Our big family Christmases normally happen on Christmas day. While the "kids" (now all in their 30s) were young, the day started early in the morning (some time between 6am and 7am) as the kids were unleashed on a pile of presents under the tree. After the present distribution, people would either sit around talking, play games or go back to sleep until the big lunch. In more recent times, however, just a lunch after midday has been the custom followed by a swappable mystery present game that everyone plays.
This year, however, we went European and had our big occasion on Christmas eve rather on Christmas day. It was at Simon's big new house out in the boondocks (boondocks from my viewpoint. I have long been a central city dweller). Anne and I Humbered out there. Showing how versatile members of the military can be, Simon cooked up a big and first-class traditional Christmas dinner for us (around 20 people) all by himself on his big new stove.
The house had been designed by Simon to accomodate entertaining and its 9ft wide verandahs were certainly good for that. It was a very hot day but the verandahs were cool. As usual, I talked mainly with Paul, Joe, Simon and Ken but I did get in brief chats with Von and Suz. Von is doing amazingly well. She gets a very high salary and owns three houses. Having a practical streak plus being both nice-looking and happy-natured has certainly delivered the goods for her. I was pleased to see that both girls are still wearing their hair long too. It looked great on both of them.
Joe has been working on his honours thesis lately and is finding no problems with it. He hopes to finish it by March and hopes to get employment in the actuarial field some time next year. He has certainly been consistent in his wish to become an actuary. Academe seems to be only a second preference for him. His mathematics degree is of course a good starting point for actuarial work but he told me that his knowledge of the stockmarket is helpful in interviews too. So my setting him up to get stockmarket experience has had an unexpected side-benefit. I gave him the usual large cheque for Christmas for him to invest. I want him to make most of his investment mistakes before I die, when he has to take over my portfolio.
After the mystery present game, which was very raucous and jocular and must have taken an hour or more, we got our Secret Santa presents. Paul was my secret Santa. Because I sometimes used to give him trick presents when he was a kid, he gave me a trick present this time. The present was ostensibly a circular saw in a circular-saw cardboard box -- even though my Secret Santa request had been for a towel and a sheet. But I rather spoilt the game by neither commenting on the apparent present nor opening the box. Paul however, pushed to get me to open the box and it did after all contain a towel and sheet.
Cake and desserts came after the present exchanges and Simon got me into a discussion of ethics and meta-ethics over dessert! As part of that I suggested that there are some things we can be certain of and "Global warming is crap" would be one example of that. There was no disagreement. I am always a bit surprised by how many global warming skeptics I encounter -- even people in relatively humble occupations. Suzy's husband-to-be, Russel, is a rigger (assistant to a crane driver) but even he could tell you all about ice-cores and such things and why they disprove global warming. I am inclined to think that only an intellectual could be stupid enough to believe in it.
Anyway, Jenny knew that I am a creature of habit and would miss my usual Christmas lunch so she put on an excellent lunch next day just for me, her, Joe and Nanna. Anne was elsewhere attending her own Christmas lunch. We had a small present exchange first and Joe got a Nintendo Wii games machine out of it, which he was really pleased about. They really are an amazing advance on the old games machines that I remember. The dinner itself included two types of kebab, both of which tasted as good as they smelled.
20 Dec 2008
An interesting morning
Anne is a neophiliac. She likes each day to be new and different. And I am an old stick-in-the mud. I prefer everything to be the same day after day. But reality somehow suits us both.
Yesterday morning we started out taking my ironing to Flo, which I do about every 2 weeks. But this time I managed to give Flo (a pensioner) a $50 note as a Xmas present -- despite some resistance from her. I mentioned that to Anne and she of course approved.
On our way back from Flo, I nearly ran into a police car, which no doubt jangled Anne a bit. But it was one of those ambiguous merging situations so the cops did not pull me up.
Then we went to Vincenzo's for breakfast and Anne decided to try the vegetarian breakfast. She nearly starved. She even ate up all her toast for want of much else. They should have included some potatoes with it. I of course had the bacon and egg breakfast that I always have there -- day in and day out.
Afterwards we called into the hot bread shop and bought a rather sinful bun of some sort with icing and walnuts and mixed fruit on top. Anne said she did not want anything but I knew she would have some of mine.
I noticed as we were leaving the shopping centre that I was almost out of petrol -- another excitement -- but we made it to a service station in time.
Then we went to the huge Garden City shopping mall so that I could visit Lowes and buy myself a pair of shorts. Which I did in a rather grumpy way. I am a reluctant clothes shopper these days. Another departure from routine anyway.
Then we visited the local Lifeline (thrift shop) and I bought a pretty little butter dish I saw there.
Then we went home and had a cup of tea (with the bun I bought earlier) on the verandah amid a very pleasant breeze. And while were were there we tried to figure out -- to much hilarity -- the big set of very strange fibre-optic Xmas lights that I had bought recently. We rather failed at putting them up so I rang Jeff and gave the problem to him. He very obligingly agreed to come over next Sunday and put them up.
So Anne certainly got a lot of the non-routine events that she likes.
16 Dec 2008
Humbers and Music
The Humber club had its annual Christmas lunch on Sunday -- at "Botanix", of Wellington Pt. So Anne and I Humbered out there. It was infernally difficult to find but we did find it eventually. It is a really big place with a garden shop etc. as well as the restaurant.
And the head chef there must have been quite a whizz. There were lots of diners but the dinners kept pouring out of the kitchen and they all looked good. Our dinners arrived quite promptly and were excellent. The steamed pudding was particularly good.
But the highlight of the occasion for me was seeing TWO Type 2 Humbers parked side by side. They looked magnificent.
My Humber is a type 4. It has nothing on the gravitas of a Type 2.
Then that night we Humbered out to the Xmas do of the Westside Music Circle at Pullenvale. The quality of the music was as usual a bit uneven -- something to be expected from an amateur organization. I used to run it myself so I know. It was uneven when I ran it too. There was some awful modern violin music and some quite inspiring Vivaldi.
But the star of the evening was undoubtedly a brilliant Russian violinist named Attilla. Yes. I am not making that up. His first name really is Attilla. He actually looks Turkish rather than Russian so I was not surprised to see that he was born in one of the Muslim countries of the old USSR. He honoured us with his presence at our Xmas do last year too. As well as being a born fiddler he is a great entertainer who sees fun in everything. He will go far.
The crowd was probably our best yet. About 40 at a guess. I talked mainly to Jill and Lewis. I seem to have corrupted Lewis. He was wearing shorts for the first time. He knew I would be.
8 December, 2008
Poetry
An old but shambling friend of mine has condemned these memoirs as far too boring. I agree. I like a quiet life so they SHOULD be boring. He has however suggested that I liven this site up by adding some poetry to it. That is of course a challenge to which I am somewhat susceptible. Quoting poetry by someone else on a personal blog does however seem to have hairs on it so I thought I might put up a short poem of my own. I wrote some poetry back in the '60s which I now think very little of but the one below may be a bit of fun:
DEFIANCE (Sonnet)
Fine was the knight of old with fatal mace.
That fighting breed has left a lasting trace
On our ancient, ever nascent British race
Expressed in business, battle or the chase.
When pressed we know we'll always set the pace,
Be commerce, fighting or any endeavour the race.
Our heritage we never could debase
By any act that e'er could bring disgrace
So let us present crises far outface
Try not our steps long past now to retrace
With glories past, "Alertness now" replace.
For a fighting future minds and hearts strong brace
That we may turn to all a happy face
Successful still and pressing on apace.
It is of course a technically boastful (and peculiar) sonnet but it does convey that I was then, as now, pleased by my origins.
6 December, 2008
A small dinner
A small dinner tonight to celebrate Joe's successful completion of a 4th year at university. We went to our usual Indian destination and the food was as good as ever.
I left the guest list to Joe and he simply invited all his close blood kin only, plus their partners. So I think there were only 11 at table.
Paul was his usual ebullient self despite his recent split with Susan and mainly talked about the stockmarket. He has been going to AGMs lately and finds them amusing.
Joe seemed confident that his next year at university will be a doddle. He took it a bit easy this year by doing courses only so next year he has to do a thesis only to get his honours degree. And he already has it part written.
1 December, 2008
St Andrew's day
I mentioned elsewhere recently that St Andrew's day (Nov. 30) is Scotland's national day and am pleased to report that Anne and I did do something towards celebrating it last night. I flew the saltire of St. Andrew from my flagpole that day and we had Forfar Bridies (from Sid's) for our evening meal and listened to Scottish music both then and afterward. And the songs we listened to were the in the main the old favourites that are so deeply felt among the Scots -- Scottish Soldier, My Ain folk, Loch Lomond, Skye boat song, Scots wha hae etc. etc.
I have spoken a little lately of how conservatives have few inhibitions about group loyalties (such as patriotism) and mentioned the Eton Boating Song as an instance of how such loyalties can be deeply felt. And I also noted at the time that loyalty or a feeling of connectedness to your own group does not necessarily imply contempt for other groups or a wish to dominate them. And the Eton Boating Song exemplified that well. And so does the Scottish song I put up recently elsewhere. Although it is called "Scotland the Brave", it again contains no aggression or hostility towards others. It just talks about Scottish people and the beloved Scottish landscape. But it is still capable of bringing tears to Scottish eyes. The feelings it conveys are intensely felt.
So I am going to press the point a little further by putting up here the words of another beloved Scottish song: Scottish Soldier. I am sure that any Leftist would immediatey assume that such a song must be glorying in the crushing, dominating and extermination of other people. But it does none of that. As a song about a soldier it does indeed refer with pride to his distinguished military past but the song is not about that at all. Once again it is about his memories of his own country whilst serving abroad and how his dying wish to be buried in Scotland was honoured.
Scottish Soldier
1). There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier
Who wandered far away and soldiered far away
There was none bolder, with good broad shoulders,
He fought in many a fray and fought and won
He's seen the glory, he's told the story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious
But now he's sighing his heart is crying
To leave these green hills of Tyrol.
Chorus: Because these green hills are not highland hills
Or the Islands hills their not my lands hills,
As fair as these green foreign hills may be
They are not the hills of home.
2). And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier,
Who wandered far away and soldiered far away
Sees leaves are falling, and death is calling
And he will fade away, on that dark land
He called his piper, his trusty piper
And bade him sound away, a pibroch sad to play
Upon a hillside but Scottish hillside
Not on these green hills of Tyrol
Chorus:
3). And now this soldier this Scottish soldier
Who wanders far no more, and soldiers far no more
Now on a hillside, a Scottish hillside
You'll see a piper play this soldier home
He's seen the glory, he's told the story
Of battles glorious and deeds victorious
But he will cease now, he is at peace now
Far from these green hills of Tyrol
Chorus:
In case I seem to be just blowing smoke in saying above that Leftists tend to see patriotism as implying hostility towards others, I might mention that there is a very large academic literature in psychology which assumes exactly that -- starting with the work of Adorno et al. (1950) on "ethnocentrism". I might also mention that my own survey research into exactly that question repeatedly showed exactly what I have asserted above -- that patriotism does NOT in general imply hostilty towards others. See e.g. here.
Reference: Adorno,T.W., Frenkel-Brunswik, E., Levinson, D.J. & Sanford, R.N. (1950). The authoritarian personality New York: Harper.
16 November, 2008
Another poetry night
I got Michael Darby up from Sydney again last night; This time to help expand Joe's awareness of English poetry. Ann was down in Sydney at a conference connected to her work so Jenny came in and cooked us our dinner: Roast lamb followed by trifle. And a very good dinner it was. The menu was designed to fit in with the English theme and I also flew the flag of St George from my flagpole.
Dinner started at 7pm on time but it was a close run thing as Michael got here only about 5 minutes before that. Joe, Sam, Jill and Lewis made up the party. Jill and Michael are old friends.
I have recently had a few minor renovations done so my place was at its best for the occasion. As I usually do, I set the table with EPNS silver and bone-handled knives: Genuine living in the past! I opened the proceedings with a champagne toast: "For St George and merrie England".
Much poetry was read and recited, including a lot of old favourites: Tennyson, Shelley, Shakespeare, Coleridge, Hopkins etc. As the years go by I become more and more impressed by Tennyson. I helped out by doing some of the readings but I get hoarse very quickly these days so I was pretty croaky by the end of the night and retired exhausted at about 10pm. Michael was his usual stentorian self during his readings and recitations and Jenny stayed on chatting to him until about 11pm.
The table conversation was rather rabidly conservative. Lewis and Michael both tore into Australia's Leftists with Jill and I just occasionally chiming in with a few similar remarks. It must have been a contrast for Joe when compared with what he hears in the university environment. Since Joe's own views tend conservative, I think he would have found it refreshing.
9 November, 2008
Some meandering Sunday morning thoughts
Most of what I put up on my blogs is written by others. I suppose I am lucky that I do regularly find stuff that I agree with or find interesting. Every now and again, however, I do put up something that is entirely written by me and today is one of those occasions. And, seeing it is a quiet, relaxed Sunday morning, I am just going to meander a bit.
