Saturday, March 31st .....

We brought the van back to Deloraine yesterday but the weather is pretty miserable. Still, it’s a break from the house and a chance to touch base with what’s happening here. We were invited to a book launch last night. It’s called The Edge and it’s a natural history of the Great Wester Tiers, the low mountain range which runs for about 100 Km across the top of Tasmania.

It was funded by money raised at a Forest Festival in Jackey’s Marsh, which is not far from Deloraine. Jackey’s Marsh is a real hippie community and there are people there who still live in tepees and humpies without power or running water. Of course, a lot of the alternatives who came here in the 1970s and 80s have prospered and there are spectacular houses in the area as well. I think the Forest Festival tries to hold on to some of the ideals of the early days and there is a mystical quality about it.

One of the organising groups is the Friends of the Great Western Tiers and they do a pretty good job of promoting it and looking after the natural resources of the area. The book is an attempt to record what the Tiers is about before it’s all lost. The book is beautiful and the author, Sarah Lloyd, talked about it and showed spectacular photographs. The picture above is a Spotted Pardalote which is endemic to Tasmania. Sarah is particularly keen on organisms called slime moulds. Apparently they are quite beautiful but get a bad press because of their name; one is even called Dog's Vomit Slime Mould (Fuligo septica.) All the local arty group, and the alternatives were there enjoying the free drinks and food, seeking out the vegetarian or vegan options. They had vegan sausage rolls – a triumph of misnaming food.

While we were there, we noticed a poster for a stage show called Blitz, being held that night in Deloraine. Never willing to miss an opportunity, we gobbled a few more mini-quiches in lieu of dinner and hurried off to see whether we could pay at the door. Sadly, there were only about 20 people there but what a show. The sole performer was an English woman who calls herself SiSi and the show was based on her grandmother who delivered groceries in Liverpool during the war and went on to become a well-known entertainer during the Blitz. SiSi has a fantastic voice and some of the songs were outstanding: she sang Another Suitcase in Another Hall better than anyone (except maybe Barbara Dickson) and a medley of Someone to Watch Over Me and Somebody to Love was unbelievable.

Long story short, she is coming back for the Craft Fair weekend and will perform Blitz on one night and a new show she is writing called Tats Dawson, Gangster Moll on two. We’ll promote her through the program and she has promised to sing a song at the Cocktail Party on the Friday night.

I didn’t mention that Marilyn has offered to look after the entertainment at the Fair so she took SiSi aside and sorted out the details. SiSi now lives at Cygnet in the Huon Valley.

Sunday, March 25th .....

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that one of Jamie’s good friends committed suicide just over a year ago. He left a partner and a young son and Jamie has been keeping in touch with Angie and Mason to provide a male influence to the young kid. It was his third birthday today and Marilyn and I were invited. We were asked to dress up, or wear a mask, or bright clothes. I’m pleased to say that lots of people made the effort and, of course, Marilyn and Jamie did their best.

Marilyn used her outfit from the Fifties night and said she was Alice in Wonderland and I wore a colourful shirt I had bought in a moment of weakness in Bali. I didn’t think it was too bad but I was a bit upset by some of the comments and sniggers behind my back. There was one young woman there who obviously had taste as she said it was fantastic. She went on to say that she had seen one just like it in an Op Shop last week and I’m not sure what to make of that comment.

Jamie toyed with the idea of wearing Kiss make-up but then settled on going as the builder in the Village People. When the costume came together, he thought he looked like a European road worker so he introduced himself: My name is Stivros but you can call me Stiv. He was quite a hit and won a prize for the best costume. I was sure they would have given the prize to me but Marilyn probably told them it would only embarrass me.

It was a great party. Mason was sharing it with a little girl turning one so there was quite a turn-out with two families and friends. There was lots of party food and red cordial so we were quite exhausted when we left.

Saturday, March 24th .....

This is the weekend when all the vintage and veteran cars turn up at Longford , not far from us, for what they call the Revival Weekend. Many years ago, there was a road circuit through the town and the old timers try to relive those glory days by having the old cars race up and down the main street.

The reality is that it has become a fund-raiser for the town; they charge $50 to be a spectator. Of course, car enthusiasts will pay anything to look under the bonnet of a Lamborghini.

