Well, I am in Bali for a month where I seem to get a lot of writing done. When I have travelled here with Jo her in the past, she always used to say it was nice to see ‘Bali Ian’ arrive.
So, I am feeling the vibe already after a couple of days and have promised a few posts about Bali drivers etc, but thought I should put ‘The Jab’ series to bed, so to speak – then I wouldn’t like to speak about it at all, ever again.
I am due for my 3rd vaccination injection. So, I thought I’d best be as informed as I can about that. Not that most of the information is contradictory or changing constantly but, through using my own brain and experience and what I thought wasn’t a bad education throughout my life.
An analogy immediately came to mind about having the ‘insurance’ of the multiple vaccinations to protect me – I likened it to car insurance…..
But before that, it is important to know that I got my second vaccination and was lucky to not have any side effects, only one, and thankfully that was not a sore arm.
The only side effect was that four weeks later I got COVID19 – again, lucky, pretty mild and was negative and up an running a week.
The initiatives of the vaccination making companies: I think they are called Big-Pharma is to be admired in connection with the Government strategies and spending to keep us all safe and ensure we are customers for life (see The Jab – Part 2).
The initiative (only an analogy at this time in a design matrix to ensure interoperability and flowing synergy with bipartisant agreements and economic partnership; all in a green washed inclusive way ….) is to sell to the Government and the hardworking battlers of Australia, for the rich to enact, in partnership with our wonderful democratic and capitalist society; and introduce;
Free Car Insurance for All
The government will ensure everyone’s car insurance is for free.
The Government throughout Australia, at Federal and State Level, through a joint courcas, and meeting, and public announcements, and changing mandates, will provide free car insurance for all.
This of course this will not be a compulsory scheme as you will have a choice.
Unfortunately all insurance companies in Australia will not be able to insure you directly. Traditionally they have found it difficult to get timely payment so the Government will take over this job for them, and you won’t have to worry about paying those pesky bills – talk about leadership!
The wonderful state of emergency powers will be invoked until the introduction of legislation that will include all overseas insurance agencies and insurance agencies that have not been peer reviewed or approved by the World Associated National Knowledge (WANK) division of the United Nations (Security Council Members Only – except Russia).
In the event that you choose not to be part of the Commonwealth Only National (CON) scheme you can of course not drive a car; I’m sure you wouldn’t want to put the rest of us a risk.
The Government will of course recoup insurance costs through temporary taxes in line with the Emergency Services Levi.
Finally, should you experience any vehicle collision which may result in minor damage, or on going injury or death the CON has factored in the designated responsibility falling through appropriate legal precedent to the driver and/or their family/community and any such person who may not have insurance.
All compensation, repair, death, injury payouts or another matters associated with the CON will enable all funds to be withdrawn to the respective insurer and redistributed to the general revenue stream of lost Government funds.
The Insured (dare we call the the Aussie-Battler supporting the country) may wish to have repairs conducted by a Government and Insurance company partnered no-fault unauthorised Crash Repair Approved Person (CRAP) at their own expense.
Dead people will be ineligible to re-enter the scheme. Should a person have driven a car, ever, and become a fatality it will be recorded as a CON crash for statistical recording, unaccessible to the public.
So, this is my last word on ‘The Jab’. There will be no part three blog post and there will be part three going into my arm.
If you think I am irresponsible, tell me why we locked down the entire country when we were getting 400ish cases a day and now we are getting thousands and I am writing this sitting by a pool in Bali.
Well here goes…. ….. and this is a long read….. sorry!
I haven’t had my second vaccination yet (I will not use the advertising slogan “The Jab” although I did use it in the heading of this post – hypocrisy is still one of my strong points?), however I am all booking in later this month and will be getting it.
…. someone said to me the other day, all that is happening in the world today seems a bit like a bad plot in a B Grade science fiction movie… ?
As I said in Part 1, I love movies; I also love reality TV; well not in its entirety, okay not at all, I just love ‘Survivor’. But, truely can Reality TV be anything other than real; real people put in real made up situations trying to be real? I blame the Kardashians and Paris Hilton who are real famous for being, well, real famous. And, then there is living in the real world….
In the real world, the weird real world of today, I have spent a lot of time thinking about stuff. I think about stuff I know, and then there is the stuff that I think I know; and what I see. Then I try and put this all in the perspective of my years of deducing conclusions that fit all the facts.
I tell young Detectives do all you can to try and prove the ‘offender’ innocent and when you can’t, well logically, they did it….
So, in my ‘analysis of The Jab’ I first had to get rid of some of the ‘innocent’ or unprovable theories.
… bearing this in mind, I told a ‘flat earther’ friend of mine the other day that I don’t believe the world is flat as there is more evidence that it is a sphere floating in space and a force we can’t explain called gravity keeps us all from falling off (that sounds just as silly when you write it down); But, I listened to them as their arguments were interesting. I did finish our conversation by saying, if a giant spaceship landed tomorrow and the occupants of that ship came out and said ‘Oh, by the way, you have been living on a flat earth under a big dome’ I’d walk out to the fridge in the shed, get a beer, have a sit down and say ‘fair enough’ – this doesn’t seem probable, but….?
So back to my ‘innocent’ and unprovable theories, they all seem to be flawed on two grounds.
Firstly they seem statistically unlikely, and secondly they do not have a logical purpose behind them.
Before I go on (and I believe me I am going on….!) I am going to do my best to not say ‘your should or you shouldn’t’. Religion is so full of people starting sentences with ‘you should’ and/or ‘you shouldn’t and that when for me it is not talk to the hand it is talk to the back of my head as I am walking away. So, I will do my best not to do this to you. Always remember that when religion is working for the rich, it’s fine; but, not for the poor. See, I’m not the only one with a monopoly on hypocrisy.
Back to the Detectives ‘investigationing’ (a great non-word) I started by just letting all the ‘facts’ be a mist of genuine ‘unknownness’. In the end, after asking a few very basic questions of myself, the answer seemed really simple, not sinister, just really, really sad.
I considered two main questions below which led me to the answer (and it is not 42! – that was the question remember!)