I was just listening to the superb "Sea pictures" by Sir Edward Elgar (pic above). I am lucky to have a CD on which Dame Janet Baker is the contralto and she does a superb job. The poems Elgar chose to set were drawn from quite obscure poets for the most part and my favourite song is "Where corals lie" -- written by a little-known Scotsman. I was born where corals lie (by the sea in tropical Queensland) so maybe that has a little to do with it. Following "Corals", however, is a song which is set to a poem ("Swimmer") by Adam Lindsay Gordon, a highly esteemed Australian poet. And that sparked the thought that I should have a poetry evening for the more profound Australian poets. I have already had an evening for the Australian balladeers -- Lawson, Paterson, Dennis etc -- at which the inimitable Michael Darby starred, but, much as I love the balladeers, they are not the whole of what Oz poetry has to offer. Writers like Gordon, Kenneth Slessor etc are also in my view outstanding.
Michael Darby is coming up from Sydney in a week's time to give us his renditions of English poetrty so I am somewaht inclined to give him the job of introducing my son to the more profound Australian poets as well. And I may do that. I put on a poetry evening at my place once or twice a year to help fill in the gaps in my son's education. He went right through High School without even hearing the names of such greats as Wordsworth and Coleridge.
On the other hand, is it not a little broad to look at a whole class of poets? Poets are intensely individual. So should I not also have an evening devoted to a particular poet? In one sense I do that every year of course -- on January 25 when I have a Burns Night -- a ritualized celebration of the birth of Robert Burns -- and next year I even have an old Kiwi friend coming up to help with the festivities who does a reasonable Scottish accent. I gather that his Dunedin origins account for that. So I will dragoon him into reading most of the poems.
But in my strange way, there is also a religious poet whom I very much like: Gerard Manley Hopkins. See the icon above (an icon of the pre-computer sort). And I am not alone in that liking. There are actually Hopkins literary festivals in some places. I could of course have an evening devoted to Hopkins in which I did all the reading. There are plenty of his poens that attract my enthusiasm. But while my poetry nights are mainly for the benefit of my son, I like to get a little extra out of them myself as well. So I would rather like to have a Hopkins enthusiast to do the honours. And the obvious enthusiast would have to be a Jesuit -- which is what Hopkins was. But does the Society of Jesus even exist in Brisbane? I suppose it might. I will have to look into it.
October 31, 2008
A small reflection about the relationship between England and Australia
Most Americans feel proud, pleased and blessed to be born in America. And rightly so. Australians and the English feel similarly and for similar reasons. But from the large and constant stream of English immigrants arriving in Australia, one gathers that a lot of the English like some sunshine with their English heritage. And there is more than sunshine to it. I remember a recent arrival in Australia who hailed from Yorkshire saying to me that Australia is "Yorkshire with brass", where "brass" is Northern slang for money. He was oversimplifying but there was a lot of truth in what he said nonetheless. The ties between England and Australia are a lot closer than either side will normally admit. Australians speak derisively of the English (calling them "Poms") and the English speak derisively of Australians (calling them "colonials").
But it remains true that both nationalities feel very much at home in the others' country. And I am probably a rather extreme example of that. When I was growing up in Australia in the 1950s, I grew up into a society that was very Anglophilic. Many Australian-born people still copied their parents' usage and referred to England as "home". And we had a Prime Minister (Sir Robert Menzies) who described himself as "British to his bootstraps". And I remember crying -- aged about 9 -- when it was announced that the King had died. An even stronger influence than all that, however, stemmed from the fact that I was a great book reader from an early age. And most if not all boys' books available were written and published in England for the English. So I grew up in a mental world that was half-English: Which was a very good start on understanding English thinking.
So when I first arrived in England in 1977 I found a few peculiarities but in general had no social difficulties -- which is saying something if you know the intricacies of English social rules. I imagine that I did transgress in various ways from time to time -- but never enough to be a bother. In fact my high level of social acceptance would have been the envy of many Englishmen. I was materially assisted in that by the fact that an educated Australian accent is quite close to RP ("Oxford" English) and accent is enormously important in England. Any Australian accent is in fact closer to RP than are many regional English accents. So I was often told in England that I had a "soft" accent -- meaning that although detectably Australian it was not beyond the pale in in the Home Counties. My conservative politics tend to go down well in the Home Counties too.
An amusing effect of this close but usually denied affinity is the way that some Australian women have constructed for themselves a version of English "society". In England there really is such a thing as "society" -- basically the English aristocracy. The Australian version is of course self-selected rather than genetically selected but they do a moderately good job of imitating the English original. And part of that is that they do a rather good job of imitating the speech of the English original. I remember one example vividly. When I was talking on the phone to Laurie, she sounded to me just like Margaret, who is an English lady I know who really is a born member of the English aristocracy.
So who was Laurie? She was the daughter of my father's accountant. In other words we both grew up in a small Australian country town -- going to school in bare feet in a tropical environment -- an environment beset by such perils as taipan snakes, funnelweb spiders, box jellyfish, finger cherries and crocodiles, rather than the more pleasant English phenomena of crocuses, daffodils, cuckoos and skylarks. From that humble beginning, however, Laurie had acquired all the language, mannerisms and values of the English aristocracy. And I imagine that she did so without ever visiting England.
It reminds me of something that someone wrote (probably Andrew Ian Dodge -- an Anglophilic American, now deceased) when I first started putting up my "Eye on Britain" blog. He said that this is a blog about England from an outsider's point of view -- but the author really isn't an outsider because he is an Australian. Very insightful.
6 Oct 2008
Maureen's birthday
A small and informal lunch yesterday at Ken's place for the occasion. We have had so many big family occasions (at which the women do most of the work) in recent times that Maureen wanted something very low-key for her birthday. So it was a "bring your own lunch" occasion. Present were Ken, Maureen, Paul, Sue, Jenny, Joe and myself.
Sue brought along for her lunch a meat pie with peas and mashed potatoes. Despite her being statuesque and 6' tall, she is a quarter Filipino in ancestry -- but her choice of lunch revealed that she is also 100% Australian. Perhaps it is only her exceptionally pleasant nature that is her Filipino heritage.
The birthday cake was a Pavolva with lots of fruit on top which went down very well. Sad that it is only in Australia that the virtues of Pavlova are well-known.
We talked mainly about the stockmarket. Paul is selling all his real estate with the intention of putting the money into shares -- as shares are very cheap at the moment. I think that is a very wise move but since I suggested it, I would, wouldn't I?
27 Sept 2008
More surgery: Gak!
About two weeks ago I decided that a couple of my skin cancers were getting a bit obstreperous so I called my usual dermatologist cum plastic surgeon, the excellent Dr Russell Hills. He is the most expensive in town but also the best. And I speak as a connoisseur of plastic surgery -- with many years of experience. Anyway, I got an appointment for a consultation with him after only a week's wait and I was on the surgery table a week after that -- last Wednesday. A large contrast with the months of waiting I would have had through our local "free" hospital system. With cancers, waiting long periods is not wise.
I had two procedures, one of which was a rather large curette and diathermy on the middle of my forehead. So the next day my face was so swollen with edematous swelling that I had some difficulty seeing out of my eyes. I kept on blogging regardless however.
When Anne came over that night (Thursday) I was no way fit to dine out so Anne scrabbled around in my freezer and found a dozen or so French cutlets, a great favourite of mine. She grilled them up and served them with rice and baked beans. That may seem like an odd combination but rice and beans are in fact the staple of Mexican cuisine so it all worked very well.
Then for breakfast on Friday she dug out a medium size cheese and steak pie by "Muzza", our local genius pastycook. So I dined and breakfasted very well thanks to Anne, which did help my spirits. I am not easily ground down but I was not feeling the brightest with my surgical aftermaths.
23 September, 2008
Ken's birthday
A big family rollup for lunch at his place last Sunday. Anne and I Humbered there. Everyone was there as far as I can remember. "The men" (Ken, myself, Joe and Paul) mostly talked about the financial upheavals in America and the effect on our stockmarket but, as usual, I don't know what everybody else talked about. Though Lady Von got some praise for going into real-estate rather than the stockmarket.
Paul was the picture of gloom because he had put $100,00 into Suncorp at $11 per share or thereabouts and seen it sink to $7. I tried to tell him that his thinking was too short-term and that it would all bounce back in due course but I don't think he was much consoled. I bought Suncorp at around $18 from memory and I'm not worried.
Maureen had bought some excellent sausages for the BBQ and Anne had made one of her great trifles so at least the food was good.
I talked to Joe a bit and told him not to swim in rivers because you can get swept away! How banal can you get? I also however gave him a CD with the wonderful Sibelius musette on it so that should be a good memorial of the occasion.
He still seems set on being an actuary -- which is rather amusing because most people don't know what the hell that is! But as a mathematics graduate he is definitely allowed to do strange things!
I also talked a bit to Simon, who was just back from Qatar. He was amazed at what a dismal place Qatar is and definitely glad to be home with his lovely wife and family after 6 months away.
8 September, 2008
Fathers' Day
Yesterday was Fathers' Day in Australia and Jenny gave me a lunch to mark the occasion -- as she usually does. This time she gave me a BBQ lunch featuring cevapi, which she knows I like. And the lunch was good from the first smell. Present were Jenny, myself, Joe and Nanna.
We were both pleased that Joe got into the cevapi. Given the large similarities between him and me, that was rather to be expected but the reason we were pleased is that he normally will not eat sausages and cevapi are a type of sausage. So he just likes GOOD sausages!
Jenny has just had a visit of a few days from Nola and they went to all sorts of entertainment together, as usual. Jenny and Nola get on exceptionally well together and have done so for many years so I asked Jenny why she thought that was. She thought that she and Nola have similar attutudes and values but I would have not have thought that was terribly obvious. But feelings cannot be easily analysed anyway. One thing for sure: Both Jenny and Nola like FUN! And both view the world with a rather cynical and skeptical eye.
Nola is very irreverent and headstrong. One one occasion she was at a rather formal dinner party and they were going around the table saying who their best friend was. When it came to Nola's turn she said her best friend was her vibrator! She definitely does not like pomposity and pretence! It's probably the Irish in her as she is of Irish descent.
I brought with me to the lunch three copies of Dragon Cave, an old Amiga game that is one of Nanna's favourites. Nanna may be a lady in her 80s but she does like computer games. She has worn out several copies of Dragon Cave. It is a sokoban game.
After lunch, Joe and I looked on the computer for an audio clip of "Musette" by Sibelius. Joe did not know it and I knew he would like it. He did.
1 September, 2008
Piano and singers
Joe's music teacher put on a concert of her students at 4pm yesterday. Joe was the last on the program and played an unusual piece of Mozart's (Fantasy in C minor) very well. I have been paying for music lessons for him for 17 years now -- since he was 4 -- so I am pleased that it has all paid off.
I have just got to thinking what a diverse lot my favourite singers are: Josef Schmidt, Peter Dawson and Paul Robeson -- a Romanian Jewish tenor, an Australian bass baritone and a black American bass.
I absolutely love "Heut' ist der schoenste Tag in meinem Leben", a joyous love song by Schmidt.
And for Dawson, of course, THE song is "Floral dance".
There is an unusual history behind Floral dance. It was actually written by a woman for a woman and it makes slightly more sense in that form. Yet it was Dawson who revised it for a male voice and made it famous.
For the incredibly versatile Paul Robeson a favourite song is harder to pick but "Ol' Man River" is hard to beat.
So what do they have in common? Nothing as far as I can see. I just like their voices but don't ask me why. Though one thing that they have in common, sadly, is that they are all dead.
Since the Schmidt song is in German, I thought I might translate it -- so others can appreciate what it is all about. It is a literal translation rather than a poetic one. I have been doing poetic translations from German since I was 15 but they take more time and work::
Heut Ist Der Schoenste Tag In Meinem Leben
Refrein:
Heut ist der schoenste Tag in meinem Leben, ]
Today is the most beautiful day in my life
Ich fuehl zum ersten Mal, ich bin verliebt.
I feel for the first time, I am in love
Ich moechte diesen Tag fuer keinen geben
I would not swap this day for any other
Es ist ein Wunder, dass es sowas gibt.
It is a wonder that such a thing could exist
Heut will ich mit keinem tauschen
Today would I exchange with no other
Wer's auch ist und wer's auch immer sei,
Who ever else is like that may it ever be
Heut will ich mich berauschen,
Today I wish to intoxicate myself
Morgen ist's vielleicht vorbei.
Tomorrow it may be gone
Heut ist der schoensten Tag in meinem Leben
Today is the most beautiful day in my life
Heut ist der schoenste Tag im Monat Mai.
Today is the most beautiful day in the month of May
Wo ich bin und wo ich gehe,
Where I am and where I go
Ist das Glueck in meiner Naehe,
Isd the luck of what surrounds me
Heute singen alle Geiqen,
Today all fiddles sing
Fuer Dich und fuer mich.
