Retirement

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Although officially I went back to work last week, it only seems that today it seemed real.

It was only 10 days off, but it went like a blur — a blissful blur of slowly sinking into a zone where life was simple again — like when you were a kid. And so I lost track of the days of the week and let’s face it — time in general. I forgot to put the bins out, I was surprised when I turned on the TV and saw Rage was on and almost realised it was a “Saturday” and on one occasion Dee and I randomly decided to go on a Day-Date in the country — just cause we could. We could suddenly make up our own routine.

And so I thought — this must be what “retirement” is like.

My mum recently retired and she said to me the very first Monday after she felt edgy, lost and maybe even a bit “left out”. But then a few hours later that feeling disappeared and never, ever returned.

Just quietly — I am really looking forward to be retired. I think I would make a great retiree. And it kinda appalls me to say — but I just might embrace that “grey nomad” vibe. But there is no fucking way I would get a caravan — I can assure you of that. It’s dodgy motels all the way! Just like how I managed when I was in my bushwalking phase.

The other thing I would like to do in my retirement is to build a house. As a big fan of Grand Designs I would be all over it. I’d even be keen to do a bit myself — like co-build. Yeah.

MY FUTURE-SELF

I think I might even resume this blog — assuming of course that I will get bored of it any day now. But beware — I will be more grumpy and opinionated and possibly even more regressive. And of course I actually look forward to that. Just for entertainment value I will try to keep any morbid stuff to a minimum. Maybe. Now I think about it — I can’t really assume what my future-self will be like.

I know as the future-self of many, many previous incarnations of who I “am” today — I know those “childs” were such DEADSHITS. And I am, today, so much more awesome. But I am just maybe also thinking that “me” in the future will be a bit shit. I fucking hope not, but I can’t help thinking that is my destiny. Hmmm.

As I kid I imagined myself in old age a bit like this: elbow-patches on my smoking jacket and a massive pipe lounging in a big leather arm chair in a massive, massive library.

Pretty much: Bertrand Russell.

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BACK TO WORK

But all things must pass and routine has resumed. So today I got up at 5am and fed the cat then let the ladies out. It’s really cool seeing how they learn stuff and working out their intelligence and personalities. They recognise me and they follow me around and they are prompted to explore the scarier sections of the garden only if I am present.

On Sunday Dee and I went on a roadtrip to buy them treats — mealworms. And we had tried to give them treats — like scraps and indeed any stuff from the fridge we thought they might appreciate but they weren’t interested at all.

But then I contacted Kara who gave me all this advice — she having had bantams for ages. So I had never heard of mealworms but holy moly — the ladies go nuts for them. And just saying, but this process involves us having to pick up what are essentially — live maggots. At first they just picked at them, but then the next one they gobbled up in one bite and their excitement was utterly obvious.

And now, maybe 3 times later that we have given them these treats they see me coming towards them with the tub and they start racing towards me.

So back to this morning at roughly 5am. Today we have decided to let the ladies range free throughout the day. They coped well on Sunday when we went shopping and they have an enormous area under the house that is protected from nasties. So I am downstairs just enjoying seeing the ladies’ first taste of freedom for the day and the cat comes down too after her breakfast. And then she starts walking towards the hens and I think, “Aw, that is cute”. But then she gets much closer than ever before and suddenly starts bounding after them.

I scream at her and clap my hands and the cat runs off at a billion miles an hour up some rocks into the front garden and then disappears over the fence, obviously realising she was being ultra-ultra-naughty.

So I put the hens away, just a bit disturbed about what happened, and go back to sleep.

When I get up Dee tells me she has let the chooks out and I tell her about what had happened earlier. But I am convinced the cat was just trying to play and would have stalked them if she was really interested in serious mischief. So I let the ladies roam and head off to work, quite a bit apprehensive.

When lunch arrived I was desperate and so I jumped on the bike and smashed home to check. As I smashed home I was a tiny bit prepared for disaster. Instead I discovered they had made their way back into their pen and as soon as they saw me they jumped out. Meanwhile the cat was fast asleep sprawled all over a bunch of soft plants underneath the bushes in the front yard looking hopelessly cute and innocent again.

