Dec 06

I once again push open the door that has been on these hinges since time immemorial, or so it seems. When I was a young man, this door led to the local office of the S.E.C. — the State Electricity Commission of Victoria. My brother David worked here, not seen often in the office. We paid our electricity account here, and in my young adult life, my friend Geoff could regularly be found wandering around the hallways, probably avoiding me should I wander past.

Now, it’s the Speckled Frog. I have stopped here to have some breakfast. I’m greeted as I enter, shown the menu and told to sit wherever I want.

I want to sit in the front window, with its view over Gray Street. The table is for four people, and I’m only one, but hey, I’m going to watch the people on the footpath, as they wander with a purpose. Maybe I’ll know someone. Potentially, someone will know me.

Hamilton seems the same, as I train my eyes up and down the main street. The shopfronts may have changed, with new shops and displays, but the facades remain the same as when I left here thirty years ago. They look a little older and tired with their flaking paint work and chipped concrete renders. The Millers department store still has their logo atop what is now a bargain store. The wrought iron “Importers” sign is still in place. There was a time when something imported was desirable. Nowadays, everything is imported and not so exotic. The bargain shop is full of “Made in China” stickers.

The parking bays are all full, a man walks in pushing a pram, to order some coffees, a little old lady with a little old man meander up the street. A young mother, dragging her daughter along, passes. People wander in and out of the shops.

I don’t see any familiar faces. It’s been 30 years since I lived here. The faces of the old people of my youth are no more, and the faces I grew up with have aged, and possibly moved away.

I order another coffee and watch the world go past.

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Nov 03

We arrived at the Ocean Grove Nature Conservation Reserve late in the afternoon. A lovely warm day.

The reserve is a huge bush block that is surrounded by a 2-metre-high fence. Good for keeping the feral animals out.

The walking track meanders around the woody forest, we can hear plenty of bird life, seeing them is a bit more elusive. We wandered past a dam and a little lake with some ducks swimming about.

Michael had stopped to take a photo, as he often does, I often just walk on past, this time, however, I came up short as a wallaby was busy munching on the grass just in front of us. I hadn’t seen it until the last minute.

This little swamp wallaby was only metres away from us. Nearly close enough to pat. She was busy nibbling away at some grass.

Then her head dived under a rotting branch on the ground, and with her front paws she pulled away the leaf litter, and sat back on her haunches eating something that she was gripping between her front paws.

I thought it looked like a mushroom, but we needed to check, and zoomed in using Michael’s camera. Sure enough, this Swamp Wallaby had snuffled out a treat, found it under a rotting log, pulled away all the leaf litter and found herself a nice pre-dinner hors d’oeuvres. After finishing that one, she sniffed around and found another.

It appears that it’s a thing for swamp wallabies. I’d never seen a wallaby eat a mushroom before.

After the nibbles, the wallaby bounded off into the scrub, and we continued on our walk.

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Nov 02

One of life’s many lessons for me has been to listen to people when they want to tell me something about their experience.

It’s a tough lesson to learn. I have so many preconceived ideas about people and events. It’s sometimes difficult to put those ideas into abeyance and listen.

When I reflect on the recent decision by the Federal Court that found Senator Pauline Hanson guilty of racial discrimination, it occurred to me that Hanson failed to listen.

Despite attempts to mediate a satisfactory settlement, Hanson decided to take it to court, and lost.

Listen to people, learn, and change the way you behave towards them.

The world will be a better place.

Image by Marcos G Vilas Boas from Pixabay

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Nov 01

There’s one bird that gets a rough deal in Australia. The pigeon. The flying rats of the sky. Able to leave its mark on everything.

Did you know that the dodo is, or was, a pigeon? Why is it that the superb ones have disappeared?

We have 29 species in Australia. Only four of these are introduced, and they’re the ones we hate the most, I’m sure.

Strange birds, it’s like their legs are connected to their necks. Every time they take a step, their heads bob in time. Like some sort of clockwork beast.

Bronzewing Pigeons
Crested Pigeons

Some pigeons that are uniquely Australian include the Top Knot Pigeon, the Bronzewing, the Crested Pigeon and my favourite, the Wonga Pigeon.

