Okay. Cute-kid posts kinda give me the ick. But sometimes kids just... do stuff. You know?
Like today. Natalie got a package. It was a silk sweater she'd ordered off eBay. Nice bit of goods, really - lovely colour, big, comfortable, and warm. Just what you need at the gateway to another Tasmanian winter.
The person shipping it was really thoughtful. They even stuck in this little potpourri thing -- a little package of petals and leaves scented with something like lavender. It was a shiny, satiny sort of potpourri, done up with a purple ribbon, and from the moment she saw it, the Mau-Mau WANTED it.
Natalie didn't mind. What the hell was she going to do with a potpourri anyway. So she handed it over to the Mau-Mau, who immediately forgave her for receiving a package that wasn't actually for the Mau-Mau herself, and cooed happily. Then she sniffed it, and said something about how nice it smelled.
Natalie agreed. Then the Mau-Mau wanted to know what it was.
"It's a potpourri," said Natalie. "It's to make your clothes smell nice. You can go and stick it in with your undies and they'll smell lovely."
A look of happy comprehension dawned on the Mau-Mau's face. In one smooth move, she yanked up her skirt, pulled the elastic of her pink undies forward, and jammed the potpourri down the front.
Natalie collapsed, rendered completely useless by laughter. It remained for me to explain that the potpourri would work better in the Mau-Mau's underwear drawer...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sudden Sharp Windstorm
Ah. For those of you who may have seen news reports regarding yesterday's "trail of destruction" across Northern Tasmania, and even seen reference to windgusts of 195km/h in Scottsdale... we're okay, thanks.
When we bought the property, I made a point of finding out about prevailing winds, direction of bad weather, and all the stuff you really ought to ask about when you're planning to settle. Everybody in the area assured me that the mountains to our immediate south and west pretty much block all the worst that nature offers hereabouts.
Turns out they were right. We've been through a few sharpish storms in the last eight years -- although yesterday's was the winner for intensity, apparently -- but while we've lost the odd tree branch, we've never actually had any damage to house, sheds, cubby-houses or anything else. And despite yesterday's rather freaky excesses, that hasn't changed.
The storm ripped through here at about 0830, while Natalie was on her way into Launceston with a friend. They had an exciting drive over the range, it seems, and I'm told there were a few trees dropped, but nothing to write home about.
Here in the house, I'd finished feeding the kids and we were all tidying up a little, and then the rain started. Then the lightning and thunder. Then the hail. And then, quite suddenly, a very powerful wind. I figured what with the wind and the lightning, we were dead cert to lose power, so I shut down all the computers and everything else, and we just hung around and waited. The lightning ramped up nicely - we were getting twelve to fifteen flashes a minute at the peak - but there were only two or three close enough to really set the thunder dogs baying. The kids were jumpy, but mostly excited.
Fifteen minutes later, it was all over except for the rain. We never even lost power. Mind you, as the storm went past, the temperature plunged. I'm told it went down by more than five degrees in less than an hour.
Anyway, the rain gradually lightened and cleared, and having plenty of other things on my mind, I gave it never another thought. At least, until I took the kids down for haircuts about three hours ago, and bought a newspaper. Sheesh!
Luckily, the path of destruction seems to have been fairly narrow. Couple of roofs gone, a bus overturned, and that's about it for the Scottsdale region. Still - I literally knew nothing about it until I read the paper.
I'm glad of that, really.
When we bought the property, I made a point of finding out about prevailing winds, direction of bad weather, and all the stuff you really ought to ask about when you're planning to settle. Everybody in the area assured me that the mountains to our immediate south and west pretty much block all the worst that nature offers hereabouts.
Turns out they were right. We've been through a few sharpish storms in the last eight years -- although yesterday's was the winner for intensity, apparently -- but while we've lost the odd tree branch, we've never actually had any damage to house, sheds, cubby-houses or anything else. And despite yesterday's rather freaky excesses, that hasn't changed.
The storm ripped through here at about 0830, while Natalie was on her way into Launceston with a friend. They had an exciting drive over the range, it seems, and I'm told there were a few trees dropped, but nothing to write home about.
Here in the house, I'd finished feeding the kids and we were all tidying up a little, and then the rain started. Then the lightning and thunder. Then the hail. And then, quite suddenly, a very powerful wind. I figured what with the wind and the lightning, we were dead cert to lose power, so I shut down all the computers and everything else, and we just hung around and waited. The lightning ramped up nicely - we were getting twelve to fifteen flashes a minute at the peak - but there were only two or three close enough to really set the thunder dogs baying. The kids were jumpy, but mostly excited.
