15 Days of March

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natural art at Strathalbyn

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


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

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

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

Back Home Again

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

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

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

Enjoying Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frank's Stone

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

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

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

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

I always liked the story.



 

Frankston and Ghani

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's an interesting name."

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, she's a physicist."

"What does your dad do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


  

The Roomster

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Ankle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I agree.

I Don't Need This

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lib is home again tomorrow and will strap it again.

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

Shepherd's Warning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now and Again, You Win, and Laugh

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

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

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

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

You do have to laugh.

New Year's Eve / RA Update

I must be a pretty dull old bugger to some, but I feel no desire for revelry. I'm Alcohol Free today and am pleased to be not drinking on New Year's Eve, a first in decades. I would be in bed now were it not for this post. I feel no inspiration to write, but am doing so because it seems appropriate, the last evening of 2014, to record my state of mind and physical health.

It was January this year when first exhibited the Rheumatoid Arthritis symptoms which presented and were diagnosed as polymyalgia by my GP in late February I think. Treatment with cortisone got me fairly pain free but my inflammation readings from my blood tests remained high and when we reduced the cortisone dose the pain returned. GP sent me to specialist who diagnosed the RA, this now was September. He prescribed an immune system suppressant drug, methotrexate (MT), which had little initial impact for the first six weeks, in fact I was worse with severe pain in the foot after taking the tablet each week (once a week dose). The MT is supposed to prevent the RA escalating and reduce the inflammation and prevent the joints degenerating. Initially I had to take increased cortisone to reduce this pain which I was not happy about as long term cortisone use has definite adverse side effects which is why I was prescribed MT, that is, it is safer with less side effects over the long term.

The specialist at the mid October consultation increased my MT dose, and told me to keep taking the cortisone as well, until the MT began to work properly which can take months. At my mid December appointment my blood tests showed reduced inflammation levels at last and doctor reduced my cortisone dose, to be further reduced in mid January, then my next appointment is mid Feb. It looks like things are moving in the right direction and I have some optimism that I will be able to function well through 2015 and into the future. Along the way in 2014 the stiffness and pain was first in my legs and buttocks but shifted to my shoulders where it has been worst, but also neck and ribs and back. The MT has a number of possible side effects which are not common such as nausea and vomiting and hair loss, none of which I have had, and long term increased potential for damage to the liver especially with heavy alcohol use, and increased risk of melanoma and lung cancer so the advice is to wear a hat, long sleeves, and sunscreen, and to give up smoking if one does, which I don't having given up in 1990.

I have followed the advice to reduce my alcohol intake, and therefore have 4 AF days a week as a rule. My liver function tests which are standard procedure when on MT have been normal, so I have relaxed a bit Fri- Sun and drink quite normally rather than just a couple of glasses a night as I did for the first six weeks. I'm hoping liver will still be fine at next Feb appointment.

The good thing is that I have started my morning walks again these last few days, not early as I would like but I'll start earlier as I feel better first thing. The weather has been kind with mild temperatures and we've had fairly regular rain and the world looks beautiful to me. Everything looks more beautiful when I walk because the mind focuses in the present without distraction and you can look around and up to the clouds and down to the earth and be alert to all the noises of nature like the birds and the breeze in the leaves and the branches and all the scents that are there if we are open to them.

Five minutes to midnight, no fireworks to scare Pip yet. I'll close before midnight and wish you all a safe and prosperous 2015. I'm full of optimism and hope. There they go, bang bang whoosh. Bye.

Boxing Day 2014

Last Tuesday our wholesaler rang in the morning.

"What are the chances of getting 20 bunches of green beech on Friday by 2pm."

My immediate reaction was, "None." Then after a few seconds I said, "Yes, I'll do that." It took me those few seconds to realize that, as much as I didn't want to pick foliage that day, Lib would be working and I'd be at the farm catching up on grass or blackberry control, so why not make a few dollars reducing a tree I'd like down a bit.

So today I started work about midday and had the beech picked well before 2pm. It was a bit wet underfoot from the overnight and morning rain, so rather than cut grass with the whipper down the back I went on a blackberry hunt, cutting and painting the cut stems with a dabber sponge bottle containing straight Round Up. These blackberries I had been seeing for weeks shooting out of garden beds and hedges but I had not had the time to do anything about them.

Now in four hours you can do a lot of blackberries when that is your sole focus and I have to say despite the difficulty crawling in under dense growth and often having to cut a hole in to get to the base of the stems, it's rewarding work. I feel good about myself tonight, that I have killed so many of the blunny things. Mind you they don't all die outright, some will re shoot probably next spring. It needs follow up or going over repetitively over time. The more regularly the better. If it is not done it would not be long until rampant blackberries took over the whole property.This will probably happen one day, after my time.

Christmas was good. My 63rd, but of course I don't remember many of them. I know I have spent the last 34 in the company of Lib, usually with all or some of her family, many times in Wangaratta at her parents', some here in Gembrook, some in Bendigo at sister Pat's, a couple in Bairnsdale at sister Margaret's. There was one in Lakes Entrance. Before that I had one with the Kelly's in Wangaratta, one with John and Nicky at Moyhu, Prior to that I have a void in my memory of several years. The parents and Meredith for some years after we moved to Emerald packed a picnic lunch and drove to the Botanical gardens in Melbourne which was deserted so they had it more or less to themselves. I never went with them. I can't really remember what I did. I think I spent a few with Rickyralph, in the bush or down the beach. The only one I clearly remember was on Mt. Terrible because it snowed heavily. Ha! A white Christmas in summer in Australia, but not really, the snow melted soon after it hit the ground.

My childhood memories of Christmas are at my father's parents' place. I didn't enjoy it. They were religious crazies who made us kids sing religious songs and I hated that, it spoiled Christmas for me. If I could have the time over I'd just say 'No thanks, Sing it yourself." There are many things I would respond differently to if I had my time over. Like at school when I was told I was going to be caned for a minor indiscretion. I submitted meekly. If I could go back I would say, "No, sorry, no way. Bye." Or when I was called up into the army, I'd tell them to shove it now. It is easy with hindsight, of course back then I knew nothing but believed I should be obedient. It took me probably a decade into adulthood to realize these things. I like to think I'm a free thinking person, but I have to conform to so many inane rules and regulations, I'm not free at all. I would like to reject more of modern society but I don't because I don't want to live a life of conflict and deprivation. It is and always will be a moral question - when to dissent or to go along with the status quo. Maybe the solution is to find more effective ways of dissenting. Hmm.

