FAMILY DAY 2008

Dear Family,

Please note your family days -

Febuary 17 - John
April 20 - Alice and Jack
June 22 - Luke and Jamie
August 24 - Hugh
October 19 - Robert
November 23 - Dot and Strobe
CHRISTMAS - Prestipino Family

Kelly, we will liaise regarding the European family days from April on....

Christmas in Jurien Bay

How to spend Christmas in WA.

Sandy cape near Jurien Bay




Opening scene from "Jaws"

keeping in the shade in 40 degrees

"cheers"

Christmas Musings

No snow drifts, sleet or ice storms but neither the welcoming summer day we expect for Christmas in Sydney. No as I took my nine AM walk under skies of a pronounced grey gloom the neighborhood seemed to respond in kind. No squeals of children trying out new trikes or the latest in motorized scooters. No kites though the gusty breeze would have presented a fine launch pad. The only children I encountered seemed apprehensive in the company of their father who was watching his mobile phone as if waiting the signal from the space craft that would deliver them from the triangle of park they occupied to a parallel universe with sun or snow or something to delight in. Another father in another park was preparing to play with his son’s remote control helicopter about the size of a sparrow. This son was going to have to wait a few days, possibly a year before he would be allowed to take the controls, that’s if dad didn’t loose or break it in the blustery conditions today. Few other humans crossed my path on this 3.2K walk and those that did were either off to the train to fulfill their essential service or walking dogs with nary a jolly Ho Ho Ho to be heard from any of them. Even the birds seemed despondent when spotted at all, a bunch of Lorokeets there on the power lines motionless but for the fluffing of feathers. No screeching and swooping this morning. A lone crow wandering mournfully in the gravel between the railway lines seems to sum up the mood of melancholy. Maybe the sun will shine and the air warm up this afternoon as it often does to provide some Christmas cheer. Meanwhile we’ll have to search elsewhere for it, maybe in a bottle.
Oh dear! Now look what I’ve done. I’ve got everyone saying “O poor Robert” or at least I hope I have, for it should be obvious to all that being so indulgent as you see, I am thoroughly enjoying myself. No it’s I who owe you an apology for such a gloomy description of a day which we all anticipate with hopefulness and joy. I hope you can appreciate that contemplation of such gloom helps us to appreciate the excitement and joy that we feel in bright sunshiny warmth. Without rain and cold we could not possibly enjoy sunshine and warmth so it makes good sense then to also enjoy rain and cold as I do, well up to a point.
Well that’s the lesson for today. Mass tomorrow will be at the normal weekly timetable. Merry Christmas and blessings to all of you.
Fr. Robert

Bah Humbug

Whoo! How nice is it to get home to Sam And Dave after a day of Christmas specials from decades of otherwise excellent American Negroid musicians cashing in on whitey’s festival. I don’t begrudge them, probably the easiest dollar they ever made, but it’s torture to be subjected to these soulful R & B and funk versions of Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, and especially White Christmas (a picture of these folk sitting in the back of the bus singing I’m dreaming of a white Christmas never leaves me alone) over and over. Who ever compiles these music ‘tapes’ (do young folk still understand this meaning of this word) must just Google ‘Song Christmas’ as included on ours is the Pretenders; 2000 miles, which though it contains the lyric “Christmas time”, has nothing to do with Christmas and is in fact a lament for a dead lover. I use to like it and who knows, twelve months of abstinence may yet reprieve that like.

Over twelve months of service now has gifted me with hindsight, providing a more complete picture of my work environment. My delightful colleague Meghan with five school age kids, was chuffed that young Patrick received the schools Labour Party sponsored, prize for leadership. In our circumstances I could not help reflecting, that on the down side, that could mean he would grow into a Danny or Marie, first and second in command of our daily grind or even a Hitler for that matter. The noun leadership certainly stands alone better than say, ‘quality’ but is none the less vitally dependent on its accompanying adjective and of the two that immediately leap to mind, good and bad, bad, seemed most appropriate to our circumstance.