Fifteen minutes later, it was all over except for the rain. We never even lost power. Mind you, as the storm went past, the temperature plunged. I'm told it went down by more than five degrees in less than an hour.
Anyway, the rain gradually lightened and cleared, and having plenty of other things on my mind, I gave it never another thought. At least, until I took the kids down for haircuts about three hours ago, and bought a newspaper. Sheesh!
Luckily, the path of destruction seems to have been fairly narrow. Couple of roofs gone, a bus overturned, and that's about it for the Scottsdale region. Still - I literally knew nothing about it until I read the paper.
I'm glad of that, really.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Amazon Part Deux
So: Amazon wants money more than it wants to be the Guardian of Moral Righteousness And All Things Ruddworthy... at least for the moment.
This article from the New York Times offers a little insight. But very little information, I fear, and it appears that Amazon isn't giving much of an explanation. Far from being a "storm in a teacup", there are way too many unanswered questions here for me to go back to being in any way comfortable with Amazon.
Right now, Bezos' boyz are claiming it was all "a glitch" in the system - without offering any kind of specifics as to how the "glitch" managed to be so very target specific. And of course, there's the question of the other little things Amazon did. A quote from the NYT aticle:
Likewise, there's no real explanation of how a book like American Psycho -- which is, let's face it, about as 'adult' as it's possible to be -- remained entirely unaffected by the shiny new classification system designed to protect us poor innocents from inadvertently suffering an UnRuddworthy Moment.
Hanlon's Razor says: Never Attribute To Malice That Which Can Adequately Be Explained By Stupidity. My personal view on this? I think we can attribute to 'stupidity' the failure by Amazon to foresee the response to this manuevre. But given the way their 'glitch' played out -- the specificity of its impact, and the piss-poor nature of Amazon's so-called 'explanation' -- I'm not convinced the targeting wasn't deliberate.
Still. For the moment, it seems to be fixed. But I'm relegating Amazon to 'fallback' status now; if I can find somebody else to supply me with the sort of off-beat and out-of-print stuff that comprises a lot of my interest, I will do so. Amazon will be the people I go to when I can't find anyone else.
After all... do we really want a monopoly on this service?
This article from the New York Times offers a little insight. But very little information, I fear, and it appears that Amazon isn't giving much of an explanation. Far from being a "storm in a teacup", there are way too many unanswered questions here for me to go back to being in any way comfortable with Amazon.
Right now, Bezos' boyz are claiming it was all "a glitch" in the system - without offering any kind of specifics as to how the "glitch" managed to be so very target specific. And of course, there's the question of the other little things Amazon did. A quote from the NYT aticle:
In a blog post late Monday, Mr. Seymour wrote that Amazon’s statement was a start, but not sufficient. “It does not explain why writers, like myself, were told by Amazon reps that our books were being classified as ‘adult products.’ ”
Likewise, there's no real explanation of how a book like American Psycho -- which is, let's face it, about as 'adult' as it's possible to be -- remained entirely unaffected by the shiny new classification system designed to protect us poor innocents from inadvertently suffering an UnRuddworthy Moment.
Hanlon's Razor says: Never Attribute To Malice That Which Can Adequately Be Explained By Stupidity. My personal view on this? I think we can attribute to 'stupidity' the failure by Amazon to foresee the response to this manuevre. But given the way their 'glitch' played out -- the specificity of its impact, and the piss-poor nature of Amazon's so-called 'explanation' -- I'm not convinced the targeting wasn't deliberate.
Still. For the moment, it seems to be fixed. But I'm relegating Amazon to 'fallback' status now; if I can find somebody else to supply me with the sort of off-beat and out-of-print stuff that comprises a lot of my interest, I will do so. Amazon will be the people I go to when I can't find anyone else.
After all... do we really want a monopoly on this service?
Monday, April 13, 2009
Dear Amazon: Homophobia Is So Fucking Reagan-Era...
Dear Mr Bezos.
Speaking as someone who's dropped a bundle on your Internet store of All Things Mediasque, I'm pissed off with your recent decision regarding Amazon's handling of books by gay authors, or books with gay characters. I'm not gonna repeat your chunder-headed blunderings at length: your cock-up (or is that expression too gay for you?) is all over the 'Net over the last 36 hours or so. But if anybody really needs to know what you've done, this article records the matter nicely.
