Mt Barker Christmas Pageant 2007

When the Visigoths attacked Rome they caused less consternation than the Warriors' invasion of Mt Barker.

It was the first official day of summer Downunder and yours truly had flown in from a chilly Big Apple to cover the first Adelaide International Guitar Festival.

But the Reverend Reuben decided to play hookey from his day job, skip Chicks with Guitars down at the Festival Centre and see what his Warrior mates had been getting up to since he was last in town.

Reminding himself to stay on the right (that is, the left) side of the road, Rollin' Reuben piloted the hire car up the freeway and out into the boondocks.

Just before the old agrophobia started to kick in, the turn-off to Mt Barker appeared, leading weary and thirsty travellers into that pretty little outpost of civilisation. Reuben is still wondering where the mountain is.

Sneaking the hire car into the last parking space for miles around (behind the pub), Reuben pushed his way through the crowds as the last strains of "Jingle Bells", played in march
time, faded away down Main Street behind Santa.

The good folk of Mt Barker had turned out in droves to watch the jolly old gentleman do his thing and were now in the mood to party.

As the Caledonian pipe and drum band receded into the distance, Warriors from the big, bad city took to the stage.

Reuben uses the term 'stage' in its broadest sense. Today, it was a couple of parking bays up the quiet end of Main Street, under a couple of nifty new marquees and a nice shady tree
(editor's note: he means Gawler Street).

The floor was the bitumen road surface with the stage marked out by safety cones and plastic road works fencing. The road camber was so steep, the back line looked like the Leaning
Tower of Pisa. Sometimes even the drummers looked puzzled.

But the road crew had done a good job of setting up, and it worked (and sounded) better than some million-dollar stage sets Reuben has seen. The crowd seemed to like being able
to get up close in front, at the sides and even round the back. It was a real friendly sort of show.

Alternating throughout the afternoon between his vantage points in the pub and the nearby coffee shop, and pretending to be fascinated by Mt Barker's retail emporiums in between,
old Reuben managed to stay incognito behind his shades while keeping an eye (and an ear) on the shenanigans on and around the Warrior stage.

It was the first time yours truly had seen a group of Warriors in daylight. It took him a little while to recover.

First up was SideFX. Reuben hears these guys are getting quite a bit of their own work nowadays, and it's easy to see why.

Good choice of songs, tight performance and a nice stage presence. The soaring vocals of the two female singers, Jen and Jan (or was it Jan and Jen), carried down the street and, like the Sirens' song, lured people into their magic circle.

And who was that lone dancer? The magic stayed with him throughout the whole afternoon, as he performed his mystical, arrhythmic moves to every song from every band.

Midnight Addiction took over the baton on main stage while Rewind started up further down the street by the pub, right next to one of Reuben's hideouts.

Reuben was torn - like a dog in a forest, not knowing which leg to cock first.

Rewind went through a workman-like set - solid and dependable, covering many of the song-book standards.

Great work guys, especially considering the challenges you faced, from a sound system that sometimes seemed to have a mind of its own to over-enthusiastic and over-friendly pub patrons.

What a great way to pay your dues and learn your chops - putting on a professional performance in less than perfect circumstances. Remember, if it doesn't kill us it makes us stronger.

Meanwhile, up the end of Main Street, Midnight Addiction were doing their thing. Heads in the crowd were bobbing, feet were tapping and the Lone Dancer still grooved to a beat that only he could hear.

Now these guys are getting to be a tight little outfit - very interesting too when they sometimes get a twin lead guitars thing going. Most of these guys can sing too, and that puts vast repertoires at their disposal.

And they certainly picked stuff from all over and acquitted themselves well. Reuben just wonders if the choice of a couple of the slower, moody ballads was a good idea for that particular
show? Brilliantly executed, but perhaps for that crowd, maybe their up-tempo numbers were better suited.

As one Warrior said, when he first arrived at the venue outside an iconic Mt Barker shop and read its name emblazoned in large letters across the front, "Hey, look! We're playing in front of Hillbilly's!"

But the appreciative crowd gave the band a warm round of applause as they finished and left the stage.

All, that is, except for the guy with the white stratocaster who didn't seem to want to go.

The reason soon became clear, he was also the lead guitarist for the next band Wisen Up (editor's note: it's Wis'n Up).