Danny who physically resembles the more loathsome aspects of Shrek and has been thus nick named and Marie who closely resembles his donkey mate, with a voice not at all unlike a real donkey’s bray were, at the time of this reflection, deeply engaged in ‘site meeting # 12’ in the corner (our unventilated and incredibly humid corner)* where the new portable coffee counter construct was coming together. Here customers will be able to enjoy that symbol of sophisticated lifestyle the decaf-caff-late and most of its close relatives as they take a welcome break from the adjures of shop shop shopping. “Inspirational and a credit to your leadership Danny”. brays Marie. Nobody seems to remember that not twelve months ago similar infrastructure, fifty meters from here, was dismantled, demobed, abandoned. Why? Who knows, ours is not to reason. Staff recall sticky spills and mugs upended in product bins by disgruntled customers (yes we have them). Can this be reason, and if so what has changed to make coffee vending viable? Will the cups be made from double sided tape that once gripped can only be pried loose at special thinners wash disposal bins? Probably not but it’s a good idea don’t you think?

The memory span of these management types is appalling, always living in an imagined future of vast profit and gain they have no concept of present and the past, well that’s just history, how do you expect to make a profit off that unless we can get it really cheap. “Make a note Marie to see if any of the Chinese factories are producing cheap history”. This overweight clown bounded into the staff room yesterday (Saturday) morning like the coach geeing the team in anticipation of the projected $200,000 turnover for the day and when hearing of the death of Ken Lee, founder, owner of the Bing Lee retailing giant became all reflective noting that he would probably never be as wealthy as Ken. Don’t worry folks, I kept the biting “don’t worry Danny one day you’ll be just as dead” retort to myself. ‘Those who forget history are condemned to repeat it’ thank you George Santayana. I expect to soon add washing up and mopping to customer relations sales and shelf stacking.

Stepping away now from local to a more global scale I should like to share with you some of my reflections on the market place. At the local cake shop a satisfactory Portuguese Tart costs me $2.00 and although in many parts of the world, possibly your very own suburban mall, this may seem expensive, in Enmore it seems to me in AD2007 to be about right and for this reason I have chosen it as my measure of value for the following discourse. Alice and Jack were until it was cancelled due to severe flooding, going twix Christmas and New Year to The Peats Ridge Music Festival. Alice clever planner that she is, for which I take full responsibility, noting the weather forecast (rain till March) and not wishing to risk her or Jack’s newly wed bums on the wet earth, asked me to research camp chairs at work. They are now proudly in possession of two well designed tube steel and canvas folding chairs and in return for this largess I shall have to forego seven and a half Portuguese Tarts.

My recently acquired 50’s retro look trannie, that’s transistor or portable radio for you youngun’s not transvestite, which in 1962 would have cost approximately sixty pounds (can you believe this there’s no pound symbol on this keyboard) set me back a massive nine tarts. For those of you who never experienced pounds or 1962, by my calculations I could have bought a whole Portuguese tart business in that year for sixty pounds though that would have had to be in Portugal as in 1962 we were still awaiting Vasco DA’Gama’s baker relatives.

We can only hope that this trend will slow or hopefully reverse sometime soon least we reach that moment in history which seems very close, when we find ourselves forgoing the meat pie in favour of the twenty two inch plasma screen

Now for once I can’t but agree with you that that’s enough drivel for now.

Merry merriment to all
Robert

Oh but PS. Im looking for a good public forum in which to symbolically burn my 18 odd Westfarmers shares after reading in this weeks papers an article that places Westfarmers at the forefront in support of Morocco’s illegal occupation of Western Sahara and the plunder of their phosphates.

Merry Christmas from WA

Merry Christmas!

Well the countdown is almost over! I'm off to the States tonight, I've packed all my winter woolies and I'm soooooooooooooo excited!

Thank you to everyone who's sent me pressies, cards, photos and wishes. I've had so many things to open - it was a festival of presents! I'm very spoilt indeed!

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas. I'll be thinking of you and missing you loads. And don't forget to phone mum and dad on Christmas day and send them lots of love.

Speak to you on the 25/26th and see you in 2008!

