Thought for the Day

I came across this quote on 'Daily Reckoning Australia', which somehow or other sends me daily emails.

"Australia is already completely over-invested in housing. It’s ruining the economy and destroying the quality of life for millions of people.  It’s creating a ‘rentier’ economy where the only way to get ahead is collect the rent on a property. Nobody produces anything. But more importantly, a whole country can’t get rich and stay rich by selling houses to each other."

Food for thought.

And more, from a make believe address to US college grads from the same source-

"Memorial Day and higher education have a lot in common: You have to ignore the particulars to appreciate them. Take out the inconvenient details. Remove the embarrassing facts. Often what is left is sterile nonsense.

Every Memorial Day editorial tells us our veterans fought for ‘freedom’. Yet in not a single one of America's wars was an enemy preparing to reduce our freedom.

The huns wanted Alsace, not Pennsylvania. The Philippines intended no subjugation of Indiana. And what about the Nicaraguans? Nobody even remembers the shackles they were meant to clamp onto American wrists. But after every victory, we know what happened next: The doughboys and grunts came home to higher taxes and more prohibitions.

What you learn in college is the way things are ‘supposed’ to work. But few things in real life are as simple as they're ‘supposed’ to be. Our government is not run by the people for the people. Government is merely a way one group of people — the insiders — take advantage of other people — the outsiders.

You can call it democracy or dictatorship; it hardly matters. It can be gentle and broadly tolerable...or brutal and widely detested. What makes it a government is it has a monopoly on the use of violence; ultimately, the insiders use it to get what they want.

As for the economy, you have learned about our capitalist system. You have been told that it needs regulation by the SEC, the Fed, the Department of Justice, the FDA, the FTC and other agencies to keep the capitalists honest. You have been lied to.

It's not a capitalist system; the feds took the capital out 40 years ago. Now, it depends on cronies and credit. It's a corrupt system — the product of collusion between industry and the agencies meant to regulate them. Its real purpose is to transfer more wealth and power to the insiders.

Economist William Baumol understood.

He noticed that goods-producing businesses — such as an automaker or a maker of a widget — could achieve high productivity growth, thanks to labor-saving automation and supply-chain efficiencies. He also noticed that productivity stayed more or less static in service-sector jobs, such as nursing and teaching. (Basically, a nurse needed to spend just as much time with a sick patient...and a teacher needed to spend as much time with a student.)

Despite this, wage increases in service-sector industries — education, healthcare and government — tended to keep pace with wage increases in industries where rising wage growth was justified by growing productivity.

That's part of the reason your TVs are cheap...but your healthcare has become so expensive. Not only is healthcare largely protected from competition and distorted by third parties who pay the bills, including the government and insurance companies, but also wages for healthcare workers rise, even though productivity stays more or less static.

This also helps explain why a university education is eight times more costly than it was in 1978...even though you're still getting more or less the same education. Also, as I explained on Friday, college was optional to a decent income in the 1970s. Now, it's almost obligatory.

When everything is rigged, the riggers have the money and the power. Lobbyists, lawyers, accountants, administrators: Whether you want to take a business public...or just build a house...you come face to face with someone who can stop you, with paperwork, legal razzmatazz and nauseating administration. You need to play the game, too."

Footy Comment

I get annoyed watching AFL games because of the deplorable inconsistency of the umpiring, and the blatant errors umpires make.

I saw a shocker in the round 9 game between Fremantle and Geelong, first quarter I think, before I fell asleep, or maybe I woke and saw it later in the game. The footy was kicked across to a Geelong defender who was not far out from the goal Geelong were defending. It wasn't a good kick in that it was given too much air by the the kicker, giving a Freo player a chance to intercept. He ran straight at the Geelong player who was looking at the ball in flight, interfering with him in the contest and causing him to spill the mark.

An obvious free kick to Geelong, so obvious in all the five decades plus that I have followed the sport. You can't spoil a bloke going for a mark by running at him front on and into him without having eyes on the ball and attempting to mark. In any level of the game, a basic no brainer.

I can't understand how any umpire could have not payed the free kick. To make matters worse, the Geelong player went down and the Freo spoiler picked up the ball and ran in and kicked a goal. I could not believe what my eyes saw. It was so bad. No umpire could have missed that unless he wanted to for some reason or motive unknown to me.

So many people, commentators and fans, rave on about AFL being the best game in the world. I always think well, no it's not. The rules and umpiring buggers it up. It's not the greatest game in the world. I have followed it all my life and I can't make head nor tail of the umpiring. 'Push in the back', 'prior opportunity', 'pulling the ball in while on the ground', 'chopping arms', 'shepherding in the ruck', 'he ducked his head', 'deliberate out of bounds', they all seem to be payed on the whim of an umpire sometimes, and not others a few minutes apart, let alone from game to game.

I still watch, but really, I can't follow the umpiring. It's crap.

PS  AFL attendances are down, people are complaining about many things, as well as the umpiring, including the extra charges for reserved seat ticketing, and the ridiculous food and beverage prices. These things were evident many years ago and the paying public has been gouged for so long, I can't understand why there is suddenly noise about it now. It was manifest decades ago when the chairman of the AFL was also owner of Spotless Catering, the firm with the catering rights at the MCG then, and now. The rot really set in on the reserved seating with the building of the Telstradome now Etihad stadium and seems to have spread like cancer. I don't go to the footy anymore. Maybe I'll stop watching it on TV too one of these days. It's really only the night games I watch, till I fall asleep.

Growing Up

It is time Australia grew up as a nation.

I heard it today from radical ex PM Malcolm Fraser in an interview. I think I came across it on Grist.

He has written a book soon to be published. He says Australia has never made its own foreign policy, being firstly a puppet of Britain from Federation up to after WW2, then the US since.

I agree entirely. He goes further, saying over the last 20 years the US has taken our sovereignty and we need to take it back and distance ourselves from US foreign policy, including kicking them out of Pine Gap and the Darwin base.

It is time we grew up. Make our own decisions. Become a citizen of the world, not a US sycophant.

Talking about growing up,  ANZAC DAY 2015 should be our last.

Move on, grow up. It's myth and a nonsense from a bygone time.

Grow up Australia.