So I had my lunch and went back to work and back at home again in the afternoon the scene was almost exactly the same, except the hens were roosting under the big hedge in front of the front deck while the cat hadn’t moved.

I am hoping this balance continues. We shall see.

The ladies got some mealworms as a treat for going back into their pen and the cat got a tin of food she hasn’t had in a long while which she loved.

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This week in photos

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This is actually a photo by Sarah Keayes.

And it was taken at our big rally on Wednesday. I am in this photo if you think you have exceptional “Where’s Wally” skills.

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In this photo you might have a better chance of seeing me. Also by Sez Keayes btw. She is a fantastic photographer. She has a great rapport with punters she is snapping and is quick and is happy to embrace my suggestions. And so when I said, “Why don’t you charm your way into the Casino Hotel and see if they will let you take a photo from up there.” And she was like, “Ummmm.” And I was like, “Ask em! I know they have let photographers do it before.” And bang — she got the shot of the day and her images shat all over anything I have seen in the press.

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It was funny seeing all those signs I had designed all over the TV news and in papers. The front page of the Courier-Mail was particularly impressive.

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On Thursday I signed up to Strava, which is like Garmin, but also has this gimmick where users can create “segments” or stretches of road that you can ride and then compare how fast you were compared to other riders who have done that same segment previously. So suddenly all my riding is now a race. I did the riverloop on Saturday — above is a pic I took while having a rest on the Corso — and all the while I was trying to mash my hardest in the bits I knew were “segments”. This new element to my riding is going to do my head in. Ugh. On the plus side I already have one KOM (King of the Mountain) and I also have a 3rd (out of 2000 odd) on this stretch of the Bicentennial Bike Path on my way home.

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On Saturday morning Dee and I did a street stall on Coronation Drive to highlight the fact the LNP government has this ideological drive to destroy the lives of Queensland public servants by unnecessarily shedding so many precious jobs when our finances are no where near as bad as they say (with corrupt audits).

For the three hours we were there we got FOUR beeps and as we waved and looked important it seems a government spy was onto us.

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This guy in his extremely camouflaged van parked directly across the road, then acted weird for a bit, then sped off. But Dee and I were definitely not going to crumble. Even though we assumed Big Brother was watching, we kept going with our humble street stall and stepped-up our waving and looking serious.

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All during that street stall I could see bike riders blasting past on the bikeway across the road. I assumed each and every one of them was “Strava’n” — like trying to improve their personal strava-stats. So at one point I took a break to go across the road and decided to take a few shots — which might come in handy for illustrating the CBDBUG website — which I am now officially semi-in charge of.

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Later that day we went to Timmy’s birthday bowls — that’s him in the hat — and I also got to meet the twins somehow related to Conan and Annie.

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Aw — Conan with (and I am just guessing here — Hazel.) But it could be Olive. I dunno. They reckon they can tell them apart.

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This is Rachel and Max. Max kept stealing the white ball, but no one seemed to mind. He will be a heart-breaker one day. Just saying! That’s Dee and the ladies in the background.

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That night we had dinner at the Indian place in Rosalie Village. It was freaking awesome. I thought I had tasted the best Indian ever — but these guys showed me stuff.

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On the walk home we got to pat Bear-cat. He is so awesome, and we are just guessing from his bulk and  swagger and scruffiness that he is a he.

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Then at home we caught the cat being all naughty and playing in the construction site across the road.

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Today I went for a big 100km ride to make up for all my slackness this week. Rides on your own are sometimes the toughest — even though you can slack off and ride at whatever pace you want. But today I got a bit excited and only took one apricot bar and so kinda bonked at the end. The shot above was taken at my first break at Shorncliffe.

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This ride — out to Sandgate or Redcliffe — is the ride I do just by default if I am on my own. And it gets a bit slow through the Wetlands and you have to deal with gooby Sunday riders and kids riding like they are blind — but it is safe and easy and 90% devoid of cars.

