tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85681989831403097552024-03-14T20:27:11.921+11:00jumping agroundbecause I canSuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.comBlogger231125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-5934499890055355352016-12-21T14:58:00.000+11:002016-12-21T14:58:35.980+11:00You're going to do what?! Meeting crazy people in outback Australia.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are some people you meet and the more you talk to them the more your respect for them deepens. Others are quite the opposite and you wonder when they'll become entries for the Darwin Awards - short-lived and notable for doing something stupid, and entirely preventable.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ48-7KDTS08tFZqk6F2ki8Sd6mx6vxgPS9aeEHBGBvYKHJay2LEACoXUmO2fnBRLpkKgb0CmZjDMNYHR_Y9XIdjeHP9BmO5BuAXTVyJ8bKtQdqqt2p15JkwcHY_rXE4eJzTkLhyphenhyphenmp3_c/s1600/FR+seabed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ48-7KDTS08tFZqk6F2ki8Sd6mx6vxgPS9aeEHBGBvYKHJay2LEACoXUmO2fnBRLpkKgb0CmZjDMNYHR_Y9XIdjeHP9BmO5BuAXTVyJ8bKtQdqqt2p15JkwcHY_rXE4eJzTkLhyphenhyphenmp3_c/s320/FR+seabed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mary was one of the former. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were enjoying the 8km hike along part of the <a href="http://heysentrail.asn.au/">Heysen Trail</a> out of Koolaman Campground in the Brachina Gorge, Flinders Ranges, SA. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We'd just walked up the Yuluna Creek stopping frequently to gaze awestruck at the ancient seabed .... </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLX-Jjm3cahsZvzBiSu9Ps1xvXYx-QvWGdDAAhC5nfjJWHl5e_NDBkwAHgh6jWt4Ti7QS-qgUDXz5fMMjN4VsCEiF928TGLJPcx9Og80TWG_iM7mzeN-e0-fiBjvZeQ5bNnPvDu9bX_g/s1600/FR%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGLX-Jjm3cahsZvzBiSu9Ps1xvXYx-QvWGdDAAhC5nfjJWHl5e_NDBkwAHgh6jWt4Ti7QS-qgUDXz5fMMjN4VsCEiF928TGLJPcx9Og80TWG_iM7mzeN-e0-fiBjvZeQ5bNnPvDu9bX_g/s320/FR%2521.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.... and wonder at the incredible force that it must take to push huge trees into a woven mass in a riverbed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">...</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUJUpiTTkPGWY1ID4cg2OJfVu7r8COKDRGP6l2GpXE-EoDdujy12XctEeKhz9Q67xJnbw68xkC1f7E6nCpOq3H-vEeOqvG1RqrKWiZHQOsVNiYR3Coiy9FapqRwTrAg0pZ-6q3Ar-Y8E/s1600/FR%2524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUJUpiTTkPGWY1ID4cg2OJfVu7r8COKDRGP6l2GpXE-EoDdujy12XctEeKhz9Q67xJnbw68xkC1f7E6nCpOq3H-vEeOqvG1RqrKWiZHQOsVNiYR3Coiy9FapqRwTrAg0pZ-6q3Ar-Y8E/s320/FR%2524.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a warmish day and we paused to ponder whether to go on to the Bendowta Hut ruins or not, when a lone woman strode up with a "cooeee" and began chatting with us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She was visiting family from NZ and each time she visits, she does a couple of sections of the Heysen Trail (at 1200Km doing it in sections is sensible!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As usual, first glances assess a person far quicker than words ever can: with Mary it went along the lines of: </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not a threat. Alone. Small pack. Doesn't seem to have much water. </i><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Snakes are quite active. H</i><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ope she's got a good first aid kit. Is there room in her pack for a personal location beacon? Satellite phone? Does she have food in case she gets stuck out here?</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And the more we chatted, the more we realised that not only was she a hugely experienced hiker, she was strong, capable, knew her limits and would do her utmost not to be a danger to herself or others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We discussed 'worst case scenarios' and plans we have in place in case of emergency. She was a delight to spend time with, that rare combination of someone who is interested to hear what we'd been up to, and happy to share her own entertaining stories.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxbOLCKOT54Lx3SLY6kIVrWYYbN11Ar4TvsgZOMhnIqOeY8whdwf6frOLrsLbYKsCiAobE4HqC9vqT6JrOK4w7I3h1JN9Nsh9RT2zCpV8KmHMPThfFiCS8qe2cKq8_k0iAPfSSpxSzYo/s1600/FR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxbOLCKOT54Lx3SLY6kIVrWYYbN11Ar4TvsgZOMhnIqOeY8whdwf6frOLrsLbYKsCiAobE4HqC9vqT6JrOK4w7I3h1JN9Nsh9RT2zCpV8KmHMPThfFiCS8qe2cKq8_k0iAPfSSpxSzYo/s320/FR.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In contrast, a few days later at Coward Springs, we met an older cyclist from the USA. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFq5PwocZyovKaMTETdQW9iGDzkJ0z3bbCrSa6UR5hz2vovLrffZVt8z_5IUqMubBHWAu4pEY8PUXDI9UQ_fFR07t6RfStMiJv4E07z0v17zAyefQKUl8qxx8cJmVY-RvyS0HHnIV4w1c/s1600/Coward+Springs+spa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFq5PwocZyovKaMTETdQW9iGDzkJ0z3bbCrSa6UR5hz2vovLrffZVt8z_5IUqMubBHWAu4pEY8PUXDI9UQ_fFR07t6RfStMiJv4E07z0v17zAyefQKUl8qxx8cJmVY-RvyS0HHnIV4w1c/s320/Coward+Springs+spa.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Coward Springs</b> on the Oodnadatta track is a delightful spot to spend a night or two</span>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's a bore which has been converted to a spa, shady trees to pitch the tent under, long-</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">drop toilets and a donkey boiler shower. Luxury!