Question 1 – The Media
What of the Media (the Merchants of Misery). As said before it is probably the first time they have so obviously been in support of the Government and any of their plans. I also relates to the fact that their job has become easier; we can’t attack them for manipulation because we are all victims who prove so easily and eager to step into the experience they provide; fake, proven or otherwise it is the spectacle, the modern arena for us the slave gladiators willingly taking part; and we are sold the myth that we think we are just sitting in the stands.
Question 2 – The big Question: Why?
Well, it depends on how you are looking at this pandemic; as this view will make the question very simple or very complicated. The greatest question which answers itself about all conspiracy theories in that for most of them to be true, the extent of the conspiracy would have to be so big, what could I do about it anyway… another time to walk to the fridge get a beer, sit down and say ‘fair enough I didn’t expect that?’.
We mostly live in a democratic world, but that doesn’t really matter. Even in a democracy we really can do whatever we wish so long as we do what ‘they’ (the infamous ‘they’!) tell us to do. Remember all our ‘rulers’ democratic or not rely on our consent to rule.
Controlling the consent of ‘robots’ is easy when we have a futile fear of everything and are focused on the superficial joys of consuming, immediate gratification and the Kardashians.
The question as to ‘why’ is simple. Does it help the rich or does it help the general population? From this question you know the ‘why’ straight away and virtually what’s going to happen next.
Well, surprise we are now allowed to have freedoms that we started off with before and thought nothing of. Perhaps we are being giving something called the ‘Privilege of Greatness’ were the ‘powers to be’ rely on the supreme pleasure and gratefulness of the population on receiving small concessions so as the bigger issues are forgotten in the celebration and joy of the insubstantial gift. Viva La ‘Freedom Day’!
…. And through this smokey, misty, fact finding and intuitional detection process, it dawn on me…
The vaccines are probably safe(ish) as much as polio, rubella etc etc were/are safe in their interestingly statistically verified safeness. A sad statistic is that vaccines, even the bad ones have never hurt or killed more people than the countries that have been torn apart, the generations of hurt, guilt, regret, pain and death, that resulted from our smallest wars. So, many wars, our World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan; ….. the war on drugs ….. the war on terror ….. the war on traffic fatalities ….. the war on corruption ….. the war on COVID19
Fun Fact: COVID19 is the disease caused by the SARS-CoV-2 virus strain just like AIDS in the disease caused by the HIV Virus. Go figure this silly medical stuff?
After all, our emergency services and defence services personnel are always on the front line of these ‘wars’. It is never the generals, it’s the civilians who authorise and organise these wars who ultimately commit the worst war crimes in history.
All that has happened in this ‘Why’, has ‘political support’. Political support is a wonderful phrase as it almost always means the Governments bipartisan support from the rich and big business. Climate change for example (I think that’s a ‘war’ too) is now big business, so everything is being ‘green washed’ because that’s where the money is.
However, this is just the pilot in a really great apocalypse movie (although low on budget and special effects.
All good apocalypse movies have a sequel in the making when released. If ‘Rick’ can go from trying to steal a mates girlfriend (Love Actually) to being the reason we all hope the Zombie kill him (The Walking Dead), then anything is possible in the sequal.
I believe the why and the solution is not revolution but evolution; I can hardly wait for ‘The Jab Part 3’!!!
Really – this guy is only 0.69 !!!!
(I had actually finished the draft of this post and thought leaving it on the above ‘cliff hanger’ was like watching ‘Highway Patrol’ when the blood alcohol metre is spinning in the corner and then they go for a commercial break – then I realise how much I hated that so I can’t do it to anyone else….)
I finished my draft on the evening of the 12/11/21…. and upon realising the date was a palindrome like ‘race car’ and hannah’ and ‘glenelg’ and my favourite and applicable to this post:
“no sir panic is a basic in prison”
The words of Plato filled my head: “All in all, nothing human is worth taking very seriously, nevertheless…..”
I recommend before the sequel to keep the status quo by:
keep consuming
pay your fines and surrender you right of having ‘your day in court’ – even to just say sorry or give a good reason or to ask for a bit of leniency
watch cats on vacuum cleaners and the Kardashians and their clones
buy on line and never price compare unless it is online
watch the Media (the Merchants of Misery) even though you don’t believe them…. much.
and most of all, be afraid; in the most prosperous, safest, longest life expectancy and peaceful time in human history, ever; you just remain afraid
Remember the above strategies have ‘political support’ which is best statistically summarised by this wonderful survey in the US, which had 98% of the population supporting universal health care – this was not considered ‘political support’ so universal health care was abandoned by government – well they had to, there was no support?. Remember, we are most in danger when we have jumped out of the way of a speeding car, willingly or not, of most likely being run over by another car.
So, we will fight ‘the war on COVID19’ for as a government and us as the willing mob we all live for the sake of combatting an enemy, therefore as that is our purpose, it is in the best interests of everyone to keep the enemy alive to fulfil our purpose.
So, what, best interest?
Best interest is big business, the super rich and the implementation of the ‘three laws of robotics’ as designed by the science fiction writer Issac Asimov (by the way old Issac just came up with three robot laws and a few good books, whereas another science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard came up with an entire religion!):
First Law: A robot may not injure a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
Second Law: A robot must obey orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
Now the Why is revealed.
We have become customers for life, obeying the three laws as all good robots do.
Not truely sinister, but COVID19 (forgot all the conspiracies) has provided the opportunity for the greatest marketing, sales and future binding contracted arrangements with consumers. We, the 80-90% of the population, are now consumers of our COVID19 vaccinations, and boosters for life. We should be proud that we are part of the greatest demonstration of consumer led capitalism in the history of man, ever!
Protests in the streets, even with the best of intentions of the ‘choice argument’ will fail…. Long rambling blogs will fail……. Litigation will fail…….
I, along with 80-90% of the rest of the world have sealed deal and signed the ‘customer for life contract’.
…. and then I thought I had written enough…. and had a sleep and made the mistake of watching the News and not just publishing this post…..
13/11/21 (no palindrome – that day is gone…)
They say a week in politics or the news cycle is a long time. Well, I should have published/posted this the morning and then I wouldn’t have watched the news tonight!?
Countries with similar (or better) vaccination rates to us are going back into locked down – when the Netherlands do something like this I pay attention – they seem like reasonable people and secretly own half the world.
I hit myself in the face in front of the mirror ‘Fight Club’ style, as I again fell for the trap of attempting to use logic to solve and illogical problem.
