Plumbing the Deeps of an Eye

... the final curtain ...

2003-12-28T20:41:00.000+11:00

This weblog will no longer be updated.

I would welcome you as a visitor to my new address

Plumbing the Deeps

This will change again in the near future as I desperately try to learn enough to implement a comprehensive site for myself which will include a weblog.

Do please join me. I welcome your company ... and your participation.

... living life backwards ...

2003-12-27T16:16:00.000+11:00

Couple of months ago I watched a programme about the making of a record way back in the 70s by a chap called Lou Reed.

Last week I mouched through the devastated bomb-site formerly known as Bondi Junction and, as is my want, wandered into a second-hand cd and book store. This one is not as good as my all time fav which is Gertrude'n'Alice which is down the beach end of Hall Street (where I had a great mango smoothie on Chrissie Eve and bought two volumes of poetry) but is on a par with T's over on Avoca Street in Randwick for range and price. At all three I can find quirky poetry volumes ... heeheehee ... piginpoo ... piginpoo ...

So up in BJ ... what did I find ... whoosh ... a copy of said cd by Lou Reed. I had always thought he was just some screwed acid-head with no redeeming features whatsoever ... wrong, Jools ... wrong ... wrong ... wrong.

This is such a cool cd.

Transformer by Lou Reed 1972 ... go get you some ...

... enjoyable actually ...

2003-12-27T09:11:00.000+11:00

Yesterday we went to see Love Actually at the Randwick Ritz. I love this cinema; it is so art deco. And a ticket only costs $7 which is half the current Hoyts price.

Now, this is against character, but ... I thoroughly enjoyed it. I liked the way it was topped-and-tailed to reference everyman. I liked the cavalcade of actors. Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman are two particular favourites. Hugh Grant I usually abhor ... but found him quite normal in this role. Keira Knightley I do not know but is just so gorgeous. I loved the device of the old rocker played by Bill Nighy. What a slime-bag ... but so good at it. The soundtrack was delightful for this child of the 60s.

David had a post about this film a while back but on rereading it I am not sure that he had seen the film. Jon also had an opinion after seeing the film. I agree with the similarity to the work of Robert Altman. However, some of his other comments are a bit like the cultural cringe we Australians wallow in on occasion. My feeling is that the Grant/McCutcheon relationship is not so much pygmalion but more opening us up to the possibility of a love that is so implausible. I agree that someone of the calibre of Rickman was wasted ... oh but those over the glasses looks ...

Tony tried to say that it was a plot-less movie. What a load of rubbish! What was the role of Rowan Atkinson other than to move the plot along? And the fact that it was all located within one community (possibly a graphic design shop) emphasises the concept that Curtis started with ... that although all we ever seem to hear about is hatred and death ... love in all its many forms is everywhere ... we take it for granted ... and maybe shouldn't.

I thoroughly enjoyed this film.

I get my DVD player today and Claire is lending me her copy of LOTR2 ... then I will be ready for LOTR3 later this coming week. Both Alastair and my younger brother, Ross, saw LOTR3 on its opening day, yesterday. Ross and his family are devotees of Tolkien. Shall be good to hear their opinion in detail tomorrow when we all pic-a-nic together.

... ruthlessness ...

2003-12-27T08:28:00.000+11:00

This is not a character trait that comes easily to me ... well ... not in my opinion.

However, this is me for the next ten days. Yes. Gird the loins and go for it, Jools.

I am sick of living in a tip ... not a pigsty ... it is a tip but just a clean one. But it is piled higher and deeper with the most unimaginable detritus. Enough already! Out dreaded spot! I have this horrid habit ... "one never knows when that will come in handy" ... well ... I do know ... NEVER ...

If I haven't worn it for the last four seasons ... out!
If it hasn't grown and flourished in the last four seasons ... out!
If it is still sitting in an unsorted box since 1998 ... out!
If I like it but it is still not hanging on the wall ... out!
And that entire bloody cupboard full of plastic containers ... out ... out ... out!

... Season's Greetings ...

2003-12-26T07:50:00.000+11:00

May I extend a warm Christmas greeting to all who drop by here over the next few days.

It is early Boxing Day here in Australia as I write this. Today will be in the low 30s and the clouds are brewing already. I have not checked the forecast yet but my guess is for late afternoon thunderstorms.

Over the last 48 hours I have seen just so many young folk suffering from sun-burn. I hope the celebrations were worth it for them ... I know the suffering they have in store over the next couple of days.

Boxing Day in Australia is the traditional holiday-exodus. For Sydney-siders it is for the Central Coast (Gosford Avoca) and North Coast (Nelson Bay, Hawkes Nest, Seal Rocks, Byron Bay) and the South Coast (Kiama, Bateman's Bay, Merimbula). The summer holidays usually extend until the end of January when we have a long weekend for Australia Day. Schools (in NSW) return on Wednesday 28th January.

To you and yours, all the best over the next few days and I hope you are looking forward to 2004.

... four football fields ...

2003-12-24T01:02:00.000+11:00

I struggle with this. Yes, it could be envy. Yes, if I were wealthy I could well have an entirely different perspective. However ...

QM2 is 23 storeys high ... a boat ... 23 storeys high ...

I watched on SBS News this evening as QM2 sailed from St Nazaire to Southampton in preparation for its maiden voyage from Southampton to Florida. No more of this shilly-shallying with NYC ... just go straight to where all the wealthy retirees reside ... the ones with a penchant for excess ... oops ... sorry sorry ... my prejudice is showing.

I guess I put the QM2 in the same basket as the NASA space programme and Ronnie's "Star Wars" programme ... such an excessive waste of valuable resources when so many people in the world do not have sanitation; do not have education; do not have a roof over their head; do not have refuge from harm. However, at the same time, I acknowledge that some things of value were achieved: people were employed; intellectual thought was advanced; incidental progress was made in the use of chemicals and so on.

I struggle with flagrant shows of excessive consumption. I struggle with the inherent inequities meted out to mankind. I struggle with people being rewarded for something they were just born with/to and with not understanding that that is a benchmark from which they must etch their own grand design.

I guess it is similar to the educational construct of league-tables and value-added. Surely, if you are given a gift (from God or whoever ... name your deity of choice here) then you should be judged on what you achieve with this gift; not just on the possession of the gift.

I wonder how many people on the maiden voyage of the QM2 can honestly say that their wealth is a product of their born-gift and their application of same.

I struggle on two counts ... people are not born equal. The world is a finite place with limited resources. It is imperative that these resources are directed toward where they will go the greatest good for the greatest number.

*/soapbox*

... budgie bites cat ...

2003-12-23T12:14:00.000+11:00

Okay ... hear me out here ...

I took delivery of two budgies last Tuesday. One of my cats, Sylvie (the ginger one), has developed a feasting of fleas ever since ... but, I begrudgingly agree, the link is tenuous; birds host lice, cats host fleas.

On Sunday Sylvie took to hiding under one of the Murrayas in the garden ... and her eye started to close over. Yesterday, again, more skulking in the shrubbery ... and this from a decidedly lap-cat. The cranium above the eye developed a fur-free reddish lump.

Silly me ... thinks this is all linked and caused by masticating midgies ... but Kirsten got on the case. Mother! Get thee to the vettery!!

Two separate problems. Flea-fix medication suitably administered to the back of the neck. To both cats.

The eye has a potentially very serious injury. I has been pierced. However, the iris is still in place and not permanently splattered across the back of the cornea. A large pool of blood is sitting at the back of the iris. It should dissipate with time. So ... anaesthetic ... anti-biotics ...

Could it have been a stick? Another cat?

Or ... ... ... ?

... as if ...

2003-12-23T00:31:00.000+11:00

One block back from the beach they have torn down a series of back-packer hostels. They are building apartments which are three storeys high but as yet are a hole in the ground surrounded by wire mesh. The proposed apartment block is called "151 East" which I gather is its coordinate, 151 degrees 18 minutes. The address they give is Bondi East - never heard of the place before. Funnily enough it is less east than North Bondi!! Even the top floor will be pushing to be higher than the existing buildings on Campbell Parade (which is the first street back from the beach) so it is not as if they will even have a view of the beach.

On the wall of this construction site is a sign which trumpets "One bedroom apartments for sale off the plan. From $590.000".

... from ... FROM ...

... promises to keep ...

2003-12-21T21:32:00.000+11:00

What did "we" promise to Gaddafi?

Every time an international break through is made ... the quid-pro-quo is disclosed months or years later. Just what have Blair and Bush promised Gaddafi to entice him to make this offer?

I no longer trust Blair ... which saddens me no end. I admired him tremendously at one stage. I have never had anything but suspicion for Bush.

And ... if talks with Gaddafi's representatives have been going on since March ... who else are they "talking" with. What else are they promising in return? Remember ... the USA supported both sides in Afghanistan ... both sides. They armed and manipulated BOTH sides. The USA supported Saddam in the war against Iran. They have supported BOTH sides in Iraq.

The USA is the most cynical and manipulative nation on earth.

"... what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

... W. B. Yeats ...

... if I do as he did ... I am no better than he was ...

2003-12-21T21:20:00.000+11:00

Both main federal political parties have stated that they favour trying Saddam in Iraq and that they favour the death penalty for him. I hold my head in my hands in unbelieveable saddness ...

Not because they had said this; not because they hold these views. I have come to expect this now.

What saddens me beyond belief is that if Howard and Latham are prepared to say this ... then they obviously believe that the Australian people also think like this. Australian politicians are poll-driven and cynical. They have no personal stance ... their eye is always towards the main chance ... and the next election. How sad. How unbelieveably unthinkable ... I hold great saddness within me for our capacity to care ... about freedom ... about justice ... about ethics.

Let me state ... for the record.

Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.
Everyone has the right to a fair trial.
Everyone has rights under the Geneva convention.
I do not believe in capital punishment.

If we deny basic rights to Saddam ... then we are no better than he was.

... comptemplating one's navel ...

2003-12-21T07:48:00.000+11:00

Yesterday was the day I would have flown to the UK ... if I had not decided against in mid-way through September. I was quite down all day ... not depressed as such ... more suppressed. I do not in the least regret the decision not to go ... the more time progresses the more I value the reasons that existed to help me think that way.

Just a wistfulness ...

... what else ...

2003-12-19T23:52:00.000+11:00

On Monday there was a big meeting at UNSW for the Jewish community to vent their spleen about the proposed "affiliation" of Mt Sinai (which is an Orthodox school) and Emanuel (which is a liberal progressive school). Boy ... was spleen vented ... fire and brimstone splattered the walls ... Jews sure know how to do internecine ... the meeting commenced at 8pm and the final rock was thrown at about 11:15pm ...

My assessment is that the "merger" will not go ahead ... it would be nice ... the bums on seats flowing through to our cash ... however, the way it stands at the moment is that Mt Sinai parents are voting with their feet ... the Orthodox are moving to Moriah (just down the hill from us in Queens Park and the mother of all Sydney Jewish schools ... they gobble all opposition ... they are mammoth) ... and the claytons-Jews are heading our way ... our Opportunity classes are now over-subscribed and we have waiting lists for three years of Year 7s (2004, 2005 and 2006). So, even though we are deemed the aggressor ... we don't at this stage appear to be the loser.

Pleases me this does ... I think on balance I don't want the merger to go ahead. I think we are heading in the right direction the way we are. The HSC results came out yesterday and today. This is the final High School exam in NSW. In 2001 we had phenomenal results because we had a good year (we are non-selective on any criteria whatsoever). In 2002 we had a poor result because the year overall was weak. This year we have results equivalent to 2001 ... but with a weaker cohort ... it was all done on the improved quality of teacher that we have recruited. Our strong faculties are still English, History and Visual Arts. We do need to strengthen Maths and Science. Our results for PDHPE this year are in the right direction ... and will be better in 2004 because of the mad Pom we recruited last January. Our History results are outstanding (100% of students in the top band, 6) and all due to the wonderful Jo whom we helped to get a business visa last January ... gorgeous lass ... if anyone should be gay ... she should ... mmm MMM ...

So ... without being smug ... I think we are getting there ourselves ... and in the presentation we came across just so well... the phone calls and emails just flooded in ... as did the calls of enquiry to Caroline ... we have a gorgeous campus ... we have an improving staff ... we have a strong academic policy in place ... what we really need now is community confidence ...

... additions to my household ...

2003-12-19T23:26:00.000+11:00

So ... to date ... I have two cats ... Sylvie (orange) and Sapphie (tabby).
Then ... I added ... fifteen gold fish (now down to 14 thanks to Sylvie!).

This week ... I became the loving owner of two budgies ... one male, one female ... hee hee hee ... they had some stupid names from a tv show ... but have now been renamed ... wait for it ... drum-roll ... da dah ... Nelson and Mandela ... yeah, yeah, I know ... smidge twee ...

Kirsten reckons I have my own food chain ... so I am now training Sylvie to ignore the happy little blighters ... Over my two weeks of vacation (if praise the Lord they ever start) I think I will make this ... this will be aided by the fact that the little blighters squawk the room down and flutter madly all around the cage if Sylvie as much as breathes air in their direction ... scares the shit out of her ... and out of poor Sapphie ... she was out of there never to return after the first dose.

Caroline wants me to take them back to school and keep them in my office ... she had a budgie (Caruso) when she was a kid ... Chris has gone all clucky and wants a pair of love-birds ... Rachel told me about the time when she was flatting and they let the budgie out to fly around the room whilst they cleaned the cage ... but forgot to turn off the fan ...

... end of term ...

2003-12-19T23:12:00.000+11:00

The students finished on Thursday 11th. The academic staff finished on Wednesday 17th. The administrative staff finished on Friday 19th ... except for those of us who have to go back again on Monday to get the work finished ... sigh ...

... angels ... angels ... and more melodic angels ...

2003-12-14T19:32:00.000+11:00

If I hear the family name Williams uttered in conjunction with the diminutive "Robbie" before this time next year, the utterer will have her angelic neck lovingly, yet well-and-truly, wrung.

As Pedi chants ... go Robbee ... (joint elliptical arm movement) ... go Robbee ... (joint elliptical arm movement) ... go Robbee ... (more of the same accompanied by smirk) ... gooooo ...

... on shooting one's self in the proverbial ...

2003-12-12T06:02:00.000+11:00

I received my university results yestereve. I was awarded a credit for the final essay and 8 for participation which gave me 75 for the entire unit which is a distinction by the skin of my teeth. Hence, my overall rating for my masters is 74.5 ... shit and derision ... so close to a Distinction average ... and yet so far.

I have to pay a few outstanding library fines before I can access the results pages to get more details. This will involve returing the outstanding library books which have been rattling around the boot of my car for the last month. Drats.

... support ...

2003-12-11T01:10:00.000+11:00

I joined the union on Tuesday. I fear that all this restructuring is going to get nasty before too long. There is a union meeting on Friday.

Tomorrow I am contacting the agency that got this this job to indicate that I am looking around for replacement. The restructured positions here hold little interest for me. I am not interested in holding out for the redundancy payment. I would prefer a wee more peace and quiet ... and respect.

