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| By John Ray |
Some Memoirs
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All that happened at my place was that Anne came over and cooked us an excellent lamb roast & veg. for dinner. Very traditional. She also provided some good Tasmanian triple cream cambembert for appetisers. Less traditional. We washed it down with a bottle of Moet & Chandon champagne from the Hexagon. After that we just lay about and listened to classical music for a while and then at 8.30 turned on ABC TV to watch the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. It is filmed in Scotland in September, I think, but the ABC always broadcast it here on new year's eve. I think it is an instinct that you have to have something Scottish on new year's eve, an instinct that I entirely approve of. So watching the tattoo here on TV at that time is rather traditional too. You have to like pipe music to really appreciate it though. I was pleased to see that an Indian military band was part of it this year. And there were Gurkhas too! But I still think that the Scottish regiments in full Highland dress are the most magnificently attired military men. There is no other uniform that comes close to it, in my view. The terribly plain uniforms that the German army wear these days are something of a tragedy in my view. Bring back the Pickelhaube! Just before the new year broke Anne and I retired to the verandah and waited for all the noise (fireworks etc.) that would greet the new year. We toasted the new year in with the remainder of the Moet. | ||
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Our big family Christmases normally happen on Christmas day. While the "kids" (now all in their 30s) were young, the day started early in the morning (some time between 6am and 7am) as the kids were unleashed on a pile of presents under the tree. After the present distribution, people would either sit around talking, play games or go back to sleep until the big lunch. In more recent times, however, just a lunch after midday has been the custom followed by a swappable mystery present game that everyone plays. This year, however, we went European and had our big occasion on Christmas eve rather on Christmas day. It was at Simon's big new house out in the boondocks (boondocks from my viewpoint. I have long been a central city dweller). Anne and I Humbered out there. Showing how versatile members of the military can be, Simon cooked up a big and first-class traditional Christmas dinner for us (around 20 people) all by himself on his big new stove. The house had been designed by Simon to accomodate entertaining and its 9ft wide verandahs were certainly good for that. It was a very hot day but the verandahs were cool. As usual, I talked mainly with Paul, Joe, Simon and Ken but I did get in brief chats with Von and Suz. Von is doing amazingly well. She gets a very high salary and owns three houses. Having a practical streak plus being both nice-looking and happy-natured has certainly delivered the goods for her. I was pleased to see that both girls are still wearing their hair long too. It looked great on both of them. Joe has been working on his honours thesis lately and is finding no problems with it. He hopes to finish it by March and hopes to get employment in the actuarial field some time next year. He has certainly been consistent in his wish to become an actuary. Academe seems to be only a second preference for him. His mathematics degree is of course a good starting point for actuarial work but he told me that his knowledge of the stiockmarket is helpful in interviews too. So my setting him up to get stockmarket experience has had an unexpected side-benefit. I gave him the usual large cheque for Christmas for him to invest. I want him to make most of his investment mistakes before I die, when he has to take over my portfolio. After the mystery present game, which was very raucous and jocular and must have taken an hour or more, we got our Secret Santa presents. Paul was my secret Santa. Because I sometimes used to give him trick presents when he was a kid, he gave me a trick present this time. The present was ostensibly a circular saw in a circular-saw cardboard box -- even though my Secret Santa request had been for a towel and a sheet. But I rather spoilt the game by neither commenting on the apparent present nor opening the box. Paul however, pushed to get me to open the box and it did after all contain a towel and sheet. Cake and desserts came after the present exchanges and Simon got me into a discussion of ethics and meta-ethics