I remembered even ‘customers for life’ need to be entertained to keep that ‘brand loyalty’…. always waiting for the new and improved models, which will have great new versions and the ever expectation and excitement of impending war.
My brain exploded with an aneurysm a few years ago…. My wife left me…
I worked hard around home, I went to the doctor, I got some pills, I wrote a lot of letters; and I took the pills and drank myself asleep and awake. And, my ‘Band of Brothers’ saved me and sent me to the looney bin.
I had this little stint in Glenside Psychiatric Hospital in the Rural and Remote Ward which is for all us country bumpkins. I learned many lessons in the two weeks there; one was gratefulness and the other humility (historically not my strong point!).
Many visited me there to help me on my way, true friends and true family. An old mate looked after me for awhile and then I came home. We had built it as our home and called it ‘Pelan-Pelan’ which is Indonesian word for ‘slowly’. I came home, sad.
I met an old Riverland mate and he took me to the ‘Peppertree Shack’. You won’t find it on the internet as it was a shack under a peppertree, built by a bloke, for other blokes to come; have a free meal and some fellowship with other good men, some doing it hard, some recovering, and some extending a hand; some Christian, some not; all at home in ‘the shack’, all brothers in the shack. It burned down a few years ago, but buildings don’t make groups like this (It helps, but….?) and it moved to a hall in town.
These old mates, many the friends of my Mum and Dad; 15 years younger than them, and now 15 years older than me. I went to Church with them, and actually went to a lot of churches around town. I liked the singing?!! And, like Dad, I dosed sometimes and smoked out the back.
I met people which reinforced my gratitude. I met a lady called Jackie who was moving to Adelaide and asked me to look out for her son, Lucan.
Lucan came around and we made stuff in the shed. The one wheel bicycle trailer, the kids ‘little red wagons’, we fixed stuff and Lucan came up with an entire ‘course’ about doing nothing, and we told stories. (Click here for: one wheel bicycle trailer video – one of our favourite projects).
So, Lucan and I hung out in the shed; people dropped in and said hello, made stuff and we made stuff for them and other people. We said anyone who makes something in the shed, even just the once is a ‘member’ of ‘Shed Squad’. We had not Committee, we meet on Mondays and Bob joined us, then Alex joined us, then Steve joined us and ‘old mate Sleepy’ occasionally drops in. We still make stuff, for ourselves, each other and other people. We sit around a bit, have coffee and have lunch and sometimes start late and knock off early.
We volunteer, doing stuff for nothing and occasionally making a few bucks to buy more sandpaper, paint, tools and all the supplies you keep using and losing in the shed.
We had some interpersonal challenges but we had NO RULES.
Shed Squad still has no rules, we have values…
We don’t have committees, meetings, agendas, minutes, someone in charge or anyone as our boss…
We have no documentation, unless you count rough plans drawn on recycled cardboard from boxes…
We have values.
We volunteer and we help people out, including, and mostly, each other and ourselves.
I wrote Part 1 on the heading of this post because I am hoping to share some of our latest projects and a few failures – which we never complain about as most materials we use are recycled, repurposed or something free that came our way by generous people. We say if its a failure in wood – it’s firewood; if it a failure in metal – it’s scrap!
Looking forward to Part 2 myself – often we never know what’s going to happen at Shed Squad.
I don’t want to be a Zombie…. I don’t want to be a conspiracy theorist….
I don’t, didn’t, want the jab…..
Plus, it shits me a bit it has a nickname – The Jab. This is serious stuff. It has been normalised by a great campaign and people rolling their sleeves and looking ‘honestly’ into the camera.
How about we ‘normalise’ all serious matters?
I hate that word ‘normalise’ almost as much as the phrase ‘the new normal’….. and another one “moving forward”….. and ‘two times’ – IT’S TWICE!!!!
How about we change all language to be trendy and woke (I hate that word too!) and start with getting rid of the word ‘rape’ and use ‘struggle snuggle’ instead, so much less harsh; change the “Make a Wish Foundations” name, as it is a bit misleading, to “Make a Wish, Except that One, Foundation”; get rid of endemic normalised sexism in our drink driving advertisements with terrible discriminatory slogans such a “Drink Drive You’re A Selfish Prick’ to ‘Drink Drive You’re a Selfish Prick and/or Bitch and/or Non-Binary Arsehole”…..??
Just saying: not a fan of ‘The Jab’ phraseology.
I’ll say, right up front, that I am a ‘doomsday prepper’.
But, I am an intellectual ‘doomsday prepper.
I watch apocalypse movies and never want for toilet paper. I yell at the screen “NO, NO, NO…. NEVER SPLIT UP!!! DIDN’T YOU WATCH EVERY HORROR MOVIE EVER MADE?!!”
I have some cans of baked beans, just in case! …. and I did once write a little pamphlet called “Ian’s Manifesto for Surviving the Apocalypse’. And, okay, I did give it to all my children…. … and, okay, the ‘manifesto’ was enclosed in their individual ‘Survival Packs’ which I gave them all for Christmas one year….. okay, I do insist that they always carry them in the back of their cars.
And, Okay, last confession: I am writing a novel called “Prepper – My Dad’s Crazy”: and I stuffed up real bad by not finishing it in 2017 when I started it. It is/was, about a Pandemic… yeah, wont be many people writing those stories in the next couple of years.
I watch the ‘Walking Dead’ and can’t believe their biggest challenge is that their hearing is terrible; they never appear to hear the snarling, growling Zombies, until they are less than a metre away.
And, my all time favourite apocalypse movies, are still, the Omega Man and Soylent Green (which is apparently next year?).
But, lately something is wrong…. no, not wrong, but weird.
I make notes during the News when I am not yelling at the TV and intently listening to the ‘local resident’ Jim Bob from Number 37 who said nothing ever happened like that before in their street and he was terrified and it is terrible and horrific and somebody should do something about it (and he obviously has no dentist or dietary plan).
So, I watch stuff, listen to stuff, listen to people and broadcasts and statistics and reassurances from everyone…. including, remarkably the Media (the ‘Merchants of Misery’). When they are on the same side as the Government that really worries me?
And… it’s on the tip of my mind; the face you can see, but can’t remember the name; the place you left your car keys and can’t quite remember where, that sense of ‘deja vue’ about something that hasn’t happened yet; the phone ringing and the person you were just thinking about being the one calling…..
