This was supposed to be all about Holly Hill Nature walk in Southampton England,weeeell, I can sort of alter the pitch a little can I not? Will explain, then you can make up your collective mind(s) whether or no I should proceed with this, or stick to the original game plan and tell you all about Holly Hill. Okay, thanks for that so that's fixed then I shall tell you all about my afternoon here at chez robbi.
Y'all know that we had Lance Armstrong here riding in a Pro Cycle race we run yearly called the 'Tour Down Under'.You did, and just love bike racing but can't figure it out, but adore those really fit young fellows in lycra jumping up and down on the pedals, you do don't you.
So we here at chez robbi ride bikes around our park most days, I do every day but she has to go to work in order to keep me in the style to which I am accustomed, ie. eating each day, so only rides when there is no work. As befitting a bicycle rider she got all keen to read Lance Armstrong's book 'It's not just about the bike' and duly passed same on to me to read. I got into about 40 pages and to be quite frank thought if I could watch grass grow that might get me going more. Until today.
Off she went at 1430 to earn the daily crust when I spied 'the' book on the kitchen table, what to lose I thought, not much going on here and the drought is so bad even the weeds have stopped growing. I might as well read a few pages and then check that little weed out there to see if it has put on an inch or three.1828 came just as I read the last page,wow, this Lance man is different!
What a great weed he would make, I mean those little buggers even spring up through concrete, Lance is the Texas weed to end all weeds. This fellow is THE survivor and growth specialist is he not? In my job I saw many many Lance's and in their own quiet way lots of recovered cancer patients ,who by the very nature of their recovery beat all odds , going on to lead lives of hope and fulfilment.
Back to Holly Hill.
The very first time that I went to the UK as an adult gave me a tremendous culture shock. One forgets childhood memories and more the pity, relatives and places, they become faint cobwebs of what was and like cobwebs are easily brushed aside. So there we were at Heathrow(1990-1) being met by a charming couple in their early sixties who had been great friends of the family and on hearing we were to be in the UK would not hear of us staying anywhere but in their home. Driving from Heathrow to Putney was then not so bad, traffic wasn't as dense as it is now so there was plenty of time to 'see' bits of London.Also, there were only a few of the ghastly high rise apartment blocks that now dot the landscape as frequently as rabbit poop on a field.The next ten days were a revelation as each day we saw more parks/gardens per square foot than in OZ. The suburb of Putney seemed to have green space everywhere and the house gardens were just bursting with colour. Sure they knock down one large house and build two or even three where there was once one, some public buildings are just plain damn awful monstrosities, but lots of councils seem to really care about how their constituents live and where they live. Here in OZ we went through an awful phase were it became almost a public duty to knock over anything that was more than twenty years old, in the UK there is more pride in retaining as much heritage as they can. Green space is at a premium given the physical size and population density of England but it is still surprising to see just how much green is available to wander in.
Holly Hill Nature walk in Southampton is one such place, 35hectares of planted exotic species and retained native woodland with 11 lakes and many rock pools all connected by meandering paths that are all maintained and nurtured lovingly. At one point one of the walks takes you down to a viewing platform that overlooks the tidal reaches of the river Hamble, we counted 15 species of bird feeding in the marshy area. Holly Hill, another part of the green and sceptered Isle.
Indeed Hortense, perhaps I should make supper, extra housework more often. Yes I do make the bed each day and do a portion of the housework, could do more though .Nope aint a tear Horty,but you know I does love the place so . Best I get to the nub of it too, start actually talking about real day to day things of more import than self. Meant to say earlier Horty, did you read in the daily Murdoch about our wonderful federal Labor Government going to spend $45 million on trying to fix the problem of Australian livestock ejecting METHANE into the atmosphere. Does appear Hortense old bean that 12% of the OZ greenhouse gases are the farts of our livestock, so our Gov is going to fix the problem by spending $45mill . Corks anyone? Woohoo, does that make the mind wobble a bit old girl, just how are they going to stop the 12mill head of beef and 24mill sheep from farting? Plus all the koalas/kangaroos/emus/lizards /spiders/snakes/fish/etc etc etc, oh and us too Hortense, I forgot, ladies don't, do they.
Cocolat a night on the town and a show Saturday Hortense, you betcha old girl.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
ink marks on a blank page thurs 26thfeb
That I am a full, rusted on Anglophile is of no doubt. I owe this allegiance to many factors, one being that growing up in the era I did we were always asked "when are you going to visit the Mother Country" (meaning England). So it was during this period when TV in OZ was in its infancy the picture one got of life in England was of row after row of dismal terrace houses and grey days followed by more grey days. I did know that this wasn't the whole picture of the UK but most of my contemporaries had that fixed firmly in their minds. Relatives in the UK would send 'snaps' of themselves cavorting on the pebbly beaches or picnicking somewhere and I would dutifully hand them around to much guffaws from my immediate circle at work whilst colleagues who were English migrants would stare wistfully at the scenes and then precede to tell everyone that the tomatoes don't taste the same here in OZ as they did back 'home'.
They don't either, fruit and vegeteables do taste better in Europe ,as the growing conditions are much kinder, ie soil and water etc. Some of the products that we have here in OZ that are on the supermarket shelves in the UK don't seem to be the same either when made up here in our kitchen. Birds custard powder is just one I can think of quickly , in the UK it has a fuller richer taste, always seems different here. Yes indeed I know that this could be just another manifestation of robbi bias, possibly, but the potato difference is just one that is glaring.
When we lived on the farm we knew the president of the Potato board of South Australia quite well and it was I believe in 1991 that we had just come back from a lovely 3month trip to the Old Dart, when we went to our Royal Show here in Adelaide. This is primarily an Agricultural show which is held on a yearly basis where all types of locally grown products are shown to the public. Like all such things all over the world there are rides ,machinery, log chopping and all sorts going on.