Conservatively, I'd guess I've spent between $400 and $500 through Amazon in the last twelve months. It's been nice. I've been able to source all kinds of great books and movies that would otherwise never have reached this part of the world, and I've been able to send really interesting presents to a number of friends and relatives courtesy of your service.
Too bad you're behaving like a clueless dickwad, Mr Bezos. Because as of today, my customer relationship with Amazon just crashed and burned. I'm done with your store, you pathetic hick, and that will remain the case until I see a turnaround in your Victorian-era policy towards material created by, or featuring, people of alternative sexual persuasions. I may be straight, Mr Bezos, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid of the gay crowd -- and I note that some of 'em can write with the best of us.
Enough with that Bezos cretin. As to the rest of you: those who may be in my sorry position -- stuck out in Outer Arseburp, a long way away from anything resembling a comprehensive bookstore -- I'm gonna copy here a post from my buddy Dr Jon, a righteous dude in his own way. Dr Jon has a Livejournal account, and he called this post: "Amazon Alternatives"
Looking for something and don't want to Amazon Rank?
Number One:
There you have it, folks. Do the right thing, eh? Oh, and Jeff Bezos?
Screw you.
Yours very goddam sincerely indeed,
Ex-customer Dirk Flinthart.
Speaking as someone who's dropped a bundle on your Internet store of All Things Mediasque, I'm pissed off with your recent decision regarding Amazon's handling of books by gay authors, or books with gay characters. I'm not gonna repeat your chunder-headed blunderings at length: your cock-up (or is that expression too gay for you?) is all over the 'Net over the last 36 hours or so. But if anybody really needs to know what you've done, this article records the matter nicely.
Conservatively, I'd guess I've spent between $400 and $500 through Amazon in the last twelve months. It's been nice. I've been able to source all kinds of great books and movies that would otherwise never have reached this part of the world, and I've been able to send really interesting presents to a number of friends and relatives courtesy of your service.
Too bad you're behaving like a clueless dickwad, Mr Bezos. Because as of today, my customer relationship with Amazon just crashed and burned. I'm done with your store, you pathetic hick, and that will remain the case until I see a turnaround in your Victorian-era policy towards material created by, or featuring, people of alternative sexual persuasions. I may be straight, Mr Bezos, but that doesn't mean I'm afraid of the gay crowd -- and I note that some of 'em can write with the best of us.
Enough with that Bezos cretin. As to the rest of you: those who may be in my sorry position -- stuck out in Outer Arseburp, a long way away from anything resembling a comprehensive bookstore -- I'm gonna copy here a post from my buddy Dr Jon, a righteous dude in his own way. Dr Jon has a Livejournal account, and he called this post: "Amazon Alternatives"
Looking for something and don't want to Amazon Rank?
Number One:
- Bookfinder.com
http://www.bookfinder.com/
Metasearch for new and secondhand books (includes Amazon results -- ignore them). First place I turn when looking for something.
- The Book Depository
http://bookdepository.co.uk/
New books, free delivery worldwide - UK - Better World Books
http://www.betterworldbooks.com/
New and Used - proceeds fund literacy worldwide - US
- Fine Print Books Online
http://fineprintbooks.com.au/index.php
secondhand bookshop - Aus - mighty tiny book shop
http://mtbs.com.au/
second hand books, movies and music - Aus - Fishpond.com.au
http://www.fishpond.com.au/index.php
New Books - Aus - theNILE.com.au
http://www.thenile.com.au/
New Books - Aus - Powell's Books
http://www.powells.com/
Used, New, and Out of Print - US - Books*A*Million
http://www.booksamillion.com/
New books - US
There you have it, folks. Do the right thing, eh? Oh, and Jeff Bezos?
Screw you.
Yours very goddam sincerely indeed,
Ex-customer Dirk Flinthart.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
What Real Internet Access Means To The Bush (Reposted For The Geek Linkage.)
Nowhere Bob offered the following comment:
"Man, I'm seriously risking troll status here, but you have kicked one of my hot buttons.
My father's family come from out near Cunamulla and I live in regional Qld so I have some rural chops. But when one chooses to live in a rural or regional community one weighs up the pros & cons.
Pros - kids are unlikely to learn how to steal cars & take speed in grade 7 in the one room school. Clean environment, relationships with neighbours & natural beauty yah di yah.
Cons - Limited facilities taken for granted in the Big Smoke eg; No Choice of Thai takeaways, no high-end medical facilities and limited web speed.
When I hear a rural community moan that they don't have XY and or Z I think - well you chose to live there.