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This guy on a TT bike overtook me while I was purposely going ultra slow to take photos. Then I caught up and my urge to race boiled over. I didn’t suck his wheel — I just kept in touch about 10-20ms behind — all the way to the Nundah crit circuit. That kinda destroyed me and made that 20km ride home quite a bit more like a suffer-fest. PS the clouds today were amazing! PPS It is also so very dry in Brisbane ATM. It literally hasn’t rained for 6 weeks.

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So as I limped home I checked out the brand new bike facilities around Kedron Brook/Shultz Canal and they are good. I endorse.

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This was my last break at Downey Park. I spent a good 10 minutes here and it was incredibly soothing. In the distance there you can see the former hospital where my sister was born. And Peter Beattie’s house is up there too.

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At home Dee was busy studying and being all nerdy. But apparently she is cooking Halloumi for dinner so I forgive her.

BIRTHDAYS AND A RAT ATTACK

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Above was actually at Christmas, but the birthday-vibe on my face is the same

Tonight I was just going to listen to some tunes — that amazing tune by Matthew E White (that Conan alerted me to) and muck around writing some more of that Custard tale or maybe a part 4 for the Ric’s epic — but instead I am compelled to write about what just happened.

It is another cat tale — which Red thinks my blog is 90% about — but fuck it.

BUT LET’S JUST SET THE SCENE

Today it’s getting very, very close to my birthday and I kinda get excited about that annual eventuality. Even though every year it gets just that little bit more disappointing, I think I have experienced some quite wondrous birthdays and so even if this year’s is only a fraction of what it felt like then when I was a kid — I will still be pretty damn happy.

And every birthday I do my bestest to regress — I devolve. I slide into my childhood history and live my life briefly just the way it was when I was 10. But crucially it is a mini-life of that 10 year old me — but (seemingly) with all the money in the world and no parentals to tell you otherwise and my own pad and exacerbated with the amazing revelation that is inebriation — which I definitely had no idea was so awesome in year 4. (In saying that I do remember having giggling fits which were pretty close — but random, infrequent and usually ended with my dad screaming at me to calm down.)

And although this might not surprise you — this regression is actually not that different to my everyday life.

Today I took my “big bag” to work. This bag can carry a shit load of stuff and today it needed to. So I went to Mr Toy’s Toyworld and bought 3 sets of LEGO. Admittedly one is for my nephew — but I get to build that for him and he likes to watch, encourage me to keep going and help me find the bits I need to keep building.

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These mini LEGO sets are pretty damn cute

BAD JOKE TO A SALESPERSON

Then I went to the ABC shop just across in that top floor of the Myer Centre and did something stupid. I was already looking stupid, carrying a massive plastic bag with the “Mr Toys” logo all over it and LEGO sets bursting out, but then I found a “THE BILL” DVD from 1989 which I absolutely needed and handed that bad boy to a very attractive young bookish woman at the counter — glasses included. Meanwhile I was feeling the opposite of embarrassed. I didn’t care that I was purchasing a $60 set of BILL DVDs that equated to almost 1600 minutes of awesomeness. I was all casual and “totally” but then she said, “You know — I had a friend in school who was obsessed with THE BILL. She would talk about it all the time, she even made herself homemade t-shirts and badges.”

And so I replied, “I think that was actually me.”

WTF?

See I meant it like — I was doing all that obsessive nonsense back in school too. She laughed, but in that, ‘I don’t get it and maybe I don’t get it cause you’re an idiot’ way. And to make matters worse I thought about it as I walked back to the Mall thinking I should have added, “You know — before ‘the operation'” which would have totally made it better. Not.

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THIS IS HOW MY DEADSHIT MIND WORKS.

Christ. Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen by just having a good look at how vast this THE BILL collection is. Yeah.

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GETTING BACK TO THE SCENE

So I went home lugging all that LEGO and the 8 DVDS in that BILL collection and plus Dee had given me some 2kg filofax to bring home too. And then I stopped at the shop to buy some tallies and then at the Milton Fruit Bowl to buy 2 bucks of unwashed potatoes.