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd noticed a lone cyclist, leathery skin, elderly, tent pitched to get maximum breeze and shade, little pot and stove ready for dinner and him sitting on a log contemplating who knows what.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWNGcjHbj4ESN4ZvGap0XrRaCWmgiXaqaA2IAX_kixglnjUBHB8iVWv2zLHNlD2yPTFJJOWlj-WlTv2_qkLebNCODX_BqqKe14veVvhUCMzRx7FW0x8nZGQ2oinFQinr40BQHKNgiQUc/s1600/donkey+shower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmWNGcjHbj4ESN4ZvGap0XrRaCWmgiXaqaA2IAX_kixglnjUBHB8iVWv2zLHNlD2yPTFJJOWlj-WlTv2_qkLebNCODX_BqqKe14veVvhUCMzRx7FW0x8nZGQ2oinFQinr40BQHKNgiQUc/s320/donkey+shower.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being a relatively friendly soul, who generally likes to be supportive of people travelling alone, and being genuinely interested in where he'd come from and where he was headed to, I said "Hi, good ride?" as I walked past, anticipating a generic "Good. Thanks" in reply and a proper follow up afterwards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why? Because there's an unspoken convention when camping, that when someone is headed off to the toilet with bog roll in hand, it's fine to say "Hi, how ya going?" and the reply is along the same lines. Brief! Then civilities done with, it's time to depart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hadn't accounted for a loquacious, self absorbed Yank, completely oblivious to toilet roll, direction of travel and purposeful gait.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbH90v9PGNeD4zxonKRuIXv-PD7NpggRGT_8DPphIU7_Lz3uM2A0T8x08Xn8k11zpTcgl01M98bAXB9OLS_RuOwq9jevHFzmuqbtHcVRoDM7EpZtbhzb2Y6qxpxCU9Eofc8Kb60YSKJg/s1600/Coward+springs+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFbH90v9PGNeD4zxonKRuIXv-PD7NpggRGT_8DPphIU7_Lz3uM2A0T8x08Xn8k11zpTcgl01M98bAXB9OLS_RuOwq9jevHFzmuqbtHcVRoDM7EpZtbhzb2Y6qxpxCU9Eofc8Kb60YSKJg/s320/Coward+springs+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">This is NOT the time to begin a monologue about challenging track conditions, government ineptitude, previous outback tracks </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">conquered </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">and asking if it's possible to buy supplies at William Creek. Sheesh. So much talk. So much grumbling. So much self.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For what it's worth, imo, you don't <i>conquer</i> a track. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You might conquer your own fears, but a track?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> You research and prepare for expected and unexpected conditions, know your limits and the limits of your equipment and overcome obstacles as they arise. But overall, you prepare as best as humanly possible, including for worst case scenarios:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What will I do if my bike breaks down in the middle of nowhere and no vehicles come past for a day? Two days? Do I have enough food and water to survive? How about shelter? Do people know where I am and when I'm expected at the next town? How will I contact people if I'm injured? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then he then began moaning about the general lack of phone reception. Outback. On the Oodnadatta Track. More or less in the middle of nowhere. With very few people. Who would have guessed that there wouldn't be a whole lot of mobile phone towers?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He'd apparently rocked up expecting city quality mobile phone reception so he could research the next town from the previous one. Not smart. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And because there was no reception to access the internet, he was unable to check the possibility of restocking his extremely depleted food supplies (which are kind of vital!) at William Creek. That's something I'd have expected a solo, long distance, remote area cyclist to have researched thoroughly before leaving home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prior to <strike>speaking with</strike> listening to him I'd been impressed with his apparent dedication and willingness to ride on the long, dusty, corrugated road, miles from anywhere. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__wo1RXhjYZ8SCp4Oz5fR3AQ3GmwCUNgT3AES6wfDIyXEe1vzPeP703RSGoqlsQIW_ZE5rZMRj7lCsnRuAo09aDZYx8ICTIXZBowlH3Jz44NngZeY-YIkafFJNXcWOQ-fYe9NW2Du-so/s1600/cyclist1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__wo1RXhjYZ8SCp4Oz5fR3AQ3GmwCUNgT3AES6wfDIyXEe1vzPeP703RSGoqlsQIW_ZE5rZMRj7lCsnRuAo09aDZYx8ICTIXZBowlH3Jz44NngZeY-YIkafFJNXcWOQ-fYe9NW2Du-so/s320/cyclist1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I now reassessed. <i>He'll be lucky to survive. He hasn't done his homework. He doesn't have enough food to complete the next stages of the track up to Marla (likely to be another 3 or so days of riding) and is botting* food from other campers. It's hot (43+C or nearly 110F) and he openly states he's struggling. Really, really struggling. This is not good.