Saturday, April 1

You have to feel sorry for Dutch teenager, Milan Schipper. He had a dream of back-packing around Australia, surfing on our iconic beaches and exploring the Great Barrier Reef. He was delighted when he found an affordable airfare to Sydney on the internet and booked it before it disappeared,

He wondered why there was a stopover in Toronto, especially when he was transferred to a smaller plane and he was horrified when he landed in Sydney, Novia Scotia and looked out on a snowy landscape.

I nearly fell for the story in the New Daily this morning that Mark Latham had been appointed by the Australian Government to be the new Free Speech Commissioner. My outrage level started to rise and I wondered how I could most effectively vent my spleen, when I read the last sentence which said he was hoping to take up the position before April Fools Day, 2018, and the penny dropped. Whew!

Friday, March 31

I notice that the most popular book in Australia in 2016 is The Light We Cannot See, so I've obtained a copy to check it out. It's another WW2 book featuring children, like The Book Thief and The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. It looks like a winning formula: take a significant event in history, add vulnerable children, loss and devastation, tug at the heart strings, and count the money rolling in.

In fact, it's a pretty good book. I thought some of the writing was self-consciously 'clever' and the strategy of interspersing flashbacks distracting, but I like a book which tells the narrative in a chronological order, clearly and without too many frills. No doubt this book is written with critical acclaim and even book prizes in mind and good luck to the author for having the ability to go down that path.

Meanwhile James Patterson and Lee Child are churning out their pot-boilers and cashing-in on the vast audience for this kind of escapism.

Thursday, March 30

Ruby Wax was on ABC this morning talking about Mindfulness. Of course, this is a word I have encountered, but had never attached meaning to. Apparently it is a way of helping us cope with the stresses of modern living. She says we are bombarded with too much information, too much happening and all needing to be processed. To help nerds understand, she says it is like having too many windows open on your computer screen.

The internet explain how it will help.

Mindfulness is about training yourself to pay attention in a specific way. When a person is mindful, they:
Focus on the present moment
Try not to think about anything that went on in the past or that might be coming up in future
Purposefully concentrate on what’s happening around them
Try not to be judgemental about anything they notice, or label things as ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

Clearly, I need this. Points 2 and 4 are significant issues in my mind. At night, my mind takes me back to the past and I re-live experiences good and bad (too often, the bad!). I call it re-playing old tapes and it is totally destructive. And I am chronically judgemental. Nobody is immune from my criticism, whether it's their poor use of grammar, or their politics.

I need help. Maybe mindfulness is the answer. Stay tuned for progress reports.

Wednesday, March 29

"“Get a solid education, good grades and find yourself a stable and secure job” is advice most parents give their kids. But even though this advice may have been sound advice some generations ago, the world has progressed since then. There are no secure jobs anymore. A good education is no longer a guarantee for a good job. And a good job is no longer a guarantee for a life without financial struggles.

I came across these words today in a book I was reading - not a book on economics, but just an escapist novel called The Last Alchemist. I was struck by the truth of the comment and by the fact that it has only become true in my lifetime. I did all those things my parents recommended and enjoyed the security of full-time work, but there are too many young people today caught in the second part of the quote, experiencing a life with intermittent work and constant financial struggles.

When I look at the constant reports of low-paid workers being exploited by their employers, and the callousness of the decision to reduce penalty rates for workers in cafes, all in the cause of higher profits for employers in the vain hope they will use it to employ more workers, I wonder what sort of society we have evolved in to.

I notice that Peter Slipper visited Parliament House today. Why would he put himself through that? Surely he would be better to live the rest of his life in anonymity rather than draw attention to himself. Then again, maybe he has convinced himself he did no wrong, and it's all somebody else's fault.

Tuesday, March 28

What an extraordinary story doing the rounds yesterday that authorities can identify the level of drug use in Australia by testing samples of 'waste water'. Let's not be coy about this: by 'waste water', they mean sewage.

You have to feel sorry for the poor university staff who thought they were safe for life in a cosy job, but find themselves in wellies, wading through unspeakable 'waste water' collecting samples.

Apparently, the researchers are able to identify particular suburbs and tell which ones prefer oxycontin, and which ones spend their cash on methamphetamine. They can even tell the suburbs who go the traditional route of getting smashed on alcohol.

