Christmas Newsletter

The year kicked off dramatically enough. Sharon and her partner Bill came over from Sydney to stay with us for Christmas 2004. The Tsunami hit on Boxing Day and within 48 hours Bill, who works for Médecins San Frontieres, was on his way to Sri Lanka to help with building shelters and temporary homes for the victims. He was away for the next three months.

Tracy was also with us as her partner Tim spent Christmas and New Year with his family in Western Australia.

In February, our old (as in long-standing) friends from school days, Greg and Chris came out to visit at long last as part of their post-retirement round-the-world trip. Highlights of their visit included an Aussie back-yard barbecue for them to meet a group of our friends, a few days on Kangaroo Island admiring the scenery and wild life (in between unseasonable downpours), a very funny day wine-tasting in the Barossa Valley, and a few well-lubricated evenings playing Trivial Pursuit.

Other travel highlights for us during the year included a visit to Sydney for Maz and Mike’s combined 60th birthday party. And a long weekend in the Barossa with Father Greg and Sister Rae in adjacent cottages was very pleasant. We had booked it months previously for the Barossa Music Festival. The Festival was cancelled with only a few weeks to go, but we kept the accommodation booking and went anyway.

A sad occasion was a one-day visit to Brisbane to attend Sandy’s funeral after she lost her long, brave battle with many complications following a kidney transplant. Sandy was the partner for some years of Lady Fogg's brother.

Sharon finally decided she had had enough of working for the New South Wales bureaucracy and took a separation package in August. She and Bill began an epic journey to South America. First they spent some time in Europe. Then, interrupting their journey from Amsterdam to Madrid, managed an unscheduled two-day visit to Birmingham to visit our UK family: my sister Ruth and Aunt Else, and Ruth’s daughter Mandy and her family.

Sharon and Bill then spent some time in Cuba, around the time Hurricane Katrina was heading towards New Orleans, then they flew to Buenos Aires in Argentina. Sharon took some Spanish lessons while they rented an apartment there. Now they are in Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego at the southernmost tip of the continent. Soon they will be heading back to Buenos Aires. In the New Year, they will spend a month working as volunteers on the turtle conservation project at Karumbé in Uruguay.

Tracy's year was also eventful. Tim, an RAAF pilot, was deployed to the Middle East for a three-month stint in the early part of this year. Tracy lived in his house during that time. Shortly after his return, Tracy began her own long-awaited European trip after quitting her job. She was away for two months, seeing parts of France, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, Italy, England and Scotland. She also spent some time with Ruth and Aunt Else, so they got to see both of the girls during the year.

On her return to Australia, Tracy moved back home. She is now undertaking the NEIS scheme which trains young people to set up their own small business. She will build on her former freelance work to establish her own graphic design business.

Our biggest event of the year was Lady Foggs's retirement. She finished on 22 October after 22 years at the Council where she started as Chief Librarian and ended as Director of Community and Recreational Services. The Mayor gave her a farewell reception in the Town Hall. All six mayors with whom Lady Fogg has worked were able to attend. It was a great send-off and acknowledgment of her career achievements.

Lady F is enjoying retirement more than she imagined she would. Continuing her involvement with the PLAIN Central Services steering committee, she also has recently taken a Board position with the Seniors Information Service, a not-for-profit, non-government organisation. She is also regularly going to exercise classes and rediscovering her talents as a cook.

2005 was my first full calendar year as a retiree. Most enjoyable. I joined the Board of CISA (Community Information Strategies Australia) in the latter part of 2004. It’s another non-government, not-for-profit organisation which provides information and IT services to the community sector. Also I’ve managed to pick up a few consultancies here and there, with a focus on professional writing. Father Greg and I have just started a joint consultancy to review the operation of the Development Assessment Panel for a local Council.

Meanwhile the band is playing well but struggles to maintain a consistent line-up. Anybody know any good bass players? We keep losing them. As well as rhythm guitar, I also do a couple of numbers on keyboard and sax. I took some harmonica lessons during the year and also give that a go on a couple of songs.

Around the domestic scene, we demolished then rebuilt our old front garden wall. We re-used the old sandstone in the new wall. The stonemason told us that it wasn’t local stone, it came from Sydney. Probably as ballast in a cargo ship. You could see that the faces of the sandstone blocks that had been facing into the old wall were originally the outside faces of a house or other building. So we have a part of old Sydney town in our garden wall. Once the wall was done, we had the front garden landscaped – we got rid of the old lawn and replaced it with a garden of mixed natives and exotics complete with sub-surface drip lines for water economy. It’s the last stage but one of our 20 year renovation program – only the laundry left to do now.

