Christmas bonus

Well, we have no worries about the world financial crisis.
Our Prime Minister has solved the problem for Australians by giving pensioners, new home-buyers, and carers, lovely cash Chrissy presents - all all to save us from national financial doom. He's also guaranteed all of Australia's bank accounts, so businesses large and small, and the rest of us, can resume lending and spending.

I'm not really treating this generosity lightly. In fact, I think our PM has made the best and probably the only move that was available. All the experts have been telling us Australia had such financial stability that we could weather the storm better than almost any other country. The experts were probably right, but their assurances didn't carry much weight against constant tales of impending World doom on TV, and headlining our papers every day.

It's clear that the best way to financial security is to have "money in the bank", and we are lucky Prime Minister Rudd had a large a surplus from which to draw.
It's a bit tough on the politicians from our former government, who raised most of the money, and set up what they called "future fund".
But it's going to be great to see our country back in business!

How dreams dissolve

Have you seen the "mansions" so many young couples are building/buying in the suburbs these days? Of course you have - 4 or more bedrooms, two or three floored Greco-Roman castles They're mostly bought through once-generous loans, with repayments originally considered affordable, by up-and-comers who just had to have everything all at once.
These are the people who need our sympathy now we're starting to feel the effects of the US financial crisis.
We can hope that the Reserve Bank and the retail banks here are flexible enough to give our PM's "Working Families" proper consideration, and that the many hard-selling loan company sales executives remember their share of blame for the problems.
Former Australian Foreign Minister Alexander Downer, now looking quite good as newspaper commentator, tells us we're better governed, financially, than those in the US. He believes our political system, in which the people for whom we voted bear executive responsibility, serves us more fairly, too.
Coincidentally, I was shocked to see how devastating are the problems of the mortgage-belt homeowners in one Californian suburb. A 10 minute movie (from a link in Monday's Crikey.com.au web site showed newish suburban streets with more than half their homes empty and bank-owned. Contract teams were emptying furniture and personal items from up to 15 homes per day, where former "owners" had typically walked out with just what they could carry.
We should all hope Australia never gets like this!
But it's hard to feel sorry for those who gambled unwisely with other people's money in the share trading industry. there's plenty of room for improvement here.

Fruity flootling!

.

 

I can blow a full octave of notes from a 2/3 full beer stubby, and that's a skill I reckon is OK, even though neither my wife nor any of my friends are impressed.
I can generate a reasonable tune on a harmonica too, and I've played around with piano since I was a kid.
In fact, I've loved music as long as I can remember, and admit to youthful dreams of making a career of it. Had I had the determination to study and practise, and half the talent I once thought I had, then I might well have made some sort of a mark with it.
But the enthusiasm remains, and our small home contains a piano, a sophisticated and computer-friendly electronic keyboard, two chromatic harmonicas, a tin whistle, and a flute!
Aren't I lucky that my dear wife is a musician too, and much more "proper at playing it" than I (which means she really reads the music, and "never" improvises)?
What I really meant to say at the start of this posting was that my impulsive purchase of a flute, while caravaning nearly four years ago, has changed my life.
I thought playing a flute would be easy. I could, after all, get a tune out of almost any instrument. After all, a flute's just a metal tube with hole in it - not unlike my (unpopular) tin whistle, I thought.
By dint of annoying caravaners over a wide swathe of Eastern Australia I did manage to force a shrieking sort of an occasional tune out of the thing, though I wonder, sometimes, at my wife's forbearance. After a year I was able to take six lessons, during a six week rest in Adelaide, and learned a little bit more.
Since then, and since settling down, my flute has become a near constant companion at home. Can I play a reasonable tune on it now? - Yes, if you're not too fussy.
But there's a long, long way to go.
I'm getting better at remembering the fingering for the really high notes (second and third register to us flutists). I'm can play the high notes cleanly and softly, most of the time - except when I'm really trying and thus tend to hold my lips wrong, or blow too hard, or run out of breath.
I recorded myself playing a favourite tune yesterday, hoping for a pleasing mark of progress. But I discovered that listening from the blowing-end is quite different to hearing what others might hear. So I've put the microphone away, for now.
Am I frustrated? Yes. It seems that every step taken leads to another set of stairs, and I wonder if I'm going to live long enough to play well enough to satisfy myself.
But I think I love my flute. It seems to follow me around the house, so I can play to a good tune on the radio, or add my bit to my wife's piano practice, or so I can just make a quick go at going from register 1 to 2, or even 3, without even one of those damned "squawks."
I think I'm obsessed!
(Picture: Two grandsons trying to help)

See left for pics

Wife and I spent a few days exploring S.A.'s Yorke Peninsular, a few weeks ago. We thought we'd get the trip done while the grass and the crops were still green, and it's as well that we did because we're well into the early hot spells and gales that accompany Spring here.
Anyway, if you look to the left of your screen (below the old grey-top bloke's head shot)you'll see the mini movie show that covers the trip. Just double click on the pic. and you get to my photo library.

It wasn't me!

It wasn't me, defying the Southern Ocean surf, a couple of weeks ago. I've always believed that water is good for being "on" rather than "in".
This young man was a picture of grace and composure for my fist pic, and made a big splash as his flight (below) ended.

(I really do wish I had a longer telephoto lens.)

Travel season

We used to be travel addicts. For a fairly recent six years or so we mostly lived in a caravan or, to be truthful, four of them. . . . and there's quite a story there, for later.
Having had a short visit to the US, and one even shorter to Canada, and having visited New Zealand a few times, we'd decided that there was plenty we'd not seen around Oz.
Well, it was a great life. It gave us a list of memories longer than our collective arms, and a bank of pictures that parade across a 20" screen whenever its PC is otherwise idle.
But home's a place now, rather than a box on wheels, and we're pretty much settled, for "the duration", as they say.
For three lots of our friends, however, travel's still the thing. Two couples are making their way home as I type this, having covered a "fair whack" of Europe. the third pair, just home, spent three months covering  the breadth of Australia and return -enjoying tropic sun as we in the South shivered.
But we two have not been idle. There's plenty to see within a few hundred kilometers of home (Adelaide)and it's quite amazing, having lived in this state for most of our lives, how many interesting places we've yet to visit.

My extra year

I had a birthday last week, and now I'm officially 73 years resident of this earth.
Now it's highly likely that news isn't very interesting to you, but it was to me! I, you see, had been led to believe by my wife (whose job it is to know such things) that I had already been 73 for all of the previous year.
Therefore, I suppose I've had a virtual extra year in my life. "Now ain't that something!"
I'm planning a very busy year ahead, but I wouldn't place any bets.
This, I admit, hasn't been an earthshaking post - especially three weeks after the last.
But now I know I'm not as old as I might have been I promise I'll try a bit harder in the next day or so.

I'm back

I thought I'd tired of this blog, early last month.
It's all very well writing something every other day, just to prove one can still do the job, but it all gets a bit daunting to think that you're doing the thinking and typing and correcting stuff for an audience of just one or (perhaps) two. And let me hasten to add that I appreciate the response of my fellow, and fine writer, friend Jack, from over the waves.
My conscience tells me I've over-full of conceit. Did Shelley compose poetry aiming for mass response, or just for personal satisfaction? How about Shakespeare and his "deathless" prose, Mark Twain, or Charles Dickens?
Well, I'm sorry, conscience, but I'm confident they all, and most of their successors, expected loads of praise, at least, if not financial reward.
Not that I, of course, am really anywhere that ambitious (or deluded, as my wife would say, if asked). My days of writing for payment, or in the hope of changing history (local and rural) are long past, and "good riddance" I say, as I head for my dotage.
But I can't help remembering the complaint of a much neglected king, in a chilren's poem by (@) Mr A. A. Milne . . . . "Is there not just a little butter for the Royal slice of bread?
And so, of you happen to be visiting this site for the first time, please read on - find your way back to the beginning if you wish. Feel welcome, and I'd appreciate your comments.
(@) If you were raised without benefit of Milne's charming poems and tales, then you've been sadly deprived. Look him up, or "Christopher Robin"

A winner lost

I was part of a great idea, one night about 15 years ago. It was my "big chance for fame and fortune! "
I was on an anchored offshore yacht that evening, well launched into a bottle of fine red wine with a long term yachtie mate.
"What do you think of this for an idea?" I asked. I reckoned that my proposed remodelled gadget should be a big seller, and my friend (a former engineer) agreed. It would need to be properly designed, tested, promoted and financed, but "If we do it right we'll both make a fortune. We'll sell them all over the world!" he said.
So we finished that bottle and made good headway into a celebratory next, before acknowledging that a day's sailing makes you quite weary. . . .
A couple of months later I remembered that invention, asked my mate and he remembered it too.
Trouble was that he just couldn't remember just what that gadget was, or what it was for. And, to this day, I can't remember either.
That was a frustrating end to a short-lived dream, and I still test my memory of it during moments awake at night. I'm sure, too, that the yachties of the world are missing a gadget that would have changed their sport for the better.
Never mind, though - this (true) tale is just one of many great memories of a recreational obsession that lasted about 30 years.