Wonga Pigeons wander around the forest floor going womp womp, womp womp. When you get two in the same area, it’s a full on stereo experience. I do wonder why they’re not extinct, they’re rather incessant wompers and should have been hunted out of existence centuries ago.

The one we all know, is the feral pigeon, or the Rock Dove.

That’s right, to make the feral pigeons respectable, we call them doves. They’re all pigeons. When Noah released a dove, it was a pigeon, no doubt it didn’t return because it had found something to shit on. When the Holy Spirit descended on the Apostles, it was a pigeon, come to drop white streaks on all of us.

So, hate on the feral, thank the British for them, but love the others!

Images by Michael Barnett.

Oct 31

Apparently, the most pressing issue in Australia is whether the Prime Minister got a free upgrade on a Qantas flight by asking for one.

The world has gone crazy. There are serious issues on the agenda, such as the religious discrimination bill, or ensuring that abortion rights are protected at a federal level, or planning to phase out coal-powered power plants.

Instead, the Leader of the Opposition chooses to focus on an insignificant issue instead of ensuring that the PM is focused on real issues.

We want our politicians to be accountable. If we could have an opposition that does that, instead of cheap point scoring.

Image by Anne from Pixabay

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Oct 30

I love a good comet. Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS has been in the news lately as it zooms its way around the sun, putting on a wonderful display.

It was visible to the naked eye in Australia in the pre-dawn light. Quite spectacular, according to those who spied it. I didn’t.

As it orbits the sun, it then appeared in the evening sky, just after sunset. I thought I would have an ideal chance to see it from Ocean Grove. Alas, I didn’t.

Every chance I had to look westward, it was cloudy.

Lex has come to visit us, and we love to star gaze. It was a clear night as we ventured down to the beach, but alas, the comet was no longer visible to the naked eye. I do have a very nice pair of binoculars; however, I’m unable to hold them steady in the crosswind to get a stable view.

The good thing about the night sky, is there are other things to wonder at. A rare planet to spot is Mercury. It’s so close to the sun that it can be difficult to find in its glare. However, tonight, there it was, just above the red sky of the setting sun. Further upwards was the bright light of Venus, quite spectacular to see.

Then looking southward is the Southern Cross and the Large Magellanic Cloud. The LMC looks like a star that has been smudged on the sky.

It always amazes me that I can see a whole other galaxy with the naked eye.

Screen capture of Stellarium App showing the LMC

To help me find objects in the sky, I use Stellarium Mobile, the software is open source and has applications for mobile, Windows, Apple, and Linux.

Here’s a screenshot of the sky from the Stellarium app. You’ll notice three green satellites in view. They’re the Starlink satellites courtesy of Elon Musk. There are so many of these zipping around the night sky.

Lex managed to snap a photo of the LMC oh their phone.

You can find the LMC in Lex’s image by lining up Canopus, the bright star to the right of centre.

I love the photo, not only the stars, but the waves crashing on the shore and the lovely shade of blue of the night sky.

The Southern sky at night

Image by Lex

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Oct 26

We had a two nectarine trees in our garden when I was growing up. As the fruit was beginning to develop, I would eagerly await the first sign of redness and snaffle it straight from the tree and eat it. My timing was inevitably off, and it would be a hard green all the way through. So I would lob the once bitten fruit into the big circle garden.

It wasn’t that big, but when you’re 8 years old, the world seems impossibly big. It was the big circle garden because it had a path of broken asphalt that ran all the way around it. Mum could walk around the big circle garden in ten steps. To me, it seemed an impenetrable jungle of plants. Lobbing a green nectarine into the vast expanse of the untamed landscape seemed a sure way to avoid detection of my transgression of wasting food.

My mother would find these green, bitten fruits in the middle of this garden that she had taken two steps into to pull up a few weeds. Raising the fruit on high, she would demand to know who had only taken one bite and discarded the fruit.

The benefit of being one of eleven means the possibility of being discovered was remote. Luckily, Mum didn’t have moulds of our bites to match.

Forward 60 years, I sat in the doctor’s office, and he handed me 4 sheets of A4 paper, lists printed on both sides. Mostly the lists consisted of foods I was no longer allowed to eat if I wanted to regain a sensible use of my bowels.

Nectarines were on the list.