"I'm sure that someday children in schools will study the history of the men who made war as you study an absurdity. They'll be shocked, just as today we are shocked with cannibalism." Golda Meir, Israeli Prime Minister (1898- 1978)

Cousin Bruce

Cousin Bruce rang me last Friday night. He's going on a six week holiday to Russia. Moscow and a trip on the river to St Petersburg, I think he said. Good luck to him. I have very little desire to go anywhere as a tourist but yes Russia, I would like to go there.

One of the good things about blogging, for me, over the years I have been doing this, is the contacts I have had from people from my past who I think, unless I blogged, I never would have heard from again. Somehow Bruce came across my blog. We have exchanged a few communiques by way of email and Facebook, and now, tired as I am, I bring myself to desk to tell  my friends of Bruce my cousin who is the son of my mother's oldest brother Ted (of two), who is 65 this year, in fact I believe his birthday is in three days and I must remember to give him my best wishes for that on Facebook where I heard of it.

We have a strong connection, Bruce and I. We share the same grandparents, Edgar and Annie Wilson. Edgar was born in 1893 and Annie, nee Pitt, in 1897. Edgar, if I'm correct, died in 1957 or 58. I have vague memory of him sitting in a chair in his house in Ashburton. I was scared of him, he was huge and old. He smiled and tried to befriend me, but I had none of it. As he died when I wsa young I have always regretted this. I wish he had lived longer and I had got to know him. From what I have learned of him, he was a great man. Nanna Wilson i knew so very well. We spent a lot of time with her as children and she came to our house in Mt Waverley every Tuesday, by train 4 stations from Darling station to Mt waverley when we were kids and did our family's ironing. When we were young she was there when we came home from school and later she left before we got home and always left a packet of fruit tingles for each of us on top of the fridge which we as kids looked forward to enormously when we came home from school. This went on for years as Elvie worked in her florist shop and was not at home when we came home. Later Nanna Wilson came to live with Elvie at Chamomomile Farm in 1973 so we knew her very well till she died in 1996 aged 99.

Elvie's brother Ted was married to Alma and they had two boys, Bruce and Colin, and later a daughter Rhonda a few years younger than me. Colin I think is is one year older than me. They lived in East Malvern, about ten minutes away from us at Mt Waverley by car, but the families had little to do with each other growing up in the 1950's and 60's. I think the boys were quite academic, Melbourne High school ? and Colin became a teacher. Bruce was called up for National Service in 1969 and did a term in Vietnam with the Transport Corps.

As cousins we have never had a close affinity nor much to do with each other. I may have seen them once or twice in forty years, perhaps at Ted or/ and Almas funeral some ten or more years ago. Ted and Alma visited us regularly at Chamomile Farm through the 80's and 90's and I got to know them better and liked them a lot. Ted was a tall man as was his father, as is Bruce. I missed that gene, which would have made me a ruckman.

I am pleased that Bruce has contacted. He has purchased a memorial tile from the RSL for our grandfather Edgar as a returned soldier of WW1, to commemorate the centenary of ANZAC next year, and wants us all to together at Edgar's grave in Box Hill to put the tile on Edgar's headstone. What a wonderful idea, and a graet way for the family to get together and restore ties after so many years of disassociation.

Well done Bruce, who didn't know my father Lyle had died 7 years ago till he read my blog. I apologized that I had not told him.

Photo Enquiry

An email came yesterday from Signpost Editor Jean saying a lady contacted her asking if she could have the photo of Keith and Barb Thomas that accompanied my article in the April edition. This lady is a long standing friend of Keith and Barb and she now lives in Ballarat but was sent the magazine by K+B's daughter.

Of course I was happy to oblige. I enjoy feed back from my Signpost writing most of which is positive but not always and one comment about my April Gembrook column was that it was "obviously done in a hurry and it didn't flow at all."

I'll post them here; I'm struggling to blog lately for one reason or another so this a way to do it despite my tiredness.

A Horse Tale With Twists

Keith Thomas went to Dandenong Market one Friday in 1975.

“I’d never owned a horse but always wanted to, so I bought one. We had a good back yard and there was a vacant block across the road, and paddocks nearby where we lived in Mt.Waverley, but buying the horse led to buying 32 acres at Avonsleigh.”

“I rode horses as a boy. They wandered around the Hartwell and Burwood Reserves, which were not far apart. I don’t know who owned them, if anybody. They were easy to catch and ride.”

Born in 1938 Keith attended Hartwell Primary School before Box Hill Tech. His first paid work was after school with a boot maker when he was ten years old. His job was to blacken the soles and shoes. His grandfather worked in a timber yard in South Melbourne and Keith worked there in school holidays.

“It was hard work. I was 12 years old but was expected to keep up with the men. I left school at 14 and started as an apprentice joiner at Burwood Timber Mills. I finished my apprenticeship with a staircase and shopfitter, and then I was self-employed doing mainly renovations.”

Keith did National Service in this period, and met his wife Barb at a church dance and they married in 1961. He joined Barb’s family’s business, Campbell and Heaps, which manufactured blinds and had a timber yard and hardware and steel interests. Keith started on the factory floor and finished up 15 years later as Production Operations Manager.

Keith and Barb moved to Avonsleigh with their girls Kerryn, Lisa and Joanne, along with the horse, ‘Carn’, short for ‘Come on’, and ten head of cattle. “As it turned out, Carn had crook legs and wasn’t much good so I sold him and bought other horses, the girls all had a horse. We were active members of the Macclesfield Pony Club and had happy times at working bees and events. We bred a few horses and broke them in.”

Keith commuted to a sign making firm in Melbourne for twelve months then became Victorian sales manager for a concrete underlay and plaster company before concentrating on breeding squab, eating pigeons, for Chinese restaurants in the main. The business grew to 1000 pairs till disaster struck in one swoop.

“We were wiped out overnight by poisoned birdfeed. It was a devastating loss. We won legal action, but finished up broke.”

They sold their Avonsleigh farm and bought 340 acres of bush at the end of Ure Rd at Gembrook in 1981, and rented a house in Emerald for a couple of years till they built. Keith was now a contractor tractor slashing for Melbourne Water around Melbourne, which he did for 6 or 7 years.

Before leaving Avonsleigh Barb had gone to the Newmarket Stock Sales and bought two semi-trailer loads of sheep from drought areas for 20 cents a head.

These were slowly transported to Gembrook where there was feed, but the flock was decimated by wild dogs which were numerous. Keith and Barb’s interest turned to cattle, firstly Hereford then Angus. Many years of hard work followed, fencing, clearing and improving pasture, always with problems of samba and fallow deer, wild dogs, wombats and feral humans.