Saw a nice job at the Conservatorium ... but for shit money. I want peace ... but I also must be able to meet my bills.

Drats ... can do without all this.

... PLU ...

2003-12-09T22:16:00.000+11:00

Learnt a new term today. "People like us".

I gather the new leader of the ALP appeals to voters because he is "people like us". I wonder if he could be the left-of-centre version of the right-of-centre, Pauline Hanson. It's not so much the policies which appeal - it is that they occupy familiar territory.

Be scared people. Be very. v e r y scared.

... the hitting of fans ...

2003-12-08T21:13:00.000+11:00

Today we were deluged with emails and phone calls ... abuse and congratulations. At the same time as preparing for a Q&A on the proposed "affiliation" (being held at UNSW next Monday), we are preparing for Speech Night on Thursday night and reports which are due to hit the Principal's desk next Monday.

... ugh ...

... tired ...

2003-12-07T08:51:00.000+11:00

On Friday it was officially announced that the school where I work and another closeby school are "affiliating". They use this word advisedly in a legal sense. They have a ten year period to determine whether the two schools "will become one". The two schools are Emanuel School and Mt Sinai College.

From the schools' viewpoint I think this is astoundingly good news. From an employee's viewpoint it is more sobering news. The two schools will be operating as one from January 2005. This will mean that two Primary Departments will amalgamage with the "rationalisation" of teaching positions. This will also mean that two Administrative Departments will amalgamate with the "decimation" of clerical positions. I am a clerk.

For the last two weeks I have been working from 7:30am to 6:30pm. I worked from noon till 6:30pm yesterday, Saturday. I will be at work from 10am today Sunday. Luckily I am picking Caroline up at 4:15pm to go to a concert and dinner.

I am so tired. So tired that I can only sleep for about two hours at a time.

... the werriwa warbler ...

2003-12-06T05:41:00.000+11:00

The pundits are comparing Latham to Keating or to Hawke or, as here at the left from this mornings Sydney Morning Herald (SMH), to Menzies.

However, in the news conference immediately following his election as leader of the party, Latham himself referred to the influence of Curtin. All leaders or potential leaders of the Australian Labor Party (ALP) refer to either Curtin or to Ben Chifley. It is sort of part of the regalia ... like lining up the building blocks behind you. Referring to the reveered. Paying ones dues. That sort of reverential forelock tugging.

However, to me he even bears a physical resemblance to John Curtin. So, let's do some shallow politicking instead of heading for the current desert of policies. Who the hell is/was John Curtin?

Curtin was the Prime Minister of Australia during World War II.(WW2). He died in ... mmm ... July 1945 ... just before the cessation of hostilities in the Pacific ... that is just before the Americans dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima on August 6. Curtin, like the American President of the time, Franklin Roosevelt, died in office without realising the end of the war (I think Roosevelt died days before Hitler perished in the bunker). Curtin hailed from Western Australia and represented the seat of Cottesloe. Nowadays, this area is remarkable for its beach and little else.

Curtin was Australiaâ€™s fourteenth Prime Minister (you must remember that Australia only came together as a federation of states in 1901). Curtinâ€™s achievement rests on his leadership during much of WW2. Curtin (remembering the fuckup that Churchill made with the Australian attack in Turkey in 1915) rejected the British strategy for Australian troops (which was to protect Singapore at all costs, Singapore being a little England) thus enabling the successful defence of New Guinea and ultimately leading to no foreign invader stepping foot on Australian soil.

Although he had been a strong opponent of conscription during WWI, as leader during the 1939 to 1945 war, Curtin made the decision to send conscripted troops to serve outside Australia. He must have been a complex man. Curtin was also intent on ensuring that Australia emerged from the war free from the unemployment problems that had existed during th 1930s. He aimed for a policy of work for all who wanted it, arguing that this could be achieved in peacetime as it had been in war. Interesting that this biographical entry from the John Curtin Prime Ministerial Library doesn't indicate that he was an alcoholic.

Strikingly, I also think that Latham bears a resemblance to Malcolm Mackerras ... heaven help us ... or even him ... Latham, not Mackerras ...

Werriwa, for those of you less than informed by the title of this post, is the federal parliamentary electorate held by Latham. It is in western Sydney and centres on the city of Liverpool. It was once held by my political hero, Gough Whitlam. Whitlam, who is still very much alive at the age of 86, was the leader of the ALP when it won the election of 1972. This was the first Labor federal government since 1949 and helped drag Australia out from behind the white picket fence of a 1950s mindset. The very first thing that Whitlam did was to pull Australian troops out of Vietnam.

Whitlam was elected Prime Minister by the Australian people on 2nd December. Latham was elected leader of the ALP by the members of the caucus on 2nd December.

... the best of days ... and the worst of days ...

2003-12-05T02:47:00.000+11:00

I went out at lunchtime today. Hardly going out. I left the office on official business. I went over to the University of NSW to the School of Mathematics. They had pledged us a $150 Mathematics prize for our Speech Night and I picked up the cheque. Then I drove on down to Maroubra where I picked up some cups and trophies which I had had engraved.

The best of days? The sky was completely blue. Not a single cloud. The sun was streaming. The temperature was 29C. There was a slight nor'easter blowing (a good cooling breeze coming from the Pacific Ocean). I was in my car. I like my car. It gives a smooth ride, is comfortable to sit in and purrs along ... I had a Mozart piano sonata on the tape deck ... the sun roof was open ... I had sunnies on. Nice.

By 4pm the sky was a billowing mass of thunderclouds; by 430pm the heavens were ren'd with lightning bolts and the thunder claps were immediately above. The heavens opened and dropped buckets.

The worst of days? I had forgotten to close the sun roof ...

... young artists ...

2003-12-03T23:07:00.000+11:00

This evening Caroline (a colleague) and I went along to the BMW Young Artists' Challenge. This is a competition, sponsored by BMW, for High School students in the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney. I received the invitation in the school mail. The Principal did not want to attend. The Head of Visual Arts did not want to attend. So Caroline, the Registrar, and I went along.

This is its first year. $15K in prizes were handed out. A prize to the artist, a prize to the school art department and the parents of each winning artist get to have a BMW for the weekend. What a hoot. The exhibition was held in the BMW showroom in Rushcutters Bay, just the next street along from where Carolline lives.

The exhibition was divided into two sections: Year 7 - Year 9 students (ie aged 13 to 15) and Year 10 - Year 12 students (ie aged 16 to 18). Three practising artists were the judges. Of course, the new 5 series Beemer was figured heavily in the display as well. And there was the ubiquitous wine and turkey and cranberry sauce sandwiches.

Whilst I did not agree with the winners I was so happy for their happiness. And whilst one of the winners did not bat for my team, he was, at least, in my league. It was interesting to track the developing maturity of each artist as we progressed from one age group to the next. One could see it in the approach to perspective and in the approach to the relining human figure. For me one of the more interesting pieces of the night was an all white work which spoke to texture and shape. Quite liked it.

Our school did not enter. But it should have. Other local area schools did (Vaucluse High, Sydney Boys and Sydney Girls, Ascham, Randwick Boys, Newtown Performing Arts High School). Our kids would get a lot out of participating in an exhibition like this. Must work on it for next year.

... my alternative ...

2003-12-02T22:18:00.000+11:00

So today the ALP chose their new leader. He does not represent me. My son, Alastair, said that he was another Bob Hawke. Heaven help us. Bob Hawke was a bully. He was a male chauvinist. He was the worst sort of jingoistic Australian. Alastair reckons this is why Latham has been elected leader. They are hoping that Latham will tap into the groundswell of discontent in the fringe suburbs of our major cities. Here reside the working class, the disenfranchised, the under-educated. Those who struggle to achieve and who struggle to survive in our consumer-led society. Latham is one of them. He represents the working class seat of Werriwa which is based around Campbelltown which is where Alastair's girlfriends's parents live. Latham continues the Labor tradition of ocker leaders: Hawke, Keating and now Latham. Hawke liked race horses in his private time; race horses and women. Keating liked clocks in his private time; clocks and architecture. I have no idea about Latham. I guess the current affairs will inform me in their usual insightful pieces.

I would have chosen Carmen Lawrence. Some of the reasons are articulated here.

... on being a boring old fart ... who doesn't give a damn ...

2003-12-02T21:58:00.000+11:00

Wondered why my Australia count went up a smidge today. Seems I was quoted by some wanker who is heavily into scoring points by being a smart arse. Anyways, he has a go at others for poor writing and spelling but can't even get my name right. Then he selectively quotes. What I actually said was:

I am horrified to think that Mark Latham is being considered as representative of the younger generation. Latham considers only the impact that Mark Latham will have. He is a bully. He is not inclusive. He will neither unite the party nor draw the country with him. The only vision he has articulated is a pugilistic form of control.

What he chose to print was:

And from 50-ish lefty Julia:

I am horrified to think that Mark Latham is being considered as representative of the younger generation ... he is a bully. He is not inclusive. He will neither unite the party nor draw the country with him.

His choice. it's his weblog. However, I will keep reading. I am interested to find out who he is and what he represents.

... argh ...

2003-12-02T06:20:00.000+11:00

The next two weeks are incredibly busy for me, so forgive me if I struggle to blog much at all at all.

... A weekend of sport ...

2003-12-01T01:53:00.000+11:00

When I was a kid (refrain = in the middle of last century [from here on out referred to as IMOLC]) we used to listen to the Davis Cup each Boxing Day. Australia had a stranglehold on the Cup then and there seemed to be no nation who could take it from us. So we set the timetable.

Today was our 28th victory. The world is now a different place thank God, and many many other nations are competitive and seem to care if they win or lose. I like the Spanish team. I also like the French team. Not keen on the Americans. And the English are insipid, as though they have been strained through a sheet. But the French and the Spanish seem to have a raft of fine young players. Methinks it be the home-town advantage that got us this victory. Had it been held in Madrid or Barcelona, the victory would have gone the other way. So much for the tennis.

EURO 2004 GROUPS
Group A Portugal; Greece; Spain; Russia
Group B France; England; Switzerland; Croatia
Group C Sweden; Bulgaria; Denmark; Italy
Group D Czech Rep; Latvia; Germany; Holland
Groups B, C and D will all be a challenge. Not sure about Group A. Seems tailor made for Portugal to at least have a chance, but the local derby with Spain could lead to a boil-over of jingoistic emotion. But ... should be a smorgasbord of good football. Looking forward to it. A winter of long nights. With a July 4 final leading into the TdF and Wimbledon. Shall have to check off all the dates. Yipee ... *rubs her hands with glee* ...

The Champions Trophy was on again today but you will be hard pressed to find that anywheres. The SMH doesn't have a report and the bloody match was played in Australia, at Homebush no less. The BBC does not have complete up-to-date coverage only telling us about the UK and bloody Korea. The Australian women downed arch-rivals, the Nederlands 2-1. Mijntje Donners was devastated by the win if her post-match interview was anything to go by. She just kept repeating that the opening goal was "tragic just tragic". The 6 nation tournament is liberally splattered with rest days but on Tuesday Australia plays China, on Thursday Argentina and on Saturday England. The finals are on Sunday. Should be good.

Now for the Premier League. My lot are not doin' so good. Southampton going down 1-0 to the lowly placed Villa and gradually slipping downt table. Not good. Not good. And Poor old Pompey were outgunned by bloody Leicester of all teams 2-0. I think there are teams in a much more disastrous position but it is still tres early int season. But a win for either team would be nice real soon!! The head of the table is interesting. There is a very clear divide. The matches on right now will have a massive impact ... but I must get a couple of hours sleep so shall have to read the results come morning.

... phallicage ...

2003-11-30T21:24:00.000+11:00

The penis extensions were out in force along Bondi Road this afternoon. I was driving back from St Scholastica's in Glebe where I was in the audience for Christine's latest concert. On the way back I figured I would do some fruit'n' vegetable shopping at the Fruitolgists which is half way down Bondi Road (this is one of the main ways of getting from the city, and all points west, to the beach). That was cool. I parked in Wellington St near St Patricks crossed at the lights and spent an enjoyable twenty minutes mulling over delicious options (I'm not my father's daughter for nothing ... he had a f'n'v wagon immediately post war ... mmm ... aw shuddup ... WW2 ... for you youngsters). Came away with apricots, white peaches, a mango, three bunches of asparagus and a delicious looking bunch of spinach ... hee hee hee ... love summer in this city.

I handed over my plastic and nearly had a swoon when it all came to $78 ... until I realised that I also had a bunch of lillies. They are beautiful at the moment ... okay, so back I struggle to the car. At the lights, brmmm brmmm burble burble ... a shiny shiny shiny pillar box red Honda with chrome wheels lowered suspension, side flap extensions that brush the road, smokey-grey sunglass windows, rear extended spoiler, enlarged exhaust pipes, big big big woofers ... with four young lads fingers laden with gold rings, necks bedecked with multi-gold-laces ... hair shaven half way up back of head ... small goatee ... very very proud fingers tapping on the rim of the lowered window ... the inevitable lag dangling, glued to the bottom lip...

I grinned ... he grinned ... "noice car, maite" ... "gee, thanks" .... burble burble ... brmm ... the lights change ... scrrrreech ... and the penis extension disappears up Bondi Road ... to be followed by a white Toyota Supra ... a grey 3-series Beemer ... and on it went.

If the first cuckoo heralds the Spring ... the penis extenson heralds summer in Bondi.

... fragmentation ...

2003-11-30T09:03:00.000+11:00

A fascinating discourse between Des, Birgitte and PF (I think David Rothkopf) about the definition of peoples and whether the rules under which this can be language based should be EU based or UN based.

I learnt a new word "indigineity" ... mmm ...

I am totally out of my depth but appreciate the opinions ... and the information. American bases in Greenland and the impact on the Thule peoples 50 years later with Denmark as the colonising power.

Engrossing. Even with the obvious language problems that I face being totally anglo-centric. But I persevere.

Take the link on the right to Des and then read his entries and his guestbook.

... a stance wittily expressed ...

2003-11-29T08:32:00.000+11:00

Lexius has repelled an unwelcome invader with passion, compassion and wit. I value her approach.

Des invariably produces a wry smyrk of acknowledgement and, indeed, the odd guffaw of appreciation. His postings repay attention.

... life is full of one closet or another ...

2003-11-29T01:17:00.000+11:00

This article by Richard Ackland put me to thinking about the little control we actually have over the world around us. Not so much the world of going to the IGA to get some bread'n'milk. Not so much the world of feel-like-goin'-to-the-cinema-luv?

But more the world of "are we allowed" to do these things ... and by whom ... and just what exactly are the parameters within which we DO go to the shops or to the cinema ... and is the milk double the price because we are competing with producers in Dunedin and Kansas City ... and just who are those faceless people on the Film and Literature Review Board who categorise, cut and cull that which shows at a cinema close to me?

