Farewell Wapping

Hi everyone

I moved house this weekend - into my third 'home' in London at Canada Water. It was very sad to say goodbye to the Wapping kids but I know we'll keep in touch. Had a few farewell bevvies with Samara and David on Saturday night - aren't we beautiful!?!

Love to all xx

New Camera

Owing to a blankness of mind I have decide4d to opt here for another photo essay of that very interesting chap and yes I have lurched out from my pen and throwing caution to the wind have purchased myself a brand new first time digital camera.

Him and his proudest creation
His mess
His books
His sound system
His decor
His neighbours house
His neighbours surviving rabbit
His shops
His office and chair
His shy mixers and impressive waterworks
His west-nor-westaspect with gas
His south aspect
His back yard

My First Blog(helped by Cat)

Hi everyone,

This is my first attempt at this. Fortunately I have Cat to guide me through.

I wanted to give you all an update on John. He had his surgery today to remove the abnormal area in the bone of his skull. I spoke to the surgeon after the event and he said that everything went very well. We will not know the results of the pathology for a few days.

I went over to the hospital and saw John tonight. He is in Dalcross Private Hospital in Killara. He is in intensive care with a large bandage on his head and all the usual tubes and wires but he is awake and talking and feeling as comfortable as you can after someone has take a piece of your skull out and filled it with acrylic resin. He should move back to his room tomorrow but will be in hospital for about a week.

I will keep you all posted on any changes.

Love and kisses to you all

Anne

Lovebox Music Festival

Hi guys

Here's Sam and I at Lovebox on the weekend - dressed suitably in our wellies and feeling the love while we danced the night away to Groove Armada.

Love xx Kel

Caravaning Bliss

Sue floating in 32 degrees at Bitter Springs, Mataranka.



Overtaking a 53 meter long road train.




For my birthday Sue bought me a book of poems by Bob Magor and here follows my favorite which anyone who has spent time in a caravan park will relate to. I hope you enjoy it.

Caravaning Bliss

There was movement at the station
so wrote down a famous man
But how did the Banjo know this
P'raps he towed a caravan.

Perhaps Banjo had been woken
in a van park from his sleep
Some two hours before the sunrise
by strange noises from the deep.

All the "erk,erk,erk" of van legs
being screwed up in the dark
As the first nocturnal trav'ler
starts to wake the sleeping park.

Then just like a feral mating call
some others answer back
With there "erk,erk" flaming chorus
as the first start down the track.

Ev'rything they packs metallic
and it clatters bangs and dongs
As they bark out loud instructions
amid hollow clacks of thongs.

Now its best to warm your motor
if your leaving in the dark
Especially if it's diesel
and jack hammers all the park.

Because now it's time to hook on
and you hear the circus start
More left-not right-I said this way
you pig headed deaf old fart!

And how dare you call me brainless
you ungrateful senile drone
If you don't want my directions
do it on your bloody own!

And by now the doors are slamming
just to finish off the show
Are you sure you turned the gas off?
you yell out, Just Bloody Go.

Because now its almost daylight
and the camp picks up the pace
As these geriatric gypsies
all begin the morning race.

Foe next park is their target
where like metal ants they flock
For the first in gets the best shade
and close ablution block.

But for us still vainly sleeping
we just toss and kick and turn
Who said holidays are restful?
Beauty sleep is what we yearn.

But there's miles of zippers zinging
as the tents all fold to go
And there's campervan doors grinding
as they whizz bang to and fro.

And there's neighbors out there yelling
"looks another nice day Fred"
And you think it would be better
if yo mob were still in bed.

You can't beat 'em so you join 'em
in this hyperactive spree
For the laundry's now in full swing
throbbing like a DC3.

To the bathroom men are walking
holding buckets with a lid
While discussing ageing prostrates
and comparing what each did.

Then rotten kid starts whinging
and will not do what he's told
"Bring back the lash" you yell out
"it worked fine in days of old!

All this action makes you thirsty
so you start to lift a lid
Then he comes from out of nowhere-
the eternal Outback kid.

He's a clone of Harry Butler
Malcolm Douglas rolled in one
He has fished and climbed and driven
ev'ry track under the sun.

And he brags about his conquests
twice round the bush and back
Though you half suspect his tinny
has been welded on his rack.

For this man is a fanatic
he has travelled ev'rywhere
After half an hours ear bashing
you wish he still was there.