Is there a privacy issue here? Shouldn't they be getting my permission before they analyse my wee to check on my bad habits? Oh, I know they claim they are just checking trends, and they don't collect samples from individual people. But, how do we know? It wouldn't be out of the question to have monitors on individual sewage lines.

And what about the old hippies living out in the bush, in places like Nimbin and Jackey's Marsh? Many of them live in teepee or shacks, not connected to the sewerage system so their wee doesn't get recorded. I suspect their contribution would make a big difference to the results. I hope the scientists have made allowance for this error.

Sunday, March 26

I've been wading my way through a book which tells the story of 'the plot to destroy Australia's Speaker', how James Ashby, aided and abetted by various other shady characters, accused Peter Slipper of sexual harassment and rorting his travel allowance. It was a difficult read as it was composed mainly of transcripts of text messages to and from Ashby's mobile phone.

Having read it from cover to cover, I'm no wiser but I am certainly more cynical about the characters of the people we have elected to lead us. Peter Slipper seems to have no redeeming features. It was well-known in the Liberal Party that he had been cheating on his travel entitlements for years (his local paper, the Sunshine Coast Daily had regular exposes), but, while he toed the party line and was able to retain his seat, he continued to be endorsed.

It was only when he 'ratted on' the party and agreed to become Speaker in the Gillard government, that moves were made to destroy him. Two accusations were made: that he had mis-used his travel allowance, and he had made unwelcome sexual advances to one of his staff, James Ashby whom Barnaby Joyce described as 'just a shade less dodgy than Slipper'.

Slipper certainly enjoyed the perks of his office. One example is a Study Group he led to several countries. Airfares alone, for Slipper and his wife, were $42546,: who knows how much more was spent on accommodation and other expenses. However, he was only charged with mis-using his allowance to a total of $900. The irony is that the Leader of the Opposition, about he same time, was also charged with mis-using his allowance to the tune of $9400, but he was able to pay it back, without charge. And Geoge Brandis, who referred the Slipper case to the Federal Police, was allowed to pay back thousands he himself had claimed for attending a colleague's wedding. Serious double standard here.

The sexual harassment charge against Slipper was dropped before it went to trial. He was found guilty on the $900 charge but, on appeal, the sentence was reversed. But it was too late: he had already lost his career and his reputation.

It would be easy to say that Slipper deserved all he got, and that might be true but what about all the other crooks who regularly rort their expenses, knowing that the most that will happen is that they might have to pay it back. The occasional high-profile 'catch' like Sussan Ley or the Victorian Speaker and Deputy Speaker are just the tip of the iceberg. The system of allowances is set up on the assumption that politicians are essentially honest and honourable. Make of that what you will.

Saturday, March 25 (2)

Jamie is having some success in his song-writing exploits. He's been picked up by a couple of promoters in the US who produce compilations of electronic music and market it through sites like iTunes.

His latest album is the subject of this bit of promotion:

I’ve gotten my hands on the track list and release date for Australia’s JJ.Christie’s new EP, Fresh New Idea. It’s due out May 1st and is sure to make synthpop waves. If you’re a fan of the Pet Shop Boys, Erasure, or mid-80’s New Order you’re going to find a lot to love here. Be sure to check out the other things JJ.Christie has to offer over at his Bandcamp / Soundcloud pages and give him a follow over at Twitter. He’s very active and loves to talk music! Keep your eyes peeled for more news on the release as it becomes available. Here’s the track list (with rumors of a possible bonus track!):

He's not sure what he thinks about being compared to the Pet Shop Boys, but ne's delighted with the other comparisons.

Saturday, March 25

It was the Church Fair today. In years gone by, this would have been a highlight of village life but those days have gone and the locals have found other things to amuse them. Still, the stalwarts of the church soldiered on and ran the stalls selling garden produce, preserves, old books, brick-brac, and so on. Marilyn bought some beetroot, a couple of treats from the cake stall and some other odds and ends. We have to support the efforts to hold onto the old traditions.

There were also a couple of competitions: Guess the Number of Lollies in the Jar, and Guess the Weight of the Easter Cake. With unexpected skill, we guessed the exact weight of the cake -4.4Kg.

