Denny's Bees

I hadn't heard anything of Denny for a few years. I posted about Denny on April 1 2012, and for a year or so following that I had a fair bit of contact, helping him with his bees and talking to him on the phone and at my house where he visited to talk a few times. He was obsessed with his bees. I tried to tell him to relax about it and leave them alone, there was no need to be checking on on them all the time and worrying.

I told Denny I was going out of beekeeping. I was tired of the workload that came at inconvenient timing to me with my other commitments, and frankly the task of extracting honey when I was not geared for it was onerous and after so many years of it at weekends when I was tired and needed a rest, I had had enough.

A couple of weeks ago there was a message on my phone from a lady who sounded young asking me would I be interested in taking the honey from 3 triple beehives for a price, and what would that be? Of course I was curious and I rang back and talked to Marta who explained her father had suffered a heart attack and was in hospital waiting for bypass surgery and he was anxious about his bees. I asked how did she get on to me and it dawned that she was Denny's daughter and Denny had given her my number. I said I wanted no payment and would help gratis given the circumstances.

I arranged to go there and meet Marta and see what equipment was there in terms of replacement frames etc. I had no interest in doing the extracting, I'm well and truly over getting sticky and mucking about straining honey. Marta said she and her mother and her daughter could handle that but they couldn't get the honey from the bees, they did not know how to do it and besides that Marta was allergic to bee stings. So Saturday two weeks ago I went to Denny's place in Gembrook and met Marta and her mother Ivanna whom I remembered from my previous visits. Denny was supposed to have been operated on the day before but it was postponed and rescheduled for the next Monday.

Establishing from them that the next Saturday would be a good day for them to do the extract, I said I would come in the morning on that day and get the honey off. On the Friday night there was a phone message from Ivanna asking could we postpone it for a week, Denny was in recovery from the operation and was in a bad way and they were visiting him every day to try and lift his morale which had dived.

So we did it today instead. As I pulled in half an hour after I said I would be there a ghostly figure appeared. It was Denny. Pale and drawn and a lot thinner than I remembered him. He had the old ride on mower and trailer rigged up, loaded with boxes and frames and all sorts of unnecessary clobber and we headed to the first beehive with Marta and Ivanna following. The hive was strong and I took a box off the top quickly. Marta and I began walking to he next location and Ivanna was to drive the mower but she did not follow and we went back. The little machine would not go forward, the belt was slipping and smoke was coming out. I wen to get my van but Denny came down and told us how to get it moving- put it in reverse and go back a metre then go forward.

I drove it the couple of hundred metres past the big dam/lake to the site of the other two hives. Marta said she would sit in the shade and watch, she had lost fear of the bees watching me with the first hive noticing the bees were not aggressive and made no attempt to sting me. Just the same i was worried that an errant bee may fly into her hair and sting her, and with her allergy that was something frankly I had no desire for. Ivanna was walking around close trying to organise  putting the frames of honey into plastic storage boxes with lids, a system alien to me and a little distracting, but sensible when I think about it. She had a curly head of hair and I was expecting a bee to get stuck in it at any minute and create mayhem.

The beautiful dam

Marta went off to pick blackberries and I got the honey off without incident despite the mix of replacement combs and material. All's well that ends well. Marta picked for me some lovely blackberries to take home and we took the honey back to the house. On leaving Marta was thankful to me and as we talked briefly about work; I asked what her work was. She's doing a doctorate in forensic evidence/medicine? at the coroner's court she said. Her thesis is on preventable deaths in aged care. It is no wonder I had found her a most impressive lady!

The event was a joyful one for me. I like to help people, and the experience seeing Denny and Ivanna's place was most rewarding. They have several acres planted out with all manner of trees and huge dam. A little paradise close to the heart of Gembrook but tucked away where no one would know it was there unless you were lucky like me.

Lovely Marta

Rain

As I drove down the hill to Cockatoo on Saturday morning I saw two sets of black cockatoos along the way. These beautiful birds are harbingers of rain. They are not always around, but when they are usually there's rain to come in the next few days. I saw them on Friday too.

As I sit here now this Sunday night the rain is gentle but steady on the roof. Earlier while I was in the bath it was heavy, a right downpour, and most welcome. I had cleared the down pipes of leaves in the afternoon and I lay in the warm water loving the rain for the great benefit it brings to plants and reducing the danger of bushfire. This almost kills the fire season. Not quite dead yet, but nearly.

My black coffee is strong and bitter. The red wine is smooth and seductive. I'm filled with the joy of being alive. The roast lamb was superb. The thought of my dentist appt tomorrow at 8.30 am in Berwick does not in the least disturb me. Mathy is a brilliant man and dentist. I look forward to it.

Yesterday I checked the beehive that I have here. It had been a disaster, probably of my own fault, as had been the hive at my friend Leanne's. I meddled with them in November when I shouldn't have, with the plan of requeening by division and subsequent uniting. Conditions were bad.. it rained and drizzled and spring was a crock. The bees collapsed. My fault. If left alone they'd have been fine.

As it happened, I had a Ligurian queen coming in the post week before last. I had ordered a queen to come in November but the bad weather caused disruption to the breeder and he could not deliver. He said it would come December. It didn't. He emailed January, said his program was totally derailed by the bad weather, he could not provide me with a queen, did I want a Ligurian replacement from people on Kangaroo Island with whom he had an arrangement. Yes I emailed.

The hive here by this time was queenless for all sign, if there was a virgin or young mated queen not yet laying I could not find her. I introduced the Ligurian a week or so ago. Yesterday when I checked there was a queen laying beautifully with the young brood swimming in rich food, a great sight.

Leanne's hive is struggling still. Spotty brood pattern, lots of dead brood presumably European foulbrood. I feel I inflicted this on them by dividing them earlier and trying to requeen when conditions were bad. Stress.

Before I retire I must tell you of a good story of today. Lib went to work at 6.30am, she's doing extra shifts to fund our upcoming trip to NZ. I saw her off after doing the usual tea and toast making and fruit etc, then made a lamb casserole for the crockpot, prepared the vegies for the roast, and did the laundry and cleared the kitchen. Then I thought I'd have a little lie down for half an hour, but I fell asleep and didn't wake till 11am.

Hungry, I went to cook ham and eggs, a favourite, then realized that the dozen eggs Leanne gave me the previous day I had put on the roof of Lib's car while I went off and did something and forgot them. I rang Lib at work and left a message with a young staff member suggesting Lib check the roof of her car as I had left a dozen eggs there. If by a miracle they were still there it would be good to put them inside the car rather than risk a return with them on the roof.

Lib rang back 10 minutes later to say the eggs were intact. She must be a good driver.

Coffee and Cake

Neighbours Celia and Cathy live opposite and two doors up. On Saturday afternoon late there was a knock on our door and it was Celia smiling broadly with a hat like an Akubra atop her athletic frame. It took me a couple of seconds to recall her name, which happens to me a bit when I encounter someone away from where I usually see them. It was unusual for Celia to be at our front door, normally when I see her she riding her bike, walking, or driving her ute which is often adorned with a kayak.

She said it was Cathy's mother Margaret's 80th birthday on Monday and the family was going to to Forest Edge restaurant down Launching Place Road for Sunday lunch to be followed by more people gathering at Celia and Cathy's house later for coffee and cake, say from about 3pm. She said they knew Margaret would like me to attend as she enjoys talking to me so I was invited to come if I could make it. I thanked her and said yes I'll be there as I also like talking to Margaret and would be delighted to be part of the birthday thing.

