Life Goes On

My alarm sounded at 5.30am. Lib set it using my mobile phone. Gradually we are learning to use these devices. Devices plural as we each have one, the same Pendos given to me by my Telco a few months ago to draw us into their web.

It was 6.35 when I pulled in at the farm, 20 minutes late after the said time I'd pick Jod to take him to William Angliss hospital for his appt with the knife to repair his hernia. He was tense and said he hadn't slept much. As we went up Monbulk Rd he said, "Well this might be the last time I travel up this road." He was convinced he would die under anesthetic.

I dropped him off at the admissions at 6.58 and went to park the van before walking back to see that he was successfully admitted. He was having a last fag outside and told me yes they had said it was on he was in and he just went out for a last fag.

I went back to the van and with the help of the cab light and the Melways and my glasses, to only just be able to read the map and small print, I devised a route to Rosie's house in Rowville. It was 7.20 when I arrived and exchanged Meredith's Ignis for the van and headed back to FTG to take M's car to the Suzuki dealer to have a manufacture's defect problem fixed on a recall, something to do with potential fire hazard in the ignition switch. Why me? I had bought the car through the business twelve years ago and it is registered in my name. The date I could first get the car booked in coincided with Jod's op and Meredith's weekly babysitting of her grand daughter Grace for her daughter Rosie who works part time for a vet as a nurse. Meredith's husband Roger had a seminar to go to that day so I was trying to tie it all up.

The Ignis was booked in for 8.30 and I had nearly an hour up my sleeve so I headed to Maccas on the Burwood Highway for a bite and coffee and to use the dunny. Who should I bump into as I went in but Roger who was on his way to the seminar in Hawthorn. He too was after coffee.

I was ten minutes early at the service centre and with three hours to spare before the car would be ready I walked east up the highway towards the shopping centre. I picked up cans for Jod as I went. Some had been well flattened by vehicles, those that hadn't I crushed with my heel.They were all of the usual brands of beveridge cans I find discarded - Coke, Pepsi, Mother, UDL, Jim Bean etc. I picked up some other litter such as squeeze sauce packs and paper wrap, but didn't deviate of my walking pathway. If I was focused on litter alone and picked up bottles and everything I could find I would have soon needed many bags and a ute.

But it was a pleasant walk despite the constant roar of thousands of passing trucks cars and buses. I looked at the trees along the road, quite a collection of eucalypts including iron barks, yellow box, long leaf box and some I was not sure of, and oaks and elms and various understory. Their was surprising birdlife of cockatoos, corellas, lorikeets, wattle birds, mynas, and a small wren type.

I sat in the mall for a while playing with my mobile phone and making some calls. I'd planned ahead to have some phone numbers so I could do some business I'd been struggling to find time for. I had a roast beef roll and more coffee in a caff. It was nice to have a few hours at slow pace.

Leaving the mall I saw a nice dog on a lead just outside the big sliding doors. It came straight up to me very friendly so I patted it and talked to the lady on the other end of the lead. She told me it was a whippet kelpie cross named Maggie nearly one year old. We talked dogs and shortly a little boy came out of the big sliding doors carrying bread rolls. It was the lady's son Spencer who went in to get the rolls while his mum waited outside with Maggie. We walked off down the highway together and talked as we went. She told me her name was Tina and her husband, a robotics engineer, came from Emerald. She turned off into the housing estate that is now where Ferntree Gully tech used to be and we wished each other well. She has another son at school. It was a delightful interlude that sometimes comes when you least expect.

The Ignis was ready when I got back the dealer at 11.30 and I drove back to Rosie's and swapped vehicles again. I did some shopping at Chemist warehouse and Aldi drove back to Emerald where I fueled up and did the green grocer bit and went to the farm. I picked 10 bunches of variegated pitto that had been ordered then for the last couple of hours I cut and painted blackberries in our dogwood row.

Strangely, a day I dreaded turned out to be pleasant. We rang the hospital. Jod's op was all good, he's fine and Roger is going to pick him up tomorrow. I'm home for a much desired day at home pruning and tidying while Lib and Gord are driving to Yea for the Gembrook footy.

Looking Back at Life

I had a thought on my morning walk today. In fact I had many thoughts and saw things of great beauty which I will record but first let me tell the significant thought that came front and centre to me like a bolt of lightning.

My passion for life has not diminished with the passing of years.

Yesterday Rickyralph visited me again. He rang first to say he would come to return three books I had lent him. I said that Lib and Gord would be at the local footy but I would be home and we could have a yarn and a cuppa. He loved the books I had lent him which were 'The Narrow Road to the Deep North' by Richard Flanagan, 'Life is So Good' by George Dawson and Richard Glaubman (George Dawson was an American negro who at age 98 decided he would learn to read and write), and 'My Brother Jack' by George Johnston.

I'm grateful for many things in this life but one of them is that my parents sent me to Malvern Grammar in 1964 after I had completed primary school at Mt. Waverley State school, for if this did not happen I would probably not have met Rickyralph. We talked at length yesterday about books- we have similar tastes in literature- and other things, agreeing that we are very different people holding a different view of life to what we were/had as teenagers or young adults. But we have mellowed similarly, from thinking the same then to both now having similar views.