The great leap

When I started work (at 16) in our rural newspaper we used typewriters to feed the news to the operators of machines which molded metal slugs to carry the raised type, or to tradesmen who composed the letters - one by one - from a partitioned tray, so ink and paper could be impressed to produce the printed sheet. It was a process not really very far advanced over a 100 or so years.

By the time I finally left that business, 27 years later, typewriters and rest of the type composing machines were (for some of us) fond memories. Our "deathless prose" went straight into computers, the mass of text was edited and arranged in computers, before manual transfer to a thin metal plate for the printing machine. The tradesmen, by and large, have disappeared, in favor of well trained typists and computer technicians.

In radio, tape recorders are gone, and music and speech are stored, scheduled, and output for broadcast by computers. Television "personalities" emote to video cameras now, with film just a memory.

Think of trade or a profession, and its near certain its been revolutionised within your and my lifetime.

Yet the pace of the advance is still accelerating, noticeably faster from year to year. It has to, to keep up with the growth of population and demand and (unfortunately) to fund the armies of the world.

With a bit of luck the next generation will learn to banish warfare, feed the poor, overcome global warming and, maybe, save the River Murray.

Perhaps they'll be able to bring me back in a 100 years or so - just for a quick look?

Wonderful journey

Mars landing

A man-made machine landed on the planet Mars safely this week, after a 711 million kilometre journey from Earth. Pictures it has taken have already been seen on the internet, and the robotic space traveller is already digging into the red planet to test for the possibility of past or future life there.

What a wonderful journey this has been.

I can accept there has been plenty of time for a steady progression of skills to allow NASA to make the rocket systems, and the "mechanics" of interplanetary journeys (relatively) reliable, but it's the mathematics of the trip that excites me . . . all those millions of kilometres on a roundabout course and landing "just where X marked the spot!"

The pity is that so many will be so little impressed with this latest demonstration of Man's vision and determination. These days, the value of science is increasingly under-rated (here in Australia at least)and that's a shame.

As for me - I just hope I'll still be around when they land a man (or woman) on Mars and I'll be able to cheer again for people "using the brains they was borned with!"

And also: Please note that Australia's Tidbidbilla telescope people were, as usual, a vital part of this last great expedition.

Positivity

We had a bit over two inches of rain, here, a week or so ago!

Now we've had four or five days of perfect (if you ignore the chilly nights), wind-less, sunny days and, with the farm season nicely opened and household gardens well and truly watered, locals are starting to broaden their conversations to things other than "that bloody drought".

The dams around Adelaide are still near empty, the household water (pumped from the river) is way too salty, and the irrigators can no longer irrigate. But two inches is a start - and the forecast is for more rain tomorrow. You'd be amazed how just a little bit of rain can raise morale.

"There's nothing like a sunny disposition to wipe away the clouds!" That's what my Grandma used to intone whenever she found me sulking, and I suppose she had the right idea. So I'm going to be cheerful now. I'll "look on the bright side" as I "count my blessings." I'm going to have a positive attitude about the future, too.

But I'm not going to hide from the facts of life. The more of us who recognise the problems around us, the more chance we have of organising change for the better.

Even oldies like me have the right to a grumble, every now and then.

Anyway, I'm about to watch my team (Australian Rules football) go for its fifth weekly victory in a row. I'm feeling very positive. Grandma would be pleased.

We should worry!

I used to be an optimist, but that confidence is wearing thin.

When I was a youngster, pleased with life as it was then, I was sure that advances in science would make our world wonderfully happy by the time I was "old". Now, I admit to growing disappointment over the "state of almost everything, almost everywhere!"

That's casting the net a bit wide, perhaps, but any readers in Hindustan, Khazakastan, Burma and a hundred or so other places should "wear it" if the cap fits.

Here in Oz, over the past three generations, we've near-enough killed our major river system. simply through lack of care, and bad judgement in electing our politicians.

Successive governments have allowed irrigators and selfish state administrators to plunder the Murray River system to the stage where many farm communities are facing ruin within months.

Our new leaders say they recognise the problem as urgent and they're "taking steps to fix it", but that they don't expect major change within 10 years - by which time it will be at least eight years too late.

If we don't die of thirst, then we'd better soon start buying horses and carts for transport, seeing we're paying $1.60 per litre for petrol now, with $2 forecast before the end of the year and with diesel costing 25pc more.
Our petrol price is set according to the Singapore rate, no matter than most of our oil comes from Australia's Bass Strait. Of course Federal and State governments reap billions of dollars from excise, and we can't expect them to sacrifice any of that to keep their voters in business, can we?

In the meantime we're still helping the US in its efforts to "install democracy overseas" at the point of a gun (and I know the situation's more complicated than that, but the point stands.

We've had a growing health crisis here for years. Hospitals, through maladministration and inadequate financing, have had their waiting lists grow steadily. Only the private health insurance schemes (part government funded) have kept the system going. But now, our Federal leaders have changed a subsidy system, meaning more pressure on public hospitals and higher fees from the insurers.

All this and we have cities burdened with failing utilities, largely because State governments have cut maintenance in things like water and power services, so they can use the profits elsewhere.

And, through all of this rapidly developing crisis, our new Treasurer boasts about the record national budget surplus, as interest rates rise, jobs are lost and national morale droops.

Why, for the nation's sake, can't they spent the surplus (our money) to solve at least some of the problems?"

It is true, I believe, that we get the quality of government we deserve.
Our generation, through lack of interest and through laziness, looks to leave a disappointing legacy.

I wonder how I'd have gone in government?

Going "bush" for Mother

We went bush for Mothers' Day, today - an afternoon spent with our daughters' children and their "parents-in-law", plus Dave (the husband of one of the aforesaid daughters of the parents-in-law).

Now, if you've sorted that out, take another peek at the nice little creek above - your typical SA country stream. typical reflections and gum trees, just an idylic bit of Oz.

It won't, theoretically, be there in a couple of months. It'll be five stories under the surface of a reservoir, designed to serve the expanding northern suburbs of Adelaide, and so we continue to reshape our country.

Never mind though, I can't think of a satisfactory alternative to this storage, that will suddenly appear at the foot of Dave's property. All we need is a decent bit of rain to fill the dam(n) thing, and there isn't much prospect of that, so the weathermen say!

Anyway, we had a lovely time, four mothers were suitably impressed with cards, flowers and (from the children) suitably slobbery kisses.
And the youngsters had a lovely, dirty time in and around the creek on this benign Autumn day.

In the thrall of Krall

My best friend told me about Diana Krall, about a year ago. "She's Canadian, a blond, she plays jazz piano like she invented it, and sings like an angel. Go get the CD" he said.
So I bought her new CD, and then a video of her in concert, in Paris. I'm playing it now, and it's hard to concentrate on typing.
So that's a tip for you, if you like music in general and good jazz in particular.
I hope you gain as much pleasure from music as do I. I like listening to almost all kinds of music, from classics to jazz, with the exceptions of "rap". Our house is seldom without a tune, and our CD collection covers a broad spectrum.
I dream, sometimes, that my sight has gone, along with my hearing. What an awful world that must be, with nothing much to do except think!
Not that I'm really worrying. As well as our sound system, our household goods include an electronic piano, a portable keyboard, a flute, two harmonicas and a tin whistle.
Neither of us are much more than enthusiastic amateurs, but we have a lot of fun trying!
But now, with Ms Krall in full flight, I'm off to watch, as well as listen.

