Fool's Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring Gender: Male (last time I looked); Writer; Thinker; Studier of the Human Condition (and chickens' entrails); Wonderer; Laugher; Listener; Character; Recent Optimist; Part-of-the-Solution Aspirant; Sarsaparilla, Cocoa, and ex-White Black Tea Imbiber (no sugar - plenty sweet enough); Twenty Eight Thousand and Twelfth Living Wonder of the World; Amateur Worm Farmer Extraordinaire and Professional Worm Admirer; Humus Assist and Humorist; Play Up; Yes-Hoper...
And I reckon: Reality is actually far better than the best any of us can imagine, the universe is friendly and funny, laughter is a powerful medicine as well as an efficacious antidote for self-importance, and the best is yet to come, despite any and all appearances to the contrary...
Friday: To avoid a 20 to 30 minute queue later in the day, I stayed up doing various chores so I could drive to the service station with a good price 3 kms down the road; worth it, being on empty and being 13 cents lower than every one else within cooee. And so I hit the sack around 7 this morning.
I arrived at Guildford about 4 p.m., and my first call with Bob was Centrepoint in Midland to buy him his annual birthday cigar, being one week late this time. We then walked the John George Walk Trail, but my mind was racked with a very recent relationship issue, taking some of the tranquillity out of the beautiful walk. We finished with his swim at Swan Aquatic and the obligatory cup of tea at Fish Market Reserve on dark.
Once home I was pleased and surprised to reach Mum on her hospital phone, being close to 9 o'clock. She may come out tomorrow, but we all feel that would be too soon. We acknowledged Dad's passing 21 years ago today.
With Cadbury spread out on my lap, moulting a bit, I settled in to watch Aunty. Janny had returned The Dear Leader to his place a bit before 9.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: My 'In other news…' and Abecedarian Project websites went a little mad today, and the searches which brought the flurry of visitors were mainly for 'Leigh Sales'. And this is best explained by tonight's Lateline being her last: Ms Sales moves next year into the big chair being vacated by Kezza the Great this month, who has hosted the 7.30 Report since 1788, when he was a young starry-eyed journalist for the BBC, embedded with the First Fleet. Kerry O'Brien went on to cover many events of world significance, including the Voyage of the Beagle and the Sinking of the Rudd.
Ms Sales was in a buoyant mood, and who could blame her, with a couple of the Chaser's guests, Craig Reucassel and Julian Morrow, to interview for a review on the year in Australian politics in the main, and the inimitable Stephen Long for his opinion on the year to come for the global economy, though she did have a short serious interview beforehand with James Ball, who is working for WikiLeaks. (Mr Ball's archetypical geek appearance softened the cut of the subject matter somewhat, fortunately; he would've made a good companion for Godwin Grech in the cold damp basement of Treasury in Langton Crescent in Canberra, never seeing the sun other than on the desktop artwork.)
What an offer! Leigh Sales committed to put a word in for James Ball with Treasury, to try and get Godwin Grech's old office, 10 floors beneath Langton Crescent, Canberra
Caught out! Julian Morrow underestimated Leigh Sales' mischievousness, losing his hairpiece in a deft piece of handwork by the talented journalist
Friday: I battled to turn my mind off this morning, when I had to tear myself away from the keyboard well after sunrise, when I was engrossed in writing a short story for a submission I'd like to make. And then there was the banter between Missus Inkletter and me on our respective pillows, so sleep took a little while…
Up at a bit after one, p.m. that is, and I went like the flipping clappers to prepare myself for taking Bob walking and swimming, leaving at three for Guildford. For those who might be doing the maths and scoffing, believe me, sadly, an hour and three quarters is rapid preparation for me.
Another day from paradise – except that we are dying of thirst in the middle of winter – and Bob was keen to walk before his swim. And so we were lured to the Ray Marshall Park to Reg Bond Reserve riverside walk, which I now understand is called the John George Walk Trail. Now talk about uncanny…:
Two days ago, on our umpteenth walk on this trail, for the first time we saw two women with the longest hair, loose hanging, going for a walk at the Reg Bond Reserve end at Viveash. I wrote about it a couple of days back on this blog. Well, today, a different pair of women were walking in the same vicinity, one with mid-back length hair loose, and the other with bottom length loose hair. This one I actually got to speak to in a pleasant and safe exchange. One of the two women two days ago had hair to below the back of her knees!
