This is just a quick write as I'm getting ready for a trip. I am a hopeless packer, as one who travels a reasonable amount you might think that I should have learnt the art of packing by now, not so. When I was in the Navy it behooved one to travel light, two dress uniforms two work ones and numerous shirts etc /undies/socks/one pr boots/one shoes/flip-flops. We used to roll everything up in tight little sausages then pop them into a hold-all, and it did. After leaving the Navy all my packing sense got left behind for someone else, the Robbi now needs a furniture truck to go downtown for the day.Perhaps it is the babyblues but in all my travels overseas I have never had to pay excess baggage. One trip back from the UK I was able to bring back a bicycle that I had bought in Southampton as cabin baggage.Still don't know how I managed that, but I did, the bike and I ride around the park as often as we can.
Back to packing, that onerous task of which I am not overly fond, been okay though with moving house and at that I became highly organised. perhpas travel isn't the same cathartic extravaganza that moving house is, as you know very well you will be coming back to that which you are leaving. Food for thought actually and one I shall pursue amongst persons of my aquaint.
Life here at chez robbi is at times , to put it mildly, bland. That is nothing much of any real note passes through the front door, to that of course I must add ,'tis the way I likes it.
For more years than is natural the robbi very existence was one long harrowing tale after another, the highs /lows graph resembled something like the latest Global meltdown chart. Strangely enough I/we preferred living that way, both of us worked in hospitals so the adrenalin rush was a constant, also most of the friends that you pick up along the way were in that field as well, all grist for the mill. Now in retirement I don't miss the patients at all, or the rush, just the people that I worked with plus the satisfaction that was at the end of the day knowing I had done my best. That I loved my job was a bonus, the life I have now is just as fulfilling, grandchildren et al.
Indeed Hortense we were busy busy, were we not? You like me being retired, that isn't what you say when you have to go to your stint at the Hospital. Grumble about it you do mostly, but funnily never when you look up your salary. No Horty I never get tired of seeing the $ there either, long may you grumble yet dash off early to the place. That is something I am puzzled about, why you grumble so yet always get there at least half hour early.Oh, you like being able to read all the notes in peace?, good for you then . Great little movie you dragged me off to, Julie & Julia. I actually don't like Meryl Streep (as an actress) at all yet I loved her in that. You liked the Cocolat after too, yes I know I licked the bowl clean, it was yummo. Sure, I will say goodbye to the folks for you as well Horty, it is only for a few weeks, not long.Okay, okay, I'll finish packing tonight.
Monday, 5 October 2009
Monday, 14 September 2009
ink marks on a blank page tues 15th Sept.
Is it that time/date I mumble? of course it is you numpty.For one thing I'm not Rip Van Winkle , yes I do love my bed . But of course the reference here is to the passage of time vis a vis how swiftly your (mine) children grow up and age before your very eyes, whilst of course you don't. This past weekend I have spent ferrying my daughter around to various venues as she flew home for a class re-union (20 year) from her school , daughter is 36, married and has 1 & 7/8ths children.
Saturday the 26th; Oh there I am, no I didn't sleep a whole week and a bit in. I got really really busy and just lost all enthusiasm for anything much other than trying to stay sane. We have had the grandaughters for two weeks and also the next two as well. as their mid term hols start monday.Their mother had to fill in for someone at her office so they got dropped off in the morning, I drove them to school then picked them up and brought them home here after school.These are two delightful little girls,mostly, not really much trouble, sometimes, but it is rather wearing . One is so conscious of the fact that YOU are responsible, heck I am never resposible, but looking after some one elses brood is daunting. which is why I haven't felt like attacking the keyboard for anything other than few mails.
Getting back to the opening bit about daughter flying in for her class re-union. Her friends had , as she has, physically changed.They are all about 36+ and have varying jobs from running a school in New York/Chartered Accountant/International Banker/Engineer/Senior Political Journalist/Prosecutor et al including motherhood, so they are a well rounded lot. As personalities and individuals they have not changed a jot.We lived on the farm in those days and her friends loved coming up to there on weekends and holidays, apart from lots of school trips and assorted functions I ferried them around the city for years and got to know who they were really well.For the latter few years of her school life I also had the luxury of being retired, I had decided at 42 that I had enough to live well and my g(o)od lady person was well ensconced at her country Hospital so I finished my daily toil and took on being daughters taxi. In reality it wasn't that simple, as I came home from work one evening my wife looked at me and said "you look 62 not coming up 42, this job is killing you, we have enough, finish up", so I did.
But seeing those super kids grown up,some with families, some starting family, then to know that they were the same people in their hearts and minds after 20yrs, was something wonderful.