over dessert! As part of that I suggested that there are some things we can be certain of and "Global warming is crap" would be one example of that. There was no disagreement. I am always a bit surprised by how many global warming skeptics I encounter -- even people in relatively humble occupations. Suzy's husband-to-be, Russel, is a rigger (assistant to a crane driver) but even he could tell you all about ice-cores and such things and why they disprove global warming. I am inclined to think that only an intellectual could be stupid enough to believe in it. Anyway, Jenny knew that I am a creature of habit and would miss my usual Christmas lunch so she put on an excellent lunch next day just for me, her, Joe and Nanna. Anne was elsewhere attending her own Christmas lunch. We had a small present exchange first and Joe got a Nintendo Wii games machine out of it, which he was really pleased about. They really are an amazing advance on the old games machines that I remember. The dinner itself included two types of kebab, both of which tasted as good as they smelled. | ||
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Anne is a neophiliac. She likes each day to be new and different. And I am an old stick-in-the mud. I prefer everything to be the same day after day. But reality somehow suits us both. Yesterday morning we started out taking my ironing to Flo, which I do about every 2 weeks. But this time I managed to give Flo (a pensioner) a $50 note as a Xmas present -- despite some resistance from her. I mentioned that to Anne and she of course approved. On our way back from Flo, I nearly ran into a police car, which no doubt jangled Anne a bit. But it was one of those ambiguous merging situations so the cops did not pull me up. Then we went to Vincenzo's for breakfast and Anne decided to try the vegetarian breakfast. She nearly starved. She even ate up all her toast for want of much else. They should have included some potatoes with it. I of course had the bacon and egg breakfast that I always have there -- day in and day out. Afterwards we called into the hot bread shop and bought a rather sinful bun of some sort with icing and walnuts and mixed fruit on top. Anne said she did not want anything but I knew she would have some of mine. I noticed as we were leaving the shopping centre that I was almost out of petrol -- another excitement -- but we made it to a service station in time. Then we went to the huge Garden City shopping mall so that I could visit Lowes and buy myself a pair of shorts. Which I did in a rather grumpy way. I am a reluctant clothes shopper these days. Another departure from routine anyway. Then we visited the local Lifeline (thrift shop) and I bought a pretty little butter dish I saw there. Then we went home and had a cup of tea (with the bun I bought earlier) on the verandah amid a very pleasant breeze. And while were were there we tried to figure out -- to much hilarity -- the big set of very strange fibre-optic Xmas lights that I had bought recently. We rather failed at putting them up so I rang Jeff and gave the problem to him. He very obligingly agreed to come over next Sunday and put them up. So Anne certainly got a lot of the non-routine events that she likes. | ||
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The Humber club had its annual Christmas lunch on Sunday -- at "Botanix", of Wellington Pt. So Anne and I Humbered out there. It was infernally difficult to find but we did find it eventually. It is a really big place with a garden shop etc. as well as the restaurant. And the head chef there must have been quite a whizz. There were lots of diners but the dinners kept pouring out of the kitchen and they all looked good. Our dinners arrived quite promptly and were excellent. The steamed pudding was particularly good. But the highlight of the occasion for me was seeing TWO Type 2 Humbers parked side by side. They looked magnificent. My Humber is a type 4. It has nothing on the gravitas of a Type 2. Then that night we Humbered out to the Xmas do of the Westside Music Circle at Pullenvale. The quality of the music was as usual a bit uneven -- something to be expected from an amateur organization. I used to run it myself so I know. It was uneven when I ran it too. There was some awful modern violin music and some quite inspiring Vivaldi. But the star of the evening was undoubtedly a brilliant Russian violinist named Attilla. Yes. I am not making that up. His first name really is Attilla. He actually looks Turkish rather than Russian so I was not surprised to see that he was born in one of the Muslim countries of the old USSR. He honoured us with his presence at our Xmas do last year too. As well as being a born fiddler he is a great entertainer who sees fun in everything. He will go far. The crowd was probably our best yet. About 40 at a guess. I talked mainly to Jill and Lewis. I seem to have corrupted Lewis. He was wearing shorts for the first time. He knew I would be. | ||
