tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79057329940436100132024-02-21T23:28:53.793-08:00New CîteauxOra et LaboraStephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.comBlogger1113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-27861891183693062002020-04-10T11:42:00.000-07:002020-04-10T11:42:03.373-07:00Holy SaturdayI'm typing this on the evening of Good Friday after a dinner of fish and chips and a glass or two of wine. I'm thinking about Holy Saturday, which is tomorrow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/medlyric/manassay.php" target="_blank">Image from here</a></td></tr>
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It seems to me that Holy Saturday is a day that we don't value enough, sandwiched as it is between the anniversaries of the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. But perhaps, it reflects an experience every believer has at some point, when one doesn't know what will happen next.<br />
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What happened on the first such day? I'm knocking this off from something I seem to remember seeing on Facebook last year, but it's still sound. On that day ...<br />
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The high priest smiled.<br />
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Pilate prepared a report for the Emperor.</div>
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The Pharisees and Sadducees shook hands.<br />
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Barabbas puzzled over his luck.<br />
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Simon of Cyrene waited for his back to stop hurting.<br />
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Peter searched his heart.</div>
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Joseph of Arimathea stared blankly out of a window.<br />
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Herod called for wine.<br />
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The Galilean women prepared spices.<br />
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Soldiers guarding a tomb played dice.<br />
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And Mary wept and wept.<br />
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It was a day of waiting.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com1Fitzroy North VIC 3068, Australia-37.7832944 144.9838466-37.8083934 144.94350609999998 -37.758195400000005 145.0241871tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-77876983206178616492020-04-05T07:17:00.000-07:002020-04-05T07:17:05.168-07:00Responding to Covid; or, Tetris in real lifeYesterday saw me finally lending a hand with Red Cross. After being unable to help out with the response to the bushfires this year, I finally had a role to play in responding to Covid-19.<br />
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On Friday a call went out for Red Cross Emergency Services to do food deliveries to people in strict isolation. It was a kind of "come as you are" operation: there were a few utes and delivery vans, but most people were in hatchbacks and sedans. We were to pick up the deliveries at the Yarraville Foodbank and then head off, with delivery addresses to be sent after departure by SMS. It was kind of a chaotic way of doing it, although in a way that was to be expected: the management team would have had no idea precisely what carrying capacity they were going to have at their disposal.<br />
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Each household was to receive three 12kg boxes of food and a 7kg box of non-food supplies (soap, that sort of thing). Each set of boxes was a "pack". With a certain amount of playing-Tetris-in-real-life I managed to get four packs into my little Pulsar.</div>
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This came to 172kgs (in addition to which I also had my SES kitbag and some packs of papers). I reasoned that the weight was still less than having four fully grown adults in the car and therefore it'd still be OK. I might say that the degree the car sank down on its suspension (without even having my 85kgs on board) still didn't fill me with confidence!</div>
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I was told my destinations would be in the area of Warragul and Traralgon so I headed off down the Princes Highway in the general direction of Warragul. Driving was interesting: I was conscious of the extra weight and the long climb up the Westgate Bridge saw me flicking back through the gearbox. The rain came and went all day and so I kept the speed down, what with driving a heavily loaded vehicle on wet roads. I got as far as Officer when I was told to divert to Hastings, to make deliveries there and then at Tootgarook. With a bit of grumbling over the geography of it all I stopped to get fuel and also food (thank you KFC!).<br />
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I got to Hastings about 2:30 and made the first drop off. Direct interaction with the clients was (obviously) forbidden: the front door stayed closed while we dropped off the boxes and then called to say they could collect them. By this point my phone had gone flat and so I found the St Vincents op shop and borrowed a power point for half an hour to put some juice back in it.<br />
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I made my second delivery in Hastings and then headed for Tootgarook, on the other side of the Mornington Peninsula. This took me past the home I lived in as a child so of course I swung by to have a look at it. The house is still there, repainted but the same. It was a strange feeling, but it felt kind of good to know another family were there now. It was a good house, and a good life. Naturally I forgot to take a photo!<br />
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I made the dropoff at Tootgarook about 4:15. I'd hoped to get a coffee and sit and look at Port Phillip Bay for a bit, but by then it was raining again in earnest and I said the Hell with it and drove home. By the time I got there it was bitterly cold and certainly not running weather and so instead I went on a good long walk. Most of the many restaurants in the area are now operating purely as takeaways and I decided I'd earned a pizza. <a href="https://www.zomato.com/melbourne/da-peppe-trattoria-brunswick" target="_blank">Da Peppe in Brunswick</a> obliged (there's no photo: I was too hungry for it to last long!)<br />
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So there you have it: Saturday had everything. It had a bit of community service. It had miles. It had pizza. That's enough for any day.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Yarraville VIC 3013, Australia-37.8202741 144.8821697-37.8453611 144.84182919999998 -37.7951871 144.9225102tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-20175629254649122362020-03-30T20:18:00.000-07:002020-03-30T20:18:04.483-07:00Review: Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall (2010)I wrote this review of<i> Wolf Hall</i> just now for my Goodreads account. Since it's easy to cross-paste the html , that's precisely what I'm going to do.<br />
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I've marked this book as "finished" although "abandoned" would be more accurate. I got to p.357 and then just flipped through the last half with growing irritation.<br />
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I have difficulty seeing how this book got such rave reviews when it came out. The writing is instantly forgettable and the characters little more than clichés (A religious bigot? check. A scheming harpy? check. A tortured but good man? check.) Cardinal Wolsey is at least mildly interesting, but as he's dead in the first half of the book His Eminence really can't redeem it. Don't believe me? Give me a quotable line from it. Neither can I.<br />
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More troublingly though, the book <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2015/04/05/how-wolf-hall-will-entertain-millions-and-threaten-to-distort-history-in-the-process/">isn't particularly historically accurate</a> despite which some people will no doubt think it is. I find this alarming, having met people who wanted religious liberties restricted based on a belief that <i>The Da Vinci Code</i> was factual (I also once worked with a man who thought that <i>Game of Thrones</i> was historical fiction, but that's another story). The dangers of all of this become clear when one considers that the Thomas Cromwell trilogy seems in large part to be Hilary Mantel giving <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/9262955/Hilary-Mantel-Catholic-Church-is-not-for-respectable-people.html">her personal prejudices</a> creative expression.<br />
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Despite the foregoing, I'm grateful for one thing. I'm typing this review during the Covid-19 pandemic. The 600+ pages of <i>Wolf Hall</i> will stand me in good stead if the toilet paper runs out.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-38171731993723754372020-03-24T06:39:00.000-07:002020-03-24T06:39:52.147-07:00Ghost town dispatchWell, the shutdown is starting to kick in noticeably. I overslept this morning and wasn't on the tram to work until about 0900. This is what it looked like -<br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B-F6nFqnV9T/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">This is the tram I’m on. Bourke Street mall has <20 people in it #covid_19 #covid19australia</a></div>
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A post shared by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/sdtuc2/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;" target="_blank"> Stephen Tuck</a> (@sdtuc2) on <time datetime="2020-03-23T22:11:02+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Mar 23, 2020 at 3:11pm PDT</time></div>
