florist who usually picks up on Fridays changed to late Monday because of Easter so Monday I set to pick her foliage as well as some variegated pitto for the bay lady. While I was doing the tomatoes for breakfast the phone rang and it was Meredith saying the herb and spice people wanted elderberry flowers which I pick in a creek bed in Emerald. It's difficult terrain getting down into the creek and I took gumboots as there's a lot of mud, but my foot sunk in the bank and I crashed to ground as I jumped the creek, missing the mud fortunately, but smashing the styrene box I was collecting the flowers in. I was carrying my pole and cutting head and a bottle of wine for the lady whose house adjoins the creek where I pick, and was unbalanced when my foot sank. I'm not trespassing but the people in the house have a vegie garden the other side of the creek and treat the creek as their own garden although it is council owned. The lady has talked to me on previous occasions, she doesn't mind me picking the flowers and I leave her a jar of honey on the path. Last time she said she had a good store of honey thanks so I suggested a bottle of red at which she was happy about although she said I needn't leave anything. The elderberry thing will be over soon till next summer but I'm more comfortable with a gesture of honey or wine than trudging through someone's space offering nothing in return. Goodwill goes a long way, possibly I'll be wanting the flowers next summer.

It was good to get home and watch Hawthorn get another flogging in the last quarter. Lib made meatballs for dinner which were great with Margeurita's sauce. She has a passion for making tomato sauce and she made me up a big batch of bottles which she gave me on Friday and will last us for many months.

My crook shoulder held up well and last night I gained relief from massaging myself with a hard spikey ball that Gord got from the physio. I have had a tight hip and discomfort for a couple of weeks as well. Rubbing the ball up and down my leg muscle and my arm and chest muscles seemed to really loosen me up, then I lay on my back and put the ball under hip first then the shoulder area, moving myself over the ball. It worked a treat, and may well save me seeking a masseur this week as was my intention.

Speaking of Gord, he went to lakes Entrance on Good Friday by himself and stayed till yesterday. He mowed the grass which hadn't been done for three months. Lib's sister Margaret who now lives in the Lakes house was away for Easter. It was very good of Gord to do that, he has a sense of responsibility to the slashing at Lakes and has his own mower down there and an old whipper snipper so we don't have to cart one up and back when we go. With our trip to New Zealand and general work and duties Lib and I have not been able to get down there and won't for a while. It was good to see Gord get back safe and sound after the Easter traffic. That's the first time he has done that by himself.

Another sleep in today, and for the first time since last week there is not the constant roar of motor bikes going up and down Launching Place Road. They all were out joyriding over Easter and it was like constant thunder. It says a lot about our society. I guess it's some form of escapism from the boredom and banality of city life, to dress up like a bikie and ride into the country and drink coffee at a village cafe instead of in the local mall or strip. It's the same just about every weekend except if the weather's wet, or very hot. Probably they head down the coast then.

Back To Christchurch

I have left it too long to post about our NZ holiday and already my memory of details is dimmed but I will have a go before moving on to recent topical things which  have been distracting enough to prevent me blogging lately. At this moment I can't lay my hands on the itinerary so I'll wing it.

We left Doonadin for two nights at Lake Tekapo, a decent drive of about 5 hours I think. We were booked into another Peppers resort which had excellent facilities including a good kitchen, and a good view of the lake. I went to find the guest laundry to wash our clothes and while there I talked to a lady from Sydney who had traveled from the Nth Island to Picton on the ferry, then drove to Kia Koura. She said the main Rd was closed due to the earthquake of last November and the detour through a big loop round mountains and with much roadworks took 7.5 hours and was a nightmare. This alarmed me as I knew we were scheduled to drive from Kia Koura to Picton in a few days time and were to spend one day in Picton before returning the next to Christchurch which would mean a 7.5 hour drive one way then returning the same route two days later. My mobile phone was not working there and for some reason the landline could not get through to our travel agent, so Lib had a conversation with Rob on We Chat and he on our behalf contacted Emerald Lake Travel to cancel the two nights in Picton and try to get two more in Kia Koura. This took 24 hours to expedite and unfortunately the Picton Motel said they would not give us refund so we did $550 cold, but saved $200 in petrol and avoided two days sitting in a car. Such is life.

Another disquiet at this point was an email (which I could access on the mobile phone) from Peppers at Christchurch saying we had used items from the minibar and they had billed the credit card $70. This riled me because we never use the mini bar.. never.. wherever we go. I disputed this with them and they said they would credit the card and it must have been a mistake, and the amount was credited. Strange business really, I can only assume a staff member knocked off some items (wine, chocolate bar and chips). When you stay in these places you have to give them your credit card details, just like when you hire a car, so they can bill you if they wish.

Our full day at Tekapo was spent driving to the alpine village of Aoraki near Mt Cook past the beautiful blue waters of Lake Pukaki and the snow covered mountains as backdrop. This certainly was jaw dropping spectacular. We picnicked lunch and walked to a viewing point of the Tasman glacier.