Yours truly last (and first) saw these guys playing at a Rock and Roll show during a previous flying visit to Australia. Now they did a more mixed set of covers.

Reuben heard the drummer say that the lead guitar was a stand-in for their regular guy and only had about five minutes practice with the band.

If that's so, then it was a darn fine effort on everyone's part to get it together that well - a classic, all guy line-up doing the classic covers.

Straight-up and authentic sounding, relaxed and enjoying themselves, entertaining the small but appreciative late afternoon audience, as well as the cool old couple who had been sitting in deck-chairs just in front of the stage all afternoon, and of course the enigmatic shadow dancer of Mt Barker.

A great way to wind up a Saturday afternoon in the Hills.

At least it would have been, if Mr Grumpy, the inspector dude, had been having a better day.

Reuben was amazed to see him go up to the stage in the middle of the third song and start grumping at the band.

He couldn't hear what Mr Grumpy said, but from the look on the guys' faces, they were pretty amazed too.

As he found out later, this guy was telling the band to start wrapping it up 'cos everything had to be closed and cleared by 4 o'clock. That was 45 minutes away. Rules is rules, and them's the rules.

So, like true professionals, the band cut their set by half and rearranged the running order on the fly to finish up their short but tight set in time to save Mr G. from apoplexy.

Within minutes the street was deserted and the shops were shutting.

It seemed the good people of Mt Barker were settling down to a bit of Saturday night tea and telly before an early night to be up in good time for church next day.

From his look-out back in the pub, Reuben watched the Warriors pack up their gear ready for the long haul back down the hill into the big, bad town.

Soon the street was empty again, just another high street in another small town with no sign of the magic that happened there earlier.

Even the enchanted dancer had melted away like mist in sunlight.

And as the twilight began to fall, and a lone cat skulked away into the shadows, the tumbleweed began to drift down empty Main Street.

Rock 'n' Roll Night

Energy. You could feel it crackling round the hall. Enough to power a small city. The Warriors were in town and Rock 'n' Roll was the name of the game.

The crowd started to gather early. There were plenty of Warrior friends and family members but also several groups of folk who had heard about the show on Coast FM and came along to
share in the fun.

Many people had put in a special effort and looked great in their 50s and early 60s gear. Tonia was the force behind the organisation and expectations were high. The crowd was not disappointed.

MC and PA guru Peter got the show under way with a few welcoming words. Then first up was FBI, paying tribute to many of those classic instrumental numbers that were the sound track of
our younger days.

They nailed that instrumental guitar sound and got the audience's feet tapping from the start. FBI came back for two more brackets during the night between the other bands.

Next came a brief demonstration by special guests, the Adelaide Rock and Roll Club dancers. The dancers strutted their stuff to pre-recorded tracks and reminded the crowd what dancing
was all about back in the 50s.

Next on stage was Wis'n Up, rocking the joint with a high-powered bracket of classic Rock 'n' Roll numbers that brought the crowd to its feet. The dance floor was heaving under the pounding of 200 pairs of dancing shoes. The 50s and 60s were with us again and the Boomer generation was alive and well.

The Rock and Roll Club dancers joined in the general dancing throughout the night as the audience rose to the occasion with enthusiasm. It took days to get the scorch marks off the floor.

FBI kept the nostalgia going until Spunk Rats took the stage. Their set of old Rock and Roll favourites was warmly received and packed the dance floor once again. Saturday night at the
local hop was with us again.

After another dance demo and another bracket from the indefatigable FBI, it was the turn of the Backing Band and the free-wheeling Warrior singers.

Seasoned musos from various other Warrior bands make up the Backing Band to give unattached singers the chance to showcase their talents.

With five singers plus band members, the stage was as crowded as Rundle Mall on a Saturday morning. The singers, solo or in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of vocal combinations, rounded
off the night with an eclectic mix of personal favourites that went down well with the crowd.

Great work by the organisers and helpers leading up to the show and on the night itself. The kitchen area looked like a tsunami in a music shop and it was no mean feat to get a
couple of dozen singers and musos and their gear on and off stage smoothly several times during the evening. But the whole thing ran like clockwork and was a nice little earner for
the Deaf Society and Warriors SA.

A memorable evening, when the Boomer generation staked out its claim in the Warriors SA rock pantheon.