</i></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__wo1RXhjYZ8SCp4Oz5fR3AQ3GmwCUNgT3AES6wfDIyXEe1vzPeP703RSGoqlsQIW_ZE5rZMRj7lCsnRuAo09aDZYx8ICTIXZBowlH3Jz44NngZeY-YIkafFJNXcWOQ-fYe9NW2Du-so/s1600/cyclist1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next morning, we expected him to be gone at first light, but he had a good old sleep-in and started the 70km ride to William Creek well after the cool of dawn. The sun was already blazing, and it was in the mid 30s in the shade when he wobbled slowly out of the camp site. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We'd had a lazy start and expected to see him hitching a lift along the track, however when we came across him he was </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">making a slow meandering path on the right hand side of the track, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">bare chested, wearing ski goggles (to prevent flies exploring his eyes) and with a bit of fabric acting as a hat. I gave him points for cycling on the right. It meant he could easily see if there were oncoming vehicles and he wasn't in the dust of the cars coming from behind.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkarBVjaFXQHW-_AKAiGKJl2I_qrOBId4aUMA2DZYmf0YPfZ8Pcgm_9JEu0htL9j1W5dk0KyQuv_Lxnqwvs2JgCV9xjlVea9qt5HxM5EE4WT5_DmUf1sR0dioQku2fndy8rTWyIwcGqo/s1600/remote+Ood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkarBVjaFXQHW-_AKAiGKJl2I_qrOBId4aUMA2DZYmf0YPfZ8Pcgm_9JEu0htL9j1W5dk0KyQuv_Lxnqwvs2JgCV9xjlVea9qt5HxM5EE4WT5_DmUf1sR0dioQku2fndy8rTWyIwcGqo/s320/remote+Ood.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The scenery is striking, with <a href="https://www.environment.sa.gov.au/parks/Find_a_Park/Browse_by_region/flinders-ranges-outback/wabma-kadarbu-mound-springs-conservation-park">mound springs</a> dotted along the length of the Oodnadatta Track. It was this source of water which enabled the Aboriginals to make their way through this region for many, many thousands of years.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHzafX15bUtcjW5YHIPK_qWJJ16O5KTyN9im_jKCVsy_NSY2lNDJG50rbRck-xmLTxat3KDo8qOS3l4A5s-tM_E9mvfIGsUUDJ9d4-9rFXhTmGBNz8G-CT7jCKUOGwJRy8A1tYBPQpRI/s1600/williamck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHzafX15bUtcjW5YHIPK_qWJJ16O5KTyN9im_jKCVsy_NSY2lNDJG50rbRck-xmLTxat3KDo8qOS3l4A5s-tM_E9mvfIGsUUDJ9d4-9rFXhTmGBNz8G-CT7jCKUOGwJRy8A1tYBPQpRI/s320/williamck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We stopped and sweltered our way around the well signposted Strangeways Siding ruins, drove out to ABC and Halligan Bay on Lake Eyre and came across the cyclist again at the William Creek Hotel late that afternoon. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He had a group of people gathered around him at the bar, and was repeating the complaining soliloquy I'd heard. It sounded like he'd said it so often he was word perfect. When he saw us he broke off to state "It beat me, the Oodnadatta beat me. I'm over it. I can't buy supplies and they're going to arrange a lift to Coober Pedy."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People die out here. Cycling at the beginning of summer, through the wind and searing heat, where there's no shade, no water and few vehicles, takes a special sort of person. A well prepared one who's researched and thought through the implications of problems. Someone with a back up plan, who knows which places have food, potable water, and transport if needed. At Coward Springs there weren't many campers, and those of us who were concerned for the cyclist's welfare were in no position to assist with transporting him, his bike and gear. Whilst he was clearly extremely fit and physically strong, he wasn't in a good mental space and had apparently done little research on the reality of cycling the Oodnadatta Track or having any plan for being unable to complete the ride mid way through, other than relying on the good will of locals or passers by. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Things can go pearshaped when you've prepared well, but wilful ignorance and putting yourself or others at risk rarely goes down well.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84AaD76QMGEPKD4yc3NGHiUfDC75J0w9c8fabeGgSM4lME7E9WgmDMBHJfgfTn2Br1827TOKeldNRzfkE-HTpTss4NjgRNQ1dXE1XYjjgov_qDH12OYrXjXKkyiDgq5q7VH2_qTDT1DI/s1600/william+ck+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj84AaD76QMGEPKD4yc3NGHiUfDC75J0w9c8fabeGgSM4lME7E9WgmDMBHJfgfTn2Br1827TOKeldNRzfkE-HTpTss4NjgRNQ1dXE1XYjjgov_qDH12OYrXjXKkyiDgq5q7VH2_qTDT1DI/s320/william+ck+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Near William Creek.<br />A great spot to reflect on life.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*Aussie slang meaning a scrounger. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-9609662045921045872016-12-18T09:27:00.003+11:002016-12-18T09:27:40.450+11:00Christmas baking <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiha1_ebuUVVEhNb1-En7JqhfVPTRVMgyQM8ZzJHG1rTAEwckRQLahLOXTnqPR75MHhqVRvsdYALn3dMoSS77D82zkCND8WBpDwCczkcOJAeu-nbeekiH0PymxTSFPb2oMzo2SWQPXhUqA/s1600/Mince+tarts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiha1_ebuUVVEhNb1-En7JqhfVPTRVMgyQM8ZzJHG1rTAEwckRQLahLOXTnqPR75MHhqVRvsdYALn3dMoSS77D82zkCND8WBpDwCczkcOJAeu-nbeekiH0PymxTSFPb2oMzo2SWQPXhUqA/s320/Mince+tarts.