To mark the occasion (or maybe it was just a coincidence) one of the Rotarians organised a car rally, similar to one we had last year. I heard on Friday that one of the drivers might be short of a navigator so Jamie volunteered to fill that spot. There were 13 cars involved and we were the first one to leave. As it happens, Jamie wasn’t needed in the other car so I drove, he navigated and Marilyn sat in the back seat, giving gratuitous advice and complaining that she couldn’t hear the instructions.

We didn’t start well; the first clue was to find a concrete post on the RH side of the mainstreet showing how far it was to B..... None of us saw it as there was car parked in front of it! How dumb is that ? We also missed the second clue – who is advertising accommodation? – because the wind had blown the sign about and you couldn’t read it. Still, we pressed on and were doing well, all but the last two questions answered and well within the time limit.

The instructions said Follow C314 and go straight on to B17. As we approached the Y- intersection, a flock of Ferraris came along B17 so we waited for them and I turned right on to B17, and that’s where everything came unstuck. I hadn’t realised that the left arm of the Y was also B17 and I had turned the wrong way. We had travelled 20 Km before we realised our mistake so we ended up at the finish, 36 minutes late and an extra 40Km on the odometer.

Three other cars made the same mistake. One of them never turned up so we expect he decided it was quicker to go home, and the other two were over an hour behind us. The last three were disqualified and we were declared officially in last place. I always love getting a prize but how embarrassing to get one for coming last.

Friday, March 23rd .....

I’m a great believer in synchronicity: the feeling that ideas or situations come together as if pre-arranged. Some people say that when one door closes, another opens to explain how on the day that a person resigns from his job, another one, even better, becomes available. Or the extraordinary occurrence that when you scratch your head wondering how to solve a particular problem, the phone rings with a person you have never heard of offering the perfect solution. A bit spooky - like deja vu.

At Giant Steps, this happened so often we began to talk of a guardian angel and I suppose that’s how the idea of a guardian angel watching over took hold in our culture. And I guarantee that other cultures have similar ideas.

A couple of weeks ago I thought I would attempt to learn a few phrases of a Japanese which would be invaluable on our forthcoming trip (that’s an example of irony; the only time I tried to communicate in Japanese was ludicrous). However, I got hold of a couple of phrase books and I am trying to learn one or two every day. One promises that if I can learn 100 words, I can express 1000 ideas. Sounds good.

I decided I would also attempt to write a poem about it and here are the first few verses:

In the wilds of far Tasmania, it’s rare to hear the chatter
Of jolly Japanese jabbering about things that really matter
In this typical selection of the Tassy population
It’s English that we speak like the rest of this great nation.


If we all could choose a language that we use to tell our story
And we all chose something different, conversation would be gory
To concentrate on English is a sensible decision
That means that what we want to say can be said without revision.


But when we go to foreign lands, we’re faced with much confusion
The natives there don’t speak like us – I’ve come to that conclusion.
Next time I go to distant climes I’ll sort that out, by jingo
By learning how the natives speak, and speaking in their lingo.

Instead of saying Good Afternoon, I’ll say Konnichi-wa
And sumimasen, kudasai and Mo tabemashita ka?
I’ll cause a stir where e’er I go, they’ll stop me in my track
To hear me speak like natives do, and slap me on the back.


As you can see, there is a bit to go yet but back to the synchronicity – On TV I notice that Stephen Fry’s Planet Word is being shown and the first episode talks about the different languages and how hard it is for some people to learn any language but their own. I suppose it’s stretching things a bit to call this synchronicity but I’m going to do so anyway.

NOTE: Konnichi wa – Good afternoon
Sumimasen – Excuse me
Kudasai - Sorry
Mo tabemashita ka – Have you eaten yet?

Thursday, March 22nd .....

What a sad story to hear that Lincoln Hall, who came back from the dead in 2006, has succumbed to mesothelioma. It’s a tragedy that he probably acquired the disease when, at the age of 9, he helped his dad build cubby houses out of asbestos cement sheets.

The story of his supposed death on Mt Everest in 2006 is an amazing one. He had been part of the first successful climb of Everest by an Australian expedition in 1984 but had not reached the summit himself. He tried again in 2006 even though he had suffered from severe frostbite on previous occasions and knew he would be in great pain if he went back to the high mountains. He did reach the summit but on the way back he collapsed. The rest of his party suspected he had cerebral oedema, a type of altitude sickness. The sherpas of his party tried to rescue him but it was believed he was near death and Alexander Abramov, the leader of the group, ordered them to leave Hall alone in the tent and retreat to comparative safety. A message was sent out that he had died.