Keith explains, “A 3km stretch of fence along the Bunyip State Park Boundary, five strands and electrified, I built three times. After the second time it was cut to small pieces and totally ruined I sat in the paddock and cried. We had equipment stolen from the tractor and dozer and dirt tipped in fuel tanks. Someone resented our work. The police did annual aerial searches of the property and the surrounding bush over the years and found a number of marijuana plantations, including a very large one of hundreds of mature plants.”

Keith was lucky to survive a heart attack in 2001, after which followed bypass surgery.

In 2002 while rounding up cattle, Barb was dragged under a rolling Land Cruiser tray truck. She was caught in the wheel rut lengthwise and it went right over her, including her head. It went up a rise and came back down, she got her head out of the way but it went across her this time. She suffered cracked ribs, punctured lungs, a fractured sternum, hip and collarbone, and spinal damage. Keith, finding her 15 minutes later, ran 300 metres to the house to phone the ambulance. He was so out of breath and when he took the phone from the wall and rang 000 he couldn’t speak. When he could the ambulance took 40 minutes to come.

“I had to dig Barb’s hearing aids from her ears with a pen knife. She was conscious, in agony. It was a terrible 40 minutes. The ambos called in the helicopter which took her to St Vincent’s.”

Keith and Barb sold their Gembrook property in 2008 and now live in Emerald where Keith keeps budgies, parrots and finches as a hobby and Barb is active at the Emerald Art Society. They have 8 grandchildren, and many memories to reflect on.

Keith and Barb Thomas

Gembrook Column - Written Word Works Wonders

The Signpost February edition included my profile of Emerald resident Stuart Mills who migrated from the UK in 1983. Editor Jean contacted me to say she’d had phone call from a lady at Caroline Springs who was excited to have located Stuart and left her phone number.

I rang the lady who explained that her father and mother had been in Australia staying with her for a month or so and her father attempted to find Stuart with whom he went to school. He knew Stuart lived in Emerald but had no contact details. Stuart wasn’t listed in the phone directory but he rang another ‘Mills’ thinking they might know him. They didn’t, but said they’d keep eyes and ears open, and took the Caroline Springs phone number in case.

The lady from the ‘Mills’ house in Emerald was reading Signpost soon after and there was the article on Stuart. Stuart and his old school friend had not seen each other for 55 years. Neither knew each other’s wife but on the day Stuart’s friend with his wife knocked on Stuart’s door, the wife said to Stuart’s wife Marlene, “My goodness, I know you.” The two ladies also, like their husbands, had not seen each other since childhood.

This feel good story on the power of print prompts me to ask readers of Signpost if they can give me information on Doug Twaits. Doug was an Emerald resident in the 1950’s after marrying Dot Fisher, sister of Dr Bottomley’s wife. Doug lived in Middle Park as a child, was Australasian featherweight champion wrestler before WW11 and served in Nth Africa, Greece and on Crete with the 2^nd 7^th AIF. He was three years in Stalag 383 as a POW. After moving from Emerald in the 1950's he returned in the 1980’s. He wrote a bird column for the Trader newspaper. He died in 2001 in a car accident aged 86.

I’m researching to produce a book on Doug’s life. Please leave your phone number with Signpost if you have information or anecdote.

I've had a lot of feedback re Doug Twaits and must get cracking on the biography that his widow Lynne has asked me to write. While looking for the above photo I came across one of me and Pip with her 'bucket' on recently so I conclude with that.

     

Meeses

I was doing some work on the computer a little while ago and I looked down at something near my feet which must have caught my eye by its movement.  A beautiful black mouse it was, close enough for me to grab if I was quick enough. Of course I didn't try and the mouse disappeared into thin air at my slightest move.

There's a fridge in the shed not connected to electricity where I store food for my bird friends and a big rat jumped out the door I leave slightly ajar so as it doesn't go mouldy inside. Frightened the BJ out of me.

The cold had come in quickly and i'll need to do some vermin control. I can't find the mouse and rat traps I had in the laundry. They were always in my way so I put them somewhere else and now I can't remember where I put them. Lib hates me using poison as if I do there seems to always be a stinking rotting carcas somewhere that is hard to locate.

We have lit the fire this past two evenings, weeks earlier than usual.

Some compensation

A Tough Week

Tiredness creeps over me, vine like. I saw the doc on Tuesday. He wants me to stay on the same dose of cortisone for another three weeks, then reduce from 5mg daily to 4 for three weeks then see him in six from now. I had a couple of good days during the week but yesterday and today have not been good.

It was quite a busy week work wise and I had to speak out on Wednesday night, a guest speaker to the Camellia Society, the subject bees. My friend Keith who asked me to do it ages ago, and his wife Jenny, picked me up and drove me to Melbourne. I had a bit of a power point thing done but I didn't do very well, losing the thread of my talk quite badly. I didn't get home till nearly midnight after a very busy day, a day that tested my normally good nature. Frustrated that I was made so busy and unable to take time to prepare during the day, I savaged a couple of people verbally who didn't deserve it, which was not good preparation, and counter productive to all else.

That's it, no more speaking for me. No more more many things for me. I'll fulfill my obligations as president at the Emerald Museum which does involve some extra effort outside the comfort zone. That runs till July 2015. I have been so tired this last couple of days, the warnings are there for me.

I was stiff and sore this morning. Lib and Gordon went to Seville to watch Gembrook play in the first round but I stayed home. The good thing was that the sun came out after 3 days of rain and overcast, so I went out onto the deck in shorts only and did my yoga exercises and basked in the lovely sunshine. It really did free me up and I was much better in the afternoon.

My dreams are still rampant every night. People from all periods of my life turn up in them in the most bizarre circumstances, some of which should be so horribly frightening but it doesn't leave me affected much. In one I was with the first fleet that settled in Australia and there was not enough food and starvation happening, and I was given the job of killing the newborn. Maybe I'm going nuts.