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It hadn't changed much three hours later. How do I know? Well, like everyone else in the office the whole sense of impending trouble was wearing me down a bit. By midday I decided that what I needed most was some hot food and some air. I went up to Seven-11 and bought a sausage roll and some sandwiches. This is what Queen Street looked like -<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJMTi2OKRjQaTa4BJPRzPW5ftIcvIXjxR2XyEvmRFJEStyYCei4vR8D4iBKBLjlAy4ueLKkMS1QHLigNDpRA_BSIZtZpqMupC7eSKFHuOXfNjED4tVrdcRM_PYA1Wh9W27BbE2YDFZTwv/s1600/Queen+St+25.3.2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlJMTi2OKRjQaTa4BJPRzPW5ftIcvIXjxR2XyEvmRFJEStyYCei4vR8D4iBKBLjlAy4ueLKkMS1QHLigNDpRA_BSIZtZpqMupC7eSKFHuOXfNjED4tVrdcRM_PYA1Wh9W27BbE2YDFZTwv/s400/Queen+St+25.3.2020.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Queen Street, Melbourne, 24 March 2020</i></td></tr>
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The city, in short, is a bit of a ghost town.<br />
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More restrictions have been announced this evening, although so far nothing that's likely to put me off work ... yet. My own perception though is that we may run into problems before the epidemic runs its course. Based purely on myself and my co-workers, I fear an awful sense of demoralization will creep in, with the endless news cycle of bad news and the cancellation of the sporting fixtures that do so much to give people something else to care about for a few hours each week.<br />
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I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing to ponder, but I suspect that the Covid virus itself may be the least of our worries compared with the economic dislocation and the sapping of human confidence.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-32901690241276900372020-03-22T03:48:00.000-07:002020-03-22T03:48:08.975-07:00Living in Interesting TimesAs the writers of <i>Zombieland</i> said, it's amazing how quickly things can go from "bad" to "total shitstorm". This weekend has ended with us all heading off into the unknown.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NTvpVwhM_uO-9FyzITCfuy7CXbWLLgZ5ejzS5vV48OZSWUmI6q4X71NYcsK7M_fNAyVO7Ht_GHi8k5uEkSMXqFQxbfMIkXu4qzjdY1TzSaVt9UKmClZEQwpIJ1Gt2d4aZickXi4rCdL6/s1600/dead+rising.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2NTvpVwhM_uO-9FyzITCfuy7CXbWLLgZ5ejzS5vV48OZSWUmI6q4X71NYcsK7M_fNAyVO7Ht_GHi8k5uEkSMXqFQxbfMIkXu4qzjdY1TzSaVt9UKmClZEQwpIJ1Gt2d4aZickXi4rCdL6/s400/dead+rising.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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Saturday saw me give groceries a miss in the morning: there seemed no point going to a live-action version of<i> Dead Rising</i>. Instead I went out for a good long run which turned into a half-marathon distance outing. I've <a href="https://roadtowollongonghm.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">blogged about it here</a> (it's actually a decent post!). I went up to get groceries and do laundry about 4pm. I was expecting to find a Venezuela-style wasteland with empty shelves. There certainly were some empty aisles, but it was very uneven. There was as much fresh produce and tinned fish as ever. Nearly as much bread as usual. Minimal toiletries. The Indian food section was basically untouched.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFyql1GM9Wl5FMuJUMssFYYWxdomXsu0s7kwpro5nhgmisCdbRqmXS_F0GD09LXyaQZXqQZ3QdVp2K0Q0GFNMRgiawyIciMG2JMW9g2zGLl9uF6_aVr2NPFBQ8TOYuL3aXLeNPBKJGEzH/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFyql1GM9Wl5FMuJUMssFYYWxdomXsu0s7kwpro5nhgmisCdbRqmXS_F0GD09LXyaQZXqQZ3QdVp2K0Q0GFNMRgiawyIciMG2JMW9g2zGLl9uF6_aVr2NPFBQ8TOYuL3aXLeNPBKJGEzH/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020B.jpg" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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Some types of chocolate<i> from the same maker</i> were all gone and the others seemingly all still there. The same could be said of the Mexican food section. One had the impression of people panic-buying highly specific items. This leads me to think that the public aren't worried about actual scarcity, but about the inconvenience of not having their specific preferred product when they want it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE543xD_J1hJ1ngGWQe8Z_A-azpXCouUz_k_6c7bukGcWcmPyFKU0T_q_40jXovzic2MQmjwWIBPTJ2NN2YrXISk8oQRYGDsyz0Z4KJZB35VCYkSgJRcig2EV2kn8T-uNH40KLtQxSAvJX/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE543xD_J1hJ1ngGWQe8Z_A-azpXCouUz_k_6c7bukGcWcmPyFKU0T_q_40jXovzic2MQmjwWIBPTJ2NN2YrXISk8oQRYGDsyz0Z4KJZB35VCYkSgJRcig2EV2kn8T-uNH40KLtQxSAvJX/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020D.jpg" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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After I'd done laundry I came back and was ironing my shirts when the pager went off for a missing person search. We ended up with nearly forty members from Northcote, Essendon, Broadmeadows, Port Phillip, Malvern and Footscray Units taking part. I'm happy to report that the subject was found safe and well (just lost). I found myself part of the three person management team on this one which was very interesting.<br />
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I slept late today and had a wonderful, very chatty facetime with the girls (mainly Rachel) and took them on a tour of my neighbourhood. They're a little bored being in lockdown and so I'll try and come up with more fun things like that to do with them. Rachel asked what cartoons there were when I was their age; she followed up by observing that "they were all black and white back then weren't they?" How old do you think I am Rach?!?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RmerXNhapvA1Zyq6-FvmxfYYwES7m0PKw-Fac1XTxGeaVSnv1sjel8FSGs4tKNV1eh9R68JxoXvdBHvhyphenhyphenQd30Z9-zd_vcO0PaKnZRb07fKN7gGTRVi9OP2j_i_KzSK8cApKWed1EpyOl/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020C.png" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3RmerXNhapvA1Zyq6-FvmxfYYwES7m0PKw-Fac1XTxGeaVSnv1sjel8FSGs4tKNV1eh9R68JxoXvdBHvhyphenhyphenQd30Z9-zd_vcO0PaKnZRb07fKN7gGTRVi9OP2j_i_KzSK8cApKWed1EpyOl/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020C.png" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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I wanted some exercise so I went out for a walk along the Merri Creek trail. I emerged somewhere in Fitzroy and happened to spot the Pinnacle Hotel. As I was having a drink I saw the news that Victoria will go into shutdown from Tuesday as an anti-Covid measure. I duly ordered another beer and some chips on the grounds that this might be my last chance to do so for a while.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFCEIpBOKQL1VjK5xsTJW3QlG7IxOBSKZCy86CxUrxAxZhVI_S50qlTRMIK7hiMAUsAwKJLw1smJq1bBwbfGVBzXsU3ElUeQEI9bHuPXkId3npBSCt1po6FIfKhpjBWVRs8pSQxufYbDp/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFCEIpBOKQL1VjK5xsTJW3QlG7IxOBSKZCy86CxUrxAxZhVI_S50qlTRMIK7hiMAUsAwKJLw1smJq1bBwbfGVBzXsU3ElUeQEI9bHuPXkId3npBSCt1po6FIfKhpjBWVRs8pSQxufYbDp/s1600/Blog+22.03.2020A.jpg" /></a></div>
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And now, I'm really not sure what happens next. At work tomorrow I'll scan my time limits for the next few weeks and see what needs to be dealt with extremely urgently. Nobody seems to know what quite will happen or how long the shutdown will last. I can't go up to the farm, so I guess I'll be confined to barracks. Happily, I've done the laundry and have enough food for a bit over a week. As best I can tell this has never happened before in Victoria's history, even in wartime.<br />
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Despite the inconvenience, and the risk of being unemployed for some extended period, it's a fascinating time to be alive.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Fitzroy North VIC 3068, Australia-37.7832944 144.9838466-37.8083934 144.94350609999998 -37.758195400000005 145.0241871tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-69313817625993384752020-03-20T06:49:00.000-07:002020-03-20T06:49:19.793-07:00Covid, Parents and GuiltIt's Friday evening, and I'm sitting here at my digs in a bundle of guilt.<br />
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Regular readers will know how on any given weekend I'm likely to be found working on the parents' farm. That, indeed, was my plan for this weekend, until over the last ten days Covid-19 sent the world into a state of acutely nuts.<br />
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<i>In what world should this be necessary? </i></div>
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Well, I spoke to Dad by phone earlier today and said that I really wasn't keen to come up: both he and Mum are pushing 80, and neither is in the strongest of health. As I ran the numbers, if they pick up Covid, their chances of dying are somewhere between 20-30%. I feel fine, but the way I live means there's a decent chance I'll carry it up with me: I work in the CBD. I use the tram once or twice a day. I live in a house with ten other people. Since this thing can be <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/brucelee/2020/03/18/what-percentage-have-covid-19-coronavirus-but-do-not-know-it/#142191ca7e90" target="_blank">transmitted in the absence of symptoms</a>, I'm a pretty bad risk.<br />
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None of which altered the disappointment in Dad's voice, or the guilt I'm feeling over letting him down. I help people. It's what I do. If I don't do it, then there's really not a great deal of value in me. And now, the best thing I can do for my folks is<i> not</i> to do the thing that principally <i>does </i>help them. This, flatly, sucks.<br />