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">Me baking mince tarts: </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">"Hmm that recipe looks a bit boring. I think I'll add some roughly chopped chocolate, a decent dollop of the disaster marmalade I made earlier in the year (it's more or less solid), a handful of mixed nuts, coffee granules and assorted Christmassy spices - cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves and cardamom. Oh, and then there's those chili flavoured coconut chips that are a little bit odd and the last of the coconut butter. Could work out ok." </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">And it all got mixed in with the minced fruit which has been marinating in coffee flavoured vodka for a few days. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;">They look a bit rustic but taste pretty darn good!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-iQGWNiHWzjGmtTxOce5GqizlulqhoMUEvaxwdW-zIP-2nlIC0hGrA748JNnlJFrsb2eYTAO9Va7RYxI-FhcnaXq5m943NhZvmoYyKA8Er9cYwlatv3MmGBnuT2RMn4E8l5k2cvO3ZA/s1600/Xmas+cakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL-iQGWNiHWzjGmtTxOce5GqizlulqhoMUEvaxwdW-zIP-2nlIC0hGrA748JNnlJFrsb2eYTAO9Va7RYxI-FhcnaXq5m943NhZvmoYyKA8Er9cYwlatv3MmGBnuT2RMn4E8l5k2cvO3ZA/s320/Xmas+cakes.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then there were the individual Christmas cakes. In my mind Christmas baking is associated with spice. Lots of it. I found three Christmas Cooking books on the shelves, but none of them included spice in the rich fruit cake recipes. Not a skerrick. What's going on? In desperation I ferreted out the trusty old <i>Cookery The Australian Way</i>, and spice was included, though not very much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, trusting my not entirely reliable memories, I added more than stated quantity of spice to the mix. I'd found some</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> apricots and other forgotten end packs of sad looking dried </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">fruit in the pantry, and had left it all soaking for a few days along with raisins, in the coffee flavoured vodka that had gathering dust on the shelf, then added extra mixed nuts. There was more marmalade to use up - will it last forever? and some chocolate that had fallen behind the vegetable crisper in the frig. May as well add that too!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Into the patty pans in the muffin tin (my token attempt at portion control), then a </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">bit of guesswork with the timing and taadaaa. We have success!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The pantry now looks a lot neater having used the end packs of fruit, our tummies are chubbier and the house smells fantastic with all the spice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perfect taste treats for picnics over Summer!</span><br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-51537948959405747212016-12-15T14:52:00.001+11:002016-12-15T14:53:05.961+11:00The problem with "flushable wipes" in the outback. <div class="tG QF" style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; position: absolute; width: 0px;">
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<a href="http://www.mtdare.com.au/about-us/about-mt-dare-hotel">Mt Dare Hotel </a>is more or less in the centre of Australia, not far from the Northern Territory border on the western edge of the Simpson Desert. It's a long, long, long way from anywhere. It's usually crispy dry except on the rare occasion it floods. It's often hot. Very, very hot. We were there in November, and as we left the bar, after having a very welcome beer indoors away from the damn flies, the barman, doing his best Crocodile Dundee impersonation, (complete with 'beater and Akubra style hat), reminded us to use our torches and stomp loudly on the way out to our tent as he'd just been shooing away a "king brown". </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The bar with an interesting selection of stubby holders.</span></td></tr>
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My first thought was ... "Is this some weird outback thing he's doing with beer bottles, and why am I scaring them away?" Followed by "Oh! he's referring to snakes!"<br />
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The heat, dust, mozzies and flies can do that to you ....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguRriIvXF7XE9wPvTZXbibsL4cE2C-N7jIlaCCQJev-361nDYyIRSZuAt_OqYu8siWKJP_CT1B2mUrohJicZowoCtPbgqxV2kvu5LfJ725D4Jq5SHHDGsaMO-tTj0ejNBGZYPHl6dHbQA/s1600/mt+dare+beer+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguRriIvXF7XE9wPvTZXbibsL4cE2C-N7jIlaCCQJev-361nDYyIRSZuAt_OqYu8siWKJP_CT1B2mUrohJicZowoCtPbgqxV2kvu5LfJ725D4Jq5SHHDGsaMO-tTj0ejNBGZYPHl6dHbQA/s320/mt+dare+beer+garden.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The newly revamped beer garden is a delight, but ... flies...</span></td></tr>
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What I didn't know then was that a King Brown is another name for a Mulga Snake. That's one I know to be wary of, having watched a particularly long one in a picnic shelter in Corner Country a couple of years ago. Stepping on one in the dark wouldn't be good. (Info on their venom <a href="http://toxinology.com/about/mulga_snake_snakebite.html">here.</a>)</div>