Zoos - Mixed feelings

We took our 5-year-old grand-daughter to the local zoo a couple of days ago, and it rained. It was OK for the flamingo, of course, because he was in a shelter.
Any zoo is a wonderful mine of information, source of knowledge and entertainer of children.
During two hours of scattered 5-minute downpours we saw birds a-plenty, mongooses (mongeese?), lots of apes, a black bear, tiger and a couple of sea lions. It was good that we saw kangaroos, wallabies, emus and a wombat - all of which prove that even the animals are a bit different in Oz.
It's good that the zoo people in Adelaide have been able to provide roomy "real life-like" settings for most of their bigger exhibits, and the general setting there is vastly better than when I visited as child.
But the bear, while we were there, trod a constant, well-worn path into his den and back to one point a few metres out. Not much fun for him.
The tiger, in a spacious setting of realistic "jungle", paced steadfastly up and back along the back fence.
Then there were the two sea lions, swimming interminable circuits of a circular pool that looked about half a metre deep and about 10 metres across - This for animals built to range widely, designed for speed and agility.
Now, I might have the wrong idea. It could be that these big animals were not stressed, or bored, or at all unhappy. It could have been near feeding time, with them demonstrating the stress we all tend to show when we "just can't wait" for a good feed.
I know that good zoos (and ours is one) are considered vital for the preservation of many species, as well as good at entertaining and educating we humans. I know that great efforts are made to keep the animals fit and happy.
But I can't help wondering how we'd feel if kidnapped by an interplanetary visitor and exhibited in his zoo.

Time to rest, again

I seem to spend a lot of time sleeping these days. I seem to spend a heck of a lot of time, too, just resting.
I think this blog must be the cause. After all, it takes a lot of time to decide on a subject, to mull the idea over, and then to remember it a day or so later. Even typing seems more tiring. For years, by the way, I've complained that computer keyboards aren't as good as typewriters but, when I tried one of those a week or so ago I discovered that it couldn't spell either!
My wife reminds me, often, that "I'm no orphan" (although, of course, I am) and that I "ain't no chicken" either.
The truth is that I'm about as fit and alert as any man should expect when firmly launched into his seventies.
I do a bit of exercise, for instance, and I find that encourages rest and sleep - both of which I enjoy. I do a bit of housework, the occasional odd-job (not enough to make "herself" feel challenged though)and can be persuaded to water things, dig holes and carry stuff in the garden.
But I don't "work" and more,and don't want to. I've friends, I have the time and energy for occasional travel, and interests like this web site to keep me busy enough to wonder how it is that the weeks and years pass to rapidly. And then, of course, there are our kids and the grand-children, about whom I've enthused in earlier postings, and whose enthusiasms today undoubtedly encouraged tonight's item heading.
Now, of course, I'm really tired.
Goodnight!

By the Zillion

Australia's still-new Prime Minister should have plenty of good ideas for the future after last weekend's "gabfest" for 2000 carefully selected citizens.
The came from all over the nation, from farms, schools, industry, unions and from academia. Whatever possibility for doing the nation good must have been discussed, and the Government has promised to report its intentions by the end of the year on the 200 or so "major ideas" left after serious culling of the original list of thousands.
There's no doubt that all the delegates (with the possible exception of the Leader of the Opposition) found their all-expenses-paid weekend stimulation, and that they worked and talked hard for the potential good of the nation. Certainly, there were plenty of promising proposals, and the great majority of them are likely to fit neatly into "Kevin 07's" party policies.
Just two doubts remain.
Were delegates chosen, in part, because of their policy "suitability?" and . .
Our new PM, in his campaigning, led us to believe he already had plenty of plans in mind.
Well, the so-called 100 day honeymoon is well and truly over, the Wold travel extravaganza is over, for the time. I await the parliamentary developments with interest.

New wheels

We bought a new car while were in Tasmania, last month. We turned in a 2.5 year-old Camry for a new Nissan ¨Dualis¨ - and if that doesn´t mean much to you it was all new to us, too.
Why did we need a new car? you might well ask. Well, the Camry was a 3 litre job, with six cylinders and lots of power and an unfashionably large thirst for petrol (now wobbling around $1.55 per litre). It was also a bit big for convenient parking in our tiny garage.
Really,though,the process started when I had to walk around the smallish city of Launceston for four hours while awaiting the fitting of new lenses for my spectacles. After all, what are you supposed to do when you have that much time to spare, except look at new cars?
Having spent those few hours looking at a range of vehicles in one dealership, we then devoted the next two and a half days to inspecting and testing the whole range of cars that fitted our ambitions and it was very hard work. But the compactness of the city meant we needed to do very little travelling.
Anyway, having decided to buy a slightly sporty Honda Civic, we decided, on our way to do the deal, to have another look, and bought the uncomfortably named ¨Dualis¨ - largely on the grounds that it was the only one of its range that would take on board ourselves, the luggage we brought with us (including a music keyboard and stand), plus all the clothes, preserves, grand-kids presents and gadgets we purchased in spare minutes from socialising and travel.
Youĺl be pleased, no doubt that our new, smallish, cross between a 4WD and a sedan, carried us home comfortably and highly economically.
But it wasn´t the most economical holiday we´ve ever had and we plan to live quietly now, for a while at least.

Spies unlimited!

Australian bosses, so it seems, will soon have the right (and responsibility) to check their workers’ emails. The new scheme is all part of improving national security, according to our Government.
I can’t help thinking that, in the realm of stupid propositions, this has to be right up near the top.
Firstly, assuming that the checks will be on emails sent to and from the workplace, how’s the “boss” going to find time for his own work if he has to spy on his workers? I can’t see how he could be permitted to appoint a staff member to spy on his or her mates.
I suppose, though, that someone will soon invent software that searches incoming and outgoing mail for mention of sedition, or a range of other crimes such as industrial spying, or pornography, or even illicit romances.
But, surely, our civilisation has reached a pitiful level if government feels the need to instruct employers to spy on their workforce!
Anyway, why don’t they install whopping great computers and spies to vet all of the nation’s emails and phone calls, as is said to be done in the U.S?
What a pity it is that we can’t all grow up!

Softer days

There's a bit of softness in the air around where I live. Clouds abound, now that Autumn's trying to make it's mark. There's still a bit of heat (but not so hot) and the nights are cool, at last. I recall the pleasure (more than six months ago) of removing the heavy Winter blankets from our bed. There was pleasure, sort of equal and opposite, in replacing them a week or so ago.
We've had a bit of rain over the past 10 days - enough to brighten parched lawns and encourage the garden for a few days - but we in South Australia dream of a "proper" season-opening downpour.
Even so, there are nice things about our Autumn. Soft,calm days, gradually greening scenery, and the pleasure (for idlers like ourselves) of staying a little longer in bed on increasingly cool mornings.
As for the rain - "Send her down, Hughie - any time you like!"

The watching game

My wife thinks I've been converted into an enthusiastic shopping companion, but she's wrong.
I can, however, understand her misreading my readiness to join her on her weekly pilgrimages to the big supermarket a few miles up the road from our place.
It isn't the shopping that appeals, it's the people I see who make the trip worthwhile!
Our area has an unusually wide range of residents. There are Vietnamese market gardeners, "hordes" of immigrants from the UK, descendents of the German families who inspired and maintain much of our wine and grape growing industries, farmers, soldiers from the nearby Army base, and the gamut of "traditional" Aussies - from the unemployed to the wealthy.
What an interesting passing parade for the idle watcher!
Today was the first day of school holidays, and the shopping centre was awash with teenagers - all dressed to celebrate and demonstrate their rediscovered "freedom". Teenage boys mooch past under tousled hair, clad in torn jeans, thongs and confronting T shirts, and they're in startling contrast to the girls. Who could imagine these strutting, heavily made up and giggling fashion interpreters as yesterday's demure, uniformed students?
The kids will be gone next week, leaving the Mums and Dads and their tiny tots, the shift workers, the down-and-outs, and the oldies like us.
There's always plenty to stir my imagination on shopping day.
And then, of course, there's helping with the shopping.

