MOOMINS M.C.

OUTBACK TRAVELS AND SOME......

2010-06-12T10:30:00.006+10:00

As of 3 weeks ago I am a domestic manager.

That's right. Stay at home dad.

Snorkmaiden has gone back to work at the coal face and as we weren't able to get any childcare so I am at home hanging with the little feller.

Apart from looking after him and trying to finish off my folio for school, we have been busily fixing up our place to sell so we can buy something a little bigger for the future.

For my folio I had to shoot 2 sections: people based and and open theme.

For the 1st section I shot some friends and their family at home and the second was shot on our outback trip.

What a trip it was too!!! Travelling with a 9 month old and camping was an exercise in organisation, patience and luck. We got flooded in at one point on a cattle station in the Flinders Ranges after 85mm of rain fell from midnight till sun up causing the dry creek bed we drove up the day before into a 6 foot deep 100f foot wide white capped torrent that was threatening to flood our campsite.

All in all we had a great trip covering about 6000 km including a 4wd trek at Willow Springs which was 60 km and took 6 hours to complete, most of which Tom slept through.

Here is a small selection of pics from that trip that I submitted for my folio assignment:

4 YEARS ON.....

2010-03-19T13:09:00.007+11:00

Been a while since any sort of posting on the blog.
I think that between having our son Tom around, working, being back at photography school, preparing us and the car for the outback trip in April and trying to maintain some semblence of a social life, the old blog has become somewhat neglected.
Like on a favourite toy that now sits in the corner abandoned. Its layer of dust gradually becoming thicker and thicker with each day, slowly covering a distant memory until only its vague outline betrays its existence and once past companionship.

Occasionally I have agonised over my lack of posting, only to have my attention violently tugged towards my son's newly discovered ability to babble, or some other thing that is happening in our lives.
Somehow the poor old blog just seemed to get put on the backburner every time.

Maybe it has served its purpose, whatever that was. Come to think of it, the purpose originally was to document our escapades on the motorcycles. Funny how it's changed over time eh?

A couple of days ago I was contemplating the 4 year anniversary of that crash on the 18th of March 2006, which turned my life inside out and upside down.
From being scraped off the bitumen by the paramedics, airflited to the trauma ward, the subsequent half a year of hospitalisation including being bedbound for two months, the relearning of how to walk, to the numerous surgeries right up until last October to finally being able to run again as of last Christmas.
I looked at how different my life is now. Married with a beautiful wife and child, studying photography, enjoying life in general.

With those thoughts running through my head I left work yesterday only to pull over about 200 metres up the road.
On the roundabout was a delivery truck. It was stopped in the middle of the roundabout and my initial thought was that it had either a mechanical failure of some sort or there had been a collision with another vehicle.
As I slowly drove around it I saw what the truck had collided with.

A motorcyclist was lying on the road in front/underneath it, his bike some distance back lying underneath the truck.
It must have just happened as there were two cars that had only just stopped and one woman was getting out of her car.
I pulled over and went to see the rider and was pleasantly surprised that he was conscious.
1/3rd of his back was a bright crimson due to the flanelette shirt having instantly parted company and his skin having been souvenired by the bitumen. Given a lot of his inappropriate clothing had torn away I was able to see some serious bruising around his right hip area as well.
I figured he had sustained some fairly heavy knocks and probably had some fractures and potentially some internal injuries. ( later confirmed by the paramedics as fractures in the clavicle, ribs and pelvis plus bruising, abrasions, cuts, possible internal, spine and neck injuries)

Someone had rung the ambulance and there was a man standing by so I asked him to wave the passing cars on so none would run into us while we attended to the rider.
My recently completed first aid course came into good use indeed and I began to implement what I had learnt.
Thankfully he could wriggle his toes and fingers and didn't seem to think he had much pain in his spine or neck.
I explained to him that he had injuries on his back and hip area and that I know exactly how he feels right now. I also told him he should have been wearing leather, to which he replied that it was too hot. Well, there's the trade off then isn't. Too hot but keep your skin on, versus nice and cool and no skin. Not much of a choice really I reckon.
He was lying in a kind of 45 degree angle and moving around a lot. I wanted him to roll onto his side, in case he decided to vomit into his helmet, but he found that way too painful and preferred to roll onto his back. As he did so he let out an anguished cry and I realised that he sustained some serious pelvic fractures, so I supported his right leg in the most comfortable position.
The woman who pulled up earlier was still there so I asked her to get his phone from the bag on his bike so we could call his family. I spoke to his sister and gave her directions on how to get to where we were.
From there on I just comforted him and kept talking to him until the paramdics arrived.
Once they started attending to his injuries I was left still holding his leg in position and helping the medics, talking to the rider, making sure he doesn't nod off from the morphine and eventually seeing him off as he was loaded onto the stretcher.

I said to the senior paramedic that it was 4 years ago that I was in the rider's position and that it was quite bizarre to now be on the other side and seeing it from such a different perspective.

What a strange way to mark the 4 year anniversary.

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OF MASTITIS, COLDS, PILLS AND A LITTLE POO......

2009-10-24T17:29:00.007+11:00

As if looking after a baby and a husband, who is laid up on the couch as he is not allowed to weight bear on one leg wasn't enough, poor old Snorkmaiden copped her first bout of mastitis.
Fever, flu like symptom accompanied by a sensation of needles flowing through her boobs when she's feeding were not much fun for anyone.
Added to that, she caught an actual cold.
Fortunately we were lucky enough to have mum and sis readily on hand to help out.
So for a while there, the entire family of three was on antibiotics.
There's nothing quite like spending your friday night, lying on the couch and popping pills with your girly.

Wednesday I had an appointment with the plastic surgoen and I was so relieved to have that damned half cast removed off my leg.
By that stage it was already starting to give me sore / pressure points.
Expecting to see a heap of staples holding my leg together, I was surprised to see steri strips ( like sterile sticky tape ) holding the incision closed.
Having prepared myself for the sometimes unpleasant act of staple removal, I now understood why she put a cast on and forbid me to use the leg at all.
Apart from 4 stitches, the skin was left to heal by itself, so any muscular movement from leg use could have potentially torn the skin apart.
After removing the strips and cutting the stitches, new strips were put in place and I was given permission to finally start putting weight on the leg. ( The following day I went for a walk to a mate's café and realised just how quickly the leg had become stiff and useless. )
The surgoen was pleased with the way it was looking, apart from a couple of oozy spots, which should clear up soon enough and I was a bit surprised to see that apart from having a reduced scar, I was now sporting a new incision at the back of the knee.
Basically, the doc had started at the left rear side of the right knee, cut down at 45 degrees towards the right side, then all the way down to the ankle.
The incision at the back of the knee was required to locate the motor control nerves in order to divide them.

Day 12 post op. and I'm still somewhat sore and restricted in movement, but at least I've been getting around without crutches, which is completely different to when my leg was operated on in the first instance back in 2006.
Looking at returning to work next Thursday.

On a completely separate issue, there is nothing quite like your son telling you he loves in his own little special way.
I was giving him a bath a couple of weeks ago.
In order to stop him performing an impersonation of the Titanic I was holding him up against the sloping part of the bath by cupping his bum.
Imagine my amusement when he decided he wanted to have a little bubble bath spa by making his own bubbles.
Then, imagine my abject horror as the water changed colour and little 'bits' started floating about.
With one swift motion he was hoisted up out of the now polluted bath and given a thorough spraying down with the hand held shower.
I'm sure he thought it was all very amusing.

And now, for your viewing pleasure:
Starring: The plastic surgeon with a support role from: my leg..........

The back of the knee. The nerves are the bits with blue tape around them.

Skin graft site reduction on the lower leg.

OF COUCH AND CRUTCHES.........

2009-10-16T12:56:00.009+11:00

Wow, talk about slack.
Over 3 months between posts, sheesh.
So here's a brief synopsis:

Young Thomas is going well. Doing all the things young babies should be doing.
Poo, wee, feed and sleep.

After the initial chaos of having a newborn to deal with, things settled down a bit.
Slowly a routine was established by the new mum, dad and baby.
With mum recovering from the C section we spent the next few weeks finding our feet and learning about the needs and wants of the new addition in our lives.
Pretty steep learning curve it was too, as all new parents will testify.

As mum was recovering from the surgery I was preparing for some more.
This time nothing related to the smash.
I needed 3 wisdom teeth removed and this was done towards the end of the 7 weeks I had off work. All went well with the surgery, but a few days later I got a dry socket infection which required another visit to the dental surgeon.
This time he flushed out a bunch of trapped food in the socket and caused me some of the most awesome pain I have come across.
Being no stranger to pain, this time I was literally speechless and semi rocking in the chair.
Took me about 10-15 min before I could hold a conversation again.
Given the complications, my return to work was delayed by a few more days.

Flushing out the infected socket......

So the weeks rolled on, with mum and bub at home and myself at work.

Whilst I was at home I managed to do a small commercial photography job for a plastics company.
It was certainly a good experience in regards to just how much people don't know what they want, or are unable to communicate it effectively. I learnt quickly that you almost have to be a mind reader, or at least be able to steer them in the right direction, in order to come up with the goods that they will be happy with.

I also managed to get a domain name and host for a future website, but still don't have a logo, so the design has kind of stalled at the moment.

The photography has taken a slight back seat at the moment as one of my main projects is to get the Subaru ready for the outback 3 week trip at Easter.
You may ask why do that now? Well, because by the time Christmas comes, then January, then back to school, then there is no time to get any of it done, so I'd rather get it out of the way now.
There's a bit to do. A cargo barrier was bought and needs to be installed, as we will have more gear in the car now + an extra passenger. A new roof rack / tray to take the tent and fuel cans, the holey exhaust was replaced with a better flowing system, a new carburettor going on, 2 inch body lift kit will be fitted, new rear shock absorbers and I have to make a spare wheel carrier to fit on the rear bumper as the off road spare will not fit into the normal spar tyre spot.
Still a few things left.

As I write this I am lying on the couch recovering from my latest bout with the scalpel.
Tuesday I arrived at the hospital for some plastic surgery on my leg and as I alighted from the car I managed to jam my little finger in the door. Blood was drawn and more pain. I looked at it as a warm up for post surgery.
Thankfully the 3 hour long operation went well and the surgeon managed to divide a motor control nerve to a muscle graft ( which will hopefully allow me to run ) and also take out a 2cm section of scar tissue/ skin graft going from knee to ankle.
I was able to go home after only one night in the hospital, with strict instruction not to put any weight on the right leg until I see the surgeon in one week.
She also mentioned that she may do one more operation to remove another section of scar tissue later on down the track.

For now, it's back to lying around on the couch until further notice.
Here, in no particular order, are some pics of our son Thomas Jakub, as taken by his new parents:

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AND THEN THERE WERE THREE.......

2009-07-14T21:08:00.013+10:00

It's been two weeks, but finally I have had a chance to download the photos off my camera and post on the blog.
After a 36hr labour, followed by a ceasarian section young Thomas made his grand entrance on the 1st of July 2009.
Snorkmaiden was just amazing to watch, putting in a monster effort only to be denied full dilation by 1cm in the end.
All ended well with both mum and bub a little sore but well.
Thomas suffered a bit of jaundice at the start and was placed in a baby solarium to get some extra vitamin D.
The delivery staff were absolutely fantastic, however the post delivery care was pretty bloody ordinary.
From conflicting opinions between medical staff to post operative mum and Thomas sharing a room with a methodone mum who was clearly not all there. ( can't believe it was her 5th child )
Fortunately mum and bub were relocated to a room of their own the next night, all three of us couldn't wait to get out of there and be home.
Once home we slowly started to find our feet and routines.
Thankfully we've had some good help from family members and it's all slowly moving forward.
Snorkmaiden and I appear to have lost our grasp of the english language as well as various other objects ( bub excluded of course ).
Tipping it's it sleep deprivation or something.
Anyway, that's enought for now.
Here are some shots of from the hospital:

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OFFICIALLY OVERDUE BY ONE DAY........

2009-06-28T21:39:00.011+10:00

About a week ago we were fortunate to have been graced by the presence of Maja and JJ who were over from the west coast on a little sojourn.
We joined them and my sister in a restaurant called The Hellenic Republic for dinner. It's literally just around the corner from the old Casa del Pollo Polvoriento and is owned by George Calombaris, one of the judges on the show MasterChef and owner of the fancy pants Press Club eatery and they serve the most delicious Greek tucker.
It was a top night with top company, top grub and top time with my only complaint being that it was all too short.

As of today we are officially overdue.
Baby Cashew was due yesterday and failed to front up.
We can only assume that it's a minor case of stage fright.
It's been a mixture of excitement, impatience, resignation, expectation and anxiety the last few weeks.
We have been trying various techniques and methods to trigger labour.
From authentic Indian curries to raspberry leaf teas and everything in between to no avail.
I have a bottle of red wine riding on it with my boss as to whether it will be a boy or girl. I reckon it will be a boy and he's convinced it'll be a little girl.
I don't really care either way as long as it is all healthy.

In one month I have an appointment with the burns / plastics unit at the hospital to see if we can carry out surgery to divide the motor control nerve to my muscle graft.
This will hopefully allow me to run again.
Having that ability was never as important before as it is now.
I feel that if our little one needs to be run down and caught in order to stop the kid from getting into trouble, I would like to be able to do that.

There have been many moments of uncertainty during my recovery from the motorbike crash.
Some filled with scepticism, others with optimism and others still, with a tinge of fear, especially some of the surgical procedures and prognoses.

This surgery I am hoping will be my last, both in terms of the last I have to go through and also the one to give me back that last bit of mobility I am missing.
The plate in my pelvis still gives me pain, discomfort and restricts my movement, but that one is staying put.
It was difficult and painful enough inserting it in the first place let alone having to go through the same ordeal to get it out.

Due to bubs coming into our lives and the surgery, I will be postponing photography school for six months as I believe it would just be an extra strain on my time and energy and I don't think I could devote as much effort to it as I would like.

Here then is my end of semester folio. I can't quite remember what the exact order was as that is in my visual diary, which is also submitted for marking, but you can get a bit of an idea anyway.

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1 MONTH TO GO AND COUNTING

2009-05-28T13:18:00.002+10:00

Dear blog,
A thousand apologies for neglecting you recently. It's not you, it's me. I promise.
I've just been so busy lately, that I've found it difficult to make time to foster our relationship and rekindle the closeness we once had.

Anyway, the last couple of months have been steadily busy. A sustained continuing mish mash of going to work, preparing for the coming addition to our family, school work and some semblance of a social life shoehorned in there somewhere.
Between managing to maintain a focus on making some head way with my folio and everything involved with the coming birth I am rather happy with the way things are progressing.

After getting my camera back from the repairer I shot some images to be used on a friend's website. I got to a point that I was not able to shoot the subject matter as it was getting too dark for the auto focus to work and the lack of ambient light combined with the tiny viewfinder meant I was not able to focus manually either. As well as that, my preffered zoom lens was playing ( not the one that was repaired ) and that is now also in the camera service centre.
After some thought I made a decision to jump in the deep end and buy a new camera as I figuered My old one had served it's purpose well, but was not up to the job anymore. The old Canon 350D was purchased with the intention of helping me learn how to use a proper camera, and that is exactly what it's done, but now I must move on to bigger and better things.
So with the imminent price hike I bought a Canon 5D Mark II with 24-105mm lens.
Mmmmmm....Tasty.......
The problem is that my old laptop is 3 years old and just like in Star Trek, "she just hasn't got tha power!!" to effectively deal with the file sizes that come from the 21.5mp sensor and progressively get larger and larger as more work is done in Photoshop, which incidentally is an old version and not compatible with the CS3 we use at school.
So.....most of my work on the folio images has to be done at school, which means more time spent away from home and being limited to the amount of work I can actaully do to the images due to time constraints.
Boo....

As it turns out I have to take a 6 month deferral as the 3rd stage only starts in February and I started my schooling in the mid year intake. Oh, well. I will probably need that extra time with the bub coming on anyway, so I'll hold off acquiring more computing power untill then as 6 months can be a long time on the IT world.

Snorkmaiden is going very well. All within specifications according to the obstetrician. We recently attended some pre and post birth classes at the hospital and let me tell you now, no one really wants see video footage of other people giving birth, especially when there are forceps, tearing & talk of C sections involved!
She finished her book on pregnancy and childbirth and has decided that she will not be giving birth after all. Reckons the whole thing sounds terrifying and she's happy to get an entire new wardrobe and stay 8 months preggers for the rest of her life.

Our little Cashew is not so little now and I'm not too sure what kind of organic nut, fruit or vegetable to compare it to. Maybe a kickboxing bunch of carrots? Iit loves using it's mum's spleen as a speedball and liver as a body bag, when it's not using her inestine as a skipping rope that is. It has certainly had bouts of great activity and most times when my hand is placed on the belly it calms down and stops. Not all the time, but definitely a lot. I hope this phenomenon translates into something useful when it's born.

I've been plaing quitar for it and we've both been singing Rainbow Connection. Maybe we can use its familiar tones to settle the bub when it's grumpy on the big bad outside.
Who knows, but the song is certainly fantastic and fun to play.

It is exactly one month to go for both my endo of semester folio and the bub!
Yay!
I just hope the little one can stay inside until the folio is well and truly printed, mounted and presented.

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3 YEARS LATER...................

2009-03-17T22:44:00.003+11:00

18th March 2006.
18th March 2007.
18th March 2008.

3 years on from that fateful day and I find myself in a totally alien position.
Lying on the road / helicopter ambulance stretcher / hospital bed, I don't think that even in my wildest drug induced dreams I would have imagined myself in this situation.
Gone from bed bound on a regular diet of morphine and other drugs, surgeries, stints with a plastic bubble over my head in the hyperbaric chamber, to a relatively physically capable husband with a gorgeous wife and a baby on the way, working full time and studying photography part time.

At the moment I am waiting to see the plastic surgeon in regards to the muscle flap on my leg that was sliced off the calf and flipped over to cover the metal on the side of the knee. As it is still attached to the rest of the calf muscle, the sensation and motor control nerves are still functioning. What this means in real terms is that if something touches the side of my knee, it actually feels like it is touching the inside of my calf muscle. That I can live with, but what is troubling me is that whenever I use the calf muscle for its intended purpose, the flap contracts too and feels like it's pulling tendons and what not across the side of the knee. Not to mention that it cramps up after prolonged strained use ( which is not all that long ).
The result is that I am unable to run as I cannot put full strength / force through that muscle. I can do a slow limping jog, but feel that I could do more if the motor control nerve was snipped.
I don't want to run any marathons, just be able to run a short distance if the need arises, or one day to be able to indulge in that sort of behaviour with my daughter/son.

I still find myself looking on in a third person kind of way and thinking just how bizarrely the world turns and how I should never take anything for granted though.
I am busier right now than I have been in a long time and yet I feel full of energy to tackle my regular duties and the potential circus that will be the threesome at the end of June.

Actually, it's a circus at the moment, what with all the baby books to read and preparations to get under way.
We are still gathering baby 'stuff' and have so far managed to accumulate a pretty sweet cot off ebay, a heap of sheets, bottle insulators, change mat and clothes from a garage sale, which we got word of from my sister, a car seat, steriliser, and some presents like the baby jumps suits from Snorky's mum and and alpaca jumper my father bought in Argentina when working there.
Yet there is more 'stuff' to acquire, but I reckon it will all come together in it's own time and way.

I am still waiting to get my camera fixed. The insurance company is dragging it's feet and has assigned their number one 'useless employee of the month' to my case. I received a phone call from a confused case worker not understanding all the paperwork I sent in with my claim. This is after I made sure that I filled out all their required forms, and supplied all the information and paperwork they could ever possibly need to make a decision. Reports, quotes for repair and / or replacement, receipts, little notes to clarify certain bits of paperwork, etc.
So, after patiently and calmly talking to the dufus "Can you see the figure on the form in front of you? Good, that's the part with the amount and the note explaining the sum, etc " I was informed that it's all too complicated and that the claim will have to be forwarded onto another dufus who is paid $2.42/hr more so they can make the decision.
Bearing in mind that when I called them a couple of weeks ago to see how the claim is going, I spent 1hr 50min on hold. That's even before I got to talk to an actual real live person!
My recommendation is: Do not under any circumstances take out travel insurance with RACV or Mondial!!! It will drive you to drink, and commit acts of violence upon your telephone handpiece.
In the end I gave the camera repair shop the go ahead to repair the camera and lens as I really miss it and need it for school.
I'll deal with the insurance company in good time. In the mean time, at least I have my 'Hoff to shoot with.

So, in short: 3 years on and life is good. Who knows what the next 3 will bring? But for now it's full steam ahead.
Thank you to all who helped in their own ways. You know who you are so please don't ever hesitate if you need the favour returned any time. I will gladly do what I can and just hope I never have to return it in the same circumstances.

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2.5........ OR HALF WAY TO 3...............

2009-02-16T21:32:00.006+11:00

Been getting slack with the postings lately and suffering some sort of interweb guilt trip.
I know the whole point of blogging is to keep it regular, but I've been finding it harder and harder lately, for no apparent reason.
It's not like there's been a lack of things to write about, it's just that I seem to be preoccupied with general life stuff.
Anyway, I digress.

The morning sickness has abated pretty much since we came back from the Claytons honeymoon on rockin' Norfolk Island.
I think at a later time we will organise another honeymoon, preferably at a more reliable location, but that won't be some time.

"Wow. Look at my belly! It's only half done. Just how much bigger am I going to get!?" - Snorkmaiden looking at maternity clothes.

This pregnancy caper is an interesting thing eh?
We've just reached the half way mark and the further we get into it the more decisions there are to make.
What style of pram? Cot? Name? etc
There is the inevitable array of volunteered advice and luckily for us it has mostly been helpful.
If we thought the amount of advice was overwhelming and plentiful then we weren't ready for the simply stupefying plethora of choices when it came to prams!
They range form the extremely cheap and dubiously constructed to the ridiculously overpriced for something that doesn't even fold down. And if you can afford the $4000+ price tag then you can probably afford a nanny, the wet nurse, and the therapy sessions for your child when they get an unloved complex in their teenage years and turn into an emo, spending the most productive of their hours writing atrociously bad and depressing ( to read ) poetry, listening to equally atrocious music, practicing their sullen expression in the mirror ( let's face it there is only one ), in between making pathetic incisions into their forearms and thighs because they don't have the balls to actually cut their wrists.

We found ourselves asking total strangers about the prams they were wheeling and pretty much always got the same result. "Yeah, it's great."
I guess no new parent is going to admit in public that they bought a dud because they let their partner do the choosing, or bought on the basis of colour, or got sucked in by the sales person.
One memorable moment occurred when we went to a baby shop for our first real look at prams.
Outside in the car park was a couple. The pram appeared to be semi disassembled. The woman standing helplessly aside whilst the man became more and more confused as to why the thing wasn't folding down.

"Its been great for the last four months, but for some reason just will not fold down."

It was scary watching this normal looking man, squatting next to the recalcitrant pile of me metal and plastic, initially pushing with testing force, then disappearing to get a screwdriver, poking around with that for a while, applying more force with the screwdriver, levering, stabbing, progressively becoming further frustrated and finally just when I thought he was going to revert to his primordial state and begin hitting the pram with the screwdriver á la the beating of the apes in Kubrick's 2001 Space Odyssey, he popped some little catch and the source of his frustration finally capitulated and relented to his demands.