Books - Feb 2007

Whiteout. Ken Follett.
Thriller, Scotland, present day. Secure biochemical research facility. Raid to steal vials of deadly virus on Christmas Eve. Circumstances and blizzard draws all participants towards lonely farmhouse where Director's family is gathering for Christmas. Family tensions and armed thugs raise the suspense. Female Head of Security is interesting main protagonist.

The Brighter Buccaneer Leslie Charteris. Short stories, crime fiction.
1933, England and London. More short stories about Simon Templar "The Saint" swindling the swindlers and conning the crooks.

Chain of Evidence. Garry Disher. Detective novel.
One of the Challis/Destry series. Inspector Challis is in SA visiting his dying father and unofficially investigating the four year old disappearance of his brother-in-law. Sarg Destry plays a larger role than usual, staying behind on the Mornington Peninsula, leading the investigation into the disappearance/abduction of a 10 year old girl and the possible involvement of an alleged pedophile ring.

Dying to Please. Linda Howard. Thriller.
Sarah Stevens is a female butler and bodyguard to retired judge. She stops a burglary and the resulting publicity makes her the focus of an obsessive stalker. Cahill is the male detective who provides the love interest. (A pot-boiler, skip-read the 2nd half).

The Tenderness of Wolves Stef Penny. Historical fiction.
Set in 1867 in remote Canadian township of Dove River as winter sets in. Mysterious death of a hermit-like trapper leads to tracking of various suspects through the winter countryside and small settlements. Insights into inhabitants, social and historical observations. Multiple story threads and other characters whose paths cross and interweave as older mysteries are resolved during the pursuits. Main character Mrs Ross initiates the expedition to track her missing son who is the main suspect. Her parts of the story are told in 1st person.

A Sea of Troubles Donna Leon. Detective novel.
Set mainly on the Venetian island of Pellestrina among the close-knit fishing community. Inspector Brunetti investigates the suspicious sinking of a fishing boat and the deaths of the two men on board.

The Chinese Lake Murders Robert van Gulik.
Ancient Chinese Detective novel. Set in small lake-side town of Han-Yuan in AD 666. Judge Dee is the magistrate who in traditional Chinese detective story fashion, investigates 3 cases simultaneously, including the murder of a courtesan on one of the "flower boats", as he uncovers evidence of a possible conspiracy against the government. Historical insights into ancient Chinese culture and customs.

The Tesla Legacy Robert G. Barratt. Thriller.
Australia, present day. Newcastle electrican Mick Vincent and his Stockton bookseller girlfriend solve the clues and go on the trail of Tesla's legendary "Doomsday Machine" hidden in the mountainous bush near Scone. Pursued by US NSA agents and tangled with ASIO they search for the mysterious "Legacy".

Books - Jan 2007

Saturday Ian McEwan. Novel.
A single day (Saturday) in the life of an off-duty neuro-surgeon. His thoughts and reaction to interesting public and personal events during the 24 hours. A reflection of present-day English zeitgeist.

Talk to the Snail Stephen Clarke. Non-fiction, humour.
Affectionate look at /send up of French lifestyle and culture - sub-titled "Ten Commandments for understanding the French".

The Bookwoman's Last Fling John Dunning. Detective novel.
Retired Denver cop/bookseller investigates theft of rare books and a 20 year old murder against a background of US horse breeding and racing industry. (A bit of an American Dick Francis)

Guardians of the Key Clio Gray. Historical novel.
Set in 1805 in the Lucchese section of London - a race to find the religious relics of the City of Lucca hidden somewhere in London in 1257. Mabel is unaware that she is custodian of the "key". Whilbert Stroop is a period Holmes/Poirot who investigates the mystery and riddle.

The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid Bill Bryson. Autobiography.
Bryson's early years in the 1950s growing up in Des Moines, Iowa. An affectionate and ironic reminiscence of life in middle America.

Beyond the Headlands Garry Disher (Ann's cousin). Novel.
Parallel stories of Neil Quiller's escape from the Japanese invasion of Singapore in WW2, and contemporaneous activities on a station near Broome with flashbacks of the pre-war lives there of Quiller and other characters who weave in and out of the main stories.