Love Kel

Goolmangar Christmas

Memories of Christmas in Goolmangar

A headless chook running wildly around the yard with blood spurting into the air told me that it was nearly Christmas Day. The only time I remember eating roast chicken as a child was at Christmas or Easter. The killing of the chook is a vivid memory for me and I don’t think I had any concerns for its fatal situation. After all it was me that ran over a kitten on my dinky because it has a tooth ache. The second memory relating to the preparation of Christmas dinner was the strong smell of the process of plucking the bird in a warm water bath. I think I participated in this job occasionally with little joy.

Living on “Aintree” from the age of 3 to 9 I was fortunate to experience 7 Christmas Days, just at the right time of my life, when Christmas was exciting and holy, Santa was real and life was great.

Hugh, I believe, was in charge of the decoration of the Christmas tree and the house interior. I remember he and mum cutting up the reams of colored crepe paper in to long streamers of green, red, purple and yellow draped across the living room. I am sure I got in his way from time to time but is was a season of good will after all. Lanterns were hung and various bits of tinsel and more crepe paper were wrapped around the tree, which I assume came from “dickies” or somewhere along the creek bank.

Christmas morning came with a pillow case full of goodies, left by Santa, to be found at the foot of my bed. Straight into the bag with shouts of joy all around. Then it was out to the tree on the verandah to inspect the pile of colorful boxes that now surrounded the sparkling tree. At that time all of the presents were delivered by Santa there being no presents under the tree on Christmas eve, they arrived by reindeer and sleigh during the night.

However the next item on the agenda was off to Christmas Mass at the Goolmangar church St. ??s. I know that Dad and maybe Hugh and Robert had been up for hours to do the milking (cows don’t have Christmas Day off) but I was so inpatient to get into the presents. They had to wait and even though the Christmas Mass was more entertaining than the usual service, with beautiful nativity displays and stories and carol singing, it seemed to be an unbearable wait to get back home to get into the boxes under the tree. The adults seemed to spend extra time giving each other Christmas wishes after mass with us kids waiting in the car or pestering them to hurry up.

Back at home the presents were passed out by dad “Father Christmas” to the eager recipients. There was bowls of boiled lollies, caramels and nuts in impossibly hard shells. It made them last longer. I don’t really remember Christmas dinner however I can still taste the burnt crisp skin on the baked potatoes which were much better than the mashed potato that was dished up at normal dinner times. I did not like mashed potato as a child and can remember struggling through the pile of now cold mash that was all that was left on my plate before I could have sweets. Sue says that mum’s baked potatoes were probably baked in milk which provided the memorable taste.

The Christmas day sweets were special with the centerpiece being the plum pudding and rich custard with the hidden threepences and booby prize buttons. Heavenly tart and lemon meringue pie with home made ice cream completed the spread. Everyone had seconds.

After some tea towel flicking over the washing up the afternoon was spent enjoying the bounty of gifts, I seem to remember books, guns and other assorted weapons most. There is a photo somewhere of me standing on the verandah dressed in my new cowboy hat, vest with silver star, fringed leggings, with two six guns and no shoes looking really pleased with myself. If it was a hot day we may have gone down to “Santos” hole for a swim especially if someone had some new togs, tubes or other water sport aids to try out.

I don’t know if it ever happened on a Christmas day, but the arrival of a spectacular summer thunder storm, lighting up the evening sky with lightning bolts igniting dead trees on the range of hills that surrounded the farm, was a spectacular way to end the day.

It was a great age to live on the farm, too young to do many chores but old enough to enjoy all the adventures. I hope that my older brothers will correct some of the errors in my memories and I am sure we would all love to read their Goolmangar stories.

A very happy and healthy Christmas to all our family and friends.

Love Chris, Sue & Olly.

Some good Christmas news

Well, guess what? The pension did arrive before Christmas. The powers that be finally saw the light and now I have a naff (but I love it) blue pension Concession Card and ten weeks' back pay. So it was worth the battle. Roll on Boxing Day and much love to you absent ones.