The cake is spectacular, covered in royal icing with Easter eggs and felt bunnies around it, and Lindt chocolate rabbits on top. It's come at the right time, with Nera's birthday coming up, and the visit of friends from Canada.

I wasn't allowed to remove the cellophane for a photo but you'll get the idea.

Friday, March 24

I don't know what it is about some users of the public library who think it is acceptable to write in the books they borrow. Do they believe they are leaving helpful hints, or are they trying to big-note themselves by expressing an opinion on the book which they believe will impress other readers? Who knows, but it can be irritating to read that someone thought a book was 'a great read' when anyone can see it is a load of rubbish.

There seems to be a little cadre of readers in Tasmania who feed off each other. Some books have quite extensive lists of comments from would-be critics. Happily, they are usually limited to two or three words; when it gets to the stage of carefully argued descriptions of where the author went wrong, I'll give up borrowing.

I recently read 11.22.63 by Stephen King and, though it was not exactly great literature, it didn't deserve the damnimg comment by a previous reader: 'Just Awful.' Today, I'm reading a book by a Scottish author, James Oswald. It's harmless, but the sort of escapist nonsense I enjoy from time to time. At one point, the lead character drags a visitor into 'the lobby'. A previous reader has crossed out 'lobby', replacing if with 'hall'. Lobby has a particularly Scottish meaning - the common area in a tenement entrance, so he was right to correct it. However, not right to deface the book.

i looked up the Scottsh usage of 'lobby' and came across a great resource- a list of Scottish words and pronunciations. It's gold! Like many dictionaries, it gives examples of how words are used. 'Lerra' , for example, means 'leather', as in 'Ah looked so cool in mah latex shirt and mah lerra thong.'

I'm glad that's cleared up.

Tuesday, March 21 (2)

We had our Probus meeting today at a garden called Wychwood at Mole Creek, not far from Deloraine. I'd never heard of it even though Leo Schofield called it 'magical' and 'a work of art'. The couple who developed the garden have recently sold it to two young men from Melbourne who have the energy to maintain it as it should be.

It certainly was beautiful with glorious trees and an amazing variety of other plants. The Mole Creek runs through it, home to brown trout and platypuses. ... and eels. Further downstream, a local entrepreneur catches the eels, processes them and ships them all over the world. He is experimenting with farming them, though that is harder than he had anticipated.

It seems the eels spawn in the Coral Sea near New Caledonia, and the tiny 'glass eels' are carried by the Australasian Current down the east coast of Australia where their instinct draws them into fresh water streams in Tasmania. Here they live for around ten years before heading back to sea to return to the Coral Sea for spawning. That is, unless Mr John Ranicar catches them and fillets them for some Korean gentleman's breakfast.

Tuesday, March 21

Simon Scarrow is an author I avoided until I came across his trilogy, Young Bloods, about the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon Bonaparte. I thought it was some of the best historical fiction I had read.

I wish I could say the same about his series on Ancient Rome, centred on the exploits of two centurions, Cato and Macro. I cringe when he uses dialogue like, ' C'mon, sunshine. Let's be 'avin' you.' Seriously? Or when he says, ' There are more things in heaven and on earth, Cato, than are in any of those books you read.' Plagiarism?

The clincher came when he finished off one of the books with the immortal line, 'Just promise me, Cato, no more adventures.' The last time I read that was at the end of a Famous Five book by Enid Blyton.

Sunday, March 19

A POEM BY ANNABEL CRABBE

i've shared it on Facebook as well but have copied it here so I can read it when I am feeling in need of inspiration.

The Man from Wentworth fretted in his lofty gilded cage.
A prisoner he'd been for weeks on end.
Below him his oppressors fizzed with mighty, vengeful rage
(An awkward scene, since they were all his friends):

"Ban gay marriage! Let us speak…" (the mob bayed from below)
"…without the cruel restraints of 18C!"
"Take a stand! Avenge Bill Leak!" The skies were all aglow,
The pyres of their fury plain to see.

Among them, leading loudest with the epithets and jeers
And demands for a conservative agenda
Was Tony of the North Shore, his legendary ears
Pricked for signs of imminent surrender.

The Man from Wentworth mused: How did this bloke, so long-deposed
Yet boast such a degree of moral clout?
The Man, alas, was only to be further discomposed
When his sole surviving lightbulb sputtered out.

