Autumn always was my favourite time of year, and this year we’re having two. Yep, the holiday planning continues apace! We’re going to be in Blighty from  October the first until mid November, and as it’s autumn here now, we’ll get two bites of the cherry this year.  Thanks to the payout from the crash, more on this later, we’re just about all booked up in terms of accommodation.

The calendar is looking like this, (you can start arranging to be in Barbados when we are in your county after reading this!)

30 Sept Fly to London via Sydney and Bangkok (please, no ladyboy jokes.)
1 October – 9 October. Llanelli. 8 Cwrt Mary Wech
10/11 October.  ?Charlie and Barbara?
12 – 27 October. Devon. The Barn Peter Tavy
28 – 31 October. ?Ireland Clarkie and Catherine?
1 – 8 November.  Sennen Ivy Cottage.*
9 – 11 November. London TBA.
12 November.  Fly back.

Not a bad little break eh?

* Ivy Cottage is the first place I lived in Sennen  when I moved there in 1991, nostalgia trip.

We’re hoping to have time to chill out and not spend it thrashing about the country as we normally do. Lots of time relaxing with old and dear friends, many walks in favourite familar places, taking zillions of photos, and many quiet evenings spent in front of lovely log fires. (Or, more likely, examining the underside of pub tables.) Lee-Anne will be doing her fish cooking course when we're at Sennen, and I'm hoping to do a photography workshop on Dartmoor. We're hoping to get a table at "Dinner by Heston" while we're in London. I'm REALLY looking forward to hitting a proper Brit chippy in every place we visit.

Oh, I've only gone and lost my Aussie passport. Bugger! Still have my Brit one, which is still current, but will probably apply for a new Aussie one. *(More sodding expense.)

 

Well the crash compo is almost all gone, but to good effect. We eventually managed to pay a chunk into our UK mortgage, despite the banks best efforts, and now only have five years left on the mortgage.  We’ve also paid for most of our UK holiday accommodation, and all of the flights. We’ve put a few grand on a travel card for spending money while there.
Also I got a new pair of hearing aids out of it, this was a bit of a shocker. I had been for the testing and the girl there had tried to sell me a 12 grand pair. After I had stopped laughing, we negotiated it down to a 7 1/2 grand pair, and as they had an offer where you get the second one at half price, it was cheaper still. So the total final bill was a smidge under 6 grand. Not bad, but wait! We have private health insurance with BUPA. This is a must if you live here and earn over a certain amount, as otherwise you get stung for extra taxes and levies and other bills. Not only did we have BUPA, but we’d signed up, at extra cost natch, for “extras” cover, which should see us right for things like hearing aids.

So I sent in our claim form, and they sent me a repayment of….a grand?!?!?  I’ve lodged a complaint, which includes the words, “If this isn’t sorted to my satisfaction you can stuff your extras cover, in fact you can stuff your policy.” I await their reply.

Me being a tadge "Mutt 'n' Jeff" it leads to some very “interesting” situations at times, like this for example..

I was at the gym one morning recently, when one of the regular guys there approached me. Ok, now you have to understand that he’s a fucking gorilla, huge, hairy, sweaty, and with muscles like Arnold. He’s also a bit gay looking, and very Italian. He sidles up to me and asks in a broad Italian accent; “Do you have any sex life?”

I was trying to work out whether to hit him with the dumbbell I was holding, or whether to just leg it and run. Luckily I asked; “Sorry mate, I’m a bit deaf….what did you say?” He pointed at my dumbbells; “Do you have many sets left?”

 

I've got two new weapons in my never ending battle with cholesterol, porridge and Metamucil.

I’ve been knocking up porridge to this recipe assiduously, most nights now. I even prepare it well in advance, and  leave it to soak overnight. It also takes a while to cook in the morning, but the results are outstanding, addictive even. Topped off with golden syrup, yummy, the three of us love it. Rest assured if you stay with us when we’re in the UK, that’s what you are having for brekky.

The Metamucil?