Who is it that is in charge of the "allows" in my world? Is it the people whom I elect to parliament to represent me? And just who chooses who is presented to me as part of my subsequent voter's choice? My choice is nowt but an engineered choice. Take what happened today in Australian politics. The Leader of the Federal Opposition, Simon Crean, announced that he was standing down as leader of the Australian Labor Party. Fine. If he does not have the numbers when the party meets he is obviously not going to lead anyone. But ...

Who puts forward other candidates to take over the chain of command? This is important to me. This is the person up against little-johnny-turdface. I keep hearing names like Kevin Rudd; like Mark Latham; and, for heavens sake, Kim Beazley. But what of Jenny Macklin ... Carmen Lawrence ... Julia Gillard ? I shake my head in consternation.

These members of federal parliament are the people empowered by the Australian Constitution of 1901 to make acts of parliament to govern the citizens of Australia. I don't even get a say here ... the lowest representative level . And yet others effectively "make" laws by giving those acts of parliament agreed to by my representative parliamentarian, length, breadth and depth. The apex of these "others" is the Australian High Court. And yet ... and yet ... we accede to international treaties that have moral standing ... as well as legal teeth, as Milosovec is discovering. So the United Nations impacts directly upon my life; not my milk and movies life; but my life of morals, ethics and thoughts.

So what Ackland is peeling back, and what Kirby willingly acknowledges, impacts directly upon the individual citizen. Upon me. There is a layer of law emanating from the federal government. There is a layer of law emanating from the judicial system, be it interpretative or common law. There is a layer of law emanating from international treaties that we choose to acknowledge (that is not the exact word ... but I am struggling in my little black brain to come up with the word I want!).

So ... whence my control?

Addendum:
Margo Kingston is thinking along similar lines. I am horrified to think that Mark Latham is being considered as representative of the younger generation. Latham considers only the impact that Mark Latham will have. He is a bully. He is not inclusive. He will neither unite the party nor draw the country with him. The only vision he has articulated is a pugilistic form of control.

Given that only last month was Carmen Lawrence elected as the new President of the party, it would seem that the most obvious choice would be Macklin. She is Victorian which is a balance to Howard who is from NSW (Latham, too, is a NewsouthWelshman). She has articulated thoughfully and deeply on both education and health. She has been involved with some engrossing interviews with Laurie Oakes, especially the one two weeks ago on the Sunday Programme.

... go out in the midday sun ...

2003-11-27T20:13:00.000+11:00

As I was going up the stair

I met a man who wasn't there.

He wasn't there again today

Oh, how I wish he'd go away!

... listen here for a while ...

2003-11-27T19:21:00.000+11:00

Y'all know I have two cats. I love my Sylvie in a sylvie-way; I love my Sapphie in a totally-sapphie-way.

Yet ... I love the tales told by Jane about the cat that lives in the same house she inhabits ... a house also lived in by Sarah, defender of cats.

This latest episode be but one in a long line. Look back into her journal and guffaw.

Whilst there ... admire the writing style. I do.

... getting the drop on god ...

2003-11-26T20:00:00.000+11:00

grumble ... bumble ... mmmgggrrrrrr ...

Okay ... so ... I took a deep breath ... thrust my shoulders back ... tits out ....

'scuse I ... can you tell me please ... why the hell didn't those pathetic shit-for-brains-rugger-buggers storm out and cream that bloody yorkshiremun before he got the damn shot off. Huh? Tell me that, hey!!

Well, Jools ... you see ... ses he, reaching for the white-board-marker ... it's like this ...for us Poms, rugby is a science ... we know about tactics, and skill ... we can do patience ... we can employ the rules to our own advantage ... your lot ... well ... to them ... rugby is simply running with a ball tucked up their jumper.

oooh ... ses I. huh?

"As soon as a ruck or maul is formed it is no longer considered 'open play'. In this situation the team defending must be no further forward than the hindmost foot of the ruck or maul. Our wee Jonny was able to stand far enough back to ensure that, without the assistance of rocket propelled shoes, the Wallabies would not get close to him before he had time to slot the kick. They can only run past the ruck or maul once the scrum half has his hands on the ball at the back of said ruck or maul ... hence, the feet fiddle-faddling ... tease em here n there ... get them to infringe ... keep em on their toes ... You are right regarding them concentrating wholly on Jonny. This is what enabled our scrum half to actually gain 15 or so extra metres in the plays preceding 'God's' Drop Goal".

The WBM is getting up a head of steam now ... an arrow here, a circle there ... everywhere an englishmun ...

"Except in a scrum, ruck or maul, a player must not hold, or push, or charge into, or obstruct an opponent not carrying the ball. "

aww ... but ... but ... but ...

"In general play a player is off-side if the player is in front of a team-mate who is carrying the ball or in front of a team-mate who last played the ball. Off-side means that a player is temporarily out of the game, such players are liable to be penalised if they take part in the game."

the smell of metho pervades the air ... the board is awash with wee-jonnys and ugly-martins ...

"In general play, a player can be put on-side either by an action of a team-mate or by an action of an opponent. However, the off-side player cannot be put on-side if the off-side player interferes with play; or moves forward, towards the ball, or fails to move 10 metres away from the place where the ball lands."

mmmgggrrrrzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz .... ...

PUBLIC NOTICE
... To England and its Sports Fans ...

On behalf of all Australians we would like to admit:
You were not too old (although we hoped you would be when the game went to extra-time0.
You were not too slow.
You scored as many tries as we did.
You kicked no more penalty goals than we did.
You ran the ball as much as we did.
You entertained as much as we did.
You did it with one of your own as coach (even though he did spend some formative years playing at Manly).
You are better singers than we are (and just quietly "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" is growing on us, as is Jonny withou an"h").
You played with class, toughness and grace.
You were bloody superior ... and
You are, for the first time in 37 years, winners of a football World Cup.

... SMH ... Monday 24th November, 2003 ...

... don't time go quick when you're having fun ...

2003-11-25T23:15:00.000+11:00

I have two brothers ... I be the meat in the sandwich. My big brother, Barry, is 58. My baby brudder, Ross, is 53.

Ross celebrated his 30th wedding anniversary on Monday. He married Robyn in 1973 ... Nixon was still beavering away splicing tapes; Charles "knew" Camilla but not Di; the Beatles had split but Elvis was still alive; and, England had only won one World Cup.

Ross'n'Robyn met in Newcastle; married in Newcastle; and, live in Newcastle. Robyn is a teacher. Ross is a "bloke who knows about metals and mixes and shit that I know nothing about". They have two kids, Leigh who is at university and Christopher, who is in his senior years at High School.

Well done, you two. You have more stick-with-it than I have, gungadin!!

Hip ... hip ... !!!

... don't take just my word for it ...

2003-11-24T23:19:00.000+11:00

Des has a Proper Football view of The Match.

Peter Fitzsimmons was a Wallaby in the deep, dark past and has an insiders' perspective. I like his quote from The Times in 1966: "If perchance Germany beat us tomorrow at our national game, let us remind ourselves that twice this century we have beaten them at their national game . . .".

And I thought we were a smidge bitchy!!

... yikes ...

2003-11-24T22:02:00.000+11:00

Sylvie has a grasshopper.

Now ... a grasshopper, it must be universally acknowledged, is a beast of little brain. However ... it is besting my poor darling ginger

... it jumps and she nearly has a heart attack ...

It was half-way up the back of the sofa and for the life of her she could not get it down.
Now she is sitting inside an old wooden wine-box (Chateau La Fleur de Jaugue - Saint Emilion Grand Cru) whilst el grashope shimmies around the top edge.

This will occupy her all evening. In the morning I will find a poor legless body in the hallway. Is this what Darwin called "survival of the fittest"?

... 1385 ...

2003-11-24T20:13:00.000+11:00

One of the things you should know about Rugby in this country is that up until recently it has been regarded as a "toff's" game. That was, however, until Rupert-baby got his grimey mitts on Rugby League and fucked it totally. Rugby League (int parlance "league") was a working man's game. Then Rupert repackaged it for the betterment of Rupert and destroyed loyalty. Now there is nothing more endearing to your valiant working man, than loyalty. He will stick with a team through thick'n'thin just cause he was born t'it. As was his Dad, and his Dad's dad before him. Rebadging does not go down well in this territory. And Rupert was heavily into rebadging. Change the name. No problem. Change the colours. Makes sense. Merge with the despised "local derby". Economic rationalism. Move the homeground to Gosford. But, of course.

Well, fuck you Rupert-baby. We'll give "union" (more parlance) a go.

So what if it's only played in NSW and Queensland. So was league, but at least with union you get to play other countries, too. League is the Maroons, the Blues, St Helens and a couple of other has-been teams in the Old Dart. At least with Union (note the swelling chest now mandates a capital!) you get to play the Poms, the pseudo-Poms (otherwise known as Scotland), the pissed Poms (Ireland) and the Poms who reckon they can sing (take a guess). And to put the icing on the cake, you throw in the bloody Frogs as well.

Hence, the Wallabies became the team of choice and lads down at the local were boning up on line-outs and mauls. Nothing could put this into more stark relief than the realisation that over the weekend the Kangaroos (we Aussies (puke) have a proclivity for wildlife in our sporting nicknames: Wallabies, Kangaroos, Boomers, Hockyroos, Socceroos) played the final test in the UK for a 3-0 series whitewash and nobody gave a rats arse!!

So ... Aussie Aussie Aussie ... oi oi oi ...

So what was the man-in-the-street opinion of the game? Shame we lost. Wasn't it exciting. Didja loike the amosfere? Boy, din't we play like shit! Fuckin' rain! Bloody full-back went walk-a-bout. I heard both sides of this today in my own small workplace. I have come to the conclusion that we are, indeed, shit losers. And who better to exemplify this than Johnny-fuckin-Howard. What a mean little turd that man really is. Here have a medal. Chuck. Aw, round your neck? Do it yourself ... I'm Littlejohnnyhoward ... friend of Dubya. I've gotta rush back to the Lodge 'case the phone rings.

However, the atmosphere WAS nice. The rivalry WAS friendly. The winners WERE gracious. The losers WERE accepting. The masses WERE entertained.

Very much like what prevailed in September 2000. Outdoor loungerooms in the rain. Partying till all hours. Them'n'us. Nice.

And the 1385?
The number of days 'til France 2007.

... we band of brothers ...

2003-11-22T23:30:00.000+11:00

What an absolutely terrific, and thoroughly exhausting, game. By the end I did not really mind who won. Actually even part way through I was secretly hoping that England would win ... they played more intelligent football than did Australia. And certainly, those two little subterfuges before sending the ball back to Wilkinson for the denouement were really, really clever.

Wilkinson got all the MoTM awards that I could hear, but I think the game was actually won by Martin Johnson. Lordy, what an ugly bastard he be. Dallaglio played well as did Robinson on the wing ... but he could ditch the white shoes for mine. Loved it when the mikes caught the ref's "Millions watching and you're stuffing it up". And when, at the end, some inane journalist stuffed a mike up Woodward's nostril and caught "Who cares what I thought - we won!". The rolling mauls from England were magnificent. The line outs which we had dominated suddenly fell to pieces. Wendell Sailor was nowhere to be seen. The most passionate Gregan became was singing the anthem at the beginning.

There were just under 83,000 people at the Olympic Stadium. And 40% of them were English. Just proves where our base-stock is from. And to have it at 14-14 after 80 minutes and then the tie only broken with fewer than 30 seconds to go ... most enjoyable.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispan Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world ,
But we in it shall be remembered -
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother. Be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

... Henry V (IV, iii) ... William Shakespeare ...

Had to come back and add more to this post ... this is such a noisy suburb right now ... there are currents of pissed pomms flooding along Old South Head Road singing ... I think that is what they are trying to do ... ole ole ole ole ...ole ole ... and if that bloody chariot swings any lower ... The buses are having to dodge them outside here right now ... I live on quite a dangerous blind curve ... hope the bus drivers take them all into consideration ... sounds a smidge like NYE outside right now ... car horns and screeching tyres ... mmm ... methinks they be happy little backpackers ... lordy now Bellevue Hill be awash with fireworks ...

... shooting through like a Bondi tram ...

2003-11-22T00:50:00.000+11:00

When I was a kid (just shut up and listen ... ) when I was a kid my grandmother lived at Bondi. She moved to Bondi at the end of 1956. She was a broken, devastated woman. In June of that year her adored youngest son, Athol, died in London. He was an actuary. He was a dreamer. He was a traveller. I have his diaries from 1949 to about 1954 which cover his time in London and his trips to Spain where he hitch-hiked. From reading these, my guess is that he was homosexual ... but I have never mentioned this to my father. No point really. In London, in the summer of '56 he stepped onto the road-edge to cross and had to hastily retreat to avoid a cab; he stumbled, fell and cracked the back of his head on the curb. He died within 24 hours. I was eight at the time and only remember a lot of yelling and screaming ... and my father clambering out a window ... no idea why. Within months my grandmother (paternal) moved to Bondi. She was ... mmm ... 61 years old. My grandfather went with her. He was a lazy bastard. At that time he was 78. Yeah, well, at that age why should anyone be other than a lazy bastard. Well, he had been a LB when he was bloody 28! He used to leave in the morning and tell her he was going to the markets (she ran a corner store) and stand on one of the George Street corners and just watch all the people passing by.

Where was I? Ah, yes ... Bondi. So, Grandma moved to Bondi. Not long after, my family and I moved from Sydney to the Hunter Valley. Each summer (December / January) we would go to Sydney for a 'holiday" ... being a dysfunctional family, holidays were a blessed relief because we were "diluted". We holidayed at Bondi. Sometimes we stayed with Grandma. Sometimes Dad rented a semi. We would go to the beach a lot ... walk down and back within about 7 minutes. This was pre-skin-cancer-scardy-kat days. We always caught up with the latest Elvis movies, too. Would go to these lovely art-deco theatres in Pitt Street in the City ... all now gone the way of Whelan-the-Wrecker and into oblivion, being replaced by concrete and glass monstrosities. Shit and derision ... why am I telling you all this crap? Grandma lived in Blair Street which was not far (200 yards) from the North Bondi Tram Terminus. We walked down and caught a tram into the City ... Elizabeth Street just opposite Hyde Park. Great memories. The trams were all yellow and green. Patriotic bunch of wankers we were in those days. Although, bloody hell ... I watched the ABC 7pm news this evening and it seems that half of Sydney went to work with a Wallabies jersey on, with green hair and yellow / green shit all over their face. The group that makes the jerseys have sold 100,000 Wallaby jerseys in the last two months. What a sad bunch of fuckers we are.

... yeeeeetcccch ...

2003-11-21T06:40:00.000+11:00

Geez ... what the hell does this mean? I am struggling here folks ... I cannot cope with this sort of shit.

This is a game of bloody football ...

... Bledisloe Blues ...

2003-11-20T22:07:00.000+11:00

There are some situations where "them" become "us". When the real "us" is not involved ... then "them" is allowed to become a pseudo-"us" ... just for the duration you understand.