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An old but shambling friend of mine has condemned these memoirs as far too boring. I agree. I like a quiet life so they SHOULD be boring. He has however suggested that I liven this site up by adding some poetry to it. That is of course a challenge to which I am somewhat susceptible. Quoting poetry by someone else on a personal blog does however seem to have hairs on it so I thought I might put up a short poem of my own. I wrote some poetry back in the '60s which I now think very little of but the one below may be a bit of fun: DEFIANCE (Sonnet) Fine was the knight of old with fatal mace. That fighting breed has left a lasting trace On our ancient, ever nascent British race Expressed in business, battle or the chase. When pressed we know we'll always set the pace, Be commerce, fighting or any endeavour the race. Our heritage we never could debase By any act that e'er could bring disgrace So let us present crises far outface Try not our steps long past now to retrace With glories past, "Alertness now" replace. For a fighting future minds and hearts strong brace That we may turn to all a happy face Successful still and pressing on apace. It is of course a technically boastful (and peculiar) sonnet but it does convey that I was then, as now, pleased by my origins. | ||
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A small dinner tonight to celebrate Joe's successful completion of a 4th year at university. We went to our usual Indian destination and the food was as good as ever. I left the guest list to Joe and he simply invited all his close blood kin only, plus their partners. So I think there were only 11 at table. Paul was his usual ebullient self despite his recent split with Susan and mainly talked about the stockmarket. He has been going to AGMs lately and finds them amusing. Joe seemed confident that his next year at university will be a doddle. He took it a bit easy this year by doing courses only so next year he has to do a thesis only to get his honours degree. And he already has it part written. | ||
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I mentioned elsewhere recently that St Andrew's day (Nov. 30) is Scotland's national day and am pleased to report that Anne and I did do something towards celebrating it last night. I flew the saltire of St. Andrew from my flagpole that day and we had Forfar Bridies (from Sid's) for our evening meal and listened to Scottish music both then and afterward. And the songs we listened to were the in the main the old favourites that are so deeply felt among the Scots -- Scottish Soldier, My Ain folk, Loch Lomond, Skye boat song, Scots wha hae etc. etc. I have spoken a little lately of how conservatives have few inhibitions about group loyalties (such as patriotism) and mentioned the Eton Boating Song as an instance of how such loyalties can be deeply felt. And I also noted at the time that loyalty or a feeling of connectedness to your own group does not necessarily imply contempt for other groups or a wish to dominate them. And the Eton Boating Song exemplified that well. And so does the Scottish song I put up recently elsewhere. Although it is called "Scotland the Brave", it again contains no aggression or hostility towards others. It just talks about Scottish people and the beloved Scottish landscape. But it is still capable of bringing tears to Scottish eyes. The feelings it conveys are intensely felt. So I am going to press the point a little further by putting up here the words of another beloved Scottish song: Scottish Soldier. I am sure that any Leftist would immediatey assume that such a song must be glorying in the crushing, dominating and extermination of other people. But it does none of that. As a song about a soldier it does indeed refer with pride to his distinguished military past but the song is not about that at all. Once again it is about his memories of his own country whilst serving aboad and how his dying wish to be buried in Scotland was honoured. Scottish SoldierIn case I seem to be just blowing smoke in saying above that Leftists tend to see patriotism as implying hostility towards others, I might mention that there is a very large academic literature in psychology which assumes exactly that -- starting with the work of Adorno et al. (1950) on "ethnocentrism". I might also mention that my own survey research into exactly that question repeatedly showed exactly what I have asserted above -- that patriotism does NOT in general imply hostilty towards others. See e.g. here. Reference: Adorno,T.W., Frenkel-Brunswik, E., Levinson, D.J. & Sanford, R.N. (1950). The authoritarian personality New York: Harper. | ||