Oh god. One day Mary, the erstwhile mother-in-law, decided her dog, the inelegantly named “Meech”, had anal gland problems. She expounded on these to us at great lengths, normally when we were eating. I refrained from asking how “Vet Mary” had diagnosed this, (crystal feng shui dowsing perhaps?) for fear of hearing she’s been ramming her fingers up the dog’s arse. Again.

I walk Meech every day, there was, as far as I could see, sod all wrong with her.

I asked Mary the symptoms; “She’s been worried all night, she’s hardly been sleeping”. Not exactly what I would describe as “anal gland problems”, but I don’t have Mary’s telepathic abilities. I diagnosed; “You’ve been staring at the dog all evening, getting worried that it may be unwell. The dog has been worried as you are staring at her all the time. You have been worried that the dog looks worried. The dog has been worried that you look even more worried.” (repeat until they vanish up their own…)

Once Mary gets an idea, especially around illness, there’s no shifting it. She only has one answer to any dog  health problem, give the vet $$$$$ until it goes away.  The vet after relieving Mary of $$$ and booking a holiday in Fiji, gave Meech some anti-biotic medication, and told Mary to put her on a small doses of Metamucil. I read the packet for this when I was round there one day, it states it reduces cholesterol. Ok, I’ll give it a go.

Some of you, most of you probably, who read this blog, may think I am full of shit. After a couple of weeks on the Metamucil, I can honestly confirm that is NOT the case.

I’m loving the new camera, and, even if I say so myself, (no other bugger will,) my landscape shots are coming on a treat.

I noticed the other day though variations on the same shot, were cropping up again and again. So what else to do, but to use my days off to go Bushwalking, and to visit some often spectacular countryside we have in these parts. The very first trip, (literally,) I did reminded me why this was not always (ever?) a good idea.

Scratching my arse at work, pretending to do what they pay me for, I came across this link to a walk. Sounds good.

Well to be fair, on my next day off, I did set off in time, and  managed to drive to the start of the walk without crashing or getting lost. I even remembered to pack water and grub. The start of the walk was easy, and so I set off jauntily. At every step I took, small skinks and lizards ran from beneath my feet. I fitted my old and knackered telephoto lens to the camera and shot some pictures of them, some turned out ok.

I left my long lens on, so as to shoot any wildlife about. I got some nice dragonfly shots, and was happy.

I then saw a slight diversion for the “Orroral valley lookout point”. This would add a couple of K onto my walk, but seeing as (a) the object of the walk was to take landscape shots, and (b) I’d spent the last hour walking through dense bush with only the view of my feet to see, it seemed worthwhile.

It wasn’t.

After pushing through thick bush for 2 k or more, I came across the lookout, or, as we Poms would call it, “a gap in the trees, through which you can see lots of sod all.” I fitted my wide angle lens to the camera, out of sheer desperation rather than any hope of a shot. As soon as the lens was on, and I was heartily swearing my head off at the total lack of anything worth shooting, an owl alighted on a branch not 20 foot away from  me. It was the most beautiful bird I have seen in years, and it was sat there, looking quizzically at me. Sat there that is, until me telephoto lens was back on, by then it had fucked off.

Very cheesed off by missing this shot, I pushed on. To be fair “Square Rock,” when I reached it was worth the effort. A huge tor like formation of rough, square shaped, granite rocks a couple of hundred feet high, and perched on the edge of the valley. I took a few hundred shots, most of which were shite.

Happy with this outcome, (I didn’t know how crap my shots would turn out at this point,) I gambolled down the path. Just before then end of the trail I almost tripped over this chap, he was sunbathing on the path. Now even I am not so dumb as to disturb an Aussie snake, literally more than your life is worth.

 

In this case a really good move, as it turns out it was a red belly. So I took out my camera, fitted the long lens again, and took a snap of him. Surprisingly he stayed there while I did this. Still  I was elated when he eventually  moved off, as it meant I could continue.

I was almost in sight of the car when I tripped over a tree root. Pop went my ankle, snap went the tendons, and “AaAAaAaArgh!!FUCKING HELL!!” went me.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but no. The bloody thing got swollen up like a balloon, all bloody purple by bedtime. I got back to the car and did my one footed driving routine. I’m very good at driving a manual change car only using one foot, I get lots of practice. Being on mountain road, one with steep drops into rocky valleys on either side, while driving this way, took my mind off the pain somewhat.