Cause now in the park it's showtime
magic moments all can share
You prepare for entertainment
as you grab a beer and chair.

For here come the new arrivals
with the wives all looking terse
You thought leaving was a hastle-
well arriving's ten times worse.

Cause hand waving female logic
with male thinking won't compute
so a jack-knife on the van site
soon erupts in hot dispute.

It's as good as any circus
wife and husband on attack
As spectators in their deckchairs
watch the rigs shunt up and back

For there's trees and shrubs to back through
and a water tap of course
Ten the happy couple unhook
mostly ending in divorce.

Then in come tourist buses
with their worn out frazzled crew
And they bail out almost running
for they all have jobs to do.

Then a canvas city arises
built with hammers' echoed clacks
From the old girls driving tent pegs
like there laying railway tracks.

Then its 8pm cheap phone calls
poor mobile service to homes far away
Forcing half the park to eavesdrop
on each word they have to say.

Telling all about the weather
and adventures they've been through
then they swap and start repeating
from the others point of view.

Then the lights dim on the camp ground
and a gentle hush then falls
"Cept the drone of rasping snoring
through each caravans thin walls.

And you drift in gentle slumber
and sweet dreams flit through your brain
Till at 5am there's "Erk'erk'erk"
Hell here we go again.

We're in Katherine today with a temperature range of 14 to 29, it's tough.
Chris, Sue & Olly.

Bruised Football Bob

I read this week a proposal that aged drivers be restricted to within a ten kilometers circumference of home. I’m not sure what they hope to achieve by this. I’ve often heard it said that the most likely place to have an accident is within a few streets of home though I know of no serious research. Perhaps the aim of keeping you local is to increase the likelihood of there being someone there who recognizes you and can direct in the event that you forget your way home. Don’t know how they’ll deal with those who forget the ten kilometer rule and stray though, or what penalties may incur. It could be an opportunity for one of those new inventors to come up with a device that incapacitates the car at a set distance from base Luke.

I know all this ageism is boring you, lets face it no one over twenty five wants to contemplate the consequences of ageing, but it seems to be something I have to get off my chest so if you’ll just bare with me a little longer. I know that senility is sometimes referred to as second childhood but I never imagined that it would be preceded by second teenage hood with pimples no less. Blotchy skin, liver spots, shiny red bulbous noses with dirty open pores, all of this I expected but pimples, the scourge of adolescence, never. Oh the embarrassment especially to one who has never quite lost his narcissistic tendencies. It’s almost enough to revive belief in long forgotten, Job style, sin and penance, or karma at the very least.

Well that feels much better. I shouldn’t have to bother you with this stuff ever again though peripherally I’m reminded that this time last year when I was unemployed and Alice was beginning to carve her initials into the publishing tree we thought that I should research the possibility of writing for a senior’s publication. As part of this research, well the only part really, I had a conversation with my local News Agent who informed me that there were no publications targeting seniors and that all previous attempts at such publications had failed owing to the target audience’s reluctance to identify with this demographic There you go, It’s really only children who want to be older, everyone else just wants to stay and the older they get the harder they try.

As I write to you this morning from this sport centric nation the skies in defiance of their forecast seem to reflect the gloom of having lost face in three major sporting events overnight. Why should I, who don’t give a rats about ball sports, have to put up with this on the first day of my weekend? Am I being punished for having spent only two days at work this week? An astute reader has tweaked a discrepancy in my publishing habits already so I guess I should come clean. I have a bruised foot ball, mmm that sound wrong, the ball of my right foot feels bruised, that’s better. For some time I have noticed this and more recently I began to notice other phenomena such as tingles and numbness in that leg and oddness in the hip joint. Last Tuesday I decided to share this with my Which Doctor come Chiropractor who incidentally practices his voodoo in Mona Vale. He discovered some very unhappy muscular contusion in the hip / lumbar region, applied treatment and dispatched me with instructions about hot and cold compresses. He requested that I make an appointment for a repeat performance on Thursday and told me not to sit. Not sit, what stand walk? No preferably lie, of course stand walk and sit but avoid sitting as much as possible and lie as much as possible. Now I like what this guy’s saying and it takes little time to conclude that all this lying will be done much better at home than at work. On top of that this prescription has cost me $60.00 none of which I can claim from Medibank and this represents more than a third of what I will earn at work before tax and it’s not tax deductible. If this alone had not convinced me that this was the time to indulge that employee perk called sick leave then the logistics of an appointment at Mona Vale on a day when work was at Mascot would have been the clincher. So I took two days of sick leave when a bruised foot ball was about all the sick I felt and with time weighing heavily on my hands belabored you with additional blogging.