Apparently, in the climbing season, the path to Everest is crowded with numerous parties and twelve hours later he was discovered by a group making a summit attempt. He was lucid, almost naked and sitting cross-legged in the snow. The summit party immediately aborted their attempt and went to his assistance. Soon after they were met by a group of 12 sherpas who had been sent up by Abramov to retrieve his body.

There is another twist to this story. A few days earlier, a British climber, David Sharp had died after falling into unconsciousness. It was reported that several parties had passed him while he was still alive, making no attempt to rescue him. Obviously, climbers understand the risks and don’t expect other climbers to stop what they are doing to give a helping hand. It costs tens of thousands of dollars to join an Everest expedition and most climbers only get one attempt in their lives. But, how can a human being ignore another climber in distress?

Now, knowing me as a serial name-dropper, you’ll expect that I have a personal connection to the case. Well, in about 1997 or 1998, Lincoln Hall gave a talk in Mittagong. I think a climbing friend of his was launching a book and Hall was there to support him. We received an invitation to go back to the author’s house for a drink and met Lincoln Hall in person. Sadly, we have no strong memories of the occasion, and I’m sure we made absolutely no impression on Mr Hall.

Wednesday, March 21st (late mail) .....

I can't believe it. I googled my query and came across this note from Arnotts to a dissatisfied customer:

"We used to have different bakeries in different States, each making a Ginger Nut biscuit that the locals loved. When Arnott's became a national company we looked at the possibility of selling one Ginger Nut nationally."
"In Qld, Gingernuts are thin and sweet with a dark colour;
In NSW they are small, thick and hard, with a light colour;
In Vic and Tas, they are bigger, softer and sweeter.
In SA and WA, the biscuits look similar to their Vic cousins, but taste sweeter


Here's a picture of a box of ginger nut biscuits made to tempt the taste-buds of NSW residents. But Arnotts is now suggesting they make one biscuit for the whole nation. Is nothing sacred? We're being forced to eat centrally-produced ginger nut biscuits made to suit the majority and without the special qualities of the state-based biscuits we grew up with. Shame, Arnotts, shame!

Wednesday, March 21st .....

Today is Harmony Day and someone in authority thought it would be a good idea to have a Citizenship Ceremony at the Launceston Town Hall. Our unofficially adopted daughter, Siaren, was on the list to receive her certificate so we went along to cheer her on. It was great, about 40 people of all ages and from eleven countries, took the oath and were welcomed to their new country. The best bit for Siaren was lining up to receive a heap of presents: from the Government, local Rotary Club, CWA, etc. She got a hand-knitted coat-hanger from you-who-know and a teddy bear from someone else, and so on.

Morning tea was lovely with delicate little sandwiches, and sweet little cakes with flags stuck in them. I bet the CWA had nothing to do with it; if they had, I know there would have been sausage rolls and scones with jam and cream. Maybe they should have served a more traditional morning tea for the poor unsuspecting new citizens, just to give them a taste of what being an Australian really means. It’s not all beer and skittles being an Aussie!

I’m writing this as I watch Kitchen Cabinet and enjoy a glass of Penfolds Bluestone Port. I haven’t drunk port for a long time but it’s a bleak night and the port is hitting the spot. Annabell Crabb is rabbiting on about ginger nut biscuits, claiming that each state has a different recipe. NSW has the hardest ones. Can this be true? Research needed.

Talking about bleak weather – autumn is certainly upon us. Yesterday and today have been windy, wet and cold. The presenter on ABC Radio suggested it’s to do with the equinox and people who called in agreed with her. Jamie said the kids at Giant Steps were off today as well. There’s clearly some supernatural force at work here that I don’t understand.

We had the Craft Fair meeting tonight. It started at 7 o’clock and my expectation is that it will be finished by 8.30 – 90 minutes and no more. The agenda was longer than normal because a couple of issues came up at the last minute but at 8.25 I had finished the last item and asked, politely, if anyone had any general business, knowing full well that everybody could tell the time and would realise that it was time to go. However, one recalcitrant member raised an issue which sparked enthusiastic discussion and I wasn’t brave enough to pull it up. We ran on until 9 o’clock, without resolving anything and it is now the first item of business for our meeting next month. Can’t wait!

