Another first. After a lifetime’s involvement with books and writing, I finally got round to reading a graphic novel – a two-volume adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s astonishing work “American Gods”. Bite-sized and thought-provoking entertainment for these distracting times.

There’s a parrot in my garden.

Our seven and a half year old grandson loves words and had just finished a book of rhymes as part of this year’s Premier’s Reading Challenge. His mom told him “Arrow is good at this stuff”, so he sent me a video message asking “Arrow, will you write me a poem, please?” This the result: 

There’s a parrot in my garden
A poem for my grandson – by Arrow

There’s a parrot in my garden
And he’s pecking at the ground.
And though I listen carefully
He doesn’t make a sound. 

I guess he’s eating seeds and nuts
Or maybe sticks and stones.
Perhaps he’d like some tacos,
Hot dogs and ice cream cones. 

 Perhaps his job is making holes
So the rain can soak away.
Or maybe he makes bricks and pots
So he’s digging up the clay. 

I like to see him working
And I hope he’s having fun.
I bet that after all that food
He’s got a poorly tum. 

A parrot with a belly ache
Is a sorry sight to see.
He gives a belch that is so loud
It knocks him out the tree. 

And when he lands upon the lawn
His head spins round and round.
The only thing that calms him down
Is pecking at the ground. 

———- 

His mum read it to him that night for a bedtime story – there is a lot of stuff in there about him and his adventures. 

He was amazed and asked “Did Arrow really write that?” She assured him he had. He said drowsily, “Mum, can you put that somewhere out to the world so people know?” 

 So here it is.

Vaccine Incentives

Cost of Albo’s vaccine incentive plan to prevent lockdowns (according to the PM) is around $6 billion. Cost of lockdowns: Treasury’s own modelling puts the cost of an Australia-wide lockdown at $3.2 billion per week. From the Sydney Morning Herald, 19 July), “The Sydney and Victorian lockdowns aimed at stopping the spread of the Delta strain of coronavirus could cost the country $10 billion”. Go figure. 

Marg Bonner: Interesting data also available from the Grattan Institute on various lotto incentives. 

Doug Jacquier: Couldn’t disagree more strongly about providing financial incentives to encourage basic morality. Time to bring out the big stick so we can all get back to something approaching normal. We need a No Jab/No Job/No Joy policy and use the $6 billion to cover the costs of strictly enforcing it. 

Ian: Are they mutually exclusive? Agree that a sanctions approach could help achieve the objective of getting as many vaccinated as possible, but why not both a carrot and a stick?

Lemons

Mmmm.., the smell of fresh lemons on a cold, wet, Winter’s day! Drying part of our bumper crop today. That’s Summer’s gin & tonics sorted.

What happened to mateship?

I despair at the petty parochialism shown between States during this Covid crisis. 

OK, so Gladys once made a throwaway comment in front of a hot mic about not being able to help Victoria with extra vaccines. 

It was dumb, but that was then, this is now; circumstances have changed. Is it a good enough reason to refuse to help the people of NSW when they are in a desperate situation? 

What has happened to us as Australians in recent years? Aren’t we bigger than this? 

When I’ve been lucky enough to travel to other countries, I say I’m Australian – I don’t say I’m South Australian. 

And what do our pundits and politicians, journalists and writers, and the bloke in the pub say is the key element of the Australian character? What has happened to the much-lauded concept of mateship? They point to the ANZACS and the following generations of ordinary people turned heroes by conflict who looked after each other, made sure that no-one was left behind and risked their own lives to save their mates. They argue that it has become a defining Australian characteristic and is one of the reasons why we are successful and respected as a people and as a nation. 

 So how come in NSW’s hour of need, people in other states and territories lower the portcullis, pull up the drawbridge and say to Gladys, “There is no way you’re getting any of our vaccines”. It’s like a miser hoarding gold or a child putting an arm round their lollies to ward off other kids. 

“Ah, but she wouldn’t help Victoria when they asked.” So what? It’s not about Gladys, it’s about people. They are in need. 

I’m eerily reminded of the “All Lives Matter” argument when people try to belittle the “Black Lives Matter” movement. Of course all lives matter, no one is saying they don’t. But right at this moment, in the context to which it refers, white folk are not the ones in danger, black people are; white folk are not the ones who need extra help right now, black people do. 

Yes, we all need as many people as possible to get vaccinated both to protect their and the community’s health and to help get us out of lockdowns and other restrictions. But right now, the people of NSW are the ones in greater danger. And other folk are saying, “You’re on your own, mate!”. 

