I was missing online yesterday...some little thing to do with flesh-melting heat of 50+ degrees (official temp was '40' but my backyard gauge read 50...then52...then I stopped reading it...)
So, I parked my butt in the blow up baby pool ( I'm working up to filling the bath and lazing under the Rainbow Lorikeet-infested plum tree...the thought of their bodily additions interrupting my soak kinda makes me hesitate...)....
Anyway, as I lowered the lardy butt into the pool ...with the obligatory gasps of "Geeeeeeze that's freakin' FREEEEEEEEzing"....some water was displaced with large waves headed down under the lime tree (although don't expect to hear of that flooding reported on the news).
The chooks were most disturbed at their stupid pink monkey invading their Secret Women's Business routine of ranging across one section of the yard to the other, scratching at any unfortunate piece of soil that their beady eyes noted had worm activity, clucking and trilling to each other, dust bathing with more grace and flair than some super-skinny supermodels and generally hiding from each other and playing "CLUCK!"
I was ensconced in the pool...water almost up to the kneecaps...if I crossed my legs in a psuedo-yoga position that didn't involve twisting myself like a pretzel and was deeply enjoying Murder In The Museum (I'll review it when I can finish it)...deep cool from the trees with a couple of beach brollies completing the shade....nice and cool...the odd gentle breeze wafting past...you could feel the serenity...
...when I heard loud splashing.
I was sure I hadn't moved but I looked around to see where the flooding was heading and found...nothing.
More splashing.
Again I looked but found no water fleeing over the pool edge.
Louder splashing and I realised it was a cheeky Indian Myna bird bathing in one of the many plastic water containers I litter the yard with (I don't like Indian Myna birds but I won't see them suffer for want of water).
The cheeky bugger was in that water, flinging it up and over himself, dunking his head, his wings, literally shakin' his tail feathers.
I was waiting for him to start backstroking around the container, certain he was in training for the next Olympics.
He dragged himself up on the edge of the container ( shades of Hackett post-1500 metre swim) dripping water but you'd swear he had a grin on his face, fluffing his drenched feathers in the slight breeze, lifting his wings a little to get a bit cooler.
He flapped his wings a couple of times, spied the stupid pink monkey to his right gawping at him and then he took to the trees.
Where he no doubt regaled all and sundry about that bizarre human who'd taken over a perfectly good bird bath.
So, what wildlife did you entertain yesterday...?!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Pointing the finger at those who got up my nose
Shall I tell you the reasons behind my Ranty McRanty post last night?
I shall.
There are halfwits in this world who amaze me with their ignorant stupidity as regards people battling cancer, disabled kids, bullying and funding.
Let's take a certain LARGE commercial bank who returns mega amounts of profits to it's shareholders who have been telling a couple, the husband fighting cancer, unable to work, in hospital 5 hours away from home while the wife stays with him and their young toddler unable to work, facing bankruptcy - that cancer isn't a hardship.
Yep.
They didn't qualify for hardship considerations.
But they did qualify for several phone calls Every.Single.Day, hassling them for money they didn't have.
Thankfully a twitter campaign has seen a change of heart and a renewed look into their case.
But it shouldn't have happened in the first place.
----------------------------
The pathetic fools who think it's clever to bag the crap out of Tyler Fishlock and his mother, Georgette.
I'm not going to give you the links you can go gurgle them for yourself, they're certainly freely available online just like the piss-weak comments these blogs attracted from under a rock or 3.
And if any of you trolls are reading this, please feel free to use the same gutter language when bleating about me as you did when describing Georgette Fishlock - cos while you might think I'm a c**t like her I'm happy to think we both have bigger pairs of balls than any of you.
Yes, any parent would fight for their child battling a disease.
Yes, any parent would battle for their disabled child having to navigate a mainstream school without assistance or funding.
Yes, any parent would battle for their child to NOT be bullied in the school.
I welcomed the media coverage of Tyler being bullied.
Because too often bullying is swept under the carpet, with claims the victim is over-reacting and little gets done to stop it.
The squeals of horror from one blogger at the suggestion that Tyler's bully be expelled from a school at age SIX!
Goodness, petal, consider the little bastard bully who tormented my son for years - he'd been expelled from his first school at age FIVE.
And certainly not with the help of any media coverage so I guess he must have REALLY screwed up to get that treatment, hey?!
This bully, and others, are getting no favours done for them by the teachers and other parents turning a blind eye (pun not intended) to their behaviour.
The victims are traumatised and should not have to 'get over' or 'man up' or 'deal' with bullying - those who believe Georgette Fishlock is too much in the media - stiffus shitus.
Are you going to go and fight for that child's rights?
Are you going to go and deal with the schoolyard bullies?
Are you going to take on the Federal Govt, like Georgette Fishlock did, to point out how inadequate carer's funding is?
Are you going to 'man up' and get the ear of the politicans to explain how much money they save by carers looking after the frail, aged, disabled at home?
Are you going to grow a pair of balls and realise that disabled children DO need a little bit of specialised care, that they DO need a bit of extra attention if they're to cope in a mainstream school setting with minimal/no funding?
Cos they have no other schooling options.
Go and gurgle how many state-run blind schools exist.
*crickets chirping*
Yeah, that's right
0
There is a private one that parents have been fighting to open for over 2 years, needing just a little extra funding from the (former) State Govt.
Wouldn't it be shocking to think other private independent schools had to fight to get similar funding...?
Oh, wait.
They don't.
Since the (former) State Govt shifted the goal posts on the criteria on who was and wasn't eligible for assistance funding there are MANY disabled children in mainstream schools who get no extra help both in the classroom and in the schoolyard.
But shouldn't they be in a disabled school if they need so much help? you ask.
Well, once upon a time the govt realised that if they restricted the amount of children eligible for special schooling they could save mega moolah.
So, you have a bajillion children who aren't disabled enough to attend a special school and aren't disabled enough to qualify for funding in the (overcrowded) mainstream school.
But they DO have a restrictive disability and have to flounder in the mainstream system; creating frustrated unhappy children who can become bullies and/or victims, lashing out at others due to their situation.
I shall.
There are halfwits in this world who amaze me with their ignorant stupidity as regards people battling cancer, disabled kids, bullying and funding.
Let's take a certain LARGE commercial bank who returns mega amounts of profits to it's shareholders who have been telling a couple, the husband fighting cancer, unable to work, in hospital 5 hours away from home while the wife stays with him and their young toddler unable to work, facing bankruptcy - that cancer isn't a hardship.
Yep.
They didn't qualify for hardship considerations.
But they did qualify for several phone calls Every.Single.Day, hassling them for money they didn't have.
Thankfully a twitter campaign has seen a change of heart and a renewed look into their case.
But it shouldn't have happened in the first place.
----------------------------
The pathetic fools who think it's clever to bag the crap out of Tyler Fishlock and his mother, Georgette.
I'm not going to give you the links you can go gurgle them for yourself, they're certainly freely available online just like the piss-weak comments these blogs attracted from under a rock or 3.
And if any of you trolls are reading this, please feel free to use the same gutter language when bleating about me as you did when describing Georgette Fishlock - cos while you might think I'm a c**t like her I'm happy to think we both have bigger pairs of balls than any of you.
Yes, any parent would fight for their child battling a disease.
Yes, any parent would battle for their disabled child having to navigate a mainstream school without assistance or funding.
Yes, any parent would battle for their child to NOT be bullied in the school.
I welcomed the media coverage of Tyler being bullied.
Because too often bullying is swept under the carpet, with claims the victim is over-reacting and little gets done to stop it.
The squeals of horror from one blogger at the suggestion that Tyler's bully be expelled from a school at age SIX!
Goodness, petal, consider the little bastard bully who tormented my son for years - he'd been expelled from his first school at age FIVE.
And certainly not with the help of any media coverage so I guess he must have REALLY screwed up to get that treatment, hey?!
This bully, and others, are getting no favours done for them by the teachers and other parents turning a blind eye (pun not intended) to their behaviour.
The victims are traumatised and should not have to 'get over' or 'man up' or 'deal' with bullying - those who believe Georgette Fishlock is too much in the media - stiffus shitus.
Are you going to go and fight for that child's rights?
Are you going to go and deal with the schoolyard bullies?
Are you going to take on the Federal Govt, like Georgette Fishlock did, to point out how inadequate carer's funding is?
Are you going to 'man up' and get the ear of the politicans to explain how much money they save by carers looking after the frail, aged, disabled at home?