No vegetables

My friend "A" has lived in the suburbs of our city for as long as I've known him. He (now 70) and his charming wife have revelled in the convenience and luxury of the smallish home they designed furnished and cherished over the years. "Smart Cookies", as I've often thought to myself, but they presented their friends with a big surprise this week.
My highly urbanised friends have sold up, and they're moving, lock, stock and barrel, to a "mansion", on 10 hectares, on the side of a mountain range,inter-state.
We "sensible" people could make fun of these two, of course, for their mature-age sea-change decision. But they do have reasons - like two adult sons, living in the national capital, 16 hours away now, but just an hour's drive after the big move.
"But really," my friend told me a day or so ago,"We're doing it because we want to, and because we can!"
"Good on them," I reckon. There's no law that says we have to vegetate as we age.

Rugged life "up top"

Life's tough for trees and bushes on the high-country plateau of Tasmania - that heart-shaped island at the nation's Southern extremity.

The weathered old tree in the foreground (above) is a sort of pine, and it is quite closely related to the Sequoias (in the United States) and which are said to be the tallest trees on Earth, the pine is just one of the stars of a small protected lake/swamp area on the way to the island's Great Lake.

Dorothy and I did the boardwalk tour there on a trip last month, and learned a lot about how life can continue in an ultra-harsh environment. The bushes there have tiny, close-packed and folded leaves, the nearest thing to grass on the swampy soil is close-packed, and wild-flowers there are tiny and tough.

We've driven past this site several times in past years, but this was the first time we were encouraged to stop and look. Normally there's rain there, or a howling, icy gale, or rain.

This is not, generally, a friendly place, way up on the top of Tassie.

But we go back every year.

All that glitters

The window displays of jewellers operating in supermarkets around our place are always a showplace for mind-blowing advertising.

How about this for a bargain? -

"Solid gold chain necklace
was $1380
now just $590!”

Now then – Either those necklaces are almost without any trace of gold, or they’re making their own gold, or they must have stolen it. Last time I heard the financial reports, you see, an ounce of gold was worth more than $900!

What with the everyday offerings of specials at “Half the Marked Price” it’s had to imagine that these businesses, and all the others like them, aren’t breaking at least one or two laws!

It's pouring down!

The rain's been pouring down here over the past 30 hours or so. Not constant, but a consistent series of heavy showers, accompanied by near tornado strength winds and (would you believe?) dust storms.
This heavy, noisy deluge won't fill all the dams, or noticeably replenish the Murray River, but it will establish season's opening for the farmers, and it will rescue thousands of home gardens amd trees.
I tell you all this because you deserve it - having read my previous grumbles about our long drought.
In fact, the storms have hit most of the nation's Southern and South eastern zones, and thousands will accept the loss of trees, roofing iron and sheds as a sort of payment for the gift of water.
Dorothy and I were in Tasmania for a few weeks up to a week ago, and were shocked to find much of that mountainous island in desperate trouble over their own 10-year drought, and on our drive to Melbourne we'd already seen stark, dead trees and barren paddocks,
It's not surprising, I suppose that we tend to believe we're the only ones in trouble. Its no wonder, either, that so many of us are becoming convinced that "Global Warming" is a fact. . . . But I note a recent (credible) report that a listing of scientists who believe in the "man-made phenomonen" is only half as long as that representing the equally qualified non-believers.
Anyway - It is very wet and quite cool here in South Australia, and that's good enough for the present.

I'm Open Sauced!

I now have a bi-lingual laptop PC - running both Windows XP and Linux operating systems.
Now that might not be very important to you, but it's a great achievement for me, after having tried (sporadically), for years to get the "open source" software running securely.
It isn't that I've needed to load Linux, because "good old" Microsoft Windows has always been adequate for my computing needs. But Linux has such a passionate lot of advocates for the last few years that I've had this sense of duty to give it a try.
My wife has said, all along, that I should have left well alone, that I always have a "disaster" and should have better things to do. On average, my wife has been right, but I'm a winner at last.
I should explain, though, that I'm writing this blog on my Windows-powered desktop PC, because by blog doesn't look right in Linux and I don't want to waste the effort that's going into correcting my recurring and consistent typing mistakes.
The system that I installed is called "Kubuntu", which is a version of "Ubuntu", which is one of the more popular (of many) versions of the basic "Linux" - all of which are the result of valiant attempts by highly motivated and skilled enthusiasts to provide a freely accesible alternative to the giant Microsoft offerings, and those of Apple. But it seems,to me, that they have a fair way to go.
My "Kubuntu", loaded from a single disc, looks great, and it has, as standard, most of the packages I need. Unfortunately, it takes ages to start up and, in contrast to "Windows", needs more than good guessing to load extra packages, and I'm not that good at reading manuals, these days.
"Kubuntu" is the best Linux I've yet tried and (as I've already admitted) the first I've installed without causing PC catastrophe. I reckon, though, that I'll put it aside until it competes on equal terms.
But I wish them all luck, and my comments section is open to all who reckon I'm wrong.
PS. My wife doesn't understand that I really like teasing my computers, and I suppose I really should read the Kubuntu manual.

Sold down the river

Australians have been "sold down the river" during the past week. Our politicians, State and Federal ,have just agreed on a plan which will "save" our River Murray - but not until well-after it has died (in South Australia at the very least).
The people whom we elected have neglected the Murray/Darling river system for generations. The mighty streams that once supported fleets of paddle-boats that carried the produce and people that opened up much of our country's interior are now barely shadows of the past. The Murray mouth lakes are drying and salty, irrigators in Victoria and South Australia are facing bankruptcy, and those in the big-money up-river zones are taking all the water they can get from the flow that recent high-country rains have left.
Never mind, though - our leaders have a plan!
They're going to buy back water rights from holders who want to sell them, they're paying the "difficult" Victoria 1$billion to modernise its irrigation system and to co-operate with the other river states, and they're planning how they'll rejuvenate the river system (but not expecting effective change for years).
There is, of course, more planned. The Feds are to subsidise construction of a de-salination plant for Adelaide, where household water (pumped from the river) is already more polluted than U.N. minimum standards, and the promise to allow special flows downstream, if necessary (I presume) to keep us from drinking ourselves into illness.
You might say that down here at the bottom end of the "sewer", we're all just a bit cynical!

It’s a hard, hard life . . .

The trouble with visiting young grandsons two or three times a year is that they’re fitter and tougher, and rougher, each time, while grand-dads of the near-elderly variety are, progressively, less and less fit.

Out of three days, this week, the first two were for re-acquaintance We had hugs and “stuff” from our 5 and 7 year-olds, then demonstrations of newish toys, hand-over of new ones, and long tales of recent adventures within and outside the home. All relatively dignified.

Today, though, Grandad was “fair game”, for wrestling with, being jumped on, pulled at, pummelled and generally “worked over.”

It’s been great!

I forget how we managed when our kids were in their irrational infancy. I think that sort of amnesia protects us , and gives us the power to keep a little distance from our kids’ kids while they’re at the smelly, messy, forever-screaming stage.

Now, though, with Grandma having had days of pleasure here too, we have two houses of friendly and (mostly) happy children to visit – even though they’re a fair few kilometers apart.

As for tonight, I know two boys who will sleep well, and I tell you what . . .I’m wondering how I’m going to last the five or more hours to my bedtime.

Out of the pan, AGAIN!

We left South Australia about three weeks ago in hopes of "chilling out" after a long, hot Summer at home. We headed, by a meandering route, to Melbourne and then (by ferry) to Tasmania - our "Deep South", and it all started out OK.
As we wandered around in 20 to 24 degrees c. our home city endured 15 days over 35c., several of which were over 40. At the same time they extablished a new metro recortd for the country.
"Clever Us" we chortled to our Tassie friends, but we were soon punished. We settled, you see, in a hillside cabin above a caravan park. Beautiful views, and windowas and glass doors facing the afternoon sun. It all foretold pleasant, relaxing afternoons - But then Tassie got it's own heatwave, and for the past week we've returned each afternoon to an "oven", because the over-30c hot parts in Tassie come in the afternoon, way down here in the South.
You can stop worrying about us, though, because the change came in overnight. Today, the dark clouds are back, the temperature might reach 22, and the locals (though still red and sunburnt) are once again about in sweaters and jackets.
It's Autumn in Tasmania at last - and we have only four days left in which to enjoy it!