Margaret, who is a charming and delightful lady, owns a weekender in our street, also opposite us, but back the other way . She bought this as it was near her daughter Cathy and she loved the quiet rural feel, and comes up from Melbourne quite regularly, but less so these days than previously when she was married to her second husband, Graham, a Scotsman. For some years she and Graham spent six months in Scotland, then six in Melbourne, conveniently avoiding the winters. A keen gardener, she and I always had plenty to talk about, and we had numerous happy conversations over the years and I helped her a couple of times with the chainsaw to remove fallen tree debris, and I picked some geranium, daphne and pieris in her garden from time to time.

Graham's health deteriorated as did his driving ability; in the last year he was here there were a number of incidents with the car and near misses. When they next went to Scotland Graham would not return. Margaret did briefly to attend to some necessaries and went back to to Scotland to care for Graham who was by now seriously invalided. It was a difficult time for Margaret at her age to be skipping across the world, torn between her desire to stay in Australia and Graham's need that she stay in Scotland. Graham passed and Margaret moved home permanently.

For the last year or so I have seen little of Margaret as her house was used by a grandchild with young family who had work in the area. On Margaret's odd trips up to tend the garden I would always stop for a chat if I saw her. On one of these times she told me her daughter Libby was buying the house in the near future.

My Libby left for work Sunday morning at 6.30 - she doesn't work Sunday usually but was filling in for another nurse - and in the freshness of the morning I walked the garden picking flowers and foliage and bunched it up as neatly as I could to give to Margaret later when I went to the do. It turned out quite a hot day so I was glad I did this early. I blanched and froze quite a lot of beans I'd picked out at Marguerita's the day before and did the vegies for our Sunday roast. In the early arvo I pushed the mower round the house and when 3pm came my shirt and singlet were ringing wet with perspiration. I changed into a nice shirt and slacks and with plenty of deodorant and flowers in hand walked up the street to Celia and Cathy's feeling quite the dandy.

Margaret loved her bunch of flowers and I met other members of the family including daughter Fiona from Cairns and brother Geoffrey. There was no grog, just ginger beer, water, tea and coffee and lots of fruit platters and of course cake. Alec from Scotland dressed in kilt played the bagpipes and the kids swam in Cathy and Celia's new pool, it was a lovely family get together, and I had a good yarn with other neighbours Vicki and Mark. At about 5pm Margaret, Geoffrey, Alec, daughter Libby and I and some of the younger ones walked down the road to see the renovations to Margaret's house which to this point is a new roof and bathroom. Libby is going to build a new house up the back and the old one will be for Margaret to stay in when she visits.

This was a thoroughly good day with thoroughly good people. Afterwards I went up to Hanna's and sprayed some weeds and watered the pumpkins which are taking off now. Then a warm bath, a lovely roast chicken with a good bottle of red. Doesn't get much better.

Margaret

Alec playing the pipes

 

Positivity

Sarah Ariss is a cognitive hypnotherapist in England and somehow her posts come up on my Facebook homepage. I'm not sure why this is, but I think it's something to do with her attending some advanced classes in aspects of hypnotherapy where the leader was Dr Brian Roet whom I have known for a long time. Brian was centre half back in Melbourne's 1964 Premiership team as a young man, and I met him personally in 1975 when I was working at Redpath's Beeline Apiaries and he walked in to inquire about obtaining bees as he'd bought property at Upper Beaconsfield and thought bees might do well there.

Brian was at the time a gynecologist and to abbreviate a story I helped him with his bees, and we had contact over a few years. I was working in Wangaratta from 1976 but was often home on weekends and when sister Meredith was expecting her first child I suggested Brian to her and he worked with Meredith through her pregnancy and birthing. He had a life change after that and left Australia to live in England and become a hypnotherapist. I have probably told that story somewhere previously in more detail in my blog, it's difficult to remember all that you write and I'm sure I'm a little repetitive sometimes.

I contacted Brian a few years ago when I thought I had polymyalgia, this being thirty years after our last contact, to ask him if he knew of any tricks I might do to improve my situation. After a little jogging of his memory he recalled me well and sent me some meditation tools. During that process I must have "liked' something on Facebook that came up mentioning Dr Brian Roet and I now receive updates from Sarah Ariss, and I just love her thinking and writing. So I'm going to try to reproduce some here. I tried to copy and paste straight from her blog but warnings came up from Blogger which I don't quite understand so I'm going to try saving on word then copy and pasting.

About Me…

A Little More about Me…

I have always been interested in people. As a teenager I was painfully shy, but I have learnt that asking people about themselves is a great way to overcome that shyness. Its funny how a smile and an interest in another person can make you forget your own self consciousness! I love listening to people. Which is fortunate in my line of business!

I have always enjoyed drawing and painting and my latest interest is photography. All the photos on my website were taken by me. I photograph the countryside around where I live and particularly like macro shots of flowers!

At university I studied History of Art and then English Literature. Love of learning is something that plays a huge part in my life.

Why did I decide to become a Cognitive Hypnotherapist?

I have experienced, with a close family member, just how frustrating and upsetting it can be to have to fight for help where Mental Health is concerned. I decided that if I could ever help anyone in the same position in the future, I would. I want to treat people with care, respect and kindness.

My own life changing experience of hypnotherapy came when I sought help for a fear that was beginning to really restrict my life. In one session my life was transformed. The strange thing is that I remember asking the therapist “Did you actually hypnotise me?? ” It didn’t feel weird or life changing – I just felt calm and relaxed. I couldn’t really believe how quickly and powerfully the therapy worked. It was as if the fear had never been there…

I began to realise that training to be a hypnotherapist myself would mean being able to help people in a way that would be both extraordinary and incredibly rewarding. I knew that I would be able to help people who were possibly in the same position I had been in with my family member.

I wanted to make sure that I studied Cognitive Hypnotherapy with a school that was credible, supportive and that gave me an in depth knowledge of my subject.

I researched courses extensively and chose to study with the founder of Cognitive Hypnotherapy and Wordweaving™,  Trevor Silvester, at the Quest Institute in Regent’s University, London. It is a decision that has quite simply changed my life. The HPD Diploma course is an eleven month course with hands on practice as well as written examinations including case studies. It is intensive and thorough. The Quest Institute is considered one of the premier schools for hypnotherapy in the country.

Positivity.

Positivity is not something that everyone has. When faced with a challenge, or a dilemma, some people’s first reaction is “I can’t do that!” For example, when I wrote a post about Relaxation and how important is is for our mental health, a couple of friends told me that they just don’t have time to relax. I have another friend who is very ill, but I never see her without a massive smile on her face and a determination to make the most of every day. I wonder what makes the difference? Why does one person find quite small challenges impossible and yet another is willing to keep trying even when they know that the challenge they face is enormous?

A Change of Mindset

I had lunch with my mum the other day. She is 80 this year and never ceases to amaze me. Since my father died 16 years ago ( I can’t quite believe its that long…) she has grown and grown as a person, full of energy and vigour. Having smoked for 60 years she recently gave up and looks even brighter than ever. But she wasn’t always like this. I remember her being quite a negative person, but as time has gone on she has changed. Her cup is no longer half empty, but half full. Most days she would tell you her cup is full to overflowing. Even when she has difficult times, and she’s had a few lately, she lifts up her head and says, “I am not going to let this affect me. I am going to be good and kind and positive.”

So how has she changed? And how do clients I work with change from the negative loop they are in, to a loop of positivity?

The Two Wolves

There is a story I tell people…you may well have heard it before, but I find that it really resonates with the people I see. It is the story of the Two Wolves… There was once an old man, a Cherokee, who was sitting with his grandson….They were talking together about life and the way we live.

The old man told the boy that each of us has within us two wolves who constantly battle for superiority. There is a Bad Wolf full of Anger, Hatred, Self Pity, Arrogance, Envy, Lies and Negativity…. and there is a Good Wolf full of Love, Kindness, Empathy, Hope, Humility and Positivity.