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What sort of illness seems purpose-built to corrode the bonds that should exist between people?Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Fitzroy North VIC 3068, Australia-37.7832944 144.9838466-37.8083934 144.94350609999998 -37.758195400000005 145.0241871tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-7828732406160110432020-03-01T03:10:00.000-08:002020-03-01T03:10:04.218-08:00Everything to plan - and yet ...Last week was a bruising succession of court work and litigation. By the time Friday got here I was barely functioning and decided to give the farm a miss for the first weekend in ages. It was meant to be a rejuvenation weekend, although I suspect I’ve kind of failed at that objective.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nNUaLE0ylEexzbhKaQFxBzXQqu_R4b1Rq7H7r7SG85E6WaidUdA59UXmXe4IoI6q4xPPa1D1iK0FILbM3H9Vev9OkypLILtYJbXNMf6bs1MVSdY-OuUBPKqVdN01g7hsCE0FX2eagXQe/s1600/Blog+01032020A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nNUaLE0ylEexzbhKaQFxBzXQqu_R4b1Rq7H7r7SG85E6WaidUdA59UXmXe4IoI6q4xPPa1D1iK0FILbM3H9Vev9OkypLILtYJbXNMf6bs1MVSdY-OuUBPKqVdN01g7hsCE0FX2eagXQe/s1600/Blog+01032020A.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Before and After</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On Friday night I was keen to clean up my office, which was a blizzard of papers. Some were in piles, some in drifts and some in my in-tray. In the event, I left the office a bit after midnight and walked home. Dinner was a slice of pizza and a potato cake I bought on the way.<br />
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Saturday kicked off as usual with laundry, groceries and ironing. It was a sunny day of 24°, which meant perfect running weather. I got the tram to St Kilda to crank out 21kms on the gorgeous track by the water (<a href="https://roadtowollongonghm.wordpress.com/2020/02/29/part-iv-in-the-sunlight/" target="_blank">full story here</a>).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>St Kilda Beach</i></td></tr>
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I bought an ice cream and got the tram home for a shower and then went for a beer at the Empress. It was a good combination of sour beer and case law to read. I think I can see a way into an article I’m trying to finish!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Empress Hotel, Fitzroy</i></td></tr>
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I headed back to my place and had a healthy salmon-heavy dinner. I <a href="https://roadtowollongonghm.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">set up a new blog to cover “Road to Wollongong” posts</a> and crashed out to sleep a bit after midnight.</div>
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I slept a good eight hours but still woke up tired. Hauled my backside out of bed and went to 9am Mass. After Mass I hoped to FaceTime with the girls but they were tied up. I waded through a bunch of SES paperwork instead and prepared my notes for training the new recruits on Wednesday (I feel tired just thinking about it). It was a shame to waste a good day and so once I was done I got a tram to South Melbourne Beach for some sun, swimming, beer and chips.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>South Melbourne Beach</i></td></tr>
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Inadvertently I'd timed it perfectly. My shoulders got a bit burned on yesterday's run and so it was good today to have the sun occasionally very bright and sometimes softened by clouds. I had a couple of swims and lay back to read <i>Wolf Hall</i> and listen to my Calm app.</div>
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At 5:30 I decided it was time for refreshment and I walked across Beaconsfield Parade to the Bleakhouse Hotel for beer and chips. Well, me and Thomas Cromwell...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Bleakhouse Hotel, So. Melbourne</i></td></tr>
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Finally, back here to my digs. I should feel rebooted but in honesty I feel nearly as tired as I did when the weekend started. Happily this week is a slightly less mental than last week, so I should be able to get myself back to normal working order soon!</div>
Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com097 Beaconsfield Parade, Albert Park VIC 3206, Australia-37.8475584 144.9487518-63.1668494 103.6401578 -12.528267399999997 -173.7426542tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-68835082688054811412020-02-29T10:38:00.000-08:002020-02-29T10:38:01.407-08:00Commencing LentQuick post tonight.<br />
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We're now a few days into Lent and I'm assuredly feeling better for it.<br />
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I made it to the Ash Wednesday Mass this week just gone, which was a bit of an achievement: I was meant to be starting a jury trial the next day! It was packed and, sadly, it was very difficult to hear the priest. Regardless, I know what I want to achieve this Lent. I'll again give up encouraging bad thoughts, and anything that might give occasion for adultery (I'll also go to confession, which I haven't been doing). I'll pray a rolling novena for souls in purgatory. That is, finishing it, then saying a couple of other prayers, and then starting again. And I'd like to make a few donations to charities as well. <br />
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It seems perverse to have been looking forward to the penitential season, but I have. Not, I suppose, out of a love of penance, but out of a desire to change myself. I can't think of a better season to become the person you want to be.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-78769652880585216112020-02-26T02:28:00.000-08:002020-02-28T02:32:16.123-08:00Road to Wollongong Part III: StrongerThings are on the improve. Since my last post the weekend has come and gone. I needed to head back up to the farm to lend a hand with drenching cattle, which meant a <i>lot</i> of time both on my feet and climbing over the sliprails. And of course, many miles were walked with the dog during the off-hours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3yeU9v9zTdtJ8FgW77rUiGCBaIiJ2cbjVe-0SM0PIZxgf2H9avMzi_Zu2IE2ThtnnXhUGlIPCheK3XLK3-MwiAcw4fXhyphenhyphenODf5rGkC1AL36SKgKf7rmR3U5uuEAjznDZgPmsN8yBjKxsY/s1600/BP28.2.20A.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3yeU9v9zTdtJ8FgW77rUiGCBaIiJ2cbjVe-0SM0PIZxgf2H9avMzi_Zu2IE2ThtnnXhUGlIPCheK3XLK3-MwiAcw4fXhyphenhyphenODf5rGkC1AL36SKgKf7rmR3U5uuEAjznDZgPmsN8yBjKxsY/s320/BP28.2.20A.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Fairly representative for both days</i></td></tr>
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Sadly, I couldn’t get time to run while I was up there.<br /><br />I was fairly stiff in the ankles and tendons when I got back to town for the working week. It was raining on Monday night and so I couldn’t walk home after work. I made up for it all with a run home last night on the usual 10km route. This particular run almost didn’t happen. We’re going through a mind-bogglingly busy period at work following the departure of one of the firm’s solicitors. It was 10:30pm when I finally wrapped up for the night. I decided to run anyway given I need the stress relief: the mental pressure at work has been close to clouding my judgment which can only end very badly.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This isn’t the time of day I was running but it’s roughly the area</i></td></tr>
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In the event it was a good run. I’d only intended to take it gentle but I found my legs felt strong and my knees and tendons weren’t hurting. Subject to work, I’ll probably try for 13 kms on Thursday evening and another 21kms at the weekend.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Moonee Ponds Creek, Victoria, Australia-37.7701003 144.9353333-37.8705173 144.7739718 -37.6696833 145.0966948tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-34020998913558964832020-02-24T00:43:00.000-08:002020-02-24T00:43:01.716-08:00Road to Woollongong Part II: my knee hurts!Last week was a somewhat patchy week for training. On Sunday - the day after the benchmark run - I needed to go to the western suburbs to see a client (a pigeon racing club, no less!). After I’d seen them I went down to Altona beach to have a beer and chips and go for a walk to stretch my legs out. <br />
I wasn’t able to run again until Thursday, mainly due to pressure of work. I made up for it with walking home from the office most nights.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpSpkykSzy7ER1N7sydcdIb2oILVoV9fCKsum-4Hn5B3wx8xe2dmYgHCj10lt44nPxsfBTk1rxD22W5c-eR_NJgBLgT5WbzNNXUJHzxZCtKk9l9Ll-ozfS9tw5_BDMZ8-xJFymSfjvQkv/s1600/Walk+20.2.20.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpSpkykSzy7ER1N7sydcdIb2oILVoV9fCKsum-4Hn5B3wx8xe2dmYgHCj10lt44nPxsfBTk1rxD22W5c-eR_NJgBLgT5WbzNNXUJHzxZCtKk9l9Ll-ozfS9tw5_BDMZ8-xJFymSfjvQkv/s320/Walk+20.2.20.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I decided to enter the half-marathon in the Victoria Police and Emergency Services games in order to test myself against other runners. The games are fairly cheap to enter (about $25.00) and always a lot of fun. It's a mild nuisance that it's on a Friday morning (which means a half-day off work) but on the plus side it's in Melbourne this year rather than Ballarat.<br />
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When I finally did get out on Thursday the run was a little troubling. I settled on my usual 10 kilometres along the Capital City trail. My legs should have been back to 100% but certainly didn’t feel like it.