Our private world

Most of us regard the right to personal privacy as one of our basic rights.
We Australians, for example, protest every time a politician dares suggest that a National Identity card might be a good idea – no matter that our credit card, driver's licence, and the rest of the plastic we carry in our wallet or purse already carry (in composite at least) all the data that any tyrant or “crook” might desire.
We're so keen to maintain our own imagined state of privacy we choose not to see the benefits.
Years ago, I felt near enough to a “non person” for about three weeks, after I'd lost my wallet with all of my ID (including driver's licence), inter-state and far from home. We had to wait in a Dubbo caravan park while the wheels of our S.Australian authority ground slowly on.
But it could have been much worse. While I'd lost all of my own identification, my wife had a Medicare card that carried both our names, and a photocopy of that was sufficient to prove to the licencing people that I was “me”. How long would our stay have lasted except for that card?
I think that “personal privacy” is really a myth. The Taxation department and at least half a dozen State and Federal government departments know almost all there is about our finances; the management of scores of businesses and computer software companies with whom we've done business know lots about our buying habits and preferences, and there's a “ton” of stuff about us on the Internet, of course. But “who cares?”.
I have nothing I need to hide from the authorities, and I can see lots of benefits from carrying a card that will prove that I'm really me and, under normal circumstances, I reckon my driver's licence does the job already.
In the meantime, real privacy means taking care about restricting access to manipulation of our assets, wherever they may be. That's why we have locks on doors, and passwords on the internet.

PS. I found my wallet the day my new licence arrived . . . . It had fallen down behind the TV set in the corner of our caravan!

Indian giving

It's my growing suspicion governments throughout the World share a very sophisticated financial management system of “giving” with one hand, while “taking” with the other. I reckon the scheme operates across party political as well as national boundaries.
The whole thing's really “dead obvious” now I've come to notice. So I'll try and demonstrate how it works in Australia . . .
1: Our recently deposed government, a year or so ago, provided a grant to motorists who would convert their vehicles from petrol to gas fuel. The grant, and the markedly lower cost of the fuel was a great idea for financial and environmental reasons Now, though, the new lot are going to impose a duty on the provision of gas fuel, and “bang” goes the saving. Similarly with diesel fuel – miserly consumption, comparatively low production cost and yet markedly more expensive to use than petrol.
I reckon that “they” have determined that every Aussie motorist should end up paying the same rate-per-km for fuel, just by adjusting prices to suit!
2: Our old leaders spread tax benefits as though confetti during the last election campaign, and their “pork barrel” of promises was equalled in generosity by “Kevin 07” and Co. Now, after 100 days, we're told (despite our record-breaking Dollar value) that “things are tough,” that public service jobs will go - this along with the steadily increasing interest rates as imposed by our (supposedly) totally independent Reserve Bank. So inflation keeps growing and living for “working families” and the poor. keeps getting harder – just as it would have under our last leaders.

Frypan to 'fridge

The last day of Summer, in Adelaide, was hot. Autumn slid smoothly in as we headed, South-East, for Melbourne about 790k away. Next morning, just 300k on the way, the wind was icy, and winter gear was the order of the day.
Well we were in Victoria, after all, and the point of this weather report is that we're now in Tasmania, where the weather is mild and balmy, as it mostly seems to be in this season. Strangely, they're forecasting 26 degrees(C.) Thursday, so it's obvious that “Hughie”, or “Thor”, or whoever, can ignore degrees of latitude as far as heat is concerned.
I have to report that we've discovered one of the major advantages of retirement - “We don't have to hurry when we travel” . . . so much so that we spent almost all of Saturday, driving nearly 300k in the “backblocks” to travel what could have been a 90k journey.
PS. It's nice and warm in Tasssie now (25 degrees or so)

The long, slow grind . . .

I hate the packing and preparing bit of "going away". I like being away, mind you, and I generally love getting home again (to my own bed and pillows.
Packing never used to be a problem. On my own, it was simply a matter of grabbing the basics and climbing into the car. I'd still do it that way if permitted.
We're heading off inter-state tomorrow morning and the total project has been chugging along all week.
Our roses have been deeply soaked (despite man having been hired to water - within the limits we're currently allowed), myriads of potential creditors have been warned we won't be around to pay them for a few weeks, everything wearable and not being currently worn has been washed (and must be ironed before we go), and the usual amount of cooking for the local grandies has been delivered.
This process is still much of a mystery to me, after 48 years. It is very clear that I have no executive role whatever - but I can't shoot off and entertain myself either, because I'm needed for jobs like lifting things, trying things on, emptying things and, this morning, doing the vacuuming. So I do unimportant things like checking the car tyres, checking emails, and philosophising on this blog.
In the meantime, I'm fully confident that we'll start our journey exactly at the time my darling will say she planned, and that we'll leave behind only the normal number of items "without which we can't possibly manage".
Just wait 'til I'm in the driver's seat!

We're Marching away . . .

The "Hambones" are heading off, on Thursday, for the whole of the month of March. We're going for "yet another" look at Tasmania - our home state for quite a few years.
Postings on this blog, therefore, are likely to be infrequent, and probably not jam-packed full of incisive, meaningful message.
But don't go away. "Hambone's Holler" needs you all (both?).
Just check in over the next four weeks. You never know your luck!

Running out of puff?

Wife and I spent last weekend away from home. Three days, in all, at a moderately distant seaside town, as guests of the current members of our former profession.
Twelve of us "oldies" had a wonderful time of reminiscence at three heavy-eating and (potentially) heavy drinking dinners, and we sat, sometimes jealously, through business sessions showing that our successors were managing "quite nicely, thank-you" without us.
But I learned somewhat sadly, that "I ain't the man I used to be!" We've been home a day and a half now and, despite the fact that I've been asleep for at least half of that time, I'm still yawning!
Perhaps it's true that "Nothing exceeds like Excess! I just hope I'll ready for that fitness class, tomorrow morning.
Nevertheless, if they ask us again I'm sure we'll all line up again and, yes, it is nice to be remembered.

A big, exciting , world . .

.

It's a big and dazzling world on your first visit to the beach, with Mum!
No, I don't know who were, this happy couple exploring this sandy little bay along the shore at Wallaroo (S. Aust) last Saturday afternoon. But seeing the picture they made was a fine end to a near perfect day.
Over the following evening the fine weather was replaced by a 45 knot gale which, within a couple of hours wreaked havoc on a fleet of 90 ocean-going yachts, racing about 50 miles away. More than 40 had to abandon their journey, with one dismasted.
A few years ago I'd have been one of the seasick travellers.
Funny things some people do for fun, don't you think?

Still waiting

Rain's been crashing down in whopping great dollops right up and far inland from Australia's East coast. They've had/are having record-breaking floods at Emerald, Mackay's now a declared disaster area, and the monsoons are still busy over-correcting for shortages in previous years.
It's been pretty wet out West too, along with the odd cyclone up toward Darwin. They'll all be happy when "The Wet" runs down.
Here in South Oz, after years and years of "virtual drought" we're in the thick of the real thing.
Our city, and much of our industry, has depended on water pumped from the River Murray for two or three generations now, because we don't get a lot from "upstairs". Now, though, through interstate and Federal mis-management the Murray's in a mess too. The water level's dropping, the water (down our "bottom end of the national sewer") is becoming harder and more polluted and unavailable for irrigators.
But we're still waiting, and our metro supply dams have been pumped full, for now. In the meantime we're still sweltering, and figthing, through severe water restrictions, to keep our gardens alive.
But "Life wasn't meant to be easy", as one of our former Prime Ministers once said. So we'll keep watching the clouds pass us by, we'll keep our fingers crossed, and we'll keep on believing "We're in a great State, mate."