Got all that? Goodo ... there be a test at the end!

Howlett looked pretty okay as he stormed onto that pass from moolie-unpronounceable-hyena ... mmm ... six tries to one ... smidge of a drubbing ... 40 - 13 ... I guess the score-board says it all ...

I guess it is the Southern-Hemisphere vs the Northern-Hemisphere. Bloody oppressive here this evening. Started the morning with fog, fog and more fog. That burnt off by elevenses ... and the day reached ... mmm ... probably 29C ... with towering cumulo-nimbus ...

Trying to find out why the All-Blacks use the fern in their logo. I think it is based on the silver fern. To start with I thought it was the national plant which is a Kowhai fern, but no. I like the stylistic design. A good logo ... like the Canadian maple-leaf. Very simple without being simplistic. I guess the "all blacks" is not only because of their uniform but also because so many of the team members are usually Maori. I like "Tall Blacks" which is the common-name for the NZ basketball team. Clever.

... summer in the city ...

2003-11-20T06:49:00.000+11:00

"> When I was a kid (in the middle of last century) I lived on a farm in the Hunter Valley in the middle of the state of New South Wales. I had two brothers; one older, one younger. We were a dysfunctional family and pretty much left to our own devices. Every summer we collected cicadas.

We mostly ended up with discarded shells. We would be out and about at 5am (in the morning, nonetheless!) collecting the shells from the base of trees and from the base of fence posts. Just to see who could get the most. We ended up with hundreds each week. However, the biggest kudos were awarded to he who could collect the widest variety of cicadas themselves. Preferably alive. Preferably angry; and hence ... drumming.

We had Yellow Mundy, Cherry Nose, Floury Baker. And the omnipresent Green Grocer.

Back to the present. I have two cats. I have a garden. My set of apartments have common gardens. My cats, especially Sapphie, roam. They bring their conquests into the living room to show me. I have been presented with cockroaches. With geckoes. With lizards. With a mouse.

Now I am being presented with cicadas. Drumming. Under my dining room table.

Enough already, sweet things. I know about cicadas.

... a chance to catch up on my ironing ...

2003-11-18T23:41:00.000+11:00

Tonight I saw the first part of Prime Suspect 6 with Helen Mirren. The second part is on tomorrow night.

I have been a Mirren fan from way back and a Prime Suspect fan from the very beginning. I have PS 1-3 and 5 on tape. I did have PS4 (considered by many to be the best) on tape but I suspect I overwrote it at some stage. I do not watch a lot of television. When I do it is rarely drama ... and hardly ever comedy. I watch a lot of news bulletins. I used to watch current affairs but they are more a form of entertainment now that they are an avenue for information and investigation. I do watch documentaries (I saw an enjoyable couple of episodes about the life of Eleanor Rooseveldt about a month or so ago). Mostly what I watch on television is sport. I watch the Premier League replays (the live coverage is a smidge too late for me even though I am a night owl). I watch rugby. I watch cricket.

Tonight, however, I watched drama ... and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I love the character of Jane Tennison. She is so black and tortured. And such a bitch. Yet she cares deeply. And she has that sardonic Mirren smirk. At the beginning of Part 1 there were some great scenes during the autopsy. The pathologist was, I think, an Indian woman. Great sense of black humour. And the interplay between her and Tennison was enjoyable. She did not take herself seriously as Sam Ryan in "Silent Witness" does. I used to very much enjoy SW (have many of them on tape too) but the character is getting more and more boring. In fact, the character has no character any more.

I reckon that Channel 7 missed a great marketing opportunity here. Sure they put it on during the week where all things English are being given a run in Sydney. But this, I suspect, was simply because it was shown last weekend in the UK ... I think. However, why not run Prime Suspect from the very beginning. Every Tuesday night ... as a promo ... as a lead up ... to suck us all back in. If not each PS then a couple of the very best of them. So long as PS 4 is one of them ... cause then I could tape it again.

Most annoying thing is though ... tomorrow I have to be at work from 6pm till 830pm for our 20th Anniversary. I am working the cocktail circuit ... what a laugh!! Shall really test my vcr challenged brain ... and K is going to her father's for dinner ... mmm ... might get Lesley to tape it for me in the Library at school. Phew. Problem solved.

... golly gosh No. 2 ...

2003-11-16T22:01:00.000+11:00

Who'd a thunk it, hey?

An England versus Australia Rugby World Cup Final.

Golly gosh ...

... them vs us ...

2003-11-15T22:41:00.000+11:00

Golly gosh ...

I think we bested them in every department except the haka. And ... dare I say ... we played with discipline ... we had commitment ... we had passion.

Golly gosh ...

... unions of nations ...

2003-11-15T10:44:00.000+11:00

Between what David and Des have been discussing there is a helluva lot that is out of my realm of knowledge. However, I enjoy that sort of conversation and the way David can pose the man-in-the-street thoughts and Des come back with the facts, as he interprets them. Thanks, guys.

David mentions at one point that the EU was set up to "prevent future wars in Europe". I did not realise this in the least. I would think that could be a futile aim. It seems to me that the EEC (is that the name for what is commonly known a "the common market"?) was set up for a raft of political, social and economic (PES) reasons. From my distance, I consider that one of the founding principles was to balance the PES of the USA. Some of this balancing was apparent earlier this year when many members of the EU voiced their opinions on the invasion of Iraq.

It seems to me (remembering that I am "uninformed" but that distance provides some of, albeit limited, perspective) that the social dimension is one of the major frictions to forward progress. The currency rationalisation was relatively straight forward as citizens of member nations were immediately aware of its usefulness to them as an individual. Because of distances there is just so much travel between member nations and having one currency meant that you at least could calculate when you were being ripped off. However, even then there was an insular backlash against the demise of the franc, the lira, the guilder and the deutschmark. Other social rationalisations (like one flag or one anthem) will provoke much more hysteria because there is no immediately apparent benefit.

The other issues you mention (inter-nation work permits, language requirements, restrictions on "persons of ethnicity") are people protecting their own. It occurs world wide. It is the haves keeping the have-nots down and out. As soon as the have-nots join the haves they adopt the self-same stance. I am a smidge taken-aback by the passion you both show about the public-smoking-ban. We have that here in Australia. The claims, from the unions and from individual workers, that were verified via the justice system, for compensation for smoking-induced illnesses made it absolutely essential that smoking in enclosed areas was banned. This means restaurants, cinemas, theatres, government work-places and many many private workplaces. The rate of smoking here in Australia is down below 25%. The highest rate of increase is for teenage females, sadly enough. I guess my stance is in support of this legislation because of the discomfort it causes many people. I pub-smoke only and even that I have only taken up this year.

As you are probably aware, Australia is essentially a WASP country with strong ties to the UK but which exists within Asia. We are a small nation (20 million) among larger, more economically prosperous nations. We endeavour to join together with neighbouring nations in organisations like ASEAN (Association of South-East Asian nations) which is essentially polical and social, and APEC (Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation) which is essentially ... economic. However, neither of them produce legislation and it is totally up to the individual national leader to implement whichever "bits" he likes when he returns home (oops ... sorry, Helen Clarke & Megawati ... that should be he/she!!).

The major difference between our situation (I include Australia and NZ in the "our" ... even though today of all days it is "them" and "us"!!) is that we do not share national borders and that the distances involved are so much greater than those in Europe. I believe the cultural and racial differences would be insignificant if the borders were shared and the distances smaller. However, many Asian nations are vociferous in their denunciations of Australia as a white-nation who thinks it has superiority on morals, ethics and way-of-life. I am too close to be other than subjective. I don't know if either of you has visited Australia, but we are increasingly a nation that is wedded to Asia. Our population is expanding in that direction. Our vision is increasingly focussed on Asia. it has to be. They have the markets and the population that keep our industries afloat.

The area of greatest interplay would seem to be education. Our tertiary institutions have welcomed students from Asia with open arms because they can charge them the full cost of a degree and not have to worry about voter-backlash. The same is happening with secondary education. Working in a school I am painfully aware of the need for some families in Asia to obtain a western education, mainly famililes from South Korea and Thailand. Children anywhere from 8 to 16 are sent to
Australia to live with "aunties" and enrol in my school, even though we are Jewish and they are, say, Buddhist! Often this is a ruse to keep a visa valid.

Good lord ... desist Julie. Let the poor chaps get a word in sideways.

... R .. E .. S .. P .. E .. C .. T ...

2003-11-12T22:56:00.000+11:00

So ... a post without images ... I can do this!

Something happened this evening which has made me really angry. Not completely sure why. But angry and ... cheated.

My stepmother has been in the UK for a month visiting her son and his family who are over there on secondment to Westpac Bank. Colin is a commercial negotiator. Peggy returned to Sydney on Sunday night. My father had been living by himself for that time. My father is 82. We had been in touch every two days ... sometimes he would ring me, mostly I would ring him. Tonight when I got home about 9:30 after helping Kirsten move out of her apartment and back in here until next June, there was a message to ring him.

He told me that last Tuesday he had had a stroke and had been in hospital for Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Nothing major. Nothing to be worried about. He wanted me to finish the final essay for my Masters and did not want me to get side-tracked. Twice ... twice ... he phoned me from the hospital for a chat. Twice!

I phoned him on Saturday and he told me he was puffing because he was ironing. I phoned him on Sunday and he said he was puffing because he had just returned from buying the paper. I phoned Peggy on Monday morning to see how she was. She chatted away. He had not told her either. Not while she was in London. Nor immediately upon her return. I spoke with Dad and he sounded really really tired. I know he had slaved all weekend vacuuming and cleaning the apartment like it had never had been cleaned before. He vacuumed the bloody skirting boards. It was only this evening that he told me. I suspect that Peggy made him.

Now I know how it feels to be lied to by someone you love. I am angry. I feel cheated. I have been treated like an idiot. He has been disrespectful to me.

Now I understand.

2003-11-11T21:02:00.000+11:00

I work in a lovely old sandstone building atop a hill in Randwick which is in the Eastern Suburbs of Sydney. Australia was only settled by Europeans in 1788. We were not settled by volunteers and we were not settled by wealthy people. It took many many years for the settlement to be firm ... probably till the end of the governorship of Lachlan Macquaire in 1821. The building in which I work was constructed for a family in 1863. It was their home. My school bought it in 1983 from The Little Sisters of the Poor. They moved across the road and built a very modern retirement village. They still come over and visit us every few months.

This photo is facing east. On the left of the photo is a paved area outside what was the chapel and is now our Performing Arts Centre. This area is where the flagpole is (we fly both the Australian and the Israeli flag - dangerous I know, but we don't cower). This is our official "entertaining" area. This verandah is where we sit and have lunch. Immediately on the right is the office of the Deputy Principal. Further along the verandah is the Reception.

Sydney is built upon a massive sandstone deposit. It was used frequently to construct public buildings in early Sydney. There is an island in Sydney Harbour that nearly disappeared so much sandstone was quarried from it. Sandstone is a beautiful rock. I will show you the entire building tomorrow.

... on being assertive ...

2003-11-08T08:14:00.000+11:00

You know, character still adapts into that goodnight ... yesterday I stood up for myself; I argued my case ... and the holiday situation was adapted to suit my needs/wishes ... whatever ... *beam*

If you recall, School was going to reopen 5th January ... except it seemed that everyone (except two of us) had "organised" their holidays and hence could not come in. Hence, it fell to Christine and I to man the phones etc for that week (Jan 5 - Jan 12). Knowing this, the powers that be declared School officially closed for that week ... but I don't WANT three weeks off at that time. And ... I was told that if I did not use my holiday leave, I would lose it. Even worse, Christine was told that she had to take that week without pay because, only having worked there for 9 months, she had not accrued enough days!! Very high-handed ... and a case of the oil rag telling the engineer how to run the train!!

I went straight to the top and had a whinge. But I was very polite, as ever (Kirsten said that the email I'd sent sounded "really pissed off" ... well ... I was). Result: school is still closed but I am allowed to come in, no phones, no gates, no loss of holiday entitlements ... ever! He was upset that I was upset. I was very pleased that for once I had stood my ground and not just gone along with the herd. I keep my holiday entitlements for later in the year. Two weeks off at any one time is tons.

So, with encouragement, comes confidence and a sprinkling of courage.

Take up this seed, it is most beautiful,
Within its husk opening in fire and air
Into a flower's stem and a flower's mouth,
To lean upon the wall of summer
And touch the lips of the dark wind.
Lift up this seed; life from its circle
Spins towards light,
Full-voiced from many seasons' sounds
And, in a fruit's fall or a bird's fall,
Is one with all plants in the earth's well,
Such is its miracle.

... Take up this seed ... Dylan Thomas

... the fine red single skein of love ...

2003-11-06T20:23:00.000+11:00

Two Muses is a log that I read on a regular basis - well nigh daily. The imagery exhibits a passion for the peripheral. The caption (which in twenty words can convey what many need 50,000) is both surgical and poetic. The combination shows an insight and an empathy that I can only envy. This post of Lynn's from earlier this week put me in memory of a photograph of my own son. It took time to locate and prepare ...

Alastair was in Year 2 when the image on the left was taken on the balcony of our house in St Ives. He was off to a Christmas choir performance at his all boys school. This captures his character to a tee. Middle-class cleanliness enclosing a shotglass full of devilment. Alastair was in Transition (the year between Kindergarten and Year 1) when the image on the right was taken. He was Captain Pugwash in the end-of-year musical extravaganza.

Today Alastair works for a medical software company on the North Shore of Sydney. He shares an apartment with a friend. He is a salesman. He did two and a half years at university before tossing it in and bumming around a bit. Whilst at uni he bought and pranged a Honda motor-bike. After uni his first job was selling trucks. During this time he bought a Porsche of some sort. It is about 20 years old. He is now trying to sell it because he could never keep his foot off the floor and lost his licence. He also realised how broke it constantly made him. He is considering returning to university next year to do a Marketing / Finance degree. Would suit his personality. Originally he chose to study Aeronautical Engineering ... because he liked fast engines and was very good at Mathematics, Physics and Chemistry. It bored the pants off him. To quote him, "Just because you are good at something doesn't mean you enjoy it". He is a fascinating amalgam. Captain of Rugby at 12. Captain of Basketball at 18. Reached A.Mus level on his clarinet. Devotee of head-banging heavy metal.

He seems to be making the transition ... gradually.

Before you were then you were mine
Dark honey of my honeycomb
I laboured patiently and long
To fashion out of flesh and bone
The form to keep you housed and home.

The pulse still beats upon your head
For me, though bone may shield the vein,
The world divides - and yet we hold,
An end to each, the seeking skein,
The indestructible thread of love.

... To A Child ... Rosemary Dobson

... where trees flower, and springs flow ...

