Catdownunder

"Moots" were a compulsory

2012-01-30T08:25:00.000+10:30

part of my law school education.
In my first year you were given a simple problem and required to argue it in front of a member of staff or a visiting magistrate. Nobody was ever sure whether it was better to get a staff member or a visiting magistrate. I had already acted for someone in a real life situation. (You do not need to have legal training to appear on someone's behalf in a magistrate's court. I was not being paid for it, And yes, the case was thrown out - as it should have been.)
In the second year the problem was more difficult and the students worked in pairs. I was partnered with a young student who spoke English as a second language. Getting her to participate equally was as much of a challenge as the problem - but I had already been hauled aside and told that the staff knew this. Great.
After that there was nothing compulsory but there was something called "the Jessup Moot" which the students of International Law were expected to participate in. This is an international competition of very high standard where the students are given a problem of the sort that might be heard in the International Court of Justice. They are required to argue both sides of the case. When I was at university the work for that took place over the summer vacation. I was not a student of that sort of International Law but I was asked to participate anyway - not as part of the moots team but as part of the support team. It meant going back to university early but it was not the sort of invitation you turned down.
In Australia the finals - to decide the team which participates in the international competition - are held in the High Court. A member of the High Court judges the final. It is hard not to feel overwhelmed by the High Court - even if what you are doing there is fictional.
Yesterday I was talking this over with a young law student. He is wondering whether he will be good enough to try when he reaches that point in his degree. Why not? He is highly intelligent. He works hard. He still looked uncertain about this. Then he gave me a grin and said,
"You know what Cat? They should make all our politicians appear in front of the High Court and argue their case. I reckon most of them would fail."

The vexed issue of diets

2012-01-29T07:17:00.002+10:30

came under discussion yesterday. In the absence of the Senior Cat the knitters descended. We would normally meet in the library on the last Saturday - but not in January. They wanted to meet and our house is fairly central to everyone else. All I had to do was make sure the kettle was full and the mugs were out - and the jug of water and glasses in the heat. I turned the airconditioning system on so it would be cool enough to knit.
We spent a couple of hours sorting out knitting issues. I had found a new-to-her hat pattern for someone, someone else was not sure which decrease she would use at the armhole on the garment she is knitting, another person was knitting a new-to-her cable and so on. We usually do talk knitting or related crafts. It is that sort of group.
One of the women also has a sister going into hospital today for major surgery for cancer. She knows she may not even make it through the surgery. We listened. I will 'phone her later today and listen some more.
It was this news that led to the vexed question of diet. We are all, I suppose, food conscious but one of the women in the group has, as long as I have known her, had issues with food. It began when she "turned vegetarian" because her sister demanded it. That meant she cut all meat and fish from her diet. Then she decided she was "gluten intolerant" and cut all cereals from her diet as well.
After that she cut all dairy products and eggs from her diet. It has left her "a vegan" but a vegan who does not eat many forms of carbohydrate (including potatoes) and does not, by any means, like all vegetables. Yesterday she said she had cut out sugar as well. She looks pale but says she is "feeling really good". Perhaps she is.
What was she eating? Oh, she was eating really well. It was a "very healthy" diet. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it is also a more moral way of eating.
I plan on giving my father fish today - with potato and salad. There are enough strawberries from our garden if I eke them out with a little rockmelon and a dollop of good quality plain yoghurt on top. We will eat like royalty.
I do not think I could turn vegan.

The number of books

2012-01-28T08:54:00.003+10:30

I could access before I went to school was, of course, severely limited.
At that time my father was on the staff of a school in a small country town, the one I was born in. There were, I think, about six teachers and the headmaster. The library facilities were restricted to a set of shelves in each classroom.
As a teacher my father was able to use anything. He took advantage of it and brought home books to read to me.
There was also Primer One and Primer Two. These were supposed to take a child through the first two years of school - the "infant" school. Naturally I had read them well beforehand. They were, even then, gloriously old-fashioned. They had lists of "oo" and "ee" and "ea"words and "ch" and "wh" words and the simplest possible stories. The pictures dated from the war years. As children we just accepted all this.
My father also brought home "The Radiant Readers" in turn. These were intended for the primary years. I read those too. My father would listen to me read aloud each evening, patiently helping with the new words I discovered. These "readers" were supposed to last an entire year. They lasted me about three weeks - and that might have been less if my father had been prepared to spend more time listening.
I read those because they were there to be read. My father indicated that I needed to read them so I dutifully read them. I have a vague memory early on of a story of a mouse and some strawberry jam. Apart from that I remember little of their content. My brother, while remembering Primer One and Primer Two, claims not to remember the early years of the Radiant Readers. Of course Primer One and Primer Two were also used for spelling, phonics and comprehension exercises.
One of my younger sisters had Primer One and Primer Two but she also had supplementary readers, the Happy Venture series - the Schonell Readers. These did not have word lists. There were stories about Dick and Dora, Fluff (the cat) and Nip (the dog) and Jane (the doll who fell in the mud). The books were mindless and repetitive, designed to reinforce the basic principles being taught to read. My youngest sister, whose second name happens to be Jane, was not impressed by the doll. Her reading of these was supplemented at home by my mother who had, by then, gone back teaching full-time and felt that Primer One and Primer Two had qualities lacking in the Happy Venture series.
All these "readers" obviously had their value. I doubt teachers would have coped without them. They formed the very basis of what they were being asked to teach. Although they were considered long out of date I used them myself when teaching a profoundly physically disabled child to read. I had to rely on his eye movements alone to know whether he was reading the word. I had no idea what he was "hearing" in his head.
I also used them for the Whirlwind. Her love of books and her frustration at not being able to read were obvious. Primer One and Primer Two and the Happy Venture books had her reading in just a few months.
But all of us had other books and it was only when we were reading those that we really believed we were reading. What were we reading? You will have to wait.

The unruly scenes in Canberra yesterday

2012-01-27T07:19:00.002+10:30

were pre-planned by a tiny minority of people. Those people do not, according to an indigenous friend who 'phoned me later, represent the majority or the thinking of the majority of indigenous people.
For those of you outside Australia who did not catch the news footage of our Prime Minister and Opposition leader being man-handled by security personnel out of the way of "protestors" I need to explain.
For forty years now there has been a "tent" embassy in Canberra. It was set up to protest the refusal of the government of the day to (instantly) recognise the "land rights" of indigenous Australians. The path towards that was, understandably, slow. Land rights took another twenty years. All students of constitutional law in Australia know about "the Mabo case".
The tent embassy should have folded then. The purpose for its existence had been achieved - although it was only the beginning of the still unfolding land rights issue.
Instead the "tent" embassy has remained as a political statement. It is, depending on your point of view a political statement, an eyesore or a tourist attraction. As a university student I was once in a group ordered not to get too close - although we were actually being shown something quite unrelated by an indigenous actor. He had no time for "them fools making fools of all of us".
Yesterday the protestors attempted to make fools of everyone, including their fellow indigenous Australians.
Someone at the embassy set up a member of the media to ask a question or two of the Opposition leader. It really did not matter what the questions were or how they were answered. The plan was to misinterpret the answers so as to accuse him of "racism" and descend on the restaurant at which an Australia Day awards ceremony for emergency services personnel was being held. The group was ready with placards and a plan of action. The media had been alerted that there was going to be a protest. Everyone fell neatly into line and the protestors got just what they were hoping for - massive publicity.
My indigenous friend was shaken. He had rung to tell me that he had, that very day, been given a letter offering work experience to a young indigenous student. I had given him the contact through which the offer had been made. His pleasure in the offer being made was overshadowed by events in Canberra.
"These sort of idiots set things back years," he told me, "How can we expect to have serious negotiations about anything when they behave like that? They are destroying the very respect that Tony Abbott (the Opposition Leader) complimented us on."
Yes, he offered a compliment and the protestors attempted to throw it back in his face. When asked if the "tent" embassy should be removed he did not say it must be he merely said, "Perhaps". If he had failed to answer they would have screamed "racist" and "coward". If he had said "Yes" they would also have screamed "racist". If he had said "No" they would have accused him of "not caring" and having done nothing for indigenous Australians. Whatever he answered would have been the "wrong" answer. No doubt they could have found similar fault with any answer given by the Prime Minister - but that would not have caused quite the same amount of controversy.
My indigenous friend is right when he says this sort of idiocy will harm relations. His mother, who was one of my closest friends until her death, would have been appalled. She believed in rights but she also believed you had to earn them. She never had any time for the "tent" embassy.
"They should get out of there and get on with the job," she used to say. I cannot help wondering what would have happened if her response had been given the same attention in the media. I doubt those protesting would have dared to stir from their seats.

It is "Australia Day" and

2012-01-26T07:33:00.003+10:30

the usual topics of conversation are appearing in the press -"national pride"/Invasion Day/Honours List/barbecues/events/Australian of the Year (Geoffrey Rush).
There are also comments on a rather odd piece of research which claims to have come to the conclusion that Australians who fly little flags on their cars are more likely to be "racist" than other Australians. I have not read the actual research so I cannot comment on the methodology or the conclusions of the researchers. It is quite possible that the research is being mis-reported I suppose. Newspapers often seem to get things wrong. I should know. I have been the victim of misreporting more than once.
However it seems an odd sort of topic to research - and how on earth do you go about it. Is it really possible to measure levels of "racism"/"nationalism"/"tolerance"/"multiculturalism"/ "diversity" etc. I acknowledge that the most extreme versions of some of these things are recognisable and they can lead to dreadful things but how do you actually measure them? By membership of a group deemed "radical" by a majority and/or by actions which harm others? Or is there some other measure?
Australians do not fly their flags the way Americans do but the number of Australians flying flags on their cars for Australia Day has increased in recent years. Does this mean "racism" has increased? People have been encouraged to do it. Does this mean "racism" is being encouraged? Small flags (usually made in China) are much easier to get than they once were. I could have bought one hundred or more small flags in the local "cheap" variety shop. People were buying them too.
Children get their faces painted to look like the Australian flag. People wear "flag" clothing and carry their beer to the beach in a "flag" cooler - travelling in their "flag" decorated car. I doubt racism enters their heads and they are probably no more or less tolerant than most Australians.
So, what was the research actually about?
Australia apparently has a problem with its flag. Well, it has two flags. That is perhaps part of the problem.
There is a flag which has been adopted by "indigenous" Australians. It is black/gold/red. It is simple. It is distinctive. It is a political statement and, even among indigenous Australians it causes some controversy but it is flown, in among other places, in Victoria Square in an indication that it is "accepted". I do not think those who say it is theirs would be too happy about all Australians adopting it.
There is also the flag with the Union Jack in one corner and the Southern Cross. It reflects the history of the majority of Australians - or the history that people have chosen to adopt. It is this flag which seems to cause some problems. There is a small minority of people who want to see this changed. They have run competitions to design a new flag. They tell Australians that their flag is "a relic of our colonial past" and that "it does not reflect the values of the Australian people". They say a great many other negative things about the Australian flag and those who support it. There is even the suggestion that Australia cannot become a nation in its own right until it "becomes a republic and has its own flag".
Australia already is a republic of course. It just happens to call the president a Governor-General and that person is appointed by the parliament rather than elected by the people - although republicans insist that the Governor-General is appointed by the Queen. Australia already has its own flag. It reflects the history of modern day Australia. It acknowledges the past but the Southern Cross places it squarely in the present, looking to the future. We could change it to something green and gold with a kangaroo and a boomerang in the middle but it would not change the past, merely deny it. It is not a good thing for nations to deny their history.
So, if flying the flag is "racist", is this perhaps more to do with the perceptions of those who
find the flag offensive?

The Senior Cat went off

2012-01-25T08:53:00.002+10:30

to Sydney yesterday. My sister went with him as he will not, at almost 89, travel alone. My brother will look after both of them once they arrive.
This has taken a massive amount of preparation - but not quite the sort of preparation that most people do. The preparation involved copious amounts of thinking time and shed time. The result was that he went off with a large and very battered suitcase which held almost no clothes but rather a strange assortment of wooden objects.
There were two "hobby horses" - still in pieces. They will be assembled at my brother's place. He is also a keen woodworker so the tools are, fortunately, available. There were "posting boxes" - those nifty little boxes with shapes cut into the outside through which the child can "post" the relevant shape. There were jigsaw puzzles and a new tea caddy for my brother and his wife. He also had to take the shawl I had made my SIL and the books I had bought for everyone.
Clothes? Well yes he supposed that might be a good idea. What was he going to take with him?
He shrugged. There were clothes in the wardrobe.
He was being collected at around 1:15pm. At 10:am the suitcase still had not appeared. I went and found it, gave it a good dusting down as it had been in the shed, and started to sort some clothes. I had washed and ironed his second pair of light trousers earlier.
He wandered in with the most precious things at about 10:30am. Plenty of time. I queried certain items of clothing. Yes, they might be a good idea. Medication? Oh! Yes that would be a very good idea. Had he looked at the weather forecast? No? Then taking a raincoat might be a good idea.
And so it went on.
He was ready. He had even eaten a sandwich and read the latest book catalogue before my sister arrived.
She was, as always, running late.

Australia owns twenty per cent

2012-01-24T08:11:00.002+10:30

of the world's "pokie" machines - "fruit" machines if you live in the United Kingdom or, I think "slot machines" in the United States. They do not bear fruit and you are likely to fall into a slot if you use them - but people still do.
They are a highly addictive form of gambling, perhaps the most addictive there is. To play them requires absolutely no skill and the "reward" (result) is almost instantaneous. Any psychologist will tell you that will encourage the player to keep playing. They were deliberately designed that way. Why else would anyone keep pushing a button in order to lose money? Oh yes, there is the hope that you "might win the big one".
All the casinos have poker machines and there is at least one casino in every state. Half the poker machines are in New South Wales but, apart from the casino, Western Australia does not - as far as I am aware - have any.
In Australia the laws which regulate gambling and, in particular, the use of poker machines vary from state to state but the machines themselves bring in more revenue than all other forms of gambling combined.
Governments - both state and federal - are addicted to this money. It is one reason why trying to reform the poker machine culture is so difficult. The ALP (Australian Labor Party) is also addicted. They receive "donations" from "clubs" owned by "workers". These are thinly disguised clubs indirectly owned by the union movement. Other political parties receive less revenue from gambling but they do benefit. Football "clubs" depend on the revenue from poker machines. The RSL (Returned Servicemen's League) depends on them.
Much direct and indirect employment depends on gambling. It is seen as a form of taxation - taken from those prepared to pay it.
That some people are unable to stop, can and do lose everything they own is seen as a problem but it is seen as less of a problem - or someone else's problem - than the financial and political cost of calling a halt to gambling
For a long time my state, South Australia, did not have pokie machines. Day bus trips used to be arranged across the border to Wentworth in New South Wales so that people could "play the pokies". It kept the problem in our state fairly much under control. There is a limit to what you can lose in a day.
I know of a mother (on the pension) and her two sons (both on unemployment benefit) who go to their local pokies venue each day. There they are relieved of almost all their meagre income. They live in a rented property in poor repair. It is filthy dirty. The stove is piled high with old newspapers and magazines. They have no washing machine and rarely visit the laundromat.
Those who know them well say that things were not good before the pokies - but they are a lot worse now. They regularly get food from social welfare groups. One of the sons has this down to a fine art.
Their story is repeated over and over again. The social welfare organisations which have tried to help despair. Nothing is going to change them - except perhaps a mandatory limit on what they can actually spend on the pokies.
There is an answer to the pokies problem. It will not be an answer to the problem of gambling but it would help. We need to gradually reduce the number of poker machines which are available. We need to wean individuals and the government off their dependence on them. Going cold turkey would have a devastating financial effect and, in the current economic climate, it would be unwise to risk the employment of so many people. Gradual reduction and a more diverse and flexible approach to employment in other areas would still see people employed.
I know there would still be a problem with "problem" gamblers and I know there is still a problem with internet gambling, unless the government chooses to block the sites.
The problem however is that all this would be hard work. It would require the cooperation of people who currently benefit from gambling. It is not going to happen. Australia owns too many pokie machines.

One of our local columnists

2012-01-23T08:01:00.002+10:30

has a piece in this morning's paper about the importance of sport. He is trying, quite unsuccessfully in my view, to justify the emphasis placed on sport in our society. He may well be correct in his assertions about the value of sport but what he, and many others, fail to acknowledge is the lack of balance between sport and other activities.
If a poll was taken in Australia I am sure many more people could tell you that there will be Olympic Games this year and where they will be held than could tell you that this is also the National Year of Reading in Australia and who their local ambassadors are. The former event has already had plenty of publicity. The latter has had almost none. It will get very little.
Far more money is spent on sport than is spent on libraries yet more people use libraries. Despite this libraries are not considered to be nearly as newsworthy. Far more money is spent on sport than all the arts combined. There are more “scholarships”, “awards” and “prizes” for sport than there are for the arts and they also tend to have a much higher monetary value. While junior sports people may not be paid anything at all the top names in sport are paid (I will not say earn) quite extraordinary sums of money. “Sponsorship” for sport is worth many millions of dollars more. Sponsorship pays of course. It is good advertising. It is tax deductible. Seeing a logo on a team of football guernseys, the tilt of a hat, the backboards on a racing circuit and so on can also be worth far more than it costs a company.
We are bombarded with sport. Almost the only television programme my father and I bother to watch is taken off the air for the "Dakar to Paris" rally (now run in South America), the Tour de France, the World Cup and - this year - the Olympics or whatever other sporting event is currently taking place. It is by no means the only sport on television. Sometimes it would be impossible to watch television and not watch sport. There will be, quite literally, sport on every available free-to-air channel.
This is not balanced.
Of course sport is important. It has a place in our society. Many people enjoy it. Sport however is as much about cultural expectations as it is about what is actually enjoyed. We are told, at least indirectly, that this is what we should be watching, enjoying and generally taking an interest in. If we do not then there is something actually wrong with us. If that is the case then I have an incurable illness. I have no interest in sport apart from the mildest interest in the psychology of cricket.
I do wonder what would happen if we put an equal amount of money and time into other cultural activities. Would people learn to enjoy those too? Would - dare I even ask - writers be more appreciated?

I bought the Senior Cat

2012-01-22T07:46:00.004+10:30

two shirts yesterday. This is a major event and, I decided, worthy of comment.
The Senior Cat (aka my father) dislikes buying clothes. I dislike buying clothes. His one idea about buying clothes is not to buy anything until the old one quite literally falls to pieces. No, I lie. The other idea is that you buy the same thing as you bought before - if you can.
When he retired my father no longer needed to wear a collar and tie to work. (Soon after that most teachers - at least in state schools - did not wear a collar and tie to work.) My mother muttered things and put aside his best shirts for "wearing out" and the rest of his shirts for the other sort wearing out. He still has most of those.
Those shirts are thin. They are patched. They have odd buttons. He claims he can still wear them. He refuses to give them up. After all they "only a few years old". He only retired in the early 1980s!
Yesterday he was going to an 80th birthday party. He came out dressed - in a "house shirt". One of those not quite ready for the garden/shed but not a "going out" shirt. I gently told him this. He wanted to know what was wrong with the shirt. I pointed out the deficiencies - odd buttons and a stain on the front that I had not been able to shift. The stain is not that obvious but it is there. The shirt looks tired even without that.
Grumbling he went and took it off. I prowled after him and suggested a shirt. There are just two short-sleeved shirts I think are suitable for expeditions outside the house.
When he had gone I threw caution to the four winds and, despite the heat, pedalled off to the one place that might have a shirt at a reasonable price. I was aware it was a little late in the season for shirt hunting but he is off to Sydney on Tuesday and I want him to be presentable.
I prowled through the male clothing section of the "variety store". There were a great many knit tops. He does not wear knit tops. There were some cheap cowboy looking shirts. He would not wear those. A conservative open neck sports shirt seems to be a thing of the past - at least in that sort of shop. I prowled into the aisle with "business shirts". These days they come in pink, purple, lilac check and khaki as well as white and blue. Most of them have button down collars - another thing he refuses to contemplate.
There were shirts with long sleeves everywhere. Then I found one with short sleeves. Of course it was the wrong size.
Another woman was going through the shirts as well. We exchanged sizes and I found one in the size she was looking for. She put it in her trolley with barely a glance at it. I understood the feeling. At last I found a white one with short sleeves which was the right size.
"Do you want white or blue?" the woman asked me holding out a second shirt. This one was blue.
"Both," I told her, "Then the torture will be over for a while."
She laughed and I held out a second shirt to her as well.
"Both - any my torture will be over for a while too."
I left her shopping for other things and went to stand in the long queue. It was, I contemplated, marginally less painful than trying to find a shirt for myself. I bought two for far less than I would be required to pay for one shirt for myself. His will probably still be in style in twenty years time. Anything I bought for myself would probably be out of fashion in a year. Is it any wonder I hate buying clothes for myself?

I was given books

2012-01-21T07:38:00.002+10:30

as a child which were "classics". The first of these were books like The tale of Peter Rabbit" and the works of AA Milne. I have given copies of those to other children and I will come back to them later in the year.
But I was also given copies of things like "Heidi" and "Pollyanna". I have not given copies of these things to any child. My first copy of "Heidi" was a large picture book version. It was nothing more than a not-very-accurate synopsis with rather dreadful pictures. My maternal grandmother thought it was a wonderful book. My brother cut it up with his "kindergarten" scissors. I encouraged him. It is the only book either of us ever deliberately maliciously defaced.
We did not like it.
Several years later my maternal grandmother gave me "Pollyanna". It was another book she liked. She had other "Pollyanna" books as well. I did not like it - or the other books. I still do not care for it or the other books. The Whirlwind found it on my shelves some time ago. She read it after seeing the film at a friend's house. I can remember her comments well.
"I didn't know it was a book. Was that why they made it into a film?" Did she like it? "Not much." Why? "It doesn't sound right - like the person writing it did not really mean it. The story is a bit silly."
I explained that the book had been written a long time ago and writing style was different.
"Yeah like maybe but the story is still silly."
I offered her "Heidi" - the full version. It was my maternal grandmother's present the following year. She was still trying to get me to like the few books she liked before television meant she did no reading at all. I read it but it did not enthrall me.
Later there was "Anne of Green Gables". There was also "A girl of the Limberlost". My mother knew about the sequels to these and Pollyanna. She had borrowed them from other people and read them as a child but she did not speak of them, or any other book, with great enthusiasm.
Heidi was returned with the comment. "That was a bit better but I am not impressed." Right. Then the Whirlwind wanted to know,
"Why do books get to be classics? Is it because they really are good and I just don't understand them?"
What do you think?

There are shortly going to be

2012-01-20T07:19:00.002+10:30

two by-elections in this state. Both of them are for the state parliament. Both of them are unnecessary.
One is for the seat of the former Premier. The other is for the seat of the former Deputy Premier. Neither member is ill or incapacitated. They have not been convicted of any offence. There is no other good reason for them not to see out their full term. Both members have simply decided to leave. Their ruling party can afford to let them go. The seats will not go to the opposition and, even if they did, the government could remain in office.
When someone stands for parliament they sign a declaration that they will, if elected, take up the seat. They are not required to remain in office. They can leave without good cause.
If it not going to shift the balance of power in parliament the major parties have never been too concerned about this.
People cannot be left "unrepresented" so by-elections must be held. By-elections are expensive, even more so under a system which has compulsory attendance at the ballot-box.
The former Deputy-Premier had a chequered political career and personal life. He has been portrayed in the media as a lout and a bully. He was involved in a number of law suits. Nevertheless he was elected to do a job and his resignation is a breach of contract.
The same can be said of the Premier. He was definitely "on the nose" and he was removed in what amounted to a coup because the opinion polls showed the government's popularity was at an all time low and, oh yes, the new man in the job did provide a bounce in the opinion polls.
Nevertheless, like the Deputy Premier, the Premier was elected to represent his electorate. Both of them can continue to do that job from the back benches.
Of course it is not easy for the new Premier and Deputy-Premier to do their jobs with their former leaders still there - but who said being in government was easy. Of course it is humiliating to no longer be the Premier or Deputy-Premier but they were not elected to do that job.
The cost of just one by-election would keep a country hospital open for some years. All South Australians are aware of one particular hospital that needs funds to remain open.
We are almost certainly going to lose our AAA credit rating too. The government also wants to put money into "saving" the car industry - at least until after the next federal and state election.
Despite that we are having two unnecessary by-elections.
Perhaps it is time to tell politicians who leave without good cause they will need to pay for the by-election. They need to stay and do their job.
It might just stop the rest of us having to pay for their breach of contract.

I managed quite

2012-01-19T07:28:00.002+10:30

happily without Wikipedia yesterday. I manage quite happily without Wikipedia almost every day. Oh it is occasionally useful but there are other ways of getting most of the information I require.
The Whirlwind bounced in early yesterday evening and asked if I had a book on Russian because she was doing her summer project from school -this part has something to do with a Russian fairy tale and she wanted to draw the Russian alphabet around the page. I provided her with a book of alphabets instead of a book about Russian. It would be easier for her to glean the necessary information and I thought the rest of the book would interest her.
"Cool! Do you need it?"
"No. You can borrow it."
"I knew you would have something useful."
"You can find some words in Russian too if you want to."
"Do you know any?"
"I can say 'hello' and 'no'."
The Whirlwind is not impressed by my limited Russian. (Neither am I.)
"Do you suppose we could find something that is supposed to be Russian to cook? I can put it in my project as well."
"You find something and I will think about it," I tell her.
"Have you got a recipe book...?"
"No, not for Russian cooking. You can look it up."
"But I've had my internet time..."
"So? You can always...
"Use the library."
She makes a face and leaves. I know what she will look for in the library today. It would be easy to let her just type in the search terms and let the computer do the rest. There would be more information than she needs there. It might not all be accurate. This way she is much more likely to remember what she reads and, hopefully, it will be more accurate.