I am certain I right; if I could only think what is was…..
Hopefully, ‘The Jab (Part 2)’ will have the answer.
I found an old ‘muse’ I had been writing in the shed some time ago and I decided to share….. it is about my Uncle Allen, my Mum’s Brother….
My Uncle Allen wasn’t a great man; he was a good man to me who will mostly be forgotten; and remembered for the questionable things he did.
I remember him now that I am older, 60 years now for me, and I don’t think he made that?
And, I remember him as I sit in my shed drinking, with a full ashtray; which was so often the appearance of his kitchen table, which he always seemed to be siting at, doing just that.
I have no doubt he shared my thoughts of ‘how did it all come to this?’
I think of him often; I miss him a lot.
He was always good to me; I think Dad and he liked each other a lot and probably on occassion looked after each other, in their way.
I think Uncle Allen missed his Dad Harold, a lot, as Harold died when Mum and he were young, and was a bit lost by it; as was my Dad in his way, about his beginnings.
I remember being young and going to see my Uncle Allen just before he died in the RAH. I was nervous, until the moment I walked into the room; we both knew it was the last time we would see each other; he made a difference in me and that was perhaps worth it, to his mate, my Dad.
My Mum, loved her brother unconditionally; which you had to do a bit with Uncle Allen; but, because my Mum did, I knew he was a man that had a good heart, I trusted him and loved him too.
I saw the best in my Uncle Allen and he saw the best in me.
I suppose things could have been different for both of us. I learned from him that your lot is not so bad.
I still miss him; he was a scallywag just like me and my Dad.
Well, that was my ‘muse’ from the shed a few months ago. I found a few old photos and thought I would share.
I have a lot of photos and was lucky my Mum kept a lot of those little old black and white ones which I have since scanned into the computer.
An old mate, Bob Kearney, once said to me “People will often never remember what you did, but they will always remember the way you made them feel”.
For all his faults my Uncle Allen made me feel I could always be better than what I was.
My daughter Jackie introduced me to this little ritual for starting my day – I have a memory somewhere that I may have shared this before?
I have a little extra ‘S’ on the end where I have another moment of silence (read meditation) at the end to sort of bring it all together. For me the ‘little rituals’ in life are things to be savoured and enjoyed (although the exercise bit is sometimes a bit hard as you get older).
I try not to get on my phone first thing in the morning, however I do my exercise sometimes by a Youtube video (I try to do Yoga which often turns into ‘Fartga’ in those bend over bits….), I then read my ‘daily quotes’ on an APP, then my daily readings on an APP, then meditate to a program on my Calm APP, which I also use to share my daily ‘grateful’ list….
… maybe this is what technology is all about; not filling our lives but allowing us to be fulfilled – it seems to be working for me.
I love this little S.A.V.E.R.S ritual; you have just helped me fulfil the ‘scribing’ part of my day – thanks.
I’ve written a few post over the last few months about ‘my trek’ or ‘our trek’ which to many make as much sense as Star Trek. I wrote about ‘instructions’ for my trek which I hope were helpful, but upon reading them again I see that they are about as comprehensible as the ‘how to vote’ cards that are handed out at election booths.
I think they all want us to vote above the line by making voting below the line about as easy as solving a Rubic’s cube with all the sides the same colour; perhaps that is really the reason – the puzzle is solved before we start?
Anyway ‘My Trek’ is continuing and I have looked back and this is probably part three?
I think it is about time to seek some more points on my map; or as the Navman tells me, insert a ‘waypoint’. I am drawing my map as I see the ground. Which for the most part defeats the purpose of a map unless you are Captain Cook going somewhere for the first time in a cartographers capacity.
Most of the time I feel like Burke and Wills arriving at the dig tree a day or two late.
I must digress. And in that digression I wrote a muse which I will load up somewhere else as I already understand your attention is waining…. link here to my muse “Satisfied”.
I’m back: My trek. I found an important part of trekking is that some days I travel alone. I suppose we all are, but there has to be some connection with others, otherwise what is the point of trekking anywhere.
Still, my destination is unclear, perhaps unimportant, but it is still hidden behind a smoky mist of today, yesterday and the idea that tomorrow is not set; and in reality a total mystery. I suppose travelling to an unknown destination that you know you have to get to is about faith; yeah, that old chestnut; the belief without evidence (much like the story without facts in the majority of Media Reports – so at least I am not alone in that theological quandary).
I really have nothing new to report on my map making. There seems to be more box canyons than I thought, more areas to mark ‘there be dragons’ and landmarks that turn out to be mirages.
Trekking after all is a lot about discovery. Even walking the same old tracks there is always something new to notice, that was missed when you walked that way a hundred times before.
I broke so many of my rules tonight about watching TV.
I watched the News without appropriately suspending my belief in everything they said?
I then watched a small segment on the creditable ‘news commentary’ show, The Project
I did the above sober
The Media, as I have so fondly called them in the past “The Merchants of Misery” are demonstrating their complete involvement in a world that does not exist, as are our professionally appointed most popular people in charge, our politicians.
I want to rave, but know the average internet exploror only has a few moments before the next Tic-Toc is due with another person dancing badly…. so:
I am watching the Merchants of Misery, accompanied by condescending politically staged medical professionals reciting rhetoric of equally confusing renditions – with people nodding their heads in the background, of incomprehensible lockdowns and red, blue, green and something else areas, being enforced with massive fines in NSW, and travel restrictions and exceptions that allow …..” stuff” and prevent other “stuff” ….. as we open our borders to Victoria…. as the most popular person in South Australia, no qualifications required, The Premier in charge, tells us all to go out in Rundle Street and have a party…..
I couldn’t make this shit up.
I have brought myself to tears of laughter, with a mate, ‘voice overing’ the News bulletin, which, I think would make a great You-Tube channel, but, I not have not bought myself to do it…. as I check in, comply, live in the country and have 100 days of food. I’m okay.
Have a good time in Rundle Street on the piss with Steve Marshall.
I hope this post “The Media” is the beginning of a planned continuation of their abuse and lasts longer than the first session of most Netflix series we are sucked into.
The 21st April just gone, was the day 26 years ago, that Dad shuffled from this mortal coil; I wrote the following and thought I’d posted it, but…..?