Happy Christmas and New Year to all.

45 Minutes of Quiet Contemplation

Lib worked today although it was supposed to be a day off for her. After she left shortly after 6.30am I tidied the kitchen and took my vitamins and a cortisone tablet and lay down for a planned 45 minutes of quiet contemplation while the cortisone weaved its spell. At 7.30 I snapped out of my dreamy state knowing I had an hour and a bit to get the sheets and other washing done and on the line, get ready for work including load the whipper snipper and bits and pieces and then get to Nobelius Park to meet a council officer re some park business. Earlier I had said there was not enough washing to bother putting a load on so Lib suggested I wash the sheets as it was a warm day with a change coming in the evening with possible rain.

I loaded the washing machine, it was now a big load and went back to rotate the mattress. We have a wool under blanket which I took outside and shook. The under blanket drops a fine dust onto the mattress so I vacuumed it thoroughly and did the rest of the room, moving the bed and doing under it too. While I was doing this I could hear a rumbling which was audible over the vacuum noise. Ah, thunder again, I thought. Then there was another burst and it stopped as thunder does. I couldn't work out why Pip hadn't run to me in panic, but I didn't worry as I knew she was inside and therefore not doing a bolting turn up the road. A third peel of thunder, louder still, but different, then an accompanying banging which made me realize it was not thunder.

It was the washing machine having a spell of not so quiet contemplation. I rushed to the laundry to find it askew and a large amount of water over the floor. The sheets had somehow all packed on one side of the machine and put it out of balance while it was emptying spinning. By the time I got there the machine had moved about and shut its function down but had red light flashing and was making a strange alarm sound. The sheets were jammed in so tight between the central shaft and the wall on one side that they were very difficult to extract and rearrange, so I could get the blunny thing to rinse cycle and spin dry. Before I got to that I had to soak up all the water with towels.

I was 3 minutes late for my 9am appt. I had no time time for quiet contemplation for the rest of the day and by the time I got home the cool change had come. I brought the dry washing in at lunchtime when I returned and remade the bed, and the laundry floor had had a good clean to boot.

Amazing things washing machines. We take them for granted and they rarely disfunction. We've lived here for 33 years and have only had two. The first one, a wedding present from my parents, lasted 24 years. The current one has been good but has needed a repair man twice.

But before the drama today I did enjoy my 45 minutes of quiet contemplation and how good would it be if we could all do it every day, just relaxing and thinking positively about good things. Bliss.

Rain, Pain, Thunder, and Sweet Rest

It's raining outside. Rain into December is especially good. Lib has gone to work and the rain eases my conscience at taking the luxury of doing a blog post in the day time.

I caught the last half of my writing class yesterday, the final of the year. Fellow student Stuart read a piece about the Greek gods. I have always had trouble absorbing and remembering who is who and who did what in Greek mythology but after Stuart's piece and the thunder and rain this morning I think now I have Zeus nailed permanently as the Lord of the sky and the god of rain. It was an excellent class. Barb, Stuart's partner, read a piece about a lady taking in a refugee family in a country town. Julie, who has a young child she leaves next door at the Community Centre childcare while the class is on, read her piece about doing a photo session on the streets of St.Kilda for her course. And July read the first chapter of the book she has been writing about her and her Greek husband's 10 year project renovating a rundown hotel in Greece. Maria read a poem by Anne Sexton about her mother which bamboozled everyone but provoked much discussion and different opinion. Also present were Kerrie, John, Suzie and Judyanne. What a variety and what a great group of talented people I consort with on Fridays when I get there. I'm so glad I made the special effort yesterday even if I was more than an hour late.

I couldn't stay for the afternoon tea break up, I had to find bunches of variegated box for the 5pm pick up which I learned had been ordered when I dropped off my beech and variegated pitto foliage at the farm before I went to the class, as well as do my Friday afternoon fruit shop shopping and get my tattslotto on, and I wanted to go to Monbulk for shopping at the new Aldi after getting Gord to the post office to have passport photos taken (he's hoping to go to NZ with friends in January). We were home about 6.15pm. I was tired and quickly headed to the bathtub after putting the shopping away.

Now for the pain. I had a bad night with pain in my shoulder and an intermittent ache going down through my right upper arm, elbow, and forearm and into the wrist. Most unpleasant. I had little sleep having to move my arm carefully numerous times into new positions seeking relief. The most effective position seems to be putting my hand behind my head but after a while the ache returns so I have to change. I was pretty good earlier in the week but I guess after 5 solid days of work where my right arm gets a hammering pulling on the rope to cut with the cutters at the end of the pole in the air, it is no wonder that by Saturday I'm hurting and need a rest. And I don't mind if it's Zeus, Hewey or Jehovah I should thank but I'm grateful.

After Lib left at 6.30am, I took painkillers and the cortisone and went back to bed. I fell asleep to be woken at 8.30 with Pip whining at the bedroom window. She sleeps inside but I put her out earlier when I fed her, and while I was asleep the thunder and rain came. She has developed an acute sensitivity to thunder and literally goes nuts. We had a really bad night Wednesday night when the thunder went on all night and she would not stay in her bed. She scratched at the bedroom door till I had to let her in, or have all the paint removed, then she was not content to lie on the bed she had to burrow under the covers with us and go down to our feet and wriggle about. Very little sleep again.

I worked with my friends Pat and Mal yesterday morning for a couple of hours putting netting over their well cropped fruit trees and help tidy up before the fire restrictions come in next Monday. Their dog Cammie is like Pip and went nuts on Wednesday night. The difference is that he's an Irish deerhound, a very big dog. In the end Pat had to lay down with him in his bed and hold him tight but no sleep was had in their house either.

I will do little today. Maybe get some more zuchini seed in, and some basil. It's probably too wet to do a burn off as I was planning. Can't say I'm sorry.

