Ok, so it's Canberra’s Centenary, a hundred years of existence as a national capital, so how best to commemorate it? Getting a few international matches, in rugby and cricket, I highly approved of. There's been fireworks and other events, no great bands or gigs unfortunately. But we have commissioned a wonderful work of art which will have the whole world joining with us in celebration. Think about it, how could you represent Canberra’s 100 year birthday in a great piece of art? Hard one eh? What says; “100 Hundred Years of Canberra”? Well it’s obvious really, this does;

Think of Canberra and visions of hot air balloons drifting over the lake on a crisp autumn morning come to mind. It’s therefore no surprise that in our Centenary year a hot air balloon sculpture has been commissioned to celebrate Canberra’s love of, and reputation for, hot air ballooning. What might be a surprise however is the form that this commission has taken. Centenary Creative Director Robyn Archer AO aim with this commission was to offer the highly visible canvas of a hot-air balloon to an Australian artist. Enter internationally renowned artist Patricia Piccinini, who grew up in Canberra attending school, college and university here. Patricia says she grew up as a ‘real migrant kid’ in Canberra without privilege, and yet was exposed to a level of information and learning which has fuelled her spirit and her work. “Patricia Piccinini is one of Australia’s most successful sculptors. Her work is seen in major collections in Australia, and a survey show broke all attendance records for the Tasmanian Museum and Gallery,” Robyn said

 

Canberra, the city Australia hates the most, spent $300,000 on this "art work", to celebrate 100 years of Canberra. And we wonder why the rest of Aus hates us? This wonderful work of art, which we were told would only cost us $170,000, but actually cost us $350,000 is, just piss taking surely?

They told us it would; “Get people talking about Canberra."  As in; “Have you seen what those daft bastards in Canberra have wasted a stack of money on!” or “Come to Canberra, we’ve wasted $300,000 on a Tittycarp which won’t be flying here!” What do I mean, “Won’t be flying here”? Well it has a life span of 100 flights, and only one of these will happen in Canberra. Oh, and we won’t own it after it’s all been done and dusted, it stays the property of a museum somewhere.

"More than 200 people turned out to watch her controversial Canberra centenary balloon take its maiden flight." 200? Out of a population of nearly half a million? Glory be!

And on the morning of its first "offical" flight over the city…it rained for the first time in a month or more! The only morning it did fly, I saw several balloons in the air on my way into work, but no Skypigtittycarp.

 

Bethy news :

Here's Bethy with her pride and joy, Arthur. Why is the car named Arthur? Well Bethy's a fan of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy", get it? Arthur is a thirty year old Holden Gemini diesel, rock solid, and slow. Good.

The poor bugger had been putting herself forward for the last few months, trying desperately to get her first job, without luck as she has limited work experience. This was mainly in voluntary work with kids. She  was in very much “Catch 22” situation. She didn’t have experience, so people wouldn’t give her a job, so she couldn’t get the experience to get a job. Well the good people at the Salvation Army employment service eventually sussed this, and sent her off for an interview.

The interview itself was a group interview. She obviously acquitted herself well, as they marked her as; “Bubbly, but mature and intelligent.” They offered her the post, even though they were looking for over 21 year olds and she is only 18.

She told us that after the interview had been going for 15 minutes they were interrupted by the late arrival of “Candice”. Candice was dressed rather tartily, made a huge noise about her arrival, and had to borrow a pen off the interviewer as she had “forgotten“ hers. Candice then informed everyone that this was a bloody stupid interview method, that she was only there due to a condition of her getting benefits was that she attended so many interviews.  During the group discussion, Candice had to describe her last job; “Well my last job was as a stripper at "Tiffany’s Palace Bordello”, which is a “real class place, not a brothel”. (It is a brothel, one of my ex-clients used to work there.)

The interviewer left the room briefly, stifling laughs as he went.

But Bethy got the job, and for a couple of weeks was a bouncer at JB-HiFi shops all over Canberra. Ok, not really a bouncer, but the person who greets you, offers you a basket, directs you about the store, and checks you’ve not nicked anything when you go to leave. The glamour of all of this soon wore off.