A Dog's Life

Lib has gone to work just now, not that it's a working day for her, nor will she be paid, but there is something she wants to do out of hours or something she wants to talk to the weekend staff about whom she does not normally see. She left quietly perhaps not finding me very communicative as I was trying to do some basic yoga exercises that her sister Pat sent me on facebook in the hope it may help my stiffness and soreness which has returned steadily as I have reduced the cortisone, now down to one 5mg tablet a day this past week. Activity is again painful and I am not in the best of humour much of the time. I see the quack again next Tuesday and it will be interesting whether he recommends I continue at 5mg for a while, further reduce to 2.5, half a tablet, or increase to give me some better relief again. He may send me for blood tests again and probably it depends on how much pain I tell him I'm in. Pain is pain and difficult to quantify verbally. I am in less pain than I was before the cortisone started but putting my trousers and socks and boots on is not an easy thing nor working at anything but slow pace measuring movements and work goals accordingly. I loathe being unwell.

Back to 'A Dog's Life', Lib took 'Pip' with her to the nursing home. She loves going with Lib to see the oldies and performs with all the excitement and tail wagging happiness that Jack Russells can. The oldies love to touch and pat her and Lib says even the crazies who are for the most part aggressive to staff and other residents just melt and are so gentle to the little dog. It must soothe their soul with some long gone happy connection with pets back in their childhood.

Pip is seven years old this year. She's had a number of narrow escapes. She ate snail bait from a tin in my van once, and has had a couple of close calls from traffic. This year she disappeared into some scrub at the back of a shed at Hanna's where I grow things, in pursuit of a rabbit. She had not reappeared when I was ready to go and I could not find her. Earlier I had heard muffled barks from underground from the direction of the shed but now nothing. Going around the shed whistling I thought I heard faint whimpering from under the shed so tried digging here and there but I had no idea where she might be. Rather than dig for hours fruitlessly I whistled and whistled, thought I heard more faint whimpering, but if I had heard it it stopped and there was no Pip and no noise at all, just deathly quiet.

It seemed I had lost my wonderful Pip. I slowly resigned myself that she'd been bitten by a snake or crushed by a wombat as there are numerous wombat holes at Hanna's and she is always down them. I had been warned that wombats were well known to crush small dogs to death against the burrow wall after they becoming tired of intrusions. The snake scenario seemed more likely, it was during all that hot weather, and I had always been a little ready for Pip to go that way as she is so adventurous and always fossicking about in the scrub for rabbits or under rubble or wood heaps. And JRs being totally fearless I always thought she would go a snake if she came across one. And there are snakes around there and a few dogs have been lost around Gembrook this year to snakes.

So I was trying to build up my resolve to leave and go home with Snowy only, imagining Lib and Gordon's grief at the news. I knocked on Hannah's door and told her that I it looks like I'd lost Pip as she was out helping earlier with all my whistling and calling and listening and looking. We were looking down the grass path to the scrub and the shed when out came an exhausted Pip completely covered in red dirt coming towards us. You can imagine my huge relief.

When I washed all the dirt from her later I saw she had lost fur from the top of one front paw and the same from a few toes on a back leg and i assumed this had scraped off in getting out or her predicament backwards somehow. A couple of weeks later this was not growing back and the dog was licking there much of the time and it looked inflamed and sore so I took her to the vet. The vet gave us anti inflammatory medication and antibiotics but there was no improvement so I went back and Tom vet put one of those buckets on her head to stop her licking, gave her stronger medication and an injection to kill mites that cause wombat mange. The bucket lasted four days before Pip managed to make it tear to pieces on her never ceasing hunting cavorts, but the licking cycle was broken and the hair has grown back.

Snow had a serious and persistent ulcer on an eye in Jan/ Feb before Pip's drama so we were up and down to the vet for months it seemed but all is well and both dogs are fit and healthy.

We are luckier than our next door neighbours. Week before last they lost there Rhodesian Ridgeback hit by a car in the main street. They returned from work to find the dog gone. Neighbour Tom had hit a wombat in his car on the way home and the car was severely damaged and had lost its water as Tom drove home and the engine was damaged, so Tom couldn't go looking for the dog. The vet rang him next morning as the dead dog in the vacant block opposite his clinic was reported to him and the dog was microchipped so he found the owner.

Tom and kath had no idea why their dog had escaped but I knew. About 2pm that day someone started firing a shotgun in the farm behind our street. I happened to be home and suddenly Pip and Snow were scratching at the door to get in. At this stage I had not heard shots and thought there must be a thunderstorm brewing in the distance that I could not yet hear. Soon it was obvious and the firearm which must be an automatic shotgun was booming for about half an hour intermittently with multiple shots then a break then more. I know not why whoever it was was shooting at this time of day and in this manner as every rabbit for miles would have been well in hiding. It was, in my opinion, irresponsible hooning with a shotgun that would have terrified every dog in every yard for kms.

I have voiced my annoyance to the police and landowner. The police was a dead end, apparently I should have reported it when it was happening so they could come out and see the person doing the shooting. As if they'd still be there. My suggestion that the police contact the land owner by phone to discuss the pros cons of vermin control and discharging firearms close to residential area was met with the response that they'd rather go to the scene when it was happening and talk to the shooter in person, in case it was an illegal shooter. Whatever suggestion I made to this guy in the new $8 million police station in Emerald he had a negative attitude in response.

The landowner, via office staff, said that someone had permission to shoot and destroy vermin on their property and it was entirely legal.

Nothing can help my neighbours who loved their dog and had put in two years raising and training it. We were lucky it wasn't ours.

Where is common sense gone?  

Good News This Week

After last week's sad news came some good this week. Sister Meredith received a letter from our Aunt Hatsu who lives in Adelaide. We had presumed that she had passed away as she had not written for a few years after exchanging letters with Meredith every year for perhaps 30 years. She's well and enjoying life at age 80. Her second husband died ten years ago and she lives quietly with the company of a few good friends from the Japanese community.

Our Uncle Ron, Elvie's brother, always a bit of a weird turkey, married Hatsu after corresponding with her by mail in the early 1960's I think it was. She came to Australia and we liked her enormously as kids for the short time we knew her before she and Ron moved to Narracoorte then Adelaide. They had two children, Lester and Nerissa. Lester is an airline pilot and lives overseas but has regular contact with Hatsu while I believe Nerissa is in Melbourne but her Mum does not hear from her often.

Ron and Hatsu became estranged and Hatsu left him, I'm not sure when, perhaps early/mid seventies. I went to Adelaide in 1977 to a Bee Congress and stayed a few nights at Hatsu's flat, the kids were at school and Hatsu worked as a waitress at a nearby hotel. I met the fairly elderly man Hatsu was later to marry. He was a patron at the hotel and apparently a kind man.