Sonego was a big lad, recently arrived from somewhere in Italy with pretty poor English. Maybe he was a year or two older than the rest of us and placed in our class as a compromise in order to catch up, that would help to explain his size. To be honest I’m sure it was mostly his size that influenced my decision to befriend him. He caught his bus from the same bus stop / tree adjacent Marist Brothers Lismore as I did and at this unmanaged portal where the opportunity for trouble and strife were always present I found it comforting to stand in this gentle giants shadow. You young’uns would find it very hard to understand how strict was this school, indeed they were nothing if not strict. If you missed a day you’d better come equipped with a note in explanation, or face consequences along the lines of the - shoot first ask questions later - kind.

So it was that one day after a period of absence Sonego arrived with a note written by himself most likely, as the only member of his family who had even the flimsiest grip on English, explaining that he had been unable to attend owing to a sore toe. That bastard teacher outraged at the seemingly petty nature of this excuse, on one hand and its denial of his opportunity to thrash this giant, on the other chose to belittle this lad in the worst possible way by there and then reading to the class the continents of this poorly written note placing bold emphasis on the words “sore toe” maybe more than once. Well what a joke, the class was in uproar and worst still poor Sonego could not understand why making it funnier still. I don’t have enough fingers to count all the charges for which this teacher would be sacked today but I do know that Sonego was known ever after in his school life as Soretoe Sonego. Had he been an American Indian or even an Australian Aborigine with their philosophical backgrounds he may have worn this well and who knows, maybe even proudly. Sonego though came from proud Italian lineage, his ancestors had contributed enormously to the cultural and scientific nature of this world long before anyone even knew of this woebegone continent, he did not wear it well.

So far I have not become known at Bunnings as Bruised Foot Ball Bob. If I do I hope I have the maturity and more importantly the connectedness that poor Sonego lacked to understand and cope with a brave face.

Here’s a shot of my class Marist Brothers Lismore circa 1960
It’s funny I always remember it as having been crowded.
Top row dead center and highest is Soretoe.
Back row second from right is definitely Mick Davis who had no challenger for position of top enforcer / bully certainly a tough.
On his right is Warren (fat) Cerrone, obvious to me now of Italian origin but never obvious to me then.
Two more along in this row is Brett Lee who was hanging out with Dr. Who about then.
Swots / shorts (some still even wearing them) are in the front row. Can’t remember names but I’m fairly sure skinny legs third from the left was Muldoon who had a Monsignor in the family or a bishop, something like that.
Fourth from the right was the dux who had obviously been rewarded with a watch for putting up with last year’s blazer. Can’t remember his name.
Somewhere in there is a handsome lad who had he only seen it sooner could have flapped his ears and flown away.



Bruised

Happy Birthday Dad!

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthdya dear Dad,
Happy Birthday to you!



Hi dad, hope you're having a great day to celebrate your 57th birthday! I wish I could be there, cause I miss you too much!

Enjoy yourself!

Love you lots xxx Kel

Chinese food for thought

Well bet you all can’t wait to get to the Olympics in China next year? Not now that they’ve put an end to slavery, or some of it anyway, solved with problem with contaminated food exports, or some of it anyway. I have to say that it is ensuring to see a few executions when it comes to clamping down on these types of problems. It would be comforting to see our government execute a few, say Ford or Telstra executives. That’s the sort of thing that gives the electorate confidence don’t you think. Anyway if you do go and you see a sign that says, say, “keep of the grass” try to find some grass and keep off it, that’s my advice. Oh and take your own lunch.