Luckily she applied for a job in the local hospital, where a mate of hers was already working. She got interviewed and accepted for this. So this week she starts delivering meals around the wards to patients. Her mate Tim sold her on the job by saying he enjoyed it greatly, as when delivering the meals you had a chance to chat briefly with the patients, and this often made them a feel better. Bethy loved that idea.

I’ll let you know how she gets on.

Bethy and Brandon also had a trip up to Sydney recently, staying at a hotel together for the first time. He was going to go see Tool, she was going shopping. Brandon offered to get me a tool t-shirt, but they were helluva expensive so he didn’t. Bethy got a pair of the most whacky shoes I have ever seen, I nearly died when she put them on. They’re the sort of shoe I would imagine only someone like “Candice” would want to wear. But she says they are only for fun, and they only cost twenty bucks.

  

Oh, while at the basketball stadium watching Bethy play a match, I saw this lovely bit of irony.

Beth's doing ever so well with her basketball. Her week is; Sunday match, Monday training, Thursday training closely followed by a match! She's also using the gym 2/3 times a week. Must be her mother's influence.

Puppy tales.

We reckon that reincarnation is true, and we have evidence;

Digby and Ginger

The Kray Twins

To cut a long, long, long, painful story short.

The dogs are now getting full on walks, they are so energetic that they need at least two walks a day, one of at least an hour or so.  They are also getting well trained and will respond to few voice commands, “come”, “wait”, “ go ahead”, etc, which are essential. However, one of their little misapprehensions is that roos are objects of sporting fun. So if I turn my back on the little bastards when there are roos about, they tend to give chase.

One morning I took them to what we call the “middle walk” at the local nature reserve. I got to the rocks which mark the mid point, fired off a few snaps, and decided to go back by an alternative way.

A minute later, look around and there's no Ginger! Oh bollocks!!! Lee-Anne and Bethy would kill me if I lost the little bugger.

 I could see a mob of roos down in the valley, so I thought that’s where he would have headed. Unusually Digby, his partner in crime, was at heel. Normally they do everything as a pair. I headed downhill and searched for half an hour, yelling “Ginger” at full volume. If  you’ve ever been to a gig with me, you’ll know how loud this is. Wynn / Pete G will confirm that I once made the front ten rows at a metal concert sit down, just by yelling at them.

However, despite me deafening the local roo population, there was still no sign of him.

I widened the search, I stopped everyone I saw, no one had seen him. I made my way to the highest vantage point, the top of the pinnacle itself, and shouted from there. Still no sign. Running out of options, I went back to the car to drop off my camera gear, and to put  Digby and Millie in the boot, in order for  to enable me to widen my search further.

Who is sat at the rear of the car, looking very scared and more than a bit sheepish? Ginger.

I didn't know whether to hug him or strangle him, so I settled for a hug.

 

Oh talking earlier, as I was, about training the little fucks, another prime example of a phenomena, one which I have related here in the past, happened just the other day. For a walk I took us all up Mt Painter, where I shot that rather hyperactive gif on the front page. Just before the top, I see a middle aged couple* coming down with a dog on a lead. As I couldn’t be arsed to put our four on their leads, I called them about twenty metres off the path, and waited for the couple to pass.

Inevitably they stopped, and woman started saying something to me, but being Mutt ’n’Jeff I couldn’t hear her. I told my lot to stay, and made my way over. As I get there she shouts. “Your dogs are not on the lead; this is a lead only walking area you know!” I look at her dog, which has tied her husband in a figure of eight, is foaming at the mouth, and barking fit to wake the dead. “Yes,” I replied “sweetly, “that’s mainly due to inconsiderate dog owners who do not train their pets to obey them, and for whom their dogs have no respect. People like you in fact.”

I called mine on, and we walked to the top, feeling smug. (Luckily they didn’t see Digby put some roos up when we reached  the top.)

*middle aged = older than me.

 (Talking about being deaf, I was looking on e-bay for a "silent" alarm clock, one that works by flashing lights or vibrating, as a "alarm" alarm clock is no bloody good to me.I came across this one. I'll give it a miss I think. )

Ginger has found a new chew toy, he seems to prefer them to his previous favourite, my nose. One day Lee-Anne was laying out her work clothes, she then went off for a shower. She came back and shouted; “Uurgh, my knickers are all damp”. I restrained myself from saying; “Nothing new there then.” Yup, it would seem that young Ginger, despite having no nuts, is still attracted to women.