For some wild reason that totally slips my mind we found ourselves in the potato growing pavilion deep in conversation with the then president of that society. I remember saying, in my normal non-confrontational and not at all 'picky' manner, "why is it Bill that you only have 3 varieties of spuds here on display, in the UK there are at least 15 or twenty sorts" . I then went on to regale him with a word picture of the last market(UK) we had been to where there was a fruit stall and on one trestle was a large mound of rich brown dirt and behind the dirt was a lady with bright green rubber gloves on pulling fresh Jersey spuds out and weighing them up. "God man we don't need stuff like that here, we have three sorts and that's enough. One for frying, roasting and a general purpose variety which is a cross between the two, then we grow a seperate lot for the chip business."
Now all that might sound a little mundane and icky picky, true it does but then you have to look behind what was said and you then get to the mindset of lots of Australian thinking at that time. We were terribly parochial and set in our ways, couldn't see the wood for the trees, that applied across the board into just about every field of endeavour. Every carpetbagger, snake oil salesman worth his or her salt had come over from the US and seduced us to the detriment of our own culture and growth. Most home-grown Australians don't know that we were amongst the first to have a full length narrative movie made , even before America, or that Australians invented the stump jump plough and a mechanical harvester. The first photo copier and the 'black' box which every aircraft in the world is fitted with. Every rat-bag scheme that had been tried elsewhere in the world and failed was trotted over here by successive Governments and flogged off as the new 'miracle' cure for what ailed the Education/ Health or other process that a particular department had sent folk over to study. By about the very late 1990's we had begun to slowly understand that home based things just might do the job as well as rubbish imported from overseas so we began to 'grow OZ' and be proud of just what we had here. So much so that now on the supermarket shelves we have so many different varieties of spuds it's hard to make a choice. But with the last federal election some new ideas began to creep in, most notably was the Education minister wanting to import the Education model that is used in New York. Our Minister is very much taken with this process and has gone as far to have invited the architect of that scheme to come here and show us how it works. I would respectfully inform her that most Australians do not live in areas that resemble downtown New York city and that just one major concern of Education in this country, that of Aboriginal Australia, is not remotely like New York City in any way shape or form. In all of this I am not advocating a return to an island state mentality but we should be adult enough to use our own expertise to develop an Education model that will fit our schools across the whole of OZ to educate our future children for the 21st century and beyond.
Oh yes Hortense the robbi got well and truly sidetracked there didn't he. Started out to tell the good folk all great things and with the intent of showing just how green and verdant England is, then got stuck into Julia Gillard's grand Education designs.Again you really do not need to sit there with that po face you pull so firmly fixed on your dial. Justified you say, uh okay, this time I grant that it is but next blog I promise that there will be no diverging from the original intent and to that end there will be some green and luxuriant pictures posted on the next blog.
Sorry old girl , no cocolat this week, but come March old bean.....yea har, full on.
They don't either, fruit and vegeteables do taste better in Europe ,as the growing conditions are much kinder, ie soil and water etc. Some of the products that we have here in OZ that are on the supermarket shelves in the UK don't seem to be the same either when made up here in our kitchen. Birds custard powder is just one I can think of quickly , in the UK it has a fuller richer taste, always seems different here. Yes indeed I know that this could be just another manifestation of robbi bias, possibly, but the potato difference is just one that is glaring.
When we lived on the farm we knew the president of the Potato board of South Australia quite well and it was I believe in 1991 that we had just come back from a lovely 3month trip to the Old Dart, when we went to our Royal Show here in Adelaide. This is primarily an Agricultural show which is held on a yearly basis where all types of locally grown products are shown to the public. Like all such things all over the world there are rides ,machinery, log chopping and all sorts going on.
For some wild reason that totally slips my mind we found ourselves in the potato growing pavilion deep in conversation with the then president of that society. I remember saying, in my normal non-confrontational and not at all 'picky' manner, "why is it Bill that you only have 3 varieties of spuds here on display, in the UK there are at least 15 or twenty sorts" . I then went on to regale him with a word picture of the last market(UK) we had been to where there was a fruit stall and on one trestle was a large mound of rich brown dirt and behind the dirt was a lady with bright green rubber gloves on pulling fresh Jersey spuds out and weighing them up. "God man we don't need stuff like that here, we have three sorts and that's enough. One for frying, roasting and a general purpose variety which is a cross between the two, then we grow a seperate lot for the chip business."
Now all that might sound a little mundane and icky picky, true it does but then you have to look behind what was said and you then get to the mindset of lots of Australian thinking at that time. We were terribly parochial and set in our ways, couldn't see the wood for the trees, that applied across the board into just about every field of endeavour. Every carpetbagger, snake oil salesman worth his or her salt had come over from the US and seduced us to the detriment of our own culture and growth. Most home-grown Australians don't know that we were amongst the first to have a full length narrative movie made , even before America, or that Australians invented the stump jump plough and a mechanical harvester. The first photo copier and the 'black' box which every aircraft in the world is fitted with. Every rat-bag scheme that had been tried elsewhere in the world and failed was trotted over here by successive Governments and flogged off as the new 'miracle' cure for what ailed the Education/ Health or other process that a particular department had sent folk over to study. By about the very late 1990's we had begun to slowly understand that home based things just might do the job as well as rubbish imported from overseas so we began to 'grow OZ' and be proud of just what we had here. So much so that now on the supermarket shelves we have so many different varieties of spuds it's hard to make a choice. But with the last federal election some new ideas began to creep in, most notably was the Education minister wanting to import the Education model that is used in New York. Our Minister is very much taken with this process and has gone as far to have invited the architect of that scheme to come here and show us how it works. I would respectfully inform her that most Australians do not live in areas that resemble downtown New York city and that just one major concern of Education in this country, that of Aboriginal Australia, is not remotely like New York City in any way shape or form. In all of this I am not advocating a return to an island state mentality but we should be adult enough to use our own expertise to develop an Education model that will fit our schools across the whole of OZ to educate our future children for the 21st century and beyond.
Oh yes Hortense the robbi got well and truly sidetracked there didn't he. Started out to tell the good folk all great things and with the intent of showing just how green and verdant England is, then got stuck into Julia Gillard's grand Education designs.Again you really do not need to sit there with that po face you pull so firmly fixed on your dial. Justified you say, uh okay, this time I grant that it is but next blog I promise that there will be no diverging from the original intent and to that end there will be some green and luxuriant pictures posted on the next blog.
