Saturday, 21 October 2017

Ethnic diversity at university level

is something which is apparently hotly debated in the UK as well as in Downunder. The recent outrage over the apparent "racism" in Oxbridge colleges over their lack of "black" students is something that disturbs me. 
We have a similar situation here in Downunder. Much is made of any "indigenous" student who succeeds in getting to university - and more is made of those who complete their course. The rest of us are told how hard it is for them.
And yes, it is hard. I wouldn't for one moment want to suggest that such students have had an easy path to success. I have tutored students who identified themselves as being indigenous. They were sent to me because they were failing. They were sent to me for help with study skills, English language skills  - and much more. They were often under other pressures in their personal lives.
I can remember eleven of those students for one reason or another - although there were more. Two of them succeeded in getting through the courses for which they were originally accepted. Four more switched to lower level courses and managed to get through those. All of them needed high levels of support and encouragement from the staff and from other students. Both staff and students often went out of their way to give them some extra help. 
The other five students dropped out but one of those came back to me recently and said she was thinking about "doing something". I encouraged her because it is well within her capacities and aged care is an ever growing area of need. She will find employment if she completes the course.  I have no idea where the others are or what they are doing. I do know the six who completed their courses are employed. Like everyone else in their generation in their fields they tend to  be under-employed. The work is casual or not officially full-time but they are earning more than they would on unemployment benefit.
For me this raises all sorts of questions. It raises questions about the students being accepted - and why they were  being accepted. I know that all these students did not get the necessary results but they were accepted under schemes that give them the opportunity to enter post-secondary education. I know that they needed extra help in order to have any chance at succeeding. I know their results were not outstanding and that staff felt pressured to "pass them or risk being labelled racist". There was the male member of staff who was close to tears saying, "I've been told I have to pass him but his work really isn't good enough. It just means that he will fail next year and that's not fair on him."
Far from being racist that staff member had given the student extra time every week in the first term and then asked a retired Reader in the subject area to do some more tutoring while I helped with study skills.
One student, who barely succeeded, told me, "Everyone has been great but I really didn't want to come. My marks weren't good enough. I didn't work that hard you know."
Should the latter student have been given a chance or should her place have been given to someone else? There aren't any easy answers to that question and it will only become harder as the nature of work changes even more.
But what I don't believe is the argument that universities, at least in Downunder, are "racist". We need to ask questions about whether "black" students are applying, what they are applying for, and whether they have the qualifications.  My experience - in three universities - is that staff have gone out of their way to help students from different ethnic backgrounds succeed. I suspect they will go on doing it too.

Friday, 20 October 2017

The love affair with the Holden car

is over.
I had to make a trip to the bank on Wednesday - after the trip to the dentist and the problem with the brake cable being locked to the other bike. It was definitely not a good day in that respect.
In the bank an elderly man dressed in a way which shouted, "Urban Aristocracy" was doing a complex transaction to assist his son. His son was buying one of the last Holden cars to roll off the assembly line - and yes, son was apparently paying for it. As I was a mere metre away I could hear all this quiet conversation with the teller. The elderly man actually turned and gave me a smile and shrug at one point. 
Had we not both been supposed to be concentrating on our own affairs I might have told him about my paternal grandfather and Holden cars.
I don't know much about cars so I don't know what sort of car my paternal grandfather had when I was born - apart from the fact that it was also a Holden. It was made in this state and he believed in supporting local industry.
I do remember the next car he bought. It was an "FJ" model Holden. It was cream and had red leather seats - yes, actual leather in those days. 
That car is seared into my memory for more than one reason. The first is a very early memory of my grandfather travelling to the place we were living in, a small town north of the city, to take me and my brother to safety. There were very serious fires in the area at the time. The heat was also extreme. 
I remember the journey to the city as being silent. My brother and I were frightened but compliant. We trusted "Grandpa" to get us to "Grandma" safely. (Our parents were following in our own car with Middle Cat in a crib and anything of importance packed. The Senior Cat told me once, "We didn't know if there would be a house to go back to." There was. We were fortunate, very fortunate. 
And that FJ  Holden got us there. Grandpa used it for another twelve years and then bought another Holden. It was maroon and white and probably an EK model - although I can't be sure of that. It was the last car he bought
The heat on the day he came to get us was so intense that the dye from the red leather seats came out and stained his white shirt.  (Men like Grandpa never wore coloured shirts at that time.) I remember thinking there was blood on his back. My grandmother was not impressed - not that she blamed Grandpa.
Many years later I was at the local shopping centre and someone pulled up near where I had parked my trike. The car was a beautifully restored cream FJ Holden. The driver commented on my trike. I told him, "My grandfather had an FJ that colour."
He told me "I bought it from someone in ...... "  He went on to say that the only real problem with it had been the hand brake. There had been a little card on the dashboard saying "Don't forget the handbrake". It was Grandpa's old car! The new owner was, if anything, more excited by this than I was. We chatted a little more and then I pedalled off thinking of all the trips we children had made in that car.
Grandpa was not a good driver. He did not enjoy driving. He did it out of necessity. His absent mindedness over the handbrake was an indication that he preferred to concentrate on other things - but I think he missed the old FJ.

Thursday, 19 October 2017

There are still gentlemen in this world

as I had cause to discover yesterday.
I had to go to the dentist. To get there I put my trike on the train and, once in the city, pedal to my destination. There is a bike parking hoop outside the building.
I parked and locked my trike to the hoop. I went to the dentist.
When I came out I had a problem. I couldn't move the trike. 
No, not a dreaded flat tyre. There was a bike parked next to mine. When the owner had locked his (no, I am not being sexist here) on the other side of the hoop he had caught my front brake cable as well. I was stuck.
I stood there for a minute trying not to panic. What was I going to do? I had no idea - unless the brake cable could be detached in some way.
There were no police around - although there often are there as a building across the road is used by them. Had there been I might have sought some help from them.
What else was there? There's a coffee shop next to the building which houses the dentist. 
Outside that, just sitting and chatting with empty coffee containers were two men.
I took a deep breath and went up to them.
    "Excuse me gentlemen do either of you know anything about bikes? I have a bit of a problem."
They looked at me and one said, "Not much but..." and then the other one said, "I know a bit...what's the problem."
I explained and he came to have a look. He frowned. Tugged gently and said, "I see. I don't know quite what to do but perhaps..."
He started to fiddle. No, that didn't work. He tried something else and then said, "Ah."
He unscrewed one part and loosened it. That meant he could undo a clip and take another part out. My trike was no longer attached.
I was prepared to take it at the point and go, very carefully  with just the back brake to the nearest bike shop but no he said,
     "Now let me see if I can get it back together."
And he did.
I thanked him profusely and all he said was, "I'm very sorry it happened to you. I'm glad I could help."
I was too. He won't ever really know how much he helped and how much his kindness meant but I hope my thanks sounded as genuine as I gratitude was.
 

Wednesday, 18 October 2017

The Telecommunications Ombudsman

is clearly in need of more staff to help her. She is overwhelmed with complaints about the state of our phone and internet services.  There are reports that these are up 41% nationally and 51% in this state in the past year.
Yes, I know people are now quite unable to go about their daily lives without being constantly in touch. 
And yes, I am one. I work from home. The internet is my work life-line. 
Yesterday I added to that growing list of complaints the Ombudsman has received. I tried not to do it. I really did try not to do it. 
The problem is that my internet service provider is not even meeting the basic contractual obligation - to provide me with a service. It keeps dropping out - not just occasionally, not just once a day but many times a day. On Monday it dropped out eleven times altogether. Yesterday it was only seven...yes, only seven. 
Each time I have to go through the process of trying to get it up and running again. It has dropped out as I am typing this which means that, before I can post anything, I have to go through the process again. 
I have been told I can get a "better" service if I pay more but why should I? This service is advertised as the one which meets my needs. If it worked as advertised it would more than meet my needs. I don't play games on the internet. I don't watch movies. I download documents. I upload documents. I do a little searching and (horror of horrors) I write a blog. That's about it. So why should I need to pay for a premium service with features I won't use - and which, from all accounts, is not much better than the service I am now supposed to be getting? 
I was also told I could go with another service provider if I wasn't satisfied. Hold on a moment that's not meeting your contractual obligation to provide a service - not just to me but to everyone else who has complained. 
I know the NBN is a problem but it is not the only problem. Internet service providers are using the problems with that to make an additional profit by simply cutting back on their own costs and not providing as much service.
Sorry but it simply won't do. I have complained. If they had bothered to answer my registered letters and apologised in any way I might not have done it...but I have had enough. Now to see if I can get the "service" up and running again so I can post this.