Now before you roast me I do believe there should be a certain standard maintained, but (using the medical an example) I can't imagine a time when the very latest MRI facilities are in every 2bit hamlet.
What is that standard? F*ck knows. It's beyond my payscale. Should that decision be left up to the profit margin of some corporation? definitely not.
So, do I think 512 is sufficient? well no.
Do I think the good folks of Bumble-F*ck or Kickatinalong should get exactly the same level of service as the urbanites - it'd be nice but I canna see it happening.
And if I had my hands on the consolidated revenue piggy bank I'd be spending it on medical & social services long before I upped the intramanet speed. I recognise the arguments about Tele-medicine & Web based education, but for the $ wouldn't rural communities be better off with additional teachers, community nurses, GPs etc?
Perhaps my thinking is short term & as the network is rolled out new apps will develop to a point where a town with out high end Broadband will be as disadvantaged as a town without a sealed road.
But from where I stand it aint there yet."
My reply: N-Bob, we're not asking for Thai take-aways and top-level medicine. And in fact, you've got this argument backwards. You're saying: 'why should we spend so much money on this little thing for the bush?' , but the real question is this: why the fuck should people like Natalie and I bother to stay out in the bush so you can live comfortably in the city?
Thing is, there's bugger-all keeping folk in the bush. The previous generation is slowly dying, and the younger folk are leaving. The little towns are dying. The rural identity of the nation is petering out, and the people who COULD make a difference -- people like myself and my wife, with useful skills that can really change a small country town -- don't want to be out here because there's nothing for them.
Now, for Nat that's not quite true -- she likes the challenge of rural medicine. But she's uncomfortable with the schooling provided for her kids. And she's unhappy with the lack of learning facilities, and the lack of cultural interaction. And myself, as a writer: I like the quiet, sure. But I don't like being so cut off from my fellow writers. And as a martial arts instructor, I don't like being so far from the mainstream of what's going on.
The Internet offers really useful answers. Elder Son plays math games online. We get a lot of our Spanish material that way, and a lot of our other stuff too. Natalie takes fiddle lessons from an Irish fiddler in Florida, USA. I keep in touch with you guys -- but also, with my fellow writers and publishers. And I teach via the 'Net.
Get the picture? It's not about bringing the rural experience up to the city level. N-Bob... I can live without immediate access to live theatre, coffee shops, cinema, markets, funky little stores, social events, nifty foreign cuisine, etc. I'm happy to trade all of that stuff for my clean air, clean water, open sky, and freedom for my kids.
But the truth is, N-Bob, that you WANT me out here, and my wife. You and the rest of Australia: you want the doctor out here who delivers babies and handles outbreaks and deals with industrial accidents. You want the bloke who teaches a generation of kids physical skills and self-reliance and self-discipline. You want the amateur musician who forms a local band and inspires thirty or forty kids to play music. You want the writer who's prepared to teach high school kids. You want the three smart kids who make it 'cool', in this local school, for kids to read, and learn, and study.
You want all of us out here, because our presence here makes towns like this one -- which supplies your onions, and your potatoes, and your milk, and your rhubarb -- continue to be viable. And when we've finally had enough... when people like Natalie and I, or our PhD neighbours Tony and Anna who run the nursery, or our neighbours Mike and Eddy who work at the university and so forth... when we've had enough, and we pull the plug and go because we've had a gutful of being left in the Victorian age, you will very soon discover that your city existence is a lot less comfortable as a result.
We don't need Thai restaurants. We don't need MRI machines. We don't need modern airports or public transport. We don't need international sporting venues. We don't need visiting artistes from far-flung lands. But you know what we do need? We need to stay in touch. We need to feel like we belong to a nation, not to an isolated community out the back of Ratfuck, Nowhere. We need feedback, so we know that what we're doing here is part of a larger picture. We need to believe our voices can be heard too, that we've got a stake in the dialogue and the ideas and the future of this country.
That's what real broadband means to the bush. I realise that in the city, as often as not it means gaming parity with the Americans (thanks, Moko!) -- but for all your country origins, I don't think you quite understand. You can talk about the convenience of downloading movies, for example -- but where you live, you can always drive a suburb or so and rent the movies on DVD. We can't do that. Being able to download movies out here would be... amazing. Music, too: you've got your couple-dozen radio stations, and your music stores in the malls. We don't. TV? Same thing. We can't just change cable providers, or switch to another satellite company.
