Hometown Stuff

The Return of the Incredible Adventure of DadB and the Unbelievable Robot

2011-11-18T02:52:00.001-08:00

Ah, is it only four years since I regaled you with the Amazingly Bungled Communication Methods used by my mobile phone provider? Ah, yes, looking at The Incredible Adventure of DadB and the Unbelievable Robot I see it is!

In recent weeks I have had calls come in from an unknown number. I don't answer those. The number has already gained its five minutes of internet fame at, for example, Whocallsme.com

The calls come on my mobile around 6-6.30pm which fits the profile described in this link Telegraph.com.au November 18, 2011- remember the report about how telemarketers in India are told "Australia is the world's 'dumbest continent' where people 'drink constantly' and are 'quite racist'". Hang on, they are calling us racist? Isn't it time the world recognised that non-Anglos are capable of racism?

Well, back to business. As you see in my first post on the matter, I complained to Optus who said it wasn't their fault, its a contractor! The legal term is "servant or agent" so it remains their problem. I look forward to conversing with them when I close my account.

National Motor Museum, Birdwood

2010-10-01T19:41:00.000-07:00

I did the oldie thing and took a country bus out into the hills to Birdwood, formerly Blumberg (we changed the name in WW1. Aussie boys with German names were allowed to die for Britain, but they could not come from towns with German names). The bus service runs between Mt Torrens, and Modbury Interchange in the outer suburbs. Birdwood costs around $6 one way, less for concession. It's about 35 min by the short route and a little over an hour for the runs that take in a few extra towns. And excuse me if I remind you that you can click images for enlarged views.

Of the few passengers on board, four were for Birdwood and I saw three in the museum. The National Motor Museum is in fact a worthwhile place to visit, and it marks the end of the Bay to Birdwood classic car run. The town itself is an attraction in its own right.

The Blumberg Hotel is a classic Aussie pub, with terrace lace verandahs. It's distinctive in having a vintage truck getting tossed out for getting too rowdy in the bar.

I first visited here in the 'sixties when most of the complex was housed in or near this old mill. Then it had a lot of curios, a few vehicles and even a biplane, now residing elsewhere.

The motor Museum entrance is to the rear of the mill - the bus actually stops in the car-park. The Museum currently charges $9 for adult admission.

A short way inside this WM Holden racer caught my eye. The racer began as a 1952 UK-built Cooper Bristol CB/1/52. It raced in the Aussie Grand Prix before getting a DOHC Holden engine in 1956. Two years later it got a new chassis and was recognised as the WM Holden Special. It got a Corvette engine in 1963 but apparently ended its racing life.

Another racer, the classic 1927 Bugatti Type 35B, which I consider appealing and aesthetic, and will accept any donations of one for my collection which presently numbers zero. A Grand Prix winner in the '20s and '30s, it also had prototypical "mag wheels", one-piece cast alloy wheels and brake drums.

From the sublime to the Civic. I used to have one of these, the same colour but not held together with paper and plastic. 1974 Honda Civic, whose owner Bethany Alldridge was apparently passionate about causes and decorated her car with stickers.

Some heavy metal.A 1944 Ford bus at left, then a 1960 Reo C332 tipper which worked for 40 years on country dirt roads; a 1926 Garford double-decker bus which operated in Adelaide; and a 1934 Leyland Metz got from England, who only used it during the German blitz. Fire service recruits were sent up the ladder and, if they got dizzy, they failed the entry test.

The 1963 Lightburn Zeta; 363 were built from '63 to '68. They faced competition from similarly priced VWs and Minis, both of which looked a bit less as if they'd been designed for - or by - Kermit the Frog.

1923 Ford T "station wagon", a US term for vehicles transporting passengers and luggage to and from railway stations. Behind it is a classier 1910 Daimler Landaulette.

On to the legendary stuff, the 1956 Holden FJ sedan, built in Australia by the former Holden saddlery company. Holdens became a part of General Motors in 1931, and thereafter were referred to as General Motors Holdens or simply GMH. The FX and FJ models are Aussie icons.

On to 1958, and the Holden FC Special Station Wagon. At the time, half the cars sold in Australia were Holdens. I know you are dying to hear that the poster is a 1954 Jantzen billboard. Billboards thrived in the 1950s as car ownership grew. With television, and tighter regulation of roadside kitsch, they faded from popularity.

A giant leap to 1995. A factory prepared Holden VR Commodore which, after 19 days and 20,000 km, won the 1995 Mobil 1 Around Australia Rally.

Of course, the world is divided in many ways, and not least between General Motors zealots and Ford fanatics. One of the hot cars of my youth was the Ford Falcon GT , which appeared in 1967. The 1971 version was the XY Falcon GTHO Phase 3. They were intended to race in a class based on family sedans but of course, that implied some families drove them. A 1972 headline, "160 mph Supercars", and public pressure, led to no Phase 4 being built.

Something a little different but very Aussie, a rather unique 1952/1964 Vanguard "Overland". Two brothers, having done an outback trip in a 1928 Chrysler in 1962, decided to update. They got a 1952 Vanguard panel van (see inset) for $150. It was so rusted, they built their own body for it. The van has been all over the country, east, west, north and south, and through the middle.

Back to the Future; the 1981 DeLorean DMC12 Coupe. Built in Northern Ireland for the North American market, about 9200 were produced from 1981 to late 1982. The body consists of unpainted stainless steel panels. The company closed in late 1982 due to financial problems.

Paul Halstead, coming from the computer industry, wanted to build a super-car, which shows IT people can be comfortable away from a keyboard. His 1988 Giocattolo Group B Coupe, shown here, was one of 11 built, selling between $92,000 and $96,000 each. It was capable of 241 kph, based on the Alfasud Sprint with a 5 lit. Holden V8 engine.

Not all Aussie cars are sleek and sexy, but this one's an achiever. This is the oldest driveable Australian-built vehicle, the 1899 Shearer steam carriage. It was built by a farm machinery manufacturer in Mannum. The following year it made the 150 km return run from Mannum to Adelaide and back.

Also not pretty, but gutsy, the first car to cross Australia was this Talbot driven by Henry Dutton and Murray Aunger. They reached Darwin in August 1908 at the end of a 51 day trip from Adelaide across deserts, creeks and rivers, and braving a bushfire. They travelled where there were no roads or bridges. You'll note it has a couple of spare tyres, still good practice today, and an axe on one side.

Wish I could tell you more about this sculpture. It seems to be our answer to Fremont, Seattle's Volkswagen-eating bridge troll, but I can't seem to identify the artist. The victim is an FX-model Holden.

After I dragged myself away from the museum, I grabbed lunch at a local bakery - there are some nice places to eat in Birdwood - and got the bus home. The mini-bus took the longer route (over an hour) home, and here is somewhere past Lobethal (another German village!)

And finally another scene for overseas viewers. Again en route home, in the Adelaide Hills a little after the previous shot. Nice to see some green, thanks to a wet winter.

Mmmm, Canberra in Winter!

2010-07-08T00:01:00.000-07:00

My first ever visits to Canberra with my dad were in winter, and I always thought of it as like Antarctica. I have to say, it's no fun in the peak of summer either. But it's still one of my favourite places. This trip was winter. I'm not a hot weather person.

The family pics (apart from a couple for my non-Facebook friends) are in my FB albums. So apart from a few samples, this is the boy-toy part of the trip. The one for mainly history geeks.

Well, for starters, Canberra has a Telstra Tower. That's no big deal. Every city has one, or wants one because the neighbours all have them. But I wanted to try out the zoom on my new camera (an Olympus SP590UZ, if it matters to anyone). I took the shots at max resolution, some of them up to 5mb big and much larger than I need for postcard prints, so I better find out how to fix that.

Here's Lake Gininderra, an artificial lake adjacent to the major shopping centre at Belconnen.

OK, onto the history geek stuff. I had a quick look around the Australian War Memorial to catch up on changes. Here's the shot everyone takes of the main building.

Mostly I just wanted to have lunch with the family ;) and look at the new aircraft exhibits, but for anyone interested we'll do a little ANZAC stuff. And here we are at the very beginning of the ANZAC tradition - Gallipoli, defended by soldiers in uniforms like this;-

The men from Britain and the Dominions came ashore to invade Turkey itself. They could hardly have expected the Turks to take that lying down, and they didn't. It was a bloodbath, and the Empire didn't get very far at all.

Like the song (by Eric Bogle, a Scot living in Oz) says, "Johnny Turk, he was waiting. He'd primed himself well ... and in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell, nearly blew us clean back to Australia". (See and hear it on YouTube. It's one of my favourite modern Aussie folk songs. My dad hated "Waltzing Matilda", it was played during the war everywhere Aussies went overseas, on the assumption a song about a failed and suicidal sheep thief was our national anthem.)

The great ANZAC legend has its smaller legends. One is about an Irish trade unionist (back then, it was the same as "Bolshevik") who deserted his ship in Australia, changed his name from Kirkpatrick to Simpson and went ashore at Gallipoli. He went unarmed. For three weeks, he brought back wounded soldiers on the back of a donkey, until a Turkish machine gunner got him. Those three weeks and 300 rescued men made him a true-blue, dinky-di icon. And earned him a statue outside the War Memorial. Wonder what he'd have said? "Aw, Jesus, mate!", possibly.

When it was obvious that the landings were a wasteful disaster, the troops were pulled out. Mostly they moved at night when nobody was looking. Aussies, being cunning bastards who could do anything with a bit of fence-wire, set up their Lee-Enfields with string round the triggers and a couple of mess tins dripping water into each other. This sent .303 bullets whizzing towards the Turks at random, to give the impression that the trenches were still occupied. The Aussies weren't madly suicidal - they also knocked together periscopes and frames to fire their rifles from below the sandbags. (See this link.)

And now, as well as our own memorials, we have one to the enemy - Kemal Ataturk - also in Canberra. And Turkey has a memorial to our dead, on its shore, as well. Both memorials contain the words of Ataturk himself, written in 1934 by, it's worth noting, the leader of an Islamic country, addressed to its invaders;

"Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives…
"You are now living in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours…
"You, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace, after having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well."

Another war - 1939 to 1945 - and Aussies improvised again. Or at least, some bloke named Owen did, but the government didn't believe in sub-machine guns, so he joined the army instead. Then someone found his prototype, and he got a new and possibly safer job. According to Wikipedia:-

"Sten and Thompson submachine guns were used as benchmarks. As part of the testing, all of the guns were immersed in mud and covered with sand to simulate the harshest environments in which they would be used. The Owen was the only gun that still operated after the treatment. Although the test showed the Owen's capability, the army could not decide on a calibre ... (finally) the army ordered the 9 mm variant...

"During the gun's life, its reliability earned it the nickname "Digger's Darling" by Australian troops and it was rumoured to be highly favoured by American troops."

And here's the ugly looking weapon that could be buried in mud and sand, and still fire.

My main interest was a new exhibition (for me), an audio-visual presentation accompanying the displays of restored WW1 aircraft. It was a quality presentation, but I can't show it to you! Here are some of the period aircraft in the hall, though.

This 1917 vintage Albatros DVa was shot down by an Australian reconnaissance aircraft, an RE.8, in an encounter in December that year. The 3 Sqn. aircraft was directing artillery when attacked by six of these fighters, believed to be from Royal Prussian Jasta 29 based at Bellincamp. The RE.8 defended itself, shooting down one of the fighters. It was joined by another RE.8, and when a third appeared, the German fighters broke off.

One of the newcomers later reported the original RE.8 seemed to be flying normally, but it never came home. It was later found near-intact, so well trimmed that it landed itself. Both crew had been killed by a single German bullet.

There's no RE.8 in the collection, unfortunately, just this rather nice scale model. Looks clumsy, doesn't it? But three of them obviously discouraged six Albatros fighters.

Much more high-tech was the SE.5a fighter. For one thing it did away with the rotary engines of the time which had such high torque that aircraft like the Sopwith Camel were labelled "Cadet Killers". The SE5 was an aircraft capable of climbing to Zeppelin altitudes to intercept them, if briefly.

The Avro 504 served from WW1 with the Australian Flying Corps and later RAAF. This one is serialled A3-4, a post-WW1 serial. I first saw it in 2002 up on a jig at the Treloar Annex, under restoration.

And here's me, emulating a recruiting poster pose. Actually I am watching the presentation in the AWM. No. 3 grand daughter Cara is unashamedly posing for the camera.

The DH.9 was a WW1 aircraft, but the AWM example is a post-war aircraft, and an almost-ignored legend. Aviation buffs remember the 1919 air race won by Ross and Keith Smith in their Vickers Vimy (which now stands on display at Adelaide International Airport). The DH.9 entered by the Parer and MacIntosh crew didn't even take off until after the Vimy had won the race, and, depending on your source, took 206 or 208 days to reach Australia, after what one source described as an "all but incomprehensible" series of misadventures. It lay forgotten in a hangar - and once, a car crashed through the hangar wall and broke poor old G-EAQM up a little.