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

"The judges decision is final

and no correspondence will be entered into" is usually how it is worded but people still want to know why their  undoubted masterpiece didn't win first prize.
I had an email from someone yesterday. I had asked for "feedback" about the knitting and crochet section in the state's major show. When I asked the Secretary of the organisation I belong to I said, rather bluntly perhaps, that I didn't think the group deserved to be allowed to give any feedback. They had barely participated. But, if they wanted to say something then I would listen.
It took a while and the response on their behalf came from the Treasurer rather than the Secretary or the President. Still, it was a response.
There was a complaint that the website is not user friendly. Fair enough. I didn't try it myself as I don't enter things - being a steward makes that impossible.  Still, if it is a problem then it is likely to be a problem right across the event. They can do something about that.
Then there was a complaint that the judging "lacked transparency". I can guess what that means. "We don't know who the judges are. How can we complain about the judging if we don't know who they are?"
More than once I have been asked who the judges are. My answer has always been that I have been asked not to divulge that information. It isn't a popular answer. I get criticised for not telling people but it isn't something I can do. If people disagree with the decision of the judges they can do one of several things. They can complain in writing - but please give some valid reasons for your complaint. They can offer to do the judging. Yes, that will involve some work.  Or they can improve the standard of their work.
But, hang on - the complaint about the lack of transparency was coming from people who didn't even enter anything. Why are they concerned about the very professional standard of judging?
There was also a complaint about the size which was allowed for something. If the class allowed for a little larger would more people actually enter? I doubt it but, give a good reason, and those responsible for the schedule might come at it.
And there was also a complaint because the schedule had not kept up with modern trends in knitting and crochet. I did some homework on that one. I looked at other, similar shows in other parts of the country. I couldn't see anything that was different that should be considered - in fact the local event seems to be much more flexible and allow a much wider variety of items to be entered. I came to the conclusion it wasn't the schedule but those who enter who are not keeping up with current trends. The judge would have been delighted to see some really up to date and interesting work. 
I have responded to the person who emailed me asking for more detail. I will be very interested in the response - if I get one. 
THIS IS A POSTSCRIPT written on 18/10/2017
I have been severely criticised for writing the above post and for a general failure to help. Perhaps I could have been a little kinder but I did think I was being fair. It is sometimes easy to be misunderstood when writing something like this. I genuinely believed I had helped when asked and I don't believe I should be criticised because I refuse to divulge information I was asked to keep confidential. Cat

Monday, 16 October 2017

Activity packs for children

are essential. 
We are being "invaded" in mid-November - or that is the plan. My brother is bringing his family over from another state to see  the Senior Cat.
They were here last year. The Senior Cat was delighted to see them but the experience was exhausting. He is noticeable frailer this year so it will be even more difficult. He is looking forward to seeing them but also feeling a little anxious about how he will cope.
Last year I provided "activity packs". They were large brown paper  bags with handles and, inside, a variety of things to do. The Senior Cat's five great-grandchildren swooped and the contents kept them occupied for some time.
I have planned the same this year. I have bought new paper bags from the "cheap" shop. (They won't last but that doesn't matter.) There are mini coloured pencils and a colouring book. Those are essentials. There is a clock face they can colour in and, with some help, attach hands that will move. (Might as well provide something mildly educational was my thought.) Then there are some foam stickers - because they were bright and shiny and glittery and feature dinosaurs! There are sheets of stickers. There are some cardboard stars for making their own Christmas mobiles. And there are some hats they can decorate. These are smallish boater hat forms. I understand the material they are made from is called "sinamay" and that the forms themselves are actually supposed to be used to make "fascinators" but I found a pack of five on the internet. Five? How could I possibly resist? It was just the right number.  Middle Cat and I went to a rather odd shop that I thought  might have something to decorate them with - and found just the right thing. They can glue the decorations on and we will add some elastic to keep them on their heads if they want to wear them - and they might.
And then of course there is food. There are chocolate frogs, jelly garden bugs, and Smarties - and there are bear shaped biscuits which I have yet to pack into individuals packets. 
I am also making the girls fancy snap hair-clips. They are just a token gesture in the "make" department.
Now, dear readers, I need to know what I can make the six year old male. Any suggestions. It has to  be small - or do I go sexist and give him a miniature car instead?

Sunday, 15 October 2017

Gardening is not my

my favourite occupation.
Middle Cat brought some peas around on Friday. The Senior Cat swooped on them.  He didn't particularly want to eat them but he was enthusiastic. 
      "Next year I must grow some more too."
Mmm....maybe. 
Middle Cat and I went off to the hardware-garden centre when he prowled off to have his afternoon nap. We bought enough plants to fill the gaps in the front garden - where we had the winter things. The Senior Cat likes petunias so I bought, among other things, two more punnets of petunia seedlings. 
      "You know you'll have to plant them don't you," Middle Cat told me.
Yes, I know. The Senior Cat's gardening is limited to pots and planter boxes at waist height these days. He loves to fiddle with them. He has been passionate about gardening for, at very least, all his married life. I remember the garden in the house where I was only a toddler. I can remember being severely scolded by my mother for accidentally running my tricycle  into a garden bed.  She had no idea how hard it was to learn to both pedal and steer at the same time. The Senior Cat righted the stake holding up the tomato bush and I headed on my way.
The Senior Cat is an "organic" gardener. He "companion" plants and uses a lot of mulch to keep things moist - or that is the theory.
It doesn't always work of course.
Last  year I did a lot of the watering in summer. I know I will do even more this year.
And I planted all the things in the patch by the front water tanks. There are hollyhocks to - hopefully - hide the lower part of the tanks and the impatiens at ground level. The petunias have gone out into the full sun. 
Our garden is definitely not "landscaped". It just happens. The Senior Cat decides he wants to try and grow something. There is a space. He has always put something into the space. We have eaten the produce or enjoyed the flowers. (I tend to leave them outside so they last longer.)
But, it is the Senior Cat's garden. I hate having to interfere in the sense that I am doing the planting and most of the watering and some of the weeding and feeding. It just seems wrong to be doing it.

Saturday, 14 October 2017

Hospital food

is currently a news item. There is an article in this morning's paper and it was apparently discussed at length on a "talk" show yesterday. (The person who came to help the Senior Cat shower was telling him about it.) Another local resident who had been  in hospital was telling me about her experience - not good.
Now I know it is difficult to supply food to a lot of people at a very low price. When I was in my teens I spent some of each summer "holiday" going to a camp for disabled children. I was a Guide and we would take 60 disabled children to camp. The Army provided and (thankfully) pitched  the tents but the rest was up to us. Each child would be paired with a Guide and there were some senior staff as well. There would be about 140 people to cater for altogether - at the lowest possible cost. We didn't pay for the workers of course - that was part of our job. Some food was donated. There were children on special diets. There were some who had feeding problems. 
I don't quite know how we did it  - but we did. The first couple of years I went I didn't know too much about it. I scrubbed potatoes, set out plates and cutlery, washed up - and helped to feed children who couldn't do things for themselves. 
Yes, there was a lot of help and we worked hard but I am also aware that we did not have what would now almost certainly be available. We actually had to slice the bread. Sliced bread was available in the city but, in the little rural community we were camping in, it was not available. (It actually took them some years because the local baker and the community were of largely German descent and did not see it as a way of treating bread.) Still, we managed to make toast! We had limited refrigeration. 
And somehow we managed to produce breakfast, a main meal and a light meal for everyone and supper for some of the older children and the Guides. From memory we ate pretty well too. The children were enthusiastic about the food - and usually ravenous as we had them doing all sorts of activities. (I still hold my breath at the day a boy without arms decided to climb a tree...he managed to get about eight feet up - and down again safely.) But even hungry children can't eat the inedible so the food must have been edible. There was even roast lamb on the Sunday in the middle of the ten day camp.
Now, if we could do it under the most difficult and basic of conditions why can't a modern catering service provide the same?
The woman I was talking to told me that she was given breakfast one morning but there was nothing to drink apart from the milk with a little packet of cornflakes. (There was nothing else on her meal tray.) She smiled as she said it and told me, "At least that was better than the chap who just got cornflakes, no milk and no spoon." 
There is no excuse for that sort of thing. I suspect the company with the contract has discovered that it is not going to make a profit and is trying to cut corners.
But, if you are in hospital, it is quite possible you don't want to eat because you aren't feeling hungry or it is just too much of an effort or even - just maybe - you feel ill. (Oh and what if you can't actually reach the tray delivered by robot or undo the containers the food is prepackaged in?)
It is a pity  our late friend B.... is no longer with  us. She was the person who could "make something out of nothing". A little advice from her might go a long way. 
And people might get better more quickly.

