Rubbish collection

is an  issue in our street. 
Our street is short and narrow and, leading off it, is an even shorter public roadway into "the Court" - a group of single storey "units". The rubbish compactors don't go into the Court. Those who live there have to wheel their bins out into our street.
And some of them don't. They simply dump their rubbish in other people's bins.
Rubbish collection was earlier than usual yesterday. I went out to discover our general waste bin had been emptied - and then filled again. It was about half full - of someone else's rubbish.
There is a move afoot to fine people for putting the wrong rubbish in the wrong bin. (There are three bins here, one for general waste, one for things which can be recycled, and one for garden cuttings and the like.) I have no problem with getting people to put their rubbish in the right bin. I do have a problem with being fined because someone else does the wrong thing. How they are going to avoid that I have no idea. Will I be expected to sit there, paws tucked neatly in front and tail curled out of the way waiting  until the compactor arrives?
I can remember that, as children, we used to go and watch the "rubbish men" as they went down the street my grandparents lived in. There would be three men. One of them was the driver and the other two were the "runners". They would run to a bin, grab it and sling the contents into the "big bin" before running it back into place. Then they would swing themselves on to a platform at the back and go on to the next lot. We thought it was amazing that they were allowed to do this. It seemed very dangerous to us - and yes, it probably was.
I remember those bins were metal, not heavy duty plastic. Now I also remember the size of those bins. They were small, much smaller than the general waste bin we have now. And people don't have just one bin. They have three. General waste goes out each week. The other two go out on alternate weeks.
There are weeks when we don't put our bins out simply because there is little, sometimes nothing, in them. One of our neighbours is much the same.
We were discussing the new proposal to fine people. We agree it won't work fairly if people get fined for others who dump waste.
But we also wanted to know, 
     "Where does all the rubbish come from?"

Delays in the court system

are under the spotlight again.
There was a new "system" put in place under the last term of the previous government in this state. It was criticised at the time and it is being criticised again. There is a backlog of serious criminal cases - murder, rape and more - that need to be dealt with but could be years away from a day in court.
In the meantime there are people on remand, on home detention and out on the streets who are yet to appear in court and answer to the charges laid against them.
Even more important there are the victims of these alleged offenders. Some of them are living not just without "closure" but in fear.
The delays can't be put down just to the new system which is in place - although it certainly has some fundamental flaws in it. Part of the problem is the "victim" culture that now seems to surround every defendant.
    "I did it because I was bullied at school..." and "I did it because my marriage had just broken up..." and "I did it because..." Put your own words in there. 
And of road accidents, "I wasn't speeding. It was the condition of the road..." and "Well the speed limit is too low so everyone breaks the law..." and "Someone must have spiked my drink..."
There was a cop car waiting in a favoured location yesterday. They were catching people failing to obey a stop sign. Yes, it is a slightly confusing location but the stop sign applies to the road, not the railway. I always stop there and even then I have nearly been hit a number of times -  by people who don't stop. And of course, if  there was an accident I would, even though I had abided by the law, be held partially responsible - simply because I was there and because the driver would not want to take full responsibility. 
The cop actually smiled at me as I went past. (Believe me, this is rare. Our cops don't smile at people, let alone cats on tricycles.)
But seriously, this delay in the courts system has me thinking. There must be people  around who have degrees in law who are perhaps retired but wouldn't mind a little extra work. What would happen if they put together a few tribunals and had the defendants in any case not involving a possible life sentence appear before them?
Would it work? 
It's not a new idea of course. It is one of the oldest around. It did work once - and justice was done.

Why is everyone in such a hurry

to get everywhere?
I, foolishly, posted this question in the comments on an article in our local press. They are considering reducing the speed limit on a short stretch of road near the airport. It is being done with safety in mind - or so they say.
According to those commenting on the article it would apparently cause more problems than it would solve. They were saying that reducing the speed limit would cause more accidents.
I find that hard to believe - but then, I am merely a cat. I ride a tricycle. I prowl slowly relative to the traffic which rushes past me.
And I do not understand this constant need to hurry - or seem to hurry.
I have long since lost count of the number of times I have reached a set of traffic lights ahead of the cars which have rushed past me and then had to brake. I have simply pedalled at a consistent speed and arrived there - aware of my surroundings. Surely all these people who are in such a hurry should be well ahead of me?
And why are they in such a hurry? 
The answer came back to me, "Because, unlike you, some of us have places we need to get to."
Oh, right. I have nowhere to go? Then why am I out and about? I have places to go, things to do, people to see. I am used to organising my life in such a way that I make time to get there. I have to make that time or I simply wouldn't go anywhere. I hate being late for things. I feel it is discourteous.I avoid it if I possibly can. 
But, I still don't rush. I don't rush because I will almost certainly get there at the same time if I don't rush. 
   "I don't have time..." and "I always seem to be in a hurry..." and - well you know the sort of comments people make. All those labour saving devices that are supposed to save time don't seem to help either.
And nobody seems to be able to answer the question,
   "Why is everyone in such a hurry?"