Music, movies, entertainment, stories, dialogue, discussion - it's a broad, bubbling stream of ideas, and that broad and bubbling stream is the fountainhead of everything that makes us a nation, and a people. Out here, we're slowly, slowly becoming something that's not Australia, as the thoughts of the nation pass us by, and the younger ones leave, and the old folk get forgotten, and die.
Here's one for you, N-Bob
Webster
This bloke died not long ago in Scottsdale, here where I live. You should look him up. Natalie was one of the doctors who helped him out as he got older. But... shit, man. Webster was history. He was part of an amazing time in this country's growth. He was an astonishing human being, with an incredible story. Every time I ever got to talk to him, I learned the most amazing things. And if I'd had more time, if I'd had the facilities, I would love to have been able to help him chronicle his life.
If I'd had the facilities. But I didn't, did I? And so his amazing icon of Australian history perished, and with him a whole era died, and all I could do was look on and wish to hell I could have used a fast broadband connection to put him in contact with the National Archives, or someone, anyone... but I was busy struggling with three kids and day-to-day life, and the whole task of getting into contact with someone who might have supported the project was just too damned much for me. Too damned much for me, yes, and even for the PhD History professor who lives near me.
The country loses people like this every day, N-Bob. In the city, people like Webster get SMH obituaries, celebrity funerals, biographies, and lengthy, archived interviews. Out here in the country, we all knew what we were losing -- but there was no way we could do anything about it.
You need us out here. You eat the food we raise, drink the water we guide, burn the gas we drill, light your houses with the coal we mine. You clothe yourself with our wool and cotton. You holiday in the lands over our back fences, come bargain-hunting at our church sales and estate auctions, and laugh ironically at our cheesy little festivals and parades. You depend on the roads and the railways that run through our little towns.
We don't need all those marvellous things that make a city what it is. We can live without them. That's why we're out here: we value what we find here more than we value what we could find there. But we're still one nation, one people, one bubbling stream of dialogue, thought, story and culture.
At least, that's how it's supposed to be.
That expensive broadband network? Probably the single most important investment Australia will make this century -- and it will be an utter waste if it doesn't include those of us out here in the bush.
"Man, I'm seriously risking troll status here, but you have kicked one of my hot buttons.
My father's family come from out near Cunamulla and I live in regional Qld so I have some rural chops. But when one chooses to live in a rural or regional community one weighs up the pros & cons.
Pros - kids are unlikely to learn how to steal cars & take speed in grade 7 in the one room school. Clean environment, relationships with neighbours & natural beauty yah di yah.
Cons - Limited facilities taken for granted in the Big Smoke eg; No Choice of Thai takeaways, no high-end medical facilities and limited web speed.
When I hear a rural community moan that they don't have XY and or Z I think - well you chose to live there.
Now before you roast me I do believe there should be a certain standard maintained, but (using the medical an example) I can't imagine a time when the very latest MRI facilities are in every 2bit hamlet.
What is that standard? F*ck knows. It's beyond my payscale. Should that decision be left up to the profit margin of some corporation? definitely not.
So, do I think 512 is sufficient? well no.
Do I think the good folks of Bumble-F*ck or Kickatinalong should get exactly the same level of service as the urbanites - it'd be nice but I canna see it happening.
And if I had my hands on the consolidated revenue piggy bank I'd be spending it on medical & social services long before I upped the intramanet speed. I recognise the arguments about Tele-medicine & Web based education, but for the $ wouldn't rural communities be better off with additional teachers, community nurses, GPs etc?
Perhaps my thinking is short term & as the network is rolled out new apps will develop to a point where a town with out high end Broadband will be as disadvantaged as a town without a sealed road.
But from where I stand it aint there yet."
My reply: N-Bob, we're not asking for Thai take-aways and top-level medicine. And in fact, you've got this argument backwards. You're saying: 'why should we spend so much money on this little thing for the bush?' , but the real question is this: why the fuck should people like Natalie and I bother to stay out in the bush so you can live comfortably in the city?
Thing is, there's bugger-all keeping folk in the bush. The previous generation is slowly dying, and the younger folk are leaving. The little towns are dying. The rural identity of the nation is petering out, and the people who COULD make a difference -- people like myself and my wife, with useful skills that can really change a small country town -- don't want to be out here because there's nothing for them.
Now, for Nat that's not quite true -- she likes the challenge of rural medicine. But she's uncomfortable with the schooling provided for her kids. And she's unhappy with the lack of learning facilities, and the lack of cultural interaction. And myself, as a writer: I like the quiet, sure. But I don't like being so cut off from my fellow writers. And as a martial arts instructor, I don't like being so far from the mainstream of what's going on.
