A Terrible Experience - Beware The Viper

Today I decided to cut up some chillies I had drying in my office, with a view to pulverizing them and making chillie pepper. When I cut into them they were unfortunately going mouldy inside and I realized I should have cut them into small pieces before leaving them to dry spread out on paper.

So I discarded them and and went out to the bush in the backyard and picked those remaining. Red crinkly little buggers, triangular ugly things. There was enough to fill a small saucepan. I took them inside and cut them up quite finely and spread them out on paper towel. I went off to do something else. I've been home in "Isolation" having been tested for positive Covid on Monday. After a short while I started feeling heat on my eyelids and surrounds and realized I must have rubbed my eyes and touched my face with chillie residue on my hands. This quickly escalated into the worst pain I have ever experienced. Off the charts agonizing burning. Ice packs, or cold running water, gave slight relief for a few seconds then bang it was back excruciating. I had to keep changing tactics. The running water got in my eyes and they started to burn. I closed them and was not game to open them fearing blindness. Lib was trying to help me, we tried bathing my face in milk, then raw eggs, then back to ice, running water, it was thirty minutes of hell till it slowly began to subside in intensity. 

I would not wish such a thing on my worst enemy. It was like a hundred European wasps stinging your face at the same time and not being able to stop them. That's ridiculous because that many wasp stings would kill you, but during my ordeal I thought I might have a heart attack, it was that bad.

This chillie was a single bush I bought as a small plant at the vegie shop in spring. I planted it in a planter box with capsicums. The capsicums, 4 plants, were a huge success producing many delicious fruit we've been enjoying for months, right up till now. One morning when neighbour Helen was visiting my phone rang. It was my mate Ralphie and we had quite a long chat. Helen went outside, I watched her through the window. She picked some silverbeet leaves, a sprig of basil, some parsley. That OK I often give her stuff, she's never shown interest in the capsicums so I assumed she didn't like them. She saw all the red orange little chillies and picked one. I was still on the phone when she came back in, so she waved goodbye and left. That night about 7.30 there was a knock on the door. Helen. Said she put the chillie in her dinner and it ruined it. Couldn't eat it. Burned her.

I looked at the bush the next day and found the tag. It was named 'The Viper'

Should be banned from sale. Beware The Viper.

This photo was after the pain had subsided a good while later.

The Month of May

It's four weeks nearly since I last posted. My my, a lot happens in four weeks. I thought I'd better write it up before it all melts away in my distant memory. It's raining and cold outside and in about 48 hours time we'll be officially in winter.

Libby has Covid. She came down with a bad cold about last Tuesday. We didn't think much of it, until she got an SMS from Anne Oberg saying her and husband Steve had tested positive. Anne and Steve, old neighbours from Gembrook, had stayed with us for three days last week, from Wednesday to Saturday. Steve had a bad cold when they arrived, he coughed regularly the whole time he was here. He said he caught the cold from a friend they stayed with in Ballarat. By the time they left us, Anne had come down with it too. After we got the SMS we did the test thing and Lib's was positive. Gord and I were negative and we've had no symptoms till today although I'm now a little concerned as I have developed a runny nose and am a bit sneezy. I'll do another test in the morning, not that knowing it's Covid means much, as it seems it's no more than a cold for most people. But you are required to isolate for 7 days and I don't relish that.

That was a tough week leading up to the election. We had visitors staying and Lib had an old nursing friend and her partner in town also. We had lunch with them on the Friday and they came for coffee on the Saturday. Grace did her training with Lib, 3 years at the Wangaratta Base hospital, in the mid 1970's. She married and moved to Perth soon after. Lib and two other nurses visited them in the late 70's, and apart from a brief visit to Gembrook some thirty years ago when her 3 kids were young, Lib and Grace had not met up since. So it was a good catch up. Grace was divorced some twenty years ago and now has a female partner Sue. They were travelling back to WA after a trip to Vic to see Grace's dad at Mt Beauty. They had a caravan and stayed five nights at Pt Elliot. Grace lost a son about ten years ago. He was aged 23, out in a boat at sea fishing with two others when a king wave hit the boat and it sank. One survived after treading water for 19 hours and finally being spotted by the Channel 7 helicopter after a massive search. One body was recovered but Grace's son was never found. The survivor helped him stay above water until exhaustion caused him to let him go. A sad story. Grace and and Sue searched the coastline for years looking for some sign of him but never did.

In some ways having visitors was a distraction from the mad media in the last days of the election campaign. So now we have a new government and a restructured parliament with some real people. Let's hope for better than what we've had for the last decade. The well heeled have prospered certainly, but it seems it has been at the cost of huge social and environmental issues that have suffered neglect. I was amazed and horrified at the blatant bias shown by the Adelaide Advertiser. That factor, Australia wide, may have worked in 2019, but not this time. All praise to the Independents is my view.

Hot on the heels of the election was news of another school mass murder in Texas. And the ongoing war in Ukraine. The news was full of rape trials and murders here in Australia, Adelaide too, and if you are not careful you could end up in total despair at the apparent downward spiral of humankind. History tells us it is not new. Evil and atrocity have always been with us.

On a happier note, I have been enjoying pulling weeds down by the river for half an hour or so when I take Pip for a walk. Slowly, slowly, section at a time, I'm making good progress. It's a real joy to be there in the quiet of the trees and do something to help. The Friend's Group, which has two working bees a month now there's no heat or snake season, does a mighty job. It's great to be part of. I'll copy and paste below an email one of our conveners sent to The Deputy Premier who is also the Minister for the Environment relating to pollution the river.

The Friends of Hindmarsh River Estuary (FoHRE) wish to bring to your attention and seek your respective office assistance regarding pollution event(s) which has impacted the Hindmarsh River.  

The source is not a natural phenomenon, but perhaps a loss of containment - intentional or otherwise.

We and other local residents are extremely concerned with the pollution - being observed as an extensive slug of creamy grey discolouration of water and associated foul pungent smell.

A predominantly white residual sludge remains in places on the river bed. A sample has been collected.

The pollution resulted in an extensive 'kill' of small native fish and we believe negative impacts on the diverse aquatic ecosystems of native fish, frogs, and macroinvertebrate communities, many of which are deemed rare and sensitive. Since the event, there is a noticeable reduction in visual evidence of fish and water insects normally observed.
There appears to be a corresponding reduction in bird numbers, that rely on the river for food (fish, insects, plants).

The community has a deep love for the river, with local residents and the Friends of the Hindmarsh River Estuary contributing many hundreds of volunteer hours applying biodiversity conservation concepts to control emerging threats (i.e. invasive feral plants/animal pests), maintain intact (viable) landscapes, reversing decline/reinstating ecosystems/habitats and recover threatened species.

The significance of the river is well documented having been listed on the Register of National Estate, the Victor Harbor Community plan, environmental management plan and deemed a ‘biodiversity hotspot due to its high species richness & high number of threatened species (Southern Fleurieu Coastal Action Plan & Conservation Priority Study 2007).

The Friends of Hindmarsh River Estuary and the broader local community respectively request your assistance in identifying the source of the pollution and implementing strategies to prevent its reoccurance.  Working together we can enshrine environmental values,  protecting and maintaining the aquatic ecosystems of the much loved Hindmarsh River.