Are you going to grow a pair of balls and realise that disabled children DO need a little bit of specialised care, that they DO need a bit of extra attention if they're to cope in a mainstream school setting with minimal/no funding?
Cos they have no other schooling options.
Go and gurgle how many state-run blind schools exist.
*crickets chirping*
Yeah, that's right
0
There is a private one that parents have been fighting to open for over 2 years, needing just a little extra funding from the (former) State Govt.
Wouldn't it be shocking to think other private independent schools had to fight to get similar funding...?
Oh, wait.
They don't.
Since the (former) State Govt shifted the goal posts on the criteria on who was and wasn't eligible for assistance funding there are MANY disabled children in mainstream schools who get no extra help both in the classroom and in the schoolyard.
But shouldn't they be in a disabled school if they need so much help? you ask.
Well, once upon a time the govt realised that if they restricted the amount of children eligible for special schooling they could save mega moolah.
So, you have a bajillion children who aren't disabled enough to attend a special school and aren't disabled enough to qualify for funding in the (overcrowded) mainstream school.
But they DO have a restrictive disability and have to flounder in the mainstream system; creating frustrated unhappy children who can become bullies and/or victims, lashing out at others due to their situation.
So, next time Georgette Fishlock or any other parent bangs on long and loud in the media for funding for disabled kids and protection from bullies I for one will be shouting hooray.
If only to drown out you sad, sorry misbegotten miserable sacks of shit without a single functioning brain cell between your ears.
Have a nice day, now!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Too much media coverage of cancer battlers? Kiss my arse.
I declare there are some seriously screwed up fruitloops out there.
Let me state from the outset...those who bleat and whinge and crap on about cancer fighters being "too much" in the media - suck shit.
No, I'm not having a go at anyone or any blogger in particular - it's more the ignorant idiots who comment on news/blog articles relating to those who are battling cancer.
Cancer is a mongrel; if all you have to whine about is 'too much media coverage' of people fighting to survive a disease then you're a sad sack of shit that needs to grow the fuck up.
And, yes, I've read your pathetic little blatherings on the net, you scum-sucking toe rags.
As for the misunderstanding of a childcare worker who was or was not permitted by her workplace to shave her head to raise funds/awareness of leukaemia - give me a freakin' break.
This is 2011 peoples.
It.Is.A.Given that those who CAN will sacrifice for Those.Who.CAN'T.
I shaved my head for my mum in 1998.
Not to raise awareness or funds but to make her feel a little better cos her thick, wavy hair was coming out by the handful on her 3rd (and final) bout of radiation and chemo treatment.
It hadn't dropped out on her first two lots of treatment but the last tango with the bastard mongrel saw her defences down and her self-esteem took a battering at the hair loss.
I accompanied her to good old Peter Mac Hospital (those nurses frigging rock) on several ocassions and was moved to tears by cancer patients offering me seats, thinking my thin frame (yes, I was once) and my uber-short hair was due to the bastard mongrel cancer.
I was also moved to tears to hear a screwed up, uptight, middle aged WASP arsehole behind me in line in a local Oakleigh shop one day complaining LOUDLY to his wife about "that bloody dyke in front".
To give her her due, his wife did suggest "She might have cancer...".
To which the piece of self-important shit claimed,
"I don't care, those people with cancer don't flaunt themselves like that bitch" !!!
I took great pleasure in taking my time at the counter, getting served by shop assistants who have become old family friends who asked how my mother's cancer treatment was going and if she'd bucked up after I'd shaved my head while the male ego squirmed beside me.
And, yeah, she got a damn good giggle at my shaved head.
Which was worth far more than any farked up idiot's idea of 'acceptable' hair fashion.
If a child or an adult has battled the bastard mongrel cancer - in whatever form - and you find the need to whine your sad, saggy little arse off about the attention or care or media coverage or funding that person/family might gain .....
...think of the stress, the gallons of tears shed, the grey hairs earned at the bedside, the lost playtimes in the schoolyard, the coffee mornings with girlfriends missed, the beer o'clocks missed with mates the thousands of kilometres travelled between hospital and home to visit/have treatment/meetings/conferences by the whole family, the missed moments with loved ones, the ulcerated guts from the treatment, the vomiting from the food, the headaches, the aching bones, the screaming joints, the incontinence, the coughing fits, the vision loss, the hearing loss,...........
the weight loss, the food supplements costing the earth, the extra treats to tempt the appetite, trying to explain to the healthy children WHY you can't afford the extras you pay for the sick child to eat, explaining that the sick child ISN'T the favourite, the extra bed linen, the extra creams, the extra bed you sleep on in the hospital overnight, the extra...everything....
Can you make the decision which of your children gets the extras you can not afford....
put yourself in the suffering child's place....
...because they'd be grateful for even a moment's respite from this living hell....
And then try to tell us there's too much media coverage of cancer battlers.....
Let me state from the outset...those who bleat and whinge and crap on about cancer fighters being "too much" in the media - suck shit.
No, I'm not having a go at anyone or any blogger in particular - it's more the ignorant idiots who comment on news/blog articles relating to those who are battling cancer.
Cancer is a mongrel; if all you have to whine about is 'too much media coverage' of people fighting to survive a disease then you're a sad sack of shit that needs to grow the fuck up.
And, yes, I've read your pathetic little blatherings on the net, you scum-sucking toe rags.
As for the misunderstanding of a childcare worker who was or was not permitted by her workplace to shave her head to raise funds/awareness of leukaemia - give me a freakin' break.
This is 2011 peoples.
It.Is.A.Given that those who CAN will sacrifice for Those.Who.CAN'T.
Gawd, what a horror head!
Not to raise awareness or funds but to make her feel a little better cos her thick, wavy hair was coming out by the handful on her 3rd (and final) bout of radiation and chemo treatment.
It hadn't dropped out on her first two lots of treatment but the last tango with the bastard mongrel saw her defences down and her self-esteem took a battering at the hair loss.
I accompanied her to good old Peter Mac Hospital (those nurses frigging rock) on several ocassions and was moved to tears by cancer patients offering me seats, thinking my thin frame (yes, I was once) and my uber-short hair was due to the bastard mongrel cancer.
I was also moved to tears to hear a screwed up, uptight, middle aged WASP arsehole behind me in line in a local Oakleigh shop one day complaining LOUDLY to his wife about "that bloody dyke in front".
To give her her due, his wife did suggest "She might have cancer...".
To which the piece of self-important shit claimed,
"I don't care, those people with cancer don't flaunt themselves like that bitch" !!!
I took great pleasure in taking my time at the counter, getting served by shop assistants who have become old family friends who asked how my mother's cancer treatment was going and if she'd bucked up after I'd shaved my head while the male ego squirmed beside me.
And, yeah, she got a damn good giggle at my shaved head.
Which was worth far more than any farked up idiot's idea of 'acceptable' hair fashion.
That was 12 and a half years ago.
If a child or an adult has battled the bastard mongrel cancer - in whatever form - and you find the need to whine your sad, saggy little arse off about the attention or care or media coverage or funding that person/family might gain .....
...think of the stress, the gallons of tears shed, the grey hairs earned at the bedside, the lost playtimes in the schoolyard, the coffee mornings with girlfriends missed, the beer o'clocks missed with mates the thousands of kilometres travelled between hospital and home to visit/have treatment/meetings/conferences by the whole family, the missed moments with loved ones, the ulcerated guts from the treatment, the vomiting from the food, the headaches, the aching bones, the screaming joints, the incontinence, the coughing fits, the vision loss, the hearing loss,...........
the weight loss, the food supplements costing the earth, the extra treats to tempt the appetite, trying to explain to the healthy children WHY you can't afford the extras you pay for the sick child to eat, explaining that the sick child ISN'T the favourite, the extra bed linen, the extra creams, the extra bed you sleep on in the hospital overnight, the extra...everything....
Can you make the decision which of your children gets the extras you can not afford....
put yourself in the suffering child's place....
...just for a second....
And then try to tell us there's too much media coverage of cancer battlers.....
Thursday, January 27, 2011
There's Invasion Day of a different sort happening everytime some ignorant white chick opens her gob
Had an interesting chat with a lady a couple of years ago regarding Australia Day.
Or, as she termed it, Invasion Day.
She asked me how I felt about it being celebrated on January 26 (knowing we were of Indigenous descent) and I said it wasn't any bother to me, that the damage was done, that we all needed to acknowledge the damage but move onward and upward, fixing the mess that existed now.
Well, excuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me!
I was treated to a diatribe of why I should agree it be moved, why I should accept that its correct title is Invasion Day, why I should join the pack and accept that everyone else knew better.