In darkness, then, it came to him: The answer, low and sweet.
The beauty of it set his heart a-quiver.
"I'll writhe no more upon this hook of treacherous deceit.
Hot damn! I'll be the Man From Snowy River!"

"We'll build a vast extension to the Snowy Mountains Scheme!
(Constructed back when Grandpa was a pup)
It's expensive and renewable, so: Perfect for the Greens!
And for the Nats. They love to dig stuff up!"

And as for YOU" (and here he threw a glance at his oppressors)
"I hope that this at last begins to leaven
(Or countervails, exonerates, or otherwise redresses)
The curse of that old deal I did with Kevin."

"There's nothing here that looks or smells or sounds like "carbon price".
There's nothing here to upset Andrew Bolt.
We'll build a dam. Yes, that's our plan; what makes it extra nice
Is that you can explain it to a dolt."

"No more sinking feeling at the gathering of dusk!
No more talk of nuclear solutions!
No more dirty coal or panicked calls to Elon Musk,
We're gonna have a power revolution!"

"Hey Shorten! I can see your pledge on workers' penalty rates!
I see you, getting all sincere and sniffly.
But check out these construction jobs for all your whining mates!
Yep: Cop this, champ. I'm back. AND I'M BEN CHIFLEY!"

The Man had always been a fan of valves and pumps and dams.
Of water tables, aqueducts and bores.
His standup desk was soon inch-deep in complicated plans
Designed to win across-the-board applause.

He laboured through the night, a willing conscript to the task
Delighted at the thought of being free.
Toward the dawn he took, perhaps, the smallest break; to ask
Lucy for a cup of herbal tea.

The Man From Snowy River then clapped on his Driza-Bone
His hat and his elastic sided boots.
He summoned his advisers via WhatsApp, text and phone.
"We need a press announcement, friends! When suits?"

His acolytes came running; at his rustic foot they kneeled.
They ventured their advice to him when pressed.
"Newspoll's Tuesday, so that means the pollster's in the field
On Thursday: Make it Thursday. Thursday's best."

Saturday, March 18

We've been watching a TV series called Mighty Trains and the other day the topic was the Shinkansen or Japanese Bullet Train. We've had a few trips to Japan and
one of the things we look forward to is travelling by train. We've noticed how the drivers and guards spend a lot of time pointing and calling out but have assumed it's just some eccentric ritual carried out since time immemorial.

However, it seems that it is an essential part of the Japanese obsession with safety and is designed to minimise the chance of error in carrying out routine tasks. It's called shisa kanka, and tests show that it can reduce mistakes by 85%. It's very noticeable on trains and buses but is used right across industry in Japan, yet has never been encouraged in any other country.

On the Shinkansen program, we saw the driver checking his gauges, pointing in an exaggerated way and calling out OK. The theory is that coordinating eye, arm, finger and voice increases mental focus, meaning that things are right more often than they are wrong ... and it seems to work.

Friday, March 17

Even my cynical nature could not have predicted the fall-out from Malcolm Turnbull's announcement yesterday about the Snowy Mountains Scheme - almost universally condemned! There were over 600 comments following a New Daily article, just about 100% negative, and an article by Waleed Aly in the Saturday Paper tears it to shreds.

It seems I was wrong in assuming that renewable energy would be used to pump the water back up to the reservoir. Good, old coal-fired electricity will be used, and I hadn't realised that the Snowy scheme is currently running below capacity because the amount of snow-melt is reducing.

Perhaps the most worrying aspect is that this scheme hasn't been kicking around for years. The NSW Government only heard about it 24 hours in advance; the Victorian Government heard about on the TV News. And, of course, there is no feasibility study which will take at least 9 months to carry out.

It's starting to look as if this is no more than a cobbled-together thought balloon to get the critics off Malcolm's back. Or maybe it's an elaborate Irish joke to celebrate St Patricks Day.

Thursday, March 16

At Easter in 1964, a mate and I did a tour of the Snowy Mountains Scheme. That was a long time ago but I still remember how impressed we were with the scale of the project and the pride of the workmen in what had been achieved. I remember asking our guide why they didn't pump the water back up to the dams after it had been through the turbines, so it could be used again. After all, it was going to waste and would eventually run into the sea. In my naivety, I didn't understand that it would take more energy to pump it up than would be generated on the way down.