Kind regards

Mark Richards

Co-convenor

Friends of Hindmarsh River Estuary

Also on a happier note, I was listening to ABC radio a couple of weeks ago. They have a nature guy on every few weeks or so. Apparently there's huge colony of tree martins moved into the Adelaide Parks where they roost at night. This has been good news for the city birds of prey like the Peregrine Falcon, I think was the one he mentioned. There's been sighting of two Canada Geese on Kangaroo Island. This is not good, apparently they are a problem in New Zealand, and the worry here is they may compete and displace our Cape Barren Geese  which are native on these shores. Aren't birds amazing the distances they can fly.

Winter will be over before we know it. We need more rain in these parts. 

PS Edit. Also good news. Two southern right whales seen the other day locally.

Edit 2 My test this morning negative. Gord's too.

 

 

Holiday

 Our Roof Reno finished on Thursday 7th April with a coat of paint applied. The tiles are now monument grey in colour, and the house looks nice from the street when we come home, helped also by the paint job we did on the bricks on the south side of the house to match the render colour on the front. 

We then made plans to do our trip to the Eyre Peninsula. The plan was to drive to Ceduna by the main highway then return along the coast. Accommodation (pet friendly) was difficult to book as it was school holidays, but I manged arrange a motel at Port Augusta for our first night, thinking it would be too far to Ceduna in one hit. We left Monday 18 April. I'd found a cabin for two nights in Ceduna at a caravan for the Tuesday and Wednesday but couldn't find anything in Streaky Bay for the next night so we packed a little tent and sleeping bags and mats in case we were caught out somewhere. Most caravan parks have tent space even if their cabins/van sites are booked.

The overnight stay in Port Augusta was uneventful. We had pizza for tea from a few doors up the road. Pip woke me during the night so I took her for a wee walk, then again early in the morning. We planned to stop at Kimba for lunch. I didn't fuel up, thinking I would down the road a bit, but the servos were behind us so I kept going thinking there'd be one along the way. Mile after mile of no settlement I looked at the fuel range it said 130 km. The sign said Kimba 110km so I thought well if there's none on the way I know I can get to Kimba. There's an iron ore mine town at Iron Knob but you have to deviate off the highway. We didn't, in case fuel was not available there, and kept going. The km posts noting Kimba were spaced at 5k intervals, as was the range dial on the dash. As we went the difference between the two kept reducing. The fuel warning light had been on for a long time when we reached the 5k Kimba post, and the range clicked to 5k before the roadside 5k post. As it turned out we made it. We fueled up and after a dog walk we were on our way again.  We lunched at Wudinna on bananas, boiled eggs and cheese on bread that we'd packed, and got to Ceduna on time to the cabin at the Shelly Beach caravan park. The cabin/cottage was great, split in two with shower and toilet one side and separate bedroom and kitchen the other, with an enclosed space dividing the two which was handy for Pip to sleep. We left the door to our section open so she could wake us up for the wee walk. I took her for an early morning walk at the Ceduna racecourse which was across the road.

We went for a drive west on our full day there. We came across some ruins with a plaque saying it was the site of the homestead of Bill(?) McKenzie going right back to the 1880's. An early pioneer, he was gifted thousands of acres not far from Denial Bay. There were remnant brick wells there he filled with water which he condensed from sea water and piped to his wells. It struck me that there was someone desalinating water way back then probably using the same principle used by modern desal plants but of course on a rudimentary and small scale. Denial Bay was the original settlement for the area and Ceduna started later with the coming of the railway and Denial Bay as a commercial precinct was finished by 1946. Without going out of my way visiting museums (for another time), it was evident from info at Jetties and towns that the coast has a rich history as nearly all transport to towns with goods for farms was by ship from Adelaide, there being no road system back then.

I tried again to find a cabin in Streaky Bay for the next night in Streaky Bay using google then phone and this time managed one for one night, in the Foreshore Caravan Park.We bought fish and oysters at Baldy's Seafood which we enjoyed after an evening walk along the beach. It was an easy run to Streaky Bay the next day, only an hour or so. Streaky Bay is a popular holiday spot for Adelaide people so it was quite busy for the school holidays.We only brought one fishing rod with us so I found another in an opp shop. We tried fishing off the jetty with no luck. That evening at Lib's urging we went for a walk a few hundred metres from the park and fished from the bank. Lib caught a little whiting (too small to eat we released it) which gave her a buzz and a taste for more fishing in the days ahead. 

Streaky Bay low tide sunrise

Cape Bauer

Tahlia Cave

We left next morning, our destination Port Kenny for two nights, already booked from home. We took a tourist drive along the coast to Cape Bauer where the scenery is stunning from the clifftop. Another stop at whistling rocks and the blowhole, then Murphy's Haystacks (an ancient rock formation), also intriguing. Lunch at Baird Bay, a fairly isolated quiet holiday/fishing place with a camping ground. The cabin at Port Kenny in the caravan park was half the price of those at Ceduna and Streaky Bay so I expected it to be down market and I was right. It was tired and grotty. I went to put something in the rubbish bin in the bathroom to find it hadn't been emptied and contained what looked like pink ladies underwear. The walls and floor were grubby and dusty. We put a load of washing on in the laundry and I went to the shop at the office to buy pegs. I went to the back door as it had an old sign "Milk and Bread for sale" visible, and  walk around to the front meant going over a wire fence or walking around a few hundred metres. I opened the gate and went to the door and rang the bell and instantaneously a bloody dog had me by the trousers at ankle level, growling and snarling like a nutter. It let go when a bloke came to the door and yelled at it, then me, saying don't come to this door, this is private, go to the front. Which I did. 

Murphy's Haystacks

When we'd arrived I paid for one night, even though we'd booked for two. We decided one was enough. I rang the caravan park at Elliston, our next destination, to see if our booking could be moved forward, but no it wasn't possible. The helpful young bloke I talked to said there were tent sites so we said we'd do that tomorrow. As it turned out we enjoyed our overnight stay in Port Kenny. The cabin at least had a good electric frypan, good fridge, and a comfortable bed. And it was quiet, only a few vans and tents in the whole park. It had a TV and we watched St Kilda v GWS. There's little in Port Kenny, just the caravan park and a jetty and some houses. 

The drive to Elliston included a stop at Venus Bay where the rugged scenery was spectacular. There's not much there but it seemed newish with quality holiday homes and good boatramp etc. Then to  was Tahlia Caves, Further down the track was Walker's Rock which we deviated a few k's to for our picnic lunch. There's just a camping ground there with a toilet facility but the beach and bay were pristine beauty. By this time we were almost overawed by the magnificent expansive coastline of the Eyre Peninsula.

Walker's Rock

On the highway before Walker's Rock there was a sign "Colston Bread 1km." I would have stopped and bought some but as it was on the right, at a self serve roadside stall, I kept going as there was a car up my ginger. The knowledge of it was to come in handy later. Elliston is a smallish town with one IGA supermarket, a couple of caravan parks, a pub, a roadhouse, a cop shop, and not a lot else. A grouse long jetty and cliff top walks/drives both sides of the town and a beach, it's no doubt a popular holiday spot. When we got to our caravan park mid afternoon, at reception I told the bloke we'd like a tent site. It was Saturday, of a long weekend as ANZAC day was Monday. I said we had a cabin booked for Sunday and Monday nights but had rung yesterday and there was nothing available to move our booking forward. He said, "I can do a budget cabin for you for $75."  I consulted with Lib she said yes take it, as a tent site was going to cost $35 anyway. As I was paying a young bloke came in, the son of the bloke at the counter. He overheard the father say "it's cabin 3" as he gave me the keys. " Cabin 3?" he said a little startled. I twigged it was he who told me on the phone yesterday there were no cabins available Saturday night. "Yes" said the old fellow with a bit of grin. The young bloke shrugged his shoulders, turned and walked away throwing his arms out in a silent show of disagreement/dismay/dissent, I couldn't be sure.