The year ended on a sad note as dear old Tessa, our 14 year old miracle dog, left us. A diabetic for the last three years, her quality of life deteriorated in the last few weeks and we asked the vet to put her to sleep.

Looking forward, we will have Christmas lunch at our place this year, with Lady F's sister and her family and their mother, Agnes, now 92 not out. Then we have Sharon and Bill coming back sometime in March. Also in March we have booked for several shows in the Festival the Arts and at the same time that we’ll be busy with the State General Election.

Hope you have a peaceful and enjoyable festive season and a happy New Year.

Tessa has left us.

Tessa went peacefully last night.

The whole thing took about 40 seconds. Megan and I were with her right through. Ann said goodbye a little while before and fed her a treat but didn't want to watch her go.

Yesterday was one of Tessa's good days. She only grazed at her food during the day, but had a good chew on a couple of bones and a few dried liver treats.

Lots of cuddles and brushings throughout the day. At one time she forgot she was an old lady and tried to jump up to Megs like in the old days, but her back legs gave way and she sat down with a bump, looking surprised.

During the afternoon I dug a grave for her under the pear tree, next to Pepe. As usual there were moments of farce amongst the sadness. She was very interested in the hole. You could almost hear her thinking, "Ooh, digging! I like holes. That's a nice big one. I'd like to be in there."

The vet and his nurse came about 7.40. We decided to do it on the lawn just outside the back door, where she is used to having injections and so on. I cuddled her head and fed her liver treats while the nurse steadied the rear. The vet cut a bit of fur away from her front leg to expose the vein. The injection is a massive dose of concentrated barbiturate. It acts like an instant anaesthetic, putting the dog to sleep, then into a coma. Then breathing stops and then the heart.

Almost as soon as the injection started, Tessa began to lose consciousness. We eased her into a sitting position then lowered her onto her side before the syringe was empty. By the time the vet had got his stethoscope out of his bag she was gone.

He and I carried her down to the grave. More moments of farce. He had warned us that her bladder might give way, and it did, over him. Then I realised we had her the wrong way round. As I dug the hole, I'd pictured her lying on her right side, head towards the shed, feet towards the house, like she used to lie in front of the fire. But we were carrying her on her left side.

As if it made any difference now! But I wanted her lying as I wanted to remember her. So I had to get in the hole, lower her onto her back and roll her over. At one stage her head flopped and her jaws came together with an audible snap.

I got her lying nicely, ears sticking up properly and not folded back on themselves, legs and tail neat and natural-looking and so on, until she looked comfortable like when she was asleep in the lounge. Then without thinking I gave her a pat and said "Good dog".

I covered her up gently and Megan found a flat lump of rock to lie on top. Then she made a posy of flowers to put on it.

Megs was brilliant all day and during the vet's visit and the burial. She spent a lot of time with Tessa too so the old girl had someone with her most of the day.

It was very sad, and tears were shed, but it was definitely time. Tessa's heart was still strong but the rest of her was failing. She would have deteriorated throughout the hot Australian summer, getting distressed. There were also signs that her kidneys were beginning to have trouble coping.

So, a sad day, but the last kind thing we could do for her, leaving lots of happy memories.

Tessa Has a Bad Day

I think the time may have arrived for Tessa to leave us.

After my last visit to the vet four weeks ago, Tessa stabilised somewhat with a Diastix reading of just over 'trace' on 22 units of insulin. However, in that time she has had three 'fainting' spells plus another two today.

When I went out this morning to feed her, she was lying by the side of the house in a sort of half sphinx-like position and was too groggy to get up when I called. I got some honey into her on my finger, then hand-fed her some of her canned food where she lay.

She perked up enough after about five minutes to get up and walk to her bowl, and ate about half of her normal feed. I then gave her 20 units of insulin.

The food was all gone by mid-afternoon, but I can't tell if it all went into her, or whether some got stolen by the birds who now regularly wait for her feeding time.

At around 5.45 pm this afternoon, (feeding time is usually 6.30) my daughter noticed her staggering and getting confused and trapped behind flower-pots and so on. When I went to her, she was standing as if dumbstruck at the side of the house half way to her kennel, panting heavily.