Wikipedia is

2012-01-18T07:44:00.003+10:30

turning itself off at 4pm today. It is being turned off for twenty-four hours as a protest against the introduction of a bill into the United States Congress which is supposedly designed to stamp out piracy on the internet - at least inside the United States.
I doubt that the protest will do any good. I doubt that the legislation - if it passes - will work. Geeks somewhere will find a way of getting around the legislation eventually. Unlike China, where there are also heavy controls on the internet, there are constitutional issues for the United States. File "sharing" will continue.
If we really want to stop illegal file-sharing then we would have to do away with computers and photocopiers and anything else that has the capacity to record and store - and thus copy. Breaching copyright is wrong but it will go on happening.
I am wondering if one of the reasons it happens is because most people do not recognise the work involved in creating music, art and literature? They see it as being there for their enjoyment. How can something you enjoy for relaxation be work for anyone else? Musicians, actors, artists and (especially) writers just do it for the fun of it. There is no real work involved. They can have "real" jobs and just do those things part-time...unless they are super-stars. There are a very, very small number of musicians who get paid well, even extremely well. There are also a very small number of actors who get paid huge sums. Most musicians and actors get paid very little. It is the same with artists.
Writers get paid the least of all. Of all the creative arts what they produce is the easiest to reproduce. Anyone with a minimal amount of knowledge can copy this blog post. They can cut and paste and copy. They can change it minimally and put it up as their own. They can print it multiple times and use it as class material - a class they will be paid to teach. Yes, the copyright belongs to me but they will genuinely believe they are doing no wrong. Trying to stop them is like trying to hold back the sea in a storm.
Even when people pay for a book they will pass it on to others to read, donate it to a library or a charity shop, dump it somwhere. The amount of work involved in producing it will rarely, if ever, enter their heads.
Perhaps what we need is not an anti-piracy act that will not work but an education programme about the work involved. Perhaps what we need are governments who are prepared to acknowledge both ownership and effort. If they do not value creativity how can they expect others to value it?

I have never played

2012-01-17T07:06:00.002+10:30

on a poker machine. I would not know how to do this. I do not know how to play poker either.
I have seen poker "machines" of course. Even passing by them can give me a headache. I do not like things that whirr and whizz and make jangling noises. I cannot watch the screen shudder and shake and roll. I would not want to put money in a little slot (or whatever you do) in order to see it disappear for ever. If I had money to spare I would rather buy a book or another skein of knitting yarn.
I know there must be a lot of people who feel differently from me. Some people can limit the amount they spend and others cannot.
Our minority government is being propped up by, among other people, a man who claimed a seat in parliament on a platform which included introducing restrictions on gambling at "the pokies". He knew it was a problem. We have a Senator from my own state who also knows there is a problem. He has been trying to do something too.
The government knows there is a problem but it does not really want to do anything because, they say, too many jobs depend on it. What they really mean is that any move to restrict the use of poker machines will be unpopular and that the jobs of certain marginal seat politicians might be at risk. The government risks losing those seats. The government also likes the money brought in by poker machines, especially if they can rely on charities to support those who do not use poker machines wisely. It would be a problem to fill the hole in the budget.
The government has been stringing along the "independent" anti-gambling politician on whose support they have depended but it no longer depends on his support. The parliament will go back with a new Speaker, a man who should be sitting on the Opposition benches. The government now believes it can afford to lose a vote on the floor. It probably can. The other "independent" MPs know they are likely to be one-term politicians. For obvious reasons they want to stay there as long as they can.
The anti-gambling MP was gambling. He was gambling on the government needing his support and thus doing what he wanted. The government may do something because, without it, there will be another damaging "broken promise" weapon for the Opposition and the media. It will not be what the MP wants. He has gambled and, like most gamblers, he has lost.
I do not think I will try to learn to use a poker machine any time soon.

Who designs breakfast

2012-01-16T07:35:00.002+10:30

cereal?
Like a good Scots-descended cat I eat porridge most of the year. The chief ingredient for that comes in a plain packet from the supermarket. There is nothing fancy about the contents or the packaging.
My paternal grandfather taught me to eat porridge. He also taught me to make it. His kitchen skills were not extensive but he regarded porridge making skills as essential. Proper porridge was not eaten with sugar but milk was acceptable. This may be the reason I have am aversion to sugar on - or in - breakfast cereal.
In the height of an Australian summer however porridge making is something I avoid. I avoid cooking more than the bare minimum when it is hot. Why add to the heat in the kitchen?
So I went and prowled along the shelves for the right sort of oats to put in the muesli. These are not the same as porridge oats.
As I searched I came across seven different sorts of cornflakes - "the brand", homebrand, another brand, another brand, three with "things added". Then there were "oat flakes", rice "bubbles" and "shredded" wheat. There were other wheat and oat "biscuits" and "bran" things - the sort you need to drown in milk before they are edible. I think all of them had sugar as well.
These were the "ordinary" things.
There were also things that had been mangled and moulded into extraordinary shapes. There were claims that "fruit" and "nuts" had been added. There were even more extraordinary claims about nutritional value and energy ratings. Oh yes, I read some of the packets in passing.
Right at the very end, on the bottom shelf, barely visible but well within the reach of a cat's paw, was a lonely packet of the right sort of oats.
As I put it in the trolley I wondered, yet again, just who designs breakfast cereal and why do they do it? Is it possible to get a job as "designer of breakfast cereals"? Do the people who do this eat what they design - or do they eat porridge and muesli?

The Whirlwind is very

2012-01-15T07:31:00.002+10:30

impressed. I am the owner of an e-book - and "not any old e-book either". It is an e-book by someone she knows that I know, at least virtually. That makes it even more important in her eyes.
The book is, of course, Nicola Morgan's "WAGSynopsis" or "Write a Great Synopsis". Nicola generously gave me a copy. I suspect she knows I need help or prodding or both - yes, both. The book is all it should be, short, sharp, instructive and written in the inimitable "Crabbit" style.
If you are ever going to write a synopsis then you need to read the book. It will save you a lot of time and angst.

The Whirlwind has been on holiday with her father. They had planned on spending less time than they did but the subsequent booking at the beach house they had rented was cancelled at the last minute. Her father was asked if they would like to stay longer. Apart from the need for them both to find more reading matter and a question of making sure I could go on watering the indoor plants and collect mail they both said an enthusiastic yes.
It would not be every child's idea of a holiday but the Whirlwind is apparently more than content to just be with her father. Apparently they do a lot of reading. He goes fishing - the sort of fishing where you read a book. She draws pictures and reads. They swim and go for walks. It is, no doubt, soothing and relaxing. Certainly her father looks much better than he did before they left. It had been a tough year workwise.
They came home with more books than they went away with. They visited the local charity shop to get more.
I did not mention the word e-book but I knew what the Whirlwind was thinking. If they both had e-readers then they could have an endless supply of reading matter. At least, I thought I knew what the Whirlwind was thinking.
She looked at Nicola's book very carefully. Then she said, "It is very sensible for that sort of book but just imagine what would happen if my Dad took a Kindle with him when he was fishing." Mmm, perhaps it would not be such a good idea?

The second duck book in my

2012-01-14T07:31:00.002+10:30

life has, of course, to be "Make Way for Ducklings" by Robert McCloskey.
Now the reasons for this are not because it won the Caldecott Medal in 1942 or that the book has been continuously in print since then, or because there is a row of metal ducklings in Boston Public Garden (and another in Russia by the same artist, a gift to Raisa Gorbachev).
I doubt very much the book would even be considered for publication now. The story line barely hangs together. If you doubt that do go and re-read the book. There will be a copy somewhere on the internet.
I think I read the story on my first day at school - that day when I was put in a corner with a pile of books and told to read. I was worried, very worried about those ducks crossing the road. For me that was what the story was about, getting across the road safely - with a little help from the police force.
Later I read the story to other children. I read to children I taught. I read it to my nephews. I read it to the Whirlwind. There is a battered, ex-library copy in this house.
Then, on my return from university interstate, I had to re-new my passport as I was using it as photographic ID. I had to get the new photographs certified by a justice of the peace. I went into the office of my local member of parliament and asked his secretary to do the job for me.
She was just about to sign them when she flung down the pen and said,
"Excuse me."
Then she rushed out of the office onto the busy main road. The traffic was halted. A family of ducks was escorted across the road and then everything went back to normal. The secretary came back in looking slightly flushed but relieved.
"I nearly forgot. It was my job to look out for them today. Max is at the dentist." Max is a very slow man who frequents the local shopping area. He helps out by returning trolleys, putting out bins and doing other small things. People know him and know him as harmless. It was also Max's self imposed task to see the family of ducks across the road each afternoon. They always arrived about the same time. He would stop the traffic and then escort the ducks across the road. They seemed to know that this was how to cross the road. If he ever lost a duckling I never heard about it.
I had to go in and out of the office on numerous occasions to get forms signed. If it was "duck time" Max would appear in his flourescent yellow vest" and escort the ducks across the road.
The office has moved now. The ducks have moved on too. Their habitat was altered and the local council arranged a new home for them further up the creek. There is no traffic there and apparently they settled in.
It is better for the ducks but there are a lot of us who miss our own "Make Way for Ducklings".

Yesterday looked like being

2012-01-13T07:34:00.002+10:30

"one of those days".
My working day can start at 5am, usually by prior arrangement. Someone, somewhere will need to "talk" to me. It will perhaps be very late at night for them or there will be other good reason to need me early in the morning. There has to be good reason for it though. I do not start that early for the fun of it.
Yesterday was an early start day - and yes it was worth it. I did all the other usual things and then started off for some shopping. Thursday is the day I do a "big" shop. I do this about once a month. It means heading to the supermarket and buying the heavy things. The nice boys up there then deliver it sometime during the day - when they have time. I do my bit by trying to do the shopping early.
Not so yesterday. I had done one pedal out of the gate and discovered that I had an almost flat tyre. I am quite capable of pumping up the tyres myself but my father insists it his job. He investigated and said, "Puncture." Oh.
I cannot mend a puncture. My thumbs are not strong enough to get the tyres on and off. My father managed this. New tube? Yes. My father went off on his gopher to get a new tube. Without his gopher we would have had to get a taxi or call on someone to help.
It took most of the morning. I changed my ideas about what we were eating. I made 'phone calls and rearranged things that needed to be rearranged.
"And the drive chain needs tightening," my father told me when he came with filthy hands, "You will need to take it to the bike shop. It needs an expert. I'll give them a call."
Right. They will see to it when I bring it down. I am aware that they will stop doing other things in order to help. It makes me feel bad but it cannot be helped. The bike shop is some distance from the shopping centre and the supermarket. I cannot walk to and from - or cross a major road on foot.
I see to lunch and then set off. I deliver things that need to be delivered on the way. At the bike shop they are busy. It is school holidays. There are always boys hanging around. There is a major bike race coming up, the "Tour Downunder", and this always adds to their workload as interested riders get last minute checks and adjustments. But, they find time for me.
I finally get to the supermarket. One of the boys is going out the back delivery door.
"You're late Cat"
"Flat tyre."
"We are doing last delivery round now."
"Oh, right. I'll leave it until tomorrow."
"No, hold on."
He goes back inside and then comes back and says,
"I can do it on my way home - be a bit before seven - I just live a couple of streets from you."
I know he does and accept the offer.
It was going to be one of those days. The flat tyre was a nuisance but at least I was not halfway to or from the supermarket. I had to get the chain adjusted and that was a nuisance but the bike shop, knowing how dependent I am on my tricycle, fitted me in. The supermarket boy was willing to go a little out of his way to help me.
It all meant I could also get on with what I really needed to do yesterday. I did not have to let anyone down - although I had to delay a couple of things.
Thanks guys. You are great.

Several people have let me

2012-01-12T07:20:00.009+10:30

down over the last year.
There were four people who offered and then promised me faithfully they would "read and get back to me" or get their boys to read the first three chapters of the novel I have out on submission. I would really have appreciated comments from the boys but I am aware their parents may have dobbed them in. The boys in question may not have been willing - or may not even have seen the chapters. Their parents though did not keep their word. It is disappointing.
That said, two other people also offered to read and both of them gave me really constructive feed back. I appreciate that - and I told them I appreciated it.
There was the person who promised me two balls of sock yarn in exchange for a knitting book. I sent the book and have not heard a word from her since. The sock yarn has not materialised. E-mails have gone unanswered. As I was passing that on to someone who was knitting socks for her surgeon son and one of his colleagues I felt bound to buy her two balls - and say nothing about it. I would not have done this except that the surgeons were volunteering, entirely at their own expense, to do some work in a remote part of the Himalayas. The sock knitter did acknowledge the yarn - with a hug and a kiss. I know though that, had she not been home, she would have 'phoned me. She is punctilious about such things. We both know that good quality sock yarn is difficult to get here.
I did some unpaid work for someone else. This is the usual state of affairs but, this time, the work was not usual. It also took four full days at a time when I was very busy with other things. I have not received an acknowledgment. It was only because someone else mentioned they were using the material I even knew it had arrived. Perhaps I should be pleased it is being used - even though my name apparently does not even appear on the hand outs. And, oh yes, I know the person I did the work for is busy too.
Another person asked me to do something "as a favour". I did it and heard nothing at all. I saw her last week and inquired what had happened. "Oh, I decided not to do it that way after all." Right. Thankyou for letting me know.
Most of the people I have done things for have got back to me. It is usually nothing more than a brief "thanks" to let me know that what I have done has been received. That is enough. I do not want more than that but I do like to know that people have received what I sent.
That way I know that I have not let them down. If they choose to let me down then they have to live with their conscience - if they have one.

For those of you who do not

2012-01-11T07:29:00.002+10:30

know South Australia I need to explain that it has been heavily dependent on the car industry for many years.
When I was a child "Holden's" was situated on the Port Road and other drivers did their best to avoid the "shift-change" times there because of the heavy traffic streaming in and out of the plant. Looking back it was probably no worse, perhaps even better, than the traffic jams at peak periods now. However, at that time, drivers were not used to waiting in traffic. Traffic was light. You just drove, stopping occasionally for traffic lights or a vehicle coming in from the right. It is a very different story now.
Holden's employed a lot of people - almost all of them were men. There were just a few women employed in the office areas. Other places also employed a lot of people who supplied Holden's with parts and other supplies. The workforce was considered tough. It was strictly union based.
The plant is no longer there on the Port Road. It went many years ago. It went out to the then new satellite suburb of Elizabeth, an area with many migrants from the car factories of the United Kingdom and opened by Queen Elizabeth herself.
We had another large car plant at Tonsley too, the Mitsubishi plant. It also employed a great many people on site and off site. So many of the local deaf community worked there they had a special sign among themselves for the Tonsley plant.
Mitsubishi had a big government bail out some years ago. One hundred million dollars of tax payer money went into trying to save the place. It did not work. The area is still empty. Plans have been announced from time to time but nothing has happened yet. A lot of people lost their jobs. Some retired. Some found other jobs. The bail out is generally considered to have been a waste of tax payer money.
Now the same thing is happening again. Our State Premier has rushed off to the US to try and "save" Holden's. His efforts and our tax dollars may keep the assembly line going for a short while but it will not save it. Nothing can save it. It is expensive to assemble cars here. It is cheaper to assemble them elsewhere and then import them. The government knows this but it will persist anyway. They believe it will keep them in power and, aware of the dire economic consequences for the state, they will be reluctantly supported by their opposition.
The problem is that neither side has any vision for the future. They have not thought beyond cars. They have not thought about what else we might manufacture, or how we might do it. The word "diversification" is apparently not to be found in their vocabulary.
We could try bicycles, tricycles, electric bicycles, electric tricycles, electric vans and small buses for urban areas, housing units for disaster zones and deserts, the infrastructure units for alternative energy schemes and any number of other things. They may not be as complex as cars but they will all be needed in the future.
Perhaps we could even have a small corner producing e-book readers so that people can learn about diversification?

I was given a present

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yesterday. My friend Jen Campbell sent me a copy of her "100 poem challenge". For those of you who do not know Jen she is (naturally) a writer and the manager of a bookshop, a good friend, smart, funny and serious. Jen does things. You can find her over at "This is not the six word novel" in my blog roll.
Jen is also the author of "Weird things people say in bookshops" which will be published this year. Her blog is full of weird things people say, interesting interviews with other writers and other reflections on life.
Oh, and she happens to have EEC syndrome. Here's a link to the explanation for that.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ectrodactyly%E2%80%93ectodermal_dysplasia%E2%80%93cleft_syndrome
In order to raise money for research into the eyesight problems associated with that Jen spent a weekend writing short poems inspired by "tag" words people had given her. Want to know more? Go and read her blog and the book.
Yes, Jen does things. It made me think about people who do not do things. Someone called in at our place last night. She wanted to return a box my father had made for some items belonging to the Neighbourhood Watch group. The group has just folded. My father was the first Area Coordinator of the local NW group. He did the job for eight years. A couple of other people took a turn for two years. Then someone did a long stint like my father. That person was simply too ill to carry on, so ill he died a couple of weeks ago. We will miss him.
Nobody was prepared to take on the job of Area Coordinator. It was not an onerous task but nobody was prepared to do it. I did talk to the previous Area Coordinator about it if they could change the time but he said, "Cat, your family has already contributed and you have enough to do." True. There are plenty of other people in the district who do nothing at all. They have time on their hands. They could do things. They have the ability to do things. They do not want to do things.
I admit I did not go to meetings -but they clashed with another commitment. I did do a newsletter delivery. I try to be aware of the needs of my neighbours.
So, we no longer have a Neighbourhood Watch group. I have fielded some complaints about this from people who want to know where the newsletter is. They never went to meetings. They never contributed in any way. I have said this. They are full of excuses about "lack of time" etc.
They say to me "I do not know where you find the time...". The answer is simple. I do not have enough time but I do not waste the time I have. (Unless this blog counts as a waste of time!)

The snake man came

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yesterday.
No, thankfully, we had not seen a snake. His mother is one of the very elderly people who lives alone in this district. He lives in another state and teaches at a university there.
I keep an eye on his mother, a fact of which he is well aware. She is still well able to look after herself but I post the occasional letter or pick up the occasional prescription at the chemist. It is no bother.
He came to have a look at our garden at his mother's request. Like him she knows rather a lot about wildlife. When she tells me something about wildlife I listen because she knows more than I do about such things.
Snakes were once found in the Adelaide Hills and the outer suburbs. Now they are found throughout the metropolitan area. They came in search of food during the drought and they have remained. It is up to us to learn to live with them - and do what we can to lessen the potential harm.
My father is too old to do the heavy gardening work now. As it is his garden and his hobby I have never liked to interfere but this is different. We have someone who comes to help for two hours once a fortnight. He does more in two hours than my father can now do in two weeks. Without this gem of a man, a member of the church my father attends, we would not be able to keep the garden even vaguely tidy.
I have for some time now been suggesting that we ask him to clear some of the "undergrowth" along the fences. Dad has hesitated. There have been other things that needed to be done - like getting the netting over the fruit trees, pruning in high places, clearing the gutters etc. Yes, it has all been important.
Yesterday "the snake man" said that the clearing needed to be done. It is a snake trap. My father went quite pale as he was told this. We have "brown snakes". They are some of the most poisonous snakes in the world, a bite from even a very young snake can kill. An adult has enough venom to kill at least several dozen people, if not more. They can move incredibly rapidly and they can climb anywhere...yes, snakes can climb. I told the snake man, "Snakes scare me." He said, "Yes, they should. They are very, very dangerous."
So we are going to ask our gardening friend to do some extra clearing. It will reduce the potential resting places for snakes. We are also going to remind him to be very, very cautious as he does it.

I do not write

2012-01-08T08:32:00.002+10:30

short stories. Well, that is not quite true. There are a few about Tom, Lizzie and Mouse-the-cat. One of them was actually published in 100 stories for Haiti.
Apart from those I have not written any short stories. Short stories are also one of the reasons I do not belong to a writing group. The writing groups I know about seem to be obsessed with short stories - short stories and poetry. They do not cater for struggling, would be novelists.
I can understand this. It is easier to review and criticise a piece of work which is "complete" even if it is not "finished". The shorter that piece of work is the more likely people are going to find time to read it. It can be read aloud to the group or at an evening of readings.
The quality of work in a group can vary from awful to excellent. The help a writer can get may also vary from none to a great deal. Different writers will take different things from different groups. I tried joining a group but it was not for me.
There are also "reading groups". There are local reading groups, run by the library, the bookshop and the community centre. I have not tried joining one of those. My reading for pleasure time is limited. I do not want to be in the position where I "must" read something. I know too that books for reading groups will often be "award winning" novels. While I will read some of these, many do not interest me.
I have picked up some award winning novels and found them dense and incomprehensible. My reaction has, more than once, shocked someone. One person I know believes I should be reading all these things. He is particularly shocked that I have not read all of Tim Winston and Peter Carey. They are Australian authors and, apparently, I should read all Australian authors and revere them simply because they are Australian. I should also make my settings Australian, indeed it is my duty to do so. (I remind him that he has yet to read the poetry of Pablo Neruda - as a Chilean he "should" do this.) Naturally he is a member of a book group.
Would I learn something from belonging to a writing group? Almost certainly I would but, if I wanted to have any of my own writing criticised, I would have at least to learn to write short stories. Possibly I would have to write to a theme or a word length or in a certain way - any of which might fit the purpose of the class. No, my writing time is limited. I will not do that.
Would I learn something from belonging to a reading group? Well I may learn what others think of this novel or that novel. I may learn why what is now dense and incomprehensible is considered to be so good the writing wins a prize.
Would those things help me write? They might - but they would leave me even less time for actually writing.
If I want to write I know I must also read. I must also be prepared to read widely and well. I do not believe however that I should write something simply because it is what a small group expects as part of the price for belonging to a group. I do not believe I should read books chosen by others as part of the price for belonging to a group. But I also wonder - am I being a snob by not joining in?

Even though I knew the ending

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I used to worry about Ping the duck.
I have no idea how many times my father patiently read the book to me. I know I could well and truly read it to myself by the time I was three but I could probably have recited it before that. It was one of the important books of my early childhood, one of the books that has somehow survived our travels. Even my mother did not dare give away "Ping". My brother and two sisters loved it too. My brother bought copies for his children as soon as they were old enough to have the book read to them.
If you do not know the book "The story about Ping" by Marjorie Flack you can download it here: http://www.gyanpedia.in/Portals/0/Toys%20from%20Trash/Resources/books/ping.pdf
It was published in 1933. It is still available. Children still want to hear it and read it and they still worry about Ping. The Whirlwind would cry over it. The book still remains on her bookshelves and mine. I suspect she still reads it occasionally. I read it to a small child recently. He needed reassuring too. It does not matter in the least that the book was published almost eighty years ago.
Looking back on the book now I can understand why it was so important to me. Ping gets left behind on the Yangstse River. I got "left behind" in hospital for rather a long time. Ping "found" his family again - all those forty-two cousins! - and I "found" mine again. Ping gets spanked on his return and, in a sense, I got "spanked" on my return - but it was still good to be there.
The book is still everything a good picture book should be. The story line is simple and repetitive but there is drama, some anxiety and then a happy ending despite that spank on the back for being last. Ping was, and still is, familiar and comforting.
Australia is having a "National Year of Reading". For that reason I have decided to devote some blog space this year to books that matter to me. I make no apology for the fact that they will almost all be books for children. What matters is the story - and I want other people to enjoy the stories too.

A very curious telephone

2012-01-06T07:24:00.002+10:30

bill arrived yesterday. It is not our bill. It is addressed to a dead man.
My late uncle's mail is being re-directed to us until the middle of February. The re-direction began before his death - at a time when we were still paying his bills. Since then my cousin has arranged for the local executor, a solicitor, to pay the bills. I usually just open the mail and fax it through to the solicitor's office.
The telephone bill however is another matter. It makes no sense. It is a land line. It is in my uncle's name and was sent to his address. This was confirmed by a search of the reverse directory. It is not his old telephone number. It is a completely different number. All the calls have been made after his death.
The bill itself is also extraordinary. There are a number of calls to one-three numbers - banks, a suburban police station and a child support agency.
Almost all the other calls have been made to a variety of mobile numbers - and most of them only last a few seconds. They do not appear to be random calls because some of them are repeated.
There is also a small charge for internet access - for my uncle's e-mail address. That account was closed in October.
The only explanation is that someone is using my uncle's name for their own illegitimate purposes. I have alerted the solicitor's office and my cousin.
We will probably never know the answer.

"What's wrong with this?"