As he left he walked down our drive with short little steps so he didn't slip, his gait and greying hair on the back of his balding head made him look like an old man. I called out to him, "You look like an old man."

"I am an old man," he called back. "Hey, go and have a look in the mirror when you go inside."

We laughed and he drove away.

I was happy this morning that the expected blizzard that the weather bureau and media had been warning us about was not reality. I don't know why they do this, and scare good decent folk with their dire predictions which often are a total furphy.

I took a brolly and needed it as light rain fell on the way back. Yes it was cold and a tad inclement but there was certainly no blizzard and still there is not. The thermometer on my deck said it was 5C at 9.30am when I got back, which remained so until 1pm when it dropped to 4C which has held till now. Yes, it is cold, but there's no wind, no hail no snow and definitely no blizzard. Nothing you would not expect on a mid July day.

Now to beauty of this wintry morn on my walk. I saw Louise going to church. I saw a large stag deer's head sticking out from the back of a ute in Inness Rd. It must have been shot yesterday or last night. Even in death it was magnificent. I saw an oak tree standing stark and bold, it's twigs and swollen buds tinged pink against the dark background of a massive pine tree. There's a wondrous beauty in deciduous trees in winter.

I just rechecked the thermometer. It's still 4C. I'd better go fill the firewood barrow at the front door for the evening ahead. I lit the fire this morning and will have to keep the wood up.

A closing thought as I look back.

I have no personal bitterness or resentments about my life.

A Busy Few Days

On Saturday I donned my journo hat and attended a luncheon at the Gembrook Cockatoo Football Club which was a reunion of the 1965 Gembrook Premiership team. Cockatoo was incorporated ito the name in recent times. I was invited by the lady who is the unofficial historian with a view to me writing an article on the event for my Signpost Gembrook column. Gord was playing in the reserves but I didn't get to see his game much as I was talking to the old timers and listening to the speeches by Federal MP Jason Wood and the captain and vice captain of the team and taking notes. Towards the end the old fellows got together and let rip with the club song.

As this function finished and prior to the start of the senior match the players of both Gembrook and Emerald, the reserves who had just played and seniors still fresh and clean, lined up in guard of honour as close friends and relatives of the three teenagers killed in a car accident last week formed a circle and a minutes silence was observed. The lost three had close connection to both clubs. It was very moving, on what was a cold wintry day, when I got home mid afternoon to light the fire it was 4C on our deck.

On Sunday 5 July on what was the 100th anniversary of Doug Twaits' birth I met his widow Lynne at Camelot where Doug and Lynne lived during their married life of about 20 years. I had not been back there since Doug died in 2002. The property of 12 acres is a large garden of mainly exotic species of trees that Doug planted in the 1950's when he lived there with his first wife. The picture below is of Lynne after she had just tied a feather in a tree above where Doug's ashes were spread. The feather is a symbol of old warriors in Nth American Indian spirituality which Lynne was into in a big way, and in which Doug, who had never been spiritual or religious, became strongly interested in his later years.

The next photo is looking down from the house into the gully. At the top of the dam a spring rises from mother earth. In the early days of there was a eucalyptus oil still on this site. The deciduous trees either side of the dam were planted by Doug and are mainly pinoaks on one side and beech on the other as you go down. There are also many conifers and two large sequoias, as well as camellias and rhodies and all manner of shrubbery. It's a magnificent place of tranquility and sanctuary for wildlife hidden away right in the heart of Emerald, and in Lynne's words it is a sacred place. She and her friends held ritual ceremonies there. I rang the owner last week and got permission for Lynne and I to visit. He bought the property from Doug just before Doug died in the car accident, only a matter of days afterwards.

I had busy day picking on Monday and today I had a monthly museum meeting at 4pm followed by the Biennial General Meeting. I had reports to write up for that as outgoing president and I'm bushed now and shouldn't be doing this but something drove me to record the above before I can now retire to blissful rest.

Sad End to June

It had been my intention to do a post before the end of June but I didn't feel I had much to say. It has been a dry month, apparently we have entrered an El Ninio phase, my friend Glen who records the rainfall told me yesterday only 35mm of rain had fallen for the month in Gembrook. It is dry underfoot which is good in a way for someone like myself who works outside. And there has been no problem to easily find dry kindling wood under the trees for the fire each day.

Business has been brisk. We are kept going picking flowers for the herb and spice people and foliage and spring blossom for the florists. Not that it's spring yet but some of the early trees start in June as does the japonica which is in full swing now. I have had other commitments also and last weekend I attended an historical society conference all day Saturday and then helped Rob and Hao cut back the garden on Sunday at their flat as they are moving into Hao's house in the next week or so and didn't want to risk being slugged for their bond money by leaving an excuse for it in the form of an overgrown garden.