What was special is that this was the first single engined aircraft to fly between England and Australia, and the first to carry freight - a bottle of "PD" Scotch whisky! (How could I not acknowledge that historic first!)

And here we are in a nearby gallery, with Avro Lancaster 'G-George'. My dad was a gunner on one of these. Two of his great-grandkids, Ainsley and Sophie, are standing beside it. Sophie is having a good look, because she knows the story.

By an odd coincidence, as I flew out of Adelaide on this trip, I struck up a conversation with an elderly couple I didn't recognise, until the gent said he was off to Canberra for a 460 Sqn. reunion. I recognised the squadron - a bomber unit in the UK - and mentioned my dad was in 514 Sqn. He immediately named my dad's pilot, and my dad, "Sam", and the penny dropped. He and my dad had done basic training together before leaving for England. Small world.

Great-Grandpa would have probably been proud if he was still here. Here's Sophie, Sam's No.1 great-granddaughter, at a walk-through aviary we visited.

And sisters Cara and Ainsley posing.

We went out for pizza the night before I left. Like I said, Canberra can get chilly.

And here they are with mum, seeing me off at the airport at the end of the trip!

Up the country - May-June 2010

2010-06-14T22:52:00.000-07:00

On May 30 a friend and I went up to the Barossa Valley, through Nuriootpa to a town named after his home, Greenock, in Scotland. Apparently, the Scottish one is pronounced the way its spelled, "Green ock". The Aussie one is pronounced "Grennock". Bet you didn't know that!

The main agenda was to see Lincoln Nitschke's Aviation Museum. We were early so we managed to find a nice pub with an open fireplace (it's getting chilly this time of year), the Greenock Hotel (there's no surprise there!).

I was impressed. It was a dinkum Aussie pub with the wide verandah to the kerb, and a steady stream of local clients, and (as you see above) a nice polished wood bar in the dining room. The fire was blazing, and the food was good solid country serves, not the woossy-snob city stuff. There was even a small library of novels next to the fire - and it had works of popular authors, too - which could persuade me to sit there all afternoon sipping local wines and reading by the fire.

All the same we pressed on to the museum after lunch. The quarters were cramped, but there were plenty of aircraft, components, models and memorabilia not commonly available. The collection was helped by a twist of history. After WW2, a lot of military aircraft were sold for a song, about $10 for a twin-engine trainer minus engines, and about $5 extra with.

The Avro Ansons from a local training squadron were popular. Farmers lopped the wings off and towed them home, to salvage bolts and metal fittings, and put the hulk out for a chicken coop. The Nitschke collection has two Anson airframes, one with skin and one without, plus an Anson cockpit section. What it has which I have not seen elsewhere is a near complete DeHavilland Mosquito fighter, lacking only the wings outboard of the engines, plus another nose section of a bomber version.

Outside, Lincoln has an English Electric Canberra jet bomber parked (one which came here from England, not the Aussie-built version) and alongside it, what looks like a Mustang Mk22 in markings of the RAAF squadron once based at Mallala. The RAAF base is now a motor-sports track.

It's not a real bird, though. It was scratch-built as a private project. Other sheds house a small collection of classic farm vehicles and 1940s-50s trucks. Here's the International T9 Crawler tractor. I think I had a Matchbox bulldozer like this!

Moving right along, last Sunday, 13 June, I visited - or re-visited - Clare, about 100 km miles north, with old mate Peter, and his old mate Mark. We took a break halfway at the Grasshopper Roadhouse, Tarlee,

When dad was retired up at Snowtown, I'd stop there for a break, with the kids, whenever we drove up to visit. After that, we pressed on through Clare and out north, onto dirt roads through Hilltown. When we reached these trees flanking the road, we figured we were "home". Peter and I, and others, spent a lot of time up here in the 1960s and '70s.

What had changed, not that it's very clear in this shot, is the giant wind-turbine generators around the horizon from north to west. Peter's obviously photographing them.

We headed across the Camel Hump Range and doubled back to the Camel Hump itself, seen on the right of this shot.

There's Peter and Mark as we strolled the range. Back in the 1960s and early 1970s the area was haunted by UFOs, particularly around here. We learned a lot about social dynamics back then.

There were plenty of kangaroos around the area. Nice to tourists, but not to farmers.

From the range we looked down on the farm I first stayed at in 1968. Then it was owned by a very hospitable old couple who, after a short while, retired to the city. He was a WW1 veteran, and built the farm up himself.

The farmhouse itself has had the yard slighty revamped and appears still in good repair and occupied.

Back in Clare as evening fell, we decided to have dinner at the Bentley Hotel (not "Benley" as Wikipedia called it in the previous link), another great Aussie pub. Peter did his bit for the farmers, he ordered kangaroo steak.

That's the street at sundown, as it was getting cold. It's been 0ºC overnight there. Can't believe I used to camp out in the weather Clare threw at us!

Parafield fly-in, 29 March 2010

2010-06-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

For my friends who are not on Facebook, here's a pictorial catch up. The Classic Jets Fighter Museum held its annual display at the end of March. Last time I went was, I think, when the Lockheed Lightning restoration was rolled out. That bird is now in prime static display condition.

This time their Bell P39 Airacobra was shown off. This was restored using a corroded wreck recovered from Papua-New Guinea, and the last time I saw this aircraft it was mostly just the lower part of the fuselage that had been saved from destruction by being part buried.

Funds raised from the display will support their next restoration, an F4U Corsair.

Australia used 22 Airacobras during WW2. This fly-in featured a few of its contemporaries. One of my favourites was the CAC CA-12 Boomerang, built using common components from the CAC Wirraway, a stumpy little fighter which seems to be all engine. This one even lives locally.

The Wirraway began as the North American Texan / Harvard, with a few modifications (notably the D-shaped tail introduced on about the second Aussie-built aircraft, distinct from the triangular fin of the parent aircraft).

For something based on a trainer, a Wirraway once shot down a Japanese Zero fighter. Its fighter cousin, the Boomerang, didn't get any.

There are a number of Mustang warbirds still flying in Australia, mostly the Australian-built CAC CA-18 Mk22 version. They regularly appear at air shows, but it was a nice change to see this colourful example of a North American P51D, US production number 45-11526, civil registration VH-FST, owned by a local man.

Classic trainer aircraft were well represented. The DeHavilland DH82 Tiger Moth, of course - I counted four. VH-ABL is the one nearest camera.

The DeHavilland Canada DHC-1 Chipmunk was a popular postwar trainer in Commonwealth air forces and later private ownership. This is VH-BSR, also one of four present, all in very different liveries.

Less common is the Boeing Stearman. There are a couple that reside locally, one in the classic blue fuselage and yellow wings of the US pre-war era, and this all yellow example, BoeingA75N1 registered VH-JUX in a US Navy scheme.

Eastern bloc trainers are fairly common locally, mostly the Chinese-built Nanchang CJ-6, several of which provide warbird adventure flights from Goolwa, SA. The CJ-6 was present at the fly-in, but so was another aircraft also descended from the old Yak-18, the Russian Yakovlev Yak-52.

Its colourful cousin, the Yak-18T, VH-RUZ, is yet another of the classics living in the area.

And parked out on the boundary and looking sad were two jet warbirds, the Gloster Meteor F8, RAAF number A77-867, and the LiM-2, a Polish built trainer variant of the Russian Mig-15. They are both for sale, I hear through the grapevine.

Minitru

2010-06-05T19:34:00.000-07:00

No pictures this time. But I would like to mention something to my correspondents who are not on Facebook :D

Australia, apart from not having a Bill of Rights, and whose major parties have a leadership which seems to have forgotten that in this country religion and politics are constitutionally two separate things, is again adding new meaning to the term "democracy" with its new(ish) policy to introduce mandatory internet filtering at ISP level.

This is almost a fait accompli. It's happening while we look the other way, and frankly, I have slim hope that Australia will mobilise enough opinion to change things. We all need to talk to our elected representatives and direct them (they are our representatives, we don't have to beg) to throw this policy where it belongs. Out.

The policy is being sold as protection. It's to save our children from online predators. You know, like old women were once hanged and burned to save villages from curses on their crops and livestock, and death camps were built to save racial purity from untermenschen. Or more recently, like when China filtered its internet to save its people from ideologically unsound thoughts. We all thought China's policy was appalling. Google thought they were, too. We need Google on our side. But sadly, this isn't about search term filters, it's about website filters.

Over recent years we have had "protection" presented as an unassailable argument whenever policing of our population is increased. Yet, although I am always on some camera or other when I walk through town, and I am always scanned at airports and even going into a government building where I have every right to be, people are still getting mugged in the streets, sometimes by gangs of 13 year old girls, and idiots are still igniting their underpants in attempts to blow up aircraft.

As a preventative measure the extra policing doesn't stop the perpetrators. Let's face it, no amount of tiger-wired fence will prevent a person seriously bent on doing harm from finding a way past it. Extra cameras just give the TV stations extra footage. The filter will give them numbers to report. The offences will go on.

What will the filter protect us from?

Not much. Bless their socks, the geeks of the community are already finding ways past the filter. All that means is that geeks will have free access to the internet, though there's a prediction that the filter will degrade performance by as much as 75%. The rest of us will be subject to yet another level of government surveillance. But for "geek" read any kid at school now. Cracking online security is today's rite of passage, like stripping and tweaking a Holden motor was to my generation.

The battle cry of government is "protect our children". If you oppose them, you don't care about kids. You are probably even a pervert. Come on!

Recently, a young woman was lured to a meeting and murdered by a 20 year old man she met online. "Facebook" was blamed for its low default privacy settings.

True enough, the default is low. I am on Facebook. I, even I, of the Baby Boomers, know to set my own privacy and am wary about what I publish. But wait, there's more. She was 18, which I think is scarcely a child, and she was lured by someone close to her own age. He was posing as someone offering her work in animal welfare (which you may find ironic, since he is an animal).

I can't see how filtering would have saved her, unless "animal welfare" was blacklisted. But what I can see is that in looking for links to refer you to, as I write, Googling for "teenage murder online predator australia" would probably be filtered. I couldn't so readily build support for my anti-government viewpoint. Results would be filtered. Who knows, I might even appear on a black list? Meanwhile, the predators will just set cleverer traps. Possibly like "Hey, I support internet filtering, let's meet RW!"

And the black list behind the filter itself? It's secret. Let me repeat, SECRET. Like so many secrets, apparently it's been leaked, though I have only second-hand information as to its content in detail. What I see indicates that anything could be listed, and we'd never know; and sites can be listed in error with no transparent review. Euthanasia discussions? Gay marriage? Well, the fundies would oppose discussion about those. Will fundamentalist sites be listed? That would be at least fair, given the abusive cults who hide behind god and government-bestowed privelages. What about a Wikipedia entry about Australia's compulsory internet filter? Wikipedia already has some blacklistings.

About half the black list relates to child porn sites. Whoever set that up must be planning to constantly monitor such sites. Web sites on any topic come and go for a number of reasons - I ran an aviation site for a few years, it was quite popular, but I closed it just because of the cost in time and money. If law enforcement was watching because the site was illegal in most countries, I am sure the child porn sites would either be closed down regularly by police arrests or complaints to ISPs, or else their managers and fans would be deliberately itenerant to cover their trails. Where's your black list now?

The mother of an online predator's victim was interviewed on TV a week or so back. Oh no, I thought, she's been trotted out to exploit her passionate cries of "the government should do something", but I was wrong. She calmly, clearly and bravely took responsibility as a parent, not that I would in any way blame her for her tragic loss. She said the answer was with families. Have the internet computer in a common area like a lounge, not a bedroom. Be involved with your kids. Be their online buddy. Educate about security.

Today, all it takes is some kid to comment on a forum, "Hey, you go to Smithtown High? Me too!" and they are on the track to being a target. I was on a computer game forum once and someone did that.

It took me ten minutes of checking maps, school websites, and coffee shops in Smithtown to reply; "You shouldn't let out details like that. If I was a predator, I could PM you - 'Hey, is Miss Brown still the headmistress there? How about we meet in El Coffeebean down on Third and Main, and you can come to my place and see my setup?'"

All that because of an innocent post on a public forum, and someone reading it who had faith in online searches. So forget the blacklist. Censor all the forums, all the search engines, even all the GPS maps. Phone books. Street directories. Or, wait, maybe we should consider attacking the perpetrators, not the medium they use?

Before the internet, kids got assaulted and abducted. They were dragged into cars or vanished from football ovals. Nobody censored roads to ensure perverts were not using them, and of course footy is sacred so let's not even discuss it. Why? Roads were essential parts of daily life (and of course commerce). I say a free and open internet is essential to open exchange of ideas, access to information, democratic debate, and removing social barriers. That was it in the good old days when it began, anyway. Don't censor the highway - take away the licence, the vehicles, or the freedom of the dangerous users. Think of it as hoon legislation.