2003-11-05T22:30:00.000+11:00

Had a feeling of entrapment today. We were asked to nominate our summer vacation period. Turns out some people have already applied for and been given holidays. Then they have booked and paid for cruises and plane tickets. I have done nowt. Therefore I have nothing that needs to be taken into account. Turns out that noone was available to work from January 5 to January 15. Lucky me. I am no stranger to lying but a falsehood in this sort of situation is beyond me. My last day is December 19. I start back on January 5. Come the beginning of March I will have 10 weeks of unused vacation. Julie doormat, that be me.

Need to plan a cheap vacation for December 27 to January 3. Car touring somewheres. Staying in caravan parks. Not easy over the summer. But between Christmas and NY is not THE busiest time. Howabout Sydney, Albury, Shepparton, Ballarat, Geelong, Great Ocean Road, Warnambool, Mount Gambier, Mildura, Hay, Orange, Bathurst, Katoomba and then home. Might work it out on a map and see if it is driveable over that short a time.

Need to see what alternatives I have for converting my Europe ticket. Don't want to waste $2,500!!

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again.

... Ash Wednesday ... T. S. Eliot

... The Big A ...

2003-11-03T22:08:00.000+11:00

This was a remarkable story and a wonderful piece of understated journalism. The people were allowed to tell their own story. No interviews. Lots of candor. Sure it was edited. Sure we only saw Hazel when she was at her best and the stories told by her daughters gave all the balance necessary.

Hazel was allowed her dignity. This is important.

She led a very positive life when she was the wife of the Prime Minister. He was a rogue who became a bit of a caricature of himself. A bit of a sad case of someone being unable to age gracefully. Even after they divorced she earned tremendous respect for her own self.

Well done, Australian Story.

... that is sooo eighties ...

2003-11-02T21:03:00.000+11:00

Part way through this episode there was a video of an early Crowded House song. They were just cracking the US market and the video looked like it was shot in the area of Venice Beach. Kirsten expleted "That is sooo eighties". I made no comment ... yeah ... yeah ... unusual ... Then she looked at me and queried "You probably can't tell the difference between 80s music and 90s music. Can you?". Ah, nope.

But then when she is in my car and NKC comes on she says "Geez, not that 20s music again!" ... and everyone ... everyone knows that Nat King Cole was 50s!! I can tell the difference between 50s and 60s music ... but that's it. From there on out it is all one long juke-box.

Back to this tv show this evening. It was very good. I guess we came in half-way through. Got a whole swag of Crowded House plus the last song ("Don't Dream It's Over") of the last show before 200,000 on the steps of the Opera House. Then into interesting comments by Savage Garden. I have CH greatest hits, plus two cds of Savage Garden. Love that guy's voice. And he said some intelligent things. Then we entered upon and extended paen to Kylie. Turns out she is not as stupid as I thought. Sorry, Kylie. Not sure that she has a massive voice, but she has certainly used it to its full advantage. The bum and the short shorts help too. Not sure I will bother with the double cd of the show. Better off to get a full cd of any groups I like that I am still missing. Have lots of Midnight Oil. Enough Yothu Yindu. No Kylie ... but that slight voice singing disco ... really doesn't do it for me. But the show was memorable.

I want to stand with you on a mountain
I want to bathe with you in the sea
I want to lie like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me.

... Truly Madly Deeply ... Savage Garden

... Australia 17 slaughtered Ireland 16 ...

2003-11-01T22:45:00.000+11:00

Phew !!

Could only watch snippets of this. Kirsten is on the dining room table doing her thesis on refugees. I am in the study, supposedly, doing my essay on "Collegiality in a K-12 School". I had the SMH tickertape going in a window. The lovely Mary Black warbles in the background. A nice stiff Baileys, Butterscotch Schnapps and milk to hand. Drive K over to the Churchill to watch ManU slaugher my Pompey later this evening. Bitchbuggerbum ...

One more weekend of this ... and then I am free when the semi-finals are on. Goodo.

Had a lovely little win with my boss on Thursday arvo. I drove him over to Kings Cross to pick up his car and as we drove through Taylor Square at the top of Oxford Street he asked who the chap was in the billboard poster for Pepsi. So I gave him a potted bio of Harry Kewell. He grinned and said I was a constant surprise to him. I do like to have him on the back foot ... best place to have one's boss ... *grin*.

Hah ... Sapphie has just jumped on my lap for her evening cuddle ... but if she keeps pumping away on my leg with her claws she will be out on her ear real quick!!

Mary warbles "Dimming of the Day" ... back I go to the coal-face.

... mmmgggrrrrrrrrr ...

2003-11-01T08:36:00.000+11:00

I think I have been "bloggered" again. All the rest of the code in my log (from partway down the sidebar onwards) has simply ... disappeared.

Poof!!

Gone ...

Saturday evening: hah! ... went to the archive and retrieved it all. God knows what I did. Not a good night last night.

... parathesia ...

2003-11-01T08:20:00.000+11:00

I actually felt sick in the stomach as the appointment came closer. The specialist at St Vincents was on time for once ... but only because another patient did not front! He did all the normal prodding to check that the gross motor nerves were not impaired. This, I guess, is my big concern. To a large extent I can cope with the numbness ... but the onset of the shooting pains ... scared me. These pains are in two areas. Firstly, in my right wrist and in my left thumb and first finger. He said this was the nerves and the tendons interacting, being inflammed and pressing on each other. I now have something to take for that. Why this happens? Who knows ... just does. He gave no explanation. I suspect it is in the realm of research. The other shooting pain is from my right buttock down my leg. He said that this was a small tear in my hamstring. Did I do that at the gym? Possibly, but more likely to be the serverity of the nerve reaction tearing a tiny bit of the muscle away from the bone. If I were an All-Black I would not be playing this weekend ... Bloody Kiwis ... who let them into this country!! He gave me whatever the footballers use to fix their hammies. He said a couple of weeks and it would ease. Goodo.

So then into the nerve conduction tests. I never enjoy these ... you lie on the couch. He puts two electrical loops ... one around my index finger the other around my ring finger. He puts a tie around my lower arm to compress it ... glues a measuring device into my inside elbow. Then using a pencil wand he turns the current on his machine up ... and up and up ... until there is a throb of electricity through that set of nerves every half second. I lose count but I guess he does this ... mmm ... maybe ten times. Every so often he adjusts the measuring device ... the wand he moves all over the lower arm ... all this information is recorded graphically on his computer ... he writes down coordinates ... and sometimes takes out this variation of a carpenter's rule and measures the distance from the wrist to the wand. He then repeats this procedure on my right leg. He only ever does the right-hand-side of my body ... that being the most affected.

We started just a smidge after 3:30pm and I was walking out to get my blood test at 4:40pm. The results? The parathesia has not progressed. There is no additional impairment to the nerves since last he measured. I am in the mild to moderate category. Sure the side-effects (the pins/needles/numbness) has increased but not the damage. So ... where to from here. He gave me another medication, one which we talked about last time but did not get to because it had not made it to the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme (PBS) as yet and was exorbitant. It still is very expensive so he gave me a wholesaler to buy it from and then when I claim that back it will be a similar price to other PBS nerve-control medications. It is called "Neurontin". He claimed that it had no interactions with other drugs, so alcohol (in moderation) is not off the agenda.

So, why have the side-effects (the parathesia) appeared to increase dramatically in the last, say, three months? Could be something to do with the raised para-proteins which are indicative of the MGUS (Monoclonal Gammopathy of Unknown Significance) ... one of those grey areas where they are not sure of cause and effect. So ... off I traipse to have a few phials of blood removed from my right arm. This then is sent off to the haemmatologist and he and the neuologist monitor it from here on out ... until I get right pissed off with all this and refuse to go again for a couple of years!

All this is very well ... until I get home and the poor little nervie-poos having been stimulated out of their cotton-picking brains decide they have to let off all the additional energy ... and they ping away for the rest of the evening ... sending me into paroxysms of twitches and hence to bed at 11pm ... unbloodyheardof!!

... We have done some snatchwork on your patchwork ...

2003-10-31T20:33:00.000+11:00

When I was eight years of age I moved from Sydney to a farm in the country. For a child, this was delightful. For my parents it was a disaster. We were isolated, physically and socially. We were not farmers. We were not villagers. We did not frequent clubs. But I was eight. What did I know of these things. But ... it left its mark.

I am an inward person. I am a lover of solitude. I am a loner. I guess this is by nature. But it was reinforced, nay fixed, during this period. I was a keeper of animals. I had chickens. I had a horse. I had three rams. I had a dog. I had cats, numerous cats. The cat I had for the longest was Mumma. I loved Mumma cat. She went every where with me. When I collected the eggs she travelled behind and waited outside the run. When I tended my vegetable patch s pounced on lizards an geckoes. When I chopped the kindling, she stood a respectful watchful distance away so as not to be pelted by chips. When I churned the cream into butter, she helped me clean up. When I clambered to the top of the bales of hay right at the top of the shearing shed to hide and to read, to read, to read. There was Mumma Cat. Asleep in the sun beside me. Mumma Cat and me.

I have two cats. I chose them both at the RSPCA. The first one I chose in December 2001. She is a ginger cat and I called her Sylvie. I named her in memory of my grandmother, Sylvia Irene Veronica Cole. Sylvie was 8 weeks old when I brought her home just before Christmas. In April 2002 I chose a second cat. She is a tabby cat and I called her Sapphie. She was 16 weeks old when I brought her home.

Sylvie and Sapphie are as different as chalk and cheese. Sylvie is fat, and lazy and a homebody. She will venture out into the garden where I have built perch for her to sit in the sun and to survey her kingdom. But she is always ready to come back inside when I go to work. Sapphie is slim, tres active and lives to roam. When I first got her she was extremely wary of me. She would neither accept nor show affection. She still spends either all day, or all night, outside roaming the neighbourhood with other cats. I open the sliding door, whistle, give her a call and suddenly ... whoosh ... up and over the fence she comes.

My cats are like my children. So totally totally different. I love them both. A different love for each, as is the want.

"Good morning, good yawning," says Tabby, getting up. She stretches.
She sleeps on a quilt. It is patchwork, like herself. She loves it.
She loves her breakfast too. She waits for it.
She says good morning, and good yawning to the people who live in her house.
They are a mother and a father and two children.
They all watch for the milkman. Tabby's tail begins to twitch.
They hear his float, they hear him sing.
Tabby goes out and loves the milkman.
"Oh milkman, milkman," she says, "you can come and live at my house any time."

... from The Patchwork Cat by Nicola Bayley and Willliam Mayne
given to Kirsten on 28th April, 1982 ...

... hey, jools - can I pick your brain for a minute? ...

2003-10-30T22:47:00.000+11:00

Happened again today ... oh so similar to what happened just before the Spring break. Then, a High School teacher dropped in late in the afternoon for a "chat". She did not value being a Tutor ... but ... had a brill idea much better suited to her where her talents would be used to the full. Instead of having sixteen Year 8 students to look after, she proposed a new position of Senior Academic Mentor. All the academic students in Years 11 and 12 would meet with her during Tutor Group (8:20 - 8:50) four mornings a week. This is not a welfare position and carries no more salary loading than her Tutor role. She and I discussed the role description, who to put the propositon to, spinning her cv and countering Executive objections. Yesterday I typed her letter of appointment.

Today Tracy grabbed me twice to haveachat. She wanted to know how to go about proposing a new position for the school. Same bags; same pack-drill. This time it was Upper Primary Technology Coordinator. I guess two conversations of 15 minutes each. Very detailed discussion it was too. I made her an appointment for tomorrow, for her to make her proposition to the Principal.

The Campus Manager announced in our weekly time-table meeting (he, Deputy Principal, Office Manager and PA to Principal) a couple of weeks ago that his wife was expecting their fourth (his fifth) child. Then about a week ago he told me privately that he was about to have a vasectomy. Tomorrow is the big day for him ... he knows about the bowed legs for four days and the extent of the purple bruising.

This is a really worthwhile job, this is.

... gggrrrrrrrr ...

2003-10-30T01:14:00.000+11:00

My new computer is nowt but a can o' worms.

They have come and carted it off to the infirmary.

2003-10-28T06:43:00.000+11:00

Spoke with the lecturer at uni last night. I have gone to UNSW for the last two years. The Masters of Educational Administration has involved 6 units. I totally overloaded last year where I was close to full-time ... and working about 60 hours a week as well. Personally, It helped me to be so involved though. This year has been easier when I have only been doing one unit each semester which requires just the double lecture on a Monday night.

Yesterday I asked about Graduate Diplomas in Counselling. However, these are only available to students who have an undergrad degree in Psychology. I have lots of psychology courses but not a full degree. Shit and derision! A B.A.(Psych.) has been expanded in the last 18 months and now takes 5 years full-time. I don't even want to go down there. I want some background to help me with all the informal counselling that my job involves me in. I am forever being pulled aside by students and by staff for a "chat". I respond as a empathetic human being ... and I guess as a mother who has been through a few traumas. But I want a less emotional basis to my understanding. Maybe I will just start to be more widely read in the area. With all the research that I have done this year, I have found all the right places to look.

More thinking required.

... dreaming impossible dreams ...

2003-10-27T00:37:00.000+11:00

Went to another Musaeus concert this evening. The standard is amazingly high. Very powerful singing and cleverly executed stage craft. They started the evening with a medley of songs from the 50s followed by another medley from the 70s. A contrast in style to the musicals that the rest of the evening is based on. Enabled each of the 15 singers to show their individual personality.

The first half of the evening was occupied by a potted version of "Jekyll & Hyde" followed by "Man of la Mancha". I did not know the J&H music until I went to this same concert about a month ago. I have seen two professional performances of MoLM. The music to it is very inspiring. Might have to get myself a Broadway cast recording. The second half of the evening encompassed "The Secret Garden" followed by a most stirring rendition of "Big River". I saw this in performance at the Capitol Theatre in the early 90s and have a bcr on tape.

I had organised to meet beforehand with Paul and Gabriel. However, they both had "something come up" at the last moment. They had bought tickets and all. I was not amused. All was not lost, though. I met two very nice women and we chatted away all evening. One of them had a daughter in the troupe. She said the transition of the troupe over the last three years was a joy. All I know is the standard they are at now. It is very high. I can see why their maestro, Sean, has scouts at each of the concerts and is talking to them severally and individually about going semi-professional by the middle of 2004.

I have dreamed thee too long,
Never seen thee or touched thee, but known thee with all of my heart,
Half a prayer, half a song,
Thou has always been with me, though we have been always apart.

Dulcinea ... Dulcinea ...
I see heaven when I see thee, Dulcinea,
And thy name is like a prayer an angel whispers ...
Dulcinea ... Dulcinea!

... the only growth that interests me ...

2003-10-25T22:24:00.000+10:00

There was a small article in the SMH last Monday which was buried on something like page 7. It was "Short of Stature, Short of Everything". Researchers from the universities of Florida and North Carolina analysed four large-scale research studies, which followed thousands of participants from childhood to adulthood. They found employers rated tall people as being more effective at their jobs. German researchers previously found that the taller of two brothers was likely to have a higher level of education and British researchers found short children had lower IQs. The latest United States research, to be published in the Journal of Applied Psychology, found that every 2.5 centimetres (or one inch) adds an average $1139 to a yearly pay packet. In today's SMH there is a riposte from Adele Horin who is the SMH's resident bleeding-heart.