Village life

This morning
Not much time to type just now – I’m off to our fitness class in half an hour, and I’m going through my regular five minutes of wondering why I bother.
There’s not a lot of dignity within a clutch of about a dozen men and women in their 70s puffing and panting in unlovely semi unison. Any illusions disappear at speed for the hour.
And yet . . . I’ve grown accustomed to the sweat, and I’m better now at handling strain and pain (with apologies to “My Fair Lady”).
Truth is that that this weekly burst of regimented stretch and strain has made me noticeably fitter in the last year. No bigger muscles perhaps, body weight is still increasing relentlessly. But I move better, walk further, and ache a lot less these days, and that’s a real bonus.
The shame is that in a retirement village of 160 independent homes and units, only about 25 residents (in two staged groups) can see benefit in improving their health.
But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not training for the Olympics, not measuring muscle growth and have no plans to start jogging.
It’s just that there’s a worthwhile sense of satisfaction in building up an honest sweat in good company, once a week - besides which there’s nothing better than the “cuppa and scones and my comfortable chair” after the exercise ends.
This evening
Fitness session went well, in that I survived. Very fit (and attractive) young woman in charge worked us very hard, and warned “we’d hate her” tomorrow, what with all those press-ups, and stretches, and weights routines. Nothing new in that though, and we all had the rest of the day (max 37.5 degrees Celsius) to rest in air-conditioned comfort - until the power went off mid-afternoon. . . .
It was just after the power came on again when the ‘phone rang:”Can you come out at 8 am tomorrow please? We need someone to help shift sand at the bowls green?” our organiser – in - chief asked.
We’re expecting 38 degrees tomorrow, but what could I say but yes? They all saw me leave the fitness class unaided, you see!

The new slides

The current display is from our travels in the top end of tropical Queensland, with several from "way inland". I'm sorry there isn't the chance to provide detailed captions, but you'll get the general idea of the contrasts and scale of our "Top End"

"Sorry" . . . and now what?

Tuesday really was our "Sorry" day.
Federal Parliament, in virtual unanimity (some MPs were "unavailable"), made its formal apology for acknowleged multiple and grave injustices inflicted on our Aboriginal population over generations, under Federal law.
It was a momentous day for Parliament,for the new Prime Minister in particular, for our Aborigines and all of us. There can be few Australians who saw or heard the drama of the day unfold who were not moved by it.
We just have to hope that this week's promise of Government/Opposition solidarity (on this issue at least) will see real progress at last, in giving Aboriginals living conditions,security and and the sense of dignity and "ownership" that is the right of every Australian.
For us to travel any distance down that road, all of us - black white and "whatever" - will need to abandon the heavy pessimism and the prejudices that have been the standard attitude to the "Aboriginal problem" for all the years I can remember.
This just has to be our best and (hopefully)our last chance to set things right.

Advancing backwards?

Technology is a wonderful thing, but I sometimes wonder how much it improves our daily life.
Nothing I do, these days, seems as simple as was its replica 50, 30 or even 20 years ago, but I’m not going to type a whole list of examples, because I’m sure you know what I mean.
I used to write with a fountain pen (“Waterford”, of course, the one with the little rubber bladder (and I won’t go further along that line)). Then there was a progression of typewriters, all of which worked on the same system except for the fiddly bits.
Since someone invented PCs from Mr Babbage’s original cog and ratchet calculator, though, the very act of writing (let alone arranging delivery of this blog, for instance) demands that one learns (a) how to use a computer (b) how to type, (c) how to use an inevitably complicated piece of software and then (in Australia at least) how to defeat a PC centred spelling correction system that is firmly biased toward the US version of Her Majesty’s English.
Now, I exaggerate the difficulties, of course. But what about video recorders? – they’re getting so complicated that only toddlers can use them properly!
Strangely, my wife refuses to use our new-fangled (no bag) vacuum cleaner, and so I’m left to get dust over my clothes when I empty the so-called no-fuss container. I, by the way, have mastered the bread-maker, but refuse to even contemplate the complexities of the dish-washer (which I installed), the microwave, or even the gas stove.
Really, though, I really wonder if the great mass of humanity is much better off from the march of science.
Are we and our families more secure, more physically safe, now than a generation ago? Is living noticeably easier?
But then, through the wonders of technology, we still get to see re-runs of “Mash” on telly. Perhaps life’s not really all that bad.

Polarisation, at last!♦

I purchased a polarisation filter for my camera (a Pentax digital SLR) late last week and I just can't understand why I left it so long! This picture (now my desktop)was taken last Sunday.
If you have a camera and take the occasional scenic shots, "You just gotta have polarisation." The difference, in tonal range "before/after" scenes is quite startling, with shadow detail improved and delicate colors recovered through cancellation of reflection.
I'd just love to go back through my travel pic files and "fix them".

The scene is the Barossa Dam (on the edge of Adelaide)and is a lovely spot, practically hidden in a hillside eucalypt forest.

Snakes and ladders

Did you know that nine out of the ten most venomous snakes in the World are peculiar to Australia? It’s true, as I was reminded by a TV show this evening. The show, another of those “How doctors save lives” series, informed me that the Aussie Brown snake does the most damage overall, because it tends to slither into back yards more often than the rest.
Now the funny thing is that I’ve only ever seen one snake “in the wild” as it were, despite having spent much of my childhood on a well grassed sheep-raising property, and most of the rest of it in a rural town that was blessed with the normal quantity and variety of serpent for the district.
Legendry Australian author/poet Henry Lawson made his mark with stories about the hard life in the “bush”, mostly during the “great depression”. He (and the generally more cheery “Banjo Patterson”) used gallons of ink to describe battling settlers, dogged drovers and brave, mostly lonely, bush wives. The wives – apart from raising kids, tending the cows – inevitably had to kill snakes every now and then, and they used shovels or guns for the job.
Lawson and Patterson, by the way, described in graphic detail the mountain of tragedy and travail that was the Australian inland in the “bad old days”, but didn’t neglect the well of comedy and irony that came with it. Sadly, I believe their work is seldom read, these days.
My “personal” snake was big (two meters or so as my memory suggests) wandered out of a bit of long grass onto a pathway at our home of 30 years or so ago. Was I brave and determined? Of course! In fact, not having a big shovel, a crowbar, or a gun, and believing that all living things have a purpose (and all that) I stood well clear. Friend snake went off without delay, and I wonder if he realised how lucky he’d been.
Ladders, by the way,probably cause more trouble and than snakes! I learned last night (on one of those ever-popping-up gardening shows) that ladders are more dangerous to home handymen than are chain saws or even nail guns. I used to be quite OK with ladders, but I treat them with increasing respect as the years continue to race by. But I’m fairly safe, as I’m no handyman at all – just ask my wife!
We watched another “Miss Marples” show tonight. Don’t worry though, my wife’s in no danger!

A leading question

"Our country needs a leader, not a politician" according to a journalist whose newspaper column I read only a day or so ago. Is that really all we need?
The young(ish) columnist was talking about the United States of course, as its citizens endure/observe the serial drama that is their presidential nomination process.
He could have been talking about Australia of course, or Great Britain, or even Russia. All over the World, most of us seem to yearn for a "great leader" who will solve our nation's big problems (thus giving the rest of us the opportunity to have "a headache pill, a cuppa, and a nice lie down."
Most great leaders", though, rapidly change into politicians, and even the best of these soon discover that good intentions and a year or so of voice and presentation coaching aren't a guarantee of presidential or prime ministerial success.
Won't it be wonderful if our new, enthusiastic PM can fulfil more than half of his campaign targets?
How many US citizens, I wonder, really and truly believe that the best Presidential campaigner is, the really great leader who'll restore their economy,and freedom and peace (and, of course "Democracy")to a significant number of countries through the wider World.
In Australia, having made our choice, we're waiting with a degree of hope and scepticism to see if we voted well.
If I were a US citizen just now, I'd be looking very hard to see if there were any practical policies within the presidential campaign rhetoric.

Americas Cup next?