2012-01-05T07:23:00.003+10:30

"Ummm...rather a lot."
I was accosted yesterday by someone on my regular pedalling route. Annoyingly someone else had mentioned I happen to have a degree in law. Naturally he was looking for free legal advice. I do not give free legal advice. I am not a lawyer. No, I am not a lawyer. Having a degree in law does not qualify me to hand out legal advice, especially while sitting on my tricycle on the footpath.
This man had obtained one of those "free will kits" from somewhere. His wife has, according to him, been nagging him for some time now about writing a will. As he is probably in his late 60's this would seem an even better idea now than it would have been when he married her forty something years ago.
There is something about writing a will which seems to bother many people. I suspect it is a sort of superstitious thing. The vast majority of us do not like to think about dying.
Succession Law was one of the more interesting compulsory subjects in Law School. People have done some strange things, some nice things, some nasty things and some downright cruel things with respect to their worldly possessions. Yes, people really do will everything they own to a dog or a cat instead of their relatives.
Sometimes people unintentionally do what they did not intend to do. More than one wife has found herself homeless when an estate has been left to children in the belief that they will "do the right thing" by their mother.
Even getting proper legal advice will not necessarily result in an estate being divided the way it was intended to be divided. Leaving someone out, giving someone less (or more), even giving equal shares when there are clearly different needs can all cause difficulties when people choose to challenge a will - and they will. It is often a nasty business. However it is often a much nastier business without a properly drawn up will.
My father, in his emotional state after my mother's death lost the original of her will before probate was granted. He accidentally left it in the photocopier at the library and nobody had the good sense or courtesy to hand it in. He had the copies he had made that day. My mother's will left everything to him if she pre-deceased him. It was very simple. There were no arguments. Her intentions were also well known. A solicitor had drawn it up and also had a copy. We sorted the situation with far less difficulty than there might have been. My father tells it as a warning story to other people.
The man who accosted me clearly thought he was leaving nothing at all to chance. His attempt to write a will went on for pages. Every item he owned had been individually listed and, next to it, the name of the intended recipient. He had listed each book, each tool, each golf club and each fishing rod. Every item that is but one. He had not mentioned the house. I happen to know the house is not in joint names. It is his house - and he had simply failed to mention the house at all. I broke my rule and gave him some legal advice, "Consult a solicitor."

There is a "merit" list

2012-01-04T07:57:00.002+10:30

in the paper this morning - for the Year 12 students who achieved "perfect" scores in any subject in their final year certificates.
I am never too sure about the wisdom of such lists. It is, of course, nice for those who have done well and they do deserve recognition for the effort they have put in.
There are also other students who have put in equal (or more) effort and still failed to achieve perfect scores. I always hope at least one other person will acknowledge they have done well.
This time I know several students whose names appear in the merit list. They all deserve to be there.
One of them is particularly extraordinary. She deserves to be there but she should not be there. Her medical history has been the subject of more than one academic article. A great deal of her early life was spent in hospital. Her diet was, and still is, limited. She will always need to give extra care and attention to that and a range of medical issues. Her energy is limited.
I have known her since she was three years old. Two years later her mother sought help from me when no school would take a child with so many medical issues. She was taught at home until a fee paying school with a nurse always present because of a large number of boarders agreed to accept her. Even then she missed a lot of school because of medical issues. Her parents kept her education up in hospital and at home. They encouraged and never suggested she was not doing well enough and she worked hard.
She rewarded them and herself with four merit scores and a score just below that. Her parents are delighted and, although still very shy, she greeted me with more confidence than I had ever seen when her results came out.
Now her merit scores are public knowledge and I hope there will be many more people who will tell her "well done". While I still have some doubts about them this is one student who may really benefit from such a list - and there may be others.

"I have not read a book

2012-01-03T07:46:00.002+10:30

since I left school" is the proud boast of someone I know. He lives on my regular pedalling route. His front "garden" consists of a patch of lawn in which each blade of grass is trimmed to exactly the same length. The windows sparkle. The guttering has been wiped down. The driveway and the path are absolutely clear.
Every morning he sweeps the footpath in front of his home. Any debris falling from the street trees during the day is swept up yet again.
His mother used to live in the same house. It was much the same when she was there. I once had occasion to go inside the house and the inside was much the same as the outside. Like her son she claimed (and still claims) not to have read a book since leaving school. I think they watch television most evenings.
My maternal grandmother, although not quite so houseproud, was much the same. She never read books. She listened to radio or played cards before television. When television came she watched that. Television also caused her to give up sewing although she went on knitting the sort of plain garments once designated as "tv knitting". Eventually she gave that up as well and just sat there. Sometimes she would doze off and then complain that the programme "did not make sense". She was only seventy-six when she died. Her husband, who never read either, was only sixty-nine.
My paternal grandmother kept her house clean and tidy but she sewed and knitted and crocheted endless blankets for charity. She gardened and played bridge. She did a good deal of child-minding and making of our clothes and teaching us how to do things. In between all those things she found time to read several books each week.
As she grew much older and less able to do things at quite such an energetic pace my father suggested a television set. She thought about it and then said, "No, not yet thankyou. I don't have time."
It was only when she became physically very frail that my father again suggested a television set. Perhaps, he suggested, his father could watch the cricket that way? A television set was bought.
The commercials annoyed them both so much they would only watch the ABC. They rarely watched that. My grandfather preferred to listen to the cricket - and perhaps snooze. He worked until his mid-eighties and still brought work home at night. Only failing eyesight caused him to give up his business and, even after that, he read as long as he could. He held a magnifying glass over the words to go on reading as long as possible.
My grandmother went on reading, still trying to make up for the education she had lost by having to leave school after only three years. She travelled the world by reading.
My paternal grandparents lived much longer and happier lives than my maternal grandparents. Of course I cannot say reading was what caused that but I firmly believe it was part of the equation.
Not reading, not wishing to read, is surely a sad thing? It allows us to live so many lives.

The New Year has begun with a

2012-01-02T07:27:00.002+10:30

badly edited letter appearing in the state newspaper. As it is the lead letter this worries me. It gives an entirely unintended meaning to the whole thing. Sigh.
I was talking about the suggestion that Australians should show some form of photo ID to vote. The suggestion is that this would prevent people from voting twice.
Attendance at the ballot box (not actually voting) is required by law if you are an adult Australian citizen. You cannot actually force someone to vote but the law requires you to attend a polling station, have your name marked off, accept the ballot papers, mark them and place them in the boxes provided.
The actual marking of the ballot papers cannot be enforced of course but the rest can be and is enforced.
Deliberate multiple voting is rare. There is some evidence of it among confused elderly people and, occasionally, migrants. There was a case which received wide publicity at a state election where someone claimed a family had voted more than 150 times in the names of other people. I suppose it could be done. I do not know. Why anyone would bother is beyond me.
But the idea of having to have photo ID in order to vote in a country where attendance at the ballot box is compulsory does bother me.
Australians have indicated a strong dislike of the idea of a national ID card over the years. We already have a national ID card of sorts in our Medicare cards - but these do not have photographs. Medicare cards are also limited in their use. You cannot require them as ID for other services - although they can be used in some circumstances.
There are also numerous ways in which the government and other organisations collect information from us - more ways than most people are aware of. I also avoid "loyalty cards" for big organisations. They all keep central data bases of what you buy when you use them. I remove as much tracking information as I can from the computer. I give out a minimum of personal information to government departments. All the same I know that they hold far more information about me than is necessary or desirable. Information is collected for the sake of collecting information. It "might be useful one day".
But, a national photographic ID card? Oh yes, I know there are places which have them but they are used in much the way our Medicare card is used. If we went down this route the purpose would be different. No government would go to the expense of introducing such a system just in order to ensure a few citizens did not attempt to vote twice. They would look at where else - and how often - they could require it to be used. It may start out well but what government could resist (ab)using such a card at other times?
What is more it would not stop the confused voting at more than one polling station while we still have a system where names are marked manually off the rolls.

This year I should like to

2012-01-01T07:58:00.002+10:30

tidy our bookshelves a little.
My father and I have greatly increased the book collection since my mother died. We have not necessarily bought books - although we do that as well - but we have done things differently. There is now a double book case in my father's bedroom, something my mother would never have tolerated. There are more bookcases in the formal area, again something my mother would never have tolerated. There are also more bookcases in the family area. There is a question mark over whether she would have tolerated that too. She simply did not care for books the way we do.
There are also bookcases in my bedroom and the room my father uses as an "office" or study. We have brought books in from where they were stored in the shed outside and a box of books stored at my sister's house has been returned to us.
They have just been stacked, double stacked and triple stacked on to the shelves. I know roughly where to find things. Dictionaries are in one place, name books are beneath them, language books on other shelves, books about the English language on others, cook books on the bottom shelf, knitting books on other shelves, gardening books in my father's bedroom, his collection of "magic" books in the office and novels everywhere.
There are people who say we do not need all these books. They say we should get rid of some of them. Why keep novels you have read? That atlas is out of date. You will never knit all the patterns in those books. That gardening book is so old and those magic books went out before the Ark came in!
There are good reasons for keeping novels. My collection of children's novels is a valuable resource. Children use it. I go back to the books time and time again. How did a writer handle that problem? Adults borrow books to take on holiday and, I admit, sadly we do not always get them back. My father refers to the gardening books and younger magicians come to him with problems or looking for ideas so the magic books get taken from the shelves and answers are searched for.
Our library is a tool in constant use. I know it is not the way other people live. Most people we know have some books in the house - but not nearly as many as we do. Others have almost none. I know families with no books at all - not even a dictionary or an atlas.
We have acquaintances who are almost obsessive-compulsive in their desire for tidiness. Their books are arranged not in subject order or even alphabetical order but in order of size. I could not do that. It would seem entirely wrong to me. The books themselves would feel uncomfortable.
I do feel however that it would be rather nice to tidy the shelves a little. They have become very untidy through constant use. It would be easier to find things if all the books about the same subject were at least together.
I may do it. It is not a New Year's resolution. It is just something I think I would like to do - when I get time.

So, what did I achieve

2011-12-31T07:21:00.002+10:30

this year?
In respect of family I became a great-aunt for the second time - and no, I am not "that" old! Perhaps it is more important to say that my father became a great-grandfather for the second time? He is, after all, rightly proud of that.
There was work of course. That was there as usual. Nobody needs to know about that, particularly the disaster side. It just had to be done.
The other areas in which "things-can-be-achieved" in my life are writing and knitting - and, sometimes, a combination of the two.
I wrote some knitting patterns this year. I have done this before and I dislike doing it. I do not have the patience for highly technical instruction writing and, should I do any more pattern writing, I am going to miss the guiding hand of my friend Sue even more than I do now. Sue was a professional pattern writer for a major knitting magazine. She knew how to do it.
Of course that meant doing some knitting. Unlike some people I do not keep a record. I just knit. I always have a simple project on the go as travel knitting and a more complex project on the go as "knitting to keep my paws busy while watching the television news service". If I watched more television I might get more knitting done. I do know there has been a cardigan, two pullovers and two vests, a pair of fingerless mittens and five shawls - but I think there was more than that. I have given all but one of the pullovers to other people so there is no chance of counting.
Then there is the writing. I have started on the submission process. All writers know what the submission process is like - yes, it is even worse than we imagine. I am not ready to give up yet, indeed there is good reason not to give up yet.
While I was doing that with one book I was writing another. I have now put it firmly aside so that I can go back to it with a fresh eye in about a month. That way I hope I can remove stray cat hairs and comb it into shape. I also gave that draft to the young Whirlwind to read for Christmas. When she and her father return on Monday I will be told what she thinks of it - but that will not be the opinion I need. I need to find some other young readers who have never met me and who will offer up an honest opinion.
Then there is another book in the pipeline. It is at the point where I wonder if it will actually be a book - but I think it will be. It needs to be. I have been jotting down ideas all year. The main character finally agreed to give me her name yesterday and that is a leap forward. It may happen now. I must aim to do that this year.
Will I make any New Year Resolutions though? I doubt it. I will just keep knitting and, above all, writing.

I have been stirring

2011-12-30T07:39:00.002+10:30

the pot again. I like to stir the pot occasionally. I especially like to do it when the government does something utterly incomprehensible.
Adelaide Oval, hallowed ground of cricket tragics, is to undergo refurbishment at vast expense to the taxpayer. This is not for the benefit of cricket. It is so that football can be played there... Australian Rules football that is, not soccer.
Hundreds of millions of dollars are to be spent on this. It has caused a public uproar. My sports mad second cousin, who has practically lived on "the Mound" since he was old enough to walk, is opposed and so are a great many other people who have had season tickets most of their lives.
Yes, they would like to see some of the facilities upgraded but they do not believe it should be done at taxpayer expense.
This week the Prime Minister announced a further $30 million dollars of funding for the project - so that an underground carpark can be built for the favoured few who want to bring their cars to matches. The announcement comes at the time when a much needed country hospital is being closed for lack of funding. Other projects are also being put on hold, or cut altogether, because "no funds are available".
I have set foot on Adelaide Oval just once in my life. It was for some long since forgotten school event where attendance was apparently obligatory - or I would not have been permitted to go. There are many other people who have never set foot on the Oval. They never will. It is not just a lack of desire but, for some, a lack of access brought on by distance or finance or both.
I wrote a letter. Other people wrote letters. There is an entire page of letters in the state newspaper today. Not one supports the idea of additional funding for a carpark for the few. There are buses, trams and trains within a short walk of the Oval. Many Oval goers will still need to use public transport. The carpark will not be big enough to hold all their cars and by no means all of them will have the right to use the carpark. It would have made sense to upgrade the public transport facilities.
What made me stir the pot however was something quite different. Next year will be the National Year of Reading. Schools are supposed to participate in that. Libraries are supposed to be heavily involved in that. Bookshops are supposed to support it.
So far there has not been a word about local funding for the year. Our local library is not expecting any extra funds, indeed funds for new books are likely to be cut back still further. The schools are trying to plan without spending additional funds. They do not have funds to spend. Our local bookshop will struggle to support the year without any external resources.
Funds are not being spent on something as vital as our libraries and major non-media information resources. They are not being spent on something used by the vast majority of the population.
If the carpark money had been spent on libraries Oval goers could have read a book while they waited for the bus. It would have been a better use of the money.

Dear Bank

2011-12-29T07:35:00.003+10:30

My use of your services is not excessive. I do not own a cheque book or a credit card. I severely limit the use of my debit card because you charge me to access my own money more than once a week. I visit one of your branches about once a month. You have my life savings in there. Those savings are, unfortunately, not large but you still make far more money from those than I do.
I contacted you via your website because I believe it is not reasonable to keep anyone waiting twenty eight minutes simply because you fail to put enough staff behind the teller counter. I made the suggestion that it would be reasonable to have more than one person behind the counter on pension morning.
No, I am not a pensioner but I unfortunately need to visit you on that day. I am also able to observe something you are apparently unable to observe. Many of your customers on that day are very elderly. I am also able to observe that, in that particular branch, many of them have problems with English. It takes a little more time to handle their simple affairs.
I contacted you via your website because I merely wished to alert you to a problem. I did not wish to be contacted and told how wonderful you are and have suggestions that I should handle all my banking via the internet if I am not satisfied with the in bank service.
I also find it highly objectionable that you cannot handle a polite suggestion, and I was very polite, without first demanding an account number and a pass word. You seemed affronted when I pointed out that I do not give that sort of information over the 'phone. Yes I am well aware that you were not asking for my PIN but even an account number and a password are more than enough for a fraudster. It is not as if I was making a query about one of my accounts. If you really valued my privacy you would not have been asking for that sort of information over the 'phone. We managed without it in the end did we not?
Now, having wasted all that time, do you suppose that for perhaps for an hour on Thursday mornings you could manage to have two people behind the teller desk in a busy branch?
I will be watching.

There was a bang in the middle of the

2011-12-28T07:49:00.003+10:30

night. Lights flashed and the oven timer went off.
I had to get up and turn the timer off of course. Other people may be able to sleep throught a persistent buzzing but I cannot. I also disabled the flashing lights in the house. I did not investigate the bright flashing lights in the street. They were white rather than red or blue. There had not been any sirens either and, if there had been, I think I would have been even less inclined to investigate.
I have never been inclined to investigate anything which might be an accident. I cannot understand people who just stand and gawk at other people's misfortune. If there is nothing I can do to help then I want to move on. My father is the same.
If there appeared to be an accident ahead my father would, if possible, take a detour. If it was not possible then he would concentrate fiercely on driving the car. As a passenger I would close my eyes. I still do the same thing. I never want to know.
Someone once commented that this apparent lack of curiosity was strange in a would-be writer. The person commenting seemed to think I should take an interest in everything, observe everything and be able to write about everything I observed.
I cannot. There are things I do not understand even when I have observed them and I have no desire to try and write about them. There are other things about which I cannot write. If the time comes when I need to write about an "accident" then I will be able to draw on the memories of the accidents I have not been able to avoid witnessing. That will be enough. I do not need to intrude unnecessarily on the private lives of other people.

An obsession with statistics

2011-12-27T07:31:00.002+10:30

is not one of my many faults - and I have many.
I do not like statistics. I first came across them at school. There I questioned some of the numbers given to us in subjects like history and science. I wanted to know "how can you know that?" It did not make me popular. You were, I was told, required to accept that as "right". I never did.
Then there were statistics in teacher training. We were told things like "X%" this and "Y%" that would do such and such or be such and such. I suspect most of my fellow students ignored the information. A few of us wondered how they obtained such figures.
When I went on to university there were serious statistics. Statistics were a compulsory part of my courses. There was a "Professor of Statistics" at my institution. He was an earnest and pleasant man who spent time playing with an outsize and delicate computer or consulting the senior lecturer of statistics in the department of psychology. That they manipulated statistics to suit themselves I did not doubt. One (never to be forgotten) day I heard them discussing how to do this in the departmental canteen.
I had to do a course in statistics. I had to learn about things like probablity and ANOVAs and ANCOVAs and Chi and other things I have long since forgotten. We even did a short course in computer programming. I struggled through that and promptly forgot it all. I even managed to do all the necessary statistics for my thesis - and justify the results.
Since then I have done other statistics for other research. A paper full of statistics seems to keep other people happy - at least in some areas of academia. I remember once having to explain what a "bell curve" was to one of the law school staff. She went off and came back with another member of staff and asked me to explain it all over again. I tried to do it in legal terms - "on the balance of probabilities" and "beyond all reasonable doubt". They were bemused that anyone should take numbers as "evidence" when they related to the behaviour of human beings. I do not blame them.
But statistics are also beloved by public and civil servants. In almost any government report there will be graphs and charts and pie-charts and diagrams and other statistics. There is a whole Bureau of Statistics here in Australia - and other similar departments in every country you can think of. There is an obsession with numbers. They are, people keep telling me, used for "planning" - and other things.
Yesterday I got around to doing a very small piece of work for someone who works in a government department. It had arrived last week and I know the answer is needed for a meeting in early January. There were three questions they need to have an answer to. All of those were perfectly reasonable questions and I was willing to supply the answers. Attached to those however was a form "to be filled out by the person supplying the answers". It ran to two pages. My name, contact details and qualifications for supplying the answers are on the previous form. They do not need any further information. I have e-mailed the first form back and ignored the second.
It will be interesting to see if they can "plan" without all the extra information - or whether they will ask me to satisfy their obsession with statistics.

There are times when I am not sure

2011-12-26T07:50:00.002+10:30

about the wisdom of traditional Christmas food.
No, do not misunderstand me. We managed to get through yesterday without anyone having an argument about food. That may have something to do with the fact that arguments about anything are, fortunately, very rare in our family. My father and I did not overindulge in the food. (We did not give each other extravagant presents. There are no problems there either.)
However for years now we have also been included in the get together arranged by my sister's extended in-law family. They are Greek. The family is large. The tradition began not long after my sister married. It has been going on for long enough that we all know what is expected of us. When my mother was alive she used to worry she was not taking enough food. I know I am taking more than they need. There is always too much food.
We no longer sit down to a roast dinner and Christmas pudding. That was always rather foolish in weather which is usually too warm for comfort. The Greeks have shellfish, kalamari, lamb, turkey, chicken, kebabs and other Greek delicacies. On two occasions my brother-in-law's father has cooked an entire animal on a spit - and there was nothing but bones left when the Greeks had finished devouring it. The sight of meat in those quantities decreases rather than increases my appetite.
Then there is always a table filled with dishes of roast potato, pumpkin and sweet potato, a baked potato dish, potato salad (dressed in lemon juice and olive oil), coleslaw with a similar dressing, bean salad, lettuce salad, tomato salad, rice salad and a plate piled high with dolmades.
All that would be enough on its own for us but, because it is a celebratory occasion, they have a sweets course as well. Greek sweets such as baklava and shortbread appear along with a Greek version of trifle. The family has also become sufficiently Australian for the next generation to insist on jellies, pavlova, cheesecake and "honey crackles" as well. There is always water melon, chosen by my sister's father-in-law, cut into slices. The children are old enough now not to have too many pip-spitting contests.
I am always surprised at how little food is left at the end of the day. It is laid out buffet style. People help themselves from about one o'clock onward until early evening. Most people eat far more than we do.
It has been my job to contribute the cheesecake and the "honey crackles" (made with cornflakes, sugar, honey and butter). The latter are also beloved by the children who will sit and eat them one cornflake at a time while they are required to sit still .
There was a disaster yesterday. I was taking the cheesecake out of the fridge at a very early hour in order to reach something stored behind it. The dish slipped and landed on the floor. It was the end of the cheesecake.
For a moment I almost panicked. I am still surprised the noise made by the fall and my wail did not wake my still sleeping father. Then reason asserted itself. I looked at the clock. It was still before six in the morning. We were not being picked up until nearly eleven.
I measured yeast, I weighed out flour and polenta, I added water and a cup of parmesan cheese. I set the bread machine going. I drained a cup of pitted black olives and cut them in halves ready to put in at the right moment.
Then I cleared up the mess on the floor and reckoned the bread would be done about half an hour before we needed to leave.
It was. I presented the bread to our hostess and explained what had happened. She said, "Oh Cat!" and hugged me. The bread, she told me, would be very welcome.
Another brother-in-law cut the bread into Greek style chunks and added it to the plain bread which was already there.
Not long after that people began to eat. My father, busy talking woodwork with one of the youngest teens, came late to the buffet. Bread? Where was Cat's bread? Had it all disappeared? No, there was one piece left for him. My sister had put it aside for him. The rest had been eaten.
So, I am not sure about traditional Christmas food. Perhaps next year I should make another loaf of bread with cheese and olives in it? Or perhaps I should make something else?

Season's Greetings

2011-12-25T06:49:00.001+10:30

Season's Greetings everyone. If you celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas. If you do not then please enjoy the day anyway!

I gave my godson a book about

2011-12-24T07:28:00.002+10:30

making paper aeroplanes for Christmas.
He was allowed to open it early. I suspect that this was because his parents and grandparents wanted to access the tin of home made shortbread I sent them.
Last Sunday he and his cousin made paper aeroplanes out of their pew bulletins (service sheets) at church. They also "rescued" the "spare" sheets and made yet more paper aeroplanes. When I told my father this he laughed and said it was the best use yet for a pew bulletin. I think even his father, a notoriously upright elder of the Presbyterian church would have smiled. Like my father he understood boys.
I doubt the two boys will be given the same opportunity tomorrow. They will probably be inspected for stray sheets of paper beforehand. Their grandparents' house (where they are currently staying) is apparently littered with various sorts of planes which need to be parked in an aircraft hangar before Christmas Day. I think the present was a success.
I do like it when that happens.
There is a very, very small Indian community in Adelaide. It is so small that the sight of sari or turban causes people to look twice. It is all so very different from the area of London I lived in for seven years. I still miss the cultural diversity of London. It is quite different from the "multicultural" ethic here.
The sight of an Indian face at the checkout in the supermarket is even more unusual. There was a pleasant young girl in the "fast" lane yesterday. As people went ahead of me I could hear her dutifully saying the obligatory "Merry Christmas". Some people would say "Merry Christmas" back. Others would nod, too busy to care about something said meaninglessly.
When I reached her and she said it to me I asked, "Do you celebrate Christmas?"
She looked surprised by the question and then admitted, "No, not really."
So I said, "Well it is really much too late but would it be more appropriate for me to say I hope you had a happy Diwali?"
Her face lit up. "You know about that?" I do.
Now, instead of the professional smile there was a genuine one which reached her eyes as she said, "It was wonderful. Thankyou - and I really do hope you enjoy Christmas."
If I happen to see her next Diwali I will give her good wishes at the appropriate time. I like it when that happens too.

I did my Christmas shopping

2011-12-23T07:04:00.003+10:30

at the local indie bookshop this year. Nobody in the family needed knitted items so I used my knitting time elsewhere. Books are a pleasure to buy and easy to wrap. Oh yes, I knew what I was doing there.
As a family we do not make a great fuss about Christmas. Oh, we get together and we give one another presents but we do not, like some households, go for the turkey and the trimmings and the tree or the decorations.
My father detests pre-Christmas parties where people stand around with a glass in one hand and unwanted "finger food" disintegrating in the other. He has never liked that sort of event and now that his hearing is deteriorating he likes them even less. He would rather an intimate gathering of no more than half a dozen family and friends. He will tolerate Christmas Day with my sister's Greek relatives because he recognises it is kind of them to insist on including us. I know he would be just as happy at home with a piece of chicken and salad for lunch.
Presents however are another matter. He prides himself on making those.
My father will wrap his presents, as always, on Christmas Eve. He will have made his presents in the shed. They will be the irregular shapes of bowls, boxes, pens, puzzles, toys or whatever else has challenged him this year. I know I will be called in to help - and I am prepared with extra wrapping paper, tape and ribbon.
As we go through the wrapping process he will mutter, "I don't know why I don't just give everyone a book - so much easier to wrap."
It has been the same each year for years now. I will just be sad when that changes - or when I can no longer find him a new book of jokes to share on Christmas Day.

