It's been a full couple of days here. Yesterday morning I stopped in at the VicRoads office in Shepparton to have my boat licence formally issued. This went smoothly, although it may have been just as well there was no music playing when they took my photo. Otherwise who knows what might have happened?
Before After
Images from here
The day at work was surprisingly full, thank God. I still managed to get out for a walk at lunch and spotted a couple of restored vehicles - a Ford Falcon and a Chevy truck. Noting the ancient rivalry between those two companies it's perhaps proper that they were on opposite sides of Ross Street! This was the Ford -
And this was the Chevy -
I don't plan to buy into the Ford v Chevy debate. The car I demanded the most from - and got - was a Toyota Corolla that was ancient when I acquired it. It left me with an eternal respect for the sheer un-kill-ability of Japanese engineering (it finally died after being run without oil for about 10 miles; I still feel a bit bad about that).
On the subject of elderly machinery (and for that matter, affairs nautical), the water resources news emails the company sends us every day covered another subject I'm fond of: riverboats. The story itself was about how the PS Cumberoona will be based from this point at Yarrawonga rather than Albury.
The mystique that surrounds riverboats is a remarkable thing. As technology, paddlewheelers have been obsolete since the day in March 1845 when HMS Rattler towed HMS Alecto backwards. Despite all of which, if I ever again get together with a Southern girl, the relationship will need to involve a paddlesteamer on the Mississippi at some point.
I didn't have a huge amount of spare time after work before I needed to be heading back to the farm, but I took an hour for a run. The sun was very bright going down: a week or so more and I'm going to want sunscreen for these outings. I did the Pyke Road loop (in reverse this time) which took me out of Tatura and then back into it again
I was partly crafting this blogpost as I ran, although I'd forgotten my ipod so I kept getting distracted by the sound of my own breathing. The run back into Tatura down Hogan Street was as good as it always is: past the pub (I wanted to stop!) and the take away (I wanted to stop!) and the Foodworks with the good fruit selection (I really wanted to stop). Best of all though was it takes me past the buildings tied to Sacred Heart church, that are built in red brick that looks so good in the setting sun. This time I snapped a picture of the building that was accommodation for pupils when the Church school accepted boarders.
There were some chores and odds and ends to do when I got back to the farm. Is it strange that I feel almost grateful to have the chance to support the parental units in this way? Maybe grateful isn't the right adjective. I mean, who really feels thrilled by household chores? But in a way, I kind of feel like I'm making up for having been such a ratshit support to the ex after Grace and Rachel were born. I did try the best I could then, but the plain truth is that my best wasn't good enough then. Well, life is about learning. Ancora Imparo.
No more for now. I should post again later this evening after the swimming test (it's a pre-requisite for the rescue boat crew course).
More later
I don't plan to buy into the Ford v Chevy debate. The car I demanded the most from - and got - was a Toyota Corolla that was ancient when I acquired it. It left me with an eternal respect for the sheer un-kill-ability of Japanese engineering (it finally died after being run without oil for about 10 miles; I still feel a bit bad about that).
Image from here
On the subject of elderly machinery (and for that matter, affairs nautical), the water resources news emails the company sends us every day covered another subject I'm fond of: riverboats. The story itself was about how the PS Cumberoona will be based from this point at Yarrawonga rather than Albury.
Image from here
The mystique that surrounds riverboats is a remarkable thing. As technology, paddlewheelers have been obsolete since the day in March 1845 when HMS Rattler towed HMS Alecto backwards. Despite all of which, if I ever again get together with a Southern girl, the relationship will need to involve a paddlesteamer on the Mississippi at some point.
I didn't have a huge amount of spare time after work before I needed to be heading back to the farm, but I took an hour for a run. The sun was very bright going down: a week or so more and I'm going to want sunscreen for these outings. I did the Pyke Road loop (in reverse this time) which took me out of Tatura and then back into it again
I was partly crafting this blogpost as I ran, although I'd forgotten my ipod so I kept getting distracted by the sound of my own breathing. The run back into Tatura down Hogan Street was as good as it always is: past the pub (I wanted to stop!) and the take away (I wanted to stop!) and the Foodworks with the good fruit selection (I really wanted to stop). Best of all though was it takes me past the buildings tied to Sacred Heart church, that are built in red brick that looks so good in the setting sun. This time I snapped a picture of the building that was accommodation for pupils when the Church school accepted boarders.
There were some chores and odds and ends to do when I got back to the farm. Is it strange that I feel almost grateful to have the chance to support the parental units in this way? Maybe grateful isn't the right adjective. I mean, who really feels thrilled by household chores? But in a way, I kind of feel like I'm making up for having been such a ratshit support to the ex after Grace and Rachel were born. I did try the best I could then, but the plain truth is that my best wasn't good enough then. Well, life is about learning. Ancora Imparo.
No more for now. I should post again later this evening after the swimming test (it's a pre-requisite for the rescue boat crew course).
More later
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