Christmas in the Van

"Paris Hilton" shoulder bag for Xmas

Santa Olly

Olly carolling

Giveaway

It’s difficult coming to terms with having given my daughter away as I clearly remember having done in a loud, bold and confident voice;

Celebrant; “Who gives this woman in marriage”

Me; “I do” a phrase which was to be repeated throughout this ceremony.

All I could think was how clever was the bureaucracy that created this system that reduced the input of all the public involved into those two simple unambiguous words; “I do”. Nary a letter wasted. Thing is that just like when one slips from being 59.99726 to 60 years of age, nothing seems to have changed. At the very least such occasions deserve thunder and lightning. In this instance I wouldn’t have been satisfied with less than an additional sunrise as might be provided by an eclipse though a metamorphis into giant dueling dragons a-la one of Chinese director Yuen Wo-Ping’s creations would have satisfied.

In the absence of such phenomena I guess we have to leave it to time to convince us that some wonderful change has taken place. That Alice is no longer only a daughter but also a wife and that Jack is her husband, will someday be as obvious as it is that I am no longer 25, and I will be able to recognize the fullness of my gift. Of course I appreciate that I am not culturally obliged, as those of some developing nations are, to provide not only the gift of bride but also of substantial dowry. No doubt those father’s of the bride have a much sharper sensation of their largess along with debt collectors to remind them of it for years to come.
No I am happy with my cultures deconstructed approach to this ceremony which can be as heroically performed in a harbor side park as well as it might be in the grandest cathedral. Who cares how, or in what environment, the question is put as long as the answer remains the same, not; I might, I could, I suppose, maybe, but that impossible to confuse three letter phrase; ‘I do’

Resisting the temptation to implicate Gabby as the protagonist here, no, I doubt that there is anyone else in the world who might mistake Niado, as in Indira Niado, for ‘I do’ with a silent Nnn.. as an Nnn can seem. That’s just silly stuff that springs from my mind into your imagined mouth Gab, and now you’ve gone and spoilt the seriousness of this whole piece though that’s possibly just as well as I had no idea where it was going and you were not being much help. In my mind you will always be, not unlike the guardian variety, the underwear angel.

I’ll close now as Doc’s prescription Johnnie Walker black label seems to be having side effects like numb finger tips and if I go on I may embarrass myself or others. Eh Gab! Good night from we, um me, and looking forward to a boxingest day.

Robert

8 sleeps

Hi everyone

Only eight sleeps til Christmas and just 4 until I go to the States. I am so excited. Had lots of Christmas dos this week - even put up my tree - hand-made too! Don't you love it? Cooked a baked dinner on Saturday night for Melissa and Frogs and we watched the final of X Factor. Here we are impersonating our favourite band!

Lots of love xxx

WA Photos

These are a few photos that relate to the blog published a few days ago.

Movie making in Coolgardie


Brothel Tour


Main St Kalgoorlie


Exchange Hotel Kalgoorlie


Christmas Parade in Kalgoorlie


Blasting in Super Pit


Super Pit at Kalgoorlie


Lake Ballard Sculpture


Share the Road


London Bridge, Sandstone WA


Kalbari Coastline


Shark Bay reflection

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Hi guys

I know it's been a while since my last blog but I think you see all my pics on Facebook and hear my news via e-mail. Nonetheless, I thought it was about time to share some Christmas spirit with you all.

From left to right: Me, Erin, Pinto, Odette (Bruce's girlfriend), Bruce and Wicus enjoy some mulled wine before hitting the ice.



Christmas in London is in full swing - it's cold and mistletoe is all around. My flatmates and I went ice-skating this week - so much fun. There are ice-rinks set up all over London during the winter months and the one we went to was part of Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. As well as the ice-rink, there were lots of Christmas markets, stalls selling mulled wine, a huge lit-up Ferris wheel and Santa Claus. It was so Christmassy and really put you in the mood for carols!

All rugged up at Ice-bar: Me, Pinto and Odette



After ice-skating we went to the Smirnoff Ice Bar. It's one of those themed bars (I think there's one in Sydney) where you have to dress warm cause the bar is chilled to minus 6 degrees! The bar, chairs and even your glass is made out of ice - and it's so chilli, you're only allowed to stay in there for 45minutes - enough for me! We had a vodka cocktail to warm us up and danced around to stay warm - it was so much fun! They give you a big cosy coat and gloves to wear while you're in there but I was still freezing. Guess it's good preparation for the US!