Year twelve examination results

2011-12-22T07:19:00.002+10:30

came out yesterday.
They always come out a few days before Christmas and there are mixed views about this. On balance I think most students are just glad to have the waiting over and done with. Those who have done well sigh with relief. Those who have not done so well try to forget while festivities take place.
I went to school long enough ago to have faced an entirely different examination system. We did one set of "public examinations" at the end of what is now Year 10. It was our "Intermediate" year. Our results also came out in a very public manner. They were printed in the state newspaper. Many students rushed into the newspaper building in the city in order to get the first edition of the paper. The rest of us waited anxiously for the thud of the paper on the front lawn or drive. In our family we then had to wait for my parents to open the paper and look - or so my mother thought.
I was the first child in our family to be put in this position. I can remember my mother saying, "You can wait." I did not want to wait but I did not dare do otherwise.
Fortunately my father was equally anxious to know. There were other students at the school who were in the same year as me. He had not just one child to worry about but many. My mother still insisted we wait until after breakfast. Her argument was that she needed to get on and get things done and nothing was going to change the results.
My brother managed to learn from this. When his turn came he arranged for a friend to 'phone him at a pre-arranged time. I have forgotten what time or how many times the 'phone was to be allowed to ring but I know it was early enough in the morning for us all to be in bed. My brother had let me in on the plan. Shortly afterwards we hugged one another in the bathroom knowing he had done well before the paper even thudded onto the lawn.
His friend's sister did the same thing for me when our next set of results came out. She had been let in on the secret and offered to do it. It is the only time I have ever welcomed the sound of the telephone ringing early in the morning.
My mother never knew. We were still on a rural telephone exchange and the 'phone did occasionally do odd things.
Now examination results come privately in the post. Students can also look their own results up on a website if they obtain a PIN number to do it. The world does not need to know how well or badly you have done unless you choose to tell them.
My father was talking about this yesterday. He remarked on how we had always been seemingly willing to wait and how he felt we should have been allowed to open the paper and see for ourselves.
I must ask my brother to tell him what we did.

Evidence was not my favourite subject

2011-12-21T08:06:00.002+10:30

in Law School. I did not much care for Criminal Law either. Both were required subjects or I may not have done them. At the end of both I was more convinced than ever that the law is not always about justice.
Yesterday our court system dropped a case of alleged sexual misconduct because of issues with obtaining the necessary evidence. The defendant was the driver of a school bus used by children with intellectual disabilities. The alleged victims were some of his passengers. It was said that getting the necessary evidence from children with intellectual disabilities was not going to be possible within the requirements of the Evidence Act. Indeed there was a suggestion that it was not possible to obtain any reliable evidence from them.
I disagree. It would have been very difficult but it would have been possible. It should have been done. It is possible to obtain evidence admissable in a court of law even from people who have quite profound communication impairments.
An inability to speak does not necessarily mean a failure to understand or an inability to impart information. Questions can be framed in such a way that they are not "leading" - suggesting the answer the questioner wants. They can be asked in such a way that the individual being asked can choose between options acceptable to both sides. The most common options will be "yes" or "no" but they can involve other choices - perhaps between persons or objects or places.
Yes, asking questions like this requires training and great skill. It requires an understanding of the difficulties being faced by the person endeavouring to answer the questions. It takes far more time.
I suspect that the real problem with the case which was dropped yesterday is that those involved did not understand how to communicate with each other, let alone how to communicate with the communication impaired. The prosecution saw a distressing scenario for the alleged victims and the defence was only too willing to concur because a guilty verdict would have meant gaol time for the defendant.
We need to change more than the Evidence Act. We need to change the belief that the inability to communicate fluently with words means an inability to communicate. It does not. In this case lack of knowledge and skills has led to justice not being done.

The death of the leader of

2011-12-20T07:16:00.002+10:30

North Korea has set off another round of speculation as to what life in North Korea is really like.
All we ever see on television are the appalling pictures of starving children, almost empty roads, grey buildings and grand military displays or "celebrations". We never see what life is really like on a daily basis. That is left to our imaginations.
I am sure some people believe "it cannot be as bad as all that or people would rebel", others are appalled and wonder why people do not try to do something about their situation. There are still others who do know something about life in North Korea and know how difficult it will be to do anything. They may even understand the tear apparently being shed for the death of a man who was apparently a ruthless dictator.
Last night one of our neighbours said to me, "I wonder if there are even any books written about North Korea."
I knew he did not mean academic tomes. That would not be what he was looking to read. He has plenty of that sort of material to read in his own area. He was thinking "fiction" because he and his wife are going on holiday. He had come to borrow a few books from us.
I could only think of one author, "James Church". I do not own any of his books but I have read two. They were paperback donations to the local library.
Church has apparently written four books about "Inspector 'O' ". They are detective stories. They are not stories about a rebel. 'O' is a loyal member of the communist party. It is also suggested he has a relative somewhere high up in the Party. In the first two books he moves relatively freely within the restrictions imposed by the State - although he is always conscious of the surveillance by others - and is trusted to travel inside the country. Despite that the atmosphere is strange.
There is an almost overwhelming feel of being stifled in Church's books. He does not criticise the regime. He does not need to. He is just, I believe, trying to give a sense of the place as he believes it must be like.
I have not read the last two books. I am unlikely to do so unless they appear on the library shelves and I am short of light bedtime reading. All the same I am glad I did read the first two. Church may not have a very accurate picture of life in North Korea but I suspect it is far more accurate than many writers could manage. What he conveys very successfully is the sense of not being able to do certain things - even for a man who clearly has the right to do more than most.
He conveys the corruption, the lack of food, the need to obtain permission to travel, the problems with actually travelling, the constant watchfulness of everyone - the overall discomfort of daily life. North Korea is almost certainly all those things and much more.
Even when it frustrates him 'O' accepts it. He knows what he cannot do - and the consequences of doing the "wrong" thing. 'O' is shown as being better informed than some of his fellow North Koreans but his access to information is severely restricted. It hampers him.
It explains much about why people inside North Korea do not rebel. They know what they cannot do. They know the consequences of not doing the "right" thing. They do not have the knowledge to rebel or the physical and mental energy to do so.
There was another death reported yesterday, that of the writer Vaclav Havel, one time President of the Czech Republic. Havel was a reluctant politician but I heard him described by his biographer as "an honest writer". A Czech migrant to Australia once described Havel to me as "true to himself and to others". It was clear that he admired Havel. If she sheds tears over Havel's death they will, I am sure , be genuine. There will be genuine grief in the Czech Republic - and elsewhere - over his death.
Perhaps people in North Korea do genuinely believe they are grieving over the death of their "beloved leader". Perhaps though they are actually grieving for themselves. They just do not realise it yet.

Good words make good ropes

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which can bind us together.
My friend Jane has been telling us how her son is going to have to say a physical goodbye to his best friend. His best friend is going back to Australia. Her son will be staying in England. There will be a long way between them. They are not that old. Things will change.
My brother had a friend in primary school with whom he shared many things. When we moved they did not write letters to one another. Boys rarely do. But, for the next six years, they sent tapes to one another. These were made on old reel-to-reel tape recorders. From memory the sound quality was not wonderful but they talked to one another in this way. This was done in the days before cassette tape recorders were common, before long distance telephone calls were cheap and long before the internet, e-mail or skype were thought of.
Eventually one of the tape recorders did not function. They finished school and followed different career paths. My brother moved to the other side of Australia and they lost contact.
It is, I suspect, the story of many childhood friendships - even some of those which seem to be "forever". There are a few rare and precious friendships which last beyond that.
I suspect they come from much more stable backgrounds than ours. We moved too many times to make close friendships. As "the head's kids" (my father was the school principal) we had almost no chance of making close friendships. The lad my brother was friendly with was an exception. One of his sisters is still friendly with one of mine. It is the only school based friendship which remains for any of us.
It may be different now with the internet, with e-mail, with skype or other functions. A long distance telephone call is no longer a complicated matter of booking a call and wondering how to get everything in to three minutes. My extended clan will no doubt use mobile telephones to talk to family around Australia on Christmas Day.
I was reminded of all this because there was a death notice in today's paper for someone we knew. Peter's death was not unexpected. He had leukaemia and we knew he was back in hospital. I feel sad for his family but Peter was simply exhausted.
The last time I saw him was at our front door. He came to see if my father felt as if he was still up to delivering the Neighbourhood Watch newsletters for the three streets he has delivered in since he ceased to be Area Coordinator more than fifteen years ago. It was typically thoughtful of Peter. I told Peter I would do it if Dad felt he could not do it. He nodded, thanked me and then went down the side of the house to my father's workshop. I have no idea what they talked about but I could hear laughter out in the shed. It was something that happened once every so often. Each enjoyed the company of the other.
When I told my father that the death notice was in the paper this morning he was silent for a moment and then sighed and said, "He was a good man. There were always good words between us."
Peter was young enough to be my father's son but there was a rope of words between them. Good words make good ropes. Good ropes make good friendships.

Our smoke alarm has been

2011-12-18T07:11:00.002+10:30

squawking on and off most of the night. It is not the "bleep" of a dying battery. A new battery was put into it yesterday. My nephew came over and put it in when it squawked yesterday. We thought it had solved the problem. It has not. There are some people who would be on the 'phone to the same nephew demanding something be done about it but my father and I are waiting for a more reasonable hour.
My father was even contemplating trying to climb the ladder himself - until I told him "under no circumstances". He has meekly given in. I do not attempt to climb ladders. I have never attempted to climb ladders.
Ladders are dangerous. My father did not know who Ian "Molly" Meldrum was until yesterday. He does now because Mr Meldrum also fell off a ladder and is still in an induced coma as a result. Perhaps one good thing may come out of Mr Meldrum's accident. It may make some people more careful about ladders - although it did not stop my father thinking he might (in-ably assisted by Yours Truly) climb the first three steps of one. No.
But there is something else that also puzzles me. After all these years nobody has invented what seems obvious to me. A system whereby it would be possible to raise and lower light fittings, smoke alarms and other things affixed to ceilings or high on walls in such a way that globes and batteries could be replaced without the need to climb a ladder. Surely this would be possible?
In the meantime - I have a headache from the noise - and I need an extended catnap!

We have a swarm of bees

2011-12-17T08:06:00.002+10:30

in our back garden. They have been there for two days now. They are industrious and remarkably noisy.
We left them alone - hoping they would move on of their own accord - but they appear to want to settle in the creeper vine which covers the old shade house. That means that this morning we need to call in a beekeeper. These bees need to be moved on and only a professional beekeeper can do that without harming them.
We are doing this reluctantly because we are fully aware of the value of bees and the fact that bee numbers have dropped around the world. In some places their numbers are so low that there is real concern for their survival. We would like to offer these bees a home simply for that reason.
We know the bees have been attracted by not just the creeper vine but the lavender and other bee delights in our garden and the neighbour's garden. The very fact that they have arrived and want to settle in tells us that we have done something right in the garden. The problem is that there are other living things which also need to be protected, especially small children and animals.
When we lived on Kangaroo Island we were introduced to the Ligurian bees which were then housed in Flinders Chase - the sanctuary at one end of the island. A bee sanctuary was established there in 1884 with bees were brought out from Italy in the early 1880s. They are thought to be the last remaining pure strain but even they are under threat. They have been known since Roman times and have the advantage of being much more docile than many strains of bee. Great efforts are being made to not just maintain the colonies there but to export bees to other area in the hope of re-establishing bees.
Although they seem friendly enough (in that we have not been bitten) these will not be Ligurian bees but they are valuable bees.
My father, who tries to be an organic gardener, is very conscious of the bee crisis. He will be watching today's bee removal very anxiously. The apiarist says he will be here within the hour.
I am very glad such people exist to take care of such small but valuable creatures.

The pay rise for our

2011-12-16T07:05:00.003+10:30

Prime Minister and her fellow members of parliaments was officially confirmed yesterday. Her pay packet is now officially just under one hundred times more than what mine is.
Our Prime Minister now gets paid more than twice as much as the Prime Minister of Britain - oh and more than the President of the United States. Australia must be the most important country in the world!
I rather doubt that. Australia is, in the scheme of international affairs, not that influential. Still, running a country is a pretty important sort of job. You should be well paid for doing it - or so the argument goes.
I wonder what my mother would make of this if she was still alive. I wonder what hundreds of thousands of other Australian women make of it. You see there was the other piece of news in the paper this morning. Women's pay is slipping further behind men's pay again.
When my mother started teaching in 1946 she was paid less than her male colleagues. She was paid less for doing the same job simply because she was a woman. When my mother married my father she had to "resign" from the Education Department for three days and then be re-employed. She lost "long-service" and sick leave entitlements because she was a woman. Men faced no such problems. They were however expected to provide support for their partners.
Our Prime Minister and her parliamentary colleagues face no such problems.
Out in the real world things are better than they were when my mother started work. You no longer need to resign - if you did you would likely not be re-employed. You keep your long service and sick leave entitlements. (If you are wondering what "long-service" leave is it is a left over from the colonial era when people went "home" to the UK or other parts of Europe for a time after ten or fifteen years of service.) You can get maternity (and paternity) leave too.
There are still problems of course. Interruptions to a career do not usually help you climb a career ladder.
I do not know how many hours our Prime Minister worked last week. Neither of us has children so we were not involved in school runs and after school classes. The Whirlwind did not make undue demands on my time either. Indeed it was a fairly quiet week for me. There is still an urgent need for support for aid workers everywhere but there was no new disaster of catastrophic proportions. I only worked for sixty-two hours, not including my domestic responsibilities. The Prime Minister probably worked longer than that. Perhaps that is why she gets paid so much more - but more than ten-to-twenty times what most women get and one hundred times more than me?

Our house is singularly lacking in

2011-12-15T07:52:00.002+10:30

Christmas decorations. We do not have a Christmas tree. We do not have Christmas lights. We do not have Christmas "snow" dust on the windows. The Christmas cards are stacked on the table. There is no Christmas wreath on the door. Our street tree is not sporting a Christmas bow.
When my mother was alive we would have had all these things. She would have had the nativity set on the coffee table (sans baby until Christmas Day) and, at very least, the cards strung up.
My father just shrugs. He grumbles about Christmas cards because he dislikes the physical act of writing anything, even signing his name is an effort. He would rather talk to people. Our 'phone bill will be large as he has rung his cousins in far distant places rather than send a card. It is the way he likes to do it now.
"You should just do it!" my sister tells me of Christmas decorations, "He would like it if you did it."
No, he would not. I know why he does not want to do it. All of that reminds him of what Christmas was like when my mother was alive. He does not want to be reminded of that. It is not that he particularly cared for those things himself but they remind him of her. He has no problem with seeing decorations in other places. He simply does not want them here.
I have made a Christmas cake, well more than one Christmas cake as some go to other people. I have made mince pies. My father is not particularly a "sweet tooth" person but he does like mince pies.
I have also made shortbread, rather a lot of shortbread. Most of the shortbread is due to be parcelled up in cellophane bags tied with curling ribbon. It will be passed on to those people who have done us good service during the year. This is the sort of thing that makes Christmas for my father.
He has been working in his shed for weeks on toys for children of his acquaintance. This year it is hobby horses for his great-grandchildren and the curate's daughter, games of various sorts for other children he knows. He has made various useful items for other people he knows. Presents, he says, should be useful. They should not collect dust. Presents should thank other people for their love and friendship.
The cake, mince pies and shortbread will disappear. If he does not want the house decorated or the cards strung up that does not matter. What does matter is the little wooden horses which will gallop into the lives of three little girls on Christmas morning. They will come with the real spirit of Christmas.

"No, I am sorry but your son may not read

2011-12-13T17:10:00.004+10:30

the rest of my book."
Yesterday I had another rejection from an agent. They are a common event in a writer's life, especially for a new writer trying to break in to the world of fiction for children. They are so common that they are barely worth commenting on. It seems the world is full of frustrated writers papering the walls with their rejection slips. I do not comment on mine - or did not until now. I will comment on this one.
This was a standard, impersonal rejection "letter". Yes, better than not getting a reply at all. I do acknowledge that. But, I wonder would I even have got that?
Underneath there was a note, "My 10yr old son would like to read the rest of the story. Please can you send as e-mail attachment."
To say that I was taken aback does not really describe how I felt. As an action it could scarcely be less professional. Well, I suppose she did say please but.... Here was someone who had just rejected my work asking for a free copy so her son could finish reading the story?
Now, my manuscript has travelled. I know it may have to travel further. It is robust. It can manage the journey. It is currently with another two agents and a publisher. The publisher offered to look at it but I rather doubt she will find the time. I do not intend to demand an answer when it was an offer to help. The other agents have not yet responded. If they turn it down I will have to spend a considerable sum of money sending the first three chapters by mail to other agents who do not read things as e-mail attachments. I accept all that. It is the way these things work. If I believe in what I have written I will do these things.
I will keep trying because the feedback I have had suggests it is not an entirely hopeless case. I can even look at this rejection and say to myself, "Well her son likes it even if she doesn't!"
What I do know is that the person who wrote this e-mail could have asked for the full manuscript and then rejected it. That way her son could have read the entire story. I feel sorry for her son. Should I do it for him?

I was given a little machine

2011-12-13T07:23:00.004+10:30

yesterday. It is made of purple plastic. Apparently it eats yarn. You have to thread it up with yarn around four little hooks and latches. When you feed it the yarn you have to turn a little handle at one side so that it can also digest the yarn. If you do this for long enough it is supposed to produce a long thin worm-like cord. Yes, it is supposed to make "French" knitting or "tomboy" stich or "idiot" cord - or just i-cord. I think the Americans may also call it "spool-knitting". (If anyone reading this knows another name then I will be interested to learn of it.)
If you are old enough you will remember the joys of wooden cotton reels, four nails, a "bobby" or "hair" pin and some wool. You threaded the wool through the hole in the cotton reel, wound the wool around the needles and then, very slowly, looped the loops of yarn over the nails until you had a long, thin worm coming out of the hole. The excitement when that happened was immense.
Everyone I knew made yards of it in school - now they make metres of it with four ice-cream sticks stuck to a cardboard tube. It is not the same.
Making it with the little machine is not the same either. This was demonstrated to me. Thread the yarn, make sure the little weight holding the yarn in place is attached, turn the handle, turn the handle, turn the handle...
I have always had a problem with anything mechanical. It gets boring after a bit. The result it produces is too uniform. It lacks the challenge of trying to get each individual stitch over a nail. I found that almost impossible. I never managed to produce more than a few inches of worm. It was not for want of trying. My paws were just not made to do it. My nephews and the Whirlwind produced more in an hour than I managed to produce in days. My father was kept busy for days turning out new cotton reels (they no longer make wooden reels) and banging in nails. The Whirlwind once went to school with enough "cotton reels" for all eighteen girls in her class.
I can remember one boy in primary school making enough of it to go right around the school yard. Nobody knew quite what to do with it. Most of it was, I think, coiled up and turned into pot-holders. It was too light to be turned into skipping ropes but I suppose there were also tea-cosies and, perhaps, hats. The Whirlwind's class made toys for an animal shelter. Yes, a good use but there is only so much you can use for that if you can crank out metres of it by the hour.
But apparently there is now a much greater need for all this cord. This is why you need the little machine. I am still not quite sure what you do with it all. I may knit some of it if the Whirlwind can produce enough. It needs investigation.

"He wants to drop Chinese

2011-12-12T07:26:00.002+10:30

next year but he did really well at it and we think he should continue with it."
I can see an argument brewing here. I was talking to the father of the boy who lives opposite the Whirlwind and her father - or rather, he was talking to me.
His son is moving into the last two years of secondary schooling next year. He is a "nice kid" and has, so far, worked hard and well at school. He is always at or near the top of his year. He quite likes maths but likes English and French more. He does not like Chinese.
Up until the end of this year Chinese has been compulsory. Last year there were just eight boys in the year ahead of him who continued with Chinese - and five of them came from Chinese families. My nephews, who attended another school where Chinese was compulsory, also dropped it as soon as possible - although my youngest nephew was consistently top of the class.
He saw no point in continuing. After ten years he could not hold a simple conversation with the parents of his Chinese "best" friend. I think they spoke Hokkien but even if they had spoken standard Mandarin there would, he says, have been a problem.
This morning, oddly enough, there was a report in the paper about the low numbers continuing with an Asian language to the end of secondary school. It does not surprise me. Languages are time intensive to learn and languages like Chinese and Japanese tend to be even more time intensive.
Australian schools do not make provision for that. The expectation is that classroom time needs to be no more than it is for any other language - or maths or science. The teaching is often far from expert - and rarely from a native speaker of the language. All of those things have a negative impact.
There are also few opportunities to hear things like Japanese or Mandarin Chinese spoken in the community - and even less opportunity to attempt to engage in conversation. For all we are being told that Asian languages are important to our future the opportunities to use them while learning are very limited. It must make them appear irrelevant to young students.
I would like to see all students have the opportunity to learn a second language but I also believe that compelling them to learn one language over another is not necessarily going to bring about the desired outcomes.
In this case the boy in question wants to continue with French rather than Chinese. I hope his parents and his school allow him to do so.

There will be a National Year of Reading

2011-12-11T07:05:00.002+10:30

in 2012. Yes, I have known about this for some time now.
Yesterday a regular reader of this blog commented on the fact that I had not yet mentioned it here. She thought I would be full of enthusiasm and praise for the idea - and that I would be taking every opportunity to advertise it. I might. Next year.
In the meantime I have a problem. The problem is in the form of a "list". I know people love making lists. There are all those books of places, things, books, foods etc you must try before you die. There are lists of the fastest, longest, widest, most etc - think Guinness Book of Records and other things. There are every day lists and lists that form part of the school and university curriculum - and there are the other reading lists.
Now, we need reading lists. Reading lists are an essential part of any formal education. The problem is that they can be good, indifferent or bad and they can be used in a way which is good, indifferent or bad.
The National Year of Reading (NYR) is planning a list. It is planning a list of 8 books or, as Margaret Allen, chairman of the NYR puts it, "For 2012, we're creating a collection of books which, read together, describe the Australian experience."
For that purpose each state and territory has been given a short list of books by authors within their states. Readers can vote on these and one book from each state and territory will end up on the list. Read those and, apparently, you have read a description of "the Australian experience".
Noooooooo.
There are six books on the list for our state. The boy who works part-time in our local bookshop, a self-confessed "bookaholic" admitted he had not read any of them. The other staff member on duty that day had read one. We all agreed that the most likely name, that of Colin Thiele, was missing from the South Australian list.
And that is where the problem starts. There are things which, inevitably, have to be left off. There are things which, equally inevitably, do not interest me - and perhaps many others. I have read one of the books listed for our state. I have skimmed two and glanced at two more. The writing in them did not grab me, The sixth I had not come across but have just searched for online. I am not likely to read it. The subject matter does not interest me. The book I have read probably comes closest to the idea of "the Australian experience" - not just for me but for many others. It may not end up as the chosen book however because it is clear that there are other factors at work here. The list will not be just about reading, but about reading certain things. It is, all too often, the way these things works. I know why it happens but it saddens me.
The list will be a bad list, even if the books on it are "good" books. The list will be used as a prescription, a "must" read list if you are going to be considered "culturally literate". There will be too many people who look at the chosen books and feel failures when they do not read them - or do read them and do not like them.
If we must have such lists then they should be long, varied and come with the warning that they are not to be taken as prescription reading.

"So what did you get for

2011-12-10T07:42:00.002+10:30

Christmas when you were a kid?"
The Whirlwind is standing in the kitchen with a fresh baked biscuit in each hand. She is looking at me in a worried sort of way. We have just been discussing the vexed problem of Christmas presents. Her friends at school have clearly been discussing this at length. There is a strict rule about not giving one another presents but that does not stop them talking about such things. I rather suspect that most of them will get far more than she will . This has always been the case and, to date, it has not worried her. I doubt it will worry her now. She has no high expectations.
Her friends however are different. New mobile phones and i-pads, brand name clothing and footwear are apparently high on their lists of demands. These are for girls not yet in their teens. The Whirlwind does not have a mobile phone or an i-pad. Her use of a computer is strictly controlled too. She has some brand name clothing but, as she is not a very big child, it is all hand-me-down clothing from mothers who know she is motherless. They believe she is deprived and in need of clothing in this way. Perhaps she is - but she does not think so.
I explain again to her about the way we would get "best" clothes and maybe a book for Christmas. As her own expectations are no higher the demands of the others still puzzle her.
"But why do the others want so many things?"
We have had this conversation before - last year and the year before. She still wants an answer and I cannot give her one. I know what she would like more than anything else. She would like her mother to be alive and doing "Mum" things with her. I am a poor substitute for that. She has already managed to learn that "things" can never substitute for that either. Being a sensible child she will relish all the time her father can give her over the holiday break but he cannot entirely make up for lack of "Mum" either.
I know that, as usual, they will be away for the Christmas and New Year break her father takes from work. I also know that the young Whirlwind will have fewer "things" but a great deal "more" of what really matters - and she already knows it.