This I find interesting not only because very long hair on women in Australia is rare nowadays (who could blame them for not wanting all that work), and not only because I've encountered very long hair twice in two days on three different women in the same vicinity, but that a year ago I began writing in a female protagonist in my novel Venty Still with exceptionally long hair.
After the walk Bob did his laps at Swan Aquatic, and I finished my second reading of 'The Gathering' by Anne Enright. I am almost stunned by how well she has rendered this novel. I began immediately reading it a third time, unprecedented for me.
It was not till after eight when I got home, rather tired, and I must have looked a sight today with my right bloodshot eye; twice in the past two weeks it has been so, the first from a burst blood vessel, the second from a jab from a bamboo twig in the back yard yesterday. I don't know how many near misses of my pupil I've had over the years. And my poor right eye, it's always the right one, the gammy one.
Lateline: The (Leigh) Sales Graph: Poor Leigh Sales looked tired and older tonight, not helped by the limpness of her lovely hair, she didn't smile as much as she usually does, and had to suffer a pair of stock standard pollies for her longer interview. The only relief came when the world's leading expert on the Australian electorate and their penchants through the decades chatted with her about the current state of the Federal Election count, Antony Green. More power to the man for his knack with making it all interesting.
The long interview, on the challenges ahead in putting together a minority federal government, with the Opposition's Andrew Robb and Labor's Anthony Albanese had a highlight, or should I say lowlight, when Mr Robb spat his dummy somewhat nastily when he was upset with the time Mr Albanese had to spout his blurb, and what his blurb contained: "…just a diatribe of nonsense" according to Mr Robb. Whether that was true is not what concerns me at the moment, rather the hypocrisy and childishness writ large by the man, and that here again was the echo of the awful and singular bitterness this Opposition has been infected with these past three years since they were turfed out of office. Labor's not a lot better in their manners, but they are better mannered. Mind you, that's not necessarily saying much. I long for the type of governance and parliamentary conduct that the current Independents are adverting to. Oh, and Mr Robb obviously did not enjoy the veiled reference by Mr Albanese to the Godwin Grech affair of last year, which silhouetted the hypocrisy of this Opposition spokesman the more.
Ms Sales took Mr Robb's acerbic petulance in her stride, and told him to grow up in other words. What were those words?: "I think you've had plenty of opportunity in this interview so far. I'm giving you some further opportunity now." She didn't shrink, and it was maturity and confidence in action. Mr Robb proved that he is still part of the problem, rather than the solution with regard to improving the behaviour and performances of our elected representatives, by taking himself and his bunch too seriously.
Honestly Mr Robb and your ilk, do you think that every Australian voter is really a member of an undiscovered tribe from the highlands of New Guinea? The way you bucket EVERYTHING that the Rudd-Gillard Government did, and attribute EVERY positive that managed to sprout or linger during their reign as solely the result of the momentum of the Howard years is so puerile that I'm sure even you don't believe what you say. But even if you do, rest assured we punters don't. My word, we apparently were ruled by gods for twelve years, but weren't suitably grateful nor aware of it! You're as boring as bat shit (which is an unfair slur on bats).
And to any Labor politicians who suffer the same childishness of attitude, this same blinkered political view, this same claim to total goodness, this habit of laying total depravity upon the other side, I charge you with the same criticism and invite you all to grow up.
Go and hunt game in Africa, Mr Robb, blast some mammals brains out with lead, or whatever turns you on, to give your petty venom an outlet at a sanitary distance from we long suffering citizens of Australia. Oh, and take Michael Kroger with you.
And it was gracious of Ms Sales to finish with the mollifier: "Gentlemen, we're out of time. Thank you very much for coming in at the end of a busy week. I know everyone's tired." My sympathy goes to the woman for the crap she has to endure week in and week out from so many of her politician guests.
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Today to my surprise a person visited my mildly hard to find (deliberately) – or should I say partially hidden? – 'A Travail of Two Brothers' site and spent 15 minutes there, being the only person to do so since its inception almost eight months ago. In Blogger's settings I have ticked 'No' to both 'Add your blog to our listings?' and 'Let search engines find your blog?'. I have an enormous amount to add to it when I get it written. I'm undecided as to whether I'll one day make it easier to find, or even harder to find.
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