what is it about these sort of blokes that always attracts all the girls

Maybe a Heckler, word counts good

As time passes and I inevitably age, It’s impossible to completely purge from my thoughts contemplations of senility. I’m forever monitoring little forgetfulness’s such as children’s names, why I’m standing here in the doorway of this room having just switched on the light, or why have I rubbed that dollop of facial scrub into my still dry hair.
Little social indiscretions such as; wishing the video store girl good night at mid day, finding that I’ve walked all the way to the video store and back with my fly undone, or Trying to put the pie I’ve just purchased into my wallet with the change in my mouth, don’t worry me too much. I’m sure many people make them some much younger than I.
The thing is, I’m told, with this affliction it’s the short term memories like how do I get home from the video shop that go, whilst long term memories like all the lyrics to On Top of Old Smokey stay. Thus it is that I’m constantly cataloguing memory lapses / indiscretions into long term / short term categories.
Now I’ve never remembered names so that whilst forgetting the name of someone I’ve just met seems like short term category, I’ve always forgot them and that’s long term. Same goes for faces really, I’ve never been good at remembering them, come to think of it, my forgetfulness of faces has always compounded my forgetfulness of names.
The real problem comes with those crossover items of memory that are both long and short term such as which tap in the shower is hot and which is cold. These taps are clearly marked but not boldly enough for my failing sight. They also conform to a national if not universal standard, hot on the left, cold on the right. I know that now because I have my glasses on. I’ve also known it forever in my subconscious. Over all these sight filled years I didn’t need to look for red or green symbols, my hand did its own thinking and always got it right. Surely this is long term memory but wait, I turned them on yesterday and the day before, in fact every day and surely this is short term memory. Has then my short term dementia addled memory forgotten and taken hostage with it the long term memory.
If it is so is quite terrifying. Imagine if I were to find that dementia had deprived me of the memory of how to start the car say. I stated it only yesterday and as short term memory it is subject to dementia’s wiles even though I’ve started the car the same way for the last forty odd years (no not the same car) surely a long term memory just like the taps. Oh I hear you, obviously it is better to forget how to start it rather than forget how to drive it mid flight which must under these conditions also be regarded as a possibility.

Titles again; Exciting isn't it

Well, Well! What exciting lives we are all leading. Grey nomads out there are wriggling their toes into the earth of central Australia and comparing transport options with “Lawsies” knights of the road. I know many women go on about blokes motor cars and comparative penis size, there’s even a current advertisement popularizing a gesture designed to belittle hoons which I think will play nicely into my hands when I take my case for compensation to the anti discrimination board on grounds that I am being satirized for having a little finger surgically set into just such a gesture. Meanwhile I’ll keep my hands in my pockets least some hoon spots it and takes umbrage at its implied meaning.
Kelly meanwhile will surely soon be hob-nobbing with the Queen herself or at the very least Wills and Harry. It seems that Mart was pleased to welcome her back to The Old Dart and one can only hope that if she does not burst from food and alcohol consumption that like those in similar tales she will live happily ever after.
Alice aided by her wonderful uncle Ian and his partner Ari have successfully transported Jane through her fiftieth birthday into the leisurely times that we who have transgressed this portal know lies beyond. All involved seem to have survived despite Alices last minute rush of blood purchase of Tooth’s Brewery. Meanwhile she has gotten a new job (about time I hear you sigh) running even bigger and better magazines for even more loot and in Monopoly terms would be about to move into Mayfair with five hotels and an option approved by Frank Sartor for a casino.
Gabby spent the weekend in Melbourne shopping with girlfriends and chasing rabbits no doubt. I can almost feel the cashmere smoothness of the cardies she will have purchased for me.
Dot and Strobe took advantage of the hospitality of Che-Stan-le-More that cute and ever so popular pension just off Liberty (fraternity, equality, whatever) in the inner west in preference to long distance frozen bus trips to the provinces on the occasion of Jane’s 50th birthday and have already placed reservations for the November wedding celebrations. That’ll be OK if I can just calm down the staff who are still a little miffed at Strobes Ha-Ro joke, “Really chums he’s just a joker, he knows as well as we do it’s Harrow just like the great English Public School.”
I know what you’re all thinking. What’s he so excited about? Well it has been an exciting couple of weeks at Bunnings A few weeks ago as reported in the financial pages of our great dailies Westfarmers along with wealthy friends put in a bid to purchase the Coles conglomerate of retailers including K Mart, Office works and Liquor Land. These reports took the time to point out that Westfarmers had extensive retail experience and were in fact the mother ship behind Bunnings, the retailer’s retailer. A couple of weeks ago when Westfarmers colleagues dropped out leaving them as the sole bidders the Coles board lost their nerve, stopped playing hardball (whatever that game is) and recommended to shareholders that they accept Westfarmers bid. That night I was most surprised to see and hear on Lateline a report on Bunnings bid to take over Coles and to find the spokesperson for the bid was Bunnings CEO and my boss. Well canny as I am I saw the writing on the wall and am now in line for the chairmanship of liquor Land. I would have stood for the position but I was too drunk on proving my credentials so I stayed chaired. They were particularly taken with my fox in the hen house parable, these young guns like that old stuff, hope they don’t go looking it up. Anyway suffice to say I am now in a list of only one million for this exalted position.
With all this in house excitement over this period Bunnings Mascot decided the time was ripe to swap all senior staff to other stores and bring in new managers who knew no one and nothing. A smart move if you ask me though I know you didn’t, this type of practice along with changing rules on a daily basis is the way to create a new fresh work environment where no one knows better than anyone else what the hell is going on and isn’t that the way to do business in this day and age. A suitcase of cash, some guns and the right drugs, that’s all that’s needed.
Staffs response to this situation was to take sick leave, especially if they had special abilities like procedural knowledge or fork lift driving skills or better still licenses. Management responded by sanding and painting recently installed doors and generally staying out of sight so as not to witness gross violations of safety and management protocols. I’ve never been a soldier but I’m sure it compared nicely to managing the loosing of a war. God help us if they get Coles though come to think we’d still have Wollies and Target, perhaps it doesn’t matter.
Fortunatley I balance the four days of this surreal with three of Stanmore Idle, soaking on my sun trap balcony with my friends The Kinks and Zapper who often bring their friends Linda and Joanie and just as it is in Facebook they link to all the other buddies and they come too drinking up my hospitality and repaying me with their art.
Robert