It took some effort of will to keep going, even if my average pace over
the 10kms was fairly normal.<br /><br />
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<br />What <i>was </i>a bit troubling was a noticeable pain in my left knee whenever I went downhill (uphill was fine). In the last three kilometres I was locking the leg in a partly bent position and rolling forward onto my right leg, which was doing all the work. I'm <i>really</i> hoping the leg comes good, but I'll give it a bit of stretching and yoga on my off days. I need to go and see the GP re some other things in the next few weeks and if it hasn't come good I'll ask what he thinks. In the meantime I'll just keep pretending there isn't a problem.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Yarraville VIC 3013, Australia-37.8202741 144.8821697-37.8453611 144.84182919999998 -37.7951871 144.9225102tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-90176807997644224672020-02-17T01:59:00.000-08:002020-02-17T01:59:09.319-08:00Road to Wollongong: Part IHi everyone,<br />
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This weekend saw the start of the Road to Wollongong. I'd decided on a 21-ish kilometre run to see what my pace is over that distance. I'd have set the run for Sunday, but I was already committed to other things that day and so it was Saturday or never.<br />
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The weather made itself known, in the form of 100% humidity and near-constant drizzle with an option on rain. Anyway, I headed out, since you may as well train in the conditions you might have to race in. By the third kilometre my sneakers were full of water. I pressed on through Birrarung Marr, past the Federation bells, and then up the Yarra trail to the Powerhouse Boatsheds. This meant a quick trip down memory lane for me, to my one brief season as an oarsman countless moons ago.<br />
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I turned back at that point for Church Street and kept going until I hit the Yarra. Well, actually I stopped short: I didn't know that Church Street came to a dead stop by the Carlton & United Breweries plant. I weaseled through some residential streets until I found Gipps Street and then picked up the Capital City Trail for the final leg. By this stage (roughly 15kms) I was feeling the load and hills were a hell of a challenge. I wasn't even game to free-run down hill on wet ground as I wasn't sure that I could react well enough if I slipped on something.<br />
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In the event, my pace was, well, ratchit. Basically, I need to pare 45 minutes off of this to get back to my best time, and a full hour off this time to feel properly happy with it. Good thing I like a challenge!<br />
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On the plus side, my legs were sore but not smashed afterwards and so I found I'd put up a respectable number of walking miles by the end of the day. Some of these were to Our Lady's for Mass and then on to the Great Northern for beer. I take care of body and soul.<br />
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So there we have it: I know what I'm running now. I just need to get fast!</div>
Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0South Yarra VIC 3141, Australia-37.84 144.98900000000003-37.865080500000005 144.94865950000002 -37.8149195 145.02934050000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-7621533220773051362020-02-16T04:14:00.000-08:002020-02-16T04:14:08.710-08:00Road to Wollongong: Prologue<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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For a while I’ve been thinking I needed another mountain to climb. I believe I’ve
found one.<br />
<br />
You remember that I said I
while ago that I wanted to try a lot of new things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things I’d not done before?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was brought back into mind recently by something
that happened at SES.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the newer
members who I helped train last year came back from the summer break sporting a healthy
pregnancy bump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This rattled me a bit. I couldn’t figure out why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only
know her as a fellow volunteer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
know anything at all about her private life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, why should it matter to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best guess I could come up with was a sense of life leaving me
behind.<br />
<br /></div>
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This lead me to consider finding myself another mountain to
climb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happily, this didn’t take long.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimPzk87zTlNDOKHgtiZcrW22EbMtPOtxdF20iPehvEvFh8kCO8i-jAp4mHXWMJczgTHgfUm5z9QEuFSIoYWUlaCwoPzLg261CKuZtmLnyiWm3WwJoZPjYQfv-iluEOJZpvWUZTaN0NvMSl/s1600/2020+games.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="349" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimPzk87zTlNDOKHgtiZcrW22EbMtPOtxdF20iPehvEvFh8kCO8i-jAp4mHXWMJczgTHgfUm5z9QEuFSIoYWUlaCwoPzLg261CKuZtmLnyiWm3WwJoZPjYQfv-iluEOJZpvWUZTaN0NvMSl/s400/2020+games.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The <a href="http://www.apandesgames.com.au/" target="_blank">Australasian Police and Emergency Services Games</a> are
held every two years, and this is one of those years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The games are open to (inter alia) “registered
volunteers … from eligible emergency service agencies across Australasia,
including New Zealand, the Pacific Islands and South East Asia”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I don’t meet the criteria to compete in the World Police and Fire Games, this is as high a level as I can compete
at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Further, they’re being held in
Wollongong, on the New South Wales coast south of Sydney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is reachable from where I live (flight
to Sydney; train to Wollongong).<br />
<br />
The event I've set my mind on is my preferred race distance, the half-marathon, which will be run on Friday 23 October 2020. This is 8 months away, and I'll be training up for it: I want to put up the best time I can while the chance presents.<br />
<br />
So, expect this blog to get a bit running-heavy for the next few months: Let's see where this road can go!</div>
Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Parkville VIC 3052, Australia-37.7787036 144.94260829999996-37.8038011 144.90226779999995 -37.7536061 144.98294879999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-2238582112986992192020-01-15T13:30:00.000-08:002020-01-15T13:30:04.100-08:00An Adventure in Speed DatingI tried something different last Friday evening: I tried a speed dating event at a bar in Fitzroy.<br />
<br />
Melbourne's heavens opened late that afternoon, so that was a challenge: I knew I'd be sporting that "drowned rat" look. I'm not going to lie: I was a bit nervous. I summoned up my “just arrived on scene at roof damage leading a good crew" look: the impression I was going for was of a man in control of my surroundings and his reactions. Certainly after thinking this for the tram ride I was at least<i> feeling</i> like that!<br />
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I imagine the format of speed dating is well enough known not to need setting out. Each date was about 15 minutes with changeovers notified by text message. Matches seemed to be basically set by age, which saw me meeting people at the high-30's end of the age range (this suited me fine). All of the matches seemed like good people, even if not uniformly appealing. One or two had personalities that left no mark. More tragic were the ones who seemed to have long ago sold their identity to their work and to have no real core of their own to express. On the other hand, others were fascinating to talk to and one at least had had much the experience with her ex I've had with mine: there were no more fights over their child; it was easier just to get on with the business of being irrevocably part of each others life for the next umpteen years.<br />
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Oddly, one of the best conversations of the night was with a young lady of 31 during the meal break. Each of us was enthusiastically consuming sausage rolls and chicken wings in the knowledge we wouldn't be paired and therefore there was no loss about scarfing down food in front of the other. She remarked that her reason for being there was in large part that her parents want grandchildren!<br />
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Not many people hung around afterwards and so I contented myself with ordering the best Bloody Mary I've had since I was last in New Orleans. On the walk home I stopped for drambuie in the Lord Newry Hotel, began a draft of this post and reflected on the experience. Something that struck me was the randomness of it all. My last date of the night was the belle of the evening, a professional lady who looked a bit like Natalie Dormer. With a little Dutch courage on my side, I asked her why she was single: she was certainly attractive and intelligent. She replied that she'd just never 'clicked' with anyone. Perhaps I'm missing the point of all this (quite likely) but a 'click' seems like an alarmingly random way to decide matters like this: no wonder, perhaps, that so much sadness comes into the world from relationships.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Lord Newry Hotel, 543 Brunswick St, Fitzroy North VIC 3068, Australia-37.7907794 144.97932760000003-63.1101349 103.67073360000003 -12.471423899999998 -173.7120784tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-59870996653870201242020-01-15T06:42:00.000-08:002020-01-15T06:42:05.361-08:00Too Much Spare TimeHere I am on a Wednesday evening feeling a bit lost.<br />
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It's been a good couple of days: I'm getting back into the swing of things at work and also feeling a bit more like myself again. I ran home from work last night, which was good even if I was left with a painful twinge in my might knee. Melbourne is very smoky although going along the Moonee Ponds Creek you don't really notice it (mainly because the creek smells so much worse than the smoke).<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Tonight, as I said, I'm a bit lost on account of unexpected free time.<span style="background-color: transparent;"> This afternoon the weather bureau was prognosticating a bit of a weather apocalypse, and so I left work early. Well, early for me (about 6:30pm) in expectation of callouts. </span></span><br />
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In the event, there were no callouts which left me at a bit of a loss. I couldn't run because I did that last night and want to do so again tomorrow night. I settled for a yoga routine from my phone followed by TV and dinner, but it all felt somewhat unsatisfying. At least the yoga seems to have sorted my knee out.<br />
