Now is the Content of my Winter

     I and Lady Judith, in pre-titled days, lived in sunny Queensland. In 1970-ish the call of big-city radio drew us to Brisbane and we purchased a tiny 11 square house in the cheapest suburb of Brisbane. Right at the end of the railway line at Ferny Grove. It seemed like the Outback then. It took a whole HALF HOUR to ride my Honda into Newspaper House, Queen Street. Our neighbours were all dollar-poor, young marrieds hoping for children, driving old cars or motorbikes, and, in our case, sleeping on a mattress on the floor while waiting for the next pay cheque to fund a bed base.      The house cost $11,500 and we borrowed the deposit from my Dad. Mission Brown and White was de rigeur in 1970 Our Ferny Grove neighbours in 1970      We got to work. Created a lawn. Both Dads (not yet Grandpas) built retaining walls and steps. We planted some trees. Filled in the downstairs. Added a boy and a girl to bedrooms. And, as fashions bega...

It started strangely. At 4BK, a place of my employment forty years ago. Problems of dead air. The techs at the transmitter (as if they were permanently stationed there) filled the dead air with marching music. The Powers That Be would soon descend on those responsible. There is no greater sin in radio than Dead Air. It seems that the culprit was me. The boss, still the same one forty years later but no older, wanted to blame Mike Goldman. Why was I pleased? I’d worked once with his Dad, Grant. The boss thought this amusing. Said he’d heard stories . I told him one about having my shoes stolen. Dreams are like that. Snatches of memory. Mixed with lines from yesterday’s reading. Tossed with unresolvable dreads. Judy is sleeping in the next room. Practical considerations since her knee replacement two weeks prior. No steps between that room and the ensuite. This house has 48 steps. She counted them. Her eyes are open when I lean on the doorpost. “I had to pai...

"LIBERAL senator Cory Bernardi has been forced to resign as shadow parliamentary secretary to Tony Abbott following his remarks linking gay marriage to bestiality." The Australian, 19th Sept 2012 Thus spoke The Australian  newspaper. Almost right. Further down the story, if you cared to read so far, the paper clarified a little. During a debate last night over proposed gay marriage laws, Senator Bernardi said legalising same-sex unions would prompt calls for more extreme changes. “The next step ... is having three people that love each other be able to enter into a permanent union endorsed by society, or four people,” Senator Bernardi said. “There are even some creepy people out there, who say that it's OK to have consensual sexual relations between humans and animals. Will that be a future step?” As usual, the nuanced and "ill-considered" remarks of a politician, were spun into a simpler, and less accurate proposition. " Gay marriage leads to bestial...

I went through Los Angeles Airport two years ago for the last time. Not last in the sense of until the next time. But for the very last time this side of the Pearly Gates. Please God my final journey to meet Saint Peter is not routed through LAX. If it were I guess I would know I was heading for the Other Place. Arriving now in Sydney from Vancouver it seems Mascot Airport is rivalling LAX for traveller unfriendliness. One's mood is not improved by the body clock just registering 4am Pacific Time. I feel like a whinge. Maybe a sulk. Really? What's wrong with me? I just enjoyed two months with our daughter's family in Seattle and their four energetic exponents of sibling rivalry. The eldest, now ten years, was able to explain sibling rivalry to me with precocious knowing. We had a wonderful and precious time. In the middle we even got to fly over and visit Anne of Green Gables. That's pretty good isn't it? Aren't we lucky that we worked long enough to ...

Sitting in Seattle. Watching horrific violence on TV with two grandsons. It’s a cartoon. Something about ninjas made from Lego. A commercial starring a cartoon gecko interrupts the drama to remind us, unintentionally, that cartoons have always been violent. The gecko is crossing a desert when the Road Runner beep-beeps past followed by the coyote. Stopping for a moment to contemplate roast gecko for dinner, the coyote is crushed by a massive object falling from the sky. In the end, of course, the pure, innocent and victimised survive and succeed. Good is victorious. Just like in real life, right? It’s an important idea to teach children, there is no denying. That, in a violent and imperfect world, right and justice should prevail. But of course, this kind of violence, despite our common beliefs, is not about right and justice. No matter how we dress it up with invented logic, sixteen tonnes falling from the sky is just another form of violence. A form of vengeance for ...

Meet my brother. To be fair to the historical record, it's possible this is a photo of my younger sister. Mum and Dad aren't around any more to edit the captions in the oldest of my 120 photo albums so this picture has become, for me, a memento of Ian George Hunt, my brother. Ian was born on the 31st July 1953. He was named for his father (Ian=John) and his grandfather, George. Our mother, Jean, nearly died having him. And when Ian died seven weeks later, a significant part of our mother seemed to die with him. He was found, dead in his cot, on the morning of 24th September 1953. In those days no-one seemed to know why. They just called it "cot death". There's a small group I go to each week. We are reading and talking about the book of Job. The one in the Bible. For any of you planning to race off and read Job (pronounced Jobe  as in Jobe Watson, Captain of Essendon), here is a SPOILER ALERT. Job is a thoroughly good bloke which is something Satan rath...

The final piece of the Warrnambool to Port Fairy Rail Trail was officially opened this week. So now, if you don't get lost at any of the various intersections that look alarmingly like alternate routes, you can cycle from Warrnambool railway station to Port Fairy via Koroit. And, for the most part you are on the old railway line. So this picture (above) is the new bit. The trail out of Warrnambool does not actually follow the railway until you get up closer to Koroit. Instead it follows the old spur line past the defunct Woollen Mill. Here's a picture of the once glorious mill rail station ... ... now being slowly converted into a high-density housing estate with, for some, nice views across Lake Pertobe. From here the rider can take a variety of routes. There is a short-cut just beside the mill that takes you through to the Merri Creek which the trail follows as far as the edge of town, whence it runs alongside the road as far as the knackery. We recommend not dallying...