Millie, let’s not forget her, also has a little foible. For a couple of weeks we had to give the puppies ear drops. These needed massaging in. They enjoyed this. So each time they had it done, and they both had to have them twice a day, Millie would come and watch them getting "special treatment." She'd then refuse to leave you alone until she had had a damn good ear massage too. It was quite sweet.

Bethy shouted out from the living room one night; "Are you smelling the puppies again?" Bugger, caught in the act again. I just can't help it, they smell so lovely and puppy smelling.

 

So Lee-Anne and I went to see the rugby, luckily I got our tickets early, and so we got great seats. The match was a sellout, (25,000 seats.)  There was free busses from the local shopping centre to the ground, so we got Bethy to drop us off there, and took the bus in. This meant I could have a few refreshments. Neat.

It’s the start of the winter here, and it was a dead breezy night so we had wrapped up warm. Others were not so sensible, I saw a girl in shorts and a halter top. Great for displaying her wares, but also great for freezing her tits off. She left after about 15 mins. On getting to the ground we grabbed some beers, found our seats, and got settled in.  The people across the isle from us had brought sleeping bags to cwtch up in, bloody neat idea! The guy at the beer concession was clueless, I ordered two beers and a glass of wine, and ended up with four beers, two wines and more in change than I had given him in cash. Not that I was complaining.

The match was the first Aus vs. NZ footy (rugby league) test to be played here. They were also raising funds for ANZAC veterans. The match ball was delivered by Vietnam veterans on Harleys, and the handing over ceremony was done by George Cross medal holders. This guy was one of them, his story is somewhat impressive.

Michael Kenneth Pratt was born on 13 November 1954 in East Melbourne (Victoria). At the time of the events which led to the award of his George Cross, he was a Constable with the Victoria Police Force. On 4 June 1976, while off-duty and unarmed, Pratt was driving passed a bank when he saw three masked and armed men enter the bank. He immediately drove his car up the kerb and blocked the entrance to the bank, raising the alarm and telling a passer-by to contact the police. When challenged by one of the robbers to move the car, Pratt refused and removed the ignition key. During the ensuing struggle, Constable Pratt was shot and seriously wounded by one of the robbers.

Some balls that man!

Here's some photos from the match.(not mine, these are good.)

A good but but not a great match. It was shaping up good up until half time, they went in at six apiece. But, ten minutes into the second half, Aus ran up a quick few tries, and it was all over as of that.

Two stand out memories for me.

1) Watching the Haka done live. It’s even more bloody impressive/scary when they are in the same stadium as you!
2)  Walking into the bogs to see four guys in a line taking a piss, cock in one hand, texting on their phones with their other. I damn near had an accident.

 We’ve also been up to see Ross Noble in Sydney, he was a bloody hoot. We did the "hire a car, go up and back in one day" thing again. He was playing the Sydney Entertainment Centre, so we couldn’t use our normal parking place, and had to drive right into the city centre. We eventually found the pay parking place which we’d looked up on the net. Dear god, to park you drove down five stories, for the public parking, like spiraling down, down, down, into the bowels of the earth. "Don't stop when you get there, give my regards to the earth's core!" To quote basil Fawlty.

Bethy had looked us up a place to eat near the venue, called The Pump House.

We got there to find it tidy, with a good range of beers. But we couldn’t eat in the restaurant as it had been booked out for a party. Bollocks. We tried to find a table in the bar. They were full. One couple had a table with two spare chairs, we asked if we could take one; “No we’re keeping them for friends.” Piss off then love. Lee-Anne went and got drinks, we looked at the bar menu, not impressed. Lee-Anne came back and informed me that the round; one pint for me, a wine for her, and a glass of cider for Bethy had come to $36.00!!  (£23.00 UK / $35.00 US)

We drank these slowly.

As we were leaving, we had decided not to eat there for obvious reasons, bankruptcy being the main one, we saw the two chairs were still; “being kept for friends.” Lee-Anne restrained me.

Luckily we found a good pace to eat soon after, Stacks Restaurant in Darling Harbour,  and had a great meal there. While we were eating our meal, I spotted, waiting to get in,  the  chief minister of our  government, Katy G. She’s Lee-Anne’s head honcho, so I embarrassed Lee-Anne by waving to her.