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Unusually for me I actually felt like to talking to other <i>homo sapiens</i> and browsed my contacts on various social media platforms without finding anyone I can really talk to. So that was a bit depressing.</div>
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Leading me to now: wine and a stiflingly humid room at my digs. Roll on tomorrow.</div>
Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Moonee Ponds Creek, Victoria, Australia-37.7701003 144.93533330000002-37.8705173 144.77397180000003 -37.6696833 145.09669480000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-5504755645886660332020-01-13T13:30:00.000-08:002020-01-13T13:30:07.750-08:00An accident at MorningtonOn Saturday I went for a leisurely wander through the Melbourne General Cemetery. Any cemetery wander is a history lesson and today was just such a day. This was the headstone that caught my eye -<br />
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Mr Nunn, as the headstone says, was killed while "aeroplaning" at Mornington (how long, I wonder, was 'to aeroplane' a verb?). The fuller story, however, is somewhat more tragic. The <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/1672062" target="_blank">report in the <i>Argus</i> (3 January 1920, p.14)</a> stated that he had long been trying to obtain a flight in an aeroplane and had persuaded the pilot in this case to take him on a series of afternoon flights in a Sopwith Gnu (the type of aircraft is identified in <a href="http://aircentre.com.au/aircraft/pioneers/media/ad-a267086.pdf" target="_blank">a report of the Defence Science and Technology Organization</a>).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sopwith Gnu (<a href="https://www.bing.com/search?q=sopwith+gnu&form=EDNTHT&mkt=en-au&httpsmsn=1&msnews=1&plvar=0&refig=4afb689b3000464f8c4f14eb9987e48f&PC=LCTS&DAF1=1&sp=-1&pq=sopwith+gnu&sc=8-11&qs=n&sk=&cvid=4afb689b3000464f8c4f14eb9987e48f" target="_blank">Image from here</a>)</td></tr>
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As the aircraft approached Mornington it snagged on a telegraph wire and overturned, injuring the pilot and causing Nunn fatal injuries. Painfully, the <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/15881095" target="_blank"><i>Sydney Morning Herald</i> (5 January 1920, p.7)</a> reported that the flight had been taken without his parents' permission.<br />
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Nunn was born in about 1902. The Wright brothers first flight took place in 1903. It is painful to think that when Mr Nunn's parents received the news, they may have reflected that he was killed by an accident they could not have imagined on the day they welcomed him into the world.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0College Cres, Parkville VIC 3052, Australia-37.788809500000013 144.96531370000002-63.10816100000001 103.65671970000002 -12.469458000000014 -173.7260923tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-19925887402746762702020-01-12T06:44:00.000-08:002020-01-12T06:44:03.593-08:00Sunday, and another beer.Another summer day, another beer. This time a <a href="https://untappd.com/b/kaiju-beer-kaiju-krush/1843438" target="_blank">Kaiju Krush</a> at the Victoria Hotel in Brunswick.<br />
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It's been a full day. I meant to go to Mass this morning at Our Lady’s at 9am. I woke <i>at 9am</i> after the best night’s sleep I’d had in ages. I decided God must have wanted me to catch up on sleep instead. I got my coffee and began a three hour FaceTime with Grace and Rachel. They were so happy to see me. Also a good talk to The Ex. As I’ve reflected a few times, this isn’t how I thought my family would look, but I’m good with it nevertheless. This is OK.<br />
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After Facetime I headed out for my weekend run. I lengthened the usual route a little to include Royal Park Station and ended with a respectable 14 kms at a better pace than I’d expected.<br />
Running clears your head and when I got home I deleted the POF and Tinder apps off my phone (one spam email offering prostitution too many, among other reasons). The reason I mention this is that at about the time I put them on my phone the other week, I mislaid my Marian medal. Well, I went to do laundry after my run (and after deleting the aforesaid apps). What do you suppose I found? Sometimes Our Lady is less than subtle.<br />
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Cleanliness was literally next to godliness this weekend as my next stop was Mass at St Joseph’s, followed by the beer with which I began. I’m putting off going back to my digs to start writing up SES Peer reports. It’s not a difficult job but it’s fiddly and boring.<br />
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Not much more to add. It'll be a busy week this weekStephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Victoria Hotel, 380 Victoria St, Brunswick VIC 3056, Australia-37.7667766 144.9589965-63.0861236 103.65040250000001 -12.4474296 -173.73240950000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-30341207247706569292020-01-11T13:30:00.001-08:002020-01-11T13:30:02.981-08:00A mental health dayIt’s Saturday and a cool change is giving Melbourne in general and me in particular a break from summer heat.<br />
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I’ve been exhausted for the last few days. The usual late rush of work last year, then three weeks or so farm work in the north, and a big absence of my usual diet and exercise, has hit me mentally for six. Time on the farm has been with family, which is great but means you’re “on” all the time and that's kind of exhausting too. How tired am I? There’ve been a couple of SES messages today and each time I’ve looked at the pager and thought “I’m not up to it... show me a chainsaw or a damaged roof and I’ll stare blankly at it and tell the crew 'just do whatever you think'”. This, plainly, is neither safe nor satisfactory.<br />
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As a result, I made today a mental health day with tincture of Marie Kondo. I ironed my shirts. I filed two years worth of paper clutter (bank statements; that sort of thing). I got groceries and went with things I’ve not tried before (pulse pasta? Why not?). Then I purged the piles of things on my bedside table, threw out old copies of <i>Catholic Weekly </i>that I know I'll never get around to reading and bought a magazine box for unread copies of <i>American Rifleman</i> and <i>The Mirror</i>.<br />
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Then, I got a tram down Lygon Street and took a gentle stroll through Melbourne General Cemetery (which gave me material for another blogpost in a few days). I walked to the Brandon Hotel for beer and book time. I’m not sure Hemingway was the best choice for a day like this. I love his prose but sometimes it can feel like one is chewing gravel. I’m still catching up on my misspent youth and stopped for wine at the Great Northern on the walk home, which is when I'm drafting this.<br />
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At this point I’m feeling more like myself again (Dutch courage?). I was going to write SES Peer reports tonight but I don’t think I have it in me. I’ll update my Goodreads profile and do some stretches and be in bed by 11pm. God willing by tomorrow I’ll feel like myself again.</div>
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How's your weekend?</div>
Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Great Northerrn Hotel, 644 Rathdowne St, Carlton North VIC 3054, Australia-37.7820018 144.9734737-63.1013533 103.6648797 -12.462650300000004 -173.71793230000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-83610738512410007382019-12-31T03:59:00.000-08:002019-12-31T03:59:30.657-08:00So long, old decade, and thanks for the memories<span style="font-family: inherit;">Every year has its seasons of waiting, when normal rules are set aside and the world waits for the milestone to pass. Holy Saturday is one. The Monday before Cup Day is another. The longest of all is the season between Boxing Day and New Years Day. It’s a season to search your heart and to review your life and consider what you want the new year to hold. When the next year marks a new decade, this goes up by a factor of ten. In other years, I’ve reviewed my diary and notebooks in this time seeking insight. This year I didn’t have to. This time I had inspiration on my side.</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BdWVtsblm4l/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="-ms-word-wrap: break-word; color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Keeping a personal diary is the gift you give yourself once a year. I'm reviewing my 2017 and getting a really clear idea of what makes me happy, what depresses me, and what can be better in the new year. #diary #life #goodbye2017 #newyear #newstart #newlife #writerlife #rollon2018</a></div>
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A post shared by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/sdtuc2/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;" target="_blank"> Stephen Tuck</a> (@sdtuc2) on <time datetime="2017-12-31T01:59:42+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Dec 30, 2017 at 5:59pm PST</time></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s not always easy to know where inspiration comes from. This year, however, I know exactly where it came from. It came from a booze-fuelled conversation with my dear friend Sarah at a bar in Melbourne.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5o6NsST89HhCC2VWnGnXXEf6zoiCCUtif0xADAvxMLba4FebuluKMKztKcFG_R6A9t1aifFp6EY5kwURv6vydSG-AwwHnY5_kY5rdA6LpIftGP70pqvaiG-6sBPV-uG9h070EG3iaPa0f/s1600/Mead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5o6NsST89HhCC2VWnGnXXEf6zoiCCUtif0xADAvxMLba4FebuluKMKztKcFG_R6A9t1aifFp6EY5kwURv6vydSG-AwwHnY5_kY5rdA6LpIftGP70pqvaiG-6sBPV-uG9h070EG3iaPa0f/s400/Mead.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t quite remember how the point arose. I listened to her describing her life to date with a sense of acute contrast. What struck me was that she had spent much of her life dismantling the walls between herself and experience. I have spent a large whack of my 41 years building and strengthening my own.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Actually, referring to “walls” between me and experience isn’t an ideal metaphor. Readers over the decade or so I’ve been writing this blog will know that the experiences I’ve had have been startlingly varied. The 2010s have seen -</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The birth of my darling daughters;</span></li>
<li>The breakdown of my marriage ending in divorce</li>
<li>Being fired from two jobs.</li>
<li>Resigning from two other jobs (one resignation more voluntary than the other!)</li>
<li>Losing all of my savings.</li>
<li>Losing most of my stuff.</li>
<li>Three changes of address and ten changes of jobs.</li>
<li>Service with SES in two states including multiple encounters with the dead and dying.</li>
<li>Three marathons and God-knows how many half-marathons.</li>