The mandatory filter is NOT, repeat NOT, addressing the issue. The issue will be addressed by parents taking responsiblity for educating their kids. And by tracking and arresting the real perpetrators which, getting down to nuts and bolts, means the ones who lure, abuse and murder.

Censorship doesn't teach people to use judgement and intelligence on one hand, or to behave morally or ethically on the other; it just removes the possibility to exercise either.

Now that's hard, and I don't have a solution. But I vote people into government so they will find one, instead of this inane window-dressing which only pretends to be an answer. Politicians are paid to do better than that. Their pensions make the wages of the majority living Thoreau's lives of quiet desperation look shabby. Do better than window dress, or else accept window-dresser wages.

Once, child abuse and abduction was so rare, everyone knew the names of the victims. Now, get some stats on how many victims there are today, and see how many names you know. Surely, there's a pointer. What has changed? Are the borderline sociopaths pushed to turning fantasy into action by modern alienation and anomie? Does anonymity, tight-fisted funding for law enforcement, mental health and education, and the notoriety provided by a tabloid press have more to do with the root cause than "the internet"?

The internet is not a cause. If we could say that, we'd be justified in saying a panel van and a bag of lollies was equally a cause.

The press always looks for easy answers, but we expect better of our elected representatives. We are entitled to expect the cause to be addressed, the actual perpetrators tracked and delivered to a system of justice, and our freedoms of association and speech (you know, the ones guaranteed by constitutions) protected.

The internet filter may look like an answer and quack like an answer, but it's a red herring. An anti-democratic herring. And it's being done with quick sleight-of-hand. It's another erosion of civil liberties, since we never know who will watch the watchers.

Last news is that the government realises this is a "politically toxic issue" (don't we love buzz words?) and is likely to leave it alone until after the next election. Which to me suggests that they thought appearing to actively care about kids would make them look good, and suddenly they find themselves at risk. Let's not forget this issue after the election.

This quote keeps coming up in this context, and I unashamedly repeat it;-
"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." (Attributed to Ben Franklin)

For those who wonder about the title of this post, see Minitru on Wikipedia.

Footnote, 20 June:
It should be reassuring to see we are not alone in Australia, with issues like this, but I don't feel reassured. My Sunday paper today led me to find a version of the same story on these links;-
Obama internet 'kill switch' proposed.
Lieberman Bill a Dud as it is Dangerous to America

A proposal for an internet kill switch is mooted under a bill arrogantly called the "Protecting Cyberspace as a National Asset Act". Didn't know America owned the internet. Parts, maybe, but the whole point of the Internet ancestors like ARPAnet was to disperse the system, to make it bomb-and-EMP-proof (back when nuclear bombs were the worst attack people could imagine). Guess what, it is dispersed, and it's no longer just American property.

So America assumes the right to pull the plug on PART of the internet? Their part alone (and I'm sure if they tried they could do more than that) can effect things like the economies of foreign sovereign nations. Never mind "free speech" and "thought police" issues. It's using an "external enemy" or an "un-(My Country) group" (whether it be "Jews, Commies, and Fellow-Travellers", "Islamic extremists", "gay tree-hugging hippie perverts" or any other inane combinations of words) to control the general public - again.

Headlining it as "Obama bill" is misleading and, to my mind, a cheap slur on him. Always saw Obama as a breath of rationality. I hope he doesn't fold to Cold War relics like the co-author of the bill, Senator Joe Lieberman, an interesting mix of a few liberal and many fascist philosophies who seems to want extremism stamped out everywhere but in his own back yard.

Meanwhile, on 22 June...
What might be a glimmer of common sense; Aussie newspapers (for example the Herald-Sun MPs Call for Tougher Cyber Police Patrols) foreshadow another approach.

I applaud a move which seeks specifically to track down the actual criminals, instead of simply removing the freedoms of the majority of mostly decent folk (as mandatory filtering is likely to do). Whilst the "cyber police" proposal speaks initially of online fraud, cracking and scamming, the mechanism could encompass the other areas the filter was marketed to address.

Now we need to start thinking globally about a legislative and judicial framework in which to prosecute them.

RELATED LINKS:
Thanks to Sean for the leads to these links.
No Clean Feed - Stop Internet Censorship in Australia
The State of trust: it's a one way street by Mark Newton, on ABC - The Drum Unleashed
Internet Industry of Australia Manifesto - PDF format, downloadable

River Run

2009-10-01T18:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday an old school mate had a trailer load of furniture to move to a shack at Morgan, on the upper River Murray. Being retired I can now do things "because I want to" and not do them "if I don't have to" so I helped. It was just the two of us. Sort of a very small "Route 66" adventure, but with a trailer full of stuff.

The shack's right on the river, the sort of place Ratty, Moley and the rest would have loved (assuming they didn't have to carry furniture upstairs). The lounge looks out over a balcony to the water, although there's a small distance to the river edge.

This part of the river has plenty of water despite our drought, but it has to. Pipelines to other cities start there. The lower river and lakes are an ecological disaster; but up here the traffic's as normal, and the skippers wave and greet landlubbers as they pass.

There's still plenty of bird life around. This is just part of a flock of raucous Sulphur Crested Cockatoos that was circling the area. (A piece of trivia; if you Google for "white cockatoo", among the results is a naturist club of that name. We are interested in the bird, not the club. Although I am sure the club is as good as anywhere else to spot a white cockatoo...)

We grabbed lunch at a bakery in town - always a good thing out in the country! Pasties and buns, eaten by the river. There's a cable ferry (once called a "punt") here. Lower down the river is often too shallow for ferry operations, but above the lock this one is still doing steady business. They have priority on the river, but can activate green flashing beacons to signal other traffic to pass instead of waiting. Unfortunately the ferry just signalled some houseboats through, when an ambulance on a callout came on board.

The wait for the boats to pass so the ambulance could cross was tediously long and, I suspect, one of the forgotten hazards of rural living.

There's a flood marker (in metres) near the ferry. That's my mate next to it for scale ;) and way up the top is the mark for the 1954 floods, over 11m. We haven't worried about floods for the last 8 years :(

This is a shot on the way home, through Eudunda. It's the type of war memorial found in half our country towns, erected after the Great War (WW1, 1914-18).

What's interesting is the area was settled by Germans. The Aussie military has since then had plenty of German names in it. Notwithstanding that, in a fit of rabid patriotism, during WW1 Australia renamed many towns with German names (for example, Blumberg, near Adelaide, became Birdwood). Some have since begun reusing their original names.

Balls

2009-08-10T01:31:00.000-07:00

This may just be geeky enough to start a trend. After seeing a screen cap of my son Sean, standing at a bus stop and seen from home on a webcam, I let the overseas part of the family know I'd stand by the big balls in the Mall in my lunch break. There's a webcam there. That's it below, the little dome hanging under the arm of the street light.

The Balls are something of a landmark. Sculptured, if that's the word, by one Bert Flugelman, Wikipedia describes them with absolute but uninformative accuracy as "a pair of sphere shaped balls". Succint.

After a dummy run a couple of weeks back (the week it rained every lunchtime) we tried again, with the rest of the family notified. I stood round for about ten minutes.

Then my mobile declared "Message for yew!" It was Erin, who SMS'd "Boo!" So I had to wave. What else could I do when picked up by the Balls?

I reckon these are the most photographed balls anywhere. I guess it's the reflections. You know, like bright objects attract magpies.

Well, you can do quite a lot with a camera and a couple of polished balls, of course. And I sort of hope this encourages others to stand around in front of webcams. I don't want to look foolish on my own.

I can't believe I used that awful "balls" pun ...

Seattle visit - May 2009

2009-05-28T16:39:00.001-07:00

Finally, I took the US trip I had been hoping to do for the last couple of years. A first birthday was a big incentive.

Miraculously (since I did all the bookings myself and not through a travel agent) it all worked out well. I picked Air Canada, based on good reports, decent prices, geographic convenience and a dislike for a couple of other airlines. Allowing safe margins between connecting flights meant I had a few hours for a brief look at Vancouver, B.C. (Don't forget - click images to see them full size.)

I only had a short time so wandered the Waterfront district, in nice clear, warm weather (I'd have preferred cooler - after a 14 hr flight and about 24 hrs since my last shower, change of clothes and sleep!). Vancouver is preparing for the 2010 Olympics so there's a lot of construction work, but I was drawn to the harbour, with its beautiful mountain backdrop and its floatplanes.

Seattle was a half-hour flight by Air Canada Jazz Dash-8. The first major outing was to Skagit Valley, to the north, to visit, of all things, a tulip fest. I was impressed.

Seattle is a place where, popular lore has it, it always rains. They even sell little souvenir bottles of "Seattle rain". Granted, it rained on several days, but several other days were beautiful. And even the rain was polite enough to fall straight down and not blow in under my cap and onto my glasses.

When cloud cover permits, of course, the big landmark is Mt. Ranier. The waterfront accommodation, which I am sure does not come cheap, was interesting. In some cases it consisted of moored houseboats. Below are some residences on piers with boat parking in between.

Naturally I took the underground tour from Pioneer Square. The founders in their wisdom built on a small island in a marsh. The original town burned down and in the course of rebuilding (using less wood) the city decided to raise the roads above sewer backup levels. But the shop owners owned the footpaths (they call them sidewalks of course) and were not prepared to wait for a local government project, which meant the new roads were well above the footpaths.

Eventually the city gave in, and built the new paths at road-level. This provided interesting subterranean possibilities, for instance, during prohibition! And today we can visit the old ground level of various premises, and emerge now and then into interesting alleyways.

A famous location is of course the Pike Place Markets, near the waterfront on the west side of the city. These are a colourful rabbit-warren of stalls on two or three levels, most famous being the fish stall where the staff hurl purchases ten or twelve feet to the entertainment of onlookers. I visited a few times, once on a rainy afternoon and twice on sunny days when it was fairly busy.

Buskers - mostly very talented - perform in the precincts. The duo below (from the "Ballard Avenue Jug Buskers", I think) gave us some excellent foot-stompin' bluegrass and were very popular. If you visit, a small donation is well spent for the entertainment. YouTube has several clips of various buskers.

Inside, just one of the branches of the rabbit warren...

... and another ...

And nearby, the Alaska Way runs along the waterfront, with cruise and ferry docks and a heap of interesting shops and displays.

Another tour worth taking is a ride on the "Ducks" (or, strictly, DUKWs). These are old WW2 amphibious transports which tour both the streets and the harbour itself, from near the famous Space Needle. Probably the most extravagant single expense of my trip at $25 a seat, but worth it for the sense of fun, the amiability of people as the "Ducks" pass by, and the great sights.

The harbour cruise shows off the houseboat used in the movie "Sleepless in Seattle", the other houses, the skyline, and interesting local traffic - the harbour is shared with floatplanes like this DHC Beaver of Kenmore Air.

The zoo was great, a big park punctuated with zoo exhibits. Plenty of native life like elk, bear, eagle and otter, even an Aussie enclosure with roos, emus and a token sheila. But the unofficial inhabitants were equally entertaining.

Out through the university and the student accommodation is Fremont, often described as "eclectic". I would have said "hippie". And what a great place to walk around, with interesting cafes, shops and eccentricities.

Not least of these is the Fremont Troll, which lives under a bridge (of course) and eats Volkswagens.

We might concede that any place that has a beer and Scotch fest can't be bad, though the artwork is what caught my attention.

How many towns in the US have a huge bronze statue of Lenin in one of their main streets? And as it happens only a short distance from a cold war soviet missile (no longer working, I understand) perched on a shop front.

I did get out of town, a day trip via Amtrak to Portland, Ore. and to visit places like the beautiful town of Snohomish, north of Seattle with the Cascades as backdrop.

Away from the city, the striking thing was the greenery - coming from a country experiencing years of drought - with pines and poplars shoulder to shoulder and offsetting those nice red barns.

And let's not forget the birthday girl! After all, she was the big feature of the visit!

Summertime. And the living is steamy.

2009-01-29T14:03:00.000-08:00

Well, as Sonny and Cher might have sung, The Heat Goes On, or at least the drought of the past few years.

Really, summer has been reasonably mild this year - up until the end of January.

The TV weather reports tried to break it gently. "Three days of 41ºC" became "four days over 40" with the first of them around 44º (that's in the 110ºF range). "A hot spell over the next few days" became a week, then no end in sight. Up to the minute Weather Observations are at the Bureau of Meteorology site, along with forecasts and statistics. We now face a lowest maximum of 38ºC (around 100ºF) for the next week, rising at the end of the period.

Two nights ago we had the hottest night recorded in this state with the temperature dropping to 33.9ºC (93.02ºF).

Public transport has been chaotic. Trams, trains and buses have had mechanical problems - many of our buses were built for European conditions and the Volvos would probably be fine if it snowed! Tram and rail lines have buckled in the heat around Adelaide and Melbourne. Some of the older metro buses no longer use their air conditioners since they were thought to spread disease!