Our library service recently went through

2011-12-09T07:35:00.002+10:30

the rather pointless exercise of swapping books around from one library to another. I need to explain here that the library service is run by the local council. There are two libraries and a "home library service" intended for use by the housebound. Other councils have a similar arrangement.
The books in both libraries appear on the same catalogue. If you want something from the other physical library which is not in the physical library you use you can ask for it to be brought to your physical library or you can go to the other physical library and fetch it. Books can be returned to either library. There is also a van which does a delivery between the physical libraries just after lunch each day.
Of course there are always people who are not aware of these things so the idea of swapping the books around probably seemed like a good one. There would, the library service argued, be new reading matter for everyone at very little cost to the council. It was a cost-cutting exercise. There would be no need to spend so much money on new books.
And that is precisely what has happened. There have been some new books of course. Not even the council believes they can get away without buying any new books. They have even bought a few books by the most popular authors but lesser known authors are not getting their books on the shelves. Non-fiction is "remainder" or donations. I found out yesterday that, as I suspected, the patchwork books I had been reading were donations from a deceased estate. Their previous owner would be pleased to think they were being used but alarmed by the sad state of library finances.
I am deeply concerned by the state of our libraries. They are an essential part of the community but they are not recognised as such. It is just not possible to buy every book you want to read. Libraries are also a resource for the things you did not know you wanted to read. Readers need libraries. Writers need readers. Writers need libraries.

The "Stroppy Author" has a blog post up

2011-12-08T07:39:00.002+10:30

about the importance of doing research and getting things right. You can read it here if you are interested: http://stroppyauthor.blogspot.com/2011/12/do-your-research.html and, if you are a writer or, like me, a would-be writer, then you should be interested. Getting things right is important. It matters to the reader.
I am always surprised by how much research can go into an apparently straightforward novel.
Cynthia Harnett, author of just a few children's novels, is reputed to have spent about two years researching each book. She did this in the days before the internet and without the resources writers now have. Even now though, were she still alive and writing, it would take her months of research to write the books. Reading them as a child I loved all the little details about things like sheep farming in the Cotswolds and Caxton's printing press. I do not think I even considered the amount of work the author had gone to in order to provide all these details although I was certainly in awe of the idea that I could actually visit some of the places where Nicholas and Bendy might have been had they been real people. Now I am even more amazed by it.
And I have amazed myself by what I am prepared to research in order to provide background or find out if something is possible - even when I am aware that what I am writing may never end up on the shelves of a bookshop or a library. The "Stroppy Author" is absolutely right when she says it is important to get these things right and respect your reading by doing just that.
I was talking with a school teacher acquaintance about this recently. Her views about the importance of reading fiction and mine are far apart. I believe it is very important for children to have access to a wide range of both fiction and non-fiction and that they should be encouraged to read it. Her view is that fiction does not matter too much. If children want to read it fine but really all that matters is reading for information. There are, she tells me, too many other things for children to do now. We are never likely to agree.
We are also never likely to agree on the importance of being accurate. Without telling her why I asked her how she thought an eleven year old boy might make his way (long distance) to Canberra alone. Her response was that he could "probably just get on a train or a bus". To her issues of age did not matter, routes did not matter, timetables did not matter. She shrugged them off as being of no importance. I asked her to ask her class the same question and, to her credit, she did. They came back with much the same response. One boy had however bothered to go to the internet and look up times and routes.
"It would be difficult," he apparently told his teacher. He was right. It forms a major part of the story his teacher does not know I am writing.
It should not be an obvious part of the story when I have finished but it has to be right. It has to be possible. It is why research matters.

Someone sent me a link to a "random

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act of culture" yesterday. It was yet another very bad (but undoubtedly enjoyed) rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah. It was not, of course, random at all. The whole event had been carefully organised and planned - but probably not rehearsed anywhere else.
There are a number of these to be found on the internet. Some of them are better than others. This one was only of interest to me because I could (just) see a friend's son and daughter taking part.
People can do this sort of thing now. They can put up almost anything they like on the internet. The internet is, I suspect, overloaded with similar events.
I was reminded however of what was almost certainly a "random act of culture". We were living in a very small Australian "town" - the size of the place would qualify for "slightly more than a hamlet but less than a village" in England. That year we were hosting Christmas. Both sets of grandparents, an uncle and his family were coming to us for the day.
First of all however there was church. As always on Christmas Day there were some strange faces, people we did not know. We assumed they were staying in the district.
We eventually trooped reluctantly into church. The music there was supplied by an asthmatic "pedal organ" played by the woman who played the piano for the "band" which did the music for the local football dances. It was a shocking instrument and the hymn singing was - well it was not singing although everyone tried.
The minister, no more musical than the rest of the congregation, announced the first hymn and the church was suddenly filled with music, real music. At the back of the church there was the group of strangers - people who could actually sing. There was a stunned silence for a fraction of a moment and then everyone else joined in. Hymn singing that morning was a joyful affair, far removed from the usual droning efforts to make some sort of recognisable noise. It sounded like Christmas.
Ever since then I have had problems, especially with carols. The ersatz versions bleated out over the sound systems in shopping centres make me want to cover my ears. The badly sung versions I occasionally hear sung by school "choirs" bother me. Like my father I avoid carol concerts in the park with renditions of non-carols such as "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer" belted out by a "pop" group. Somehow these things do nothing for me.
I suppose I am a musical snob but I prefer the solo treble of a choirboy opening the King's College service with "Once in Royal David's City" or the Hallelujah Chorus sung by people who have rehearsed it sufficiently well to sing in tune and in a coordinated manner - or the four or five adults at the back of a small country church who could, quite simply, sing in tune and sing well and help those of us who can do neither enjoy ourselves.
I want it to sound like Christmas.

If 3.8 million children in the

2011-12-06T07:28:00.003+10:30

United Kingdom do not own a book then how many children in Australia do not own a book? What would happen if every child owned just one book? Why do children not own books?
I do not know the answers to those questions.
I suspect there are, proportionally, at least as many children in Australia who do not own a book. There may be even more. Although more people visit libraries each week than go to football matches in Australia that does not mean Australians read more than their UK counterparts. There are other reasons to visit libraries these days. There are magazines, CDs, DVDs and other items to borrow. There are computers to use. There are groups that meet which have nothing to do with books. Our local library has just done a "clothes swap" for the local teenagers. (It was apparently a roaring success.) Over the summer there will be craft sessions for children and story telling.
Books will be borrowed but, of course, even if you borrow books you do not necessarily own them.
After my visit to the vampire yesterday I had to go into the city. While I was there waiting for something else I wandered in to what had once been our local branch of Borders. It is, at least for a short time, another book store but it is not the same sort of book store. It is one of a chain of stores which sell "remainder" books.
These places bother me. I do go and look because sometimes there are single copies of books that have been sent as samples that local stores have decided not to stock. I have bought a number of useful books this way but I know that the author probably has not got a cent - and that bothers me.
There was a lot of adult fiction there as well as the usual cooking and gardening books. There were out of date travel and reference books. There were the cheaper sort of jigsaw puzzles and some cheap Christmas CDs I did not bother to even look at.
There were also some picture books for young children. They were not good picture books. These are books that do not appear to have an author. There is no name on the cover for either author or illustrator. The paper was poor quality and the print was poor quality. They still cost several dollars each. Better than no book at all? I do not know. I left them there.
There were no fiction books for "confident readers" or "middle-grade readers" or "young adults". I know I can find some of those in my local independent bookshop but, even there, the range is necessarily limited by space.
It is also, I think, limited by a belief that children do not want "those sort of books as presents". The theory seems to be "why give a child fiction if you can borrow it for nothing from the library?"
I still have the books that I had as a child. I read and re-read those. Admittedly we did not have television and there were no computers. There were fewer other distractions as well. I do wonder though, do all these distractions really mean that children do not need to read as much? Do they really mean that children do not even need to own a book?
I would have thought that now, more than ever, all children should own a book they love. They need a comfort-book like a comfort-toy. They need something they can go back to, something which is familiar and unchanging in a world which is constantly changing.
Perhaps it is time for a "buy a book for every child" campaign. Good books do make good presents!

I am about to visit the vampire

2011-12-05T07:15:00.002+10:30

or, in other words, the nurse who takes the blood samples. No, I do not think there is anything wrong - although I always wonder until I learn the results - this is just part of the annual check up.
It means no breakfast and that makes me feel very cross and scratchy. I need breakfast. I know there are people who manage, apparently quite happily, not to have breakfast but I need it. I can - just - manage without something to eat in the middle of the day but I cannot go without breakfast. I can, quite definitely, manage without food after about seven in the evening. I do not like eating meals, especially heavy meals, late into the evening. (It is probably just as well I do not get invited to elaborate evening "dinners" that go on until ten or eleven at night.)
But breakfast is different. I need some fuel for the day. It does not have to be a lot, porridge or cereal will do.
I growled at my GP about the "no breakfast" part and he admitted that he had not eaten breakfast as a student. I wondered how on earth he managed to get through medical school. He admitted that he was not sure but that he now recognised the value of breakfast.
And we expressed mutual concern at the rise of "breakfast" clubs in schools. When my mother was running her last school here in the city it was in a poor and very socially difficult area. Most children came to school without having eaten so breakfast was the first "lesson" of the day. It would be a bowl of cereal and a drink. I can remember my mother saying the teachers said it made a difference.
Now there are "breakfast" clubs in many schools. Apparently they are needed because, in families with two working parents, there is "no time" to give children breakfast. Many of these children also buy their lunch from the school "tuck shop". Tuck shops have tried to provide healthier food in recent years but it is still not home made food. It has to be more expensive.
It seems to be another expense that a two-parents-working family just seems ready to accept as inevitable.
This may be why some children do not seem to know very much about food. Oh, they know what they should eat. They know about "healthy" food. What many of them do not know about is how food is prepared and cooked.
I hope that the Whirlwind and her father enjoyed the salmon patties I showed her how to make yesterday. She believes she needs to know how to cook so as to "look after my Dad" and I am happy to help with the occasional lesson. I doubt I have any more time than a working parent but I make it because I believe it is important. Do parents who use breakfast clubs and allow their children to always buy their lunch think food is important? I suppose they must. They just do it differently.
I need breakfast - and I hope the blood test does not reveal the icecream I ate on Friday!

I have been looking at books about

2011-12-04T07:41:00.002+10:30

patchwork. Anyone who has been reading this blog for long enough will remember my views on patchwork. I see no point in cutting up pieces of material merely in order to sew them back together again. I do not sew. I am quite definitely allergic to sewing needles.
Knitting needles are a different story. My paws can manage those. I make things. Most of the time I make things for other people. There is always someone who needs something. That is reasonable. It also means I can do something useful once in a while.
The problem is, what do you do with the left overs? As someone nicely pointed out recently, if I knit bits I can perhaps knit or crochet them together. I have been thinking about this.
The problem now is that I need to think of ways to actually do it. I have to design something and put it together. I do not know what to design or how to put it together. I have resorted to looking at patchwork books.
There are plenty of these in the library. There are many more patchwork books than there are knitting books on our library shelves. Are there really that many more people who do patchwork? I do not know. The books are there. I am making use of them. They are a potential design resource.
It is not that which fascinates me however. It is the history. What I like is that the first quilts were made for much the same purpose as I intend. They were made to use up the pieces and turn them into something useful and warm. I like that idea.
You can look at a very old pioneer quilt here and it will almost certainly be made out of flour bags, hessian matting, the last remnants of a man's shirt and work trousers, a small snippet of a woman's "Sunday gown". I wonder what sort of bread was made from the flour in those bags, who wore the shirt and trousers and whether the Sunday gown was comfortable or uncomfortable to wear. I wonder who made the quilt too. It would, most likely, have kept someone warm in a basic "bark hut" in winter.
One of the books I have looked at is a book of two hundred and twenty five patterns from a quilt made and finished in 1863. The woman who made the quilt was waiting for her husband to come home from war. Every square is different. They have all been given names in the book. Some, like Water Lily, Wild Goose Chase and Autumn Aster are romantic enough. Others, like Widow's Pane and Sergeant Green's Badge, are a sad reminder of why the quilt was being made.
A quilt like that had more than one purpose too. It used up every last piece of fabric in the house. It was a sampler for further quilts. There would, more than likely, be some sort of social "quilting bee" when sewers got together and stitched the layers together. Sometimes they were wedding presents. They were used.
Not all quilts made now get used. Some of them are intended to be works of art and hang on walls. I suppose that is a use of a sort. Others get made and then stored in cupboards. I know several people who have chests and cupboards filled with quilts they have made. They have nowhere else to put them. One woman has just moved house. She now has an entire room devoted to quilt making and the storing of quilts. They do not get used.
One man I know rolls his quilts up in tissue paper and stores them in long tubular bags on shelves in his workroom. Occasionally he will change one "wall hanging" for another so as to give them all an airing. He has also made quilts for numerous friends - mostly as presents for their civil union ceremonies. His own is made out of scraps cut from old cloths once owned by his family. He uses it to cover his bed because, he says, that is where it ought to be.
"My family keeps me warm," he told me. I rather like that idea too.

"It's my pocket money..."

2011-12-03T07:36:00.003+10:30

As I stand there with the collection tin for the Christmas Bowl appeal I have been watching this boy. He whizzed into the shopping centre ahead of his mother. She stopped at the greengrocer and he did small circles as he waited for her there and then further small circles at the butcher next to the greengrocer.
Across the aisle there is a shop which sells yoghurt, fresh yoghurt and frozen yoghurt in any number of flavours. It is, supposedly, a healthier treat than the stall with the virulent coloured icecream at the other end of the mall.
I can see him eyeing the yoghurt stall. Then he looks at me. He stops whizzing around and reads the poster next to me from some distance back. Then he continues his whizzing.
His mother finishes at the butcher and he follows her to the yoghurt stall. Once there she hands him some money and indicates the array of flavours in the frozen section. Clearly she is asking which one he wants. He hesitates and looks back at me. There is a moment of earnest conversation and then he whizzes over to me and stops. He looks at me carefully and then says,
"It's my pocket money but I think you had better have it this time."
"All of it?" I ask. There is not a lot there but if it is all his pocket money I think I had better check.
He hesitates again and then nods. His mother nods from a distance. I hold the tin right down so that he can put the coins in. Then I say, "Do you want a sticker?"
He nods.
"Yes please."
"Where would you like me to put it?"
"On the back please next to the smiley one."
He whizzes around expertly. I put the sticker next to another one on the back of his little electric wheelchair and he whizzes off after giving me a rather shy smile.
Someone else had been watching too. He had been sitting at the cafe next to the yoghurt shop. When the child and his mother had gone he sauntered over to me.
"I'm fed up with this charity collection bit. There's always someone in here."
I can sympathise with that. I feel the same way myself.
"And I was watching that kid...."
"It was his pocket money," I tell him.
He looked at me.
"He chose to give me his pocket money instead of buying himself a frozen yoghurt."
He looked at me some more. I looked back. He heaved a sigh, emptied his pocket of a little loose change and put it in the tin. No, he did not want a b..... sticker. He went back and finished his snack and left - or I thought he had.
A few minutes later he came back with a note in his hand.
"Had to go to the teller machine," he growled and thrust it at me, striding off before I could even thank him again.
I folded the note carefully and put it in the tin.
People give in all sorts of different ways.

I am going to spend

2011-12-02T08:10:00.002+10:30

an hour standing in our local shopping centre this afternoon. I am also going to do something I do not like doing. I am going to "sell badges" for the Christmas Bowl appeal.
The Christmas Bowl appeal is an inter-church, inter-fath effort to raise money for those in need at Christmas time - an attempt to make people think beyond the commercialism of Christmas celebrations.
Locally this is organised every year by the church my father attends. Every year it becomes harder and harder to find people who are actually able and willing to stand there for an hour with a collection box and a roll of stickers. Nobody gets paid to do the Christmas Bowl Appeal collection and it is, quite frankly, rather embarrassing to "beg" - even for a good cause.
Other people however do it all the time. Our local shopping centre is over-loaded with charity collectors. Once it was confined to Fridays only. Now it is six days a week. Only on Sundays is the shopping centre free of someone, sometimes more than one person, collecting for charity. There are people who are employed to do this. Local shoppers see them collecting for one charity and then another. They get paid (a pittance) to collect money. They spend their days standing or sitting there. They sometimes have a visible disability but, more often, they will have a mental illness. Their discomfort is obvious but they are required to do the job. It is part of their "rehabilitation" or their "contract" with the social services supposedly caring for them.
More often than not they will know nothing about the charity for which they are collecting. Some of them "entertain" themselves by listening to music. Others stare into space. A few try to accost shoppers with something like a "Hello, how are you today?" Most shoppers ignore them and walk on. It is simply not possible to give something every day of the week and people are now more aware of how little actually goes to the charity in question when money is raised in this way. Endeavouring to raise money in this way is inefficient and demeaning for those who do it.
I do not feel much happier about what I am doing but I will at least be labelled "volunteer". It is a one day of the year effort not a regular one. All the money raised apart from the barest of expenses (for tins and rolls of sticky badges) will go to the causes being supported. I have done it before and people will do things like empty their pockets or purses of loose change. Sometimes they will even say something like, "You're only here once" or "It's Christmas".
It is easier to be charitable then.

Now it is a $90,000 pay rise for

2011-12-01T07:24:00.002+10:30

our Prime Minister. This will increase her pay packet to more than that of President Obama and and more than double that of the British Prime Minister.
Australia has about a third of the population of the United Kingdom. It is not a world power - although some of our politicians seem to think it is.
Australia is also over-governed. We have local councils (with responsibilities for things like local environmental issues, footpaths, libraries, dog registrations etc) and then state governments (each with a Premier and Cabinet etc etc) and then the federal government with even more of the same.
Our Taxation Act is the biggest and most complex in the world - but that says more about our incompetence than our size. There are also state taxes and federal taxes. Federal laws will over ride state laws but there is plenty of scope for both to exist - and they are not confined to the area of tax.
All this employs a great many people of course - and costs the economy far more than it should.
Perhaps it is all this that allows politicians to believe that they preside over a world power of greater importance and influence than the United States of America?
I am not however aware that our former Prime Ministers require life time protection. One of them still walks alone to the local newsagent to pick up a paper to read the reports about pay rises for his successors. Others may do the same thing. Is this the way a major power treats their former heads of government? Are they no security risk at all?
There are all sorts of arguments offered in support of the pay rise, mostly along the lines of "if you pay peanuts you get monkeys" and suggesting that our politicians work hard. Yes, a few of them do. Prime Ministers do work hard. Their job tenure is uncertain too. It is also argued that they "take on a huge responsibility".
But I know many other people who work just as hard for far less. Their job tenure is no more certain and they also take on a huge responsibility. The arguments on behalf of the "pollies" do not convince me that a pay rise of this magnitude is justified. If there was to be a rise at all then it should have been kept within the CPI.
That way they may be able to afford to pay at least my travel expenses and give me a cup of tea next time they "ask" me to attend a meeting "because it's for the disabled and, if you aren't there, we could have a negative outcome for the clients". Is that too much to ask?

"Bread and surpluses" or...

2011-11-30T07:58:00.002+10:30

"bread and circuses"?
I suspect it is a bit of both. The Federal Treasurer is desperately trying to deliver a surplus before the next election. It is all about politics, not about good financial management. Good financial management would not have wasted billions of dollars on a number of ridiculous schemes, on short term measures that were designed to shore up voter support. All sides of politics do that sort of thing. All governments spend money they do not have in places where they should not spend it. We all like a little bit of the resulting cake.
This time the government seems to be relying on the Reserve Bank to get them out of trouble. The Reserve Bank Board will be criticised if they do not do the "right thing" with respect to interest rates - that is, if they do not do what the government wants them to do. They may not.
The government can then blame the bank for the problem though - win, win situation for the government.
All this is much too complicated for me. My finances are relatively simple. I budget within my means. I do not borrow money. This is not necessarily good management but necessity and good fortune. My father does not have a mortgage on the house - although it took much longer to buy one than it did for most of his generation because he was required to teach in country schools and pay exorbitant rent for inadequate housing instead of paying off a mortgage in the city. He no longer owns a car - but we do attempt to "pay" other people when they give us a lift. We have managed to learn to live within our means and, short of a major disaster, we will manage.
Governments, of all persuasions, do not seem to learn that lesson. They will blame everyone but themselves for financial mismanagement.
This time however it seems more ridiculous than usual. There has been what has been called a "Global Financial Crisis" and international events are influencing the economy even more than usual. The government is now cutting billions of dollars of expenditure in much needed areas after having spent billions in unnecessary areas. Apparently all this has been "good for the economy". Apparently it is absolutely essential to have a "surplus". Why? I do not understand this.
Perhaps I need to go back to school and do arithmetic again?

A £400,000 advance is

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too much for any book. Does the media actually have this correct? Penguin is supposed to be a reputable publishing company (although I will reserve judgment on Book Country). However I think £40,000 would be more than most authors get for even blockbuster "sure to be a best seller and likely to be made into a box office success film" type books. There is something wrong here. Pippa Middleton's sister may have married the then world's most eligible bachelor but that does not mean that Pippa Middleton can write books. Indeed, someone else may well do the actual writing. I wonder what they will get paid?
If the reports are correct then I feel - annoyed - angry - disappointed? I do not know. I do know it is not right. People have always traded on family, personal and "political" connections. They always will. We all do it - but few of us do it in such a blatantly obvious way. Penguin is as much at fault here as Pippa Middleton.
More seriously though, the publishing industry is said to be in serious difficulties. There has been a wave of "reprints", something I am assuming the industry can do cheaply but research suggests will sell. I have no doubt that authors get very little for reprints.
And, new books are harder to sell. It is harder for an author, even an established author, to sell a new book. For first time authors it is, naturally, harder still. Pippa Middleton will not need to worry too much. The publicity machine will kick in overtime for her. So will the media. It will not be because of what she is but who she is. Yes, unfair. That is life. Get used to it.
Imagine though what forty good books for children could have done for the imaginations of the future. There are other books on parties and party planning. I have seen them in our library. There are never enough books for children.

The booklist brought back

2011-11-28T08:11:00.003+10:30

by the Whirlwind this weekend was depressing. She gave it to me with the words "....(her teacher) said to talk to you. We have to read four - for next year."
There are twenty fiction titles listed and the girls (the Whirlwind goes to a single sex school) are expected to read four of them over the summer. There will apparently be follow up work at school next year. Vampires, war, refugees and mental illness feature heavily as subject matter in the list. They are obviously considered to be "popular" titles. There has also been an attempt to appeal to boys. I also know that, for the Whirlwind, four will be insufficient. She will feel she should read all of them. I groan inwardly.
"Oh and I forgot to give you this," the Whirlwind says and produces another note from the teacher.
I know the teacher. She is well aware I am not the Whirlwind's mother but also knows that I provide homework assistance, reading matter and female advice when requested.
"...may have read... rest not likely to appeal... suggest..."
Right. Her teacher knows her well and is suggesting an alternative. I read the list again.
"All right you have read three of them and you might like those two. We can probably get them at the library. You don't need to read the others unless you want to."
"But everyone else will..."
"I doubt it. Most people will only read four. Mrs.... has made a suggestion for a special project just for you and a couple of other people who really like to read. Go and look on the computer and find Carnegie Medal." I tell her how to spell it.
A few minutes later she has found a list of Carnegie Medal winners.
"Oh, I have read lots of these."
I tell her to look up the Australian Children's Book of the Year and Newbery (American) equivalents as well. There are more in those lists she has read and more I know she will enjoy reading.
"Well let's see if you can read twenty more of them by the end of the holidays. You will like most of them."
The challenge clearly appeals to her and I am happy to help.
On the way out the door though she turned around and said to me,
"Why don't they tell us to read more of those books?"
Why indeed?

The "library group"

2011-11-27T07:36:00.002+10:30

met for the last time yesterday - the last time this year. We will start again in January. We meet once a month. We knit and, because we meet in a library, we often talk about books and related matters.
There is nothing very intellectual about the group. They do not necessarily read prize winning novels, indeed I know most of them do not. They are more likely to talk about a new knitting book. Anything filed under the Dewey number 746.43 (knitting) is likely to interest them. Books in the surrounding areas of design, patchwork etc are also likely to interest them. Whenever we meet the shelves in that area will be relieved of some of their contents. This is a group which uses books.
I am struck by the difference between the members of this group and the members of the other knitting group I belong to. The other group is, supposedly, the premier knitting group in the state. The purpose of the group is supposed to be to further the art and craft of knitting. (For those of you who do not knit please believe me when I say knitting has a rich and varied history and there are many branches of the craft.) I am, for my sins, the librarian of this group. I buy the books and I try to keep the shelves tidy and keep an eye on the borrowing.
I growl when people try to breach copyright - something that was rife before I took over. I also despair. They want "pattern" books. They want books where they need do no more than follow the instructions and produce something that looks "just like the picture" - sometimes even down to the colour.
Of course there are a few who want technical books, who are adventurous and brave enough to strike out on their own. Most however lack the confidence for this. They should not. Many of them are skilled knitters. Even then some of them will say, "I can't do socks" or "I can't follow a chart" or "I have never got the hang of cables" and "I could never do lace".
I have tried all these things. I am wearing socks I made for myself right now. I can follow a chart - especially useful if you do not read something like Estonian or Icelandic. I can do cables and lace too. All the members of the library group would try any of these things. They know that they can get help from each other and from the books in the library.
I also know I still have a lot to learn about knitting. I have been knitting since I was about eight but, even if I lived to eight hundred, there would be more to learn. There would, I hope, always be books there that might help me - as well as people.
Some people obviously do not feel the need for this sort of information. They are happy and content with the way things are and with what they already know. I am not. I always want to know more.
Yesterday someone who had not been to the group before came and sat there. She did not say much although we tried to include her in the conversation. Someone showed her how to do something new. We also said, "You will come back when we start meeting again next year?" She nodded.
I went to borrow something else and found her at the shelves housing 746.43 and related material. She smiled at me and said,
"I did enjoy myself you know. I think I will like the group. You really use books and I wanted a group like that."
So did I. It will be good to have her there.