Living it up in the english countryside

Hi guys

Had an amazing time at Jenny's birthday party at a very fancy estate just out of London. This photo is the view from the main house. You can see the pool, spa, sauna, bali hut, pool house and gardens. It was so spectacular!

Life's tough for some!

Love Kel xx

Outback Queensland

After spending a four days in Longreach waiting for a replacement 12w volt transformer for the van we are now in Mt Isa for the weekend, where it is nice and warm and we have grass under foot. Leaving here on Tuesday heading north. Love to All
Chris, Sue & Olly.

Our van (Lucy) and car (Desi) dwarfed by a road train on the "Matilda Way" in outback Queensland.

Another year older

God, I can't believe I'm 26 - it sounds so old! Had a lovely day though, got very spoilt - work lunch, 6 course dinner with Mart, lots of pressies and a facial/massage to treat myself! Not the same without Mum's homemade birthday cake though!

Love Kel xxx

p.s. Would love to read some of my uncle's (and parents') memories of their 26th year. Mum tells me she had a baby... whatever!

Hey, c'mon you guys - I remember the dreaded rubber raincoat only too well. And Robert has described it to a T (or is that tee? I never know). And Robert, maybe you remember the great wet June of 1950 - you had just started Kindy and I was in third class. We'd get home from school soaked, despite the rainwear as you describe (yes, sou'wester is right), take off our Blomper Boots (ankle high gum boots) and stuff them with newspaper and put them by the stove to dry out for the next day. They don't make rain like that anymore - well, not until very recently.

And though this sounds very Monty Python You-don't-know-what-poverty-is stuff, do I remember Mum giving us a sauce bottle full of sudsy washing water from the copper to keep our hands warm?

But those days of poverty are well gone now. Guess who's got a brand new 60cm LCD flat screen telly and DVD/VCR player? And guess who assembled it all by himself? And guess who figured out how to play his music CDs and look at his holiday snaps? And guess who doesn't mind starting sentences with a conjunction? Modern!!

PS - My title bar is not working either, hence no title.

Hugh

Title bar Test

This is just to see if the title bar works for me and it seems to be. Love the photos Kel. Sue tells me that only nerds wore rain coats to school in the Shire in her day and if it was raining she and her sister stayed home anyway. Chris

Well, as you'll see Robert (Mr snoopy!) has dug out some of my photos from facebook and published them on the blog before I had a chance to! Very sneaky, Aunty Bob!

They're not the ones I would have picked (no offence to Mart of Frogs) but hope you enjoy them nonetheless! Here's some (better) ones of Mart and I at Live Earth, Wembley Stadium, on 7.7.7. That's the Foo Fighters behind us! It was awesome!

Lots of love xx Kel


p.s Is it just me or is the title box not working on our blog?