Friday, 13 October 2017

The ambulance bill

arrived yesterday - $999 please. 
The Senior Cat has health cover so it won't be that much but it is still an alarming bill to get. 
The bill tells those who have a health care card they only need pay half that. That's still $499 - and most of those with a health care card would be struggling to pay $49.
The ambulance staff who have come here have all been excellent. They have been kind and caring. Many years ago they had to rush the Senior Cat to hospital when he had an internal bleed after an operation. (The hospital had sent him home too soon after major surgery - lack of beds.) They could not have been faster or more efficient as well as kind.
Last  year I called them when the Senior Cat cracked his skull when he fainted in the bathroom. This past month I had to call them again. On both occasions when I said I didn't drive they said "Of course you can come with us." I was extremely grateful - and told them so.
Some years ago the hospital phoned me and said they needed me urgently to act as an "interpreter" for a non-speaking patient. (I am on his "call" list.) I said I'd be there as soon as I could but the trains were out and it was pouring with rain so a taxi might be delayed. They diverted an ambulance doing a non-urgent transport job to pick me  up. (The old man who was the patient thought it was funny and told me, "I didn't think I was catching the bus.")  The crew on that one were great too - dropping me off at the closest possible point to where I needed to go.
But the cost of the service bothers me. The ambulance crews are not paid enough for the job they do. It's an incredibly responsible job. The last time I called I had said, "He needs oxygen."
They didn't question it. They came in with it. "In case you were right." Good. They gave him oxygen. 
They had to make other decisions too. I thought the Senior Cat needed to be in hospital because I am not big enough or strong enough to handle him - but would they think he was ill enough for that? Yes. Another decision they had to make.
There were three crew...one was a "newbie" learning the job. There was the dispatcher. There were people at the other end telling us which hospital we could go to. It's all terribly complex.  It all demands equipment, trained crew, highly skilled drivers, ambulances that won't break down and more.  
So $999 doesn't really seem a lot in that context. 
And perhaps it will help to pay back just a little of the many thousands of dollars it took to air lift the Black Cat to the city when she was involved in an accident many years ago. She wasn't working at the time and didn't have to pay anything - because she had no money at all. 
I just hope I never take the service for granted.
 

Thursday, 12 October 2017

So the "My Aged Care"

person arrives - late and apologetic.
She is much too young to be doing the job. Yes, she was very pleasant but someone in her early twenties can have absolutely no idea about what it means to be "old". 
That quickly displays itself. She has a list of questions - given to her of course. The answers to these are supposed to decide what help, if any, the Senior Cat needs.
The Senior Cat looks at me and tells me to stay firmly in place. Apart from anything else he is having difficulty hearing her pleasant but rather high and quiet voice.
I want him to answer the questions, not me. Middle Cat has not yet arrived and I know she will take over and answer for him when she gets here.  I will wait until he asks me to add something to his answers.
The questions were much too vague and open ended to elicit any real information. Yes, up to a point they need to be to do a "one size fits all" interview but I wonder who wrote them? Who trained this nice girl who is doing her best but not getting very far. 
"Tell me about your health" is very broad.  It might be better to ask "Are you on any medication?" and then "Do you manage your own medication?"
"Is anyone worrying you?"  Does that mean are you worrying about them for some reason or are they making demands of you or....
 It went on.
She described the sort of help that might be on offer. Most of it was irrelevant to the Senior Cat. 
I could see this poor lass getting more confused. I could see her thinking, "Why am I here? They don't need any help."
Well yes, we do. Middle Cat had arrived. We looked at each other and then I said,
    "We are hoping two things will come out of this."
The nice lass looks at me.
    "The Senior Cat and I would both like some continuing help with showering. He's not safe on his own any more."
She nods.
    "And I don't drive. If my sister isn't available we have to rely on taxis and I need to go with our father because it isn't safe for him to go alone. If there is occasional transport help available then we would appreciate being able to access it."
She nods again.
We have the cleaning issue sorted. Someone we like and trust comes in two hours once a fortnight and does the really heavy work better than I can do it. After all she is taller and much stronger than I am. Middle Cat thinks that she has got her two hours a fortnight gardening man to agree to help us as well. If that works out we'll be fine in that department. I do the shopping on the trusty tricycle and then cook our meals so the Senior Cat doesn't need "Meals on Wheels". He has a social support network, our wonderful neighbours, his friends at church, extended family and more. 
I am sure this nice lass was very puzzled by all this. She must meet so many older people who do need extensive help and who are lonely and without help.
Nice lass phoned me later in the day to say that our provider of choice - the present people who have been helping on a temporary basis - cannot go on helping because they are only a "temporary" service. We go through list of potential help and discover only two of them have any funds. 
Now we start all over again because the potential provider will send someone out - to "assess" the Senior Cat.
I am still hoping we will get the essential help with showering. I think I can cope with the rest.
 

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

A "My Aged Care"

person is supposed to come this morning - to see what help the Senior Cat (and thus Yours Truly) needs and whether he will be eligible for any.
My brother asked me on Monday what I hoped might be the outcome of the visit. I told him I was not expecting too much. They don't give help if they think there are family members who can do it. It doesn't matter that the Senior Cat worked and paid tax all his life. He still won't be eligible for much assistance - even if he pays for it.
But there are two things I would like. The first is someone else to help him shower. This has been worrying me for quite a while now. I discreetly "hovered" while he did this himself. I worried that he would fall and break a hip - or worse.  He could easily do that anyway but bathrooms are the worst rooms in any house for that to happen. 
The hospital put something in place "on a temporary basis" when he came home after being hospitalised with the 'flu bug which laid us both so low. They were sufficiently concerned to keep it going longer than they said they would. I am very grateful for that. Secretly I think the Senior Cat is too - certainly he has purred rather than growled at the people who have come. (We have yet another new person coming today - the variety seems endless!)
The second thing I would like is some  help with transport. The Senior Cat has "50%" taxi vouchers. It means he pays half the normal fair. He was given those when he broke his leg some years ago. Once he had recovered they were continued because his doctor at the time realised that public transport without some help was not an option. 
Since then public transport is not an option at all. The Senior Cat would not be able to get his gopher on and off the train or an accessible bus. He simply would not be safe and he couldn't walk the required distances. 
Even using a taxi is something he should no longer do alone. Taxi drivers, understandably, vary in their ability to help and understand the need for help. It means someone needs to go with him. Middle Cat has been very, very good about being the "taxi" service but when she was recently too ill to help it meant I was going with him - in a taxi. I can take work with me while I wait but it can still take some hours. If necessary Middle Cat can take him to his destination and go and do something else and then return and pick him up again. I can't drive so I just have to wait. Neighbours have done it twice but it is wrong to ask it of them except in an absolute emergency. The MAC system may be able to help here. 
So, if we get nothing more out of the visit - and we have put in place things like grab rails, a shower chair,  help with gardening and so on - please can we have a little bit of help with showering and transport? 
After all, keeping  him here at home is where he wants to be - and it would be much cheaper for the government too. 