Sorry old girl , no cocolat this week, but come March old bean.....yea har, full on.
Friday, 20 February 2009
ink marks on a blank page Sat Feb 21st
Much or little, if you are one of the workaholics that frequent my life, has been happening on the robbi horizon of late, and if that sounds obtuse then of course it is. To regale you good folk with the inner workings of the robbi week would not only be downright boring (to you) but counter-productive (to me). One must have a modicum of secrecy don't you know, as perhaps to the robbi, his life might be racy ,full of fun,upbeat amongst other superlatives but to the well travelled and jaded jet-set as boring and hum-drum as bat poop. I do understand that amongst my reader(s) there are any number of folk who could hold themselves up to be the glitterati. Certainly that is a hope of mine anyway,would hate to think the only folk who read this stuff were plebeian slobs like myself. A moment of high drama just passed through my day, an ant was spied crawling up the side of my LCD (recent purchase) screen thing,which was duly dispatched, the ant actually.
That little episode brings me onto the cusp of an aside,namely. Driving through the back streets of my local suburb to the shopping mall ,that when I am forced through circumstance ,I go. There, on the footpaths, was a collection of old type PC screens. We have all had them and perhaps some of us still use one, they still work and perform the same function that their design was for originally but because of the advent of the LCD type screen they have been deemed obsolete. There on the footpath I counted six screens ,two at one location and the rest singular. Please don't point out that I should be watching where I was driving and not rubbish on the footpath, did and was thanks. My point? I have no idea really, are these screens the dinosaurs of 2009, or is it how we the consumers view our place in society the reason for the throw-away mentality. This part of the robbi world I take a shortcut through is not what is commonly referred to as 'affluent' suburb, rather a little down at heel and worn out, but reasonably neat.
So there it is,my one Saturday morning trip into suburbia becomes an exercise into the mores, whys wherefores, foibles of society 2009 that hasn't even answered why or just why ever not, and surely it is only the business of the throwers of the screens, or what did you do with your old one anyway.
See Hortense, I get myself into so much angst over zip. Life is bigger than that old girl, let me just draw a deep breath to get over said rubbish then get onto something else that I know ought about. Indeed Horty old girl ,once over the barrel m'girl, one never forgets that experience. I refer of course the the machinations of government.
The story that came out yesterday in the morning Murdoch about the dad who was left with three young children(one went to school) who applied for full time benefit so he could look after his kids and was then told he should get a night shift job(he had a trade) so he then could send his one child to school and catch up on sleep when the other two napped. No mention therein about who would look after the children whilst he was away at work. That of course would strengthen his resolve and he would then become a better parent. I wasn't privy to what he told the person but imagine that it wasn't , oh thank you for that.
Like now Hortense, that smart man at Salisbury council (Adelaide)who has designed all those wetlands that trap ,clean, store naturally the storm water run-off and who can sell that water back to the factories in his area cheaper by far than the Government water supply folk, cannot get his ideas accepted by the Government. Although he says that for a quarter the cost over ten years that the Government is spending on a desal plant in one year, he can store more water and supply same to all of Adelaide. The desal plant will cost $89 millions a year to run as well Hortense, wetlands, about $500thou.Apart from the minuscule costs too,wetlands do not use any greenhouse emissions, whereas a Desal plant runs on coal produced electricity. Now old girl if I was a conspiracy theorist then there would be several arguments that could be raised here, one being that the Government would not be able to actually SELL the water to joe public like it can the DESAL water if it came from storm water run-off, which by the way is more than the entire city of Adelaide can use in a year.But then I'm not any sort of theorist at all,what do I know.
What I do know is that we are going to live theatre tonight to see the Kranski sisters et al, but before that Horty we shall wander into cocolat for gelato, does that sound a plan? you betcha it do.
That little episode brings me onto the cusp of an aside,namely. Driving through the back streets of my local suburb to the shopping mall ,that when I am forced through circumstance ,I go. There, on the footpaths, was a collection of old type PC screens. We have all had them and perhaps some of us still use one, they still work and perform the same function that their design was for originally but because of the advent of the LCD type screen they have been deemed obsolete. There on the footpath I counted six screens ,two at one location and the rest singular. Please don't point out that I should be watching where I was driving and not rubbish on the footpath, did and was thanks. My point? I have no idea really, are these screens the dinosaurs of 2009, or is it how we the consumers view our place in society the reason for the throw-away mentality. This part of the robbi world I take a shortcut through is not what is commonly referred to as 'affluent' suburb, rather a little down at heel and worn out, but reasonably neat.
So there it is,my one Saturday morning trip into suburbia becomes an exercise into the mores, whys wherefores, foibles of society 2009 that hasn't even answered why or just why ever not, and surely it is only the business of the throwers of the screens, or what did you do with your old one anyway.
See Hortense, I get myself into so much angst over zip. Life is bigger than that old girl, let me just draw a deep breath to get over said rubbish then get onto something else that I know ought about. Indeed Horty old girl ,once over the barrel m'girl, one never forgets that experience. I refer of course the the machinations of government.
The story that came out yesterday in the morning Murdoch about the dad who was left with three young children(one went to school) who applied for full time benefit so he could look after his kids and was then told he should get a night shift job(he had a trade) so he then could send his one child to school and catch up on sleep when the other two napped. No mention therein about who would look after the children whilst he was away at work. That of course would strengthen his resolve and he would then become a better parent. I wasn't privy to what he told the person but imagine that it wasn't , oh thank you for that.
Like now Hortense, that smart man at Salisbury council (Adelaide)who has designed all those wetlands that trap ,clean, store naturally the storm water run-off and who can sell that water back to the factories in his area cheaper by far than the Government water supply folk, cannot get his ideas accepted by the Government. Although he says that for a quarter the cost over ten years that the Government is spending on a desal plant in one year, he can store more water and supply same to all of Adelaide. The desal plant will cost $89 millions a year to run as well Hortense, wetlands, about $500thou.Apart from the minuscule costs too,wetlands do not use any greenhouse emissions, whereas a Desal plant runs on coal produced electricity. Now old girl if I was a conspiracy theorist then there would be several arguments that could be raised here, one being that the Government would not be able to actually SELL the water to joe public like it can the DESAL water if it came from storm water run-off, which by the way is more than the entire city of Adelaide can use in a year.But then I'm not any sort of theorist at all,what do I know.