A highlight of the Saturday conference at Ringwood was the talk by Bruce Postle who was photographer at the Brisbane Courier mail for some years then more than 20 years at the Age in Melbourne. He showed many wonderful photos on a slide screen and gave an insight into the story behind them. The conference was attended by historical societies from all over Melbourne's east including the Waverley Historical Society. Each society including us had a table display and sold books, I bought 3 of theirs and gave them to Jod who was rapt.

On our way home tonight we had to give way to a CFA truck which was in a hurry and turned off at Avonsleigh when it met up with another truck. I gave it no more thought till I was in the bath and heard on the tranny 7pm news that a car had hit a tree in Phillip Rd killing 3 teenage passengers, two girls and a boy.

I have been feeling a little anxious due the Greek financial crisis thing as Lib and I are booked into a week on Crete in September. Who knows what will happen, or if we have to cancel. It wouldn't be much use going if we couldn't buy petrol for our hire car.

And I have had some pain and tightness return as I have reduced the cortisone. It's a bit depressing. But in comparison to the unfortunate families of the three young people killed tonight I have nothing to complain or feel down about.

Mildura Trip (3)

I'm weeks behind I know that but I wanted to finish this off as its been rolling round in my head.
I had some breakfast with Bert Penny on the Saturday morning before he left about 8.30am. I talked a little while with Shirley before I too left to take a photo of the Methodist church where Doug and Dot were married in 1946.

I bought a long black coffee at Macca's and headed off down the highway towards Ouyen in bright sunshine and feeling happy knowing I had two days to get home at leisurely pace in my own company which I have always liked, and the scenery of rural Victoria, always a total pleasure.

There was a Mallee flowering on the roadside, which must be an early, or late, variety, so I pulled up some way down the track to look at the buds. I broke off a twig to bring home to consult a tree book when I got home. It is still behind me here in the office and I have not yet researched it. There was quite a bit of mallee firewood about as limbs had broken from the trees and I had my chainsaw in the van so cut some up and loaded several armfuls into the van. It was dry and and gave wonderful heat to a number of fires when I got back. I was amazed at the amount of litter  so I picked up some cans for Jod.

I turned off on the road to Robinvale thinking I might find where Doug's friend Bucky had lived and have a chat to his neighbours. Henry Buchecker was Doug's best mate from their army days. I knew Henry had died as Bert Penny had told me. Anyway I was in no hurry and couldn't recall ever being to Robinvale before except to perhaps pass through on my way to beekeepers conference at Mildura in the 1970's. I hadn't worked out my route home although I had a rough idea of going through Ballarat to find the house Doug grew up in. Deanie Twaits, wife of one of Doug's cousins, had given me a photocopy of a photo of the house and I knew the name of the street it was in, but not the number.

Gas Engine

Henry Buchecker Block 36B

The Murray at Boundary bend -black box tree in foreground

Ron and Nance Tonkin's house Maryborough

The drive to Robinvale was totally charming as I travelled through irrigation farms of vegetables, almonds, grapes. I was struck by the immense value of the Murray River to agriculture and as a water supply to towns along its length, including cities like Mildura.

Lettuce

I pulled into a Robinvale servo and fueled up, and as I paid I bought a map of Victoria from which to plan my route home. The man serving said "What are you looking for," when I asked him where the Info sign was in Robinvale. I told him I would like to know where Henry Buchecker lived before he died as I was researching some old soldiers. He then said, "Hang on a minute mate while I serve this bloke, Bucky's daughter just walked past with another lady not five minutes ago, I'll tell you where she lives." He then asked another bloke to show me, and he told me to follow his car which I did. The daughter wasn't yet home from her walk so I went to the museum opposite the servo and found a picture of Bucky among the soldier settlers, and I had a good look around and one of the attendants gave me a demo of an old gas engine that 120 years ago powered a generator for lighting in a 32 berth shearing shed.

When I went back to Henry's daughter's place she was home and we had a long chat. She was the youngest of six children and her family had a magnificent garden around the house on their fruit block thanks to Doug who brought up trees and shrubs on his regular visits. When the block was sold the garden was bulldozed. Henry moved into the old people's home where daughter Carol works. He died a few years ago.

I drove on to Swan Hill. The road follows the Murray closely so it was most interesting. It was about 4pm when I checked into a motel. I played with my smart phone trying to do various things and listened to the Demons get thumped by Port Adelaide. There was a Vietnamese restaurant across the road which provide me dinner after a flutter on the pokies at the RSL. I lost $20 quickly so got out of there fast.

Next day I drove to Kerang and turned off to Bridgewater, then Tarnagulla, a fascinating old town looking like it hasn't changed in 100 plus years, Dunolly, Maryborough, onto Ballarat where I looked for Doug's old house in central Ballarat. There were many old houses similar and I couldn't be sure which was where Doug first lived. They were all of the period and are heritage listed I believe.

In Maryborough I came across Ron and Nance Tonkin's house where I stayed sometimes while I worked for them in late 1974 and early 1975. Most of that period I was camped in the Mallee with Ron's brother Jack in a caravan in heatwave conditions of close to 40c or more every day. We went back to Maryborough with a load of honey supers, then returned to the bees. It was nostalgic for me. Ron, Nance and Jack are all long dead. I stayed in a back room with a ghost who visited. It was weird. This ghost stood over the bed when I woke in the middle of the night, watching me. Don't know who it was. It disappeared when I moved. I didn't like to say anything to Ron so I didn't mention it. Later I planned to ask him one day when I met him, if I ever did again, but it didn't happen. 