<li>I've written and (more importantly) published multiple times in Australia and the USA.</li>
<li>Running umpteen court cases to judgment.</li>
<li>Multiple trips to the USA.</li>
<li>Lots of new friends!</li>
<li>Loss of some people from my life which (for the most part) I'm OK with.</li>
<li>Service with Red Cross after a terror attack.</li>
<li>Work that made me miserable but from which I learned a lot.</li>
</ul>
There's probably some other experiences I've omitted to mention, but no matter. The point is that life has not, on the whole, been sheltered. So perhaps a<span style="font-family: inherit;"> better metaphor is that I’ve become expert at creating ever-more labyrinthine gateways in the walls between me and experience. A simple (if trivial) example is that I loved Dido’s album <em>Life for Rent</em>. Despite this, it took me an unspeakable amount of time to listen to (say) <em>No Angel</em> or <em>Safe Trip Home</em>. I can’t even explain why, exactly. Perhaps, having made one piece of artistic output part of my mental landscape, I didn’t want run the risk of something else overturning it all. This would go some way to explaining why I’ve long had an instinctive animus against reading fiction and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neophobia" target="_blank">near total lack of interest in anything new</a> where music or cinema or TV is concerned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">These intricate gateways have served a useful purpose. They let me keep control of what went on in my mind when the 1260 cubic centimetres inside my skull was about the only thing over which I had any real control. One might posit a kind of intellectual anorexia, with similar motivations. <span style="font-family: inherit;">So far, so good. But the writer of <em>Ecclesiastes</em> was right: there is a time for everything, and now I feel comfortable enough in my own skin and <a href="https://newciteaux.blogspot.com/2019/05/compensation-vocation.html" target="_blank">in my own sense of purpose</a> not to need quite the same fortress mentality, however well it has served me in the past. Fortresses, after all, differ principally from prisons only in the side of the door the locks are on. It seems to me that all the carefully locked mental gateways I have built can be replaced with something much more straightforward (basically, will participating in such-and-such violate the <em>Catechism</em>?).</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since that conversation with Sarah I’ve found myself doing things I hadn’t expected to do. I blazed through Bruce Chatwin’s novel <em>On The Black Hill</em> in about a week, aching along with its description of rural poverty because it's an experience I've seen at close quarters</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I also experimented with trying for an actual date, which is something I’ve never really done in a conventional sense. This was less successful. OKCupid doesn’t have a “dealbreaker” setting, which resulted in a very large number of potential matches which I rejected out of hand.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIW2abztSWizQrKe4fGnjT774_vHCygN90ElYm5CokKGUlzae_viSCkvD5FIGoHBiE1YtIKnkXQ2ZPsW6nS8ohyphenhyphenJ-docAFF-L6p3QO_quhk6ZNwB6H0mFGyo6F2YxdZT5hz-D9PQNaA8IG/s1600/OKC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="726" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIW2abztSWizQrKe4fGnjT774_vHCygN90ElYm5CokKGUlzae_viSCkvD5FIGoHBiE1YtIKnkXQ2ZPsW6nS8ohyphenhyphenJ-docAFF-L6p3QO_quhk6ZNwB6H0mFGyo6F2YxdZT5hz-D9PQNaA8IG/s400/OKC.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Golf, like atheism, is a dealbreaker</em></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ll be interested to try speed dating next year. I’d be astonished if it led anywhere but it should make for a novel evening!</span></div>
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I don't know what the 2020s will hold. Based on the experience of the last decade I'd be a damn fool even to guess. But more than ever, I'm ready for the next set of adventures to start.</div>
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Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Riggs Creek VIC 3666, Australia-36.6690989 145.59161599999993-36.7709969 145.43025449999993 -36.5672009 145.75297749999993tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-90773500768047371982019-11-29T02:50:00.001-08:002019-11-29T02:50:32.365-08:00A foray into datingLast Tuesday was a curious sort of day. It started out with an agitated phone call from
FBIL at 0730. He was at Mum and Dad’s, and was terribly alarmed at how
short the water supply is getting and whether it’ll be necessary to have
him, Barry and me up there on a roster to help Dad cart water. This
isn’t such a bad idea, although it’s hard to know if the situation was
actually more dire now than it was when I had been up there 8 days earlier. FBIL
does tend to catastrophise. <br />
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<br /></div>
Farm worries aside, I
was feeling good as the day got underway. To my own moderate surprise I
had a flash of courage and asked someone if they’d like to Go Out on
Friday evening. To my much greater surprise the person in question
agreed. Yes, I know this made a lie out of my many “single by choice”
posts, and yet I kind of want to explore that side of life. The date in question fell through a few hours later due to sudden other plans by the lady in question. Maybe she was on the level; maybe it was a polite way out. I suspect the latter, but in any case one can't sulk: there's nothing worthy in pursuing a lady who does not wish to be pursued.<br />
<br />
It got me thinking, however, that it might be good to try. After all: if it worked for the old guy in the Coke ad, why not? I'll believe anything that's endorsed by a major corporation.<br />
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<br />
Anyway, I paid some money to the operator of a certain app, and also reinvigorated my profile on another faith-based app. The results were ... well ... disappointing. From the first -<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1nAzWmOOc4M-e9zgbrGtkI7RBIv_rxsaY31uGqGxZaUxyqfAS2kJCsmksV3gV13HcbA9OS-QF0meiBjR3k83LvKIYa5DgkWjuwQBGFieWD6WSHd1gyuyRK1SF-IcbwrH8lAcN2QhpopS/s1600/BP+29.11.19A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1nAzWmOOc4M-e9zgbrGtkI7RBIv_rxsaY31uGqGxZaUxyqfAS2kJCsmksV3gV13HcbA9OS-QF0meiBjR3k83LvKIYa5DgkWjuwQBGFieWD6WSHd1gyuyRK1SF-IcbwrH8lAcN2QhpopS/s400/BP+29.11.19A.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
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Now, possibly my standards are too inflexible (there was a <i>lot</i> of swiping left). Or possibly I'm not made for this world in its more secular orientation. That's plausible, right? This lead me to the second option, which was church-based. This had a desirable quality of being up-front about the lay of the land:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8Nvsl4DfCxPfYcgqdWYMqle4Oi0HMHE_AO3CNLn-3zgGL1883Gj2xI4bg8bhtU89mHsOL11b54f9PlHxFoSo771jriFEzvzUuCLwP2UNi_20x3kj2XO_NWl8SMJJIPmc-ee_gvspCFc7/s1600/BP+29.11.19B.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin8Nvsl4DfCxPfYcgqdWYMqle4Oi0HMHE_AO3CNLn-3zgGL1883Gj2xI4bg8bhtU89mHsOL11b54f9PlHxFoSo771jriFEzvzUuCLwP2UNi_20x3kj2XO_NWl8SMJJIPmc-ee_gvspCFc7/s400/BP+29.11.19B.PNG" width="223" /></a></div>
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All of which leaves me here with about 20 days to run on a fairly useless subscription of which I've now stopped the renewal.<br />
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I'm not quite sure what to make of this exercise, save perhaps to be grateful the universe cut to the chase. The world is still full of other and better experiences than dates; I'd better go out and explore a few more of them!Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Fitzroy VIC 3065, Australia-37.801111 144.97888899999998-37.826204 144.93854849999997 -37.776018 145.0192295tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-70079024367297251542019-11-17T04:25:00.000-08:002019-11-17T04:25:00.899-08:00Does anyone know if it's all still here?It's been a funny sort of weekend here.<br />
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Saturday was a good night's sleep with me on my feet about 0745. As usual for Saturday, I began with laundry and groceries and coffee before I found my way back to the Casa. I had a quick Facetime with the girls: they were on their way to Houma for bowling and a sleepover for their best friends (another set of twins). Rachel claimed that she would score twenty strikes, and naturally this lead to a wager of a box of Wagon-Wheel biscuits against a brick of Community Coffee on whether she could do it. Rachel may be over-optimistic but she's willing to back herself!<br />
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In the afternoon I set out on another long run. I was surprised to find that I'd kept to a sub 6 min/km the whole time: this is basically race-pace for me. Running is a somewhat different experience for me now. Part fitness, part penance, part meditation, part masochism (the flesh is sinful and it is virtuous to punish it) and part me-time. I feel like maybe I need something harder - or to make my runs longer - or something. I don't know if I care if I smash my knees and hips up (my hips are feeling the pinch at present): I'm more concerned not to leave experience unexplored.<br />
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Running was followed by blogging (post to appear on my workblog), Mass and a drink at the Great Northern.<br />
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Sunday brought a local festival at which SES were having a community education table. I'd organised our involvement at this one and was fairly anxious that it not go astray. Happily, we have a good team and the day went smoothly. It was a little alarming, though, to find how may people assumed that we are an arm of the fire services.<br />
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Community Ed at festivals means a<i> lot</i> of time talking to children and explaining to their parents why storm preparedness matters. I was utterly tired by the end and made a beeline for the Charles Weston Hotel for a few revitalising drinks.<br />
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The weekend feels, in a way, oddly empty. There's been something particularly that I've been trying not to think about, but it's a trifling matter that shouldn't have been bugging me. I have the odd feeling that something in my life is out of place.<br />
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Well, no matter. A decent night's sleep and I should be fine again. Roll on Summer.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Brunswick VIC 3056, Australia-37.7670374 144.9621035-37.7921419 144.921763 -37.7419329 145.00244400000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-45665009516625573812019-11-14T06:03:00.000-08:002019-11-14T06:03:18.150-08:00What you feel afterwards.<span style="font-family: inherit;">I imagine most of my readers (I mean, there's maybe two of you) are aware of the fires currently cutting a swathe through New South Wales. It might be expected that such an event would lead to a certain amount of stupid politics. Today the politics became, however, brainlessly malevolent. An 'activist' named <a href="https://au.news.yahoo.com/fury-after-activist-links-firefighters-to-domestic-violence-231716546.html" target="_blank">Sherele Moody, appearing at a Greens-sponsored event</a>, had this to say -</span><br />