Halfway down the trail I nearly run over this guy.

He’s a blue tongue lizard, which are famous for their lurid blue tongues. Although you’d be hard pushed to tell that, as due to the pain, and due to my hopping about like a one-legged man in a ball bearing factory, I totally and utterly failed to get a picture of his bloody tongue. Ah well.

Oh when I got home, and took off my boot to massage my ankle, I found the pain in my big toe, which I had thought was due to the twist in my ankle, was actually due to my boots being old and fucked, and that I was going to loose my big toe nail.

Happy trails.

 

Another day I was up Mt. Stomlo with the mutts.  I was walking about the shells of the solar observatory, the ones which got burned out in the 2003 bushfires, when I came across a group of young lads who were rather obviously, well, a group. They were having their photos taken by a pro photographer, with them trying to look all mean and moody . I decided to stay and watch, see if I could pick up a couple of tips off a pro. I fired off a few snaps of them myself.  They stopped posing after a little while, so I went over and asked them if they’d like to borrow the pups for a couple of shots, to make them more attractive to women. To be fair to them, they did have a good hoot at that idea. I wish I’d asked what they are called, but I forgot to. So here's a photo I took of the soon to be famous; "Banjo Buttplug and The Snot Grovellors"

Oh, and one day at the Arboretum, we can across a Bogan wedding, that was fun too.

Been being a bit cultural of late. Remember I told you that when we were at the Opera House to see Alan Davies, I’d snapped up a ticket to see the Arvo Part gig, well I went to that last week.  I‘d decided to do it as one run, to save money. A bus up and back costs $60.00 + room in cheap digs $75.00 + train fares around Sydney  vs. car hire $53 + $60 petrol, only saves a few dollars, but means I don’t have to take a day’s leave, so cheaper. Oh, it also means I don’t spend money eating and getting hammered in Sydney.  It works, but only at the cost of being totally fucking knackered.

I drove up in the hire car, listening to Stephen Fry’s “Fry’s English delight” on CD, it’s a must hear, get it now! I passed through one of those MASSIVE thunderstorm which Sydney specialises in. Luckily 30  years of driving in the UK had prepared me for a bit of wet weather driving, the other Aussie drivers not so much, I passed every bugger on the road.

 

Yes  did take that while driving, so sue me.

I got to the car park, and fortunately, having done the stroll twice in the last couple of months, navigated myself to the Opera House in good time.

Will I ever leave being a boy from Bryn Road behind? I was shitting myself to be honest. I’d never been to a full blown classical concert before, despite collecting early music for 20+ years, and having 3000  CD's worth of the stuff. Oh sure, I've seen amatuer stuff, string quartets, chamber orchestras, and classical musicians doing solo tours. I used to watch the choir at Exeter cathedral doing rehersals, (Palestrina, heaven!) But this was my first full on big classical bash at a major venue. I got that usual haunting feeling that someone, probably someone dressed like an Ealing comedy butler, would discretely tap me on the shoulder, and whisper; “This isn’t for the likes of you, you scruffy Bryn Road scroat, this is Arvo Part at Sydney Opera House, it’s for posh people. Be a good fellow and kindly piss off out of here.” But fortunately no one did.

God, the people there were wealthy looking, some real hot posh totty too. I grabbed a beer from the bar, and drank it from the bottle, my own bit of rebellious nose thumbing. I went to see if they were flogging T-shirts of the gig, but no luck. I'd have snapped one up.They were hawking CDs, but i've "acquired" all his stuff via the net.

I strolled about. In the foyer, a youth orchestra had set up, and were playing “Arbos”, one of my favourite Arvo Part pieces, I damn near wept it was so good. I was lucky to get a good seat as I hadn't really asked for a placing  when I had bought it, just said; "one please," and left it at that. I was sat next to a gay couple, who were done up like something out of “Brideshead Revisited” on one side, and a fat bird in a black lace dress which made her look like an obese crow, on the other. I took my cues from the gay guys, stood when they stood, clapped when they clapped, but didn’t kiss when they kissed. Nor did I kiss the fat bird either.