As I left Ballarat a bitingly cold southerley change with rain came and my drive home through Melbourne and into the hills in dark wet conditions was tedious. I was home about 6.30pm, Lib and Gord had the fire going and a roast on. 

*When I have inserted the photos on this post they do not go where I want them to, which would have made for better reading, but have bunched up and are out of sequence. Sorry about that.

Mildura Trip (2)

It was around mid May (2015) when I finally felt I could take the time to visit Bert and Shirley Penny in Mildura. I’d rung them more than a year earlier, say April 2014, to talk about Doug. I spoke to Shirley Penny on that occasion and she immediately said, on hearing that I was to write Doug’s biography, what a wonderful man he was and what a strong impact he had made on many young lives. She said Bert was having on operation to remove cataracts in May, so I should leave my visit till June. Well Mildura’s a long way from Gembrook, at least 600km so I knew I’d need three free days to go up and interview the Pennys and come home again. Three free days in a row are hard to find when always there’s work at farm and home then family commitments and trips that had precedence.

In early March Gord and I drove to Canberra to watch a World Cup cricket match, and then Lib and Gord and I went to Adelaide soon after, again driving. I’d enjoyed both these driving trips despite the hours stuck behind the wheel so the prospect of driving to Mildura and back was not so daunting, in fact it was now attractive and viewed by me as another little holiday.

I rang the Pennys again, after finding their number in my Doug file, in a letter that Brian Weightman had written to me after my enquiries started in early 2014. Brian, the father of champion Richmond rover of the 1980’s, said that Bert had retained friendship with Doug and had visited him a few times at Emerald. It was Shirley I spoke to again who said, after I told her I could come up next weekend or the one after, that next week was difficult as Bert was helping his daughter move from Redcliffs back to Mildura so the second weekend would be better. Then they were going away on a cruise for a few weeks early June. I said I’d ring next week to confirm.

Next week I rang and spoke to Shirley first then Bert. In my mind I would go to Mildura on the Friday and stay in a motel that night and visit them on the Saturday afternoon and then come home on the Sunday after another night in the motel. Bert said he was organized to cook on a barbecue for a club or something on the Saturday and also was helping his son move afterwards. He suggested I come up on the Friday and stay at their house and we could have our discussion on the Friday night as he’d have to leave quite early on the Saturday morning. I was not in a position to pick and choose so I agreed. He asked me when I was leaving Gembrook and I said I’d leave about 10am after getting a blood test done in Emerald for a medical appointment I had early the next week.

Bert said with no hesitation, “Get the blood test done on Thursday and leave at 9am Friday. Stop every couple of hours and have a walk about and a drink of water. Allow 8 hours and get to our house in daylight if you can as it’ll be hard to find in the dark.”

I could tell straight away that Bert at age 87 was full bottle. I took his advice and did the blood thing on the Thursday. I drove out of my driveway at 9.02am after a busy morning and as it happened I found the Penny’s house as the light began to fade, having followed the directions Bert gave me on the phone. When I knocked on the door it was 5.05 pm.

It was a good drive up. I went the back way through Yea and Seymour to Bendigo via Puckapunyal and Heathcote, a route I knew well from my years in the Dep’t of Agriculture, and many trips to Bendigo over the last thirty five years to visit Lib’s sister and her family, often buying honey from Wardy at Heathcote also, when we used to sell a lot of honey at the farm. From Bendigo on it was pretty much all new to me, not having been to Mildura for a long time. The road wasn’t busy and it was nice to be in expansive open space.

It was lush green scenery when I left home and it started to get drier as I approached Seymour, worse the nearer I got to Bendigo, then worse again as I travelled north-west. There were large areas that looked like they had been harvested last year, with stubble and little if any new growth. I don’t know if these were left fallow as a rotation or simply hadn’t been ploughed because it has been too dry. There were large paddocks that looked as if they had been sown but no crop was showing, while others had a tinge of green in the drills. Oddly to me these worked paddocks seemed to have more growth the closer I came to Mildura. This is explained when I read last week’s Weekly Times that said crop prospects were a little better in the Mildura area than other parts of western Victoria as they were luckier with autumn rainfall.

I was surprised when Bert Penny came to the door to find that he was a tall man of robust stature. As he was 87 I had expected an elderly gent quite frail. There was nothing frail about Shirley either; again I had been expecting a little old lady. As soon as I walked in the door I could smell pea and ham soup cooking. Bert showed me my room, I returned to the kitchen and we got straight down to talking about Doug, with me making notes with pen and pad. Shirley led the conversation while Bert busied with other things and contributed here and there but happy to let Shirley have her head. After a while he went to the stove and attended the food, saying the soup had burned, and then mashing potatoes, and stirring another pot or two. The soup had a burnt taste but with a bit of pepper to overide it was still delicious. The main meal was chicken casserole followed by a cup of tea and buttered fruit loaf. Bert did all the dishes.