The Internet offers really useful answers. Elder Son plays math games online. We get a lot of our Spanish material that way, and a lot of our other stuff too. Natalie takes fiddle lessons from an Irish fiddler in Florida, USA. I keep in touch with you guys -- but also, with my fellow writers and publishers. And I teach via the 'Net.
Get the picture? It's not about bringing the rural experience up to the city level. N-Bob... I can live without immediate access to live theatre, coffee shops, cinema, markets, funky little stores, social events, nifty foreign cuisine, etc. I'm happy to trade all of that stuff for my clean air, clean water, open sky, and freedom for my kids.
But the truth is, N-Bob, that you WANT me out here, and my wife. You and the rest of Australia: you want the doctor out here who delivers babies and handles outbreaks and deals with industrial accidents. You want the bloke who teaches a generation of kids physical skills and self-reliance and self-discipline. You want the amateur musician who forms a local band and inspires thirty or forty kids to play music. You want the writer who's prepared to teach high school kids. You want the three smart kids who make it 'cool', in this local school, for kids to read, and learn, and study.
You want all of us out here, because our presence here makes towns like this one -- which supplies your onions, and your potatoes, and your milk, and your rhubarb -- continue to be viable. And when we've finally had enough... when people like Natalie and I, or our PhD neighbours Tony and Anna who run the nursery, or our neighbours Mike and Eddy who work at the university and so forth... when we've had enough, and we pull the plug and go because we've had a gutful of being left in the Victorian age, you will very soon discover that your city existence is a lot less comfortable as a result.
We don't need Thai restaurants. We don't need MRI machines. We don't need modern airports or public transport. We don't need international sporting venues. We don't need visiting artistes from far-flung lands. But you know what we do need? We need to stay in touch. We need to feel like we belong to a nation, not to an isolated community out the back of Ratfuck, Nowhere. We need feedback, so we know that what we're doing here is part of a larger picture. We need to believe our voices can be heard too, that we've got a stake in the dialogue and the ideas and the future of this country.
That's what real broadband means to the bush. I realise that in the city, as often as not it means gaming parity with the Americans (thanks, Moko!) -- but for all your country origins, I don't think you quite understand. You can talk about the convenience of downloading movies, for example -- but where you live, you can always drive a suburb or so and rent the movies on DVD. We can't do that. Being able to download movies out here would be... amazing. Music, too: you've got your couple-dozen radio stations, and your music stores in the malls. We don't. TV? Same thing. We can't just change cable providers, or switch to another satellite company.
Music, movies, entertainment, stories, dialogue, discussion - it's a broad, bubbling stream of ideas, and that broad and bubbling stream is the fountainhead of everything that makes us a nation, and a people. Out here, we're slowly, slowly becoming something that's not Australia, as the thoughts of the nation pass us by, and the younger ones leave, and the old folk get forgotten, and die.
Here's one for you, N-Bob
Webster
This bloke died not long ago in Scottsdale, here where I live. You should look him up. Natalie was one of the doctors who helped him out as he got older. But... shit, man. Webster was history. He was part of an amazing time in this country's growth. He was an astonishing human being, with an incredible story. Every time I ever got to talk to him, I learned the most amazing things. And if I'd had more time, if I'd had the facilities, I would love to have been able to help him chronicle his life.
If I'd had the facilities. But I didn't, did I? And so his amazing icon of Australian history perished, and with him a whole era died, and all I could do was look on and wish to hell I could have used a fast broadband connection to put him in contact with the National Archives, or someone, anyone... but I was busy struggling with three kids and day-to-day life, and the whole task of getting into contact with someone who might have supported the project was just too damned much for me. Too damned much for me, yes, and even for the PhD History professor who lives near me.
The country loses people like this every day, N-Bob. In the city, people like Webster get SMH obituaries, celebrity funerals, biographies, and lengthy, archived interviews. Out here in the country, we all knew what we were losing -- but there was no way we could do anything about it.
You need us out here. You eat the food we raise, drink the water we guide, burn the gas we drill, light your houses with the coal we mine. You clothe yourself with our wool and cotton. You holiday in the lands over our back fences, come bargain-hunting at our church sales and estate auctions, and laugh ironically at our cheesy little festivals and parades. You depend on the roads and the railways that run through our little towns.
We don't need all those marvellous things that make a city what it is. We can live without them. That's why we're out here: we value what we find here more than we value what we could find there. But we're still one nation, one people, one bubbling stream of dialogue, thought, story and culture.