The boy looked at his grandfather and thought for a while, then asked, “Grandfather, which of the two wolves is strongest? Which wolf will win?” The old man smiled at his grandson and said, “The one you feed…”

Every Cloud has a Silver Lining

So is that the secret? Can you become more positive by seeking out the good things in life and choosing to feed your Good Wolf? My answer to that would be, Yes. Now, I know that not every day is brilliant. There are days when things are actually rather rubbish and there can be periods of our lives when it seems everything is dark and dismal. Yet, even in those days there will be moments where the sun shines through, moments where the dark clouds are not quite so dark.

By feeding our Good Wolf we lighten our days. If we can find one good thing from a terrible situation, or if we can react in a way that is kind and understanding, it changes the way our brain works. By feeding the good we start to notice more of the good around us and that way the sun starts to shine.

I am not saying that this is the easiest thing you will ever do, but wouldn’t all of us rather live in a world where the Good Wolves thrive? There is no script to our lives…. There are no rules that say you have to be a certain way… and that means that you can change. Tomorrow, or today, or now….you can choose to think a different way. I think that’s what my mum has done. I think that she has chosen to love the people and the world around her, no matter what, and by feeding her Good Wolf she has changed the way she thinks, the way she lives. She relishes life.

That is part of the work I do….helping my clients to think a different way. It is so wonderful to see people realise that, if they choose to, they can change their lives. If you are curious then why don’t you get in touch?

sarah@sarahariss.com               07894564287               sarahariss.com

Windscreen, Washing Machine, Fridge

There's a man outside in my carport right now fitting a new windscreen to my Kangoo. A week or so before Christmas I was driving in Gembrook when a stone flicked up from a tray tray truck coming the other way and there was the dreaded smacking sound of stone hitting glass. At the time, without stopping, I couldn't see where the stone hit and I thought to myself "Phew, that was lucky," thankful I was travelling at a slow speed.

I forgot all about it until a week later when Gord, as a passenger, pointed out a fracture at the top of the screen, a ding now bigger than the 10 cent piece, too big therefore I believed to be repaired by the repair glue technique. Just before Xmas I had occasion to speak with my vehicle insurance co. about another matter...adding roadside assistance to Lib's car...and I asked them had I added no excess windscreen cover when I renewed as I had vague recollection that I had. Yes they told me so, I told them about the ding and they said it would be fine if I made a claim after the Christmas break.

Into January the crack grew slowly from the ding to be about 6 inches long so I rang Real Insurance and made a claim on Monday. Within half an hour I had a phone call from National Windscreens and we organised to get the job done today, being the first chance I felt I had to not be using the car for a time. He's finished already, doing the job in less than half an hour and told me not to drive for an hour or so. I'll leave it for at least two as I'm enjoying a bit of quiet time.

I have had my vehicles insured with Real for a few years now, and so has Gord and Jod on my recommendation. In 2015 Gord made a claim on hi Skoda, in 2016 Lib hit the kangaroo and we claimed on the Hyundai, and now I have claimed for the windscreen. In every instance Real have been courteous and efficient and always pleasant to deal with. I put my roadside assist with them also as in was cheaper than RACV. I have not needed this service yet, nor have I needed to test them on house insurance claim. I switched this to them also because of their lower premium, which is why I switched the cars to them in the first place.

On new year's eve Gord and I went to Good Guys in Narre Warren where I bought a new washing machine. The old one had started up a terrible groaning noise as it pumped water out and my repair man had a recorded message saying he was on his Christmas break till 7 January. The old one was purchased in 2004 so I figured it would be best option to buy a new one for $700 than wait and pay perhaps $300 repairing the old. Gord had done some research on the internet and found an LG on special. So far so good it's working a treat and is quieter and more efficient.

While in Good Guys we looked at fridges and liked the look of an LG fridge freezer of similar size to the one at home which ex neighbours Steve and Anne gave us when they moved three years ago. When I got home I saw the old fridge rating was 987 kw per year while the LG was 299. So after getting agreement from Lib, she and I went down to Good Guys Pakenham and bought one on New Years Day after Gord's research showed they had one there. It's nice to have new stuff.

I had a good semi rest between Xmas and New Year. We have been busy since and I've made good progress on the grass, I've started gathering firewood for winter, and yesterday even started on the blackberry control.

I'm hoping for a pleasant 2017 in good health. To quote the sales pitch of LG, "Life's Good." I wish the same to all my friends and readers scattered about Australia and abroad.

I have more interesting things than windscreens, washing machines and fridges to write about in the near future, it's just a matter of quiet time to do it.

 May God be with you.

The House that Doug Built

I'm sitting in it. At least in one of the many houses that Doug built. It was good to see Doug Sharpe and his wife Norma today at the farm where he has parked his caravan in front of Jod's place for a few days.

A carpenter by trade all his working life Doug lived in Emerald from the 1960's for about twenty five years. In 1981 when Lib and I bought our block of land and a small kit house, Doug and Jod were good friends and Jod worked for Doug, as did Doug's eldest son Graham who was about 17 I think. Doug and Jod must have worked together for some years as I recall that I also worked with them for a couple of months one summer, it must have been before I went to Wangaratta in May 1976. ( I have thought more about this - as at Feb 7-  I think it may have been 1973 before I went to Qld.) We were building a block of flats in Ferntree Gully and it was hot hard work with me doing most of the labouring lumping timber for the frames and rooves.

They would stop at the Clematis pub on the way home and drink themselves silly then go to Doug's house and kick on. I couldn't handle it I confess and usually made my own way home after a few pots. Doug and Norma had five kids and frankly their existence was rough and ready and boozy, their house had no floor coverings nor paint inside and the young kids were wild and free. But they were loved. Doug was an excellent tradesman and a hard worker, and a genuine good bloke. I didn't hesitate engaging him when we needed a carpenter to build our house.

It's a good house that has served us well for 35 years. We extended it in 1985 when Gord was on the way and again Doug built the extension. Jod was still with him, but I think only when Doug was busy, otherwise Jod was working in sawmills or driving a tractor.

Doug told me today he was 73. He has given up drinking, and smoking, after suffering lung cancer for which he has been treated for some years. He was a very heavy smoker, always rolling a cigarette while contemplating a problem or plan in his work, or with a beer afterwards. After he left Emerald he moved to Queensland and worked for another twenty years, some of it as a suupervisor for a building firm, returning to Victoria to Macedon where he now lives in retirement.

Doug would have been 38 when he built our house. He and Norma married young after Norma fell pregnant. Doug had a hard start in life from a very humble background which Jod has told me about but I don't recall fully, I think his old man drank heavily and always on the move. Doug was the eldest of 6 kids who were separated in foster homes at one point. Norma was the 6th of 15 kids.

It was just nice to see Doug still alive after battling the cancer, and to see Jod and he still mates. They have kept in touch through all the years.

A Young Trollop

How nice it was to get through to end of last week and get home Friday evening with a weekend ahead with no picking. The customers bowled a bouncer or two but we managed.

During the week Gord had told me he may go to Fountain Gate shopping centre on Saturday and I toyed with the idea of going with him on the bus to do a bit of Christmas shopping. I bought two Myki tickets a few years ago and have never used them so when I was in the newsagents in Emerald on Friday to buy my weekly Tattslotto tickets I asked the delightful Mary to check the Myki cards. She said yes they were still valid until April and they had $20 on them.

So I went with Gord, we caught the 10.57am from Gembrook. Including us there were only four people on it. Another two got on at Cockatoo and then four young girls at Emerald. Two of these sat behind Gord and I and one of them spoke loudly and continuously all the way, every second sentence contained the word "like" and alternately, "fucking". She was about fifteen I guess. It was the only downer to an otherwise very pleasant trip as I was enjoying not having to drive and the scenery offered by the more elevated position from the bus as opposed to a car driver's seat.