We bless the day that the decision was made to send her to that partyicular school, it wasn't always a bed of roses ( for us) but the end result was well worth the effort. The physical effort just getting to school was bad enough as it meant for her three hours on a bus each day, the money was easy come stuff, but the logistics of transport and then when she eventually went into senior school with odd lesson times ,trips into art galleries etc, shock horror . When she eventually came of age to get her driving license I actually breathed a sigh of relief, tempered with a hefty dose of anxiety when she failed her first test. She passed the next test easily,just nerves the initial one, afterward we were both on life support whenever she took her car out.
Yes Horty I do know you do most of the looking after the grandkids, and yes I am an irascible old bugger at times and get short with the youngest one.But fings is fings old girl and if she wants me to teach her to play the piano then she has to be taught the right way, which is my way, not hers.They are little sweethearts and yes I will take them to Cocolat in the holidays. Yes Hortense you will get an invite too , can't have the chief cook missing out now can we.Pity that lovely little film we saw on the weekend was so far from Cocolat, I fancied a spot of gelato, you did too? well I never, you should have said, lets go Tuesday eh?
Saturday the 26th; Oh there I am, no I didn't sleep a whole week and a bit in. I got really really busy and just lost all enthusiasm for anything much other than trying to stay sane. We have had the grandaughters for two weeks and also the next two as well. as their mid term hols start monday.Their mother had to fill in for someone at her office so they got dropped off in the morning, I drove them to school then picked them up and brought them home here after school.These are two delightful little girls,mostly, not really much trouble, sometimes, but it is rather wearing . One is so conscious of the fact that YOU are responsible, heck I am never resposible, but looking after some one elses brood is daunting. which is why I haven't felt like attacking the keyboard for anything other than few mails.
Getting back to the opening bit about daughter flying in for her class re-union. Her friends had , as she has, physically changed.They are all about 36+ and have varying jobs from running a school in New York/Chartered Accountant/International Banker/Engineer/Senior Political Journalist/Prosecutor et al including motherhood, so they are a well rounded lot. As personalities and individuals they have not changed a jot.We lived on the farm in those days and her friends loved coming up to there on weekends and holidays, apart from lots of school trips and assorted functions I ferried them around the city for years and got to know who they were really well.For the latter few years of her school life I also had the luxury of being retired, I had decided at 42 that I had enough to live well and my g(o)od lady person was well ensconced at her country Hospital so I finished my daily toil and took on being daughters taxi. In reality it wasn't that simple, as I came home from work one evening my wife looked at me and said "you look 62 not coming up 42, this job is killing you, we have enough, finish up", so I did.
But seeing those super kids grown up,some with families, some starting family, then to know that they were the same people in their hearts and minds after 20yrs, was something wonderful.
We bless the day that the decision was made to send her to that partyicular school, it wasn't always a bed of roses ( for us) but the end result was well worth the effort. The physical effort just getting to school was bad enough as it meant for her three hours on a bus each day, the money was easy come stuff, but the logistics of transport and then when she eventually went into senior school with odd lesson times ,trips into art galleries etc, shock horror . When she eventually came of age to get her driving license I actually breathed a sigh of relief, tempered with a hefty dose of anxiety when she failed her first test. She passed the next test easily,just nerves the initial one, afterward we were both on life support whenever she took her car out.
Yes Horty I do know you do most of the looking after the grandkids, and yes I am an irascible old bugger at times and get short with the youngest one.But fings is fings old girl and if she wants me to teach her to play the piano then she has to be taught the right way, which is my way, not hers.They are little sweethearts and yes I will take them to Cocolat in the holidays. Yes Hortense you will get an invite too , can't have the chief cook missing out now can we.Pity that lovely little film we saw on the weekend was so far from Cocolat, I fancied a spot of gelato, you did too? well I never, you should have said, lets go Tuesday eh?
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
ink marks on a blank page wednesday 2nd Sept
We have a commercial here in OZ that uses ,and don't hang any labels on one please, dozens of very attractive young Australians singing as a lovely choir a song that is at the very worst a lovely patriotic tearjerker and at best a great plug for multi-cultural Australia. They sing this ditty in some of the most breathtakingly beautiful spots we have and are all just the sweetest bunch of kids you could wish for. The thing starts with what looks to be about 75 of these kids in some absolutely remote wild location on a drop dead gorgeous day singing ,and the first words are" we are one , we are many, we are..we are Australian etc etc" This is actually an add for Qantas our national airline, you know the one Dustin Hoffman refers to in the movie 'rain man',damn fine movie that was too. I digress but really there are two points I would like to make, one is of course about multicultural OZ and the other is movies, of which I am a fan of (both actually). I do like film that ties itself to a particular genre, deep film noir is not my thing but films that I prefer have to have a solid base,one that is recognisable so that the viewer can immediately identify with the script.As in ,hello I'm watching a college sports jock(comedy) flick here so shall exit by the first door ,and quickly. In saying that I thought 'planes ,trains and automobiles' was one of the funniest(sad & predictable) films I have seen. As a young child growing up in a far country town I was much influenced by film.We ,our little gang of scruffy summer kids, would go to the saturday matinee and then on the way back would re-live the feature,scene by scene. There was always a fight as to who would be either the Phantom/Superman or Hopalong Cassidy, but the animosity only ever lasted minutes.