Bert and Shirley Penny

Bert bought this fountain from Doug and Dot's nursery in Essendon in the 1960's

As their story unfolded it became obvious that Bert was at home in the kitchen, Shirley revealing that she had been a City of Mildura Councillor for 13 years and also Mayor for a term, so Bert had much experience cooking dinner. Shirley had also been awarded an Order of Australia and had met the Queen twice. Bert was a master builder for most of his working life after leaving school at 13 and working for a bus company where his job was to go under the buses an hose them clean from the mud that built up from the unmade roads. As it was wartime and most of the men had gone he graduated quickly to changing wheels and tyres and other basic mechanical maintenance, then by the time he was 17 and a half he had a special licence issued to him and he was a bus driver. He used to pick Shirley up and she said he was quite rude telling her to get down the back of the bus. She didn’t like him, but she could see him looking at her in his rear vision mirror.

They were both in the Youth Club run by the Mildura Council but the males and females had little interaction and were quite separate. In 1946 Doug took up the position of Director of the Youth Club, it was shortly after he had returned from Europe where he had spent 4 years in Stalag 83. It must have been part of a work program to give returned soldiers employment. Doug had been a Australian champion featherweight wrestler before the war and a fitness expert and all round sportsman. He taught the boys, many of whom were from very poor families, wrestling, weightlifting and gymnastics. In this year Bert at 19 was older than the other youths and had been made president I think by the council. Shirley, also 19, was leader of the girls, so she and Bert saw more of each other and romance developed.

At the same time a lady from Emerald, Dot Fisher, had taken a job at the Youth Club as supervisor of the girls group. Doug and Dot fell in love and married that year in the Methodist church. Without checking my notes to confirm I think Shirley was in the bridal party. Doug’s contract was for one year and he and Dot moved on to Queensland at the end of it.

Doug and Dot 1946

Methodist church built 1912

Bert did night school carpentry and building construction and Shirley worked in a fashion shop. They have four children, two sons who are master builders also, and two daughters and six grandchildren. This of course is an abbreviated version of Bert and Shirley’s story from the top of my head without referring to my notes, but I have to say I have been bursting to blog about these two wonderful people with whom I clicked so readily because of their warmth and hospitality. Exceptional people I have been lucky to meet and who made my trip to Mildura rewarding and confidence boosting.

  

Mildura Trip

I'm in Swan Hill. In a motel by myself. Its a little lonely but nice and quiet. I drove all day yesterdah to get to Mildura. I visited An elderly couple Bert and Shirley Penny and stayed with them last night. They were youth leaders in 1946 when Doug Twaits went there to be director of the Community Youth Group run by the council. Lovely people I felt totally comfortable. Went to Robinvale today. Met the daughter of  Henry Buchhecker. Henry was Doug's best mate and was in the 2/7th batallion with him. Doug was captured by the Germans so was Henry but Henry escaped and his was helped by Cretians. He and two New Zealanders stole a fishing boat and rowed across the Mediterranean to Nth Africa. Doug was sent to Austria and was interred for nearly four years.
this is hard writing on my move phone.
Bye for now.

Rickyralph Rides

Rickyralph, my good friend of 51 years, tipped up on Saturday morning. We shared my brunch. We talked, for 3 or 4 hours. It was good to see him and talk to him. Afterwards I felt fantastic. It was a clear late autumn day as still as you like and I went about my chores lighthearted and happy. There were few motorbikes on the main road. They must have all gone to some bike event elsewhere perhaps. The was stillness and silence.

How good is it? That one you have known so long arrives to see and talk to you. Fifty years is nothing. We are connected. I was talking to Lib about him that very morning before she went to work.

He told me a sad story. His relationship with his sister Sue was severed more than a decade ago, they do not see each other or talk. When I was a teenager I very much liked Rick's sister Sue, who in my adolescent eyes was so attractive. She was married with a couple of young kids. I have not seen her in probably 45 years.

She rang RR last year, before ANZAC Day, to ask him could she borrow their father's medals so that members of her family could march in the parade. These medals were bequeathed to Rick, he was his father's only son. Their father Dick served in the 2/2nd pioneers and was shot in the knee at El Alamein. For the rest of his life he walked with a stiff leg that would not bend at the knee. He died suddenly of heart failure in the early 1980's. He would have turned 100 last year.

Initially RR thought no, he's not letting his dad's medals out, then he had a change of heart and said yes. He took the medals around to his sister's house. His sister's husband said he would return them. A week or so after ANZAC Day the medals had not come back. Rick rang sister Sue. There was some acrimony over the ownership of the medals but it was agreed that that Rick could come and get them. When he did there was a set missing. Sue had loaned them to her son. Rick hit the roof, paying out on Sue for all his pent up emotion brewed over years and years.

I told RR that this story was ugly. He went on to say that Sue's daughter Mandy subsequently died of a brain tumour and that because of the incident he didn't feel he could go to the funeral. He sent a card. He learned later that had he gone to the funeral he would have been asked to leave.