My lungs felt empty as the straps around my chest sucked all the inflation out of my lungs.

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ASIDE

This bag has not got much use since this event back in 2010 when I was struck by a car who turned into me to undertake another car turning right and I immediately smashed into the bonnet and got thrown onto the footpath etc. And at the time and days later I couldn’t work out why the centre of my chest hurt so much and then it became clear that it was the buckle on my bag that had smashed into the car first and my chest had smacked in suit and that marriage was naturally not ideal. Seeing all the scratches on the buckle — I really hope that car got really scored-up too cause that driver refused to pay for all the medical bills and damage he did. A very, very weak human being.

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OK! TONIGHT

So I was on the couch. I was building some LEGO and my fried eggs and homemade potato chips (tonight’s regression meal) were safely consumed and I was deep into the BILL watching episode 2 and suddenly the cat came home and then instead of waltzing through the bedroom (where her cat door is) she became intrigued by something in the wardrobe there. She was sniffing around and climbing over stuff and being generally photogenic.

Check out my “Cook suck” adventure below:

Eventually Dee and I got curious and just thought the cat was exhibiting her usual random hilarity — and with my camera in tow I moved the clothes-basket she was enormously interested in and saw behind was a massive, wholly living rat. I screamed to Dee, “There’s a rat!” Before she could say, “Is it dead?” I said, “It’s ALIVE!” And she screamed and escaped into the living room slamming the bedroom door behind her.

So it was me, the cat and the rat. I was determined to free the animal, but how? I shouted to Dee to get me plastic bags and some socks (which I might use to protect my hands). I was already a bit wary of rabies — having had all those bat issues — so my mind just got grappled with the prospect of dealing with another scratchy, potentially rabid, wild animal. Yay.

And for once I tried to get the cat to help me. But in that process I think I might have accidentally knocked her nose. So she thought she was in trouble. I tried my best to re-assure her, but she just hid under the bed. Actually maybe she was frightened of this massive rodent.

Then I forced the rat out of its hide and it went behind a dresser. And the cat was suddenly in the game again and cutting it off at the other end and when I shifted the dresser — some flurry of movement happened. While I was thus distracted I assumed the rat had just found the way outside (that cat-door-gap under the bedroom window). And so Dee came in and we were all “phew” but then I saw the cat still a bit interested in what was behind that dresser and I got down on my side and looked a bit closer and realised there was a big fat space for the rat to hide in underneath.

More hilarity insured and involved me slashing a drum-stick around — but luckily it led to the cat chasing the rat off into the backyard — I knew this cause the crashing sounds in the front yard could only mean this one thing. When it seemed she had discovered the rat’s hiding place I tried to distract the cat with cheese so the rat could escape but I don’t know how successful I was. We shall see.

For once I think this animal made it’s own way into our house — apart from the many other times the cat has brought friends home.

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On the right is where the rat was hiding.

Things the World Divides Over: Eating Edition

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STACKING

Because I was raised a vegetarian until the age of 12, I worked out quite late in life that I really had no idea about (or really understood) the culinary philosophy of “meat and three vegetables” — which it seemed most of my peers were raised on. Apparently it is still the most popular dish served in Australian homes.

And once introduced to that “meat + 3” cultural phenomenon I gradually realised there was a science to suffering this nightly humdrum. Some of those raised on this doctrine played with the idea and decided to “stack”. They neatly cut up the stuff on their plate and carefully combined 2 or more items in a “stack” on their fork. When this was revealed to me I was dumbstruck. My instinct was to ingloriously shovel one of those four portions as quickly as possible into my mouth without any thought. See, I am a simple man. And historically food for me has just been “sustenance”. And the act of eating is treated similarly — almost in a primal way. I eat like the cat eats — which isn’t pretty. I eat quickly lest someone steal my food, I eat everything on my plate just in case the next meal is forever away (not a habit the cat practices it should be said), and I could happily eat the same things over and over for the rest of my life (but in saying that — I am developing a taste for variety in my old age).

And this brings me to the next subject.