What material difference would it make if out of the one million Pfizer doses promised to be delivered this week, and maybe the one million promised for the following week, each State and Territory let NSW have 10% of their allocation? 

What would be the downside? For SA, our share of the weekly provision should be around 100,000. Forego 10% and it would be 90,000. The national vaccine roll-out has been such a failure so far and we are so far behind where we should be, would a few more days delay be so disastrous that it cannot even be contemplated? Would it really make that much of a difference in the big picture provided we continue to be as careful and as successful as we have been with other protective measures? 

We are told that we have so much AstraZenaca sloshing around that the shortfall could be met, if only the Federal Government could get its act together in promoting its benefits instead of its mixed and sometimes bizarre messaging making people unnecessarily confused and frightened. 

Aren’t we all in this together? Why can’t a State where the risk is lower be a bit generous to people who haven’t been so fortunate? Would a Premier who made a tough and unpopular decision to give a small portion of their State’s vaccine allocation to people in a much worse situation lose many votes in the short term, or would they gain more respect in the long-term through showing strong and compassionate leadership?

Olympics Opening 2021

I have no idea what the Kabuki was about, but my word, it and the piano were magnificent.

Space Toys

Is it just me who is bewildered by all the fuss that is made of these mega-rich, multi-billionaires and their space toys? 

Are there any benefits accruing to society from their jaunts - new technology, better science, enhanced understanding between groups, improved relationships between countries, and so on? 

I wonder how these men will be remembered by future generations? Will they be remembered as space heroes or self-centred, time and resource wasters? 

Imagine what good they could achieve and how they'd be remembered if they put their wealth towards directly improving society: building hospitals, orphanages, schools and laboratories, endowing museums and universities, funding medical and other research. 

We've seen what happens when you throw a lot of money and resources at a problem - like developing a range of anti-covid vaccines in 18 months instead of over many years. Imagine what could be if these super-wealthy men put their money into cancer or dementia research, or maybe into setting up an endowment foundation that could fund worthy projects for perpetuity. 

Wouldn't they rather have their names attached to such endeavours and forever be seen as benefactors to humankind instead of self-indulgent dilettantes?

Second Jab

Got my second AstraZeneca jab today. Feeling great and my 5G reception is noticeably improved. 😉 

Rob Harrop commented: And the voices in your head are clearer now. 

Ian: Do not mock. I'm now waiting for Mr Trump to give me back my franking credits. 

Evening update: Still feeling good, but small metal objects are now sticking to me. 

You are more likely to die from being struck by lightning than from having a covid jab. Mind you, the odds of just being struck by lightning sometime during your lifetime are only 15,300:1, making it almost a near certainty. 

Update 4 Aug. And after a few days, the light comes on when you walk into a room. But you forget why you went in there....

Way with Words

Our 7 year old has a way with words. I mentioned before about his coining the phrase "Man of Waves" to describe someone leaping in the breaking waves, like a surfer without a surfboard. 

Here are some more he came up with when he didn't know the correct word for something. They make me think he has the soul of a poet: 

Feather quill - "Pencil of Nature". 

Rolled pork loin - "Loaf of Pig". 

Bechamel sauce - "Cream of Destiny". 

Update - a few days later: We think we've figured out where "Cream of Destiny" came from. He'd been reading a series of semi-graphic novels featuring anthropomorphic vegetable superheroes, one of whom gained a magical "Sword of Destiny".

Conversations with a seven year old.

Granny: Do you have monitors in your school?

Him: Yes, there are monitors in all the classrooms.

Granny: Oh, I don't mean those kind of monitors, not TVs or computer screens. I mean students who help the teacher do things....

Him: Oh, yes. Everyone in the class has a job.....

Granny: ....like giving out pencils.

Him: My job is to look after the iPads.

Band on the Ketch

The Ketch Active II

It was a treat to be back at the SA Maritime Museum at Port Adelaide in very different role. I went there many times as a former Trustee. This time, along with Stephen Rees of the SA Live Music Club, we were roadies and sound guys for the band "Semaphore Signals". They played on the deck of the ketch "Active II" for the launch of two special exhibitions: "Windjammers" and "Pamela and the Duchess". 

Congratulations to the museum and curators for two great exhibitions about the golden days of sail. 

 

 

Stephen sets Em's mic.

The audience enjoyed the band's water- and sea-themed tunes and their big, sea-shanty finish. Well done to Em (main vocals and ukulele), Tim (multi-instrumentist)and my daughter Bec (her first public gig on support vocals and guitar) for a well-chosen set list and professional performance.