Our criteria were relatively basic. Because we live in an apartment we had to have something that is failry compact, but because we ( read I ) plan to have a couple of littlies then we really need something that will carry a toddler and newborn. This is especially important when one parent is out and about by themselves, but not the side by side models due to the fact that these things are just plain bad manners in public, what with taking up the whole footpath and the like.
We really hoped for a 4 wheeler as we have heard many complaints about the lack of stability of 3 wheelers. After checking out a few and reading reviews I found one that I think will be just fine. Only problem is, the thing isn't expected to be released for about a month or two after the bub's supposed to be born.
We'll see in time I guess.
I did find a curious Italian model though which appealed to me with it's linked 4 wheel steering. Seemed like a really good prospect until I roadtested one and found that it will not reverse in a straight line but with the slightest of rearward movement wants to take off in every direction but straight back. The other problem was that I mistook the linked steering system for something that might actually aid maneuverability. By my reckoning, a fully laden road train would have a smaller turning circle.

Our first 10 week scan was probably the turning point for me as this was the first time I saw the baby actually moving around and it's little heart beating. ( good to see it has as sense of rhythm )
On the second, 20 week scan I was actually able to see some of the bub's face and and we also heard the heartbeat. This had an uncanny resemblance to Rolf Harris' wobble board. ( a bit disturbing really as it started a train of thoughts in my head as to the real identity of the baby's father )
But all the signs are good so far, which has been a bit of a relief for me as I was a little concerned that all those DVD's of digital and 6.3 kilos of film x-rays I received in hospital might have played havoc with my swimmers.

We have talked a little about names. Snorky seems to think we should get a short list of male and female names together and choose from them, where as I am more keen to see what the baby looks like and how it behaves and then make a decision based on that. I think we will strike some sort of happy middle ground where we make a short list and then given a few days, make a final choice.

So this interesting part in our lives rolls on and I can only imagine what the next four and half months are going to bring, let alone the post birth era.
Here are two images for my first assignment this semester. Works in progress / test shots, and taken with Snorky's old camera as mine is still in the repair shop.

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IF IT LOOKS LIKE A DUCK AND QUACKS LIKE A DUCK......or more Norfolk Ramblings.....

2009-01-16T17:49:00.009+11:00

It would appear that my previous post has pinged up on the Norfolk Island bad publicity radar.
Like all people, including idiots, I am entitled to my own opinions, which I generally feel are well informed, and I expect to be corrected or informed otherwise if my knowledge has holes in it. I welcome all debate /discussion and embrace the freedom of speech that the internet offers. The email link on my profile is proof of that. I can be identified by the many photos and references and am willing to divulge my full name and details if someone was to request them by personal email and had a damn good reason to do so.
Becj55's profile seems to contain absolutely nothing to identify him or her and the anonymous comment is even worse in it's concealment of identity. So if these people ( or same person ) can't be contacted by normal means then I'm sure they will get my reply as it pings up again.
I received the following comments:
Becj55 said...: You are kidding me right? Norfolk Island is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been and if anyone decides not to go to Norfolk because of your comments well that's nothing but a damn right shame. I am 31 and have been to Norfolk 3 times now. What a fantastic place to get away from the ratrace of the mainland. It's great not having to answer a mobile phone every few seconds and can just relax on the beach. As for nothing to do... what about a massage or ride a horse along the sand or play a round of golf, go fishing, go on a progressive dinner, visit the gallery, do some shopping (well that's to name a few things anyhow.) Nothing to do? You've got to be joking. I have no idea what brochures or websites you were looking at but everytime I have been it has been great. I really don't understand what it is you were expecting! I have met some of the friendliest people in the world and them keeping their traditions for hundreds of years is a credit to them. Maybe if you had have stopped winging for 5 minutes and spent more time doing what your supposed to do on your honeymoon you may have enjoyed your time more.

Becj55 - For starters, you clearly do not know how to relax. Your comment about not having to constantly answer your mobile phone shows that you have not worked out how to turn it off. I don't need to fly anywhere in order to relax. We were merely after a short honeymoon in the Pacific and chose Norfolk as it sounded interesting. I never said that you couldn't relax on the island, in fact that's part of the reason we went there and indeed we did do a lot of relaxing, but as written it wasn't always by choice.

We did indeed visit a gallery or 3. Well, we tried. One was closed with no signs saying what the opening hours are. The museum was closed when it was advertised by signage as being open.

Golf, not particularly into it myself and my pregnant wife certainly wasn't up for any prolonged physical exertion due mainly to still getting over a cold, which you would have realised if you'd actually read the post properly, and she was still experiencing morning sickness. As for horse riding, refer to previous reason and, well you work that one out genius. FYI horse riding is one of those "do not do" things on the pregnancy list.

Shopping? I can go shopping for nearly all those products available right here in Melbourne. Why would I want to spend my time doing something I can do at home?
We did indeed go on a progressive dinner and that wasn't too bad. But it did not make up for all the unsuccessful attempts at organising our own tours or visiting places of interest.
For the most part, the locals were friendly enough. I never said that they weren't.

There are many other negative things that occurred on the island which I haven't mentioned in the previous post, but seeing as you seem to think that I need to validate my opinion further I will do that just for you. Please read on.

Anonymous said...: Oh Zuba,
what a shame you have let your preconceived attitude ruin your holiday. Had you gone with an open mind you might just have allowed yourself to enjoy Norfolk. Locally made goods abound, obviously you didnt look far. there are some truly beautiful items, art etc available.
I guess living in a city you dont have the ability to appreciate life in the slow lane. FYI Mobile phones were introduced in 2006,not 1997. & holding a referendum for a roundabout shows democracy is alive & well. How many times have you moaned about things your local Govt has done, & wished you had a say? Well on Norfolk everyone can have their say. You wont find a more caring community anywhere, & the pity is that you missed the point completely. Fancy going on about Pitcairn, whats that got to do with it ? its 3000 miles away for goodness sake. Sure the people are proud of their heritage, thats how it should be. People go to Australia & show an interest in Aboriginal history, thats what people do when they visit somewhere new.
Its not like Australia is perfect, or crime-free, especially Melbourne !!!
As it happens Norfolk is the biggest Return destination in the southern hemisphere, they cant all be idiots. I know people who return there for holidays 15, 17, 22 times. it is incredible. people form a bond with this beautiful place.
It is safe, friendly, relaxed & picturesque. Bet you have to lock your place up like Fort Knox just to go into the back garden (if you even have one) On Norfolk folks can go out all day & leave the keys in their car & the house unlocked.
Yep Zuba, you missed the point.
& as they say on Norfolk "Sorry fer et" ... meaning 'sorry for it, or "we're sorry for you" !

Locally made goods: The pottery was ok, as was the screen printer who offered fabric and paper prints as well as various articles of clothing etc. ( we purchased some items from here as gift ) The gallery at the cyclerama had some wonderful pieces but they weren't all locally made. We also bought some locally grown coffee to give out as gifts.

It is true that I live in a city. I did however spend 18 years of my life living in a semi rural place and regulalry travel into the countyside. I enjoy bushwalking and camping, as well touring by car and pre semitrailer crash, by motorbike. I also enjoy fishing and photography which are both very "slow lane" pastimes. So your comment about my not being able to appreciate life in the slow lane is completely unfounded.

You say I stated that mobile phones were introduced in 1997. Not sure where you got that from. I actually wrote "last year". I was wrong in stating that as I actually meant to say a year ago. That is what a local told me. I guess having written the post in January and not December I must been stuck in the slow lane. For that I apologise and thank you for incorrectly bringing it to my attention.

As for needing a roundabout referendum and that showing that democracy works, well it's just seems a little absurd. If you have a referendum about something so trivial then you really have too much time on your hands. I wonder how long the debate was about the speed hump in the middle of it and which way it should be aligned. If I really want to get things done by local government I would start a petition or run for election myself.

You ask what Pitcairn has to do with it yeah? Considering the local population refer to it relentlessly, that all the "true locals" can trace their lineage directly to it, souvenirs are sold with Bounty motifs, there are staged plays about the mutiny and all the guide books and brochures state it as a major point of interest I'd say that it has a lot to do with it. "Being proud of heritage" Interesting. Let's refer back to my previous post in which that period between the mutiny on the bounty and the resettlement on Norfolk was abounds with dastardly deeds. These are the foundations on which the current population was built upon. I'm not saying that the current population is anything like that, but that is a part of the "heritage" and while you might find it ok to exploit the Bounty/ Pitcairn connection for profit you have to accept the rest of the story and acknowledge it, and therefore wear it. No place in the world is without skeletons in the closet, but you can't stand up and say that Pitcairn has nothing to do with Norfolk when it doesn't suit you. We visited somewhere new, showed an interest and learnt something new about Norfuk and Pitkern Ailen. If that doesn't sit well with you then tough.

Crime free Australia: Considering the non aboriginal population was made up of convicts and their overseers, much the same as the original Norfuk Ailen settlers, we could never be crime free. It's in our 'heritage', our original sins. Come to think of it Pitcairn was settled by mutineers who abducted unsuspecting Tahitians. Hmmm, it would appear we are all guilty in one way or another. Yes, one is able to leave cars with keys in the ignition parked on the street, but it would be rather difficult to avoid the authorities on a 8x6km island after having stolen one. I do indeed have to lock my doors when I leave my abode. That is what people do. That is why we have locks and keys and security devices yeah? There are plenty of ratbags out there who will take advantage of lack of security. That is also why we have a police department and judicial system.

In short, I only wrote about our experience in an honest manner and even left out other unsavoury experiences as I didn't want to harp on about how crap things were, but I feel you leave me no choice but to bring some more of these to light in order to underline our distaste.
That was our experience and we can only thank the local tourism infrastructure and operators for making it happen.

Fish: We went to an eatery which specialised in things oceanic. The fish served to my wife resembled a sponge that had been left in a bowl of cooking oil to soak up every last drop. I kid you not, you could have squeezed it and watched as the oil poured out of it. On another occasion we went to a higher end eatery and were served with the most delicious beef and lamb. Thinking that these people could actually cook, we returned to try some of their fish and pork. The fish was hard, dry, rubbery and resembled a cheap piece of slip on footwear in texture. The pork was tough as nails and resembled an old leather boot in texture according to my wife.

One particular lunch my wife was tucking in to a warm beef salad. She had only got a couple mouthfuls in when she realised that the salad component was about to walk off the plate all on its Pat Malone. There were aphids all through it.

The Italian eatery served her a ravioli dish in which the ravioli was not cooked through.

The leagues club would not serve lunch as we were a few minutes early.

(I must say that Dino's restaurant was the only place we went for dinner that actually had fantastic service, great food and a gorgeous setting. Highly recommend that one.)

The winery owner's attempts at humour came off as derogatory and arrogant quips about the city and country we live in. He seemed to think that he knew all that there was to know about wine and that the silly city slickers had no idea at all. Pardon me for questioning the warm and humid tropical like climate's suitability for growing good wine fruit.

The scenic flight's were off as the Cessna was due for it's 100 hour service and no one was able to tell us when that would happen.

Two kinds of fruit are available. Bananas and papaya. I understand that this a seasonal thing, but surely someone must be able to grow other kinds of fruit. Hell, if the climate is supposedly good enough for grapes then other fruit varieties must be a walk in the park.

Seafood. I was hoping that being an island in the Pacific I could sample some of the fine oceanic offerings. I was disappointed to find the prawns came from Queensland and the oysters from New Zealand. I can buy these at home anytime I feel the need.

Shopping. How many stores do you really need selling assorted trashy bric a brac like little statues of Spaniels, Chinese manufactured trinkets and novelties. If I needed Italian goods I could buy them here. If I wanted jewellery I could buy it here. If I desired Swiss products I could buy them here. A point and shoot 35mm film camera, now they're really popular.

Anyway, some friends have arrived and I have wasted enough time on this reply.
I hope this clears up any questions as to the validity of my opinion.

.

THE HONEYMOONERS.....

2009-01-12T21:28:00.018+11:00

Norfolk Island.

What a queer little place that little 8 x 6km pimple in the Pacific Ocean is.
I thought that the subtropical Australian territory would have some of the things we tend to associate with the Pacific like: pretty scenery, nice weather, friendly locals, tasty fruits of land and sea and a chance to relax after the hectic months leading up the wedding and end of school.

In some respects it was exactly that. With a low to mid twenties temperature and humidity levels not too oppressive and pretty scenery, it definitely lent itself to some serious R & R.
What did let it down was the appalling lack of decent food and generally poor service.
Tour operators who don't call you for days to confirm bookings.
Museums doors firmly locked at advertised opening hours.
Accommodation operators who double book your cottage and force you to find alternative accommodation for part of your stay.
Tourism Awards Gold Medal winning restaurateurs who serve deep fried duck spring rolls which are fridge cold inside, even after being told expressly that all food served must be cooked thoroughly due to my wife being pregnant. Not to mention the wine served in glasses which I assume were cleaned with skanky tea towels and smelled like they had been used by a brick layer to dry his armpits after a day on the job.

We tried to find some quality locally made products to buy as souvenirs for ourselves and friends but there was a distinct lack of any such thing. Most merchants were selling things that you could buy in any half decent sized city in the world, their only draw card being that it was duty free, which of course does not mean profit free. I thought I might be able to get a replacement digital camera body as I had dropped mine prior to leaving Melbourne and stuffed it. The lens wouldn't focus and the body was playing up. I took it with me anyway with a different lens and it worked for a few days before finally fizzling out into an unusable mass of formerly expensive metal, silicone and electronic components. But alas, I could not find the equivalent model. All I can say is thank goodness for travel insurance, which incidentally we will also be claiming cancellation expenses on due to my dear wife catching a cold and not being able to fly out on the nominated date. Instead our 10 day stay was cut to 7 and in all honesty I don't think we could have stayed there much longer.

The place was very backward in many ways. They only got mobile phones last year, TV in 1987, they have one roundabout in the main town area. They had to hold a referendum to decide whether to build it or not for crying out loud! And if that wasn't enough they put a bloody speed hump in the middle of it!

The whole island appears to earn it's main income from tourism and that consists mainly of retirees who are infatuated with the Mutiny on the Bounty story and Norfolk Island's link to this historical event by way of Pitcairn Island's population being resettled there in 1856, not long after the Norfolk Island penal colony was abandoned. All you hear from the locals is how they are 7th or 8th generation descendants of the 7 or so families that were resettled and the silver haired brigade just lap it up.
One interesting throwback is the local language which is a mix of ye olde worlde maritime English with a sprinkling of Tahitian. It almost sounds like a very thick Irish accent, but with some clearly unrecognisable words thrown in every now and again.
Like "Watawey yorlei?" (the local greeting) which translated would mean something to the effect of "In what way are all ye?" So from a linguistic point of view it is the only place you can hear English spoken in a way that resembles closely how it would have been spoken 200 years ago.

People seem to have some sort of infatuation with the Mutiny saga and all that's come from it.
As far as I can tell it all started when the mutineers took the Bounty, kidnapped some Tahitian men and women, found Pitcairn Island, burnt the ship and proceeded to kill and inbreed with each other. In 1856 the population was resettled on Norfolk and some of the settlers went back to that godforsaken rock in the middle of nowhere, Pitcairn, where they proceeded to inbreed and rape each other and each other's children for the next 150 years under the guise of living like good little Seventh Day Adventists, culminating in the sex offence trials.
It beats me how all this real life Lord of the Flies shit can possibly seem appealing to people, but apparently it does.

Our last night's dinner was had at another supposedly good restaurant where seated at the table next to us was the only genuine Pitcairn Islander on Norfolk. It turned out his father Steve Christian and brother Randy were charged, convicted and sentenced at the trials. This particular chap was also looking at having charges laid against him, but one by one the victims withdrew their testimonies due to family pressures coming from Pitcairn.
I was reading a book about the trials Pitcairn Paradise Lost written by a journalist who covered them, but I hadn't got to that part yet.
The islander was very friendly and exuded a natural charm. As far as I can gather, this is how Pitcairn Islanders buttered people up through the ages and managed to maintain that facade of Pacific Island Pious Paradise.

My opinion , for all it's worth, is that Pitcairn islanders have proven that they are unable to lead normal lives as either westerners or Pacific islanders. Their behaviour and consistent abuse of power and trust amongst themselves, their gross indecency and sexual depravity and their general modus operandi is very much the same as has been seen in weird religious cults and sects. One interesting thing is that none of the men offended when ever they were overseas, only in their community, which proves that they knew it was wrong,
The population should really be once again resettled on Norfolk Island where they can happily interact with their descendants and at least have an eye kept on them.
It would save a lot of money trying to prop up this pathetic remnant of the past and at the same time hopefully save future generations the misery and horror of what the present and previous ones have had to go through.
Having said all that, there was a minute portion of islanders who were not involved in the crimes, but not doing anything about them is almost as bad as having performed the acts themselves.

FYI, for people who have been living in the Pacific for over 200 years, the Norfolk restaurants have no idea how to cook fish.

The general feel is that the Norfolk islanders know where their bread and butter is coming from and appear to do the bare minimum required to separate the tourists from their money. The preferred method is to put everyone on collective tours. We found that trying to go it alone is not very fruitful and as a result we spent a lot time at the beach, swimming, reading, lying around. Very relaxing, but even though we were after some relaxation we expected it to be by choice not force, as there really wasn't much else to do.

Anyway, here are some photos:

The view from our cottage.

The bay where we spent a lot of time.

More time at the bay.

Surgeon's cottage

Inside the cottage.

Kingston Pier

More Kingston Pier

And now for some Kingston Pier boats:

Photography..........

2008-12-30T21:35:00.047+11:00

Honeymoon is over, and that is another story for another day. In short, all I can say is Norfolk Island is interesting. If you're 67 years of age. But that will be for another post.

Meanwhile, here is my end of semester folio as submitted for my photography course.
We shot in RAW format and there is no processing apart from converting the images from RAW to JPEG format, as we were meant to be learning about image design and camera technical skills.
Enjoy and stay tuned for the honeymoon saga .

Landscape

People

Architecture

Documentary

Still Life

Conceptual 1 (reflections)

Conceptual 2 (blur)

So there you have it.
Proof conclusive that I had actually been doing stuff apart from writing about it.
Oh, and my results were 5 High Distinctions and 1 Distinction.

.

MR & MRS......

2008-12-07T08:07:00.004+11:00

Officially married and all!!!!!
The wedding day has come and gone. It's been a week, but we are still savouring the moment.
I was a little afraid that it would all just fly past. Wake up, get dressed, wed, reception, home & sleepy bo bos. That was not the case and we were both able to really soak up the atmosphere and the enjoy ourselves.
As my father was not able to make it I wanted to set up a video call on the interwebs to Patagonia. The connection dropped out a couple of times but my trusty IT officer and ring bearer Gino was on the case and got it back up rather promptly. I was so relieved to find this out from my dad a couple days after the ceremony as we'd left the video camera at the apartment meaning we have no video footage of the event, apart from about 21 seconds a mate had recorded at the reception.
No biggie really as the main point of it was to have something for my father in case the link didn't work.

The ceremony went pretty smoothly and having Fr. Bob there really made it a lot less tense. He is the kind of priest who is more about the intent and honesty of the occasion rather than pomp and ceremony, which suited us just fine. His attempts to pronounce my name correctly were highly amusing to all as was his quip about the marriage certificate serial number on the back of the document: "Anywhere you go in the world, just ring this number and it will protect you from the terrorists."
I was a lot less nervous than I expected to be and the actual moment of our wedding just felt right somehow.
I knew this was the place I had to be right now in my life.
Very much like how I knew that something didn't feel right that day when I chose to ignore my intuition and go for that motorbike ride in March 2006.

As we stepped out of the church as Mr & Mrs K one last straggling guest arrived and asked if he was late. "Nah mate, you've only missed the whole thing."
He got lost and ended up in a nearby suburb, which is quite a feat considering he lives in Melbourne.

Time for some photos outside the church, many congratulations and then it was off to get some nice photos done by a couple of my fellow photography students, both of whom are very talented girls. Earlier that week the weather was looking like it might be rather inclement so I took the precaution of contacting the people running the car ferry service to Tasmania to see if we could do the shoot on the pier, given it has a roof. They said it was ok and I should just talk to the security people on the day to be let in. That was fine except that they didn't mention that it was not their security who would be passing judgement on the day, but the Port Authority. This high vis. vest wearing fascist said there was no way we were getting the wedding cars on the pier. We could go, but the cars stay. A phonecall to his superior yielded no results and we gave up on the idea and chose to do some carless shots on a nearby pier, which worked out quite nicely in the end.
Melanie, the bridesmaid did an excpetional job of looking after the bride, her dress and due to the high winds a partially self destructing veil, whilst managing to restrain her own outfit from going fully Marilyn Monroe on her in the blustery conditions, and managing to avoid sinking her heels in between the boards on the pier........mostly.

Then it was off to a little nearby bar / café for some well earned drinks and some more photos.

The reception!!!
Good time was had by all here and my favourite and most nerve wracking moment was when I serenaded my luverly with an old Sinatra number "I've Got You Under My Skin."
A couple of weeks prior, I sent out some CD's with the track on them and a letter of instruction outlining what I wanted to happen on the day. So without any rehearsal, I had Astrid ( from my very first band ) on guitar, her husband along with my mum and sis, some mates from the conservatorium days on kazoos and Brenton on the millet broom to provide some swingin' rhythm.
I started off with guitar, vocals and some finger clicking, proceeded to forget the line in the next verse ( something about the affair never going so well, which was really the only line in the song that didn't really apply to us anyway ). When it came time for the brass / woodwind solo section I pulled the luverly bride up for a short dance as the remaining musos pulled out the kazoos and ripped into the solo. Topped it off with the last verse and a kiss.
I think this is the 21 seconds of footage that was recorded on the phone camera. Might see about getting this up on Flickr.

About 21:30 the morning sickenss kicked in and the bride joined the fraternity of millions who have a spit at weddings. Being an experienced spewer now, she knows when it's coming on and has time to get to the WC.
From there it was a case of trying to bring the Black Cab booking forward and we ended up leaving about the 22:30 mark.

We really did enjoy the day and were so glad to have our friends and loved ones who were able to attend, over for the occasion. Especially those who came from interstate and on such short notice. Some people I hadn't seen in years in fact, but such is the strength of our relationships that it felt like we never moved apart, physically or emotionally.

Wednesday the 10th Dec to the 20th we will be on our honeymoon on rockin' Norfolk Island!!! for some serious r&r.
Then it's Christmas and New Year's.
After that we might have some time and energy to start planning for the bub that is due at the end of June.

Until we get some images back for the photographers, here are some shots from the Flickr account my little sister set up for us.
Many thanks go out to mum, sis, Bec, Amanda, Gino & Melissa, and all those who helped organise, decorate, entertain on the day.

In case of lack of posting between now and then, all the best for the Christmas period and hope you all have a cracker of a New Year!

.

ONE LAST NIGHT...........

2008-11-29T22:15:00.002+11:00

This being my last night as a single man I felt compelled to write something about it.
Our wedding plans have come to fruition and with some much needed help tomorrow at 3:30 I will be officially ending my single status and beginning a new life as a an expectant husband.
Sounds kind of weird when I put it like that, but that is the sum of it.