Again, I gave her some honey. While I was doing this, she sat down and wasn't able to stand up again for a while. I gave her some toast with a scrape of marg, just to get something into her, where she sat, and then some liver treats. I carried her water bowl to her for her to have a few laps.

She improved to the stage where she could walk slowly back to her bowl, but wasn't very interested in the food. She has now managed to walk back round to her kennel.

I haven't yet given her her evening insulin yet, but will do so when she's eaten a bit more.

It's getting pitiful to watch her falling over and getting confused, and it is beginning to get unmanageable. She is obviously not going to improve significantly and appears to have begun the inevitable decline. She can hardly see and appears to have lost confidence in getting around.

It's becoming a bit of a roller-coaster now, and I don't want to wait until it becomes completely hopeless and put her and us through unnecessary anguish.

I will once again ask the vet's advice.

Blue Tongue Lizard - a Love Story

Blue Tongue Lizards mate for life.
A pair lives, or rather lived, in our front garden.

Blue Tongue Lizards are good neighbours. They eat mice and other small vermin. It's rather flattering that a pair should adopt us as their landlords.

They are called blue-tongue lizards because they have bright blue tongues. It's quite startling to see this surprisingly large, sky-blue tongue suddenly poke out from an otherwise nondescript-looking lizard.

It's a warning to other creature not to mess with it. Not that it's particularly dangerous. Only about nine inches long, you still wouldn't want a bite from it. Apart from giving a you a nasty nip, you might get an infected wound because of what they might have been munching earlier.

I've never know anyone to be bitten. They worst thing they seem to do, if provoked, is to open their mouths wide and give a bit of a hiss while showing you their amazing tongue.

Usually they hide in dark corners, under logs or inside pipes. Occasionally you'll notice one warming itself in a sunny spot. We quite like them.

A few days ago, one of our pair met its fate in the road just outside our house. I saw its poor squashed body near the entrance to our drive.

Its partner has since been acting very strangely. He ( I think it was the male) hangs around in the open near where his mate died. Sometimes we see him on the grass nature strip by the footpath, occasionally on the footpath itself. Mostly though he lies in the gutter near where his mate's body lay until the street sweeper collected it.

Poor lizard, pining for his lost mate. He has had a few narrow escapes. Local dogs seem to have missed him. When the street sweeper came past with its steel brushes scooping everything out of the gutter, he was lying under Tracy's car. So the sweeper swung out to go round it and missed him completely. Another time, he was right up under the back wheel of my car and I noticed him just in time and was able to back out carefully instead of just driving off over him.

He disappeared yesterday when we had a sudden downpour. But I saw him afterwards, his nose just sticking out of the stormwater pipe that discharges into the gutter. A couple of hours ago he was in the middle of the footpath just outside our front gate.

He doesn't look well. I think he might be dieing.

I think he is just wasting away while searching for his lost partner. He is in the open nearly all the time near where she died and where he can still smell her. Usually they hide.

I've put a piece of drain pipe nearby as a hidey-hole for him. But I think that one day soon he will just disappear.

Poor lonely lizard.

Link Wray has left the building

Link Wray was buried this week in Denmark. He died on 5 November.

'Who's Link Wray?' you might say. Just one of the pioneering and landmark guitarists in rock music, that's who.

See, in 1958, Link 'invented' the power chord in a tune called "Rumble". It was a turning point in the evolution of the guitar sound in rock music.

So what is a power chord? It uses only two or three notes from a chord, just the main notes that give a chord its character - a sort of skeleton chord - so you play just two, sometimes three strings only.

"Rumble" is instantly recognisable by its three-chord riffs - D, D, E, (pause) D,D,E, (pause) D,D,A, (pause) D,D,E, (pause) - played evenly and deliberately like some kind of hammer of doom. You can hear it on the soundtrack of the movie "Pulp Fiction".

When it was released in 1958, some American radio stations refused to play it because they thought it sounded too menacing.

So why is it so important? As I said, it changed the way the guitar was played and sounded in rock music. From the rockabilly and blues-influenced sound and the straight eight and shuffle rhythm patterns to a more aggressive and dark sound.

Many experts say Link paved the way for punk and heavy metal. He also pioneering the use of distortion in rock guitar. Nowadays we might pay a couple hundred dollars for an effects pedal. Link's technique was simpler. He used a sharp pencil to deliberately punch holes in the loudspeakers in his amplifier to give it that ratty, broken sound.