An art exhibition

is not something I normally get to see. All too often they are held in places where (or at times when) I cannot go.
I thought I would not make it there yesterday either. The weather has been against it. The Senior Cat worries if I am out in cold, wet and windy weather. (Given the way people drive in such conditions I can hardly blame him.)
But there were only showers yesterday. I said I'd go in between showers...and I did.
Our state has a "living artists" festival. It is held each year with the idea of promoting the work of local artists and encouraging people to take an interest in various forms of art. 
One of those art forms is embroidery. Embroidery is something that interests me, partly because of the incredible range of art forms within it and the purposes to which they have been put.  I don't do embroidery myself. My paws are too clumsy for that. But, I have read a good deal about it and I like to look at the work of others when I get the chance.
And the Embroiderers' Guild had an exhibition. I had already seen some photographs of some  of the pieces on display but seeing a photograph is not the same as seeing the actual object. There were things I wanted to see.
So, I prowled off after lunch. (The Senior Cat was taking a catnap.)
Ooh yes. I avoided the rain. There were people on duty I knew and I was warmly welcomed. That's always nice. 
Their exhibition was based around the theme of "water". One of the first things I saw was that the materials I had passed on from a friend had been well used. The junior embroiderers had made some marvellous, colourful fish - swimming through ribbons of "seaweed".  Their work is the sort of thing that gives me hope for the future. These youngsters may stop for a while in their teens and twenties but they will likely come back to embroidery again when their lives calm down.
I  prowled on. I am fond of sea horses an there were quite a few of those. There were rock pools, sandy lace, the reef and more. I even  found a knitted rug embellished with surface embroidery. Some items were for sale and I bought a necklace of hand made paper beads. It isn't the sort of thing I would ever wear but I know it will be perfect for my SIL - next year's birthday present! What is more it has the added advantage that I can tell my SIL, "I know the person who made it. She is a friend of mine."
While I was prowling other people came in to look. A couple came in and I wondered whether the female had brought the male as is often the case. No. He was as keen, if not keener, than she was. Halfway around the room I heard him call out to his partner,
    "Look! And it's for sale."
And yes, they bought it.
The Senior Cat and I both like to make things people can actually use. I wouldn't make something simply to hang it on the wall. I always felt a little strange that, when we raffled off the Peace Blanket, the winner wanted me to add tabs so she could hang it on the wall. I had intended it to keep someone's knees warm. But it is as well other people do like to make such things.
I enjoyed looking - and I do like sea horses.

A friend has died

and  I am, for a moment, looking back on fifty plus years. 
We met over the Girl Guides.
That particular Guide Company met at school in the lunch break. Yes, it sounds odd but it was an Extension group - a group for girls with disabilities. I was a "Cadet" at the time -  in training to be a Guide leader.  It was part of my teacher training. I had to do something like that. I wasn't permitted to use my time in the residential nursery school for the deaf so I went off to the school instead. (It's all a long story. I won't repeat it here.)
And it was there I met J..... She was the oldest member of the group - not much younger than me. Even then she was the "sensible" and "reliable" one. She could haul the others into line - and they listened to her. 
We understood one another well from the start. We shared experiences.  "You do it like that?" and "Have you tried it like this?" and "What if we start this way?" all became part of the weekly meeting.  
"Captain" was one of the staff of course but she welcomed my presence and often left me entirely alone because there were so many other demands on her time. That was fine by me. We worked through what the girls - all seven of them - could do. I sought help from my own Cadet leader. One lunch time she took time off work and came and "tested" some of them for what they could do. What a day that was for J....  an award at last. What is more it was awarded on an equal basis with everyone else with the exception of the one thing she found physically impossible. We had, with negotiation, found a substitute.
When I had to cease helping  I was sorry. It had been a challenge and great fun. I knew what I would miss most was the challenge of all of us finding our way around the things we found difficult. J... was always there in the thick of it with her positive, "What if we try it this way?"
    "Don't lose touch,"J.... told me. I knew it wouldn't be easy. It wasn't as if either of us could simply get in a car and go to see the other. But J... was the one to write the first letter.  It was short. Writing was difficult for her. I was typing mine and that was easier.
Over the years we corresponded spasmodically.  Then the school reunions started. The woman who had been the headmistress realised the importance of those  reunions. She sent me an invitation as well. On it was a note, "Cat, please come. You are part of our community."
I don't much care for reunions but I went. J... was there of course. Good to see her? Yes. It was good to see the others as well. We just picked up where we had left off.
It went on like that over the years. We would see one another at the annual reunions. We wrote in between - not often but enough to keep up contact. 
I was abroad when she lost her brother in an horrific accident. All I could do was write to her.
I was abroad when she married too. For a few years she lived in army accommodation. Find it tough? No. She went out of her way to organise a group for the women who were finding it tough. 
The internet came along and, with it, email. It meant we could make contact more easily.  That was just as well because eventually the reunions stopped. The former headmistress was over 90 when she organised the last one. She went into a nursing home. The school's purpose changed and there was nowhere to meet. 
J....and I maintained our contact but she was living more than two hundred kilometres away.
She is being buried in the same cemetery as her parents and her brother.  It's in a small community in the north of the state. I know that's what she wanted. 
So this is goodbye J... Thank you for your friendship - and all you taught me.