In my job being short is, IMO, an advantage. It enables me to appear less forbidding and more approachable. Less cold and more warm. However, Kirsten says that it pisses her off being short (I guess I am about 155cm and K is about 157cm). She has been at UNSW for six years now and is over 24. However, she is still asked for id at UniBar whereas first year undergrads ... who are taller ... are not interrogated! At work a couple of weeks ago the new student leaders for 2003-2004 were chosen. There were four viable candidates for Head-Girl and Head-Boy. Both those chosen were the taller of the two. Now, this could (could) have been based on their character. But I think not. The two shorter candidates are real go-getters. They beaver away here, there and everywhere. The taller of the candidates are elegant and self-assured. They have an air of calm assurance, like landed-gentry.

I do think there is truth in these articles and in this research.

I cannot grow;
I have no shadow
To run away from,
I only play.

I cannot err;
There is no creature
Whom I belong to,
Whom I could wrong.

I am defeat
When it knows it
Can now do nothing
By suffering.

I shall never be
Different. Love me.

... I Cannot Grow ... W. H. Auden

... withering into the truth ...

2003-10-24T23:13:00.000+10:00

Each Monday, Wednesday and Friday we walk down Avoca Street to Centennial Park; around these duck ponds, around the wild bird refuge, swing around the Tashlich ponds, over Darley Road and then the long trudge back up Avoca Street.

Today I took my heart in my hands and changed into t-shirt and shorts. Quite a sight ... little knobbly knees and short legs pumping away. We chat all the way ... a pair of ms-have-a-chats. About Emanuel, about Musaeus, about our children. Most enjoyable. Even Bruce is impressed ... not with my knees, but with the fact that we are such regulars and are both quite flushed when we return. Students even give us high-fives as we sweat back onto campus.

Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.

... The Coming of Wisdom with Time ... W. B. Yeats

... freedom of speech ...

2003-10-23T20:30:00.000+10:00

This photo was taken this afternoon in the lower house as Bush addressed a joint sitting. Bush is nearly indiscernable in the upper left hand corner of the image. I want to discuss today but not to focus on Bush. I think his visit is just tub-thumping by our own Prime Minister whom I do not trust.

Parliament House is a fairly architecturally modern building set on a small rise in the heart of the city. Canberra is a fully planned city that saw the first Parliament House opened in 1927. As you can see by this wider view of the lower chamber, there are public galleries available for electors to sit and watch their representative perform. These public galleries are up and behind the speaker's chair. Most of Canberra was shut down today (hmm ... usually it is only their brain that is shut down!) by the massive security operation that probably follows Bush where-ever he goes. Australia is a bit more like Sweden and the sort of security that covered Anna Lindt ... Canberra is a very beautiful, although I guess essentially sterile, town.

This image gives you a good overview of the building and its surrounds. It really is just stuck out in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by bushland This afternoon, as Bush addressed Parliament, I sat in my office with a white band around my left arm. I do not believe that the motives for invading Iraq as espoused by the Coalition of the Willing were as pure as they were made out to be. I think the Iraqi people have only been advantaged in a very narrow way. The current occupation will last for many, many years and will be the cause of much heartache for the American people in a similar vein to Vietnam.

... a living airscape ...

2003-10-22T21:06:00.000+10:00

This morning I drove into Macquarie Street in the city at 7 o'clock. William Street, College Street and Macquarie Street were awash with colourful banners. Banners which neither Kirsten nor I could make head-nor-tail of. However, once I turned from College into Macquarie, just outside the Hyde Park Barracks there was a single banner of explanation: "Art and About ... the city as a canvas". Aha, says I. Our wonderful city council is spending someones rates littering the airscape. I looked up their website ... and - voila!

The pink banner on the left caught our eye first. It was fluttering outside the Australian Museum on the corner of William and College Streets. I expected an advertisement for something ... like the World Cup Rugby or some other excessive extravaganza of our city fathers. But no ... just some wierd combination of words signifying ... nothing ... well not to me, anyways. Here is the official explanation.

Christopher Dean
No One Cries in Martin Place & Other Poems
This banner aims to create a space somewhere between critical thinking and daydreaming. “Big Hair City” is a colloquialism used in Los Angeles, “Streets of the long voyage” is the title of a poem by Michael Dransfield, “No one cries in Martin Place” is from a poem by John Forbes, “Today could be Sunday” was a piece of graffiti that I saw in Newtown and “Gross National Happiness” was a Buddhist’s solution to Capitalist Economics.

Pretty nifty, hey! And ... so ... m e a n i n g f u l ...

And how about the tasty morsel on the right ... try endeavouring to decipher that as you storm down College Street alongside St Mary's Cathedral. Here we go with the official waffle.

Noel McKenna
My two sons Felix and Emile love fishing, unlike myself. This work sums up my attitude to fishing, almost pointless.

Not bad. Not bad. At least a self deprecating sense of humour.

As I drove Kirsten into her office in Macquarie Street (just near the Mitchell Library of NSW) I was beginning to like the effect of all these gaudy lengths of material fluttering in a rather stiff breeze.

Artscape ... mmm ... ... ... okay ... ...

Here is the City of Sydney website so that you can see an enlarged version of these two banners and the other ten banners in the exhibition.

2003-10-22T00:13:00.000+10:00

TS Eliot Prize 2003 Shortlist

Billy Collins Nine Horses

John F Deane Manhandling The Deity

Ian Duhig The Lammas Hireling

Lavinia Greenlaw Minsk

Jamie McKendrick Ink Stone

Bernard O'Donoghue Outliving

Don Paterson Landing Light

Jacob Polley The Brink

Christopher Reid For and After

Jean Sprackland Hard Water

The winner will receive £10,000, in a ceremony to take place in central London on 19 January

... silence ...

2003-10-20T21:01:00.000+10:00

George W. Bush arrives in Australia on Wednesday. He is going to address both Houses of Parliament in Canberra.

Some Members of Parliament (MPs) are going to wear white arm bands - in the same vein as they wore black arm-bands during the time when Howard resolutely refused to acknowledge or apologise for the treatment of the tribes indigenous to this land at the time of the European invasion at the end of the 18th century. So ... they will wear white arm-bands and turn their back on him.

Achieves little of a concrete nature. But is very symbolic.

I used to think that what was required was manners. But manners, and politely sitting there giving the other person their democratic time at the podium is misinterpreted. Politeness is far too frequently interpreted as acquiescence ... or weakness.

I am going to wear a white arm-band to work on whatever day it is that Bush addresses our parliament.

On Being Asked for a War Poem

I think it better that in times like these
A poet's mouth be silent, for in truth
We have no gift to set a statesman right;
He has had enough of meddling who can please
A young girl in the indolence of her youth,
Or an old man upon a winter's night.

... W. B. Yeats ...

... longing ...

2003-10-19T20:07:00.000+10:00

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetitie to please,
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care.
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

... William Shakespeare ...

... weathering the roughest gale ...

2003-10-18T22:57:00.000+10:00

My father is by himself at the moment because Peggy (my stepmother) is in London visiting her son and his family. Colin is a negotiator for Westpac (a very large Australian bank) and was posted to London last Easter for two years. So my Dad is "batching".

He is a very stubborn and very independent man. Actually he is a bit of a control freak. He had the gall to tell Peggy that if he died while she was in England then she was not to fly back for that reason. I told him that he was incredibly rude to tell her that and that she could make the decision that was best for her at that time. He was not pleased with me. I call this controlling things beyond the grave. Peggy had only been gone for two days and do you know what the silly old bugger set about doing? Going through all his papers getting them in order and throwing out old cards and letters. Now this is his business and he can throw out whatever he wishes ... but HE said he was doing it to save me the worry and the work. But it will be doing little chores like this for him after he has died that will give me closure. It will be a chore of love. I only wish he could see that.

Anyways ... he is by himself. So we are doing things together. Next weekend I have investigated going on a tour of Macquarie Lighthouse with him. The only problem is that lighthouses do not have lifts, just steps. Lots of them. My father is 82 years old. The idea is brilliant. I will hunt around for some images to show you the location. I hope I am not making a rod for my own back.

To give you an idea of how pig-headed he is, he does not want me to drive down to Miranda (a southern suburb of Sydney, down past Botany Bay) to fetch him and take him back up to the lighthouse. No. He is going to catch a train from Cronulla to Bondi to save me the inconvenience. I could just about drive down there and back in the time that it will take him to public transport up to me. Aaaaarrrrrggghhhh!!!! Julie ... there but for the grace of God goest thou ...

The Wreck of the Hesperus
"Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow."

... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ...

... and there goes beetlebomb ...

2003-10-17T23:30:00.000+10:00

I had a totally new experience today. I bet on a horse race.

Two friends from school have a share in a horse. There are 15 shares in the horse in total and they share one of the shares. We figure they own one of the back hooves (hoofs?). Today at 4:30pm this horse ran in the 4th at Mornington. The horse is called by some poncey name, is stabled in Melbourne and is trained by a K1W1. We all traipsed over to the local pub (DoG: Duke of Gloucester) which is an old-style blokey yucky pub ... but at least it has Foxtel and all. Nat and "de boss" tried to explain to me about betting ... but all that odds and stuff leave me cold ... a bit like accounting really ... boring. I laid $5 for a win and $5 for a place with PubTab.

The horse was boxed in on the rails for a considerable part of the 2000m. But at about the 1500m mark it came off the rails, pushed through the field, forged to the front and held on for a win. For my $10 outlay I got back $24. Now seeing that I had two drinks at the pub for a total of $20.20 I guess that is called coming out on top. It was good fun but only because of all the other people who were there yelling and screaming and everything.

The one thing that I learnt was to change what I drink at bars. A large coke with a double Kahlua for $10.10 is ridiculous.

... tit for tat pact ...

2003-10-16T00:16:00.000+10:00

okay, David. What do you think?

Worth a pact, do you reckon? You give up the fags; I forgo the white chocolate.

We will need stages to this - timings and allowances for the frailty of human nature.

Speak to me, boyo!

... Women's Institute ...

2003-10-15T22:15:00.000+10:00

Further to the comment left by David, I have gone a-looking for some info. The author of the melody to Blake's poem "Jerusalem" was one, Charles H. H. Parry who was around and composing in the first quarter of the 20th Century. He composed the basic tune and Edward Elgar fleshed it out to the hymn that is adored today.

Now from what I read I gather very early on, the Women's Institute movement across Britain commenced singing it to open their meetings. This comes across strongly in "Calendar Girls". The song recurs at every meeting ... silly me, I just assumed it was the movie trying to make some sort of social point.

But if you take the words as a poem ... it does not hold out a lot of instantly accessible meaning for me. In other words, I have no bloody idea what it is on about.

Any one care to chance their arm?

... dark satanic mills ...

2003-10-14T20:43:00.000+10:00

My boss's younger son, Nick, is close to completing his thesis for his English honours. His area is romantic English poetry. He rides a motor bike, is wildly in love and is teaching Ancient History to our Seniors two days a week. His passion is acting. He is in a play every couple of months that has a run of about five days each time. He is a big, chuncky great kid.

I told him today that he must get his mother to see "Calender Girls". This started because he bowled into my room humming ... a hum that to me sounded like "Jerusalem" ... so ... off goes Nick on the poetry of William Blake.

Jerusalem
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold:
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire.

I will not cease from Mental Fright,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant Land.

Then he ploughed on to give me a tirade of how Blake was a raving looney leftie who thundered against the mill owners who degraded the honest working man .... was a joy to be party to. The passion of the lad.

So ... of course ... I stormed around for the rest of the morning thumping on my air-piano and warbling ... all in a Jewish school, of course.

... bugles calling for them from sad shires ...

2003-10-12T08:55:00.000+10:00

Today we remember the holidaymakers and the revellers on Bali, October 2002, so many many of them from streets around me here who were over on the island to mark the completion of a sporting season or simply to spend school holidays with family and friends.

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them from prayers or bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers in the tenderness of silent minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

... Wilfred Owen ...

... Calendar Girls ...

2003-10-11T23:17:00.000+10:00

This is a fabulous movie. Chris and I enjoyed it very much. Helen Mirren is a knockout. She has such a magnificent character - and the role she has in this film requires a very deft touch. The emotional soul of the film, however, is taken by the character played by Julie Walters. The story is very much in two parts. Very laugh-out-loud-funny during the making of the calendar and very down-to-earth-sombre during the press harrassment and subsequent trip to Hollywood. American culture is treated with the respect it deserves. The scene where Mirren and Walters end up isolated and estranged in the backlot of the Hollywood filmlot is a very telling counterpoint to the rich tapestry that they left behind in Yorkshire.

Sandra Hall has a review of the movie in today's SMH. Annette Crosbie and Celia Imre portray fleshed-out characters (sorry!) who nearly steal the show from the majors, especially Imre. You have to listen very carefully because some of the throw-a-way lines are barbs. John Alderton does an excellent job as the husband of Annie (Walters). It is his death from cancer that is the catalyst for action by the rebels within the Women's Institute. The scene in the car on the moors is very moving. I am not so convinced with the parts that involve the son of the Mirren character. He is consistently precious from start to finish. I am just not sure of his dramatic purpose, except to throw the need for reflection in the path of his mother. Once she found the "tits" magazine under his bed, she had acknowledged his "right" to be inquisitive.

The scene where the husband shoots at Mirren that she is spending too much time on her interests and not sufficient on the business that she helps him run shows how backward this part of the world really is with regard to women being separate entities from the person to whom they are married. However, the locale is picture-postcard-perfect and the ambience very Land-of-Hope-and-Glory-ish which is mainly achieved by the recurring hymn, "Jerusalem".

If you liked "The Full Monty" or "Brassed Off" or "Billy Eliot" you will like this film. It has considerable depth because it is women who pose naked ... sorry ... nude, and because the actresses are probably all over 45, indeed Crosbie is 70. To a large extent, the film is a celebration of aging. On reflection, I don't think there was nipping or tucking or airbrushing anywhere in sight. Good Lord, imagine if the Americans had got hold of this and put Goldie Hawn in the Mirren role. Yook!

Lovely evening. We went to the Randwick Ritz and then had coffee at The Spot afterwards. Had to have this inside because there had been a bitter wind blowing all day. We have already discussed the next movies we want to see. Goodo.

... still with words forking lightning ...

2003-10-11T08:15:00.000+10:00

Last night my right hamstring went into spasm. No sooner had I released that, than the left went into similar but less severe spasm. Luckily it was a night when Kirsten was with me and although it was 2:30am she was working on this computer. I screamed out and she came and wrenched my toes and made me a warm salt drink. My legs are very precious this morning! I must get a salt supplement on a regular basis. K will not always be here to help.