And this last one that got me giggling - that I should just realise that current-day white Aussies wanted to make amends and people like me should just damn well accept it and let them get on with it.
Ahuh.
You lost me at the first "You should", lady.
Then, you managed to polish off your practiced prattle with claims that non-Indigenous people knew better and anyone agin the whole shemozzle should just put up and shut up.
Ahuh.
Yep.
Tell me, where exactly is the difference between the old paternalistic colonial attitude of "We know what's best for you Aborigines (sic)" and the current attitude that white Aussies want to make it all better so Indigenous People should just stand back and let them have at it?
Cos the white Aussies know what's best?
How about this for a freaking radical idea....
How about the govt acknowledges the absolute crap, the sheer terror, torture, vindictive murder, rape and unmitigated travesty of the treatment of the Indigenous People.
It happened, we all know it happened, playing ostrich isn't doing anything for the govt image.
How about they grow a pair of balls and admit much of it is still going on, with unofficial acceptance of racism at many levels.
It happens, we all know it happens, playing ostrich isn't doing anything for the govt image.
Then, how about we have a look and see which is more important -
Getting the current-day Indigenous communities in line with their non-Indigenous counterparts ... or rename a day?
Stop publishing exaggerated crime reports of Indigenous communities which only serve to brutally convince young children that they will amount to nothing ... or rename a day?
Get rid of the damn intervention happening up in the north, let the Indigenous communities begin to heal and build their self-respect ... or rename a frigging day?
Get the damn funding back into the schools so the kids who do not speak English aren't set up to fail by not having anyone to teach them in their native tongues and then in English...or rename a bloody day?
I know what I should be doing if I ran the freaking universe and what my first order of business should be - and it certainly wouldn't be the renaming or moving of a bloody useless day.
Or, as she termed it, Invasion Day.
She asked me how I felt about it being celebrated on January 26 (knowing we were of Indigenous descent) and I said it wasn't any bother to me, that the damage was done, that we all needed to acknowledge the damage but move onward and upward, fixing the mess that existed now.
Well, excuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me!
I was treated to a diatribe of why I should agree it be moved, why I should accept that its correct title is Invasion Day, why I should join the pack and accept that everyone else knew better.
And this last one that got me giggling - that I should just realise that current-day white Aussies wanted to make amends and people like me should just damn well accept it and let them get on with it.
Ahuh.
You lost me at the first "You should", lady.
Then, you managed to polish off your practiced prattle with claims that non-Indigenous people knew better and anyone agin the whole shemozzle should just put up and shut up.
Ahuh.
Yep.
Tell me, where exactly is the difference between the old paternalistic colonial attitude of "We know what's best for you Aborigines (sic)" and the current attitude that white Aussies want to make it all better so Indigenous People should just stand back and let them have at it?
Cos the white Aussies know what's best?
How about this for a freaking radical idea....
How about the govt acknowledges the absolute crap, the sheer terror, torture, vindictive murder, rape and unmitigated travesty of the treatment of the Indigenous People.
It happened, we all know it happened, playing ostrich isn't doing anything for the govt image.
How about they grow a pair of balls and admit much of it is still going on, with unofficial acceptance of racism at many levels.
It happens, we all know it happens, playing ostrich isn't doing anything for the govt image.
Then, how about we have a look and see which is more important -
Getting the current-day Indigenous communities in line with their non-Indigenous counterparts ... or rename a day?
Stop publishing exaggerated crime reports of Indigenous communities which only serve to brutally convince young children that they will amount to nothing ... or rename a day?
Get rid of the damn intervention happening up in the north, let the Indigenous communities begin to heal and build their self-respect ... or rename a frigging day?
Get the damn funding back into the schools so the kids who do not speak English aren't set up to fail by not having anyone to teach them in their native tongues and then in English...or rename a bloody day?
I know what I should be doing if I ran the freaking universe and what my first order of business should be - and it certainly wouldn't be the renaming or moving of a bloody useless day.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Happy Australia Day 2011
For Australia Day 2011 I thought I'd interview those who had gone before us who had shaped and created the Australia we know today.
Me: Percy, how do you see....
Percy Grainger: Get your kit off and stand by the window, I feel a composition coming on.
Me: Ned, what do you think of today's society here in Australia?
Ned Kelly: Such is life.
Me: Sister Elizabeth Kenny, what do you think is the one important detail missing from Australia these days?
Sister Elizabeth Kenny: Street cricket!
And stretch a few politicians from the rafters, it'll do 'em good!
Me: How do you feel about the current-day Australia?
Tullamareena: They named an airport after me, how do you think a man of my intelligence feels?!
Me: Henry, has Australia lived up to its early promise?
Henry Lawson: Eh? Pass me a beer.
Me: Has much been lost since your day?
Bennelong: OMG Someone is asking for my opinion!
Me: Sir Don, is there anything you'd like to add to Australia of today?
Sir Donald Bradman: OUT!
Me: Elizabeth, after all these years what is your impression of Australia?
Elizabeth Macquarie: Rum?! Did you say rum?!
Me: Andrew, how do think Australia has progressed since your day?
Andrew Paterson: There was movement at the station, for the word has passed around....
Me: Can you pass along any advice to Australians of today?
Truganini: There's no such thing as a free holiday.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Get out the whips and chairs, the clowns have escaped the circus again
I'm cross.
Damn angry.
Go read this article, have a good long look at that beautiful building and give me one good reason why it can't be recycled and retained in this day and age.
It was a storage shed, for goodness sake, but look at it...really look at it - the style, the care, the architectural grace and flair used in the creation of what was a utilitarian abode but that which pleased the passing eye.
And now it's going.
Because clowns masquerading as developers, town planners, government ministers, et el have had at our heritage.
Again.
Damn angry.
Go read this article, have a good long look at that beautiful building and give me one good reason why it can't be recycled and retained in this day and age.
It was a storage shed, for goodness sake, but look at it...really look at it - the style, the care, the architectural grace and flair used in the creation of what was a utilitarian abode but that which pleased the passing eye.
And now it's going.
Because clowns masquerading as developers, town planners, government ministers, et el have had at our heritage.
Again.
Monday, January 24, 2011
A visit from an over-due friend
Woke up this morning to the sounds of the Rainbow Lorikeets in the backyard, a very late appearance from these cheeky chappies this year.
For the past 10 or so years we've had them swinging from the fruit trees from late Winter onwards, the previous couple of years they've even stayed on the whole year round, due to sweet bugger all food for them in their natural bush settings thanks to the enduring drought.
But this year, not a sausage of them as the heavy rains have knocked most, but not all, of the drought on the head.
Until now.
And it wasn't what has become the usual flocks of them with babies in tow which turn plain green trees into a moving mass of rainbow hues; it was a handful who deigned to stop for a breather on their way to goodness knows where.
This year the plums have been allowed to grow plump and ripen on the tree without the nibble marks wrecking the unriped half-grown fruit.
The pears, for the first time in over a decade, have sat unmolested on the ancient tree, increasing their girth, making the tree boughs bow with the weight.
The Nashi tree has been able to grow more than a single piece of fruit to maturity for the first time since we planted it 12 years ago.
In other words....just when I'm armed and ready with netting for the fruit trees the colourful little characters have taken to the wing and buggered off, leaving me to collect tonnes of fruit.
Was nice to hear them this morning!
Later edit - Feral Aspie teen tells me there is a couple who have been hanging about the neighbourhood for the past 2 days.
For the past 10 or so years we've had them swinging from the fruit trees from late Winter onwards, the previous couple of years they've even stayed on the whole year round, due to sweet bugger all food for them in their natural bush settings thanks to the enduring drought.
But this year, not a sausage of them as the heavy rains have knocked most, but not all, of the drought on the head.
Until now.
And it wasn't what has become the usual flocks of them with babies in tow which turn plain green trees into a moving mass of rainbow hues; it was a handful who deigned to stop for a breather on their way to goodness knows where.
This year the plums have been allowed to grow plump and ripen on the tree without the nibble marks wrecking the unriped half-grown fruit.
The pears, for the first time in over a decade, have sat unmolested on the ancient tree, increasing their girth, making the tree boughs bow with the weight.
The Nashi tree has been able to grow more than a single piece of fruit to maturity for the first time since we planted it 12 years ago.
In other words....just when I'm armed and ready with netting for the fruit trees the colourful little characters have taken to the wing and buggered off, leaving me to collect tonnes of fruit.
Was nice to hear them this morning!