Tuesday, 10 October 2017

"Kangaroo Island" sounds

romantic and exciting doesn't it? Or does it?
There's a piece in the paper this morning about a new ferry service to the island - a catamaran this time. It will apparently carry 95 people. The company setting up the service sees the island as "having a lot of potential".  
The Senior Cat was in charge of the then very big school in the middle of the island for four years.  At that time it was the biggest "area" school in the state. An "area" school is one in which children travel from outlying rural areas, mostly by bus. 
In this case the school bus runs were, for the most part, very long indeed - and teachers were also bus drivers. They began as early as 7am and finished at around 5pm -  if the bus didn't break down or have a puncture or get delayed by something else. 
The roads were not sealed. In summer they were dusty and in winter, if there was rain, they were muddy and slippery. 
Teachers lived in caravans at the end of the bus run. The caravans would be parked next to the house of one the families who "boarded" the teacher - i.e. provided meals and laundry facilities.
It was a very, very hard life for a teacher. 
The Senior Cat did not drive a bus. He merely had the ultimate responsibility for eleven bus runs, twelve buses (there was a spare) and the bus routes. His deputy did have a bus licence and, if a teacher was really too ill to drive, had to take over. That didn't happen very often.
We lived next to the school - in the same sort of fibro-asbestos housing as the rest of the community. The small township (not much than a hamlet by UK standards) was on a windy plateau.
To get to the island you did an overnight trip on a "roll-on, roll-off" vessel or (if the airport was not under water or closed because of the cross winds) you flew on a rickety Fokker. 
And this is the place that now has "potential". It has beautiful beaches, some wild coastline, some interesting history, light houses, wonderful nature reserves, some interesting small farming ventures that encourage visitors, and more. The airport has improved and there are more regular ferry services.
It has changed dramatically since we were there but it still has a long way to go. There is also a possibly insurmountable hurdle to any more major developments. 
This place is an island and it does not have a big supply of water.
When the state was first settled the intention was to settle on the island. Water was a problem then. It is a problem now. 
Large numbers of tourists require a large water supply. It needs to be a secure and stable water supply too. 
I don't know how they are going to do that. 

Monday, 9 October 2017

"Your feedback is important

to us" comes in yet another email.
Really? 
I am tired of being asked to "rate" the service I received and "give positive feedback". It isn't just on-line companies either. I have been asked by the post office, two local shopping centre stores, a  bank, and an "independent" business. 
When I am paying for something I expect to be served promptly, efficiently and pleasantly. I expect the goods to be as described and as  durable as they are intended to be. If they are posted I expect them to be packed in such a way that they don't break in transit. If they are given to me in a shop I will, under some circumstances, expect them to be packed properly. I take my own bags where possible - but to save the environment from plastic rubbish not because I expect to have to pack my own things at the supermarket. (No, I'll help the check out person. It's faster for both of us that way.) 
But this business of having to "rate" service and "not leave negative feedback"? I am being asked to do your advertising? You are already spending money on advertising. I have paid you for the goods or the service and I am expected to pay you with yet more time?
I spend my days (and often nights) filling out forms. I don't want to fill out yet more forms - even those with just tick the boxes, lines of numbers or fancy stars.  
In my job people's "service" does not get rated like that. People just get on with the job. Nobody has time to create little surveys. We know soon enough whether you have been successful - whether a life has been saved or a bridge secured or a building made safe or whether the dam isn't going to collapse. Success might actually mean being invited back - into another dangerous situation. 
This morning there are no less than three "rate us" emails, including one to "remind" me that I have not yet left feedback. The service on that one was nothing out of the ordinary, indeed rather poor, and being reminded like that makes me even less inclined to help advertise a business.
I know it's a cut-throat dog-eat-dog business world out there but perhaps if you concentrated on getting on with the job....
I'm going back to mine. 

Sunday, 8 October 2017

Saying "thank you"

seems to be going out of fashion.
It doesn't take much does it?
At a meeting yesterday I did not get the opportunity to say anything very much. I had asked for an item to be put on the agenda and it wasn't - although I had been told it would be there. I don't think this was an oversight. It is much more likely that someone else didn't want it there. She prefers to do things herself.
Unfortunately that meant I didn't get the opportunity to properly thank the people I wanted to thank - in the public way they deserved to be acknowledged. So, once the formal part of the meeting was over, I prowled around and thanked them individually instead. 
Several of them seemed surprised. Yes, they had of course expected some public recognition and they had got it in a different form. But, individual thanks for making an effort to do something which took time and effort? I thought they deserved it. 
"Certificates of Appreciation" are a relatively new innovation in the group. They aren't a bad idea at all but they do need to be carefully used. There is always the risk that someone who has made a very significant contribution will be overlooked or "politics" will mean that a decision is made to award one someone who has made a much lesser contribution. 
So yesterday I made the effort and thanked all those involved except one. I had already spoken to her as I knew she would be away. 
It wasn't the only thing that needed to be said or done yesterday and I didn't get it all done - but I did get the most important thing done.
It was only polite.

Saturday, 7 October 2017

Today I am going to speak up

- or I  hope I am. I have asked to be given the opportunity to say something - more than one thing - at a meeting.
If I am given that opportunity I will have the responsibility of saying what needs to be said in as positive and succinct a way as possible. I am not looking forward to it. I'll admit I have even lost some sleep trying to work out how to say what needs to be said in the minimum amount of words without ruffling some sensitive feathers. I am not a politician.
There is a Senator for this state who seems to feel quite differently about those things. He started out running for our state parliament. He got in on what amounted to a single issue at the time - an opposition to "pokies" or gambling machines. He made much of it and ran all sorts of odd stunts to get publicity. People thought it was a "good" thing and voted him in. We now have even more pokies than we had then. It doesn't seem to be an issue now - although, given the harm they have done, it should be. 
He stayed for a while in state politics and then declared that the real power to get things done was in our federal parliament. Although he hadn't seen his term out he announced he was resigning to run for federal parliament. He managed to get a seat in the senate. At the last election he even managed to get a couple of mates in on his team. Now, with a cloud hanging over his eligibility to be there at all, he has announced he is resigning - long before his elected term is up - resigning so he can run for state parliament. This time he is angling for a seat in the lower house - and he wants twenty of his mates to join him there. 
The media has said a lot about this. The media seems to think this man is fun and funny and that he gets things done. I see the situation quite differently. I see this man as someone who likes media attention - and will do anything to get it. He has breached his contract with the people more than once. You are, barring death or disability, supposed to see your term out as a politician. 
Yes, he can negotiate - up to a point. Some of his policies sound good - but they are probably unrealistic. He didn't succeed with the pokies that originally made his name - and a little thought would have shown everyone that he wouldn't. The government gets too much revenue from those.
I thought of all this last night as I printed off what I want to say if I am given the chance. I've tried to be positive, put the blame on myself rather than other people because perhaps I could have done something differently, and I have about six hundred words there covering several different but related and important issues. I'd actually rather not be saying anything at all. 
I was once asked to run for parliament. I said a very firm "no" (and it is as well I did because the first candidate died before he could actually be elected and the second got in - that would have been me). 
I am not a politician...and I don't care for the sort of publicity that the soon to be ex-Senator seems to thrive on.

Friday, 6 October 2017

I am pondering loyalty

this morning. It is a timely thing to do.
Yesterday I was talking to someone who has decided to return "home" after living in Downunder for  sixteen years.  I had always had a suspicion that he wasn't really happy here. He went back "home" every year. 
He came out here as a teenager. His parents migrated - and brought the family with them.  This man and his siblings didn't want to come. They were all in their teens. It meant leaving behind everything they were familiar with, leaving their friends, their hopes and dreams of life in what they considered to be "their" country. 
This man's brother went "home" about ten years ago. He has set up his own business and is, apparently, doing well. Their sister has married and lives in another country altogether. This man has an academic job to go to and is looking forward to being able to communicate more easily with his colleagues. They will now be in a similar time zone. He will also have much easier access to the resources he needs. No, not everything is available via the internet.
His parents are still living here. They are appalled and, it seems, angry that their children "for whom we gave up so much" are not staying.  They say they are going to be "lonely" and that their children will not be there for them in their old age".
I've met his parents, indeed met them before I met this man.  It worries him that they feel this way. He has talked to me about this before. He was offered another position almost three years ago and turned it down under pressure from his parents.
This time he has decided to go. He doesn't have a partner or children to consider. 
"My parents say I am just being selfish - that I lack loyalty," he told me. 
I am wondering who is being selfish - and what "loyalty" actually means in this case.