Cabin 3 looked like a tool shed from the outside. We went in. It stank almost overpoweringly of carpet deodoriser. We opened the windows and left the door open to air it while we went to the supermarket. Lib was hanging out for a steak, to cook in the community kitchen that night. Cabin 3 still stank when we got back, but not so much. We had a cuppa and talked about the cabin. Why had the young bloke told me there was no cabin, and then be so strange when his father said there was? Curiosity with some anxiety got the better of me. I thought, maybe it's been recently fumigated and not had sufficient withholding period. So I went the desk to find the young bloke there and asked him to level with me. "Is there something wrong with cabin 3? The smell? Fumigated? Chemicals? Bed Bugs? Why your father's grin and your show of surprise? He assured me all was OK. He liked to keep that cabin for a workman who often came to town and had made a tentative booking. I accepted his explanation but we left the doors and windows open the whole time we were in there. It wasn't too bad, we watched the footy as it had a TV, Freo Carlton I think, Lib cooked a good dinner and we slept well. We were glad there was AFL reception as the next night in our upmarket cabin, Sunday ANZAC eve, Melbourne was playing Richmond and we didn't want to miss that one.

We left Cabin 3 and went to the IGA to buy some things. It was closed. I went to the baker next door to get some bread. "Sorry, no bread till Tuesday." Things are a bit different in Sth Australia. We drove back to 'Colston Bread' about 15k's back and bought delicious fresh break and sticky date buns. The rest of that day we fished at Loch's Well about 20k out of town. The stairs down were 273 steps (I counted on the way back, with numerous stops). It was a spectacular place to fish off the beach. Southern Ocean in front, misty spray, cliffs behind. Isolated. I hoped there was no-one watching us from the top with a mind to ransack our fully laden car. Lib caught a nice whiting which we shared for entree, and we had a meal of spaghetti with a tin of meat sauce bought at the roadhouse for dinner, interrupted by a massive thunderstorm which spooked Pip and disrupted the TV reception. Heavy rain pelted and sheets of water were through the park. The people who moved into cabin 3 we saw evacuated after the storm so it must have leaked. The TV reception cut in and out for a bit but we were able to watch Melbourne beat Richmond.

We'd decided that 2 nights at Elliston was enough, and only took the second cabin one night. I had no success on the phone finding pet friendly accommodation at Port Lincoln for next night, but I did find a cabin at Arno Bay about an hour past PL. The guy said he had nothing really because of school holidays but after I said we'd pitch a tent he said he did have one budget cabin that was not really good enough, just a step up from camping, so I said yes we'll take it. It was a lovely drive to Port Lincoln, an impressive city, after a quick visit to Coffin Bay which was crowded. We stopped in PL to shop, and will be back to spend some time there. The Arno Bay cabin was a bit of a dump, the screen door fell off when I went in, the fridge didn't work, the little sink drained very slowly, but it had a kettle and a TV and was close to the community barbecue and shower block. The park had a nice relaxed ambiance. Nice bay and beach. Late afternoon we took a walk along the nearby mangrove boardwalk along the creek and saw big flounder fish swimming in the shallows so Lib said let's fish here tomorrow and stay two nights. So we did. Didn't catch anything. Arno Bay we really liked and we'll be back there for sure before too long. 

Arno Bay

Mangrove boardwalk Arno Bay

We did the long drive home the next day, leaving at 7.30am and getting home at 4pm after a picnic lunch at Crystal Brook. All in all a great trip. Magnificent coastal scenery. Sorry if my recount of our trip is a bit boring. I went through it again remembering what I could for my own record on this blog.

The day after we got back we had a phone call from the first roof restore company (the one I cancelled as I was tired of waiting). They said I had a binding contract with them and their lawyers would be in touch to seek payment for materials they had prepared for me and their costs to that point. Ha! If they follow through with that I'll promise them I'll give them bad publicity at every chance in the neighbourhood citing their unreliability. I'm watching the mail box.

 

The Roof Restoration

 As I write there's scraping noise on the roof above my office. A young man named Mat is working on the capping with his trowel, repointing. He will also today replace broken and cracked tiles. Yesterday he pressure cleaned the tiles, tomorrow the plan is to paint the roof Monument Grey, the colour Lib selected, sealing it against the elements, we hope, for the next decade or two.

This roof job has been quite a saga. On December 2 last year a salesman from a large SA company knocked on our door. He said he was working in the area, his company, which advertises regularly on TV, was offering a 30% discount for jobs signed up in that time period. I had known our roof at some point would need attention, being 27 years since build, and having seen cracked tiles here and there patched with silicon glue when I cleaned the spouting. There were no leaks obvious in the ceiling inside, but I was aware that small leaks can be soaked up by the insulation and not be an issue. Until that is, a rain bomb or severe storm dumps down and water can build up inside. A ceiling collapse can occur without prior warning at worst, or water dripping all over the place. With all these rainstorms happening round Australia I thought it was only a matter of time till we had one here in McCracken. I visited the Eyre Peninsula with Rick in January and a week later they had floods, so it can happen anywhere.

Our job we were told, was scheduled for late January, after the Christmas break, or early February. Someone would call us to arrange the start date. A call did come late January, saying Covid had caused delay, and our job would be done late Feb, early March. This was OK, Lib and I planned to do a trip away for a couple of weeks around mid March so the roof would be done beforehand. In February there was another knock on the door, and a salesman from a different company said our roof needed attention. I told him I had signed with the other company. He offered to give me a quote anyway, and said the paperwork I had signed with the other was not legally binding. His quote came out $3500 more than the one I'd signed for, which seemed about right considering the 30% discount, if that was fair dinkum. He said the other mob would do a lousy job, his company's work would be more thorough, a better job. I spare you all the details he explained re the work.

I decided to stick with the first company, not only because it was a big saving on company 2's quote, but also because I had agreed for them to do the job. I rang them, told them of the development, and asked for assurance the job would be done well. Yes, I was told, they are a big company with decades of industry experience, the work would be done with all assurance of excellence and guarantee. February went, we waited patiently into March. Mid March I rang the company and asked when was our start date. They told me the contractor allotted to me would ring me directly, I was next on his list, his paint machine had broken down, he was sourcing a new one. Late March I rang back, asking again for a start date so I could organize our trip away. I was told the contractor had not yet got his new paint machine so they couldn't give me a start date.

I googled and found a number to ring. I spoke to the bloke who is now on my roof. He said yes he can do my roof within two weeks. He said he can come today and give me a quote. He said he'd probably save me thousands, and do a better job. He came that afternoon. I said I'm not looking for rock bottom price, I want a good job. His quote was $1000 more than the first company's discount price. I liked him, and thought, here goes, no more mucking around. He reckoned those who employ salesmen to drive around looking for work are just out to make a killing, paying contractors peanuts, and taking the cream. He said they get young blokes and give them a six week training course, and send them out. He said he's a roofer, experienced in all aspects of roofing, a one man band small business, local, with reputation to build and protect. I believed him.