PS Maria always starts the class with some quotes, mostly yesterday they were about Christmas. I missed that part of class but I have seen them now in the notes - here's two-

Roses are reddish,
Violets are bluish,
If it wasn't for Christmas,
We'd all be Jewish.
Benny Hill

I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come around, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calender of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.
Charles Dickens

Who Would Believe?

The phone rang. I could hear it from where I was. In the bath, 7.15pm, I was due at a meeting of the Friends of the Gembrook Bushland Park at 7.30.  I'd defrosted the freezer that morning and taken out two mini roasts for dinner. Gord and I were batching still, Lib was due home the next day.

I thought it would be secretary Merle on the phone, with some new request to bring something to the meeting. There were two messages on the answer phone from her when I got home, and there were emails that morning. Merle's printer had broken down.

Gord brought me the cordless phone with a bit of a grin on his face, reinforcing my thought that it was Merle. I can't even wash the sweat and stench from me without being hounded, was my feeling.

"Is that Carey?" It did sound like Merle. Or did it?

"Yes," I answered in my annoyed voice.

"This is JB, but I was formerly JW." The first name didn't didn't register. I was coming to grips with the fact that this was not Merle ringing me. The second name instantly made me aware who the caller was.

"You're kidding me," I said.

"No."

I had not heard from her or seen her for more than fifty years. She was my childhood sweetheart. My first love. Yes, it was love, as far as love can be for a boy of ten years old to whom such emotions were new and not understood at all. Way back in the very early 1960's we declared that one day we would marry.

J went on to explain the why and wherefore of her call, while I listened almost incredulously. Twenty two years ago I had written a letter of condolence to her mother after I had seen in the newspaper notices that J's father had died. Her mother did not pass on the letter, in which I had included some basic info of my life and situation and my contact details, until earlier this year. J had not acted straight away as she'd had a difficult year and then hesitated, as anyone would, before dialing the number, asking herself , 'Will I or Won't I?' I am so happy that she did.

Not having received a reply to my letter of 22 years ago, I didn't know if it had been received. I had no contact details when I wrote it. I sent it sealed in an envelope in a letter to the funeral director who put the funeral notice in the the paper, asking him to forward the letter to Mrs W.  As years passed I forgot about it.

But I didn't forget J. I often wondered what life had brought her, was she alive still, where did she live. I knew from the death notice that she was alive twenty two years ago and she had four children, nothing more. Our childhood romance did not endure into a new year after we were put into different classes, but for a couple of years we were close friends and shared an important part of our early lives. She told me she still had a post card I sent her from a holiday my family went on in 1961, and a handkerchief from Sydney that I brought back for her from the same trip.

For the past week we have been exchanging emails and learning of each others lives. She lives interstate and has a truly amazing story which I do not feel at liberty to speak about publicly, but the renewed contact, and the fact that I have found this lady who had  a significant impact on my life in childhood, and that my longstanding wondering is now resolved, has brought me great joy.

I'm still smiling all day long.

A Week at Merimbula

I spent last week at Merimbula. We left on the Sunday in two cars, Lib and Rob in the Hyundai and Gord and I in my van. We stayed that night at the Lakes Entrance house and next day crammed into the i30 wagon, dog Pip on the back seat between the boys and our bags and 'stuff' in the the rear cargo hold and in a bubble on the roof. I left my van at the Lakes house after we mowed the grass and got away before lunch which was had on the way, delicious it was too, lamb, from a joint we had the previous night, in rolls with salad.

We'd booked at Beach Cabins, a pet friendly park, and arrived about 4.30pm. Merimbula is in NSW for readers in foreign lands and those Australians who don't know, between two larger towns Eden and Bega, and is about half way between Melbourne and Sydney on the coastal route. The management offered us an upgrade to a 3 bedroom cabin which had become available and we grabbed it.

We had 5 relaxed full days exploring Merimbula, Bega and Eden and the various beaches and attractions. By day 3 Lib announced she had found the place she wants to live in her retirement in the not too distant future. I can understand this. The beaches are great and numerous and the general feeling of the area is one of relaxed contentment. The locals are happy and friendly and I could not but be impressed by the engaging staff in the shops, the young people in particular smiled a lot and engaged in conversation readily and were helpful.

I walked early down to the point each morning and on day 2 saw two whales. Three times I saw them spout and break the water a number times as they headed south, before giving a flick of their massive tail fin and disappearing, to come up up minutes later further along. I had a good pair of binos so I had a good look at them. Humpbacks.

After they stopped appearing I walked along the rocks watching birds flit about in the trees and shrubbery at the base of the cliffs. At one point I leaned with my back against a large rock for comfort and waited patiently for a group of small birds to sit still for long enough in my view so that I could get a good sight with the binos. I could hear them busily talking to each other most of the time and would see movement but they'd move on before I could get a good look. Just when I was about to give up one appeared quite close on a small dead branch. It had what looked like a moth in its beak and was quickly joined by two others. These new two must have been fully grown juveniles as the first bird presented the moth to one then the other, each in turn taking some of the moth from the parent. It was wonderful to see and kept them in the one place sufficient for me to have a good sight. I think the were thornbills, perhaps striated, they had streaks on their breasts and were light brown, pale underneath.

So from whale watching to catching good view of small birds, I considered myself privileged. Another day I saw dolphins. Another day while walking with the boys on the scenic walk we stopped to watch a bloke casting a lure repeatedly in the shallow river below, curious to see if he caught something. A bird flew out of the bank a few feet below where we stood on the track. The another.
These little birds darted about in the tree above us for a while the one returned to a twig about 8 feet in front of us and about five feet above the ground. It stayed there for a good minute or so, with an insect in its mouth. It was a spotted pardalote, and continued to eye us off until it flew done into a hole in the ground close to our feet. Another did much the same and flew into a different hole. Robbie got a good photo of it with his smart phone, but he and Lib are still away at Lakes, while Gord and I came back yesterday (Sunday)to get back to work. I will put up the photo when he sends it to me, if he still has it when they come home.

So we had a great holiday, dampened only by the fact that Lib got booked by the cops for speeding enroute Merimbula to Lakes E, a $180 fine plus he got her for not wearing her glasses, $140, which is a condition of her licence. She was fuming. I was having a little kip while Lib drove so as to keep myself fresh for the afternoon drive home.    