The music? It was everything I’d dreamed of! The choir did several bits unaccompanied by the orchestra, to see this had been my main reason for going, and as is only to be expected I was totally entranced. The conductor leapt about like a thing demented,  it should have been funny  but it was apt.

A funny thing did  happened in the interval, when a bit of posh totty tripped over her heels on the top of the steps and set off  a ”posh totty domino effect.” I didn’t laugh. Aloud.

There was no solo singing, just, (cliché alert) the sound of a heavenly choir, it was breathtaking. The orchestra only sections were good, but not really what I was there for. The last piece, “Adam’s Lament” was the finest bit of live music I have ever heard. I wasn’t the only one in tears, looking around me several other people were too.

But all good things must end, even though they got four encores.  I drove home, getting back to Canberra in the early hours of the morning, and waking the puppies. The next day I found this clip online;

It's the same choir and conductor (Tõnu Kaljuste,) as I saw, but with the Estonian Symphony orchestra, not the Sydney Symphony.

 

So, just after watching that lot, I had a bit of a contrast, I saw this young man and his merry band.

(No flash allowed, the mother-in-law's camera crap without flash!)

Yep, that's John Lydon, aka. Johnny Rotten. I went up to Sydney to watch Public Image Limited play, I must say they were the best live band I've seen in a while! I took a bus up and stayed overnight in "Billabong Gardens", (highly recommended for a cheap place to stay in Sydders.)

My reasons for staying up were twofold; (a) you cannot see a band like PIL without having a few refreshing shandies to get you in the mood, (b) I was still knackered from driving up and back to Sydney the previous Sunday.

Great great night, the band's sound has developed into a sort on post punk/post rock/post funk melange. They did all the favourites, "death disco", "careering", "Flowers of romance", "this is not a love song", "Public image",  and of course his anthem; "Rise".

The band were as tight as a camels arse in a sandstorm, the "guitarist" Lu Edmonds, spent more time playing an electric bouzouki and a twelve string banjo, (with a bow!) than guitar. He  looked likea a punk rock version of Fagin!

That's him on the right.

John was as acerbic as ever, and still plays the provocateur. His singing is, well actually, rather good, though I doubt it his vocal style would work outside of his own stuff. He introduced the band, and then said, "Well I suppose you know who I am, so you can call me what you like," to which a loud Welsh voice shouted; "You're a twat", "You've got Welsh scum here as well have you?," was his reply. Nice one John.

The audience was a mix of old people, (like me) and young punks. Only one fight broke out, and that was  between two pissed women, yes women, in their 50's. The bouncers ejected them gently.

A band I would definitely like to see again.

 

We also visited the Toulouse Lautrec  exhibition which was on here, we’re so lucky that all the big touring exhibitions visit here,  just down in town, one small advantage of living in the capital. Funny thing is that although TL is famous s for his posters, the one picture of his I really fell in love with is “Le Lit”. It’s a small water colour of a prostitute in bed. Make your jokes now please.

 

BUT!! The next big exhibition to come to Canberra is….Turner!! Guess who’s a big Turner fan? Big inspiration to me, has been for donkeys decades.

 

Poor old Bethy, she’s been trying to get work, with little luck so far. She’s not got great work experience, so she doesn’t get offered jobs, so she cannot get work experience. Get the drift?  She signed on a Centrelink, the Aussie social security people. Me and Lee-Anne earn far too much for her to be entitled to benefits, but she was hoping they’d give her help getting work. She got offered a job search  interview the next day,  with the Salvation Army, who Centrelink have farmed out their job search provision too. Don’t ask me why the Salvos got it, I can only think it’s due to them being  bloody loonies over here.

So Beth went back there the next day, only to be told they had no record of her appointment, and to go away. They told her that they definitely would write down her an appointment for the following day. They did. Unfortunately when she went in the next day all their servers were down so they couldn’t do fuck all. A day later she got a letter inviting her back in two days time. She went in for this, to find their fucking servers were down again. “Servers”? Rather misnamed there.

Well she’s been given a proper interview with them in the next weeks, for an actual post, but I’m not holding my breath.
While she’s had all this time on her hands, she’s been being productive, cooking especially, one of her best dishes was this amazing latska soup, a spicy Thai fish soup. I almost drowned myself by trying to get more down my neck.