I rang the the first company and said I didn't need them, please cancel. The next day Friday 1 April, an officious person from the "contract department" rang to tell me their contractor was coming next Wednesday to start the work, and apologized for the delay. I said, "Sorry you're too late, I've made other arrangements." I said in my opinion his company had let me down. The work order (contract?) I signed, dated 2 December, had ASAP as start date. I had signed that on the understanding that the work would be done late January, early Feb. I said I rang on March 28 looking for a start in April, only to be told they couldn't give me one. He said, "OK, I'll cancel." He apologized on behalf of the company that they hadn't done the job by now. I apologized, if it appeared I was impatient. I hope I don't get a legal letter in the mail chasing some compensation. 

I rang the the bloke who is now on my roof and told him I'd cancelled the other. He said, "I'll be there Monday."

   

A Good Laugh

When Rickyralph visited last January he brought a few books with him that he thought I might like to read. I'm about 50 pages into Bill Bryson's 'Down Under' and I'm finding it humourous, as Ralphie said I would. It was published in 2000. Bryson, an American, talks about his experiences visiting Australia, and his research into its history, culture and customs. He doesn't hide his admiration for the uniqueness of our flora and fauna, the harshness of our geography, and the contrasts and oddities. He brings a comedic tone while giving so much information at the same time. Most entertaining. I've lived here for almost seventy years, did Australian history at school, and have traveled quite widely, yet I feel almost like it's new to me because he has a different slant on so much, from our discovery, settlement and exploration to our development to wealthy nation. From the first penal colony, established where Circular Quay now stands, to modern Sydney with skyscrapers looking out to the opera house across the harbour, the two sides connected by a massive steel arched bridge, in not much more than a couple of hundred years.

What's prompted this post was a paragraph relating to the Sydney Opera House. I'm not permitted to copy from the book (copyright law) so I'll tell you by my recollection. The concept of the Opera House was pushed by a chap called Sir Eugene Goossens, who was then the head of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. A competition was held to find a suitable design but after assessing many entries no winner was decided. A famous American architect was consulted to choose a winner. He sifted through all the entries and selected one by Danish designer Jorn Utzon that had been previously discarded by the judges. 

It took 15 years to build. It cost 14 times the initial estimate. When the book was written, 2000,  Utzon had never seen the finished product. He was sacked from the project in 1966 when a change of NSW government came at election.

Curiously, Goossens never saw the finished product either. He was discovered, in 1956 at Sydney airport while passing through customs, with a large quantity of pornographic material and was invited to take his sleezy continental habits elsewhere. He was, in one of life's small ironies, unable to enjoy, Bryson says, his own finest erection.

You do have to laugh.

 

Observations

The raging floods in Queensland and northern NSW, as far down as Sydney now, fill the bulletins, along with war in Ukraine. The floods are as devastating as bushfires almost to property and infrastructure, and comparable in numbers of lost life, human and animal. And war is war wherever it is. What disturbs me most is the destruction of residential areas and the killing of civilians. Total madness.

I almost feel guilty living here in SA, no rain, no drama. We missed the big storms back home in Victoria in June. Last winter was very mild. We had very little hot weather the summer just gone. Maybe our turn will come and the next lot of disasters will be close. I certainly hope war never comes to our part of the world. I guess nuclear war in Europe could erupt any minute and missiles from anywhere could destroy us all, but I have lived with that possibility all my life. I'm lucky to have lived as long as I have. I didn't think I would outlive Shane Warne.

We have a state election March 19. There are similar issues here as in other states, with controversy on traffic congestion, ambulance ramping and inadequate emergency beds, over development, the environment and climate change, the economy and housing affordability. The electorate Finnis, where we live, is a safe Liberal seat, the incumbent will most likely be returned. I haven't actively sought information yet but the Labour leader Malinouskis has impressed me when I've heard him talk on radio. I'll probably vote for an independent candidate,and preference Labour but there's still over a week yet to make up my mind.

The roof restore people who are booked to do our roof haven't fronted yet, despite the work being programmed for February. We did get a phone call late January saying they ere a bit behind due to COVID and they expected to get to us late Feb or early March. I'm getting a bit anxious because I know there's broken tiles here and there and I'd like it done before serious rain comes. If we had a deluge I think we'd be in bother, and it could happen; although this is a fairly low rainfall area storms are possible anywhere and the two words CLIMATE CHANGE are front and centre daily. We're looking forward to going away touring for a couple of weeks after the roof's done.

We've put a new vegie bed outside my office window. This faces north, is protected from the south wind by the house and will get all the winter sun. I sowed silver beet into pots in January and transplanted the seedlings into this bed a week or so ago. It's a wicking bed, sealed underneath with plastic sheet as it's on concrete, and watered from the top by a pipe taking the water down to reservoir of scoria screenings. The moisture then comes up by capillary action to the plants roots. That's the plan. It's my first experience with this so I'm treating it as an experiment. Come spring, after we've had plenty of silverbeet to eat through the winter hopefully, I'll put climbing tomatoes in which should thrive in this hotspot and grow right up to the eaves and give shade to my office next summer. 

Because this spot is warm from the concrete and bricks of the house I've also put Zuchinnis, sown in January, into large pots there. They are already producing fruit. The idea was that being new young plants they should produce longer into the colder weather long after the older plants out more in the open have finished. These have produced prolifically but are starting to wane. I even sowed some basil seed on March 1st, and lettuce and coriander, into pots with the same thing in mind, to get them up and strong in March and April, so that we have late harvest as the older stuff finishes. The lettuce I'll plant out in the beds where the basil and zucchinis have been in the original beds. 

I put broccolini seed in in January and I have planted the seedlings outside in the gully area among the pumpkins which are finishing. They are thriving. For the first time I think I've observed a benefit from European wasps. They hunt around the broccolini and mint out there and eat the the cabbage moth grubs. Jury still out but looks like that is so. Another observation is the very small numbers of mosquitoes around. I would have expected masses of them here where we live near a river and lagoon but there's hardly any. Back in Gembrook any water left in buckets would soon be crawling with wrigglers but not so here. None.

Yesterday I noticed two black cockies flying over. They haven't been around for months. Neighbour Mark, a keen birder, told me they gather here in the autumn in big numbers and stay for a while, there were large flocks of scores of them after we came late last March, then they leave to breed elsewhere, not far away on the Fleurieu where there are heaps of pine trees that provide seed for feed. While here they feed on she-oak seeds. The New Holland honey-eaters have been sparse also but were here in big numbers in large groups before pairing off for mating.

Another observation I made to Lib the other day was there's absence of slugs and snails here in our garden. I don't know why but I've not seen a one in the time we've been gardening here, and no damage. A blessing, considering the rats and birds have tested us.

  

Can You Hear Me Harry

My mate Dave from Queensland rang me yesterday morning, 19 Feb 2022. I first met Dave in 1974, when I went from Victoria to attend the Queensland Agricultural College at Gatton, about and hour west of Brisbane. I was 21 years old, approaching 22. Dave was 17. I remember he turned 18 during the year as he obtained his driving licence, satisfying a long held ambition, one that most of us have had, and achieved. I’m approaching 70 years old now, so Dave would be 66 this year.