For you and for me
Heute denk ich nicht an Morgen,
Today I don't think of tomorrow
Heute gibt es keine Sorgen,
Today there are no worries
Heut ist alle Tage Sonntag,
Today is an eternal Sunday
Fuer dich und fuer mich.
For you and for me
Refrein
Auf die Woche folgt der Sonntag
After the week Sunday follows
Auf den Sonntaq folgt der Montag,
After Sunday comes Monday
Auf die Sonne folgt der Regen,
After the sun comes the rain
So ist das zumeist.
So it is in general
Auf die Trauer folgt die Freude,
After sadness comes joy
Und die Liebe fuer uns beide,
And love for us two
Und wer so wie wir verliebt ist,
And so for anybody in love like us
Der weiss was das heisst.
Who knows what that is
Refrein
Update:
I have done a bit more work on the translation and the version below should be just barely singable
Refrain:
Now is the best time in all my life
I feel for the first time I am in love
I wouldn't give this day for any other
It is a wonder that such a thing could be
I won't swap this day with anyone else
Who ever it is or whoever it may be
Today I want to be drunk with it
For tomorrow it may be gone
Now is the best time in all my life
Now is the best time in the month of May
Verse 1
Where I am and where I go
Luck is in my neighbourhood
Today all fiddles are singing
For you and for me
Today there is no tomorrow
Today there are no worries
Today all days are Sunday
For you and for me
Verse 2
After the week comes Sunday
After Sunday comes Monday
After the sun comes the rain
So it mostly is
After sadness comes joy
And love for us two
And anyone else in love
Knows what that means
27 August, 2008
The travails of a new mobile phone
I understand the above toon perfectly. I have recently got myself a new mobile phone that seems to be able do everything except cook your breakfast. Figuring out how to get it to do any of those things is a big problem, however. I have figured out how to get the FM radio in it working and, after much trial and error, I can work the camera. I can't figure out how to do anything with the pictures, however and I can't stop the keybord from locking every time the phone goes into idle mode. But I can make and receive calls! Its number at the moment is 0488603058 but I am going to transfer my old SIM card into it when I get the thing more or less figured out.
26 August, 2008
Food for thought
I guess I must be a sentimental old fool. I read recently a story in "The Times" which I cannot get out of my head. I have posted it on Paralipomena. It is about a man who was adopted out as a baby but who finally traced his birth mother when he was 41. Such stories are usually emotional but you read such stories often so what was unusual about this story? The striking thing is in the very last sentence -- a sentence that is at once totally crazy and totally right. I am sure that the sort of self-obsessed person we often find on the political Left would think nothing of it but it brings tears to my old eyes. If you choose to read it, do read the whole story first. Peeking at the last sentence first may well deprive it of much of its impact.
A recent post on Wicked Thoughts has got some memorable entries in it too. See also Monday 25th August here
11 August, 2008
More music
Westside Music Group again last night. Congenial as usual. No Asian pianists this time. Instead we had a 13 year old girl with a big mane of blonde hair who played some difficult Mozart and Bartok with enormous confidence and skill. Her mother was with her -- another South African-born lady with still a trace of the accent. Our violinist was however Jewish, so tradition was maintained. She played some Cesar Franck with the sort of enormous intensity that one rather expects of Jewish violinists. So we had first class piano and first class violin.
There was also a large female opera singer who was very competent but her voice was just a bit reedy for me. And a classical guitarist finished the evening for us in a very pleasant way. Anne is a singer -- a good soprano -- so she was rather critical of our operatic lady. When you are in the trade you notice the fine points, I guess.
We had a good crowd. Rosemary's big living room was full -- 20 or more people all told. It was a freezing night so everybody was rugged up. One lady arrived carrying a crocheted blanket and another lady wore a big white beanie. There was a fire going in the fireplace but the room was too open for that to make much difference. Brisbane houses are built for warm weather, not the cold. But we do have a few rather wintry nights. Last night was 60 degrees F or 16 degrees C. So "freezing" is all relative.
2 August, 2008
Good taste in Tonga
After the new king was crowned in Tonga yesterday, he drove off aboard a 1950's Humber Super Snipe
Anne and I went clothing shopping yesterday. Anne has proper lady thoughts about men dressing nicely but she has on her hands one of the world's worst sartorial disasters. I sallied out dressed in pilled-up old trackies and slippers with breakfast spilt on them. Now that I am just an old pensioner I am worse than ever.
We went to the huge shopping centre at Garden City. We went to both Lowes and Big W and ended up buying 5 shirts and two boxer short undies for me. Getting stuff for "big men" was no mean feat however.
But I guess I have some advantages. Anne had the night before expressed a wish to have a CD of "that Gregorian chant from that German monastery". And within 24 hours she had in her possession a CD of the music from the Stift Heiligen Kreuz (Institution of the Holy Cross -- a Cistercian monastery in the Vienna woods of Austria). It is indeed marvellous music.
There was an ABC shop on the way back from Lowes and I managed to find the relevant CD there.
Schwarto and Queensland police indifference to car theft
Rob Schwarten is a long-standing Labor party member of the Queensland parliament who has served in various ministries. He has a reputation for being aggressive -- even physically intimidating. So I was amused to receive from him a letter that was typically Schwarto -- a sort of verbal punch. Before I show you the letter, however, I need to tell you what led up to it:
In a nutshell: My car was stolen and the Queensland police showed not the slightest interest in apprehending the thief or thieves, despite the ID of one of them being handed to them on a plate.
More detail: Someone reported my abandoned car to the Redcliffe police about a week after it was stolen; the Redcliffe police checked their reports of stolen cars and notified me accordingly.
When I got the car back, most of the contents that I had in it were missing. This bothered me greatly as some of the contents were of considerable value to me. On checking through what remained, however, I found a library card belonging to someone I had never heard of. It was for a library in the Redcliffe area. It seemed clear to me that one of the thieves had inadvertently dropped it while they were in the car. Eureka! Just trace the person and I might get my stuff back!
So I took the card to my nearest cop-shop -- at Dutton Park. I was greeted at the counter by a dickless Tracy by the name of Turgeon. I told her my story, she listened and said she would look into it. I had no sooner stepped outside the building before I realized however that she had not taken a single note or asked for any details, let alone fill out a proper report.
I went back in and urged details upon her -- registration number, dates etc. She grabbed a torn-off scrap of paper and jotted a few things down. That was it. I left in great doubt about whether I had been taken seriously.
So I followed the matter up in the following weeks and months. In the course of that I was told two things by various police persons:
1). The card could have been dropped by anyone so was no proof of anything. Police logic, I presume. They seemed to think that I might have been driving around with people unknown to me in my car.
2). The person on the card had been checked and found to have no "form" (no criminal record) so there was no point in pursuing them. More police logic. How one ever gets form in the first place under those circumstances was never expained.
I was of course not remotely impressed by those pearls of wisdom but they came from more than one police officer, including a rather senior one. It stood out like dog's balls that the Queensland police were not remotely interested in catching car thieves -- unless of course you could catch them at the end of an exciting high-speed chase. No wonder Queensland has the highest rate of car theft in Australia. If you don't catch the baddies they will continue doing it.
So I started writing to the politicians in order to get some action. I got some very ill-considered replies from them too but it emerged that by that time the ID card had been "lost" and they could not therefore investigate the matter even if they wanted to.
That was quite appalling. There are of course strict police rules about the recording and preservation of material evidence and those regulations had obviously been ignored. It's not much of a guess to conclude that the Virgin Turgeon threw it straight into the bin, in fact.
I asked for disciplinary measures to be taken and Inspector Volk of Dutton Pk. station assured me that they had. For all I know that was just hot air, however. Clearly, Constable Turgeon had simply been following informal police rules.
I was rather stumped at that point but eventually made what was probably the only move left to me: Sue for compensation for my loss of car contents. I accordingly wrote to the Minister in charge of police with a claim for $500 in compensation for the loss of car contents that police negligence had prevented me from recovering. I got the usual ill-considered reply -- presumably written by a junior ministerial assistant. So I wrote again to point that out.
It was then that I got my amusing letter from Schwarto:
Judy Spence MP
Member for Mount Gravatt
Queensland
Government
Office of the
Minister for Police and
Corrective Services
Ref: 5627 F6 GM
23 May, 2008
Dear Dr Ray
Thank you for your further letter of 19 March 2008 concerning your dealings with police regarding the theft of your motor vehicle and property stolen from the vehicle.
I note you have received several replies from the Honourable Judy Spence MP since 2006 regarding associated issues.
While I have noted your further comments, as the Acting Minister for Police I am unable to intervene in any particular police investigation or operational decision, or interfere in the Police Service's handling of any particular complaint against its officers.
In the circumstances, your correspondence has been forwarded to the Police Service for consideration and you should take up direct with the Service on any further issues of concern.
Neither Ms Spence nor I am can assist you further in this matter and therefore do not intend corresponding with you in future on this issue.
Yours sincerely
Robert Schwarten MP
Acting Minister for Police, Corrective Services and Sport
He appears to think he can shut me up!
No further correspondence from the Police Service has arrived in the two months since Schwarto wrote so I suppose that an action against the Constable in the Small Claims tribunal will have to be my next step.
I have put this post and most of the letters I wrote on the matter up on a special blog called "Queensland Police Negligence". You will see there that I even wrote to the body that is supposed to act on complaints against the police but that they simply referred the complaint back to the police -- as they usually do.
What I would most like to see at this stage is a public enquiry resulting in visible disciplinary action against the police officers primarily responsible for the unofficial policy of not investigating car stealing.
26 July, 2008
An interesting night -- with cheesesteak
I have always been impressed by what I hear about the way Philadelphians are devoted to Cheesesteak sandwiches. Being pretty cheesy myself, I have always thought that they sound yummy. Sadly, however, they are unknown in Australia (to my knowledge) and a trip to Philadelphia is not on my horizon so I had to find another way of getting to try one.
So I gathered together various screeds about them and a couple of videos about how to make them and did my best to get Anne to create one from those sources. I bought the Provolone cheese for starters. Provolone too is little known in Brisbane but fortunately there is a large Italian deli only a few minutes drive from my place so that was easy.
Last night Anne got inspired enough to have a go at making some -- and they were deLISH! In principle they are pretty basic -- good steak sliced or diced, provolone plus onions in a bread roll. But the cook still needs to have talent to get it right -- and Anne did. You would be hard put to get a better meal in a good restaurant.
Later Anne and I were talking about religion and she made some derisive reference to it but I pointed out that she was herself a good Calvinist. As with me, her background is Presbyterian and Presbyterians are the representatives of Calvinsm (predestination) in the English-speaking world. I tried to get her to see that there was some alternative to predestinarian thinking -- such as Lutheran salvation by faith -- but it was uphill. She informed me that she never has got on well with Lutherans anyhow. She definitely has a Presbyterian brain. Fortunately, I am very much at home with that. My mother and aunties were the same.
Anne reminded me of something that had rather passed me by. The Governor of Queensland, Quentin Bryce, who is soon to become Governor General of Australia (both largely ceremonial posts but very prestigious nonetheless), is an active member of Ann St Presbyterian church -- which for both Anne and me is our old church -- and one which we still like to go to occasionally.
Quentin Bryce is a feminist lady in various ways so I had always been pretty dubious about her. Feminists can be pretty nasty. So my opinion of Her Excellency rose enormously when I realized her church affiliation. Ann St is a pretty old-fashioned gospel-oriented church so it is not the church you go to for social show. She would have gone to the Cathedral if that had been her aim. She may have a Presbyterian brain too.
21 July, 2008
Some fun times
The weekend started out early on Thursday. In an event somewhat reminiscent of a potlatch, Anne and I gave one-another blankets that day. I gave her a cotton blanket and she gave me a woollen blanket. As astronomer Sir Arthur Eddington once said: "Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine"! That applies to life on earth too.
We dined at home on some very good fish 'n chips from a nearby fish-shop that night, accompanied by some J.P. Chenet sauvignon blanc -- our favourite fish wine.
And Saturday went well with Anne cooking us some roast pork -- one of my favourites
And Sunday was the 21st for my son Joe. We had the celebration as a dinner at our usual Indian restaurant at Stone's Corner. There were 22 people present, partly Joe's friends but mostly family. Paul was full of beans as usual and livened everybody up. The rest of us are a pretty quiet lot so Paul is a great help.
The cake was a rich chocolate cake with profiteroles on top. Ken's slice did not come with any profiteroles, however, so he protested and got a special plate of them. Paul thought his curry was not hot (as in spicy) enough so he got another one which really burned him up! Joe seemed to enjoy it all, which was of course the main idea.
Joe did not know the old "21 today" song so I sang it for him and presented him with a huge antique brass key during it.
The 21 year old with Sam and empty champagne glass:
Cake topped with profiteroles:
Jill and Lewis were there:
That fat guy paid the bill:
Joe and Paul with Nanna:
Paul with the photographer:
16 July, 2008
An eventful day
Eventful by the standards of my quiet life anyway.