A few years ago I wrote about Dad on Father’s Dad and read it this morning; the sentiments remain the same although 6 years have passed – click here to read it.
I woke this morning to a lovely message from my dearest cousin Fiona saying she couldn’t believe it had been all these years…. me neither. I chatted to my sister Cheryl this morning and we both commented that often things still happen in our lives where for that moment we think “Can’t wait to tell Mum/Dad”… before the realisation hits as it has so many times; I have got to the stage that when this happens, I often laugh out loud and savour the moment of remembering our dear Mum and Dad.
Dad was ‘a character’. He laughed easily, forgave quickly and was generous to a fault – but, I have learned that there was no fault in it.
Things I have learned of late is that stories are everything. Our legacy is not left in monuments, plaques, awards or accolades, but in the moments we made someone feel just that little better because of something we did. Most people will not remember what you did, but, they will always remember the way you made them feel.
My Dad’s legacy is that he made people feel better, worthwhile and cared about. This legacy continues as each of us that knew him have the privilege of passing on that feeling; we just have to choose to do it each time we can, as Dad did.
I was often frustrated by Dad’s generosity and forgiveness. It takes a lifetime to understand what is truely worthwhile and although Dad’s life was cut short he did live that lifetime of being who he was. So, I thought I’d just write a few stories about Dad that I have told many times but never written down; if you know these stories and they sound different to the one I told you, know I also have Dad’s flair for poetic license!
I was once driving home from Adelaide and I saw our old Holden passing me going the opposite direction packed to the gunnels, inside and on the roof rack. When I got home I asked Dad if he had sold the Holden and he said yes. ‘A real nice local bloke, he gave me $50.00 deposit and is paying the rest off, each pay day. He was doing it a bit hard.” I told him what I had seen and he just shrugged his shoulders – we never saw the car again and he never saw another cent. Funny part is, I know, he didn’t really mind.
Dad build the quarry up at Loch Luna on Sugarloaf Hill. He slogged building it, mostly by hand and ingenuity with not two cents to rub together. I still travel there today and remember the old fashioned clutch driven ‘steam shovel’ that all us kids loved. Dad had a big offer for the quarry when he was going to retire – in those days it would have set Mum and Dad up for a nice retirement. Dad however had a young fella working for him who he thought needed a break so vendor financed the quarry to him, on a handshake, for a 5th of the money Dad had been offered. Dad saw one $5,000 payment and that was it…. again he never saw another sent.
When I was younger I was frustrated by these, and many other stories. As I have grown older and had time to look back, and perhaps experience more life, I have no frustration, just pride.
I try to live my life, and have for some time, on ‘my mantras’ – I used to say “I will be” before each one, but realised that was just another excuse not to do them until everything was right, and everything is never just right – I now say ‘I am’ because it is who I am, and strive for, each moment:
I am peaceful, I am patient, I am grateful, I am forgiving, I am kind, I don’t judge….
I have just come to the realisation, in writing this, that I say these words daily, yet, Dad lived them daily. If asked he probably couldn’t or wouldn’t have put them into words: he was just Dad, Lindsay, Uncle Lindz… he was just a down to earth, humble, generous bloke who had a laugh along the way…. and lived his mantras.
I have striven all my life to not be ‘poor’ like Mum and Dad; I wanted money, fame, power and all the fancy trappings. I wanted to be rich. Again, another, all of my life realisation: Mum and Dad, were never poor; they were some of the riches people I have ever known, in words that I don’t even have.
Dad was not a religious man, but he often accompanied Mum to Church (we all know he slept most of the time and mumbled the hymns!) ….. he was always one of the first to volunteer to cook the barbecue or ferry people around in the back of his truck.
I am not a ‘religious’ man either, I believe God and I are mates, as I believe Dad had that same sort of relationship too – no pomp, no pious bullshit, acts not words and mostly a heart of gold which looked after the other guy first. I spend a little time each morning reading something positive; today the universe brought me one just for Dad.
“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.” Philippians 2:3
My Dad, was a character, but more than that, he was a man of character.
We were lucky that Dad and Mum chose Chris, Cheryl and I.
PS: One final story. When they opened the new Berri Council library, Dad was asked to attend as the Citizen of the Year. So, the first thing he does when he walks in the brand new library is light up one of his Viscount Red cigarettes and proceed to smoke throughout the entire building and flick the ash into the palm of his other hand. The looks on the faces of the Council members and Library staff who were giving him the tour was gold!! – Dad didn’t notice….!?
Well for those who read my post on 26th January 2021, here is Part 2. I have managed to keep the chronology the same as I wrote it in my little ‘travelling notebook’ so I hope it is reasonably understandable – even though most of the journey home I was a bit confused. I apologise there are no photos (PS: I put photos in after….?), but it is a story and not a comic – although?
Enjoy…
17th January 2021: Sunday – Today I chose to do nothing and succeeded!
ISO Day 12
Isolation Day #1. I slept like a log; sleeping from midnight until 11.00 am; Checked the Fit Bit and I was actually asleep all the time other than all the hours I was tossing and turning – I had lots of REM sleep but I think most of it was reliving the journey home.
Now, where did I leave off yesterday? Oh, yeah, Melbourne…. and I think this part of the journey is definitely worth a Part 2.
15th January 2021: Friday: I land in Melbourne; I wore my ‘N95’ mask on the plane, which was a good idea s everyone was in their own separate row, and there were lots of empty rows; except mine where there were three of us and I was sitting in the middle?
The guy on the isle asked the Hostie if we could fill up some of the empty rows, and as nice as she was, apparently the rules were not to change seats until after we had taken off; we complied. First time ever that I didn’t have to fight for an armrest.
NB: Just a point of interest: are airline hosties getting larger and older?
Plus, I noticed that the guy on my left, by the window, was still wearing his hospital arm band; all good; doors closed; taking off soon and I’ll have an isle to myself.
“…. Your Captain speaking. A thunderstorm is passing over the airport so the ground staff for safety reasons can’t oprate and we will have to wait until the storm passes. We don’t want any mishaps from wet tarmac or lightening strikes which I’m sure you all respect and understand….”
Some grumbles throughout the plane but, most nodding with approval and understanding.