Dave rings me quite regularly about every 6 months. I’m always pleased to hear from him, but this time I felt quite chuffed. I had been thinking of him, mindful that I am somewhat negligent, in that Dave rings me, not the other way around usually. I have a number of good friends, most of whom I rarely see these days, but when I think of them I realize that my life would have been so much less interesting, less meaningful, less rewarding without them. After our initial exchange of pleasant enquiry into health and well being, Dave said. “Will (he always called me Will), did you ever write that book you once told me you were going to write?” I replied that I did write a book, about an old friend who had an interesting life, including being captured by the Germans on Crete and spending four years on a POW camp in Germany. It never made it to publishing.

“No not that,” he said. “You said you used to put things away, letters, and write things down, because you said one day you’d like to write a book. You always had a good turn of words. The reason I ask, is because I wanted to send you a book to read, but I don’t know your new address, and that made me think about what you said.”

He told me about the book he wanted to send, ‘The Northern Territory’, but said he couldn’t send it now, as he’d lent it to a friend from grammar school in Longreach whom he hadn’t seen for 50 years, but caught up with recently, and it was like 50 years just disappeared and they talked and talked as if it was yesterday. He’ll send it when he gets it back. We talked for 15 minutes or so and I finished by saying,

“Dave, thanks for ringing. Makes me feel so good. I’ve been thinking over my life quite a bit lately, as you do approaching old age. I cringe a little at times, at the mistakes I’ve made, the boozing, there’s a lot I’m not happy about in the past. I’ve been alcohol free for two years and I see life differently. But you ringing me shows that you don’t hold it against me, the wild stupidity, the bravado, the foolishness. And if you don’t, I shouldn’t feel bad about it either.”

He said, “Isn’t that what they say about good dogs, they always stay your mate.”

I had to laugh, but there and then I decided. “Yes, Dave, It’s time to write that book. I will do it.”

How I do it, or the format it will take, I don’t know. It will take some mind mapping. Dave and other friends will be part of the story. They are interesting people with good stories of themselves. The title that springs to mind is ‘Can You Hear Me Harry’. I’ll probably start there, to get me going.

 

 

Twelve Months Back

 A year ago Lib and I were still working, living in a rental in Gembrook, and preparing for our shift to Sth Australia. Looking back to last year on this blog I notice I didn't do a post for Feb, probably because my mind was occupied with preparation and anxiety over the move. Moving house is no fun.

The removalists busted a glass cabinet, on loading. About $1200 to replace, but worse than that, it was Lib's mum's, so of sentimental value. I didn't claim restitution from the company, the worker told me they'd take it out of his hide. Accidents happen, and haggling over money is not going to restore the lost sentimental value. Our Gembrook land lord ripped us off our bond money, another$1000, not returning it and cutting off all communication. We were in the place only five months, I installed broadband and a new TV aerial at our cost, and left it clean, and he, a bloke I played a few games of footy with at Gembrook, a supposed friend, still ripped me off. Again, the hurt is more than the money. He's a wealthy man, a plumber with property, but a big mouth braggart, overly matey buddy buddy. I should have been guarded, and had a bond agreement in writing, then I'd have recourse, but with verbal agreement only, it's best to move on and hope the karma bus does it's thing. 

It seems such a long time ago now. We're well settled here. It hasn't been all plain sailing or without problems. We like our house. But we discovered things after moving in, like blocked and buried storm water drains, crap roof tiles which I'm not game to walk on for fear of breakage, roller shutters that didn't work, leaks developing in taps, garden infestation of native rats, that have kept us on our toes. With that, I reckon we paid overs for the house, which does not grieve me because unless we took this house when it was available, we would not have been able to shift last March, and with all the Covid crap and restrictions getting to SA we still might be in Gembrook or have bought somewhere in Victoria and retired there. Who knows? I'm glad we're here, and have had nearly 12 months of effective retirement.

We've had, Gord too, troubles with our teeth, and it seems one of us is always dealing with expensive dental work. There's been some medical issues. Lib needs ongoing meds following the cancer thing, I had my shingle episode in January, which included more visits to hospital/ doctor/ optometrist than I care to recall. It took the best part of 9 months to get our finances consolidated and purchase a self funded income stream, which, barring collapse of financial markets, should see us out. Due to the medical and pharmaceutical requirements we've applied for a low income health card (federal), and in my case a seniors health card, which will give us a concession on prescription medicine and maybe on utilities. No joy yet. I spent many hours gathering financial details after two visits to Centrelink, then 5.5 hours a couple of weeks ago in the C/link office working on one of their computers in effort to get the form done on line. Agonizing, is the only way to describe that day. I'll be happy if I never have to step into a C/link office again. I'm hoping we get the card without further agony. It took 10 days to get a text message telling me they're working on my application. How long it will take, yay or nay, I'm wondering.

Having spent almost 12 months here I think I have a fair hand on the climate. Autumn was lovely, probably the best, as it is in most places. Winter was a lot milder than we are used too. A few degrees warmer, a bit more sun perhaps. Pleasant really. Spring was windy, plus plus. Warmer again than we are used to, if out of the wind. Summer was also windy. Christmas day we went the foreshore at Victor Harbor for a picnic lunch and were nearly blown away. No sugar coating it, Victor H and the coast generally, has a lot of wind. Lib loves the beach, and to sit reading there, but many days she doesn't go saying, "It's too windy." I can imagine the day when every house has a wind generator on it, as well as a solar system and battery storage. We had few hot days, and there's no doubt that VH is a good deal cooler than Adelaide in summer, thankfully. To sum up, pleasant, mostly mild climate, good for herbs and vegies, which are sheltered from the wind pretty much in our suburban backyard situation.

We have good neighbours. It's a quiet area. The thing we like most about our situation is the proximity to the ocean, the rural surrounds, the river reserve at our doorstep, and the good facilities close at hand. And the general peace and quiet that we crave after so many years of demonic hustle and bustle back in the mainstream of life in Victoria. A couple of times a week on average I pull weeds in the river reserve where I feel useful. Ienjoy the solitude, working by myself, with the trees and the birds bringing peace to my soul.

Yes. We are happy here. There are numerous people I miss seeing, but they are still my family and friends, and they are often in my thoughts. I haven't lost them. I just don't physically see them regularly. 

As Ralphie said when he visited recently, "You've come far pilgrim."

Three Interesting Weeks

 I see that I last posted on 2 Jan, three weeks ago, a Sunday. On the following Wednesday a few blind pimples appeared, above my left eye in the eyebrow, a couple on my eyelid and a few in my scalp above the hairline. They were painful to touch and were accompanied by shooting neuralgia type pain in the scalp above the eye and left ear. This discomfort was still there on the Thursday and worsening and by this time I feared it might be a case of shingles.

Friday morning the neuralgic pain was more frequent and intense so I thought I'd better get to the doctor, in the knowledge that if treated early shingles are not as bad if they are left to develop fully, in which case they can be very serious particularly in the eye. By now my eyelid was swollen and red and the pain was getting full on. Lib rang her doctor and made an appointment for me, he could see me that morning for which I was grateful.