Tuesday, March 20th .....

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve stopped buying the local paper but occasionally I’ll pick up the Sunday Tasmanian published in Hobart. This weekend I was rewarded by a terrific article by Mia Freedman. Mia, I’ve discovered, has a website mamamia.com.au which I’ve checked out but probably never will again. It has articles like “I had an abortion!” and “Meet Deb, the one-armed pole-dancer.” There’s not much there for me, I’m afraid.

However, her article on Sunday struck a chord with me; it was entitled "We need our needles.” It talked about the trend for people to refuse to allow their children to be vaccinated because of a scare campaign that vaccinations cause autism. The problem is that, after numerous investigations, there is no link, nor has there ever been a link between vaccination and autism. Is it reasonable to believe that there is a world-wide conspiracy pushing vaccination just to make profits for drug companies? The example she gives is of a friend who decided, after ‘doing his research', that his child would not be vaccinated.

“I’m floored by the extraordinary assumption that he knew better than every scientist in the world – not to mention Bill and Melinda Gates who are spending millions of their own money, funding vaccination programs in Third World countries. What on earth could make a civilian believe his Google research is superior to decades of science?”

And it’s not even a matter of personal choice. The lives of babies too young to be vaccinated depend on herd immunity in the rest of the community so a choice not to allow one child to be vaccinated doesn’t just affect your own family; that decision has the potential to affect other families.

It’s a good example of how easy it is to mislead people with random graphs and alarmist statements.

The article takes a broader view as well. Suddenly, she says, everyone’s an expert. Now, anyone who can use Google thinks they know more than people who have proper qualifications and have devoted their lives to their special fields. Mia confesses that she knows her limitations. “I know less about science than scientists, less about tax than my accountant, less about cooking than Donna Hay and less about animals than the Bondi Vet.”

She finishes on a sensible note. “I’m certainly not suggesting that we become a flock of sheep or suspend critical thought. But I don’t need to do my research before I vaccinate. Or before I accept that the earth is round and that gravity exists. Scientists far smarter than me have already done that research and the verdict is unanimous, thanks.”

Sunday, March 18th .....

We’ve had a busy weekend here in Deloraine. It’s been great being back in the caravan and we seem to have more energy to get things done when we’re not in a house. We noticed that one of the little take-away shops was advertising that they would have Chinese food on Friday night so that saved us from having to cook something. We called in to the Empire Hotel for a pre-dinner drink but were a bit disappointed. The last time we were there was almost a year ago and Friday night was great. They had a Happy Hour and a Meat Raffle but that’s all in the past. They’ve decided to focus on their restaurant and the bar is just an adjunct to that; it has no atmosphere of its own. Shame!

We struggled out of bed on Saturday morning and decided to have a shower at Giant Steps. The shower in the van is adequate but you do have to develop a relationship with the shower curtain because of the tight space. It’s certainly more comfortable in a normal-sized shower. Later, at the supermarket, we met some friends from Rotary and went to their place for morning tea. Steen was keen to show me his train set. He’s an engineer and now puts his energy into his train. It’s N-gauge and he has a wonderful set up – still a bit to go before it’s finished but the work is very detailed and intricate. I might think I would like one but I know I wouldn’t have the patience to do the work required. And, when it’s finished, how can you spend hours just watching it go around in circles?

Today we visited a colleague from Giant Steps who has built a new house at Chudleigh. She was keen for us to meet her new partner who turned out to be one of the boarders we looked after at Friends School in the 1970s. We all tried to avoid the obvious and talked about almost everything but we kept coming back, inevitably to revisiting our memories of our time in the boarding house.

Later, we invited ourselves to a Trivia afternoon to raise money for Relay for Life. We always try to support this cause and a trivia competition seemed like a good way to do that. It was a bit sad in some ways. The organiser, Nicole, had printed posters and put them up all over town but, there was a total of only 12 people, our group of three (my ex-colleague, Kathryn, joined us), Nicole, her husband, son and mother, her best friend and a few mates. We split into two teams but it would have been nice if there been another dozen groups. The theme was television and the questions were excellent. Marilyn and I had to leave early and at that point, after 6 rounds, we were neck-and neck.

Our evening appointment was to play Indoor Bowls at the local bowling club. We were made very welcome and a good time was had by all.