The gig itself was immensely funny, we lucky to have second row seats, so a great view.  (It also helps lots to be close up if you’re as deaf as a fence post.) It was very much “stream of consciousness" humour. It go so surreal that  at one point he was rabbiting on about a girl in the front row getting a golden shower off a hippo, while Hugh Jackman sung “the sweet piggy tits song” at her. And we all understood how he had got to that point.

In the interval something strange happened, I’d never seen this before at a comedy gig. A good few people took presents up to the stage for him, leaving them on the front edge. I wouldn’t want to be seen as parsimonious, so I joined in.

He came on again, and started his spiel by talking about all the gifts, quite disparagingly funnily enough. Then he stopped laughing; "Some cheeky fucker's given me an appointment card for mental health  early intervention services Canberra, who was it?” My hand went up.

“You?!?! You think I'm mad, and yet you live in Canberra?”

This got wild applause from the Sydney crowd. The wankers.

 At the end of the show he was asking for audience questions, so I stuck my hand up again; “You!” he shouted, an evil glint in his eye; “When’s Hugh Jackman coming on?” I innocently asked.

“You’re Welsh! Good question, but you’re Welsh!  So you really couldn’t have chosen a worse bunch of words to utter could you? "When's Hugh Jackman coming on?"” From there he was flying, taking the piss rather brilliantly out of the Welsh accent, and doing a  fair impersonation of it too, (Bethy and Lee-Anne thought he sounded just like me mam.) He included Tom Jones in there somehow. He ended it up by saying; “Here’s this guy asking “when’s Hugh Jackman coming on, but he’s Welsh so he’s  leaving  everybody in utter confusion. Everyone apart from  that Chinese guy at the back who's looking at his watch saying; “he's due on at 11.15pm if I remember rightly.””

Bloody brilliant.

We got back to the car and made to drive home, unfortunately for us  the GPS couldn’t get a bloody signal due to all the skyscrapers. So yet again we found ourselves driving all over the place, across Sydney Harbour Bridge twice, trying to get the GPS to come to life. I’ve driven over Sydney Harbour Bridge three different nights so far, but not once when I’ve known were I was going. Oh, and the bastards charge you for it too.

One day I was walking the dogs at Shepherd’s lookout. Half way along the walk I came across an old biddy who was walking about in her best gardening kit. To be fair to them, Canberra has many of these old biddies who are “friends of’” the  various nature parks , and who keep the places in good order by treating them like they are they back gardens. I stopped to pass the time of day; “I’m getting rid of some new incidents of an invasive species,” she said, pointing at a small yellow flower. “It looks like St. John’s Wort to me,” was my only comment. She picked up one of the flowers and stripped it down to the bare bones; “Many people think that, but if we had a magnifying glass we’d see that these seeds, unlike St John’s Wort, have recessed barbs on them!” Mad  as a coot! I made my excuses and backed away..

On the way back she accosted me again; oh hell what’s she found now? She took me off the path a bit; “Have you ever seen one of these,” she said. Looking down to where she was pointing I saw this huge bugger;

It was the biggest moth I have ever seen, quite drab looking, but beautifully marked, with a five inch wingspan. I took back all the bad things I had thought about her. It's one of these apparently.
 

Another great local find was "Wonderland", virtually on our doorstep. Not bothered trying to get in there yet though.

Meanwhile, back at the local nature reserve, we're being watched.

Remember that I was rabbiting on about my deciding to take myself off on my days off, to explore the countryside and take boring photos? No? Oh well I have been. I took a trip to Orroral Valley the other day, there is a ruined farmhouse there, which is quite photogenic, and some broken machinery.

What was also there was a camera bore.*

Be buggered, once they see you taking a few snaps there’s no getting rid of them. “Oh, you’re a Canon man are you? Well I’m a Pentax man myself, I find that the low dispersal high aspect Air-gap-free, scratch resistant, 3 inch LCD with 921,000 dots of resolution offers a premium image review experience by eliminating the gap typically found between the LCD screen and screen cover, giving a brighter and sharper image…”  Imagine if Nicol was obsessed by cameras instead of flying, (and being an arse,) you get the drift?  Having put up with this for five minutes, I looked up . “Excuse me mate, are those your grandchildren? They seem to be heading into the river…” He ran off after them one way, I ran off in the other.