What I do know is that we are going to live theatre tonight to see the Kranski sisters et al, but before that Horty we shall wander into cocolat for gelato, does that sound a plan? you betcha it do.
Saturday, 7 February 2009
ink marks on a blank page Sun 8th Feb
I am a Thomas Hardy fan, there said it,been practising for hours to write that as if it were dirty washing or stuff so secret no one should know it about me. But I guess lots of you have read Thomas Hardy, no , yes? maybe or not. I see, wont admit to it eh, oh well we haff ways you know.
You all know that I came out of the closet ages ago re my Anglophilia, being a Hardy fan is just a manifestation of that, but in a more subdued way. Sort of clenched teeth, controlled, anal retention without the anal. Hardy was more or less the original script writer for the Bold and the Beautiful, get my drift?. Far from the Madding crowd was I think one of 'THE' novels of the genre and of course so wildly popular that the title has become a staple of the lexicon and is used ad nauseum by such pretentious writers such as yours truly. Everyone knows the plot, even those of us who have never seen an episode of Bold and Beautiful, and if you have to ask what is Bold and etc then we all know that you actually watch or tape episodes when you go away. The heroine has a most B&B name too, Bathsheba Everdene, which could be an anagram for, 'the best heaven, her bed'. A most theatrical name for a person who really is a bit of an actress herself, loves a few histrionics and likes to be pulling the strings. Some folk will say that the Mayor of Casterbridge or Tess were better books and perhaps they are but just contemplate this gem of thought. Far from etc is part of our word culture in itself and that speaks volumes for what is the style of the book, how it grabbed the mind set of generations, how that title described the content of the book,just what the heroine thought so well, that it became a narrative in itself. For Whom the Bell Tolls / Blood on the Sand / Of Mice and Men /The Postman Always Rings Twice. Yes, I do understand that the Scottish poet(Burns) first coined the phrase 'the best laid plans o'mice and men' and Steinbeck based his story around that. If you type the phrase into Google Steinbeck's use of it comes up more times and first, so I naturally chose the most relevant for the times. Oh heck I cannot fib, never could get into Robert Burns so I used the author I preferred, how's that for unfettered bias. C'mon, make your own list of famous novels whose titles have created meaning which is in use many years after the novels themselves were well read. The main theme of these great novels? boy meets girl and after great hardship either wins girl or gets into deep doo doo trying to. Ain't love grand?
I know Hortense, why do I continually rabbit on about stuff that is clearly above me. Well it's like this old dear, I am trying desperately to lift myself above the normality of a typical life of suburban mediocrity. Do I really think anyone actually reads this outpouring of whatever. Well it is like this Horty, I have an ego and also a bruised psyche for years of trying to keep up with you as a person of the gender I admire as being most capable of clear thinking and debate, unfettered by gender based affiliations. That is you don't stalk off to the pub with your mates to talk sport until you all get legless , then ring up the ones at home looking after the kids to come pick you up. Okay, just don't put your head to one side like that, I will get on with some reality.
Here in OZ we have had some horrendous hot weather.In my little state something like an average of 43.2c over 6 days with the temperature going down to 38c for a few days then yesterday rocking back up to 46.7c . In Victoria just across our state border they had 48.6c Saturday, then some halfwit started a fire which has now burnt out at least 5 villages and towns and killed to this point some 60 people. The actual acreage burnt is in the many many thousands of hectares and the number of houses lost is about 150 with stock and wildlife dead or dying in the hundreds of thousand. No one aid or Government body has yet put a dollar figure on the loss but just in human terms it will be incalculable. The senior Senator for the Greens party, a chap by the name of Bob Brown was quoted on radio as stating that this fire was caused by Climate Change, and as the senior Greens senator he will be calling on the Government to step up its Climate Change policy in the wake of this fire. Might I add as fact too that as long as folks bum's point downward the Greens will never be able to form a Government in their own right so therefore they will never have to formulate policy or deal with an emergency of any kind, let alone one of this National magnitude. A good thing as well for they are a bunch of nincompoops.
As a person who was once a farmer and a member of the volunteer fire fighting brigade I respectfully inform Senator Bob Brown that Climate Change had very little, as a matter of fact nothing, to do with the fire at all. SOME BLOODY LUNATIC LIT IT. Calling Climate Change responsible is drawing the bow trifle long good sir, and, a scare tactic of the worst kind.
Yes Hortense it was Sunday and wasn't that gelato at Cocolat just super and just the ticket too after seeing that funny little film Ghost Town with Ricky Gervais. He is hardly George Clooney dear girl but he is funny.
You all know that I came out of the closet ages ago re my Anglophilia, being a Hardy fan is just a manifestation of that, but in a more subdued way. Sort of clenched teeth, controlled, anal retention without the anal. Hardy was more or less the original script writer for the Bold and the Beautiful, get my drift?. Far from the Madding crowd was I think one of 'THE' novels of the genre and of course so wildly popular that the title has become a staple of the lexicon and is used ad nauseum by such pretentious writers such as yours truly. Everyone knows the plot, even those of us who have never seen an episode of Bold and Beautiful, and if you have to ask what is Bold and etc then we all know that you actually watch or tape episodes when you go away. The heroine has a most B&B name too, Bathsheba Everdene, which could be an anagram for, 'the best heaven, her bed'. A most theatrical name for a person who really is a bit of an actress herself, loves a few histrionics and likes to be pulling the strings. Some folk will say that the Mayor of Casterbridge or Tess were better books and perhaps they are but just contemplate this gem of thought. Far from etc is part of our word culture in itself and that speaks volumes for what is the style of the book, how it grabbed the mind set of generations, how that title described the content of the book,just what the heroine thought so well, that it became a narrative in itself. For Whom the Bell Tolls / Blood on the Sand / Of Mice and Men /The Postman Always Rings Twice. Yes, I do understand that the Scottish poet(Burns) first coined the phrase 'the best laid plans o'mice and men' and Steinbeck based his story around that. If you type the phrase into Google Steinbeck's use of it comes up more times and first, so I naturally chose the most relevant for the times. Oh heck I cannot fib, never could get into Robert Burns so I used the author I preferred, how's that for unfettered bias. C'mon, make your own list of famous novels whose titles have created meaning which is in use many years after the novels themselves were well read. The main theme of these great novels? boy meets girl and after great hardship either wins girl or gets into deep doo doo trying to. Ain't love grand?