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I stomped vigorously!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIsdvIomYEraA7v6UDZhetLngmUsPdIwfBZZ7H7Zxwd_WpTNtvj_mPU3iiGSNy8UX7If9KwrtHHQUkABNDx9_EluRQJOiufqSuefrVx32KZLPzcy6ujerMPX79L8UbD_-CAItQi_prpWo/s1600/Sign+at+MtDare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIsdvIomYEraA7v6UDZhetLngmUsPdIwfBZZ7H7Zxwd_WpTNtvj_mPU3iiGSNy8UX7If9KwrtHHQUkABNDx9_EluRQJOiufqSuefrVx32KZLPzcy6ujerMPX79L8UbD_-CAItQi_prpWo/s640/Sign+at+MtDare.jpg" width="475" /></a></div>
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As with all travel, there are times when the topic of toilet etiquette comes up. It's no different in the outback. When there's no loo, go behind a bush (some ladies use a small brolly if there's no vegetation), dig a hole and bury your waste, burn or remove any paper and leave the place as you'd like to find it. </div>
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However, there's a new menace cunningly marketed as 'flushable' which creates havoc not only in cities, but in the outback as well. Seeing these little off-white sheets stuck on bushes on remote tracks, fluttering into pristine ancient springs, stomped into red soil and generally creating an eyesore, I kind of wish they'd never been invented. I also have a lot of sympathy for anyone whose job it is to unclog pipes and septic systems where they're an inconvenient, expensive, time consuming menace. </div>
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The <a href="https://www.accc.gov.au/media-release/accc-takes-court-action-on-%E2%80%9Cflushable%E2%80%9D-wipes" style="background-color: transparent;">ACCC</a> is currently taking court action against the manufacturers of "Flushable" wipes:</div>
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“The ACCC alleges that the impression given by the representations which Kimberly-Clark and Pental each made about these products was that they were suitable to be flushed down household toilets in Australia, when this was not the case,” ACCC Chairman Rod Sims said.<br />
<span style="color: #363535; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">“These products did not, for example, disintegrate like toilet paper when flushed. Australian water authorities face significant problems when non-suitable products are flushed down the toilet as they contribute to blockages in household and municipal sewerage systems.”</span></blockquote>
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It's not just suburban household and municipal sewerage systems that suffer. Notices like the one above, in the toilets at the camping ground behind the Mt Dare Hotel, are important to raise awareness of the problems the wipes cause. </div>
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Basically, "flushable wipes" stuff up the septic system and create all sorts of problems which are a pain to fix. </div>
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At one other camping ground there was detailed information about how unpleasant, tedious and time consuming it is for staff to rummage around in the system to locate the clogged spot - and then remove the offending items by hand. Peeeeuw. You really get the feeling people are completely over these things. </div>
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Then there are the stories of wet-wipes clogging the pipes in Septic Pump Trucks and the driver having to clear the hoses manually: a messy, smelly, slow process. Ugh. </div>
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Flushable wipes might technically be flushable, but they create LOTS of problems - if you must use them, put them in the bin. </div>
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And whilst the wipes are generally cursed, so are lazy people who shove dirty clothing, nappies, and even sleeping bags into long drop toiltes; kick cheap broken camping gear behind bushes and and seem to think the outback is a massive garbage dump. </div>
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But all grumping aside, Mt Dare Hotel is great! They put on a decent meal, and it's a beaut spot to stop, share information and listen to tall tales and true from local characters! </div>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com1Mount Dare, Witjira. South Australia-26.5116799 135.44475999999997-52.0337144 94.136165999999974 -0.98964540000000056 176.75335399999997tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-15237913568875307712016-04-27T17:52:00.001+10:002020-02-11T10:59:41.327+11:00Surrounded by coal, camped near Mordor. My image of Mordor is a region of never ending, noisy, repetitive production, ceaseless activity by blank faced automatons, endless mechanical sounds, the ear jarring screech of metal on metal, the deep rumbling, stomach-churning thud, thud, thud of heavy machinery and a pervasive stench, which permeates and taints the air for many kilometres around. An odour hard to remove from clothing by washing and which seeps into pores, eyes, nose and lungs relentlessly.<br />
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I never expected to visit, and camp beside a lake which lived up to exactly that image. Its beguiling beauty, the active birds and deceptively welcoming water were a con.<br />