Had my bucks night last night and it didn't really turn out the way it was planned. We were going to race go karts and then hit the booze at various inner northern Melbourne locales, but due to some rather inclement weather the karting place cancelled on us, even though we thought they rain had stopped and were still keen to race. So instead we went on a boozy bender at the aforementioned locales, the last of which was a pretty dodgy place called the Croxton Park Hotel. This classy establishement runs over 28's singles nights every Friday and it was about 2 in the morning when we set foot in the place. Over 28's night sounds like it would attract some desperate people and by the time we arrived, there were only the really desperate ones that hadn't picked up but were still optimistically cutting the rug with some delusional expectation that by prolonging the agony they will end up in someones arms or loins that night.
By this point I'd had more than my fair share of beer, a goat pie + salad and some late night kebab whose contents I can't remember but which my stomach and arse kept reminding me of for the rest of Saturday.
Pissy dancing with the remaining 4 mates of my bucks crew took on a whole new face. I think we injected a bit of life into the stale dance floor and I can vaguely remember deliberately trying to dance with some of the blokes who were attempting to get a foot in with the girls but who clearly had no chance and were probably wondering why this pissed dude is trying to hit on them.
After a while we couldn't stand it any longer and just had to leave the seedy joint.

Today I have nursed a thumper of a hangover, met up with the best man, his wife an 6 month old bub, had a luverly meal on Lygon Street and now am about to sleep one last night as a single man.

Tomorrow is the start of a whole new chapter......

2 WEEKS AND COUNTING........

2008-11-14T22:09:00.005+11:00

What a fully hectic couple of weeks it's been.
The first week was spent basically mentally running around flapping.
The decision to bring the wedding forward seemed a lot easier to come to at the time, but after a while the reality seeped in and the truly daunting goal ahead looked further than I ever expected.
The big things were organised initially, like the venue, church, cars, photographer, etc. Snormaiden already had her dress so that was sorted, but so many things still needed doing.
Her morning sickness doesn't help either. Poor missy is spending a lot of the time gagging and the likes. I hate being sick, but can't even remotely imagine what it must be like day in day out.
I tried to tell her to look on the bright side, that it's a good abs workout, but I don't think she saw it my way.

The invites: we'd bought all the paper and necessary materials to make them but time was against us, so we opted for nicely made email invites instead. Originally the plan was to have deep red textured card with a piece of khadi paper on the front on which I was going to paint two storks / cranes using black and red ink. Inside was going to have a different transluscent white paper with all the writing. The whole lot was going to be slipped into black envelopes and sealed with a wax seal. Fortunately my sister, Bec and Snorky put together a really nice electronic invite.
These three also managed to put together a good play list for the reception. I originally contacted a Maori guitarist / singer I knew from Tasmania, but that fell through.
I'm still debating whether to have instruments at the wedding so we can have a jam, we'll see.

Mum has been fantastic in helping out, especially with the decoration of the reception venue. She has come up with some very simple yet effective ideas that will help personalise the room for us.

The suits!! Still hadn't sorted that out, so it as off to the suit hirer. Managed to pick out a couple of nice black numbers with textured black pin stripes, should do the trick. Need to get a good shirt too, probably do that when the best man arrives from interstate.

As it turns out my father will not be able to make as he is working at a mine in Patagonia. They had a day last week where the container sized portable office he was in was pushed a foot, later some more and after he evacuated, the whole thing was rolled and landed windows & door face down. The average wind speed for that day was 187km/h with the maximum at 250km/h, mind you the wind gauge only went to 250 km/h. He reckons in reality it was probably more like 270ish. Anyway, I digress. I think we'll be able to do an internet camera link up at the church so he can watch it live.

I managed to get two major end of semester projects handed in on time and still have my folio to hand in which I think is due in the Tuesday before the wedding.

Today we both got our footwear organised. Snorky finally found a pair of simple elegant cream closed toe medium heel numbers that she was pleased with. I on the other hand had great issues trying to find a pair of boots I liked and yesterday sent off a last ditch desperate email explaining my dilemma to RM Williams to see if they could help me with a custom made boot. To my eyebrow raising surprise they said they could manufacture the exact boot I was after and have it delivered overnight from interstate 4 days before the wedding. Pretty good considering that's less than 2 weeks away and their normal time for custom boots is around 6 weeks.

We have been leaning heavily on friends and relatives in terms of assistance and they have all been most supportive. It's good to know we have people we can count on. If any of you are reading this, we'll probably have to lean some more before this show is over!

Here's hoping the next two weeks ease up a little so we have some breathing room to actually enjoy the build up.

And here are a couple of shots from the Melbourne Cup "Run To The Hills" Camping Extravaganza:

WEDDING, PARTIES, ANYTHING........

2008-10-31T22:23:00.011+11:00

31 October 2008

Things have been rather busy lately. What with the semester coming to an end and end of term assignments due, as well as all the usual stuff that goes on.
You'd think that by now I would have built up an immunity to surprises, but as it turns out that's just not the case.
A week ago I was merrily doing the washing up when out of the bathroom comes Snorkmaiden. In her hand was something that resembles one of those little flat plastic stirring sticks you get with your instant coffee at late night petrol stations.

"I'm pregnant."

"Ok, let me just finish up the washing babe."

As it turned out she had bought one of those pregnancy test kits from the chemist and used up both test strips. Result: 2 positive tests.
Now, I wasn't totally in denial but I was hoping that maybe there was some weird biological thing going on that caused an overproduction of whatever chemical or hormone that sets off the test strips.
So, it was off to the doctor on the weekend for a blood test which should prove conclusively what we both suspected.
The doctor on duty was a strange cat I had seen before when I had the staples removed from my last operation. He looked like a cross between Tattoo from Fantasy Island and some sort of bad guy from a 60's or 70's James Bond film.
In his white old school doctor's outfit, which to me looked like a leisure / safari suit, he appeared like he'd been time transported to a time that was not his own.
After taking a blood sample he gave some encouraging words in his heavy Indian accent and we were sent off to await the results which we would receive the following Tuesday.

Tuesday 0830 hrs.
D day.
Test result: +
4-5 weeks pregnant.

Now, the wedding was planned for March 2009 and we had some things to think about.
Snorky didn't fancy the idea of having her wedding dress altered so much that it would require the cannibalisation of another outfit to make it fit.
At this point we had to make a decision.
Do we postpone the wedding until after the baby is born or do we move it forward?
We opted for the latter.

So many things to do, so many calls to make.
After calling our respective managers to tell them we would not be in for the rest of the day we started on the potentially impossible task of organising a wedding with one month to go.
As the financial advisor and the jeweller who crafted the engagement ring were very close to each other we paid them both a visit. The financial plan had to be altered to accommodate the baby that was coming a year ahead of schedule and the wedding bands had to be made up.
After that it was off to the church to see Fr. Bob McGuire. He was able to fit us in for the 30th November and considering it is a civil requirement to lodge an intention to marry at least 1 month before the date we made it with just a couple of days to spare. The reception venue couldn't give us the room we had booked and put a $1000 deposit on, but were able to accommodate us in another one. Considering the time of year and all the Christmas functions going on it was incredible that we managed to get in at all.
The wedding car people also made both the cars we booked available and despite the wedding now being on a weekend not a weekday, kept the same discounted rate.
After that it was off to check some suits for me and then to see the wedding dress people to see if they can still supply the dress on time and carry out final fitting / alterations.
That evening I spoke to the photographer who is one of my fellow students and she was also able to do the deed on the said day.

So, bar some smaller doable details the majority of the wedding was planned out and set in concrete in one day.
That day there were texts sent out alerting of the change of date and we were genuinely surprised as to the number of people who have committed to attending, especially with such short notice and with many coming from interstate.

I'm off for the annual Melbourne Cup Camping Extravaganza for four days in the alpine region of Victoria to camp by the
Howqua River.
Then back to work, school and wedding planning.

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ALL ABOUT KNOWING YER ARSE FROM YER ELBOW......

2008-09-29T21:54:00.008+10:00

I saw my pelvis surgeon last week, just for a routine review. I popped into radiology, once again got irradiated in the nether regions and made my way to his surgery. Max is a gun surgeon with a very straight up almost manic manner of discussing things medical, but combined with a subtle yet dry sense of humour. Upon walking into the surgery he immediately had to ask why my left arm was in a sling.

"You know how you said I should ride a bike to strengthen up my legs?"
"Yes."
"Well, I did. And I fell off and broke my elbow."
"OK, go back and get it x-rayed and come back."

So off I went back to radiology, and this time got my elbow irradiated. I walked back to Max's surgery, once again clutching a bag of films and presented them to him. He confirmed that there was indeed a fracture there and that I should remove the sling immediately and start moving the elbow in order to keep the joint mobile. Since then I have been pushing it out straight, squeezing it closed and rotating the forearm. I still can't get it straight or fully closed and I'm hoping that the pain is worth it in these exercises, but I'm really hoping I'll regain full mobility.

I might sound like I'm whinging a bit, and that may be the case, but I'm more annoyed than anything else. Annoyed at myself for doing it in the first place and annoyed at the fact that I can't use it for anything. Max instructed me not to drive for 4 weeks from the fracture date and not to use it for any lifting or straining. That sort of rules out its use in any meaningful manner. It hasn't stopped me shooting though and last weekend I spent a couple of days at the farm belonging to Snorkmaiden's folks where amongst other things I witnessed my first mulesing at a neighbouring merino farm.
This does not look like a very pleasant thing to go through if you're a sheep and it certainly put my sore elbow into perspective. I'd rather have a sore elbow than have the skin around my arse cut away.
Got photos too but unless someone specifically asks I will refrain from posting them for now.

Speaking of photos, I entered a pic in a competition at Brunswick Street Gallery and although I didn't win, I did make the short list and received and invitation to exhibit my photographs either late this year or next year.

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HELLO BENT FOR FRACTURE........

2008-09-16T11:19:00.005+10:00

The last few weeks have been incredibly busy, tiring, inspirational and painful.

Work has relocated to a nearby airport where the wind always seems to blow and always from the same direction, which leaves me scratching my head when it comes to the decision made by the architects and / or directors to put all the entrances on the windward side of the building. Ignorance cannot be used as an excuse as we already have a department there ( I worked there for a year) and the people based there are always talking about "how windy it is today."
There are many other screw ups like putting locks on all the internal doors which all open with the same key, workshop ventilation that creates positive pressure instead of negative which would extract fumes much more effectively, etc.
It is a much improved workplace compared to our other one but through lack of consultation with the employees and lack of common sense, has not realised the full potential it offered.

School has been gradually ramping up in the amount of workload required and the information offered which then has to be converted into practical skills. This has been made even more challenging as I have been crook as a dog for the last 3 weeks. What started as a head cold, got better then turned into a chest infection of some sort. I'd find myself having to leave class due to coughing fits, half blind, eyes watering, coughing so hard the I would nearly throw up.
A week ago I spent the weekend shooting on location 1.5 hours out of Melbourne at a school workshop. Sometimes we would be out in the middle of the bush and all you could hear echoing was my coughing fits. I didn't realise how physically demanding this workshop was until I felt my legs burn with lactic acid on the Monday. I really got reinspired at that workshop and it has changed the way I look, see and shoot.
I received an email from an organic tea manufacturer I shot at the workshop and she wants to use the photos on her new website, which would be pretty cool.

Saturday we had an all day class to edit the photos from the workshop. As I'd been crook the little yellow bike has been idle and seeing as I was finally feeling better I decided to ride the 10km into class. About 5 minutes into the trip home I had a car stop in front of me. I already had my right foot unclipped, but started falling to the left. I tried to unclip the left one but wasn't quick enough and found myself going down like a felled tree. First thing of course, the arm went out to try to cushion the fall but I jarred my elbow in the process. I picked myself up only to see one of the Melbourne tourist carriages drawn by two massive clydesdales bearing down on me. I got the bike upright, remounted, abused the taxi driver for blocking the road and continued on home. The elbow was feeling a bit secondhand but I got home, showered and made my way to Gino's house to meet Bones before we all headed off to the Judas Priest concert. There's something amusing about a 60 year old riding onto the stage on a harley, with a leather Village People cap, singing Hell Bent For Leather! With much alcohol I made it through the night only to wake up with a very, very sore elbow and only about 15 degrees of movement. Nurse Snorkmaiden insisted we go and have it checked out and after 2.5 hours at the emergency department in St Vincents Hospital I walked out with the news that I had fractured my elbow, not badly enough to warrant a cast, but enough to put it into a sling and out of action for some time. That was the only limb I didn't brake in the motorcycle crash!
Result? Off work for over a week and back to typing the blog singlehandedly again.
poo

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OF BIKES AND BIRDS............

2008-08-24T19:44:00.006+10:00

When I bought my loverly new bike I must have ticked the box that said "Would you like to receive extra dramas at no extra cost?"
After receiving the call last week with an offer of a new bike I told the dude at the shop that I will come in on Saturday and discuss the issue with him.
Two days later I get a phone call from the same dude telling me that for whatever reason they managed to get the shifter cable back into my bike frame.
Amazing what you can achieve when you have a crack at it.
So that Friday ( a week ago ) I drove to the bike shop after work and picked up the yellow two wheeled equivalent of a melodramatic diva.
That weekend I picked up Snorkmaiden's cold and didn't really get a chance to take the bike for a test ride.

Monday night we're having dinner when an almighty bang disrupted our meal. For all intents and purposes I honestly thought someone had thrown a concrete block at our door.
My second thought was that it was the schizophrenic man who lives across from us as he has been known to slam doors in the middle of the night.
It wasn't until the next morning when I found my bike with a flat rear tyre that it dawned on me.
The inner tube had exploded popping the tyre off the rim.
90 pounds per square inch makes a lot of bang let me tell you.
Wednesday I dropped the dysfunctional machine off at the bike shop to get a new tube fitted as it was obviously defective.

Today I took it for the first real proper run, a 42 km round trip to the bay and back with Snorkmaiden on Ruby, her redilicious road bike.
The bike went well. Nothing went wrong with it. It did everything exactly like it was supposed to.
About 300m from our destination I discovered that my bike possessed some form of telepathic communication ability with our fine feathered avian friends.
Coming into a roundabout I noticed some seagulls taking to the air and one particular one catching an updraft in a sweeping arc, it's flight path about to intersect my line.
It was all too late when I noticed that this bird was wearing goggles, leather helmet and a scarf flapping in the breeze.
Last thing I remember was hearing "Bombs away!" and seeing something getting closer and closer, it's shape indistinguishable and then splat.
Right in the middle of the handlebar was a fat baby chuck green and liquid white seagull shit, well most of it anyway.
The rest had ricocheted onto my left knee.
I was pretty lucky really, had I been a fraction of a second quicker I would have been munching on bird turd.
Thankfully the trip home was a lot less dramatic, although it did take it out of me. A couple of times my legs went to jelly and I was forced to get right down to the lowest gear on one hill.
Can't wait to see what the next outing will bring.....

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CAKES AND BIKES..........

2008-08-14T19:13:00.005+10:00

As promised, a couple of shots from the engagement party oooh, about a month ago now.

Note the original bubble gum machine engagement ring.

Since then, I have started my photography course. It's good to get back into that environment where I am surrounded by other people with similar passions / interests who feel strongly enough to pursue them at a tertiary level. In the last few weeks I have learnt new things which I am trying to employ in my photography. All in all it seems like I chose a good institution to study at, that being the Photographic Studies College, which has been operating for 36 years now and is one of the better educational centres in the country.

The bicycle saga continues:
After spending some time one Saturday in a bike shop I had test ridden about 4 styles of bikes and finally settled on one which I thought would best suit my needs and would be the easiest to live with.
I placed and order and spent the next few days giddy as a schoolboy with anticipation of taking delivery of my newest toy. I was looking forward to starting riding to work and for recreational purposes. I was confident I'd made the right choice in bike style that I could look forward to months and years of content panting atop the two wheeled contraption.
First thing that happened was that I received a phone call which informed me that the frame in my size was not available in yellow as ordered but only black. Upon enquiring as to the availability of a yellow frame I was informed I would be facing a wait until February. Boo for that I say. So, reluctantly I settled for a black one.
The next day I was told that the box containing my bike had arrived and surprisingly contained a yellow bike. I thought I got lucky.

On the Wednesday I hurried to the shop after work and picked up the new bike.
There it was all gleaming and new, she was an absolute picture!
I rode it home and on the way noticed that that top gear felt a bit clunky, almost like it wanted to jump out.
Along with the bike I'd ordered a bunch of accessories to tailor it to my wants. I figured the gear issue was just a matter of cable adjustment when I get the other bits fitted on the following Saturday.
On top of that one side of the axle moved forward and the the chain came off. Later we worked out that it was when the bike was detached from the wind trainer in the shop that one side of the axle loosened.

That Saturday I left the bike at the shop for a while, caught a movie, picked up the bike and rode home.
Top gear issue was now rectified, but I had a funny clunking in 7th and 8th of the 9 gears.
Not being bothered to turn around I figured I'll return the next Saturday to have it adjusted.

A week later I returned and asked to have the gears looked at again. I took off for a hot chocolate and returned to the bike shop. I was told the gears were adjusted and I went for a short ride around the block to check for myself. Indeed the 7th & 8th gears were now smoother but 4th, 5th & 6th were now clunky. On return I insisted the mechanic take it for a spin and my suspicions were confirmed when he walked back in with a rather concerned / confused look on his face. I once again left the shop and a short time later received a call. Apparently there was a little brass piece missing from the selector cable mount and it would require an inspection by the distributor. And so another week would have to go by before I could come back to the shop. I was given a loan bike and returned a week later.

Last Saturday I rode back to the shop and was presented with a completely new gear hub, cable and shifter. All good except that the old cable was neatly run through the frame from crank to head stem and the new one was tied with black cable ties along the frame. The beautiful clean lines of the yellow machine now resembled a rather unsightly wasp like creature. I pointed out my dissatisfaction with the repairs and asked that the cable be run through the frame again.
Today I received a call which explained that the reason for my having a new hub / cable/ shifter assembly fitted was that the cable cannot be detached and refitted. I was then told a new bike would be offered, but like the Ford Model T it could be any colour as long as it's black as there are definitely no more small frame yellow ones left now. Or I could go for the 8 speed model instead of the 9 speed one.

A week earlier I had a longer head stem fitted as the bike felt cramped. I'm beginning to think I was fitted to too small a frame to start with.
So the decision now is do I go for a small black frame, go up to a mid frame in yellow or opt for a yellow small framed 8 speed?
This Saturday I'm off to the bike shop again. That will take me up to one month since getting embroiled in this two wheeled debacle.
Who knows what that will bring.

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NOSE JOBS AND BIKE JOBS......

2008-07-18T11:18:00.009+10:00

So, the fiance is going well. Her nose is healing nicely and she doesn't look like a cocaine addict anymore.
A couple of weeks ago her nose had to have some routine post op. attention. Being still quite sore from the surgery I urged her to take an Endone ( morphine ) pill, as prescribed by the surgeon, if not for the possible pain then just to calm her down a bit. What the good doctor had in mind was to clean up her nose and remove the silicone splints holding it all in place. These are pieces of silicone about the size of flattened out dinner spoon. They are rolled up, inserted into each nostril and stitched into place. From experience I know that having anything post op. fiddled with can be painful which is why I urged her to take the pill. She however refused it and when the moment came found the whole experience rather painful and displayed the usual signs of someone who has gone into shock. The doctor sprayed some sort of cocaine up her nose, then cut the stitches and removed the splints, afterwards giving the nasal cavity a good sucking out with his miniature Hoover.
She just called to say that today's vacuuming was not as traumatic, good to hear.

Last weekend we had our engagement party. A fantastic time was had by all with eight people making their way from interstate to help us celebrate. There were photos, but due to my lack of interwebs access I'm unable to post them at the moment, hopefully later.
Highlights were: the cake made by my beloved's friend featuring Moomin kneeling and offering the original $1 plastic ring to Snorkmaiden, my drunken 'speech' ( using the term loosely as any kind of preperation was replaced by a short but heartfelt verbalisation of 'love you all, thanks for coming' ), the gorgeously prepared room at the pub that sells bad beer ( just quietly, they have some beer that tastes ok now, but I don't want to confuse anyone ) with candles everywhere providing majority of the lighting, the delicious platters prepared by the new Kiwi chef, the catching up with folk not seen for a long time. There were many other great things that happened that night, but I can't remember them. Too drunk.
Thanks to all who came and for the gifts, despite our instructions not to bring any.

I have been toying with the idea of riding the pushbike to work. I figured that if I have to spend time driving to work and going to the gym, I might as well commute on a bicycle and save myself the gym visits and some money.
Don't like the gym. It smells of dude sweat and the blokes tend to watch themselves in the mirrors as they touch their own chests / nipples, when they're not staring at the girls or hopping onto machines within their vicinty, and touching their own chests / nipples.
You get the picture....
I wanted a new bike that was more appropriate for that kind of riding and as I it turned out I ended up needing one instead of wanting one.
In the last week, I have been researching some bike shops / bikes in Melbourne and came across one shop which is running a blog about one of their workers who was cleaned up whilst riding and is now paralysed.
Tuesday, one of the blokes at work had his wife come in all shaken up after a cyclist ran into her and tried to get into the back seat, via the rear window.
Wednesday I saw footage of a road rage incident from the U.S.A. where a cyclist was run into by a driver and then left to cling onto the bonnet whilst the driver proceeded to keep driving to teach him a lesson.
Last night I got home to find that some junky had pilfered my push bike, the one I bought ages ago and ridden a couple of times. I found it wasn't right for me as the mountain style gearing was too slow, the seat hurt my metal reinforced arse and the bike was generally just crap.
I plan to go looking at bicycles this weekend, but am having second thoughts due to this weeks bicycle related incidents.
Maybe someone is trying to tell me something.........

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BACK IN HOSPITAL, SORT OF......

2008-07-02T16:08:00.003+10:00

My girly has been the subject of some poking and prodding at the hands of a surgeon recently.
Last Friday she underwent nasal surgery to correct a deviated septum, which was causing her breathing difficulties, particularly at night.
The poor girl had never undergone any surgery before, especially one involving general anaesthetic and as such was peaking out a little. Well, a lot actually. Any more and she would have been positively flapping.
Being a veteran of many surgical procedures I tried to instil in her a sense of confidence in the doctor's skills and alleviate her sense of dread, with some success I think.
As she was having the surgery through private insurance the location was in a well to do part of town at a clinic mainly used for tits and arse jobs I'd imagine. They must be doing alright as even the receptionist was driving a Lexus.
Mind you, you'd think with all that dough they could have hired a better interior designer. There were more shades of cream than on a dairy farm and the faux antique lime washed furniture produced an initial feel more akin to stepping into a funeral parlour. Not the impression you want to give in a medical centre I reckon.
We were ushered into a little waiting / change room which I imagined started life as a broom closet.
It was an interesting experience from my point of view as I had not really had to see anyone prep for surgery before, except myself of course.
The old familiar objects started to come into play, like the standard hospital arseless gown, the hair net, the little batch of pills offered to calm the patient, etc.
The anaesthetist introduced himself and explained the procedure and risks in regards to his part of the operation. He could have chosen his words better I reckon as his parting comment was “When you wake up you'll be in much better place.”
I had to enquire if he meant “A better room yeah?”
Eventually she was called in and I had to go and occupy myself for the next 3-4 hours.