 

An unexpected bonus for me was seeing the "Pamela and the Duchess" exhibition and suddenly discovering that the Duchess was the nickname of the old sailing ship, the "Herzogin Cecilie". I was astonished. I visited her in her resting place on the seabed in Starehole Bay off the coast of Devon near Salcombe when I scuba-dived on the wreck many years ago.

The Twist

I entered the Twist competition by chance.

Dancing is in my family. My mom was an instructor and my dad was her ballroom partner. His younger brother, my uncle, and his wife were serious ballroom competitors. Both my daughters are good movers and the elder one was a belly dancer for a while. My sister and I once cleared the floor at the West End Ballroom in Birmingham at a rock 'n' roll dance event when the reigning champions didn't show up that week. Now that is an experience, having all the other dancers, hundreds of 'em, clear a space in the middle of the dance floor, form a circle, watch and clap as you perform your best moves.

Back in the 60s my best friend's father was a librarian. One of his staff members was a keen dancer and wanted to go to this particular event. In those days she needed a male partner to enter competitions. He knew I was a good dancer and asked if I'd be her partner for the evening.

By one of those odd coincidences that my family has come to take for granted, the venue was the same one where a few years later I would become a bouncer for a night, as I have written about previously.

I didn't know that it was a competition until I rocked up to the venue carrying my dancing shoes in a paper bag and met her for the first and only time. We shook hands. There were no romantic undertones, she was not inclined that way. It wasn't Strictly Ballroom; it was strictly business.

It was a two-rounds comp added as a special feature to a larger dance with a live band. In the first round early in the evening, the judges walked round the floor selecting 20 of the best couples to go into the final later in the evening.

The final was a knock-out round. This time the judges walked round tapping people on the shoulder to drop out until there were only two couples left who then battled it out through an entire number.

Usually for a comp you have a regular partner. If not, you should at least practice together a few times and rehearse some set-piece moves, but we had to wing it on the night.

She was good. Very good. We smashed it.

I vaguely recall she kept the trophy and I took the money; it was only a few quid, but handy. I never saw her again and can't remember her name, but for an hour or so, we flew.

The things they say.

Three and a half year old granddaughter singing out loudly from the back of the car: "When I grow up I'm going to be a mommy. Or a daddy. Or a monster."

---------------------------------------------------

Nearly seven year old grandson on the beach at Port Elliot. He is having a wonderful time , jumping in and out of the waves with his parents, then his aunt, then his grandparents. He runs around splashing and leaping, enjoying the way the sunlight catches the plumes of water he is kicking up, the breeze in his hair and the sheer joy and exhilaration of being in the moment. Suddenly he stops thigh-deep in the water, freezes into a pose with arms spread, somewhere between a surfer's crouch and a swooping seagull, and laughs out joyously to the sky, "I am a Man of Waves".

---------------------------------------------------

Bedtime story time with both of them: three and a half year old looks at me seriously and says, "I'm going to suck my thumb and I don't want to take it out".

Me: OK, in that case, I'd better suck my thumb too.

I copy her - thumb in mouth and index finger alongside nose.

Me: Ugh! I'm not doing this. I don't like it. It tastes horrible.

Her: No, it tastes nice.

Me: It tastes horrible, yuk.

Her: It tastes nice.

Nearly seven year old grandson glances up from his book and says, in a very nonchalent, superior, cool dude voice, "You've just got different tastes".

Cliff Jumpers

"If Billy jumped off a cliff, would you jump off it too?"

 

The correct answer was always, "No, mom. Sorry mom", as she washed off the mud and wiped away the blood from our most recent misadventure.

 

The truthful answer was, "Yes, of course I would".

 

Billy and I would follow each other into the jaws of hell if seemed like a good idea at the time; and we'd be jostling each other on the way to see who could get there first.

 

Of course I'd jump off a cliff if he jumped off one, only I'd try to find a higher one. So would he.

Or we'd jump off it together.

 

The best cliff we jumped off formed one wall of a flooded quarry near Tamworth in Staffordshire. Perhaps 10-12 metres above the water (32-40 feet in the old money) it rose more or less vertically above the surface.

 

Our SCUBA diving club used the quarry on weekends for practice and training. Like a small lake, it was about 60 feet to the bottom at the deepest part. Cliff-like quarry walls enclosed it on three sides like a horseshoe. The foot of our cliff lay around 30 feet or so below the surface. So standing at the top, you looked down thirty-odd feet to the surface of the water which went down another 30 feet underwater to the bottom of the cliff.