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I got Michael Darby up from Sydney again last night; This time to help expand Joe's awareness of English poetry. Ann was down in Sydney at a conference connected to her work so Jenny came in and cooked us our dinner: Roast lamb followed by trifle. And a very good dinner it was. The menu was designed to fit in with the English theme and I also flew the flag of St George from my flagpole. Dinner started at 7pm on time but it was a close run thing as Michael got here only about 5 minutes before that. Joe, Sam, Jill and Lewis made up the party. Jill and Michael are old friends. I have recently had a few minor renovations done so my place was at its best for the occasion. As I usually do, I set the table with EPNS silver and bone-handled knives: Genuine living in the past! I opened the proceedings with a champagne toast: "For St George and merrie England". Much poetry was read and recited, including a lot of old favourites: Tennyson, Shelley, Shakespeare, Coleridge, Hopkins etc. As the years go by I become more and more impressed by Tennyson. I helped out by doing some of the readings but I get hoarse very quickly these days so I was pretty croaky by the end of the night and retired exhausted at about 10pm. Michael was his usual stentorian self during his readings and recitations and Jenny stayed on chatting to him until about 11pm. The table conversation was rather rabidly conservative. Lewis and Michael both tore into Australia's Leftists with Jill and I just occasionally chiming in with a few similar remarks. It must have been a contrast for Joe when compared with what he hears in the university environment. Since Joe's own views tend conservative, I think he would have found it refreshing. | ||
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Most of what I put up on my blogs is written by others. I suppose I am lucky that I do regularly find stuff that I agree with or find interesting. Every now and again, however, I do put up something that is entirely written by me and today is one of those occasions. And, seeing it is a quiet, relaxed Sunday morning, I am just going to meander a bit. 
I was just listening to the superb "Sea pictures" by Sir Edward Elgar (pic above). I am lucky to have a CD on which Dame Janet Baker is the contralto and she does a superb job. The poems Elgar chose to set were drawn from quite obscure poets for the most part and my favourite song is "Where corals lie" -- written by a little-known Scotsman. I was born where corals lie (by the sea in tropical Queensland) so maybe that has a little to do with it. Following "Corals", however, is a song which is set to a poem ("Swimmer") by Adam Lindsay Gordon, a highly esteemed Australian poet. And that sparked the thought that I should have a poetry evening for the more profound Australian poets. I have already had an evening for the Australian balladeers -- Lawson, Paterson, Dennis etc -- at which the inimitable Michael Darby starred, but, much as I love the balladeers, they are not the whole of what Oz poetry has to offer. Writers like Gordon, Kenneth Slessor etc are also in my view outstanding. Michael Darby is coming up from Sydney in a week's time to give us his renditions of English poetrty so I am somewaht inclined to give him the job of introducing my son to the more profound Australian poets as well. And I may do that. I put on a poetry evening at my place once or twice a year to help fill in the gaps in my son's education. He went right through High School without even hearing the names of such greats as Wordsworth and Coleridge. On the other hand, is it not a little broad to look at a whole class of poets? Poets are intensely individual. So should I not also have an evening devoted to a particular poet? In one sense I do that every year of course -- on January 25 when I have a Burns Night -- a ritualized celebration of the birth of Robert Burns -- and next year I even have an old Kiwi friend coming up to help with the festivities who does a reasonable Scottish accent. I gather that his Dunedin origins account for that. So I will dragoon him into reading most of the poems. 