Not long ago I had a flagpole installed at the front of my house and since then I have bought various flags to fly from it to suit various occasions. The fact that my morning drive takes me past one of Brisbane's two chief flag suppliers has something to do with that.
Anyway, I decided yesterday that I would like to fly the English flag in honour of my English ancestors so I dropped in at the flag place and asked for one. A printed flag there retails for $44 so price is no big deal. They only had a sewn St George flag in stock, however, which is much dearer. So they sold me the sewn one at the wholesale price of $80. There are benefits in being a regular customer -- but being a regular customer at a flag factory is undoubtedly eccentric.
Note that I said the English flag and not the Union Jack. The Union Jack is the flag of the United Kingdom. The St George flag is the flag of England. Since devolution, flying the English flag has become popular in England, even though the lower echelons of British officialdom sometimes describe that as "racist"! Thank goodness British officialdom does not speak for all Englishmen (or even the majority of Englishmen in this case). I suppose some blighted souls would also describe the historic toast "To St George and merrie England" as racist too. Schoolkids in England have even been punished by teachers for flying the English flag!
The English flag is also often flown by Englishmen who object to the non-solution of the "West Lothian question" and I am entirely in sympathy with that protest, so I was glad to have the proud and historic red cross of St George flying over my house yesterday.
And in the afternoon, Paul came over to deliver my new UPS (uninterruptible power supply). We do have momentary interruptions of power supply here at night fairly often and there is talk of strikes from electricity unionists so I definitely need a UPS.
While he was here Paul also installed a DVD burner in my computer and installed the AVG viruschecker -- which he recommends. I have always found viruscheckers more trouble than they are worth so I hope this one turns out better.
Then in the evening Jenny had Anne and me over for a paella. There are very few restaurants in Brisbane where you can get a paella and Jenny's home-cooked paellas are as good as they come so it was much enjoyed. I took over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot to aid the deliberations and we had an excellent pavlova for dessert.
And today I have just had the termite man over. The house is under fairly heavy attack from termites at the moment so we have to do what we can to kill them. We are using Termidor this time. You never get rid of them entirely, however, so you just have to put occasional repairs down to maintenance.
14 July, 2008
Sunday lunch
Jill gave a small party of us lunch yesterday. Present at her place were: Jill, Lewis, myself, Anne, Henningham, Helen, Jenny, Joe and Sam. Jenny, Joe, myself, Anne and Sam Humbered out to River Hills. Jill likes my verb "Humbered". But when you have a 1963 Humber Super Snipe Series IV, you do such things.
A snipe is a waterbird and it always amuses me the way the English name lots of things after waterbirds: boats, cars, locomotives. Who has not heard of the Mallard and Bittern steam trains? How can a steam locomotive be like a duck? Search me!
The lunch was on Jill's large patio, surrounded by garden. Jill's garden has grown up tall and lush so it was a very pleasant setting. Jill made us some tagliatelle with seafood, which everybody liked. And pavlova for dessert -- one of Australia's few notable contributions to cuisine.
Henningham was in his best jovial form so it was a very relaxed occasion.
As part of the festivities we did a small play that I wrote especially for the occasion. Henningham is an amateur thespian so he got the part of the old man. I got a round of applause for writing it and it does seem to have amused those present. It was rightly noted that the play was very cynical, however. You can read it here or here
9 July, 2008
Vin ordinaire report
After the fuss that the do-gooders kicked up about it, I thought I should try some of Dan Murphy's $2 wine. I bought a couple of bottles yesterday -- a shiraz and a chardonnay. Anne made us quite a nice moussaka for dinner (recipe here) so I opened the shiraz first. I am afraid that it was tres ordinaire -- with a definite barnyard taste. I tipped most of it down the sink.
So then I opened the chardonnay and was surprised to find it perfectly passable, with quite a pleasant fresh taste. I would not be embarrassed to serve it to guests. I don't plan to buy any more of it as I am rather fixated at the moment on Tyrrells verdelho and Taylors Promised Land unwooded chardonnay but if anybody is a bit short of the shekels these days, stocking up on the chardonnay would not be a bad decision -- though tastes do differ so try it for yourself first. Maybe I just got a rare good bottle.
8 July, 2008
The Geneva Bible
A great pleasure! I have just received my copy of the recently reprinted Geneva Bible, the translation that the Pilgrim Fathers mainly used. The Geneva Bible was the popular version in the English-speaking world until the "official" King James Bible gradually supplanted it.
I bought my copy via World Net Daily and it cost me rather a lot, which may seem rather mad since I already have many Bibles, including three recensions of the Greek New Testament (i.e. in the original Greek) and some excellent modern translations. But it is exciting to read the words of the Bible just as they were read by the great English Protestant reformers who changed the world and whose reforms are the basis of our entire modern civilization.
Because it was so popular in its day, the Geneva Bible underwent many printings, not all of which were identical. The version I have is a reproduction of a 1599 printing. The King James Bible, of course, was first printed in 1611.
I tend to judge Bible translations by their translation of the first few verses of the Gospel of John. John 1:1 is much used by afficianados of the originally pagan Trinity doctrine to justify their nonsensical dogma. So I was most pleased to see that the Geneva translators gave in their footnote a much better sense of the original Greek than we usually see. The Geneva Bible was renowned in its day for its many informative footnotes and they are still a useful resource. The explanatory footnote for John 1:1 reads: "The son of God is of one, and the selfsame eternity or everlastingness, and of one and the selfsame essence or nature, with the father". That puts the sense of the original much more clearly than the literal translation of the original text itself. The underlying idea in the Greek original -- that the Logos was of divine essence -- is clearly there in the Geneva footnote.
If I were to express the meaning of the original Greek in a purely Anglo-Saxon vocabulary, I would translate it as "And of god-stuff was the word". (See also my many previous exegetical comments on John 1:1 -- e.g. here and here)
So the Geneva Bible did allow the people of the 16th century to get close to the original meaning of the New Testament. And the transformative power of doing that was evident then and continues to this day. Those now ancient words still have enormous power to move the minds of men. The many clergy of the "mainstream" churches who think they have a better or more "modern" message to preach from their pulpits are just self-defeating fools. There is no substitute for the original Gospel.
July 5, 2009
Hair washing and a moment of enlightenment
Where I grew up in tropical Australia, very few people had what the rest of the world call a bath. For us, to "have a bath" meant to take a shower. What other people called a bath, we called a "plunge" and many houses had no such thing. And in hot weather (which it almost always was), taking a shower at both morning and evening was common. And the shower head was large and positioned right overhead for maximum cooling and cleaning.
Since I have moved to more Southern parts, however, I have always been disgruntled to find that, instead of being overhead, the shower rose is fitted so that it shoots water at you from roughly eye level or not much higher.
So when I had a shower recess put up in my bathroom recently (I previously had just a shower over the bath -- which posed hazards of slipping and falling over), I instructed the plumber to put the shower head high up and overhead -- which he did.
I was pointing out this achievement to Anne when she said she didn't like it. It meant that she would always get her hair wet. So I finally got it. Those pesky low-down showers are for the convenience of women. I imagine that most men are like me and don't mind getting their hair wet. I don't feel properly bathed unless I have washed my hair, in fact. But I can see that long hair and expensive hairdos might require protection at times.
3 July, 2008
Death
My sister Jack (Jacqueline Margaret Ray aka Ward) died this morning of the family illness -- breast cancer. Her death was expected and her female companion was with her until the end.
She was only 2 years younger than me but we were not close. I had seen her only once in the last quarter century -- at my brother's wedding.
She leaves no children.
29 June, 2008
A McGonagall night
Ever since I was introduced to him many years ago by my friend Mel Dickson, I have been a great fan of that great Scottish poet William Topaz McGonagall, who is widely regarded as the world's worst poet. He is so bad, however, that he rises to genius at what he does. His poetry is so bad that it is hilarious. A reading of McGonagall is one of life's greatest amusements, in my view. The laughs never stop coming.
So I was delighted that I was able to enlist Mel to come up to Brisbane from his home in Sydney and give us an evening of McGonagall readings last night. Mel is from the Dunedin area of New Zealand originally so can do a reasonable Scottish accent. He also has a fancy for the theatre so does well-dramatized readings. I flew the saltire of St. Andrew from my flagpole in honour of the occasion.
The occasion was particularly for the benefit of my son Joe. It was one of the occasional poetry readings that I arrange for him to introduce him to the literature that he should have encountered at school. I doubt that McGonagall has ever been on any school curriculum but he should be.
Present were Joe, Jenny, Mel, myself, Anne, Jill and Lewis. We started at around 7pm with dinner. In honour of McGonagall's origins, we tried to make the dinner Scottish. So we had a mainstream Scottish meal: "Mince and tatties" (ground beef and mashed potatoes). It's pretty plain food basically but Anne managed to make it very passable. And it was followed by a dessert that any Scot would approve of: Trifle. Why is trifle Scottish? Because it originated as a way of "using up" old cake. Anne makes a trifle heavy with apricots which is absolutely delicious. The recipe is on my recipe blog.
I was delighted to note that Joey "got" McGonagall immediately. I think he had at least as many laughs during the evening as I did. Joe seems to have a keen sense of the ridiculous, which is what you need for McGonagall. I presented him with a McGonagall "encyclopedia" as a memento of the occasion. It was the second time that I have flown someone up from Sydney to entertain Joe with poetry so I think I am well ahead in my fatherly responsibilities. He is at present busy with a literature review of non-linear partial differential equations so it certainly provided a contrast for him.
It was also good to see Mel again after many years and we had some good chats. Amusing that it took McGonagall to get us back together. Mel is the retired head of the electron microscope laboratory at the University of NSW.
17 June, 2008
My backyard
Anne took a few pics of my backyard a week or three ago. The cassia is particularly pretty in autumn. And even the old wooden chair looks good in an autumn context!
Another meeting of our Westside Music Group last night. Held in a very new and rather grand house out in the wilds of Pullenvale. Pullenvale is where people go for "acreage" (large) blocks of land. I had trouble finding it and went within a hairsbreadth of crashing my car at one stage. I was wise enough to go in the Echo rather than in the Humber, however, so that helped. The Echo is a lot better at U-turns and narrow roadways.
Our host was an Anglo-Australian but his wife was Indian (Sri-Lankan Sinhalese more precisely). That's quite an unusual combination. Little East-Asian ladies with burly Anglo-Australian men is quite a common combination but Indians seem quite endogamous. And it was the lady who is the musical one, apparently. They were both very pleasant and hospitable anyway.
The gathering was larger than usual but still mostly elderly. There was one lady who must have been somewhere in her 40's but who had kept a very good figure and was very attractively dressed. I wondered a little about that but all was explained the minute I spoke to her: A clear South African accent. South African ladies are VERY particular about their appearance. She was a good pianist anyway. She is a music teacher and did a few duets (four-handed pieces) on the piano with one of her students. It was a very good sound.
Unsurprisingly, our violinist looked very Jewish. I don't know if he was but there is a look that is Jewish even if lots of Jews don't look like that! The number of blue-eyed Jews I know (two of whom were present last night) tells me that Jews have long been less endogamous than their religion would seem to require. Perhaps it all goes back to the story of Ruth.
And we were honoured to have Brisbane's best-known violinist in the audience: Spiros Rantos. I was rather amazed that he was allowed to get away without playing, however. Even born-fiddlers need to listen sometimes, I guess.
And our main pianist was a little Chinese lady, though Australian-born, I think. She was very good. It was great to hear Mozart pouring out from those clever little Asian fingers. It is quite a wonder the way East Asians have taken to Western classical music. Most of the pianists at our concerts seem to be Chinese. Australia is lucky to have had so many high-quality Han immigrants (The Han are the majority race of China but they are also often found in other parts of Asia).
8 June, 2008
More Birthdays
Another family birthday yesterday. A combined do for four family members who have birthdays at roughly the same time: Jenny, Davey, Tracy and Paul's Sue.
We gathered at Paul's place, as we often do, and had a lunch together. It was not a BBQ, for once. It was buffet style but all the food came from the kitchen.
Tracy's Simon was there -- on a week's furlough from his deployment in the Gulf. So Simon, Ken and I spent most of the time talking about the war over there -- and military matters generally. Simon did have some interesting stories. He sees a lot from his vantage position as an air-traffic controller.
There were a lot of Paul's Sue's relatives there, which was a change. The disagreements there seem to have been resolved. It was the first time that I had met her mother.
I had a bit of a chat to Joe about how universities work but I think he is already well ahead of me in his ability to deal with the system there.
I also had a chat with the Croesus of the family, Lady Von (Jenny's daughter Yvonne). Von and I were very close when she was a kid and we still enjoy a chat. She has just made a mint on selling her old house and now has two houses -- one in Brisbane and one in N.Z. And she is buying another one in N.Z. as well. She has also just been promoted at work, with an extra $20,000 a year. She is now an adviser of some sort. Not bad considering the poor marks she got at high school. But she has plenty of brains for things she is interested in. And she is good natured and good looking as well! So it's not surprising that she has had a pretty easy run through life so far.