Palm Oil....Canola?

There's a strong campaign against palm oil as an additive to food products such as biscuits and cakes and snack foods, largely because the production of palm oil is taking place in Asia where native forests- habitat for orangutans and other species whose existence is threatened - is being removed at an alarming rate causing loss of biodiversity and contributing significantly to increased carbon in the atmosphere.

I looked up a website on this and it started with the following-

Palm Oil itself is not the issue, apart from the fact that it is full of saturated fat and extremely bad for your health. 

I have long been avoiding palm oil in foods by reading the labeling and not buying that which has it listed. I have done this because an acquaintance whose father died of a heart attack was told by the cardiologist (ten years ago) that he should avoid palm oil as it was deadly but it is in so many foods without people being aware it's there, or that it's bad for them.The trouble is too, that many foods just say vegetable oil without specifying what plant the oil originates from and this can be in fact palm oil. And I read somewhere that some emulsifiers contain palm oil. Apparently palm oil is cheaper and easier to use. So generally speaking I avoid cake and biscuits and try to buy only products whose labels specify what oil they contain, like say sunflower oil, in the hope that I'm avoiding much palm oil and not consuming as much bad stuff, while acknowledging that no doubt some gets to me.

Sister Meredith, married to a doctor, sometimes reads medical journals that her husband subscribes to. In one of these she saw an article written by a leading cardiologist where he advised doctors not to recommend canola oil to patients as a heart healthy alternative, as in his opinion it contributed to blocked arteries. Now if you have a look you will see that canola oil is also in so many foods and is sold as a straight line cooking oil in every supermarket and store and is probably in the pantry of 90% of households. Nowhere do I see publicity that it is bad for your heart so the public is generally unaware. Canola is one of the major crops grown in rural Australia, its cultivation and its use in food manufacture and marketing of the oil is seriously big industry.

Somewhere in this there's a question of ethics. Perhaps ethics are now non existent, or only apply with precedence to economics foremost.

Probably the solution is to eat as few processed foods as you can. Raw is good, plenty of fruit and vegetables, nuts, eggs thumbs up, and a variety and moderate amount of meat and dairy food, and fish. If the obesity problem is as bad as reported lately the general population could improve diet greatly.

Capricornia

Many years ago, probably more than twenty, I bought a book, I think at an op shop, titled Capricornia by Australian Xavier Herbert. I loved it. I came across another copy somewhere, I think again at an op shop at Maclean on our holiday in November last year. A week or so ago I started to read it again, the decades between reads enough to make it seem fresh for me.

It really is a great book. Although I'm only about 100 pages into the 500, I'm enjoying it immensely. It was first published in 1938 so the writing style is not modern but I find it easy to read. I think it's brilliant.

It is protected by copyright and cannot be reproduced in any part or form except for the purpose of review so let me say this is a review highly recommending all Australians in particular to get hold of it and read it if you have not already done so.

Below I quote a section to illustrate my appreciation, as tiresome as copying the type is, I want to do it for you. One of the main characters is Oscar who married Jasmine and they moved onto a cattle station and had two children, Marigold and Roger.

The year of the Census (1910) was an eventful one for the whole family. The first to whom adventure came was Roger, aged one year. His adventure was the greatest one can experience. He died, or, as Oscar stated on his tombstone, was Called Home. Measles had a voice in the calling.

Bitter trouble in Oscar's home followed the death of Roger. Just prior to it, Jasmine, who was in the unhappy state into which many handsome potent women fall in the early thirties through too closely considering the dullness of the future against the brightness of the past, had been neglecting her home at Red Ochre for what was a frantic endeavour to enjoy the dregs of almost exhausted youth in the social whirl in Town. Oscar had long since dropped out of the social whirl. He would have liked Jasmie to do the same as he often hinted. But when he accused her of neglecting her child and so having been to a degree responsible for its death he did not really mean what he said. He was not speaking his mind but the craziness that the death of the potential perpetuator of his name had induced in him.

Jasmine sprang out of the mourning perhaps bitterer than his and spat at him all that which she had ruminated over for years. He learnt that he was a thing of wood, a thing of the gutter sprung from stock of the gutter (distorted reference to disreputable Brother Mark), risen by chance to be - what?- to be a bumptious fool whose god was property, not property in vast estates such as a true man might worship, but in paltry roods. Bah! His very greed was paltry. He dreamed of the pennies he could coin from cattle dung! ( Poor Oscar! He had always resisted her urging him to secure more land and buy more stock, because, not being a grazier born like the Poundamores who controlled vast Poundamore Downs on account of which they were born and buried in debt, he realized that cattle raising was a business, not a religion, and that as it was he held more country and ran more stock than was warranted by the mean trade he could do. And once he had said quite idly that he wished there were a sale for the cattle dung that lay about the run in tons.) And she spat at him something that would not have hurt a few years earlier or later, namely that he was already old and flacid, while she, who was eight years his junior, was young - yes - young! Young - and Oh God - aflame with life!

Stung to malice, Oscar jeered at her for a faded flower blind to its own wilting through pitiful conceit. She fled from him weeping. Poor blundering ass, quickly stricken with remorse, he went after her and begged forgiveness, and thus only made himself more hateful to her by being weak and her more desireable to himself by causing her to be inexorable. They were never reconciled. A few weeks after the scene, she eloped to the Phillipines with the captain of the cattle steamer 'Cucaracha', accompanied by a cargo of Oscar's beeves. Oscar was shocked, firstly by having lost her, secondly to have lost her in a manner so unseemly, thirdly by having lost her to a man he had regarded as a friend. He had taken Captain Emilio Gomez into his house as a Spanish gentleman. The fellow had turned out to be nothing more than a Dirty Dago.

Without going into detail, the book is about the early social history of Australia's north and the racial  and half caste problem. To me, a privileged white born of middle class far removed from the book's setting, it is insightful and alarming. There's tragedy, brutality and prejudice as well as honesty and humour at every turn. The picture of life in the top end a century ago portrayed by the story line is enlightening and educational.

An Australian Classic.