Friday, March 16th .....

When we went to the last TGIF at the Windermere Cafe, Marilyn got talking to a woman who is a Librarian at Scotch-Oakburn College. She invited Marilyn to a Book Club which meets once a month not far from where we live and offered to drop in the current book choice for her to read. So, Marilyn received the book on Saturday morning which gave her 5 days to read it before the meeting.

The book was called Mozart and the Whale and Anne (the librarian) said it was quite hard going and she had struggled to finish it. It’s the true story of two people with Asperger’s Syndrome who meet and fall in love, which is extraordinary in itself. Marilyn enjoyed it, and said so at the meeting, and is now working through the next book.

I’ve been tidying up the last-minute details of our impending trip and I am looking at booking accommodation at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Beijing. My brother smugly said, ‘We stayed there,’ and proceeded to tell us a story about an episode which occurred when they were checking out. One of the staff came out and said to the assembled party, ‘There is a teaspoon missing. Does anyone have it in their luggage?’ Of course, no-one owned up but when Sandy and Janet got home, there it was among their toilet things. I think we’ll have to book under an assumed name in case they think we’re part of a family who help themselves to the silverware.

It reminds me of the time when my mother was travelling in Scotland and the landlady at a B&B (in Oban, I think) said that she didn’t like taking in Australians because they pinched the towels. Thankfully, Mum’s Scottish accent was broad enough to get her accepted.

Wednesday, March 14th .....

I’m amazed at how much my understanding of politicians is formed by the way they appear on television. Just this week, I saw Malcolm Turnbull and Tanya Plibersek on Q&A, and Penny Wong on Kitchen Cabinet. Now I feel I know them intimately.

Clearly the 15-second grabs from Tony Abbott or Bob Brown don’t leave the same impression; they all look shallow and leave me wondering whether they can be trusted.
But, an extended program like the ones above give the pollies a chance to give considered replies and even allow their personality to shine through. I always felt that Malcolm Turnbull had a lot to offer although his pompous manner left a bit to be desired. It was a joy on Monday evening to watch him trying to explain the nonsense of Abbott’s ‘turn back the boats’ policy, without breaking party solidarity. I think he did very well and kept coming back to the phrase ‘if it’s safe to do so’ – and not just safe for the navy, but safe for the refugees too. He also looked suitably humble when an audience member called on him to start a new party which would not be bound by the baggage hanging around the necks of the current political parties. I felt myself thinking that he might just be the messiah we need to shake our political system about a bit.

The other panel member who impressed me was Tanya Plibersek. I have always confused her in my mind with Kerry Chikarovski from NSW, but now that I have got her firmly set in my mind, I have to say that she impresses me too. It was such a relief to have two pollies on the panel who didn’t interrupt and snipe at each other. One of the audience texted in ‘ she has a gentle intelligence’ and hit the nail on the head. What about a new party with Malcolm as leader and Tanya as deputy?

Or maybe Penny Wong. I love Kitchen Cabinet on ABC2 and Annabel Crabb could easily become my second best friend. The whole concept is interesting and it gives the TV audience a chance to see the real person. Christopher Pyne is just as boring and uninteresting in real life as he appears in parliament; Amanda Vanstone is just as unlikeable, Nigel Scullion is amazing (how did a bloke like that get into parliament, or even want to?) and Penny Wong is impressive. I can’t wait to see what Annabel does with Julie Bishop tonight!


And if I feel a little manipulated by what I see on television, I console myself with the fact that at least I don't get my opinions from radio, from the likes of Alan Jones, for example.

Monday, March 12 .....

It was a big night in Deloraine last night. During the afternoon, we noted a number of cars arriving at the auditorium over the way from where we are parked. This is where they play basketball so we assumed that there were going to be some matches and we were toying with the idea of wandering over to sit in.

However, more and more cars started to arrive and it was clear that the passengers were too well-dressed for a sporting event and, sure enough, a bridal car turned up. And not just any bridal car but a restored FJ Holden, accompanied by a swathe of other SI cars, all of the Holden variety. In Tasmania, vintage and veteran cars can carry an SI number plate which is cheaper than a full registration.