But in my strange way, there is also a religious poet whom I very much like: Gerard Manley Hopkins. See the icon above (an icon of the pre-computer sort). And I am not alone in that liking. There are actually Hopkins literary festivals in some places. I could of course have an evening devoted to Hopkins in which I did all the reading. There are plenty of his poens that attract my enthusiasm. But while my poetry nights are mainly for the benefit of my son, I like to get a little extra out of them myself as well. So I would rather like to have a Hopkins enthusiast to do the honours. And the obvious enthusiast would have to be a Jesuit -- which is what Hopkins was. But does the Society of Jesus even exist in Brisbane? I suppose it might. I will have to look into it. | ||
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A small and informal lunch yesterday at Ken's place for the occasion. We have had so many big family occasions (at which the women do most of the work) in recent times that Maureen wanted something very low-key for her birthday. So it was a "bring your own lunch" occasion. Present were Ken, Maureen, Paul, Sue, Jenny, Joe and myself. Sue brought along for her lunch a meat pie with peas and mashed potatoes. Despite her being statuesque and 6' tall, she is a quarter Filipino in ancestry -- but her choice of lunch revealed that she is also 100% Australian. Perhaps it is only her exceptionally pleasant nature that is her Filipino heritage. The birthday cake was a Pavolva with lots of fruit on top which went down very well. Sad that it is only in Australia that the virtues of Pavlova are well-known. We talked mainly about the stockmarket. Paul is selling all his real estate with the intention of putting the money into shares -- as shares are very cheap at the moment. I think that is a very wise move but since I suggested it, I would, wouldn't I? | ||
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About two weeks ago I decided that a couple of my skin cancers were getting a bit obstreperous so I called my usual dermatologist cum plastic surgeon, the excellent Dr Russell Hills. He is the most expensive in town but also the best. And I speak as a connoisseur of plastic surgery -- with many years of experience. Anyway, I got an appointment for a consultation with him after only a week's wait and I was on the surgery table a week after that -- last Wednesday. A large contrast with the months of waiting I would have had through our local "free" hospital system. With cancers, waiting long periods is not wise. I had two procedures, one of which was a rather large curette and diathermy on the middle of my forehead. So the next day my face was so swollen with edematous swelling that I had some difficulty seeing out of my eyes. I kept on blogging regardless however. When Anne came over that night (Thursday) I was no way fit to dine out so Anne scrabbled around in my freezer and found a dozen or so French cutlets, a great favourite of mine. She grilled them up and served them with rice and baked beans. That may seem like an odd combination but rice and beans are in fact the staple of Mexican cuisine so it all worked very well. Then for breakfast on Friday she dug out a medium size cheese and steak pie by "Muzza", our local genius pastycook. So I dined and breakfasted very well thanks to Anne, which did help my spirits. I am not easily ground down but I was not feeling the brightest with my surgical aftermaths, | ||
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A big family rollup for lunch at his place last Sunday. Anne and I Humbered there. Everyone was there as far as I can remember. "The men" (Ken, myself, Joe and Paul) mostly talked about the financial upheavals in America and the effect on our stockmarket but, as usual, I don't know what everybody else talked about. Though Lady Von got some praise for going into real-estate rather than the stockmarket. Paul was the picture of gloom because he had put $100,00 into Suncorp at $11 per share or thereabouts and seen it sink to $7. I tried to tell him that his thinking was too short-term and that it would all bounce back in due course but I don't think he was much consoled. I bought Suncorp at around $18 from memory and I'm not worried. Maureen had bought some excellent sausages for the BBQ and Anne had made one of her great trifles so at least the food was good. I talked to Joe a bit and told him not to swim in rivers because you can get swept away! How banal can you get? I also however gave him a CD with the Sibelius musette on it so that should be a good memorial of the occasion. He still seems set on being an actuary -- which is rather amusing because most people don't know what the hell that is! But as a mathematics graduate he is definitely allowed to do strange things! I also talked a bit to Simon, who was just back from Qatar. He was amazed at what a dismal place Qatar is and definitely glad to be home with his lovely wife and family after 6 months away. | ||