Robert Hilburn, The Times' pop music critic, said that Wray "was one of the key figures who helped establish the guitar as the instrument of choice in rock."

Hilburn said that Wray, "was someone who turned the sensualness and mystery of the blues into a supercharged sound that was both eerie and anxious. His key works were powered by a force and, even at times, a brutalness that encouraged generations of musicians to explore the extreme boundaries of human emotion and sonic possibility."

Wray was a major influence on many rock musicians, including Jimmy Page, Bruce Springsteen, Jeff Beck and Pete Townshend.

Pete Townshend wrote in the liner notes for one of Wray's albums, "He is the king; if it hadn't been for Link Wray and 'Rumble', I would have never picked up a guitar" .

In 2002, Wray was named one of the 100 greatest guitarists of all time by Guitar World magazine.

According to today's New York Times, Michael Molenda, editor in chief of Guitar Player magazine, saw Wray perform last July at Slim's, a small San Francisco club.

"He was certainly a young soul, very gracious, kind of like a punk to the end," Molenda said. "He wasn't like a guy who was 76 years old. He was like a 19-year-old in a 76-year-old body."

Rest easy, Link.

Visit the official Link Wray web site here.

Footnote for music theory geeks: A power chord is often just the root and fifth of the scale, sometimes with the octave added. It leaves out the third note of the scale which makes a chord either major or minor, so the power chord is ambiguous and can fit into either major or minor keys, making it very useful. Neat, huh?

Damn you, Mark Latham

I'm angry, very angry.

The Latham diaries were published today after much hoopla and media frenzy.

And I'm not in them!

Every other man and his dog seems to have got a serve from Mark in his outpouring of venom and bile. Except me.

Damn you, Mark Latham. Am I so unimportant that I don't even rate a mention? Not even a footnote?

Every one who has ever breathed air in the same vicinity as you has copped a dose of your wrath and invective. Couldn't you have spared a bit of energy to attack me in print? Not even a hint of irony? A touch of hyberbole or an iota of litotes? Not even so much as a snide comment or sarcastic reference?

OK, so I'm a fairly small fish in a reasonably big pond, but to be totally overlooked when people much less deserving of criticism have been comprehensively bagged ....

It's not good enough. I demand to be insulted by Mark Latham.

How much is too many?

A Report today said that there were cases of self-harm by 700 detainees in our detention camps for "illegal" immigrants.

"Not so," says the responsible Minister, Amanda Vanstone. "Some of these reported cases were repeat attempts by the same persons. There are only about 500 people who have attempted self-harm in our detention centres."

Oh, so that's all right then, Amanda.

Happy Birthday to Me

It's my Birthday!

How old? Well, here's a clue: I can remember a time before Rock n' Roll.

What did I get for presents? From my partner in life, Lady Ann, a new electric shaver. From my younger daughter, Tracy, a nice bottle of red, and from my older daughter currently in Amsterdam, a surprise "Happy Birthday Dad" message on the internet.

BTW. Sharon's tummy troubles are fixed and she's off to the UK for a couple of days to visit the rellies before flying back to Madrid for a flight to Cuba. Oh, these young people, gadding about all over. Tracy has been flat out since her return from Europe stating up her own graphic design business.

Anyway, back to me! From my beloved mother-in-law, bless her, Gazman socks. From my good friends, Father Greg and Sister Rae, a rather nice bottle of mysterious grape-liqueur marinade cum dessert sauce and a Swiss Victorinox miniature tool kit packed into a credit-card sized case - very cute.

And from me to me? Another layby payment for my new guitar. It's a beauty, a Fender Squier Telecaster. Custom, with twin humbuckers. Black. Functional. Like a tommy gun.

Happy Birthday to Me.

Vale Lorraine

Another week, another funeral.

That makes the trifecta. In the past three weeks I've been to a Catholic funeral, an Anglican wedding, and today a secular funeral.

Lorraine was one of the good ones who died before her time age 57 after a gruelling battle with cancer.

She was a well-known and respected nurse, nurse educator and administrator. With no children of her own, she was a second mum to her nephew and nieces. The service was at the funeral director's private chapel and was conducted by family members making valedictory speeches. The younger folk, the nephew and one of the nieces, made particularly thoughtful and affectionate speeches.