A couple blocks down the road was a shopping strip where very well to do people, mostly fashionable dressed women with time and money to blow, parked their European marques and proceeded to blow their money on everything from overpriced antiques to overpriced baked goods , actually overpriced everything really.
I did poke about an pick up a 1958 recording of Sarah Vaughan live at the London House for a reasonable price, some canary yellow roses for my beloved, fresh lasagne and pasta for mushy dinners ( a must when convalescing, particularly from facial surgery ), a book on sight and how people see things, and some chocolate, one for myself and on one for the patient.
I'd brought the camera with me, just in case, but alas the most interesting thing I saw was a very well to do middle aged man park his European marque and disembark with daughter in tow. She in a private girls' school uniform and he in an outfit that made me suspect that his profession was interior designer to private tits and arse clinics. What kind of man wears a hot pink polo shirt? What kind of man wears a hot pink polo shirt tucked in? What kind of man wears a hot pink polo shirt, tucked in and with the collar up?

After returning to the waiting room I waited some time before hearing a request on the intercom for another nurse to help in transferring my girly to her room.
I was not prepared for the sight I encountered when I entered the room.
The poor thing was lying there with an oxygen mask on, bloody dressings around her nose and an ice pack covering her upper face with some sort of elastic fishnet holding it in place.
She was clearly drugged up to the eyeballs and still in quite some pain.
I have a pretty cast iron stomach at the best of times and have seen plenty of gross things in hospital, but for some reason seeing my beloved lying there in that state, unable to see, her hand squeezing mine so tightly because of the pain, gave me a queasy feeling.
She commented that all that stuff the anaesthetist said about not feeling any pain was a load of bull as she felt like she'd been smacked in the face with a cricket bat.
I knew what he said was a load of bull too, but I wasn't about to tell her that pre surgery.
Thankfully the nurses were doing their job and administering the correct painkillers and eventually she was even more drugged up, but in a bit less pain.
Thank goodness for sister morphine and intravenous liguid Panandol.
I put the roses in a vase and placed her favourite stuffed childhood beetle in her grasp.
After describing to her what the room looked like I spent a bit of time reading the book I'd just purchased, ironic considering its subject and my girl's temporary blindness.
Eventually the oxygen mask and the ice pack were removed and she was finally able to see.
As the night wore on I went home to an empty apartment, with the knowledge that she will be spending the night in the only sleeping position allowed for what was to be days to come, sitting up at a 45 degree angle. That brought back memories for me when I was bed bound and the only choice of position was between lying flat and sitting up at the same angle as her.

This experience gave me a little insight into how my own relatives and friends must have felt when the first saw me in hospital after the big bang and how dedicated my mother was in looking after me and making sure I was as comfortable as humanly possible in the circumstances.
I can never thank enough for that and can only hope for their sakes I am never needed to reciprocate the actions.

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THE SHOW ROLLS ON........

2008-06-17T12:58:00.005+10:00

My online neglect continues.
It doesn't look like I will be getting interwebs until August. In the mean time I will have to post sporadically as I go along.
The “House of the Dusty Chicken” is no more. Out of the four housemates, two are moving in with their partners, the other long term original housemate does not wish to take on the responsibility of running the share house and neither does the newest.
Which one am I? I'm one of the ones moving in with the partner. Fiance to be exact.
The big bang had forcibly and convincingly punched home the message of not taking things for granted and not procrastinating.
The last traffic collision when one of my customers rear ended me had underlined that message with a big fat red marker.
An so it was about a month ago that I decided to jump in the deep end and ask Snorkmaiden to marry me.
There are a few steps involved in something like this.
I would have liked to have performed the ritual complete with bling ring, but I couldn't wait, so :

Step 1: After dropping off Snorky at the 'place that sells bad beer' ( where we met 2 days before the big bang ) I took off to the local supermarket to find the nearest bubble gum machine. Having found one that I believed would suit my needs I popped in the $1 coin and turned the handle with anticipation. What came out of the little plastic container disgorged by the machine was something far beyond my expectations, and let's face it they weren't exactly high. I was so unimpressed that I fished for another $1 coin to feed the ever obligingly hungry machine and was rewarded with another little plastic package. Its contents were slightly more to my liking and I pocketed the offering with glee as I hurried to the car with thoughts running through my head as to how I was going to pop the question.

Step 2: On the way back to the pub I thought I would do well to observe the correct protocol expected by the future bride's parents and ask for her hand in marriage ( even better, everything else that's attached to it ), especially considering they live on a farm and own numerous firearms, including shotguns.
With excitement and nervousness I dialled the number and attempted to formulate some kind of coherent request, one whose structure I could hang on to as a psychological crutch as lay myself emotionally prostrate and subject my ego to whatever result may come of it.
Busy signal.......
I tried numerous times to get through with the same result. Someone was unknowingly sabotaging my attempts to complete step 2.
Dismayed, I thought I would have to leave it for another time / day.
As I slunk back into the pub I found Snorky on the phone. And with whom should she be gaily conversing with? Her mummy dearest.
Later in the evening, under the pretext of going for a toilet break, I once again dialled the farm. This time success was mine! I managed to get a hold of the woman who had brought my beloved into this world all those years ago. I was indeed given permission to marry her daughter and I didn't have to plead and grovel like a puppy in front it's master when there are cold meat sandwiches about. In fact her mum was delighted at the prospect of my joining the family. Step 2 complete.

Step 3: Armed with the $1 ring, made of some sort of gold coloured soft alloy and adorned with a plastic jewel green star in a claw setting which had actually cost me $2, and verbal permission from the hopefully future ma in law I waited till the moment was right. Due to the pub being our local and therefore many of our mates popping in and out willy nilly, I almost gave up on the entire procedure, however just as we were alone and about to leave I stole a quick glance in the direction of the open fire place to find it empty. I ushered Snorky over next to the crackling fire ,
Radiating its heat and bathing her in a warm glow it combusted away with a seeming solemnity befitting a witness to such an occasion. I hadn't really thought through how I was going to pop the question, so I just spoke from the heart and told her that she was the best thing ever to have happened to me and that I would love to spend the rest of my life with her and that I would be the happiest man alive of she felt the same way and agreed to marry me. It pretty much came out like that too. To my delight she said yes and I slipped the $2, formerly $1 ring her on her finger.

And that is how it happened folks.
In time we had a 'proper' ring custom made by a fantastic jeweller. We have also been able to find and secure a venue for the reception, a church, a priest and she has even bought a dress, the first one in the first shop she had found. Very unwomanly if you ask me.
I figured that for the reception we'll have some ipod selections playing in between performances on guitar, bass, piano and vox by myself and associated musical friends and relatives.
Should be sweeeeet.

Due to my moving into Snorky's 2 bedroom apartment I have had to perform a major decrappifying operation and get rid of a lot of stuff I'd accumulated over the years. Needed doing eh.

In between decrappifying and moving stuff, I' d been looking at photography courses and have found one that suits my needs. It is a tertiary advanced diploma which will take me 4 years to complete part time, but will hopefully enable me to change career paths. Should be starting that in July / August.

Somehow with all that going on I managed to get away for the long weekend one week ago. Bones and I took off into the alpine high country for some 'brokeback mountain' action before the roads are closed off for the winter. Just kidding, no brokeback action here, maybe a few broken cars along the way, but that is about it.
It would seem half the 4X4 population of Victoria had the same thought. Keeping it short, we got up and down some nasty and gnarly tracks which had even the most seasoned off roaders scratching their heads and wondering just how the hell 'the little Subaru the could' managed to get in and out of these areas which are considered solely the holy domain of trail bikes and serious 4X4 vehicles with recovery gear, winches and the like. One driver was positively in shock when he stopped us due to his mate having broken down further up one track. After asking him if I can get around the stricken vehicle I was met with a blank glazed over stare and eventually a reply of “I don't know, it's just that I haven't seen anything like this before.” ( referring to my kind of car in that kind of place. )

Anyway, got plenty to do fer now. Hopefully the move should be over in a couple of weeks and I can then concentrate on my new studies.
Ciao fer now.

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ALL'S NOT QUIET ON THE FRONT.......

2008-05-02T13:19:00.005+10:00

Been a little while since the last post, mainly due to lack of internet access.
Long and short of it is that I am now back at work full time and that has been quite tiring.
I haven't been doing much in the way of physio as I was waiting for clearance from my rehab doctor to return to that side of things, now that I have clearance and joined a gym I'm waiting for my physio to write me up a program.
Sheesh, a lot of waiting in this game.
I did however go for a bicycle ride last weekend which was quite bizarre.
Not the first time I've ridden one since the crash, but the first time I'd ridden one in the daylight and on the road.
My body was still in a motorcycling mindset as I found myself tucking in my elbows...... so I could see in the rear veiw mirror........ even when I don't have any.
Little things like that reminded me of how much motorcycling was a part of my life, not to mention the feeling of getting some speed up on two wheels.
I think it's the first time I have truly missed riding.

On the good side my court case has been finally settled, but not with out an ironic incident.
Wednesday afternoon I headed out from work to meet the Queens Counsel and my lawyer for the conference with the Traffic Accident Authority lawyers, which would hopefully settle my compensation case.
About a kilometre down the road I came to a roundabout and stopped at the zebra crossing to let a female pedestrian cross the road.
Next thing I know I'm being pushed towards the shocked woman by a Mazda 3 driven by one of my customers.
She didn't see me stopped and ploughed straight into the back of my car.
The tow bar on the back seems to have distributed the force on my car but punched the nose in on hers to the point that she had trouble getting out of the car as the guards were pushed right up against the doors and the number plate was all but torn in two.
Steam coming from her radiator meant she wasn't going anywhere except the back of a tow truck.
The force was powerful enough that my seat back had bent backwards and now I feel like I'm in a banana lounge everytime I get in the car.
A sore right hip and right side of the neck neck were the main injuries to myself and the driver had sore knees.
One other thing was that I had a returned numbness in my right arm, which all led me to believe that my previous injury was aggrevated.
Realising this, a big "Oh no!!!!" rang through my mind as I had to work damn hard last time to make my bicep functional.
Thankfully a couple of days later I'm feeling a lot better, the neck is still a little sore, but nothing a weekend away with Snorkmaiden won't fix.
On the setllement front, my lawyers performed fantastically and the compensation payout was more than I had imagined.
I do remember that when they told me about the initial offer there was no smile or sense of gratification, just a numbness and a wish that if I could swap the money for my previous body I would jump at the chance.
Anyway, that part is over and I plan to put some of that settlement towards a photography course and some more photography gear.

In the last few weeks I have made useful contact with vaious artists, photographers and curators.
Even my QC gave me a contact of an art photographer he has posed for! Handy that.
In the near future I hope to contact her for advice and then gather some photos to show to curators and discuss an exhibition, or at least the next steps, directions, etc.
Things roll on.

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EASTER AND NEW BEGINNINGS....

2008-03-27T15:48:00.000+11:00

Easter break was spent with some mates at Little Desert National Park. A nice little area which is not strictly a desert but desert like environment. Spent a little time going off road in Eleanor, mainly through very sandy tracks which required lowering of tyre pressures to about 23p.s.i. and a lot of low range low gear crawling. Got slightly bogged in the sand once an also got a teeny weeny puncture in the side wall from one of those desert plants that are as hard as nails. About the size of a pin it was, but enough to flatten the tyre overnight. The last night we had dinner and eventually retired to our individual tents as a lighting storm came raining in from the north west. Made for a cosy little evening.
Things are progressing well on the recovery front.
I am about to start full time back at work for the first time in 2 years.
There is still some more effort to be put in until I will be satisfied with the level of my recovery. I am about to join a gym in order to carry on some strength training, mainly in the legs region. In a few weeks I will be discharged fully from the return to work as well the rehabilitation programs and will hopefully look at finalising the legal side of things as I have finally been declared medically stable. I do experience a lot of pain at work, mainly from by back, right hip and that metal pinged nerve in my arse, basically I have to stop working a lot and stretch or walk around abit. That means that there is no more work the doctors can do on me to repair the damage caused. There will be one more operation later in the year, but that is some plastic surgery to reduce the size of the scarring on my right leg, which I'm hoping will also reduce the amount of swelling occurring there. I have to wait till at least May to speak to the plastic surgeon about that one and get her expert opinion on whether that will be worth doing or not, and of so how long it will take.
In the mean time I am happy enough to keep working at my job and keep learning more about photography.
I've just entered another portrait competition with some of the film photos from the outback trip. I feel I have a lot to learn yet, but am happy with the fact that there are now some photos which I would be willing to exhibit. I'll keep snapping and hopefully later in the year put on an exhibition. A talk with a pro photographer will help me crystalise my thoughts regarding directions I'd like to take my camera work and I'm also working on that at the moment.
This is what the start of my third year post smash looks like, let's see how it unfolds.

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2 YEARS AND COUNTING.......

2008-03-18T12:28:00.003+11:00

2 years today.
Exactly 2 years ago I had my second birth.
Once again I couldn't walk, couldn't get onto the potty by myself let alone wipe my arse, had trouble feeding myself, couldn't even roll over.
Two years on and I find myself in a much better state physically and mentally.
The recovery process is still in progress, but the end is nearing.
Both the rehab doctor and physiotherapist are talking of setting me up in a gym for a while to work on strngthening my body, a good step as it means I have reached another level in my recovery.
It has all taken much much longer than I expected or was actually necessary, but all in all I'm happy with the outcome.
I'm still expecting some plastic surgery on my lower right leg later in the year.
The surgeon who worked on it won't be back until May, but I don't want to let someone else at it as she did all the original work.
The plan is to reduce the size of the scar.
The surgery was performed when my leg was very swollen with the last stages of compartment syndrome.
It still swells up a lot today and I always wear a double pressure bandage to try to alleviate it to some extent.
I'm hoping that by reducing the size of the scar, therefore the amount of loose skin, the leg's ability to swell so much will also be reduced.
That should be the last surgery for quite some time I reckon.
So here we are, two years on.
I feel I have achieved things both medically and personally with which I'm happy with.
Now I can start to concentrate a bit less on rehab and more on living my life, developing my relationships with friends and loved ones as well my new found passion of photography.

Cheers to all who have helped and supported me on this journey.

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THIS IS THE END.......AND THE BEGINNING ......

2008-03-16T15:21:00.012+11:00

Haven't had access to the interweb lately and just sort of got back into work and medical appointments after returning to Melbourne. Hence the lack of blogging activity of late. So no I haven't been taken by a croc or some mad hitchhiker, just been slack. So here are the last few entries for the remainder of the holiday.

The previous night's camp and artesian bore spa near the camels.

Monday 25^th February.

After having breakfast, packing up my camp and wishing my two companions Wally and Jordan the best of luck on their trip, especially with the repaired tyre which was still up this morning, I went down the road to the where the camels were being held. I heard the distant sound of a road train earlier and figured they were going to be loaded up and carted off to Lybia or some place. It’s like selling ice to the Eskimo but apparently Australian wild camels are highly sought after in the middle east. Managed to get a few shots of the lads loading up the camels with my film camera. One particular one just did not want to go into the truck and after spending a good 20-30 minutes zapping it with cattle prods, waving plastic sheets at it and hitting it with plastic pipes, eventually gave up on him. I figured these were cattle folk and clearly had no idea about camel psychology. Not that I claim to know much about it myself, but the camels obviously have completely different mindset to horses, cattle or sheep. I did at one point stop near some wild horses and did that old thing where you ignore them and eventually the most curious / bravest one will come over to investigate and say hello. I really do think these camel wranglers could use a crash course in handling these animals. Interestingly enough the yard was made up of bits of rail road from the old Ghan track. My two companions form the night before also gravitated towards the noisy proceedings and found it just as fascinating as I did.

After that I made my way towards William Creek, a small community sporting an interesting bar, very expensive fuel and not much else really. Not like Maree the day before which had probably one of the oldest mosques in the country, originally built by the Afghan camel drivers who would transport goods across the harsh country before the advent of railways and trucks.

The rest of the Oodnadatta track to the opal mining town of Cooper Pedy was interesting from the nature point of view. Driving through the desert in the Woomera prohibited area used for rocket tests was magic. Later it got really sandy and I had to keep a good speed up to float over the sandy patches as well as the solid bits that were corrugated to hell. Eventually I made it to Cooper Pedy. Unlike the old school, small town feel of Opalton, Copper Pedy is heavily industrialised and the effects can bee seen everywhere. The hills that aren’t being mined have been previously. It has enough of a post apocalyptic look that films like Mad Max 3 and Pitch Black were made here. And of course practically everything here is underground. So tonight I’m actually camping underground. How novel eh? Reason is, it is so hot that everyone tunnels underground to beat the heat.

On the mechanical front, so far Eleanor had been going very well. The tachometer stopped working two days ago and today it miraculously started up again. Also, the cigarette lighter fuse keeps blowing when I plug the fridge in. I’ll have try and rig something to bypass the fuse box tomorrow. Otherwise I might have to move onto the canned food.

Or just go to a supermarket……

Tuesday 26^th February

Camping underground was certainly an experience. Much cooler than the outside, so rather pleasant in that respect. The actual “camp ground” consisted of a few tunnels off which there were3 walled rooms of about 5 by 5 metres. One issue that did arise was the amount of noise carried as an echo, but thankfully the other campers weren’t too rowdy. That evening I was booked to go for a tour of the mine. It was cancelled as there weren’t enough people booked. Had I known that I would have gone to the Breakaways mountain range just out of town for some sunset photography. Instead I went to the local pizza joint for dinner. The morning saw me up before dawn and over to the Breakaways where I did manage to get some nice shots of a lonely tree at the top of a ridge, on film though. I then went to an old school mine that had been restored along with the underground house. Due to the high temperatures in Cooper Pedy most dwellings are underground. Even churches, post office, etc. My overall impression though was that apart from being extremely tourism geared the place looked like one giant rubbish dump. There were piles of dug up earth, holes in the ground, bits of junk, broken cars and all sorts of crap lying everywhere. The intoxicated aborigines and unfriendly miners didn’t help either. After grabbing some lunch I decided tat I wasn’t going to stay another night. Instead I headed for Woomera, an old and still used missile test site.

The drive there was bitumen and not all that interesting. Once more I had numerous willy willies accompanying me along the way. I noticed a dry salt lake off to one side of he road and after spotting some four wheel drive tyre tracks I decided to have a looksie. Unfortunately an elevated railway track stood between the car and the lake. So, I turned around and headed back up the sandy hill. About 20 metres from the road I realised I didn’t have enough speed and got bogged. I got out my army surplus shovel, dug myself out and had a second and successful attempt. A few minutes down the road I spotted another dry salt lake and this time managed to drive onto and out if it ok. Eventually I got to Woomera and set up camp.

Seems the rest of the trip is now just getting home and I felt a bit sad really. The sudden culture shock of Cooper Pedy and its bitumen roads was a far cry from the quiet and lonely nature of the outback. You could drive for hours on end and only see one or two cars. Tomorrow I’ll keep heading towards Melbourne and see where the road takes me.

Wednesday 27^th February

This morning I went for a look around the township of Woomera. The boy inside wanted to check out the history of this fascinating place used by the British, Americans, Europeans, Japanese and of course Australians to test rockets, missiles, and various flying and space thingies. After checking out the outdoor displays in the town centre I entered the museum section. There I happened upon Jack Perry. He runs the show during the day. Having spent time in the army and then being posted in Woomera when with the Federal Police, he certainly knew a bit about the place and its goings on. His vast store of fascinating stories was only touched on in the hour and a half I spent with him. Stories like the Wirraway that crashed in the nearby salt lake around WWII. The bodies of the pilot and navigator were recovered the following day, but the plane had sunk into the salty mud and was only recovered 43 years later. Or the young chap who this year drove his car out to the lake I wanted to get to when I got bogged. He walked out but his car sunk into the middle of the slaty mud lake and is still there. Or the fact that the launch site is now off limits since 3 months ago. There were tours carried out there but now there is testing of something rather secret and noone is allowed out there. Shame for me as I would have loved to have seen some of it. It turned out that Jack and I shared a love of photography and he was quite happy to pose for a couple of portraits. He also informed me that he had just become a great grandfather for the 31^st time and in July is due to become a great great grandfather. He is also the only person I have met who has owned a Vincent Black Shadow, the fastes production motorcycle in it's day and highly sought after by collectors. Ok so he owned it for 3 days nefore his dad made him take back to the bloke who sold it and it was the only bike he ever rode, but what a cycle!!!

After my encounter with Jack I went to the visitor centre and saw the bowling alley the Americans had constructed whilst working out here. The old 50’s rock ‘n’ roll music being piped out of the outside speaker near the general store was a fitting soundtrack. The town looked almost deserted, but you could imagine it in its hey day when it was a bustling and thriving hub of activity with all sorts of defence and scientific personnel and their families all going about their cold war lives, designing and testing a plethora of weapons and aerospace projects. Safe out there in there in the middle of the desert like gibber plains of outback South Australia.

About 1pm I took off back on the highway and back towards ‘supposed’ civilisation. The rest of the afternoon was spent on the road making distance through some rolling but dry farmlands with the odd little town in between. I got to Dublin, a little village about half and hour from Adelaide and set up camp by the beach. It’s seems surreal that the last time I was on the beach was in Townsville, in the humid tropical heat, thousands of miles away. It’s colder here, more windy really and it’s the first time I have had to put something on top of my Tshirt since Tasmania.

Tomorrow I’m heading further south east down the coast into Victoria. Two more days of driving the coast should see me back home. By the time I get back to Melbourne I would have travelled through 6 out of the 8 states and territories, 3 time zones and thousands of kilometres.

Friday 29^th February

I decided yesterday morning that the Victorian coast road can wait for another time, after all it’s only just around the corner really. My friends up the east coast of Australia and the outback was what I’d really wanted to see and the arse end of this trip was all about getting home to my loved ones. So I drove all day against a head wind and got back to Melbourne just in time for the end of peak hour. I feel much more relaxed and comfortable with myself both physically and emotionally. I’ve had some room and time to think about things and feel ready to set some new goals in life and start attaining them. I also discovered I could manage a limping jog when out there in the desert, something I’ve not been able to do for nearly 2 years. I’ve had some really awesome photographic opportunities and met some real characters on this trip. I am a little worried about how the photos have turned out though. I just saw the 4 rolls of film I took in Tassie and quite a number of the shots are over exposed. I just hope I got some decent shots in the 9 rolls I took on the mainland leg of the trip.

Today It’s been a case of unpacking the car and looking at all the things I never used. Things like spare bits for the car, emergency repair pieces and equipment, spare food, spare water, fire extinguishers, etc. Not that I’m complaining! I did get to use the puncture repair kit and air compressor, even if it wasn’t on my own car. Can’t believe I just clocked up almost 12,000 kilometres with a lot of it on some pretty harsh roads and rough country and not one single puncture!!! Glad I got those all terrain tyres before the trip started. Apart form that little incident in Sydney when I discovered the split C.V. joint boot Eleanor has performed fantastically.

When I got back home I discovered a bloke mucking around with my old panel van. Whilst in Cooper Pedy I got a test form Gino saying that the council had put a sticker on it asking me to remove the vehicle or have it towed away and also that someone is interested in buying it. So I told him to go ahead and do the transaction. This bloke was trying to get the car started when I turned up at home, and although it hadn’t run in nearly a year, the old girl reluctantly burst into life. I drove forward a few metres and that was the last time I ever will. So the transition is now complete, from the old Ford panel van to the cross country Subaru.

A bit like me really. I’ve left bits of my old self to the pages of history and am now ready to start writing new chapters.

Try overtaking a 4 trailer road train fuel of fuel?

Bogged in the sand.

Out on the salt lake.

Old Jack Perkins.

And thus ends my little holiday.

DUST, HEAT AND MORE DUST......

2008-02-25T16:16:00.006+11:00

Friday 22^nd Feb.