Can I then be forgiven in the way I go to a film then get into it so deep actually want that to be the way I live life, normally lasts 5 minutes only then reality sets in. Surely just a hangover from my years of matinees .That I never saw Forest Gump is possibly a good thing,dontcha know,'cos I really don't think life is a box of chocolates. Some of the movies that really did make an impression on me were,lost weekend/ rebel without a cause/the wild one/blackboard jungle/on the waterfront/streetcar named desire/to kill a mocking bird/ catch 22 (the book was better)/the road warrior/from here to eternity/pulp fiction/the thing/all star wars/lord of the rings/star trek(all)/blade runner/all the harry potter(they equal the books)giant/east of eden/drive he said/lantana/10 canoes/the tracker/ japanese story/priscilla/muriel's wedding/pride and prejudice/bridget jones/4 weddings/planes trains and automobilesnanny mcphee and possibly a 100 more.
The two movies I was in,the bit part on TV you can wipe off the face of the earth, that I have a copy of the 1st movie is only down to my wonderful wife who purloined one from 20th century fox (may she be forgiven), hired a cinema and invited family /friends in for my 60th, yes it was a complete surprise, for all I think. I do not resile from the fact that I loved it,was watching the movie again an earth shattering moment for me ,no it wasn't, re-l(o)iving the memory was though. The memory is what this about isn't it? we see a film that hits a chord that provokes a memory that brings an emotion that creates a link, so the chain goes on. We give that movie a mental tick for changing our lives for just an instant. Does that mean we want to change ourselves to fit the premise of the screen-play, no. If that were the case the first film I flagged, lost weekend (ray milland), might have stopped me becoming an alcoholic, it didn't ,and I did. That I thought about scenes from the movie at times , yes I did, so there must be a residual effect somewhere . I rode in a motorcycle gang like Brando, but I was riding with them before the movie, played in a rock and roll band too and I know that the reason I did that was because of movies, heck, band members got ALL the chicks. Did I want to be JAMES DEAN , oh surely so.
Yes Hortense I know that in being James Dean I failed miserably, try that I did though. We all danced to the tune at some time or other did we not Horty? One of the great rock and roll songs of ALL time came from the pen of Matt Taylor, he of the band Chain. it goes summat like this...1,2,3,...4 "I remember when I was young, the world had just begun..and I was Happy, I think about it ALL the time, h...e..y" Just Google that up on youtube Horty,that will take you back to the place we met, you surely do remember that smokey club, the Sunday night the handsome young james dean look alike fell off the stage into your life? I see a small blush there Hortense, I must be on the right path. Must say though you do take me to some odd films these days. Quentin Tarantino must have seen some very different film on his saturday matinees if Inglorious Basterds is a yardstick, we did enjoy it though, mostly. I myself pass on the gore.
Saturday, 22 August 2009
ink marks on a blank page Sat 22nd August
For us here in the Antipodes Spring, and all its renewables is just around the corner. August,for me, is always a profound month,details of which I shall not bore you with except to add that it concerns the 28th and 1972. As a result some Augusts become watersheds of agendas,the setting of , at times completions of. I'm talking about leap forwards, change, moving on and all that entails. That I do so at this time is not through some mystical force of habit but is in part due to how everything else is changing around me. This year I feel is going to be special,there is such an energy about, not just in my garden but in the park opposite and in Nature per se. I noted earlier this year that the parrots and lorikeets had outstanding colour in their coats . The year forward has borne that out , we have had good rains with the prospect of a nice folllow up lot to come. Looking out of the window at breakfast this morning,I saw a group of Adelaide Eastern Rosellas fly past to land in the large gums across the road,there to feed.Their coats were so brightly coloured in an almost luminescent green the morning sun glinted off them. My fruit trees out in back have got blossom on, the buzzy bees are even at this early hour are working hard.So, what do you think,let's go get 'em , aye....move on ,change, up and at life big time....just do it ! IT"S TIME The picture I post is from the front seat of my car as it barrells along the Calder Highway (Victoria) ,note the ice in the ditch to picture left,it was early morning and damn cold. Driving towards something new is always for me a metaphor for change, as this trip was, so shall it be done.
Done it has been.You might have guessed that the above was written some days ago, or perhaps it really doesn't matter as this write is for the here and now, this instant,forthwith etc etc. I once participated in a judgement where the presiding Judge made an order forthwith,lovely word that, resonates with not only a natural sound of deliberation but one of finality coupled with great purpose. Back to the object in hand, it is so that I as an individual have done some nice things,some good things,one or three really great things and some not so very nice things. Of the not so very nice that I speak about at this moment. Refer to November 1972, after the events of August of that year, I resolved that the not so very nice things should be expunged from the slate of the robbi life.That is all the folk that had been wronged at my hand would be contacted by all and any means, and properly apologised to, asked forgiveness for and/or if possible absolution. Over much time ,lots of effort, all the addresses,phone numbers etc etc were laid before me so I bent to the task. We aren't talking about hundreds here, there were to my memory about 15, no more than that. Really though 15 is enough isn't it?