Lorraine's coffin was that lovely shade of purple and made a dignified and elegant feminist statement. A Bach cantata gave us time to remember Lorraine, and for some of us to reflect on our own mortality.

I've known Lorraine for years. My life partner, Lady Ann, has known Lorraine and her family since childhood, having lived and grown up in the same street where her parents lived and brought up their children.

I've known Lorraine's partner for just as long. He is devastated but bearing up with courage and dignity. Both are great examples of commitment to social justice and working to make things better for society.

Vale Lorraine.

Community Trash Swap

It's my favourite time of year in the municipal council calendar - hard rubbish collection.

One a year, you and your neighbours put your accumulated 'hard rubbish' out on the footpath for the council to collect. These are all the items that are too big to put out in the regular weekly trash collection.

You put it out on a weekend. Then the trucks come round during the following week to take it away. So from Sunday evening onwards, at least for the next two or three days, there is a treasure trove of trash out in the streets. That's when people go scavenging. And there is some great stuff. Last year I needed a couple of loudspeakers for the band's PA. In two hours I picked up eight.

This year, I put out our old TV set, the old gas wall furnace that we'd had replaced, three old canvas backed "director" chairs, an eight-inch square of steel plate that used to cover part of the storm water drain and the two front panels from a pair of loadspeakers I'd scrounged in last year's haul.

The TV went in the first hour. By Wednesday, eveything had gone except for the speaker panels, even the bit of metal. And I'd picked up a large hard-shell suit case, perfect for my busking drum set.

So you put out your surplus stuff for others to help themselves, and you go and liberate stuff that other people no longer want. This is socialism at work.

Re-use, re-pair and recycling at work, reducing landfill and council workload. A win-win situation all around. I love it.

Franco's revenge

Poor Sharon got sick in Barcelona - some ugly tummy bug that gave her the screaming poos for a week. Picked up the bug in the Gothic Quarter where she was staying.

The old quarter is slowly deteriorating under the onslaught of countless tourists on cheap tours, mostly from the UK. Their idea of a great time is to stay awake for days, party, hit the bars and drink themselves stupid. Each night, many piss, shit and vomit in the streets. In the small hours of the morning, water trucks come along and hose out the filth, ready for another day and the next party.

Happy Anniversary

It's two years since I first set up this blog on this day in 2003. Then I left it untouched until recently.

It was basically a trial - what was all this stuff about these new-fangled blogs?

Back then, a work colleague had set one up to focus on news items relating to the area in which we worked - science and technology innovation. The idea was to use the technology to discuss the technology, that is to use the medium to deconstruct the medium, sort of.

Anyway, it seemed a good idea at the time. Each member of the team contributed to the blog and it didn't take more than a few seconds to realise how to set my own. So I did. Because I could.

But I only started to write regularly when inspired by my elder daughter Sharon's holiday blog and younger daughter Tracy's holiday photo album which they started almost at the same time. A nice example of the parent learning from the child.

Storm in a teacup

Adelaide was hit by severe storms two nights ago - the same time that New Orleans was being smashed by Hurricane Katrina.

Wind gusts up 125 km/hr knocked down numerous trees and branches which took out the power lines to around 50,000 homes.

ETSA (the electricity company) had most households back on line within 24 hours. They gave priority to life-endangering situations. Then they brought the system back up in stages. First they fixed faults to restore the network, then faults that restored whole areas, then whole suburbs, then individual streets. Lastly they did individual houses where the line from the street to the house was down.

All very sensible - starting with the faults that would bring the most houses back on line, then working down to specific dwellings. However, some people are never satisfied.

On talkback radio the next day, most calls were either anecdotal or praise for the authorities and emergency services.

But one woman rang in to complain bitterly. She said that a tree had fallen across her driveway so that in the morning she couldn't get her car out to go to work. When she phoned the State Emergency Services and described the problem, they told her that she'd have to go on the waiting list for help. She moaned to the radio talk-back show that it wasn't good enough, she paid her taxes .... etc., etc.

Pretty soon the station switchboard lit up with sensible people deriding her attitude. The best comment was that it was the State Emergency Service, not the Local Inconvenience Service.

I say to the women, do what lots of other people do to get to work - get a bus.

I can't believe that your job is so important it has to take precedence over real emergencies.

If it is that important, get a taxi.

One wedding and a funeral

Spent more time in churches last week than I have in years.