The Secret Supper ("Cena Secreta") Javier Sierra. Historical novel. Translated from Spanish.
New Year 1497 in Milan during the painting of Leonardo's "The Last Supper". Father Agostino is sent from Rome to investigate anonymous accusations against Leonardo and faces the challenge of decrypting the secret messages embodied in the Last Supper and investigating alleged related heresies. (More credible than the Da Vinci Code).

Family Matters Ira Berkowitz. Crime Novel.
Present in the Hell's Kitchen area of New York. Suspended detective Jackson Steeg investigates related murders involving his family members. Various underworld characters. Light read, a bit of pot-boiler.

Uniform Justice Donna Leon. Detective novel.
Present day Venice. Inspector Brunetti investigates a suspicious death in a private school cum military college on the Giudecca. Bureaucracy, incompetence, minor corruption, graft and political interference hinder and subvert the case.

Eva's Angel Garry Disher. Young adult fiction.
Australian university and art school students on scholarship placements in Florence and Venice. Evolving relationships and growth of self-knowledge.

The Saint Intervenes Leslie Charteris. Short stories, crime fiction.
England, mainly London in 1934 (date of publication). Twelve short stories featuring Simon Templar as The Saint, turning the tables on an assortment of swindlers and con artists.

Books - Dec 2006

The Apothecary's House Adrien Mathews. Novel.
Set in Amsterdam present day. Reichmuseum researchers returning Jewish artworks stolen by Nazis during war. Piece in question has separate claimants and mysterious pursuers and embodies a mystery.

The Men Who Stare at Goats Jon Ronson. Non-fiction.
Journalistic investigation into American Military's alleged use of psychic and occult powers, and their misuse, particularly in the "war on terror".

Christmas Newsletter 2006

Another year has flashed by, Ann’s first full year and Ian’s second of so-called retirement. It’s been great.

The year kicked off with Rebecca still in South America part way through her nine month travel adventure, and with Megan living back at home, running her graphic design business out of our front room. Ian and Ann took a short break in an apartment by the sea at Port Elliot, about 50 miles south of Adelaide.

In the early part of the year, Ann joined the board of the Seniors’ Information Service (SIS) and was also appointed to the Libraries Board. Ian continued as a member of the Board of Community Information Strategies Australia (CISA) and also undertook a review of the Development Assessment Panel of one of Adelaide’s larger municipal councils, in association with Greg Crafter.

Not too far into the year saw us involved in the State General Election. During the campaign, the Adelaide Festival of the Arts and the Fringe Festival were going on. We managed to fit in a few events: the Glyndebourne Opera’s production of “Flight”; a nostalgic revival of the Adelaide University Footlights Revue with many of the original student performers now in their 50s and 60s; the premier of the play from Peter Goldworthy’s funny and thought-provoking novel “Honk if you’re Jesus”; the Amsterdam Sonfonetti and the Leningrad Orchestra.

We also went to a Womad session, the world music and dance festival that runs in parallel with the Arts Festival, featuring Miriam Makeba. Also during the latter part of the year we enjoyed performances of the plays “Life x 3” and “Private Lives” at the State Theatre, and a concert by the revamped Australian String Quartet at a winery in the Barossa Valley.

As Autumn moved towards the Australian winter, our big event for the year started, our 12 week overseas holiday. Arriving first in the UK, we soon departed to spend a few days in Venice, then in Como in northern Italy where we caught up with Rae and Greg with whom we travelled for the next four weeks. We all took the train to Lodeve near Montpellier and were joined by Bob and Pat from Canada for the next two weeks. The six of us explored the local area, ate like royalty and spent a couple of days in Barcelona as a side trip.

When Bob and Pat left to continue the next part of their European trip, the four of us travelled via Paris and Athens to the Greek island of Paros for an idyllic week in the fishing town of Noussa. We flew back to London where Greg and Rae got ready for their return to Australia, while Ann and Ian began our stay in the UK catching up with family and friends, making our base with my sister Ruth and Aunt Else. They looked after us marvellously.

Another highlight was when our daughter Megan met up with us in London. She had popped over to the UK to catch up with her boyfriend who was working there at the time and to go with him to a wedding. We flew back to Adelaide via a few days in Hong Kong. It was all a magnificent experience.

While we were away, Rebecca returned home and stayed in our house. Shortly before we returned, she moved back to Sydney to take up the offer of a flat overlooking Bondi Beach. Almost immediately, Chris, her partner went with Oxfam to Pakistan to help wind up their earthquake relief projects. Bec started up her own communications consultancy and business has picked up quite quickly for her. She is undertaking some interesting projects relating to sustainable and alternative energy.