6 June, 2008
Father knows best?
Not always! But I think that there is nonetheless widespread agreement that sons need their fathers. Some hormonally-challenged feminists and Lesbians (two considerably overlapping categories) disagree but I don't think that evidence is one of their concerns.
Joe has always been mega-independant -- ever since he could crawl. He would screech if we went to carry him up a flight of stairs that he thought he could crawl up. And his first-known sentence was "Don't help", when he was trying to do something and having trouble with it. In the psychology textbooks there is a lot about independance-training and thoughts about how to foster independance in kids. Joe needed no such training. It was in his genes. I have always been very independant too (guess where Joe got it from?) so I entirely approve of Joe's independant traits. Some might find independance in a one-year-old rather strange but I thought it was great. And that independance has continued to this day. Joe wants to make his own way in the world and solve his own problems. Those are traits that were important in his pioneer ancestors and ones that show that he is a true descendant of those strong men of yore.
So it is rare for Joe to bring any of his problems to me -- less than once a year. But when he does I have always so far been able to solve those problems for him. The fact that he and I are similar in many ways obviously facilitates that. And we are even both academics so I can have both personal experience and work experience to draw on in any advice I offer.
Last Saturday Joe had got quite upset over some problems he had been having with his honours mathematics course at university. Partly at his mother's urging, he did however eventually ring me about it and in a few minutes I was able to put him on the right track. I could not of course tell him anything about mathematics but I could tell him how to deal with the situation. So I was able to relieve his mind immediately and get him acting adaptively. He did roughly as I suggested and with his own hard work and positive personality came out of it all with flags flying (as it were).
I have never criticized him and have always been able to help him so I think in that situation that even Mr Independence will in future allow me to help whenever he comes across really big problems.
So yes: Boys may not NEED their fathers but fathers can nonetheless make a big difference --- even where very independant sons are concerned.
26 May 2008
A "mystery breakfast"
On Sunday I invited a few people over to my place for a "mystery breakfast". The mystery was what the breakfast was for. There was apparently a lot of speculation over what it could be. As soon as everybody had arrived, however, I announced the answer. It was held for two reasons: 1) As a birthday bash for Jenny, who turns (somewhere in her '50s) on Tuesday. 2). To celebrate my restoration (at absurd expense) of most of the windows in my old house to their original form. The house originally had casement windows throughout but someone before I bought the house had replaced some of the casements with sliding aluminium windows -- which was very out of keeping with a 1930s style "Queenslander" house.
There are two common traditional patterns in Queensland for the coloured glass in the quarterlights of casement windows: One with all amber and another with alternating red and green. I put all amber down one side of my house and red/green across the front, as I like both patterns. For the benefit of any non-Queenslanders who come by here, below is an illustration of some casements without any colours in their quarterlights.
In attendance at the breakfast were Jenny, Anne, Ken, Maureen, Jill, Lewis, Henningham and Helen.
Anne prepared a marvellous Bircher muesli for starters and we also had lots of cold meats and bread in the Northern European style. We ate out on the verandah with a bright winter sun shining in. It was very pleasant. Several of the people present had recently been on visits to Austria and central Europe so a lot of the conversation centred on that -- and on travel generally.
Below is a picture of the verandah. As you can see, I have not yet defeated ALL the aluminium windows in my house. Festina lente
A little joke I had centred around a black octagonal dinner plate that I had found downstairs. It had apparently been left behind by a departing tenant. I happened to know that Jill had an octagonal dinner set which she very much liked so as soon as she arrived I presented her with her own special black octagonal dinner plate for her to use during the breakfast. She got the joke immediately and I afterwards insisted that she take the plate home with her to add to her collection.
Some of the people present seemed very favourably impressed by my amber-quartered casements and Helen particularly liked all the brass and copper fittings I have on both my windows and my doors. I was rather glad about that as I had Jeff over the day before to do various cleanup jobs, with buffing up all the brass being a big part of that. Ken in his usual way thought that all my casements, brassware etc was a lot of nonsense. Ken has always strongly favoured new things over old things. De gustibus non disputandum est.
22 May, 2008
A rare family photo
The photo below is (left to right) of my niece Katie, my brother Christopher and my sister Roxanne. My sister Jacqueline was also in the original photo but she is terminally ill with the family illness (breast cancer) and not looking good at all so I think I am being respectful in cropping her out of the photo below. Katie is the daughter of Roxanne.
Taken a few weeks ago
A pleasant morning
Anne came over early and made us a breakfast of cevapi and eggs. Then we went to church. It must be over a year since I had been to Ann St Presbyterian and I like to visit there once in a while. For both Anne and me it is our old church and I get a good feeling when I go there. Ann St is Brisbane's street of churches. The magnificent Anglican cathedral is there plus two Presbyterian churches, one Methodist church, the Salvation Army City citadel and a rather grand Masonic hall.
Ann St Presbyterian church would puzzle a Catholic. It is completely unornamented inside -- no "graven images", as befits an old "Wee Free" church. It does however have the most beautiful woodwork throughout.
And it was quite full! The old church was still gathering people to it. It obviously has good outreach activities. And there was even a baptism of a little baby. Very pleasing to see. One hears a lot about empty churches these days but ones that stick to preaching the gospel of God's love still do well. There were people of all ages present, but with a weighting towards grey heads.
The minister gave a good sermon, recounting the story of Jonah and pointing out its implications. Mr McNicol is from Edinburgh and I greatly enjoyed hearing his Scottish accent as he spoke. The word "church" comes out as something like "churruch" to Australian ears. He is a tall, dignified but friendly man and suits the church perfectly in my view.
After the service we came home and had a cup of tea on the verandah.
11 May, 2008
A busy weekend
Anne came over on Thursday evening and we went to the "Mado" Turkish restaurant at Southbank.
I had a sucucluk pide there (something like an Italian calzone) as I usually do and Anne also had a pide. Excellent food. It's getting hard to park the car near there though so we had a walk as well -- which pleased Anne.
Anne stayed overnight and next morning we took a trip to Austria for breakfast -- to the K& K Konditorei at Sinnamon Park. We Humbered out there. It really is like a slice of Austria -- but set in a backstreet of a Brisbane suburb. They even sell Almdudler (A herbal lemonade imported from Austria). I had the Bauern Groestl, as I often do, and Anne had a Kransky with Sauerkraut, Roesti and bread. And we both had two cups of their excellent coffee -- which was a bit over the odds for both of us.
Then on Saturday Anne's sister Merle had a celebration of her 50th wedding anniversary. It was a dinner held in the hall of the Carina Presbyterian church -- an awful big soulless modern place. Not the sort of Presbyterian church hall I was used to at all. Merle and her husband Ralph do however go regularly to that church so it must have something -- good outreach, I gather.
The occasion was in fact a very Presbyterian one: low-key but friendly. Definitely no wild singing and dancing. We did however at one stage have some harp music! It wasn't a Western concert harp so I think it must have been some sort of Korean harp. The lady playing it (Yes. It was a lady. Why are almost all harpists female?) was Korean. You meet Koreans anywhere you go among Australian Presbyterians these days. Why? Because there are now far more Presbyterians in Korea than in Scotland! The main reason Presbyterian missionaries were so successful in Korea is that they were not Japanese. Koreans loathe the Japanese and all their works and do their best to differentiate themselves from the Japanese. Another feature of the evening was a slideshow of family snaps, which everyone enjoyed.
There were four generations of the family present, which was impressive. Anne's 90 year old mother was there as were Anne's two little grandsons. Baby Ethan was looking healthy, which was very heartening. His premature birth was very stressful for all involved but he seems to have suffered no harm from it -- due in part no doubt to the excellent care he got at Brisbane's Mater Private Hospital.
The food was predictable (roast etc.) but pleasant enough. There was of course no alcohol in evidence and we did start the dinner with one of Merle's sons saying grace. I imagine that some people might have found the occasion boring but I felt on familiar and comfortable ground there. I am rather pleased that Anne has revived my Presbyterian connections to some extent. Our similar background is very congenial.
Then Sunday was of course Mothers' Day. As I usually do, I took some good lunchy things over to Jenny's place. She's not my mother but she is the mother of my son. My mother passed away long ago. Jenny's mother is however still hale and hearty in her 80s and she was present at the lunch. Others present were Paul, Joe and Samantha. It was a very pleasant lunch. My contribution was prosciutto, terrine, antipasto and some King Island cheese.
Then for dinner Anne came over again and made us some Reuben sandwiches -- using some Dutch Leerdammer cheese -- a Dutch version of Swiss cheese. And I still managed to keep up my usual blog output through all that!
25 April, 2008
ANZAC DAY
Just a few notes for any overseas readers
Australia's main national day today, when we remember members of our families who died in the many wars where Australian troops have lent a hand to other people far away across the sea. And in one case -- the war with Japan -- we were actually threatened ourselves.
In WWII, the Japanese were stopped in their advance through New Guinea towards Australia by the CMF -- the "weekend warriors" of whom I was myself once a part. There are few weekend warriors any more. I myself served full-time for part of my enlistment and half of the American army in Iraq is made up of reservists. The CMF is now referred to simply as the "Reserves".
Commemoration of Anzac day traditionally includes attendance at an interdenominational "Dawn service" -- held at dawn to commemorate the time when the original Anzacs landed at Gallipoli. After that there is a huge march through the city featuring "ex-diggers" (former members of the military) and their relatives. It is a long time since I have attended the service or watched the march but my heart nonetheless goes out to the families who have lost loved-ones. Perhaps fortunately, the relatives I lost were distant ones whom I never knew personally.
But this evening I will do one very Australian thing: I will attend a family BBQ to celebrate a birthday. The picture above is from Brisbane's shrine of remembrance. It is most pleasing to note that the commemoration seems to get bigger every year -- with many young people involved.
20 April, 2008
Pesach seder (Passover celebration)
I went to my first seder last night.
It was with a local Conservative congregation so there was lots of Hebrew chanted and sung -- and we used an Orthodox haggadah (order of service). I enjoyed it. It was a relaxed and happy occasion, as it should be. We even had some very pleasant Israelis present.
The haggadah was read out loud by various people during the seder and it was mostly read in English. During the reading I was at one stage called on without warning to read a paragraph, which I was of course delighted to do and immediately did. I actually took an active part in the seder rather than being a total visitor. It is lucky I was following what was being read, though!
Will I attend another seder one day? Perhaps. I am not religious so that is a counterindication. But I enjoy Biblical exegesis (rigorous interpretation) so if an opportunity came up to attend one in very scholarly company I would be keen. I have only a Christian knowledge of the Torah so I would appreciate a deeper discussion of it. But there are no Yeshivot (Jewish Bible schools) in Brisbane so I am not holding my breath.
I would be particularly interested in an exegesis of Exodus 12: 43-49. On the face of it, the Lubavitchers have got it right and the seder should be restricted to Jews only. But, as with all good law, there is a loophole: verse 48. I would fail the loophole myself but there other cases where defining the exception would be interesting.
I think that I should in closing express my great appreciation of the inimitable Garek Fish, who led the Beit Knesset Shalom congregation through the seder ceremonies with thoroughly admirable gusto.
A note about the shul (synogogue) that I went to: Like Christianity, Judaism is very fractious, with all sorts of sects. Beit Knesset Shalom is nominally a Progressive shul but is apparently at the most conservative end of that definition. They had a breakaway or threatened breakaway a little while back from a group of members who thought they were not progressive enough.
Interesting that the usual word used for a synagogue is "shul", which really means "school". It is a small hint of the intellectual orientation of Judaism.
Red hair and another seder recollection
A VERY late arrival (about halfway through the seder) at my table was what I took to be a mother/son couple. The son was a serious but polite young man who arrived wearing what the Scots would call "trews": pants with a sort of loud tartan check in them. I gather that he was a rock musician of some sort (I know nothing about popular music. I am a Bach man). I am searching for the right word to describe the impression I got of him: "Eccentric" comes close but only in a way that is in my experience rather to be expected of pop musicians. I was for a time involved in selling music computers (Atari STs) so I got to see a lot of pop musicians at that time. And they do rather seem to live in a world not much influenced by convention.
He had VERY red hair which he wore VERY long -- and a short red beard to go with it. And his skin was VERY fair -- the sort of light-red colour that I recollect my father as having. My father was also a redhead. So how was this unusual person greeted by those present? He was greeted with great affection by many people. They had obviously known him for some time and loved him for the individual that he is.
I was greatly impressed by that. I too value individuality greatly and tend to find eccentrics most interesting. And I am MOST biased in favour of red hair. My first girlfriend was a redhead; The first lady I lived with was a redhead and two of the four ladies I married were redheads. And it gives me great joy to see redheaded children -- which I often do in the places that I frequent. I am most pleased with my son the mathematician (Yiddisher Mommas stereotypically like to refer to "My son the doctor" but I have a feeling that "My son the mathematician" trumps that) but there is a tiny twinge of regret that he is a blond rather than a redhead. There is red hair on his mother's side as well as on mine so it could have been.... I don't really know why I am mentioning these things but why not?