Later edit - Feral Aspie teen tells me there is a couple who have been hanging about the neighbourhood for the past 2 days.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
A shaggy spider story
So, there I am , pottering about the backyard after tea, digging up more yummy kipfler spuds, back filling the tubs, planting seeds and new seed-spuds and the whole she-bang while Feral kidlet is watering the vegie boxes and tubs for me.
As it's getting dark.
*cue scary music....or Jack Nicholson with a chainsaw, whichever is closest to hand*
Feral kidlet is almost done and about to go inside when I called him back to refill the watering can One.Last.Time. for me to water to new seeds into the tubs.
As it's getting darker.
Then hubby came out and uttered the most frightening words I could ever hear.....
"Hurry up or the Big Spiders will be out all along the pathway in a minute,"
When he says Big Spiders he's talking about massive probably-radiation-infected-by-a-mad-scientist mofo arachnids that scull a case of VB for breakfast, could benchpress a B-double and still shake the cats out of their hairy legs and plot to take over the world after lunch without bustin' a single thread on their webs.
So you can imagine the mind-numbing panic that set in.
As it's getting even darker.
Can I, I pondered, leap the bamboo fence down this end of the yard...?
No, cos there's too many over-hanging trees and the damn things have a network running through them that puts Telstra and the future NBN to shame.
Could I , I thought, carry a looong stick to break the webs before the hairy critters alight onto me?
No, cos their super-sonic spidey-senses could pick up cable TV and HD channels without an antenna or a paid up subscription leaving me with not a snowflakes hope in hell.
What if I....
Fuck it, I snatched up the seed packets, garden trowel and almost crawled under the over-hanging passionfruit vine to the back decking before the ever-helpful spouse announced,
"Oh, they're not out just yet. You've got heaps of time. They wait til it's completely dark."
Yeah, thanks for that.
I may appease the hairy arachnid gods by leaving them a large male sacrifice by their webs later on tonight.....
As it's getting dark.
*cue scary music....or Jack Nicholson with a chainsaw, whichever is closest to hand*
Feral kidlet is almost done and about to go inside when I called him back to refill the watering can One.Last.Time. for me to water to new seeds into the tubs.
As it's getting darker.
Then hubby came out and uttered the most frightening words I could ever hear.....
"Hurry up or the Big Spiders will be out all along the pathway in a minute,"
When he says Big Spiders he's talking about massive probably-radiation-infected-by-a-mad-scientist mofo arachnids that scull a case of VB for breakfast, could benchpress a B-double and still shake the cats out of their hairy legs and plot to take over the world after lunch without bustin' a single thread on their webs.
So you can imagine the mind-numbing panic that set in.
As it's getting even darker.
Can I, I pondered, leap the bamboo fence down this end of the yard...?
No, cos there's too many over-hanging trees and the damn things have a network running through them that puts Telstra and the future NBN to shame.
Could I , I thought, carry a looong stick to break the webs before the hairy critters alight onto me?
No, cos their super-sonic spidey-senses could pick up cable TV and HD channels without an antenna or a paid up subscription leaving me with not a snowflakes hope in hell.
What if I....
Fuck it, I snatched up the seed packets, garden trowel and almost crawled under the over-hanging passionfruit vine to the back decking before the ever-helpful spouse announced,
"Oh, they're not out just yet. You've got heaps of time. They wait til it's completely dark."
Yeah, thanks for that.
I may appease the hairy arachnid gods by leaving them a large male sacrifice by their webs later on tonight.....
Here be the Rules
- Follow my blog or RRSAHM or the Yellow Brick Road (I don't know, what's the protocol when it's on loan??) If you follow me, make sure to leave a link so I can follow you back!
- Grab the bubbly button and post it on your sidebar.
- Link your First Name and/or Blog Name and URL of your post or blog.
- Add a short description (max of 125 chars). It could be a description of yourself, your blog or a teaser to your latest post.
- Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger (Be nice and spread the love).
- The list will be open for linkyers on Fridays (and for the foreigners Friday as well).
- A new and fresh link list will open every Friday. And you will have to link up AGAIN. The previous link list does not carry over to the following week.
- And lastly, have lotsa fun.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Country Fire Authority (CFA) History Project
I found this over on the CFA site, thought I'd copy it here to get the message out even further.
Victoria's CFA is a fantastic organisation mostly made up of volunteers who unquestioningly give their time to help others, a history of these people is well worth it.
Victoria's CFA is a fantastic organisation mostly made up of volunteers who unquestioningly give their time to help others, a history of these people is well worth it.
The association that represents Victoria’s 60,000 CFA volunteers is preparing to publish its history, and we need your help.source
A team of volunteers at Volunteer Fire Brigades Victoria (VFBV) has begun gathering photographs, documents, stories and other items for the history, which looks back into the 19th century and the formation of the Victorian Urban Fire Brigades Association and the Victorian Rural Fire Brigades Association.
The associations have been the voices of the volunteers for many generations, and we are looking for the triumphs, the tragedies and the characters that have been part of that story.
Anyone who can help can contact Bill Rodda at b.rodda@vfbv.com.au or on (03) 5655 1389.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Yes, we have no bananas...we've got a lover-ley bunch of coconuts....'ave a banana,
We FINALLY have an answer.
Do you know how fecking relieved we feel to have an answer, a label, a name, an actual diagnosis, instead of that vague "maybe hormones, maybe teen angst" blah blah tossed to us like crumbs?
Do you know how abso-fecking-lutely lighter our shoulders feel, knowing we did nothing, nothing at all to cause these problems?
Oh, it doesn't matter that I know I didn't drink or do drugs or live a wild life or anything while pregnant, and his father has often asked if he did something wrong or could or should have done something to make things different.
We are his parents, it is always at the backs of our minds (no matter how many others are diagnosed with Autism) that we must have done something or should have done something different or put our shirts on in a different fashion or had bad Feng Shui in our home or ....whatever.
No.
The answer is.....drum roll, please......
Episodic Dyscontrol Syndrome aka Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
Go on, go gurgle it.
*waits*
No, I did not do crack cocaine or drink alcohol or swing from chandeliers when pregnant; I had high blood pressure, worked full-time until the placenta previa was discovered (the placenta was covering my cervix, no emergency exit that way), enough fluid retention to call off the drought and was so bored on strict bedrest that I even read the fine print on those dinky Franklin Mint offers.
And at 16 weeks I lost Aspie teen's twin.
Didn't know there were twins until after the fact, lost him/her on THE weekend all freakin' radiologists were out on strike (cos a potential miscarriage is not considered an emergency. huh) so we had to wait til Monday to discover the Aspie fetus was waving his bungee cord about still, that there was an empty sac beside him and there was another egg propped at the end of my fallopian tube waiting to get rubbed up the right way by the Spouse's swimmers.
The GP was very insistent "Please, don't have sex for awhile!"
I've followed his instructions to the letter ever since....
Anywho, the kidlet was born via caesarian, was whipped off to the neo-natal unit, yada, yada, yada, the rest is history.
So, yesterday we were told that whenever a twin dies in utero there is always some form of brain damage to the surviving twin, even if it is unable to be detected by an MRI.
Which is the most likely cause of his frontal lobe not working properly (ADHD, behaviour control, Tourette's, Autism, etc).
And the push off the trampoline 2 years ago may be the straw that broke the camels back with yet another insult to his frontal lobe, triggering the Episodic Dyscontrol.
So, we wait for the appointment for the MRI and further genetic testing (as it's been almost 10 years since our last lot of genetic tests and massive progress has been made since then).
Not that there actually is anything we can do; we can't stop it or change Aspie teen or hang him upside down from the chandelier and whistle Dixie to see if he turns into a frog.
We basically stick to the medication he's on.
And ride out the malestrom whenever it hits.
But now we know!
*Copied and pasted from my Aspie blog, apologies for double posting to those who follow both*
Do you know how fecking relieved we feel to have an answer, a label, a name, an actual diagnosis, instead of that vague "maybe hormones, maybe teen angst" blah blah tossed to us like crumbs?
Do you know how abso-fecking-lutely lighter our shoulders feel, knowing we did nothing, nothing at all to cause these problems?
Oh, it doesn't matter that I know I didn't drink or do drugs or live a wild life or anything while pregnant, and his father has often asked if he did something wrong or could or should have done something to make things different.
We are his parents, it is always at the backs of our minds (no matter how many others are diagnosed with Autism) that we must have done something or should have done something different or put our shirts on in a different fashion or had bad Feng Shui in our home or ....whatever.
No.
The answer is.....drum roll, please......
Episodic Dyscontrol Syndrome aka Intermittent Explosive Disorder.