Nicola Morgan has been

2011-11-26T07:27:00.003+10:30

talking about "Bruised Soul Syndrome" - that feeling you have when you get rejection after rejection for the book you have poured your heart and soul into. (Interestingly Nicola is also re-publishing her "Mondays are Red" as an e-book on Monday - prowl over to her blog "Help I need a Publisher" for details.)
It does not matter if an agent says, "Indeed, I would encourage you to try elsewhere." That agent has rejected you. In a way such a response can be worse than an outright "no" because it suggests "yes you might be good enough but I do not want you".
I should be used to that sort of rejection. I had hundreds of them when I was looking for work. I knew what was wrong but they were things I could not do anything about. Potential employers saw me as "over-qualified" and "not a team player" and a physical liability.
My tertiary qualifications came about more by accident than design - oops, suddenly I was over-qualified. Going in another direction did not help either. It just "over-qualified" me still more. I could not convince anyone I was prepared to start at the very bottom and work my way up. I was not, after all, a "team player" because I had embarked upon a major project of my own. Oh yes, they liked the idea all right, even said they admired what I was doing, but they did not want to take that on. It was too much for them to handle. I showed far too much initiative. Employers may tell you that they want "initiative" but they do not want too much of it in someone they view as "inexperienced". Add "keyboard and mobility challenged" (as someone kindly put it) and you are not going to get the job however well you perform at interview. There is a point at which you do give up. (I gave up and created my own job.)
Submitting a book to agents is much the same. You end up with Bruised Soul Syndrome and it can be Badly Battered Soul Syndrome. You wonder about yourself and whether you have any capacity to write at all. What's the point? Is it worth it? Do I try again? Should I keep on going with the next book?
If you are driven to write then you do it.
I thought of all this in a new context this week. School leavers without qualifications could once get jobs. Now that is almost impossible. The sort of jobs they would once have had - and the "niche" positions for the intellectually disabled - have gone. Get an undergraduate degree? It won't qualify you for anything. You need experience - and why have you not gone on to post-graduate work? I can understand that. If the quality of some of the work I have seen is anything to go by then an undergraduate degree does not, for some, amount to much.
Even if you want to "volunteer" you need to be trained. There are all sorts of health and safety regulations you need to know about. You need to be told (even if you do not listen) about "customer service". You will have to apply, be interviewed and join the queue of hopefuls. It is not about volunteering for a cause you are passionate in. It is about getting "experience" in the hope of finding a job. You still have to overcome the reluctance of employers to take on new staff in an uncertain economic climate - and a system in which workers' rights far outweigh the rights of employers.
It all leads to Bruised Soul Syndrome and, sometimes, Badly Battered Soul Syndrome. I feel for anyone genuinely trying to find a job - and I can understand why some people give up.
BUT - I - will - not - give - up.

The Speaker resigned

2011-11-25T07:20:00.003+10:30

- or did he? There were extraordinary scenes in Federal Parliament yesterday. The popular (with both sides of the House) and competent Speaker resigned so he could "take more part in the debate" as a back bencher. I think not.
Anyone who believes that is a fool. The Speaker was giving up $100,000 a year and a job he clearly enjoyed in order to shore up support for the government. Instead of 75/74 it is now 76/73. The government need only rely on three out of four independents. The job of Speaker has gone to a former member of the Opposition, a disgruntled politician who was almost certainly going to lose pre-selection. He will now be out of a job at the next election, along with at least three "independent" MPs.
I like the idea of "independent" MPs - if they are truly independent. There is a member of state parliament who is almost that. He has even been re-elected as an independent. He has taken the trouble to go back to his electorate a number of times and say, "What do you want me to do?" As he has said, "It is up to you to tell me. I am there to represent you." Of course he cannot please all of the people all of the time but there are times when he has made a genuine effort to do that.
It really is a nice idea. The problem is I am not sure that it works in the overall scheme of things. Politicians have to join together to get things done. They forget their electorates as they jostle for power for themselves. Forget "for the good of the country" and "in the national interest", this is about themselves. An unpopular minority government which has made even more unpopular (and possibly economically disastrous) decisions has been prepared to flout parliamentary conventions in order to retain power without the support of the electorate.
In any other country people would be out protesting in the streets. In Australia we meekly accept that "nothing can be done until the next election". It will be too late then. The damage has already been done.
Perhaps the problem is that politicians do not see themselves as having a contract with their electorate. They have been elected to serve their electorate. They may have aligned themselves with a political party but their job is to serve the people who elected them. The problem is that Labor politicians (pre-selected by some members of the ALP) are seen as being there to serve the party. They are required to vote on party lines. The rare "conscience" vote (where they should ask their electorate what they want and not vote as they feel personally inclined) is scarcely that. They know what party policy is. If they want to keep their pre-selection for the next election they will adhere to party policy.
The Liberal/National Coalition is little better. Officially they are not required to vote as a block and officially they cannot be sanctioned for failing to do so. Occasionally a brave MP will go against the group but, on the whole, they will vote as party policy dictates. With respect to a "conscience vote" they will have a little more choice, but only a little. They will still be conscious of such things as pre-selection and the next election.
If a politician had a genuine contract with the electorate and could be sacked for failure to perform then the way we are governed would be very different. Imagine an issue coming up and an electorate being able to say, "We want you to vote for/against this measure." If more than fifty percent of the electorate demanded the move then the politician would be required to vote as they have indicated or face an immediate by-election. It would be government "by the people" - but it would never work.
The other system works well enough until an elected representative decide to breach the rules or fail to follow conventions. Our elected representatives have done both.

There is the inevitable

2011-11-24T07:02:00.002+10:30

article about what children want for Christmas in today's paper. This time the article concentrates on children rather than teenagers.
I have never heard of any of the items mentioned in the lists. (There are two, one for girls and one for boys.) The words "blister pack" are mentioned and the names of some things suggest they are currently popular items being pushed by advertising on commercial television.
Most were not particularly expensive - and that is probably about all that can be said for them.
There is not a book on either list.
A mother once complained to me that she did not know what to give her children for Christmas. They apparently wanted impossibly large items. I suggested books. She thought that was a ridiculous idea. Books were something you read once. Toys were something you played with for hours.
We were never allowed to ask for anything. If we tried we would be sharply reminded that it was not the proper thing to do. I know we had some strange looks when people outside our immediate family would ask, "And what do you want Father Christmas to bring you?" I stopped believing in Father Christmas at three years of age but I knew better than to say so. My answer would usually be, "I don't know."
I know now that our family had very little money to spend on such things. My father was teaching but teachers were not well paid and he was also finishing a university degree he had not been able to do during the war years. My mother, as women did then, stayed at home with us. Occasionally she would do a day's relief or supply teaching and my paternal grandmother would care for us. Such days were rare. Schools simply divided the classes of absent teachers unless the numbers grew too great to fit into one room.
Despite all that I am aware that other children, who must have come from similar financial circumstances, were given far more. They had new bicycles, scooters, roller skates, dolls, dolls' houses, board games and - occasionally - books. I suppose their parents went into debt to do those things. Books were certainly less common. Books for children could only be bought in two bookshops in the city - both of them "educational" booksellers - or were of the "Golden Books", "Annual" type books, or Collins like titles from places like a newsagent.
Now you can buy books, good quality books, in many places. There is a specialist children's bookstore - although the location is unfortunate. Our local indie bookstore has a specialist section for children. It is usually where I find presents for my godchildren and the children of my acquaintance.
As for the idea that a book is only read once there are books in my indie that demand to be read more than once. There are "how to" books that my godson loves and that my nephews loved when they were small. The Whirlwind, who is not a very demanding child with respect to presents, has her eye on a book of origami projects. "If my Dad asks me what I want I will tell him that." She knows full well that I have already told him. It will keep her entertained for hours this summer and it is not expensive. It is just the sort of present a child should be encouraged to want and use.
I know there are other books she would like to have as well but she has not mentioned them. Other children who borrow from my "library" have also asked for books. Their parents seem happy to oblige.
A good picture book can be read many times, even after the story is known by heart. Remember the delicious anxiety for Ping the duck and how you winced when he got that smack on the back? Remember how the Very Hungry Caterpillar needed that leaf to feel much better? Remember reading the adventures of Robin Hood or Biggles or Simon Black more than once? I think we need to start there and growup to things like the new organic gardening book I plan to give my father. I know it is what he wants and it is something to do as well. So, why no books on the list?

Are you old enough to remember

2011-11-23T07:24:00.002+10:30

Alistair Cooke? No, not Alastair Cook the cricketer but Alistair Cooke the journalist. His "Letter from America" was broadcast on radio here on Sundays. It was one of the few things my father ever listened to - and then only if he remembered to do it. I occasionally caught up with it while I was at university in both England and Australia.
It had a format that simply should not have worked. Here was, by the time I knew of him, an elderly journalist who just talked quietly and calmly for, I think, fifteen minutes. He never interviewed anyone on air for the "Letter". He just spoke. He did not even introduce himself or address his listeners.
The topics he spoke about were many and varied but were always related in some way to America. He could talk about the arts, politics, economics and international relations. He did it all in the same measured tones and pleasant speaking voice he had no doubt been using for years. Although he became an American citizen he remained, in many ways, "British". His language and journalistic style were more BBC than A(American)BC.
I have no doubt that he had his views and his prejudices but, on the occasions I heard him, I was always impressed by his understanding of what lay beneath the surface of what he was talking about. He was a well educated man who apparently had the capacity to hear both sides of a story.
Listening to and reading reports of the media inquiries both in the UK and Australia have reminded me of Cooke and his "Letter from America". I have wondered what he would have made of modern journalists and journalism.
There can be little doubt that the current inquiry being conducted into the media in Australia is politically motivated. The Greens are especially upset by what they perceive as a bias against them and they used their influence and the support the government needs to retain power to force an inquiry.
The present Press Gallery in Canberra is, with one notable exception, supportive of the politics of the present government. It has been this way for years and it is not likely to change any time soon. When the current Opposition is in power they use their own power to obstruct it with carefully destructive reporting.
I was once unwillingly involved in a "political" campaign of sorts. It was an issue that went to a referendum. The media was heavily involved and, for a while, the issue divided that section of the community which thinks about those issues. There was heavy advertising for the "yes" case but the "no" case had to struggle to be heard at all. The media simply refused to do more than give a token nod to it. When anything was said it was often misreported or said in ways designed to undermine the "no" case. Despite all that the referendum failed. It lost by a majority of all voters in all states, not just in a majority of states. The "yes" supporters were quick to blame media reporting of the "no" case and the media supported them in this. There was no suggestion that voters might simply have decided they did not want the change being put to them. As a supporter of the "no" case I was relieved by the result - and still worry at the way the issue surfaces on a regular basis because the "yes" campaigners refuse to accept the result and have the support of their friends in the media.
The current inquiry is almost certainly designed to try and entrench bias into the media. It may or may not work.
I think Alistair Cooke would have been unhappy with this sort of behaviour. He had an enormous audience by the end of his around sixty years of broadcasting. I have no doubt he had his own beliefs and prejudices but, on the occasions I heard him, his words were balanced. You often went away with something to think about. It is the way journalism should be.

Someone gave me a book

2011-11-22T07:30:00.002+10:30

yesterday. It is really a rather lovely book. The pictures are bright and colourful and clever. It is not the sort of book I ever imagined myself owning because the craft, yes it is a craft book, is not one I indulge in. It is a patchwork book.
I am allergic to sewing needles. I am quite incapable of actually threading a needle. I do not sew. The person who gave me the book is well aware of that. She also knows that, despite the fact I do know something about patchwork, I have always felt that cutting up fabric you have specially bought just to sew it back together again is slightly ridiculous.
Other people obviously feel differently and I have to admit that some of them can produce beautiful things, imaginative things, funny things, interesting and different things. I like some of them - although I doubt I would want to own them. Our wall hangings are of the bookshelf variety, not the patchwork variety. If we had space to spare then we would put up another bookshelf.
But the book is something else. There are little diagrams to show you how to put things together - and then to put together the things you have put together. It is rather fascinating to see what happens when you repeat one of those little things or turn it upside down, sideways, back to front, on the diagonal.
Patchworkers call them "blocks" but they are more than that. They have been the subject of serious mathematical studies. They are also play things.
The book was given to me for a purpose. No, I have not overcome the allergy to sewing needles. That will not happen. Even if it did I would not wish to make quilts. However, I dislike waste. The person who gave me the book is aware of this. She told me,
"You could knit some of these Cat."
Perhaps I could - but would I have to sew them together?

My friend Sue died

2011-11-21T07:43:00.004+10:30

about an hour ago. Her daughter, as she had promised, sent me a message via e-mail. Sue lived on the opposite side of the world and time zones can be tricky things.
I sent Sue a last e-mail yesterday. She would have been drifting in and out of consciousness by then but I have to believe that she got it. Her daughter had been reading the twice daily messages I sent her.
I tried to keep those messages quirky and up beat or. at very least, positive. Writing them made me realise yet again how hard it can be to communicate adequately with someone in Sue's position - and with her family. What do you say? What words do you use? When do you use them?
Some years ago I was in our local greengrocer just before Christmas. There was a woman ahead of me I knew only by sight. We would usually acknowledge one another and perhaps comment on the weather or something going on around us. That was all.
The shop assistant wished her "Merry Christmas" as she handed her back her change and, as she turned and saw me I also said "Merry Christmas". It was at that point she burst out,
"It's going to be a bloody lousy Christmas. My daughter committed suicide last week."
Then she just went on standing there and burst into tears. I dropped everything and hugged her. The owner of the shop, with huge presence of mind, moved everyone else quietly away from her and gave her some space. She spent a few minutes sobbing into my shoulder before she recovered enough to start apologising.
It seems to be an almost automatic reaction. We apologise for causing other people embarrassment or distress but, faced with it ourselves, we do not know what to say. Perhaps it is better not to say anything at all sometimes.
All I said on that occasion was, "Do you want to tell me about it?" When she nodded I handed over my things to the greengrocer who had nodded at me and I took her off to a far corner of the cafe next door and bought her coffee. She talked and I listened. She told me how her daughter had not been diagnosed with post-natal depression and how guilty she felt for failing to recognise it. It all came out in a torrent of words and I did not say anything at all. There was nothing I could say. Eventually she said, "Thankyou for listening." Then she got up abruptly and left. I had to hope she would be all right.
We saw one another on and off after that. She always seemed a little uncomfortable, as if she had said too much to me. I kept our conversation on the previous level of the weather.
Then on the railway station platform one morning she was there and introduced me to her sister who was visiting from interstate.
"Cat's a good friend," she told her sister, "She knows what to say." She went on to tell her sister about the incident in the greengrocer.
I had never considered her to be a friend, more of an acquaintance. I had felt totally inadequate. I had not said anything. Perhaps in doing that I had said more than I would have with words? I do not know.
It still puzzles me. What do you say? When do you say it?

Meeting people

2011-11-20T08:07:00.004+10:30

over the internet without ever physically meeting them at all is a curious experience. I am not talking here about introduction services or internet dating or any of those social connection sites that I have never explored but "meeting" people in other ways.
I have been thinking about this because I noticed that several more people have started to "follow" me. Hello. I tend to leave my followers alone (unless they prowl in with a comment) although I do go and read their blogs if they interest me. I am not ignoring you - if I was I would not write the blog - but prowling after all of you every day is beyond me. I have other reading and writing to do as well.
I have physically met two of my followers but the rest of you are only known to me through the ether. I often wonder what you would be like in real life. I know what some of you look like because there are photographs on your blogs or your websites. (One day I may learn how to do that here but I write words. I do not take photographs.)
Recently someone, who rarely uses the internet, asked me, "How can you be friends with people you have never met? You can't possibly know what they are really like."
Does that have to stop me being friends? I know what the internet persona of someone is like. If they write well then I feel I have some idea of what they are like in physical life as well.
I have been writing to a friend in the United States for almost as long as I have had regular access to e-mail. I spoke of her the other day and said she is dying. Her daughter sent a message this morning and said it will not be very long now. All I can do now is send daily messages which her daughter reads to her. And yes, she is a friend. She is such a close friend that we regard each other almost as sisters. We know a great deal about each other. I have a very strong sense of what she is like and I will miss her strong presence in my life.
There are other people I know only through the internet as well and yet I feel I have a strong sense of what they are like. Would we be friends if we were able to make regular physical contact? Yes, I think some of us would be friends. Some of us would continue to be acquaintances and yes, I might be mistaken about some of them. This must also be true about the way they feel about me.
Before e-mail and the internet there were of course letters. People had "pen pals". They took more effort, especially for someone like me who finds the physical act of putting anything on paper difficult. I suspect that many people started out with pen pals and lost them. There was not the immediacy of reply there can be now. My mother had several "pen pals". Writing was physically easy for her. She had excellent handwriting. The pen (she always used a fountain pen) moved smoothly across the page. The women she wrote to had similar writing. They all wrote to each other on a regular basis. My godmother still writes to me. She is well over 90 now and still cannot spell (although she still reads voraciously). She is almost the last of the letter writers however. Oh yes, I know about letter writing being a lost art.
But meeting people over the internet can result in friendships, lasting friendships because of common interests. Like any other friendships they require nurturing and concern for others. And yes, you can know people well enough to know you want to be friends without ever physically meeting them.

Is borrowing from another culture

2011-11-19T07:39:00.004+10:30

acceptable?
Someone raised this yesterday and questioned whether it was insensitive to borrow from something like Australian aboriginal "dot" painting, New Zealand Maori carving or the painting style of Constable. I assume it would be possible to add to that list with haiku from Japan, Irish crochet lace, Estonian lace patterns, Cowichan knitting patterns, music using the sitar from India or the gongs from the hill tribes in Cambodia. The list is endless.
I know Prince Harry was roundly criticised for trying to reproduce a "dot" type painting when he was at school. It was considered improper. One of the aboriginal elders said "He's just a boy. He does not understand." I have heard a didgeridoo (a very long wooden pipe) played by a non-aboriginal. He was "given permission" to learn and play but told he would never master the art because he was not an aboriginal. The late Judith Wright was once warned not to tell a "Dreamtime" story because it "belongs to us" - the "us" in question being members of an Australian aboriginal tribe.
One of the issues I have come across in my work is the "death" of languages. Languages die out if nobody uses them. If they do die out then we lose more than language. We lose a way of life, a way of thinking, the stories that have been created in that language, an understanding of the world from another perspective. There have been active attempts to "kill" languages for political, cultural or religious reasons. Other languages die a more natural death. A community may be taken over by another community. The language is not taught in schools. Then it is not used and taught at home.
It can happen very rapidly. My brother in law's parents grew up speaking Cypriot-Greek. He speaks Cypriot-Greek with some English thrown in when he does not know the Greek word. His two children speak almost no Greek at all. As the sister of their daughter in law I know a few words but my father knows none at all. It has taken two generations for the language to be almost completely lost within one family. It was not used. My brother in law was educated in English and so were his children.
Cypriot Greek is not going to die out though. There are other people who use it as their everyday language and there are enough of them to preserve the language and the culture which goes with it. The vocabulary has kept pace with the modern world.
We are losing aboriginal languages though and we are likely to go on losing them. The numbers of speakers of some tribal languages are so low that even intensive attempts to preserve them are not going to work. One reason for this is that the languages do not have the vocabulary or the concepts to cope with the 21stC. They simply do not work as a tool for communication in the world people now live in. Another reason is that they are not being passed on to other people.
Vocabulary and concepts have been "kept secret". Outsiders have not been allowed to use them.
When this happens anything of cultural significance is almost bound to die out.
Culture is a living thing. If you do not use it then it will die.
If you borrow something from a culture other than your own then I believe you should try to understand it as best you can. It should be treated with respect. If it has genuine spiritual significance for some people then that should certainly be respected. But, if we are to preserve some of those skills, then they must be used and go on being used.
Artists - and writers - "borrow" (or are influenced) all the time. If they did not then our creative lives would cease to exist.
I think if I wrote only about those things I had a direct experience of then I would cease to write.

"Write what you know about.."

2011-11-18T07:32:00.002+10:30

is the advice I was constantly given as a child. It was almost as if I was not supposed to use my imagination. I was just supposed to describe the world around me.
My "daily diary", that daily sentence I was supposed to come up with each school day for the first two years, was supposed to tell about something I had done, was doing, or was going to do. I was in constant trouble for wanting to use words that were considered to be "too hard".
"But I can spell it!" I would protest. "I know what it means!"
I was supposed to use "red" not "scarlet" and "think" instead of "contemplate". I am not sure where I found the alternative words. I assume I was reading them. I read a lot. I had worked my way through all the books in the "infants" section in no time at all. I still read a lot. I do not use quite so many fancy words.
But, I am still being told "write what you know about". I do not write science fiction. Perhaps I write "historical" fiction - of a sort. The book I am currently working on is set in 1970's Australia but the young hero is due to return to England within weeks. The previous book was set in Australia and France.
It is the previous book which caused the comment. It has just been handed back to me with the words, "I liked it very, very much indeed but you should write what you know about. There is no point in writing about France. You need to write just about Australia.."
The reader was a bookseller. She had asked to see the book because a mutual friend had told her I was writing it. As she has contacts in the publishing world I, with some misgivings, passed it over. I know she is very keen on Australiana, almost to the exclusion of other things.
"Why?" I asked, "Nobody tells Barry Maitland to set Brock and Kolla in Sydney instead of London." (She once met Barry Maitland at some function and likes to tell people she has.)
"That's different. He's already published. If you want to get published then write about what you know. What you know about is Australia. People will expect you to write about Australia."
What? I am to be confined to writing about Australia because I live here? I have to start out writing about Australia before I am allowed to "graduate" to other things? I spent seven years living in London as a student. I am not allowed to write about that?
People who do not live in Australia may think it is exotic and romantic but the reality is that everyday life in Clapham or Malvern or Largs (we have all three here) is much the same whether you live in Adelaide or the United Kingdom. The weather is different but, if you are child, you still eat breakfast, go to school and get told off for leaving your footy boots where your mother trips over them - and the place where you are most likely to see a kangaroo is at the zoo or wildlife park.
Anyone who knows me will know that I am not a passionate Australian. I happen to have been born here. My nationality is an accident of birth, nothing more.
So yes, I will write what I know about but it might be that the house will be in another place and indeed it may need to be in another place. Does that shock you?

There is not enough water

2011-11-17T08:12:00.002+10:30

to go around in Adelaide in summer. At a time when gardens need it most we go onto water restrictions.
Last year and the year before were particularly bad. People let gardens die. They paved over areas that had previously been lawn. Some people dug bores - with disastrous consequences for the water table and the alarming discovery that some of the water is badly contaminated from industry that, when it started out, was not even in areas which are now the suburbs.
Many years ago a former Premier of the State, Tom Playford, tried to do something about the problem by having a pipeline built from the Murray River. Now there are problems with getting water from that river. Everyone else wants some too.
The present government has built a desalination plant on the site of the oil refinery and plans to build a second one at the top of the gulf. There are problems with those too, particularly with the increased salination of the gulf waters and the likely impact on marine and coastal life.
I was reminded sharply of all this yesterday when I was nearly run down by an enormous truck - and I mean enormous. It could barely fit down the street I was riding along. It came up behind me at far too great a rate and I had to swerve sharply out of the way - or risk getting run over. The driver of the truck gave me a dirty sign and sailed on around the corner, narrowly missing a car coming in the other direction. I wish I had managed to get the number plate.
He had come from the site putting in "storm water pipes" along the main road that leads into the hills. The laying of these pipes has been going on for months. They do not plan to collect this water. They are just directing the run-off from the hills behind us. Despite that they still plan to dam the creek that currently runs through the park. If they do there will be no creek in the park. There was a minor flood about six years ago. It was really caused by the fact that the local council had allowed rubbish to gather in the drains that feed into the creek and that had blocked the water flow. Rather than clear rubbish regularly the government has decided it would be simpler to block the creek altogether.
I really wonder about the sanity of all of this. My father and I try to be responsible about water use. We have short showers. We recycle what water we can. We have invested in multiple rain water tanks to keep the garden alive - and, in turn, that helps to keep the house cool so that we use less energy running an airconditioning unit. It takes a bit of effort but results are worthwhile.
Blocking off the creek seems to be the exact opposite of what we are trying to do. Surely it would be simpler to keep the drains clear? Would the cost be that much greater in the long run? And, what about the ducks and the swallows who live under the bridge in the park?
Government logic defeats me.

"One thousand dollars a bottle?"