I'm just so glad Hatsu is well and enjoying a happy and quiet old age and I would love to visit her one day. I went to Adelaide a year or two ago for a holiday with Lib but I didn't know she was still alive. I did visit Ron, he was in a nursing home and confined to barracks as he was on the way to losing the plot. He remarried to a Filipino lady and had another daughter, Emily. That wife also became estranged and left him but I knew where he was through letters the daughter and Meredith exchanged. Ron and Elvie exchanged letters for decades until Ron said it was too difficult to write due to his arthritis and Elvie was the same due to Macular degeneration.

Ron remembered me clearly and saw me as a light at long last who could save him from his imprisonment. He said Emily and her boyfriend had taken his house and he had no money and she never visited. I inquired from the staff as to Emily's contact details, of course they wouldn't tell me but they said Emily visited regularly and brought Ron anything he needed. Lib who was with me and has worked thirty years with geriatrics said paranoia is common with onset dementia and they often don't remember family visiting.

A funny story about Ron. When we were kids and at Nanna Wilson's house Jod, a bird egg collector, found a blackbird's nest and stole the eggs. He showed them to Ron who was infuriated that this kid had done that and he broke the eggs in Jod's face. About forty years later, Ron was on one of his perhaps biennial pilgrimages from Adelaide to visit his sister Elvie at Chamomile Farm. On this particular day Jod happened to be in the kitchen after having had quite a few beers and with his razor sharp memory he recalled this incident to Ron and went to the fridge, took a couple of eggs, and broke them on Ron's bald head.

My bad news of the day was I was got the better of by some prickly pears at Marguerita's. She rang me early this morn asking could I come out and pick some for her with my ladder. I wanted to pick some holly berries there so out I went about midday, starting on the pears first. I got her a big bucket full but learned the hard way that prickly pear have these needles like brown dust that get into your clothes, into your face down the neck and I was so badly afflicted I had to go home and shower and change clothes but my skin came up in a dreadful itchy prickly rash. It was 33C and I have been sweating like a pig because of the cortisone I think so it was frankly a bugger of a day for me and I'll have to go back for the holly tomorrow.

Sad News

Our friend 'Grub' Younger visited us yesterday on his way back from Lakes Entrance where he spent the weekend in a fishing party of eight people from around Greta and Moyhu. He went in his own car over the top so he could do the detour to Gembrook and visit us. We had not seen Grub since Mark Kelly's send off in Wang late in 2008. He'd rang last Friday morning to tell us of his intention to visit.

Grub had been to our place twice before. When we moved into our house in July 1981 from Wang it was Grub who moved our furniture down with his cattle truck. He wouldn't even let us pay for fuel, such is the the generous nature of the man, saying he was going on to Dandenong the next day to pick up some steel. He and 'Squeak' Dinning camped on the floor by the open fire in our freezing house still without curtains or carpet and with no electricity as it was not yet connected. The second time Grub and his wife Kerry left baby Shelley with us a year or so later when they attended Bill Forge's wedding somewhere in Melbourne, returning late to stay with us. I had forgotten this but Grub reminded me. He said they must have placed the two boys who were under 5 somewhere back home.

Grub turns 65 this year. He and Kerry had 4 children who are all married. Grub has 10 grandchildren the oldest is eight. He's no longer married to Kerry, they split many years ago. He contracted cancer in his face some 7 years ago and was given even money survival chance, then told if he survived the initial treatment he had a 60 percent chance of living 5 years. He lost an eye and a cheekbone and part of his jaw and forehead. Last year he had an operation to get a new skin patch over where the eye once was as it "rotted away". The new patch has had a fluid leak ever since it was put on and the medicos have not been able to get it to heal.

When he and Kerry split he had to borrow a big whack of money to settle the dissolution, if that is the right term, so that he didn't have to sell his 500 acre farm at Hansonville, which he purchased as a young man from his uncle. He reckons now he has paid for it twice. His eldest son helped remove the debt by buying into it over a decade or so and he now owns a share.

Grub was always a short and thin but he is quite frail compared to the tough little wiry bloke I knew, mainly because it's difficult for him to eat with his reconstructed face and limited chewing ability. Red meat is out. We had a barbie and he managed a couple of chicken kebabs that he cut up very fine and some mashed potato with cheese worked in. That was it, no salad bread or sausage or chop that was also on offer. For all Grub's difficulties he remains positive, always with a quick wit and clear memory for stories.

We talked about many Greta people I have not seen or heard much of in recent times. When I asked him if Terry Wadley had come back from wherever he was in Qld he said, "Yes, he's been back in Wang for a while but things have got bad for him, he was in court last week as he robbed a bloke, and has gone to jail."

Sad Indeed. Terry's older brother Gary is one of Grub's good mates and was one of the eight in the fishing party at Lakes. Apparently Terry stayed with Gary and his wife for a while fairly recently but they ended up having a blue. Then Terry stayed with his sister for a while with the same result.

Terry was an excellent footballer good enough to win the O+K comp best and fairest in 1978. He played for Wangaratta in 1979 but came back to Greta in 1980 to "play in a premiership team", which he did. He was powerfully built for a first rover and an extremely strong runner, he'd explode out the pack and run 50 metres or more bouncing the ball. Molly called him 'Speedy Gonzales'. We were good friends. He had a broken romance which affected him greatly, but he married one of Lib's friends and I well recall their wedding in Yea. The marriage did not last all that long. Prior to all that I recall him staying at the farmhouse I rented in Moyhu, where we sat up drinking all the night till dawn after a football match, and I recall going to his parents place for dinner after training and staying the night, probably when I had lost my driver's license and moved back to live in Wang. Terry worked at the Post Office in Wang then. He was a bit of a gambler, he'd go up to the clubs in Corowa on bus trips and blow $100 on pokies no qualms. That was close to half a week's wage then.

When Lib and I left Wang to come to Gembrook to live we brought with us a rubber tree in a pot that was a gift from Terry's mother Jean. 33 years later we still have it. It has been frostbitten a number of times and dried out and been moved inside and out and repotted but at the moment it thrives and is dear to us and goes by the name 'Wadley'.

After Grub left today I googled the Wang Chronicle and came up with the newspaper report. It does sadden me, it has troubled me all day. I really liked Terry and can only think that he had some problems that were never addressed or identified and somewhere along the way this caused him to veer off the rails. The report below is nothing like the person I knew in the late 1970's.