Go on, go gurgle it.
*waits*
No, I did not do crack cocaine or drink alcohol or swing from chandeliers when pregnant; I had high blood pressure, worked full-time until the placenta previa was discovered (the placenta was covering my cervix, no emergency exit that way), enough fluid retention to call off the drought and was so bored on strict bedrest that I even read the fine print on those dinky Franklin Mint offers.
And at 16 weeks I lost Aspie teen's twin.
Didn't know there were twins until after the fact, lost him/her on THE weekend all freakin' radiologists were out on strike (cos a potential miscarriage is not considered an emergency. huh) so we had to wait til Monday to discover the Aspie fetus was waving his bungee cord about still, that there was an empty sac beside him and there was another egg propped at the end of my fallopian tube waiting to get rubbed up the right way by the Spouse's swimmers.
The GP was very insistent "Please, don't have sex for awhile!"
I've followed his instructions to the letter ever since....
Anywho, the kidlet was born via caesarian, was whipped off to the neo-natal unit, yada, yada, yada, the rest is history.
So, yesterday we were told that whenever a twin dies in utero there is always some form of brain damage to the surviving twin, even if it is unable to be detected by an MRI.
Which is the most likely cause of his frontal lobe not working properly (ADHD, behaviour control, Tourette's, Autism, etc).
And the push off the trampoline 2 years ago may be the straw that broke the camels back with yet another insult to his frontal lobe, triggering the Episodic Dyscontrol.
So, we wait for the appointment for the MRI and further genetic testing (as it's been almost 10 years since our last lot of genetic tests and massive progress has been made since then).
Not that there actually is anything we can do; we can't stop it or change Aspie teen or hang him upside down from the chandelier and whistle Dixie to see if he turns into a frog.
We basically stick to the medication he's on.
And ride out the malestrom whenever it hits.
But now we know!
*Copied and pasted from my Aspie blog, apologies for double posting to those who follow both*
Monday, January 17, 2011
Once upon a time, in a bargain book bin not-so-very-far-away....
Doo bee doo bee dooooo.
If you didn't bother reading my review of Beyond The Pale (and I'm not mentioing it here because you have to) you haven't missed anything.
I'm still mentally scouring my brain clean of the images it planted there, currently using a cheap history/ghost/reincarnation romance mystery from the depths of the bargain book bin.
And you know there isn't going to be any masterpiece inside those covers cos it's a bargain book bin in the local supermarket.
Bacon, Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley and Wordsworth all took a solemn vow to never, ever darken the doorstep of a supermarket bargain bin and, they're mightily happy to report, they have yet to go back on their word.
Sad thing is I have an unwritten rule that I have to park my arse on the bastardbike if I want to read any of the books, a sort of enticement to get the exercise happening, and now I find myself hankering to read the next chapter in this cheap, written-by-numbers mystery with umpteen questions jumping through my head.
Will she zone out into her 17th century former self whilst inspecting the Lord of the Manor's stables?
Will she find out who is buried in the courtyard?
Will she ever weed her freakin' garden?
But most important of all....
Will she zone out whilst inspecting the Lord of the Manor?
If you didn't bother reading my review of Beyond The Pale (and I'm not mentioing it here because you have to) you haven't missed anything.
I'm still mentally scouring my brain clean of the images it planted there, currently using a cheap history/ghost/reincarnation romance mystery from the depths of the bargain book bin.
And you know there isn't going to be any masterpiece inside those covers cos it's a bargain book bin in the local supermarket.
Bacon, Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley and Wordsworth all took a solemn vow to never, ever darken the doorstep of a supermarket bargain bin and, they're mightily happy to report, they have yet to go back on their word.
Sad thing is I have an unwritten rule that I have to park my arse on the bastardbike if I want to read any of the books, a sort of enticement to get the exercise happening, and now I find myself hankering to read the next chapter in this cheap, written-by-numbers mystery with umpteen questions jumping through my head.
Will she zone out into her 17th century former self whilst inspecting the Lord of the Manor's stables?
Will she find out who is buried in the courtyard?
Will she ever weed her freakin' garden?
But most important of all....
Will she zone out whilst inspecting the Lord of the Manor?
Sunday, January 16, 2011
When the Darling flood waters hit the Murray....
Got my eyes on the floods in Central Victoria at the moment as our immediate neighbour is cut off from leaving the town, is a diabetic, reliant on regular meds for other conditions and not long finished fighting cancer.
From what info I'm getting Dunolly is still pretty much isolated with almost all roads closed, most likely Burnt Creek will have flooded yet again across both our land and both ends of the road, doubly isolating him.
Have not been able to raise him on the phone, hoping he got out of Dodge at the first raindrop.
Roads between Melbourne and Adelaide are closed due to floods and a quick gurgle of what might happen when the flood waters from the Darling hit the Murray threw up this little scary prospect.
So, it aint over til it's over, apparently!
New book review over at Oz Reading Matters
Beyond The Pale by John Hooker.
From what info I'm getting Dunolly is still pretty much isolated with almost all roads closed, most likely Burnt Creek will have flooded yet again across both our land and both ends of the road, doubly isolating him.
Have not been able to raise him on the phone, hoping he got out of Dodge at the first raindrop.
Roads between Melbourne and Adelaide are closed due to floods and a quick gurgle of what might happen when the flood waters from the Darling hit the Murray threw up this little scary prospect.
So, it aint over til it's over, apparently!
New book review over at Oz Reading Matters
Beyond The Pale by John Hooker.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Damn Dunolly Deluge and local council history blogs critique
I have a couple of irritants I feel the urge to share with you, dear reader.
For if I do not, there will be brain explodage all over the shop.
And that doesn't make for a good start to the weekend.
My bugbear number one - the lack of rail services to Dunolly.
Today, Friday January 14, Dunolly was completely cut off, no way in or out of the town owing to the flooding rains.
Except by rail.
Problem was, the only rail services are goods trains carting wheat from the silos at night as passengers services were cut back in the early 80s.
And let's not forget the Department of Transport which declares that the town is well serviced by buses.
Buses.
Buses that couldn't get in or out and were not venturing anywhere much if the list of cancellations of V/Line Tweets were anything to go by.
Also, one of the major news services announced that due to excessive flooding across major highways the road transport of food across the nation was halted until further notice.
That would be due to trucks unable to use the roads.
Unlike rail services which were mostly uneffected.
Bugbear number two - yes, I'm on a roll and I'm getting up a head of steam here.
Local council history blogs.
Few are run by someone au fait with blogging or the platform on which they're hosted.
Finished!
For if I do not, there will be brain explodage all over the shop.
And that doesn't make for a good start to the weekend.
My bugbear number one - the lack of rail services to Dunolly.
Today, Friday January 14, Dunolly was completely cut off, no way in or out of the town owing to the flooding rains.
Except by rail.
"Nobody can get through, the only way in and out is by railway so we'll be getting some supplies sent through that way."source
Problem was, the only rail services are goods trains carting wheat from the silos at night as passengers services were cut back in the early 80s.
And let's not forget the Department of Transport which declares that the town is well serviced by buses.
Buses.
Buses that couldn't get in or out and were not venturing anywhere much if the list of cancellations of V/Line Tweets were anything to go by.
Also, one of the major news services announced that due to excessive flooding across major highways the road transport of food across the nation was halted until further notice.
That would be due to trucks unable to use the roads.
Unlike rail services which were mostly uneffected.
Bugbear number two - yes, I'm on a roll and I'm getting up a head of steam here.
Local council history blogs.
Few are run by someone au fait with blogging or the platform on which they're hosted.
- So many are on Blogger but haven't updated all the bells and whistles, like the simple inclusion of networking buttons in the footer of each blog post (we are becoming lazier and without those quick and easy buttons most won't share the brilliant work that goes into the posts).
- The lack of a Facebook page or Twitter account (basic marketing - use the free tools available and get your message out there by all means, link it up with the blog so you get triple the coverage with one blog post).
- Few and far between updated posts (nothing more off-putting than finding a great source of local history only to realise it hasn't been updated since the year before last, gives the impression of laziness and puts people off).
- Local events, however tenuously historical, should be advertised within the blog to keep the info ticking over, to show readers that it's an eventful and happening area, that pride in the area and it's heritage is taken seriously, etc (when you know an historical event happened and was completely ignored by the blog then it becomes seen as not so reliable and not read).
- A local historical society without a blog or website again puts forth the impression those running it are either too lazy, too old, too busy or just can't be bothered (without the info there, readers skip over and forget the historical society even exists which goes towards a possibly avoidable demise of the society).