Well now, the things your old aunty Robert might find prowling about on the net eh!!
Who could this be smooching up to our Kell
They call him frogs mmm

I’ve been looking through all these photos for one I recall of a child in a raincoat but as I can’t find it I shall attempt to draw a picture from memory.
The raincoat was made from stiff black rubber coated cloth and was oversize as the purchaser always had aspirations of seeing it useful for more than one season and a child could thus grow into it. It came accompanied by a hat of similar material which may have gone by the name of a sou-wester. It had a down sloping brim elongated at the front to form a sort of visor with a much greater elongation at the back to carry water away from the coats collar. Worn with short gum boots in civilized (town) conditions or barefoot - shoes in a weather proof bag - provincially, it turned the child into a sort of mini vulcanized tank.
The pitfalls of this garment were numerous. The sown seams were not waterproof so that in prolonged heavy rainfall the child began to experience a warm wetness, first in the armpits and then down the spine till eventually it progressed via crotch and crack to stream down inner thighs giving the child the sensation of having wet himself and provoking the feeling that that was what he wanted to do. Overall though the child was warm as the coat worked like a modern wetsuit does. When the rain stopped and the sun came back however, the black heat absorbing rubber took only moments to turn the coat into a sauna. The child had to quickly remove it least he suffer instant dehydration and go into a coma. Instant removal was not as easy as it sounded. The hot rubber was inclined to stick around button holes and belt buckles and any panicky force was likely to tear the warm fragile coating.
Returning to this garment at the end of a days school say, when once more the skies chose to open, the still wet interior was icy cold and the garment itself like a personal Esky. It mattered not that the day had been fine and sunny, the black rubber kept the wet in even better than out. It took a good week of fine weather for the cloth to be once more dry and warm and during this week care had to be taken to avoid even further pitfalls. If the coat were folded during this slow drying so that rubber surface was against rubber surface there was a risk that it would stick and then peel when unfolded. Care had to be taken then that the coat was hung to dry, preferably on a hanger and thus it took up almost as much space stored as worn.
These garments aged quickly. The second wearing was noticeably not as smart as the first. The second season it was well on its way to the raincoat cemetery. No matter how much care had been taken pieces of rubber had peeled and some had perished. Seams had given up, buttons were missing and button holes torn. It was still an OK pretence for limited light rain but if the heavens open again this season as they did last the best laid plans of the aspirational purchaser would be wasted and the child would need a new oversized coat to grow into.
Do any of you have this photo or is it just a false memory.

Jane's address

Hi,

Thanks for posting on my behalf Dad, though I have to say that I didn't really appreciate the 'sleeping with my female tutor' bit. He initially wrote something lots ruder but I vetoed it.

Chris & Sue, Mum's address is 1 Heath St, Mona Vale, 2103. Glad to hear your mum's in a nursing home, Sue.

Gab, in case you can't tell, Dad loves his cardi so much. He wears it very proudly.

Love,
Alice

On behalf of Alice

Alice and Rene her designer
Alice is staying with me tonight whilst Jacks getting stuck into painting Palm Beach, red I suppose. She says I can blog for her as she is busy proof reading for extra dollars. She has been promoted to assistant editor of Weight Watchers magazine in case this information has not appeared in print, and she has discovered that she has an affinity for bossing staff. Yes she has staff.
She has received a high distinction for this semester’s course but only because she is having an affair with her recently married female tutor. No that’s not quite true and surely says much more about me than it does about her but its fun isn’t it to make salacious comments whilst we don’t have any stitched up grandmas looking over our shoulders or wide eyed innocents as consumers of our blog. It won’t always be so or at least I hope it won’t.
Anyhow, suffice to say that Alice is a very busy girl what with editorships, high distinctions and wedding dresses, not to mention planning her mums fiftieth, she finds little time for the simple pleasures such as bloging and it is in this vein that I take on myself this task, arduous as you know I find it, to provide her with some respite.
Now reading my words on her behalf to my harried proof reader and having in that vein made a number of edits she wishes me to add that she is no longer able to source our blog from her work place and her home dial up server has been down since before the weekend, a period when they are un-contactable - an un-contactable internet provider should be an oxymoron shouldn’t it, whatever - so it’s difficult for her to keep up with our exciting lives.
Robert

Could it be?

Hi Chris and Sue especially. Could it be Frank Forde? Does this mean Hugh is paying attention and hasn't yet lost all his brain cells? I hope so.