Did my thing over about a week, two rang me as they had been rung by another ,saying not to worry I can't remember you anyway. But have a guess just how many did care or want to get me to say 'Mea Culpa' ? Right, you have it in one, not one person actually cared less. This of course had me in a quandry, did I matter so little that even my boorish ways went unnoticed, was I so insignificant that even peeing into Jane's tuba in a drunken stupor mattered naught? Was the night I spent locked in Christine's loo because I couldn't find my way out causing the rest of the guests to use the bushes outside whilst I slept in the bath oblivious, was that not a hanging offence? Perhaps not, it may be if course that these good folk saw the mirth in the situations described , chuckle mightily over the years , then turn them into amusing dinner anectdotes to amaze their collective A list friends. All that did leave me a trifle deflated, not dispirited mind, just a wee bit flat.( no pun intended). That this exercise is not repeated each August is down to the fact my long suffering Hortense keeps me from uttering a word about November 1972, a good thing as well. But in reality, I do miss the hair shirt a little.
The movie today was spot on wasn't it Horty old girl. You concur, well that is a turn- up for the books, normally you disgaree immediately. District9,odd title that but that really was the whole point wasn't it so Hortense, just referring obliquely to Apartheid actually. We grew up with that you see Horty, most of our younger readers would have no idea just how bad that time was. Nelson Mandela incarcerated in that dreadful prison, the man must be a saint the way he came out of there with so much dignity. Talking about saints Hortense, at Cocolat the lass who made our gelato today was a little humdinger wasn't she. Such large and generous scoops she gave, sublime wasn't it, of course I'm talking about the gelato Hortense, what else?
Done it has been.You might have guessed that the above was written some days ago, or perhaps it really doesn't matter as this write is for the here and now, this instant,forthwith etc etc. I once participated in a judgement where the presiding Judge made an order forthwith,lovely word that, resonates with not only a natural sound of deliberation but one of finality coupled with great purpose. Back to the object in hand, it is so that I as an individual have done some nice things,some good things,one or three really great things and some not so very nice things. Of the not so very nice that I speak about at this moment. Refer to November 1972, after the events of August of that year, I resolved that the not so very nice things should be expunged from the slate of the robbi life.That is all the folk that had been wronged at my hand would be contacted by all and any means, and properly apologised to, asked forgiveness for and/or if possible absolution. Over much time ,lots of effort, all the addresses,phone numbers etc etc were laid before me so I bent to the task. We aren't talking about hundreds here, there were to my memory about 15, no more than that. Really though 15 is enough isn't it?
Did my thing over about a week, two rang me as they had been rung by another ,saying not to worry I can't remember you anyway. But have a guess just how many did care or want to get me to say 'Mea Culpa' ? Right, you have it in one, not one person actually cared less. This of course had me in a quandry, did I matter so little that even my boorish ways went unnoticed, was I so insignificant that even peeing into Jane's tuba in a drunken stupor mattered naught? Was the night I spent locked in Christine's loo because I couldn't find my way out causing the rest of the guests to use the bushes outside whilst I slept in the bath oblivious, was that not a hanging offence? Perhaps not, it may be if course that these good folk saw the mirth in the situations described , chuckle mightily over the years , then turn them into amusing dinner anectdotes to amaze their collective A list friends. All that did leave me a trifle deflated, not dispirited mind, just a wee bit flat.( no pun intended). That this exercise is not repeated each August is down to the fact my long suffering Hortense keeps me from uttering a word about November 1972, a good thing as well. But in reality, I do miss the hair shirt a little.
The movie today was spot on wasn't it Horty old girl. You concur, well that is a turn- up for the books, normally you disgaree immediately. District9,odd title that but that really was the whole point wasn't it so Hortense, just referring obliquely to Apartheid actually. We grew up with that you see Horty, most of our younger readers would have no idea just how bad that time was. Nelson Mandela incarcerated in that dreadful prison, the man must be a saint the way he came out of there with so much dignity. Talking about saints Hortense, at Cocolat the lass who made our gelato today was a little humdinger wasn't she. Such large and generous scoops she gave, sublime wasn't it, of course I'm talking about the gelato Hortense, what else?
Sunday, 2 August 2009
ink marks on a blank page Sun 2nd Aug
I have been away visiting family in another state,no, I don't take a laptop with me to keep up with anything. Neither do I Twitter,sms, except in emergency, hate calling folk whenever and where-ever, so if I should go places then I go silently. Not that I decry anyone the use of those ,or in fact any, forms of communication, just prefer not to use them myself. We have an unwritten law in my house, no-one rings here after 9-30 ,unless of course www3 has erupted and I am to be called up to go back in the navy.Do they take white haired old curmudgeons?