Finished!
Tubthumping explanation - go sing it, sister, and sing it LOUD
Just to explain my reference to Tubthumping yesterday with Premier Anna Bligh's speech -
Tubthumping was a song by Chumbawamba from 1997 (yes, I suddenly feel OLD).
It's a boppy, uplifting song defying the Gods of misery on any ocassion.
With a little Dutch courage from the whisky drink, vodka drink, lager drink and cider drink.
*snort*
Go listen/watch the song on repeat for a few times and get it stuck in your head for the day.
You will thank me.
Oh, and the "pissing the night away" refers to drinking very weak alcoholic drinks all night long, not sitting on the loo with a weak bladder.
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
"Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy..."
I get knocked down
But i get up again
You're never Goin to keep me down
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
"Don't cry for me
Next door neighbour..."
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Tubthumping was a song by Chumbawamba from 1997 (yes, I suddenly feel OLD).
It's a boppy, uplifting song defying the Gods of misery on any ocassion.
With a little Dutch courage from the whisky drink, vodka drink, lager drink and cider drink.
*snort*
Go listen/watch the song on repeat for a few times and get it stuck in your head for the day.
You will thank me.
Oh, and the "pissing the night away" refers to drinking very weak alcoholic drinks all night long, not sitting on the loo with a weak bladder.
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
"Oh Danny Boy
Danny Boy..."
I get knocked down
But i get up again
You're never Goin to keep me down
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times
"Don't cry for me
Next door neighbour..."
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
We'll be singing
When we're winning
We'll be singing
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Tubthumping, Anna, Tubthumping
"As we weep for what we have lost, and as we grieve for family and friends and we confront the challenge that is before us, I want us to remember who we are.
We are Queenslanders.
We are the people they breed tough north of the border. We’re the ones that they knock down, and we get up again.
I said earlier this week that this weather may break our hearts, and it is doing that.
But it will not break our will. And in the coming weeks and the coming months we are going prove that beyond any doubt. Together we can pull through this, and with your help, we can achieve it,"
Tubthumping.
Everytime.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Exercise is an evil fairy dwarf who should be lynched...if we could catch the bugger
Have been doing the Battle of the Bloggers Butt.
Which involves the minimum of 2.5 hours on the freaking bike.
Every day.
Sometimes more if I've missed a day or 3.
Broken up over the course of the day...30 mins here, an hour there, another hour of torture before teatime, perhaps an extra 45 mins after tea...just for that added bonus of exhaustion making me sleep.
Sometimes works better than valerian.
Currently I cannot feel my toes.
Which is just as well that I don't use them to type or you'd be getting a pile of asjhed jw2827 dejqq HIOjoujU9UI.
!!!
And having imparted these wise words of complete babble into your shell-like ear I will hie me forth and drag this carcass to the kennel for a kip.
Which involves the minimum of 2.5 hours on the freaking bike.
Every day.
Sometimes more if I've missed a day or 3.
Broken up over the course of the day...30 mins here, an hour there, another hour of torture before teatime, perhaps an extra 45 mins after tea...just for that added bonus of exhaustion making me sleep.
Sometimes works better than valerian.
Currently I cannot feel my toes.
Which is just as well that I don't use them to type or you'd be getting a pile of asjhed jw2827 dejqq HIOjoujU9UI.
!!!
And having imparted these wise words of complete babble into your shell-like ear I will hie me forth and drag this carcass to the kennel for a kip.
Utility providers suck shyte
While I've never been happy paying good money to money hungry privatised utility companies and I've done the "we don't have your authorisation - yes, you do" waltz, mingled with the "we don't have your father's concession details so we're going to suddenly whack on the extras - yes, you do - no, centrelink says he doesn't exist - that's because he's with vet affairs - no, they say he doesn't exist - yes, he does, I'm looking at him right now go ring vet affairs yourself " dipshyte foxtrot today my estimation of these pricks reached new lows.
Although I'm quite certain they're capable of stooping even lower.
We pay an agreed amount fortnightly, have done for years. It was worked out by their precious computer system based on our yearly gas useage.
Haven't missed a payment, been in credit for years, never had any probs.
Until they changed their billing system around August last year.
Suddenly, no bills.
Was my fault for not following it up but we were a tad distracted with the offspring's rage attacks and meltdowns, wasn't going out of my way to find more angst.
But we kept on paying the agreed amount.
Then we get a letter today saying we've missed a payment.
I promptly rang them up with all the receipts lined up in front of me only to be told that they had decided to INCREASE the payment amount.
But they didn't tell us.
And when I questioned as to why they would need to increase the amount they claimed it was because I wasn't covering the bills.
Pardon?
I read out the details of the previous bills (up until August) that all stated clearly that after the due amount was taken out we were in CREDIT.
Ahhh, but apparently the Sept-Oct bill was larger and not met by our payments.
As were the following months bills.
One of which was sent out yesterday with the over-due letter but hasn't arrived.
Were they, I asked, actual or estimated readings?
Estimated readings, came the reply.
Right! says I through gritted teeth, I want my readings re-done by one of your chaps to actually eyeball the damn meter.
And I am NOT paying for a new reading to be done as I expect my money for these bills goes towards the pay of the meter reader and I will NOT pay for the damn person to dream up a figure in his head instead of using his God-given eyesight to read the actual useage.
I then contacted the Energy and water ombundsman and I've asked that the readings be re-done without me paying extra, that actual readings are done in futre, that the payment amount is returned to the previous AGREED upon amount and that future communication is far more diligent and forthcoming than what has been our experience in the past few months.
We shall see if they will play ball or we will be taking our custom elsewhere.
Yes, I even considered ripping out the gas heater and going back to wood just to get this particular monkey off my back.
As for mail arriving late or not at all - I have a looooooooooooooooooong list of several years worth which I compiled and produced for the postage ombundsman early last year (after 5 complaints about missing mail and parcels over the years were brushed aside at the post place itself. Yes, some were registered mail) only to be told that really wasn't very much and to contact them again when I had something substantial to complain about but that they probably couldn't do very much in the end, anyway.
I haven't wasted my energy in that quarter since.
Although I'm quite certain they're capable of stooping even lower.
We pay an agreed amount fortnightly, have done for years. It was worked out by their precious computer system based on our yearly gas useage.
Haven't missed a payment, been in credit for years, never had any probs.
Until they changed their billing system around August last year.
Suddenly, no bills.
Was my fault for not following it up but we were a tad distracted with the offspring's rage attacks and meltdowns, wasn't going out of my way to find more angst.
But we kept on paying the agreed amount.
Then we get a letter today saying we've missed a payment.
I promptly rang them up with all the receipts lined up in front of me only to be told that they had decided to INCREASE the payment amount.
But they didn't tell us.
And when I questioned as to why they would need to increase the amount they claimed it was because I wasn't covering the bills.
Pardon?
I read out the details of the previous bills (up until August) that all stated clearly that after the due amount was taken out we were in CREDIT.
Ahhh, but apparently the Sept-Oct bill was larger and not met by our payments.
As were the following months bills.
One of which was sent out yesterday with the over-due letter but hasn't arrived.
Were they, I asked, actual or estimated readings?
Estimated readings, came the reply.
Right! says I through gritted teeth, I want my readings re-done by one of your chaps to actually eyeball the damn meter.
And I am NOT paying for a new reading to be done as I expect my money for these bills goes towards the pay of the meter reader and I will NOT pay for the damn person to dream up a figure in his head instead of using his God-given eyesight to read the actual useage.
I then contacted the Energy and water ombundsman and I've asked that the readings be re-done without me paying extra, that actual readings are done in futre, that the payment amount is returned to the previous AGREED upon amount and that future communication is far more diligent and forthcoming than what has been our experience in the past few months.
We shall see if they will play ball or we will be taking our custom elsewhere.
Yes, I even considered ripping out the gas heater and going back to wood just to get this particular monkey off my back.
As for mail arriving late or not at all - I have a looooooooooooooooooong list of several years worth which I compiled and produced for the postage ombundsman early last year (after 5 complaints about missing mail and parcels over the years were brushed aside at the post place itself. Yes, some were registered mail) only to be told that really wasn't very much and to contact them again when I had something substantial to complain about but that they probably couldn't do very much in the end, anyway.
I haven't wasted my energy in that quarter since.
Heart felt sympathy to everyone caught in the floods
For those overseas go Google Queensland floods and be prepared for some frightening videos and pictures.
I have been listening to the radio on and off all night with dreadful reports coming through as to rooftop rescues, families swept away in their cars and the constant description of the Toowoomba flood as an inland tsunami.