Thursday, 5 October 2017

Photocopying - or the

art of following instructions.
Now, it should have been a simple thing. I transferred the files I wanted copied onto a nice  bright yellow USB thingy.  I put the nice bright yellow USB  thingy into the little pocket on the front of my jeans. I put my bag with my other things on the  back of the trike and I headed off to the photocopy place. 
This involves a train  journey and the crossing of a major highway - twice. I do not like this journey.
The problem is that there are around 500 pages that need to be printed off. My home printer is not up to that sort of thing when most of the pages are densely packed and will take a lot of ink. 
Yes, I know - I should keep all this information on line. The problem is that I can't work that way this time. I need to have pages and pages laid out in front of me. I can't go "splitting" the screen into up to twenty pages.  I also need to be able to mark things in more than one colour - and more.  Yes, yes, I know I am wasting paper and polluting the environment and....
At the photocopy place I hand over the bright yellow USB thingy and explain that I want a copy of each file. There are five of them. I want them in black and white. There are about 500 pages altogether. The instructions are simple and clear.
The girl tells me that  they can do it. It will take about ten minutes. Good. I go prowling off to the stationery area of the shop to buy some paper for another task.
I come back. Someone else is just putting my printing on the bench. I pay for it.
On the train on  the way home I look for one page in particular. It isn't there. Then I realise an entire file is not there. I have paid for it  but it isn't there. Another file isn't there either - although I don't seem to have paid for that.
It's too late to go back - and too late to phone them.
So, this morning it will be back to the same place..with the bright  yellow USB thingy. I will ask what happened to the file I paid for as it is almost 100 pages long and I don't want to pay for it twice. I will get them to copy the other file. (And, before you wonder, the paper they use is slightly thicker than the paper I put in my printer so I was fooled into thinking the stack of paper was about the right size.)
I will stand there and check before I leave.
I am also a very cross cat!
Yes, it is partly my fault. I should have checked before I left the shop. 
But why would I when I thought I had actually paid for it? 

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

There is no "right" to own a gun

although I know many people would disagree with me. There are people here in Downunder who would like to see the same sort of gun ownership as there is in the United States. They would give you the same sort of reasons too - "safety", "self-defence", "terrorism" and more.
Guns don't make people safe.
I can still remember how shocked we children were when we went on a trip interstate with our parents. In a small country town we stopped to get that day's supply of food and a police officer came into the shop - wearing a gun. 
Police officers in our state didn't wear guns then. We knew farmers had guns - mostly used for putting injured animals out of distress and for the purpose of "spotlighting" or "rooing" (hunting kangaroos at night because they were/are seen as vermin). My brother had reluctantly held an air-rifle - and refused to shoot it - but the rest of us had kept even further away from guns. The Senior Cat is, as I have said elsewhere, almost a pacifist. He loathes weapons. He has brought us up the same way.
Seeing the police officer wearing a gun was an eye-opener for us.
I didn't feel comfortable.
Since then of course our police officers have started to carry a fire arm as part of their uniform "gear". I hope I never see one being used. I haven't felt comfortable when they have come into the house wearing their weapons - as one frequently did when he was getting the Senior Cat to make him some conjuring apparatus. 
I don't know what the situation is now in England but, when I was there, the London "bobbies" were armed with no more than a  baton. I imagine it is different now - and much more dangerous because of it.
John Howard, a former Prime Minister here in Downunder, did the country an enormous favour when he tightened gun control laws after the infamous "Port Arthur Massacre" - the only event on our soil to even begin to equate with what is becoming far too common in America. 
Of course the laws he helped to bring in won't stop someone determined on mayhem and the destruction of as many lives as possible but they have reduced the potential harm with respect to gun violence. That can only be good. 
I want the next generation to grow up feeling as "safe" as they can in the world they live in. I don't want them to be like so many young American children who are fearful of the possibility of a gun attack - and who believe that they need a gun in order to protect themselves. 

Tuesday, 3 October 2017

The five principles of sentencing

are to (1) punish the offender, (2) reduce crime, (3) reform and rehabilitate the offender, (4) protect the public and (5) make reparations.
A judge needs to take all these things into account when handing down a sentence - and many other things as well.
Someone posted a query on social media about the sentence handed down to a university student in the UK for stabbing her boyfriend. It was suggested in more than one article that the sentence was too light and that she had "got away with it" because she was white, pretty, intelligent and rich - and that someone who was black, not good looking, of lower intelligence and poor would not have received the same consideration.
Now, up to a point that is true - but it is also false. On the surface it looks like a clear miscarriage of justice. The media made much of this saying the perpetrator should be behind bars and much more.
Look a little more closely though and a different and much more complex story emerges. Perhaps the person who should really be behind bars is a drug dealer - and, in all likelihood, he is still plying his filthy trade. 
 The other thing that has not been recognised by the media is that the person who committed this crime is going to pay for it for the rest of her life. She was a medical student but she will never be a doctor. Isn't that punishment in itself?
The consequences of being sent to prison can vary greatly between individuals. Punishing someone by sending them to prison isn't an end to the matter. For a person of low academic achievement and no job it could mean a real chance of rehabilitation if we would only put into place the sort of help they need. The problem is that we don't spend the enormous amount of time and money they often need. There are many good reasons why the "recidivists" are back in prison and they often relate to intelligence, literacy levels, employment, and support networks.
For a person of greater academic achievement who has had a job and made some poor - even downright stupid - choices the chances are that they have also lost their job and may have difficulty finding another. Or, as is the case with the girl who stabbed her boyfriend, they won't finish their training and will spend the rest of their life effectively being punished for that one act.
Now, don't misunderstand me please. She did the wrong thing. She needed to face up to the consequences of what she did and do something about it - which apparently she has. But, how much further do you want the courts to go? Do you want the courts to judge her more harshly and punish her even more severely simply because she  is  who she is? Or do you want to hope that she can turn her life around and, although she may never be a doctor, still do something useful with her life?
It's a fine balancing act. 
When judges are criticised for the sentences they hand down it is often the case that the media - and thus the public - don't know the full story. They won't be in full possession of the facts or understand the things the judge must take into account.
And, in this case, it is also possible that an important sentencing precedent has been set. That could do much to help many young people.

Monday, 2 October 2017

The former Prime Minister was headbutted

recently. I mentioned this elsewhere.
This morning there is an article in our state newspaper "celebrating" the fact. What it is celebrating though is interesting. It celebrates the fact that our previous Prime Ministers don't, generally speaking, go out with a security detail in tow. 
I know that's not the case with previous Presidents of the United States or some previous Prime Ministers, Presidents, Chancellors and the like in Europe. 
We apparently take a different view Downunder. I say "apparently" because, despite what the writer of the article had to say, it isn't quite as simple as it appears to be on the surface.
But it does happen here - and in the UK - more often than people realise.  I have chatted to a former Governor of this state in the bank. She was actually the Governor at the time - but she had the  habit of standing in the queue with everyone else. It allowed her "to talk to people". I have met other VIPs in other (almost) unexpected places - like the law library and in lifts. My encounters have usually been brief and involved  nothing more than social pleasantries. 
And there was that elderly gentleman who walked through some university grounds in London every morning at about the same time as I would arrive. I mended the cuff on a cardigan for him once - and had no idea that he was actually a member of the  High Court. He didn't tell me. I didn't need to know. When I did find out we still just went on talking about the weather - as the British do. 
I have told people the story since then - not to name drop but to point out that the apparent security detail isn't always there and, even if it is, it isn't always apparent - unless perhaps you know where to look. 
For some years a former Chief Justice of this state (a very very distant relative)  lived alone in a tiny house in the city. It didn't appear to be anything special. If you looked very closely though there were a few discreet security details that were not on other properties and, oddly, there was often a police car parked somewhere in the street. In it there would usually be a couple of officers on an apparent break. I was invited to go there once and the police car was in evidence. They nodded me in after I had pressed the buzzer on the gate and announced myself. They knew full well who I was and what I was doing there.  To anyone who didn't know though it would just have been "a couple of cops having a break" and "someone ringing an entry bell" - and that's the way it should have been. 
Most of the time the same Chief Justice walked the city (he never learned to drive) apparently alone. He liked to do it that way - despite the security risks. It meant he could talk to people if he wanted to do so - and he liked to talk to people. I have seen other high profile public figures do the same.
And that's the way it should be. Yes, the former Prime Minister got headbutted by an idiot but it is better he gets headbutted by an idiot than all former Prime Ministers travel in armour proof vehicles with armed motorcycle outriders. 
And, if it hadn't been that way, an elderly man who was grieving for his late wife would never have had the cuff of the cardigan she knitted for him mended. I'm glad that a "lack of security detail" meant that could happen.