In his card he included a quote -

" If I should die and leave you here awhile,
  Be not like others sore, undone who keep
  Long vigils by the silent dust and weep.
  For my sake turn again to life and smile,
  Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do,
  Something to comfort other hearts than thine.
  Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine,
  And I, perchance may therein comfort you. "

                                                             Anon

He told me this on Saturday and sent me the quote at my request.  In the discussion I told him of something I came across on the net, about thought process, the theme being fifteen things to leave behind to improve your happiness. I said I'd send it to him. I know he reads my blog so I list them here.

1. The need to be right
2.The need to control
3. Blame
4. Self Defeating mindset
5. Beliefs of what is possible/not possible
6. The need to complain
7. The luxury of criticism
8. The need to impress
9. Resistance to change
10. Labels
11. Fear
12 Excuses
13.The past
14. Attachment
15. Living to other people's expectations

There were explanations to these which I didn't have time to write down from the audio but it is fairly self explanatory and probably better left to think about anyway.

I told Rick he should try to heal the wounds of the relationship with his sister. Not overtly, but slowly bit by bit, send her now and again a saying, a poem, a gesture. Even if he never sees her again , he should let her know that he would like to heal the rift.

Alexandra vs Gembrook

Gord had missed selection for the Gembrook ressies the last couple of weeks and the team had won both games so he hadn't managed to force his way into the team for last Saturday. He wanted to go to Alexandra anyway to show support. I had said I would go with him if he was picked to drive his car back if he was injured. He wasn't picked but I decide to go with him anyway as I was a bit worried about him driving all that way and back by himself when he doesn't have the best sense of direction and there and back is a long way. It is not as if I don't have plenty to do at home, and knowing I was on museum duty Sunday, the weekend was a write off but there you go, once I had decided and adjusted my thinking around it there was no hardship in it, just the prospect of a day off and a drive in the country.

We left about 10 am, travelling the back way through Healesville and up the Black Spur. we arrived in Alex shortly before midday just in time to catch the butcher where I bought three scotch fillet steaks for dinner as per instruction from Lib who left for work at 6.35 am. It was a good drive and I was enthralled the whole way by the magnificent trees on the roadside; messmates and peppermints to start, manna gums mountain greys,  oaks, mountain ash, then as we went north of the divide box trees and red gums as well. Trees are so beautiful, more and more so as I get older.

The game had just started as we drove into the reserve and I was struck by the trees around the ground, notably a an American redwood near to where we parked and oaks and cypresses. The oaks had lost nearly all there leaves but were still beautiful. I indulged in a pastie and dim sims from the kiosk and a styrene cup of black tea and soaked up the atmosphere of country footy. There is nothing better. The net ballers were going at it on the court nearby and I followed up with a hot dog with sauce and mustard and another cuppa.

The ressies got done like a dinner and as the senior game started i was a little tired so i stretched out on the back seat with my legs dangling out the open door and had a little sleep while Gord fraternised with some of his mates. We left at half time to buy a lettuce as per the bosses instructions, then coming back to the ground on our way past to go home we saw the seniors had extended their two goal half time lead to five so off we went home this time via Yea and Yarra Glen. The downer for the day was listening to Hawthorn flog Melbourne by 105 points.

We arrived home at about 6pm. Lib had lit the fire which I had set earlier and we enjoyed a lovely evening after a dinner of steak, chips and salad. It had done me good to get a change of topography
and scenery and the magnificent sunny day and the wonderful scenery will stay long in my psyche. It was a good decision to have the day off. It was a real tonic after the icy wintry miserable week we had.

Carey and redwood tree

Pests on the Wing

I wrote this last night and submitted it for my Gembrook column to Signpost mag June edition.

Pests on the Wing

On a clear afternoon in early May I was enjoying planting out some seedlings at Emerald when a large flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos arrived, flying at height over my head one way, then back the other and all the time screeching to each other as if in argument about where to roost. They settled in tall eucalypts some distance away but the screeching continued. After a while the flock, which must have contained hundreds of birds, dispersed and smaller groups flew about at low altitude landing spasmodically in shrubs and smaller trees close to me, squawking and carrying on menacingly. The noise was irritating and continued all the while I was working, depriving me of peace and quiet, and frankly my work became unpleasant.

‘A Field Guide to Australian Birds’ says of the voice of this cockatoo, “A harsh, raucous screech terminating with a slight upward inflection; also a variety of guttural screeches and shrill squawks.”

These cockatoos are about in far greater numbers now than in previous times. Doug Twaits in his Field Guide to the birds of the Emerald and Gembrook Districts compiled in 1998 said, “Like the Galah, Sulphur-crested Cockatoos in the last 20 years have moved into the Emerald and Gembrook grids in increasing number. Their status has changed from rather rare, in that time, to common, breeding residents.”

Genseric Parker in ‘Forest to Farming – Gembrook: an early history’ in 1995 wrote, “Although this area is not the natural home for the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo, several years ago a pair nested in a big tree along the Wallace Creek at the bottom of our property and brought out three young ones. In the following years the same pair has continued to nest.”