See - even the glasses were made of ice!



Only 14 more sleeps! 13 for you lot... Love always xxxx

That Wedding

In the light that shines so brightly from the disc of official wedding photos which I today acquired, yes that wedding, I find myself emerging as if from a mist to reflect in full on the events of that momentous day. I’ve always had a problem with being both the observer of and the participant in the – ah - well whatever really. None the less with the Wedding. It took these snaps which of course include me to fully comprehend the wonder of what then occurred.

If you have the time please bear with me as I take you through the events of this day as perceived by me and if you too were there compare mine with your experience. If you were not there then this is the ‘honest to god’ real truth ‘no kidding’. Photos don’t lie.

Much preceded this casual looking though seriously tense arrival. And no I cannot explain what looks like a grey smudge on alice’s bosom.


And a great deal of credit for the expertise and aplomb of this credible representation of a casual entrance should be credited to the two lovelies seen here with Alice.



Gabby the underwear expert and all round competent in times of stress and speech making, will be familiar to most of you but Katie, K-K-K-K-Katie, the voice of reason though not without wit, who was responsible for Alice and Gabbs make up, you may not. It was she who kept me certainly, and I expect Alice too, sane at the aptly named Vibe as what seemed like bus loads of relatives and guests arrived and departed the official suite.

If any of you think the event not important enough for this state of nerves then allow me to present here the type of company in attendance.


I don’t know about the other two but the bloke on the right is Bob Ellis’s teacher from school days. Did anyone tell you that Gabb? Imagine what he could tell, er teach us.

Les Murry was even there, I swear though I have yet to find photographic evidence.


The one in the middle here is Mrs. Ran, you know the one who tells the South Australian Premier when to put the garbage out. To her right is the proprietor of Dinosaur Designs for those of you hip enough

And no one is going to tell me that Maggie Fink did not produce this shot




As luck was bound to have it we were now only a few minutes away from tight ring situations to the first glass of champs.




We were able to relax enough for some of us to even make speeches





For a while there it seemed like an open mike





And after the bridal waltz, in this instance a boso nova version with a tricky hair in cuff link twist ..




We were able to relax and enjoy ourselves



Problem is, as always there are far too many pretty girls to fall in love with at weddings. Who could resist nieces.




Sisters and Cousins




Brides school friends







Brides work friends




Emma in a clip from the recent film adaptation of the novel Jane Austen wrote about her.




Hanna: Immortalized by The Temperance Seven, you know, Hard Hearted Hanna the Vamp from Savannah




MMmmm! So many beautiful girls


Robert

Kalgoorlie Calling

I realise we have covered a lot of territory since our last report from Carnarvon, so I think this is going to be long, so go and get a drink.

Sadly we departed the temperate climate of Carnarvon on Friday November 2nd and headed south again into more remote WA desert landscapes towards Shark Bay. We saw lots of feral goats on this section and when stopping for fuel at Billabong roadhouse I was nearly carried away by flies when using the slowest petrol pump in Australia. Next overnight stop was at Denham which is a pleasant seaside town with a beautiful outlook over Shark Bay. The water here is crystal clear and shallow (up to your knees) for about 500 meters out from the beach. It is where the earlier photo of Olly and I on the banana chair in the water was taken. Our neighbor had arranged to purchase some freshly caught and steamed blue swimmer crabs, so I went with him and we had 4 beautiful crabs for tea that night for $20. Delicious. We visited Monkey Mia from here but we didn’t bother with the dolphin feeding which is a bit of a tourist gimmick now. However walking along the beach in the shallows we noticed a sand shark resting in the water so decided to continue our walk on the sand. Shark bay is a very scenic part of the WA coast with huge expanses of clear blue water along a white sandy coastline instead or the usual red colours of WA.