I love nectarines, I like them crunchy, not green because I don’t have a big circle garden anymore, not soft and squishy. Nectarines need a blush of red, firm and crunchy.

Nectarine season is almost here, I’ll just have to rely on my memory now.

Image by Urszula from Pixabay

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Oct 25

I love being by the surf. The roar of the ocean is a noise that brings me much delight. The bigger the wave crashes, the happier I am.

I always have waves crashing in my head. Tinnitus does that to you. Well, maybe not you, but certainly for me. You’d think I’d be welcoming of the crashing noise that travels with me everywhere. If only that was the case. Get up in the morning, the waves are rolling in, one after the other, about half a meter high. Jump on the bike to ride to work, the seas abate as I listen to some podcasts. Every so often there’s a little lapping noise in the quiet spots.

As I start my delivery round on my motorbike, I put a helmet on my head. The cuffing of my ears reminds me of lifting a shell to hear the rolling waves.

You get the picture, or the sound, as the case may be.

The best place to quieten the fuzzy noise in my head is by the sea. Not in it, the feel of sand moving between my toes scares the bejesus out of me.

So while it may cancel out, all I really do is move the sound from inside to outside.

Gives my brain a few minutes to think about something else, like the importance of putting the glass under the tap before running the water so as not to waste any.

Image by Tiffany from Pixabay

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Oct 24

We must confront our own biases and strive to be better allies to our First Nations people.
-Talking To My Country, Stan Grant

Senator Lydia Thorpe strode into a function for King Charles and yelled at him. People are outraged that she dared to be so disrespectful.

Joe de Bruyn gave a speech at the Australian Catholic University and 90% of the attendees walked out. People are outraged that the attendees could be so disrespectful.

Thorpe is a First Nations person, elected to the Australian Parliament. From the start, she has made it clear that she sees the Australian political institutions as questionable for a First Nations person.

I’m not sure about yelling at the King. Makes me a little uncomfortable, I guess. After all, he is King. (How do you become king then?) That’s from my perspective, a white Australian whose family has only been here for a few generations.

To understand her, we need to look at this from her side. Sovereignty was never ceded. The rules of Australia have been imposed upon her and her community.

Every so often, the best way to make a point is to be really noisy because being quiet and polite doesn’t work. When Thorpe wrote to the King, he didn’t respond. That’s a tad rude.

And to Joe de Bruyn, a conservative catholic, former union boss who was given a platform at the Australian Catholic University graduation ceremony. He used his moment to cover some typical catholic thoughts on abortion, IVF, and marriage equality. He wasn’t in favour.

The University let him say what he said, fully aware of the contents of his speech. They cite free speech. The audience responded by walking out.

How rude, cry the right-wingers. How rude that the students couldn’t show any respect and up and leave.

de Bruyn should be able to express his view, for sure, as abhorrent as it might be. Doesn’t mean the audience has to listen, and on this occasion, showed their disapproval by walking out. Perfect response.

Respect isn’t a one-way street. When you’re the one with the power, you need to respect the people you’ve gathered.

Image by Michael Barnett

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Oct 22

It’s 7.00a.m., already 17oC. The sky is clear, and the air is crisp as I walk from the car park, dog in tow, excited to be outside. So many smells to smell and things to pee on.

I’m on a mission today. It’s the first day of a training program that will aid me in running 10kms. It is unclear to me why I want to do that, but there you go.

Step one is a 10-minute warm-up, walk or a light jog. The dog on leash, I break into a little jog along the gravel path. The birds chirping in the scrub, the surfers bobbing in the water like shark bait on a line.

The waves are crashing in and there’s a lot of people, all dressed in black wet-suits. And I pause to think who is crazier, the 60+ year old pretending to jog lightly, or the 60+ year olds dangling their legs in the cold water. Waiting for the right wave to ride to shore, so they can then paddle back out and wait for the next one.

My watch beeps and I ‘recover’ from my light jog for 30 seconds before leaping into cadence drills, a concept that eludes me really, then into acceleration-glider drills. I’m convinced that I would be better at dangling my legs over a surfboard.

Before too long, my watch declares that my workout is complete. I head to the sandy beach, let the dog off and watch her run madly along the sand, stopping sporadically to dig a hole because, she’s a dog.

Life is good.

Buddy digs a hole
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