Aunt Hatsu

A letter came from my Aunt Hatsu today. She said she was thrilled to receive my recent letter. Meredith gave me Hatsu's address (and a letter Hatsu wrote to her last March) a few months ago. Hatsu lives alone in Adelaide. She corresponded with Meredith once a year for many years, but stopped some years ago, because she was seriously ill, Meredith thinks. We thought she may have died.

Hatsu may not be my aunt in fact, I'm unsure how it works, after a divorce. She was my aunt once. She was married to my uncle Ron, Elvie's brother. The marriage produced two children. I was in Adelaide in 1977 for a Bee Congress and stayed with Hatsu in her flat. She had left Ron by then. The kids were secondary school age. That was the last time I saw them. Hatsu remarried. Her second husband has since died.

In her letter she said she's 81 now and came to this country 54 years ago, so it must have been 1960. it was exciting for us to have a Japanese aunt. After they married they lived at first at Nanna Wilson's in Ashburton. My mother had the florist shop in Sth Yarra and left Meredith and I at Nanna's place on Saturday mornings. I remember Ron and Hatsu taking us walking along Gardiner's creek and sitting on the grass. Hatsu was friendly and warm despite her limited English and we liked her. Ron was uncommunicative and always gave me the feeling that I was an irritation to him, like everything else.

They moved to Narracoorte in SA where Ron took up a teaching post, and later Adelaide. Hatsu's son, now aged 50, is an airline pilot who has not lived with her since he finished high school, I think he did a cadetship with the RAAF. He has lived mostly in Europe, and in Dubai for the last five years, and visits Hatsu about once a year or so. Her daughter lives in Melbourne but Hatsu has had no contact for a few years. Neither of these cousins of mine married. They have strong loathing of Ron.

Uncle Ron remarried to a Filipino lady and had a daughter who would be in her 20's now. His second wife left him, but the daughter was in Ron's care and they visited us a number of times at the farm over the years. I could offer a lot of information and opinion about Ron, but it would be a long post and I don't have the energy. To summarize... Ron was a very odd turkey. When I stayed with Hatsu in 1977 she told me of the bad treatment she and the kids were subjected to over a long period. It took her a long time to build the courage to leave him with nothing and no one to help her. She worked then as a casual waitress in a local hotel.

A few years ago on our Adelaide holiday I visited Ron in an aged care facility where his daughter had told us he was now resident. He was suffering from dementia and was full of paranoia about being locked up and stripped of his assets and money... Could I get him out? Lib, who was with me, says this is a common thought process with dementia onset.

After I brought this news back to Elvie, Meredith wrote to Hatsu at the old address she had to let her know where Ron was, in case she wanted to know. Hatsu resumed the correspondence and thanked Meredith. That is how they came again to exchange letters. Hatsu says she has a few good friends in the Adelaide Japanese community and she enjoys a peaceful and happy life. In her letter to me that I read this evening, written so neatly and carefully, she says she hopes I come soon to see her and invited us to stay with her and she would love to meet my wonderful wife Libby.

It was a beautiful thing for me, to read those words, having connected with Hatsu again. There's something magical about hand written letters. I had to go to Melbourne (Dingley) today and stopped at Fountain Gate for lunch and shopping on the way home. It's a total mad house, the traffic, the city. I couldn't believe the number of young people smoking outside the mall- in this day and age! The radio and TV news is full of bad news and talk of war and bombing strikes and paranoia about muslims and burquas and terrorists and fear. The only fear I feel is my little dog being killed by some big mongrel. People can wear what they like and pray to whomever they like, this is supposed to be free country, the law applies to all and that's all that matters. I'm sick of the bullshit.

My aunt Hatsu was born about 1933 in Japan and came to a country in 1960 which still had very strong anti Japanese sentiment, understandably after WW11. The cities of her country were bombed almost to oblivion. She says she can hardly wait to talk to me. Well I can hardly wait to talk to her after a break of 37 years, now that I have 62 years under my belt and a different way of looking at the world than earlier in my life.

Busy Week

Last Sunday Lib myself and Gordon attended a family gathering at the Box Hill Cemetery at the grave of my grandparents Edgar and Annie Wilson. Poppa, as we (me, Jod, Meredith) knew him, was officially Walter Edgar Wilson, and he died in 1956, and Nanna was Rhesa Annie Wilson. She died forty years after him in 1996.

Edgar served in WW1 and our cousin Bruce organized this get together of some of the Wilson clan to place a tile with a poppy on it on Edgar's headstone. The tiles were available through the RSL to commemorate the service of those soldiers who returned home and got on with their daily lives. Bruce who served in Vietnam learned of the tile through the his involvement with the RSL and the idea came to him to invite descendants of Edgar and Annie to the grave to stick the tile on the headstone.

The idea was well received and five of Edgar and Annie's grandchildren attended and some of their spouses, children and grandchildren. We had lunch at nearby hotel and it was a rewarding day for us all to catch up with family we hadn't seen for many years.

Meredith, her grandaughter Evie and Lib are obscured at rear.
 

It was the first time I had visited my grandparents' grave. I was most impressed by my relatives that I had not seen for many years. It was a great day for me and I'm sure Edgar and Annie would be proud of us.

Last night I attended the inaugural Gembrook Beekeeper's Club meeting, the Bee Gees. It was to be held in the new restaurant, The Independent, but they could only give us a reservation at a time later than we wanted and only at minimum price of $50 a head for a meal so we had the meeting in vet Tom's clinic and Tom bought us all pizzas. it was an interesting night and I'm happy to be part of it to share my delight of the natural world.

Today I had my van booked in for a service at Berwick in the morning and had a doctor's appt in the afternoon followed by appt for ultrasound scans on my shoulders at Casey Hospital. Tomorrow Lib and I are attending a lunch celebration in Monbulk for a friend's 80th birthday. I had a gout attack Tuesday and Wednesday which I think is caused by the new RA medication I'm taking, hence my visit to the doctor today (I see the specialist again on 15 Oct). On top of all this I have been busy workwise so I've hardly had time to scratch myself.

Where Have 45 Years Gone?

I drove back from Lakes Entrance today, by myself, listening to CDs, and sucking on a new Life Saver every thirty km. That's my tactic to stay awake when driving a distance. It gives me some focus on the odometer as I make the Life Saver last as long as I can, so that there's less k's to wait till I can have a new one.