I’m sorry, but am I the only one on the plane who doesn’t understand the implications of what the ‘Captain’ just said who is apparently subordinate to some bloke in HiViz who waves ping pong bats!!!!
Plus, I’m about to rumble down the runway at about 300 km/h and the tarmac I suspect will still be wet; and I am sitting in a giant metal lightening rod!!!!
I believe my friend on the left sensed the same thing and saw the gravity of our predicament as a skid pan faraday cage and started pulling on his hospital bracelet? He did manage to calm shortly after when he started to play some music on his iphone…. unfortunately he was playing it at full volume and didn’t have any earphones… things were starting to get interesting as the Hostie waddled past and ignore us.
… and, although it doesn’t sound true the first song he played was “People are Strange” by The Doors!? (It’s interesting to listen to that song as I commented in Part 1: so, I thought with my mate on the left faces were definitely coming out of the rain!)
And, then there is me, not completely devoid of mental ‘challenges’ thinking that my mate on the left might needs a hand and I’m not one for being a bystander, if I can help.
So I said “Hey, mate, The Doors, People are Strange” pointing to his phone which he had jammed to his ear. He nodded, and smiled and asked me when we would be taking off: I told him what the ‘Captain’ had said… I offered him my three quarter bottle of water; I thought considering our sitting positions if we were going to transfer COVID19 it was already done. He took the bottle tentatively and drank the lot in one guzzle…..
…. and we listened to his Doors music, no one else spoke (funny how people will complain about a crying child – but if you have crazy eyes and look a bit dishevelled you can get away with most public displays of weirdness without question or comment?) He smiled and pointed at his phone as each new song started; we listened to Riders of the Storm and a few others and thankfully “The End” wasn’t next on his shuffle playlist!
The thunderstorm passed, the highly tattooed, bearded and Mr Universe muscled ground crews came from hiding in the basement from the scary thunder and rain and got into their enclosed air conditioned ‘plane backing up thingo’, and I am sure someone had the hazard pay for kicking the white wooden block thingo’s from behind the wheels and wave around the ping pong bats, and we were away.
Shortly after a lovely Hostie squeezed down the isle (I apologise but I just remembered the new term is Flight Attendant?) moved us all to the empty rows.
My friend next to the window stayed in his place; later during the flight we caught each others eye and he gave me a smile and a wave.
So we get to Melbourne: I noticed as everyone was getting ready to get off the plane, they seemed kinder to each other?
I realized as we were taxiing to the terminal that perhaps my ‘papers’ were not in order? I switched on my phone and checked my emails first, as about 10 days ago I had applied to re-enter South Australia and even after 2 followup enquiries as to what was happening I was to please to say I received an automated reply to say they were very busy…. As Jackie and I had already completed an ‘entry pass’ to Victoria that appeared to be answered by a computer, that we had never been asked for, I thought I’d do it again….
…. and I did, and before we reached the terminal Hal9000 (for anyone under 60 see movie “2001 a Space Odyssey – Hal9000 was the first movie computer to kill humans for their own good…) gave me the big thumbs up to explore Victoria.
I was flying with our friends at JetStar so expected when we got off we would walk down the stairs and across a windy tarmac, when our informative ‘Captain’ advised us that buses would be transporting us to go straight to quarantine… ?
The seat belt light dings off and over head lockers open and crunched necks under them all looks towards the door; I sit and wait, I’m patient plus I forgot which locker I put my bag in?
We all walk off; I am beginning to not have to think as I am again ushered into a line, onto the bus: I comply. We are all now crammed on a ‘Midnight Express’ bus using the Tetris approach of fitting a giant plane load of people all having been sitting in their separate seats, into a bus a 10th of that size and grabbing hand rails and each other as we stop and start and jerk and weave to the terminal – what a fitting word?
I shouldn’t complain about the driver as I was initially expecting a ‘Bali Airport Bus ride’ and in fact this bloke made Jackie dealing with a bad customer look relatively fast – the pace allowed us all to stay on the bus longer I suppose; don’t want to miss anyone out getting infected.
Finally, we did terminate at the terminal into a coned, taped and signed off area – there is no-one there and people, I presume to be somewhat ‘official’ standing at the front of the bus seemed confused – as did the bus driver as he couldn’t get the front door open – there was many muffled ‘walkie-talkie’ chats – how do they understand each other?….
… and suddenly men in gloves, and masks and shields and yellow plastic gowns came scampering towards us to everyones relief – I thought it was all a bit comical and dystopian at the same time. We are then ushered off the bus, through halls and corridors which I think were previously used by our beloved ground staff to hide during thunderstorms and for a sly smoke, into and area identified by a hastily printed and laminate sign saying; “Arrival hall.” We are met by no doubt hard working, best intentioned, recently trained, contracted and no doubt overpaid “COVID19 OFFICIALS’, they had HiViz and everything- we all line up again, I comply.
I flash my phone as the computer has already told me on the tarmac that I am welcome to Victoria… many others get ushered into the naughty corner to sit down and fill out their forms, on their phones, for the computer to say yes… (I thought that too – what if you didn’t have a phone, or didn’t know how to use it – I didn’t’ see that, which disappointed me a bit?)
… and then there was the poor bastard in front of me ushered into the naughty corner to fill out his forms, with his mate, who doesn’t have a phone as his mate has one… who says “My phone is flat do you have a charger?” The wonderful, underinformed and untrained to anything other than robotic responses, who at that time will always be blazoned in my mind, with his disposable mask, shield, gloves, gown/cape that looked like a many times worn $2.00 poncho for the footy: somehow, I dont know why? Reminded me at that exact moment of the first condom I had ever purchase from Johnny the Barber in my home town in Berri (Johnny is still cutting hair in the same shop 40 years later. I have a tony-tail at the moment but I miss sitting in the shop which I used to do when I first moved back a few years ago, with a minimum 45 minute wait, which was never boring as all the men about town would drop in, some for hair cuts, most not, and exchange the latest tale or rumour or snippet of gossip… I’d learn more in 45 minutes that reading the local paper or perhaps any other source – and some of it was gooooood!)
NB As a side issue, while I am thinking of it; many hours, or it could have been days later, I saw the poor bastard again with the flat phone at the Taxi rank; he was asking all the drivers if any of them had a charger as he had to pay with his phone. I had a charger that fitted his phone that didn’t even fit my phone? I had a power pack as well; but, really who doesn’t travel with a charger? I was a bystander and walked passed – the bloke needed to learn a lesson and I was part of that teaching process.