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Yesterday was Fathers' Day in Australia and Jenny gave me a lunch to mark the occasion -- as she usually does. This time she gave me a BBQ lunch featuring cevapi, which she knows I like. And the lunch was good from the first smell. Present were Jenny, myself, Joe and Nanna. We were both pleased that Joe got into the cevapi. Given the large similarities between him and me, that was rather to be expected but the reason we were pleased is that he normally will not eat sausages and cevapi are a type of sausage. So he just likes GOOD sausages! Jenny has just had a visit of a few days from Nola and they went to all sorts of entertainment together, as usual. Jenny and Nola get on exceptionally well together and have done so for many years so I asked Jenny why she thought that was. She thought that she and Nola have similar attutudes and values but I would have not have thought that was terribly obvious. But feelings cannot be easily analysed anyway. One thing for sure: Both Jenny and Nola like FUN! And both view the world with a rather cynical and skeptical eye. Nola is very irreverent and headstrong. One one occasion she was at a rather formal dinner party and they were going around the table saying who their best friend was. When it came to Nola's turn she said her best friend was her vibrator! She definitely does not like pomposity and pretence! It's probably the Irish in her as she is of Irish descent. I brought with me to the lunch three copies of Dragon Cave, an old Amiga game that is one of Nanna's favourites. Nanna may be a lady in her 80s but she does like computer games. She has worn out several copies of Dragon Cave. It is a sokoban game. After lunch, Joe and I looked on the computer for an audio clip of "Musette" by Sibelius. Joe did not know it and I knew he would like it. He did. | ||
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Joe's music teacher put on a concert of her students at 4pm yesterday. Joe was the last on the program and played an unusual piece of Mozart's (Fantasy in C minor) very well. I have been paying for music lessons for him for 17 years now -- since he was 4 -- so I am pleased that it has all paid off. I have just got to thinking what a diverse lot my favourite singers are: Josef Schmidt, Peter Dawson and Paul Robeson -- a Romanian Jewish tenor, an Australian bass baritone and a black American bass. I absolutely love "Heut' ist der schoenste Tag in meinem Leben", a joyous love song by Schmidt. And for Dawson, of course, THE song is "Floral dance". There is an unusual history behind Floral dance. It was actually written by a woman for a woman and it makes slightly more sense in that form. Yet it was Dawson who revised it for a male voice and made it famous. For the incredibly versatile Paul Robeson a favourite song is harder to pick but Ol' Man River is hard to beat. So what do they have in common? Nothing as far as I can see. I just like their voices but don't ask me why. Though one thing that they have in common, sadly, is that they are all dead. Since the Schmidt song is in German, I thought I might translate it -- so others can appreciate what it is all about. It is a literal translation rather than a poetic one. I have been doing poetic translations from German since I was 15 but they take more time and work:: Heut Ist Der Schoenste Tag In Meinem Leben Refrein: Heut ist der schoenste Tag in meinem Leben, ] Today is the most beautiful day in my life Ich fuehl zum ersten Mal, ich bin verliebt. I feel for the first time, I am in love Ich moechte diesen Tag fuer keinen geben I would not swap this day for any other Es ist ein Wunder, dass es sowas gibt. It is a wonder that such a thing could exist Heut will ich mit keinem tauschen Today would I exchange with no other Wer's auch ist und wer's auch immer sei, Who ever else is like that may it ever be Heut will ich mich berauschen, Today I wish to intoxicate myself Morgen ist's vielleicht vorbei. Tomorrow it may be gone Heut ist der schoensten Tag in meinem Leben Today is the most beautiful day in my life Heut ist der schoenste Tag im Monat Mai. Today is the most beautiful day in the month of May Wo ich bin und wo ich gehe, Where I am and where I go Ist das Glueck in meiner Naehe, Isd the luck of what surrounds me Heute singen alle Geiqen, Today all fiddles sing Fuer Dich und fuer mich. For you and for me Heute denk ich nicht an Morgen, Today I don't think of tomorrow Heute gibt es keine Sorgen, Today there are no worries Heut ist alle Tage Sonntag, Today is an eternal Sunday Fuer dich und fuer mich. For you and for me Refrein Auf die Woche folgt der Sonntag After the week Sunday follows Auf den Sonntaq folgt der Montag, After Sunday comes Monday Auf die Sonne folgt der Regen, After the sun comes the rain So ist das zumeist. So it is in general Auf die Trauer folgt die Freude, After sadness comes joy Und die Liebe fuer uns beide, And love for us two Und wer so wie wir verliebt ist, And so for anybody in love like us Der weiss was das heisst. Who knows what that is Refrein Update: I have done a bit more work on the translation and the version below should be just barely singable Refrain: Now is the best time in all my life I feel for the first time I am in love I wouldn't give this day for any other It is a wonder that such a thing could be I won't swap this day with anyone else Who ever it is or whoever it may be Today I want to be drunk with it For tomorrow it may be gone Now is the best time in all my life Now is the best time in the month of May Verse 1 Where I am and where I go Luck is in my neighbourhood Today all fiddles are singing For you and for me Today there is no tomorrow Today there are no worries Today all days are Sunday For you and for me Verse 2 After the week comes Sunday After Sunday comes Monday After the sun comes the rain So it mostly is After sadness comes joy And love for us two And anyone else in love Knows what that means | ||