SAVING THE BEST THING FOR LAST

In that tiny fraction of a second where you ponder the plate in front of you, certain people will assess what tastes best like they had the Terminator’s analytic computer snuck into their brain and decide to save that for last and attack the “healthy, boring” shit first. But naturally others would devour all the best stuff first and leave the worst for last and wonder why the end of the meal was such a struggle and a massive fight with the parentals. IDIOTS!

DESSERT

And following on from all this… maybe this is just me — but I have never, ever ordered a dessert at a restaurant. When the dessert menu comes out I am overflowing and full of sheer REGRET at how much I have just consumed. Perhaps that’s because I have that “eat everything on your plate just in case” vibe. I also cannot help but order something ridiculously decadent for my main. So I am seriously perplexed by anyone who indulges in this dessert activity. Where do they find the room? The world divides.

BLACK JELLY BEANS

It goes without saying that a LOT of people hate that aniseed flavour. Indeed I think there are officially packets of jelly beans that quite racistly exclude “the black ones”. But for me, the black jelly beans were so orgasmically intense and so much better than the other dipshits in the packet — they were like treasure. And having a predilection for them just meant if a kid had a packet of jelly beans to share, there were more for me. Genius.


(Not my photo btw)

HOW TO COOK 2-MINUTE NOODLES

So 2 minute noodles are something I could write a whole blog about. And it is because they were my introduction to cooking — unless you count making toast as cooking — and 2 minute noodles were where I cut my teeth (if that’s not confusing my metaphors). I suspect cooking is just like songwriting. It’s all about timing, experimentation, and knowing the rules just so you can break them.

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See how I juxtaposed the KitchenAid with the Mi Goreng?

Anyway — I spent 3 long years in uni and I made a lot of noodles — and this was in the primitive days before Mi Goreng. So the point here is that everyone makes their noodles their own way. For instance there are those that like the wet version and others who like to drain. Some people add butter or cheese — and then there’s my friend Jess Jardine who adds peanut butter. Weird!

UTENSILS

Dee loves utensils. She is borderline obsessive about having a knife for every single meal — even if the meal is easily consumed without one. Indeed I suspect when soup is on the menu she secretly wishes for at least a “spork”. Meanwhile, I will only use a knife when it is absolutely necessary.

OTHER STUFF

I am interested to know if there are other divisions in the eating community — you know, make a comment if you want. Dee tells me she can’t stand mixing fruit and meat (unless it’s pineapple, and usually ham) and that two distinct meats in a meal is a big no-no.

Pictures from today and last night

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Just thought I’d get the token pic of Sasha out of the way.Image

Haig Road has been dug up for re-surfacing and it has been like this for almost 2 weeks. And it is simply evil for a bike having to turn across this gravel bullshit! Some of the rocks are as big as tennis balls. UGH! Thankfully today it got finally fully sealed and I can forget about all those close calls I had.

 

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This is “Bear-cat”. He lives on Haig Road and is always up for a decent scratch. He looks really old.

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It was an Ekka holiday today so last night we met some friends at the Paddo for a beer and some food.

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ImageKerrie took this photo of me!

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And Kerrie took this one too. Love it!

Today I slept in — through necessity rather than design — and then did a few riverloops and ended up at Musgrave park for polo and to celebrate Scott’s bday. This is Marty:

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ImageAnd despite the fact we were drinking in public and being a bit loud and juvenile — it was the indigenous community that got a big fat visit from the Po Po.

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ImageThis is Eleanor and a big hi to Kath’s mum!

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ImageAli!

ImageHB Scotty

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10,000

I am just a tiny, tiny bit chuffed tonight — and very appreciative — cause it seems this blog will creep over 10,000 hits tonight in it’s short history.

And I cannot lie — it has taken some effort to get to this stage. I am even getting a bit neurotic about it. I am forever, “What am I gonna blog about next?” and taking a camera with me everywhere I go and just constantly OVER-SHARING. Even sharing stuff I promised I would never do. And this takes some chips out of your soul. But perhaps these ‘chips’ are replaceable with more awesome ones. We shall see when the dust settles on this little experiment.