Sunday, 1 October 2017

The "wrong" team won

- according to the local crowd.
Yesterday it was incredibly, unbelievably quiet around here. 
I had to go and pick up a book at the local library. That lovely place is open on Saturday afternoons and normally it is busy. There was almost nobody in there. It was a "football free zone". 
It was a warm and sunny spring afternoon but nobody was out gardening or mowing their lawns. They were all, it seems, inside and watching the "big" match.
And the wrong team won - according to the local crowd.
Now I really genuinely do feel sorry for all those people who were disappointed. I've never felt like that about a sports match or athletic competition in my life. 
Even at school I didn't feel enthused about my "house". Oh yes, I participated in a limited sort of way. I won "house points" for academic work and other things. I never won them for sport of course but I was made to study for (and pass) the umpire's examination for soft ball. I can't remember even how to play the game now. It was just a game - and one I was not at all interested in. 
The Senior Cat is equally disinterested and unaware. I had to stop him from phoning someone during the match because, as I pointed out, it would be rather like interrupting a church service. Sport is that important here in Downunder. 
Middle Cat is sports mad. If the game has a ball attached she has played it. She knows the rules for everything. She can discuss tactics and passes and techniques. She was the "trainer" for a major football team for years. Even with all that behind her she did not watch the big match. She went off with my BIL and cleared out a shed instead - and yes, it was her choice to do that. 
The whole business had reached a point where even Middle Cat no longer cared. There was, even for her, just too much hype surrounding the whole thing - pages and pages in the paper and hours on television. No doubt there  are multiple postmortems taking place now and more to take place later. 
But, as I said, I do feel genuinely sorry for those people who had invested so much time, money, and emotional energy into the match - only to have "their" team lose. It must have been devastating  because they didn't just lose, they lost by a wide margin...even I can work out the difference between 108 and 60 "points" (whatever "points" are). It's a lot.
I also feel sorry for the players...perhaps even sorrier for them. They were, before the match, made out to be some sort of heroes and full of courage. I don't doubt they tried their best - and they failed. It must be humiliating. They are going to be subjected to great scrutiny and no doubt there will be some "changes" and loss of jobs. They will be reminded of the financial loss they have incurred too. Their supporters will also have things to say - and they won't always be kind.
And all this bothers me because - isn't it really just a game?
 

Saturday, 30 September 2017

I try not to comment on the Guardian

website. Actually the Guardian website irritates me. I look at it sometimes because someone alerts me to an article or there is something going on and it is useful to see what their rolling coverage has to say compared with my other sources of information. And  yes, it tends to be sensationalist rather than accurate.
It is scarcely surprising when someone on the Guardian staff has a shot at the monarchy. It is that sort of news site.
Now what I think of the monarchy is irrelevant here but I went to law school at what was then regarded as the law school to attend in Downunder if you were in the slightest interested in international law, constitutional law, maritime law, or various other specialist law areas.  It is still seen that way. It turns out lawyers for the public service. People go on to be barristers and members of parliament or they work in the diplomatic corp. I went to law school with three former senators, one of whom is now an ambassador in Europe. Some years later I appeared in front of a major parliamentary inquiry and he was on it. He interrupted another Senator trying to give me a hard time for my (opposing) point of view and suggested they listen to what I had to say because I had, like him, been taught by someone everyone in the room respected for his knowledge of constitutional law.
And it is that knowledge of constitutional law and constitutional lawyers which came into question in a recent Guardian article. Our Professor, a republican if ever there was one, had good words to say about the present Queen Elizabeth. She is, he told us, an expert constitutional lawyer. No, she hasn't been to university. She has managed to gain her skills and knowledge on the job so to speak. Of course she would seek advice if she needed to know more but she can also offer advice - and many a Prime Minister has been glad of it and the way it has sometimes saved them embarrassment and humiliation. 
It's much too easy to assume that the Queen and other members of "the Firm" simply turn up, read a speech that someone else has written, listen to other speeches, take an artificial interest in what they are being shown and go away again. Nothing could be further from the truth. The Queen still works hard. Other members of the family work hard too - in ways that the public never see. Their fund raising capacities - as I have cause to know - are an essential part of charitable life. They listen and lobby and often a word from them can get something done before it gets out of control - again, something I have cause to personally know about.
Life behind the scenes in the palaces and castles and other residences is not opulent. It is almost austere. I've seen the evidence for myself.  There is a vast difference between the "royalty" the public sees and their actual lives. I'd loathe the sort of demands made of them.
So, whatever we may think of the monarchy, we need to realise that there is far more to it than the "glamorous" side. It is tedious and tiring - and it requires far more knowledge and hard work than most people would even contemplate gaining or doing.  
But, this seems to make little difference to the anti-monarchy brigade. All they see is what appears to be a "rich and privileged" family born into a role rather than earning it.
It is rather like the reporting of another case in the British media recently - that of an apparently intelligent and privileged university student who received a suspended sentence for stabbing her boyfriend. The media made much of that - and they didn't let the facts get in the way of the criticisms of the judge for the sentence handed down. That the real culprit in that crime was almost certainly someone else was of no interest to them.
I of course was roundly criticised for trying to point this out to the Guardian readership. It's my own fault. 

Friday, 29 September 2017

I had a call from "My Aged Care"

yesterday. 
This was organised by my soon to be niece-in-law. She's a nurse - marrying my doctor nephew.  Fortunately for us she knows how these things work and  has taken advantage of it. 
Yes, I know - unfair...or is it?
I thought about this. The Senior Cat is currently 94. He will turn 95 in February next year, if he is still with us. Up until the past couple of weeks we have, apart from the time he broke his leg and when he had the fall, managed without any extra help.  He isn't costing the government money by needing to be in a nursing home. I don't get paid for looking after him at home. He doesn't get Meals on Wheels or any of the other assistance other people his age are getting. 
Recently our wonderful gardener/handyman said he wanted to retire too. That's a real blow to us and it also means we need to make some changes and get some new help outside. That's because there are things I simply physically can't do. I'm not big enough or strong enough. I can't climb a ladder or get rid of more rubbish than we can bin.  S....has been marvellous. He has changed light bulbs, fixed a door, cleared gutters, weeded, pruned, dug, planted and more. His charges have been very, very reasonable. Losing him is going to mean finding multiple people to do multiple things - unless we make some changes. 
The Senior Cat doesn't want things to change - but he knows they must. We need to be rid of the tubs he was growing things in - so he doesn't trip over them. His old "compost" arrangement has to change. He won't be using a lot of compost in future. His gardening will mean "pottering" in the containers he has at waist height - when he has the energy. I suspect he will get a little planting done and I will have to keep them watered and weeded. 
But if we can keep him at home and he can do at least some of the things he did before then he will be a much happier cat. Yesterday I looked at someone I know. She moved into a nursing home about seven or eight months ago. Her children insisted. They said she couldn't cope alone...and no, they are too busy to help her. She loathes the nursing home, misses her pots and her cat (who now lives with the neighbours) and her neighbours "popping in and out". With a bit of help she could have stayed where she was but her family took the easy way out. 
I don't want to do that. I hope my brother can help with the  garden issues when he arrives in a few weeks time - and that the Senior Cat can go on "pottering"for a while yet. 
 