The Doc agreed it was probably shingles, said I should get onto anti viral medication straightaway, which I did. He told me if the eye blows up on the weekend to go to emergency at the Victor Harbor hospital. It had blown up by Sunday morning so Lib took me early to the hospital. Fortunately it was very quiet there, no other customers so there was little delay. They took swabs and a delightful doctor named Dehlia put me on an antibacterial (?) drip for half an hour or so, said keep on the antiviral tablets (Aciclovor), and prescribed me some eye drops and nose drops and told me to come back if the swelling got into my face below the eye. She also told me to see an optometrist on Monday and go back to the GP Tuesday. 

At home Saturday, the previous day, about 11am a message came on my mobile from Ralphie saying he was on his way from Melbourne and would be at our place soon. I didn't notice the time it was sent till I looked later and saw it was written at 6am, although it didn't come through till 11am so I messaged him asking where was he now. He replied twenty minutes away, and sure enough he arrived. Ralphie and I had loosely arranged that if it was possible he and I would go away in his caravan and explore the coast a bit west of Adelaide. We told him about the shingles, obviously I was going nowhere till that settled down.

The pain increased and the swelling did go below the eye by Sunday night, so, doing as Dehlia instructed I had Lib take me back to the hospital, thinking I may be on the drip again and maybe this time stay onite. Dehlia was not there, another doctor told me to go home, stay on the tablets, but make sure I saw an optometrist the next morning. This I did. The optometrist gave me thorough examination, said he didn't think it was shingles, more likely was orbital cellulitis, and I should get to Flinders hospital in Adelaide straightaway as a matter of urgency, minutes can make a difference. Ralphie was with me, and he said he'd come with me and bring the car back to McCracken if I had to stay there for a while. So off we went, the hospital being close to an hour's drive.

(It was my left eye. That's a selfie, looks like my right, Don't get how that works.)

I think by the time we got there it was toward midday. There was a security guard at entrance to emergency. He asked heaps of questions and wanted proof I was vacced for Covid, which I didn't have, so he gave me entry as unvacced. Ralphie was parking the car and when he followed me to emergency the guard wouldn't let him in, no visitors allowed due to Covid restrictions. There was somewhat an altercation over this but Ralphie had to go kill time till we knew what was happening. After getting past security I then had to do paperwork at admin desk and answer lots of Covid questions at check in. Then it was on to Triage nurse where the same questions re Covid and date of birth and full name were repeated. I was then asked to take a seat. After a while a nurse in full prep gear came and took my blood pressure, I noticed it was very high, 194/something, which didn't really alarm me as I was very uptight after the optometrist told me minutes can make a difference and it could be very serious, I'd driven there and done all the question answering, this after doctor visit Friday and two trips to the local hospital on the weekend, not to mention what was strong pain even though I'd been dosed up on panadol and ibuprofen for some days. I was extremely uptight I'm sure, but maintaining calm as best I could. Another nurse came and asked me to come outside where she did a Covid test on me, and I resumed my seat in the waiting room. Ralphie came back and had another altercation with security but this time they let him in for two minutes to talk to me. It wasn't really necessary for him to come in as we had our mobiles. I told him to go back to McCracken as I could be here for hours, and Lib and Gordon could come back and get me.

About three hours after arriving there, I thought I'd better ring the optometrist and and see if he could ring the hospital and get me attended to. People who had come in after me had been called in to see a doctor and I was getting anxious. I didn't have his number, I'd given the paperwork to the admin desk, so I had to go back and ask for it, a request disliked by the clerk as she had to find it. I rang him and said I'd got here urgently as he suggested, but no-one here seemed to have any urgency except to question and test me for Covid. A msg had come through on my phone from pathology saying my test was negative. Ten minutes after I rang the optometrist I was called in. He'd rung the registrar.

I'm recalling this more for my record than for my blog friends as it is probably quite boring. I'll cut it short now. I saw two eye doctors in the public section, they were unsure of my condition. I was then sent to the eye clinic in the Flinders private hospital next door. It was about 5pm by now. The doc there was most impressive. While doing examinations he was phoning Victor H hospital and pathology and found that the results of the swabs were positive for shingles. A relief, but still serious enough. He prescribed steroid eye drops and two others, some strong painkillers, and told me to keep on the Aciclivor and come back on the next Thursday. He wanted further tests done on me before I left because my blood pressure was so high and sent me back to the public hospital where they took a urine test and gave me an EEG. I passed, kidneys and heart OK. I'd rung Lib and she and Ralphie were waiting for me in the car park. I had to stop at a 24 hour chemist to fill the prescriptions and we got home about 8pm.

Tuesday and Wednesday we rested up. I saw the GP Tuesday for update, Thursday I went back to Flinders, got good progress report, and Ralphie and I left on the Friday, by which time the swelling had gone down and pain almost gone. We stopped first night at Port Pirie, then onto Streaky Bay for two nights in a lovely new park there right on the water. Left to return home early next morning, that being last Monday, and stayed that night at Chrystal Brook in a lovely little park. It was an invaluable trip for me to learn my way around in preparation for Lib and I to do a trip soon. It was very dry everywhere as you'd expect in January. Ralphie left to go home Wednesday, I went back to Flinders hospital for another eye doc appt. Thursday. Good progress again. Have to go back in four weeks. Now on reduced pill frequency, different med, once a day only instead of 5 times. Still one drop of steroid in eye 4 times daily and another drop twice daily. I feel fine.

Interestingly, the Eyre Peninsula where we were, dry as it was, had a big rain this last couple of days, and even floods at Kimba, the town that has the 8 metre big galah. The tail end of the cyclone in the Kimberleys I believe. It rained here in McCracken today, just lightly, but enough to prevent us watering. I bought two french tarragon plants at the market, and two lemon verbenas at Bunnings. I'd been chasing both these for months so I was happy to find them and plant them with the rain around. Planted a white yarrow too.

The path down to the sea from the Island View caravan park Streaky Bay.

Cape Bauer

The Chrystal Brook Golf Course where I walked last Monday evening.

New Year 2022

 What better way of spending New Year's could be better for me than watching the 2021 GF? That is exactly what I did. A party in my own head. No alcohol necessary. I studied the body language of the players, both teams, from start to finish. It was not just a football match. It's timeless art. I'm sure I'll never tire of it.

The idiotic fireworks started about 9.45pm, a short burst, probably testing, warming up the gathered throng of excitement seekers, many no doubt well oiled already. I was still up at midnight when the fireworks started in earnest and went for a full 10 minutes. The muffled explosions in the distance were loud enough to irritate me, but fortunately I'd put Pip to bed in the garage and there was no scratching at the door, so I assumed her deafness saved her from the panic she has endured over the previous 14 New Year's eve fireworks. During the trial run at 9.45 she lay blissfully unaware on the couch while I went outside to see what was going on, thinking at first the neighbours were having a ding dong banging things or throwing them.

It was a time of contemplation for me. My second New Year's eve in these parts. Last year Ralphie and I were in the caravan park at Pt Elliot. I think we read our books peacefully with no regard for fireworks. The next day, prophetically Jan 1, we drove into Victor Harbor to meet the real estate agent Deb in the LJ Hooker office, where I signed the contract to buy this house where I now sit contemplating the enormous change to my life that 2021 brought. On this day 12 months ago, I got back to Gembrook at about lunchtime, after we stayed in the van at Cresswick the previous night. So much has happened in the twelve moths since, but those memories remain clear.