The bride was dressed, as expected, in white but with a wide blue sash and the bridesmaids were in pale green. The men were in dark trousers and waistcoat with open-necked white shirts. Of course, the guests were more interested in the special cars which soon tore off in a cloud of dust. Clearly they were only hired by the hour to get the bridal party to the Reception. It seems the catering was being done by the women of the Junior Basketball Club which is why we were confused when we recognised one of the mums who had arrived in the afternoon.

Having been denied the chance to see a game of basketball, and as it was unlikely we would be welcome at the wedding reception, we decided to have a long walk and get back in time to watch Waking the Dead on telly.

If the music was anything to go by, it was a good night at the reception but everything became quiet about midnight. At 9 o’clock this morning, the first of the gang arrived to finish the cleaning-up. Just another chapter in the life of a country town.

Sunday, March 11 .....

It’s been too long since we stayed in the caravan and I’m delighted to say that we moved it to Deloraine yesterday and plan to stay in it for a couple of days. We’ve set it up outside the Rotary Pavilion which gives us access to power and water without the pressures of the next-door caravan being too close. I had already set up an office in the Pavilion so I can get on with my Craft Fair work while I’m here.

We went to the TGIF night at the Windermere Cafe and all the talk was about the latest chapter in the saga of the proposed Gunns Pulp Mill which is supposed to be built on the Tamar River a few kilometres north of where we live. This is an extraordinary story of how people-power can overturn big business trying to run rough-shod over community rights.

Tasmania has always had the reputation of being led by the nose by big business. When we came here first in 1975, it was the Hydro Electric Commission which called the shots. Sir Alan Knight, the CEO of the Hydro, used to meet regularly with the Premier of the day to give him his instructions as to how the political process could enhance the needs of the Hydro. One of the Premiers was even called Electric Eric (Reece). Of course, it all came unstuck when they tried to dam the Franklin River in the 1980’s and the Federal Government stepped in to declare it a World Heritage Area.

After the Hydro went back into its box, Forestry Tasmania took over the reins as de facto government. It is set up as a state-owned business but has never paid a dividend. Instead, it gets enormous subsidies each year from a tame government. The situation, of course, is that Tasmania is a Labor state and the votes of the workers decide the policies of the government. The bed-fellow of Forestry is Gunns, which has made its money by selling cheap wood-chips to Asia. The CEO during the 1990’s and the early part of this century was John Gay who was born in Deloraine. He lost his job a couple of years ago because of his inept management of the Pulp Mill project and is now in court facing a charge of insider trading when he sold 35 million Gunns shares two weeks before they asked for a trading halt on the Stock Exchange and the shares dropped to 20c. They are now less than 10c.

The situation is that Gunns wanted to build a Pulp Mill which, on the face of it, is a good thing. Except they got it all wrong: wrong design, wrong location, wrong timber, etc. Of all the places in Tasmania to choose to locate it, the Tamar River was the worst. It’s an area known for its beauty, wineries, fine food, etc. A dirty, stinking pulp mill just doesn’t fit. The Tamar Valley also has a weather peculiarity in that smoke is held down in the atmosphere so that this area has the highest incidence of respiratory illnesses of any place in Tasmania. It’s the wrong place for industry.

The design they took to the government for approval was old technology. John Gay was so arrogant he thought that the government would accept anything. And he was right. The Labor Government, the Liberal Opposition and the Upper House all rubber-stamped it without any investigation. How corrupt is that? And it was left to the people of the Tamar Valley to take the fight up to big business. With the help of the Federal Government, the design had to be brought up to date. The timber required will now all come from plantations rather than old-growth forests, but the stumbling block is still the location.

This fight has been dragging on for years. Gunns, once one of the best-performing companies in Australia is broke. To complete this Pulp Mill project it needs an injection of capital but no sensible investor will touch it. The latest possibility was a company based in Singapore but the news came out on Friday that they are not interested. If Gunns management had any sense, they would have seen the writing on the wall and changed the location of the Pulp Mill years ago, or dropped the idea entirely. But they blindly pursued a dead cause and their CEO was sacked, a Premier (Paul Lennon) had to resign and Gunns shareholders have lost millions.

So, who does everyone blame? The Greens, of course, not the arrogant, self-serving robber barons, nor the compliant corrupt politicians, nor the poorly-educated rednecks who expect to continue doing the same job their fathers and grandfathers did, and bugger the environment. The Greens did play a role in this but the real force has been the local population of Tamar Valley residents who rose in defence of their lifestyle. Most of them wouldn’t vote Greens in a fit but, when the crunch comes, every intelligent person is an environmentalist.