Local man jailed for terror car-jacking, robbery at knifepoint

March 19, 2014
Categories: Court, News
Tags: violence

A WANGARATTA man will spend at least two years in jail over a car-jacking where he forced his former employer to drive into a remote section of the Warby Ranges at knifepoint.

Terrence Wadley, 59, was wearing a hoodie over his face and holding a 6-8 inch long knife when he jumped into the passenger seat of the victim’s car on the afternoon of October 23 last year.

Wadley appeared in the Wangaratta County Court on Monday and received a four and a half year jail term, with a non-parole period of two years, after pleading guilty to armed robbery and false imprisonment.

Judge Marilyn Harbison described how Wadley – who had just left his job at Wangaratta Abattoirs – forced the victim to turn off his mobile phone and drive into the Warby Range, then took his credit cards and pin numbers before leaving him stranded on the side of the road.

“You set upon an unarmed man, to impose upon him an extended criminal act in a situation where he was rightfully fearful and which has caused him significant emotional distress,” she said.

“He left the track and ran through the scrub, fearing that you might come to look for him.

“His state of terror at that time is illustrated by the fact he decided not to approach the first house he saw because he thought you may look for him there.”

 

Footy

We, Lib and I that is, did not renew our MFC membership in 2013, after probably 20 years plus of continuous membership. The reason for this was a combination of factors but mostly because of a strong dislike for the AFL system which will hopefully be explained as this post continues.

Earlier this year we were cajoled by new CEO Peter Jackson who in his open letter apologized for the poor on field performance of the MFC in recent years and saying that he understood the frustrations of supporters who had dropped off. I intended to reply to him but didn't get around to it.

Soon after a similar request from new coach Paul Roos came by email with much the same message. It was signed 'Roosy'. This time I did reply, the email has been deleted but it was along this tack.

Dear Roosy,

Thank you for your concern for the MFC. I must inform you that my failure to renew membership is not due to poor on field performance of the football team in recent seasons. It's resulting from the fact that we rarely go to the football these days as our children are now independent adults and it is no longer a family activity for us. The last few years we attended perhaps 3 games for the season so club membership was expensive at $195 pp to attend 3 games.

Beside that, we probably would still sign up were it not for the total disillusionment we feel for the AFL administration. This administration constantly harps that clubs need higher membership while at the same time it introduces two new teams that have bugger all membership and who are totally bankrolled by the AFL, and who have concessions and advantages, and with AFL finance pinch players from the poorer clubs.

We pulled the pin. We can no longer make financial contribution to an AFL system that is contrived, compromised, and lacking integrity.

We remain faithful Demon supporters who wish you every success. I was there as a twelve year old in 1964 at our last premiership. We have a player's tankard from a premiership in the 1950's, that was all they got back then, given to Lib by Don Williams who played in five. We can be happy knowing we are not being shafted by a greedy self serving AFL system that promotes largess on every front, and is a rort in the extreme.

Good luck with it, Carey Williams

I received no reply to that email. My position remains as expressed. In the meantime I have watched the announcement of Demetriou's resignation at the end of the year and noted his salary of $1million plus with bonuses of $2million. This is a heads in the trough industry. I see greedy pig's eyes when I see interviews.

The MFC will have to survive without this pilgrim putting hand in pocket. And if it doesn't that fine with me. I'd be happy if the AFL self destructed and I think it probably will.

Fish Bowl Dreams

The two days of this week have been most pleasant weather wise as I have performed my duties in a relaxed way, all the while trying to make sense of what I see and hear as I move around. I do what I have to do and look for reward in the way of food and social engagement, mainly with family but also neighbours, shopkeepers and colleagues of one sort or another, and the odd stranger.

I've picked a fair bit of wild mint from the roadside, this having shot up among the grass in a low lying place following the summer slashing and then the rain. The stench of death was heavy in the air last week in this spot and it was most unpleasant. On Friday I found its source, a large dead deer close to the road in long grass, most probably road kill. Yesterday and today the stench was still strong but it didn't bother me as much now that I knew what it was and where it came from.

I was two hours cutting back trees and shrubs in Marguerita's garden this morning to clear her electricity line 2 metres as she had a notice to do this, she said, from the power people. I do things for her now and again without payment as she's a friend and her husband is eighty this year I think and has advancing Alzeimers. They left for a medical appointment after I got there and I enjoyed the solitude and my work in the quiet rural setting away from traffic noise and distractions. And when I finished it was good to see the wire from the pole in the paddock go to the house through the garden well clear of vegetation.

The nights are cool now, the mornings fresh. Birdsong at dawn is reduced, must be the changing season. A few weeks ago it was a veritable cacophony. It's nice to go to bed with the expectation of another pleasant day tomorrow. I may be restricted to my fish bowl but all the time I look out through the glass seeking insight and reason, with thoughts extending far and to many people. We all have our bubble we live and work in but I love to see and think outside it.

I'm finding it easier to day dream yet remain moderately competent doing what I have to do. Goodo hey! And I'm dreaming a lot at night. Maybe it's the cortisone. Annie in the post office asked me how I was the other day and I said, "Great, I don't know why, but I feel great."

With a grin she said, "It must be the drugs." Perhaps she's right.

Interview Panel

Last Thursday I was part of an interview panel to select a part time curator for the Emerald Museum, a position of about six months tenure or till the $30,000 allocated by council runs out.

The Cardinia Council offered me the chance to participate as I'm the current president of the committee of management. I accepted firstly as I saw it as a duty of the president that I didn't want to shirk, and secondly because if I declined then I would not know what happened. At least I was there, I saw and talked to the four candidates. These were narrowed down to interview stage from the 27 applications and short list of 12, which I was not part of.

It was a gut wrenching experience for me, to sit in judgement of four exceptional people who all presented magnificently. I'm sure any one of the four would make an excellent curator. I rated them all very closely and feel awful that we will not have the services of three of the four.

It was four man panel, or more correctly a three women one man panel. The three women were council employees, the heritage officer, the manager of the sustainability and environment and a HR lady who led the panel.

In the end the selected candidate was chosen on personality, or rather as the personality most likely to fit the requirements in terms of suitability to the role working with the volunteers and committee. So in the end it was a 'feel thing', and may well be fallible. That is the way of it. The credentials and experience of the candidates in their resumes was extraordinary. It all came down to gut feel and to select one over three others from 4 excellent people pained me greatly on the day and the pain remains.