And it is an experiment. It is just something different I wanted to do to keep things interesting.

And I am getting used to this blogging thing. I think I am even approaching it a little too scientifically as well. Cause I realise pictures are what people are mostly interested in, plus stories of me failing (which aren’t that hard to come by) and any shitty-boring-fact-picture I want to illustrate — if I put the cat in it or Dee — then it will be 10 times more popular.

WHY

A lot of people have said they enjoy this little adventure. Except Red who the other day said he only reads my blog for the bike stuff (which he appreciated) but he said he wouldn’t bookmark it cause if he looks at it any other time — he just sees “all this shit about your cat”. TRUE STORY.

Anyway. I am doing this just cause it is fun and I like writing and I like taking shitty pictures and I also, just quietly, like getting hits.

So thank you everyone who has indulged me.

 

BONUS PIC – TOTAL OVERSHARE! (Dee and I doing those pore-pack treatments where you get to suck out 100 zits at once. AWESOME!)

Gardening (and other adventures)

As I wait for the Bridges of Brisbane Alleycat tonight I am going to indulge myself by talking about the seemingly rather dull topic of ‘gardening’. I have never really paid much attention to gardening.

Forever ‘gardening’ was just ‘mowing’. And even then I did the mowing only when the grass got so long it resembled a perfect incubator for deadly snakes rather than lawn.

But when we moved here to Auchenflower I think I fell in love with the garden almost as much as the house. So I have actually had to embrace it. I bought some rather loud tools and some other cutting, snipping and raking devices and set about trying to ‘maintain’ things.

See my grandparents were gardeners — but my parents were definitely not. My poppa was perhaps not just a gardener — but really a farmer at heart. He would keep meticulous records of his gardening. Below is a page from a whole folder devoted to the different varieties of roses he had.

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And in my Poppa’s things I inherited recently was this gem. It was a ledger from the family farm at Kulgun (just north of Boonah). It listed all the animals and crops and revenues and tallies of milk and other products etc. And it dates from 1898. The handwriting is by my Great, Great, Grandfather — Henry. (And our family still owns and runs this farm FYI!). Image

So I am NOT a farmer, and not much of a gardener. I haven’t managed to grow anything here yet except some cat-grass and some strawberries. Here is the hedge at the front of our house BEFORE. (See if you can spot the cat)

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And this is the bad-boy I use to trim the hedge:

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Whenever I am doing shit in the garden the cat can’t help but be curious. (Even if she is pretending to be disinterested).

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We have this “green bin” over there in the background that gets collected every few weeks. This actually inspires me to do the gardening cause it looks pretty pathetic empty.

OTHER PHOTOS:

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Kate and Anna bought this at that auction place in Albion for only $700. Fucking bargain. I am so jealous. It is sublimely beautiful.

ImageHugo in his skeleton PJs. 

It’s a rather peculiar thing about Australia where some randoms decide to throw a pair of sneakers with the laces tied together up onto electricity wires. Do they do that anywhere else in the world?

Mum, her partner John and Dee and me went to Sprout for dinner last night. Mum and John always order the same meals so they can compare and just in case one gets a better dish and the other gets jealous. Bizarre, but a TRUE STORY.

And now I am off to BRIDGE BATTLE ALLEYCAT!

West Mt Cotton/Redland Bay Ride

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Good fucking ride today. Just over 100kms and a lot of brand new roads which were fantastic. This time it was Tom and Nick — who I had not met before. Scotty got a bit excited last night at Archive so was AWOL. Ry Ry had something come up and Shirts was just well, Shirts — a man of mystery.

Conditions were a bit “shit”, but thankfully there wasn’t much rain, just really wet and grubby roads. Traffic was pretty light seeing as it was a public holiday.

So it was mostly Tom navigating today and he led us down Logan Road then left at Broadwater Road just past Mt Gravatt. Then we were on Mt Cotton Road hooking right at West Mt Cotton Road and up that tough little pinch. At the top is a little village of really old and cute-in-a-dilapidated-way houses.