The first event was a funeral in St Joseph's Catholic church for the sister of my old friend Brian. A sad occasion, as are all funerals, but uplifting in many ways.

Moyna was elderly and had been in poor health for some years. But she had a full life, growing up on a small farm in South Australia, eventually becoming a well-known piano player, living, working and teaching at various times in Adelaide, Canada, and Melbourne, before returning to Adelaide.

Brian told us of evenings at home on the farm when the family made its own entertainment with family members singing and playing various instruments, often to the delight of local friends and visitors. Moyna first played in public at the age of 12 as the subsitute pianist in her local church. She played for dances during the war, and later played in various bands and small combos.

As usual, I enjoyed the mass. I love the ritual, the theatre, the glorious old words resonating in the spaces and down the years.

The second was an Anglican affair in St Andrew's: the marriage of my niece (my wife's sister's daughter). One of the most genuinely happy weddings I've been to. The bride and groom are a bit older (34 and 40) and combined modern and traditional elements in their ceremony and reception. A black tie affair, the theme was 'vintage', with bride, bridesmaids and m.o.b. looking great in 1930s style gowns and outfits. Again the ceremony was rich and warm in an elegant venue.

Hmmm, this was going to be a piece about the nature of ritual, the language of religion and the spiritual experience. Instead it's turning into something from the social pages. Oh well, let's go with the flow.

The reception was at Kooyonga Golf Club, where both bride and mother are keen players. The groom still can't believe his luck that his new wife is a fanatical sports person and loves her golf. Added to which she is stunning looking and a successful business women. I've rarely seen a new husband looking so genuinely happy, and like the cat that got the cream. At times he was almost incoherent with joy. Entertaining speeches from the bride, groom, best man and father of the bride. The band "Wintercherry" got the upmarket crowd dancing with an eclectic mix of old favourites and uptempo newer stuff.

All-in-all, a good night.

Good night.

The Prodigal Returns

Tracy came home yesterday after her first big adventure.

After eight weeks packpacking around Europe she walked out through the Arrivals door looking amazingly fit and well, wearing her packpack like a veteran and with a new air of confidence.

She has found her way through parts of England, Scotland, France, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland Italy and Spain - sometimes via pre-planned bus links, at other times by improvising and jumping on and off trains and boats and planes. Well, not really boats, although she did water taxis in Venice.

A little older , a little tireder, and a little wiser, she is now trying to settle back into an Adelaide life-style. I wonder if it will ever be the same.

Conundrum and resolve

Q. So how come you're a monk yet you have two children?

A. I wasn't always a monk.

On symmetry

My two daughters, Sharon and Tracy, are all growed-up.

Sharon, the older one, has just left Australia to spend some time overseas (see previous post).

Tracy, the younger one, is just about to return to Australia after spending some time overseas.

Thus balance is maintained in the universe.

Aaaah, couriers.

My eldest daughter, Sharon, has gone overseas.

She packed many of her wordly goods into 17 parcels and sent them via a 'backload' transport company to the ancestral home for safe-keeping.

They didn't turn up, and the more I waited, the more they didn't arrive.

Through the miracle of e-mail and internet cafes, she managed to send the name of the transport company. I used the internet Yellow Pages to track down their contact details. The helpful guy there tracked down the order and said the load was now in a warehouse in one of the industrial suburbs of our fair city. I could pick it up for free or pay $80 to have it delivered. I got a trailer and went out there - no problems, all stored safely in a giant dry shed.

As I signed for it, I said that I'd been expecting it to be delivered a couple of weeks ago. The guy said they'd tried to, but there was no one home.

We'd had a couple of tradesmen working at the front of the house on the day the delivery was due. I had asked them to tell the delivery driver to leave the load on the front verandah if it arrived while I was out.

He did, saying that I'd be back in an hour. But the driver wouldn't leave it because it was in full view of the street, and company policy ...etc.

The warehouse guy said they'd tried to contact me, but couldn't, because they didn't have any contact details for me. True, there was no indication on the paperwork. However, in the two weeks that the pallet had been in storage, they hadn't noticed the 17 large labels, one on each package, each of which had my name, address and telephone number in HUGE LETTERS that you could read from the other side of the warehouse!

Pell pontificates

Today, Catholic Archbishop Pell welcomed the news that the Pope had named Sydney as the venue for the next world congress of Catholic youth in 2007.