 

Bethy's also been going to the gym every day. A mark of how fit this has left her is this; she was one of only two from her team invited to play as guests in a basketball tournament which was marking “Harmony day”. She played full on in four matches, and her team won through to, and won the final. After a hard day of basketball what did she do? She played basketball for her team, they won that match too.

 

The puppies, well they’re still alive despite sorely tempting fate. One of them, we don't know which, chewed up a paperback book the other day. The digestion of so much paper would not be as dangerous to their health, as me catching the little fucker doing it would be. The sofa’s had a hammering, and they still haven’t quite got the hang of waiting till they are out of doors before dropping big shits, this despite the regular application of a size 9 DM enema.

Biggest problem is they’ve started getting aggressive, Jack Russells are notorious for this. Combine that with the breed’s total and utter fearlessness, and you have a recipe for disaster. This was brought home to me the other night when walking them at a local beauty spot. I had stopped to take a photo of a cow, (it was a pretty cow, ok?) I finished, and looked about for the pups. I had one, one was missing. Ginger in fact had got under the fence, and was walking towards the bull in that field with a; “You smell like my lunch you big fucker, come to daddy,” look in his eyes. He doesn’t know how nasty a bull can be, but luckily he knows how nasty I can be, and came back when called.

Nature has it's way of extracting revenge though, as a few days after the bull hunt they decided to attack an echinda. Oh how I laughed.

Oh, Ginger has taken to trying to rape Millie most evenings, she doesn't like it, or at least pretends not to. Their play fights are also getting a bit heated, so there’s only one thing for them. Yup, the big snip will happen on the 24th of this month.

Hey, I can give blood again:
Donor Message:
I will be returning to the UK for a holiday in Oct 2013. I have lived in Australia for the past 12 years. I would like to donate blood in the UK, as I am unable to in Australia, (due to me having lived in the UK during the BSE scandal.)
Is this possible?
I was a gold badge donator in the uk, and am O rh-
Best wishes,

 Dear Taff
Thank you for your e mail.
You would be most welcome to donate when you return in October, provided you meet all the normal criteria. It would probably be a good idea to register with us and book an appointment nearer the time-this can all be done via the website.
We look forward to seeing you again
Many thanks for your support.
Best Regards
Referral Team
NHS Blood and Transplant

Tales from the front lines of the psychiatric wars.

We had a new client, amiable enough young man, let’s call him John. We’d began working with him, first episode psychosis, who was started, as most of our clients are, on low dose Olanzapine. He seemed stable enough, if a bit blunted and uncommunicative; his parents had told us that was his normal manner. Parents decided to go down the coast for the weekend, leaving John to look after the house. They came back, we get a phone call. “We came back and all seemed well, but we couldn’t find the cat. We asked John where it was, he told us; “I needed it’s essence to gain alpha prime powers, so I strangled it and threw it in the bin.””

We screamed around there, and gently persuaded John to come and see the nice doctors at the hospital with us. He then told the admitting doctor that as killing the cat had failed to give him alpha prime powers, his next experiment was to kill his mother to see if that worked. Yes he was admitted. Since then he’s been bitch slapped with every anti-psychotic known to man, and yet his belief that he will gain alpha prime powers by killing remains unshaken. No one has yet been able to find out from him what alpha prime powers are.

Oh, and some bright spark young consultant suggested he could be housed in semi-supported accommodation, if our team was prepared to; “Go the extra yards for him.” Our reply? “He. Wants. To. Kill. People. It's your signature which will be on any discharge plan.”

He’s still in.

 

Today, got a call from a mother of a client I have been managing for some time. Let’s call him Tony.

“Hello Taff, I have decided that next month I will be returning to Rwanda to live and work for a few years. I have not seen Tony for a week or two, so if you see him can you let him know. He will probably want to stay here, but he has no visa, can you help him get one? Oh, and as he does not have residency he cannot claim benefits or get housing, so he will need help with that too. I’m sure you will be the best person to help.”

My reply was polite, if not a little abrupt.