When it comes to bad language I'm not usually offended as it is used often in everyday situations and in movies. It is I think an accepted part of today's society but it is usually used with some context to a situation or in emphasis to a point someone is making. This girl just used it constantly as part of her sentence formation. I could only think how terrible it would make me feel if a child of mine spoke like that in a public arena let alone in a more private setting. I can honestly say I have never heard my sons use that word and they are 30 and 29 years old.

I was so glad not to have driven, the car park was packed out and the traffic crawling around looking for spaces was heavy. As we went over the bridge over the freeway it was banked up as far as you could see and static or crawling. Motor City madness.

After Gord showed me where JB HIFI was and I bought two new charge connecting cables for the mobile phones (Lib's no longer worked and she needed to use mine to charge her phone and her Ipad as her cable for that was damaged too), we went our separate shopping ways with plans to be at bustop at 3.10pm to go home. I headed to Myers to look for perfume for Lib first then a bookshop and various stores for odds and sods including socks and underwear which I now have a good stock of new.

A Morrocan lamb burger at 'Grilled' before meeting Gord at the bustop and a relaxed trip got us home at 4pm. The young couple who got on at Cockatoo on the morning trip were also on the return trip. They were quiet and reserved and after they alighted I watched them walk across McBride St hand in hand and I thought of the juxtaposition with the foul mouthed trollop from Emerald. I'd say she'd have bright future in management....of a brothel.

I watched the last few races at Flemington and was happy to see My Survivor get up paying $61 the win $9 the place which gave me a nice profit for the day.  

A Friend in Need

It's raining enough to wash out my planned job this morning at my friends Pat and Mal's place. Pat has had some bad luck lately, the worst of it being a broken foot, two breaks in main bones and foot in plaster to seriously curtail her normal busy gardening.

The rain will clear but I have to move to foliage picking for three customers who come Friday afternoon and Saturday. I went to the post office and found in our mail a letter and Xmas card from my old friend Nicki Bridges at Moyhu. Our friendship goes back nearly forty years to when I lived at Moyhu renting a house on a neighbouring farm.Nick and John showed me considerable kindness often inviting me for a meal or to share a social gathering with them. Nick even had a couple of tries at matchmaking me with local ladies and all in all I have to say it was a very happy time for me the 18 months or so I lived out there.

I went to the post office to post a letter I'd written last night to Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews. This hand written letter followed a meeting in the Gembrook Community Hall last night between Gembrook residents concerned at the impact the Puffing Billy Masterplan will have on the community, and Puffing Billy CEO John Robinson.

I was home early enough to have a quick bath and put on clean clothes and be up there at 7pm. The meeting slowly progressed with most of the talk being a monologue by the CEO on the virtues of Puffing Billy and its enormous value and potential, and about his own personal history with the organisation. On and on he went, I had to ask the chairperson could he be interrupted so that we could ask a question. My turn came; his answer was that there would be no change to the number of PB events held in Gembrook in the completed Masterplan. This despite his earlier comments that everyone's submission had been considered - I made a submission in early October - no reply as yet - and that as a result of submissions there would be a flow on resulting from the strengthening of the document in the nearly completed final master plan.

At this point I said I was leaving the meeting, I could see no point in me sitting there listening to the CEO spruik about how wonderful he and Puffing Billy was, and that I wanted it recorded how I deeply resented the intrusion to our quiet little rural town, and that I had heard enough bullshit to last me a life time.

As I walked to my car I could hear loud laughter coming from the meeting room and I assume I had created some mirth in the gathering, which if was at my expense, did not make me feel any happier.

I went home and resisted the desire to open a bottle of serious red and slashed down a few Edenvale no alcohol glasses with my chicken schnitzel. Later I went to Facebook and saw a post about how the Victorian Government was to be the first in Australia to initiate legislation to allow assisted dying.

Now I don't think Daniel Andrews is very popular at the moment, especially with the Herald Sun newspaper and radio 3AW, but above that I have to say I admire the man for his courage, and that was the basis of my letter to him, one of congratulations on being a politician with a bit of spine, a commodity in short supply in Australia. Of course I also vented a little of my frustration with the Puffing Billy bullies and PB's entrenchment with councils and governments.

My opinion, which I will repeat loudly at every opportunity, is that PB is a symbol of the industrial revolution. It manipulates authorities with emphasis on Thomas the Tank Engine and Santa Claus and happy children. A smokescreen, literally and figuratively. If we sit back and rely on Chinese tourists coming we will end up like Greece and Italy on the precipice of bankruptcy. We are in a new age of technology and environment restoration and sustainability. Tourism needs to fit this new criteria. Australia is unique for its flora and fauna and magnificent landscape, not for Thomas the Tank Engine or a bloody steam train hooting its way around the hills spewing coal smoke and cinders. We need new industry, new crops, new forests, new ideas, real work opportunities; not 900 volunteers mucking around with a steam train. Imagine what good use 900 people could do in volunteer work for something useful. You wouldn't have a weed or bit of litter in the district. As it is now the feds are throwing $millions to PB and $millions to dubious weed eradication projects somehow mysteriously (to me) linked to bush fire protection. It's all to catch votes, never mind how effective any of it is.

Anyway, Nicki said in her letter she reads my blog and savours it. That made me feel a lot better, even if she said she feels some dissent with my comments sometimes. This post is for you Nick. Thanks for your friendship over the decades.

It has stopped raining, I'd better get cracking.

Good Progress

My friend Vilma rang on Saturday and asked me if I could cut the long grass at the back of her property which was four feet high and thick. My friend Josef has been doing the grass at Vilma's for the last year or so, since he sold his house two doors down and moved in to the separate flat vacated by Vilma's son when he became too ill for Vilma to look after.

She asked if I could also do her lawns as they were long too and she was concerned it was a bit too much for Josef as he has had some health issues of his own lately. Gord came with me and did the lawns while I took to the long rough stuff at the back with the whipper. It was a warm day but Gord and I enjoyed the work and it was nice to see Vilma looking so well and in good spirit. Josef came home while we were finishing and it was good to see him. He and Vilma look after each other and seem to be getting on well. Josef's wife died of leukemia not long before he returned to Gembrook.

While talking to Vilma I looked across to a big green beech tree in the garden of Josef's old house. I had picked foliage from it for a number of years while Josef owned the house, and while he had a tenant renting it while he and his wife managed a motel on Phillip Island. I didn't pick there last season, I didn't want to annoy the new owner by intruding to ask if I could. Vilma told me a young couple with a baby were renting it and she suggested I ask them if I could have some beech foliage.

So on Sunday before going out to Marguerita's to tidy up the broadies I called in and met the young couple who told me yes to come and pick some when I needed it. At Maguerita's I pulled the stakes out that I had put in to tie up the rows and rolled up all the twine onto a reel so I can use it again. That was slow and fiddly but I hated the thought of it going to waste. Marguerita was home and she and I planted spuds in a section of the garden where brocolli had been and finished.

As it happened the phone rang Monday morning and one of my customers wanted 30 bunches of green beech so it was sort of good karma that I could go down the road to Josef's old house and pick the most beautiful lush green beech quickly and easily as the tree was not picked last year so it had plenty on it. They wanted copper beech too and I picked that quickly from another tree I do in Gembrook each year. It was fortunate in that I had a specialist's appointment in Dandenong at 3.30pm so I dropped off my bunches at the farm on the way, after a delay and detour near Emerald with disruption to traffic by what looked like a bad accident. As the road was blocked off at the Monbulk Road corner there was a traffic jam there also and I ended up ten minutes late for the appointment which didn't matter because I still had to wait 20 minutes to see doctor as he was running behind time.