Friday, March 9 .....

Happy Birthday today to our friend, Robyn and yesterday to our friend Karen. Of course, just a week ago it was Marilyn’s birthday too. I don’t have a poem for everyone but here is Marilyn’s birthday poem written by our friend, Jeff.

The Birthday Girl

O, Marilyn, Marilyn, where do I start,
This poem about you comes from the heart.
You came into this world a long time past,
You’ve had a whirlwind life; it has gone so fast.

You grew up at Russell Vale, down near the ‘Gong
And you loved to party while singing your song.
You loved to play games and you loved to dress up
Your childhood was happy and full was your cup.

You mastered the piano at just fifteen
And you became a teacher, talented and keen.
Your family life was the envy of all
Reflecting your life so far, you’ve had a ball.

Then tall, dark and handsome, there came a brave knight
Sir John the school teacher suited you just right.
A couple of years on, young Jamie was born,
A close-knit family and a brand new dawn.

Your affinity with kids, from small to teens
And organising skills that had to be seen,
Led to a position that you hold so dear
House Mistress in charge for many a year.

So now you organise Jamie and John
And anyone else who by chance comes along.
You love socialising and still like dressing up
And drink Lemon Tea from your favourite cup.

At holiday time you know what to do
From Dilston to London and Kathmandu
With envy we listen to places you’ve been
To emulate you, we can only dream.

You’re a whiz ‘round the house, everything’s clean
Spare a thought for your hard-worked washing machine!
A place for everything and put it back, please
And cover your mouth if you happen to sneeze.

So, Marilyn, from those who hold you so dear
A big Happy Birthday, I’m so glad we’re here.
Drink lots of bubbles and even get tipsy
Then kick up your heels like a merry old gypsy.

Wednesday, March 7 .....

We seem to have been waiting forever for last night. It was the Rotary Club’s 55th birthday and it had been decided that we would all attend dressed in Fifties gear. Dressing-up is not necessarily my thing but Marilyn was excited and statted putting her outfit together weeks ago. I decided the best I could come up with was to be Fonzie from Happy Days. The hair was just a bit too hard so I just had to depend on the goodwill of the other members to see me as a credible Fonz.

Sadly, when we arrived, there was only one other couple who had taken the trouble to dress up. They’re well into their eighties but she came as a St Trinian’s schoolgirl, with black stockings, short tunic and hair in pigtails. He was dressed as an Oxford University rowing cox – scarf, boater and megaphone. At least we made the effort.

It was quite a long meeting but very productive. The crowd was bigger than usual with spouses and special guests filling it out. The main item of business was the presenting of Paul Harris Fellowships to two members. This award was set up in 1957 to acknowledge donations to Rotary Foundation of $1000 US. Many individuals still ‘buy’ their award but clubs now use it to reward outstanding community service of its members and other community members. We give several thousands each year to the Foundation so can call on that credit when we have an award to make.

Last night a married couple who have been stalwarts of the Club and very involved in the Community were acknowledged. It was a nice ceremony and quite emotional. I had to do the presentation to Geoff, the husband, and another Rotarian presented to Pat, the wife.

There are four of the foundation members of our Club still alive and one of them cut the birthday cake. John Loone was the local member of the state Legislative Council and heavily involved in the establishment of Giant Steps, but he is now retired.

Monday, March 5 .....

I’ve mentioned before that Jeff is a bush poet and he likes nothing better than entertaining people with his verse. When he is in a caravan park for more than a day or two, he puts up posters advertising a Happy Hour at his ‘van where people can share their poems.

One of his ambitions has been to put out a CD with him reading a selection of his poems. ‘That’s easy, said Jamie. I can do that for you. So, Jamie set up the studio in his shed, the poems were selected and the recording made. Of course, one reading is never enough. You can be sure that a car or a helicopter will go past at just the wrong time, or there will be a stumble in the words. However, the first cut was made and we all gathered around for a listen. Several changes were suggested and a second test CD made. Sounds good, but Jeff felt the last poem was too rushed. Back to the studio and a third draft was made.