Possibly wouldn't go anyway, I never did get on with Navy life, far to straight backed for my liking,more fond of chaos me. Some funny ,or rather odd things have befallen I lately.Went in for an eye check up, a regular thing for me, my consultant said that I needed some immediate laser surgery.So that threw me al ittle but like the trooper that I am did as he asked ,the rub was though it took another 6weeks to find out if the laser had done its trick . Mother and the priests always told me that it would send me blind, well not yet . Y'all know me well enough by now to remember that I don't hold much truck with holy orders, prefer to take a more realist view on life. Should some of you, even all of you out there in blogsphere, take the more fundementalist tack then good for you, a belief system is fine it is just that I know why a jumbo can fly. The good folk at Boeing made it so, that's why.
My physical presence at the time of this epiphany was in a Catholic private school and at the time of the 'bolt from the blue' I was possibly about 10. We used to have a mass on friday morning and the bishop used to make a special effort to give us a rousing harange or three.
My normal thing was then,still is, to sit at the very front of any lecture, this day was no different. I think that I had worked out at a very early age that when sitting right in the front row you only ever got noticed once,answer corectly and sit quietly then for the rest of the time ,nobody bothers with you.
There I was,sort of awake but not, father was in full flight,when all of a sudden he straightened, raised both arms high in the air, the Lord will save the sinners he shouted.With this I woke with a start and there in front of me was fathers un-polished dirty street shoes and two missmatched socks. Shocked, I stood bolt upright and in full reedy ten year old voice cried out"Jesus wears dirty shoes and wrong socks" Naturally at this point the whole church, shocked by fathers stentorian voice fell deathly quiet so my piping little tinkle was heard all over,possibly into the street beyond. You might wonder at why I said that this was my epiphany, my fall from grace if you will. Think on this,for as a student in a Catholic school the priests and nuns were the living embodiment of Him, to us mere little pip-squeaky students anyway.To see father wearing dirty shoes and wrong socks was a revelation, he WAS human, just like Mr.Easterly the old drunky man who always wore wrong socks and whose shoes were never clean,God was only human y'see. Oh what a downward spiral from there folks, but yes it was, fun too I might add.
What did Billy Joel say,"Id rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints"
Please Hortense don't be like that,of course the good folk wont think I have horns or anything like that. Blog persons are well read intelligent people who have a balanced view on life. You don't think our leaders are like that Horty? you think that they are clutzes of the first order who should know better because we pay them heaps and give them lots of time at home.COuld be true old girl, this lot federally are not much good are they?Can you list one actual thing that they have done right since coming into power,all falls over doesn't it. The schools fiasco,broadband/building houses for the remote aborigines/ all students to have a pc/the health system , darn the list is not only endless, it's hopeless. You read the each house they are to build in remote areas for aborigines will cost $750k, that might be the reason they haven't built one yet. Not bad for a promise that no aboriginal family would be homeless by the end of 2009, there are about 3000 families need housing immediately too, work that out at $750k a house. Got an apology too Hortense, no Cocolat this week m'dear, got to take the car in for the 15k service and housework needs doing, next week then okay.
Possibly wouldn't go anyway, I never did get on with Navy life, far to straight backed for my liking,more fond of chaos me. Some funny ,or rather odd things have befallen I lately.Went in for an eye check up, a regular thing for me, my consultant said that I needed some immediate laser surgery.So that threw me al ittle but like the trooper that I am did as he asked ,the rub was though it took another 6weeks to find out if the laser had done its trick . Mother and the priests always told me that it would send me blind, well not yet . Y'all know me well enough by now to remember that I don't hold much truck with holy orders, prefer to take a more realist view on life. Should some of you, even all of you out there in blogsphere, take the more fundementalist tack then good for you, a belief system is fine it is just that I know why a jumbo can fly. The good folk at Boeing made it so, that's why.
My physical presence at the time of this epiphany was in a Catholic private school and at the time of the 'bolt from the blue' I was possibly about 10. We used to have a mass on friday morning and the bishop used to make a special effort to give us a rousing harange or three.
My normal thing was then,still is, to sit at the very front of any lecture, this day was no different. I think that I had worked out at a very early age that when sitting right in the front row you only ever got noticed once,answer corectly and sit quietly then for the rest of the time ,nobody bothers with you.
There I was,sort of awake but not, father was in full flight,when all of a sudden he straightened, raised both arms high in the air, the Lord will save the sinners he shouted.With this I woke with a start and there in front of me was fathers un-polished dirty street shoes and two missmatched socks. Shocked, I stood bolt upright and in full reedy ten year old voice cried out"Jesus wears dirty shoes and wrong socks" Naturally at this point the whole church, shocked by fathers stentorian voice fell deathly quiet so my piping little tinkle was heard all over,possibly into the street beyond. You might wonder at why I said that this was my epiphany, my fall from grace if you will. Think on this,for as a student in a Catholic school the priests and nuns were the living embodiment of Him, to us mere little pip-squeaky students anyway.To see father wearing dirty shoes and wrong socks was a revelation, he WAS human, just like Mr.Easterly the old drunky man who always wore wrong socks and whose shoes were never clean,God was only human y'see. Oh what a downward spiral from there folks, but yes it was, fun too I might add.