The good news is he was happy with my blood test results, I'm making good progress and was pleased to tell him I have reduced the prednisolone to a quarter of a tablet a day and I'm not relapsing as a result. He said I can drop the pred all together and see how I go, but wants me to stay on the same other medications (methotrexate 2X10mg tabs once a week and weekly Abatacept injection, and he doesn't want to see me till next June but I will have blood test in March and the results will go to him.

Other interest for the weekend was a call from Dave Dickson at Emerald in Qld. He and his wife Jodie are cutting Gumby Gumby foliage as a sideline and drying it and milling it to powder and putting it in capsules and selling it by word of mouth and on the internet. Apparently it's an aboriginal medicine good for many ailments. Sunday morning Lib and I went to Akoona Park market at Berwick as I needed a locksmith to get a key cut for my car as one of mine was worn and wouldn't go in the ignition. We found him and it cost me $90. The market was huge and I was most impressed, I had not been there before although Lib goes now and again. It's on every Sunday I think..

Busy Gembrook

Yesterday was 'Thomas the Tank Engine' day in Gembrook. When I say it was 'Thomas the Tank Engine' day, let me elaborate and say it was the Thomas day organised by the Rotary Club of Emerald in conjunction with Puffing Billy Railway. This was changed from a date in October because that date was washed out. There were also four other Thomas days in total organised by Puffing Billy, two in October, and two earlier this month. I'm well and truly Thomased out, not that I attend the event but it is impossible not to be aware of the crowds and congestion and traffic if I venture into the town.

I suppose the large attendance at these events means they are a success, but I query who is the beneficiary. Obviously Puffing Billy and probably the hotel, but it's a great pity, for those of us who appreciate Gembrook's quiet natural beauty for what it is without all the noise and fuss and crowds, that this extravaganza of events has been imposed on our town. Now that we have Thomas out of the way, we are now going to have 4 Santa events in December, two days each on consecutive weekends. We'll have a little break during January and February then there are six more events in March. I'm not sure but I think Thomas is returning for these. Maybe it is Thomas meeting Santa in December as well.

It was also market day being the last Sunday of the month. The market has moved to the Community Centre, I think there was some conflict between the market committee and Puffing Billy. The market has traditionally been held at the the station but this was no longer acceptable for some reason, the specifics of which I know not. The crowd and traffic were horrendous in the town when I was looking for friends who were visiting and wanted to see the market. They said they found the market disappointing. They have recently moved back after 8 years in West Australia and in their travels have seen many local markets.

Today I was working in a garden close to the Puffing Billy line, perhaps 60 or 70 metres away, when the train left Gembrook on it's way back to Cockatoo. The hooting of the whistle split the calm and after the train passed, the hooting continuing further down, the acrid smell of smoke and or cinders enveloped me. I can only hope there were not too many particles deposited in my lungs as I had to continue breathing. I'm glad I gave up smoking 26 years ago. The medication I take for my RA has a side effect of increased risk of lung cancer, so the prescribing specialist suggested I give up smoking (if I smoked).

I was mindful of this today as I breathed in the Puffing Billy smoke/cinders.

Putting The Brakes On

This week has tested me physically and emotionally. On Sunday the weather was warm to hot and I overdid things a little in the afternoon digging over ground at Margeuritas and then more at Hanna's. At the end of the day I was hot in the face and my lips were dry and burning, I probably didn't drink enough water although I did take drink breaks.

On Monday with the temperature going into the high 30's C for the first time in ages I again pushed hard. I picked broad beans at Margeuritas in the morning then got onto the beech. We are three weeks into the beech season and the customers are being difficult in that they are asking for large amounts and a couple of them wanting to come twice a week rather than their customary one pick up a week. My inclination is to try to please them so I go harder. Monday night after the first hot day of the season I was very tired.

Tuesday it rained consistently but I had four people picking up on Wednesday so worked in the rain rushing about gathering everything I could to fill their requests. Last night I was thoroughly drained and unhappy at this situation I'm in so after a good sleep and more rain this morning I headed out to pick broadies at M's again, in the rain, I was soaked again and after a change of clothes and lunch picked a little bit of beech to make up numbers for the late afternoon pick up person. When I got to the farm I was quickly unloading so that I could catch the bank before 4pm when Elvie came out asking me could I pick 20 more bunches of green beech by 6pm as one of the earlier customers complained they didn't get enough and they would come back to get it.

It was still raining. "No way," I said. I was not going to get wet again and frankly it is most unpleasant working off a ladder with the pole looking up into the rain. And dangerous as I'm not young.

So I feel a weight has been lifted. My customers have to realize they will have to take what I can do comfortably without me stressing about numbers and if they don't like it well tough luck. It's up to me to firm mentally and take it slowly or I'll wreck myself between now and Christmas. I can't work as quickly or as long as used to when younger. There's something about beech that seems to work them frenzied. I guess that's because it it so beautiful and prized by florists and there's not enough supply in the market place. Probably I'm selling it too cheaply too and if I was a good businessman I'd up my price 30% and let the market place slow it down for me, but I've upped my price 10% each of the last two years and I do believe in a fair thing and I don't want to be a hard greedy bastard.

There has been some good Karma over this period. Rickyralph turned up on Sunday morning to get some lemons. He brought me a shepherd's pie for breakfast and a bottle of red wine in gratitude for the lemons he comes for every month or so. I picked foliage at friend Sue's garden on Tuesday. She has nine acres of trees and shrubs she and her husband have planted and nurtured over 20 plus years and it's a total joy to see and work in a place as beautiful. And I love picking the broadies (and eating them later) out at Marguerita's farm with rolling hills of hay paddocks and potato fields around me, away from the traffic and the busy roads.

A young girl was killed in a road accident in Emerald Tuesday and it shunts it home.

Put the brakes on.

Out at Margeurita's

Gord and I at Sue's Oct 23 'Art in the Garden' day

 

Some Interesting Numbers

Those who know me know I like to have a little punt on the horses and I did so before we went to Lakes Entrance last Saturday, putting bets on each race of each of the Victorian race meetings over Saturday and Sunday. I'm a small bettor, $1 each way usually and/or place bets at good odds and a few 50 cent trifectas.

I knew I wouldn't be able to hear the races as we are out of radio reception down there for the racing station unless I'm in the car and can pick it up on FM, which of course I'm usually not and I'm busy with other things in any case. I have two accounts with on line betting agencies and I enjoy comparing their odds and selecting the best value. It's interesting checking the results in the evening on the mobile phone or when I get back on the the computer.

When we got back late yesterday arvo I checked my balances to find I'd made a very small profit for the weekend but amazingly both balances were exactly the same...$112.46. If I cast my mind back to 1968 and Dr Dino di Battista was teaching me probabilities in mathematics, the raw odds of this sequence of numbers on both accounts matching would be 100,000 to one. Of course there would need to be some adjustment for the fact that the most I ever put in an account is $100 and the balance of both accounts is usually somewhere between $0 and $200, but not always, I got as high as $800 once on one before taking out $500 to pay a medical bill.That is the only time I have made a withdrawal, the traffic is usually all one way with deposits of $50 or $100, but a deposit usually lasts some weeks and gives me some fun watching the balance go up or down till it needs replenishing.

The other interesting numbers were at the petrol pump. I filled up with Premium UL for the Kangoo at Pakenham on the way down and filled up at the same station on the way back yesterday. The cost was $59 even. I had done 550km driving a van loaded with tools and a roof rack and ladder on top and that seems like an amazingly distance for that amount of money. And when you consider that part of that price is GST, and the excise on the wholesale price is 38 cents a litre if I'm right, then the price of the actual fuel produced and refined far away and transported all the way to my tank is minute for the effect in produces for me.