Our power utility was loaded beyond capacity and localised blackouts of up to 18 hours occurred. The authority finally resorted to load shedding, cutting off power by rotation for around 45 minutes to selected districts beginning with the inner northern suburbs. This was suspended but may be reinvoked, and certainly 45 minutes is better than an unknown period which may stretch to hours.

Even with all my window awnings down and hardly using my computer, oven and TV, my west-facing brick wall is still absorbing heat all afternoon and re-radiating it into the wall space all night like an oven, and the air conditioner at the far end of the house can't overcome it. I'm lucky. Ambulance services are busy, the most vulnerable being the very old and very young. Last night's news told us that one 60-year-old with blood pressure admitted to "taking a sickie" after a night bobbing in and out of a cold shower to keep cool, and ambulance crews responded to one house where the air conditioner - for some reason - had not been turned on and it was 50ºC (122ºF) inside. They say the third day of a heatwave is when they get really busy.

Meanwhile some interesting ironies have bobbed up.

The state government has;
- had tight water restrictions in place for the past few years
- this week, a now-vanished press release told us not to turn on our air conditioners (later saying it was "to save us money")
- then told us to avoid getting hot!
At least a State Emergency Service notice on the Bureau of Meteorology site approve consumption of water and use of airconditioners.

It read rather like "What to Do In a Nuclear Attack", right down to an admonition to keep listening for updates on our battery powered radio. (If you Google "What to do in a nuclear attack" you will find some useful answers, gems of bomb-proofing for beginners like; "The Church would be a good place. Believe in god and no harm will come to you in this life or the next..." at Answers.Yahoo.com.) But I digress.

As for our eastern-state neighbours;
- we share the national power grid, and if eastern useage climbs, our supply falls critically low - there's not enough to go round
- the east get first grabs on the River Murray water, so our lower lakes are dying - but Victoria plans a new pipeline to supply Melbourne
- Adelaide and Melbourne both had rail lines buckle. Crews worked in the heat to repair ours. Victoria hosed theirs to cool them back down (as a Jan 28 pic at Newspix shows, along with other shots of Australia undergoing imaginary hippie liberal climate change).

Someone actually fried an egg in the sun. The usually cooler Southern Vales had their own tales to tell, claiming some areas of the flats reached 50º.

All this has been accompanied by an increase in incidence of sudden deaths, reaching 22 on one day. The deaths were mainly among the elderly with other health issues.

Postscript; A Herald-Sun journalist tried to convince us that rising temperatures actually saved lives (as part of a sideswipe at climate change and greenies).

He did make the point that what had changed since the heat waves of the thirties was that we can do something to alleviate stress by using air conditioners - but two of the affected states told people to refrain from using them, and power failures were chronic. Sure, the heat did the work, but only because of lack of cooling!

Christmas Beetle

2009-01-15T21:27:00.000-08:00

I haven't had much chance to post anything for a while, so here's a late Christmas post. We did all the usual Christmassy things with hordes of kids and so on, and in a quiet moment Sophie rescued a bug from a bucket of water - with the restrictions, we can't have bugs drinking too much! Someone said it was a Christmas Beetle.

Sophie knows more than I do about bugs but if Wikipedia is to be trusted, that seems to be good identification. To quote;

"Christmas beetle is a name commonly applied to the Australian beetle genus Anoplognathus. They are known as Christmas beetles because they are abundant in both urban and rural areas close to Christmas."

All we know is when they walk on your skin you can feel their little toes scrunching in to grip.

For art's sake

2008-10-28T16:28:00.000-07:00

Since I haven't posted since August (thanks to peace and quiet) I thought I better update. I'm on leave again, and for some insane reason, got out of bed at the usual time and went in to work instead of sleeping in last Monday. Well, it was mainly to embarrass my boss (a.k.a. Mr. GPS), but that's another story.

I had breakfast in Billy Baxters in the Mall, and enjoyed a variation of the familiar view. Two points about the following pic. One - yes, it had been raining, but we are still desperately below requirements and farmers are struggling to save what they can of crops. And two, this will be a nostalgia trip for homies far afield, as well as a continuation of the "local sculptures" theme I seem to have developed. See the pigs near the litter bin? Okay, if you don't, click the pic to get a bigger version.

There are four bronze pigs round about - named, I am informed, Truffles, Oliver, Horatio and Augusta.

I don't know which of the quartet this is, and one observes that while some of the rubbish we see is sculpted, therefore art, some is real, and probably not art. Kids and tourists love the pigs.

Further down the Mall, of course, are Bert Flugelman's very large Balls, which the world can see on the Mall webcam. And most days the Mall is littered with buskers; jugglers, Tarot readers, didgeridoo players and the like.

Oh noes! Googlez r watchin me!

2008-08-05T22:46:00.000-07:00

I think in view of this up to the minute technical report I can be forgiven if I lapse into txt or l33t. Or even lolcat. But Googlez r in my street, photoing my house. O hai, Googlez!

Current affairs shows can now reveal that Google Is Spying On You, and they eagerly await widespread Pavlovian responses so they can tell us next that as we exclusively brought to you yesterday, there is widespread concern about privacy issues. Google already have all that covered, Current Affairs Shows, get up to speed (e.g. read this)! Meanwhile, I joined the thousands of Aussies more interested in taking a new look at their streets online, and checking out old haunts. If it ain't on the internet it ain't real, after all.

After exhausting the obvious I worked my way down to old schools. My old high school was alive and well, I was slightly delighted to find;

The church on the hill which tried valiantly but without much success to turn me into a good little CofE person is there too, which is nice, as it's old and historic, something I can identify with.

... but the rectory next door is being demolished or renovated. Holy Sixties, Batman, I went through that structure when the plaster still smelled wet, when Rev. Fleming was moving in!

And now the sad bit. The Infant School where I went for grades 1 and 2 is gone - now it's houses and a small reserve.

Couldn't Google just once have been really out of date with its images? I know it would be a popular move, at least one other person has voiced the same dismay as myself!

Disturbing dummies and serendipitous uniramia

2008-07-16T01:37:00.000-07:00

I have not been too proud to publish occasional art reviews in this blog, for example, my review of the artistic value of sculpture representing the contents of my kitchen tidy (blogged March 7 this year), or the very recent "stuffed housewife" (my last post).

I was informed by one of my network of art aficionadoes (hi Len) that a mere stone's throw from the dead fish and moldy citrus statues, in Hindmarsh Square, one can find a grotesque series of a half-dozen bronze crash-test dummies whose poses suggest they may not be feeling very well. I followed the tip and sure enough, there they were, looking for all the world like the kind of art only Vlad Tepes would appreciate. And ironically (or in their case bronze-onically), they were opposite the former Royal Automobile Association site.

So here they are for your edification. And moving on to edifices, some distance south, in a side alley off a side alley and where no tourist or art connoisseur goes, is this edifice - the St. Mary Magdalene church hall. Look closely. Do you see anything interesting about it?

Did you click on the image for a bigger version?

Okay, if you haven't noticed them by now, you should find a good strong insect repellant as soon as possible.

Bugs. Or if you like, uniramia.

They look like they escaped from not so much a monster movie as a pulp science-fiction anthology, oh, let's say the one edited by Donald A Wollheim, "More Terror in the Modern Vein" (Digit, 1955) in which he published a short story of his own, "Mimic", later totally exaggerated into a feature movie of the same name.

It was about bugs evolving, as bugs do, to become either unnoticed, or to appear threatening or inedible, and hiding in modern urban settings disguised as anything from chimney pots to eccentric old recluses who probably write blogs (except when it was written there were no blogs). By the way, I have still got the above anthology, bought when I was in high school, and kept because I really liked that particular story in its original pre-Hollywood form.

Well this lot succeeded. I bet not one passer-by in a hundred notices them spread along the side of the church hall. My favourite is the one on the right, above.

I suspect that in their larval form they are equally unnoticed, but I may never pass a fire hydrant or parking meter again without having a can of insecticide handy.

Still, a good fantasy is better than accepting the stark reality that local art has come down to representing fish bones and suspended crash-test-dummies. Mind you, creating something as original as those bugs out of "found objects" then placing them in an obscure location to be found serendipitously is my idea of artistic!

The touristy thing

2008-07-03T00:07:00.000-07:00

I've promised myself for the last ten or fifteen years that I'd just waste one day of my holidays doing the tourist thing, visiting the Botanic Gardens, Museum and Art Gallery. I finally bit the bullet, put Other Things I Planned This Break on hold, and went. Weather forecast was for a nice day, and it was close enough, a little overcast, but at least cool enough to walk around.

First stop was the Gardens. The Gardens are an old local favourite, I'd go there with school friends on the weekends when the city was mostly closed, and because it was free. I have a photo of my grandpa with my mum, aged about twelve, and her siblings at the same old main gates we see today. Now city workers lucky enough to work nearby take lunch breaks there. It's very relaxing, sort of like a fundamentalist concept of heaven, but blessedly free of fundamentalists.

After wandering narrow, shaded green pathways I headed up the main avenue, now named Murdoch Avenue, I hope not after the media mogul.

The old kiosk is still there, but has relabelled its dining room as a restaurant, serves interesting alcohol, and has replaced the pies and sausage rolls with croissants and bagels.

There's a competing facility nearby which probably considers itself a cafe, rather than a kiosk. Kiosk sounds sooo last year. No prize for guessing where I had lunch.

Yep, the old original kiosk, where the bird life couldn't help but notice I had food they had not yet eaten, and stopped clearing the empty tables to sashay on to mine. Beady eyes looked carefully at me, enquiring "U tok pitsin?", then they drew up chairs and offered to unwrap my carrot cake for me, their looks now declaring I gat kaikai tumas.

No kidding, there were wood pidgeons, ducks and seagulls around my feet and on the table, right up to my elbow, and when they had grabbed the crumbs one tried to snatch my dessert. I politely corrected his manners.

I took in the nearest hothouse, which seems to have been rebuilt from the old Victorian style glasshouse to a modern style, around the centrepiece, a pond with big Victorian lily-pads. One of them bloomed a few months ago and made the newspapers, apparently they bloom for a few hours every sixty years or some such. The place had a school party going through, and fish-spotting rather than the private lives of floating plants took their interest.

With the sky greying and everything else shades of green, a clump of "red-hot poker" plants caught my eye. There were movements in the flowers, and a little David Attenborough voice in my head whispered that if we were very, very quiet, we might see a little natural symbiosis at work. The voice was right, mynah birds were indulging their sweet teeth (or beaks?). This is probably a good time to remind you, you can click the pics to see larger versions.

I wandered next to the art gallery. They had a display of indigenous art plus the regulars. Despite the poor lighting, I managed to get a shot of what passes for contemporary art, in the form of this stuffed housewife, barefoot and pregnant. Don't know what medium she is made in, or maybe she just took a short cut and froze in disbelief at what was on the walls.

If the bird life in the gardens was brimming with confidence, the museum doors seemed prone to panic at the first sign of a crisis. I looked, but saw nothing for it to be alarmed about. Perhaps it's like those restaurant tables which declare themselves to be reserved, when all you want is a sociable evening chatting with a piece of furniture (thank you for that line, Flacco!).

Around the front, the present young generation was skateboarding on the brick court which replaced the fountain in the past year or so. They seemed uninterested in the cultural smorgasbord which is North Terrace. The Museum also had an indigenous display - practically from end to end. A lot of other galleries were closed for various refits. Some favourites were unfindable. The pair of American Indians that gave me the shivers as a kid because their eyes fixed on me as I came around a corner on the stairs weren't there - I hope they weren't stalking the corridors. But good old Museum-quality thrills are still to be had. The lift was out - and turning a corner on the stairs I found out why.

Meet Cthulhu the Squid, who now lives in the Museum lift well. I knew there had to be a good reason for me to take the stairs. And I am sure there's no point in trying to reclaim your coat or bag here if you lose your receipt.

Back to work on Monday, which means I can stop looking around me for interesting little vignettes.

Varangians and Bindis

2008-05-03T23:56:00.000-07:00

Jo and the boys and I went to the Mediaeval Fair out in the Hills today, driving as far as the really large Rocking Horse and doubling back to find a park. Mediaeval is suddenly popular, or at least today it was.

As soon as we got there we were immersed in skirmishes and duels, plenty of buckled swashes and a lot of guys in armour shouting ninth-century football chants.

Seemed like everyone, and even sometimes his dog, wore some permutation of something that could be classed as "mediaeval", even if some of it looked like they had dragged it off the bed on their way out, but the best of them were very good.

This chap above looked like he found a home in the army...

... and despite appearances, this guy wasn't an Odin worshipper, but wore a Thor hammer which could pass as a crucifix because, as he said with true Viking pragmatism, "It's best to hedge your bets."