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We thought it'd be pleasant to camp beside water after being in the desert. Lake Liddell, appeared, from the guide book, to offer swimming, water skiing, jet skiing, kayaking, fishing and other cheery, family friendly, water based activities for the families living nearby in Muswellbrook and Singleton. We figured that if we arrived lateish, and left early, it could be a peaceful place for a night.<br />
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There'd be frogs, water birds wading merrily and diving for fish, the quaking of ducks and <i>no crocodiles</i> ... most enticing!<br />
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How wrong we were.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWRBpXEoFZN7lIGpitJ8g-B95g5Z9n7l3ETkP-OvrXPp0jvw4YpiLGNWTHMpYLo-mif7lMhJ_wZRq4YVXVaK71uFw17K5xAHHXw2OGBFpXwteWfUYSoPFlzkgcB5S5hXur6RwvfwwI2A/s1600/warningsign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWRBpXEoFZN7lIGpitJ8g-B95g5Z9n7l3ETkP-OvrXPp0jvw4YpiLGNWTHMpYLo-mif7lMhJ_wZRq4YVXVaK71uFw17K5xAHHXw2OGBFpXwteWfUYSoPFlzkgcB5S5hXur6RwvfwwI2A/s320/warningsign.jpg" width="304" /></a>We were greeted by a friendly, welcoming woman, who explained in a frank, forthright manner, that under no circumstances should we have anything at all to do with the lake water. No fishing, no wading, no kayaking and definitely don't splash it on your face, or allow any droplets at all to enter your nose. There's something in the water that can enter your brain and kill you. It doesn't happen often, but when it does - whammo. She told us that all taps in the camp ground which would normally use lake water had been locked off, and even if we discovered that one had been overlooked we should definitely NOT use it. She reassured us that the showers were safe to use, as the water in the amenities block had been trucked in and was perfectly fine!<br />
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This wasn't what we'd expected.<br />
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We were also unaware (strangely, the guide book is quiet on this aspect of the park) that just over the toxic lake, over the charming hills in front of our tent is the Liddell Coal Mine which operates all day and night, every day of the year. To enable this to happen, massive <i><b>massive</b></i> lighting systems are used, so it's a bit like the glaring illumination from a large city which, unlike Paris, doesn't dim its lights during the wee hours. When he noticed, my husband commented drily "It's good the coal industry only runs 9-5".<br />
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So much for the anticipated tranquil night's sleep.<br />
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The mine's ceaseless activity ensures that what appear to be kilometre long coal trains, with not quite fully enclosed wagons, rumble and clang their way around the camp ground not far from where we set up camp. All day. All night. Seemingly every 1/2 hour or so. They come from between the hills in the distance to our left, slowly grunt and clatter their way along and rumble off, somewhere to the back of us. By daylight, we can see the mountainous tailings from the mine.<br />
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The steady, deep rumble, rumble, rumbling from the incessant trains, drowned out the cheeping, quacking, croaking and flapping of every living creature around, including, earlier in the evening, the raucous partying of a large group of young campers. That's quite an achievement. Between trains, the persistent mechanical hum from the generators of the power plant over to our right is the constant background noise. Very Mordor.<br />
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<a href="https://www.smh.com.au/politics/federal/100-million-a-year-to-keep-half-of-liddell-coal-fired-power-plant-alive-20200210-p53zgj.html">Edit 2020</a> - 4 years later - This is what the LNP is still considering propping up & keeping on life support to the tune of $100million pa, in spite of the companies objections. 4 years of transition lost due to outdated ideology.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZmvGdmpup8gT8cSOIMNttYEWWQUV47j8eO2-9R1Wa7Tf0gmacS51810bzbFqLgsGigawWGTEi6Id_8eZbBniwxivD2KBox0aAvtdv0pJHG0_jm4OOiklRRd2m5_myvMtK2v_Lonl-PE/s1600/powerstation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOZmvGdmpup8gT8cSOIMNttYEWWQUV47j8eO2-9R1Wa7Tf0gmacS51810bzbFqLgsGigawWGTEi6Id_8eZbBniwxivD2KBox0aAvtdv0pJHG0_jm4OOiklRRd2m5_myvMtK2v_Lonl-PE/s320/powerstation.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I woke early (I didn't get much relaxing sleep), and as I walked along the shoreline in the crisp morning air, there was the distinctive smell of what I think of as briquette dust (well known to those of us who grew up in Melbourne in the 60's and 70's.) It's a smell which lingers unpleasantly and it wasn't possible to avoid.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0yro9OHbGXCsQstP-VAbilijWHl-uh_aaW29qb5i3L4X6PrvRMYm8QGOQKZ_9RpxkAhqy0OkHHjxKS5xJxSE5ctJxlFUhHo9k-2848fI_tw-7LcbjTN86zp8fxzkUT8kX8MX8a8_HEI/s1600/IMG_1115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr0yro9OHbGXCsQstP-VAbilijWHl-uh_aaW29qb5i3L4X6PrvRMYm8QGOQKZ_9RpxkAhqy0OkHHjxKS5xJxSE5ctJxlFUhHo9k-2848fI_tw-7LcbjTN86zp8fxzkUT8kX8MX8a8_HEI/s320/IMG_1115.JPG" width="320" /></a>This is the scenario which the current federal government supports and wants to extend. Not only that, but they also persistently run smear campaigns against renewable energy, particularly wind. A couple of weeks ago we stood next to a wind generator farm wondering what the fuss was about. No smell. No threat of fire and toxic pollution. A whooshing noise as the blades turned, and that was the sum of the experience.