Now, this is exactly what they are planning to do: pump it up in the daytime using cheap energy generated by the sun or the wind, and release it back down when there is peak demand.

Why has it taken so long for our coal-obsessed government to come up with this plan? If this idea has any merit, it must have been kicking around in the energy advisory lobbies for years but only surfaces when South Australia gets fed up waiting for some Federal leadership and goes it alone.

Apparently, Tasmania has been lobbying for years for some Federal funding to develop a pumped storage scheme in our hydro system. As you would expect, our premier has his hand out again today. If there's $2 billion floating around, we might hope to get a few crumbs.

Monday, March 13

Marilyn and I got up early this morning, intending to pop up to Launceston to sort out a bit of business. Of course, I was ready first; I was browsing the Internet and noticed that today is a public holiday so no offices are open. What a pain in the neck; there's no point in driving all that way if we can't do what we plan.

The public holiday which has ruined all our plans is Labour Day, and I ask myself, why do we think it appropriate to damage our economy by giving all workers a paid excuse to stay in bed for the day. The same question must be asked of Queen's Birthday and Easter Monday and the Tuesday after Christmas Day if it falls on a Sunday, and (in Northern Tasmania) Recreation Day and Launceston Show Day and Launceston Cup Day. Are we mad, giving everyone a paid holiday because of a tin-pot horse race?

It's about time we rationalised our holiday system so they reflect our modern society. And, while we're at it, work out what we are trying to celebrate on Australia Day and pick a date which includes all of our population. The colonial idea of expecting the subject people to fall into line with the wishes of their colonial masters has long gone.

So we have a new government in Western Australia. God help them. There's no way they can get it right, trying to balance the demands of every pressure group and mouthy individual with access to a microphone. I suppose having a new government keeps the media amused and give them another bone to gnaw. Was it Jo Bjelke-Peteresen who used to talk about 'feeding the chooks'?

Sunday, March 12

It's been three days since Marilyn had her pacemaker installed and everything is going well. She was enthralled with the whole process and the fact she was awake to see how it all unfolded. The most exciting part for her is that the pacemaker has a serial number so, if she is murdered, they'll be able to identify her body. Am I the only one who thinks there's something weird about that?

We're now back home, taking it easy until Marilyn is back to her normal self. She's still sore but is able to do most things, except driving. Until she gets used to the device, she has to avoid getting behind the wheel. It's been over four months since she has driven so she is suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Anyway, being the designated driver makes me feel useful.

Thursday, March 9

Marilyn was the first patient scheduled for this morning so I dropped her off early and am now waiting to hear when I can go in. She was pleased when she discovered her doctor, Dr McIntyre, was a Scotsman, educated at Glasgow University. His accent was familiar and she was very happy to put her trust in him.

It reminds me of the old Tony Hancock sketch, The Blood Donor. Tony was also reassured when he discovered his doctor's name was McTaggart. "0h, he's a Scot! That's alright then. The Scots are great doctors, like engineers. It's the porridge, you know."

It's 56 years since Tony wrote that sketch but it's as true now as it was then. (That is, not very.)

Wednesday, March 8

Marilyn had finished with the cardiologist by lunchtime so we thought we would catch a movie. Among those on offer was La La Land which looked promising: Best Actress Oscar and almost Best Picture. I don't know what all the fuss was about. We nearly left half-way through but there were only 6 people in the theatre so it would have been a bit pointed. Anyway, we had spent good money to see it and didn't want to waste it.

I think it was a movie made for Hollywood insiders. It was about two people with ambitions to be famous in the entertainment business. Ho hum! They were particularly shallow and unlikeable. The dialogue contained such gems as, ' When you get it, you gotta give it all ya got, 'cause it's your dream.

The blurb said it was endlessly innovative but we've seen the dance sequences a hundred times before, and every cliche from the old time musicals was done to death. Perhaps one of the most grating aspects was the soundtrack. What's innovative about playing so-called Jazz classics exactly as Theonious Monk did 75 years ago? I'm afraid I just don't get the American obsession with jazz. To my ear, it is just a cacophony of noise.