After three days we headed onto Kalbarri, which is heavily promoted as a place not to miss. It is a small village again and very popular with visitors for the week end and holiday periods from Perth. Again beautiful coastal scenery as well as the mouth of the Murchison river. Kalbarri is believed to be where the first white men set foot on Australia being two Dutch mutineers from the Batavia in the 1600s.They were put ashore instead of having their hands cut off and then hung as happened to some of the others. The Kalbarri National Park is nearby which has spectacular gorges and is famous for it’s display of wildflowers in the spring. We did not visit the gorge parts of the Park as I am over National Parks these days. They charge you $10 a head to get in and then make you park a 2 hours hike, in fly blown 35 degree temps, from the scenic view which is usually better in the post card at the visitors centre. They also have this fear that a squirt of urine from a Maltese is going to ruin the health of their precious wallabies and other native animals. Don’t the dingoes take a piss?? Anyway, if they want me to look at the view they need to make it free and run the road right up to the cliff edge so I don’t have to get out of the air conditioned car. But that’s enough of my complaining. The “fritz in Britz” love it. We spent a very relaxing week in Kalbarri having beach walks and good swimming in the river and exploring the coastline. Sue picked the winner of the Melbourne Cup while we were there (No 6), but didn’t have a bet though, oh well !!

Drove on to Geraldton, which was only 130 klm so an easy day. We had the car booked in for a service here so spent week here enjoying the facilities afforded by a bigger city. It is a very nice place with a big busy port and it services a major part of the WA mid west wheat farming, pastoral and mining industries. It has a lot of history including the many shipwrecks and a memorial to the loss of the HMAS Sydney II. While the car was being serviced I spent the day in the museum and art gallery which were both very interesting and entry by donation, much better than national parks any day. Sue and I celebrated our wedding anniversary while in Geraldton with a Devonshire tea at Greenough a National Trust preserved village. No expense spared after 32 years. As Geraldton was the last major town we would be in before Christmas we did our Christmas shopping here and posted boxes all over the world.

We headed down the Brand Hwy to another coastal holiday twin town of Dongara/Port Denison. Again, a nice place to visit with a thriving lobster port where we watched the catch coming in. The season has just started and there were thousands of live lobsters caught each day and packed off to Japan and other places. Some of the boat crews will sell you a lobster for 11 dollars each so long as you have the right money and a bucket to put them in. We thought about it but didn’t bother as we are spending Christmas at Jurien Bay which is another busy lobster port, so we might get some for Christmas lunch. Sue made scones and we stuck a candle in one for Olly’s eight birthday. We also met up with Steve & Jen and Franz & Kay here who are two couples who are following much the same itinerary as us , we first met them at Kunnanurra and Timber Creek and we often meet them along the road. We had an impromptu BBQ and a few reds with them in the caravan park BBQ area, a very nice night. We were at Dongara for Alice & Jack’s wedding and the election, so I walked over the dune to the beach to watch the sunset and wish Jack & Alice well in our thoughts. Didn’t really care much about the election as we didn’t vote, due no longer being enrolled anywhere. It was interesting that Dulwich Hill, our last place of enrollment, was comfortably won by Anthony Albanese (Labor) without our help, and “Aunty Dana” (Liberal) comfortably won Engadine so what’s the point.

We were at Dongara on 25th of November and as we are booked in at Jurien Bay (100 klm south) from the 17th December we decided to head east to fill in the time. So off into the WA outback through Mullewa, Mt Magnet, and Sansdtone to the WA goldfields. We helped out a couple of our indigenous brothers who had a flat tire on their trailer in the middle of nowhere. They were traveling to Meekathara with what looked like all their belongings in a hired trailer. Their jack wouldn’t lift up the trailer so I lent them mine and all was fixed and they continued on very appreciative.