What did Billy Joel say,"Id rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints"
Please Hortense don't be like that,of course the good folk wont think I have horns or anything like that. Blog persons are well read intelligent people who have a balanced view on life. You don't think our leaders are like that Horty? you think that they are clutzes of the first order who should know better because we pay them heaps and give them lots of time at home.COuld be true old girl, this lot federally are not much good are they?Can you list one actual thing that they have done right since coming into power,all falls over doesn't it. The schools fiasco,broadband/building houses for the remote aborigines/ all students to have a pc/the health system , darn the list is not only endless, it's hopeless. You read the each house they are to build in remote areas for aborigines will cost $750k, that might be the reason they haven't built one yet. Not bad for a promise that no aboriginal family would be homeless by the end of 2009, there are about 3000 families need housing immediately too, work that out at $750k a house. Got an apology too Hortense, no Cocolat this week m'dear, got to take the car in for the 15k service and housework needs doing, next week then okay.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
ink marks on a blank page Thurs 9th July
Odd little things move me, snatches of song, a different bird darting in an out of a bush or flower, something someone or a child says...I stop , if I can, and try to fix that point of time in my mind.Then in a quiet moment, a reflect on the day time, reclaim that 'thing' from my recent past. I am particularly fond of Leonard Cohen(songs) for that, though one can hardly call them songs as he really doesn't sing as in speak with a golden voice.. They are for the most part histories that are linked with music and written in a poetic form. Music that forms the base of my listening though is classical, but anything that is played well and if it has words,the words will have to mean something profound .
Here in OZ there are lots of fine musos who can write good lyrics and great melodies that compliment the lyric. Many years ago I knew a young fellow,Doug Ashdown ,who wrote many wonderful songs and then at the height of his acclaim here went off to America and wrote a song called 'Winter in America'. Youtube it, as it still gets lots of plays and was a major No 1hit for Doug 30years ago. Whenever I play that song I see Doug on the back of his brothers Triumph motorcycle riding up to the Koffee Cup in Glenelg and then the brain clicks back to that part of life. Coming out of the clock radio tuesday morning as I got up was a song by a local group(melbourne) Little Heroes, called 'One Perfect Day'. Oh but I got some memory mileage out of that. We all have songs which will strike a bell in our collective memory stream, they have words which resonate and glue certain happenings into place, good or bad.Such was 'One Perfect Day', and it was in the throes of all that introspection that found me staring at the still water in my sweet spot on the river, that of the bend where the water rat has its domicile.
Looking at the reflections took me back to my childhood when on Remembrance day we would gather at the War Memorial and listen to the Dawn service. Pretty bog standard issue Memorial this was with a large cross, marble statues of warlike angels and in front a large still pool in which all was reflected. That's the key isn't it? a large pool in which everything was reflected.As a child I wondered why there was a pool there ,never asked my elders mind, perhaps I thought it was just such a straightforward unecessary question, one of those things that even a small boy should know without even asking. Must have been about my 3rd or 4th Dawn service when I was standing there wondering why we were there when I saw reflected in the pool a large bird flying overhead, an eagle or something similar.Reflected in the pool it flew the length of the still water then all of a sudden I knew why there was a pool there, basically as well I also figured out why we were there too.
So I stand at the bend in the river most morns, not if it is raining of course,I might be different but I do know to come in out of the rain, gazing at the reflections of life as it unfolds in Paradise. Y'see I can watch the goings on in the trees opposite,reflected so clearly in the River Torrens. Gaze undisturbed at the parrots ,lorikeets and magpies flying in and out of the crowns of the trees on the other bank.Squabbling,shrieking ,hooting at each other whilst all the time trying to get in their daily rations. Perhaps that is how my bird calling man started his calling,the walking up and down furiously waving arms and hooting might just have been a reflection of what he saw there too.Notice I said have been, a semantic reference to the fact I haven't seen him for ten days, most unusual,most disturbing. Shame that you, the viewers, can't see what I see in my living camera obscura, life unfolding undisturbed on a daily basis.Should you be like me ,rise early,move about doing your thing in the house then go out walking you see and hear different birds ,creatures doing their collective thing at different but similar times each day.
The earliest risers here are the noisy miners, then the magpies/ducks/ibis followed by moorhens/cooters/lorikeets -grass parrots . The honey eaters arrive about 9 or later depending on the warmth of the day. The din that these birds make is wonderful,no wonder that St.Saens composed his'carnival of the Animals'.