We cut the grass at the Lakes house and had a couple of great walks. The areas around the house and on our walks were teeming with birds. The highlight was scarlet honeyeaters in the callistemons and blue fairy wrens on the ground not four feet from our boots foraging for insects disturbed by our feet. There'd been a big rain the night before, and the Lake Bunga walk was as beautiful as I'd ever seen it.

Mock Orange

We have been busy picking mock orange blossom this last week or so. It comes with a bit of a rush in late spring and there's plenty of it this year, certainly the good rains have helped. It's a Philadelphus, the variety we have is coronarius, a plant from Southern Europe. It's a deciduous shrub which grows to about 10 feet high and eight wide over time with multiple stems coming from the base which spread and can be divided off in winter. The flowers are profuse and magnificently scented citrus like, hence the common name mock orange.

It's the last of the spring blossom for us, although there's still some Hungarian lilac to be picked as well. My grandmother Nanna Wilson had a mock orange in her garden in Ashburton and when we moved to Emerald we took a plant from that parent. As it is in demand by our florist customers we have grown more plants over the years and now have quite a lot, sometimes too many to pick it all if the weather is hot and it comes out all at once. The great thing about it is that it thrives in dry conditions of summer so needs no watering but it benefits by cold winters which we do have in the Dandenongs. It's a good keeper in water and is pleasant to pick. It's a 'single' flower as opposed to the 'doubles' of many other Philadelphus varieties which in our experience do not keep well as a cut flower.

It was a ripper dogwood season, we picked large amounts of Cornus florida through October. All in all spring has been grand, despite working in the rain and cold, which has no doubt helped the spring blossom. We will shortly move on to picking beech foliage, it's a little slow to firm up due to the lack of warm weather. Sadly my beech trees at home have been decimated by crimson rosellas who have taken to eating the new leaves. They've had a bit of a chew at the farm too. Not much we can do about it, except watch, and accept the financial wack as one of those things. I just hope it doesn't get worse into the future. Birds are very good at adapting and utilizing new introduced food sources. The parents teach their young where the food is and they have a bit of a yearly movement pattern following the available food. The king parrots are good at turning up just when the tomatoes are full. They'll eat them green before we can get one ripe and strip our bushes in a few hours.

As much as I love birds I am not fond of king parrots or rosellas, they are way too destructive. But the garden abounds with so many birds lately, especially thornbills, spinebills, whipbirds and fantails and some visiting jacky winters. Magpies, butcherbirds, ravens, and currawongs too, and bronze winged pigeons and the usual blackbirds and doves and Indian mynahs. And of course cockatoos and corellas and the odd eagle soaring above like the grand overseer. Jod was happy the other day, he saw a spotted quail thrush at the farm. Probably all this rain has been great for the birds to breed. It's amazing really, these creatures are hell bent on raising young, instinctively, a life's mission, and each building that species' type of nest in a tree or shrub or hollow, or underground say for the spotted pardalote, and following the code of nature as set for them. And in a matter of weeks from egg hatching they can fly and feed. Miraculous. And some of these creatures can fly huge distances in migration, even halfway round the world. I watched a thornbill bathing in a puddle in a tarp I had placed over some wood to keep it dry, not ten feet from where I stood and unconcerned by me. Such a sight would brighten anyone's day.

Puffing Billy Stinks

Puffing Billy is a noisy smoke belching environmental hazard. It's 18 scheduled event days in Gembrook create traffic congestion and destruction of our peaceful rural lifestyle. We don't want it.

Piss off Billy

Glad to be Wrong

Rickyralph visited Saturday a week ago. He looked fit and well, and our conversation revealed that he's comfortable with where he's at. I congratulated him on his recent 65th birthday. Born seven months before me, he was always going to beat me there if he stayed alive long enough, which I must admit I was not always confident about.

You see, as he reminded me on one of his visits not long ago, I once told him he wouldn't make it to thirty. I had forgotten saying this, perhaps we were about 20, but he said that at the time it gave him a jolt and made him think deeply. The reason I had said it to him was that he was such a risk taker, foolhardy if you like, and by that time he'd already had quite a few close shaves. In fact you could say at the time that he was lucky to have survived to that point.

Not that he was on his own in that, I shudder at the recollection of some of my dangerous activities, usually involving alcohol and driving, but also other stupid things that could have led to serious consequences, but didn't thankfully. Many of these incidents were in the company of Rickyralph, and in all truth we were a little crazy. As youngsters we had many irate male adults in our pursuit who left us in no doubt they would have killed us if they caught us.

I think we both got off a bit on the excitement, but it was usually me trying to bring some restraint and caution to a situation while Rickyralph was just full on bold as brass, and often laughing in the face of danger... all go go action.

We discussed some of this and he reminded me of many incidents that I had forgotten about, he has a better memory of our youth and early adulthood than I do. One thing he said was absolutely crazy was the stuntman acrobatic somersaults he used to do off water skiis at high speed, just for the thrill of it and for the amusement of those in the boat who reveled in the spectacular crashes back to the water. He only stopped this after one time nearly crushing his testicles and enduring considerable agony. He concedes now that he was so lucky he didn't break his neck or his spine.

So for two old blokes who are still mates after more than 50 years since meeting, it is of great satisfaction to us that we can meet and laugh and reminisce. We met in 1964 at Malvern Grammar School, Rick was 12, I turned 12 in April. He was a tennis champion at that young age, and became Victorian U14 hardcourt champion. I was into cricket and football, we were both competent at sport, and showed considerable promise academically, enough to be in Set One when we progressed to Caulfield Grammar School in 1966. There were Sets 1-6, each about a class of thirty, which were graded so that each set did maths and science in the same class.

Probably we became closer friends as a result of being in these same set with all the brainy students. We both struggled to keep up, and by 1968 we had become close friends and sought solace and comic relief from a system that did not suit us at all. Our academic performance fell away as did our interest in sport. Rickyralph was full of energy that couldn't be restrained by a classroom, he was always being punished for one reason or another, often much to the humour of both the students and the teachers. A likeable rogue.

He was a handy chess player and joined the school chess team. Odd that. I never have played chess, or tennis for that matter. The school was competing in chess with Korowa Girls Grammar and he fell in love with his opponent, a girl called Penny. Penny's family had a holiday house in Lorne, and as had become our habit to travel to Lorne or Torquay on school holidays, I met Penny's sister Jane and fell head over heels in love. During this time Rickyralph took up surfing and with an older friend from the tennis team who had left the school but had a car and licence we often went to Lorne on weekends in the hope of seeing Penny and Jane who often were there with their parents. Later when Rick got his licence we were down there all the time in his old man's Humber Hawk.

One time prior to that we were hitchhiking down there, we used to catch the train to Footscray I think and get onto the Geelong Road and stick our thumb out. This particular time we were in a car with an absolute loony driver who just went like hell on wheels. I think it was summer of '67 or '68, anyway we got to Lara and there was smoke blowing across the road in a gale and cars were stopped but our bloke kept going even when you could hardly see the road. He just gunned it through the smoke despite the danger of hitting a stopped vehicle. Being young and silly we didn't appreciate the danger we were in. On the way home that same day the whole area was blackened and there were countless dead sheep in the paddocks and a number of burnt cars. Some people were killed and many burnt severely as they tried to outrun the flames of the fast moving grass fire. We must have been one of the last cars that made it through earlier that day thanks to our loony driver.