I know Hortense, why do I continually rabbit on about stuff that is clearly above me. Well it's like this old dear, I am trying desperately to lift myself above the normality of a typical life of suburban mediocrity. Do I really think anyone actually reads this outpouring of whatever. Well it is like this Horty, I have an ego and also a bruised psyche for years of trying to keep up with you as a person of the gender I admire as being most capable of clear thinking and debate, unfettered by gender based affiliations. That is you don't stalk off to the pub with your mates to talk sport until you all get legless , then ring up the ones at home looking after the kids to come pick you up. Okay, just don't put your head to one side like that, I will get on with some reality.
Here in OZ we have had some horrendous hot weather.In my little state something like an average of 43.2c over 6 days with the temperature going down to 38c for a few days then yesterday rocking back up to 46.7c . In Victoria just across our state border they had 48.6c Saturday, then some halfwit started a fire which has now burnt out at least 5 villages and towns and killed to this point some 60 people. The actual acreage burnt is in the many many thousands of hectares and the number of houses lost is about 150 with stock and wildlife dead or dying in the hundreds of thousand. No one aid or Government body has yet put a dollar figure on the loss but just in human terms it will be incalculable. The senior Senator for the Greens party, a chap by the name of Bob Brown was quoted on radio as stating that this fire was caused by Climate Change, and as the senior Greens senator he will be calling on the Government to step up its Climate Change policy in the wake of this fire. Might I add as fact too that as long as folks bum's point downward the Greens will never be able to form a Government in their own right so therefore they will never have to formulate policy or deal with an emergency of any kind, let alone one of this National magnitude. A good thing as well for they are a bunch of nincompoops.
As a person who was once a farmer and a member of the volunteer fire fighting brigade I respectfully inform Senator Bob Brown that Climate Change had very little, as a matter of fact nothing, to do with the fire at all. SOME BLOODY LUNATIC LIT IT. Calling Climate Change responsible is drawing the bow trifle long good sir, and, a scare tactic of the worst kind.
Yes Hortense it was Sunday and wasn't that gelato at Cocolat just super and just the ticket too after seeing that funny little film Ghost Town with Ricky Gervais. He is hardly George Clooney dear girl but he is funny.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
ink marks on a blank page Thurs 22nd Jan
I have to tell you about the arcane delights of eating ripe nectarines straight from the tree. Perhaps this does not equate to such pursuits as winning the national Lottery and then being able to make monetary advances to George Clooney(wasn't he just so beautiful in 'Burn Without Reading') Yes I am a bloke, no I only bat with a straight bat and I can say stuff like that because (a) it is true (b)it is 2009(c) and if my bat was only slightly out of shape he would be the first I would pay money to.
But eating ripe nectarines is one of life's real pleasures, and straight off the tree is sublimity in a nutshell. First off I have to explain all about this particular nectarine tree. I (we) built this house about 9yrs ago now and as befits the way she wants to live one of the first things we put in was a compost bin. Yes, yes, I know the chickens are supposed to eat all the kitchen scraps, for heavens sake there are only two of them, you want the poor little things to burst? They stuff themselves with pasta anyway and sometimes are just to full and would rather sit in the dust and burp.
The second thing was the fabled chicken house, and about two weeks after the chicken house was all ready ,carpeted and fully fitted out with hot and cold running chickens the first batch of compost was spread around. Wonder of wonders in about three weeks a little tree started growing in front of the chicken hut. Pretty soon this little sprout grew into what my canny eye knew was a nectarine tree. Quoth I to her in my best imitation of George, that girl, hurrrumph, is a nectarine tree. "OO she trilled, now we will have lovely nectarines" Oh no says I, this is a self sown tree and as such will never bear fruit, however, because I am full of bonhomie and love for my chickens I will let it grow to provide shade and such like to the hens."My hero" she replied, you are so knowledgeable about life and things" "come she said, I will anoint your brow with unguents and cooling oils then prepare a sumptuous repast for you"
Actually I do stretch the truth somewhat. all she really did say was "what do you know" and then walked off.
The tree grew and darn well grew ,by next season it was about six ft. tall, almost that across. She kept saying how good the compost must be (she is in charge of that), all I could repeat was that because it was self sown, blah blah yudder yudder. Did I tell you that I was on an orchard (we had 8thou trees) as such I knew all about what grows or what don't. As a male also I am full of all sorts of great knowledge like that, practical stuff that only males very much like George Clooney seem to possess.
Was 'bout this time 2003 the robbi waltzed out early one morn to get the eggs and with jaw dropping/ double take/ shock horror/ awe noted that there were four nectarines growing on the by now ten foot tree. You guessed it,each year the tree grows even bigger and fruits like bunches of grapes. To make matters really worse the damn thing is one of the old white varieties that is the very best and sought after fruits, one that you never see in the greengrocers either.
Robbi Humble pie is one of my very favourites, as well, hers too. Happens heaps at chez robbi.
Fantastic isn't it Hortense. You know me well enough now and can attest to the fact that when I am wrong I will admit to it.No, I never have my fingers crossed, well maybe that once I did.
Barack? nope, can't see him ever having that(humble pie) on the menu at the White House. he seems to be a pretty clever chappie, one not prone to just shooting off his mouth without considering the consequences. Just jumped right into work too didn't he, our new bloke here did that as well, just as he said he would. Only one difference there though, Barack doesn't need a paper to read from, our bloke can't open his mouth without reams of it spilling out, and none of it makes sense either. They still think(our government) that their silly carbon trading scheme can just go ahead full steam and not cause any downturn in our economy. The only folk who will win out of this will be the people who get the licences to do the carbon trading, the folk who will suffer will be the OZ public and the businesses that will go under.Sure we humans have wrecked the planet, are we wholly to blame for global warming, not on your nellie, just ask the 650 eminent scientists who say we are not and that the Earth could be actually heading for another mini ice age.