This was the one so Jamie set about producing it to get the best effect. We hadn’t agreed on a title: Freddy the Firefly and Other Poems (too trite!), Freddy Firefly’s Fantastic Ferses (stupid!), Poems by Jeff (Jeff who?). While we were thinking, we were watching the cricket. How many poems, someone asked. Eleven, said Jeff. Well, what about The First Eleven? And so, history was made. Jeff’s first album will be called The First Eleven Poems and maybe the next one will be Jeff’s Baker’s Dozen.

It really is a nice piece of work. Of course, Audio Engineering is Jamie’s profession and passion. Jeff intends to have the CD on display in the ‘van and, perhaps, when people come visiting, they’ll be tempted to buy one. He’s taken twenty to start with but we expect a phone call at any time asking for another fifty.

Last night, we went to the local pub for pizza. We had planned to eat it there but they came in boxes so we just brought them home where we could drink our own wine. The weather has been so nice that we’ve been sitting outside. This evening we chose a sheltered spot near where the birds come to eat. What a flurry there was when they saw us sitting in their spot. The galahs sent out a couple of scouts to check us out and, eventually, the gang came back and got on with their feeding, without any further reference to us.

Saturday, March 3 .....

Our friends Jeff and Sandra arrived on Wednesday after a few weeks touring the west of the state. We always find it interesting when people arrive to see Tasmania and tell us about places we’ve never been or have ignored for decades. It was good to see them and it seems we are developing a real friendship. Of course, we’ve known Sandra since the early-1960s but our paths have only crossed at family gatherings and we’ve never got to know her at all well. Jeff is a fairly recent addition but he’s quite a character and very easy to get on with.

They’re avid card players and it wasn’t long before we were being introduced to Five Crowns. We’ve played it once with Jim and Di in Kangaroo Valley but we have really got stuck into it now. It’s nice to have visitors at meal times. We tend to go to a bit more trouble and are a bit more adventurous. Marilyn made pork steaks with a mushroom and cream sauce last night with cheese cake covered with blackberries for dessert. Fantastic! It was her birthday and a good reason to have a particularly special meal.

I had been picking blackberries over the past few weeks so we had a good supply in the freezer but Jeff was determined that we needed more. I think it’s the hunter-gatherer instinct which makes men put themselves through the torture of blackberry scratches for the sake of picking a few bits of fruit which you could buy in the supermarket for $5. However, the real delight is in the cooking of the berries.

I had put aside a little jar of blackberry jelly for Sandra but, with the extra berries we had collected, there was nothing for it but to make some more. We now have more than we will ever use. Marilyn has promised jars to all her rellies in Sydney and Wollongong with no thought, of course, on how to get them there. I think she might be working up towards another trip.

Sandra is a self-avowed cat-hater but, in some strange magic, our cat has endeared herself to her. CB visits them in the caravan and rubs herself against Sandra’s legs and Sandra is responding very positively to the attention. We’ll have to make sure CB doesn’t stow away when they leave.

Wednesday, February 29th .....

Marilyn came home on Monday night after nearly four weeks away. She enjoyed her time with the family and especially the great-nieces and nephews. It’s the main problem of living in Tasmania: that it’s a long way from where everybody else lives.

On Monday Marilyn, with Sandy’s help, had taken Uncle Archie out for lunch. Mum was not really aware of what was happening so she stayed in the nursing home to have her lunch in the familiar way. She seems very happy but is not always in tune with who is visiting her. As usual, Marilyn and Sandy pushed Uncle Archie along to the Golf Club in Mum’s wheelchair. He didn’t seem to recognise the Club although we have been there often but he certainly enjoyed his lunch and his glass of wine.

Once upon a time, he was quite a heavy drinker and would finish his drinks quickly so he could get another one. Now, he sips it carefully, making it last. I suspect he realises that, when the drink is finished, he is taken back to the nursing home and the same old boring routine. I spoke to him when he got back and he told me that he had been in the wheelchair, as if it had never happened before.

The Rotary meeting on Tuesday evening was at the Deloraine Bowls Club. It was good to have a game of bowls after so many months but we certainly felt it the next morning. Even the simple crouching you do to send down the bowl exercised muscles which had been lying dormant. It’s given us the impetus to get back to the bowls on a more regular basis.

Dinner was very nice: cold meats and salads prepared by the ladies of the Club. The desserts were to die for and typical of that lavish Australian spread which you always got at functions where the ladies catered. No doubt, we’ll be back there before too long.