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy135XbT2H7ifPWbAqxQDVGRm026oafP8yFkvTxDawui3iBUpCSvOt-WzIaF0FONYPEcgvrIMhxKu4zBSJ726CA0faWnX5xZ1yi7SGx5VwZgPm358eqoCT7qc42gK-LAu5ocEXSCAyUEY/s1600/letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy135XbT2H7ifPWbAqxQDVGRm026oafP8yFkvTxDawui3iBUpCSvOt-WzIaF0FONYPEcgvrIMhxKu4zBSJ726CA0faWnX5xZ1yi7SGx5VwZgPm358eqoCT7qc42gK-LAu5ocEXSCAyUEY/s320/letter.jpg" width="235" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy135XbT2H7ifPWbAqxQDVGRm026oafP8yFkvTxDawui3iBUpCSvOt-WzIaF0FONYPEcgvrIMhxKu4zBSJ726CA0faWnX5xZ1yi7SGx5VwZgPm358eqoCT7qc42gK-LAu5ocEXSCAyUEY/s1600/letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>I wondered as I walked, if I was tempting fate and that my steps would disturb the lake's lethal legacy and some vapour droplets would find their way into my nostrils. I lengthened my stride to reach higher ground a bit quicker than normal.<br />
<br />
How privileged I've been. I've never lived near where coal is mined or near a coal fired power plant. The coal mining lobby and their political allies insist coal is here for the long term, and are desperate to extend mining and other fossil fuel extraction into prime agricultural lands. It's hard to be as enthusiastic knowing the extensive, reputable, well researched negative health and environmental impacts.<br />
<br />
We have alternatives. We don't need to put all our eggs in the one basket. Companies want to invest in clean energy. People want jobs in the renewables sector. Citizens want to support sustainable options. Coal mining is scarring the land, having a massive impact on <a href="http://environmentvictoria.org.au/content/coal-and-water-use">water </a>(which is used extensively in mines and plant) not to mention the potential for fire as happened at Hazelwood Victoria. (<a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-03-15/epa-to-charge-hazelwood-owner-over-coal-mine-fire/7246706">Here</a> and <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-12-09/hazelwood-mine-fire-likely-caused-latrobe-deaths-inquiry-finds/7004546">here</a>.)<br />
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I'm glad I've briefly experienced what it's like to live near a coal mine and coal fired power plant, and I'm so, so grateful we can leave; this is too close to my vision of Mordor for comfort.<br />
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Further reading:<br />
http://www.chiefscientist.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0009/79884/Initial-Report_Review-rail-coal-dust-emissions.pdf<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-6412806643195244642016-04-26T15:45:00.002+10:002016-04-26T15:45:14.366+10:00A night time of fireflies at Adels Grove - Outback Queensland<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
You know that feeling when people think you're bonkers and you're completely sure you're sane?</div>
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We recently experienced that up at Adels Grove near Boodjamulla National Park (formerly Lawn Hill). It's about a hundred and something kilometres from the Gulf of Carpentaria nearish where the western side of Cape York dips into the gulf. It's a long, long way from home in the south where we have proper winters and dry heat summers. It's hot, HOT, <b>HOT, </b>at this time of year and HUMID. UGH, UGH, UGH. Nothing dries out. Not us, not clothing, not anything. You take off your damply sweaty clothing at night and put it back on<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">, still damply sweaty in the morning. (Limited space prohibits many changes, which wouldn't have made much difference anyhow as they'd have felt damp too.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0SaL_y8R41qLLFSWKzeDVDgYvG4_KyB63ZMS3zje1_A8NnI52OGFzNbQZyR9cB0MPsoTxDonMHh7Ev9QbIiZWndSBUrDdPjhr3APgpDFQ7h09-3S0Cm2ueB8AIzCzB9WL9mkLerCYyd8/s1600/IMG_1056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0SaL_y8R41qLLFSWKzeDVDgYvG4_KyB63ZMS3zje1_A8NnI52OGFzNbQZyR9cB0MPsoTxDonMHh7Ev9QbIiZWndSBUrDdPjhr3APgpDFQ7h09-3S0Cm2ueB8AIzCzB9WL9mkLerCYyd8/s200/IMG_1056.JPG" width="150" /></a>We were camped in the 'grove' - the quiet spot for people mostly in tents and without generators. The trees are thick, rotten (one fell less than a metre from a nearby camp with a massive <i>whumpfh</i>) and with a very, very dense canopy. There's a constant dropping of what we could only guess was poo from billions of small tree dwelling creatures overhead, so we covered our mugs at all times, shook clothing out constantly, and I brushed my hair not at all. It was kind of like itty bitty soft pellets like those tasty chocolate sprinkles you decorate cakes with. yup. really.</div>
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We tend to sit in the dark after dinner, watching ... nothing in particular ... just soaking up the ambience, keeping an eye out for bats, listening for night birds. That kind of thing. Most people don't. They use lanterns, torches, made big fires (in 32C heat! - <i>crazy)</i> which means they don't see special things that their night eyes have adapted to see. </div>
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Like fireflies!</div>