 

The temptation was irresistable.

 

We'd both gone off the 30 foot diving board at the local swimming baths several times before, so the height was not much of an issue. Neither was the depth of the water - in fact the deeper the better when you're hitting it from that height.

 

No, the issue was where the cliff face met the surface. Over the years, the face of the cliff above the waterline had weathered and massive chunks had broken off. This meant the cliff face had eroded and receded above the surface forming a shelf at the waterline. Further rock falls had left a narrow beach of rubble and broken boulders on the shelf.

 

The idea was that you ran as fast as you could towards the edge and launched yourself into space, hoping that you had enough forward momentum to carry you over the rocky beach to plunge safely into the dark waters beyond.

 

So far, so good. We became cliff jumpers.

 

Then one weekend we found someone had rigged a brilliant flying-fox type zipline over the flooded quarry. The cable was attached about 10 feet up a big tree at the top of our cliff and descended steeply across the lake to the trunk of a tree on the lower open side of the horseshoe opposite.

 

You needed someone to lift you up so you could grab the zipline handle and then give you a push off. It went fast. You had to time your drop carefully and let go when you were still travelling fast a few feet above the surface of the water to avoid smashing into the bank and anchor tree at the bottom. The splash you made as you hit the water was most satisfying.

 

Could it get any better? Well, yes.

 

I can't remember whether it was Billy or me who came up with idea first. I'd be the Catcher and Billy would be the Flyer, like circus trapeze artists. I would hold onto the trapeze-like bar of the zipline handle and Billy would hold onto my dangling legs. Then he would run us to the edge of the cliff and push off and we'd sail across the lake with me hanging onto the trapeze and him hanging onto my legs. 

 

It relied a lot on trust. And we did trust each other, even though Billy had shot me a couple of times in the past.

 

We'd have to time our dismounts so that he would let go a fraction before you'd normally do it and take a higher plunge into the water, and I'd let go one second later while I was still over deep enough water but far enough along so I wouldn't land on him.

 

It was great in theory. 

 

And it would have been great in practice, except for one small thing - life ain't like the movies.

In the movies the hero can fall off a roof and be left hanging onto a flagpole by one hand, or be thrown off a cliff and save himself by grabbing a slender branch.

 

It doesn't work that way in real life, as I was to find out again many years later when I did fall off a roof.

 

Billy began his run and I tightened my grip. When we got to the edge, he leapt forward and we began our swoop down. A fraction of a second later it all went pear-shaped.

 

As Billy did his grand leap, he jumped upwards a bit. Then he came down. Suddenly his full weight came onto my legs. It was too much. My cold and wet hands couldn't keep their hold on the greasy, slippery bar and the sudden jerk of Billy's weight broke my grip.

 

We had barely gone a couple of feet forward when we started our plummet downwards.

 

It only took a second or two to complete the almost vertical descent, locked together and beginning to tumble in the air. Even so, I still had time to wonder whether we had enough forward momentum to carry us clear of the rocky shelf below. I didn't have time to wonder what would happen if we didn't.

 

But we did, just, and the cold water closed over our tangled bodies only inches past the rocks.

 

Sorry, mom.

The Jab

So we finally got a date for our first Covid vaccinations - in the third week of April. The online calculator reckons there are only 1.732 million people ahead of us.

Promises, promises

The PM promised, or at least his words implied a promise, back in January that the government would deliver 80,000 vaccinations a week by the end of Feb and would complete 4 million by the end of March.

Any project manager with half a brain contemplates 3 scenarios: best case, worst case and most likely case. Then tactically he or she undertakes to deliver a bit less than 'most likely'.

Thus if the most likely scenario eventuates, the manager looks good because he/she has over-delivered. An outcome better than 'most likely' makes him/her look like a legend.

If the worst case happens, the outcome is only a bit less than promised and there are probably understandable and acceptable reasons for the under-performance. Even so, a good manager will monitor progress and take correction action required to get it back on track.

Only a dolt or amateur would promise the best case scenario. In the unlikely event of it happening, the person responsible doesn't appear to have done anything special. Even worse, achieving an outcome less than best case, e.g. achieving the most likely outcome, is a significant under-delivery and hints at incompetence and suggests that marketing spin is more important than substance and delivery, completely negating and reversing any PR and reputational benefit gained from the earlier over-optimistic announcement and promise.