So, I walked on past to the ‘smoking prison’ and smoked my guts out.
Plus, I am loving the slight bite to the air and walking with my really cool carry on… which I occasionally let go of as I am walking down a slight slope and watch it do little spin turns before I catch up a few steps later…. it is a cool carry on which I bought at ALDI … went to get milk again and came home with a suit case! I always wanted one with the 4 wheels which this one has; I actually bought a full size suit case and when I got home this one was inside like a Babushka Doll!
Interlude: While waiting at the airport, after smoking my guts out, which I did several times, each time having to go through security… My sister Cheryl called me from Perth. We chatted about how things were going as her wife, Sam has breast cancer and is going through treatment. It is funny how at different moments you think of things differently, and even if you change your mind later that thought, that feeling lingers; I think also it has to be a good thought. After I hung up I had a little ‘teary-teary’ as I do love my sister very much and we have gotten over some pretty big hurdles; also Sam and Chery have been together for I think at least 25 years. The thought came to me, that I would give Sam my last years if I could as I want nothing more than to see my sister truely and always happy; I am very proud of her and Sam; I know my girls would understand, but, you can’t transfer cancer. So, I went and got a combination Vietnamese Poh and was grateful it wasn’t me that had cancer.
Belly full, smoking jail visited again, notebook purchased and writing my ‘Jacki and Ian’s Sydney Adventure, Part 1’…. 5 hours in the Melbourne Airport, about an hour on the plane, 3 hours on the road home back to Berri…. What could possibly go wrong: oh, you fool……
Getting Home: 15th – 16th January 2021: I’m starting to enjoy myself going in an out of security to the smoking jail: I like that the same security guards don’t seem to recognise me and give me the same instructions each time, and often different degrees of searching – we don’t have to worry about robots taking over the world they are already here; and they are not that clever….
Okay, I’m bored. I sit myself in a good spot to see the departure screen as apparently the gate we are on is a secret and next to each flight as it comes up is “Relax! Your gate will be displayed in 60 minutes” and it appears that this countdown has no actually rhythm to it as the next screen still telling us to relax could say its 11 minutes or eighty – at least it does appear to be a count down. Now, as you can see, I love the 24 hour clock as that is what I have used during my entire working life, so I was all over when by plane departed.
Now the guy I’m going to talk about doesn’t know this yet as I think I made up a story about what happened next, or just skipped over the question. My mate Mark, who regularly video calls me in the evening and we have a beer together, him in his back room and me in the shed; as we have official notification from many drinking authorities, that this does not count as drinking alone. We have a video call and I am in smoking prison, but move inside as that brisk breeze has now turned into a howling gale and I understand that all airports and public building are designed and specifically engineered to enhance any breeze into wind tunnel equivalent speeds. I chat with Mark for some time as I can’t go through security on the phone. I let him know I have to go inside as my flight is soon; the departure board will be telling me it is anywhere between 13 minutes and 5 minutes before they tell me which gate I have to walk to and how long it will take me to get there…
Security, again: glance up at the departures board “JQ776 Adelaide GATE CLOSED’
There is no direction to ‘RELAX’ so I go into ‘survival mode’; knowing that only 15% of all people on the planet are natural survivors and that in the movies when you get to the gate they always let you in if you tell them a story about life or death, or love…..
But, I decide to run because although there is no ‘walking time’ on the board it is Gate 59 or something similar…. I try to run and look cool and pretend I am the kid in love actually weaving through the crowd…
I see the ‘travelator’ knowing that most people just stand on them and block the way but they are designed to either do great YouTube clips on or get you to your destination faster… I might add at this stage my cool jog may have turned a little into a desperate sprint and I am multi tasking and thinking up a story to tell the gate attenants along the lines of I am a bone marrow donator and a small child has only 24 hours to live…… and I prove that men can’t multi-task and jump on the travelator on the right that is apparently going the wrong way but I am committed at this stage and give it that extra spurt feeling the muscles ripping from my shins knowing walking may be a problem tomorrow; I shoot of the end off the end of the longest travelator I have ever been on at about 30 km/h and if not for the sea anchor of my ALDI carry on would have fallen flat on my face: I don’t know if anyone has seen any of this as I am in survival mode with the peripheral vision of looking down one of McDonald terrible new paper straws.
I’m at Gate 1599: the wheels on my ALDI carry on are smoking and my legs are like jelly, but, hallelujah there are people in orange uniforms and I say, almost breathlessly and with a deliberate pathetic whine “Am ….. I ….. too ….. late.”
In the calmest of voices, me expecting to hear “of course not sir, we heard about the bone marrow donation…” a lovely flight Attendant, or in this case the evil Gate Keeper says: ‘Yeah, it’s gone. Go downstairs to the service desk and they should be able to assist you.”
In this well rehearsed rebuke of pleasantries he waves his arm at the gate door in what I see as his private triumph. In one last hope I look past the gate keeper thinking if the plane is close enough I could jump (to a certain extent I am still in a movie?) and see but one thing; my trip nemesis’s the infamous ground crew are triumphantly backing my plane out in their air-conditioned comfort; the bastards.
I walk the 7 or 8 kilometres back to the departure lounge, using the travelator in the right direction and just standing there; I go down the familiar escalator and take a moment in smoking prison to gather my thoughts.
Okay, this is not a disaster, but just another unplanned leg on the adventure; I am the 15% survivor. I approach the ‘service desk’ with a plan and draw the attention of the three ladies behind the counter “Hey, what’s going on here….” leaving that hanging for effect, before and looking at three stares that are drifting from surprise, disbelief to instantaneous thoughts of ways they were going to delay me for days at the maximum cost when I follow up with “…. obviously you have to be a model to work here….” the looks soften and smiles appearing, and the coupe-de-gras “…no, if must be a models conference and here’s me thinking it was the service desk…”
…. about thirty minutes later I have a rebooked flight, seat 5A, all with no charge.
I’m back!
I plan to relive Tom Hanks role in “The Terminal’ and live in the airport for 20 hours before my flight leaves; easy, free wiFi, comfortable bench and I am sure I can con a free meal and coffee…. my somewhat lethargic step has a new bounce although the hammy is stinging a bit and I approach my old friends at the security check point.