2011-11-16T07:37:00.002+10:30

my father asks this morning. He is outraged.
There is a picture on the front page of our state newspaper of someone in a cellar holding out a glass of wine and, presumably, admiring the colour of it. So he should be admiring the colour of it. His winery is apparently planning on selling this little drop (or some other little drop) for a mere one thousand dollars a bottle. What is more they are planning to sell some of it to China.
My father does not drink alcohol. He does not like it. He grew up in a Presbyterian, teetotal household. He tells the story of how, one childhood Christmas, he and his brother were sent to spend an hour with the Jewish family across the road while his maternal uncles had a single glass of a particularly light beer - the only alcohol they ever consumed.
As an adult my father tasted alcohol but it was not part of the culture of the group he grew up with. Most of them also came from teetotal households. (Do not worry. They had their fun!) My father decided that the taste of alcohol was not worth the expense. He never bothered.
I am allergic to alcohol. It makes me feel itchy - as if I am being bitten by ants. That sensation is so unpleasant I avoid it. (I have other vices.)
But, if you enjoy alcohol, is paying a thousand dollars a bottle really justified? Wine is, after all, just grape juice. Yes, yes I know they have done things to it. I know that the grapes are special, that the ground they have grown in is hallowed ground, that vast expertise has gone into making sure that each specially selected grape has been crushed and fermented in just the right way. It is still grape juice - and I am an ignoramus. I am happy to remain that way.
If people want to indulge in a little alcohol and do it responsibly then that is their business. Many people get great pleasure from it and I have no right to even contemplate stopping them - not that I would want to even if I could.
What bothers me, and bothers my father is that the price of one of these one thousand dollar bottles could feed a vast number of children who need to be fed - even if you spent fifty dollars on another bottle of wine.
At what point does the cost become excessive? Some people obviously believe it is worth paying one thousand dollars a bottle. Surely there is a balance somewhere?

"Schoolies week..."

2011-11-15T07:19:00.002+10:30

seems to be some sort of import from the United States. As I understand you celebrate the end of your school days by heading off with your friends and indulging in what is supposed to be an exciting week of.... well something. Unfortunately alcohol seems to loom large, sex is supposed to come a close second. There are "concerts" and "hanging out" and, for a few, drugs. It is now considered to be a rite of passage.
The residents of the seaside town where most of this occurs put up with an invasion each year. On the whole I believe the actual school leaver participants are well behaved. There are gate-crashers who spoil things for everyone. This year they are making an extra effort to remove the gate-crashers.
There have been reports in the media that many students find "schoolies" week a let down. It is not the experience that they expect. I am not sure what they do expect. I suspect that some of them do find it boring and others find it an unhappy experience.
One of the local year 12 students was talking to me yesterday. I have been reading essays for her during the past two years and my father has given her some help with study skills. She is a very quiet girl. When school finishes she has a holiday job in an aged-care program for dementia patients. Schoolies week does not interest her in the slightest. Her parents would allow her to go but she refused an invitation to join a group of her friends. Her mother had admitted to me earlier that they were worried about her obvious lack of interest in participating. Was, I asked, she going to do anything?
Oh yes, clean up her room, go to see a film with some friends, go to the zoo with some other friends and - read.
"Just being able to read one book I want to read," she told me, "Is going to be better than the whole of schoolies week would be."
Along with the outings she plans, I am not too worried about her if she wants to do this.

There are screams

2011-11-14T07:44:00.002+10:30

from next door again. The older child is throwing a temper tantrum again. He is six - definitely old enough to know better.
I know he is supposed to be getting ready for school. He is not particularly fond of school. I suspect that much of that has to do with the fact that he is required to do as he is told there. This would not suit him at all. He dislikes sitting still or being quiet.
He can be a nice little boy. When his father is around he is generally polite enough. I think he is intelligent. Certainly he can solve problems. He likes to be the leader. On the rare occasions he is allowed to play with the children opposite I notice that he tries to control the flow of play.
Mornings however are bad news. His two year old brother screams if he does not get his own way too. It makes for noisy mornings.
Fortunately, for these purposes, my father cannot hear the racket as well as I can. As a former teacher he has strong views on ill-disciplined children. These two are ill-disciplined. I think part of it might be due to frustration.
I think their mother means well but she smothers them. She rarely lets them out of her sight.
She does not go to work so she has been able to spend almost all her time with them. She plays with them almost to the exclusion of everything else. They have no garden. Their front yard looks as if the house is abandoned. The weeds are, once again, almost waist high. She claims there is "no time" to garden. Clothes are never hung on a line. Everything, even on the sunniest days, goes into a tumble dryer. Her husband cooks the evening meal because she is "too busy" with the children.
The older child is now trying to test his independence a little. He wants to do things, such as play with the neighbouring children, and she wants his attention instead.
My mother had this problem with her mother. When my brother and I were sent to live with my maternal grandmother the same thing happened. We were allowed to leave the house just in time to get to school. We had to be back at the house for lunch and then back again in the afternoon as soon as possible after school had ended. My grandmother claimed it was about "feeling responsible" but it was far more than that. She wanted us there as company for her. She made no effort to seek company elsewhere - something she would have been quite capable of doing. Controlling us was, in her eyes, a much better option.
Our neighbour is the same. She seeks no company anywhere else. They have, to the best of our knowledge, never had visitors apart from her husband's sister. We have never been asked to mind the children so they can have a night out.
There is a list of telephone numbers on our refrigerator. They are numbers for people we might need to contact in an emergency. One of those numbers is the husband's work number. I hope we never need to use it. I wonder though what would happen if something happened so that she could not devote her attention solely to her children.
I think they would manage without her but would she manage without them?

I do not want to be

2011-11-13T07:20:00.002+10:30

constantly "available".
There is a report in our state newspaper about some new technology being developed by one of our universities. It is designed to allow the use of mobile 'phones without radio towers or satellites. I will not pretend I understand the technology but apparently it works by connecting users through a network of users rather like a "connect the dots" picture.
It seems the up-side of this would be that people could contact one another in emergencies - at least over short ranges - when other power supplies go down. (No, I do not know how you charge the battery!) That could be a good thing - especially if you could get them to work in difficult terrain and bushfires. Both those things are notoriously bad for mobile coverage.
I know people who never seem to turn their mobile 'phones off. "Someone might need me" they wail.
I have a sibling who seems to be sellotaped to her 'phone. It would take a surgical operation to remove her from it. Most of her conversations seem unnecessary to me but, even before she puts her seat belt on to drive the car she has the 'phone plugged in to the hands-free device and the ear piece in. I hate driving with her because, slight exaggeration but only slight, she seems to talk to someone all the time she is driving. My sibling will be late picking my father up - this always worries him - because "someone 'phoned" and "I had to talk to...". She is late for appointments because "I had to take a call...". She apparently needs to be in constant contact with other humans. I do not know whether this makes her feel wanted or important or insecure or whether it ever irritates her. I have not inquired.
I just know that I do not want to be like that. I am, at my sister's insistence, the owner of a mobile 'phone these days. Previous to that I would, if going to be away all day, borrow my father's - unless he was also going out. There was just one reason for that - so that he could reach me in an emergency. It is peace of mind at his advanced age. He has never needed to contact me and I hope he never does need to do it.
Apart from that, surely people can wait? Why do I need to be instantly available at all hours of the day and night? We used to manage without mobile 'phones (and a great many other things). I wonder though whether there will come a time when we will be required to have mobile 'phones and have them constantly turned on "in case of emergency", when we will be constantly connected to each other and lack any peace and privacy at all.
Does anyone know a nice island, not affected by global warming, with good soil and a temperate climate?

There was bright blood red

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all over the floor when we arrived at the house of the six children. We had not been to their new home before. It is some distance from the city. Yesterday their grandparents picked me and my father up and we went to visit them.
They are still establishing a garden and one reason for the visit was so that my father, still a keen gardener, could give them a long gardening lesson. He had spent several weeks preparing for this and the back of their grandfather's large vehicle was packed with pots, garden stakes, compost, pea straw and other gardening delights.
First however they had to do some other school work. When we arrived the youngest three were making "poppy wreaths" from bright red crepe paper and cardboard plates. The floor was strewn with "poppies", abandoned the moment we arrived. Once we had been greeted and hugged breathless they hastily completed the wreaths. They had been given a history lesson. We would have what is referred to in our branch of the clan as "The Silence" with them.
Did they understand the significance of the wreaths? Their grandfather and I gave the older children a history lesson between us, trying to answer questions and giving them other questions to research for themselves.
One of the older children is not a keen reader. Gardening interests him. He has a passion for it. He has always said poetry does not interest him at all.
Without actually telling him it was a poem I recited part of John McCrae's "In Flanders Field..."
As a child being brought up in a very religious household he listened to the line, "Between the crosses row on row..." with a slow nod of the head.
"Is there any more?" he wanted to know. I told him there was a story behind the poem. We looked it up together. He showed another sibling. Yes, they liked that but it was sad. He told me, "I think I might try and grow some poppies next year." He is the sort of child who might remember to do that.
We had The Silence standing around their living area. Then they went back to being their usual noisy, busy selves.
Later the youngest child showed me the big book in which she keeps her special projects for the year. We were almost at the end and there had been nothing like that morning's lesson. Then, quite suddenly, she told me, "You know, a minute is a very long time if you have to remember something bad."
Yes, it is. It should always be the longest minute of our lives - and you never know what a child might make of it.

How can you remember

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things if you do not listen to the people who are telling you these things? You don't.
I was sent a thick government report to read yesterday. It is one in a long line of government reports I have read in my lifetime.
I suspect most people who receive it will read the recommendations being made but they will not read the actual report. They will not see any need to read the report. They participated in the inquiry. They know what they told the government. They expect it to be in the report and they expect the government to act on it.
I will read the report because I have to be able to tell others what is in it. They need to know about more than just the recommendations. I will write a precis of it in Plain English and pass it on to people who have problems communicating. They are going to be disappointed by the content. I am disappointed by the content.
It is yet another report about the needs of people with disabilities and the biggest issue of all has been ignored yet again. How can any government claim to be listening when they ignore the issue of communication? How can they remember what they are being told? They can't.
I have lost count of the number of inquiries I have participated in over the years. I have participated in most of them by invitation. Many of them have involved the needs of people with disabilities. I have attempted to find ways for them to speak up for themselves and, where they cannot, speak up for them. Successive governments have failed to listen. They do not want to listen. It would mean changing policy directions and that can be as difficult as spending money.
I have also been involved in inquiries about the electoral process, road safety, foreign aid, refugees and asylum seekers, language planning and language teaching. Diverse as those topics appear to be they all involve the need to communicate with other people.
The issue of "Plain English" comes up from time to time. Government departments will make a vow to write their material in a language the general public can understand. They rarely succeed. Legal issues get in the way. They do not want to state anything too plainly even when they are telling you "your rights under this Act are...". I can understand why they do this but it is frustrating.
It is even more frustrating that the issue of communication is taken for granted. "If people speak English then there is not a problem" I have been told. "If they do not speak English well I suppose we will have to find an interpreter." For many people that is the end of the story. They know about "people who do not read and write very well" but they have no idea what the implications are for people who are in that position.
There is an ever increasing need to be able to communicate - to be able to listen in many ways and then to speak in many ways. This report was supposed to be about listening. It has failed to do so. Failure to listen results in a failure to communicate.
Oddly, the report is called "Strong Voices."

If you had your friends

2011-11-10T07:47:00.002+10:30

around to play and your mother insisted on you having another child as well and that child insisted on you playing all the games according to their rules you would surely feel pretty annoyed about it. After all, it is your house and the other kids are your friends and you all want to play the games according to your rules.
If the other child then says, "I'll be your best friend" and you are weak and give in then you can find yourself trapped and unpopular with your friends.
I am sure this has happened to all children at one time or another. As children we sometimes need to do what our parents tell us. They think they know best - although I believe they often have very little idea about what is really going on with respect to relationships between children.
My mother interfered constantly in our relationships with other children. She thought she knew best. Some of it had to do with the fact that she did not want us to have other children to play at our house and she was reluctant to let us go to theirs because it meant returning the favour. I know part of the problem was that she was working, that she was a teacher in various small rural communities but there was also a reluctance to allow us to get involved. She never became involved herself. My father, as school principal, could not become involved. His job involved not just teaching but being the local "marriage counsellor", "financial adviser", "psychologist", "preacher" and numerous other roles that rural school principals were then called on to be because people simply went to "the teacher" with their problems. (My father would listen and generally find a professional person to help if the matter was serious enough.)
Adults however should know better than to fall for the "best friend" trick. Our politicians did it out of convenience and a desire for power. Our current Federal government has any number of "best friends" - made up of members of the Greens and various "independents". Keeping them all happy is difficult.
It is now causing problems at state level. There is a planned expansion to the Olympic Dam project in the north of the state. The site mines uranium. It will be the biggest mine in the world if it gets the go ahead. I have doubts about the uranium bit but the elected government wants it to go ahead. The opposition has, with strong reservations, given its reluctant support.
The project is now being held up by the Greens. They are opposed. They have questions. They want to change the rules. This would be all very well except that the negotiating period for the rules of the game was held some time ago. They had their chance. Some things were changed because of their demands. Now they are arguing again. They really do not want to play the game although they are pretending that they might. They think if they delay it long enough it will get dark and everyone will get sent home. They say that their big brother has had his way and they should be allowed theirs.
It is not wise to be "best friends" with someone who bullies you.

Yesterday our government

2011-11-09T07:54:00.003+10:30

voted for an economic disaster. Without a mandate - and against the wishes of the people they represent - the government voted to bring in a "carbon tax". What they really brought in was a tax on carbon dioxide. They did it - so they say - in the belief that the tax will reduce the sort of pollution that is said to affect climate change. We are also being told that it will make us world leaders in pollution reduction - and give us the right to dictate to the rest of the world the way in which they should be handling climate change.
Absolute nonsense.
The Opposition has claimed that it will repeal the legislation. This may also be more difficult than it appears. By the time we have an election there will be a raft of measures in place that may be very difficult, if not impossible, to undo.
It is economic vandalism of the worst kind.
The really sad thing is that it was all unnecessary. Almost all Australians would support honest, realistic efforts to do something positive about the environment. This was not. It was old style, Robin Hood tax tactics - and it is also an illusion. The government says it is planning to "compensate" nine out of ten households for the increased cost of living brought on by taxing the companies which will pay the "carbon tax". They are shifting money around. They are not changing behaviour. Big polluters will continue to pollute. They will take business off-shore to where the costs are less. Jobs will go in Australia and the money will not be there to compensate people for the increased costs of living.
All that would seem to be basic, low level economics. I am not an economist but all that seems pretty obvious to me.
People who know me know I want to see something very different. It would have been possible. It could have been done. There might have been real benefits.
I wanted to see any tax on pollution used to directly improve the environment by planting trees. Trees can provide food, shelter, clothing, fuel and employment. Trees can prevent erosion. They can take in carbon dioxide. They are a potentially immense resource.
I have had politicians tell me that tree planting is "not the answer" and is "not possible". I have had scientists say "it would take time but yes it is possible". It seems that "time" is the problem. Politics is about winning the next election. It is about having and retaining power. It is not about the environment.
It is about the Robin Hood illusion that you can simply tax the rich, who will then charge the poor, so that nobody needs to make an effort to change their behaviour.
Planting trees could have provided employment to change all of that.

Taking legal action

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is to be avoided if at all possible. It is not just the expense (which is always likely to be great even if you "win") but, win or lose, there will always be a constraint between the parties involved.
You see reports of legal action being taken all the time in the media. Sadly there are even law firms which advertise for work by suggesting that people might sue other people. They do not tell you the entire story of course. They do not tell you about the mounds of paper work or the toll on your emotions or the fact that you will almost certainly end up in greater debt than before.
Many unscrupulous people also rely on these facts to avoid their responsibilities and their debts. They will take money and fail to deliver. Others will threaten legal action even when they have no intention of taking any such action - or have no grounds to do so. The merest hint you might be criticising them and they will issue a threat. A threat is often enough to stop others in their tracks. It does not matter that they know they have done no wrong. What they do know is that, should the other side actually take action, they are going to be embroiled in a messy situation. Even if it goes no further than an exchange between solicitors it is going to prove expensive. Many people simply do not have the money.
It is the sort of situation bullies rely on - and also those who prey on the gullible. I remember a "writing competition" which appeared when I was in my late teens. It looked good. It was run by an apparently reputable group. The prizes, with possible publication, sounded very good. Was it just a little too good? Yes, it was. There was a warning about "if there are insufficient entries...". Yes, you had to pay to enter and the group was relying on getting sufficient entries to cover the cost of the prizes. Entry fees were not going to be refunded whether the competition went ahead or not. They, supposedly, were "administration and handling" fees.
I have no idea how many people entered. I did not. I had already decided against it when I was warned not to do it. The warning merely confirmed my feeling that something was wrong. I do not even know if the "competition" eventually went ahead.
The reason for writing all of this is because my friend Jane (over on "How Publishing Really Works") and others I know have been raising issues about the "BritWriters' Awards".
There are questions those running the awards really do need to answer. If they have nothing to hide they will answer them. Jane and others are perfectly entitled to ask these questions. There is nothing illegal about doing that. If you are interested I suggest you search the internet and find out more for yourself.
I rest my case.

"Do you," she wanted to know,

2011-11-07T07:54:00.003+10:30

"Have any wooden or plastic crochet hooks?"
Well yes, there were some on the stall - or rather there were some bamboo crochet hooks and some with more "ergonomic" plastic handles.
"Can you come around the other side?" I suggested, "Then we can both have a look. It might be easier for you."
I had to wait for a moment because there was a crowd around the stall I was helping on but the young woman came around to the other side of the stall and I put the container of crochet hooks in front of her.
"Which particular size were you looking for?" I asked her.
"Four millimetre but I need to know how they feel," she told me, "Could you put it against my cheek?"
I did as she asked and rolled the bamboo around for her. Her face lit up and she said, "Oh, perfect! Would you have two?"
I found two and she paid for them. I put them in the bag for her and I asked what she was going to make.
"I was thinking about a baby shawl. My sister is expecting a baby in April. I think I could do it over the summer - something nice and bright."
There was no yarn on the stall suitable for baby shawls but we discussed where she might get some and she went off still smiling to look at something else.
It was all an ordinary enough exchange but for one thing - the buyer works holding the crochet hook in her teeth.
It was a craft fair weekend. Several other people with severe disabilities were customers at the stall I worked at and they were all keen craftspeople. One girl was profoundly deaf. Her mode of communication is sign language. I saw her admiring a crochet rug kit and signing to her partner. He signed back. I caught her eye and signed "You crochet?" She nodded eagerly. The kit was, I suspect, far beyond her budget but we worked together and she went off with two balls of contrasting yarn and her own plans for a hat. If your reading skills are not good then yes, you make up your own patterns. She told me she had made the top she was wearing and it was lovely.
There was another woman who looked thin and frail in her wheelchair but she said, "I save all year to come to this. It is such a treat to see yarn like this."
Another elderly woman with arthritis asked me about circular needles. Someone had sent her from our guild's display. I showed her a light, circular needle made from bamboo and explained the advantages. She went away with her purchase determined to continue knitting if she could.
There were other people who came and went. Some had saved over the year in order to afford purchases of luxury yarn not available anywhere else in the state. Others spent without really considering the cost. People asked about teaching children to knit. Children asked what you did with certain items and even men asked about processes. A man covered with tattoos asked about the class the stall owner was teaching and then signed up to learn a new skill. Later he returned and bought a rug kit. He was, on the surface, a most unlikely customer but he told me, "I love to create beautiful things."
I was surrounded by beautiful things for four days but, better than that, I saw so many other people enjoying them too. I also saw the effort that some people are prepared to make to be surrounded by beautiful things or that they make in order to give them to other people.
In cat terms, my rear paws are still tired but every minute of lost catnap was worth it.

There are new claims

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being made about proposed changes to the child-care legislation in this state. I do not know the exact details, although they do involve higher training requirements and (naturally) more pay for child-care centre staff. Many of them do not get paid a great deal and few people would argue they are "well-paid".
Nevertheless alarm bells are ringing and claims are being made that, if the legislation is brought into force, it could increase the cost of caring for two children to a $1000 a week. There are claims that some people will have to give up work and stay at home to care for their children. That is also an only to be expected claim.
I looked through the reports in the state newspaper and on a couple of websites and there is a lot being said about the rights of women to pursue their careers, their need for the extra income, how their qualifications should not be wasted and how they need stimulation outside the home.
There is a little being said about the value of child care for the child - and yes, I agree that socialising is important. It is important to learn to give and take and share. Learning the nursery rhymes, listening to stories, counting, colours and crayoning are all important.
In this current set of reports however nothing is said about grandparents or the amount of child-care they provide. This is despite the fact that on any day it is possible to see people who are clearly in that age group caring for small children.
I know grandparents who have put retirement on hold. They stopped working at one job and they took on another. Their grandchildren are dropped off early in the morning. They see the school-going age children to school, they care for the pre-school children, they pick up the other child or children from school, get them to their after-school activities, they feed them and return them to their parents. During school holidays they are expected to care for and entertain all the children. In order to do these things they go on running a car, pay extra food bills and other expenses. They take on a greater responsibility than they did with their own children.
Many of them do not want to do this. They love their children. They love their grandchildren. It is not however how they planned to spend their retirement. They planned to do some travel, take up a hobby, see friends, go fishing, join a social group, downsize their homes or just "straighten the garden out". Grandmothers say they find it particularly difficult as they still have households to run.
Sometimes vague mention is made of the contribution of grandparents. There are (even vaguer) suggestions they should be compensated for their contribution to the economy. It is unlikely to happen. It is expected of them. This is what you do for your family. Emotional blackmail is rife.
Even when, because of age or other health issues, they are not well they continue to care for their grandchildren because their children cannot get time off work or because, if they did, they would use up annual leave.
Nobody should doubt the contribution grandparents make to the economy. It is enormous. It also comes at a great cost.
My own parents did this for their grandchildren. My father, reading the reports, sighed over them.
"You know, you don't do the things you want to do," he told me, "I always wanted to take your mother to see the Great Barrier Reef. We never did it. I have always regretted that."
I regret it too - but I wonder if my siblings are even aware of it.

"Remember remember the

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fifth of November..." but not "gunpowder, treason and plot".
I saw someone yesterday, someone I had not seen for more than twenty years. We only ever met once but we recognised each other instantly.
I once had a very special friendship with an aboriginal Australian. She was a remarkable woman, a leader in her community. She had trained as a nurse and worked among indigenous Australians. Her husband worked for the railways but was also involved in the welfare of indigenous Australians. They had four children, all of whom have grown up to do similarly good things, teaching, nursing and social work.
It was through one of them I met "Lucy". She was four years old at the time. She was born with a range of internal defects and needed to be fed through a tube. Her internal malformations also meant she was unable to speak. Because her life expectancy was limited and she was an indigenous child nobody apart from her family and my friend's family seemed to be too concerned about this. My friend's son asked me if I would be prepared to meet the family and at least talk to them.
They had to travel a long distance to meet me, coming all the way from a large town in the north of the state. I went part way to meet them, to the end of the train line that goes north of the city. I remember feeling nervous. How would they feel about a "white" Australian making any suggestions about ways in which they might help their daughter? I had all sorts of examples to show them but did they expect me to perform a miracle and help their daughter speak.
When I got out of the train they were on the opposite platform, instantly recognisable as the only dark skinned people in sight.
The next moment Lucy was out of sight. She was running through the underpass to greet me. When she reached me she stopped, looked up anxiously. Then we smiled and hugged and were almost instantly engaged in conversation. I was asking questions she had to nod or shake her head for. There was no doubt that she understood what was said to her.
Her parents joined us and I knew I had passed some sort of unconscious test on their part.
"Lucy tells me you had to get up very early to get here," I told them.
"And we will be late tonight. Lucy will be tired," her father told me rather shyly. He looked at me in a puzzled sort of way. It was obvious he had no idea how Lucy had relayed that information to me.
I knew they were spending the night with my friend and I could guess they might be going to a special fireworks display for the 5th November but I told Lucy's parents that Lucy could tell me what they were doing. I asked questions and yes, they were going to the display. It would be noisy and Lucy had earmuffs ready to deaden some of the noise.
Lucy was particularly fond of "colouring in" so I had brought a new colouring book with me and a small packed of pencils. While she coloured her parents and I talked. I showed them how they could help and what they could do to set up communication systems she could use. They bought me lunch and when I was about to catch the two trains back to my side of the city they both hugged me and then Lucy hugged me and used the sign I had taught her to say "thankyou". They waved until we could no longer see one another.
It was Lucy's mother I saw yesterday. Sadly, Lucy died many years ago. It was expected but that bright and delightful child only lived a few years more. I had heard about her death through my friend's family and they had passed on condolences from me.
Yesterday her mother was standing outside the building in which the quilt and craft fair was being held. When she saw me she came up shyly, a little uncertain if I would remember. I did. She held out her hand and then shook her head and held out her arms instead. We hugged and she said softly, "Thankyou. You remember."
Oh yes, there are other reasons to remember the fifth of November.

Katherine Roberts said that the idea of

2011-11-04T08:31:00.001+10:30

rescuing books reminded her of Follyfoot Farm - the farm of Monica Dickens fame where unwanted horses are cared for and loved. Katherine said "I am now imagining a sort of Follyfoot Farm downunder, where dog-eared books graze in green fields creaking a little at the spine..." and yes, I suppose rescuing books is a little like that.
There is a branch of "Vinnies" near us - St Vincent de Paul. It is a large place, much larger than most charity shops. At the rear there is a large and extremely well organised book section. It is laid out just as a book shop might be. There is fiction along one wall. There is non-fiction opposite going around a corner of the room to more non-fiction and a section for children. There are old records, CDs and other items in the centre.
In winter the place is warm. In summer it is cool. There are always people browsing and reading. The "dealers" wander in and out too. The shop has a reputation. They can browse along the shelves rapidly for items to resell.
I know the man who looks after that section of the shop. He knows me. He will sometimes put aside things he thinks I might be interested in knowing about. There is no expectation I will actually buy these things but he knows I might know a child who wants their own copy of a particular book. He would rather see the book go to someone who wants it than a dealer buying in the hope that they can resell.
Sometimes I buy books too of course. They are used but they are cheaper than they would be from a dealer - and they are often in surprisingly good condition. A charity benefits too.
I came across my copy of Follyfoot that way - although I do not think I see it except momentarily. Some child is always reading it. It is a mere paperback version and I suspect it will eventually fall to pieces through being over-loved. It has been repaired at least twice. It does not matter. I will endeavour to find another copy in another secondhand book store, preferably a charity store.
I like to think of the books in Vinnies or on my own shelves talking to one another at night, perhaps having a bit of a party and reminiscing about their authors and readers. Perhaps some of them are like old gentleman at a "club" having a post-prandial doze.
I would like to buy all my books new so that authors had the benefit of a royalty payment. It is not going to happen. Most of the books I collect are long out of print. Rescuing them is important.