About the same time, Megan moved out into a rented house five minutes away from ours, sharing with her boyfriend who had returned with her to Australia, and one of her girlfriends from University. However, things didn’t work out and later in the year he moved away with plans to return to London. Meanwhile, Megan set up a new office in the separate “rumpus room” and continued to run her business from there.

In August Ann and Ian spent a few days in Melbourne, seeing the Picasso exhibition and the new production of “The Boy from Oz”. Then shortly after, we spent a few days in Sydney catching up with Rebecca in Bondi.

In September, we celebrated my 60^th birthday with a party at our home for friends, some of whom travelled interstate or from distant parts of South Australia to join us. It was great chance for people to catch up with others they hadn’t seen for a while. Ann and several of our friends did the catering and organising.

Shortly after, Ian’s band finally got its act together after a stop-start sort of year, and we performed three gigs at a city pub before a couple of the members moved on, amicably. In the last couple of weeks the remaining three of us have started to rehearse with a new drummer and lead guitarist, and we hope to able to gig again in the new year.

Ann and Ian wound up the year with an actual and symbolic spring clean, repainting the lounge and dining room. Now we are looking forward to visits from long-standing school-friends planned for the first part of 2007.

Vale Ron Crafter

Ronald Ernest Crafter spent his early childhood in Elson Street, Lockleys in the family home built by his father.

Ron’s long and varied working life began with farm work when he worked at Warrakilla the family property at Mylor. This included making many trips to the East End market with produce.

Ron loved sport of all kinds and was an outstanding sportsman himself, playing A grade football for Mylor for 16 years. He was the Mail Medal runner-up in the Adelaide Hills Association in 1933. The following year he played league football for West Adelaide and later returned to captain the Mylor team. He played on the Adelaide Oval in a combined side as a curtain raiser to the 1940 Grand Final.

He married Molly Keefe in 1939 and they lived at Willaston during the war when Tony was born. Through the war years, Ron drove trucks carrying uranium from Mount Paynter in the northern Flinders Ranges to Adelaide.

After the war he and Molly moved back to the Adelaide Hills, living in Hahndorf and then Littlehampton. Ron managed a farm milking cows, growing potatoes and other vegetables and preparing yearling horses for thoroughbred sales on Miss Betty Taylor’s property, Kinross.

During these years Greg and Trisha were born. Ron and Molly and Ron’s parents-in-law Len and Addie Keefe were all very active in the life of the town and the district. They made many friends and enjoyed life to the full.

Ron was then employed to manage a thoroughbred horse agistment property being established at Smithfield. The family moved there in 1950.

No sooner had Ron set up the enterprise and “rested” racehorses had arrived than the Playford Government acquired huge tracts of land in the area to establish the new satellite city of Elizabeth.  The property was sold and Ron’s position went with it.

It was at this time he and Molly decided not to continue on the land. Ron went back to work at the Weapons Research Establishment at Salisbury where he learnt the trade of machine engraving.

During those years he was an active member of the WRE lawn bowling club, winning three championships in one year. Catherine was born in 1954.

Ron and Molly decided to move to Adelaide in 1960 where education opportunities for their children were better. They bought their first house in Taperoo where they lived for the next 36 of their 57 years of marriage.

On Ron’s retirement in 1974 at age 60, he and Molly spent six months with their close friends Pat and Mary O’Brien on an around-the-world cruise. They enjoyed it immensely. For Ron, this was the beginning of a long and satisfying retirement, with many pleasures and good times to look back on.

Ron became a well-known identity around the Taperoo district, being involved in many community activities. In 2002 he moved to a nearby retirement village with his friend Jake, a trusty Jack Russell terrier. Ron continued as a helper at the Taperoo Meals on Wheels kitchen until his 90th year and remained active in the local community until his recent decline in health.

Ron will be remembered as a great family man. He was never happier than when the family gathered. And these gatherings often included an “extended” family of his and Molly’s and their children’s friends who were welcomed into the fold.

Ron’s immediate family gave him much pleasure and satisfaction as it grew. He took great delight in playing with, photographing, entertaining and thoroughly enjoying his grandchildren and, most recently, his great-grandchildren.

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.