At least, that's how it's supposed to be.
That expensive broadband network? Probably the single most important investment Australia will make this century -- and it will be an utter waste if it doesn't include those of us out here in the bush.
Chocolate And Autumn Sunshine
Ahem. First I'd like to thank Mr Barnes most sincerely. His kind gift of a starter-pack from Monster Apocalypse has now provided Elder Son and I with a sort of giant robot Mecha-type monster with which we can battle our Lords of Cthul and our World Eaters. It's nice to have something that passes for a good-guy in our battles.
And now that I've passed on that thanks, I'd like to take this opportunity to call Mr Barnes a twisted, deviant bastard because of his other gift. Which is depicted in the photo above.
That... remarkable item... is - well, it's a stylised cat, made of finest metallic-gold anodized plastic. If you're fucking stupid enough to put two AA batteries up its arse, that raised paw there on the right of the image will wave. Forward and back. For a very, very long time.
The Mau-Mau loves it, of course, so I can't legitimately take it outside and use it for target practice. Which means that the only thing I can do is find something equally charming to offer Mr Barnes in reply. Perhaps one of those vibrators shaped like Barack Obama? I don't know... I'll have to think about it.
And that there would be a shot of Big Bob and the Mini Flintharts on a perfect Tasmanian autumn morning, shortly after some determined sleuthing recovered the Easter goodies stolen by that bastard bunny. The bunny apparently sneaked into the cupboard where I'd been storing the baskets, and left a rather gloating note to the effect that he'd stolen their Easter choccies, and he was gonna start snacking on them unless they followed his clues.
The clues were a string of off-beat photographs of places around the house, as I mentioned before. Each photo led to the next, until the final revelation. The kids were jumping out of their skin with excitement, puzzling out each new photo as it appeared. A very close-up shot of the piano keyboard (showing two white and two black keys) fooled them for a while, and the brass doorknob had them stumped briefly, but most of them they figured out quite quickly. It was great fun to watch them charging in and out of the house, waving photographs, calling out the next clue, stampeding from location to location...
That would be the Younger Son, hoisted to the ceiling by Guru Bob. Smaller Son was deeelighted by the whole visit. I'm sure if he had his way, we'd have to adopt both Bob and Miz E as permanent household features.
Finally, Guru Bob in the grotesquely early morning on the Maroon Couch of Aggressively Cheerful Easter Chocolate Enhanced Children. If the wine wasn't enough to deliver a hangover, I'm sure the relentless energy and noise must have done the job. Sure as hell messed with my head, anyhow.
Glad you could make it by, Roberto -- and you too, Miz E. Don't take so damned long to schedule the next visit, eh?
Friday, April 10, 2009
Visit From Guru Bob
Smaller Son has been giddily looking forward to this day for weeks. He met Guru Bob last year, when the Smaller Son was only five... and I shall carry the memory of my very little boy staring up, up, upwards in amazement for the remainder of my life, I think. He was a very, very quiet boy for the time he spent in Bob's company in Melbourne, but since then, he's never ceased talking about "Big Bob".
For those of you who don't quite follow... Guru Bob is about 6' 8", I think. He's a large chap, and proportioned after your typical piece of kitchen whitegoods. Smaller Son was awestruck, and the prospect of a visit from Big Bob has had him charging about the place, telling everybody how great it's going to be, for ages now.
As ever, Bob's an obliging chap. He turned up with his lovely pardner in crime, the delightful Miz E, at roundabout four or so this afternooon. (This despite the fact that apparently the address for Chateau Flinthart simply doesn't register on the GPS gear... confound it! How do you suppose that happened?) Despite the three kids promptly going berserk, Bob and Miz E were friendly, gracious, charming, entertaining, tolerant... and equipped with quite a nice pinot noir from the East Tamar region.
Of course, I wasn't entirely unprepared. We greeted them with a nice bubbly, and then served a big platter of antipasto with crunchy croutons. The centrepiece was a big mould of minced smoked salmon, under a thick layer composed of blended sour cream, cream cheese, chopped chives and wasabi. The whole lot was drizzled with a puree of fresh cherry tomatoes and roast capsicum.
We worked our way through that lot, aided by a couple of irreplaceable bottles of Dalrymple chardonnay, and then as the kids hit the bath, I put on some won-ton soup. (Natalie's request.) After that, we opened Bob's pinot noir, and I brought out the chocolate mousse. (Yes -- with the brandy-soaked sponge-cake base... though the kids' came without the brandy.)