They are certainly well established in the area now. They are destructive to fruit crops and can even attack timber in houses at times I’m told. I will have to put up with the dreadful noise.

At least there seems to be fewer rabbits about lately. And there were few flies this summer gone. And the rats and mice did not come into the house with the cold weather like other years. The mozzies were bad, and the European wasps, but the May cold snap knocked them out. We take the good with the bad. Pest populations go up and down, often before we are aware, but I can’t see the cockies leaving.

I was telling Jod about  it today and he said when he was in the fireman job on the railways he and his driver hated seeing flocks of white cockies on the line ahead especially on a bend. They gathered in the thousands sometimes eating the wheat that fell from railway trucks from freight trains. Their beaks were so strong they disturbed the ballast under the rails in their efforts to dig out the seed and therefore the next train was badly shaken by instability and risked derailment unless they slowed down. It was a cause of serious track maintenance.

A Poem... ANZAC Day

Dulce et Decorum est

Bent Double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.-
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen

Notes on Dulce et Decorum Est

1.  DULCE ET DECORUM EST - the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean "It is sweet and right." The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country.

Footytips Tip Nine

After 3 rounds I'm level pegging on 15 with arch rival and good friend Rickyralph, this after he picked 9 winners last weekend to my 7. Gord is leading our comp with 19 and Lib is second with 16.

The round was the first week in which the favourites were obvious and came in too. Indeed in my comp with the VAA beekeepers I also tipped nine.  I varied in our home comp by picking St Kilda in the Friday night game, thinking there would probably be an upset or two and the Saints had been in pretty good form in the first two games, and I took Nth Melbourne over Port Adelaide in the closest to even money game of the round.

The bad news is I put $2 on the 9 game multi with the Saints and Nth, for a $2 loss. The good news is I put $10 on the other, Rickyralph's, for a collect of $94.

But it wasn't all plain sailing for the weekend. I heard a tipster on the radio say that a nag at Mt Gambier in race 3 was (at $2 for $1) like money in the bank. So I thought I'd have a bit of that and hurriedly put on $10 before I left to go to the Pave poetry competition on Sunday afternoon. My account balance went down $20 and I realized I'd ticked the win/place box and had also stupidly put on $10 a place at the return of 1 for $1. Nevermind I thought, I'll get it back. I listened to the race as I drove. The nag ran 4th. Money in the bank like hell!

A Walk and a Talk

I went for a walk last Monday, first time for a few weeks. It was a joyful experience. Along the way at a point where I let Pip off the lead in a safe section I whistled to her as she explored front yards, just so she kept tuned into me and didn't dilly dally too much.

A man heard my whistle and approached to say hello. I hadn't seen him for many months but I have talked to him over a number of years. I won't mention his name as the story I'm about to tell divulges some misfortune he has had, but also has a beautiful element which is the reason I'm telling it.

I'm trying to think of a fictitious name but anything I think of just does not seem right, as his real name does, so I'll labour on with the story using no names. This man has had Parkinson's disease for many years, 15 I think he has told me. He would be younger than me I'd say, perhaps by a decade but I may be wrong there. He has at times seemed so crook that it would not have surprised me if it had claimed him by now. He walked up to me surprisingly quickly and commented on the lovely morning then said he'd not seen me for a while.

I told him I hadn't walked much for many months because I'd been crook and gave him a bit of a rundown. He then told me how well he was going. He said he had to wait ten years for an operation but it had worked. When I asked him what sort of op he said on his brain. He has electrodes in his brain and multiple copper wires from them to other parts and his face, not visible of course. He had to slow down his speech or I struggled to understand him. He said he was now taking no medication and was the better for it, the operation on his brain seemed to be doing its job. But, he added, he has to make sure he doesn't get tazered by the police or apparently it will kill him quickly by upsetting the electrodes and effectively frying his brain from the inside.

Pip came up to us and he said what a good little dog she was, and asked me where the other one was. I told him Snow had passed on, killed by a big dog. He was visibly upset by this. He then mentioned a name, saying that she/he was 17 years old now. I thought he was talking about his daughter.

(He had told me he had three kids from a marriage that was long dissolved. His ex wife lives locally, I have known her for a number of years and consider her a friend, but never realized they had been married and produced the three children until a couple of years ago on my walk I saw her car outside his house picking up the children, and saw his eldest daughter coming and going from his house on foot on occasion. I have seen the children as they have grown up, of course from some distance, and I recall seeing mum and talking to her when she had one child in a pusher and another on her back in a harness. Time flies. I don't want to sound like a nosy parker but I was genuinely surprised when two people I had known separately for years turned out to have been married. When you walk regularly you observe things. I don't think I have spoken to either of them about the union, nor anyone one else, before now anonymously.)

But the man said when I asked did he mean his daughter was 17, that no, he was talking about his old dog. He said he was going to get another one soon as he will be very upset when his old dog dies. I asked him how old his eldest daughter was and said that she was indeed a beautiful girl. He told me her age and said she was beautiful from birth, and happy.