Well, that's my rant for this week. Sorry to put you through it.

Wednesday, March 8

Marilyn is booked in to have her pacemaker fitted tomorrow. She has a preliminary meeting with the specialist this morning so we are in our hotel room trying to get organised. Everyone seems rather blasé about what I imagine is a pretty significant procedure. 'You'll pop in on Thursday and we'll pop in the pacemaker and you'll be able to go home after a few hours'. She doesn't even have to go into the hospital; the clinic is in the Woolworth's building!

Anyway, it's nice to be back in Hobart. We drove down yesterday evening and were surprised at the amount of roadworks we passed. Certainly there were some dodgy areas which needed attention but what is happening is way beyond that. At the 2013 elections the Libs promised that the Midlands Highway would be upgraded to four lanes. With the small size of of our population and relatively low amount of traffic the general feeling was that it would never happen; just another election promise which will pass into oblivion.

But, against all the odds, it is happening. I can't help thinking that, with all the infrastructure that needs to be built in Australia, Tasmania's Midlands Highway would not be top of my list. And it didn't do the Libs much good anyway. The four candidates elected in 2013, on the back of that promise, only lasted one term. Of course, they've all been found good jobs in the system, but they're no longer in parliament.

The lesson to be learned is that it doesn't pay to make long-term promises in Tasmania. Our memories are too short and our gratitude too fickle.

Monday, March 6

We've been watching a TV series called 11.22.63, based on a book by Stephen King. It's about a fellow who travels back in time hoping to prevent the assassination of John F Kennedy. The premise is a bit flimsy but the interest is in re-visiting the story which has become so much a part of our shared history.

Like many people, I remember where I was when we heard the news and, like many other people, I followed the story as it unfolded. My aunt was obsessed with the various theories and bought every book she could find on the subject. Every time we visited her, she had another conspiracy theory to share with us.

We've lived through the Warren Report and the Oliver Stone movie, and the name Abe Zapruder has cemented its place in history.

One thing which has always stuck in my mind is the reaction of an American friend of my mother who commented after the assassination: President Kennedy might be more popular, but Lyndon Johnson is a better man. At the time, it was almost heresy to suggest that JFK was less than perfect.

Since then, of course, we've had all the stories of his philandering and have come to realise he was human like the rest of us.

By the way, my favourite theory is that Lee Harvey Oswald was not interested in JFK; his target was Texas Governor Connally who happened to be riding in the same car as the President. JFK was killed by a stray shot intended for Connally. But, of course, that's not as interesting as the saga which has become one of the defining moments of the 20th century .

Sunday, March 5

We thought that living in the country would give us better access to fresh produce but we had no idea that we would become so fed up with the bounty which has crossed our door these past few weeks. I used to look forward to the blackberry season and my efforts would generally give me few weeks of pleasure in enjoying the fruits of my labour. The inevitable scratches are a small price to pay.

Now, though, my small harvest pales into insignificance against the plethora of stuff which Is threatening to swamp us. Everybody seems to have a garden and they make it their mission to off-load their surplus to unsuspecting recipients. As newcomers to the town, we are fair game. We haven't learned how to say No yet.

Yesterday, we cooked up a whole bucket of plums to make Plum Sauce. After all the preparation, which took until after 9 o'clock, the recipe said 'Now cook for a further two hours. Seriously, we were hanging around until nearly midnight waiting for the stuff to cook. I never want to see another plum, yet today a stranger sidled up to Marilyn In church offering plums and Marilyn said, thank you, how kind.

Zucchinis are another thing. We've learnt how to cook Zucchini Bread, Zucchini Frittata and Zucchini Muffins and are now watching a pot of Zucchini and Pineapple Jam coming to the boil.

My humble, personally picked blackberries are over-shadowed by raspberries, thornless blackberries, bramble berries and something called Kellyberries ( a cross between blackberries and raspberries.

We've also made Lemon Butter and there's rhubarb in the fridge calling out to be dealt with.

Apart from the people who offer you stuff face-to-face, I'm told the really desperate ones just leave it on your door-step. Happily, Deloraine people don't usually indulge in that practice but the other day, we came home to a bag on the door-step containing Black Russian Tomatoes (see photo). This was a nice thought and we don't want to discourage things which are exotic, but maybe not so many plums and Zucchinis.