*I’m way ahead of you, don’t bother.

The other place I visited was Adaminaby, home of the big trout. Before setting off, I realised that my ipod was out of charge, and I'd have no music for the trip. I grabbed a random selection of CDs off the rack. In amongst them was my Aussie passport, the one missing for the past two months, the one I had started the process of reapplying for. How the hell did it get in the CD rack? Only in our house! Still it saved me the  $300.00 reapplication fee, not to mention the embarrassment of telling the cops I'd lost it.

It’s a hell of a trip, via 40 k of dirt roads. I found another couple of ruined farms on the way, very photogenic I believe.

Just outside Adaminaby, this beauty flew overhead.

Also out there is a HUGE lake, Lake Eucumbene, (it's about 5x the size of Windermere!) which accounts for the big trout. This also gave me some photos. What it also gave me was a lighter car. For some weeks now the plastic plate which protects the wheel arches had  only been held up with gaffa tape. You only need two tools in my book, Gaffa tape and a hammer. If it moves and it shouldn’t, Gaffa tape it. If it doesn’t move and it should, hit it with a hammer. (The famous Thomas fixing solution!) Driving over 40 k of dirt roads and then over the rough ground by the lake had obviously loosened this. At  some point it came adrift, I then run over it and it got torn off. It went with quite a bang. End of problem, the car goes fine without it.

 

Oh while out shooting the  wonderful; “Canberra in Autumn” slideshow which you all have by now seen, admired and shown to all your friends, I was down by Govvy House shooting the lovely lane there which is over-arched by trees. This one;

As I was shooting away, the lane was suddenly full of cops on bikes and in cars. I got pulled by a bike cop; “I want you to stand there and not move, point your camera at the ground please.” He wasn’t nasty or belligerent at all, but very firm. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he wasn’t interested. To be fair to the guy, he did have a huge range of medals on his chest, so he gets my respect. Anyway, I stood there, trying to keep the dogs from eating each other, then a massive convoy of really dodgy looking middle eastern men, some looked like the Arab SAS, (the sort you wouldn’t cross with a  team of Sherpa,)  went past, accompanying a blacked out Bentley.

Once they were down the road, the motorcycle cop got a bit more friendly; “You’ve just seen the richest man in the world mate, fun eh?” and he shot off. I saw in the paper the next day, that indeed, the Sultan of Brunei who was visiting the Governor General, and it was he who had interfered with my photography. The twat.

The mother-in-law’s sister, Wilma, (try saying that name without doing a Fred Flintstone yell,) visited  recently, on her annual “Final ever visit to Canberra” trip, (the fifth since I’ve lived here.) She’s a lovely old bird though, and always treats us to a night out at a good restaurant. The one we went to this time was a blinder, the best I’ve eaten at in  Aus, Water's Edge.

Its a brilliant place, its location on the lake has to be as good as you will ever get in our city.  From the off everything was perfect, the staff were accommodating and friendly, treading the fine line between good service and sucking up. They do a fixed price menu at $80.00 for four courses, a bit of a bargain.  We did the honourable, thing and paid for the wines and beers. (I’m a pleb, I drink beers even when fine dining!)

The food was superb, my recent conversion from vegetarianism, means I had loads of choice. Having said that, the vege options were great too. But above all, the taste of each and every dish was first class, my fave would be the sesame crusted salmon, which had mind blowing taste and texture. The recommended wines for Lee-Anne’s meals, made by the sommelier, were spot on, superb.

As per bloody norm, I would have preferred something more unusual/outstanding in the choice of whiskies on offer, I settled for the Lagvaulin. And while I’m bitching, the cheese plate could have done with more unusual / local cheeses. But having said all that, those are very minor complaints when judged against the total experience, and, my god, the cost which was so very very reasonable!

They deserve another "hat". (Said the pretentious Welsh tit.)

Oh I’ve told you, ad nauseum, about Mary, the mother in law and her weight/fitness obsession. Well she decided recently that she was going to quit “Aqua aerobics” as it was “Too easy, not doing enough for me.” Lee-Anne tried to dissuade her; “But you enjoy it so much and its done you heaps of good.” But once she has an idea in her head there’s no shifting it, so she quit. Two days later, while doing a “new routine”  she put her back out, and hasn’t been the same since.

