Saturday, June 29th .....

We found ourselves watching a movie last night and it was so excruciatingly bad we couldn’t take our eyes off it.  It was called Pitch Perfect and I hesitate to recommend it to anyone; however, there were some solid gold moments which saved the day.

It’s one of those spoof movies like Spinal Tap and Best in Show, which, in this case, sends up the American tradition of college a cappella groups.  There was the tension between boys’ groups and girls’ groups, and between the traditionalist and the more modern approaches.  It was tacky and full of offensive language, but it wasgood fun too.

The surprising thing was that one of the best characters was Fat Amy, played by Rebel Wilson, an Australian who is, apparently, going gang-busters in America.  She hosted the MTV Awards this year and won two Golden Popcorn statues (I can’t believe I wrote that sentence!)

At the audition for the a cappella group, she claimed to be the best singer in Tasmania,  which is not funny at all.

The music in the show was fabulous and we even enjoyed the performance of a group called Sock-appella, which performed their song with hand puppets.

Thursday, June 27th ....

We made a trip this week to Smithton which is in the north-west of Tasmania, about 265 Km from Dilston.  The drive there is an absolute delight with great views of Bass Strait and the red soil of this farming area.  We took the chance to check out some potential camping sites for a trip to this part of this world during the next summer.

It’s a pretty under-populated area but we stumbled across the Rocky Cape Tavern which seems to be a meeting place for the local farmers and people visiting the nearby National Park.  We had a really good meal there and were impressed to find a ‘free’ camping site just behind the pub.  Caravans can stay there for nothing but, if you want some extras, you can get power for $10 per night and a shower for $3.  And, with a good eating place on-hand, it’s attractive.

We made a short detour into Stanley which we last visited about 30 years ago.  What a change in that time.  It is now one of the prettiest little towns we’ve ever seen.  It started life as a fishing village and that heritage has been kept.  The old buildings have been preserved although some have been re-designated; two old banks in the main street are now private homes.  The centre of the town, of course, is the Nut, a monolith which shelters the little village at its foot.  We’ll certainly spend some time here when the weather improves.

On the way home, we listened to a podcast of Richard Fiedler interviewing a fellow called Les Hall.  He turned out to be an authority on bats and has just written a book about them.  He had one of those boring academic voices and started his answers with phrase like, ‘Well, that’s quite interesting ...’  what he said was interesting enough, but served up in a monotone.  Richard tried to coax him along by focusing on the idea of bat poo which had the potential to be more interesting than the dry details of how bats’ echo-location works.

Les was describing his exploration of the caves under the Nulllarbor and mentioned that the bat guano was up to 30m deep.  Richard jumped on this and asked, ‘Don’t you find it horrible to be scrabbling around in metres of bat poo?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Les, ‘When you get the whiff of bat dung in your nostrils, you know you might be on to something.  It can really turn you on.’  Mmmm!

Saturday, June 22nd ....

It's been a cold week and Marilyn and I are back in Dilston for a little break. Every night in the past week the temperature in Deloraine has been below freezing overnight. On Monday it was -3.9 and on Wednesday -4, so we are now relishing the delights of modern heating in Jamie's house.

The temptation in Tasmania at this time of the year is to hibernate. The local ABC asked its listeners to make suggestions for surviving the winter but one woman rang in to say that the only thing to do was light the fire, get a good book, knit a jumper and wait for summer. There is one big event at the moment- Dark-MOFO. This is a celebration of the winter solstice, directed by Brian Ritchie of Violent Femmes' fame. Some reports say it had a budget of $4 million.

One of he highlights was a nude swim held at dawn this morning. More than 200 people took part including The Lord Mayor of Hobart. Apparently, it is a revival of an old pagan tradition. This is probably why there are so few old pagans living today.

Tomorrow, we see the Sky Whale in Launceston. It's getting another airing after being launched for the Centenary of Canberra and then shown in Hobart.

Thursday, June 14th ....

I've just finished watching the first series of Borgen, the Danish political drama which was shown here on SBS. I really enjoyed it even though I find It hard to keep watching the sub-titles. I'm more used to doing a crossword or something while the TV is on but I couldn't afford to lose concentration for an instant.