“Excuse me sir, do you have a boarding pass?”
Cool, this is a new one. I confidently whip out my paper boarding pass which the models issue to me and with the arrogance that comes only before a fall swagger the words out “Here ya go then.”
“I’m sorry, the domestic terminal is closed and this ticket is for tomorrow.” I hate statements which are suppose to be questions or directions, so I answer this robot of rhetoric with the first thing that comes to the master of wit:
“Wha?”
At that stage my security robot without emotion, and I am sure, she didn’t blink, monotones at me:
“The international terminal is open and there are motel’s nearby.”
I find myself channeling one of the greats; Richard Gere in an “Officer and a Gentleman” when he is being punished by the Sergeant Major and is told that is doesn’t matter what he does he is going to be kicked out. I feel the moment, I save the tears, but take the tone:
“I got nowhere else to go.” I think I managed a whimper.
My darling uniformed, unblinking Stepford Wife, is unmoved. I turn with my little ALDI carry on, which was packed for one day and start to slowly walk away:
“Sir, it’s the other way.” I don’t look up. I turn around and shuffle off, I think I developed a limp until I was out of view.
I realise another moment in smoking prison is what I need and perhaps an internet search for boarding houses nearby.
I make my way to my favourite exit, with doors that only seems to sense me just before I walk into them; again timed perfectly, as it begins to open an old lady on a walker smashes into my ankles. We are the only two people in the airport at this time other than the robots. Always the gentleman, I step aside as the doors open as she cackles at me is a voice of death “Where are the Taxis” – just as she walks into gale force winds and a torrential down poor.
I laugh. I think a little bit too high pitched. Granny grimaces at me as all I can say is “Can I help you.” I get a no thank you without the thank you and I let the doors close with the Wicked Witch of the West on the other side. I laugh again and I’m glad I’m not her.
I sit in the part of the airport where all of the robot booking in terminals are and search the internet: my Tom Hanks plan abandoned. I see the fancy hotels but I’m going for speed. The IBIS Budget Motel looks good for me and is within walking distance – the rain has stopped, the airport is abandoned and I’m feeling like The Omega Man. A Taxi driver stops and asks if I need a ride and I explain my IBIS Budget Motel plan and he gives me directions which are helpful but finished with the phrase “… its hard to get to from here…” I set of with my little ALDI carry on in tow and Google maps talking to me in the background and apparently only 800 metres to go, not problems I ran further than that a few hours ago to miss a plane.
Just another little interlude: As I was walking to the motel I saw a young lady about Jackie’s age sitting under the terminal veranha, in a T-shirt and no shoes. I walked past as I was probably creepier to her and more worrying than any help I could provide; but, I was in a good mood and would at best just get a smoke bummed off me or told to please go away with the use of two words. I stopped and turned and said “Are you okay?” in my most Fatherly caring voice and she replied “Yeah, I just finished work and Mum is picking me up” “No problems, it’s just a bit cold, thought I’d check” I replied and turned to keep walking when “Hey” I turned back “Thanks” she said, smiled and I smiled back and walked on towards the motel. I got to where the path turned and could see back to where she was; and her Mum picked her up; and, I felt the better for it.
Onward, along the path which appeared to be manufactured as a texture test track for my ALDI bag and Google telling me I was there. I walked around a couple of industrial sheds and found the IBIS Motel right there. I might add, a welcoming site – I was getting a bit knackered by this time.
I walked into reception and the only other thing that would have surprised me more was if my friend from the plane was there or they were playing The Doors over the speakers…. ….there was the Wicked Witch of the West with her walker demanding the guy on reception carry her bags to her room. I sat patiently in the waiting area and eventually after the witch had gone, I was booked in and carried my own bag to my room.
It was a great little room; my idea of an airport hotel; clean and basic with everything working and nothing you don’t need to pay for. I had a shower, hit the sack in clean crisp white sheets and suspect I was asleep in 10 seconds.
I want to say the next morning, the adventure got even more exciting, but it just didn’t. I had a Macca’s breakfast marvelling at the staff who though wearing a mask didn’t mean covering your nose; which as I stood there waiting for my sausage McMuffin was revealed to me as a trend set by the two uniform cops who came in showing their noses.
I walked back to the terminal; through security and my robot buddies; it must have been a new shift as this mob mainly ignored us travellers and appeared more intent on chatting to each other.
Then I sat, watched the departure board and went to the Gate at a leisurely pace and didn’t use the travelator. I suppose I then saw why they post the gates late; there is no where to sit and we are all crammed in a very small area standing around waiting for the Gate Keeper to open up. I hung at the back with my up front seat.
On the plane sitting one seat away from a lady who made the Wicked Witch of the West’s gaze look positively pleasant, so, headphones on and a meditation to Adelaide (well I slept?).
It’s not really exciting here on as we did, step forward, repeat… going through screening where I looked surprised when they told me I had to do 2 weeks isolation and asking multiple times if they were sure – they were sure. They had received their training last week and were told to be sure even if they weren’t….
I drove home and loved the trip which I took at a leisurely pace: I laughed when I walked through the front door as I was so glad to be home: I drank beer and went to bed.
Well, that’s my trek with my wonderful daughter Jackie and the return trip of an idiot – much like the Ricky Gervais show An Idiot Abroad, but this was just in Sydney and Melbourne.
I have just returned from getting my Day 12 COVID19 test and only have a few days to go; there will be no Part 3 of me in isolation as basically I did nothing. In reflection of my ‘adventure’ I probably realised a few things:
If the pandemic has another wave in Australia we really need to learn how to wear face-masks and not touch our faces; and what 1.5 metres really is.
When something has happened, not matter how you feel about it, you can’t change if from having happened; so, you may as well accept it and enjoy it.
Road trips are cool (especially with your kids, one-on-one).
Coming home is always fantastic not matter how great the journey.
I am sure I will go on many more adventures, journeys and treks …. I am planning a trek for a year (well that is as far as I have got so far, I don’t know where, I don’t know how and I don’t know when, I just know I’m going….) and hoefully will be able to share many more stories.
Be Happy, Be Healthy, Be Peaceful, Say Hello and Smile…. it scares the shit out of people!