Oh Hortense, no, gelato is off the menu tomorrow but I promise we will do it all again on Sunday 'Tis the great bike race tomorrow, that top Texan Lance Armstrong will be there also about 133 other bike riders all in stretch Lycra, you are blushing Horty old girl, that is a maidenly blush I see. You only go there to read the lettering on the Lycra Hortense, yes I guessed that
But eating ripe nectarines is one of life's real pleasures, and straight off the tree is sublimity in a nutshell. First off I have to explain all about this particular nectarine tree. I (we) built this house about 9yrs ago now and as befits the way she wants to live one of the first things we put in was a compost bin. Yes, yes, I know the chickens are supposed to eat all the kitchen scraps, for heavens sake there are only two of them, you want the poor little things to burst? They stuff themselves with pasta anyway and sometimes are just to full and would rather sit in the dust and burp.
The second thing was the fabled chicken house, and about two weeks after the chicken house was all ready ,carpeted and fully fitted out with hot and cold running chickens the first batch of compost was spread around. Wonder of wonders in about three weeks a little tree started growing in front of the chicken hut. Pretty soon this little sprout grew into what my canny eye knew was a nectarine tree. Quoth I to her in my best imitation of George, that girl, hurrrumph, is a nectarine tree. "OO she trilled, now we will have lovely nectarines" Oh no says I, this is a self sown tree and as such will never bear fruit, however, because I am full of bonhomie and love for my chickens I will let it grow to provide shade and such like to the hens."My hero" she replied, you are so knowledgeable about life and things" "come she said, I will anoint your brow with unguents and cooling oils then prepare a sumptuous repast for you"
Actually I do stretch the truth somewhat. all she really did say was "what do you know" and then walked off.
The tree grew and darn well grew ,by next season it was about six ft. tall, almost that across. She kept saying how good the compost must be (she is in charge of that), all I could repeat was that because it was self sown, blah blah yudder yudder. Did I tell you that I was on an orchard (we had 8thou trees) as such I knew all about what grows or what don't. As a male also I am full of all sorts of great knowledge like that, practical stuff that only males very much like George Clooney seem to possess.
Was 'bout this time 2003 the robbi waltzed out early one morn to get the eggs and with jaw dropping/ double take/ shock horror/ awe noted that there were four nectarines growing on the by now ten foot tree. You guessed it,each year the tree grows even bigger and fruits like bunches of grapes. To make matters really worse the damn thing is one of the old white varieties that is the very best and sought after fruits, one that you never see in the greengrocers either.
Robbi Humble pie is one of my very favourites, as well, hers too. Happens heaps at chez robbi.
Fantastic isn't it Hortense. You know me well enough now and can attest to the fact that when I am wrong I will admit to it.No, I never have my fingers crossed, well maybe that once I did.
Barack? nope, can't see him ever having that(humble pie) on the menu at the White House. he seems to be a pretty clever chappie, one not prone to just shooting off his mouth without considering the consequences. Just jumped right into work too didn't he, our new bloke here did that as well, just as he said he would. Only one difference there though, Barack doesn't need a paper to read from, our bloke can't open his mouth without reams of it spilling out, and none of it makes sense either. They still think(our government) that their silly carbon trading scheme can just go ahead full steam and not cause any downturn in our economy. The only folk who will win out of this will be the people who get the licences to do the carbon trading, the folk who will suffer will be the OZ public and the businesses that will go under.Sure we humans have wrecked the planet, are we wholly to blame for global warming, not on your nellie, just ask the 650 eminent scientists who say we are not and that the Earth could be actually heading for another mini ice age.
Oh Hortense, no, gelato is off the menu tomorrow but I promise we will do it all again on Sunday 'Tis the great bike race tomorrow, that top Texan Lance Armstrong will be there also about 133 other bike riders all in stretch Lycra, you are blushing Horty old girl, that is a maidenly blush I see. You only go there to read the lettering on the Lycra Hortense, yes I guessed that
Sunday, 18 January 2009
ink marks on a blank page Sunday 18th January
So, chickens don't know when it's Sunday. That might just come as a surprise to some folk, as I know it did and sort of didn't to me. Perhaps a fuller explanation would be in order. Since leaving the farm , building a new home in that hills village and then subsequently moving down here we have kept up the farming facade by having chickens in the back yard. She says it is so I can have some(one)thing to talk to during the days when she is off ministering to the sick etc. Actually how the chickens manage room and board at Chez robbi is by supplying the household with fresh eggs on a daily basis. Therein is my little epiphany about chickens not knowing it is Sunday.
More background information is as follows; when on the farm we had up to 20 chickens all running about the place laying furiously so what the crows didn't pinch I used to pick up each day.In all those years what with the crows swiping eggs and new chickens coming in there was never any need to know who laid what or when. Eggs just appeared, were gathered either by crows or self and life just tumbled on.
The shift to the village changed all that as it took a while to get a hen house going and then we sold that house to move and build here. Of course in between all that there was a sort of limp career to consolidate after being on the farm for so long, life was at that time a tad odd and mixed up for a goodly while. Once here and the garden done , hen house built ,two chickens were installed. two seemed to be an optimum number as we were unsure how the neighbours would react to hens bawking about the place early on a frosty morn. They appeared to be placated with the odd egg or three and also some nice plums or nectarines from the fruit trees.
You may or not know that chickens do not lay every day,even when as well cosseted as they are at Chezrobbi. These two lovely red hens laid two brown eggs everyday except, wait for it ,Sunday. This went on for some three years and when we had several trips to the UK for 3months at a time the folk who looked after the feeding and care reported that two eggs rolled in every day except Sunday. Some Sundays there would be one egg but most Sundays were eggless. That lot of chickens eventually had to go to a friends farm out in the sticks , a sort of old chickens home in the hills, where they could live out the rest of their days in peace,(or the pot) we hoped.What we didn't know wouldn't hurt , so to speak. Another two chickens joined the happy band here and they soon settled into the same routine, as did their main carer, me. Oh heck no, I don't lay the eggs, it's the chickens stupid!Two eggs a day excepting of course Sunday. Last year off we went to the UK for another couple of months so those red hens had an early retirement trip to Mt Pleasant. On return we off to the red hen shop for two more, but once they started laying, shock and horror the routine changed. Now , some of you might think and say, so what, do I really care diddly what day his chickens lay or didn't?