14 April, 2008
A busy weekend
On Saturday night, Anne and I were invited to dinner by my stepson Paul and his wife. Ever since he was a kid, Paul and I have always enjoyed a chat -- and dinner is a good occasion for it, of course. Paul is rather serious-minded and thinks a lot about the best way to live and behave so the fact that he has a psychologist for a stepfather is a useful coincidence. He always seems to find my viewpoint interesting, anyway. He can see that life has gone well for me so likes to draw what lessons he can from that.
Paul has very good memories of when he was a child living in my house. And he showed that by remarking that he would like to buy the house that we lived in at that time. It is a rather magnificent 6-bedroom "Old Queenslander" (traditional Brisbane timber house) with two large iron-lace verandahs -- so that is an understandable aspiration. The house I live in now is bigger but not quite as traditional.
Sue is a great cook so we had a feast. She served her own home-made calzoni as an entree followed by a sumptuous lasagna. She must have been in an Italian mood. And we had a very rich chocolate cake to follow.
Throughout the dinner we had the music of Philip Glass booming out -- which Paul and I both particularly like. I hope the neighbours liked it too!
And on Sunday we had another meeting of our Westside music group. Particularly notable was a Rachmaninoff piano and violin concerto. The third movement in particular had everyone transfixed. The violinist was a young guy who I believe was Jewish -- another brilliant Jewish violinist! Anne and I drove out to the Pullenvale venue in the Humber, which to my simple mind added to the occasion.
14 April, 2008
Seder attendance arranged
I have long had a considerable correspondence with Jewish readers of my various blogs so I was quietly confident that my Jewish readers would do what they could to facilitate my wish to attend a seder. And that is why I reported online my difficulties with the local Lubavitchers. I have no quarrel with the chabad movement at all and wish all Lubavitchers well but their rules did prevent me from fulfilling my wish to attend a highly traditional seder with them. I am in fact rather glad to find a religious group that resists secularization of its rules.
One of my Jewish readers even went to the extent of emailing the Brisbane chabad leader and arguing my case with him. But that did not work of course. Another reader suggested some local reform congregations that might be more accomodating and I have now been accepted as a guest by the Beit Knesset Shalom congregation on 19th. I am of course completely delighted.
An amusing footnote, though. The congregation concerned has a seder for Ashkenazim ("Western" Jews) on 19th and a seder for Sephardim on 20th. It is only the seder for Ashkenazim that is open to non-Jews.
10 April, 2008
Passover Seder on 19th
As a non-Jew and an atheist, I have never attended a pesach seder but I have great respect for Judaism (note the flag that I fly on all my blogs) so I thought that I would like to attend one. The local Lubavitchers do advertise a seder so I thought I might go to that one. Alas! They are of course very strict so, even though I explained that I knew something of the teachings of their Rebbe, their person in charge told me as politely as he could that it was for Jews only.
He got a bit incoherent when I pointed out that the Rebbe preached love but that did not sway him, of course. As the Lubavitchers are very fundamentalist, I think we might perhaps conclude that we see the basic difference between Jewish love and Christian love there. Jewish love is for Jews and Christian love is for all mankind. Exclusivity is a feature of many religions so I support their right to be exclusive but I don't think it is wise -- as I have pointed out at some length elsewhere
There are not many Jews in Brisbane so I think I have now missed any chance of attending a seder this year.
Although I have been an atheist for all of my adult life, I did of course grow up into a Christian milieu -- with its characteristic devotion to outreach and proselytization -- so the attitude of the Lubavitchers was rather shocking to me. Nonetheless I should not have been shocked. There were gnostic sects of Christianity in the distant past and there are some survivals of that into modern times (Masons, Exclusive Brethren etc.).
But anyway, I think I may renew my contact with my Christian roots this Sunday by going to a service at my old church -- Ann St Presbyterian. Just the smell of old French-polished wood will make me feel good as I walk in there -- and the handshakes at the door won't hurt a bit either.
30 March, 2008
Cumberland sausage
Anne cooked us up a Cumberland sausage for our dinner last night -- which we washed down with a bottle of Australian red. As you can see above, a Cumberland sausage is a rather large item: One sausage is dinner for two. I vaguely remember having a Cumberland sausage in a restaurant in London over 30 years ago but I had forgotten what I thought of it. Being a sausage enthusiast, however, I was keen to refresh my memory.
The one we got for last night was from Sid, the brilliant British butcher from whom we also get our haggis. Sid's shop is in an out-of-the way place just South of Brisbane but he has lot of customers who know quality when they come across it and are prepared to go that extra mile to get it.
I was very pleased with how the dinner turned out. The sausage definitely had a different texture to the usual sausage. A Cumberland sausage is supposed to be at least 80% meat (pork) and with no colouring or preservatives added. There are of course various recipes for it but Sid's recipe was, as expected, excellent. We had the sausage with a salad, though I gather that peas and fried onions would have been more traditional.
25 March, 2008
Some photos from Easter Sunday
Courtesy of Paul's wife Sue. At least SOMEONE brought a camera this time!
Jenny, mother of the three below. I don't know where Joe was. He must have been hiding.
Paul in his tennis shirt
Suzie looking more prim and less blonde than she really is
Vonnie in her pretty blouse
24 March, 2008
A good Easter Sunday
This year, Easter Sunday coincided closely with two family birthdays (of Paul and Russell) so we had a big bash to celebrate both birthdays and Easter together. There was no church involved however as there are no religious people in the family -- a common thing in Australia.
We had the do at Paul's place -- which is a large house in a quiet suburb with both a tennis court and a swimming pool. The pool was not used but the tennis court was. It was a lunch with the food impressively catered by Paul's wife Sue, assisted significantly by the twinny Suzie. The weather was warm and sunny -- very different from England's Easter -- so we mostly sat outdoors under a big sunshade. We had a visitor from England present who must have been very glad he was here and not there. They are having a very cold and wet winter over there at the moment -- all due to "global warming" supposedly.
I had a talk with both Paul and his twin sisters, Suzie and Vonnie, about babies -- making clear that it was about time they had some. The girls will be turning thirty next month. The girls were onboard with what I said but Paul was not at all keen. Anyway, I was glad I raised it as I now feel that I have done my duty in pointing them to where wise priorities lie.
I spent a lot of time talking to my son Joe too. We talked mainly about things that were rejected in their day but which became accepted later. The great example of that for me is that the composer of the most popular opera of all time -- "Carmen" -- died thinking his opera was a flop. Poor old George Bizet!
One of the kids present had dental bands on his teeth and that inspired me to mention to Joe the "grills" that young American blacks often wear. Blacks saw that rich white kids often had orthodontic bands on their teeth but almost never had them themselves. So they started wearing a blinged-up version of dental bands as a sign of high style. When I had told Joe about the phenomenon his comment on it sounded just like the sort of thing that I would say. He had himself had orthodontic treatment at the appropriate age so the idea of someone voluntarily putting ironmongery in his mouth did not impress him.
I also mentioned something he had not known: That when there was a literacy and numeracy test done on all the kids at his primary school some years back, the highest literacy scorer was not -- as one would expect -- a 7th grader but rather a pesky little 5th grader. And the pesky little 5th grader concerned was Joe. He seemed a bit embarrassed to hear that. But, like me, he is good at academic things.
I used the word "bling" above, which shows how often I read American websites. It is quite a recent term and originated among American blacks. It refers to any shiny personal decoration, such as the ostentatious and extensive jewelery worn by many American blacks on social occasions. "Grills" are usually shiny and can have gemstones of some sort set into them.
21 March 2008
An interesting Good Friday
Although I am no longer a believer, I greatly appreciate the Protestant Christian traditions into which I grew up and which formed a big part of my teenage years. So I still like to honour the holiest days of the year -- Easter and Christmas -- by going to church.
In recent years I have oscillated between going to the Cathedral (Anglican) and my old church (Ann St Presbyterian). I feel very comfortable at Ann St but the Cathedral has magnificence going for it. As well as for services I also go to the Cathdral (St. John's) for classical concerts two or three times a year so it too has become a very familiar place to me.
This year, however, the Easter services at both were a bit pesky. Ann St had moved their service from 9am to 8am and the Cathedral service was at noon: Too early and too late for me. So Ann and I decided to go to the local Lutheran, which had a 9am service.
I had never been to a Lutheran service so I was slightly surprised to find that it was a little "high": Rather like an Anglican service. The first intimation of that was that the pulpit was off to the side and the altar was central. And the organ was in a loft at the back. The more common Protestant configuration is for the pulpit to be central with the organ behind it -- expressing the twin importance of the word and of music. And the Lutheran minister was dressed in a long white robe! And the service included a lot of responses: Almost unknown in Presbyterian churches.
Another thing I noted was how well organized the Communion was. People went forward and left in batches and each batch got a little address from the minister as well as the tokens. The usher who organized the batches did so without a word being uttered: Just a bit of eye contact, nods etc. It was rather a good demonstration of how much culture we share that he was able to do it all in silence.
And it was very pleasing to see that the congregation was not all elderly. There quite a few young families with their children. Even some little blondie babies! That the minister is also young may have something to do with that.
I was slightly disappointed that we had only three hymns but the ones we had were good and appropriate. We had, as usual, "There is a green hill far away". That hymn always moves me by its simple faith and devotion. But memories of it go back to my childhood so maybe sentimentality has something to do with that.
There is a green hill far away,
outside a city wall,
where our dear Lord was crucified
who died to save us all.
We may not know, we cannot tell,
what pains he had to bear,
but we believe it was for us
he hung and suffered there.
He died that we might be forgiven,
he died to make us good,
that we might go at last to heaven,
saved by his precious blood.
There was no other good enough
to pay the price of sin,
he only could unlock the gate
of heaven and let us in.
O dearly, dearly has he loved!
And we must love him too,
and trust in his redeeming blood,
and try his works to do.
But there were three things that quite amazed me: There was no collection and the minister did not attend at the front of the church to shake hands with the congregation as they were leaving. And we sang the hymns sitting down! Is there no end to novelty?
Anne was quite pleased with the service. She still seems to have some residual beliefs. She seems to have the old Calvinist belief that "It was all planned out before we were born". I remember my mother and my aunties saying the same. It is a perfectly scriptural belief (Ephesians 1:5-12) and is even honoured (Article 17) in the 39 "Articles of Religion" of the C of E -- albeit in a cagey sort of a way. One does not hear that belief preached in the pulpits these days but it lives on in the families and among the people. It seems to be a comforting belief but I myself have never subscribed to it at any time.
A shared cultural background is quite an important thing. Anne and I have it in spades. For instance, not only is her background mainly Presbyterian but she and I are former regulars at exactly the same Presbyterian church -- Ann St., Brisbane:
So, although I have never been even slightly impressed by Calvinist predestination doctrine, it is nonetheless part of my background from childhood on and Anne's attachment to that thinking is therefore a positive rather than a negative for me. It feels familiar and "at home". Though I do tend to be a little amused by it. But I was amused when my mother said it too.
10 March, 2008
A big family dinner last night
I am a member of long standing in a family that is a family only in a rather loose sense. Everybody in it is related to someone else in it but not to everyone in it -- if that makes sense. Even that summary is a bit inadequate as we would tend to regard George as part of the family even though he is not related to anyone in it! Anyway we often get together and always enjoy doing so -- and have done so for many years. Some of the "kids" in the family are now in their late 20s and early 30s!
And I think we found last night how many people are in the family these days: 22. That is how many turned up last night. The occasion was a sendoff for Simon: an airforce member of the family who is being deployed to the Gulf this week as part of the Iraq/Afghanistan hostilities. I am actually no real kin to Simon at all but he and I have always got on well at various past family gatherings so I was delighted to have the privilege of hosting his sendoff. Having some military background myself, I was the first to appreciate that his deployment was a significant occasion that should be appropriately marked.
I invited everyone to dine at my expense at my local Indian restaurant -- which is first class. I can host only a few people at my own house and the Indians are such good cooks that it would be hard to imagine better food anyway. As is often the case, I spent much of the time at table talking to my son Joe and stepson Paul. I sat at the head of the table and had the two young men on either side of me. The three of us get on very well. Anne sat with the ladies at the other end of the table.
My stepson Paul was bemoaning the fact that he had lost $100,00 on the stockmarket over the last month or so. I assured him that I had lost $300,000 and I wasn't worrying so I think that helped him a bit. Joe said that he is just not looking at the market these days -- which is reasonable. It is just a waiting game for wise investors at this stage. Only fools sell during a downturn -- but there always seem to be plenty of them. I have BOUGHT a couple of small parcels, myself.
Joe has been eating good Indian food for most of his life, off and on, as his mother Jenny is an excellent cook who does even the most complicated Indian dishes well. So my local Indian restaurant is also Joe's favourite restaurant. Somewhere along the line he has picked up a taste for lassi -- so he always orders that for a drink -- rather to the bemusement of other Anglo-Saxons present.