We stayed a night at Leonora and Menzies before arriving at Kalgoorlie. The area is full or history with many abandoned mines and towns. Near Leonora we visited the ghost town of Gwalia where the “Sons of Gwalia” mine was closed in 1963 and at that time a special train was sent from Kalgoorlie to pick up 1300 of the 1500 occupants of the town who left the town and most of their belongings behind. The town has been preserved as it was and you can wander in and out of the houses and see how they lived. It is surprising to see how poor the living conditions were in this part of Australia when I was living in luxury in Hydebrae St, Strathfield. About 20 people still live there now and the mine has reopened as an open cut. Another interesting meeting we had in Leonora caravan park was with a local cross dresser. A man about my size with boobs a nice pink top and black skirt, lots of tattoos and a pleasant conversationalist. I just wonder how he gets on with the miners of Leonora? Just heard on the news that Leonora had the coldest minimum in WA today with a minimum of 3 degrees. The nights are very nice here with the doona being enjoyed but then the days can be anywhere from 25 to 41. But still we have seen even a shower of rain since being in Nowra in June.

From Menzies we drove 50klm to Lake Ballard which is a huge salt mine where an artist has erected 51 cast metal sculptures spread wide across the lake so that you cannot see them all without a two hour walk around the salt flats. We did a short walk around three of them and the whole vista was very impressive. I have included some photos but they don’t do it justice. Olly was not impressed as he was sure it was a beach when we arrived at the lake’s edge and he could see that expanse of water that wasn’t there, as he raced towards it. And of course the temperature was in the high 30s and I didn’t realise that so many flies appreciated art.

We arrived in Kalgoorlie/Boulder 10 days ago now and are enjoying our stay. We have had a shade cloth curtain made to attach to our awning when the annex isn’t up. We have wanted one of these since our travels last year and finally got around to it. That reminds me, there is a town in WA called Tuart and I am looking forward to driving around it so I can say I am getting around Tuart !! Boom Boom !! We have arrived at Kalgoorlie when they are celebrating St Barbara’s festival with the lighting of the Christmas Tree, and a Christmas street parade with the biggest floats I have ever seen in the shape of the mining trucks and equipment. The parade was followed by a free concert in the park with Tina Turner and the Rolling Stones no less (maybe not the originals)! St Barbara is the patron saint of miners. We have visited Coolgardie where a film company was doing some filming with the main street blocked off. We watched an actor fall off a chair about 10 times. There was a small dog being filmed walking with a girl past the pub in scene and we considered taking Olly off the lead to see what would happen, but we didn’t see Nicole or Hugh so continued on around the heritage walk of Coolgardie. We also went on a tour of an operating brothel which was interesting. There are plenty of single men in Kalgoorlie if any of our single female readers are interested.

Our friends Steve & Jen arrived two days ago which was a surprise as the last we heard they were on their way to Perth. They did, but then decided to come east. Last night they joined us on a pub crawl around the “Skimpy’ bars of Boulder. Most of the pubs (there are 8 of them in walking distance of the caravan park, you’d love it Kel) have the “Skimpy of the week” advertised along with the counter meals on a black board outside the pub. As expected the “Skimpy” is a barmaid dressed in bra and pants, fish nets etc, who chats up the miners usually during the happy hour if not all day. Even the early openers have them at 6am. We were surprised when the girls at two of the pubs we visited came around with a jug collecting coins by saying “do you want to put something in my jug?” They then proceed to remove the bra and continue serving with a “WA made” sticker covering the nipple. The girls move around the various pubs from week to week and I think they have a real following. It was a fun night out for all of us.

Well we are now getting ready to head off tomorrow now that we have collected our new shade cloth, seen all the tourist attractions of Kalgoorlie Boulder, including the super pit which is amazing, and done a skimpy tour. We plan to travel through Southern Cross and Merriden to Heyden and have a look at wave rock. Then it’s back west through the wheat belt towns to arrive back at the coast on December 17th, where we will spend Christmas. For some time Sue has missed having an oven and recently said she would like one for Christmas. An electrical store was closing down here so she now has an early Christmas present, at half price, and I am enjoying scones and biscuits and am looking forward to lasagna and garlic bread for tea tonight.

This will be the first Christmas ever without any family for both Sue and I so Sue is starting to feel melancholy already. We will miss you all on Christmas Day and Boxing Day but wish you all the best for a very Happy Christmas with lots of love from Sue, Chris & Olly.