Friday, March 3

I've always thought that the world's common language is English and that's probably true. Watching Trapped on TV the other night, English was the language used in a conversation between a Dane and someone from Iceland, and many Asian countries use English as the preferred language in schools.

But, looking at a country's second language, gives a different story. As expected, the second language of the USA is Spanish, of Canada, it's French, but in England it's Polish! Australia's second language is Mandarin and Saudi Arabia's is Tagalog, a reflection of the large number of guest workers in that country from the Philippines.

Thursday, March 2

My heart always gives a little lift when someone takes the trouble to stand up for our language. Ellie Hallet from Toowoomba took the trouble to write to the Sydney Morning Herald with some sound advice:

No longer can we blame the flies for the way we squash our consonants and swallow our vowels. If we sound like dopes, the world will treat us like dopes.

So pop a hefty "t" sound in words such as "water" and "thirty"; add a juncture of silence between "this and "year"; understand when to use "less" and "fewer"; remove "and yes" from your vocabulary; be unafraid to project your voice and incorporate big words. Oh, and every morning tell yourself that you must not neglect to open your vowels.

Lang may your lum reek, Ellie.

Saturday, March 4

As if Australian politics couldn't get any more pointless, there seems to be a move afoot to push Malcolm Turnbull aside in favour of Peter Dutton. Can they be serious? They've tried an articulate, intelligent person with considerable charm and an appeal to both sides of politics, and decided that didn't work, so now want to try the direct opposite. Paula Matthewson of the New Daily says this is a man who is most depicted in social media as a potato.

However he has turned up to Parliament this week with a new suit, a buzz cut and a tan, so something has to be on. But when will they realise that changing the leader will not solve the problem. It's not the captain of the Titanic that's the problem, it's the iceberg.

I think I will leave the last word to my namesake, John Christie of Oatley in NSW, in a letter to the Sydney Morning Herald yesterday.

... I do not fear the ascendancy of Peter Dutton. Just as Donald Trump has done in America with the Republicans, so Dutton will do for the Liberal Party – send it into Opposition for a long time. Hopefully, on returning to power, it will have become more like the party of Menzies, and resolve to govern for all sectors of the community.

Thursday, March 2

As a follow-up from Marilyn's fall last year, she was sent to talk to a cardiologist on Tuesday. It didn't take him long to discover an issue with her right carotid artery so he has booked her in for a pacemaker to be fitted. That will happen on Thursday next week in Hobart.

Of course, we have no idea how all this all fits together so a search of the Internet is our first step. It seems Marilyn has something called Carotid Sinus Hypersensitivity, and the pacemaker is the best treatment. One of the articles was a report of a study to see how effective the treatment is.

The best thing is that the study was carried out at the Falls Fits Faints and Funny Turns Clinic in Edinburgh. It sounds even funnier in a Scottish accent.

Thursday, March 2

It's Marilyn's birthday today and I think she's trying to avoid it by not getting out of bed. It's 9.13am and she still hasn't opened her eyes, which is unusual for someone who has been an early riser all her life. Maybe this is how it's going to be in future, letting life slow down and taking time to smell the roses.

I was up at 7 as usual, switching on the TV to see what new idiocies Donald Trump has visited upon the world, and how much deeper our own inept government has sunk into the mire.

I'm starting to get a bit worried about democracy. I know it's better than the alternatives but we're going to have to tidy it up a bit. All around the world, the system has been hijacked by crooks and chancers, and is being run for the benefit of even bigger crooks. Maybe we could start by making it a criminal offence when politicians rort their expenses. And make it an offence to say one thing before an election and do something after. A term in goal will certainly help to concentrate the mind.

And I wonder about the wisdom of letting everyone vote. Far be it from me to be elitist, but too many people only vote because they don't want to get fined; others vote for the shallowest of reasons. Maybe it's time to ditch compulsory voting, make voting the privilege it should be and then only those who are interested will take the trouble to turn up.

Politicians have become so cynical they will say anything to hold their positions and they are being enabled by media moguls and shock jocks who have all the power but none of the responsibility. People who are not really interested in the political process are at the mercy of these manipulators.

It's time to drain the swamp.