I went down to Lakes on Thursday evening after a busy day working. I was by myself because Lib and Gord went down on Tuesday. I listened to a 'Gordon Lightfoot Live' CD on my way down for starters, followed by Anne Murray, singers who go back to the late sixties and my adolescence, and whose songs evoke such powerful memories when I have some solitude and the time to listen, two blessings that I rarely have in recent memory.

It was 'If You Could Read My Mind' that kicked me off into a weekend of nostalgia and overview of my life. A self indulgence? Yes. But it was like an uncontrollable force that took hold of me and held me captive right till this very moment, and will stay during the coming night I'm sure, alone again as I am. It will take the urgency of Monday work and responsibility to snap me out of it I think.

My mate Rickyralph and I broke the chains of our conservative middle class family and educational institution and sought adventure, driven by adolescent romantic love we did not understand, having fallen in love with the sisters Morton, and rebellion against the nutty constraints, rituals and prejudices of the society of the time. We could not conform to the expectations of us. We sought excitement and experiment, and found trouble without meaning to. It was a turbulent time we were both lucky to survive. Popular music was big at the time and our generation tapped into it as an expression of awakening and freedom. There would be dozens of songs from the time that could spark such feelings in me, but 'If You Could Read My Mind' would be right up there.

Anne Murray had a hit song around the same time, 'Snowbird', which was not a favourite then, but after buying a number of her LP's in the late 1970's and becoming a big fan around the time I met and married Lib, when I hear 'Snowbird' now it takes me right back. And the fact that we lost our little 'Snowie', whom I often referred to as 'Snowbird', recently, no doubt added to the emotions that flooded me. Anne Murray's 'Highly Prized Possession' gives me goosebumps still.

I left home at 4.30pm, and after 3 and a quarter hours driving/think time remembering girls I loved, now ladies I still love, despite not having seen them for decades and probably never again, arrived at Lakes for dinner of lamb and salad wraps. I thought of friends whom I rarely see but will remain friends forever, and several who have passed on, some well into old age, others far too young. My father, Lib's parents, my friends' parents, most of whom have gone. I thought of football teams, teammates, the great fun I had at Ormond Cof C with a special bunch of people, and again at Greta after a break of five years while I pursued beekeeping.

I first went to the Lakes house on Feb 1 1981, the first day of our honeymoon after the wedding the previous day. We went there with our babies, our children, our friends, we have been going there every year since. All of these memories flooded me for three days. We went for a walk to Lake Bunga on Saturday morning. I have never seen the trees and shrubs and birds looking so beautiful... multiple shades of green and flowers of yellow white and pink on wattle, clematis and aristides?, and pea flower and craggy old banksia stumps with amazing bark and shape. We cut the grass and did house maintenance, all joy and pleasure not work. I could hear the sea in the background, a profound sound that did nothing but enhance my mood.

On the drive home I listened Simon and Garfunkel who continued the spell over me. The herds of cattle looked fantastic on the back road. The grass has never seemed so lush. The red gum trees and yellow box warmed my heart and along with the flowering red box and roadside capeweed made me think of my fortunate involvement with beekeeping and the many wonderful people from that part of my life. I cannot recall enjoying driving so much. It's great to be moving through the countryside seeing so much beauty and forgetting all the nutter stuff of politics and war and propaganda and elections.

Forty five years have passed so quickly. When I was 17, I wondered what it'd be like to be old, there's a line in S+G's Bookends.."How strange is to be seventy". I'm not all that far off finding out first hand. I always thought it'd be great to have a whole lifetime to look back over. Let's hope I keep my mental faculties so that I can.

Good Luck

Lib was helping me pick bunches of forget me not flowers in Gembrook Bushland Park the other day as she is on holidays.There was a crimson rosella chatting away and feeding happily on the flowers of a pittosporum bicolor as I worked underneath. Then the unmistakable splat on my head came and Lib said "What's up," in answer to my muffled expletive.

"A rosella dropped a big one on my head."

"Oh," Lib replied, That means good luck."

A little while later I heard a cry of anguish from Lib, and an expletive."What happened," I courteously inquired.

"I walked into a branch while bending over picking, it went straight into the sore on my head."

"That means good luck," I said.

I thought of this today while I was picking there, on my own this time as Lib has gone to Lakes for a few days. On the way back I called at the PO to collect our mail and there was a lovely card from a friend in Melbourne for whom Gord and I did a gardening favour a few weeks ago. As well as some kind words of gratitude there was a couple of Tattslotto tickets for next Saturday's superdraw so I hope there is some good luck in the wind.

Vale Snowie

Our little Snowie was killed on Sat 6 Sep by one of a neighbour's great danes/cross? She was thirteen and a half years old and had a wonderful life. She's the third dog we have buried in our garden over the 33 years we have lived here, and another, Pip Mk2, a blue heeler German pointer cross, simply disappeared one night at 14 years old and was never seen again. She must have gone off to die, knowing her time was up. She was arthritic and incontinent and I was almost to the point of taking her to the vet for our final goodbye, instead waiting as she was still enjoying her food and basking in the unseasonable sunny August days. But the nights were cold with heavy frosts and it was on the third of these in a row that she took off.

That would have been 2003 which I know because we got Snow in October in 2001, on Robbie's 14th birthday. We did this because Pip was twelve tears old and looking like she was nearing the end of her life and we were concerned that losing her would be a body blow to the boys who had grown up with her as a rock solid reliable companion. I saw an ad for JR /Japanese Spitz cross pups in the supermarket window and she was six months old when we picked chose Snow, the runt of the litter, and brought her home.

Snow settled in instantly and got on great guns with old Pip, who became rejuvenated. It added some valuable time to Pip's life I'm sure. After Pip disappeared we were a one dog family until Lib brought Pip Mk3 home as an eight week old pup on the 2nd August 2007 ( That's a good thing about blogging, you can go back and check things like I just did).

The two little dogs have been very much a part of our lives since. Snowie was never any trouble other than going AWOL a couple of times during severe thunderstorms when we weren't home, both times she was taken in by kind hearted people who cared for her till they could locate us. She was an outside dog, she didn't ever really want to be inside (except during thunder storms or on fire cracker nights or when shooters were discharging shotguns fairly close to our house).