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I understand the above toon perfectly. I have recently got myself a new mobile phone that seems to be able do everything except cook your breakfast. Figuring out how to get it to do any of those things is a big problem, however. I have figured out how to get the FM radio in it working and, after much trial and error, I can work the camera. I can't figure out how to do anything with the pictures, however and I can't stop the keybord from locking every time the phone goes into idle mode. But I can make and receive calls! Its number at the moment is 0488603058 but I am going to transfer my old SIM card into it when I get the thing more or less figured out. | ||
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I guess I must be a sentimental old fool. I read recently a story in "The Times" which I cannot get out of my head. I have posted it on Paralipomena. It is about a man who was adopted out as a baby but who finally traced his birth mother when he was 41. Such stories are usually emotional but you read such stories often so what was unusual about this story? The striking thing is in the very last sentence -- a sentence that is at once totally crazy and totally right. I am sure that the sort of self-obsessed person we often find on the political Left would think nothing of it but it brings tears to my old eyes. If you choose to read it, do read the whole story first. Peeking at the last sentence first may well deprive it of much of its impact. A recent post on Wicked Thoughts has got some memorable entries in it too. | ||
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Westside Music Group again last night. Congenial as usual. No Asian pianists this time. Instead we had a 13 year old girl with a big mane of blonde hair who played some difficult Mozart and Bartok with enormous confidence and skill. Her mother was with her -- another South African-born lady with still a trace of the accent. Our violinist was however Jewish, so tradition was maintained. She played some Cesar Franck with the sort of enormous intensity that one rather expects of Jewish violinists. So we had first class piano and first class violin. There was also a large female opera singer who was very competent but her voice was just a bit reedy for me. And a classical guitarist finished the evening for us in a very pleasant way. Anne is a singer -- a good soprano -- so she was rather critical of our operatic lady. When you are in the trade you notice the fine points, I guess. We had a good crowd. Rosemary's big living room was full -- 20 or more people all told. It was a freezing night so everybody was rugged up. One lady arrived carrying a crocheted blanket and another lady wore a big white beanie. There was a fire going in the fireplace but the room was too open for that to make much difference. Brisbane houses are built for warm weather, not the cold. But we do have a few rather wintry nights. Last night was 60 degrees F or 16 degrees C. So "freezing" is all relative. | ||
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After the new king was crowned in Tonga yesterday, he drove off aboard a 1950's Humber Super Snipe      Story of the coronation here. | ||
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Anne and I went clothing shopping yesterday. Anne has proper lady thoughts about men dressing nicely but she has on her hands one of the world's worst sartorial disasters. I sallied out dressed in pilled-up old trackies and slippers with breakfast spilt on them. Now that I am just an old pensioner I am worse than ever. We went to the huge shopping centre at Garden City. We went to both Lowes and Big W and ended up buying 5 shirts and two boxer short undies for me. Getting stuff for "big men" was no mean feat however. But I guess I have some advantages. Anne had the night before expressed a wish to have a CD of "that Gregorian chant from that German monastery". And within 24 hours she had in her possession a CD of the music from the Stift Heiligen Kreuz (Institution of the Holy Cross -- a Cistercian monastery in the Vienna woods of Austria). It is indeed marvellous music. There was an ABC shop on the way back from Lowes and I managed to find the relevant CD there. The Stift Heiligen Kreuz has been honoured by a visit from the Holy Father | ||