On The Road Again

After spending last week in a rainy and cold caravan park in Nowra, experiencing the south east coast’s third or fourth low pressure system, that month, it was great to have sunny clear skies to head off last Sunday.

As you know we have spent the last few months visiting Sue’s mum Shirl, who has been sick since February. She has had three close calls where the doctors advised us to expect the worst but she has bravely fought on and has now been settled into a nursing home at Bomaderry . Sue spent the last week seeing her every day organizing clothes, labels and trying to help get her as comfortable as possible. Her health is still very poor and it was hard to leave her but if Sue stayed with her mum much longer I would have had to put her in the psych ward as well. Shirl was ok about us resuming our travels and wished us well but I expect we will be called back at some time in the not to distant future. She has her “friend” Barry who bravely visits her most days and that keeps her happy.

Following a good night at Gai Beswick’s 50th we left Miranda about 9.30 am towards that day’s destination of Mudgee. We stayed nice and warm in the car over the Blue Mts (7 degrees in Katoomba). Going down Victoria Pass in the slow truck lane always makes me feel great that we have now left the city behind. The countryside towards Mudgee was beautiful and green with lots of full dams, a total change from when we traveled the same route in May last year. We had rain overnight and a cold night in Mudgee but the van was nice and warm. Next morning headed off through Gulgong, Duneedoo and Mendooran to Gilgandra for the night in a great park with massage heads in the showers. Note: The Rotary Caravan Park in Gilgandra is recommended. Another cold night with a beautiful star filled clear sky. The next day we traveled into big sky country with flat but green plains in every direction meeting the blue sky dotted with occasional fluffy clouds. It is currently a beautiful part of the country to be traveling through. Our destination that night was Lighting Ridge and when we stopped for lunch at Walgett the “tracky dacs” went into the cupboard to be replaced by shorts as it was 27 degrees. Been in shorts ever since, although a jumper is still handy at night. We have not needed the caravan heater since Gilgandra. Lightning Ridge was packed with NSW school holiday makers as well as the usual winter visitors. Lots of people come here for the winter and try their luck in the opal fields.

Wednesday saw us continuing along the Castlereagh Hwy, heading into Queensland but undecided as to where to go, either St George 200 klms, Surat 300 klms or a long day of 400 klms to Mitchell. Surat would mean “free camping” with no power which was not good on State of Origin night. We arrived at St George about 1.30 pm and filled up and asked the garage attendant about the direct road from there to Mitchell which he informed us was the only way to go as it was all sealed now. So we took his advice and headed north west. This road is 200 klm bordered by nothing but red dirt and low scrub the whole way. Most of the road was good except for the older sections which were narrow with broken edges, but the only road train we met was fortunately on a new section. This part of Queensland was much browner than the countryside we saw in NSW, they obviously have not had as much rain but they still have their huge cotton farm dams full of water that should be flowing down the Darling. It has been great to see the Castlereagh, Barwon and Namoi rivers flowing, as well as the many smaller creeks we cross. We have seen lots of live emus and dead kangaroos along the way.

We arrived at Mitchell which is on the Warrego Hwy a main route from Brisbane (600 klm) to the west and north west of Queensland. Mitchell is a small country town, although it does have 4 pubs and an artesian spa amongst its attractions. The council run caravan park offers a BOGOF deal whereby if you pay for two nights at $18 a night (cheap) you get two nights free. So it is full of pensioner grey nomads who like a bargain and can stay somewhere with power and hot showers for only $9 a night. Of course it keeps them in the town spending money. We were planning to stay two night as the washing is due, but hang it we might stay for a free day, got to watch the dollars now. The park is full every night at this time of year and they have a big open fire at night surrounded by bush poets and lots of grey nomads with their wine casks. The laundry notice board advises us of a sing-a-long at the camp fire tonight from 5pm to 6.30pm. Sue wants to go so we will have to have a late tea tonight!!! Oh My!!!!

Trivia Question, What’s my name:
To find out who is reading this and to provide information for success at future trivia nights:

a son of Mitchell is honored as the shortest serving Australian Prime Minister as he held the position for only 6 days. Who is he ???
Keep any eye in the comments for the answer.

That’s all for now, we are heading towards Longreach tomorrow or the next day and we will write again. By the way, many of you will be happy to know I’ve had a hair cut and gone back to number 4 again.

Love, Chris, Sue & Olly


View from our site at Shellharbour in "Low Pressure System" June.