She was a free spirit who stayed close to the house but did take a little walk in the street most days, harmlessly. In later years she took to visiting our friends Steve and Ann across the road regularly, a habit which contributed to her demise. Steve and Ann moved out last January and the new owners have two massive dogs which are usually confined in their back yard. On the fateful day last Saturday week these dogs were with their owner in the front yard when Snowie wandered in. The large dog grabbed her before the owner had realized what was happening. I was out. When I came home there was a note on my front door to ring my neighbour's mobile. They had had to go out but he told me the bad news and I went and collected Snow who was in a cardboard box at the top of their drive. We gave her a ceremonial burial in a beautiful place in our garden and I'm forever grateful that we were blessed with Snow as a family member for 13 years.

Rheumatoid Arthritis

My GP, not happy with my blood test results after many months of treatment with prednisilone for the polymyalgia, referred me to a specialist some weeks ago. I fronted a few weeks ago and he increased my medication which gave me some relief and new energy and I returned for a second appt yesterday afternoon, after having more blood tests on Monday in preparation.

He had no hesitation telling me yesterday that the tests show I have rheumatoid arthritis. He prescribed another drug, methotrexate, which takes 6 weeks to kick in so he left me on the prednisilone also for the time being. Apparently the methotrexate has less side effects long term than the prednisilone, and may not have any if I'm lucky. It can damage the liver and I'm advised to have only light alcohol intake.

I have not yet had time to research all this properly yet and so I don't know how I will be affected into the future. RA can be aggressive with rapid degeneration of joints and muscle tissue causing severe cripplecreek, or it can be mild and go into remission and flare up here and there. I don't think I have much choice but to follow the medical advise and hope that early intervention will prevent serious deterioration, as I'm told can be so. Nobody can be sure where we end up from here, especially in the longer term. I'm on the way down it seems but aren't we all really, it's just a case of when.

I'm not complaining, there are people given terminal diagnosis every day for all manner of cancers, I'm fit and well except for some pain and some lack of agility which is manageable.

My next appt with specialist is in six weeks - I promise not to talk of this till then, it bores me witless so it must you too and I would like to write about other things. I have been very busy as usual but have managed to gather enough firewood for next winter already as well as catch up on some pruning and tidy up. So much more yet to do and no doubt I'll always be very busy until I have a radical change of circumstances which could happen within months or may not for a few years. We just have to see how we go, there are many considerations.

Awesome

A famous golfer once said of his day's work at the British Open, something like,

"I was in awe of myself today."

I can't say that I have ever been in awe of myself, but I have been in awe of nature and the beauty around me as the sun comes out and the birds sing lately. It's great to hear bees humming in the blossom and see buds swelling and bursting with flower and new growth. There's colour on the ground and on trees and shrubs and the blue sky is exquisite, and so was this evening's sunset.

Awesome beauty indeed.

AS WINTER BECOMES SPRING

The days grow longer, there’s more birdsong, lawnmowers come out, and many footballers put away the boots till next autumn, while others prepare for last games in finals in a frantic bid for the premiership.

Due to Gordon’s involvement I had occasion to see several local games this season, the first being an away game for Gembrook/Cockatoo at Powelltown a couple of months ago. We left home early in misty light rain to reach the venue by the time requested by the coach, 10.30am, a tad early I thought given the 12.10 start for the reserves. The oval, behind a huge sawmill with mountains of sawn stacked timber, was easy to find.

An U18’s game was in progress, between Mt. Evelyn and Powelltown, as Gembrook/Cockatoo did not field an U18 team. Intermittent rain and sleet fell as I watched the lads from Mt Evelyn give the locals a good touch up by about thirty goals to two. I could not help but be impressed by the endeavour of both teams which continued right through the final quarter despite the freezing muddy conditions. I asked myself, who would do it? But then I’m over sixty.

The Ressies warmed up on a patch of grass outside the ground as the U18s kept it up till the final siren. It was raining steadily and they were all getting thoroughly wet before the game even started. The rain eased then stopped and the game got underway with great enthusiasm and yelling and calling. Soon it was obvious that the Powelltown Demons had the upper hand and they slowly mounted a winning lead that continued to a one sided win. Again, I could not but be impressed by the Brookers who kept trying to the very end despite the lopsided score line, and the camaraderie and good sportsmanship evident between the teams at the end of the match.

We stayed for the senior game, the rain holding off for a while. Both teams showed good skills in another spirited contest. As the game wore on Powelltown got the upper hand, the rain came back, and the skill level dropped off as it became a muddy slog.

Over the next weeks there were games at King Lake with snow around the ground and kids throwing snowballs, more rain and blizzard winds, and games when the Ressies did not score at all. Through all of this the players continued trying their hearts out, and shared moments of joy and celebration, at scores or good efforts, and always congratulated their victorious opponents. Fittingly, they won the last game at Thornton with only 17 men on the field and no interchange.

In one of the coldest and wettest winters I can recall, I am full of admiration for the young and not so young men who braved the elements and showed their obvious love of footy, which plays an important role in our society.

It's a Dog's Life

This little one is about the luckiest dog in the world I reckon. A great mate. I sing to her,

"I love how you love me"

She gives a wag of the tail.

Coughing Up

We, that is Lib, Gord and me, all have head and chest colds. Gord's is the worst, he's had it for many weeks and his cough that must be driving him crazy. Lib and I aren't so bad and have only been overcome this past week or so but the cough is irritating and detracting from good sleep.

I heard on the radio that it's been the best snow season since 1981. I remember 1981 well; we came to Gembrook in July from Wangaratta to a house without carpets and curtains and indeed no electricity for two weeks. It was freezing and I would say this winter has been the worst since for prolonged cold and wet. We've had lower temperatures and more thick frosts in other years but this winter has been cold and wet for a long period. Hard on man and beast. I was fortunate to have a good stock of firewood including some really old dry stuff.

The days are stretching out a little now and birdsong in the mornings is building. The temperature was a little warmer yesterday and today with some sunshine, even a few blowflies down the chimney to buzz and bang on the windows. it'll  be 4- 6 weeks till I close the chimney vent and finish with the open fire till into next autumn when the cold returns. I'm gathering some wood for next year as I prune and remove some trees at the farm and tidy up here.