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We saw a bunch of kangaroos but no koalas.

You could see the Gold Coast from up here:

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After smashing down that little mountain we headed south again and then left at Carbrook towards the Bay. We finally got some tailwinds here after battling head or crosswinds all morning. The road surface was so smooth and sitting on 40km/hr was effortless.

It would be nice to take Shirts down here one day, let him loose, and see how long we could hang onto his wheel at 60km/hr.

The road swung directly north and we were now in rolling hills. Wet, but very pretty fields all around and glimpses of the Bay and the Islands to our right every now and again.

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It was quite a surprise to come upon this place which has some significance to certain people who might just be reading this.

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At Cleveland we said goodbye to Nick who had already that morning smashed out a riverloop and was feeling a bit tired.

So Tom and I headed home the most direct way and then my front derailleur was suddenly stuck in the little ring. My whole gears had been misbehaving all weekend and had I just put it down to a worn-out chain/cassette. So it looks like I have to change them now.

Tom is a MASTER of rolling epic distances in the small chainring so he was quite excited by this. I wasn’t that enamoured and the smash down Camp Hill was pretty boring not being able to generate some serious wattage.

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I said goodbye to Tom at Carindale and got home buzzing with that blissful glow only the best of the best rides can deliver.

POST SCRIPT (plus bonus pics)

The cat left me two presents the past two days, in the same spot, where I make a pile of my cycling kit for easy access in the morning. Naturally she was just making sure I had enough protein for the ride. Thanx puss.

 

Play Date!

So we babysat a kitten today. Meg and Chris’ little dude – Winston. I won’t lie – it was a bit of shake-up to the little cat-ocracy evident in this little Auchenflower cottage. Sasha didn’t really know how to handle it when they came face-to-face or maybe I should say — whisker-to-whisker. Ultimately Sasha was about 25% bigger than Winston, but he was doing all the posturing and hissing. So she was just silent, attentive, but uneasy — which was just a bit unsettling to me too.

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And so the meaning of all this was a 12 hour sojourn to hide Winston from the evil, evil forces of the real estate inspection — itself a terrible invasion upon those in society that choose, or have it chosen upon them, to live in rented accommodation.

So Winston arrived at 7:30am and our cat was around but kinda didn’t seem to notice. So she was locked OUT and Winston was locked IN.

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I played with this little blonde bad-boy for a bit until it became apparent he was being noticed. From the front deck, outside the window, Sasha looked on. Not very impressed.

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They both then had this stare-off until we put poor Winston inside his little room at the back of the house and I trundled off to work. Meanwhile Sasha was forbidden by closed doors from getting further into the house other than the main bedroom.

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So then I spent those hours at work a bit conscious of what drama might be occurring at home. And eventually I came back to find Sasha being so sooky and sleeping in the bedroom – the only part of the house she was privy to. It was like she thought she was in trouble and that was why we had brought a new cat into the house. After some cuddles, food and reassurance she went out again seemingly oblivious Winston was in that tiny computer room out the back. So then I started playing some games with Winston. He had, after all, been stuck in that tiny room for 8 hours.

So we played the game where I tied a bit of string to the tail of my Totoro mite.

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Then he ripped the shit out of my wrist and hand in scratchy fighting games. He’s a good fighter but needs to work on his rabbit-kicks.

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But then when we were doing another round of the Totoro game – outside I saw Sasha watching through the window in absolute horror. It was like she had caught me cheating.

So I put Winston back in his tiny room and did my best to console Sash. “I didn’t mean it…he means nothing to me. Oh god, take me back!”

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And then Megan and Chris were picking up Winston (above) and the cat did a bit of lap-sitting and a lot of purring and a lot of looking like she was sorry for all the bad stuff she had ever, ever done. And she had a lot to atone for, which took up about only 1 hour of looking seriously penitent. Now she is back to be a normal puss, sometimes naughty, perpetually fractious but always horribly feline.