<div class="canvas-atom canvas-text Mb(1.0em) Mb(0)--sm Mt(0.8em)--sm" content=""After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks," she told reporters." data-reactid="18" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #26282a; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="text">
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">"After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks. … Women become extremely unsafe, when generally the men return home from the fires and subject them to domestic violence."</span></i></blockquote>
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<div class="canvas-atom canvas-text Mb(1.0em) Mb(0)--sm Mt(0.8em)--sm" content=""After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks," she told reporters." data-reactid="18" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #26282a; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="text">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, I've never served in the fire services. Perhaps our friends in the gold uniforms are made from different stuff to State Emergency Service or Red Cross volunteers, but I suspect not. So I think I can speak with some authority as to what happens when an emergency responder returns home after a difficult job.</span></div>
<div class="canvas-atom canvas-text Mb(1.0em) Mb(0)--sm Mt(0.8em)--sm" content=""After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks," she told reporters." data-reactid="18" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #26282a; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="text">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVj55jK8Agk2Y2VcdvrxS0Ucj_yKyNkikC3VB8HAiEnazZloz35Y4lBEKX7b1Ln7o2XMxGL1IK5BSGhLU4BCPpCIC-DHrK5HZmhemr8WqVPnq4ujoy_XMf50Z-SUr1wyU12toyk2EFbMX/s1600/DV+Tweet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="442" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVj55jK8Agk2Y2VcdvrxS0Ucj_yKyNkikC3VB8HAiEnazZloz35Y4lBEKX7b1Ln7o2XMxGL1IK5BSGhLU4BCPpCIC-DHrK5HZmhemr8WqVPnq4ujoy_XMf50Z-SUr1wyU12toyk2EFbMX/s320/DV+Tweet.jpg" width="221" /></span></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
<div class="canvas-atom canvas-text Mb(1.0em) Mb(0)--sm Mt(0.8em)--sm" content=""After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks," she told reporters." data-reactid="18" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #26282a; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="text">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've responded to God-knows-how-many severe storm events where I've spent a night patching roofs and cutting up trees. Afterwards, I haven't had a yen for violence. I've had a yen to wash my skin clean of sweat and oil and rain and mud and to get the smell of two-stroke off my hands.</span></div>
<div class="canvas-atom canvas-text Mb(1.0em) Mb(0)--sm Mt(0.8em)--sm" content=""After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks," she told reporters." data-reactid="18" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #26282a; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="text">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinn8NxMOgRBVG9UQTSQtglqXAcGZyImuL12bM7WMn5qGyd8_oX_cCcqjTbGflUfBy5gyuMq8ro-XJdr0xtRt0GD-A7ekvqo74MK5j0XV3HZ2dZVZHm2mxhTNaRmpIii8upmYRIIkhz3lu4/s1600/DV+patching+roof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinn8NxMOgRBVG9UQTSQtglqXAcGZyImuL12bM7WMn5qGyd8_oX_cCcqjTbGflUfBy5gyuMq8ro-XJdr0xtRt0GD-A7ekvqo74MK5j0XV3HZ2dZVZHm2mxhTNaRmpIii8upmYRIIkhz3lu4/s320/DV+patching+roof.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
<div class="canvas-atom canvas-text Mb(1.0em) Mb(0)--sm Mt(0.8em)--sm" content=""After a cataclysmic event like this, domestic violence peaks," she told reporters." data-reactid="18" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #26282a; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" type="text">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">With Red Cross, I responded in the wake of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2018_Melbourne_stabbing_attack" target="_blank">Melbourne stabbing attack in 2018</a>. After a day of talking to deeply upset people in Bourke Street <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #26282a; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I was starting to lose it myself.</span> I messaged my ex-wife to ask her if she could give our daughters an extra kiss for me before she put them to bed, because they seemed like the last half-decent things left in an otherwise utterly fucked-up world.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As an SES Peer, I've spoken to crews that were deeply distressed after turning out to provide scene protection for the body of a man who tried to cross the road ahead of a B-Double and failed. These good people had smelled bits of him slowly frying on the hot asphalt of an Australian summer's day. When that job was done all I wanted was to go for a walk beside the sea and clear my own head of the images it was carrying.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #26282a; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've responded to riverine flooding where I've spent a night laying sandbags on a levee that was in danger of failing. When I went home all I wanted was to rest an aching back and shoulders.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've gone home after a rescue that went wrong, where the extrication took twice as long as it should have or where our command-structure fell over, and spent days asking myself what I should have done differently.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've sat in a staging area on a major land search after the news came through that the body of the subject had been found. Every member present from every agency was sitting there with aching feet and a grubby uniform thinking "well, fuck".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've finished my shift in a relief centre after an evacuation of the residents of four city blocks following an incident and thought "yes: this really <i>is</i> worth doing".</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've come back to LHQ after a road crash callout where everything went to plan, when every member of the team from veterans to someone just out of fundamentals had done what they were trained to do and extricated the casualty and placed them in the care of paramedics without a single misstep. I've driven home feeling eight feet tall and bullet-proof.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've looked at a pager as it blurted out a storm warning and thought "no. Just no. I'm not up to it tonight" and begged God to send the storm cell into someone else's patch (this usually seemed to be that of Cobram SES. Sorry Cobram)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Despite some of the more breathless media reportage, not many emergency services people are heroes. We're not made of steel or iron or even copper. For the most part, we're very ordinary people who sometimes find ourselves in extraordinary situations. All of us from time to time discover more intense emotions than we knew we could experience. Wife-beaters? Maybe. Any organization is liable to contain a few pieces of human garbage. Firies coming out of the event in New South Wales will have experienced things well outside the range of ordinary emotions. Few of these emotions will have been pleasant. Next time Ms Moody wants to translate that into "by the way, these guys are probably going to go home and clobber their girlfriends", maybe she should do it in the privacy of her own skull.</span>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Carlton VIC 3053, Australia-37.8001 144.96709999999996-37.825193 144.92675949999995 -37.775007 145.00744049999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-85769273185719594762019-11-03T18:59:00.001-08:002019-11-03T18:59:47.167-08:00... and leaving her children behind.I'm sitting at my desk at lunch-hour watching a late spring rain fall outside my office. I'm wondering what the Hell has gone wrong in the world.<br />
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I have (or had) two good friends in Shepparton. I came to know them through SES (where else). They seemed to be a good, decent couple, getting by and raising three children aged from about 7 to 14. About six months ago, the wife and mother left the family, to be with her boyfriend interstate. It hit my mate out of the blue. I remember being appalled by it. A double standard, I suppose: in my mind a man who deserts his family is worthy of contempt, and if he wilfuly refuses to support his ex-wife and children, he should be shunned. But a woman who leaves her own children to be with another? That strikes me as almost monstrous.<br />
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This is one my mind because of a story that popped up in a recent <i>Times </i>(London), describing just such a situation<br />
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I like to think I can make sense of most types of human behaviour, even truly evil types. But I can't begin to understand a person voluntarily leaving their home and spouse and children for - what? - a lover.<br />
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On balance, the most appalling acts in the world may not be committed by a Ratko Mladic, or even by a Codey Hermann. All it takes is a person with no apparent sense of shame.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Queen St, Melbourne VIC 3000, Australia-37.812646099999988 144.9596861-37.825190599999985 144.9395161 -37.800101599999991 144.9798561tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-7470565688840992082019-10-14T04:08:00.000-07:002019-10-14T04:08:13.548-07:00A Sunday retreatI wrote this post a week ago. I put it on hold because I wanted to word myself a little carefully: in these troubled days one should do no less.<br />
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Last Sunday I went to a retreat being held by the Catholic Lawyers’ Association. I'd been looking forward to it. I’d even turned in at a respectable hour the night before. Unfortunately, it was the night Daylight Saving kicked in, and inevitably I slept late by an hour. As a result I arrived at Corpus Christi College just as Mass was starting.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chapel, Corpus Christi College, Melbourne, Australia</td></tr>
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The chapel used by the seminarians is simple but beautiful. There were 14 of us present. Mass was said by Fr Forbes and followed by morning tea. This gave us a chance to get to know each other, since not everyone comes to the monthly Mass and breakfast. It’s tempting to namedrop, but I won’t because it might tend to draw the enmity of certain people:<br />
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Suffice it to say I had a couple of “<i>you're</i> one of us?!?” moments.<br />