Chinese expansion into the Pacific

region should concern us. 
The Chinese government got upset yesterday when one of the government's back bench criticised the way China is moving into the Pacific. China is offering "loans" to countries which desperately need money to pay for infrastructure - but who won't be able to repay those loans on China's terms. They are sending in "business" people who are taking over from the local people with promises of employment  - on  Chinese terms. Of course they are not loans in the usual sense. They come at an immense cost.
China has done the same thing in Africa and elsewhere. It is colonisation by stealth. It's subtle and clever. To claim that is not what is happening is nonsense - but the Chinese government will do it anyway.
It has happened here in Downunder too. A cash strapped northern state negotiated the sale of a strategic port to the Chinese. It should not have happened. Getting it back is going to be difficult and expensive. It happened under the watch of a Prime Minister who believed he could speak Chinese well enough to handle the Chinese. That was always going to be a mistake.
And so our man on the back bench said something. He is a former military man. He knows what he is talking about. He has seen the Chinese in action in other parts of the world. He knows what they are doing and how they are doing it. As a back bench man he can still say those things. 
The Prime Minister was being careful yesterday. It is very likely he holds the same views although he is not able to express them.  He knows that China believes it is above any sort of criticism  - even in external affairs.
Friends in Hong Kong are deeply concerned about events there. If, as could well happen, the Chinese government simply moves in and takes over, there will be little anyone can do there. It may well embolden them to make a move on Taiwan as well.  "If the rest of  the world allows the mainland to move further into the Pacific as well then we will be in such a powerful position...." one of my Chinese friends wrote to me.
Is that what we want? Is that why the military man on the bank bench has not been censured by those around him? 
Should we be worried? 

Spelling is under

the spotlight right now.
It began with a mother complaining that her child was being given an American English reading scheme at school. Of course that means the spelling is also American. Not surprisingly her child finds that confusing.
There used to be a time, many years ago, when we were not permitted to import books for children with American English in them. I grew up reading only English - as I understood it. I think I was in my teens before I came across an entire book in American English although the Senior Cat had taught me about the spelling differences before that.
When I was a mere kitten I was also taught to spell. Every week we would have a new page of words to learn in our "spellers". The Senior Cat would also give me, my brother, and the bank manager's son extra words. He was determined we would (a) expand our vocabularies and (b) learn to spell the words involved.  It was one of those things we just did at the time.
At home we had one of those middling size Oxford English Dictionaries - we still have it - and, from the time I could read independently, I was expected to use it. We still have that dictionary although it has had so much use that it is falling to pieces. I have a large two volume version as well. I also have an "American" dictionary.
My computer is set to British English - which is the closest to Downunder English. I need to be aware of all the differences. I don't always succeed. Doubtless readers of this blog find spelling errors as well as grammatical errors on a regular basis. 
    "Does it matter?" I was asked yesterday, "Surely all that matters is that we can make ourselves understood?"
The person who said this pointed out that I could write an entire sentence with no vowels and I would almost certainly still be understood. Perhaps I would but is it the same thing? Isn't there something about the shape of words that matters? If you are going to argue about "centre" and "center" shouldn't you be thinking about "senter" or even "senta" instead? 
The English language is full of inconsistencies. It isn't an easy language to learn. 
But, I don't live in America. I use a different version of English. I need to know about "courgette" and "zucchini" as well as "boot" and "trunk" and any number of other differences.
And children need to be taught to spell. Is it beyond the capacity of the education system to tell children, 
    "This is how we do it. Some people do it differently."