Perhaps it is retirement, or sloth, or just a general loss of neurons that stopped me from realising until last week that these hens didn't not lay an egg on any specific day( such as Sunday) but their particular habit was not to lay on alternate days.Are you confused, what I mean is one week they didn't lay on Monday, next week it was the Wednesday and so on. But there was always two eggs on a Sunday. I know , I checked on the calendar where all the egg production is marked down in a very efficient manner, as befits a well regulated household(she says I should get out more). There you have it, a conundrum Miss Marple would love to crack. Worrisome to a small degree and you dear folk can be rest assured that the matter has been discussed at length with the two red hens but as yet there is no actual consensus in sight.
Of course I'm not batty Hortense, the good folk know that I don't really talk to chickens at great length, just short little asides about the weather and such is all.
I should stick to rubbish I make up instead Horty old girl, is that a question old love or a demand? Maybe you are right perhaps a little comment on current affairs.Is it okay to say that word when one talks about an American president?. Tuesday the good folk in the US are going to do that thing they do so well, install a new one. What a cracker he looks as well Hortense, damn but he looks the goods. This is just one of the really great thing the Americans do isn't it, oh heck Horty it is far far better than inventing liquid white out. You were joking? write me a note next time Hortense. He is rather sweet and seems to be quite bright but he has a big job to do. Methinks Hamas might just be escalating the situation just to make it hot for the young fellow, and don't they look like a bunch of losers . As this is being written they have just sent five rockets into Israel,pathetic isn't it. There are always two ways of looking at any perplexing situation,so lets hope the chickens settle down into a better routine or a higher authority might just answer the call.
Missed out on Sunday Gelato this week Hortense, shame about that but it was all down to those pesky red hens y'see. Next week I promise.
More background information is as follows; when on the farm we had up to 20 chickens all running about the place laying furiously so what the crows didn't pinch I used to pick up each day.In all those years what with the crows swiping eggs and new chickens coming in there was never any need to know who laid what or when. Eggs just appeared, were gathered either by crows or self and life just tumbled on.
The shift to the village changed all that as it took a while to get a hen house going and then we sold that house to move and build here. Of course in between all that there was a sort of limp career to consolidate after being on the farm for so long, life was at that time a tad odd and mixed up for a goodly while. Once here and the garden done , hen house built ,two chickens were installed. two seemed to be an optimum number as we were unsure how the neighbours would react to hens bawking about the place early on a frosty morn. They appeared to be placated with the odd egg or three and also some nice plums or nectarines from the fruit trees.
You may or not know that chickens do not lay every day,even when as well cosseted as they are at Chezrobbi. These two lovely red hens laid two brown eggs everyday except, wait for it ,Sunday. This went on for some three years and when we had several trips to the UK for 3months at a time the folk who looked after the feeding and care reported that two eggs rolled in every day except Sunday. Some Sundays there would be one egg but most Sundays were eggless. That lot of chickens eventually had to go to a friends farm out in the sticks , a sort of old chickens home in the hills, where they could live out the rest of their days in peace,(or the pot) we hoped.What we didn't know wouldn't hurt , so to speak. Another two chickens joined the happy band here and they soon settled into the same routine, as did their main carer, me. Oh heck no, I don't lay the eggs, it's the chickens stupid!Two eggs a day excepting of course Sunday. Last year off we went to the UK for another couple of months so those red hens had an early retirement trip to Mt Pleasant. On return we off to the red hen shop for two more, but once they started laying, shock and horror the routine changed. Now , some of you might think and say, so what, do I really care diddly what day his chickens lay or didn't?
Perhaps it is retirement, or sloth, or just a general loss of neurons that stopped me from realising until last week that these hens didn't not lay an egg on any specific day( such as Sunday) but their particular habit was not to lay on alternate days.Are you confused, what I mean is one week they didn't lay on Monday, next week it was the Wednesday and so on. But there was always two eggs on a Sunday. I know , I checked on the calendar where all the egg production is marked down in a very efficient manner, as befits a well regulated household(she says I should get out more). There you have it, a conundrum Miss Marple would love to crack. Worrisome to a small degree and you dear folk can be rest assured that the matter has been discussed at length with the two red hens but as yet there is no actual consensus in sight.
Of course I'm not batty Hortense, the good folk know that I don't really talk to chickens at great length, just short little asides about the weather and such is all.
I should stick to rubbish I make up instead Horty old girl, is that a question old love or a demand? Maybe you are right perhaps a little comment on current affairs.Is it okay to say that word when one talks about an American president?. Tuesday the good folk in the US are going to do that thing they do so well, install a new one. What a cracker he looks as well Hortense, damn but he looks the goods. This is just one of the really great thing the Americans do isn't it, oh heck Horty it is far far better than inventing liquid white out. You were joking? write me a note next time Hortense. He is rather sweet and seems to be quite bright but he has a big job to do. Methinks Hamas might just be escalating the situation just to make it hot for the young fellow, and don't they look like a bunch of losers . As this is being written they have just sent five rockets into Israel,pathetic isn't it. There are always two ways of looking at any perplexing situation,so lets hope the chickens settle down into a better routine or a higher authority might just answer the call.
Missed out on Sunday Gelato this week Hortense, shame about that but it was all down to those pesky red hens y'see. Next week I promise.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
Ink marks on a blank page Sunday 11th Jan
Okay, so here I am on a quiet Sunday and it really isn't all that hot outside, but I thought I should perhaps get in out of the sun. Like most folk of direct English extraction I am easily burnt to a crisp. Already in my short life I have had some 20 skin lesions dry iced from my face and an active BCC gouged out of my neck. So in I came, what to do ,what to do, sang that crazy woman who I can never remember her name, but she warbled on about Heathcliff and has a huge castle somewhere in Ireland. Y'all know the woman I'm sure.