And it is not over yet with Brisbane and Dalby expected to be flooded next.
Northern NSW towns are also cut off due to flooding with more expected in the following days.
All of our best wishes and sympathy to those who have been effected by this horrific force of nature, my heart goes out to everyone.
I have been listening to the radio on and off all night with dreadful reports coming through as to rooftop rescues, families swept away in their cars and the constant description of the Toowoomba flood as an inland tsunami.
And it is not over yet with Brisbane and Dalby expected to be flooded next.
Northern NSW towns are also cut off due to flooding with more expected in the following days.
All of our best wishes and sympathy to those who have been effected by this horrific force of nature, my heart goes out to everyone.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Discrimination towards Indigenous People yet again? If not, please explain why the 2 heritage values
This explains why we have a screwed up perception of, and are losing great swathes of, our Australian history, culture and heritage.
In this article we have a European cemetery, probably dating between 100-150yrs, rearing its head in a central Victorian town after archaeologists excavated a proposed development site containing not the expected 2 remaining burials but 6.
This finding automatically stopped all development of the site.
In this article we have an Aboriginal meeting site, dating back 40,000 years holding untold millions of artefacts which could give us clues, answer questions and fill in the many gaps made by the attempted obliteration of Indigenous culture and heritage.
But, despite an emergency heritage order by the Federal Govt, a 4 lane by-pass will be built above it.
So...it's ok to save 6 well-dessicated European bodies - of whom we have no flipping idea, possibly murderers, who knows?! - by ceasing all forms of development and fencing off the site but a 40,000 year old site teeming with Aboriginal artefacts, tools, weapons and untold other glorious finds is to be built over no matter what, even in spite of an emergency heritage order applied for by the Federal Govt?
Yeah, it's pretty much Black and White.
In this article we have a European cemetery, probably dating between 100-150yrs, rearing its head in a central Victorian town after archaeologists excavated a proposed development site containing not the expected 2 remaining burials but 6.
This finding automatically stopped all development of the site.
In this article we have an Aboriginal meeting site, dating back 40,000 years holding untold millions of artefacts which could give us clues, answer questions and fill in the many gaps made by the attempted obliteration of Indigenous culture and heritage.
But, despite an emergency heritage order by the Federal Govt, a 4 lane by-pass will be built above it.
So...it's ok to save 6 well-dessicated European bodies - of whom we have no flipping idea, possibly murderers, who knows?! - by ceasing all forms of development and fencing off the site but a 40,000 year old site teeming with Aboriginal artefacts, tools, weapons and untold other glorious finds is to be built over no matter what, even in spite of an emergency heritage order applied for by the Federal Govt?
Yeah, it's pretty much Black and White.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Public Transport to, from and around Dunolly (or insert country town of choice in this picture)
Ok, ok, ok, you can stop laughing now.
Yes, there is a bare minimum of public transport - in the form of road coaches - to gain access to the sweet Central Victorian town of Dunolly.
Now, should we decide to ever park our arses there on a more permanent basis we'd have to learn how to fly or cycle 23 kms in to Maryborough as the only 'public transport' - that doesn't involve booking on one of the inconveniently timetabled long distance road coaches for short trips - is a community bus that trundles out from Maryborough on Fridays and does the circuit of collecting all the bods from around the towns, then trundles back into Maryborough where the bods can scurry about to do their shopping/keep appointments/shoot the hairdresser who screwed up the blue rinse do last week before leaping back on the bus for the return trip home again.
And then nothing til the following Friday.
Like I said, we either start sprouting wings or start long-distance cycling.
I have been engaging the Dept of Transport in email discussions of reinstating the rail services to Dunolly.
Why, yes, I am slightly cracked....why do you ask...?
I pointed out that wheelchair access is not available on all buses, to which I was told there is but that I have to make a special booking through V/Line head office.
Ahhhh!
This the first we've heard of this after months of travel!
But, the private company which does the Bendigo to Dunolly leg states on their website not all of their buses are wheelchair accessible nor have any of the drivers pointed out a hydraulic lift to myself as I struggled to get Dad up the steps and onto the bus.
Not to mention the replacement buses from Bendigo to So Cross station - for when the train has been unable to be used owing to the land slips at Riddles Creek - were definitely not wheelchair friendly, plus were double decker nightmares for Dad to get onboard.
So, wasn't the previous State Govt rolling out all the bells and whistles for decentralisation and setting up all the services in regional areas at one point?
Surely that involved, somewhere along the line, putting in some decent public transport scheme?
Maryborough is only 23 kms away, the rail line is still used for freight, the Dunolly Railway Station platform only needs a little tidy up so......?
Yep, I'm probably tilting at windmills but if we have to fight to get a basic bus with wheelchair access in 2011 or more than a once-per-week community bus for several thousand residents while a perfectly good railway line and station sits idle there is something seriously screwed with this picture.
Yes, there is a bare minimum of public transport - in the form of road coaches - to gain access to the sweet Central Victorian town of Dunolly.
Now, should we decide to ever park our arses there on a more permanent basis we'd have to learn how to fly or cycle 23 kms in to Maryborough as the only 'public transport' - that doesn't involve booking on one of the inconveniently timetabled long distance road coaches for short trips - is a community bus that trundles out from Maryborough on Fridays and does the circuit of collecting all the bods from around the towns, then trundles back into Maryborough where the bods can scurry about to do their shopping/keep appointments/shoot the hairdresser who screwed up the blue rinse do last week before leaping back on the bus for the return trip home again.
And then nothing til the following Friday.
Like I said, we either start sprouting wings or start long-distance cycling.
I have been engaging the Dept of Transport in email discussions of reinstating the rail services to Dunolly.
Why, yes, I am slightly cracked....why do you ask...?
I pointed out that wheelchair access is not available on all buses, to which I was told there is but that I have to make a special booking through V/Line head office.
Ahhhh!
This the first we've heard of this after months of travel!
But, the private company which does the Bendigo to Dunolly leg states on their website not all of their buses are wheelchair accessible nor have any of the drivers pointed out a hydraulic lift to myself as I struggled to get Dad up the steps and onto the bus.
Not to mention the replacement buses from Bendigo to So Cross station - for when the train has been unable to be used owing to the land slips at Riddles Creek - were definitely not wheelchair friendly, plus were double decker nightmares for Dad to get onboard.
So, wasn't the previous State Govt rolling out all the bells and whistles for decentralisation and setting up all the services in regional areas at one point?
Surely that involved, somewhere along the line, putting in some decent public transport scheme?
Maryborough is only 23 kms away, the rail line is still used for freight, the Dunolly Railway Station platform only needs a little tidy up so......?
Yep, I'm probably tilting at windmills but if we have to fight to get a basic bus with wheelchair access in 2011 or more than a once-per-week community bus for several thousand residents while a perfectly good railway line and station sits idle there is something seriously screwed with this picture.
You make me sick, 2, literally
To those who think it's ok not to vaccinate
Don't get me wrong, I fully appreciate some are genuinely sensitive/allergic to these immunisations...but there's a growing group who deliberately choose not to vaccinate and paint the diseases as mild.
Yeah, coz Polio is as mild as the common cold which is why my mother was having recurring problems 60+ years after suffering from it as a 3 yr old.
That killed my Great Grandmother as she was helping nurse my mother at the time.
The same disease that put radio legend John Laws into hospital in 1962.
And my Godmother's perfectly normal 5 yr old son who contracted Measles - meek and mild Measles, why bother to immunise against that? I've heard some people say - who became a severely intellectually retarded child with multiple physical problems who went on to grow up to be a LARGE man with deteriorating brain functions and increasing physical difficulties.
He lived in Kew Cottages after he became too large for his own mother to care for and is now living in a nursing home - aged 46.
See, they don't tell you what really happens when your child isn't protected against these diseases, those halfwits who would have us back in the Dark Ages.
Inflammation of the brain can lead to disabilities, both physical and intellectual.
When the crisis has passed and the parents are left with the child do you think these rabid nutcases are hanging about offering to help change the child's nappies or feed them?
How about when the child is no longer a child but is still in nappies and still needs feeding or turning in bed or transferring from bed to chair to shower, etc?
Any help being freely offered then?
How about the woman who's just "made the record" of living 60 years in an iron lung due to polio she caught 1 week before she was going to marry?
Anyone think she's never once wished the polio vaccine was available for her?
And what about those who are too young to be immunised but who are made sick by ignorant idiots walking about in the community sharing the diseases they carry?