The interviews took most of the day. There were three before lunch and one after, then the discussion and decision making. The successful candidate was chosen after the gradings of the four panel members were pooled and totalled, with only a whisker in it.

It gutted me. Then I had an appointment with the quack re the polymyalgia in the late afternoon, to set up a program of cortisone reduction over the next four weeks. I stumbled to the end of the week and did a 'Signpost' interview yesterday afternoon with a subject I had not previously met nor had any knowledge of, but who was recommended to me. I was not disappointed, the subject has had a most interesting life and I should be able to deliver a finished article by Tuesday's deadline if I can find the time and energy to write it up which is not as easy as you would think.

TAX IS GOOD

Further to The Great Australian Dream is Over-

Tax is Good, Tax is Good

Green is Good, Green is Good

The Great Australian Dream is Over

That was the title of a talk I heard last year on radio national 621 by an economist who presented a paper to the Festival of Dangerous Ideas in Sydney last year.

With Ford Holden Toyota announcing their withdrawal from manufacturing in this country and Qantas on its knees, the talk and title rings true.

I'm not surprised at the demise of the car makers. For years it seems to me most of the new cars I see on the road are Mazdas and Hyundais. Plenty of Hi Lux and Cruisers but it's Camrys that are built here and they don't sell well. My most recent purchase is a Renault, the two prior work vehicles were Suzukis, and Lib drives a Hyundai, after two Subarus. And in recent times I've flown Jetstar, Tiger and Virgin, but I can't recall going Qantas since way back.

I have no training in marketing but I know that people will buy on price and value for the most part. In my case it is a necessity. I couldn't afford a Holden or Ford while there were cheaper vehicles to do the same job that were more economical to run to boot, and better designed. OK maybe with not as much grunt but who would care about that in most circumstances, except a moron.

There's a lot of bleating going on. The trouble with Australians is they are so busy running around telling each other and the world how great they are that they wouldn't know their arse from their front. The only reason it's such a great country is that we've had only about two hundred years since we dispossessed the indigenous inhabitants (who stood no chance to defend without any technology) to divvy up seven and a half million square kms and immense natural resource including gold iron oil copper nickel uranium coal gas, massive timber reserves along the Great Divide, fishing all around us, and huge areas of productive grazing and cropping land. We are still subdividing and ransacking and even fracking. Huge wealth has resulted in the land of the 'fair go', and everybody seems to want as much of it as they can get.

Half the country has been on strike in recent times or taking prolonged industrial action including Qantas, the police, teachers, nurses, the ambos now. Give me more give me more, more more, more. On my recent holiday to Qld I was staggered at the number of grey nomads with their big 4X4's and caravans and luxury campervans, all retired young enough to spend their several hundred thousand dollars of retirement perks. Or $millions. The radio constantly has ads for people to seminars for investment schemes of multiple investment properties to negatively gear interest against tax so that little if any is paid. In the meantime home ownership has become a dream only for a large percentage of our young people.

Australia is, I fear, by and large, becoming a nation of greedy people who whinge and grizzle at a few cents a litre rise in petrol price and who resent paying tax and welfare to the unfortunate.

Of course this is a generalization and I know many people who are not like this, but sadly a grim picture is emerging in our society that is appearing more and more farcical to me.

As for the economist who gave the talk, he said the three linchpins of the Great Australian Dream, A Good Steady Lifetime Job, Home Ownership, and Comfortable Retirement, were over for the majority of Australians into the future.

As for Qantas, Holden and Ford, I couldn't give a fig.

It's my children I worry about, and their children should they have any.

 

 


  

Polymyalgia

For most of January and February I struggled physically with debilitating stiffness and pain in my legs particularly but also my hips and buttocks and  even neck. I knew there was something wrong with me but during that time with the the severe heat I was busy watering things nearly everyday carrying buckets of water to new plantings in NHP and stuff at home. I didn't worry about stuff at the farm as Meredith and Jod are there and I worked on things that would die as no one else would attend. It was an awful summer.

I wondered if I was dehydrated, short of electrolytes or salts, it was a fatigue thing, I was lacking energy, motivation. Quite frankly I was miserable.

The weather changed mid Feb, there was no improvement with the cooler weather. In fact I was worse. My legs did not want to work. With my reduced mobility and soreness my work rate slowed and productivity dropped right off. I was having all sorts of negative thoughts and decided with great reluctance it was time to go to doctor and have blood tests.

I hadn't visited a doctor since 2011 when I had the arteritis scare so I went to the same bloke in Berwick. He asked me some questions and told me to come back in two weeks after getting blood tests in the meantime, after fasting, for a whole list of things including PSA, cholesterol, blood sugar, thyroid, kidneys. CPR, ESR, FBE, and possibly more that I don't recall from the list.

I went back to him last Thursday to get the results. In the week previous to this visit my condition worsened and I could barely drag myself out of bed with the strong pain and stiffness. The first hour or two of the day was agonizing as I did chores. After eating I took 2 ibuprofen tablets and gradually I improved so as to be able to function reasonably and get through the day albeit at reduced capacity due to slowness and lack of agility, always my greatest asset, suddenly taken away.

His diagnosis was polymyalgia. The same thing Elvie has had for 12 months. There is a hereditary factor, although it is usually occurs in people over 65. Looks like I'm old before time.

The good news is that the prescribed cortisone medication has worked a treat and I'm now getting about as normal with little pain and soreness. I take this dose of cortisone for one week then see doc again probably with a view to slowly reducing the cortisone over coming weeks, as was the case with the arteritis scare but thankfully this time there are no specialists involved and no talk of biopsies and all that other crap that cost me so dearly last time.

The good news also is that all my other test results were positive. Even my cholesterol was OK at 5.6. It was always in the 7.5-8 range  in the past and doctors were always wanting me to go on statins which I did for years but rejected about 5 years ago after my own investigations.

With my energy levels down for the past couple of months I have not posted much. I have kept my posts to comments about natural observations but there are a number of things happening I would like to comment on and I intend to in the next days. I'm pissed off about a few things and I intend to speak up.

I'm back.  