Rickyralph and I courted Penny and Jane over a few years, sometimes going out as a foursome. We were besotted totally, unfortunately the girls didn't quite have the same feelings and we were rejected time and time again, persisting for a few years during which we thought of nothing much else than these two lovely young ladies, who were to us like goddesses from mythology. We followed them, we spied on them, we plotted, tried everything. Alas, we dipped out. The first cut is the deepest.

But this cemented our friendship. It also led us in a way to discover other adventure, like exploring the coastline and bush, finding waterfalls and cliffs. One day we descended the cliffs near the twelve apostles and went into the cave from the ocean side and into the blowhole. It must have been low tide and a calm day to enable this because I have been there other times when she was blowing hard and it would seem suicide to do that. Often when the girls were not there or we were spurned we'd head out and sit and drink at night listening to the radio, maybe with a campfire. We took up fishing. We both loved the outdoors.

So for some years we were nearly always in each other's company when we could be. I went to a different school halfway through 1968 after being expelled. Our friendship continued after we left school and started working. For the next decade or so we had separate lives employment wise but often coordinated our holidays and we had many memorable trips away.

Our 30's saw us married and raising families and not seeing as much of each other but the bond of friendship is there, even though we don't need each other for support like we did in our earlier days.
Rickyralph has done well. He's still working but is eyeing retirement. After a varied working career he has spent the last 7 or 8 years as a lineman. He drives a crane truck and operates the crane to replace electricity poles and equipment. He works casual for a contracting firm and is paid a very high hourly rate. His parents died quite young. He was particularly close to his father, who would be very proud of him I'm sure.

May my good friend Rickyralph have many more happy and healthy years ahead of him. I'm glad I was wrong about him not making 30.    

Two Torrid Weeks

It's blowing a gale outside, not unexpectedly as the warnings have been coming for 3 days on news reports of severe windstorms. The warnings include the likelihood that many trees will uprooted as the high rainfall of recent weeks will have weakened root systems. Something like that. Enough to spook me when we have  numerous large eucalypts in the proximity of our house.

Trees down in the district means we'll almost certainly lose power. I may not get to finish this post today. The weather for most of the last fortnight has been deplorable with many days wet and cold. I remember last October after we returned from Europe it was dry and warm to hot with some days 30C+. This year it has been rain and more rain, difficult to get work done, and to keep the firewood up. It has only been the last few days that it has warmed sufficiently to not light the fire of an evening. It's set and ready to go in expectation of the next cold snap which may be as soon as today with no power to boot.

I have been afflicted with the flu for the last fortnight. I have not been as sick as that for a long time. It started with the nose thing moved into the throat and gradually worked deeper into the lungs. I have hacked uncontrollably day in day out. The fever consumed me, being freezing cold so going early to bed only to be overtaken by raging night sweat leaving my pillow and singlet and pyjama collar wet with sweat. I have slept this past two weeks in the spare room so as not to destroy Lib's sleep.

As if part of a bigger picture curse on me, many other things have gone wrong during this period. At the height of my fevers there was a Puffing Billy information night, which I was encouraged to attend by PB after my protestations by email at their shifting to Gembrook as their Event Hub, meaning 18 event days  (traffic jams and mayhem) clogging the town, 12 before Christmas, and 6 in March. I sat watching the power point show of all the boxes ticked...money for the scouts helping car parking, money for the school committee for parking on the school oval, money for the CFA by their sausage sizzle, more pizza sales for the pizza shop, more beer sales for the pub, more milk sales for the supermarket, 12000 tickets already sold... I listened for half an hour before standing to interject and tell them they were bringing the rat race to our quiet little town and destroying the quiet rural atmosphere and our peaceful lifestyle which is the very reason we live there.

Last Tuesday I had scheduled a Park advisory Group meeting before our NHP committee meeting and the president asked me could I chair the COM meeting as she had a funeral to attend, and another meeting on Wednesday was organised to discuss our brochure with the graphic designer. Feeling totally ill I managed to get through the meetings on Tuesday and got home to find the power was out and when I checked my mobile phone it was nearly out of charge but there was a message from Rob's housemate saying that Rob was in hospital.

AT THIS POINT let me say that I'm resuming this post after some 44 hours. Yes, as I predicted last Sunday the power went off while I was posting, at about 11am. It was out till 3.30am this morning about 40 hours. I had unplugged our two freezers before I went to bed as I didn't want to have them come on while we were asleep and refreeze what may have thawed. Fortunately I heard the power come on at 3.30am, I had trouble getting to sleep and must have been dozing lightly and there's a sort of little beeping noise as the power comes on, enough to alert me. The big stuff eg chicken, lamb leg beef piece and casseroles were still frozen hard but small stuff like little bacon packets were soft so I took them out and put them in the fridge, and plugged the freezers in again. There's a lot things in there like bread loaves and packets of berries and lunch packs which we'll discard when we get to defrost but I wanted to get the freezers on again quickly with as little disturbance as possible but I needed to know what was what in there, was any of it retrievable?

I'll cut this post short as I have much to do now. To fill you in on Rob, he had a kidney infection and was in hospital a couple of days. Lib went down on Wednesday as she was off work and took him home to where he lives in Wantirna. I spoke to him yesterday and he's feeling quite well, the antibiotics seem to have worked. He has an ultrasound booked for this Thursday as they investigate why the infection started. With the power outage we communication problems as our cordless phone and answering machine does not work with no power. The mobiles were not working, towers down. My bacon was saved yesterday because I had an old phone that plugs straight into the wall which Gord and I bought at cash converters for $10. This has auxilary back up from standard triple A batteries if the power is out, and we searched high and low years ago after being caught out one time. As it happened it allowed Gord and I both to complete some important business that otherwise would have caused great inconvenience in Gord's case and some financial loss in my case had we not been able to make a couple of simple calls early in the day.

I started this post to tell you about my horrible couple of weeks, but then I was going on to talk about some good things, namely the fact that Rickyralph made it to 65 years old in that period, and that all the beautiful rain has made the soil in my garden so soft to dig, even near the euc trees, and I have had great joy planting some things into it. And the Bulldog premiership.

So I'll post again soon.

Myths Busted

I grew up in the 1950's and early '60's. On TV I watched the The Happy Hammond Show which was sponsored I think by Tarax soft drinks. Happy always had a bottle of Tarax in hand or close by. Another show featured Peter's Ice Cream with clowns Zig and Zag. The catchphrase "Peter's Ice Cream, The Health Food of a Nation", was forefront.

In later life I was to learn that one of the clowns Zig was convicted of molesting his granddaughter, and Happy Hammond was not always so happy. Nonetheless my childhood included big quantities of soft drink and ice cream.

Later, in my adolescence, the Marlboro man was prominent on TV. Also memorable was the sophistication of  Peter Stuyvesant and Benson and Hedges, not to mention Hoges and "Anyway Have a Winfield" and "Matter of Fact I've got it Now". I took up smoking and alcohol as did most of my peers, this despite the advice and insistence of my parents who were abstainers and bible thumpers. It could be said that I over indulged. I was, in my tender youth, a nicotine addict and alcohol abuser, as were most of my mates.

My parents in 1971 made a life change and sold the family home in Mt Waverley and bought 6 and a half acres in Emerald. They did this (thankfully) because as self employed business people they found the ever increasing traffic stifling and saw a tree change an escape. Emerald was a quiet little country town, a village or hamlet if you like, far removed from the husltle and bustle of choked down by traffic Melbourne which at that time had about 5km of freeway in total. They took the brave decision to "escape the rat race".

They moved to Emerald in 1972. I wasn't with them, I was at Puckapunyal being marched around the parade ground and the bush as a conscript for National Service, where I found myself before I really knew what was what, in the aftermath of some political expedient decision that joining the Vietnam war was a good idea. Yeah, good one that.