I think I saw this chap in the Kevin Costner "Robin Hood" movie. Jo wanted to keep him. All it takes is a bit of black leather and some metal.

The boys tried on some hardware (some innate drive to look like a water tank I suppose). A faithful retainer retained the headgear from completely engulfing them. Liam looked a bit like a letter box. EJ was more comparable to an extra in "Labyrinth".

This gent with a wooden spoon in his hat in case of food actually gave a good history of mediaeval bows, whilst we were lined up at the butts for a turn. (Okay, I just wanted to say 'butt'. Hur hur hur.) Little bits and pieces like a longbowman being able to send off twelve shots whilst a crossbowman was still reloading from his first.

Good to see that not everyone was a warrior or a lady in waiting. Even the lepers got equal time at this fair.

And even the Varangian Guard need to check their exposures sometimes. It's quite likely that a Viking who got work in the Middle East would have had a camera, or at least wished they had been invented.

And here's a further cross section of the population, which in reality had to include farriers and fletchers, not to mention jongeleres, buskeres, gentille pardoneres and even gong-fermers (but you wouldn't use a wind instrument after one of them had played it).

Of course, villages contained many an honest artisan such as the smithy. I suspect some people returned to the car park to find their car missing and an extra large supply of wind-chimes on the market.

There were plenty of things to see, do - and buy. I drooled over the sword tent, where for a little over AUD$200 I could have owned a Viking sword, though I leaned toward the hand-and-a-half Bastard Sword which I had used with some success years ago in, um, a fantasy role playing campaign and if you tell anyone I will of course have to kill you.

While we are there, the next pic is for one of my fellow gamers of the time; we occasionally remarked how, whatever the setting, he always seemed to play a fourth-level half-elven female with a katana (containing embedded spells). So here you go, Kev, I take it back, you weren't making it up ...

This obliging Samurai was one of three who don't just dress up - they really train in the skills that go with the outfit.

The boys, after waiting in line for only about 45 minutes, got their turn to use real bows and arrows. Here we are at the butts (hur hur, he said 'butts' again) where the boys got a couple of minutes arching after their 45 minute wait.

After a few hours of watching grownups hitting each other with weapons, the area was full of kids who had either come in costume or bought plastic swords at the fair, hacking and slashing enthusiastically. Liam and EJ were of course more sophisticated, sneaking in just the occasional swat with a rolled up poster.

And posing for photos with any headgear they were permitted to try.

Well, that was a long post, but wth, I had lots of photos! The best part of the day? Well, the crowd were a fun lot and the re-enactors obliging and patient with photographers, and kids who wanted to try on helmets. The egg and bacon burger was really nice. I'd probably say the SMS that I got whilst at the fair, announcing that Sean and Louise in Washington now had a new little girl, Bindi, was hard to top!

Gidday, Bindi!

Effigies

2008-03-07T19:27:00.001-08:00

As the Year of the Suspended Salad (introduced below) progresses, not much has happened, although it has happened regularly, and at times when my only camera was in my phone.

Not too long ago I met a former workmate for lunch in Hindmarsh Square. The Square is being "improved", which is to say, the cinemas which were my only reason (apart from food) to go there have been demolished.

And sculptures have been erected. Not memorials to founders of anything, grandiose effigies of important personages, not even white stone soldiers on plinths, or the bust of a woman judge. This cultural feast comprises a large effigy of a tap, a hollow (and presumably rotten but minus the smell) piece of fruit, a large rib cage, sundry bones and a dead fish.

I suppose even creatures who gave their all in the name of lunch need memorials too.

Moving along to today, and maintaining the comestibles theme, I joined Jo and the boys for coffee (iced - we are at the front end of a week of century heat) and we wandered the mall a little. Halfway up the escalators Liam (a.k.a. Mr. Food Radar) pointed out what appeared to be a giant goldfoil-wrapped chocolate rabbit.

If we were fully siezed of the religious import of Easter, we'd have said, "Go to, we will turn aside and see this wondrous thing!" but being 21st century materialists, anything related to chocolate required no picturesque verbalising. Liam rushed over, gave the Trojan Bunny a cursory glance, and searched around for implications applicable to the well-being of his tastebuds. A Lindt chocolate sample satisfied his quest and (as you see) filled his cheek pouches. (Give us free chocolate, we give you free advertising. That's what symbiosis is all about).

EJ was a second or two behind. He inspected the rabbit, Liam and the chocolate tray quite thoroughly until he was clear how they worked, and scored a chocolate too.

It was agreed that even if I rolled up my trousers, I could not look cute enough to get a freebie.

Chinese New Year

2008-02-08T15:28:00.000-08:00

Last night we celebrated Chinese New Year at Red Rock Asian restaurant. Despite it being considered bad luck to prepare food on this particular day, and fish being traditional, only Jo had a seafood dish. I think it may be the first time everyone found what they ordered to be absolutely delicious.

It's the Year of the Dexterous and Sociable Rodent (or similar). Apart from the great food, it was very kid friendly. We got martial arts demos - swords, and a dramatic style of Vietnamese unarmed combat. That, too, was kid friendly. Everyone left their kids in the play area, where everybody was kung-fu fighting. We were all a tad mystified by a lettuce of some kind hanging from a string way up by the ceiling in the kids' play area. Perhaps it was also the Day of the Suspended Vegetable. But consider, Grasshopper, all things in life have a purpose.

We suffered loud gongs and drums, very atmospheric and they should keep evil demons away for at least a year. Ultimately a lion-dance lion, accompanied by a Buddhic figure, entered, and a very good lion it was too.

The Buddhic figure insisted on rubbing my tummy in an effort to get me to rub his very false one for luck. I will consider it luck if my hearing remains intact after the drums and gongs.

We found out that the suspended lettuce was for the lion, which after a number of nice leaps, stretches and lunges, stood on its hind legs (or its component shoulders), took the lettuce in its mouth and ate it (yes, bits of lettuce dropped to the floor).

We had small red envelopes with Chinese characters left on our tables and eventually we realised they were for gifts to the performers, via the lion. Part of the custom is apparently for adult and married family members to give money in that manner to children at New Years. The numeric value of the gift is also significant - an odd amount or one ending in "4" being bad luck, even amounts being fortuitous, and "8" signifying prosperity.

The lion moved around the restaurant, posing dramatically, and the envelopes plus cash were put in its mouth. It grabbed my arm and seemed to want to keep it. Possibly it was only confused as my donation was divisible by either an odd or even base number and quadratics were asking way too much.

Anyway, the lion got its donations, then a second red lion joined us. Red is also an appropriate colour at the season, again to terrify evil entities (which is of course an interesting reversal of how M. Night Shyamalan saw red in his movie, "The Village"). This was clearly the Less Fortunate Lion as everyone had already given to the previous one. But there's a lot to be said for using lions to extract donations.
We had one more animal type represented that night.

EJ was the walrus (ku ku kachoo, or possibly gu-gu-ga-joob.) Maybe next year can be the Year of the Punkinny Maritime Mammal.

Holiday season

2008-01-15T14:51:00.000-08:00

From the Sublime ...

For the last week I've had family from the USA staying - Sean, Louise and yet-to-arrive junior. Now they have left, I can either mope, or blog it! By the way don't forget you can click the images to get a larger view, and hit the "back" button when you finish.

I met them at the airport, having left my camera home. Anyway, I got a mobile phone with a camera for a reason - as much as I generally think phones are for phoning - and go some pics of their arrival. In this shot they are just left of the join in the airbridge.

We sort of hung - eating, playing card games and so on. Sean and Louise got treated to the local night-time sounds - one neighbour deciding that the pile of iron that had been there for a week should be moved at 6.30 am, and the musician next door setting the bass tones loud and playing till late at night, not to mention early-hours circuits by the police helicopter.

On Friday we went for a long drive down the Fleurieu Peninsula. We have a few places along the coast with French names ever since the Brits and the French sent ships in opposite directions to chart the coast and allocate names, and Matthew Flinders apparently won, because I speak really bad French. But the two vessels met near Fleurieu, at what is called Encounter Bay.

Our first stop was Victor Harbor - the only place in S.A. and maybe Australia which officially uses the American spelling of "harbour". But there were American whalers in the area once, maybe there's a connection. To one side of town, The Bluff dominates the harbour.

Before the English and French had their play-off about naming rights, the Ngarundjeri people lived here. To our overseas viewers, "Narrunjurie" is probably as close as I can pronounce it but I have heard "N'rungree". Ngarundjeri was one of the great beings of the Dreaming, who shared the task of creating and nameing, and whose story provides moral models for handling community issues. He had the misfortune to have his two wives run off with a sorceror.

Ngarundjeri gave chase along the small creek which, in the Dreaming, followed the course of today's River Murray. Ahead of him swam a big fish, Ponde (there's a place called "Pondelowie", I guess after him. I think the suffix "-owie" refers to a watering-place.) As he tired, he swam more erratically, forming the sweeping curves and horseshoe lagoons of the Lower Murray.

To keep to the point, Ngarundjeri fought the sorceror near the Murray Mouth. It didn't help because his wives didn't want to come back. They jumped into the sea and became the two islands near The Bluff. Ngarundjeri himself threw away his war-club, and it became The Bluff. Then, as all Dreaming people seem to, he rose to become a star in the Milky Way. You can Google for more information, and there has been a good Ngarundjeri display at the SA Museum.

We went as far as The Bluff and nearby Petrel Cove (seen immediately above), where it was pretty windy. A brave soul above Petrel Cove was trying to get some flying hours up on his radio-controlled glider.

We didn't go across to Granite Island, only to the start of the bridge, instead wandering round town and grabbing a substantial lunch at a Bavarian-themed eatery on the Square. A few things have changed and Victor is growing. Apart from the new residential areas, the whale fountain in the square was new since I was last there. (Sean and Louise are beyond it to the left).

We hung around the horses that take shifts hauling the horse-tram across to Granite Island, then headed off towards Goolwa.

Halfway there we stopped at Middleton. Though it was mild to warm the wind was fairly fresh. The highlight of the visit was getting befriended by Harry, an amiable little terrier who seemed to be mostly smile, and who loved company whilst checking his domain. Since he was such a character Sean phoned the number on his collar (Harry's, not Sean's) in case his people had wandered off and got lost. His person came and collected him.

Sean spent some time down among the rocks on the beach until mobbed by flies, then we continued on to Goolwa.

Across on Hindmarsh Island, we went to the Coorong and Murray Mouth. A bunch of paragliders and some windsurfers were making the most of the stiff wind. Sean was again at the water's edge trying to find crabs.

We took a look at Goolwa and grabbed some refreshments, then headed home for tea (i.e. dinner) with the family - as Jo's blog will tell you.

Saturday we had coffees etc. at our usual spot at the local Mall. We wore the family T-shirts - at least Sean, his mum and I did...

Google, you will receive our advertising account with a small discount for the mobile phone pic quality.

The boys were as fascinated with the Foxtel display as with the gathering but EJ apparently has a favourite uncle.

After some time catching up with friends, they left today, and I can return to the bedroom nearest my drummer neighbour's rumpus room.

... to the Ridiculous

Just lately, there seems to be a tendency for bus stops to be interesting. Not as blatant as this one at Victor Harbor ...

... but subtle, like these local ones. The sign has some 10c pieces stuck in the "O's" (following New Years' Eve). Must check to see if anyone else spotted them, or if they are still there.

Likewise, wonder how many people notice the small troll-doll standing near the top of this local bus shelter.

I don't know about the first one, but it's interesting to watch how transient the other out-of-place artefacts may be (the troll has already returned to the fjords). And to wonder how many details we miss in views we take for granted.

The Incredible Adventure of DadB and the Unbelievable Robot

2007-12-12T18:58:00.000-08:00

In the last two days I have been spammed on my mobile - by my service provider. Spam? Yes. If it's unsolicited, unwanted and has no opt out, it's spam.

Ah, you say, I have seen those SMS messages, they do have an opt out! You just call a number they give you. Well, I let the first spam pass but on the second one I decided to opt out. It was offering me a fancy ring tone. Anyone who knows me can imagine my enthusiasm. Anyone on my bus home probably does not know how near they have come to a Sticky End by Insertion of a Crazy Frog when they set their phones to play "Bad to the Bone" or "Looney tunes" loud and don't answer within three notes.

So, I presume at my expense (in one-minute increments), I responded to my provider and rang the opt out number. I was a little relieved to find I was not talking to "Bruce" from Mumbai, but that was shortlived.

A female robot informed me the call could be monitored, supposedly to enhance their services. Ah, if only!

Then the robot asked to state a few words about the nature of my call. I took a term from the SMS and said "unsubscribe".

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Do you wish to cancel or change your account?"

"No."

"Im sorry, I didn't get that, please answer yes or no. Do you wish to cancel or change your account?"

"NO."

"Im sorry, I didn't get that, please answer yes or no. Do you wish to cancel or change your account?"