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Rob Schwarten is a long-standing Labor party member of the Queensland parliament who has served in various ministries. He has a reputation for being aggressive -- even physically intimidating. So I was amused to receive from him a letter that was typically Schwarto -- a sort of verbal punch. Before I show you the letter, however, I need to tell you what led up to it: In a nutshell: My car was stolen in 2006 and the Queensland police showed not the slightest interest in apprehending the thief or thieves, despite the ID of one of them being handed to them on a plate. More detail: Someone reported my abandoned car to the Redcliffe police about a week after it was stolen; the Redcliffe police checked their reports of stolen cars and notified me accordingly. When I got the car back, most of the contents that I had in it were missing. This bothered me greatly as some of the contents were of considerable value to me. On checking through what remained, however, I found a library card belonging to someone I had never heard of. It was for a library in the Redcliffe area. It seemed clear to me that one of the thieves had inadvertently dropped it while they were in the car. Eureka! Just trace the person and I might get my stuff back! So I took the card to my nearest cop-shop -- at Dutton Park. I was greeted at the counter by a dickless Tracy by the name of Turgeon. I told her my story, she listened and said she would look into it. I had no sooner stepped outside the building before I realized however that she had not taken a single note or asked for any details, let alone fill out a proper report. I went back in and urged details upon her -- registration number, dates etc. She grabbed a torn-off scrap of paper and jotted a few things down. That was it. I left in great doubt about whether I had been taken seriously. So I followed the matter up in the following weeks and months. In the course of that I was told two things by various police persons: 1). The card could have been dropped by anyone so was no proof of anything. Police logic, I presume. They seemed to think that I might have been driving around with people unknown to me in my car. 2). The person on the card had been checked and found to have no "form" (no criminal record) so there was no point in pursuing them. More police logic. How one ever gets form in the first place under those circumstances was never expained. I was of course not remotely impressed by those pearls of wisdom but they came from more than one police officer, including a rather senior one. It stood out like dog's balls that the Queensland police were not remotely interested in catching car thieves -- unless of course you could catch them at the end of an exciting high-speed chase. No wonder Queensland has the highest rate of car theft in Australia. If you don't catch the baddies they will continue doing it. So I started writing to the politicians in order to get some action. I got some very ill-considered replies from them too but it emerged that by that time the ID card had been "lost" and they could not therefore investigate the matter even if they wanted to. That was quite appalling. There are of course strict police rules about the recording and preservation of material evidence and those regulations had obviously been ignored. It's not much of a guess to conclude that the Virgin Turgeon threw it straight into the bin, in fact. I asked for disciplinary measures to be taken and Inspector Volk of Dutton Pk. station assured me that they had. For all I know that was just hot air, however. Clearly, Constable Turgeon had simply been following informal police rules. I was rather stumped at that point but eventually made what was probably the only move left to me: Sue for compensation for my loss of car contents. I accordingly wrote to the Minister in charge of police with a claim for $500 in compensation for the loss of car contents that police negligence had prevented me from recovering. I got the usual ill-considered reply -- presumably written by a junior ministerial assistant. So I wrote again to point that out. It was then that I got my amusing letter from Schwarto: Judy Spence MP Member for Mount GravattHe appears to think he can shut me up! No further correspondence from the Police Service has arrived in the two months since Schwarto wrote so I suppose that an action against the Constable in the Small Claims tribunal will have to be my next step. I have put this post and most of the letters I wrote on the matter up on a special blog called "Queensland Police Negligence". You will see there that I even wrote to the body that is supposed to act on complaints against the police but that they simply referred the complaint back to the police -- as they usually do. What I would most like to see at this stage is a public enquiry resulting in visible disciplinary action against the police officers primarily responsible for the unofficial policy of not investigating car stealing. | ||
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NOTE: My main blog is DISSECTING LEFTISM