I was caught unawares in one episode when they started talking English. I kept watching the sub-titles even though the same words were being spoken by the characters. And don't they speak English well! The other thing I noticed was the adoption of English phrases in their daily usage: things like 'spin doctor' and 'fifteen minutes of fame'. No different, I suppose to us saying 'au revoir' or 'karaoke'.

We've now got the second series to look forward to, and I believe there is a third series as well.

Wednesday, June 11th ....

Tasmanians are very proud of Joseph Lyons who was Premier of Tasmania in the 1920s and went on to become Prime Minister of Australia. His wife, who became Dame Enid was the first woman in Federal Parliament and the first female Minister. They lived in their early years in Devonport at a house called Home Hill, which is now part of the National Trust. It seems there is also a connection with Deloraine. 

Recently, a woman in Grigg Street was pulling out her mantelpiece to have a new heater installed, and found a letter which had clearly fallen down the back. It turned out to be a love letter from Joseph, so the local historians scurried around to fill in the background. 

In Joseph's early days in state politics, when Parliament was sitting, he would walk from his house in Devonport to catch the 8.30am train to Hobart. The journey took about 8 hours so someone suggested he move to Deloraine which was still in his electorate but would cut 2 hours from the long trip. They set up house in Grigg Street.

One of our Rotary members brought along a copy of Enid Lyons's memoirs to the meeting last night and shared a couple of stories. Grand-dad lived with them and spent his time in his vegetable garden. One year, he planted 60 cabbages all of which came to maturity at the same time. Manfully, the family got through ten cabbages and gave away ten more but still had forty in the garden. Perhaps it was a good thing that they contracted cabbage blight and were inedible but, unfortunately, cabbage blight causes a terrible smell so the reek of forty smelly cabbages permeated the town.

They had to be got rid of. They wouldn't burn, so poor grand-dad had to dig a hole in the rocky Deloraine soil to bury the monsters. 

The other story is more poignant. One day an old fellow knocked on the door to ask for Joe's help. He had been refused the old-age pension as he couldn't prove he was over 70. The only clue he had to the date of his birth was a story his mother had told him. His mother and father were both convicts at Port Arthur. He was born in the prison there and, on the day he was born, his father had received a number of lashes with the cat o' nine tails. Could Joe look up the punishment records to see when it was?

This visit from the old man would have occurred in the 1920s and his birth would have been in the 1850s. Not that long ago.

Monday, June 10th .....

The stats tell me that 10 people have read my last blog and I thank Cousin Gavin from Blackpool for his positive comment. I have nothing to say to the other 9.

I had an early start this morning. Marilyn and I have become volunteer drivers of the Deloraine Community Car which operates five days a week transporting locals to and from Launceston for doctors' appointments or hospital visits. This service is provided by the local council and is run by a volunteer coordinator in town. Marilyn volunteered first and I followed on. Her first day was particularly busy. The first trip left Deloraine at 7.30am and she eventually did four round trips to the city, over 400 Km. it seems that we're responsible for Mondays and Thursdays.

Today is a public holiday and we only had three passengers who go into Launceston on three days per week for dialysis. I did the first run at 7.15 and Marilyn will go back to pick them up at 1.45. I followed the Westbury car along the highway this morning and I imagine there will be cars from lots of little communities around the state doing similar runs. It's a great service.

Friday, June 7th ....

It seems this is Post #375.  Can you believe that?  On 375 occasions, I have taken the time to write my thoughts for your edification and entertainment.  And what have I receieved in return?  A grand total of 5 comments!  That's 1 comment for each 75 posts.  What am I to make of this?  Are the posts so boring that they're not worthy of comment?  Do they leave you speechless?  Have you misunderstood the basic premise of a conversation - I talk, you talk? 

The issue becomes more confusing when I analyse which of my blogs attracted the most comment.  It was the recent one about dripping teapots, - perhaps the most mundane topic anyone could consider.  One critic asked me, 'What brought on that rant about teapots?' A potter described to me in excruciating detail how to put a spout on a pottery teapot and a serial shopper sent me this photo of a so-called dripless teapot.

I'm sorry I raised the subject!

However, to the nub of my beef. I invite you to send me your thoughts on my occasional ramblings.  You can.  You can do it within the blog by going to the 'Comments' link which follows each post and follow the prompts.  Your comment will then be available for the rest of the world to read or, at least, the handful of fellow-sufferers who access the blog from time to time.