Well, about now I thought, if the robot is a useful advance - handle this!

"I probably will, now!"

"I work best if there is no background noise, and you may wish to call from a quieter environment..." I looked around. It was true, a keyboard was faintly clicking in the next office...

"Get an operator." I knew the robot would be stuck but if they claim to be monitoring, let's see it in action!

"Do you wish to cancel or change your account?"

What kind of Transformer is this one? A coffee percolator that turns into a complete and profound killer idiot? "YES!"

"Im sorry, I didn't get that. If you are experiencing difficulties you can be transferred to an operator by saying the word 'help'".

"Help."

"I didn't understand that. I may need to transfer you to an operator who will ask you lots of questions..." (O RLY???) "... and may have to transfer you again..."

"Please do!" This is sooo not the droid I'm looking for!

"I didn't understand that. I will transfer you to an operator."

Ah. At last! But unfortunately I was transferred to a "call disconnected" tone.

Last time I complained to my provider about their call centres I was told it wasn't their fault, they sub-contract. I'm not the person to tell that. I know the concept of "servant or agent".

I am going to have to visit one of their offices, in person, just to tell them not to send me advertising. If they say it's "subcontracted", well, Virgin Mobile may get a new client. And should a robot asks if it can help, it will find its plug pulled with an indignity that would make C3PO blush. That level of client service will turn me to voting with my feet.

I see that Aussies prefer robots to call centres. Not This Little Black Duck!

Pt. 2 - Attack of the Correct Persons
This is getting bigger than two trilogies!

I called into the service provider's office. They couldn't take care of the unsubscription, but would let me use a phone to talk to their client service people. I looked around. Yes, this was the place of business of my provider, no question. Oh well. I asked if I could do it online instead. No, I couldn't.

So I called the client service number. Guess what? No client service. Just another robot. It asked me to (cough)state in a few words the nature of my call. It got an icy silence which I hoped would short-circuit ahead to "putting you through". But of course it was sorry it didn't get that, and repeated the request. It got an even icier "I want to talk to an operator."

I was shocked to hear it say, "Thank you, I will transfer you to a client service officer..."

WOW!

"...but first... please say, or enter, the number for the service you are enquiring about, so I can put you through to the Correct Person." This was hopeful, so I did, and moments later I was talking, guess what, to Ludmilla from Mumbai.

"Can you please tell me the number of the service you are enquiring about?" she asked.

"I just told the robot that. Didn't the information get to you?" No, it hadn't, so that was a waste of time. And when she put in the number, she found it was a different type of service to the ones she dealt with, so she had to put me through to Bruce in Sydney who I guess was the Correct Person.

And Bruce in Sydney had to ask me for the number again, because neither R2D2 nor Ludmilla could pass it to him. Then his system indicated there was no such service, or at least, not that he could access. I mean, why give your first point of contact the ability to actually deliver solutions?

"Look, would you leave it with me..." Yeah, sure! "...and give me a number to call you on?" Ah well, he sounded credible.

"Okay, here's my landline ... and hey, why not just call my mobile when I hang up? Then we'll know if that number's good."

"Oh! Um, yes! What a good idea, I wish I'd thought of that!" He called back to confirm the number. He seemed shaken that I actually answered.

He was obliging, but all this leaping through hoops for such a small thing is not what I understand by the term "client services". But then, we only expect service from government offices, don't we?

Pt 3 - Return of the Status Quo
He didn't call back to tell me it had all been fixed. (A this point feel free to fake recoiling in shock.)

I think the next trilogy will begin with "Revenge of the Client" in which DadB unleashes the power of a New Service Provider. The Farce be with you.

Am I reading this right?

2007-11-29T14:08:00.000-08:00

OK, in the ABC shop last weekend, Joanne thought this book was in some way funny. I threatened to blog it, and I am. But being of purer mind of course, I don't see what the joke was ...

Maybe it's because I think an innuendo is a fancy European suppository.

But I have seen worse things at the local mall. One of the DVD stores had copies of "Pretty Baby" for sale not long ago - on the rack with the childrens' movies! I wonder how many doting parents innocently bought it for their kids, unaware that they may grow up wanting to kill John Lennon?

What's happened to all the Pink Hotels?

2007-11-04T13:49:00.000-08:00

Among the nauseous cliches we get to hear from people trying to make an impression in the workplace is "resistance to change". The implication is that anyone who don't embrace the rising star's newest idea are merely obstructive "change resisters". It's as if buzz-phrase labelling will stop people asking things like "why fix it if it ain't broke?"

I get sick of whizz-kids throwing out babies with bathwater. God knows we need the bathwater too, come to think of it. One lunchtime last week I wandered down to the shopping end of town, just to take a break from that kind of thing, and found myself in City Cross. Ah, warm fuzzy feeling! I remembered this place, that shop with all the cute kid toys is just over here, Enchanted Forest, Secret Forest, or some kind of forest with fake tree trunks flanking the door and all sorts of soft toys with "buy me" all over their faces. The kids got small blunt animals called "Puggles" there, when they were small.

But, oh n0es! it's gone! Instead of a shop to make kids smile, there's women's fashion store. Maybe it makes men smile, at least the ones not paying the bill!

The warm fuzzy feeling cringed. Ah well, Halloween was coming up. (The warm fuzzy's little eyes brightened hopefully!) I'd hate to not have any treats around - kids prefer them to tricks - so I headed out of the arcade to find the nice old-fashioned looking lolly shop with the traditional selection of the real thing in terms of sweets.

Yep. It's gone. Now there's a sushi bar in its place, with a Vietnamese bakery alongside. Great for the fashionably exotic but bad luck for the traditionalists! Nothing wrong with sushi bars, except if they start to outnumber Macca's - or replace quaint sweet shops.
Well, I won't bore you with more bad phone-cam pics, but to console myself I decided to have a pancake lunch at Berties. Need I say that when I got there, some Asian folk were moving in glass food counters and hanging paper lanterns?
So I ended up heading for the Market (which as it happens is next to Chinatown) to get some generic sweets, the warm fuzzy feeling now baring its fangs at people whose minds were in their mobile phones instead of switched on to their surroundings.
Lest anyone think it's a race thing - I got some sushi for lunch while I was there.

Pigs, Cats and 'Bous

2007-10-28T14:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Jo and the boys took me to the airshow at RAAF Edinburgh. It was a joint effort by the three military arms to promote themselves, but it was all about aeroplanes, and we know which one of them has aeroplanes, eh?
As we walked through the car park the Roulettes aerobatic team was in full Pratt-and-Whitney turbo-prop howl, which got the boys' attention.

They were a bit fast for my digital, which only now and then decided to take a photo on the same day as the air show. But here is part of them on the ground. The guys in the suits are ground crew so there is still a chance that at least one of the pilots has a moustache, despite EJ speculating that they did not.
The weather was hot, blustery and dusty for day one of the show. We got there around midday on day two, when it was cold, blustery and occasionally drizzling.

Joanne's sinuses were not comfy. In the distance are some of the residential Orions of 10 and 11 Squadrons, and half in the picture is an old Meteor jet fighter of the Temora Aviation Museum whose Canberra jet bomber was nearby.
The most striking aircraft as we went in was the Historic Aircraft Restoration Society's restored Lockheed Constellation airliner. The airframe was recovered from an aircraft graveyard in the U.S.A. and restored to flying condition.

We were able to go on board, and "Connie" was just as impressive inside. It was the Jumbo or Airbus 380 of its time, a luxurious giant, as passenger aircraft went, able to fly above the weather, to the greater comfort of passengers. A little of the type's origin is mentioned in the Leo Dicaprio movie, "The Aviator", Howard Hughes having driven its development.

See, lots of room!
Apart from sheltering in occasional aircraft, we also managed respite from the wind in a hangar to consume our lunchtime hot-dogs (some of us paying great attention to detail of the task, EJ!) where we also grabbed a handful of posters and pamphlets.
The show served to display the RAAF's new transport aircraft, the C-17 Globemaster.

The lineup to get a look inside went from here to next Saturday so we didn't bother! Meanwhile, plenty was happening overhead. Mostly flocks of seagulls, near the food end of the apron. Even they have defence applications - my digital kept focussing on them whenever I wanted to photograph a fly-past so I would suggest our service aircraft carry twenty or so to drop if any missiles lock onto them.

I did manage to finally see the legendary "dump-and-burn" which is a hallmark of the RAAF's F-111 "Pigs" at air shows. You won't see this anywhere else. Apart from the US, Australia was the only other user of the F-111, and the Americans have retired theirs.
The US referred to their F-111s as "Aardvarks" because of the low-slung look of the nose and its low-level abilities, as if it was snuffling around in the dirt. The Aussies called it a "Pig" for the same reasons. A very fast pig, though.
If we didn't get inside the C-17, the boys and Jo at least got a little more shelter from the wind by slipping inside the Caribou, a Canadian designed transport capable of getting in and out of limited landing fields.

The RAAF has been trying to replace them for a very long time. There doesn't seem to be anything which can do the same job.
While they were in there, the FA-18 Hornets began their display. Last airshow, I only saw one fly, and it was loud. This time there were four in formation. I am told that even inside the 'Bou, the noise scared the pants off E.J.

They were loud and impressive, fast passes and vertical climbs into the clouds, stall turns and all the other things that looked like fun to do.
There were slower aircraft too.
Edinburgh being the base for the RAAF's sub-hunters, it was appropriate that they had on prominent display some of the Air Force's history in that role. The oldest sub-attack aircraft on display was the Lockheed Hudson. The aircraft that the Orions replaced was the Lockheed Neptune.

This example is, I think, one of two Neptunes in the HARS collection - apart from the Connie they have a fascinating fleet of airworthy aviation history.

This is their PBY Catalina, coming between the Hudson and the Neptune. Apart from sinking subs, the Cats performed general long patrol duties, search and rescue of downed crews, and commando insertions and recoveries, all work requiring a mix of patience and solid nerve from its crews. (By the way, one of my uncles was a B-24 gunner, and they provided "top cover" for a Catalina commando recovery because only the Cat and the B-24 had enough range - regular fighters were out of the question!) This one is in traditional "Black Cat" paint but lacks the nose turret and two large waist gun blisters of the in-service type.
Apart from the aeroplanes, there were other amusements.

Liam commented that the perimeter pennants flapping in the stiff wind looked like duck bills. Very funny duck bills.
Around mid-afternoon the weather started moving in. I heard the flying displays were truncated in the expectation of winds to 75 knots - not safe over a public display and certainly not comfortable. We left, but I consider I got my money's worth from the moment we arrived.

Do not cross this line

2007-07-25T01:03:00.001-07:00

Before I began my week or so off work, some new people moved into our office. Based on past experience with others, I made it quite clear that when I returned, I expected to find my work space as I left it. Nothing moved, nothing taken, and nobody sub-letting or otherwise occupying it.

They took it to heart. I came back to this;-

Okay, it's on my phone camera and not good, but you get the idea. Anyway, it's atmospheric, like one of those sneaky hand-held news pics. My portion of the office was draped with black and yellow tape, you know, "Crime scene, do not cross" stuff.

Fat lot of good though, my stand-alone PC had all the connections removed and the mouse has vanished. Apparently in delivering a brand new PC (seen in the pic among the tape) out IT could not tell the difference between an old networked unit and a so-old-its-off-inventory unit recovered for me to test work on. I might have to get forensics in to track down the missing mouse.

But other than that, a good ROFL is welcome, right back after holidays. Nobody has owned up to it but I think it's an outside job, nobody I work with has a sense of humour that they are aware of.

Duck Poo

2007-07-18T00:38:00.000-07:00

After my last serious post, I think it's time to roster in something lighter. Two topics this time, parks (with ducks) and toilets. So the title does not relate in any way to the perfectly good general advice to duck poo if thrown, for example, by the monkeys in Dreamworks' "Madagascar".

A few days ago Jo called me on her mobile from a park near my home, inviting me to join her and the boys for a stroll. A good idea to take advantage of a patch of clear weather, since we're into winter and apart from the cold, we've had a bit of very welcome rain which we hope continues enough to break our drought.

The creek through the park is part natural and part landscaped wetlands, small lakes with reed banks to capture sediment, and a lot of wildlife, from water rats to ibis and, of course, the ducks of the title line. No Hobbits, though, but anyone seeing the boys might make an understandable error on that point.

The boys had a great time in the creekbed seeing how big a splash they could make before disciplinary action was inevitable.

There were ducks around the place, including inside a small fenced-off body of water. We saw a small terrier bounding enthusiastically towards them, and he managed to get into the compound. He was followed by a larger black dog like a Blue Heeler, which was too big to squeeze into the closed area.

The first assumption was they had run away from their yards, but no, a girl appeared - and (I presume) her dad. And did they restrain the dogs? Nope. Dad lifted the larger dog into the compound to play in the water with the ducks!