I’m a boat-builder now, and I have the picture to prove it.
She’s 16 cm long, about 5 ft high (sorry, but I’m still only half way through decimalising) and about 5 in. in beam, and I built her myself.
Well, some mob in Japan actually made the hull, and the mast, and the rigging, and the sails, the keel, and the radio control system. But I put it all together and, for a dedicated non-handyman that’s quite achievement!
She’s going to be christened (not with a bottle, you understand) “Yot”. I’d have had the name on already, but those inscrutable Asians only supplied one each of the letters and the numbers for the sail. So a 9 and an upside down 6 on t’other side of the sail was the best I could do today.
Everything appears to work OK, so the first sail could be tomorrow afternoon (perhaps) or Saturday. Trouble is, I’m not sure if there’s enough water in the two local yachting lakes. You’d be amazed how rapidly water evaporates from a shallow pool in temperatures about 32c.
By the way, the dog wasn’t impressed with the yacht, so he’s stuffed now. But before you get red in the face though – he was stuffed before!

Mother's dream dashed -

or: I played with Ludwig's concerto

My mother, for a while, thought she might have a budding musical genius on her hands, and that would have been me. Now, I don't know if she really dreamed about my potential for fame or not, but she certainly gave some thought to the prospect, and that was the fault of someone who must have had some musical authority. He'd had a demonstration of my piano playing skills at the age of about 10."He could go quite away" that person is said to have said.
I started music lessons, by the way, at age seven and must have shown some flair after a few years.
Teenagers, though, "just know" there are more exciting things than music practice after school each day and over weekends, and there's a limit to the amount of pressure busy parents can exert. Lessons, therefore, were abandoned and that was a bit of a shame.
But it wasn't the end of music for me - just the end of lessons and the provision of a fabulous, life-long mini-nag from "Mum." I'll explain. . . .
I grew to hate music lessons because they took "too long" and because I'd discovered playing "by ear" was faster. No matter, then, that my new skill was vastly inferior. But I’ve never been far from a keyboard since that first break. My skills and my memory improved, and I have been able to entertain myself and others, occasionally, over the years.
But I never was (since the last formal lesson) able to impress my Mum with my skills.
Every time she heard me play, even in her last years, I heard: "It's a pity you stopped learning when you were a boy. I was told you could have gone a long way with your piano playing."
The thing is that (while disregarding and discounting what the "expert" said). Mum was right about the lessons. I've tried, of late, to re-learn the art of reading music, but with disappointing lack of progress. It's a shame, but it isn't a tragedy, because I'm content, now, to settle for skills I have.
Re Ludwig:I've taught myself how to play the flute (sort of) over the past year or so and, today, I played it to accompany a recording of Ludwig van Beethoven's Piano Concerto No 3 – until, that is, my (music-reading) wife could stand it no more!
So there you go . . .

Friends in sport . .

Cricket's just about England's best known invention. It used to be a sport for "proper gentlemen" - many of whom were, at the beginning, probably friends.
But then the rot set in. The various teams became more competitive, and "non-gent" professionals became common and, I assume, the general level of friendliness started to droop.
Subsequent arrival of teams from the colonies rapidly made the contests a matter of national pride, and what was weekend exercise for the "flanneled fools" became serious, high revenue business. Almost everywhere through the remnants of the old Empire, television, newspapers, and radio keep millions of fans up to date with the latest scores and scandals. Here in Oz this last week it looked like we'd sever diplomatic relations with India, before an evidently badly informed judge reached a barely satisfactory conclusion.
The fact is that "big" sport, these days, means big money, and winning's what really counts.
We want our cricketers to be gentlemen and winners, but- if they aren't too good at the gentle stuff then they'll still be OK just as long as they're winners!
Friends in big sport? - You must be kidding!
NB Apologies to purists for my potted cricket history.

Dazzled by stars

I wouldn't have recognised Heath Ledger if he and I were the only people in a one-table coffee shop. I knew of him (until a few days ago) only that he'd starred in a film about a pair of homosexual cowboys,
Now,though, I know a lot about the late Mr Ledger - much of it, no doubt,untrue.
I'm sorry a young man (Australian, and of reputed talent) is dead, and I'm sympathetic toward his family, friends and admirers.But I'll be very glad when the rest of us are able to move on!
I've never been able to properly understand why talented actors and singers (in particular) attract such an outpouring of "puppy love" and adulation, or why the media feel the need to whip up such a frenzy of guesswork and scandal as with Ledger's unfortunate death, and the much publicised social failings of other entertainment industry "stars".
Fame, it seems, is an asset of fleeting value

Starting in Tasmania

Tasmania is Australia's smallest, least populated (but most elderly populated) state. It's so far south that careless map-makers tend to leave it of simple maps.
But Tasmania is, I believe, the nation's jewel, and I plan to use my newly installed slide show to show you the bits of it I like most.
Currently, you're seeing Mt Roland and its environs. It's the place to which we return each year, and the actual mountain makes a sort of exclamation point at the end of the bluff, gaunt Western Tiers. It, and the highland town of Sheffield (seen with some of its beautiful painted walls) marks the end of the rolling greenlands, and the start of the snow on the way to nearby Cradle Mountain.
The shed, by the way, is typical of many found right around Tassie. Farmers just don't seem to see any need to pull them down before the sort-of melt away.
Wife Dorothy was born in Tasmania and I spent much of my youth there.

Have you noticed?

I've gone pictorial, at last. The Blogspot people have just made it easy to place photos, and even a slide show on-site, and it was so easy that even I could do it!
Regarding the slide show, if you click on any picture you'll go to Picasa and there you'll see the big scene, complete with caption, and can move right through the current folder. I'll change the folder every few weeks or so, and you'll be able to see bits of what we saw in our our "Grey Nomad" days.
If you have any queries or comments , just add a comment to any posting.
All of these minor developments, by the way, bring their own challenges and complications. You wouldn't believe how many times I've recently changed the order of the items open the side bar. I didn't want to associate a certain furry animal with either "Travelbug" (first of my forthcoming list of favourite links), or to myself, you see.

For the term of their usefulness?

It's my firm belief that most of us within real democracies allow our politicians to serve terms that are far too short.
I recklon most of those we appoint divide (intentionally or not) their term into a basic three sections - a:Getting the hang of things; b:Having a go at making a difference and, c:Planning tactics for re-election. Same theory applies to governments as well, except they have an additional section entitled "Blaming the last lot."
Not that I really blame them. We hardly give them time to realize that they can't fulfil their promises within one term before it's time to start campaigning (or setting up a nice directorship in commerce). They really are only human, you know - no matter what they say.
Four year terms? Why not make it six, or eight? Let's put them in for the long haul, so they have a real chance to make a difference, or have take the blame for failure. Besides which - wouldn't it be nice to have a year or so more without campaigning?
I think most of our politicians enter parliament wanting to serve their state or nation. But lack of time and accountability, and political practicalities make that very difficult.
A friend of mine once assured me he'd never met a politician (singly) who wasn't convinced he was doing his level best for his electorate. "It's when you get two or more together that the rot sets in." he reckoned.

I've just got to do it!

I went sailing today!Well, not really'ntruly sailing in the fair dinkum sense of the word, in that I stayed on terror firmer and a two ft. six inch (after 30 years I'm still not metrified) radio - controlled yacht did all the physical work. NB Those hordes of new readers should refer to the previous item (yes I know it comes "after" this one) for background detail.
Anyway, this all came about because, three weeks ago, a great grandmother asked us to introduce her beautiful 12.y.o. budding flautist grand-daughter to play at one of our village social nights. Aforesaid great grandmother, that night, introduced the child's grandfather. He said, by way of making conversation, that he often goes sailing , but seldom gets either of his feet wet and that, without having any practical or theoretical prior knowledge about any sort sailing, he'd been having a wow of a time at it for the past nine months - It seemed like the birth of a great idea to me!
The invitation came by 'phone thismorning, and within the hour we were out there sailing,at a nearby and especially built lake and -it was great! Only minor problem was that, what with evaporation and recent shortage of rain around here, the average depth of the water was about half an inch less than the launched depth of the keel, and that meant that every time we stopped our brave vessel leaning it showed a distinct tendency to park.
Never mind. It's amazing what radio control and willpower can do. But I wish I could remember which of the two little levers adjusts the sails and which steers the little brute.
So there you are. Now you know more about this subject than does my wife. Stay tuned.