Early start from Boulia today to try and get some distance in the cooler hours of the morning. All well and good but with all the photographic opportunities on offer that distance seemed to get longer and longer. I did get a bit of photographic goodness in and some of it required going off road and employing my car’s 4 wheel drivability to get it. I did in the end make it to Birdsville after checking in to a caravan park I made some dinner. Whilst waiting for the sun to get low enough to take some shots of one of the old buildings in the town I laid up for a bit of a rest in order to digest the two steaks that have been in the fridge since Sunday. All of a sudden I realised that it had gone dark and went outside to investigate. There was a sandstorm coming. High up in the sky was a roll of cloud coming straight for me. Never been in a sandstorm before. As the wife of the caravan park owner same over and asked me if I intended to walk to the pub or get a lift with her I nodded my head and kindly accepted her offer. Standing outside the Birdsville hotel with a cold can of beer the sudden heat of the wind driving the storm hit me. Like opening an oven only with much more force.

I ended the evening chatting to the hotel owner who was a keen photographer and four wheel driver. We swapped tips and I got some good advice about tackling Big Red, a sand dune about 40km outside of town. I might have a crack at it tomorrow and then continue on south to Maree. See how far I get eh.

Saturday 23td Feb

First thing I did this morning was to tackle Big Red which is the biggest sand dune in the Simpson Desert. Why? Because it was there. On my third attempt I managed to get tot the top of this substantial dune, and took a few quick photos as it was blowing hard and the sandstorm hadn’t really cleared properly.

Didn’t quite make it down to Maree. Got as far as Mungerannie Hotel which is about 400km south of Birdsville. Maybe I didn’t get enough local info about attractions and things, but there really wasn’t a lot going on. It could have been the remnants of the sandstorm obscuring things too as well. I did go through some of the roughest road so far though, not corrugated, not potholed, not anything in particular, just very rough. I was also starting to get that pain in the arse back again and at times my right hip was starting to play up, maybe it’s just too many hours at the wheel or something. I did end up having a couple of off road excursions though. All planned of course. I went to check out a river crossing, where there was no river flowing and then had a look at some hills covered in giber stones. The latter being far more visually interesting.

At the Hotel I decided to park up for the night. After setting up camp and cooking dinner I went back to the bar and ended up having a rather lengthy and lubricated conversation with the owners Phil and Pam. I will never the forget the annoying flies though. Insolent little buggers would crawl into your eye if you gave them half a chance!!!!

Sunday 24^th Feb

Early start once again to make the most of the cooler morning temperatures saw me driving in the remains of the sandstorm. I decided last night to head towards Cooper Pedy, about 600 km away. I got about 2/3 of the way there and decided to camp. Along the way though I’d had a lot of fantastic photo opportunities, mainly old derelict cars off the side of the road. Like the locals up this way they all have a story to tell. All these shots were done the film camera and required much focusing ( no pun intended ) due to the insolent flies once again trying to invade my personal space. The wind didn’t help either. I did come across some wonderful bits of human and natural wonders along the way: some bizarre sculptures in the middle of nowhere, and some springs in the middle of the desert. All highly interesting and fodder for my curious and artistic mind. I spent some time driving with more willy willies around me again and passed the long kilometres thinking about things like my photography, loved ones and mates of old who have passed away.

At the end of the day I pulled into a camel station to have a look at their natural artesian bore spa. There I came across a couple of blokes from Melbourne, who were camping up for the night. Turned out they had a flat tyre and no second spare so I got out my tyre repair kit and compressor and fixed it for them. At least it looked fixed, we’ll see in the morning I guess. They offered me some beers for which I was very grateful for and we spent the night drinking and talking crap like blokes do when they’re left to their own devices.

Tomorrow I will make Cooper Pedy and see what happens. Hopefully get to go and see a real working opal mine.

Unfortunately running out of time on this connection so have to fly, will try to load up more photos at a later date.

Current location:

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HEADING FOR BIRDSVILLE.....

2008-02-22T13:19:00.019+11:00

After a late start I made my way to Winton just in time to see a most amazing sunset. Along the way I spotted more flood damage, a few road trains and a surprising number of birds on the road, two of which met their fate at my bull bar. I stopped at one point to take some photos and only then realised why there were so many feathered creatures on the bitumen. The mesh I’d fitted to the bull bar in order to protect my lights from errant stones was now an entomologist’s wet dream. The variety of insects was only second to the variety of postures they’d placed themselves in during their final moments on this planet. Some parts of them even made it through the mesh and plastered themselves on the lights and bodywork. I’m not looking forward to cleaning the front of the car. Tomorrow I intend to pick some local brains about road conditions and various attractions on my route.

Strange traffic?

Tuesday 19^th Feb

I drove out of Winton to the only known site in the world where there is a fossilised record of a dinosaur stampede. It was interesting to stand there next to this story from millions of years ago, kind of makes you feel temporally insignificant. Today was my first lot of proper outback dirt road driving and I had to pay attention as there were quite a few sections of road requiring full concentration due to the water damage, cattle, horses, ponies, even standing and flowing water. Had the first proper creek crossing and it went ok. I then tried to drive to the ruins of a homestead and instead found myself at the door of the one which replaced it. There I met Nancy and her son Alan. They had just sold the 100 square mile pastoral property to their neighbour and were moving to Winton. They offered me cold beer and a chat, both of which I was very grateful for. From there I drove to a little opal mining settlement called Opalton. Unfortunately on the way I added a young kangaroo to the two birds and countless insects my car has claimed the lives of. Poor bugger didn’t die outright so I drove over his head a couple of times before his little heart stopped beating. I camped at Opalton and enjoyed a meal of Chicken fillets, mushroom, onion, carrots, corn on the cob and salad, washed down with some beer I managed to extract from the non licenced outpost.

Winton road train.

Nancy and Alan.

Fossil stampede!

Termites anyone?

Wednesday 20^th Feb

I started off with a quick morning chat with Anne and Ken who operate the outpost as well a couple of opal mines in the area. Ken was more than willing to share all sorts of stories from the area, including the nasty ones where people have murdered each other for opal / money, people who have gone missing as well as general stories about opal mining history. I bought a little polished opal from him and was also given a couple of little rough samplers.

Not long afterwards one of the locals turned up. Tarzan is an interesting character. Originally form Croatia he came to Australia in 1967. He’s been working in this area for 12 years. I was about to take off to fossick around for some opals when he invited me into his camp. Like all the other characters around here it was a bit rough, but obviously well sorted just for an old miner. As well as solar powered deep cycle batteries providing electricity for lights, radio, etc. it was sporting gas powered fridge freezer and stove. Essentially it had all the mod cons, they just looked a little different. Two caravans under a tin roof with a few little “rooms” with all sorts of bits and pieces lying around. I suggested we have a couple of the beers I had from the night before and that developed into a gourmet lunch into which we both provided food. Afterwards Tarzan was adamant I take some opals with me and just kept giving me more and more.

I did have a fossick and found a couple of low grade before leaving back towards Winton. I can see the attraction of mining for these little gems. They’re all individually beautiful and the chance of striking it big can be a huge motivator.

Tonight it’s bush camping on my own under the full moon and the southern stars.

Chalky, Ken, Anne and Eric.

Tarzan.

Let this be a warning.

Local birds hanging out.

Camping in the outback, nice eh?

Thursday 21^st Feb

This morning I charged my lap top off the car using the inverter, which is supposed to turn itself off when the voltage drops too low. Unfortunately the voltage got too low to start my car and seeing as I wasn’t parked on a hill I had to wait either for the battery to warm up and wait over an hour or so. Or I could flag down the next passing car which happened to be the Australia Post run. A little old lady who could hardly see over the steering wheel of her four wheel drive ute, had to be gently persuaded to pause her mail run to give me a jump start. Man when they talk about the mail getting through no matter what, they don’t muck about. Upon getting back to Winton I found some lovely vintage postcards from the 60’s and sent off a couple. After fuelling the car up I headed west to Boulia.

Half way along the 360km route is the Middleton Hotel, and that’s all there is there, but they do serve mighty cold beer!!!! Oh there are a couple of camels to draw the wagon, one racing camel and a helicopter used to muster cattle.

I proceeded onwards to a place where the ruins of an old hotel are accompanied by James Brown and The Cure. Driving through mesas then flat endless plains, surrounded by willy willies ( small tornados made of dust, the biggest I saw was about 30 metres across) was quite eerie, especially as there is hardly any traffic. All the locals give you a little salute as they pass too, ranging between the lifting of a finger off the steering wheel to a full armed wave. Anyway, the hotel site is also reputedly where you can see the Min Min lights, a strange phenomenon occurring for years and likened to an emu running around with a light attached to its bum. Upon arrival I was disappointed to find that the ruins consisted of and old graveyard, and lots of broken old bottles and some bits and pieces of tins cans and metal parts. It was getting ridiculously hot now and the hot northerly wind wasn’t helping any. I sat in the car and contemplated setting up camp but as there were no ruins to photograph at sunset and the possibility of seeing the Min Min lights was dubious I decided to keep going to Boulia. I was hoping to catch the sunset and photograph the old police barrack ruins, but the sun beat me to it. Tired, hot and bordering on dehydrated I turned around and headed to the local hotel. All I wanted was a cold beer, a steak and a room for the night. The beer was no where near as cold as at Middleton, the steak was pretty good and the room tidy enough, but the air con was a little asthmatic.

One thing I have come to appreciate is the fact that being the off season due to the incredible heat and rain, there are no tourists around. Mind you, I’ve not seen any rain since I left the coast on Monday, just hot hot hot, All the people I run into are locals and they are more than happy to share a yarn or two.

Tomorrow I head for Birdsville and check out some more desert like country.

Gorgeous country this!

More of the same.

A mesa, just like in the westerns!!

Valerie and her daughter at the hotel.

Rust in peace.

Outback grave.

Current location:

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Tonight I should be in Birdsville proper.

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COME HELL OR HIGH WATER...........

2008-02-17T21:25:00.005+11:00

After a very late night and decidedly drunk jam session on Thursday night with Glen I felt quite seedy, but very satisified.
I hadn't jammed with someone of his abilities for quite some time and it was an absolute joy to play some of our favourite tunes.

The following morning I took off on the two day trip to reach Townsville in time for Steve's 50th birthday on Saturday.
I wanted to get as many kilometres under my belt as possible for two reasons: 1) it would mean less k's the next day and 2) I was hearing reports of massive flooding further north, exactly where I needed to be the next day.
In fact the flooding in Mackay was some of the worst in nearly a century.
Over 6 metres of rain in 6 hours!!!!!
Surrounding areas were also flooding and the roads were being closed and there were also reports of salt and fresh water crocodiles being carried throughout the area by the waters.
I made it to Clairview after about 11 hours behind the wheel.

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The next day I pushed on north and made Mackay, although the waters had receded there was still evidence of the deluge that swamped the city.
I picked up a hitch hiker who turned out to be very useful indeed.
Upon coming across our first flooded area of road he instructed me to sit right up the arse of a semitralier and use the truck to clear a path through the water.
Pretty hair raisng stuff for someone who has never done it before.
After about three of these crossings we came to one which he claimed was the worst one, but was still confident we would make it through.
I put the car into low range four wheel drive and proceeded into the flood.
As we drove further and further into it I got that sinking feeling as the water seemed to be getting deeper and deeper.
At this point the hitch hiker proclaimed that he'd never seen it this bad before!!!
Not exactly what I wanted to hear.
A little later I dropped him off at a town and continued north.
Eventually I was getting closer to Townsville but I was aware that there was one more crossing to go and one of the locals had told me that if I went now I might be able to make it through.
Upon reaching this flooded road I saw a big line of cars ahead, so I moved up behind a semitrailer and went further towards the front of the queue.
There I saw a ute coming from across the flooded road and he told me not to go through it as he now had 4 inches of water in his car.
This was contrary to what the policeman told said to me.
He reckoned I might make it across, but his 3 tonne Landcruiser was being buffetted as the water wasn't very deep but was flowing fairly quickly.
Given his implied encouragement I had a go at it and managed to make it to the other side.
I got to Townsville at 3pm local time! Woo hoo!!
Townsville is much nicer than Gold Coast, it has character and hills, very pretty indeed.
Tomorrow I leave the coast and start my journey inland, heading south west towards the outback.

Current location:

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At the start of one of the crossings.

The end of the last crossing.

ALL THAT GLITTERS.....

2008-02-14T16:04:00.005+11:00

After getting away from Sydney at 2pm I finally arrived at my mate Glen's place at 2 minutes to midnight local time, so that's 11 hours driving for the day. Generally it went without a hitch, although I did cop a lot of rain and sat behind a semitrailer for about an hour an half. The coastal highway form Melbourne going norht is full of trucks, especially at night and they don't slow down or move for anyone. Merciless they are! I figured he knows the road better than me and I can just sit back and follow. Considering how hard it was raining and the possibility of collisions I felt it was best to use him as a buffer, if anything will go wrong it'll take him out first and hopefully give me a chance to avoid being hospitalised......again.

After a quick catch up last night and a big sleep in today I have finally had a chance to see the Gold Coast in daylight. Pretty much what I expected, full of badly dressed people who have more money than sense. They like flashy shiny things here.
All the canals make it look like some sort of McDonalds version of Venice, but I'm not here for that, just a chance to catch up with an old mate or two.

I'll be staying overnight and then proceeding on north. Two more full days of driving should see me in Townsville for my mate Steve's 50th birthday and then two days later I should be heading back south through the outback. Assuming everything goes ok, there's a lot of rain here and constant flooding, so we'll see what spanners get thrown in the works.

Current location is:

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DAY 2, THINGS AREN'T GOING AS PLANNED....

2008-02-13T09:52:00.000+11:00

Ok, so after a delayed start I made the 6-7 hour drive to capital Canberra arriving at 9pm Monday. Didn't leave much time to catch up with my mate Kate but none the less we shared a couple of beers and barbequed suasages at the Fringe Festival.
The next morning I was heading for Sydney a short 3 hour drive.

I have to include the very relevant story about a pair of driving lights I bought for the car prior to leaving for the Tasmanian leg of the trip. I had run out of time to fit them in Melbourne so I took them with me to Tassie and planned to fit them at my mate Scotty's mechanical workshop when doing the oil change and check over. Due to a slightly quirky nature of the headlight wiring in the Subaru and my running out of time I had to abandon the exercise and started packing the lights away. At this point one of them decided to part company with this world and even with my futile attempt to cushion its fall by placing my shoe between it and the concrete floor about to multiply the one piece of glass into many, it shattered. So now I had a pair of lights that were still not fitted or wired up and now one was smashed. I figured I will pick up another lens on the Monday before I leave for Sydney and just fit them at my leisure some time later.
Wrong! Not in stock I was informed, has to come from the supplier. Contact another store, still no luck. A cunning plan was hatching in my little brain, I'll just ring up one of their stores in Sydney and get one from there on my way up north. Apparently they don't have one either so it has to come from the supplier........in Melbourne. Fair enough, just get one in for me. I finally get to Sydney, find the store only to be told that the lens was ordered after the cut off time for overnight deliveries so it won't be in until Wednesday. Normally the delay would be a hassle but I had discovered another problem.

The right front drive shaft CV boot had split and emptied all it's grease all over the engine bay. It's not the delay the bothered me, it was the fact that this was the driveshaft I had replaced just before going on holiday because it was a bit dodgy. POOOOO!!!!! Anyway, the bloke at the shop with the lights made a call to a mechanic down the road to see if he could do the repair for me ASAP, and so here I am bloggin instead of driving the 900kms to the Gold coast near Brisbane, whilst Yousef fixes my car. All going well I'm hoping to be back on the road by noon.

Current location is here:
View Larger Map
A weird place with bogans, old ethnics, Indian fashion shops, more than enough sex shops for the area. The sooner I get out the better.
Here's hoping the rest of the trip will be more relaxing.

.

MORE TASSIE TRIP STUFF

2008-02-08T21:52:00.001+11:00

Saturday 2^nd February

After losing the car keys in the car and spending around 20 minutes searching for them we finally left for Salamanca Market. After perusing the various wares on offer we bought a couple of little gifts and then went on to meet David, Holly and Fin at the distillery where David works. A short walk to the fish punts on the wharf ended with a rather tasty meal of beer battered flathead fillets and chips. After bidding David and family goodbye we drove to Dover by the sea to catch up with my old boss, very good mate Neville and his wife Lyn. Yet more of my favourite Tassie beer was consumed and we dined on some gourmet sausages cooked on top of the cast iron Mexican chimenea.

Sunday 3^rd February

Leaving Dover we headed for my mate’s Woolfy’s place in Carlton also by the sea. Along the way we went for a drive up Mt Wellington which watches over Hobart like a tireless sentinel. Unfortunately there was rain and fog and once we reached to top we opted for a nanna nap atop the mountain. From there it was onto Woolfy’s for more fine Tassie beer and a meal cooked on the fire using a jaffle iron. Yummmyyyy.

Monday 4^th February

We left Carlton for the Tasman Peninsula, home of various convict era sites / ruins including Port Arthur, home of the massacre where 52 people were shot, I think 36 were fatalities. We didn’t go into Prot Arthur but instead opted for the coal mines site which was a place to send convicts from Port Arthur as a punishment for further crimes. Due to low quality coal, inefficiency and rampant homosexuality it was eventually closed down. The convicts would toil for 12 hours a day in the mines and were kept in solitary cells if they played up. If they still misbehaved they were placed in the underground solitary cells, not seeing the light of day at all. The British sure had some pretty wild punishments, yet the convicts still transgressed. The good thing about this site is it has not been commercialised to buggery like Port Arthur and one is left to wander throughout the complex alone, reading various informative plaques. We camped at Fortescue Bay for the next two nights with the second one being a washout.

Wednesday 6^th February

Headed up the east coast to Freycinet Peninsula and managed to get the last campsite available, which was vacated by the other people due to rain only an hour before we turned up. That’s zen navigation for you eh!! Still drizzling but very pleasant. Personally I am really enjoying the weather and even went for a swim where I found a sting ray about 2 to 3 feet across. I managed to scare him off and then continued swimming until another one twice as big turned up. At that point I calmly left the warm water and had a shower. Afterwards we dined on a lovely chicken pasta / curry with more Tassie wine and beer.

Thursday 7th February

The plan for the day was a walk to Wineglass Bay for lunch then a twilight sea kayaking trip around Coles Bay. Wineglass Bay derived its name from the fact that it is shaped like a red wine glass and because it used to run red with the blood from the whales slaughtered there in centuries past. During the course of the night the overcast and calm conditions were rapidly changed with a sudden change in wind strength, direction and an onset of rain in substantial quantities. The morning saw the sea chopped up into a froth and generally unpleasant conditions. As the time for our walk got closer the weather eased up some, but the wind was still strong. The walk was pleasant enough but the sea kayaking was cancelled due to the rough water. We decided to try our luck in the morning and instead opted for a trip to the local pub followed by slide show by a ranger about the beginnings of the universe as well as the plight of the Tasmanian Devil.

Friday 8th February

Thankfully the weather had calmed and we were able to go for a paddle in the kayaks in the morning. We made our way up the east coast with a stop at an oyster farm followed by lunch at the famous pancake parlour consisting of chilli con carne and chicken, camembert and blueberry crepes. I then drove to a creek in which I used to swim in a water hole years ago, but due to the amazing amount of rain over the last few days it was running quite strongly and was too cold for swimming. From there we headed into the northeast to have a look at the tallest white gum trees in the world, the biggest being 91 metres tall! Then it was for a back roads drive through forestry areas onto Launceston where we managed to get a room for the night at a hotel. Suitably knackered we showered and ordered a pizza to be washed down with more Tassie beer. Tomorrow is a trip to the food festival and then finally home by plane for Snorkmaiden and ferry for me.

I managed to reach a couple of milestones in my recovery on this trip. Completing 2 quite intense bushwalks to the summits of two mountains has been great physio for me and has enabled me to prove to myself that I am still capable of things I used to be able to do. It wasn’t easy by any means and I did it all without having to resort to painkillers. Seeing many able bodied people turn back so close to the summit of Cradle Mountain just made me more determined to get to the top and I was quite emotional when I finally reached it.

Oh and I’m still sporting mosquito bites from the 3^rd day of the trip.

Eleanor has performed solidly on this trip and the new off road tyres I fitted certainly gave us more confidence and ability to tackle the less travelled routes. As this trip was a bit of a shakedown for the outback trip I felt it all went rather smoothly. I have one day to unpack the car and repack it for the solo 3 week trip up to Queensland and back starting Monday.

Scenes from Tasman Peninsula

Convict ruins

Fortescue Bay

Freycinet Peninsula: calm and choppy then calm again.

The 91 metre white gum with Snorkmaiden next to it.

SHOTS FROM TASSIE TRIP SO FAR.....

2008-02-02T08:00:00.005+11:00

A very short version of events due to lack of internet time.
All in all, having a lovely time, varying between flogging myself physically and some leisure and sight seeing.
All the fancy views on the bushwalks were accompanied by Teh' Hoff so no photos until they get processed unfortunately.

Saturday 26^th January

Got off the boat bright and early into fog, which continued for ages and was as thick as pea soup at times.
Picked up my girl at the airport and made our way to Launceston where we went for a walk around the basin, which claimed my lens cap.
Then onto Cradle Mountain where we set up camp and met a couple of jolly Germans travelling the world on their BMW motorcycles.

Sunday 27^th January

Walked around one side of Lake Dove then up to the base of the summits.

From there to the base of Cradle Mountain.

Tackled the summit and managed to make it down eventually.

Walking back via Marions Lookout we encountered 120km/h winds as a southerly front moved in, dumping rain like it was going out of fashion.

The last two hours were spent descending in those conditions and eventually making it back to camp.

A good nine and a half hours.

Sore knees, right shin, right forearm, right hip and a bleeding knee where I’d opened up the surgical scar whilst rock climbing down off the summit, nothing a bandaid didn’t fix though.

Steak and vegies for dinner with a bottle of red, with visits from the local wildlife like possums, devils, pademelons and wallabies.

Monday 28^th January

Breakfast, shoot with The ‘Hoff’ at Lake Lilla followed by hurried breaking of camp and then a fairly swift trip to Strahan for the boat cruise to the convict ruins of Sarah Island, Macquarie Heads and Gordon River, camp at Macquarie Heads with the weird caretaker.

Tuesday 29^th January

Breakfast at Strahan, lovely pancakes with raspberries and blueberries. Made our way to Lake King William with stop over walks at Nelson Falls, Donaghy’s Lookout and Surprise Valley. Bathed in the lake and set up camp with fire and spag bog.

Wednesday 30^TH January

Hiked up to Mt Rufus, a 7 hour slog really, but worth it for the amazing views and flora. Had dinner at the Derwent Bridge Hotel where Snorkmaiden’s order was completely stuffed up, but a good well earned feed. Knackered afterwards, slept like a log.

Thursday 31^st January

Made our way to.

Went through my old home town of New Norfolk and then ended up in Hobart proper, where I finally managed to get a hold of some Cascade Red!!!!!

Caught up with my best mate Scotty and his pregnant wife Rachael.

Had a lovely dinner and catch up over a warm fire in the fresh country night.

Stayed the night with them up in the hills out of Hobart.

Friday 1^st February

Left Snorkamaiden to have a look around Hobart whilst I spent the afternoon at Scott’s workshop giving Eleanor an oil change and general check over in time for the trip to the outback.

Caught up with Snorkmaiden’s friend David his wife Holly and their 1 year old son Finnian.

Stayed the night there after bbq with Tassie beer and wine.

On the ferry.