Then we all trundled up the ricketty ladder to the Screen Room, and slobbed out on the mattresses with more wine, and blankets and pillows and sleeping bags and popcorn and kids everywhere. Took in a couple episodes of Pinky and the Brain (can you belive Bob had never seen 'em?) and then we watched The Fall again... brilliant film.
The Mau-Mau passed out cold about halfway into the film, so Natalie took her off to bed. The boys made the distance, though. Mind you, Miz E didn't... Bob had to wake her up come the end of the film. We tucked them away into the guest bedding, and then I set about the serious business of arranging for Easter goodies to be hidden.
We're having our egg-hunting day tomorrow, to involve Bob and Miz E. There's chocolate eggs hidden all over the place for the munchkins, and once they've done that, we get the traditional Evil Easter Bunny Ultimatum.
Well... okay. Traditional around here. I don't know how it works at your place, but 'round here, the Easter Bunny turns up every year and STEALS the Easter baskets that Natalie and I put together for the kids. (Bastard that he is.) Fortunately, he usually leaves clues for the kids to follow. One year it was footprints. Another time it was a sequence of rhymed puzzle-notes, each leading to the next location. This year, apparently it's going to be photographs -- obscure photographs of different bits of the house and property. Each photograph depicts a location which holds another photo-clue, until the final clue is reached and the Easter baskets are recovered.
That's the theory, anyhow. It's 0123 in the morning. I'm tired, slightly drunk, heartburned -- but absolutely delighted to see Bob again, and looking forward to the morning's shenanigans.
For those of you who don't quite follow... Guru Bob is about 6' 8", I think. He's a large chap, and proportioned after your typical piece of kitchen whitegoods. Smaller Son was awestruck, and the prospect of a visit from Big Bob has had him charging about the place, telling everybody how great it's going to be, for ages now.
As ever, Bob's an obliging chap. He turned up with his lovely pardner in crime, the delightful Miz E, at roundabout four or so this afternooon. (This despite the fact that apparently the address for Chateau Flinthart simply doesn't register on the GPS gear... confound it! How do you suppose that happened?) Despite the three kids promptly going berserk, Bob and Miz E were friendly, gracious, charming, entertaining, tolerant... and equipped with quite a nice pinot noir from the East Tamar region.
Of course, I wasn't entirely unprepared. We greeted them with a nice bubbly, and then served a big platter of antipasto with crunchy croutons. The centrepiece was a big mould of minced smoked salmon, under a thick layer composed of blended sour cream, cream cheese, chopped chives and wasabi. The whole lot was drizzled with a puree of fresh cherry tomatoes and roast capsicum.
We worked our way through that lot, aided by a couple of irreplaceable bottles of Dalrymple chardonnay, and then as the kids hit the bath, I put on some won-ton soup. (Natalie's request.) After that, we opened Bob's pinot noir, and I brought out the chocolate mousse. (Yes -- with the brandy-soaked sponge-cake base... though the kids' came without the brandy.)
Then we all trundled up the ricketty ladder to the Screen Room, and slobbed out on the mattresses with more wine, and blankets and pillows and sleeping bags and popcorn and kids everywhere. Took in a couple episodes of Pinky and the Brain (can you belive Bob had never seen 'em?) and then we watched The Fall again... brilliant film.
The Mau-Mau passed out cold about halfway into the film, so Natalie took her off to bed. The boys made the distance, though. Mind you, Miz E didn't... Bob had to wake her up come the end of the film. We tucked them away into the guest bedding, and then I set about the serious business of arranging for Easter goodies to be hidden.
We're having our egg-hunting day tomorrow, to involve Bob and Miz E. There's chocolate eggs hidden all over the place for the munchkins, and once they've done that, we get the traditional Evil Easter Bunny Ultimatum.
Well... okay. Traditional around here. I don't know how it works at your place, but 'round here, the Easter Bunny turns up every year and STEALS the Easter baskets that Natalie and I put together for the kids. (Bastard that he is.) Fortunately, he usually leaves clues for the kids to follow. One year it was footprints. Another time it was a sequence of rhymed puzzle-notes, each leading to the next location. This year, apparently it's going to be photographs -- obscure photographs of different bits of the house and property. Each photograph depicts a location which holds another photo-clue, until the final clue is reached and the Easter baskets are recovered.
That's the theory, anyhow. It's 0123 in the morning. I'm tired, slightly drunk, heartburned -- but absolutely delighted to see Bob again, and looking forward to the morning's shenanigans.
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