Letter to Charles 15 May 10

Dear Charles,

I hope being that familiar so soon is okay. I just wanted to say thanks for the excuse to run up to Palmdale today.  There  is no town centre to speak of but I am sure the couple of women I crept past as they walked their Clydesdales in the shadow of giant Norfolk pines would have it no other way. It was one of those clear blue shiny days Sydney does so well. Brooklyn shone and glistened and there was not a cloud to be seen. Read more

Letter to Mr Charles Sayers

Dear Mr Sayers,

Here you are at last. Funny how a photo makes it all a bit more personal. Just a shame I had to rely on the Army to provide it. I am sure you appreciated the recruits haircut you received just as much as the rest of us did when we received ours.  We had a Mr Sayers for maths (how he got the nickname “Spotty” I will never know) and he was in the Army as well. I wonder if you were ever connected. Read more

Kebab Book review

BB King is twanging in the ceiling, largely drowned out by the chatter of customers, the clatter of the kitchen, and the hum of extractor fans over the ovens. The hooting laughter from an elderly couple in the corner, lubricated by a bottle of red and another of white, punctuate the din. Chairs scrape. A Lebanese behind the counter shouts in good humour to a man who struggles with his English too - he has been here eight weeks, fled from a Swedish winter. They both struggle with their English and shout in increasingly loud tones to make each other understand - it is a common mistake. Read more

The Hurt Locker

What the heck was I thinking, watching Wolfsissie during the week? What a hopeless movie, starting with so much promise and fizzing half way through. Anthony Hopkins must need to pay off a credit card or something to be dragged into something as bad as this. Anyway, more than offset by The Hurt Locker which was recommended to me during the week by Greg. It’s one of those movies that sneaks up on you, Read more

Kinked Back Shingleback

The short stick in the dusty distance moves in the heat and you are not sure if it is the shimmering haze off the gravel tricking your eyes. Then it moves again and a little more determinedly albeit awkwardly.  You slow down and get ready to swerve to avoid whatever it is. The stick waddles with a little more purpose as you apply brakes, and as you get closer it moves forward with the appearance of having a stiff back, slipped disk or some other spinal disability. Turns out on closer inspection to be this very determined little fellow who stands up to the Canon poked in his face - gaping his mouth wide and presenting a slightly bizarre blue tongue. Potentially dangerous for him if our curiosity is any guide - we are more inquisitive than deterred.

Bulyninnie, and this part of South Australia in general seems to be full of these lizards, related to the Blue Tongue, one of which alarmed one of my kids once by climbing into bed with her. All she saw was its scaly back and imagined a snake had come on board. She had the good sense to lie still but still managed to convey her alarm through the whole house. Poor lizard.

This guy settled down after a few minutes (put his blue tongue away, stopped hissing and lowered himself down from his aggressive posture) and hunkered down behind his lunch (they are herbivores) and watched the camera. I am not sure if he looks like a little old man or a baby. Either way they are quite endearing in their own way, shuffling about in the desert doing their own thing. The minute you think there  is nothing alive in the desert except 40 squillion flies (half of which are using your back as a layover) one of these guys shuffles onto the track in front of you to remind you it is not quite as desolate a place as you imagined.

Make Like a “Tawny” Stick

There was always some wag who would whisper “make like a stick” when we were playing with guns in the bush (and earning the Queen’s shilling) - an oblique way of saying “stay still and hope your camouflage efforts are up to scratch”. The Tawny Frogmouth does a great job looking like a stick. In fact they freeze on a branch hoping you will only think you are looking at a broken stump. They lift their chin and stretch their necks out and peer at you through a narrowly slit eye - quite a different look to when they are active at night when you might see one hanging around the back porch light waiting for an insect or two. Their large orange eyes and round, fat look is more akin that of an owl. Which, by the way, they are not.   A frogmouth is a frogmouth. Not an owl. His “make like a stick” is formidable discipline (this guy allowed me to within a metre or so without a blink), far beyond any of that displayed by my military colleagues. And of course, much he’s more cute than any of them ever were!

Mandarin Fish

Sometimes there are leads in the inbox that take you to things you just have to share. Meet Synchiropus Spendidus, or Mandarin Fish. Most splendid indeed.

Sydney Flora

We tend to think of the Australian environment as a pretty harsh and unforgiving one. And its bush as monochrome, brittle dry and full of things that bite. All true enough. But spring is a comin’ and some of the smaller, finer and daintier elements of the flora scene are out to impress right now.Like this Fringe Myrtle. And a couple of others below. Read more

Vale Betty

Sorry, a more creative title is not being released by the muse tonight. But that is okay since I might otherwise risk a corny heading to a sober note. Not too sober though, since Betty had a roguish sense of humour and would accuse me of a put on sobriety if I got too serious. We farewelled her in a packed church service yesterday. It was nice to have people who knew her for 30, or 40 or even sixty years talk about the “old times.”  But it was a shame no one mentioned the “new times”  - Betty, in her eighties though you would not guess it if observing her zest and energy, had a genuine interest in and love for our young folk. Each year we cart 30 or 40 of them off for a weekend camp and Betty and her husband loved to mix it up with them. There was no intergenerational condescension. Just a love of sharing life with all of us, even teenagers she did not really know. We saw pictures of lots of amazing things she did over the years, especially her work on behalf of the world’s poor. But this photo captures for me the heart of Betty - away on a weekend and dressed up for kitchen duty with Peter, one of our very fine teens.  Everyone who had anything to do with Betty,even in the new times, are all the richer for the experience.

Australian DNA in Fromelles

I have just finished reading the book by Patrick Lindsay which tells the story of the discovery of Australian soldiers buried in a mass grave at Fromelles. But it is more than a story of that discovery - remarkable in its own right, and poignantly achieved by a Greek born Melbourne school teacher who clearly has Australian DNA well and truly leached into him. It is also a reminder of how poorly our troops were utilised in France. After surviving Gallipoli many of who had survived that madness were killed and wounded in a feint which Haig and his staff believed would distract the Germans from the main Somme battle. Trouble was the Germans knew it was a feint and paid it scant attention - only sufficient to rebuff it. Fromelles remains today our worst military disaster. Read more

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