I have been busy of late though, scurrying down here most nights working away on my book. The days I spend mostly in heavy contemplation of my navel, as well of course reading about the times when things were young, real, and dinosaurs ruled. I have on my desk a pile of genuine dinosaur poop, yes indeed I do right next to the petrified wood and only an inch or so from the crustacea I found up in Coober Pedy. That's an arthropod to you folk, opalised it is and all. There might be a few of you who went to the movies and saw my hero Mel Gibson in the film series Mad Max. I think in the US they were re-badged as 'The Road Warrior'. Well the one Tina Turner was in was shot in Coober Pedy, on location just out some way of the town at a place called the 'Moon Plain' ,given that it looks a little like the surface of the Moon. That is where I found lots of lovely little fossils, all sorts of shells and little pieces of opalised bone, and lots of very very old oyster shell. Coober Pedy is of course some 3-400 miles from the now sea but back then of course lots of sea covered the land and even right the way up to Alice Springs you can find fossil sharks teeth and shells. I have to confess a little backsliding here folks, I do have another life, strange as it may seem. That life encompasses all sorts of weird and not so wonderful things, Paleontology is one, writing poetry and photography another one or three. Travel though is my real vice and the book I am writing is a series of photo books of my last visit to the UK. Some time ago I confessed to this very vice on here but then got distracted by Hortense, trying to save the world from itself and Gelato. Wonderful pursuits in themselves but I lust for my thoughts of England and greenery. To this end I shall devote this blog to a wonderful place and person,Bess of Hardwick, and endeavour to show you why on your very next vacation you should rush off to that green and sceptered isle.
The place: Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire
The Person: Elizabeth Shrewsbury (Bess of Hardwick)
Bess was born of humble origins in 1527 and by dint of four successful marriages to some of the richest men in England became a confidant of Elizabeth 1 and the second only to her as the richest woman in all of Britain. She died in 1608 at 80 yrs of age in her beautiful home, Hardwick Hall, which she had designed and built in 1573. The hall is set in some of the prettiest rolling downs and pasture country I have ever seen in England, the magnificent gardens and surrounds are maintained by the National Trust who have owned the property since the late 1960's. The Dukes of Cavendish who are the descendants of Bess had to gift Hardwick to the crown in order to pay the massive death duties that had built up over time. The house itself is almost as Bess had just left it with all the original furniture and wall hangings still in place. Her design for the exterior used, for the times, huge amount of glass and the wits of the day had a rhyme that went, in part" Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall" The Trust have done a remarkable job in keeping the place going as she would have run it as a working farm selling produce ,running free range pigs and the like. The on-site restaurant which is run from the original kitchen and scullery uses all their own produce so what you see all around is what you get.Have the Hardwick own pork sausages in red wine/onion gravy when you go,they are just superb! If I had a problem with the visit, then the day we spent there wasn't enough. Next time !
No Hortense I didn't have the Gelato as I am true to my very own Cocolat. We had some new flavours Friday after seeing that terrific movie 'Slum Dog Millionaire', didn't we Horty old girl, was just yummo too wasn't it.The film was well worth the ticket, so do yourselves a favour and go.
I have been busy of late though, scurrying down here most nights working away on my book. The days I spend mostly in heavy contemplation of my navel, as well of course reading about the times when things were young, real, and dinosaurs ruled. I have on my desk a pile of genuine dinosaur poop, yes indeed I do right next to the petrified wood and only an inch or so from the crustacea I found up in Coober Pedy. That's an arthropod to you folk, opalised it is and all. There might be a few of you who went to the movies and saw my hero Mel Gibson in the film series Mad Max. I think in the US they were re-badged as 'The Road Warrior'. Well the one Tina Turner was in was shot in Coober Pedy, on location just out some way of the town at a place called the 'Moon Plain' ,given that it looks a little like the surface of the Moon. That is where I found lots of lovely little fossils, all sorts of shells and little pieces of opalised bone, and lots of very very old oyster shell. Coober Pedy is of course some 3-400 miles from the now sea but back then of course lots of sea covered the land and even right the way up to Alice Springs you can find fossil sharks teeth and shells. I have to confess a little backsliding here folks, I do have another life, strange as it may seem. That life encompasses all sorts of weird and not so wonderful things, Paleontology is one, writing poetry and photography another one or three. Travel though is my real vice and the book I am writing is a series of photo books of my last visit to the UK. Some time ago I confessed to this very vice on here but then got distracted by Hortense, trying to save the world from itself and Gelato. Wonderful pursuits in themselves but I lust for my thoughts of England and greenery. To this end I shall devote this blog to a wonderful place and person,Bess of Hardwick, and endeavour to show you why on your very next vacation you should rush off to that green and sceptered isle.
The place: Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire
The Person: Elizabeth Shrewsbury (Bess of Hardwick)
Bess was born of humble origins in 1527 and by dint of four successful marriages to some of the richest men in England became a confidant of Elizabeth 1 and the second only to her as the richest woman in all of Britain. She died in 1608 at 80 yrs of age in her beautiful home, Hardwick Hall, which she had designed and built in 1573. The hall is set in some of the prettiest rolling downs and pasture country I have ever seen in England, the magnificent gardens and surrounds are maintained by the National Trust who have owned the property since the late 1960's. The Dukes of Cavendish who are the descendants of Bess had to gift Hardwick to the crown in order to pay the massive death duties that had built up over time. The house itself is almost as Bess had just left it with all the original furniture and wall hangings still in place. Her design for the exterior used, for the times, huge amount of glass and the wits of the day had a rhyme that went, in part" Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall" The Trust have done a remarkable job in keeping the place going as she would have run it as a working farm selling produce ,running free range pigs and the like. The on-site restaurant which is run from the original kitchen and scullery uses all their own produce so what you see all around is what you get.Have the Hardwick own pork sausages in red wine/onion gravy when you go,they are just superb! If I had a problem with the visit, then the day we spent there wasn't enough. Next time !
No Hortense I didn't have the Gelato as I am true to my very own Cocolat. We had some new flavours Friday after seeing that terrific movie 'Slum Dog Millionaire', didn't we Horty old girl, was just yummo too wasn't it.The film was well worth the ticket, so do yourselves a favour and go.
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