So that is the start of the robbi day, a reflection on what has passed and passes overhead. Hortense worries that I do a little more reflecting than I should, perhaps, but I love my life and to reflect back on even the bad bits is cathartic and food for my meagre soul.
Here in OZ there are lots of fine musos who can write good lyrics and great melodies that compliment the lyric. Many years ago I knew a young fellow,Doug Ashdown ,who wrote many wonderful songs and then at the height of his acclaim here went off to America and wrote a song called 'Winter in America'. Youtube it, as it still gets lots of plays and was a major No 1hit for Doug 30years ago. Whenever I play that song I see Doug on the back of his brothers Triumph motorcycle riding up to the Koffee Cup in Glenelg and then the brain clicks back to that part of life. Coming out of the clock radio tuesday morning as I got up was a song by a local group(melbourne) Little Heroes, called 'One Perfect Day'. Oh but I got some memory mileage out of that. We all have songs which will strike a bell in our collective memory stream, they have words which resonate and glue certain happenings into place, good or bad.Such was 'One Perfect Day', and it was in the throes of all that introspection that found me staring at the still water in my sweet spot on the river, that of the bend where the water rat has its domicile.
Looking at the reflections took me back to my childhood when on Remembrance day we would gather at the War Memorial and listen to the Dawn service. Pretty bog standard issue Memorial this was with a large cross, marble statues of warlike angels and in front a large still pool in which all was reflected. That's the key isn't it? a large pool in which everything was reflected.As a child I wondered why there was a pool there ,never asked my elders mind, perhaps I thought it was just such a straightforward unecessary question, one of those things that even a small boy should know without even asking. Must have been about my 3rd or 4th Dawn service when I was standing there wondering why we were there when I saw reflected in the pool a large bird flying overhead, an eagle or something similar.Reflected in the pool it flew the length of the still water then all of a sudden I knew why there was a pool there, basically as well I also figured out why we were there too.
So I stand at the bend in the river most morns, not if it is raining of course,I might be different but I do know to come in out of the rain, gazing at the reflections of life as it unfolds in Paradise. Y'see I can watch the goings on in the trees opposite,reflected so clearly in the River Torrens. Gaze undisturbed at the parrots ,lorikeets and magpies flying in and out of the crowns of the trees on the other bank.Squabbling,shrieking ,hooting at each other whilst all the time trying to get in their daily rations. Perhaps that is how my bird calling man started his calling,the walking up and down furiously waving arms and hooting might just have been a reflection of what he saw there too.Notice I said have been, a semantic reference to the fact I haven't seen him for ten days, most unusual,most disturbing. Shame that you, the viewers, can't see what I see in my living camera obscura, life unfolding undisturbed on a daily basis.Should you be like me ,rise early,move about doing your thing in the house then go out walking you see and hear different birds ,creatures doing their collective thing at different but similar times each day.
The earliest risers here are the noisy miners, then the magpies/ducks/ibis followed by moorhens/cooters/lorikeets -grass parrots . The honey eaters arrive about 9 or later depending on the warmth of the day. The din that these birds make is wonderful,no wonder that St.Saens composed his'carnival of the Animals'.
So that is the start of the robbi day, a reflection on what has passed and passes overhead. Hortense worries that I do a little more reflecting than I should, perhaps, but I love my life and to reflect back on even the bad bits is cathartic and food for my meagre soul.
Monday, 6 July 2009
ink marks on a blank page Mon 6th July
Each morning ,rain or shine , I trundle out of the house just on dawn and go for a walk along a pathway that winds around the banks of a little river . This is not a iver in the majestic sense of the term but a wee small thing that is more a creek than river, although we like to adopt a position of grandeur and call it river. Mostly I take my camera and push said machine into the face of any of the wild things that inhabit the water way.Often I have managed to photograph some once in a lifetime pics, once a pair of Kingfishers fighting in mid air, the water rat going about its business, one that lives on my favourite bend in the river. A woodduck flew up in front of me, kept flying straight towards me at head height, I managed to get the camera up and fire off a few shots as it got close. Then there have been numerous times that I have seen rare birds scurrying about in the reeds and also times when I have seen where an Echidna has been.
Lots and lots of different trees that have bent and twisted into weird shapes, many beautiful parrots and my great mates the magpies. Crows are another favourite too, as when I lived way up in the desert country the only sound you could hear sometimes , apart from your own and the horses breath was the cawing of crows.They became good travelling companions even though clad as they are in funereal garb and are hurtful cruel creatures , when there is nobody else we cling to any companion do we not.