She’s also bought two new  diet books. Yes, two. One called "The Two Day Diet", the other called "The Fast Diet", so she's now on "The Fast Two Day Diet", or "The Two Day Fast Diet". The first time she tried following the plan from one of them she found it was too much food for her. This is a diet book remember.  I wish I could convince her all these  hundreds of diet books are no good unless you are prepared to stick to the diet for more than a fortnight. Or as is more usual, a day.

Talking of fitness stuff, we started going to the gym at 6.00 am  in the morning in April 2008. So that’s 5 years we’ve been doing it. When do I start to feel good, anyone know?

The mother-in-law has a season ticket for the local amateur rep company, she accosted me one morning, saying’; “Canberra Rep are doing “Under Milk Wood,” I’ve seen it, it’s brilliant you should go.” I unm’d and ahhh’d, but convinced myself I should. I also conned Lee-Anne into going with me. I’m bloody glad I did, it’s the best production of it I’ve ever seen. Heh, I’ve seen UMW three times in Aus now, only saw it once in the 40 years I lived in the UK.  I’ve never seen it in Wales!

Oh sure they missed some of the jokes, and some of the characters weren’t as I would have wanted them to be. But bloody hell it was great. It was played mainly in the dark, with few props, and clever lighting, they made the whole thing not only both serious and funny, but also accessible to the audience. One thing bothered me throughout, I couldn’t put my finger on it, bugged the shite out of me all the way through. It was only when they took the curtain call, that I realised what. One of the main players was, and probably still is, the spitting image of David Cameron. Thank god I didn’t realise this from the off, or I’d have been pissing myself all the way through.

Their next show is called "Jazz Garters". Lee-Anne wants to go, I'm not objecting.

This is what I want for Xmas, all chip in and buy me one will you?

I took the camera into work the other day, so get a snap of where I work to send to me mam. Here you go, you can see too, what a treat for you!!

 

Yep that really is my office block, or; "Space Station Shithole" as we know it. I bet they thought it was well futuristic and cutting edge when it was built. What a warm, welcoming, pleasant looking place to bring people with mental health issues in to, don't you think?

Tales from the front line of the psychiatric wars.

In our Monday team meetings, we  take it in turns to read out the new referrals for discussion. In one day’s team meeting I had to read out the case of a young lad, who, when unwell, got fixated on the delusion that his grandmother was making sexual advances to him. This became so intense that at one point he got his dick out and masturbated in front the poor old dear.

I kept it under control reading that.

Further down the page it states, and I quote; “The treating psychiatrist has started him on Benztrop medication, to make him feel less stiff”.

I lost it at that point.

 

A new referral come to us with sparse information, except that this boy “needs our team”. Ok, so a bit of research on the medical records computer I find out he was admitted to the ward following;

Attacking staff at the benefits office with a  knife for “disrespecting him.”
2 other recent attempts to attack people with a knife.
Recently threatened to “cut a bitch’s face off.”
4 court cases hanging over him for assault.
3 hospital admissions in the last 2 years
2 serious suicide attempts in the last 12 months
No fixed abode.
Currently paranoid about people wanting to kill him, and that “people in the street are out to get me if I wear red.”

Also he's not on an order.

Thisgives some bright spark the idea; “Let’s discharge him from the psych ward, and the EIP can follow him up.”
Our response; “Go and get f….”

 

Phone call from a mother one evening at 8.45 pm when I’m trying to pack up and piss off.  She wanted to talk about her son, and  what to do with him when his time in sheltered accommodation is up. She wondered if he will ever be independent, so gave my perspectives. Then she says she has a relative in Tasmania who may be able to accommodate him, who has sons of a similar age and has been through mental health issues with her father, and "understands things".
She will pay this relative to accommodate and care for her son, sounds like a plan Stan! (A “geographical discharge” we call this, ie. Once they are over the border, they’re no longer our responsibility.)

Then she tells me this relative is currently herself on methadone!!! The kid came to us on the back of a profound drug induced psychosis!

Believe it or not, his mother is a doctor.