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Morning tea was followed by some lectio divina in the college library (I opted for a sermon by <a href="https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guerric_of_Igny" target="_blank">Guerric of Igny</a>). After this, fully ten of us said the Rosary at the Marian grotto, which felt remarkably empowering. Communal prayer seems to allow people to be vulnerable.<br />
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The most enlightening bit of the day was an hour of adoration of the blessed sacrament. People sat or knelt as they (and their knees) preferred. I’ve often heard of how people get so much peace and joy from adoration, but I hadn’t really understood it till now. Faced with Him and His blessed mother I felt like I’d never want to be anywhere else, for any reason. If I got nothing else from the retreat, that would have been enough.<br />
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<i>So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life</i> [John 6:67-68]</blockquote>
The last formal part of the day was a further address from Fr Forbes on the forms of prayer.<br />
Lunch was provided and it gave us a chance to talk a bit further. Again: no names, no pack-drill. Many of those present sensed that being openly Catholic was likely to be career-limiting. There was a broad feeling that it will get harder and harder to reconcile faith and career. For my own part (this is of course a personal view only), I think we may run into trouble well before that point. That is, I think many lawyers from a range of faiths may find that their will to uphold and serve the law will corrode in the face of enmity. This sort of thing has had me questioning my commitment to the SES. That is, I've been painfully aware of the venom associated with <a href="https://newciteaux.blogspot.com/2019/09/breaking-open-confessional.html" target="_blank">the laws on the Confessional</a>. I've also listened with pain to <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/laws-forcing-priests-to-report-child-abuse-passed-in-victorian-parliament-20190911-p52q1m.html" target="_blank">rhetoric from Premier Andrews</a> echoing the old trope of Catholics as primarily the agents of the Vatican, and not of their own country -<br />
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<i>"I've made it very clear that the law of our state is written by the Parliament of Victoria, it's not made in Rome and there are very significant penalties for anybody and everybody who breaks the Victorian law," the Premier said.</i></blockquote>
In the SES context, this has been making it less easy for me to make myself pull on my uniform and serve my State and my community when there are calls for help. Principally, now, what keeps me going is loyalty to my crewmates and a belief that, with this service, I can honour the image of God written on other people. It's not always easy though.</div>
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Not unlike <a href="https://www.quotes.net/mquote/866569" target="_blank"><i>Star Trek</i>'s Arturis</a>, I do think that with a measure of prudence frank conflicts of duty can be avoided ("<i>The Borg Collective is like a force of nature. You don't feel anger toward a storm on the horizon. You just avoid it</i>"). But that isn't wholly the point. I have an abiding concern that, eventually, more than a few may look at the polity we serve and say: I didn't want to have to choose.</div>
Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Corpus Christi College, 180 Drummond St, Carlton VIC 3053, Australia-37.8023809 144.9686547-63.1217374 103.6600607 -12.483024400000001 -173.72275130000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-38534915583334083472019-10-13T05:38:00.000-07:002019-10-13T05:38:06.830-07:00Wine and wearinessIt's been a rejuvenating sort of day.<br />
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I was asleep by 2300 last night and didn't bestir myself till 0910 today. I felt a bit better for the sleep, if not as much as I'd have hoped. Facetime with Grace and Rachel wasn't a goer (they were watching LSU play Florida, which I thought was a very good reason!).<br />
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<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/B3ioea5BPGo/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">On Every Sports Fan’s Bucket List #GeauxTigers</a></div>
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A post shared by <a href="https://www.instagram.com/lsufootball/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading" style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px;" target="_blank"> LSU Football</a> (@lsufootball) on <time datetime="2019-10-13T02:10:47+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Oct 12, 2019 at 7:10pm PDT</time></div>
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I repurposed the time to go down to the shopping centre at Barkly Square to get a haircut and buy some new shirts for work. They'll go with the new suit I bought last week. I'm a little shocked to find how out of style my work-clothes were! Well, no matter. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VDUmIjyo5pzUOFPgtoN8CCORVEy1vY-LhyphenhyphenBExlp2aLGVapPo71CZKtprf3gJsmpFsUXvaNFL92qJRf3Bqqc5JtHiqtqc2drsjj16nha9KiK-s_U8WjZt9xdSl_BUIHTynSmiVLo4hDWo/s1600/13102019+haircut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VDUmIjyo5pzUOFPgtoN8CCORVEy1vY-LhyphenhyphenBExlp2aLGVapPo71CZKtprf3gJsmpFsUXvaNFL92qJRf3Bqqc5JtHiqtqc2drsjj16nha9KiK-s_U8WjZt9xdSl_BUIHTynSmiVLo4hDWo/s400/13102019+haircut.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Haircut hair...</i></td></tr>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>I went back to my digs and had a quick meditation session with <a href="https://www.calm.com/" target="_blank">the Calm app</a>. I'd been promising myself a decent run and headed off down the Capital City Trail for a round trip of 14 kms. The weather was warm but enough cloud to keep the sun off so conditions were perfect. I seem to be more and more antisocial these days, which makes me love running more: you can do it alone. I don't know... People are just... I don't know.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzGCJsPLH5ymhaOI7zD7RDrjgz2VzF9EdigFSb1hMgZH0dYs5uQO1Rwt60_FARufP17RTKDgzU1kv5bZGPOdFF7w2GHxmyusNNzNRaD5EMmcatLyaXTXpZebKl_79EiTibJitlFy7SZGT/s1600/13102019+Run.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzGCJsPLH5ymhaOI7zD7RDrjgz2VzF9EdigFSb1hMgZH0dYs5uQO1Rwt60_FARufP17RTKDgzU1kv5bZGPOdFF7w2GHxmyusNNzNRaD5EMmcatLyaXTXpZebKl_79EiTibJitlFy7SZGT/s400/13102019+Run.PNG" width="400" /></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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Anyway, after going for a run I set out for a warm-and-sunny afternoon drink at the Brandon Hotel. The Brandon feels more and more like a home-away-from-home (even if it is only a couple of kilometres). It's quiet and you can peacefully sit and read and have a few pints and maybe polenta chips.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Brandon Hotel, Fitzroy, Melbourne</i></td></tr>
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It was only a bit after 1700 when I left and so I stopped off at the Great Northern Hotel for a glass of wine and a chance to read my book in the afternoon light before I walked the rest of the way home. And after this, here I am at my digs again, having a few glasses of wine and wondering when my housemates will finish in the kitchen so I can go out and make dinner. I know I could just go out but I kind of don't feel like talking.<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoPusoGmuzUumn7SGkR9heyCVLglMO_gWPyrzGhuN_Aiil7hp5LhyphenhyphenyY-_7yLZEFN7KAbQtToMm8c0WUVtG3xXQzvfxsxNC0F4wNuApQaOTZC25pwQSwUPIzjpbVsh9tjH1RS_9VknQD0xA/s1600/13102019+wine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoPusoGmuzUumn7SGkR9heyCVLglMO_gWPyrzGhuN_Aiil7hp5LhyphenhyphenyY-_7yLZEFN7KAbQtToMm8c0WUVtG3xXQzvfxsxNC0F4wNuApQaOTZC25pwQSwUPIzjpbVsh9tjH1RS_9VknQD0xA/s400/13102019+wine.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Great Northern Hotel, Brunswick, Melbourne</i></td></tr>
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I know I'm kind of a downer right now. I don't know what it is: the world just seems utterly messed up these days, and I wonder what the point is keeping functioning. But what choice is there? A man must keep going.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Great Northern Hotel, 644 Rathdowne St, Carlton North VIC 3054, Australia-37.7820018 144.9734737-63.1013418 103.6648797 -12.462661800000003 -173.71793230000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7905732994043610013.post-60885454216329493402019-10-12T04:52:00.000-07:002019-10-12T04:52:02.610-07:00Cribbing while tiredDo I look tired? I feel tired. <br />
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It was an early start for a Saturday. I was up about 0745 and as soon as I’d dressed, I was on the road for SES for the final assessment for the group of candidates we’ve been training through General Rescue. Today’s session put them through cribbing and lifting, and I found I was down to lead two of the three crews. Cribbing and lifting isn’t my strong suit so I was a little uncertain how it’d go.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZQRNXkFLl8vZlRX-mWTVw8PmiD9AmIcLinhUnGK_d7S_LMw4n4zNqyH4BZgG6ZqUI6JYMS17NU0ZU7F-pElCD72kT-MB7OZ7vXRp-N6qGm156Xo1568jzlYKbsKDZ0ypD2Mvw_PoDUc0/s1600/12102019+SES.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZQRNXkFLl8vZlRX-mWTVw8PmiD9AmIcLinhUnGK_d7S_LMw4n4zNqyH4BZgG6ZqUI6JYMS17NU0ZU7F-pElCD72kT-MB7OZ7vXRp-N6qGm156Xo1568jzlYKbsKDZ0ypD2Mvw_PoDUc0/s400/12102019+SES.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I needn’t have worried. The crews had learned their craft well and performed excellently. I certainly couldn’t have been happier with their work and they all passed.<br />
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The balance of the day was quiet for me: laundry, groceries, ironing and Mass. And now a beer at the Charles Weston Hotel.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRx2hpqmeG_boiUAr8UHCg4OMdzDVbONRhzM-duRN_8F1PN1akytGCIGlyPIYPeYkxYtPpOAOeiXJRdI1xHxOTV9TGyf9pyXXsX96g9FHEQNz5TRSPwwsx5sl-pBZE41MH-9UDzKbxPqI3/s1600/12102019+pub.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRx2hpqmeG_boiUAr8UHCg4OMdzDVbONRhzM-duRN_8F1PN1akytGCIGlyPIYPeYkxYtPpOAOeiXJRdI1xHxOTV9TGyf9pyXXsX96g9FHEQNz5TRSPwwsx5sl-pBZE41MH-9UDzKbxPqI3/s400/12102019+pub.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I do feel kind of flat now. Training this group has been a large whack of my life for the last 9 months or so. It’s a bit of a shock for it to be over. I imagine I’ll put my hand up to train next year's new recruits as well.<br />
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The plan is an early night tonight, to try and shake off this fatigue. I'll give dinner a miss as I had a huge lunch. Hopefully tomorrow I'll feel like myself again.Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14086934814887206453noreply@blogger.com0Charles Weston Hotel, 27 Weston St, Brunswick VIC 3056, Australia-37.7749152 144.9633407-63.094244200000006 103.6547472 -12.455586200000003 -173.72806579999997