But my main exercise lately has been to look at trees, and just in this one stretch of our park where I walk there are at least thirty species. There are some that are indigenous to the area, others that are native but from other states but grow and prosper here, and there are those that are from other countries. One such is the pepper tree, not a genuine pepper of course but an exotic lovely tree all the same. A native of South America and Mexico actually and not at all indigenous to OZ although many grow here, and very well too. So much so they are regarded as a pest and a noxious weed . Go to any country town in OZ and you will find the pepper tree planted everywhere. There are quite a number in our park here, possibly some that were planted by the river as the early farms got established along the way, others of course sprouted from seeds ingested by birds. Many country butchers used the larger offcuts to make chopping blocks for quartering up their meat, they were much prized for that purpose in the dryer country towns.Relatively slow growing they do however have a long life and even though they are not native I personally have a very fond attachment to them. My first true love and I had a tree house in a massive big pepper tree that had a leaf spread that was all of forty feet across and so dense with branches that wept,drooped, down to the ground. I wrote a poem about her last year as she still figures in my thoughts after more than 50 years.The older trees grow galls on their trunks that we used to see 'things' in, then we would carve the gall to fit the image we could see, I shall try and do the same to the one pictured as I think that there is the hint of a baboon there on that large gall on the left (midway up). Perhaps one needs to be either a child or regressing toward that state to see it.Forgive me an indulgence, as I re-read this I thought once more about my pepper tree love, so will post the poem(again) although it concerns not pepper trees but a tidal creek and a very warm and languid Autumn afternoon (and I am overcome with the emotion of remembrance),but it is about love ( of which I am most fond).
oh shirley
pirouette of my childhood
redgold autumn hair glinting in dusty sun,
you laughed and teased
spun dreams with indelible lies,
and bade me love you
for I did
warm memories of forever summers
and hidden fumbles
etched your heart on my soul,
as the days spread open you blithely danced your schemes
whilst I segued my way through each tangled web ,
then waited in weary eagerness for night and sleep,
just another passage to the doorway of your history becoming my dreams
we watched the autumn dragonflies
as they flew joined in loves grace together ,
kissing still green water then once ,
you said we could do that
as all innocents have and will, we did
perhaps it was then ;
when the taste of your saltiness awakened lust
I knew that this was where life began
the child had left ,
we had lost the icon of youth,
summer magic became just a fleeting season
the days were simply numbered hours ,
sleep reclaimed the night
age overcame the reason
Lots and lots of different trees that have bent and twisted into weird shapes, many beautiful parrots and my great mates the magpies. Crows are another favourite too, as when I lived way up in the desert country the only sound you could hear sometimes , apart from your own and the horses breath was the cawing of crows.They became good travelling companions even though clad as they are in funereal garb and are hurtful cruel creatures , when there is nobody else we cling to any companion do we not.
But my main exercise lately has been to look at trees, and just in this one stretch of our park where I walk there are at least thirty species. There are some that are indigenous to the area, others that are native but from other states but grow and prosper here, and there are those that are from other countries. One such is the pepper tree, not a genuine pepper of course but an exotic lovely tree all the same. A native of South America and Mexico actually and not at all indigenous to OZ although many grow here, and very well too. So much so they are regarded as a pest and a noxious weed . Go to any country town in OZ and you will find the pepper tree planted everywhere. There are quite a number in our park here, possibly some that were planted by the river as the early farms got established along the way, others of course sprouted from seeds ingested by birds. Many country butchers used the larger offcuts to make chopping blocks for quartering up their meat, they were much prized for that purpose in the dryer country towns.Relatively slow growing they do however have a long life and even though they are not native I personally have a very fond attachment to them. My first true love and I had a tree house in a massive big pepper tree that had a leaf spread that was all of forty feet across and so dense with branches that wept,drooped, down to the ground. I wrote a poem about her last year as she still figures in my thoughts after more than 50 years.The older trees grow galls on their trunks that we used to see 'things' in, then we would carve the gall to fit the image we could see, I shall try and do the same to the one pictured as I think that there is the hint of a baboon there on that large gall on the left (midway up). Perhaps one needs to be either a child or regressing toward that state to see it.Forgive me an indulgence, as I re-read this I thought once more about my pepper tree love, so will post the poem(again) although it concerns not pepper trees but a tidal creek and a very warm and languid Autumn afternoon (and I am overcome with the emotion of remembrance),but it is about love ( of which I am most fond).
oh shirley
pirouette of my childhood
redgold autumn hair glinting in dusty sun,
you laughed and teased
spun dreams with indelible lies,
and bade me love you
for I did
warm memories of forever summers
and hidden fumbles
etched your heart on my soul,
as the days spread open you blithely danced your schemes
whilst I segued my way through each tangled web ,
then waited in weary eagerness for night and sleep,
just another passage to the doorway of your history becoming my dreams
we watched the autumn dragonflies
as they flew joined in loves grace together ,
kissing still green water then once ,
you said we could do that
as all innocents have and will, we did
perhaps it was then ;
when the taste of your saltiness awakened lust
I knew that this was where life began
the child had left ,
we had lost the icon of youth,
summer magic became just a fleeting season
the days were simply numbered hours ,
sleep reclaimed the night
age overcame the reason
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