We were somewhat outraged. I took a couple of shots of them, and they noticed. Hopefully that was enough to make them think twice! Reassuring to know that stupidity and ignorance is alive and well.

By a convoluted train of thought (not so convoluted if you have walked barefoot through a duck-infested farmyard) we move on to an innovation in our nearby "shopping town" (ohh I hate that term! It reeks of cynical consumerisim!). There I was last Saturday, paying a relaxing visit to one of the gents' toilets, addressing the porcelain and gazing idly at a framed advertising poster, which happened of course to be at eye level. Toilet adverts are often good for a small chuckle. This one depicted a blue china coffee mug with a bite out of it. The advert asked if my teeth were Macleans strong.

Suddenly a choir burst forth from the metal framework around the poster, the well known jingle, "Are your Macleans showing?" The toilet was suddenly full of wisecracking and snickering males. We were left with the uneasy feeling that even the advertising was watching us in the loo. Is nothing sacred, that we must suffer advertising jingles in that most traditional of relaxing places? Do they not realise how tempting it is to see if the sensor and speaker corrode easily? And what's more, do you realise how hard it is taking a pic in a public toilet? Hypothetically speaking?

Finally, back to ducks. A pair of wild ducks have been seen from time to time in the neighbourhood streets. This morning they were in my driveway, a driveway leading to a house which had a little bit of spare bread from last week. After the first handout I left them alone. They were back an hour later, with "Got any bread?" written all over their faces. Or maybe it was "u gotz cheezeburgers?", I am not very fluent in Duck.

Okay, it's Mr. Hyde Time

2007-07-08T16:56:00.000-07:00

After my last warm fuzzy post about rescuing the Maisie Mouse, it's time for me to switch to dummy spit mode in the forlorn hope of rescuing an historic airfield, namely Parafield (YPPF for those who are interested). Talk is that the airport is to be closed and turned over to property developers, a common fate for small Aussie airports, and with no regard to history. There may be a replacement built in the Port Wakefield area. Whilst developers will probably make a finacial killing with the Parafield land, I wonder who will pay for the Pt. Wakefield replacement - private enterprise or taxpayers? Whichever way, there's a not inconsiderable cost to our heritage.

Parafield airport is part of Australian aviation history. It was established 1927. In its early days, Commercial Aviation (later MacRobertson Miller Airways in W.A.), Adelaide Airways and Guinea Airways operated from Parafield - ancestors of iconic airlines such as the late Ansett. The photo below is courtesy of Parafield Airport Ltd. and shows visitors to a 1934 show parked along Kings Road and around to the Aero Club hangar (later the Royal Aero Club of SA, one of the oldest "Royal" clubs in the world before closing in the 1980s.)

Names familiar to aviation historians are associated with the airfield. Possibly best known would be Charles Kingsford Smith and C.T.P. Ulm who arrived at Parafield on 27th August, 1928, after crossing the Pacific from the USA to Australia in Fokker F.VIIb-3m 'Southern Cross'.

A local regular was James Mollison. Mollison and his wife, Amy (Johnson) Mollison - yes, legendary aviatrix Amy Johnson - flew in the 1934 England-Australia air race in D.H. 88 Comet G-ACSP 'Black Magic'. Amy Johnson herself arrived in Adelaide, at Morphettville Race Course, after a solo flight from England on 28th June 1930, escorted by three Aero Club Moths.

In August 1929 Parafield was officially opened as "Adelaide Airport" by the Governor of South Australia, and it remained Adelaide's airport until the new facility at West Beach (YPAD) opened in 1955.

West Australian Airways two DH Hercules airliners arrived at Parafield on 29th May, 1929, on their inaugural flights on the Perth-Adelaide route, an immense distance by air at the time. The following January, Eyre Peninsula Airways Ltd. began a service from Adelaide to Broken Hill, NSW, with James Mollison as the first pilot.

Local lad C.J. ('Jimmy') Melrose landed at Parafield on 12 August, 1934, after his record-setting solo flight around Australia. On October 21st, he left Parafield for England, setting another record when he landed at Croydon after eight days and nine hours. Melrose then became the youngest entry in the MacRobertson Trophy Race of 1934, flying solo, and the only Australian entrant to finish.

In 1936 Australian National Airways Pty. Ltd. (A.N.A.), incorporating Adelaide Airways Ltd., West Australian Airways, and Holymans Airways, began passenger services between Parafield and Perth, WA, Melbourne, Vic., Sydney, NSW and to various S.A. country centres.

During its career Parafield served the RAAF, and was the arrival point for a royal visit when a giant Lockheed Constellation, the "Jumbo" of its day, landed there with Their Highnesses.

Today's Parafield (a composite of my photos is above) includes hangars on the east side dating from around 1927 and used by West Australian Airways, Guinea Airways and ANA, and along the south apron, large hangars used during WW2.

From its very beginning, families travelled miles to see the aeroplanes at Parafield, especially when an air show was on. As a kid, I and friends pedalled bikes out there just to enjoy the view, and I have been to several air displays there, and regularly visited the excellent Classic Jets Fighter Museum on the grounds. My own shots show (above) Victa Airtourers and DH Chipmunks on the east apron in the 1960s and (below) a view from the north when I flew in an old Auster to Port Pirie in the 1970s. I've flown from Parafield a number of times, the first time in a DC-3 to Melbourne when I was five, and most recently in June 2006 (see "Adelaide Flight 19 June 2006", below, or via this link which opens in a new tab or window).

In 2004 a master plan for Parafield airport was approved by the Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Transport and Regional Services, to "ensure that Parafield Airport continues to be a vital pilot training facility and general aviation airport." (I see now - 2010 - an expansion plan for the airfield has been rejected.)

It's not just a training and GA airport, it's also Adelaide's secondary airport. In 2006 funding to the extent of millions of dollars was allocated for airport security (the government link is now dead, but this one mentions 2009 allocations), at which time the Minister for Transport and Regional Services said "the Australian Government recognises the importance of aviation to regional communities such as Parafield Airport." The security measures resulted in clearing established trees, putting in cameras and erecting a high security fence between landside and airside. Between the investment in security and that recognition of its importance, one has to wonder if a politician's word - and their fiscal responsibility - has any value if they sit back and let the airport go in the name of private-sector profit.

Meanwhile, in an ill-written petition, some local residents complained about environmental issues resulting from what they considered unnecessary operations at the airport - such as flight training. The airport is not rated for jets - one which operated there had to get special dispensation and the most intrusive machines commonly seen would be twin turboprops, but small pistons are the daily traffic. My old pet argument - if you are happy to get cheaper housing because it's near an airport, and you are happy to buy it cheap, knowing full well that airports have aircraft, why complain?

On the other hand local traders in 2006 expressed concern about competition from any commercial development at the site. Whilst the trend is for major domestic and international airports to have associated business precincts, YPPF is not quite that class. It does arguably have relevance to some related commerce and to the local defence industry. Moving further out merely makes access by those services a tad more remote. It will make a difference to the actual airport users and to things like the Museum and on-airport businesses.

Primarily, my own personal concern is that someone sees profit to be made from the land. It happens everywhere. The thing is, if some patch of land is of heritage value to some group, activists gets up on their hind legs and block the move, regardless of competing commercial interests. It's probably time some of us ordinary common Aussies demanded similar rights and had our heritage sites recognised and preserved.

Plus la Change, plus la Même Chose

2007-05-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

Adelaide has a long association with trams as public transport, and the tram line between the centre of town and the beachside suburb of Glenelg has been something of a tourist attraction, with its old timber-panelled slab-sided tramcar classics such as those shown on the Tramways Museum Society of Victoria website.
Everything changes and replacement of these with new trams in a sleek, bright-coloured, but characterless and plasticy style began last year.
A plan in the 1970s proposed extending the Adelaide-Glenelg line out into the northern suburbs. The advent of the Adelaide O-bahn guided busway made the project a little redundant, but it has been revived.

A few weeks ago tramlines were laid along the west side of North Terrace (you can see the railway station on the right in the photo above). This week, work began on lines north from Victoria Square along King William Street, to connect with the work already under way.
The great irony is that in the 1950s the old trams ran down King William Street in the same place, out through North Adelaide and along Prospect and Main North Roads to what is now Regency Road. They were removed and the roads were left for conventional traffic. Nowadays those routes get very congested. King William Street is quite busy in peak traffic, and not terribly wide, and I am one who can't see the benefit of having buses slowing the left lane and trams in the right lane with only one remaining exclusive to vehicles.
Tram and train travellers already have access to free city bus travel between the train station and tram terminus, and to me it seems a retrograde step to reintroduce trams where once, presumably for reasons of traffic flow well before modern congestion, they were removed.
(EDIT - I originally wrote the tramlines were to be "each side of the median strip". The median strip has been torn up. That horrible biological green stuff has made way for nice clean steel rails.)
You can go here for a forum discussion of the progress of the project.

FOOTNOTE: It's four years since I posted the above. I recently heard that the original tramlines were torn up not to improve traffic flow, but because Holdens, who manufactured cars in Adelaide, wanted to make more sales. So they lobbied for removal of public transport! And now, of course, the pressure is on to get cars out of the city and more people onto public transport.

Signs & Wonders

2007-03-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, walking around town, a sign catches the eye, such as this one last Friday;

Which of course put me in mind of this particular monkey. Since "conditions apply" maybe he can get his hair shampooed to.

(Nice monkey suit!)

And an edit, 27 March - today's news.com.au headlines on the Chariot home page;

By strange coincidence the two headlines came out consecutively. If discovering "Ribena" has no "c" in it rates a news item then maybe there is a literacy problem ...

Is this too spidery for ya?

2007-02-07T23:40:00.000-08:00

About a week ago, when it was a bit warmer, I noticed I had a spider in the corner of my loungeroom. It was a Huntsman (or to be politically correct to the point of silliness, a Huntsperson), quite common and, if you dislike flies and mosquitoes, somewhat welcome. This one was a small and inexperienced spider, about the size of an Aussie 50c or the clear middle bit of a CD, if it drew its knees up under its chin. Despite my advice it hung around low on the wall or on the front door knob, rather than up high where any passing snacks might fly.
It was absent late last week, apparently replaced by a much larger Huntsman. Ah, well, I thought, poor spider, be nice to a lady and they'll eat you up. But no, tonight both spiders were there, near my front door. Watch out, Jehovah's Witnesses!

I learned a few things about Huntsman spiders when looking up a reference link for this post. For one, the female does not, like other spiders, tend to eat the male after making baby spiders. Most female spiders, in other words, don't look at a male and think "Cute butt", but rather, "Nice drumsticks!". I daresay the Huntsman approach makes sense, it lets her go out to lunch with the girls while daddy takes a turn babysitting.
They are quite social, a pair interacting comfortably together, and groups "can be seen sitting together under bark on dead trees". Which is nice to know, though I can't guess what they talk about. Maybe they tell jokes. And Aussies would be very aware that apart sometimes entering houses, these leggy, hairy varmints are also notorious for entering cars, hiding behind sun visors or running across the dashboard.
The bigger of the two measures 3 inches from corner to corner (about 7 of those centimetre things). If you click the image below you'll be able to look into its beady little eyes. Believe me, he's much more impressive on the original hi-res photo!

Tiser and Titanic

2007-02-05T23:28:00.000-08:00

"The Advertiser" has long been an Adelaide newspaper and later, since completion of its modern premises in 1960, an Adelaide landmark.

The Advertiser Building on King William Street, just north of the Post Office, was not the city's first "highrise" - a 1925 ten-story building on the corner of Grenfell and King William Streets was that.

In 1959 a small cluster of old buildings which comprised the Advertiser offices and print area and Griffin Press was torn down to make way for the white structure, shown here in mid-2003.

The Advertiser, and the MLC building on Victoria Square, as well as the now-gone new Police Building on the south side of the Square, were the great constructions of the sixties.

The MLC is still there. It was famous in the sixties for its rooftop tower array of coded flashing lights forecasting the weather. Locals carried a small MLC card which explained the code, a clever piece of PR work!

Late last year the Advertiser moved to temporary premises a block west whilst the familiar white tower was demolished. It's seen here (facing west) as a vacant block, behind which a new Advertiser white tower is well under way. The white wall panels are probably close to the height of the old premises, which were slightly nearer the camera (or phone, in this case).

The Police HQ has been replaced by the new, more pretentious and somewhat unattractive Federal Court (left) - called by many "The Titanic", and it's easy to picture some Judge standing on the "bow" with arms outspread shouting "I'm king of the world!"

Alongside it, the state Magistrates Court is still housed in a refurbished development of its original two-storey premises with a much more dignified facade of stone pillars.

The city has not displayed a lot of architectural taste in recent years (consider the North Terrace Wine Centre overpowering the nearby historical buildings). At least the new 'Tiser is not pursuing inventiveness to an undignified level.