Like a lizard drinking . .

I've had a busy day already, even though there's still an hour 'til lunch.
Really! You wouldn't credit how hard it is to get everything done around here, even though I forced myself to get up and shower at 8.30.
"The Boss" has had a busy morning too, what with doing the week's washing, making us a morning cuppa.
As for me, I made the bed this-morning (now she says I should do it every day), and I emptied the vacuum cleaner for her too, before I popped down the road to see Dennis, and we both came back for that cuppa.
I've had to think up something to talk about in this posting too, and that's not easy. When I finish this job it will probably be near enough to lunch and the day's half gone.
I'm flat out - "like a lizard drinking" as my grandad used to say. I was going to clean the car this-afternoon, but it's a bit hot and we're not supposed to waste water these days. So I might tidy up the shed instead. . . . . . .
Well, maybe I have overplayed the "lazy retiree" theme just a bit, but it's a subject worth a bit of thought.
I had an active youth, a longish and often hectic working life, and a range of outside interests throughout. But now we've settled down and outside our home, family and immediate circle of friends my significance in the general scheme of things is fairly low on the scale.
But I don't really mind being a "wrinlkley" I don't want to return to work, to take up Yoga or mountain climbing or even accept a directorship - although it would be reassuring if, once in a while, someone sought my advice about something.
But it's nice having time to be busy at my own pace and, talking of that "I have to go, because the tennis finals are coming on the TV in a minute or so!"

Money madness

If there's any sense in the national financial systems of most of the countries of the so-called Free World then I confess I can't see much of it!
Here in Australia, where there are more jobs than workers, where the drought is lately near enough to broken, and where miners are making fortunes from exporting countless cubic acres of our land, we have big money troubles.
Were not alone of course, as our stock market plunges, as interest climb and the price of everything we need to buy rises steadily.
Government raises our workers' wages, they reduce our taxes, and increase pensions so we can keep buying what we need/want. Then we're told we're spending too much, causing inflation and need to pay more interest. After all, we mustn't have the increasing inflation our leaders have created, must we?
In the US, greedy loan companies, who extended finance to thousands who couldn't make the repayments have gone bankrupt in droves. Their government, fearing recession has organised a massive reduction in interest rates to allow (I assume) more people to take up slightly cheaper loans.
So, who's right about interest rates, "them" or us?
I can remember when the value of our currency was fixed by our governmen. I remember when our money lenders were required to insist on borrowers providing realistic security, and proving they had the means to pay. In those days we didn't have the "sharks" touting their "instant money offers to those who can't or won't see the risk.
I'm beginning to wonder about the benefits of "Democracy"
I recall that, as World War 2 developed, Italy's Mussolini was, at first, a much loved dictator - Because he made the trains run on time!
Perhaps we all need dictators who, as well as niceness, and moral purity, have proven qualifications of finan cial genius. . . .
Then one of them might explain to me how our system works!

Plastic unfantastic

Newspaper production companies spend millions in making their products look good. They (the big ones, anyway) have whole departments devoted to the graphic arts, have highly trained layout specialists to make the news (and of course the advertisements) attract our attention.
Through the stages from cutting down the first tree to printing , on incredibly complicated machines, I'm aware of the time that's spent on quality.
Why, then, do they let their home delivery contractors waste all that effort by rolling the papers in film plastic?
They spend ages setting up their presses so your paper is folded right in the centre of the gutter - and then the rolling machine moves the fold to a half-inch into the adjacent text. Then they mummify the "Daily Bugle" in clingy film that leaves me angry every morning, because the porridge is generally cold before I find the edge that lets me access my news.
Isn't it amazing how a relatively minor detail can defeat a noble cause?
Have you noticed how Internet news service have improved?

Head says yes, but . . .

I used to sail, offshore for years and years. My wife says "yachting widows" are more sinned against than golfers' wives, because their blokes stay away longer and more often, always come home smelling of diesel fuel and never offer to do their own washing.
I converted to Grey Nomadism in 2000 (through a combination of clumsiness through arthritis and husbandly guilt) and we had a wonderful six years largely spent exploring the vastness of Australia.
Settled now, secure and comfortable in the suburbs, I'm became a bit sentimental, recently, about my not so distant past. I'd started to miss, the salt and sweat, and the fellowship of a passion that kept me addicted for a couple of generations. There was, very soon, a marked difference of opinion between my body and my brain. Logic told me that even if I could afford to "go down to the sea again" I just wouldn't cope.
A man has to have a sport though,does he not? One can't surrender entirely to computers and books, and to "grand-dad-ism"!
So I've been thinking, a bit, about one of those radio-control model yachts, like I've occasionally seen racing and/or wallowing in small lakes and big ponds. That could be a manageable challenge, perhaps. It does look promising, but am I really that keen?
Will I investigate, or will I concentrate on trying to fly my tiny remote control helicopter?
Life in retirement is a real challenge.
"Are we going to have a cuppa thisafternoon, dear?

The pirates are back

Forget Captain Blood, and Black Jack and friends. Don't bother to read "Treasure Island" for your pirate type thrilling stories - just read your daily paper about the dirty doings in Southern seas.
Yes, you guessed. I'm talking about that Canadian Watson man who, with his merry band, is having glorious fun chasing Japanese whaling boats around the Antarctic!
I'm not "for" the whale slaughter campaign. I'm not sure most of the Japanese population is either since (so I'm told) relatively few of them like eating the meat these days, and I certainly don't believe they're finding any scientific break-through from the slaughter either.
But who gave the self-styled "Sea Shepherd Society" the right to risk lives and property in the open sea?
The old Greenpeace flagship "Rainbow Warrior" was wrong to create its own form of havoc in the ocean years ago, just as wrong as were the French commando types who sank the vessel in the port of Auckland in 1985.
Generations of tradition and "oceans" of international law apply to vessels in international waters.
We don't need environmental warriors at sea, and I'm sure the late Steve Irwin would be embarassed that his name graces "Captain Watson's" ratbag ship!

Things memorial

My memory's not what is used to be. You have to believe that because I forgot to add anything to this publication for the last three months or so of last year.
Well, that's not exactly how the blog gap came about... In fact, our three youngest grand children suddenly transmogrified from smelly, mostly wet, bundles of screaming tantrumness, into generally happy and highly entertaining small people,and grand-parenthood, suddenly, became more interesting than tapping away at this PC.
Truthfully though, with "Anno's domino" having flipped over at 72, I do find myself spending a lot of time looking for my glasses, or my wallet, or my car keys, and it's been enough to set me toward challenging the trend.
I've enrolled in an Internet based memory training course, I'm working reasonably hard on its test routines (quite entertaining games) and the program tells me I'm getting better. The system is called "Lumosity", and you'll find it on lumosity.com. In any case, I'll let you know how I get on - if I remember.

Hot stuff!

Happy New Year from sunny Adelaide!
"Sunny", did I say? What I should have said was "swelteringly, baker's ovenly" Adelaide, because we're in the middle of the hottest hot spell we've had for yonks (as my son would say). I grew up in what was then a smallish country town, near Adelaide, and I remember we used to get a week or so of this heatwave stuff 60 years or so ago. But not for so long in and near the 40s (Celsius).
Not that this stuff really means much to me, pampered in my air-conditioned home and without any need to spend much time or effort outside.
The question (still) is "is this really Global Warming, or just part of the age-old cycle of weather, and our part in that?"
I have to admit that I've softened to believe that the new theories are probably right, in which case "Heaven help us all!" - because our governments aren't likely to do anything to save our kids and theirs before it's too late. But I hope I'm wrong.
Here in South Australia our main water supply (the Murray River) is so shrunken that we're all on quite severe water rations. After a year of rationing that's still all, except for feathery plans for a salinity plant.
We might as well all pray for rain, because no "earthly" prospects are on the way, and there's no expectation that our particular drought is near its end - even though our national tropics and Eastern zones are currently under monsoonal flooding.
NB: What a cheery way this has been for me to return to my blog, and to welcome you to 2008! Sorry about that.