What will 2022 bring? No doubt Covid media coverage will again dominate. Pressure is mounting to  have a booster vaccination which is due in March for us, but apparently advice is to have it brought forward to Feb or even January. Makes you wonder. Is vaccination really effective? Necessary? I feel uncertain about it. If I took medical advice I'd be on drugs to lower my cholesterol and my blood pressure, and still be taking methotrexate tablets and Orencia injections for my RA, both of which I ditched over two years ago. I'm 70 next birthday and although I have no desire to run or climb trees I feel in perfect health. I'm drug free and happy, despite the media telling me constantly and loudly that disaster is waiting for me at every turn.

Best wishes for 2022 to all.

Scott Boland Fairytale

I have little interest in test cricket these days. I went right off the Australian team many years ago because of their arrogant attitude, including sledging and whingeing when things went against them, and, not least, the reluctance of the selectors to pick Victorians. It was capped off by the sandpaper incident in South Africa which brought disgrace upon our nation.

So for a long time I have barracked for Australia's opponent in test cricket, unashamedly. I had a good laugh last year when India came from behind and won the series. I don't care if you're Australian, English, Indian, Pakistani, Kiwi, whatever, my respect needs to be earned, and is not given blindly through nationalistic hoorah. This extends beyond cricket by the way, to tennis and other sports, in fact into all areas of life including politics and international affairs. 

But in the main, I couldn't give a fig about the result of the test cricket, though I do always like to see Victorians do well. Despite having moved to South Australia where I now reside (and paid well over $20,000 stamp duty to the SA gov and drive a car with SA plates and buy SA'n when I can), in the cricket I follow Victoria, and of course in the footy I'm 100% Melbourne. I'm warming to Alex Carey and Travis Head, but my interest really in the Boxing Day test was for Mark Harris and Scott Boland to do well. Did they ever?

About 6 years ago (I think), we were over here in March on holiday, staying in a caravan park (West Beach?), somewhere between Glenelg and the airport. As it happened Victoria was playing SA at the Glenelg ground and as Gord was keen on the cricket we went and watched on a couple of the days. The Adelaide Oval was unavailable for cricket, maybe some festival was on. The Vics had a strong team and won outright. If it wasn't the shield final it was the game before to get a spot in the final, which Victoria won, for memory one of three shields in a row. There was hardly a crowd at all, we went to the other side of the ground where nobody was and sat on the single row of seats outside the fence behind which was grass.

Young Scott Boland was fielding at fine leg on the fence each second over for a while, and I had quite a chat to him between balls. At one point the batsman made a big hook with a flourish and the ball flew high, I thought for a minute it was going to land on us. Scott took off and didn't get there to catch it, it went so high and had bit of a spinning curve on it from the top edge of the bat. As Scott returned to his position we all had a bit of laugh about how we all thought it was to land on us.

Since then I've kept a bit of an eye on his performances, glad to see he made the Australian ODI team in 2016, hoping he'd one day make it into the test team, which never really looked likely as NSW quicks Starc, Hazelwood, an Cummins had a stranglehold and there was a couple of others ahead of Scott when one of them was sidelined through injury. So I was very happy to see him get a game finally through injury to Hazelwood and workload worry for Richardson and Meser. How lucky is that. I thought he was set up to fail, to be a bit player, bowling only to give Starc and Cummins a rest, rotating with Lyon and Green. At least he'd be able to say he'd played test cricket, if only for one game.

I was very pleased he took a wicket in England's first innings, and made further contribution late with two outfield catches. Robbie was over for a few days at Christmas and I was taking him back to the airport the day after Boxing day. We listened to the cricket on the radio, day 2 of the test, last hour, England batting second time. Starc took two early wickets, Scott came on first change took a wicket immediately then removed the nightwatchman. 2/2

 Next day, yesterday, I watched it on TV. Starc took another wicket, then almost unbelievably, Scott took four wickets for few runs of four overs, to finish with 6 for 7. I was so happy for him. He won the medal for best player of the match. Amazing. It's one to stick in my memory to be recalled every Boxing day, by me while I'm around, and history well past that. And especially by Scott and his family.

 

Miraculous

The magpies came down in numbers this morning, as they do most days, into our backyard for a feed. They warble, and fly down from the neighbour's roof and the tree on the other side, when they see me come outside, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. I think it doubles as an imitation of flight, who knows what the magpies think. A joyous song of thanks from multiple throats and beaks. The young'uns, this past spring's babies, squawk and plead to their parents, waiting their turn, letting the mature birds eat first.  These young are noticeable by sight because their feathers are not so shiny, especially their chest which looks a bit motley or downy. Some are fed in turn by parent's beaks. The squawks diminish to a satisfied gobble, while sometimes an adventurous one will take a chance and feed itself, risking a charge and pecking.

A few months ago, there were no young. The adults would come and hungrily fill their beaks with as much food as would fit, and off they'd fly, presumably to feed babies in nests in the trees, or their mate sitting on eggs. Some time before that, there was no taking food away, presumably before breeding had begun.

When I look at the young magpies, fully grown and able to fly, it amazes me that but a few months ago they were still in an egg, just a couple of centimetres or so long. An egg, high in a tree, supported in a stick nest, through all the late winter early spring gales we had. Miraculous.

I collected seed from the rough barked manna gums, which grow along the river with the red gums and blue gums (leucoxylon - called yellow gum in Vic). I sat the seed pods on white paper in the office for a couple of weeks and they opened up, spilling their seed out like orange sand. I sprinkled the seed into pots and now little eucies are growing, hopefully  to be planted next winter as seedlings along the river reserve where acacia weeds have been removed, part of a restorative project by the Friend's Group. These seeds, tiny as grains of sand, have the potential to grow into very large trees with little assistance other than natural rainfall and sunshine. It amazes me. Miraculous.

As for sunshine, nothing is possible without it. I'm told the sun is 92 million miles away, and is a huge ball of exploding gas that has been doing its thing for billions of years, the provider of energy and life. Trees and plants capture the energy of the sun and this in turn gives us food. Miraculous.

As you read this, consider that by means of an alphabet I learned when young, I can string together letters to make words in a coherent form that records my thoughts, so that you can know my thoughts (hopefully), wherever you are. Somewhere along the way 26  letters were invented which gives us the English language. Not only does this enable me to write, but speak also. We communicate everyday with multiple people in speech which conveys our thoughts, instantaneously for the most part, the sentences or sequences of letters and words just flow. My mate Ralphie sent me a book on Muhammad Ali. It's about 20 cm long and 12 wide, less than 25 mm thick. It contains thousands of words strung together to tell of a man's life, with cultural, political, racial and religious issues in historical context, in a profound account that gives insight into American society. And the English language is one of hundreds, maybe thousands around the world, many using different alphabets or systems. Amazing. Miraculous. 

Of course we read and see the natural world through our window to the world. Our eyes. An intricate miracle in themselves. And behind them our brain, which interprets everything our eyes see. The brake lights on the car front alert us so we don't crash our vehicle into it, for example. 

None of what written here is news to anybody. I have hardly scratched the surface of my amazement. Everyday we are surrounded by miracles. From the depths of the ocean to the mountaintops and into the clouds and space. Mystery and miracle. Miraculous.

  

Movie Matinee

This week for our movie matinee we watched 'The Changeling'. We had seen it before but couldn't really remember it. It's a Malpaso production directed by Clint Eastwood. Without going into the plot, I say that this "true story" shows that indeed truth is stranger than fiction. It's set in Los Angeles, starting in 1928, ending 1935, so it's fairly recent history, as I said to Lib, in the lifespan of our parents.