OTHER PHOTZ FROM THIS WEEK:

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Tonight’s edition of Channel 9’s “luke-warm-seat-you-have-to-share-a-bit-too-much”

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I went to Muzza Crit Track (Murrarie) for the first time ever on that wet Saturday just passed.

It’s actually a lot more dramatic and interesting than Nundah. Apart from a bunch of deadshits who chose to walk, run, skateboard, and sleep all over it without much concern – it was actually nice.

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But then I had forgotten how shit my life was and was reminded so when I got a flat on the way home. UGH!

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Last look as we went off to see “The Dictator” at the Blue Room on Sunday. GOOD MOOFIE!

The cat has been impossibly chummy ever since. I can’t help thinking this just might be a good thing.

Oh and just one more time, in EXTREME CLOSE UP:

;

Pictures from the first week of May

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Boggo Road Jail

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On Tuesday I went to the new EcoSciences building at Boggo Road for work. I was pretty amazed by the building there. It’s got this central atrium and there’s plenty of wood and stainless steel and architectural motifs treated in a seemingly modern-homage to traditional Queensland housing architecture of the early 20th Century. I found out later via Security that I wasn’t supposed to be taking pictures inside a government building – so the picture above is a tiny bit naughty.

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Later that day I took this picture. This was a Communities Department solidarity action against the prospect of cutting the jobs of temporary workers in the Queensland Public Service. And it was such a great turn out. We were hoping for 50 people and we got so many more. They just kept coming and I was in charge of taking the photo and I realised I just wasn’t going to be able to get them all in. So I was taking photos with my arms above my head but that was useless. And then I noticed some blokes up the back of the park doing some work and they had a ladder there. And I kinda just called one of my female colleagues over – who was just the closest, and just quite accidentally — a total babe. And I asked her to run up and ask them if we could borrow the ladder. Just quietly. My logic was I needed to be there to take the photo just in case the speeches ended suddenly and plus, she would have had a much, much better chance in gaining their approval.

Anyway – a long story short, she got their permission (though they said if we got hurt they would say we stole it – LOL) and I got the crowd to wait a moment while someone ran and got it. It was like a pregnant pause and as I tentatively climbed up (have I told you I am not very good with heights?) the crowd was pumped and I got this awesome photo and they gave the tradies the most generous applause when it was suggested we thank them for the ladder.

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It was a big day Tuesday. My next assignment was to take a photo in the middle building of the three towards the left of the photo above. After I had finished my work there I was told I could go to the 25th floor if I wanted to see the view. I didn’t need any more encouragement and so the 4 photos below are what I took in the fading light of that day.

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In the photo above you can actually see where I work.

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The cat has been so chummy of late. She has slept in our bed, taking up a little more bed-real-estate than she should, every night since she was allowed outside un-supervised. I woke sometime this morning and turned on the lamp and took this snap. Note the time on the clock.

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This is GOMA. As I was saying before I genuinely like the architecture of Brisbane’s newer buildings which echo our suburban homes from 100 years ago. It’s almost like a bigger version of where our humble Auchenflower home. I also like how there is a plane in this photo. Anyone, including professional photographers, will tell you if you take a photo and there’s sky in the photo, having a plane there just makes it all about 50 times better.

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After my ride today – only 55kms – I felt pretty sore and started to worry that 200k ride had damaged my legs too much to recover in time for next weekend. But I tend to worry. In saying that I put on my compression tights – which aid blood flow and apparently speed up recovery. Dee kept singing “Under Compression” like she was singing “Under Pressure” every time she saw me.

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Weird, prehistoric-looking flowers I have never seen before have popped up in the front yard. I like them! (Mostly cause they are red).

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VINCENT STREET 2011/2012

Today I thought I’d take a few “After the floods” photos. Apologies for the poor (small) quality of the older photos, I lost the full versions when I lost my camera in London. (another story)

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BICENTENNIAL BIKEPATH 2011/2012

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HAIG ROAD (Near Annie and Beard Streets) 2011/2012

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OUTSIDE MILTON STATE SCHOOL 2011/2012

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ROSALIE VILLAGE 2011/2012