Thursday, 28 September 2017

The lights went out

in this state twelve months ago.
I was giving a friend a cup of tea. She had lost her husband not long beforehand and, as was her habit, had called in for a cup of tea on her way home from teaching. 
We have a gas cook top and an electric oven. It was a deliberate choice. My mother was of the view that, if you had both gas and electricity then you always had the possibility of making that cup of tea. She didn't actually drink tea herself but that was beside the point. Other people do. They might need it.
And W... needed those cups of tea. She has moved to the other side of the city now and we don't see her as often but, when she can, she will come for lunch and talk to the Senior Cat about those things which are more of their generation than mine.
As the power outage was still on when she left and obviously wide spread I gave her a thermos of hot water as well. It was just as well. It was hours before the power went on again. 
There was renewed talk then of the need for a state-wide "disaster plan". Nothing has happened.
There are other parts of the world where there are disaster plans. There are disaster plans for various scenarios. They work with varying degrees of efficacy - some of them are very little use but others are better.  There is always some chaos in a disaster but at least something is there.
I wonder how we would manage here though? Yesterday the internet connection kept dropping out. It dropped out seven times in the afternoon alone and then twice more before I gave up and switched off. It is off as I am typing this at 7am. I may get lucky and publish it in a moment - when I have had to manually reconnect yet again. I wonder what will happen in the summer when I am doing my turn on emergency duty for a group of people with disabilities who are alone during the day? Doing duty means depending on an internet connection which allows me to monitor a website that will tell me about the need for people to evacuate. So far we have only ever had to evacuate one person - but what if there were more?
I know that the internet connection is not just about power being available. The power didn't go out at all yesterday - but the company which supplies the connection is more concerned with making a profit than providing a reliable service. They know there is nothing customers can do  because all other companies are also intent on providing a minimum service for maximum profit. 
But, in a disaster, that could be a disaster. Our modern world relies heavily on power - power that provides the capacity for people to communicate in all sorts of ways.
We have lost that small village communication capacity. Yes, everyone knew the business of everyone else but it also meant that, when help was needed, it was much more likely to happen.
The power has gone out in more ways than one - and we urgently need a disaster plan before it is too late. 

Wednesday, 27 September 2017

I loathe mobile phones

with a passion. I know they can be used wisely as a safety device and that they are often convenient but they seem to be taking over.
I have one but it is for a strictly limited purpose. It is there for the Senior Cat or Middle Cat to contact me when I am out - and only then if it is urgent. I turn it off apart from that.
This puzzles people. Don't you want to leave it on all the time? No. What if someone else needs to contact you? They can try again on the home phone later. If the Senior Cat is home he will take a message on the home phone and I'll get back to you.
When I am out I am out doing something. I won't answer the phone if I am riding my trike. I need to keep my limited wits about me and avoid people who back out of driveways without looking or  drivers who don't notice anything other than another car - and sometimes not even that. If I am in the supermarket, the post office or the library then I am doing something else and I don't want to be distracted by someone telling me about something unimportant - however interesting we might both find it.
I thought the Senior Cat and Middle Cat were the only people with the number. It seems not. Yesterday I had two phone calls. The first came from a representative of a local real estate agency. She started to excitedly tell me that she had just sold a house around the corner from us....how had she got my number? The Senior Cat would not have given it to her. Middle Cat would not have given it to her. The only answer is that the phone company has given it to her - along with my details. I told her this. She denied it. She claimed I had given it to her. I have put in a formal complaint about that.
The other came from the team trying to drum up support for the same-sex marriage vote. There can be no doubt at all that they have managed to buy, beg, borrow or steal some phone lists. What is more the voice at the other end was, if anything, even more pushy than the girl from the real estate company. I told them I had passed in my ballot paper. They wanted to know how I had voted. I told them it was none of their business and that no, I was not going to support the campaign one way or another. What people think about that issue is their private affair. And, I asked how they had got my number. They had of course been given a long list of numbers to call. 
The time and money that is wasted intruding on other people's lives doesn't seem to even occur to these people. 
And it makes me angry that someone, somewhere has  handed out information about me that was not supposed to be shared. No doubt they have been paid well for it too.
 

Tuesday, 26 September 2017

Loyalty is usually seen

as a good thing. Supporting others is  usually seen as a good thing. There are "loyalty" cards from shops - where you supposedly get perks for being a regular shopper and plenty more besides.
And then there is loyalty to your football team...you know, the one you "barrack" for. You buy the team scarf, cap, flag and other "gear" at highly inflated prices to "support" your team. 
Years ago, when I first started teaching, there was almost no such merchandise available. I taught all the ten and eleven year old children in my class to knit and they made themselves football beanies in their team colours. 
They all supported the same team so there was a lot of black and white in the room. They tended to see the world in terms of black and white too - I was attempting to change that, gradually. 
I wonder what they do now though. I doubt they knit their own beanies. They wouldn't be "official" you see. 
Having the "official" gear is apparently important - and the cost is part of "supporting" your team.  
The same is true of attending the matches. Going to a match is expensive. 
This morning's paper is full of an upcoming "final" for which supporters are apparently prepared to pay not just hundreds but even thousands of dollars to see their team play.  Apparently people are prepared to pay to travel interstate to do it too. This means hundreds of dollars in airfares - at inflated prices because of the demand - and the ticket to the match plus all the associated expenses. The minimum cost for a ticket was over three hundred dollars - and apparently you would have to be incredibly fortunate to get one that cheaply.  Some tickets in prime viewing positions are apparently going for almost ten times that price.
I don't know anyone who has a ticket to the match. I don't know anyone who would be willing to pay that much. Most people I know also know that they can't afford to spend that sort of money on a single afternoon's entertainment.
     "It wouldn't be worth it, even if you knew your team was going to win," the Whirlwind informed me yesterday. She doesn't much care for football. 
I asked her if she would pay it to go to a cricket match - something she has, like me, a vague interest in.
     "No, not even my Dad would do that," she told me, "Think of all the things you could have forever with that sort of money."
And yes, it is a thought.
Her father said to me, "I'd rather spend the money paying off the mortgage."
I know other people's priorities are different. For them, their team is everything. They are devoted and fiercely loyal in a way I won't ever understand.
But it does seem like an awful lot of money - and what if your team doesn't win? 

Monday, 25 September 2017

The Craft and Quilt fair is

over for another year. I hope it isn't over forever - but it might be, at least for me.
I have spent the last four days at our state show grounds helping out on the stall belonging to my good friend Prudence Mapstone. It has been a wonderful excuse for my paws to caress yarn and more yarn. It has been a chance to talk to people about knitting and crochet, to help some of them choose a crochet hook or a knitting needle or some of the  lovely buttons that were for sale. 
Some people even bought yarn.
BUT - and yes that "but" needs to be in capital letters" - people did not buy very much. 
I know that what my friend sells is not cheap - but it is very reasonably priced given what it is. It is very high quality yarn with a difference. She has gone out of her way to source yarn which is different, yarn which is not available in the shops, yarn which will challenge the knitter and crocheter. Instead of "just wool" she has sourced linen, silk, kid-mohair, alpaca, possum and quiviut. The cotton she stocks is chosen specifically for certain types of crochet work. Yes, there is a little sock wool - and those tiny balls of it are great fun to add to heels and toes of socks! 
There has been a lot of research and hard work go into my friend's stall. It isn't simply a matter of "buying a lot of stuff and putting it out" as some people seem to think. There are many matters to consider before something goes on to the stall for sale. 
Knowing that what she sells is different my friend has also produced a range of "one/two-skein" and "one/two-ball" projects - scarves, mittens, hats, shawls, a vest or two. A good many of those projects have been designed, knitted and written up by me...and yes, I get the money for the patterns for my friends in Africa. It's been a good fundraiser to date.
But not this year. Perhaps people are tired of craft fairs. There was another one earlier in the year and, in all honesty, the city I live in can only support one in a year - if it can even support that. 
The guild I belong to has had a presence at both. The first one allowed guild members to sell things. This one didn't. It was for advertising purposes only. I don't see the first one continuing to allow sales by guilds either. Why should they? The other stall holders, rightly, don't like it. They have come to sell their products. Guild items weren't made from those. People would not spend the amount required to sell an item and even get back the cost of the yarn - let alone anything for actually making something. 
Someone asked me how much I thought one of the vests I had made would sell for commercially. I told her what the yarn would cost - and that alone had her shaking her head. When I said "and times that by three at least" she was horrified. I then pointed out that what I was wearing and what my friend was wearing would, if worked out even just that way, cost far more she said, "I suppose it's why this sort of thing doesn't sell in the shops".  
I suppose it might sell in galleries - occasionally.  What had not seemed to occur to this woman is that this is why the  yarn is sold - so that people can make their own.
Making your own - for yourself, or for other people - is about owning something special and perhaps unique. It is about perhaps giving someone something special. And yes, if you are really good at your craft - like one reader of this blog - you may be fortunate and find a gallery willing to carry a little of your work. It will however be hard work - as that same reader knows.  
So, to all of you who go to such events and wander past a display and think "that's nice" try thinking a little further as well. Try thinking about the work involved, why those yarns were chosen, and why the colours within those yarns were chosen, that someone had to pack, price, and label - and that records have to be kept. Think about the fact that the stalls have to be set up - a day's work in itself - and then taken down again.
Yes, it's hard work - and it needs your support if you are going to benefit from it. 