At one point well into the movie I said to Gord next to me, "I think the overriding theme of this movie is that you should never trust police, the government, or the medical profession." The police in the story were corrupted by their power and motivated only to project a favourable public image. To hell with the truth, or well being of citizens. This hand in hand with the local government. Aided by doctors, medical and psychiatric, happy to serve their masters.

Of course this is not good advice from father to son, especially to one such as Gordon who will remember my words long after I'm gone, so I tempered it with comment that you can't generalize and put them all in the bad basket. There's good and bad present in everything.

As they were about to forcibly put the lead female character, who had been thrown illegally into a psychiatric ward because she was making the police look bad, into electric shock treatment because she refused to comply, I had a flashback to my youth. I remembered my friend Ricky Ralph, who had some sort of adolescent disturbance or mental health issue, was put in a St. John of God hospital for electric shock treatment.

I would not normally mention something like this about someone, I only do because Ralphie told me once that I could write anything I liked about the past concerning him, he enjoyed what I wrote. To quote him, "Don't hold anything back. It's all part of life."

He escaped from the hospital. I was home at Mt Waverley when the phone rang and it was Ralphie. He was calling from a public phone box, dressed in his pyjamas. He wanted me to somehow pick him up. He had no money or shoes. He said the phone box was just around the corner from the hospital, I think in Brighton. I don't think I was yet at driving age. I was aware he'd be out of circulation for a while while this treatment was on, and I was asked by his father not to say anything to anyone about it.

 

I told him to stay there I think, I'd try to arrange something. I can't remember all the detail, I don't think he wanted me to contact his father, but not knowing what to do, I did. His father thanked me. The end of the story was that Ralphie somehow hitch hiked home, pyjamas and all and I think that was the end of the treatment. Ralphie's turbulent adolescence passed and he's had a successful life and is live and well in happy senior years.

The same could be said of me. I was referred to a psychiatrist in my youth, courtesy of the headmaster of Camberwell Grammar, due to indiscretions . He once dressed me down in front of a group saying I was on the lunatic fringe. The incident in this case was a movie at a public theatre in the evening we had to compulsorily attend as part of English subject. We were required to wear a suit. I didn't own one, and defied the instruction to hire one if necessary. Of course I was never really given the opportunity of a rational discussion with him, just the power ranting of a distressed overworked man whose main concern was to project a favourable public image. He picked on me because during the lecture to the group he noticed me not looking at him but artwork on the walls of his office. In this rant he raised other issues such as me having used bad language on the football field. It was quite an ordeal for me to make my way into the city after school to see the shrink and answer a load of personal questions. Fortunately the shrink didn't think I needed any treatment. 

Another friend of mine around the same time also suffered turbulence in adolescence and for a time was sent to Larundel Psychiatric Hospital. I recall driving out to see him there as he was allowed visitors. I don't know the extent of his treatment, but he was on medication ongoing and did have issues, in holding employment and with some unacceptable social behaviour. I lost track of him and didn't see him for decades. He died in his early fifties, cause unknown, he lived alone and was not found for some time. I went to his funeral, his brother told me he was misdiagnosed as a youth and given wrong medication.

As far as the government goes, I have no trust or faith. Before I was 21 years old I was a conscript in the military. At the federal election in 1972, whilst a conscript, I was unable to vote (the voting age had not yet been lowered to 18). How nutty is that? And now, politics in this country seems a shamble. Pork barreling, water theft, anonymous donations, scandal after scandal. Lack of integrity, accountability.

As for the police, in my lifetime there has been almost unbelievable, well documented corruption in Queensland, NSW, and Victoria. My sister was married to a policeman for 10 years during which time I witnessed some appalling actions and attitude.

I try not to be negative or cynical, to remain positive. Maybe we'll have comedy next week for our matinee. 

Schoolies

 Last weekend we had "schoolies week". Apparently every year Victor Harbor attracts thousands of kids who have finished their last year of secondary school in Adelaide, with a break last year due to Covid. I went into town Friday morning to pick up a DVD* I'd ordered from the shop in the main st.  

*'Rainmaker', starring Burt Lancaster and Kathryn Hepburn. This movie came up in discussion with neighbour Helen when she said one of her daughter's second name was Mellissa. It sparked my memory of this movie in which KH played the role of Mellissa. Or MELL-is-AA, as Burt said she could be if she wanted. I told Helen about that and also that when I meet a check out chick with the name tag Mellissa, I ask if they'd ever seen 'The Rainmaker'. They never have, not surprisingly as the movie was made in 1956. I said to Helen I'd love to see that movie again and she said it's probably available on DVD. So next time I was in town I asked in the old DVD/record shop and the owner said he could order it in. We have arranged for a matinee in our 'theatre' tomorrow to watch the movie with Helen who hasn't seen it. 

The shop guy also told me he would not be open after lunch that Friday nor Sat and Sun because of schoolies. He said in the past they have invaded his shop in large numbers and yahood and knocked things off and he couldn't do anything to stop them there were so many. As I drove in I saw hundreds of schoolies walking the streets, road closures and speed restriction signs along with 'event' signs. Most of the kids were presentable in dress and manner, many in shorts and Tshirts, despite the drizzly rain and what I thought was cold temperature. There were also heaps of police present, at one end of town under a tree was a dozen or so bike cops. Apparently a music festival is organised in a camping ground near the hospital and another venue in the town is facilitated, the idea being to keep the revelry in controlled location where alcohol isn't permitted.

The weekend came and went without drama, the best behaved schoolies weekend ever according to reports. We could hear the music from our house into the wee small hours, but it was far enough away to be no problem. It did get me thinking though, of the time 50+ years ago when I left school. I remember little of it, there might have been a session or two at a local pub but nothing memorable. There was no such thing as schoolies week then. When I looked at the kids in the town they looked so young and fresh I could not imagine myself that way.

The world has certainly changed. Mobile phones didn't exist. Television was black and white. No FM radio. No computers, at least people didn't have them, although the technology was just kicking off. Most families drove Holdens, Fords or Chryslers, made in Victoria or South Australia. No Kias or Hyundais. Toyotas and Nissans were newbies and sneered at. The Vietnam war was front and square and on TV, us school leavers had the conscription ballot ahead of us in a year or two. The hippy thing was in full swing, kaftans, long hair and marijuana were all over the place which was a nice change really to the tobacco/alcohol culture which led to record lung cancer, heart disease and road toll. No compulsory seat belts. There was a certain recklessness. I suppose it's still there, the young ones still get pissed, and pop yippee pills and worse. 

Maybe that's what schoolies week is about. Recognition of the dangers, and trying to address it with the least possible damage. Would I like to be 18 again? Part of me would like another go, to do things better and avoid some traps. The other part of me says, no way would I go back to all that uncertainty. 

Looking forward to watching 'The Rainmaker' tomorrow.

* 24 Nov.  WE watched The Rainmaker. I enjoyed it. Unusual movie. Produced from a stage show, and the script and acting was like a stage performance. I was wrong about KH's character being called Mellissa. She was Lizzie. Burt L (Starbuck), told her about MELLisSUN in a moving scene. Just shows that after a couple of decades the memory can be unreliable.