There was a Federal election in December 1972 and a change of government, which saw my Army career, which was always going to be short, come to an even shorter conclusion not far into 1973 as the wheels turned. The lesson was how amazingly one's life can be changed by politics, but it was a lesson I really did not absorb till a couple of decades later.

Let's move ahead to the 1980's. I had spent 5 years in the Department of Agriculture as an apiary inspector based in Wangaratta before returning to work in the now thriving family business at Emerald after I married in 1981. We bought a couple of acres in Gembrook, a quiet rural town where land was still reasonably affordable. Mid 1980's my father had a heart attack, a shock to us all as he was a tee totaller and a fit active man. He had 5X bypass surgery and lived another twenty years.

In the 1990's I was concerned about my genetic history and visited a GP to assess my health and risk of heart disease. I was promptly put on a statin drug to reduce cholesterol. There was, after some time, a minor complication with liver function impairment so I wavered, and for some years was on and off the statin drug as my fears either of heart attack or liver damage plagued my mind.

In the meantime the Marlboro Man died of lung cancer, Zig's indescretions were exposed, and the Vietnam War was exposed as a political farce. It came to light, that my father (who died in 2007), suffered kidney damage after a lifetime of high sugar intake.

One day more than a decade ago I was in a car park behind the shops in Emerald when I saw my doctor in her brand new gold Mercedes trying to negotiate the narrow lane way. I decide then that I'd had enough of regular trips to the GP for blood tests and prescriptions and forever putting my hand in my wallet. I went off the statins. At age 64 I have not succumbed to a heart attack, and am thankful for the money I have saved, and the comfort from less worry and living a healthy lifestyle.

Speaking of doctors, I saw this year that a man who grew up in Gembrook applied to council to set up a medical clinic in a house he owned in the Gembrook main street, a house he bought for his mother to live in in her old age. She was a well known and respected lady and after she died her son thought it would be nice if the house could be used to bring a doctor to Gembrook, a basic service denied the town for nearly all the 35 years I have lived here. He was knocked back a planning permit as it was claimed the property did not have sufficient parking spaces.

Here we are now, and Puffing Billy Railway has shifted to Gembrook as it's Event Hub. As many as 400 cars are expected each day for 18 extra days of Puffing Billy Events. The town will be choked down by traffic. My quiet rural retreat of Gembrook is being destroyed. The rat race that my family fled is brought to my doorstep. I cannot believe this is to be allowed.

I extend a message to Jason Wood, our Federal Member for LaTrobe, and to Brad Battin, our State Member for Gembrook (interesingly they are former policemen as they love to remind us). I also include prospective councillors in the upcoming council elections, with apology to the lady candidates.

"PLEASE gentlemen. Grow some balls. Stop cowtowing and sniffing around Puffing Billy for the opportunity of grinning photo shots with the the train, to feather your nest by re election. For the sake of the community please come up with some real ideas to benefit the town and district and not the easy way of trying to look good with the same old unsustainable bulldust."
 

Eleven Days of September

My last post was on the morning of August 31. That same day Lib and I left for Lakes Entrance for some R+R primarily, notwithstanding that my motive in the main was to work on the house, painting and whatever else was needed.

We arrived about 5pm to a cold but familiar house. I can't remember what we did for dinner and it is obviously not important. I do know it was Abatacept injection day and I had taken one with me and I performed the jab and we had an early night.

The next morning we slept in, although as usual I was up about seven to feed Pip and let her out for a pee, after which I went back to bed in blissful awareness that I had no usual work routine and could please myself. About 10am after doing the breakfast routine I was still in my PJ's when a bloke pulled up out front and made his way up the stairs. He was tall and lean and wore a hat and looked all the world like something from 'Old Australia', which those of my vintage would recognize as 1960's or before. A Chips Rafferty resemblance. He introduced himself politely and said he was a handyman doing a job soon on a house above ours and needed to get an excavator in from the road above our block. Could he get the excavator in by going through the bush at the top of our block, through the fence at the top, so that he could get it across our next door neighbour's place and into the yard where he needed to work?

"No objection from me," I said,"but I'm not an owner, my wife and her two sisters own it. They'll need to give the OK. My wife is in the shower and sisters could be anywhere, but I'll contact them and let you know. My main concern would be that we don't want anything that will increase the flow of water in storms from the road above into our property as we have serious problems with storm water in the past." He gave me his card with the contact details.

Lib had no objection but couldn't understand what the guy was talking about so I said "Let's go up and have a look." The scrub was thick and we had to push through it  to get to the road above and examine what we thought 'Chips' was talking about. I rang 'Chips' and he offered to come back and show us, and arranged a time, an hour ahead. So i had an hour to kill and started sanding down the back wall in prep for painting. The back of my head was itchy and I had to struggle to get my hands free while up the ladder to scratch it. It kept up itching, I repeatedly scratched, then found a scab on the back of my head. I picked at it and managed to lift a corner. It would not come. I picked and picked, carefully, in the knowledge common to us all if you go too hard at a scab it hurts. This didn't hurt, but I picked and picked and it would not come, till I made a decision to go hard on it, hurt or no.

It didn't hurt but it came away, and as I brought it around on my finger to observe it I could see that it had legs, and was in fact a scrub tick. Now this gave me some concern because I had heard the horror stories of Limes disease from tick bites, an immune system thing, and my immune system had been giving me trouble with the RA business for two years, and that after a trip to Qld and northern NSW when I was attacked by sand flies and suffered severe allergic reaction which to this day I suspect was a trigger to my troubles.

Lib looked closely at my head and said it didn't look like the head of the tick was left behind in my scalp but without cutting and digging she couldn't be sure. There was swelling almost instantaneously. 'Chips' came back and we sorted that, all that was left was to get Pat and Marg's approval, which we subsequently did. I got the back wall sanded down.

The next day the weather was not good but I did a bit of painting in the morning and at Lib's suggestion as rain threatened we went for a drive. We had lunch at Metung, a delicious pumpkin soup and bread and I made calls to P and M re the excavator guy, leaving messages for them to call me back. We drove out to Sarsfield and visited Shirley Hughes's daughter Debbie's place which is now a B+B named Rural Retreats. Graeme Blakewell, Deb's hub, showed us around the amazing property which is in effect an underground house on top of a hill with wonderful views of the Gippsland Lakes.

We made it back to the house in time for me to give the rest of the back a coat of paint before dark. An hour or so later it started to rain and it rained all night, fortunately the paint had just enough drying time and did not wash off.

The next day I went to Bairnsdale and watched the prelim final between Orbost and Lindenow, a lacklustre game really easily won by Lindenow. I met Phil there and watched the game with him, having learned on the phone the day before that he and Marg had had a blue and he didn't know where she was and he hadn't seen her or heard from her in three and half weeks.There's not much I can say about that situation except that it seems almost unbelievable that people who have been married about 40 years can have a blue a few days before they are going on a planned holiday to Qld and a month before they expect their first grandchild. And this in their comfortable retirement. Weird.

Sunday I sanded and painted the side wall. Monday I painted other stuff, rails and beams, and cut the grass at the back and pruned back encroaching trees on the east side. Monday arvo Lib started the big house clean. She had been crook for a couple of days with nausea. Tuesday we did a final clean and packed and left at 9.45 and were home shortly after 1pm. i went picking bay foliage for wednesday's orders. Wednesday Thursday and Fri were flat out. Friday night I was exhausted and knocked off a bottle of red quick time and fell asleep and missed the the second half of GEE/Haw. So glad with Gee winning result. Hope like hell the Bulldogs can finish the job next Friday and get rid of the bastards.

It has taken all of ten days, but the swelling and soreness from the tick bite has eased right off so I think I'm in the clear.