Ken (Paul's father) also joined "the men" at my end of the table, as he usually does. He and Paul disagreed about just about everything during the course of the evening, as they usually do, but it made for a lively discussion. I get on very well with both Paul and his father, myself. Paul and Ken work together in their computer business so their constant wrangling doesn't seem to do any harm. There is zero animosity between them and lots of trust. They just can never convince one-another of anything!
Speeches were mercifully short. At the beginning I spoke for about two minutes leading up to a toast to Simon and later on Simon spoke with similar merciful brevity. He will be away for 6 months and it is already clear that he will miss his wife and children badly whilst away -- but having so many people turn up to wish him well before his departure will no doubt help a little.
I have often remarked that our frequent family gatherings have given my son Joe a typical Italian upbringing. None of us are in fact Italian but I have always thought that the Italians could teach us a lot about how to live. And frequent big family gatherings around a long dining table are a traditional feature of Italian life. And Joe has grown up in exactly that sort of environment. Forza Italia!.
I have never been to Italy but the place where I grew up (Innisfail) was roughly 50% an Australian country town and 50% a Mediterranean village -- and Italians have always impressed me as top quality people. They have their foibles -- like anyone else -- but their virtues (hard-working, good humoured, hospitable, family-oriented people and only a little bit crooked) greatly outweigh their vices in my opinion. But I like Indians too so maybe I am a bit of a Pollyanna. I have certainly been accused of that. I definitely do have the gift of contentment, something unknown to the political Left. I can get bothered by things at times but it is a rarity. I don't let anyone push me around, though. I am pretty good at pushing back.
24 February, 2008
Busy weekend with Kipling and Humbers
Last night I had another poetry night for my son Joe. He was robbed of 99% of his literary heritage by the Left-dominated school system of today so I do my best to restore to him that which was lost. Fortunately, he is very much like me and so enjoys our excursions into great poetry.
Last night the theme was British heroic and patriotic poetry -- something which gives a window into a now mostly vanished value system, but a value system that was immensely powerful, influentual and transformative in its time.
The occasion was a dinner held mostly on the verandah of my big old "Queenslander" house. It was a very hot day yesterday (it reached the century in Fahrenheit terms) but the verandah is very good at catching a breeze (which is what verandahs were designed to do) so we were perfectly comfortable. Present were myself and Joe, Anne, Jill and Lewis. Jill's 70th birthday had been a couple of days before so it was also a birthday celebration.
The dinner comprised mainly some excellent "family" pies from "Muzza", our local genius pastrycook. Americans think of pies as a dessert but in Australia a pie contains meat (usually small pieces of beef) -- and in this case tomato and onion as well. And for dessert we had a quite wonderful trifle that Anne made out of an old recipe book she has. I will put the recipe up on my recipe blog when I get time. And after dinner we cut a birthday cake for Jill, of course.
The poems I read out at various junctures through the dinner were: "Breathes there the man, with soul so dead" by Sir Walter Scott, "This England", From Richard II Act 2 scene 1 by William Shakespeare, St. Crispen's Day Speech from "Henry V" by William Shakespeare, "Vitai Lampada" by Sir Henry Newbolt, "He fell among thieves" by Sir Henry Newbolt, "The White Man's Burden" by Rudyard Kipling, "Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "Boadicea" by Cowper and "The Soldier" by Rupert Brooke.
As I read Kipling's poem, I could not help noticing how relevant it is today, so I wrote the following for my main blog:
A PROPHETIC POEM
One does occasionally hear the term "The white man's burden" as a mocking reference to the claim that the British and other empires were good for the native peoples whom they dominated. I wonder how many people are aware that the term was originally the name of a poem and that the poet was Indian-born British poet Rudyard Kipling? Some, no doubt. But I would not at all be surprised to hear that NOBODY reading this was aware that the poem concerned was inspired by the deeds of a famous American "Progressive". Let me explain:
Right into the 1960's, the American Left (e.g. JFK) was patriotic and nationalistic. Nowadays they mostly make only a shallow pretense of patriotism. Getting the votes of minorities is their desperate aim these days and glorifying America does not serve that aim very well. And with Obama, even the pretense seems to be fading.
And the most nationalistic icon of the American Left in history was undoubtedly TR (Theodore Roosevelt), founder of the "Progressive" party. TR was the first Fascist leader of the 20th century -- where Fascism is conceived of as Leftism plus nationalism. He glorified war as a purifying force for the nation, built lots of battleships and invaded and took over three countries. And on the home front he attacked big business. Fascist enough? His conquests were in fact in the last few years of the 19th century but his Presidency of the USA continued into the early 20th century.
The British empire had however never been Fascist. It was run by conservatives most of the time and when the Left came to power they were much more inclined to wind it down than expand it. And, as the saying goes, the empire was mostly acquired "in a fit of absence of mind". It was not acquired as the result of any deliberate expansionist policy but rather as the byproduct of pursuing other objectives -- such as containment of the French. And if anyone doubts the humane impulse that formed British policy of the time, just reflect that it was in 1807 that Britain became the first major country to abolish slavery. And, unlike Abraham Lincoln many years later, the British both attacked it outside their own domain and abolished it at home. Lincoln's war "against slavery" was fought while permitting slavery in the North! Lincoln's war was really a power-motivated war with slavery as a thin pretext.
And India is an excellent example of the non-imperialistic origin of the British empire. The British first came to India as the representatives of a private company, the British East India company, and the aim was trade, not conquest. The company encountered various attacks on its operations, however, so gradually built up a private army to defend itself (perhaps a bit like the security guards employed by Halliburton in Iraq today). And when Indian princelings took on the company in battle, the company tended to win -- meaning that it eventually had large parts of India under its private control. At that stage, the British government got a bit concerned that the company was not treating the natives well and took over the company's military and rulership operations. So the British government in a sense "inherited" India rather than invading and conquering it. The history I have just given does of course simplify much for the sake of brevity but that is the essence of it.
And the humane thinking (mostly of Christian origin) behind British policy is spelled out in Kipling's poem. Kipling saw the British as having a civilizing mission and saw that mission as one of replacing savage values with humane and Christian ones. And he persuaded himself that TR had such values too. He wrote his poem as a commentary on the American takeover of the Philippines. He saw America as joining Britain in the mission of civilizing savages.
And what he wrote was very prophetic. And it was good prophecy because it was based on experience -- British imperial experience. He prophesied that the gift of liberty and humaneness that America would give to other nations would not be appreciated and would instead lead to resentment of America. And that was long before the liberation of France from the Nazis and the liberation of Iraq from Saddam! Here are some excerpts from a wonderful and idealistic poem that is now almost always misrepresented:
Take up the White Man's burden--
In patience to abide,
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain
To seek another's profit,
And work another's gain.
Take up the White Man's burden--
The savage wars of peace--
Fill full the mouth of Famine
And bid the sickness cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch sloth and heathen Folly
Bring all your hopes to nought.
Take up the White Man's burden--
And reap his old reward:
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard--
That's amazingly good prophecy by my lights. Very wicked of him to mention skin color judged by today's hysterical political standards but Britain and America WERE largely white countries at the time, and still are.
And this morning I drove my 1963 Humber Super Snipe to the static display of the Rootes Group car club by the seaside at Wynnum. There was even a 1908 Humber on display there, which was marvellous. A pic of my Humber below:
Update:
I have now put up on my Recipe blog the recipe for Anne's superb trifle.
22 February, 2008
Jai Hind!
As anybody who knows me well by now will be aware, I am very pro-Indian. I imagine that anyone who likes Indian food as much as I do would HAVE to be pro-Indian but I may be wrong about that.
Anyway I have lots of Indian tenants occupying the spare rooms in my big house and as one moves out another one magically appears. I gather that there are not many landlords who welcome brown men so my fame as someone who PREFERS Indian tenants has spread a little.
Anyway, I was discussing just such a transition with two of my Indian tenants yesterday and the cheerful Pavan Kumar remarked how easy it was for me to get my preferred Indian tenants. Now, my knowledge of Hindi is almost entirely non-existent but I did know one expression. In reply I said: "Jai Hind" ("triumph to Hindustan" -- an Indian patriotic expression) -- which got a quite delighted response. And that pleased me too.
It's not the first time that my scraps of foreign languages have come in handy. Shortly after Patrick Heaven (a fellow academic psychologist) emigrated from South Africa, we were both at a party on a boat in Sydney harbour when Patrick said: "Lekker party". I replied in Afrikaans: "Baie lekker" (very nice). Patrick was much moved to hear his native language in a place where he never expected to hear it. He replied: "Don't say that. You'll make me cry". Emigrant South Africans do tend to miss their home terribly. But it's the wise ones who no longer live there.
21 Feb 2008
The laser again
It is a couple of years since my last visit to the laser but last Monday I had to go again. When my skin cancers get too big for excision or freezing, the laser is the last option before a graft.
So about three weeks ago I rang the best dermatological surgeon in Brisbane -- Russell Hills -- and made an appointment to see him a few days later. He agreed that it was laser time and booked me in for the procedure a couple of weeks later. If I had gone through the public hospital system, I would still be waiting for a consultation and the procedure itself would be a year or more off.
As I have had so much dermatological surgery over the years I am a connoisseur of it so when I say that Russell is the best, I am in a position to know. His excisions and joinups are so fine that they heal with maximum rapidity -- which is the main thing from my viewpoint. That skill does however make him much in demand by ladies for their facelifts etc. You can't see the scars where Russell has been.
Anyway I arrived at Northwest Private Hospital at the appointed time in the late afternoon and went through all the introductory bureaucratic procedures that are mandatory these days. I was however at the end of the day's listings so I was the victim of all the prior medical misadventures of the day. Russell's anaesthetist had been much held up by unforeseen circumstances on his morning list (surgery that was more complicated than foreseen and which therefore went on much longer than planned) so I was two hours late going into theatre. Russell came out personally to apologize and explain to me shortly after I arrived, however, so I kept my cool about that. Being treated with courtesy makes a big difference to my responses.
And in theatre I was given only locals at my request so I was awake and alert there. And I had the odd chat and joke with Russell and the nurses while my lesions were being attended to. It was very civilized.
So Brisbane private medicine is a dream as far as treatment of patients is concerned. I guess not all patients are on first-name terms with their surgeon but it can happen for repeat customers like me.
But there is a but. It costs a lot. Not nearly as much as in America but a lot by Australian standards. Russell charges $140 for a consultation versus $40 for a GP consultation and he charged a $850 co-payment for the laser work. The hospital charges were all covered by my insurance.
So if you get an education, work hard and save your money instead of spending it all on beer and cigarettes, you can get the first-class medical service in your declining years that everyone aspires to. I did and I do.
As I sat down to write this little memoir, I was listening to "Goodbye" (from "The White Horse Inn"). Most pleasant.
There is a small picture of the white horse referred to here
15 February, 2008
Seoul and the good saint V
As far as I can see, there are a number of customs that one observes on St Valentine's day. The lady will expect:
Kiss
Flowers
Card
Present
Dinner
And you are lucky to get away with leaving any of those out. I did leave one out this year: Flowers. So the other elements had to be good. And I think they were. For a present I got Anne a big box of a particular Turkish Delight from Greece that she really likes --
-- and also promised her that I would buy her a ring with a sky-blue stone in it the next day.
For dinner I took her to a local Korean restaurant. I am a great fan of Korean food. It is always an excellent restaurant and is notable for the variety of side dishes that come with your Bul Gogi (or whatever main course you order)
So I arrived there last night with Anne in good confidence of a first-class dinner -- only to find that they were "under renovation". I made quite a grimace when they told me that, however, so they took us in anyway -- as they did have "friends and family" dining there despite being "closed".
And the meals were great -- an even bigger variety of dishes than usual! And there were quite a lot of Koreans present. We could almost have been in Seoul.
But the crazy thing was that they wanted to give us it all for free! Their taking us in was entirely an act of grace! I did of course leave some money anyway but it was all a most interesting experience -- and Anne loved it! She likes things that are out of the routine.
Long live the Republic of Korea!
And while we were in the restaurant I did see a rather extreme example of the "yellow peril" at work. In Australian history, "Yellow peril" refers to a fear of Asian immigration but I am using it in a sense common among American college women: Lots of Asian ladies rather fancy big burly Caucasian men. And with their characteristic patience and politeness they often get what they want. So Caucasian college women do sometimes feel that all the good men have been lassooed by clever little Asian ladies -- the "yellow peril".
And one couple near Anne and myself were a rather extreme example of that. The Asian lady would have been about 5' tall and slightly built while the fair-skinned blue-eyed Caucasian guy was about 6'2" and solidly built. And the lady seemed distinctly bright and cheerful! The guy looked a bit confused though.
And my own son (strongly-built, 6' tall and blue-eyed) also finds that a lady of Asian ancestry fills the bill! I have posted earlier about that but I might note here that I entirely approve of competition!