With the effects of global warming and other climatic processes taking their toll on New Zealand glaciers, their retreat is imminent. Now approximately 27km long and 600m deep, the Tasman Glacier is melting and calving at an exponentially increasing rate. In recent years the Tasman Glacier has changed from a 'melting' to a 'calving and melting' terminus, resulting in a terminal lake that is rapidly increasing in size. - See more at: http://www.hermitage.co.nz/en/activities/glacier-explorers#sthash.7TE3gmf3.dpuf


I lifted that from a website and somehow the black and white reversed. The lake had mini icebergs floating in it. Apparently NZ's glaciers are melting at an accelerating rate and will disappear in the not too distant future.

The other way down the glacial valley

As we left Tekapo on the morning of 11 March the weather closed in with drizzle and low cloud. If this had come a day early we would have seen nothing of the magnificent mountains and blue lake scenery we had enjoyed in the clear full sunshine of the previous day.

We arrived in Christchurch in the afternoon and took a full hour driving (and parking and walking) around the renovated city to locate our hotel which was built pre earthquake but was contemporary in design and apparently one of the safest or strongest buildings in the city. In the vicinity there were many vacant lots where damaged buildings had been removed and much construction. It was a bit scary. I spoke to a lady who said she fell down when the earth shook and had carpet burns from the ground moving so quickly underneath her. On a building site fence near our hotel there were flower wreaths, all dried out, with the names of people who must have perished there and the date of the eathquake. Presumably they were put there on the recent anniversary of the event. Christchurch is built on reclaimed swamp land, not ideal on a fault line.

Construction site opposite our hotel

We found a Japanese dumpling shop for dinner. It was a no alcohol zone but the guy gave us a couple of teacups and said we could drink the wine if no one saw us pouring it, which wasn't hard as there were few people and they were engrossed in their food.

It was then on to KiaKoura. What would have been a drive of a couple of hours was double that due to a detour caused by rain on roadworks repairing damage to the road by the earthquake that hit KiaKoura last November. We had three nights in Kiakoura and two full days to explore. We needed this rest. My right foot had flared up and become very painful because of the RA. I didn't take my weekly abatacept injection in NZ (it needs refrigeration) so I missed one, and by day 12 since the injection on the day we left, I was in a lot of pain walking with a serious limp. I had brought cortisone tablets with me as precaution and got into them and the pain eased but was with me for the remainder of the holiday and in fact right up till last week when my resumed injections and tumeric daily intake got on top of it and much to my relief I'm pain free again, a great feeling.

KiaKoura is fascinating place. The weather was cool and windy while we were there but we weren't concerned. It's a coastal town, a tourist venue for Christchurch residents and famous for its fish and chips, historically many families driving from Christchurch to enjoy on weekends. It's now well known as a whale watching base. Whaling was the early industry of the town and and also fur seals. We didn't see any whales but the seals were numerous on the point below the lookout in fact there was a number of them sleeping on the boardwalk or just off to the side each time we went there. They are known to often be on the road and apparently they have no road sense at all and you have to watch for them when driving.

Along the roadside in a couple of places there was silver beet growing in clumps, strong and healthy, which we picked for our dinner. I later learned when we visited the museum that Kiakoura is one of two locations in NZ where silver beet has naturalized and grows wild. The museum is in a new building, a part of the community centre and is packed with history and information. It has not been open long and the lady who was on duty said she was a paid part time employee funded by the admission price which was $12 a head or $30 for a family. The museum board received a grant of some $millions from the NZ lottery and the new display was about 5 years in the making and is a work in progress.

The town is built on the shore of a bay protected by a rock platform where the seal colony hangs out, to the south and east of which is open ocean across which cold winds can rip from the southern ocean or the antarctic. A mountain range runs along the west of the town which is snow peaked in winter. This range protects from the cold westerlies from the alps, but in the cemetery I saw the graves of two young men in their twenties who perished in a storm on 4 December 1904. I guess they were trying to save livestock and were caught out. In the museum there was a photo of a man who also perished in the mountains, found frozen with his brother's dog still by his side. It left me in no doubt that the climate of the South Island can be extremely harsh.

Earthquake damage at cemetery

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The weather cleared on the day we left Kiakoura enabling us to get some good photos. We returned to Christchurch to a different hotel, Chateau on the Park, next to Hagley Park. We took a walk and found the old home Mona Vale, a mansion built in 1902 now serving as a restaurant surrounded by beautiful trees and gardens which abound in Christchurch. We had dinner in a Korean restaurant in walking distance from our hotel. The service and food were exceptional.

Next day after checkout we went to the amazing Botanic Gardens again. Lib didn't really see them on our first day as she was catching up on shut eye. Following a little souvenir gift shopping in the mall in the city we went to Mona Vale gardens and rested till it was time to head out to the airport, returning the hire car at the scheduled 5.30 pm and waiting for our flight out at 9.05pm, arriving Melbourne about 11pm EST. Rob picked us up and took us home. Home sweet home at about 1am 17 March, after a truly memorable holiday.