I rescue books,

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specifically books for children. I know that books go out of print and I know that library shelves cannot hold all the books they should. Books have to be rescued. There are some books some children need to know about. There are other books that simply should not be lost.
I find them in secondhand bookshops, in charity shops, on stalls or at "garage" or "boot" sales.
Sometimes people give them to me. They know they will be given a good home. They know they will be read again.
There are five units of book shelving in our formal living area. There are the equivalent of another eight in our less formal living area. There are five more in my bedroom, seven in my father's "office/study" and five more in his bedroom. All of these are double and sometimes triple stacked with books. There are more books stored in other places, such as "the shed". People say we have "too many books". I do not think that is possible but we do have many books.
Very occasionally we actually give some books away. My mother had books that we knew we would never use. There were quilting and embroidery books. She bought them with vague intentions of doing quilting or embroidery but, in the end, impatience got the better of her and she did other things. There were knitting books of the less valuable kind. I gave the books to people I knew would use them. Some of them went to a friend who runs a school teaching arts, crafts and basic business skills to women in India. They are used there - not for the patterns but to teach about design.
But I do not give the books for children away, not even the occasional second copy. They are too valuable for that. They are read by the local children. They look on my collection as a sort of second public library. There are strict rules about borrowing from me and I have not lost any of them yet although it always worries me to see a rare book go out the door with a child. All the same I know these books need to be read.
"Cat has really good books at her house" is a marvellous compliment. I wonder at it though. There are "really good books" at the library too. I tell young readers that. Oh yes, they know that "but these are better". I wonder about that too.
"This was exciting, you know - a proper adventure."
Television rarely appears in these books. Computers do not get mentioned. There are "stay-at-home" mothers. The children in them wander the streets unaccompanied by adults. Schooling seems impossibly formal and - horror of horrors - it is sometimes single sex, there are examinations at frequent intervals and the students say "sir"!
I wonder why children actually seem to like these books? They are, after all, out of print. They are actually supposed to be "old-fashioned".
I know there are some authors bringing out their own out-of-print books again - as "e-books". Perhaps we need more of this?

There is a strange little

2011-11-03T15:27:00.000+10:30

shop not far from us. It is an adjunct to a wholesale business rather than a serious retail shop. The people who own it supply t-shirts to zoos around Australia. They also supply giftware of other types to other shops.
I occasionally set foot in the place when I want a gift for someone. The woman in there is pleasant and we have, over several years, come to know one another a little. She is a little "alternative" in her lifestyle choices while still being a serious business woman. The little shop area is filled with incense, candle holders, crystals, relaxation CDs, earrings, necklaces, notebooks, pewter pill boxes, pens, Chinese "coins" and other things. The t-shirts are on the back wall - those t-shirts that have not gone off to the zoos. There is usually a rack of t-shirts outside the shop, along with cards, spare envelopes, decals for windows etc etc.
My father and I want a present for someone who is turning 70 in a couple of weeks. Had he told me about this soon enough I might have made her a scarf out of something a little crazy and colourful. She is the sort of person who could wear such a thing with style. I once made her a shawl and I sometimes see her out walking with it flung around her shoulders. The shawl is in oranges, pinks, yellows and creams. She chose the yarn.
But, there is no time for that so I said I would go and see Judith - Judith being the one who owns the business. I pedalled uphill after lunch yesterday and found her adding a t-shirt to the outside rack. "Nothing here for you today," she told me. She knows I sometimes buy the outsize cheap t-shirts for my sister who uses them as sleepwear. All these were black with masculine looking pictures on the front. My sister does not want nightmares.
I told her what I wanted. She held the door back with a smile and said, "Look, no further."
Yes, there was exactly what I wanted in front of me. It was only a matter of choosing the design.
There were three other people in the shop. They had arrived together. One of them was a man so tall and large and obviously "different" I felt more than a little nervous of him. He wandered around, found the incense and bought some. The other man with him just stood there, apparently not interested. The woman wandered around but sensed the impatience of the man just standing there. She hastily bought a gift and they left.
Judith came to look at the designs I was looking at. These things are candle holders but they are designed to be completely safe. They look like goldfish bowls in shape but the designs on them are extraordinary. When a squat candle is placed inside and lit the container glows like stained glass. I bought one for a friend some time ago. She tells me she sometimes lights it at night and then turns the light off and just sits there enjoying the colours.
We tried several designs over a small light and both agreed on the same one. Judith found the box. I declined a gift wrapping. My father needed to see it.
It will be one of those gifts you know is going to be "right". I wondered though about the gift that was bought before I bought mine. It was bought in haste and, I sensed, reluctance. They were searching for something "cheap" and had almost certainly come to the shop because prices there are cheaper than they are in many other places.
I wondered too about the man who had bought the incense. Perhaps he needs it to relax. I am not a fan of incense - or candles. I do not care for the sort of "relaxation" music which was playing in the shop - although there is other music intended for the same purpose I do like. I am not interested in "crystals" or some of the other "alternative" items in the shop.
There is however something about the place I do like. It is quirky. There are things which do appeal to me, such as the pens engraved with Celtic knotwork. I have given one of those to another friend - and I know she uses it. There are the triskele earrings and pendant we gave my sister-in-law - and she wears them often. But it is more than that, the woman who runs it is pleasant and welcoming. I know she was a little disappointed at the haste with which the previous customers chose a gift and departed. She likes to ensure that they feel the gift will match the recipient. I have heard her encourage someone to buy something at a lesser price because it "feels right".
I must take the Whirlwind up there soon. She is old enough now to appreciate the diversity of the place - and to appreciate "quirky".

We did not have any little

2011-11-01T07:41:00.002+10:30

"trick or treaters" at the door last night. I did not really think we would. There are just two very young children living next door. In the "court" opposite us the children come from Asian backgrounds. It is not in their culture to "celebrate" Halloween. In the surrounding streets the children, most of whom I know quite well, are simply not interested even though one or two would perhaps be permitted to go out under parental supervision.
I do not know what happened in the rest of the city but I suspect there was not a lot of Halloween activity - despite the best efforts of the big supermarket chains. They were trying to sell Halloween pumpkins yesterday - for a very low price. I doubt they had much success. It is just not a "Downunder" thing - or not where I live. We are heading into summer, not winter. Those sort of Halloween celebration are also seen as "American" - like Thanksgiving or 4th of July celebrations.
The Whirlwind, who whirled in to stir the Christmas cake mixture on Sunday, is puzzled by the whole concept. "But what is it for?" she wanted to know. I helped her look up some information but she still went away saying that the idea was "silly". Going "trick or treating", she told me, is one of the activities on her list of "never want to do", along with things like patting a snake or riding pillion on a motor bike. I have to agree - although I have ridden pillion on a motor bike. (Never again.)
I suppose the big supermarket chains will persist with Halloween. They will say "people want it" and encourage people to believe that they do indeed want it.
Next Saturday however there will be the annual "Christmas Pageant". Oh yes, it comes early - always the first weekend in November. Thousands of children (and adult-children) will line up along the city streets to watch the floats, the bands, the clowns and other performers wind their way through the city to "The Magic Cave" where "Father Christmas" will reside until he sets out with his reindeer. I have only ever seen the parade once. I am never likely to see it again. (I will be working this Saturday.) The Whirlwind has been. My nephews have been. Most of the children of my acquaintance have been. It is intended to be a happy, positive occasion. There is nothing dark or "spooky" about it.
"That," the Whirlwind informed me, "Is what it ought to be like."
I have to agree.

The grounding of Qantas

2011-10-31T06:49:00.003+10:30

could have been avoided.
I believe that the CEO of Qantas made a major blunder in accepting a pay rise at this time but, apart from that, it may be that he and the board of Qantas have more idea than the unions about
what needs to be done to save Qantas - if it can now be saved. I do not know.
There are things I would like to know but nobody has yet spelt them out. I want to know if the pay and the working conditions for Qantas employees are comparable with those doing the same jobs in other airlines. I want to know what the impact of the global economic climate and natural disasters has been on the airline industry and on tourism.
There are suggestions that employees at Qantas are already paid more than their mates in other airlines. If true then they need to back off. Arguments about "job security" cannot apply if there are no jobs because you have priced yourself out of existence.
News has come to light this morning that the government was asked to intervene and refused to do so. The Prime Minister failed to return calls to the CEO of Qantas. Her chief of staff had been contacted and asked to use the government's powers to intervene and terminate strike action so as to prevent the lock out and require the strikers to return to work. The CEO of Qantas also travelled a considerable distance to try and get the Assistant Treasurer to act. Nothing happened.
It is clear that this situation is no longer about Qantas. It has moved beyond that. The government did not want to intervene because many of them are former unionists or, like the Prime Minister, they worked for or with the union movement.
"Fair Work Australia" has just advised the unions that they must terminate their strike action because it could damage the national economy. It comes a little late. The national economy has already been damaged to the tune of millions of dollars. It was unnecessary and it could have been avoided if the government had shown some leadership.
The government will now claim a victory for their form of industrial relations but the reality is that they should have intervened weeks ago. It was all about saving their own jobs. Our leaders lacked the courage to act.

I am knitting a blue silk

2011-10-30T07:26:00.002+10:30

hat. I have finished the vests and the shawl and I am still considering what to do with the skein of milk. The blue silk has been staring at me for a while and saying, "Use me" rather in the way that Alice looked at that liquid which said "Drink me". I just did not know what would happen if I tried.
It was given to me by the friend I will be helping next week. "Try it," she told me, "See what you can do with it." That was two years ago. I have not been inspired by it.
Silk comes in many different ways. It can be fine and smooth and soft. It can be rough and hairy. It can be limp or springy. This is called "straw" and it is more like raffia than silk. It is fine and smooth but it has no elasticity - although it is springy. It actually seems to bounce around. It also has a tendency to split.
All that said I have to confess that the resultant fabric is much pleasanter than I thought it would be. I can understand the attraction of silk, especially given its capacity to take on colours. This blue has a wonderful sheen to it. I remember there were other brilliant colours in the collection too, reds, oranges, golds, greens and a rich, royal purple.
I wound the skein around a small polystyrene ball - my trick for winding yarn that will collapse in on itself into a tangled mess. I am not into the business of those neat "centre-pull" balls that people seem to do so neatly. They do not work for this sort of yarn. It has a tendency to unwind from both ends and I do not want the sort of mess that would be bound to result if I tried.
Even as I was winding it I was still not sure what I would do with it. It did not feel flexible or soft enough for a scarf - and I was not sure there was enough of it. A small pochette of some sort? But who would use such a thing. It might make a "something blue" for a bride but I thought of all the other colours and it still seemed too limited. Fingerless mitts? Totally impractical. I like to think that knitting can be used.
So, I decided on the hat. I do not know how well it will work. I have knitted similar hats before. The first such hat was more of an accident than a design. I had a ball of cotton and I had four needles and I was a long way from any other knitting having just finished some socks. The hat just happened. I blocked it over a pudding bowl using starch. That I managed to do this at all was because my paternal grandmother taught me how to starch a detachable collar on a man's shirt.
I do not think you can starch silk. The brim will be floppy rather than stiff. I am not sure whether this will matter or not. There is always, I suppose, the possibility of undoing the whole thing and making something else. I rather hope I do not feel the need to do that but at least, unlike most of life, I can start again.

Anyone who knows anything

2011-10-29T07:38:00.002+10:30

about psychology will know that "poker machines" are designed to be addictive. You apparently put money in. You push a button (or pull a lever?) and you are "rewarded" with flashing lights and rows of bananas and some sort of sound. I am not sure exactly how it works as I have never come close enough to a poker machine to lose money in one and I never intend to but it is a sad reality that some people do. I also know that "rewarding" the individual reinforces the behaviour. Is it any wonder some people get addicted.
The Federal Government is now playing with the idea of "mandatory pre-commitment" to try and stem the problem some people have with spending excessive amounts of money at these machines. The government did not set out on this path by choice. Left to their own devices they probably would not have done anything. One of the "independent" MPs they depend on to remain in government is demanding that something be done. It was his bargaining chip when the government was looking for support.
While I am concerned for people who may lose their employment if the revenue at hotels and clubs drops I am also concerned for the families of those who are so badly addicted that they lose everything. It really is distressing that some people see poker machines as their best friends, that they have so little else in their lives that a machine takes over and they give everything to it. Whether mandatory commitment will help people in these circumstances I do not know. It may be worth a try - but there needs to be other support given as well.
However I also think that there are other things the government could and should do if they are serious about the problem. One of the Senators for the state I live in has tried, not very successfully, to get the number of poker machines reduced. That seems like a good start to me. If there are less machines then less money can be lost.
The fact that the Senator has not been very successful however tells me that the government and hotels and clubs industry is not very serious about the problem. There were all sorts of arguments about investments and employment - and threats about what could happen at election time.
The government could also legislate to cut back on the number of hours during which people could play. The argument used against this one is that shift workers also have a right to play poker machines and that older people have the right to play during the day so poker machines should be available virtually around the clock. I disagree. Does anyone need to play at seven in the morning? I think not.
The government could also legislate to restrict the amount of time any one person can spend on any one machine. There are addicts who will only play one machine, their "lucky" machine. Restricting play to a short period of time would also limit losses - and revenue.
Yes, it is all about revenue. The government gets money from gambling. It gets it in all sorts of ways. Millions of dollars a year in govenment revenue is at risk from too much reform.
I suspect the simple fact is that the government is also addicted to gambling.

I will need a new

2011-10-28T07:12:00.002+10:30

knitting project very shortly. I am very nearly finished the comfort shawl I am making for a friend. There are "not quite three rows and the casting off" to do. My other project, the "small" one, is about half way there and must be finished by Wednesday of next week. I want to give that to someone else.
I try to always have two knitting projects. One will be a "large" project and one will be a "small" project. The "large" project does not usually travel far until it is finished. The "small project" is the one I keep for things like train journeys into the city or travelling in a car. Large projects are shawls or pullovers, cardigans, vests and the like. Small projects are socks, mittens or hats.
Occasionally I break the rules. I knitted mittens in my "large" knitting time this year because I was anxious to give them to the person who needed them. The current shawl has travelled to the bookshop - again because I am anxious to finish it.
I have made two vests from linen this year. They have gone to the friend I will be helping at a craft fair next week. (Yes, I am taking my four days "annual leave". I am not working at my usual day job. I am going to go and talk about knitting instead.) They were "large and small" projects because they travelled with me until they were done. They were time consuming because the yarn was fine - laceweight to the knitters among you. They were also time consuming because linen has no elasticity. It is not easy to knit. (I also made another shawl out of the same yarn this year. It went off to America and I have not seen it since. I suspect I may not see it again. )
I have been given yarn this year, more than I can hope to handle in my life time. Some of it I have sold for the benefit of a friend who runs a refuge for children. Some of the "odds and ends" have been given to other knitters. We made a rug and raffled it off with the proceeds going to another charity.
There is yarn there, most of it is "odds and ends". There are quite a lot of single balls or single skeins. There is the curious sample skein of yarn made from milk and merino. Yes, 80% milk and 20% merino. Do not ask me how they make it. I do not know. It feels a little like a silk/wool mix. I am wary of making it into anything for a baby in case they should try to suck it. They suck things anyway but this might irresistible. It may make a smallish Juliet type cap. We will see.
My next small project needs to be something interesting but not too complex. I need to be able to take it with me. I need to be able to pick it up and put it down. I need to be able to talk about it.
I am considering this skein of milk -will it be worth "drinking"?

Filling out forms is

2011-10-27T07:40:00.002+10:30

not my favourite activity. There may be some rare people who actually enjoy doing it but I do not know of any.
I do a lot of it in my day job. Much of the information I am asked for is standard. It is designed to keep public servants happy. They like information, the more irrelevant the better.
I can understand why they need my name, well a name. They like to know who they think they are talking to. But why do they need to know my date of birth? If I am old enough to read the form and understand it then they should surely assume I am old enough to do the job? My race? My religion? Those things might matter to some people but they will not matter to most people. I am not going out to proselytise and I am well aware that Australians are not popular in some parts of the world.
My qualifications? Well that can matter I suppose. They may need to know whether they are dealing with a tinker, a tailor, a soldier or a sailor. In my case it is more likely to be whether they are dealing with someone who has a legal or medical background.
Do they really need to know where I went to school? University? I suppose they can check with the latter to see if I actually exist and have the qualifications I claim to have but I very much doubt anyone has ever done it.
My work history? I doubt that will help much either. Someone would have to go digging out dusty files to check - and they are not going to do that.
Then there are all the other items about associates and funding and inter-agency contacts and languages and certified translations and the purpose of the current project etc etc. Some of it is so standard that I can do it almost in my sleep. Other items have to be considered more carefully.
I filled out another form the other day. It will form part of the death certificate for my late uncle. The information required on that was detailed. His full name and date of birth, his parents' full names and their dates of birth, the full names and date of birth of his former wife and the date of their marriage (but not the date of their divorce), the full names and date of birth of his children and the date that one of them died. The family history provided most of that information. Was all this really necessary? I doubt it. His birth certificate should have been sufficient information.
And there was a further question. It is apparently something that has come about in recent years. Was he of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander heritage? That question was unnecessary.
Most of this information does not go on the death certificate. It is just information collection by the government. Someone, somewhere has decided that all this information is useful to someone other than family historians - who have their own means of collecting it.
I have several friends and colleagues who answer such forms in their own way. One always replies to his date of birth with "too young to know about the calendar then" and qualifications with something like "I can read this form" unless he knows they need to know. So far he has got away with this and still gets the job done.
He will answer many questions with answers that are legal but meaningless. He has it all down to a fine art. Most of the time however he ignores the all important question relating to his sex. He has not yet given in to the temptation to answer "Yes please".

One of our local supermarkets

2011-10-26T07:26:00.002+10:30

has a policy of employing students wherever possible. While it means constant training and turnover of staff management sees it as a means of giving young people much needed employment while studying. Rosters are fitted around lectures and at examination times the senior staff will fill in on the checkouts. A good reference from there also helps employment prospects in other places. It is, I understand, all quite civilised and competition for employment there is fierce.
Competition for employment in other places is fierce too. I met one of the former student-employees yesterday. I read a number of his essays in his first year when he was struggling to understand what was required of him. He has finished his degree and is doing some post-graduate work part time. He is also working.
He gets up at 5:30am and leaves the house at just after 6:00am.Using public transport he travels to a location on the other side of the city and arrives for an 8:00am start. He arrives home again just after 7:00pm. He does this four days a week and on the other day he attends university. His weekends are spent doing university work and writing job applications. There has not been much time for anything else. It as been a tough year.
What has made it even harder is that he is trying to find paid employment. He is not being paid for the work he is doing. He is getting the government benefit for a job seeker. It barely covers his day-to-day living expenses.
When I spoke to him he was feeling more than a little fed-up. His place of "employment" had been a bit difficult about the time off he needed to do an exam related to his post-graduate work. He did get the time off but it was made clear that they regarded it as a nuisance. That however was now the least of his worries. There are two positions available where he has been working. They are both reserved for "new graduates". He has been told he is not even eligible to apply. He is not a "new graduate". The positions will be given to students graduating at the end of this year.
Yes, this is a government department. The "rules" are "strictly" applied. Where is Sir Humphrey Appleby when you need him?

Politicians are elected to

2011-10-25T07:41:00.004+10:30

represent their constituents - or so the theory goes. It does not always work out that way.
At the last federal election in Australia several electorates ended up with "independents" - representatives in Canberra who were not members of major parties. There was then a tense wait to see on which side they were going to align themselves.
In two particular cases they chose to go with the party that had won a minority of the votes. In doing so they also went against the wishes of their own electorates. Had people in those electorates wanted to vote in that party they would, presumably, have chosen the candidate that represented that party. They did not.
Ever since then these two elected representatives have tried, unsuccessfully, to justify their decisions. There has been much discussion of their position. Arguments have broken out. The situation has been analysed. Their choice has been hailed as courageous by some. Their choice has been condemned by others. The situation has been analysed again. Their support has dropped. It is now said that they are unlikely to be re-elected at the next election.
They recently supported the government in passing a bill which does not have the support of the Australian people. The bill will get through the Senate because the very small party which actually runs the government has the balance of power there.
Those who support this state of affairs say, "this is the way the system works" and "we have to put up with it - we can vote them out next time around". In the meantime they can continue to "represent" their electorates - which of course they are not doing. They are however getting paid to do what they are not doing.
What puzzles me about all this is not that it is happening. That does not surprise me. Power is an addictive drug. What does puzzle me is the way that Australians accept this state of affairs. The usual suspects (including myself) write "letters to the editor" in the press. Other usual suspects respond. Columnists discuss the situation. The media asks questions but does not demand answers. There are no mass protests. Nobody challenges the right of a minority, sometimes a very small minority, to make decisions for the rest of us. There is never ever any mention of the fact that Senators are, under the Consitution, supposed to represent their states. I do not know when Senators last voted on state lines - if they ever did.
If we continue to be this complacent about our "democracy" we might lose it altogether.

Looking at old cars is

2011-10-24T07:21:00.002+10:30

of no particular interest to me. I have never had a licence to drive a car. I know almost nothing about the way they work. Like Widdershins, who commented yesterday, I would be inclined to look at "boys" crowded around the open bonnet of a car and say earnestly and seriously, "Yes, it is an engine".
My father and brother are a little more knowledgeable. As my brother came from Sydney for the funeral of our father's brother and have stayed for the weekend we decided on a day out yesterday and went to the National Motor Museum. My brother's partner and I decided that "the boys" could have this pleasure if we also did something else we really all wanted to do.
So, we headed off to Birdwood, a town some distance north of the city, the location of the museum.
Before we even reached our destination we were met with motorbikes and more motor bikes and then still more motorbikes. There was obviously some sort of motorbike riders gathering - not a "bikie" meeting but those earnest, serious sorts who attach themselves to one brand of motorcycle for life and keep the vehicle polished to perfection.
The museum is interesting - although what I found interesting and what the boys found interesting were two quite different things. I would have liked more social history. I found an interactive screen which enabled you to "pass the 1950's driving test". This was purely a theoretical thing back then. I tried it and managed to get full marks. Apparently the road rules have not changed much! Around that there were some photographs, one of a family on a picnic. The women and girls are wearing skirts. One of the men is wearing a tie and the other is wearing a suit jacket. I wondered what they were eating. White bread ham or cheese sandwiches? Sultana cake? Tea from a thermos? Cordial for the children?
There were vehicles that had done long distances - Tom Kruse's "mail truck" looked nothing like it must have looked like as it traversed the outback - and others that looked incredibly impractical like the wickerwork sidecare for a motorbike. Apparently 80% of motorbikes once had sidecars, now there are almost none. More people can afford cars now.
Oh yes, it was all interesting enough. Eventually, some hours later, we left and had a late snack before heading a little "off the beaten track". This meant going down an actual unsealed track for a short distance to a lavender farm.
It is not very big but it is quiet and pleasant. You pay your $2 and are then free to wander around looking at varieties of lavender or sit looking at the view across the Barossa Valley before returning to the point where you can have tea or coffee (included in the entry price). It was all very nice after the noise of multiple motorbikes and the imaginary sound of other motor vehicles.
My father and I came home with a tiny cutting of Bosisto lavender - a deep dark purple colour. I hope it grows. We already have another English variety in the back garden and a French variety in the front. We like lavender. It brings in the bees. They also sound like small engines as they work for the environment.

I have unintentionally shocked a

2011-10-23T07:35:00.002+10:30

reader of another blog by saying that the idea that water goes down plug holes one way in the Northern Hemisphere and another way in the Southern Hemisphere is a myth. Yes, it is a myth.
The sad fact is that the "fact" we were all quite sure of as children is not true. (I can actually remember being told this in school by a teacher in my third year. She was endeavouring to teach us about "railway time" - slightly silly anyway as the local trains did not, and still do not, use it.)

The idea that water always spins clockwise down the plug hole here Downunder is incorrect. The reality is that it does so about half the time. My guess is that it depends on which way the water initially hits the plug hole. I do not know. I am not a physicist. (To cheer you up however, cyclones always go clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere...if you do not want to run into a cyclone run clockwise ahead of the cyclone instead.)
The idea about water down plug holes came from someone called Gustave-Gaspard Coriolis back in 1835. He was wrong but a lot of people have had fun with it ever since. I can remember trying to prove it with my brother and at school. My nephews have done the same. The Whirlwind did it and so have countless other children. No doubt they will go on doing it.
Here endeth the science lesson for the day. I am going out to look at old motor cars - or rather watch the supposedly grown up "boys" in my family look at old motor cars. My sister-in-law and I are insisting on going to the lavender farm after that. We may investigate other water down plug holes myths while we wait.