Australia Day at the Basin.

The heads of Macquarie Harbour which is twice the size of Sydney Harbour.

Eleanor beneath the arsenic stripped hills of Queenstown.

View from Donaghy's Lookout.

Beware! Randy kangaroos from dusk till dawn!

The view from our camp at Lake King William.

Firefighting near Taralleah.

HOLIDAYS!!!!!

2008-01-26T05:33:00.001+11:00

Officially on holidays !!!!!
Just pulling into port aboard the fair ferry Spirit Of Tasmania II.
Crap night's sleep really, methinks not enough amber fluid was consumed at the bar last night.
I do prefer the sea travel as opposed to the imediacy of aeroplane flight and arrival, it's a much nicer way to adjust to the idea of your destination.
Anyway, after the last two weeks of my ring trailing out behind me as got everything ready I can finally relax.
Sort of.
Have a few bushwalks ahead, we'll see how the post op legs go.
Eleanor has received some loving too so she should be behaving herself on this sojourn.
Yay fer holidays!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WEDDINGS AND STUFF II........

2008-01-17T21:19:00.000+11:00

So, Christmas Eve was spent at my sister’s with her housemate and good friend Charlotte, Mum and Snorkmaiden.
It was the traditional Polish affair with all the typical foods reserved for that time of year.
The good thing about celebrating Christmas the European way is that one is allowed to open one’s pressies a day before everyone else!
After making the little ‘ears ’ ( little pierogi style stuffed pastries in the shape of pigs ears ) to go into the barszcz ( beetroot soup ) we tucked into the lovely culinary combination.
I was placed in charge of the fish.
From memory it was some sort of lemony creation with fresh herbs from my sister’s garden cooked on the barbeque.
Came out rather well I was told.
I was stoked to receive a T shirt with Moomintroll on the front from Snorkmaiden, as well as a gas cooker.
The latter went well with the gas lamp and pole from my sis.

The next day Snorkmaiden and I drove the 3 hours to her folk’s farm for their Christmas dinner.
Joining us there were her brother Anthony and a couple of the friends of the family.
Snorky’s mum cooked up a storm which included yabbies ( fresh water crayfish from the local farm dams ).
We spent a couple of nights there before making our way back to Melbourne
It was rather nice to be out of the city in the quiet countryside, does wonders for the soul.

Back in Melbourne I went on the hunt for a suitable tent for the upcoming holiday, which will see me cover something in the order of 8,000km.
The criteria were: one that would be fairly weather proof ( in case of inclement weather ), big enough to cook and eat in ( in case of inclement weather ) and quick to set up and pull down.
After some deliberation and research I found one for sale second hand in the local rag.
Having bought it I figured we should give it a shakedown trip so Snorky and I took of for four days into the high country.
We picked the last days of 2007 and it was darn good choice as the temperatures in Melbourne soared above 40 degrees!
She was a stinker!!!
I figured we lost about 10 degrees due to altitude, but that still put us above 30 degrees.
Good thing we were next to a mountain river as we spent a lot of time cooling off in the fast flowing waters.
The tent also allowed us to eat in relative peace due to its ability to keep the blow and march flies outside.
I can’t remember the last time I was bothered by that many of the annoying and biting insects.
One morning Snorky went for a dip and I watched a swarm of march flies surrounding and trailing behind her as she ran to the sanctuary of the river, not unlike some character from a Warner Brothers cartoon.
Even there they tried to bite her head, so from then on we wore bucket hats when swimming, that seemed to do the trick.

We explored some of the high country near Jamieson tracks in the Subaru.
I kept wanting to go and check more tracks and all Snorky wanted to do was go swimming, can’t blame her really, it WAS pretty hot.

New year’s eve was spent drinking by a fire next to the river with two couples also camping nearby.
One couple was around our age and the other markedly older, but both were pleasant company and we were more than happy to see the year out in this fashion.
On the return trip Snorkmaiden lived up to her threats of car sickness and we had to pause once we’d come off the mountain so she could expel breakfast.
Makes me wonder how she’ll cope in Tasmania as there are not too many straight roads down there.

One week ago we went to her sister’s wedding.
Pretty good as far as weddings go and a near disaster was avoided when the lead bridal car came very close to colliding with a motorcyclist who found himself on the wrong side of the road exiting a bend.
This happened about 5 minutes from the wedding location so bride and mum were a little frazzled.
Not they showed it.
The happy couple are on their honeymoon in Tasmania, which is where Snorky and I will be heading in 8 days.
We’ll spend 2 weeks there, camping, bushwalking and catching up with some of my old mates.
After that I’m off for 3 weeks on a trip to Townsville via the coast and back to Melbourne through outback Queensland and South Australia.
Should be epic.
That’s if my arm heals up ok, as it seems to have picked up an infection in the last few days.
The doctor has prescribed a course of antibiotics which should do the trick.
Knees are still very sore and the walking in Tasmania will be a bit of a test as well a form of physiotherapy.
I'll be taking my anti-inflammatory pills as well the morphine ones just in case.
Currently I’m going through some last minute preparations for said trips with just a few things left to do.
So far so good.

.

BUSY BEE MONTH.....

2008-01-14T16:36:00.000+11:00

The last few weeks have been rather busy.
There was Christmas, New Year’s, two weddings and a camping trip.
Somewhere along the line I’ve been also managing to fit recovery into my busy schedule, returning to work and planning my holiday which starts in two weeks time.

Wedding No. 1 was that of my mate David and Joyce.
They’d been seeing each other for less than a year when David was hit by an oncoming car as he was travelling home on his motorbike.
According to the car driver, it was raining very hard and he was behind a semitrailer.
Because of the spray off the semi he decided to overtake as he couldn’t see where he was going, straight into the David’s path.
Work that out, you can’t see the road so you overtake, hmmmm…..
Combined speed of the two vehicles was 200km/h.
I think it says a lot about Joyce and their relationship that she chose to stick with him after he lost his arm.
His medical recovery is still going on with more surgery planned in the near future.
When he asked me to be his best man I was naturally honoured and wasn’t going to miss that because of some surgery!

I drove up to Lake Boga with Mick Dabbs riding shotgun.
It was he who originally asked me if I would go and speak to David when he was in intensive care.
The trip was not uneventful with the biggest downpour I can remember making driving nigh on impossible at one point, and turning overhead passes into waterfalls.
It was coming down so hard that even with my wipers on full speed all I could do to stay on the road was to fight my way through aquaplaning and follow the vague blur of grey of the highway in front of me, which was challenging enough as the sky itself was as dark as dog’s guts.

Having made it through the deluge I attracted the attention of a copper in Kerang, who booked me for travelling at 82km/h in a 60 zone.
The entrance into the town was marked with firstly an 80 sign, then 60, then a road works sign, then end of road works, then 80 and finally a 60 sign, all within a few hundred metres.
It was the last 60 sign which I failed to register.
Why I don’t know, but it was dark by then and we were nearing the end of a 3 hour trip and I thought I was doing pretty well considering I’d just had surgery two weeks prior, so maybe my concentration was lapsing by that stage.
The plod reckoned I was sitting on 82 all the way according to his radar.
Of course I was as that is what I thought the speed limit!!!!
I tried to explain to him that this was the first time I’d ever been to his little town in the middle of butt fuck nowhere and that the signage was pretty confusing and that I was actually on my way to a wedding of a mate I met in road trauma rehab, but this scrooge was determined to throw the book at me.
In the end I thanked him for the $220 / 3 demerit points fine and wished him a Merry Christmas.
Arsehole…..

Anyway, the wedding was fantastic.
Very informal with Joyce wearing a band new pink and white set of motorbike leathers.
Joyce, her father and the bridesmaids all turned up on motorbikes and David on a trike.
The bits of the vows to do with ‘in sickness and in health, till death, etc, were especially poignant and the two of them couldn’t help but giggle their way through it as they’d already done all that.
Another chap present was Damien, one of my old cellmates from rehab.
He had a head on with a semitrailer and like David and myself, is still recovering.
Good to see him and his wife Angela as they live in the country and I haven’t seen him since he was in town last to have some surgery.
It was also really great to meet some of David and Joyce’s relatives and friends, the people who have supported them in the last year.
David, Joyce and the kids are hoping to buy a new property in Bendigo, with horse agistments to rent out and to buy a taxi licence as a source of income.
I’m sure their new life together will be less trying than it has been lately.

Photos coming soon....

DAY 3, 4 AND WEEK 2......

2007-12-17T12:49:00.000+11:00

Day 3
It started with my breakfast not turning up.
It would appear that the surprise wasn't just the menu but also whether or not the food would actually arrive.
After lamenting my lack of sustenance I managed to persuade a nurse to 'look into it and get the kitchen to bring something up'.
The post breakfast shower was an ordeal in itself.
I'd forgotten the ritualised plastic bagging and taping of limbs and involved and just how long it all takes, and how it isn't really waterproof.
The short walk to the ensuite was aided by the nurse and I carried out my morning ablutions relatively incident free.
The pills had worked and Sister Morphine's school bus turned from solid to liquid like Audrey Tatou turning to water in the movie Amelie.
I managed the shower by myself apart form having the nurse do my footsies, but noticed a lot of blood collecting in the bag around the left leg, figured it was just all the bandages getting wet and the previous two days bleeding slowly seeping out.
With the plastic bags removed we could feel that the left leg had indeed received moisture and a change of dressing was in order.
I'd had the right leg redressed the day before with some funny clear super sticky dressing I've not seen before which was to make its presence very noticeable some time down the track.
So after bleeding all over the floor on my way back to the bed the crimson bandages were swapped for some fresh ones.

Some time later a physiotherapist strolled in with walking frame.
This enabled me to shuffle around by myself, butt cheeks once again flying the breeze and afforded me a little more freedom, not there was much to see or do around the ward, but at least I was mobile again.

Some highlights from that day were a visit from the girls, with Snorkmaiden visiting later again after some shopping and putting on an impromptu fashion show for me, very nice, I like.
The phone rang and a non familiar number appeared, area code from South Australia according to Snorkmaiden.
Who the hell could that be?
Last thing I wanted was some telemarketers calling me in hospital.
Turned out to be Jeff, who so kindly let us camp next to him in Blanket Bay, just calling to see how the surgery went and wishing me all the best.
Loving old bloke he is.

Day 4
Once more, the surprise breakfast didn't turn up.
I was feeling heaps better and the end of my stay in hospital was in sight.
All I needed to do was to hassle a lot of staff repeatedly to get things moving.
Whilst waiting, I decided to write some notes about last few days and found the nerve damage to my right thumb had given me the ability to write like a drunk man, I'd lost a bit of strength and control in that area of my hand, time would tell how much I get back.
Sometime in the early afternoon I was finally discharged, so I wandered down stairs and hopped into a cab with my newly acquired walking frame.
The frame lasted a day and was swapped for crutches pretty quickly.
It now serves a very useful purpose as a towel rack in my room.
Although not totally sorted I was glad to be out and Snorkmaiden had kindly taken a couple of days of work to give me a hand around the house.
Managing all the day to day tasks would have been possible if not very slow, but it was so much nicer and easier having her around.

1 week later
I managed to jump on a tram and walk the half mile or so to 'the place that sells bad beer' for Friday night drinks, albeit with a crutch for support.
This was the same route I took 8 months ago when I was just starting to walk unaided again.
It was difficult and I could have murdered a beer by the time I got to the pub.
My recovery was progressing well, although I had noticed that my right for had dropped since the surgery.
I'm unable to lift it up and it sort drags if I don't raise my leg high enough.
Makes me look like I'm trying to walk through the water with one flipper on.
I'm hoping this nerve damage or whatever it is will come right over time.

Not realising it until I started writing this post, this 1 week after the surgery marks 1 year since I got my walking licence back!

Week 2
Hit a wall on Sunday and Monday, feeling very sore, lethargic, yet couldn't sleep much.
Tuesday I had an appointment with a specialist surgeon for a medical assessment, why I don't know as I was in no state to be physically examined for my work potential / incapacitation.
On the way home through the city the opportunity arose to do some Christmas shopping and as tired and sore as I was I figured wearing myself out would enable me to finally get some sleep that night / evening, or even resort to a nanna nap!

The staples were starting to give me the irrates and after driving my car to the local medical clinic, itself a challenge, I asked to be seen by the nurse to have the offending little metallic mites extracted from my skin.
Upon removal of most of the dressing we noticed that the incision on the inside of my arm was inflamed, as was part of the incision on my neck, but the staples were well ready to come out.
The doctor gave me the once over and the nurse received the thumbs up to remove the staples.
It was going ok with a couple of the staples being a little overgrown by flesh, until we got to the right leg.
Remember that funny clear dressing?
Well it was totally inappropriate as not only was it sticking to the staples as the nurse was trying to peel it off but also had the same effect as having your leg waxed millimetre by millimetre.
The last part was by far the most painful and accompanied by grunts, red face, bated breath and completely overshadowed any pain from the actual staple removal.
Had I not suffered enough already to be put through this ordeal? *raising back of hand to forehead, whilst tilting head back and to the side like some precious thing from a British period drama*
107 staples later ( I counted and felt each one as they were removed and the nurse counted them later ) I was given a script for antibiotics and sent home to chill out.
I'm to see the doctor again on Thursday to check if the inflamation has died down.
At the end of it all it's been a relatively incident free surgical procedure and recovery, here's hoping it continues like that.

This weekend Mick D. and I are off about 4 hours drive to Swan Hill way, for David's wedding.
Those who have been reading this blog for a while will remember him as the chap I met in rehab in August 2006, who like me was involved in a motorcycle crash, but unlike me had last an arm.
He asked me to be the best man some time ago and I was a bit worried the surgery might have rendered me incapable of attending, but I reckon I will be alright.
I may not post much over the Christmas period so I would like to extend all the best wishes to you for your festive period.

.

SURGERY DAY 2......

2007-12-17T10:21:00.000+11:00

Day 2
A fairly uneventful day really.
Spent most of it in bed listening to the radio, reading when I could and bleeding from my knees / legs all over the pillows underneath.
I did get a wash in bed and the only bits I needed help with were my back and feet.
Still rather sore and still making use of the morphine pump.
There was only really one goal for that day and that was to walk to the toilet unaided and see if Sister Morphine had managed to reverse park that school bus in my colon.

During the course of the day I managed to check out my other roomies.
Apart from Amanda there were two others: an old Indian bloke who wasn't big on conversation, but was big on making unintelligible noises every once in a while and the Russian bloke next to me, whose curtain was always drawn and I only knew him by his heavily accented and drugged conversations with the nurse and relatives.
He reckoned he used to be in the Russian special forces, but that could've been the drugs / surgery talking.
From what I could gather he had part of his skull removed, the reasons for which I couldn't work out but it must have been fairly serious.
I mean, they don't just remove part of your noggin for some flippant reason.
His wife was treating it very seriously and the poor chap was on the receiving end of fairly regular tirades, in Russian of course which made them sound even more intense.
Not quite sure if this was helping his recovery.
She had a funny habit of walking past my bed and staring out of the corner of her eye at me and my visitors, like I was up to no good planning some revolutionary activities and she would have to make a call to the KGB regarding 'the strange foreigner in the bed next to her husband'.

As far as the food goes, I was relatively surprised at the fact that I could recognise it and how edible it was.
This was a huge difference compared to the last time I spent time in the Alfred hospital.
At lunch the girls ( Ma, Sis and Annemarie ) arrived bearing more tasty goodness, namely rye bread, beautiful ham, luverly bits and pieces from the bakery.
We had a good old munch out and the rest went to the fridge for ron.
Looking back I don't think I ever actually filled out any kitchen menu and received the meals as indicated.
This was fine by me as each meal was a surprise in itself, and as I mentioned before, being quite edible helped in actually stuffing it down my throat.
After lunch the nurse came to redress my legs and remove the drain tube from the right knee / muscle graft area.
This one came out fuss free, unlike the two I had removed post pelvic surgery in November last year.
Gino and Mel popped in for a visit as well, nice.

Only other thing of interest was a trip to radiology to get all my surgery related sites blasted with x-rays once again.
That x-raying itself took 3/4 of an hour.
I'm hoping to get a copy of the cd's when I go back for a review in early January.

Later that evening, after a few more Russian tirades and a surprise meal, the young nurse informed me that there was a neurosurgery patient coming in and seeing as I'm the only trauma patient I would have to get shifted to another ward.
In preparation for the move I decided to see if I could get up out of bed and visit the toilet.
After a hit from the morphine pump I was helped out of bed by the nurse.
I couldn't bend my legs due to the swelling and the staples on my knees, so I had to swing them out of the bed and then lower them to the ground until my feet felt the cold hard linoleum surface.
I then stood up, well more moved forward and stood stooped like an old man, unable to straighten up.
From there all I could manage was to shuffle my feet slowly and complete a 90 degree change of position in order to lower myself into the commode chair ( wheeled toilet chair ).
I asked the nurse to get one ready in case I couldn't manage walking, turned out to be a wise move on my part.
After failing at the first part of my goal I was wheeled into the toilet and proceeded at failing on the second part.
It appeared that Sister Morphine had managed to reverse park the school bus, what's more she was an expert at touch touch parking, leaving no room for anything to move in or out.
After some time I gave up, asked to be wheeled back to my bed and requested a dose of whatever was going to shift the blockage.
An hour or so later I was in a wheelchair being rolled down the corridors towards the new flash short stay ward, where I was to spend the remainder of the time in a room all to myself.
We entered a very long corridor linking the main building to the new one and it seemed to stretch forever, with no visible doors on either side.
It was at this point that I had to ask the orderly if this was where they take the patients for organ harvesting.
I took his answer to be true, or at least something to put me into a false sense of security, I imagine calm organs are preferred to stressed ones.
Thankfully he was telling the truth.
This new ward was a bit quieter than the other one and generally pleasant enough, but I still couldn't get much sleep.
So far so good.

to be continued........

.

SURGERY DAY 1........

2007-12-13T17:56:00.001+11:00

This was the last photo I took before surgery.
The night before the surgery we had a little barbeque at my place, mainly for family and a couple of the housemates.
Marinated chicken and sausages with onions and mushrooms cooked over charcoal along with some fresh bread rolls and salads.
All fantastic grub I must say and just the thing to fill my tummy before that night's fasting.
I had learnt of a photographic competition that day and my only opportunity to do anything about it was that night.
So after the dinner Snorkmaiden and I took off to shoot the Bolte Bridge as that was the subject of the competition.
I soon relaised that my tripod attachment was on Teh 'Hoff and that was being serviced in the shop, so I had to improvise by shooting from the roof of the car and various structures like pylons and the like.
After driving around the docks we found some prohibited areas with container trucks being unloaded by forklift trucks.
I snapped off some shots and returned home where I spent some time reviewing the photos then picking and editing the one shot I could enter.
Not sure when the results come out, but hey at least I had a crack at it.

December 7th, 06:45 I arrived at the hospital and checked in at the appropriate ward.
A nurse came and took my blood, man I thought she was digging for gold or something, jab jab, stab poke and she finally got some of the precious crimson liquid.
After some preliminary interviews I was seen by the surgeon to be assisting in my operation.
All went well until he flicked through the notes and suspected that there was no plastic surgeon booked to lift the muscle graft on my leg.
For a moment I thought that the operation might be cancelled due to the lack of this crucial medico, but after a while I was informed that a plastic surgeon had been roped in at the eleventh hour.
Phew......

08:45 I was issued with an arseless gown and pointed towards a room and told that theatre was calling for me and that I need to get changed pronto.
I shut the door and stripped off everything including glasses, my earing and my grandfather's wedding ring and once again felt the sailcloth like starched material of the gown on my skin.
After a while a got up off the chair and went for a look through the window, not much to see there but some roof, rain and pigeon shit.
Still no one came.
Eventually I was pacing the confines of the 4x4 metre room, bare feet, butt cheeks flying in the breeze like some psychiatrically defective baboon extra from One Flew Over A Cuckoo's Nest.
I opened the door to see if what was going on and shortly an orderly turned up with a trolley / bed for me.
I hopped on and we took off to the familiar recovery room.
There I was met by my main orthopaedic surgeon and an anaesthetist who'd worked on me a few times previously.
The surgeon informed me that the plan was to removed the plates from the clavicle, tibia, radius ulna and the rods from inside both femurs.
He would attempt to break my ulna with his hands, if it didn't break he would leave the plate off, if it did then a bone graft and replating would take place.

09:30 I was rolled into theatre.
There I was placed on the operating table and attached to various machines that make all those beeping and pinging sounds.
The anaesthetist attached a line to me, gave me a shot of morphine and I once again felt the metallic taste in my mouth and was half way to having the nods, like I'd felt many times before.
Pretty soon it was on with the oxygen mask, a dose of the sleepy juice and I was out of it like a date rape victim.

12:30 I awoke from my artificially induced slumber fairly abrubtly as I was still being wheeled from theatre to recovery.
I was absolutely freezing!
Shaking like a dog shitting tacks I was, no worse, downright convulsing on the trolley.
Pretty soon I was in recovery and blanket after blanket was being piled onto my spasming body.
Eventually my body core temperature rose whilst a nurse administered doses of morphine for the pain that was beginning to make its presence felt more and more as my mind was becoming less distracted by the cold.
I lay there for some time with regular checks of my vitals and had a fantastic conversation with my nurse.
The surgeon paid me a visit and gave me the good news: all metal removed, no bone graft necessary.
Woo hoo!!! The only piece of metal left was the one in my pelvis but that's not coming out.
After some time I began to wonder how long I would be spending there and was informed that they were trying to find a bed for me.

17:30 I was informed that a bed was finally available and that a nurse would be coming down to grab me.
Funny thing was that as soon as he set foot in recovery my blood pressure started decreasing.
After a check with the anaesthetist on duty I was administered a glucose solution to increase my blood volume, as I'd lost a fair bit in theatre.
I lay there watching and willing my pressure to go up and with each automated measure it would go up a bit, then down a bit, then up some more, then down a bit until it was relatively stable once again.

19:00 I was finally transported to the ward.
Watching the signs on walls I noticed we may be heading towards the neurosurgery ward.
I was a mildly suspicious and asked the nurse what other parts of my body were operated on and he told me that the only bed left was on that ward.
And so I came to be on the brain surgery ward, where I mum, sis and Snorkmaiden were patiently waiting.
Luckily I'd placed and order for some soup with Snorkamaided earlier as I knew I would be ravenous and there was not much hope getting something from the kitchen.
I felt pretty good really, a little tired and sore, but I had my old friend back.
The morphine pump.
This time I vowed not to abuse it as my arse still remembers the little pump's ability to put a halt to my normal digestive tract functions and park a school bus in my colon.
That night I spoke to Amanda diagonally across from me.
She was a 31 year old mother of three who had suffered a brain bleed rendering her right side paralysed.
It was a condition from birth and there was a possibility it would happen again.
She was slowly regaining motor skills in that side and as plucky and stoic as she was I still heard her crying at night.
I got off lightly I reckon.

to be continued.......

.

PHOTO OPS..........

2007-12-13T17:20:00.000+11:00

As promised, here are some photos from the trip to Blanket Bay:

This Mad Max like character was behind us twice.
I got Snorkmaiden to take a shot of him the first time which didn't work out, but the second time she got him good!!!
He even had a heeler next to him just lke Mel Gibson.

The stubborn koala in the middle of the road, his mate had more sense and walked off fairly promptly.

Jeff who accommodated us on his camp site and his brother John.

My little sculpture by the sea.

My little Snorkmaiden by the sea.