"When she slipped from her mother her eyes were wide open and she had a smile on her face. Some people are just born that way."

That is what he said to me, as I recall it best I can. It just struck me as beautiful and something I wanted to record and pass on.

Medical Update

Last Wednesday I had an appointment with the rheumatologist, this being two months after my previous visit in February when he told me my inflammatory reading on my blood tests had returned to the high levels of twelve months earlier. "This disease has really got a hold on you," he said. In February he had increased my dose of the methotrextate (the second increase, which doubled it from my initial starting point), and also increased the cortisone, saying, "We have to get the inflammation down again, if it hasn't improved in 6-8 weeks we'll have to introduce another medication for you in addition to the methotrextate."

Naturally this was not good news but it wasn't surprising as I had been in increasing pain and discomfort in the weeks leading up to that consultation. But it was not all bad, my liver function was fine and there were no noticeable side effects to the MT either.

This time the news was better. My inflammation levels were down by a third and I was feeling much better too. My liver function was fine again and he left me on the same dosages saying that he expected the results would continue improving to my next appt which is June 3.

Easter came and went. We had some lovely April weather, it is a beautiful time of year with the stillness, the autumn colour and the awareness that the heat of summer and the threat of bushfire has gone till next summer. I had a quiet restful few days yet still did some good work at the farm and at home.The only downer I can think of was the roaring, screaming, droning of motor bikes (different bikes make different noise but it sounds like the riders ride them in a manner to maximize the noise) for nearly all day up and down Launching Place road. It seems the great Australian pastime is now to joy ride on motor bikes on weekends and public holidays. I find it incredible how many there are.

Good Friday

Easter is upon us. I'm not into the chocolate egg thing. What about the execution and resurrection of Christ?

It always gave me the heebeejeebees as a kid, the crucifiction, the nails through the hands and the spear in the side. As an adult now, quite an old one, I'm pretty well unaffected by violence, having been exposed to many forms of it through the media and society for most of my life. I ignore shit really and try to focus on positive things.

So the resurrection, yes, good stuff. It's good thinking, that Christ died for us so that we sinners can be forgiven and have everlasting life, after death. I hope it's true, and I hope I make the cut. I don't get around singing hymns and preaching psalms but I try to live with good Christian virtue.

The Jehovah's Witness people that come here tell me I need to do more to be granted salvation. The Jewish people don't believe Christ existed. The Catholics say you need to go to confession. I'm not sure what Islam says, nor the hindus and budhists, then there's all manner of other sects.

As I see it everyone has the right to believe what they believe, and God is the ultimate judge. Yes I do believe in God. I believe there's much we do not know, about the past, the present and the future, and I hope and pray that the mystery of life and death I will one day understand, even if I have to wait till after death.

Death is a human certainty. Beyond it, I'm uncertain. I can think and believe what I like but it is uncertain. Tomorrow is uncertain. Anything can happen. The saying "Live like there's no tomorrow" can be taken in more ways than one, but I like it.

That's why I like to plant trees. I planted three last week, on our property at Gembrook. Two were eucalypts given to me by my friend Nat who lives in Melbourne, just before Christmas. They were seedlings she potted up, progeny of a big tree in her neighbour's garden. I watered them through summer, always looking around for somewhere to plant them, thinking of the farm or people I could give them to where they would have a good home. They were getting way too big for the pot. I walked around our property and finally found places for them, quite close to each other among other mature eucies but where there was a gap in the canopy and they will get good sun.

The third tree was a rewarewa, or NZ honey suckle that I got as a seedling from Nobelius Park, which is also in the rainforest and it's tall upright form will be perfect.They will be youthful additions to what I call our rainforest and I'll get great pleasure watching them grow. It is uncertain how long we will live here, or in fact how long I will live at all.

So is it "Live like there's no tomorrow?" Or, "Live like there's always tomorrow?"

I'll keep planting things, everywhere I can.

No Flies

We had the loveliest summer. There was hardly a heat wave, few north winds, and enough rain to prevent gardens parching. It has continued through March, a month that often brings scorching heat after a hot summer and causes the earth to set like concrete and crack up. Everything is green and lush and when the sun shines like it did today you could be excused  if you thought we were in the Garden of Eden.

Mind you this is localized to the Dandenongs. In my travels through March I can say it it is exceedingly dry in northern Victoria and southern NSW, and in western Victoria and SE South Australia. Frighteningly so in the case of the latter. There must be so many farmers anxiously hoping for an autumn break.

But on my travels one thing has been obvious to me like never before in my recollection. I have had picnics in Canberra, Adelaide, on the banks of the Murray River, on the beach at Normanville, Christies Beach, Cape Jervis, and one thing has been notable at all these places, as well as when working back here at Gembrook daily.

There are no bush flies. Don't ask me why, I know not. Usually in summer and March there are flies all over you especially in South Australia, but besides on or two here and there, just no flies.

Weird.

15 Days of March

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natural art at Strathalbyn

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


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

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

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

Back Home Again

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

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

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

Enjoying Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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