Rain

Rain. Lots. And not too heavy to overflow the spouting because of leaves blocking down pipes. I have cleared the down pipes a couple of times this summer but not for perhaps 4 weeks. I was worried there'd be enough leaves fallen lately to cause a problem, as the eucys constantly shed leaves in the heatwaves. So far so good, but the sound of rain on the roof seems to be louder now.

When the spouting overflows it falls on our deck between the spout and the veranda roof, in copious quantity, wetting the dogs bedding and anything else that may be there. As diligent as I am I get caught out sometimes. The hot dry weather makes me busy watering and short of time. The clearing of leaves from the down pipes and gutters is one of those things often put off till the next day, repeatedly, and after a long hot dry spell a storm can come quickly often bringing a torrential downpour which may only last 5 or 10 minutes but that is enough sometimes to punish the house dwellers and he who is responsible for such maintenance.

Mind you, sometimes the huge volume of water that can fall  in a few minutes is too great for the spouting and down pipes no matter if they are clean of leaves. On these occasions the worry is not really a bit of wet furniture and bedding on the deck but ground surface water that cascades where it shouldn't due to the build up of leaf litter that blocks normal flow and sends water in unexpected directions. This is not uncommon, and such deluge results in driveways and roads being washed out. Indeed in that big rain in Feb some years ago friends of mine (Hi Bill and Paula, if you still read) had water go through their entire house as it came down the hill behind their house when drains in the road above them blocked and redirected storm water straight in the direction of their back door.

I just went out to check, all is OK, there's the lovely sound of water falling into the near empty tanks.

I'm going to bed.

Atop the Mop

I hear twittering outside our bedroom window in the early morning. This is not unusual; we have three tree ferns along the back of the house which is the south side. I have pot plants in the semi shade under the ferns and in this hot and dry summer we are enduring I water the plants daily or they would perish. This creates a moist gully effect along the shady path and a refuge for small birds from the brutal heat and parched garden, only metres away, which is exposed to full sun and receives no water if it does not rain.

On this day of writing in the depths of February, I am tired of what is possibly the hottest summer I can recall in the 32 years we have lived here. The air is filled with smoke drifted in from distant bushfires and every leaf and twig crunches underfoot, dried brittle to tinder. Trees are shedding leaves and branches drooping, the roadsides are adorned with dropped twigs and even limbs as they crack and dry to snapping point. My friends in the garden fraternity look weary and haggard after many weeks watering special plants and rueing those they can’t, and watching their gardens shrivel after heatwaves and little if any rain. Not for faint hearts.

So it was great inspiration I received today when I saw a bird’s nest built on top of a mop resting on a wall outside our window under the ferns. I showed brother Jod a photo of it, he says it’s a White-browed Scrubwren’s nest. These brave little creatures, even if it were a sparrow nest, are making use of the shade and moisture and their nest building is a symbol of the resilience and optimism of nature.

I’ll be cautiously watching the nest over the coming weeks.

 

   

Seven Magpies

A cool change came in on Sunday, about mid afternoon. The temperature dropped from 40C to 32C in quick time. Not much of a change but welcome after the pig of a day that Saturday was. No rain though. It cooled right down last night and it was lovely this morning. Then the sun flexed its muscles a bit and it became unpleasant with a dry blustery wind, not hot, but uncomfortable. The was a lot of bushfire smoke for a while before the wind came up and took it away.

I got to the farm about mid afternoon after a busy day potting on plants to bigger pots to make them easier to water, interviewing for Signpost, and picking some rosemary. Gord and I bought a big salad roll each and had a late lunch before going down the hill with the big ladder to pick some green beech from the last tree that hadn't been picked hard. It was not good quality but the customer was so insistent with the approach of Valentine's Day that I picked it for her as I wanted the tree reduced.

While I ate a magpie came down so threw it a small piece of bread roll and within a minute or two there were seven competing for my offerings. They really are a beautiful bird up close and I enjoyed having them share my lunch. They have been around the house there for some weeks following Meredith about. She takes some old bread with her in her picking box and feeds her blackbirds and others that know her and follow, and now the maggies have joined in.

The yellow tailed black cockies have been about too and of course the screeching sulphur crested devils. but the maggies were my highlight.

Huntsman and Bug

I have not done my morning walk much recently, for a few reasons, but I did today. As I walked up Quinn Rd at the narrow part a car came the other way so I called the the dogs and held them till the car passed, but it didn't, it stopped and the lady inside, Dianne whom I have got to know as I walk past her house and see her walking also, wound the window down and asked me did I know who owned the paddock on the other side of the one full of big bales to our west, the paddock immediately to the north of the Puffing Billy line.

She had been walking there a little while ago with her grandson, along the railway line, when a noisy incident drew her attention. A bull fight no less. The bigger bull had knocked the smaller one down and was butting it and rolling it down the hill toward the dam while stopping now and again to lift up its forequarters and stomp on the poor hapless creature that was destined to die. Dianne was upset. I thought I knew who owned the land and she continued on to advise the farmer, although it was probably too late to affect the outcome.

Lib went to work and bought drinkable ice for the oldies at the nursing home. It wasn't a work day, no pay, she just did it because of the extreme heat we are enduring, and she cares for the oldies. I watered around home, then went to Nobelius Park to water things that have been planted in the last twelve months, as I have done every day for a couple of weeks. The whole thing is tiring, but what can you say? Australia is a hot dry place for much of the time. I watered at Hanna's on my way home and did a few little things I'd been itching to do at home before hitting the bathtub and then enjoying a delightful roast chook cooked in the crocky outside.

We were watching some crap on TV, there were numerous bugs flying about, and I noticed a big one on the wall near my left shoulder. I ignored it with the thought that this is all part of summer. Fortunately the movie 'Castaway' came on the satellite so i settled back to enjoy. I reckon that is a great movie.

Gord alerted me to another show going on, on the wall to my left shoulder where the big bug had settled. A Huntsman spider had come down from behind a mural, a big one about 1500 by 1500 that Lib brought back from Peru, and seized it by the abdomen. The bug kicked an fought, its long antennae in particular thrashing about. The spider had seven of its eight legs bracing on the wall, the other sticking up in the air, and had the bug seemingly in ts mouth, with what looked like small mandibles, extra to its legs, clamping down on it.

Slowly but surely, over about 45 minutes, the spider moved its grip up to the neck of the bug and it eventually ceased struggling and was immobile. The spider then took it up under the mural.

Nature is riveting.