He said, "Not only does it bring $100 million dollars to the Australian economy, it also promotes Christian values."

Is it just me that sees any irony in this?.

Useful things my dad taught me.

Never bet on slow horses.

If it looks like a conspiracy it's probably just a stuff-up.

Don't play cards with anyone called "Doc".

Bullshit baffles brains.

If the candle blows out in the middle of a card game, grab the pot.

Never argue with a mug.

A Japanese poet contemplates the role of the adviser:

The prince takes counsel. Philosophers ponder Spring
And the scribes attend.

Note: This is the same subject as the 'lost' Shakespeare poem (see previous post), but written as an original Haiku.

A lost Shakespeare poem*

Let kings and generals discourse, here is my space.
Every subject’s duty is the kings, ‘tis my vocation,
And ‘tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.
They say miracles are past, but hope looks forward yet.

All the world’s a stage, and each man in his time plays his part.
So you, good yeomen, show us here the mettle of your pasture.
How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty,
In thought and judgement how express and admirable.

Rightly to be great is not to stir without great argument.
In enterprises of great pith and moment to thine own selves be true,
And it must follow, as the night follows day,
We have done the State some service.

Then must you speak; tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow.
We have kissed away Kingdoms and principalities
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds
So wisdom shines. A plague on both your houses.


*Note of explanation:

I wrote this ‘poem’ as a satirical comment on a furious debate with the executive officers of an Advisory Council which reports to the Premier, and an Advisory Board, which reports to a Minister.

The argument was about the form of words to be used on the relevant Government Department’s web site to describe the two advisory bodies' respective functions. The issue at the heart of the conflict was to give due deference to their respective levels of ‘seniority’ and precedence.

It took an inordinate amount of time and soul-searching, negotiation and word-smithing until I managed to come up with a form of words that was acceptable to both parties.

Although the catalyst was the specific conflict described above, the 'poem' is about the nature of service and role of those whose task it is to help achieve their leaders' visions and implement their policies for the benefit of our society. It is also a satire on the growing trend of process versus outcomes in areas of public endeavour.

The parody is made up of various lines from about 15 different Shakespeare plays, massaged to suit, with invented linking material in the same style.

Then I wrote it as an original Japanese haiku, following as many of the traditional 'rules' as are possible in English (see next post).

The Fainting Dog

Ever seen a dog faint?

My poor old mutt is diabetic. Don't laugh. Just like a human, she has to have insulin injections to help metabolise her food. Human insulin - she's resistant to dog insulin.

So that means I have to test her urine every few days to measure the right dose. Yes, that's right, I have to collect samples of dog piss and match the colour changes on a Diastix test strip.

Last weekend she got sick and went off her food for three days. Reduced to guesswork, the insulin balance went haywire.

Heard about little old ladies who skip breakfast then pass out in the street or supermarket because their blood sugar drops too far? (C'mon, remember your First Aid?) It's the same with dogs.

Poor old girl stood there right in front of me, wobbled, her front legs gave way and she pitched forward onto her face and rolled onto her side.

I thought she was a goner - heart attack or something.

No, she lay there breathing, and I got some honey onto my fingers and into her mouth. That got her back on her feet. Then I hand-fed her the left-over veal casserole we had had for dinner. My next day's lunch was now inside the dog.

Next day at the vet, they found she had a chest infection and was running a temperature. That's why she was off her food. So now she's on antibiotics morning and night. There's an improvement, but she's still not a well dog.

Somewhere in there is a metaphor, but I'm not sure what it is, yet.

A 'Doctor Who' moment

Went into the local Cash Converters today to check out the music stuff. (It's a franchised chain of pawnbrokers in Australia).

There was a young guy buying band p.a. gear. Mid 20s maybe, long straight black hair, eye liner, baggy black sleeveless t-shirt showing his Ozzy Osbourne style tattoos. The drummer, maybe.

I was looking at myself about 30 years ago, minus the tatts.

Gave him a 'hey, man' from inside my Christopher Eccleston look-alike, German U-boat commander, corporate costume.

"Hey", he replied. Then, "Do I know you?"

"Yeah", I said. "I'm you in 2035." He grinned.

"Just called in to say 'Keep on rocking'." He smiled again. He got it.

Then I left.

The Resurrectionist.

It only took two years to get back, where did the time go?

I've just resurrected this blog from the mists of time when I first tried setting it up - I'm amazed it's still there.