At Mona Vale- copper beech

Lib and Gord Christchurch Gardens

   

A Day in Dunedin

A day in Doonadin. That's how Gord pronounced Dunedin when he first learned the Sth African cricket team was to be in New Zealand at the same time we were to be. It still makes me smile, Dunedin will always be Doonadin to me. As it happened our itinerary had us in Dunedin on the 8th of March, leaving on the 9th for Lake Takitipu.

We flew out of Melbourne on 28 Feb at 12.10am after Rob kindly came to Gembrook to take us and luggage to the airport. Thanks to Rob it was all quite painless as we had checked in on line and had dinner at home relaxed and ready for our expedition.

The flight was easy and uneventful. I dozed for an hour or so, Lib didn't sleep at all, she has trouble sleeping on planes. Touchdown in Christchurch was 5.20am, we were at the Avis desk shortly after 6am to do the payment for our hire car. It was a RAV 4, nearly brand new. It was still dark as we loaded into the car and tried to figure out where to go from a tiny tourist map of Christchurch The RAV 4 didn't have a GPS.

Out onto the road we took a leftie to check out where our accommodation was that night, Peppers Clearwater resort, quite close, just a few k's from the airport. Dawn rose while we found our way. It seemed very quiet and remote at that hour but at least we knew where we had to come back to at some point after the 2pm check in. Back past the airport we went to work our way into Christchurch in the the now peak hour traffic, nothing like that of Melbourne but daunting enough for driver Carey who had little notion of where he was going, with navigator Libby, hopeless, and totally useless with no sleep.

I followed the flow of vehicles into the city and we did a couple of circuits of the city through all the roadworks and reconstruction post earthquake. Signage was poor and detours and witches hats and barriers were everywhere. We could find no where to eat but a Maccas where we had a most repulsive breakfast, forced on us by early morning hunger. Eventually we found a parking area adjacent the Botanic gardens. Lib crashed, sleeping in the car, I took a walk through the gardens before I lay myself down on the grass in front of the car and slept and dreamed for an hour so. I'm not sure where Gord was but no doubt he was also recuperating.

It was balmy warm. After waking I walked again in the gardens, this time with Gord. We admired the wonderful trees and toured the museum and walked round the earthquake damaged famous cathedral. Back at the car park it was packed and crowded with incoming cars constantly looking for non existent spaces. Lib remained asleep in back of the car. She woke eventually and we left and found a Subway shop for lunch. We checked in at the Clearwater resort, a fancy golf course development with apartments overlooking a man made lake, and found our unit to be flash and well appointed with cooking facilities. We drove to a shopping precinct to buy steak for dinner and supplies for picnics on the road in the ensuing days.

Next day was a long drive across the Sth Island to Greymouth then south to Franz Joseph. Originally we were scheduled to catch a train from Christchurch to Greymouth and pick up the hire car there but the train was out of action because of a fire shortly before our trip. The scenery of the Canterbury Plains was absorbing, lush farmland with a mountainous backdrop and hedge trees extensively planted and carefully maintained, necessary to provide stock with shelter from the strong cold winds which prevail for the colder months.

Our weather was clear and mild, perfect for travelling and viewing the scenery. This kept up for 10 days. We were lucky to have clear vision of mountains, lakes and glaciers in very pleasant temperature for most of our holiday. After Franz Joseph it was Queenstown for three days following another long drive, then on to Te Anau for two nights which included a day trip to Milford Sound, again fortunately with perfect weather to view the magnificent scenery. This whole week featured mind blowing scenery.

Fox glacier

Near Glenorchy out from Queenstown

The drive from Te Anau to Dunedin was only a few hours, we had a picnic lunch on the way and found our centrally located hotel after driving around the city a few times and asking directions. It was a small hotel room with a double bed and a single in the one room. We left soon after checking in to find the cricket venue at the university oval and arrived half an hour before the tea break. Sth Africa was batting, opener Elgar holding the innings together well supported by 4th drop Bavuma through the last session.

One wag held up a sign "My wife loves de Kock", Quentin de Kock being the Sth African wicketkeeper

After returning to our hotel, Gord and I took a walk while Lib had a rest. We sussed out the 'Octogan', a sort of eight sided city square surrounded by restaurants and night life. It was really buzzing, probably more than usual because the cricket was in town. Later we had dinner in a Japanese restaurant where the food was first class. On an adjacent table were two brothers from Invercargill who were there for the cricket with two nieces. One of them had imbibed fully and fell asleep on the grassed area that afternoon and was sunburned badly. He now lived at Arrowtown, close to Queenstown, where is an electrical contractor, and he and we agreed the best pies in the world are at Arrowtown. I had lamb and mint, Lib steak and mushroom,and we shared a vegetable pie, all sensational. He said he went to the Boxing Day test in Melbourne and it was 40C and he nearly died. We said we went there once to a one day match Australia v Sri Lanka and it was hot as hell and we drank our water and the stalls ran out and it was total mayhem. He said the day after the cricket he wanted to go to Rosebud and caught a train with his wife but it only went as far as Frankston so they had a walk around there and he said he had never seen so many tattoo parlours in his life, they were everywhere.

We liked Doonadin, even though we were there for only one night.

Dunedin Railway Station