Green as far as the eye can see in western NSW.



Emu racing between St George and Mitchell.



Grey Nomads lined up in the Major Mitchell Caravan Park, we're second from the left.

My new cardie

Oh Wow!!! Love and big hot sloppy kisses to Gabby. It’s beautiful, my new just on the pink end of blood red cardie. Does wonders for my pasty skin tone, fits perfectly and feels like wearable soufflé. I love you Gab, I’m on my way to the solicitor to update my will.
Uncle Robert

Photos from Hampton Court Palace and Wimbledon

Hi guys

My first 2 weekends back in London and I've experienced two English traditions - Hampton Court Palace (where King Henry VIII used to holiday) and Wimbledon. Here are some photos.

Love Kel xx

Oh poor pitiful me

Oh poor pitiful me, to have, with no other responsibility, to spend this afternoon soaking in the suns warmth on my balcony, troubled only by doubts that perhaps I’d heard enough of Crowded House live and should change to um; The Faces, Miss Judy’s Farm or The Kinks, Waterloo Sunset, never ending stress really. It’s lonely of course not having anyone to offer the best lounge in the sun to, no one who wants Barry Manilow and a cup of tea just as I’ve settled at last into the second best sunny spot and re-started chapter three for the fourth time. Not.

How excited are we about the i phone. I cant wait for the comedy sketch where the drunk eating the falafel roll and bringing home the ice cream for his impatient girlfriend tries to tap click and pinch his commands into this smooth round cornered technology. Mmmm, could be another marketing opportunity for my second favorite cleansing aid; Windex. “What’s my first?” you say “Furniture polish of course, O-Cedar, Sheraton, take your pick but not Mr, Sheen, no its corrupted with detergent that neutralizes its protective oil in no time” There I’ve said it in print, do you think I’ll get a commercial?

How lucky is Kelly getting back to the UK just in time for another terrorist scare. All we have Kell, is Johnnie sending the troops into the NT which looks like being the dullest invasion ever. So far not a shot has been fired, not even in welcome. I recon those Abos need a few Palestinian advisors, they know how to waste ammo. It won’t be long Kell till anyone, carrying anything, in London is going to have to use a regulation size clear plastic bag similar to the airplane take on baggage thingie. There’s a fortune to be made catering to this kell, if you can get Marks & Spencer or Harrods interested I’ve got the Chinese manufacture side of things covered. While you’re at it you might suggest to them that we have a line of see through clothing ready to put an end to suicide belt bombers. We don’t of course but no harm in putting your toe in the water so to speak and if they ask to see samples just tell them it’s top secret. See through clothes won’t stop the bombers of course but it will make it very uncomfortable for them having to ingest all that explosive and nails and ball bearings mmm.

Well that’s about all for now, Gotta get back to more important things, speeches to be writ, worlds problems to be solved, weddings to be planned and stuff.
Love
Robert

A Hansome Distraction

First off, Kelly, were concerned about things going on around you and we have a few warnings concerning your future choice of accommodation.
First, avoid taking up residence anywhere that bears the same name as those on a Monopoly board-no not even Old Kent Road. There’s a gang of terrorists out there, “The Monopoly Mob” deliberately targeting this game and we advise that you remain alert and avoid Monopoly. Karaoke and trivia are still regarded as safe, however you should refuse to answer any trivia question related to Monopoly as a safeguard.
Second, avoid accommodation in low lying areas. You may find Thames beach side property going at what seem like once in a lifetime, impossible to refuse prices but we recommend caution. Third or more floor walk ups may be safe if they come with deep freeze and emergency power generation.
It’s not our attention to alarm so just stay alert (no mobile, mobile phone calls) and have a good time.
Now here to distract and entertain you is a photo essay of a very handsome bloke.
Enjoy

What’s to say, I know I have your interest.
She was obviously interested
She felt he was interested
But with the help of his beloved Nona’s hand to keep his head up straight (These were surely my first long trousers though they look suspiciously like they may be someone else’s.)
He adopted the straight and narrow path
And returned to the bosom of family
He moved to the country and had more brothers and sisters, It was more relaxed there as is evidenced by the socks
He drove tractors without girls in his lap
He grew older and more sophisticated
He flirted with the stage
He almost turned into Elvis but his dad and barber refused him sideburns
He returned to the city to become one of the three amigos
And to avoid his millions of fans had to move about disguised as a bearded cab driver