Sunday, 24 September 2017

"She's wearing the pink tablecloth,"

I heard someone say.
Well yes, it is a quilt and craft fair and I suppose people do wear some interesting things - but a pink tablecloth?
I am a conservative dresser. I loathe fussy, frilly clothes. I prefer plain to floral. I don't like lace. 
I don't mind making those things - for other people. I never wear them. 
Other people must. Well, they do. I have seen some in the past three days. I know I will see more today. There is every sort of garment imaginable at such events. It is fun trying to guess what crafts people are interested in from the way they dress.
The dressmakers tend to be a little more conservative in their style. The quilters go for more colour. People who do "messy" crafts which involve glue and paper and the like tend to wear jeans and wild necklaces they have made themselves. People who smock tend to wear very neat clothing... and all of that can be completely wrong.
There was the man wandering around yesterday wearing jeans and a t-shirt advertising a group of some sort. He was wearing a rather wild beanie and carrying some shopping which positively shouted, "I'm a quilter!" He bought a crochet hook from me - and told me he makes his living as fibre artist in another part of the world. He just happened to be on holiday here and saw the fair advertised. 
There was the girl who came along with her father. I wondered what the story was there. They were very close and when I inquired about whether someone could teach her what she wanted to learn she said very quietly, "My mum died. My dad and I will do it from the internet."  I hope she finds people to help too. If they lived here then I could have offered more help.
There were people in wheelchairs who needed help to reach things. There was the Down Syndrome girl who could crochet and wanted a crochet hook in a different size. Did we have a red one? She went off beaming. A visually impaired woman admitted she hated asking for help choosing big buttons, "But I can still see well enough to sew those on." 
There was a very elderly woman who looked a little odd. I couldn't quite work it out until I realised that she looked as if she had stepped out of the 1920's. Her style, down to the hair net on her dyed hair, was exactly that of the older woman then.  I wonder if she often dresses that way?
It was all fascinating. 
But, I kept looking for the person wearing the pink tablecloth.

Saturday, 23 September 2017

The man who allegedly headbutted the former Prime Minister

Tony Abbott has done himself no favours. He has also been given far too much publicity. 
I would like to see him given a lengthy custodial sentence. It is more likely he will be given a rap over the knuckles, perhaps a good behaviour bond and a suspended sentence at the most. The courts will say they don't want to make a martyr of him.
This man says it had nothing to do with the marriage equality debate. He says he just saw the former Prime Minister, a man he apparently loathes, and decided to "have a go" at him. Really? 
It's possible but I suspect it is all a bit more complicated than that.
Whatever the reasons I think there is a need to send a very strong message that it is not acceptable to use violence. 
Unprovoked violence is even more disturbing. 
The Senior Cat comes close to being a pacifist. He won't read war books or watch war films either. He would defend his family and, when younger, anyone weaker than himself. He would never have initiated violence.  At school he was apparently known for being the one to try and negotiate a peace deal. He went on doing it into his adult life - having the example of his parents and other relatives.
We have grown up the same way. Don't pick a physical fight.
That doesn't mean we won't argue. In a couple of weeks from now I will be getting up to say something that may well lead to an argument. Nevertheless I have thought carefully about what I want to say and have taken the trouble to prepare it. I won't lash out physically.
The media has made much of the alleged attack. It is almost as if they admire the man who is said to have hit out. The incident is being used. I suppose that's inevitable but it makes me angry. They know what they are doing.
Words have consequences. When we use them we have to take responsibility for them.

Friday, 22 September 2017

Earthquakes in Mexico,

hurricanes, floods, war...the threat of war...
It goes on.
There's a war going on that is getting very little attention - the war in Yemen. 
I am not going to say anything about the rights or wrongs of that war...all war is wrong.
What I want to say here is that one of the aid workers sent his colleagues (of whom I am one) a message yesterday. Translated it reads like this,
      Today has been the worst day yet. This has been the worst week. We lost 9 children last night - 71 this week. There will be more tonight. There is nothing I can do. We have not enough supplies. The cholera takes them quickly. (Perhaps) better than the slow malnutrition. What am I saving them for? They fear everything....
There is more like that. It's the cry of despair from a man who has seen more horrors than most. He's being pulled out. He's exhausted. His colleagues are exhausted. They can't see an end to the horrors they are seeing. They don't see their job as restoring people to health any more, rather as giving people the best palliative care they can offer when they have nothing to offer. 
How can people be so determined to gain power and control that they can allow that amount of suffering to occur?  There will be an entire generation of children who are malnourished, who aren't getting a proper education  - and will be too malnourished to get the benefit they should get from an education if it becomes available. They will be so traumatised that they they may never recover.
Yes, all war and disaster zones are like that  but we seem to be forgetting the one in Yemen...and that young doctor is suffering the consequences. It's his country, the country he was born in. He thought he could cope but the effect on aid workers can be terrible too. 
A  Rohingya refugee here spends his days in the library at a computer. He is trying to get support for the plight of his fellow Rohingya but he is also surprisingly wary of what he says.
      "Do not say Aung San Suu Kyi is doing nothing," he told me. "She has almost no power. The army rule Burma. If she says too much or if she says the wrong thing then the army will put her under house arrest again." 
And yes, they probably will. 
There are limits to the power of people like the young aid worker to endure. There are limits to the power of people like the Aung San Suu Kyi to make changes and demand changes from others.  It is easy from outside a country to say "this is wrong" and then "change it" but there is so much we don't know.  

Thursday, 21 September 2017

The "get well" card

is on two pieces of bright red cardboard. There are brightly coloured fish, an octopus under some pieces of white polystyrene "seaweed", another octopus avoiding the fish, a whale rising out of the water. There are tiny little fluffy balls which are sea urchins. It's a work of art.
It has also been made with that glorious determination of small children to  get something "just right". 
Our young neighbour is nearly four. He's smart, funny - and kind. He has highly intelligent parents who are kind and concerned and he is learning from their care and concern. His mother is a paediatrician - but she "doesn't mind the odd bit of gerontology" when it comes to a neighbour. I am grateful for that. I won't call on her services except in an extreme emergency. That would be wrong but she has made it clear that she is, in such an emergency, available. 
Yesterday she brought young T.... and his baby brother over so that the card could be delivered. I admired it properly. A moment ago I was able to honestly tell T... that the Senior Cat was impressed.  And it is the sort of thing he will treasure. He still has drawings his grandsons did for him.
And it reminded me that, tucked away, I have a "portrait" of me done by a three year old. I reminded the artist's sister of this several years ago. She responded by saying, "And I still have the cat you drew for me - your special one."
I am no artist. I don't try to be but I can draw those vaguely cat-like squiggles and K.... had kept it. I had come back to Downunder and her mother wrote and asked, "Can you draw K.... one of your cats?" Of course I could...although I thought she would lose it when she had tried it for herself...but she didn't....
and that means much more than the shapes on the paper.