On Wednesday evening I had an appointment with my GP and counsellor, Dr Ellen Campion. She is a flawed woman about my age. I have faith in her even though she let me down once. We discussed that issue. I now trust her judgement even more. She referred me back to Dr Ray Garrick at the St Vincents' Clinic for more neurological investigation. I see him on the last day of October. I suspect that I will opt to see him for assessment every three months from here on out and to religiously take the medications he recommends.

The last two weeks have been ... uncomfortable.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
... Dylan Thomas ...

... maul ball 1 ...

2003-10-10T22:29:00.000+10:00

I think that the photos that the SMH has up on its site are particularly woeful. But I have been reading some particularly well-composed images of late and have been spoilt. During the Opening Ceremony there were three good things. First, a bunch of amazing kids moved a giant size body-montage down the field and assisted him to score a try. Secondly, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra accompanied the singing of the RWC Song and conducting them was an absolutely smashing conductress ... mmmMMM. Thirdly, the RWC Song and the two National Anthems were sung by Jose Cura and Deborah Mailmen. Very impressive.

Australia has just beaten Argentina in the opening game of the RWC. Something like 26 - 8. Chris's son, Anton, received a ticket to the OC and Game 1 for his 21st in July. To him it is an excuse to get tanked more than anything else! I watched bits and ironed. I watched more bits in between downloading journal articles from UNSW library (Australian Education Index) with titles like "The Social dimensions of teacher collegiality". The week the RWC comes to a conclusion, I will have finished my Masters.

... applause ...

2003-10-10T01:23:00.000+10:00

The author of this article in the SMH, Dominique Angeloro, went to school with my daughter. Dom is now the editor of the Galleries section in Metro which is included with the Herald each Thursday. Dom is 24 years old. Dom was first speaker in the triumphant Pymble Ladies' College team that won the Archdale Debating Trophy for the first time for Pymble in 1996. She was always off the wall with a biting wit that dripped sarcasm. She and Kirsten were also in the same softball team throughout their senior years.

As well as always being heavily into arty things, Dom took 3 Unit English which in those days was the highest level possible.

Well done, Dom.

... the sharing of boundless plains ...

2003-10-09T00:09:00.000+10:00

We are forever shipping holds full of sheep to an Arab country and having them rejected because they are not healthy enough to be killed. Now Honest John, our intrepid leader, is getting sheep confused with terrorist ... sorry ... refugees.

Strange, just a few short months ago, Christmas Island (start at Darwin head toward Africa, halfway along the Island of Java turn right and you bump into CI) was purged from the Australian consciousness because too many of yer tired and huddled yearning-to-be-freers were alighting there. Now we are allowing sheep to alight ... sheep ...

The government has confirmed the latest coffin full of sheep could be unloaded and slaughtered at either Cocos or Christmas islands, although a lack of docking facilities may stump the plan. Sokay ... just anchor off the highwater mark and make fast until the SAS zoom out on their lilos ... They will sort it out. Operation SaveAustralianSheep.

Look ... I know I am a cynic ... but ... Johnny last week reshuffled his ministry. Today he put a plan to the parliament to reform the method of passing bills which involves going to the people with a Constitutional Amendment. Now he is fiddling with boats and Christmas Island and sheep (they being particularly braindead animals who follow blindly ... much beloved of Kiwis!). For the next month he can get his jollies with maul-ball and ... suddenly we are early in December ... sniff sniff ... sniff sniff ... do I smell eau-de-election in the air?

Beneath our radiant southern Cross,
We'll toil with hearts and hands;
To make this Commonwealth of ours
Renowned of all the lands;
For those who've come across the seas
We've boundless plains to share;
With courage let us all combine
To advance Australia fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing
"Advance Australia fair!"

... Australian National Anthem ... Stanza 3

... Australian schmaltz ...

2003-10-08T06:04:00.000+10:00

Yook ... yook ... yook ... is nothing sacred?

Maul-ball commences Friday ... when I fully expect the Pumas to maul the Wallabies ...

I remain to be convinced that international sporting extravaganzas (of any ilk) bring in the money that our political fathers contend. I think the costs far exceed the tourist-dollar. By all means stage them, just don't sell them to the voting-public as being a plus to the local economy.

... yes ... yes ... YES !!! ...

2003-10-08T00:15:00.000+10:00

Many many thanks to both Pedi and Kirsten for their help this evening to set up my new computer and to transfer much of my data across.

This is such an unbelievable pleasure ... the keyboard has all keys intact. IE remains up and I can have multiple windows open. And the speed. Oh, my god ... the speed. Like shit off a hot shovel ... and and and ... I am listening to the liquid sounds of Mel Torme ... now all I have to do is reorganise the room and the tables so that I can still submit this latest essay next Monday. I have moved from a laptop to a desk top ... so space is a bit tighter ... but but but ... I be not complaining Big G. No complaints from me. No sirree!!

Over the next couple of days I will (yet again) redo my blog ... but this time on TypePad. Must have control of this latest essay though before I attempt this changeover. These next two essays are quite crucial for this Masters and my hopes of being invited into the doctoral programme for 2004. If I can nail a Distinction for both of them, I will have a Distinction average for my entire Masters. I am sitting just over 74 at the moment. Need to push that to over 75 and I am there. I am quite proud of this achievement knowing the abysmal analytical standard from which I started the degree.

The topic I am currently working on is "collegiality and culture within a K-12 school". Engrossing, eh what?

*grin*

... tsk ... tsk ... tsk ...

2003-10-06T23:00:00.000+10:00

Californians deserve everything they get.

... Dixie Chicks ... take a bow...

2003-10-06T17:11:00.000+10:00

This is a review to be proud of. Well written Bernard Zeul.

A bit to whet your appetite:

It's a little different when the Dixie Chicks play Elvis Costello's version of What's So Funny About Peace, Love and Understanding before they enter the stage. And when singer Natalie Maines introduces the Patty Griffin song Truth No.2 (that opens with "You don't like the sound of the truth coming from my mouth") by saying that the song has taken on extra significance for them since March 10 - when Maines's comments critical of George Bush's war agenda led right-wing nuts to ban and burn their records. And certainly different when that song is accompanied by videos of protest marches (from women's suffrage to pro-choice) and the burning of books and records by zealots in Nazi Germany and Bible-belt USA.

... crotcheted cloth over rock tables ...

2003-10-06T07:12:00.000+10:00

Yesterday morning (Sunday) instead of going to the gym I went on the Bronte-Bondi Coastal Walk. This is an ideal way of seeing this part of Sydney. Highly recommended. Thousands of people do it each weekend ... but don't let that put you off ... it is a large area (physically and psychologically) and does not feel invaded. I live about a 7 minute walk from Bondi Beach but always start the walk by walking through the suburbs over to Bronte first. When I finally took my life in my own hands in 1998 I moved to Bondi and when I take this walk (usually about every six weeks) I walk via that small house. That entire Avoca-Phillip Street area is now quite ritzy with all the little terrace houses going for in excess of a million dollars!

So I walk over to Bronte via the streets and down all the steps to the Bronte Reserve. The nice thing about this is that the Reserve maintains the smells of the Australian bush, together with running water and forest-floor moulds. Bronte is a different concept from Bondi - more sedate and family like whereas Bondi is bold and brassy. Coogee Beach (which is two beaches further south from Bronte) is more like Bondi. Both very cosmopolitan and a haven for backpackers on whom both Bondi and Coogee are increasingly reliant. Bronte is captive to the yuppie cafe set a bit though.

Then onto the walk itself from headland to headland. Yesterday, because I was only partly taking the walk for exercise, I also allowed myself to stop at each headland and breath deep of the sea smells. Not fishy ... just salty and fresh. There was a medium swell which meant quite a few surf board riders (I was there from 7am onwards) plus lots of folk taking morning swims in the rock pools along the walk. In the SMH photo gallery on Spring they have a good shot showing the Coogee pool which is indicative of the pools along this coastal part of Sydney. I actually left home at 6:45am and arrived back home just before 9:30am. Quite a hike. My legs were a bit of a mess by the time I got home. But just like I intend to keep exercising my brain with more study next year, I will continue to demand more of myself physically. No bloody use just giving up drinking tea, knitting and watching tele!

The final stretch of the walk is along the southern entry to Bondi past the renovated Ice-Bergs club. The view from there across Bondi early in the morning is breath-taking. People tend to stand there in total silence. I have included this image as it is a different view of Bondi Beach from the normal. It cuts off the Pavilion and shows more of the southern end but still cutting off the pools where my doggies used to so love to swim. The coastal walk ends at the southern end of the beach by following the Promenade which extends the entirety of the strip. I am glad they have kept the grassed areas that separate the beach from the commercial strip. When I was a kid (in the middle of last century!) my grandmother lived in the northern part of Bondi Beach. I used to take the trams from the North Bondi terminus around Campbell Parade, up Bondi Road and thence into Elizabeth Street in the City. Sadly, we called it progress when the tram tracks were dug up in the late 60s.

Bondi is a good place to live ... bloody expensive ... but exciting and beautiful ... and gregarious. And summer is a comin' in.

The title of this post refers to a poem by Robert Gray entitled simply "Bondi". It is too long to include here. However, it is an excellent counterpoint to my view ... it tells of the grimy aspect of any popular seaside area.

Around at the beach-front, rattling fun parlours, discos and
milk-bars, the sign-painting
lurid as tattoos, thickly over them.

... iconic Sydney ...

2003-10-05T18:08:00.000+10:00

As I go raging gracefully into my goodnight, I am increasingly aware that history is something that I have lived through.

In the very early 60s I lived in country NSW and each Christmas we went to Sydney for a "holiday". Mostly all I remember is the acrimony of a dysfunctional family that eventually split asunder. However, I got to operate the Box Brownie ... I guess because noone else wanted to. I was never the assertive type. I managed to get a number of my own images of a growing Sydney Opera House.

However, these images by Max Dupain are done with grace and elan. Mine were just taken. There is a new exhibition of images of the OH to celebrate its 30th Anniversary which were taken by Dupain. I can recall the opening day well ... I surged from the Botannic Gardens to the OH forecourt together with a horde of other Sydneysiders ... I was with my mother ... my partner at the time did not participate in jingoistic codswallop!

History is not sterile to me. Some history I remember from a unique and totally subjective perspective. There are times when I am taken aback with some revelation which runs counter to an inner text. You, dear readers, will have your own epiphanies. For me they are memories like the August 63 Washington March, Johnson declaring that he would not run, Nixon declaring in 74 that he was running (away), the rise (72) and fall (75) of my own homegrown hero, Whitlam. The quivering chin of Fraser (83) and the chipping of the concrete (89) in Berlin (with attendant memories of Kennedy's (62) "Ich bin ein Berliner").

Are you starting to understand the feeling as I storm through the decades?
Psst ... it is never too early to rage against a sepia light ...

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
... Dylan Thomas

... simply messing about with boats ...

2003-10-04T20:16:00.000+10:00

Today I had my quarterly (more to the point, holidayly ... ) trip to "town" ... I went to the shops.

My first stop was at Abbeys Bookshop which is just behind the Queen Victoria Building (QVB) which is adjacent to the Sydney Town Hall in George Street. I was looking for a book of verse by Pablo Neruda. I thought that I was looking for any old volume ... however, it was apparent once I had to vocalise it that I was looking for The Captains Verses or his book of love sonnets. Did not find either of those ... but ...

Found a volume of verse edited by Seamus Heaney and Ted Hughes called "The Rattle Bag". I think the name might come from chucking everything into a bag, giving it a good old shake, whacking the hand in and grabbing the first poem the hand touches. In effect this is what Heaney and Hughes have done in this anthology because they have included the poems by order of first line ... which gives a massive appearance of randomosity!! Very exciting book to read because you never know what to expect next ... the point of the exercise methinks.

Whilst there, my hand just found all the Yeats volumes .... boinnng ...just like a magnet he is ... boinnng ... the one that intruiged me was packaged as the love poetry of Yeats ... pretty much just his yearning stuff for Maud Gonne ... but take this one ...

A DEEP SWORN VOW
Others because you did not keep
That deep sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.

Enough said I. Let the poor bastard yearn in peace ... how dare he encompass the black holes of others with one stanza. So I did a bolter out of that shop.

Across two streets and down a block ... heading for Grace Bros ... but sucked into Gowings. Now this is the main store which has been extensively renovated during the last twelve months. It used to be a hodge podge of odds'n'sods ... a very exciting quirky store ... now it is more a boring retail outlet. All the creaky lifts with steel mesh sliding doors have been replaced with trendy polished wood and aluminium stairs which wind around the interiors of the building. Boring.

So a quick belt through Grace Brothers and then hoof it up to Elizabeth Street to catch a 380 bus back up through Oxford Street to the Paddington Markets where I want to find a house-warming gift for Catriona and Sarah for tomorrow. Found a wonderful wood and glass tea-candle holder.

And ... not being a shopper of note ... that will do me until early December.

... cold feet ...

2003-10-04T17:54:00.000+10:00

Literally ... I suffer from cold extremity syndrome. More exactly, I suffer from one of numerous manifestations of "peripheral neuropathy". In my case it is somehow related to early onset of MGUS which stands for Monoclonal Gammopathy of Unknown Significance ... very reassuring name that. All it means is that my blood registers spikes of paraproteins which may or may not turn into some nasty as some point further down the track. Somehow with me (and with oodles of others around the world I hasten to say!!) it shows its presence by the wierdest feelings of numbness. This started about 15 years ago around my ankles which always felt like they had socks on that were too tight. The numbness and pins and needles now stretches to just above the knees and just above the elbows. It is also present around my neck and my lips. My feet are particularly affected in the evenings when I take my shoes off. The explosions of p&n are becoming hard to handle. My hands are always a weakness for me. They feel as though they are constantly encassed in a mud pack. Also I am losing dexterity at an alarming rate. However, the alarm clocks really rang this week when I started to get major nerve pains in my legs. I could cope with minor nerve disturbances for another 20 years or so with very little whinging (I must admit to a very high tolerance to pain and discomfort). But if the majors go I suspect I might be in a smidge of strife. Might go and see Ellen. But she panicked me one time by indicating a more rapid progression of the myeloma than had actually occurred. And then I spent time going from specialist to specialist and from Pyridoxine to Sinequan to Tegretol to Epilim and finally to a gabapentin. All with no impact upon the neuropathy what-so-bloody-ever.

Will ring Ellen on Tuesday and try to see her next Saturday ... well ... maybe I will think about ringing her on Tuesday. I am particularly shithouse with following through a course of medication unless I see a point to the bloody thing. Not so keen on nerve biopsies either ... mmm ... that pile of sand looks welcoming!

... tales from a soul in repose ...

2003-10-04T07:00:00.000+10:00

Pretentious title, eh? Strange ... I am on a five day break ... that would normally put me into a dreaded black-hole spin ... but I feel eerily in control this time ... maybe control is not the right word ... content ... don't know ... but I am not scared to be alone and left to my own devices ...

So what astoundingly marvellous things have I done? Bugger-all ... domestic crap ... pottering ... not even jobbies ... normally, under stress, I construct a list of "jobbies" and then work like a dervish to achieve this unachievable list ... somehow it helped to paper over the b-h-s ...