A blogger I enjoy reading wrote about her friends' 4 week old baby who died from Whooping Cough just last month, March 2009.
Too young to be vaccinated but not too young to contract it and die.
Read about Dana HERE.
Then try to spin me a line of bullshyte about how vaccinations are dreadful.
I wrote this back on April 7, 2009.
And today it is reported that disgraced doctor Wakefield did more than fudge a few findings on his study linking autism to MMR vaccinations.
For $600,000.
What was it Judas Iscariot got for his betrayal, 30 pieces of silver?
While we got lies, rabid anti-vaxxers, sick/disabled and, in some cases, deceased children.
Hope his bank account was worth the fraud to the whole world.
Because it certainly did nothing for parents of children on the Autistic Spectrum or those who honestly wanted to vaccinate their children.
You make me sick
I was going to dig around and throw you up some historical events like these two fab articles on Aussie wine making history HERE and HERE but....
There are massive floods happening in the north while the west remains in drought.
These are huge flood waters, the largest seen by modern man within recorded history at any rate and yet it goes against the grain to wish further predicted storms and rainfall away out to sea when the west is so desperate for the damn stuff.
And, instead of putting their bucks into something decent like piping the much-needed water where it should go (cos umpteen pollies haven't a clue how to organise a fart at a curry eating contest) or organising food/clothing donations/collections or housing for those effected by the floods or, heck, even climbing on the bandwagon and LOUDLY encouraging people to donate to the flood crisis retail billionaires are too consumed with angst at this new-fangled interwebs shizzle.
One of those same retail billionaires has even proclaimed, in the recent past, that donating to charities is a waste as those in need, like the homeless, do nothing to contribute to society.
Ahuh.
These floods are hitting Every.Single.Industry in Queensland which is having a domino effect in driving the Aussie dollar down, which effects the economy.
Sugarcane, fruit, vegetables, coal, cotton....$100 million per DAY is being lost in coal exports alone.
And for those who claim coal is a dirty fuel source anyway your hip pocket is already being hit with food prices creeping upwards in response to the massive food shortage that's happening right before your eyes.
Remember Cyclone Larry that decimated the banana supplies?
Farmers, graziers, Joe Blow in town, the tourism industry, anyone and everyone has been and will continue to be hit and hit damn hard by the outcome of these floods.
And the flow-on effect of the lack of products, like coal, will be felt around the world with prices pushed ever skywards.
But, not to worry, big retail giants are more determined to do something about that pesky GST loophole.
Cos their hip pockets are being hit by a mere trickle of online consumers while those hit by floods will have to get on with living in the real world.
There are massive floods happening in the north while the west remains in drought.
These are huge flood waters, the largest seen by modern man within recorded history at any rate and yet it goes against the grain to wish further predicted storms and rainfall away out to sea when the west is so desperate for the damn stuff.
And, instead of putting their bucks into something decent like piping the much-needed water where it should go (cos umpteen pollies haven't a clue how to organise a fart at a curry eating contest) or organising food/clothing donations/collections or housing for those effected by the floods or, heck, even climbing on the bandwagon and LOUDLY encouraging people to donate to the flood crisis retail billionaires are too consumed with angst at this new-fangled interwebs shizzle.
One of those same retail billionaires has even proclaimed, in the recent past, that donating to charities is a waste as those in need, like the homeless, do nothing to contribute to society.
Ahuh.
These floods are hitting Every.Single.Industry in Queensland which is having a domino effect in driving the Aussie dollar down, which effects the economy.
Sugarcane, fruit, vegetables, coal, cotton....$100 million per DAY is being lost in coal exports alone.
And for those who claim coal is a dirty fuel source anyway your hip pocket is already being hit with food prices creeping upwards in response to the massive food shortage that's happening right before your eyes.
Remember Cyclone Larry that decimated the banana supplies?
The cyclone destroyed 80–90% of Australia's banana crop. Australia is relatively free of banana pests and diseases, and therefore does not allow bananas to be imported. Bananas were in short supply throughout Australia for the remainder of 2006, which increased prices across the country by 400–500%source
Farmers, graziers, Joe Blow in town, the tourism industry, anyone and everyone has been and will continue to be hit and hit damn hard by the outcome of these floods.
And the flow-on effect of the lack of products, like coal, will be felt around the world with prices pushed ever skywards.
But, not to worry, big retail giants are more determined to do something about that pesky GST loophole.
Cos their hip pockets are being hit by a mere trickle of online consumers while those hit by floods will have to get on with living in the real world.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Aussie Day and...SWIM BETWEEN THE DAMN FLAGS
Oh, look!
Australia Day is just around the corner and we get blessed with the single day of Aussie-themed history stuffs.
Woot.
Can you hear the excitment in my voice?
No?
Nevermind.
History Channel is airing a special titled Lachlan Macquarie: Father of Australia.
It looks half-decent.
Seems to have been done in the same vein as Rogue Nation.
Excellent!
Such a shame we only get dribs and drabs with the obligatory Aussie war movies/docos trotted out on ANZAC and Remembrance Days when we have a rich source of history throughout this nation.
Yet, it's ignored just like the Surf Lifesavers Flags at the beach.
Ted Baillieu managed to screw up a photo op at the beach, ending up outside the flags at Jan Juc beach.
Now, this summer there's been untold rescues and a large number of them have been people outside the flags.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to tap parents on the shoulder to wake them up to the fact their little darlings almost drowned while they slept.
Surf Lifesavers aren't babysitters to watch children while parents go off shopping.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to take messages from parents out to children swimming in the water.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to fill in background for politicians and washed-up tv actors.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to take photos for tourists.
Surf Lifesavers are there to patrol the beach, determine if conditions are too rough and they need to close the beach, to watch for every Tom, Dickhead and Harriet splashing about in waves with sun glare, to keep scanning for problems and making sure no one is in danger.
Which comes back to SWIM BETWEEN THE DAMN FLAGS.
Australia Day is just around the corner and we get blessed with the single day of Aussie-themed history stuffs.
Woot.
Can you hear the excitment in my voice?
No?
Nevermind.
History Channel is airing a special titled Lachlan Macquarie: Father of Australia.
It looks half-decent.
Seems to have been done in the same vein as Rogue Nation.
Excellent!
Such a shame we only get dribs and drabs with the obligatory Aussie war movies/docos trotted out on ANZAC and Remembrance Days when we have a rich source of history throughout this nation.
Yet, it's ignored just like the Surf Lifesavers Flags at the beach.
Ted Baillieu managed to screw up a photo op at the beach, ending up outside the flags at Jan Juc beach.
Now, this summer there's been untold rescues and a large number of them have been people outside the flags.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to tap parents on the shoulder to wake them up to the fact their little darlings almost drowned while they slept.
Surf Lifesavers aren't babysitters to watch children while parents go off shopping.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to take messages from parents out to children swimming in the water.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to fill in background for politicians and washed-up tv actors.
Surf Lifesavers aren't there to take photos for tourists.
Surf Lifesavers are there to patrol the beach, determine if conditions are too rough and they need to close the beach, to watch for every Tom, Dickhead and Harriet splashing about in waves with sun glare, to keep scanning for problems and making sure no one is in danger.
Which comes back to SWIM BETWEEN THE DAMN FLAGS.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Things to make 2011 rock thus far....
We've had a few hiccups along the way with meltdowns but we've got them sorted.
Woot.
We've redirected energy into invading small countries starting with the letters N and Z.
Wait.
No, that's on next week's to-do list.
Just kidding!
We've started putting away the gazillions of decorations and dusted the 12days months worth of dust, cobwebs and dead Daddy Long Legs into the bargain.
Woot.
The Spouse and I havetormented introduced Aspie geek kid to the wonders of the Banana Boat Song and Jamaica Farewell.
Via our Very Loud lungs.
Woot.
The Spouse has climbed aboard the exercise bike almost everyday for 30+ mins, without complaining.
Double woot.
The fridge is stocked, the freezer is stocked, the chooks are laying pretty bum nuts and all's right with the world.
2011 is rockin' for us, so far, keep it up!
Woot.
We've redirected energy into invading small countries starting with the letters N and Z.
Wait.
No, that's on next week's to-do list.
Just kidding!
We've started putting away the gazillions of decorations and dusted the 12
Woot.
The Spouse and I have
Via our Very Loud lungs.
Woot.
The Spouse has climbed aboard the exercise bike almost everyday for 30+ mins, without complaining.
Double woot.
The fridge is stocked, the freezer is stocked, the chooks are laying pretty bum nuts and all's right with the world.
2011 is rockin' for us, so far, keep it up!
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