A footnote on headgear

2007-01-24T18:54:00.000-08:00

On the Canberries Blog I posted a comment in the "Helping the Environment" post that the girl's hats reminded me of Froud goblin hats. How can we forget the legendary Brian Froud fairies and goblins? If not remembered from the books, at least he became well known for providing the creature designs for Dark Crystal and Labyrinth.
Well, that's Brian's self-portrait at right.
So how Froudy are those hats?

Macro - and micro

2007-01-24T03:49:00.000-08:00

Mentioned regularly in online, printed and TV news was the Comet McNaught, the "Great Comet of 2007", discovered on August 7, 2006 by British-Australian astronomer Robert H. McNaught at Siding Springs, not far from Canberra, ACT.
I of course made a mental note to look for it, then the clouds came in (see "We'll All be Rooned", below) and relieved the drought. I forgot about it until today, when a friend phoned and reminded me of it. He had viewed it from the beach last night and it sounded spectacular, so, with clear weather tonight, I looked for it from about 8.30 pm. I gave up about an hour later but, going in my back door, glanced a little left of where I expected, and there it was, tail and all, in the southwest a little above the trees.
I decided to try and capture it on the digital. About 30 tries later I loaded them on the PC and discarded the lot. At 10 pm I tried five or six more shots. Three were sort of okay and one worked well enough - for a hand held digital which had its own idea about exposures, braced against a sliding door which regularly slid.

To see some decent exposures, of course, go on the WWW, but I rather liked a 5-second exposure by Noel Munford of Palmerston North Astronomical Society, who took a nice twilight shot over Lake Horowhenua in Levin, on New Zealand's North Island.
The comet has been visible unaided since early January 2007, weather of course permitting. It was visible in the northern hemisphere near Venus, until about 13 January 2007 and could even be seen in daylight from January 12 to 14. It will fade rapidly in early February. And it won't be back - it's a non-periodic comet.
If my one decent photo falls short of the others on the web, I had more luck - despite the awkward location - when I found a dragonfly, inspired by last week's warm weather, clinging to my kitchen fly screen when surprised by the cooler, wetter weather on the weekend.
Don't forget you can click the pics to see a bigger version.

Toss out the Lords a'Leaping, cash in the 5 Gold Rings

2006-12-30T19:47:00.000-08:00

Well it's almost over for another year, just got New Year's to go...
The Canberries turned up today and got their presents. We went to a local park for a while. Sophie is quite independent, getting on the flying fox by herself and climbing poles like a veritable pink commando. Probably she's more agile since she's carrying less weight now she's lost all those teeth.
Ainsley is very serious and organised. She responds to the risks of "Middle Child Syndrome" by breaking into a big grin when she gets her share of attention - so she gets more, just so we can see the grin!

The above is one of two near-identical pics - in one I am actually saying "cheese". Sophie was smilier in the other but I was not my usual charismatic self! Cara is an attentive little (big) baby with a great smile, like Ainsley, when she recognises she has your attention. But as the pics were being taken, she decided her foot was her new best friend.

Finally the folks had to go. Sophie cornered any loose toys, just to help tidy up, and Ainsley thought it was one of those moments where it's probably safe to look serious. Cara thought she'd probably have a snooze.

Do Not Throw Food At The Geeks, 12th November 2006

2006-11-14T17:54:00.000-08:00

Now, at last, twelve months in the making...
After long debate and procrastination I met with four other Flight Simmers for lunch. Naturally we picked the "Roulettes Tavern", named after the RAAF Aerobatic Team, next door to Parafield Airport . Our thoughtful booking volunteer managed to get us a window seat overlooking the runways, so we could criticise the low-flying Grobs and other aircraft as they did touch-and-goes while we ate. I should perhaps say that of the group, only one is a real-world pilot...

The ambience of the Tavern is of course aeronautical. Several bar areas incorporate what are apparently genuine old airline booking counters, and the restuarant featured a Qantas sign and model aircraft made from beer cans (ah, culture!). The meals were good, and nicely priced.

After lunch we moved off down the road to ogle aeroplanes - there was even one among us who had never been there before. Truth is stranger than fiction.

The shot by Bob T. shows me and two of the other sim guys outside the Bruce Hartwig Flying School, in the humidity. No, Flight Sim is not a game for kids...

We made the most of the occasion. I grew up with Parafield being a place for families to go and look at aeroplanes, as it has been since the late 1920s. But now, thanks more to local deadbeats and vandals than to terrorist paranoia, the low fences allowing unobstructed views are being replaced with tall intrusive ones.

One of the local rescue 'copters came in and practically posed for photos - I got a heap, much closer than this, but found the little Piper PA-18 on the ground of interest. It's one of several aircraft registered to the Sidney Kidman pastoral company . I'd bet this one's somebody's pride and joy as the rest are "working" aircraft, more modern than this little classic. The late Sidney Kidman was one of Australia's pastoral pioneers and some of the Kidman properties are larger than small countries.

We wandered around a little, but not much given the hot, sticky weather. We spent more time in the Classic Jets Fighter Museum on the airport grounds.

They have just finished restoring a WW2 Lockheed Lightning and are working on a Bell Airacobra WW2 fighter (I use the term loosely).

The museum staff are a great bunch, and really friendly. One even made me feel uniquely knowledgeable by insisting the museum never ever had a two-seat Vampire jet trainer.

The silver aircraft with the orange day-glo in the photograph is only in your imagination! It's not there now, anyway, but apart from the Lightning and partly restored Airacobra, they have a Meteor jet (currently displayed outside), a Dassault Mirage III-E, a DH Sea Venom, a CA-27 Sabre (modified from the North American design with a different engine and a pair of cannon instead of a cluster of machine guns), and several other interesting displays of airframe, engines, weapons etc.

I am a little baffled that our token married guy didn't bring his wife. Sure, she lapses into uncontrollable laughter when we move smoothely and effortlessly into geek-talk, but we're a tolerant lot!

An Ornithological Discovery - 4th November 2006

2006-11-07T15:24:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I was over at Joanne's trimming her rose arch. One offcut had a nest and I put it aside. Joanne spotted that the nest was occupied by five open beaks with fluffy, beady eyed chicks behind them.

She got in touch with Fauna Rescue. Meanwhile a couple of parent birds were circling around the yard and searching the rose arch in confusion, despite our best efforts to put the nest where they could see it.

Fauna Rescue said chicks need to be fed about every ten minutes - but that it was unsafe for us to try feeding them (unsafe for the chicks, I guess).

Fay from Fauna Rescue collected the nest fairly quickly; but unfortunately by Wednesday only one chick had survived. "You've made a discovery," she told Joanne, "they are European Finches and weren't known to be in this state".

As Joanne said, "Great. The population went from 0 to 7 to 3 in a matter of days. She said they are feral, but not destructive feral, just non-native feral."

- photos by Joanne

US Bans Vegemite!

2006-10-21T20:00:00.000-07:00

According to the South Australian "Sunday Mail" of 22 Oct. 2006, on page 17 (next to the ad for "Menopause - The Musical"), "The US has banned Vegemite, even to the point of searching Aussies for jars of the spread as they enter the country." Apparently Vegemite is illegal under US laws which allow folates to be added only to breads and cereals.
This from a country where red meat and fast food are prime food groups! I know that Aussie war brides were sprayed with DDT on boarding US ships for their new homes in America after WW2, and we Aussies are slow to anger, but crikey, this is taking it too far!
It has to be profit-driven. The Yanks are possibly gearing up to produce something like Vegemite and they want a "fair market", i.e. one with no competition. Well, guys, the Aussie navy is likely to form a ring of steel around ... um .. the Farralones and make the Cuban Missile Crisis look like paddle boats on the Torrens (in fact we may also send the paddle boats). You can't make Vegemite without a good supply of boot polish and salt!
I suggest, America, you listen to this song one last time - here http://www.geocities.com/alfonzobelushi/vegemite.html or here http://www.gigglepotz.com/f_songs7.htm - because the Little Vegemites are unhappy! Let this song be an example of what we can unleash if angered! Don't tread on us unless yer've got bowyangs round yer daks!
On the other hand it's kind of flattering to have Vegemite recognised as a substance almost like napalm...

Footnote; Since publishing the above, it transpires that whilst the folate regulations exist, there is apparently no serious enforcement of the Vegemite ban. But I like to think it was fear of the paddle-boat fleet, or the Vegemite jingle, which turned the tide.

Bay to Birdwood - 24 Sep 2006

2006-09-23T20:32:00.000-07:00

This morning, same as every year, my Sunday sleep-in was disturbed by chuggings, rattlings and ah-oogah horns. This year about 1500 vintage vehicles began the 72 km run from the Adelaide coast to Birdwood (home of the Motor Museum) in the hills.
After finding three sets of flat camera batteries I briefly joined the crowd (over 100,000 expected according to the paper) out in the icy cold and blustering wind. I wouldn't know a cabriolet from a char-a-banc but they are great to watch (and I had to go out for the paper anyway).

The turnout was really diverse. As I do every year I got out too late to see my old rescue truck, now in Fire Service livery. Everything was there from Gangbusters to Grease to Grandma Duck's Old Electric, pony cars and military collectibles, motorbikes and even penny-farthings.

There were some beautiful 'fifties fuel-guzzlers like this yellow Chevy - nearly all of which appeared when my camera was unready.

To offset the imports there were a good number of classic Holdens, sedans and utes, back to the FJ.

Among the military buffs was this guy with his Ford gun tractor, limber and 25-pounder gun, which would probably deter anyone breaking into his hobby room and was clearly not covered by our gun ownership legislation.

The rally seemed to be dominated by pre-war vehicles such as the Ford "A", and among them were some remarkable commercial vehicles - grocery vans, articulated trucks, and even something like a bus (a char-a-bancs I suspect...)

Service stations were apparently welcome waypoints and the RAA road service vans were travelling in the rally in ones and twos. And I am sure mechanical failures were the last thing on the minds of the penny-farthing crowd.

Adelaide Flight 19 June 2006

2006-06-18T23:43:00.000-07:00

Took a flight this morning from Parafield with a couple of Flight Simmers, one of them the pilot. Fairly fine but cool, and lots of haze.

Our aircraft wouldn't start despite several attempts, too cold, so switched to VH-JAZ a little later than planned. Mind you I've had cars which wouldn't take the number of starts we tried, on a cold day.

That's Jamie, the pilot, on the original aircraft doing his checks. The Piper Warrior we ended up in (JAZ) is below. BTW you can click images for bigger views.

After the routine checks and clearance, taxied to a runup point and Jamie ran up (yeah, true). Brakes on and revving the engine. Then we taxyed to take off northwards.

Our original plan was to go south to pass Adelaide on the hills side, then to Marino, and back up the coast, one of the regular scenic routes, but ATC directed us to reverse the route. Hung around whilst a couple of other aircraft landed such as the Grob in the next shot at right...

...then took off and turned west, with Torrens Island to left and St Kilda to right - that's the adventure playground near the middle, below.

Nicer view to the south, down the coast and away from the sun, but still very hazy as we pass Outer Harbour.

The Maersk Line ship was the only big thing on the water, though there were a number of small boats out on the flat calm.

Best visibility was to south or out to sea - ATC now and then asked the pilot to confirm that he had some other aircraft in sight. He always found them, I only spotted one - a biggish twin-prop, only because it glinted in the sun. Mostly we flew at 1500 ft, but got down to 500 off the coast, a lot different to the 35,000ft in airliners.

That's Glenelg on the right, after about three tries to photograph it through haze, bumps and a prop which always seemed to be in front of the camera.

Next down the coast is Brighton - about now ATC was talking over whether we would turn before, after or at Brighton jetty, which is quite distinctive with a tower at the seaward end.

We continued on, with Port Stanvac ahead.

That's the refinery, beyond which is Noarlunga and the south coast. We turned left, inland towards the hills, just here.

And here's a typical joyflight shot, had to get the wing in! We are heading north now, home-bound east of Adelaide, but at this point we are looking across Happy Valley.

Passed the city on the pilot side - if we had been doing the tour to the original plan it would have been on my side and on the outward leg. Believe me, there's no room to swap seats either...

ATC advised the pilot to look out for a Virgin Blue 737 over Modbury, and gave a caution for turbulence in its wake. When I finally saw it I couldn't believe I'd not noticed it. Never thought of bright red as effective camouflage until now!

A bit of leaning about with the camera to get a few shots...

Finally back at Parafield, landing on runway 3 right. The runways look pretty short from here, but it all worked, the weather was good bar the smog, and the trip was mostly bump-free.

Oh yook! Piddies!

2006-05-16T20:26:00.000-07:00

Well, yiddle wats, weally. Sophies rat lost some weight today and had a dozen pink jelly beans. Does this make me a great-grand-rat?

Dad B's Blog

2006-05-15T21:41:00.000-07:00

Hi folks...
Watch this space. It's reserved for keeping folks scattered across the planet (well, Australia and the US) up to date in one fell swoop. This is the place to look, if anything happens around here.