Cough and splutter we may well and suffer aching muscles and crook backs, but the work goes on. As does the paper work. I've spent late nights catching up on three months book work to do the BAS and end of year collation.

I'm not complaining. To use a popular saying going round at the moment, it is what it is. I picked wild violets today and some daphne and geranium. It was total pleasure. I'm proud of my work and my family's work, especially Lib.

PS. I heard today that Tony Abbott said any Australians going overseas to fight in conflicts would be punished.
Surely he doesn't mean ADF people, so he means, I suppose, depending on his endorsement or condemnation of the conflict, Australians are lauded or punished accordingly.

Violence is violence, it is what it is. Murder is murder. 

Heritage Walk

Emerald's Heritage Walk was launched on Wednesday this week. A joint venture between the Emerald Community House and the Emerald Museum it came about through the energy of the ECH who applied for a small grant in the Museum's name and did the planning, while our museum committee provided the information and worked with the graphic designer to produce the brochure and signs.

The end result was excellent. I had little to do with the nuts and bolts of it but as president of the committee I was required to make a small speech at the launch, one of four speakers the last of whom was the Mayor of Cardinia who then cut the ribbon.

In my talk I thanked the attending MPs and councillors and all who contributed, using a list of dot points prepared for me by our wonderful part time museum officer employed by council (for six months only, probably one off). I had been away at Lakes Entrance in the two days prior, building a post and rail fence on top of the new big retaining wall for safety reason, and would have struggled preparing a talk in those circumstance as my mind was fully engaged with friend carpenter Willy from Phillip Island who met me down there. It was a small job only but by the time you get down there and organize and buy the timber, do the job and tidy up it was a two night stay. Men off the leash, fun, but I returned Tuesday night exhausted. Gord came and I needed him to share the driving on the way home, I was falling asleep.

I added a personal experience to my talk. In 1999 (I think) We were on holiday at Lakes Entrance and to cut a long story short Gord had a burst appendix and peritonitis after ill health for two weeks and visits to doctor and then hospital which was not picked up by the varoius medicos till I took him to the clinic in LE after his condition was worsening not improving. He had to go to Sale hospital where he had emergency surgery that saved his life. We stayed in Sale for a week, and got to know the town quite well, having previously only ever driven through it.

Because of this, we stopped in Sale on future trips for meals or shopping and a bit of nostalgia. Some years ago I came across a Heritage Walk there, and took the brochure back to our committee, who were impressed but already had plans to do this in Emerald. Finally it has happened which is rewarding. When I saw the Heritage Walk in Sale my thoughts were immediate - the people of Sale are proud of their town, their community and the history. This is an important thing to demonstrate to visitors and the new generation coming through.

The other speakers on Wednesday talked of how this heritage walk is stage one. The RSL and the Village Committee are working on an ANZAC Walk to be completed for next year's centenary. The RSL has a grant from the federal government of many $thousand.

Since my talk I have done more thinking. I remember being in the Sale hospital waiting anxiously while Gord was in surgery and seeing a plaque on a donation board for a wing of the hospital built in I think the 1920's or 30's, something like, Donation by Margaret Lyon in memory of her only son Leonard who was killed at Albertville France in 1916. I was moved by this, that this lady in commemoration of her son had made a donation to a hospital that was at that moment saving the life of my son.

We already have Avenues of Honour, the shrine of remembrance and a War Memorial in Canberra. I would prefer to see the large amount of public money spent on a better purpose such as a hospital. God knows how many millions are being spent on centenary ANZAC Day and I think the example of Margaret Lyons would be a good way to go.

Wet and Cold

I hear rain on the roof. A familiar sound commonly heard over the past four weeks since I last posted. It has been an extended wet and cold period, broken only by the odd day or two when there has been no rain or drizzle. At these times the wind has cranked up ripping through like a scythe of cold chilling man and beast.

Suffer I have with the polymyalgia not abated. I have had awful days, and nights, interspersed with some good ones, usually after treatment of one sort or another including five sessions of acupuncture, the latest today, and more chiropractic. The lady who gave me the Shiatsu massage four weeks ago has not been available in July and my booking for a soft tissue massage after hot sauna in Emerald was aborted due to power failure during a blizzard with gale force winds.

The rain tumbles still, heavier now. Through all this I have continued to work to the my best capabilities, slowly and carefully of course. Mornings are painful till the panadeine and prednisilone kicks in making afternoons easier.

With this tale of woe you will see why I haven't blogged. It's not any fun at all to talk about it and it robs you of the interest and desire to share thoughts. I know I am a pain in the arse and the whole event bores me to tears.

So let me tell you about my acupuncture man as he has become a friend to me. He lives in Berwick and works from his house.  He's university qualified and has worked learning also in China. He is of Chinese father and Maltese mother. At some point his father met his mother in India. He is married to an East Timorese lady and he has two daughters. His wife was a refugee. He was born in 1977 and he barracks for Nth Melbourne. He has an interest in the punt. We discuss all these things and more while I lie on a table in my underpants as he sticks 18 needles into me, in my arms and legs and chest and shoulders, before he leaves me in quiet dozing and dreaming. It's most pleasant. He comes back and heats up some of the needles with some sort of burning stick, although he did not do this today, he left me for twice as long as usual.

When I first rang him I asked him did he think he could help with polymyalgia.

"I think I can help with anything," he replied.

How many visits will I need to make?

" Three to six," he said.

"I'll give you three for starters," I told him.

I have booked in for a sixth next week. I want to trial this right through. Nothing has cured this weird affliction but I am coping and working and fulfilling nearly all my commitments if falling behind on work at the farm which doesn't really matter when I consider the stage my career is at - nearly at the end.

I am disgusted with politics and many things outside my sphere of influence so I choose not to waste one minute of  my time on them.

Rickyralph is five ahead of me in the footy tipping. There's still enough rounds for me to catch him, remembering last year I swooped in the last round from 3 behind to do him on the post. Extraordinarily, Lib is leading and twelve ahead of me and I concede that is an unassailable margin.