Snorkmaiden looking at a crab shell she found whilst fossicking around rock pools.

The crab shell itself.

The next morning's photographic shoot down the beach saw Snorkmaiden capture this beauty on my digital camera whilst I rooted around with Teh 'Hoff.

Leaving on the last day we stopped to snap some of the koalas in their natural environment and highly bizarre poses.

Towards the end of the Great Ocean Road there is this iconic house which was built some 30 years ago I think. Built by an engineer, it stands erect and isolated on the hinterland slope and was recently sold for a princely sum. The bearer column is longer than visible and the house only accessible by the little walkway.

Next post I'll write some about my actual surgery and some post surgery antics.

BLANKET BAY STYLE..........

2007-12-12T18:56:00.000+11:00

About this time last year I made sure I got one last decent camping trip before the next surgery.
This year was no different with Snorkmaiden and I managing to get away to Blanket Bay for a couple of nights one week out from the scheduled surgery.
That place is always awesome and I feel a certain affinity with it.
We got away about half past four on the Friday, thinking that we'll beat the weekend traffic jam out of Melbourne, especially the one in Geelong which never fails to annoy the hell out
of me.
I managed to stick behind a truck that was the same year and model as the original Optimus Prime from Transformers for a good portion of the freeway.
Being a professional driver with a much higher view of the road, the humble truckie can pick the fastest moving lane and spot obstacles from a far greater distance than yer average road user.
If there is any trouble up ahead you can always brake faster than a truck, if things get really nasty then you can expect the truck to clear a path in front of you as it bulldozes its way through people's cars and lives.
Funny that I was able to use to my advantage the very thing that had put me in this position in the first place.
It wasn't so bad on the motorbike, I would slice and dice my way through the hordes of metallic hulks like yet another one of those fangled slicing and dicing machines you see being flogged to death on tv infomercials.
It was inevitable that the Geelong bottleneck would slow us down and so we trudged our way through it along with all the other cars, not unlike some herd of sheep with glazed over eyes slowly making their way through the yards towards the shearing shed / transporter / slaughter house.
Only difference being that the people in their vehicles were a little happier than normal, probably because it was the end of the week or they were heading off to a weekend away somewhere.
I've called my car Eleanor the Emo, because Eleanor was the name of the yellow mustang which gave so much trouble to the thieves in 'Gone In 60 Seconds' ( the original not the rubbish remake with Nic Cage's wooden acting in it ) and Emo because it seems to have a habit of breaking down.
Thankfully it hasn't taken to cutting itself.
I've had a few issues with it which could have been rather costly but in the end turned not too badly.
Much like emos, the problems weren't as dire or catastrophic as they make them out to be.
Anyway, Eleanor performed flawlessly and we made good time, arriving about three and a half hours later.

Just short of Blanket Bay is the little section of bush where I camped earlier in the year, the one full of koalas.
As we rounded a corner I cautioned Snorkmaiden to keep an eye out for the little grey bundles of tourism attraction due to their rather prevalent numbers and sure enough as we exited the corner onto the straight there were two of the stoned looking blighters sitting smack bang in the middle of the road ( if you've ever seen one you'll relate to how the hours and hours of chewing on gum leaves gives them that out of it look).
Eleanor stopped just a few feet from them and we ooohed and aaahed at the marsupial's clear indifference to the one and a half tonne of metal, plastic and flesh that could well have been the last thing it saw in its short stoned existence on this planet.
I revved the engine.......... nothing.
I beeped the horn.......... still nothing.
I flashed the lights.......... still more nothing.
I revved the engine, beeped the horn, flashed the lights and pleaded with the critter to get off the road, yet still the arrogant and stubborn mongrel of a thing would not budge.
Finally I decided that I will take a photo of it as a keepsake and proceed to drive around it.
As I stopped next to it, I opened the door to get an up close and personal shot and what do you know, it didn't like the flash of the camera!
As soon as I started clicking away it walked away!
Cheeky little thing.

We arrived at Blanket Bay proper only to find that a geriatric bushwalking tour had taken most of the camp sites.
There were literally no spots left!
We drove around a bit, with me cursing and voicing my displeasure at this commercial enterprise spoiling it for the greater camping public.
We were just about to leave when we decided to explore a little side road, which I was sure contained no spots and led back to the main camp loop road.
Sure enough it did exactly that and as were once again first geared our way through the camp site an older man, probably in his sixties, motioned for me to pull over.
He asked if we were stuck for a spot and offered to shift his camper van so we could pitch up behind it.
His act of camping kindness towards a couple of sundowners more than made up for the herd of geriatrics who had invaded and occupied the place like seagulls at the rubbish tip.
Turned out he was touring with his brother and his wife, who had an almost identical camper of their own, and they were heading off the next day.
He was a lovely bloke from South Australia with whom we shared some interesting conversation that night.
Turned out he also had a metal rod in his femur, but it was put in about 30 years ago and was still in there due to failed attempts at removal.
The screws had fused to the rod and were immovable, which is exactly the sort of problem my experimental tibial plate is supposed to overcome.
As a result of all the carry on, Jeff had spent six months in hopsital, in a bed!
My initial stay in hospital was seven months, two of which were in a bed.
I could not imagine what it must have been like to be laid up for 6 months, not being able to set foot on the ground!!!
The next day we exchanged photographs and Snorkmaiden worked out how to enter my number in his phone on his request.
I received a phone call from him a couple of days after my surgery enquiring as to how it all went. ( more on that later )

The rest of the time we spent going for walks, taking photos, swimming in the ocean, all that relaxing sort of stuff you go away to these sort of places for.
My right leg had been giving me a lot of trouble in the week leading up to this trip and I suspected it was all to do with the metal in there.
It was really wearing me down physically, but luckily it had come just about right by the camping time, bit still stopped me from doing any longish walks.
I made another stone sculpture in my favourite sculpture spot, although this one didn't seem to last all that long really as the next day it had toppled over.
That night we went to one of the communal fire / barbeque spots and joined a group of people about our age for some fine dining, drinking and with the help of my guitar some rather drunken singing.
It was really nice sitting there eating our barbequed meats and salad with a view of the coastline in the sunset, it doesn't get any better really.
A couple of bottles of wine later and Snorkmaiden and I were ready to hit the tent.

The next morning after a sunrise seaside photography expedition, we cooked breakfast and were assaulted by countless flies.
The annoying shits were getting into everything and in the end we resigned to sitting in the car to finish off our food.
Even then there were still a half a dozen that managed to get in the car.
After breakfast we went for another swim, although being earlier in the day that water was a bit more bracing than the the afternoon before.
We broke camp and headed back to Melbourne via The Great Ocean Road this time.
Normally I would avoid it like the plague due to the number of tourists and other people who can't drive that seem to fill this well scenic but, normally overpopulated drive.
For some strange reason it was relatively clear this time around and we actually managed to enjoy the trip rather than bitch and moan about that tourist stopping in the middle of a blind corner to take a photo, that old upper class toff in his Range Rover loafing around like some motoring equivalent of Jabba the Hut, the European backpacker driving on the wrong side of the road ( there are actually signs on the road stating which side we drive on in Australia specifically aimed at them! ) or the massive tourist coaches coming around corners on your side of the road.
Once again I stopped at Anglesea and we munched out on some luverly fish and chips before heading back through Geelong and into Melbourne proper.
All that was left was 4 days at work and then surgery on the 7th December.
It all went well and I will post more on that in the next few days along with some photos from the trip which I'm having trouble uploading due to my current ( hopefully temporary ) downgrade to a dial up internet connection.

:)

.

ALL GOOD NEWS!!!!

2007-11-27T19:24:00.000+11:00

A couple of weeks ago I went off to get a dose of high octane $8 dollars per litre rally action at the last round of the Australian Rally Championship with one of my former colleagues Brad.
Last year I was confined to a wheelchair with limited one legged + crutches action.
I even managed to get both my wheels locked up and was sliding on a collision course with a parked van on a dirt road at one of the spectator points, at which point my mates grabbed a hold of the runaway wheelchair in time to avoid yet another smash with another automotive form.
This year my ambulatory skills were much more honed and I was able to get some better pictures, especially after I scored a Media Pass for myself and Brad who spent the time taking photos with his disposable camera and phone whilst climbing trees for better viewing, fretting about the snakes, spiders and bull ants in the bush ( he's a Kiwi ) and trying to protect himself form the incessant dust in the dry conditions.
Here are some shots from boy's petrol head weekend out:

This is the car that came second to my mate Dave in the Tassie State Championship.

This car had more hits than Michael Jackson and retired at the end of day one.
Note the black tape holding the front together and the extra dent in the side in the shot below.

Brad in the tree.
And battling the dust:

Good news all round I say.
After having my surgery cancelled at not quite the 11th hour I now have a confirmed date of December 7th.
I received the letter on Monday with all the information, which is much further than I got last time.
It still doesn't mean it's a definite as there is the possibility of getting bumped off while I'm lying there in my hospital issue arseless gown contemplating life without most of my internal scaffolding, but at least a positive step.
Recovery is always a bit of an unknown, but it could be anything from 3 days in hospital then home, to a week or two in the rehab hospital that was my home for 6 and a half months, to complications which could render it a much longer and more testing time.
I'm well fit physically and mentally!
Bring it on I say!!!

I've also started a new role at work helping in the spare parts department and later in the week will be making inroads into my main position as the warranty claims clerk.
It's not the most challenging work but it does get my away from the freak show circus that is the service department.

Teh 'Hoff has developed an issue with the lens, it won't allow me to use more than 2 aperture settings, it'll have to go in for repairs and service.
There have been a few more rolls of film put through it with varying results, but the good thing is I'm learning more and more with each roll, so to me it is time and money well spent!
Not got much to show digitally except for one photo I had blown up and printed for Snorkmaiden.
So here for your enjoyment is a little Melbourne street action:

The household is taking new shape with interviews finalised tonight and a new candidate chosen.
Rebecca is a 27 year old from Bris Vegas ( Brisbane ) who's come back from 2 years overseas and will be replacing the former non bill paying feller who had the social characteristics of a mute Indian hermit swami.
I think she'll fit in nicely with the three of us and the two blood thirsty hens.

.

GRAMPIANS: VERSION 1.22.......

2007-11-16T13:16:00.000+11:00

Day three: I found I'd had the Melbourne truly knocked out of me and was contemplating finally attempting a walk of some description, whilst following the exploits of our little sailing craft in the Grampians Regatta Mark II.
This time we decided to use gum leaves as sails for their waterproof qualities.
Once again Jade's modest craft performed best and afterwards the little boats were taken home as souvenirs of the event.
My original plan was to spend the days in the Grampians going on short bushwalks and gradually building up the difficulty and lengths of the walks, but the two days of rain kind of killed that idea.
So I found myself with one full day left and no walkies having been achieved.
I made a decision to tackle a familiar walk, found this little description on the web by a pommy couple, it provides another opinion / version of the hike.
Having only one walk to choose, I picked one that would be challenging, rewarding and true test for my battered and still recovering body.
My trusty sidekicks Gino and Geoff C. accompanied me on the trial and this time we we took 600ml of water each, smart I thought.
I knew it was going to be hard, but I figured that knowing the walk would help mentally get me through it.
So I packed the 3 water bottles, my camera, a medipac consisting of two small bandages and a bandaid and set off.
I spotted a pack of jelly snakes on the table, just bursting with sugar and told myself not to forget them, good little energy snack those.

The ascent was hard.
The initial sandy 1/4 mile out of the valley lulls the unknowing into a false sense of security, but suddenly the path turns markedly more vertical and more scramble like.
It then follows the base of the cliffs for quite some time, never straight, never flat, never easy, always going up or down, then makes another major ascent towards the top where there is some more up and down before the final little tilt at the summit

The lack of strength /control in my right leg meant I was having to use my arms more to help and also plan my steps with great care.
I didn't realise until this point just how behind my forearm is in the recovery stakes.
Being forced to use it to pull myself up and brace myself when going down I felt the flexing in the ulna, which is only held together with the metal plate and is due to receive bone grafts in the next surgery.
The level of strength in it was noticeably less than my uninjured left arm and the pain only made it more difficult.
The left arm wasn't too bad apart form some discomfort from the back pack strap rubbing on the collarbone plate.
The knees, especially the left one that sounds like a pop corn machine, were giving me grief as was the right hip.
A few times I was forced to stop and consider the best options to get across certain sections because I'd found myself trying to take the most 'normal' path, as I would have last year.
Many a time I would stumble and catch myself, somehow managing not to fall or roll and ankle or do myself some other harm.

Nearing the summit Geoff proclaimed his hunger and enquired as to the availability of any food.
That was the moment I realised I'd left the bag of jelly snakes back at the camp!
Doh!!!
Like starved desert island shipwreck survivors we started fantasising about food.
Geoff had a hankering for chocolate covered licorice bullets, all I could think of was a fat juicy peppered steak and Gino in true wog style was preoccupied with images of dripping souvlakis.
Quote: "What we really need is a souvlaki joint here and another joint that sells beer 500m down the track."
I couldn't agree more.
We pressed on and made the summit where we sheltered from the bracing wind behind the summit marker rock pile and enjoyed the sensational views going out to the flatlands as far as the eye could see.
After sending some text messages ( there was a brief moment of reception, so why not? ) we headed back down.

I thought the going up was hard, but the lack of energy and the constant assault on my joints on the downhill sections made for a very painful experience.
The stumbles became more frequent and the orthotics I have been forced to wear in my boots were starting to squeeze my toes like a WWII Japanese Colonel with a bench vice in a Malay P.O.W. camp.
Many a time pangs of pain would shoot through my joints as stepped the wrong way, or had to hop onwards to prevent gravity and momentum from taking me down like a South Central gang member.
Towards the end I found myself getting more emotional than a gay man finding out his favourite Laura Ashely pillow case had been ruined in the wash.
Whether it was the exhaustion or the fact I'd made it in one piece, or the realisation that my planned 3 day bushwalk in Tasmania was pretty much out of the question as I had trouble with such a light pack, I really don't know.
The fact that I'd managed to complete this walk, as painful as it may have been, was a definite marker in my recovery, especially when you consider my state at the camping trip one year ago.
I'd managed to get something I did before the crash, back again.
That was really the ONE thing I wanted to get out of this weekend.
We made it back to the car and drove back to camp where we were greeted with the fine smell of bolognese sauce simmering over the fire.
After much more alcoholic consumption I turned in for a well needed rest.
I slept very well that night and the following day we packed up all our belongings and headed back to Melbourne.
Another successful Melbourne Cup Camping Trip ticked off.
AND!!!! I won the grapple with gravity!!!!! Yes!!!!
I felt sore but good for the rest of the week, until I received the news that my surgery had been cancelled, with the next available but unlikely date being 21st December, failing that January sometime.

poo
is all I have to say to that now

The new and improved boats.

The 'track', this is one of the easier sections.

Above us, the cliffs. Nice little sheltered rest spot.

A rocky outcrop at the base of the cliff.

And it was a long way down, more than my lens could capture.

Some flora near the summit. Cute eh?

one of the angles from the summit, looking back towards the Grampians.

The sidekicks.

Photographic evidence of my little journey.

GRAMPIANS: VERSION 1.21

2007-11-13T21:20:00.001+11:00

The next morning brought some well appreciated dryness.
It brought the very pitiful sight of our crucified chicken that was sooo tantalisingly close to being done, yet had to be abandoned due to the torrential downpour.
By the time we attended to our forlorn avian offering it had its arse chewed out by a currawong .
Snorkmaiden and Melissa took advantage of the drier conditions in taking their leave for the more civilised pastures of the farm and Melbourne respectively.
The precipitation eased progressively during the day, just enough for us to hold the inaugural Grampians Regatta.
I imparted some of my childhood skills and knowledge to the 11 year old Jade and mentored him in the construction of a pine bark sailing craft.
It was to start a whittling trend that lasted for two days solid.
At one point Keli, Jade and myself were engrossed in the shaping of miniature boats, employing a Swiss Army knife ( Jade ), a kitchen knife ( myself ) and a cane knife ( Keli ), completely indifferent to the rest of the campsite's goings on.
And we all sported cuts on our thumbs, a mark of true dedication to our craft.
The first boat I helped Jade create was an utter success.
We put it in the creek and it sailed true upstream, against a strong current for 1/2 to 3/4 of an hour!!
So unheard of for such a small craft of simple construction!
The rest of the day was spent going off for short sojourns around the surrounding bushland, discovering old steam powered mill engines and generally relaxing with the aid of some ice cold alcoholic beverages, appreciating the lack of rain and eating some fine food.
That night we constructed a lean to made of tarpaulin to shield the fire from any potential rainfall, which never eventuated and spent the evening celebrating the dryness of the night with some fire stick twirling ( thanks Jade ).
A much needed day of rest and recreation after months of pent up Melbourne angst and stress.

The currawong chewing out the chicken.

Jade and the chicken.

The inaugural Grampians Regatta Mark I.

The old steam engine.

The fires had left their mark, but new life was abound.

The tarpaulin fire cover and Jade's fire twirling.

To be continued..............

.

GRAMPIANS: VERSION 1.2

2007-11-12T20:17:00.000+11:00

The last couple of weeks have been very eventful and a bit of an emotional roller coaster.
They will take a few installments to document and will hopefully make for some slightly interesting reading.
Long and short of it, my surgery has been cancelled and therefore all the plans I'd made for the coming months / next year have all gone out of the window.
Poo....

So, the Grampians Gonzo Grapple With Gravity Melbourne Cup Camping Spectacular has come and gone and not without its mishaps.
I managed to fight gravity rather successfully, although it did it's best to bring me down.
Keli on the other hand lost the grapple on a couple of occasions and at one point had to get escorted back to his tent by his girlfriend and son.
It was always going to be a bit of a test of man and the new machine, but just how literal that was going to be was another matter.
The 1st of November was to be when I planned my departure to the Grampians Mountains, but not long after I hit the freeway the car started running hot.
I drove on for a little while trying to sus out what the outcome and cause could be.
It turned out that my dodgy radiator was more than dodgy, it was proper stuffed.
It just couldn't dissipate the heat generated by the engine working harder on the freeway.
So I turned around and headed back to Melbourne, full of dismay and frustration as I planned to get up the next morning and take some sunrise photos.
The next day I was hoping to be able to get the radiator replaced and to continue on my delayed journey.
I pulled a favour with the people who do our radiator repairs for work and managed to get back on the road the following afternoon.
Snorkmaiden and I drove to her folks farm near Navarre where we enjoyed some of her mum's down home farm cookin' in between driving the boundary fences in the diesel ute, checking out the alpacas that guard the sheep from foxes, rounding up stray lambs, á la Mcleods Daughters and watching Sex and the City on pay tv.
That night there was nearly as much rain as they'd had on the farm for the previous month and it was a precursor to the next couple of days.
Saturday we met up with the rest of the crew and started to contemplate just how wet this camping trip was going to be.
I'd picked out a beaut spot I'd been to on New Year's Eve nearly 2 years ago and it turned out to be the only spot not reopened since the fires that had ravaged the area just two months later.
We ended up going to a different site way up in the mountains, right up in the very clouds that were drenching the rest of the Grampians.
The fog ( read clouds ) was so thick we had to crawl along idling in 2nd gear at times.
The downpour abated just long enough for us to pitch our tents, set up the big communal tarpaulin and cook some dinner over the fire.
We managed to get a chicken crucified and started the cooking process.
All was going well until the rain came down again, only this time it was torrential!
It ended up being two and a half inches of rain that day and the bottom of my tent felt like the top of a water bed, luckily I had an air mattress so I figured if we got flooded we could just sort of float on top.
The entire night was spent huddled in the tents, listening to the lashing rain and the thunder claps, counting the seconds between the blinding flashes and the deafening cracks.
Even had a tree come down a couple of hundred metres from the camp site the next morning, thankfully it didn't hit anyone, although a falling tree did kill a camper in his tent in another part of that state that night.

The farm.

The guardian alpacas: Al and Paca.

The camp site.

To be continued.........

.

EXPLANATIONS........

2007-10-29T18:29:00.001+11:00

Ok kids. I think I've worked some things out.
I still haven't caught up with my online biz, as a matter of fact this is the first online sojourn since the last post.
My fellow bloggers and artists on DA have been in my mind, but the reality of my current state has resulted in a kind of online impotence of late.
I do wonder what you're all up to and even feel some guilt about not posting or interacting.
The upcoming surgery has been my main goal for some time now and has been affecting me more than I've given it credit for.
From the initial joy of finding out that I have a set date I have gone through a few different emotional states.
Frustration, apprehension, depression, anger, optimism, resignation are probably the main ones.
The plans I have for the near future are all dependent on this operation happening on the 23rd of November.
I plan on going on a holiday to visit friends in Tasmania, Canberra, New South Wales and Queensland starting at the end of January.
I want to catch up with friends and family who have supported me through the last 19 months as well as get a break from this rehabilitation process.
( refer to Neil Peart's 'Ghost Rider' )
A course is also on the books, one that will teach me about techniques in film photography, such as developing.
Two goals I have for 2008 are to start doing paid photographic work and to put on an exhibition.
By far the prime one for next year is to complete my road to recovery.
Because the surgery is category 2 it means that the potential is there to for me to be lying in wait, fully prepped for surgery only to be told that someone has arrived with life threatening injuries and the theatre is required for them.
In that case my operation will go back onto the waiting list and I will face the same uncertainty and anticipation I'm going through at the moment, meaning all those plans go on the back burner, again.
Procrastination through no fault of my own.
In the last 19 months I have missed physio once and last Thursday I did a few exercises and then confided to my physiotherapist that I just could not get going.
It felt like having a box full of angels ( petrol head speak for a transmission where all the gears have parted company leaving nothing but neutrals, otherwise known as angel gear because that who you need if you encounter that situation at speed )
He suggested I give away physio for the next 3 weeks for mental health reasons and resume a more intense program post surgery.
I tended to agree with him.
Anyway, this weekend's upcoming Grampians Gonzo Grapple With Gravity Melbourne Cup Camping Spectacular will see me attempting some day walks in the bush.
I will get so much more out of this physically and emotionally than any physio session could hope to.
I've put about 6 rolls of film through Teh 'Hoff and will take more up at the Grampians, unfortunately no access to a decent scanner for the time being.
Enough waffling, I hope this goes some way to explaining my online absence.
Oh, and Snorkmaiden finally bought an apartment on Saturday and realised that she will get her weekends back instead of inspecting and bidding on properties.
That's taken over 6 months, just in time for her birthday tomorrow.
Happy birthday missy!!!

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INTERVIEW WITH A CRIPPLE.....

2007-10-14T14:27:00.000+10:00

It's been nearly two weeks since I posted something, I'm still struggling with my online commitments for some reason.
I've not looked at another blog, nor posted any photos or comments on DeviantArt, come to think of it I haven't really edited any photos either, but Teh 'Hoff has been getting a bit of a work out although lack of scanner means no shots on the web fer now.
The plan for this week is to try and catch up on other blogs and clean up the back log of comments and reviews on DevArt.

Surgery is booked in for the 23rd November and I'm really looking forward to that, more out of a sense of relief than the discomfort it will bring.
I'm really hoping the removal of metal will alleviate some of the pain in my right leg.
I had a tilt at running on the spot on one of those mini trampolines that were so popular with the aerobics crew in the 80's, the level of pain in the right leg and lack of control gave me a better understanding of where I'm at in the rehab time line and also made me more determined to push on with the recovery process.
I'm actually looking forward to the camping trip and the bushwalks involved in about 3 weeks than more anything else at the moment.
It should be a good little test for me.