Learning our lesson

By the time I reached legal drinking age the six o’clock swill was just a memory, but ten o’clock closing and no Sunday trading were a facts of life. So it is that my strongest memory of late teens and early twenties pub life is of the post nine pm Saturday night panic, to stock up for the dry day coming. The time, and bottle shop conditions, were constantly monitored by us on this night when it was vital to have something to do and fuel with which to do it. From nine o’clock on Bottle Shops, part of the pub, there were no independents back then, were the most popular and crowded parts of any pub and pity help those who arrived a 9:50 on a bumper evening to find the sort of crowd that these days you might expect to see for the release of the latest X-Box, though not as orderly.

It’s Saturday night for god’s sake and at Nine PM, instead of setting out for the night as our European cousins might, we were panicking as our core social center, the only one with a government license to purvey fermented liquor, is one hour away from closing. Not just for the night but for the next 36 hours. By the time it re opens the weekend will be over and you will have dragged your sorry ass back to work for another grinding week. Is it any wonder that under such conditions people got confused about their requirements and over compensated, not unlike people threatened by war-time-rationing. “A slab of VB tinnies please” (they were actually steel cans, far more deserving of this title than their aluminum descendants) “No hold on Andy is down this weekend make it two” Hmm, last time he was down his cousin was to, man she’s hot. “Give us a bottle of Vodka too, and I better have a bottle of that Riesling stuff” This was a rationale played out much more often than I’m ever going to be able to convince you.

That it happened is our disgrace, mine, the AHA’s and the NSW Governments. Once all this alcohol was purchased what do you think happened. There’s a point at which drinking becomes irrational. Even if Andy and his hot cousin didn’t show this alcohol needed drinking. Yes we went on to drink at least three times what we would have, had we known as our European and Asian cousins did, that if we wanted it a drink was always available, often from the local grocer. I’m not sure that there weren’t other parts of the world were conditions were as bad as this but I am sure that if there were, then culturally they should have been described, as I would describe us, as Barbarians.

Innocent as I then was I took my publican at his word when he said “sorry mate, it’s the law” little realizing that it was his law. It’s fascinating to reflect that in those days (and little has changed) publicans thrived with little in way of marketing, supported instead by their governments restrictions which made pub attendance a right of passage that guaranteed an ever growing market. What can you do when you turn 18? Go to the pub. What a fabulous marketing ploy and it costs peanuts. I thought my publican wanted longer trading hours in which to do business from which he would obviously profit. Not till much later, did I realize that he was very happy with the status quo. He sold two to three times as much product as he would have staying open without having to pay all those extra wages. A win win situation that left him with plenty of time to stand upright in church on Sunday proud of his handsome contribution to the plate.


For those of you, having finished the paper and the crossword, and with little else to do, who would like to view more of this rant you now can. Just go to http://rokstump.blogspot.com
Yes my own blog where I can dump rubbish I would not dream of inflicting on ‘okeefes’
The philosopher

On we go

Hey, maybe I'm not a website klutz. Managed to access Gabby's photo album and what a great spread it is. Some really great candid snaps and a few that could end up in a law court down the track. Thanks Gabby! (But where are yours, Cat?)

Meanwhile, an update on my quest for the pension. Got a letter from Centrelink listing, among other things (I'll round down the figures) my annual income as $2000, and a fortnightly paycheck of $3000. Even you can see something is fishy here. The fortnightly figure came from my final payslip for 2007 from Sydney Uni. Not only had they assumed that I get this generous amount every fortnight, (if so, why would I want a pension?) but they didn't realise that this might be for work done over a whole semester (which it was). So back to Centrelink with my documents, a fifty minute wait (took a book - got Nureyev from birth to seventeen) and then the Chinese lady with the accent. I'm not a racist, but... how many times do you hear "cashew" before you suspect she might mean "casual"? And where that ludicrous annual figure came from, I still don't know. So, I duly filled in a statement which I hope will prove that my annual income is around $8000, not $75000+ as the fortnightly figure would suggest.

I'm not holding my breath, but I think Christmas might arrive first.

Hugh