Update:
We went into "Monty's" (Brisbanes's biggest pawnshop) the next day and found a ring with a large rectangular-cut sky-blue topaz in it so Anne got lucky. I had told her that I would only buy her a ring if I could find one with a sky-blue stone in it. But by going to Monty I maximized the chances of success -- as they have a huge range of rings from all eras.
6 February, 2008
Ethan is out of his humidicrib!
I have not mentioned this before as I find it all a bit upsetting -- even though it affects me only very indirectly.
Anne's grandson Ethan was recently born prematurely at 1.7 kg -- about half full-term weight. In these days of very insightful care, however, that is a fairly good weight for a premmie and no long-term ill-effects can reasonably be expected.
And it is indeed going well. He has continued to gain weight and he has progressed first out of intensive care and now out of his humidicrib. Everybody involved is of course overjoyed. I suppose I am a sentimental old fool but even I shed a tear of joy over it.
Mid-March Update: Ethan has done well and was 2.5kg at his due delivery date -- which compares well with a normal delivery weight of around 3kg. His brother is small so 2.5 kg is probably right for him.
3 February, 2008
Christmas letters
When people send out Christmas cards they often include a report of their doings in the year concerned. It is a valuable way of keeping in touch.
I have always been a bit slack about sending out Christmas cards -- mostly leaving it to the ladies in my life. When it became clear that permanence among the ladies in my life was not to be relied upon, however, I did lurch into sending out some Christmas cards on my own account. And I DID eventually get around to including some sort of bulletin with each one.
From 1996 to 2002 I included a printed letter with each card and in 2004 and 2005 I put up an internet file which I referred people to. From 2006 on I have simply referred people to my personal blog right here.
It has occurred to me, however, that I could make my personal blog more comprehensive by posting backdated copies of my old Christmas communications on it. So I have now done that. You can access them here
Don't ask me what happened in 2003. I have no record of it. If anybody does, please tell me.
I suspect that it may however be more convenient for anybody interested to look at a single file of my Christmas letters -- so I have put that up here and here
2 February, 2008
Anne's birthday
Anne's birthday was actually over a week ago but she had a family do on the day so we postponed our celebration until last night. I took her to Siggy's, an upmarket restaurant in a beautiful old Victorian building that now forms part of the Stamford Plaza hotel in central Brisbane. It has the most marvellous winding staircase in solid polished timber. And the decor of the restaurant generally is very much in keeping with a high Victorian theme. For my taste it is probably the most beautiful restaurant I have seen.
The cuisine is French and international there, which I normally do not enjoy much. I like ethnic food. But they did have chateaubriand on the menu -- which I DO like. I guess it is ethnic French. You rarely see it on menus anywhere these days so I had to have it. At $120.00 for the dish it was not economy dining, however. But that feeds two, of course.
A small problem is that it takes 40 minutes to cook and I am a fair candidate for the world's most impatient person so we went for a walk after we had ordered -- by arrangement with the Maitre d' of course. The staff were in fact most obliging at accomodating my various requests, which is what one SHOULD get in an upmarket restaurant but which is nonetheless not always the case. They had a LOT of staff there too, which was probably one reason why we got such prompt and obliging service. Before I set out I had in fact gritted my teeth in expectation of the usual tardy service that one gets from French and international restaurants but there was nothing but the best service at Siggy's.
Below is a cartoonist's view of the snobby service one often gets in French restaurants:
Anyway, while our meal was cooking, we went for a walk in the nearby Queen's park -- a Victorian establishment again -- better known as the Old Botanic Gardens. It runs alongside the river so is very scenic and Anne in particular really enjoyed that part of our outing.
And the meal when we finally got it was first class. The sauce Bearnaise was a little more vinegary than I am used to but it was fine. Neither of us actually finished the meal as the fillet was a very large one. So we had no room for desserts, which was a bit sad.
While we were eating, another couple walked in who amused me slightly. The gent was wearing a suit, which is a bit unusual on a Friday night and almost certainly means that he is a salesman. And a salesman in that restaurant would almost certainly be using his expense account. The lady with him was very well-groomed, tallish, very slim and with a very large and well-displayed bosom. So you can see the transaction there: Boob job gets you taken to fine restaurants. I hope he got what he wanted afterwards. He almost certainly did as Siggy's is very impressive -- as was the bosom.
After we got home, we opened a bottle of Veuve Cliquot and drank the lot. A very pleasant night.
And this morning we had croissants for breakfast -- with Syrian apricot jam ["jam" = "jelly" in American parlance]. The Syrians put the kernels out of the seed in the jam, which gives it a stronger taste. I think the Austrians do that too.
But I like my own ethnic food too -- and there is nothing more ethnically Australian than Vegemite -- so I followed the croissants with a couple of pieces of toast with VEGEMITE on them. The English understand Vegemite because their Marmite is a close relative of it -- but it remains a profound mystery to most Americans. Even when they try it, they hate it. But here mothers put it on babies' tongues -- so it is profoundly entrenched here. And I love all of my Australian heritage.
26 January, 2008
Busy, busy
I see myself as something of a hermit these days but the people around me get me out of my cave rather often. Anne is a going-out girl so she gets me to the occasional classical concert and I take her out to dinner once or twice a week. But family connections get me out a lot too.
But the last 24 hours have been really hectic by my standards -- caused by the confluence of two dates: The birthday of Robert Burns on 25th January in 1759 and the arrival of the first white settlers in Australia on 26th January, 1788. Both anniversaries are much celebrated and I celebrate them too.
Last night Anne and I put on a small Burns night for Jill, Lewis (old friends) Joe and Sam (my son and his girlfriend). We did most of the customs: Saying the Burns grace, bringing in the haggis to pipe music followed by the Scotch whisky. reading the Burns ode to the haggis with knife raised and stabbing the haggis at the appropriate point in the poem -- followed by a toast to the haggis.
And the haggis we had was really good -- not at all something to be dubious about. After the meal I read out a speech to the Immortal Memory followed by a toast and then we read a few more of the poems. I even went through the mouse poem and explained what all the strange words meant.
We also had three desserts: Clootie dumpling with cream, tablet and shortbread. If you don't know what tablet is, you haven't lived. It's not remotely pharmaceutical. It's a sort of fudge.
Tablet
And today I went to a family gathering. For many years my relatives on my mother's side have had a family get-together over a BBQ lunch on Australia Day. It was a bit smaller this year but I enjoyed it as ever.
13 January, 2008
A distinguished birthday
I attended a birthday celebration for Anne's mother today. There must have been about 40 people there for a lunch. Anne is in her 60s and her mother has just turned 90. Her mother is still mentally alert and articulate but just in the last year or so has had to adopt use of a walking frame. Some good genes there.
The function was at Beerwah RSL club and was very efficiently catered. The meal was a traditional Australian lunch -- a piece of roast chicken, a big slice of ham and a salad. The salad comprised lettuce, tomato, onion, cucumber and pickled beetroot but there was no dressing on it. I gave my piece of beetroot to Anne. Dessert was apple pie or Pavlova.
There were quite a few short and affectionate speeches -- in which it was repeatedly noted what a demon housekeeper and outstanding cook of lemon meringue pie Doris (Anne's mother) always was. She did seem to enjoy the occasion and answered back a few times during the speeches.
Bill, Doris's husband, was there. He is even older than Doris and also cannot get around well but he was still the perfect gentleman that he has always been. He is not a gentleman in any formal sense. He spent his working life in sawmills. But, as my father was, he is a natural gentleman. A lot of the old "bushies" (forest workers, country people) were. Apologies for the lame translation of "bushie". It is yet another part of Australian English that just does not yield well to translation.
11 January, 2008
The attractiveness of simplicity
I recently bought myself a fairly average new sound system -- consisting of the usual stereo speakers, AM/FM tuner, cassette deck, and multi-disk CD player. It cost me $300 and works very well.
Today I also bought myself a radio, with mono sound and one small speaker. I also paid $300 for it. Why? Am I crazy? Maybe I am. But I bought it because of what it did NOT have. I am sick and tired of sound and video systems that come with a remote control with about 50 buttons on it -- buttons that I never seem to be able to work without consulting a manual.
My Kloss Model One (Pic above. Kloss is its designer), on the other hand is blessedly simple: One knob for tuning, one knob for volume and another knob for on/off and band choice -- very much like the radios I used as a boy many years ago. Only three blessed knobs -- that I can work immediately, perfectly and easily almost without thinking about it.
A bit odd that you have to pay a lot for less these days but it is worth it to me. And it does have remarkably good sound. It is now my kitchen radio.
1 January, 2008
A good New Year
My new year's eve celebrations were very quiet, as they usually are. I don't want to be out on the roads with all the drunks about so I stay safely at home. Sounds boring, I know, but it suits my rather reclusive lifestyle.
Anne came over at 7pm and I prepared my version of an antipasto for our dinner -- a version that would have raised eyebrows in Italy. I put in it giardiniera (of course), pickled cucumbers, cocktail onions, feta, stuffed olives, fresh tomato, chopped ham and chopped roast pork. The chopped roast pork went remarkably well with the other ingredients. And instead of using the antipasto as a prelude to pasta, we just had the antipasto with toast. Very eccentric!
For drinkies I opened a bottle of Veuve Cliquot (non-vintage). I tried a bottle of vintage Veuve Cliquot recently and it was off. French wines do go off rather a lot I am afraid. But the non-vintage version does not stay in the bottle for very long so is a better bet for being OK. Veuve Cliquot (non-vintage) is in fact my favourite champers but an Australian version called Seaview Brut is nearly as good in my opinion and costs just one tenth of the price so I usually buy Seaview. I can afford to drink anything I like but that old Presbyterian "Waste not, want not" gospel is too deep in my bones for me to disregard it often.
After dinner we spent most of the time listening to Scottish music -- as the Scots really know how to celebrate new year. One of the things we put on was a tape of "Andy Stewart's Hogmanay" -- as I do most years. And as lots of people once did. It's probably a bit sad to be listening to a tape of someone else's party instead of having one yourself but it felt fine nonetheless. And the sentimental Scottish songs were great. I even got out my Glengarry (Scottish cap) and wore it for most of the evening. A token gesture is better than no gesture, maybe.
And for breakfast this morning Anne cooked us another international meal: Porridge followed by croissants. I always enjoy a bit of porridge and it was of course the Scottish connection again.
An amusing story about porridge: It was long prison food in Britain but prisons now replace it with a prepackaged meal. Prisoners are now served up a 27p pack, containing cereal, bread, jam, tea or coffee and UHT milk. The inmates don't like it but can and do go to the prison shop and purchase "Ready Brek" (a type of smooth porridge) with their own money to get their porridge fix. It sounds like an urban myth but I understand it completely
What would I like to be remembered about me long after I am dead and gone?
I would like it to be remembered that I too often experienced one of life's greatest pleasures: The first mouthful of cold beer on a warm day.
That pleasure will last as long as human beings are human beings, I believe
I am less certain about Bach. The last thing that people will remember about me long after I have gone will probably be: "He liked Bach". Will J.S. Bach continue to inspire people for a thousand years more? I think so. But beyond that I am not sure.
Motto
As Oscar Wilde might have said: Life is too important to be taken seriously
Brief bio
My full name is Dr. John Joseph RAY. I am a former university teacher aged 68 at the time of writing in late 2011. I was born of Australian pioneer stock in 1943 at Innisfail in the State of Queensland in Australia. After an early education at Innisfail State Rural School and Cairns State High School, I taught myself for matriculation. I took my B.A. in Psychology from the University of Queensland in Brisbane. I then moved to Sydney (in New South Wales, Australia) and took my M.A. in psychology from the University of Sydney in 1969 and my Ph.D. from the School of Behavioural Sciences at Macquarie University in 1974. I first tutored in psychology at Macquarie University and then taught sociology at the University of NSW. I am Australian born of working class origins and British ancestry. My doctorate is in psychology but I taught mainly sociology in my 14 years as a university teacher. In High Schools I taught economics. I have taught in both traditional and "progressive" (low discipline) High Schools.
Dramatis Personae
Jenny is the first wife of Ken and the third wife of John
Maureen is the second wife of Ken
Paul and the twins (Vonnie and Suzy) are the children of Jenny and Ken
Joe is the child of Jenny and John
Timmy and Davey are the children of Ken and Maureen
Paul is married to Susan
Matthew is the son of Paul and Susan
Twinny Suzy is married to Russell
Von is married to Simon
Tracy is Ken's sister
Tracy is married to Simon (another Simon)
Hannah is the daughter of Von and Simon
Sahara and Dusty are the children of Twinny Suzy and Russell
George came out on the boat to Australia with Ken
George has a son named Simon (The 3rd. Simon)
Jill and Lewis are old friends of John
Anne is the lady in John's life these days
Anne has sisters named Merle and June. Merle is married to Ralph
Anne's sons are Byron, Nigel and Warren
Byron has two sons named Koen and Ethan and a wife named Bonnie
My brother is Christopher (married to Kim) and my surviving sister is Roxanne (married to Stefan)