I did manage to find myself a car and will be doing the Roadworthy Inspection on it Monday, so as of next week I should be mobile again with my own vehicle, been over 18 months since that has been a reality.
There are a couple of things I'd like to modify, raised ride height for starters, just to get its belly off the ground a bit on those dirt roads.

I received the interview questions from Lucy the other day and will finally answer them ( sorry about the slackness Lucy )
You'll be able to check it out on her blog site soon.

Meanwhile, here's a piccy of the car :)

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BUSY BEE ACTION.......

2007-10-02T23:13:00.000+10:00

In between going to work which sometimes feels like a kindergarten for special needs kids, doing my rehab & hydrotherapy, researching photography courses, going through a photographic inspiration lapse, neglecting all my online duties, attending Roast Off II heats, dealing with the hospital & my orthopaedic surgeon, ex housemate and Christine's rightful owner Cameron returning from the U.K., finalising plans to evict our dodgy housemate to make room for Cameron, finding out my best mate's about to become a father, planning this year's Melbourne Cup Camping Extravaganza ( The Grampians Gonzo Grapple With Gravity Spectacular), helping out Snorkmaiden with her seemingly fruitless quest for an apartment / unit, trying to find a car for my sis, mum, one of her friends and myself, going to National Rugby Championship matches, watching Rugby World Cup, the A.F.L. and N.R.L. grand finals, experiencing the usually sore arse, mid to upper back as well as an unusually painful hip to the point of nearly getting my ambulatory licence suspended and having to lie down still, copping the 3rd cold in two months, finding out my surgery will be on the 23rd of Novemeber and that it will take up the entire waiting list for the day, I'm going orright I reckon.
Hope to somehow make sense of all this and make it happen

Some of our mob enjoying a beer at the rugby where our team Melbourne Rebels got thrashed 55-7 by the Central Coast Rays!!!!

Everyone had fun at the pub afterwards though including the underage.

DUTCH COURAGE........

2007-09-25T06:18:00.000+10:00

Friday was a mile stone in my road to recovery.
Two actually.
I finally managed to ride a bicycle!!!!!
I'd bought one back in November to strengthen my legs and build up some semblance of fitness, but firstly wasn't allowed to use it according to my rehab doctor because of the danger of falling off and damaging something.
I adhered to this advice for some time and when the day came that I was allowed to ride, I found I was too shit scared to get on the damned thing.
There is a bike path near my house, but it requires riding along some roads to get to.
Having a clear understanding of what motorised transportation can do to a rider kind of put me off.
The bike path is a shared walkway with all sorts of people / children / dogs on it.
The lack of strength and control in my right leg conjured up all sorts of images of making emergency stops because someone's unleashed dog ran out, then putting down the right leg, before becoming horizontally intimate with the earth with a little help from our friend gravity, resulting in a return trip to hospital.
Well all that's changed now.

After a night at 'a place that sells good beer' a bunch of us decided to go back to the Casa del Pollo Polvoriento for some vinyl playing and more beer.
The girls and Gino went back in a cab and I decided to keep Keli company as he walked his bike back.
Keli, his bike and I have a history.
Before the crash there was many a time when we would take the bike home after a night at the 'the place that sells bad beer' taking turns as passenger or rider.
I had a 100% crash rate and Keli's was a little better, so the next day we would wake up sporting some bruises and abrasions.
They were never serious crashes, just the type that would make you laugh if you saw one passing by.
Hitting a rubbish bin here, just plain falling over there, etc. we'd go down easier than a drunk poof on ecstasy in a gay nightclub toilet.
So, back to Friday night.
Keli in his drunken state suggested we renew the tradition and that I jump on the back of his bike.
I, in a moment of sheer genius and clarity suggested HE jump on the back and I do the riding.
So there we were, caution to the wind, Keli holding the bike upright as I attempted to mount the thing.
It took a couple of tilts at it, but eventually I found myself atop the well abused machine with Keli on the back parcel rack.
All went well really, my legs were used to the cycling motion from physio exercises and the act of keeping the bike upright, on the straight and narrow seemed to be going ok.
It all came back to me just like the proverbial 'riding a bike'.

We took a little side street with only one car on it and then the footpath along a busy main street.
The footpath was probably more of a challenge to ride than the flat road, but hey NO CARS!!!
At one point we were approaching an Italian club with a half dozen pot bellied middle aged man congregating at the entrance.
Realising a stop at this moment could be ugly I decided to give them some warning of our impending fly by, throw caution to the wind ( again ) and just keep on pedalling.
Not being able to find the bell I started making beep beep noises like the Road Runner from the cartoon and was soon joined by Keli once he realised I had absolutely no intention of stopping.
The beep beeps became gradually louder and more frantic as we got closer but thankfully the middle aged pot bellied Italian men stepped aside in that nonchalant manner that can only be done if you're a middle aged pot bellied Italian.
Not once did they stop they're conversation or drinking / smoking, just watched us pass by with the look of indifferent curiosity usually reserved for one legged seagulls flying by.
We made it!!!!
And not one crash!!!

Pretty stoked I managed to face my bicycle demon as well as finally breaking my two up pissy riding crash record.
Thank goodness for beer.........

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SKANKY SNOW, MANKY WOMBAT, CRANKY HIP & COKED UP CHOOKS....

2007-09-17T21:41:00.000+10:00

Sometimes I wonder why I am so sore and feeling rather less vital than normal.
First and obvious answer comes from one of the voices in my head:

"Coz you got bitch slapped by a semi trailer ya crazy monkey!!"

But on closer inspection I find that I do actually pack a fair bit into every week.
Maybe not as much as some people, like looking after a family of six kids and what not, but for my limited amount of energy I have enough on my proverbial plate to make resisting turning to the vegetative state more than a challenge.
On top of my 3 days at work ( picked up an extra half day as of this week ), my two half days of physio and hydrotherapy, the bits of extra physio I personally engage in ( like walking around taking photos ), the obligatory trips to the pub ( I may be sometime ) there's also the juggling of appointments, chasing hospital staff regarding progress of reviews, social outings, entertaining Snorkmaiden, etc......
My levels of energy have returned to something fairly close to pre smash levels, but the pain factor is a noticeable drain on that.
After a big weekend involving watching the Rugby World Cup at the pub on Saturday night and a trip to the snow on Sunday it's no wonder I'm feeling a little rooted today.

I haven't been to the snow in a long time and at one point entertained thoughts of taking my ski boots along, you know, just in case I had the urge to strap a pair of skis on and hurl myself down a mountainside.
Thankfully I remembered my mate Rob's experience last year and was promptly reminded of the potential of another helicopter trip to the hospital.
Instead, I chose to take the kinder option of driving 3 hours each way, through some pretty twisty mountain roads, walking / stumbling around the snow and alpine topography, lugging a back pack with two cameras, throwing snowballs and fighting gusting gale force winds.
Took Teh 'Hoff for a walk in the snow too, hope the photos turned out!
The snow was a bit skanky, old, dirty and a bit wet, but hey it was still snow!!!
All good fun, if a little draining and rather painful on the arse.

Keli had to put the hub cap back on after it parted company and chased us at 100km/h.
The second time we just threw it in the boot.

Jade's first snow angel.

Making his first snowballs.

Mandy enjoying a reflective moment in the snow.

Some local flora.

Teh 'Hoff and I.
Some pics Mandy took:

Jade's first slide on the snow.

A manky wombat I found on the side of the road, I think it was hit by a car as it was blind.
Keli's first free range wombat as opposed to free lunch wombat.

And home please......

Medically speaking, I finally had my review with the plastic surgeon and her opinion was that she will not replace the muscle graft as it's not viable and could possible cause more harm than good.
She will however be able to cut the motor nerve to the graft, which means I've just picked up a 3rd operation.
Doh!
This had me thinking that I will be able to have the metal removal done privately and therefore very soon.
That was until I spoke to the orthopaedic surgeon, who said that he will require a plastic surgoen to lift the graft in order to access the plate in my lower leg.
So it's back onto the trauma waiting list and that means waiting another 6 - 8 weeks.
Double doh!!
This threw me into a mild state of anxiety as the annual Melbourne Cup Camping Extravaganza will be around that time and I haven't missed one yet.
Here are some photos from last year's trip.
Either way I plan to get the surgery and the trip done, time will tell.....

I also saw my pelvis surgeon today about the pain in my arse and he confirmed a couple of things for me.
1) The pain is definitely coming from the pudendal nerve which was a resulting side effect of the surgery.
2) The only option for possible relief would be to remove the plate in the pelvis and the surgery involved there would be as extensive as the one to install it in the first place, with the very real possibility of causing more nerve damage.
So I just have to put up with it and hope the pain will decrease over time, which it has been to a certain extent.
Triple doh!!!

I went to a comedy showcase last week to watch 6 new up and coming comics.
I find these kind of events much like going to see new bands, it's all very hit and miss.
2 of them were pretty good, 3 average and one crashed and burned on stage.
He was a black American and all of his routine was black comedy: lots of 'niggers', 'brothers' and 'ass' and generally aimed very much at a black audience.
Problem was he was in Australia with a primarily white audience.
I love black comedy like Murphy, Cosby, Chapelle, but this fella's jokes were pretty lame on any level.
His comedy did not involve metabigotry, it just sucked.
He might as well have been an Iranian telling jokes about his uncle's goat incident in the desert last summer to a room full of Inuit seal hunters.
He and the audience were so far removed from each other culturally that it was about as funny as seeing your brand new puppy's entrails pop out from under the tyre of a passing bus.
The unfortunate chap was treading water from the start, eventually choked completely and left the stage.
I think the audience was quietly glad and relieved it was over, a bit like when someone really unsavoury is trying to make conversation with you in a pub and eventually leaves you alone.
I must admit that I do enjoy seeing someone who is very cocksure and full of themselves look bad, and this bloke's ego was bigger than the stage or audience could accommodate.

On a funny note, I gave the Hens of Hell some left over vanilla and whipped cream slice, that was left over from heat 4 of Roast Off II.
N. cooked up some kangaroo and it came out just divine, don't know what she was peaking out about really.
Great country Australia where you can eat both of the animals on the coat of arms, name another country that has that dubious distinction!.
Anyway, the chooks went to town on the slice like it was Captain Sparrow.

Damn! Gotta be the best cocaine this side of the pacific!

FINALLY! THERE WAS MOVEMENT AT THE NURSES' STATION.

2007-09-11T16:53:00.000+10:00

After rooting around like and old moll at a christening the Alfred Hospital has finally come through with the goods!
All the telephonic harassment has paid dividends in the form of a call from the plastics department informing me I have an appointment on Monday with Dr. Cleland in her private rooms.
This is a darned good thang as it means I am no longer going through the public system and being dealt with privately, that should speed things up a little.
Hopefully after Monday's meeting it won't be too much of a wait to get back on the chopping board.
I've also made an appointment with my pelvis surgeon as my arse has been killing me for the last few days.
Before any wild assumptions are made about my sexual orientation and night time activities I would like to remind you of the real reason for the pain.
No idea what brought that on, maybe my new physio program, doesn't really matter as I have had just about enough.
The pain is intense enough to not only stop me concentrating at work, but also very draining physically.
I'm hoping the good surgeon can shed some light on the problem and maybe come up with some solution to alleviate it.
If it's nerve related, which I suspect it is, there probably isn't much that can be done, but I gotta try eh?

A few days back I walked across the road and didn't wait for the little red man to turn green.
As a result two coppers on the corner accosted me.

"Excuse me sir, are you a visitor to our country?"

"Umm, no. "

"Where are you from?"

"Melbourne."

"Where about's?"

"East Brunswick." ( I refrained from giving the Eastside hand signals at this point )

"Why were you crossing on a red light?"

"Umm, I'm running late for rehab and I saw no traffic so I crossed."

"Well what would have happened if a cyclist had come through and hit you?"

At this point I had to really resist the temptation to tell him that by my reckoning it would hurt a hell of a lot less than being hit by a semi trailer.
I instead opted for a more apologetic tone and massaged his ego by telling him that yes, he's right and no, I won't do it again, blah blah....

"If I see you crossing the road on a red light again I'll have to book you ok?"

"No worries mate."

I was walking through town the other day and ran into about a dozen or so police horses at the very same spot.
Geez, they're really serious about this J walking business eh?
It appeared they were involved in some sort of training exercise.
Being the kind of helpful person that I am, thoughts ran through my head as to how I could assist.
Ideas of putting a hoodie on and throwing cans and bottles were rejected due to the police having very long and painful looking sticks in holsters on the saddles.
Dressing up like a rodeo clown was out of the question because I look rather ludicrous dressed as a clown and it might result in the catchment team form the local psych. hospital rocking up to take me away, so soon after being cleared by my psychologist!
I wasn't about to give up my metal cutlery privileges that easily.
Walking down the street with a placard would have been rather futile as there's nothing sillier than a one man protest, except for maybe a bum full of Smarties.
In the end I resigned myself to taking a few photos and crossing the road when the little man turned green.

Trust me, this was their best side.

Horse and rider giving me a smile for the camera.

I think one of them was a little nervous.

Just hangin' on the corner.

A little up the road I found this cat looking decidedly unimpressed by everything.

The APEC summit was on recently in Sydney and we had the displeasure of hosting none other than that lovable imbecile Bush Jr.
He hung out with the Prime Minister 'Honest' Johnny Howard and made a speech in which he thanked the Austrian? troops for their support and work in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as commenting on the OPEC? summit.
I mean seriously, is the guy that useless / arrogant that he doesn't even know which country he's in and what summit he's attending?
Or maybe he just doesn't care?
Good to see that the Chasers boys came up with a suitable prank.
They managed to infiltrate the APEC security exclusion zone posing as Canadian delegates, coming unstuck finally when one of them got out of the car dressed as bin Laden.
They're generally hit and miss with their comedy, but when they hit they're right on the money.

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THE LIFE AQUATIC

2007-09-05T18:20:00.000+10:00

I would like share with you a little about my hydro therapy sessions.
Since July last year I have been going to the pool.
It started off 5 days a week, eventually down to 3 and I've been doing twice a week for the last 2-3 months.
I generally bring in a CD to help me along, anything from Classical, Jazz to Cypress Hill or Nine Inch Nails.
Initially hydro was a way for me to practice walking with the water taking up 80% of my bodyweight plus various range of movement and strengthening exercises.
For a while now I've been using my time there to relax my body and do some stretches after intense physio sessions.
Incidentally, I've just started a new physio program which is a lot more intense and I will be receiving a right royal flogging in there from now on.
Getting back to the pool.
I find it very relaxing now, especially doing laps under water and above.
It's the closest to snorkeling I get nowdays, except the sights aren't so pretty.
There are some differences between swimming at the beach and in hydro.
You don't swim between the flags, more like between the band aids.
If you happen to get a mouthful of water in the sea you get some salt, a bit of sand maybe and possibly some bits of seaweed, all good.
If you get a mouthful of water in hydro it's likely to be bits of flaking skin graft and chlorine.
Mmmmmm yummy.......
The motion of the ocean is replaced by someone next to you flailing about performing some exercise or some such thing.
Instead of seeing wonderful seaside views and sea creatures you get to see all those scars and deformities that patients usually have covered up.
No sand, broken sea shells and sea plants just hygienic uniformly spaced and coloured tiles and stainless steel.
It is a bit of an equaliser though as no matter who you are and what your injuries are all you can generally see in the water are the heads, sometimes a bit of upper body.
Oh, except for Jason who's a dwarf and the whole pool is a deep end for him.
Sometimes we just float in a corner somewhere, being sore and discussing everything from the mid east problems to more deep and meaningful topics like girls and stuff.
I have been half heartedly campaigning for an espresso machine and or bar to be installed pool side, but alas for all my lamentations we are still drinkless.
Later in the change rooms you are likely to hear things like "FAAARRRRKKKK!!! What happened to YOU!?" as someone notices another patients injuries.
I get changed, pull my CD from the sound system and carry on my merry way.
And so the wonderful aquatic experience ends for another day.

Eid, hard at work.

PHOTOGRAPHY MORSEL AND BAD LIGHTING.....

2007-09-02T20:13:00.000+10:00

Just a quick update, so as promised here are some photos from the portrait shoot:

Not really a classic portrait as such, but I like anyways.
You can clearly the shadows I was referring to, bloody bad choice of location.
Live and learn eh.....

More portrait like, once again some dodgy lighting, doh!

More portrait like again, I was trying hard to get Sarah to pose in away that would minimise the shadows, but to no avail.

The one shot I was relatively happy with.
Not the best technically, but considering the circumstances it was the best I could come up with.

I had a couple of interesting shots in black and white, but I didn't get the B&W stuff scanned.
So there :P
Many thanks to Simon @ Word for letting me use the place for the shoot and for supplying lovely wine to Sarah and cold beer to me.
I've found the best way to deal with butterflies in yer stomach is to drown them, they're woefully crap at swimming.

I took Teh 'Hoff for a walk on Saturday do to some street photography.
Didn't end up using the digital SLR for test shots, just sort of winged it and hoped something came out.
The film will be dropped off to the lab this week so we'll see if anything decent turned up.
I had an interesting moment as I was ambling down Brunswick Street in Fitzroy.
There I was scanning for things to shoot and a well dressed bloke in his late 30's / early 40's passed me briskly in the opposite direction and volunteered his appreciation of the vintage lunar landing grade piece of photographic machinery cradled in my hand.

"Great camera man."

"Thanks man....."

Teh 'Hoff officially has street cred!!!

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TEH 'HOFF HAS EATEN.......

2007-08-28T15:18:00.001+10:00

It is done.
My first two rolls of film have been digested by Teh 'Hoff.
I don't know what possessed me to jump in the photographic deep end like that, well more like the photographic Marianas Trench really, with no scuba gear or even floaties.
Not having shot a Hasselblad before, not having shot manually with film, not having shot a model or portrait, all these things made for a very nerve wracking experience last Thursday.
I was as giddy as a teenager about to get laid for the first time and considering the model hadn't modelled before, that made us both photographic virgins of the highest order.
The expectations were high, the skills to pay the bills were low, the location unfamiliar, I was wielding a tool I'd never shot in front of anyone, aaarrrrghhh!!!!

I've just picked up the 12 colour and 12 b&w prints from that session.
Out of the 24 shots there are possibly 1 or two that I find acceptable and 2 more that kind of work on a more artistic rather than technical level.
All the photos had some element that I really liked and was trying to incorporate into the portrait, but never seemed to appear together in the one frame damn it!!!
The one thing that did work out was my timing of it all.
I managed to allocate the right amount of time for the costume selection / fitting, time to get to the location, time to set up, do the shoot & pack down and time to get to the photo processing lab to drop off the films.
Apart from the unfortunate lighting, which goes into the 6 P's category ( planning & preparation prevents piss poor performance ) I felt I couldn't have prepared myself better really.
I'd learnt A LOT during that shoot.

Initially I had a bit of trouble finding the right location and in the end chose one that I felt 'would have to do'.
Everything about it was good with the exception of one thing and that was a pesky halogen down light that I couldn't turn off.
It cast awful shadows all over the model and made it really difficult to get the kind of poses I was after.
There was nothing for it, I just had work around it as best as I could with my limited skills and knowledge.

I picked Sarah to model for me as I felt she was very photogenic.
She's a barmaid at 'the place that sells bad beer' and also a dancer ( not exotic Mr Bananas ).
Sarah was a joy to work with and looked fab in the 1920's flapper outfit.
I found out why those pro model photographer spew forth all that 'You look great honey, show me more rowrwrrr, oh yeah, now a little more to the side, oh yeah baby that's great!' malarkey.
The model has no idea what you want them to do so it's up to the photographer to communicate everything, be it verbally or non verbally.
I found that whole aspect quite challenging, but thankfully Sarah was just awesome to work with.

I made little notes in a pad for future reference.
Things like type of film used, shutter speed & aperture setting.
With digital photography all that information is stored with every photo and I can look it up at will and learn form it, but with film I have to be meticulous about recording the settings if I am to have any hope gaining anything from past mistakes.

I left the colour film for scanning at the lab and will have that later in the week, so fear not that you will miss out on this celluloid goodness, it will be coming to you live and exclusive on the Moomins M.C. blog very shortly.
Hopefully in less time than it has taken me to write another post since the one a week ago.

Whilst talking with the cats in the photo lab I realised just how ignorant I am when it comes to film photography and that has cemented my decision to find an appropriate training course to attend.
And so begins another chapter in the Zuba's truck smash recovery, discovery of photography, pursuit of photographic excellence, etc, blah blah blah.

Thursday I finally watched the final episode of Lost.
That show drives me batty!!
It's the most ludicrous audio visual offering since Death Race 2000.
I waited for my mate Keli to come back from Fiji as he hadn't seen it either and when the show first aired in Australia we made a pact to stick with it to the end.
Now I have to wait until next year because there's another season!!!!!
AARrggghhhhHHHH!!!!

Sunday was another heat of the greater Brunswick area Roast Off II.
Bec came out fighting with a pork roast, crackling + gravy and all, with forked baked spuds, pumpkin and beans with lemon and sliced almonds.
Following up with an apple crumble and vanilla ice cream.
Mmmmmm delish!!!
Onya Bec!

A new arrival to my blog roll is the comedienne Lucy from over stateside.
She's the one who put me onto the term Metabigotry.
Lucy's asked to do an interview with me, around the topic of comedy, which should be pretty cool.
Admittedly I do enjoy a good bit of comedy, the best abs workout you can get with your pants on I reckon.
I even entertained the notion of getting up for an open comedy mic night, but managed to talk myself out of it, who knows, maybe one day.
My mates tell me I'm funny, but in that way where they slowly back away with one eyebrow raised.

On the medical front, I've rang the Alfred hospital yesterday to see how my appointment for a plastics review was progressing only to be told there is no trace on the system at all.
I then phoned my ortho surgeon to see if he could shed some light on the situation and was informed by his secretary that he has indeed spoken with plastics dept. recently and things are rolling again.
I might just give the plastics another call tomorrow to find out if I'm back on the system.

Physio has been the usual drudgery, but there is talk of releasing me into a public gym sometime after my next surgery.
Good thing that, and even better considering my psychologist recently pronounced me safe to be in public by myself and gave me permission to use metal cutlery,with food only.
Nah but seriously, she reckons I don't need to see her at this point in time, which to me is a darn good thang!!!
So things are all swell at the moment!

That leads me to my next little announcement: I've found Snorkmaiden!
If you are not familiar with the Snorkmaiden you can find some information here, look for the one with a flower in the hand ;)

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TEH 'HOFF IS HERE!!!

2007-08-21T15:38:00.000+10:00

Ladies, gentlemen and others, it is my great pleasure to announce the arrival of my new camera.
By new I mean a 1967 Hasselblad 500C, otherwise known as the bees knees or the ducks nuts.
It looks a little like a 1967 Chevrolet I reckon, except it's Swedish.
Maybe a 1967 Volvo?
Anyways, from here on it shall be known and referred to as Teh 'Hoff, short for The Hasselhoff.
I just bought some rolls of film today and will be using Teh 'Hoff in anger on Thursday for a portrait of a one of the barmaids from 'the place that sells bad beer'.
Hoping it all works out well.
Camera - check, film - check, barmaid - check, barmaid's costume - check, venue confirmation - check, any idea how to use the camera - ahhh, still working on that one.
Still trying to get in contact with my orthopaedic surgeon to do a portrait of him as well.

Teh 'Hoff.