Yesterday I went up to Bondi Junction to claim back all the money I spent on the dentist a couple of months ago. The office is located at the new Interchange. I suppose this happens the world over, but here in Sydney the government has sold off all the air-space above train stations to "developers" who whack up the most ugly of multi-storey apartment buildings with the bottom two levels dedicated to commercial and retail space. So the Medibank/Medicare office is above the train/bus interchange at the Junction. Whilst there ... I discovered the most wonderful of record shops ... "The CD Collector" run by this delicious pair of queers ... intruiging chaps to talk with and so so knowledgeable. And they are so well-stocked with my current passion, singers of the 1950s and music generally from the Big/Band/Swing era of the 1940s. One of the guys at School, Garry, the Head of Science, has a you-beaut collection which he plays at every Friday "pissup" hosted by the Maths/Science staff room. Garry is the chap who last year stocked my fish-pond with little brown, noisy, frogs!! Garry and his partner, Yen, will be at Catriona's tomorrow so I will, no doubt, be regaled with his latest purchases.

So what did I invest in? One of the bonususes(mmm ... bonus's ... nope ... it is plural but not possessive ... bonuses ... looks wrong ... nevermind, Jools ... move on ... ) of being interested in this era of music is that it is easy to get a very inexpensive series ... I have a range that is costing me only AUD10 each. Now CDs here are extortionate ... new releases are currently AUD 34!!

I bought:
Perry Como : "They Say it's Wonderful" (24 original classics)
Mel Torme: "Try a Little Tenderness
Big Band: "Swingin' Through the Night" (14 different bands of the 40s)
Edith Piaf: "Non Je Ne Regrette Rien"

I also saw a Vic Damone collection ... next time! And the 1961 movie soundtrack of "West Side Story" ...

I finished High School in December 1965 and went to work for the local bank in the small country town in which I lived. The bank is now Westpac and the town is still Denman which is in the Upper Hunter Valley in northern New South Wales. With my very very first pay-cheque I joined the CBS Record Club and my first purchase included the movie soundtrack of WSS plus a vinyl (all we had in those days when I was still playiing 78s) of Sinatra and another from Streisand before she became fairy-floss. Must get these from my ex-husband ... he has a turntable which I don't (and don't aspire to!!) but I bet he never plays these ... he is stuck in early Stones, Del Shannon shitty stuff ...

hee hee hee ... talk about feeling like a pig-in-poo ...

As I listened to all these yestereve ... I also reorganised my poetry shelf ... they were starting to hang all over the place ... don't like mess ... well, come on, that is in character!! And this, of course, took forever, because one has to open each one, smell it, and then delve inside ... all accompanied by sips of Baileys with a dash of Butterscotch Schnapps ...

The Soul has Bandaged moments -
When too appalled to stir -
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her.
... Emily Dickinson

Those of you not so familiar with Emily, may be bored rigid to know that she was off-the-wall with her punctuation. I have three volumes of her works and the one I took this stanza from was edited by Ted Hughes so I am trusting to his faithfulness. I love that line "The Soul has Bandaged moments -".

... making connections ...

2003-10-03T08:20:00.000+10:00

Have just organised the money for my new computer. The chap will deliver tomorrow. He is a friend of Pedi's ... a young wheeler'n'dealer. It is costing me AUD1425 all-up. What do I get for my money?

Pentium 4, 2.4 gigahertz
80 gig hard drive
256 Mb RAM
Floppy drive
17" LG monitor
56K internal modem (I am stuck with dialup until I am able to share a house with someone else)
Windows 2000
CD Reader/Writer
Audio/video is medium (but games etc, are beyond me and bore me shitless!)

So nothing particularly crash-hot ... but so so SO much better than that which I have. Will mean that I can actually access all the library materials that are out-of-reach at the moment.

... lunch at the Chloe ...

2003-10-02T21:18:00.000+10:00

Today those of us working through the Spring Vacation went out for lunch. This is pretty much an unheard of thing. We have been known to bring in pizza and such ... but to actually go out ... zeech ... one of the bosses even coped with Reception for us!!

We have determined that we are going to do this every vacation period ... gosh ... that means four times per year ... whoa!! smidge revolutionary this ... I took the lovely Desiree there and back ... I think she knew that I at least would return to work and would return sober ... good old Jools!! Yesterday I had helped Desi's daughter, Justine, download and setup the programmes she needed to do her university assignment in speech pathology. In return she gave me a pretty mug with a blue cornflower on it. Up 'til now I have been using a mug with some lovely somersaulting bears on it ... but my colleagues want me to chuck it because it has a couple of cracks ... boo hoo ... it has such lovely memories ... but ...

I set up an interesting conundrum. I had Oysters Kilpatrick ... which is shelled oysters in Worcestershire sauce and bacon. Would I, I wondered, be allowed back on Jewish premises? Maybe the large coke with the double shot of Kahlua was getting the better of me.

This flirting game is really, really fun. The women enjoy it too. Funnily enough, they recognise it as a "game". That I am actually paying them a compliment. That is has nothing whatsoever to do with their physical attributes but with their character.

Shit and derision ... the trip with Chris has evaporated ... mmm ... not sure it was anything I did ... she has had a rough week and has been splatting every where ... drats. Shall console myself by going along to the lovely Catriona's house warming ... I phoned her this morning when she was in the shower ... we both enjoyed that.

Bit disappointing really ...

... everything old is new again ...

2003-10-02T01:00:00.000+10:00

Nearly back to where I was last Thursday. Still a couple of things that I can't immediately solve. But too tired to persevere any longer.

Today was a bitterly cold day ... yeah yeah yeah ... I hear you ... how on earth can 15C be bloody cold ... well let me tell you ... last week it did not get below 28C all week and a couple of times it was into the 30s ... THATS how 15 can seem cold ... and today there was a bitter wind and it was sleeting ... apparently it is going to be like this for another week ... what joy!! NOT ...

... getting to know you ...

2003-10-01T06:53:00.000+10:00

Chris and I frequently walk in the middle of the day. Sneakers on and out the main gates we stride. Usually for 30 mins but yesterday we went for 45. Lots to talk about. As we went down Avoca St to Centennial Park we were yahooed by some of the teachers who happended to be driving past at that very moment.

Chris was depressed yesterday. Did not get the full story but I don't dig ... it comes out eventually. A friend of hers in Bristol has just moved in with a man with whom she has been having an illicit affair for 25 years. This set something off within Chris but I am not sure what just yet.

We are trying to work something out for this coming long weekend. Chris has taken additional days and so have I. But we both have commitments ... drats. I suggested Floriade in Canberra. She suggested walking along beaches on the South Coast around Gerringong and Kiama. The latter is lovely. Shall find some images to show you when I have time. Easy does it Jools.

Getting to know you
Getting to know all about you.
Getting to like you
Getting to hope you like me.
... Lerner and Lowe

... the grand Artarmon knoshup ...

2003-10-01T06:46:00.000+10:00

My son cooked for me last night. 'Twas plain fare but nutritious. He is an okay cook. I gather that he has been the cook in every "house" that he has lived in. Goodo.

His apartment is typical of the genre ... young 20-something males ... but his bedroom was astounding ... clothes were in the vertical wardrobe instead of the horizontal one ... and (this brought me to tears) he had a picture of Falcor on his boom-box in his bedroom ... Falcor was the puppy I bought for him when he was eight years old (in 1989) over the dead-body of his father!! Falcie died of a heart attack in July 1998 ... incredibly traumatic for both K&A and therefore for me ... their father was in Dallas at the time ...

Al opened proceedings last night with a "mud-slide" ... delicious but tres head spinning. It is nice to chat with him. The grand final of the basketball is THIS evening at 9pm at Rooftop in Crows Nest. Shall try to make it along. Gosh ... three nights in a row.

... catch-up 3 ...

2003-09-30T00:50:00.000+10:00

Kirsten is back living with me as a respite. I never ask how long these interludes will last. The last one went for six weeks during June and July. This session started last Thursday. I provide the structure and the quiet that she obviously craves every so often.

This evening I went over to Crows Nest (a suburb on what is called the North Shore of Sydney ... across the Harbour Bridge from where I live in the Eastern Suburbs) to watch Alastair play basketball. I have not seen him play basketball for about two years. I have, however, watched him play baseball during that time. When he was a school he captained the Knox Basketball Firsts. This was in the 98-99 season. He is a talented player. He has lost none of that talent from what I saw this evening. He dominated the game in both offence and defence. It was good to see him finally harnessing his troops as the game progressed. He thoroughly enjoyed himself from what I could see. His team, though, only had five players. So they played the entire game. The opposition had eight players. Al plays with lads he played with in High School. Lovely to see this. They won the game which means that next week they play in the Grand Final. Will see if I can wrangle an invite to this too. He has invited me to his new apartment in Artarmon for dinner tomorrow evening. He moved into this apartment ten days ago. He and a mate called Hugh. It is near the station and only 15 minutes by foot to his work. He is gradually getting his Porsche 928 fixed up so that he can sell it before Christmas. He gets his driving licence back on December 12. He is going back to uni in 2004 and is transferring from an Engineering degree to a marketing/commerce degree. Much more suitable. He has been "going out with" Claire since before 2003. They make an interesting couple.

I like my son. He has an interesting character.

... catch-up 2 ...

2003-09-30T00:27:00.000+10:00

Chris and I went to the Dendy at Newtown on Saturday night to see "Swimming Pool" which starred Charlotte Rampling. We talk so very easily and quite openly and forthrightly about our lives. We have a fair bit in common. I am not sure how compatible we are. She is a lot more "flammable" and I am a lot more phlegmatic. She talks ten to the dozen and I am a listener. She talks with her hands and with her body ... I am more inclined to over-think. Come to think of it ... we are pretty much opposites ... luckily in one of her relationships she had a son, Anton, who is now 21 years of age. He is doing Sports Science at Cumberland College which is part of the University of Sydney. After the movie, we had supper and chatted away for ages over coffee. Chris invited me to sit in the audience whilst her Museaus Group did their quarterly "individual song" performance. I declined. I knew that I had the motor-bike thing all morning and that I had had had to get some university work done at some stage during the weekend. Luckily for me that I made that decision. Sufficient people chose to perform that the afternoon took about four hours and Chris was toward the end. Besides ... the audience was composed of family and significant-others ... I don't want to consider myself in that category just yet. I will go along when she performs in "Kiss me Kate" though.

I quite like her. I like how she bosses me around, too. And how she calms down when she discusses her problems with me ... not problems ... that makes it sound too codepedent ... her issues ... the things that are flaming her up at any given time ... be it work, Anton or Jason/Shaun (her voice-coach and musical director). I also appreciate how she instantly understood with needlepoint accuracy, the impact that leaving Alastair with his father in 1998 has had upon my outlook on my life. And how I feel that my "coming out" toppled Kirsten's fragile mental and physical state of health. Chris is older than I by just two years. Our thought patterns are very similar even though our personalities are poles apart. Like Esti, Chris can sense my moods.

... catch-up 1 ...

2003-09-30T00:01:00.000+10:00

Three things that I have done since the massacree that I would have normally commented upon. I think I will try to keep the comments coming on a regular basis and work on the look and the features when I can over the next two weeks ... which luckily are the Spring School Vacations here in NSW.

Over the weekend I went on a course with Lesley and Ruth to try to qualify for a motor-cycle licence. I failed the course part-way through Sunday morning. Once you are unable to do one of the competencies ... you are drummed out of the course. You have to return your helmet and gloves to the lock-up and when you return to the range the bike you are using is no longer in sight.

I started to struggle when we entered Stage C of the course. At this point the activities became timed. The one I failed was where we had to ride as slowly as possible down the range in and out of the witches' hats. I could not keep control of the clutch, the throttle and the footbrake, not put my left foot on the tarmac and ensure that I took *longer* than twenty seconds to complete the task. This had to be successfully done on 5 of the 10 attempts. I managed one.

By the time I was drummed out of the corps, to be honest, I was relieved. I was totally exhausted. I am not a large woman. I am not quite 155cm (5'1") and I weigh about 47 kilos. I was on my tippy-toes all the while when we had to manipulate the bikes (which were 250cc Hondas). There was a lot of man-handling. Lesley was the first to be drummed out ... she did not make it past Stage A. She got flustered when she realised that she was holding the rest of the group up. She still wants to get her licence but is going to take private lessons and on a scooter not a bike. Lesley has my height problem although she has considerable more weight with which to move the bike around. Another woman exited during Stage B. By the time I left there was only Ruth (on a 250) and Marie (on a scooter) left in the group. Very high attrition rate.

I also realised during the course that I could not really afford to own a bike. The machine itself would cost somewheres between AUD3K and AUD4k plus the instructor ran through all the accessories required and I would be looking at about AUD1,500 there, too. I don't have that sort of money to put into a recreation ... especially when I had just made a mental commitment to a new computer ... which I will absolutely kill for during 2004 whether I am invited into the Ph.D programme or just elect to enter a Post-grad degree in Counselling.

So ... an exhausting weekend in many many respects. But I learnt a lot about myself.

My father said that he did not understand how on earth I ever thought that I would have passed. That sort of course should only be attemped (in his opinion ... having only recently given up both is bike and his truck licence and even considering relinquishing his car licence) once you have your own bike and have poodled around for a few months. Not sure which comes first here ... the bike or the competency.

It is irrelevant now.

... the troubles ...

2003-09-29T23:44:00.000+10:00

It all began last Thursday really. My computer (which is a third-hand 1995 DEC laptop) is unbelievably slow. It can frequently take me over two hours to make a post plus side-bar updates. This becomes very frustrating. Hence, on Thursday and Friday all I managed to do all night was update my blog. When in actual fact I wanted to do that PLUS work on my last two submissions to complete my Masters. I then tried to find ways to improve my blog to make it faster. By the time Kirsten came in to chat to me the damage had been done. I had updated and ... then Blogger took over and clobbered the rest. As Kirsten pointed out ... I was treating the symptoms not the cause. What I really needed was a new computer ... not a streamlined blog ...

Pedi is now out pricing and putting together a new machine for me ... hopefully for under AUD2K.

However, now I have hours of work ahead of me to try to "recreate" my blog. Luckily, this weekend I have five days off ... but I need to spend a lot of that time on my university work. I have worked extremely hard on my study techniques over the last 24 months. I have listened to all the criticisms of my earlier work (both from the lecturers and from Kirsten and Pedi) and have modified my style and my thought processes. To the extent that I suspect that when I tell Dr McCormick (Head of School) that I am not now going to the UK at the end of the year, he will want to discuss my study intentions for 2004 with me. I know that he is looking for a new doctoral student to mentor. I want the work that I do over the next eight weeks to indicate that I am ready for this consideration.

2003-09-29T23:17:00.000+10:00

This is turning out not to be particularly easy to recreate. I might have to create again rather than cobble together. Shit and derision!