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The first night we were at Adels Grove, I had no idea what I was seeing, but a wee light seemed to float up from behind the table, over the stove, and waft up into a tree.</div>
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A cautious question; "Um, Trav, did you see that?" Thankfully he had. But what was it? Lights don't usually float gracefully <i>upwards</i> and settle in a tree. It wasn't a one off though, it kept happening in different locations around the campsite. Next morning I made a point of asking at reception, but the blank looks and cautious, but calm backing away made it clear what they thought. "Batty old woman, probably had too much to drink, gotta keep an eye out for <i>that</i> kind of person."</div>
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We watched night after night. If I believed in fairies, that's what they'd look like at night! I was mesmerised. I'd wake during the night, and with the fly of the tent off <span style="line-height: 19.32px;">(trying to make use of any stray breeze to cool down just a morsel, please!)</span><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"> and fly-mesh covering the roof, I could see them flashing and pulsing, in groups, singly, sometimes clustered, at other times apparently wafting on a not-really-there breeze between branches.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">As I said, the people at reception seemed to think I was living in fantasy land</span>, and no other campers we spoke to had seen anything, but a ranger I cornered at Boodjamulla had seen one recently, so took my questions seriously. She didn't know much about them, but knew they existed in Australia. Gotta love park rangers! ... Except she asked hopefully if I'd caught one - no, no, no and no ... for all I knew it could have been a land form of the irukandji jellyfish which would leave me paralysed, i<span style="line-height: 19.32px;">n agony for ever, or possibly </span><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">dead. </span></div>
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Anyhow, now I'm home with reasonable internet and data, I can say with confidence that they were fireflies, and it seems we were there at just the right time to see them in abundance. </div>
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There's a bit more about them here: </div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;">http://malcolmtattersall.com.au/wp/2013/12/fireflies/</span></span></div>
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This is not a firefly. My guess is it's a locust. They were <b>thick </b>everywhere and hopped/flew, getting pelted noisily against the car covering it with sticky, smelly, brightly coloured bug gunge. When we camped at Mt Moffatt, the birds (pied butcherbirds?) had a wonderful time picking them out from behind the numberplate, under the car, and up in the mudguards. They feasted.<br />
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-39633677040792780472015-12-21T17:18:00.000+11:002015-12-21T17:28:37.255+11:00Boiled and baked cake with pineapple and zucchini!The zucchini plants are producing lots of wonderful golden vegetables! But what to do with the excess? We've gorged on zucchini fritters, zucchini salads, stir fried zucchini and zucchini slice.<br />
<br />
I like carrot cake, and have enjoyed cakes with beetroot as a colourful addition, so why not zucchini?<br />
<br />
I love fruit cake and wondered if I could find a recipe for a boiled and baked pineapple and zucchini cake. The internet is a wonderful thing and lo and behold I <i>almost</i> found what I was looking for ;-) By combining a number of recipes, I baked these delicious cakes. More than enough to share!<br />
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<b>Ingredients:</b><br />
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<ul>
<li>1 x 450g tin crushed pineapple with juice. (Pineapple pieces work, but aren't as delicate.)</li>
<li>250g butter</li>
<li>500g mixed fruit (including raisins, sultanas, dates, apricots, cherries, cranberries etc)</li>
<li>2 cups sugar (I've used white, brown and palm, they all work, but give a slightly different flavour)</li>
<li>1 tsp mixed spice</li>
<li>1 tsp cinnamon</li>
<li>1/2 tsp ground cloves</li>
<li>1/2 tsp ground cardamom</li>
<li>1 tsp nutmeg</li>
<li>2 tsp vanilla essence</li>
<li>a slosh of brandy, rum, blackberry nip or similar</li>
<li>1 heaped tablespoon marmalade</li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>Method: </b><br />
Put all of the above in a saucepan - bring to the boil then allow to cool.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Now stir in:</b><i> </i><br />
2 teaspoons bicarb soda. (It'll foam and froth in an entertaining way.)<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Next add:</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>3 lightly beaten eggs, if they're really small, use 4</li>
<li>1 cup grated zucchini</li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>Combine:</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>2 cups plain white flour</li>
<li>1 cup wholemeal flour</li>
<li>2 tsp baking powder</li>
<li>1 cup chopped walnuts</li>
<li>pinch salt</li>
</ul>
<br />
If you're feeling decadent, you can chop up some chocolate and add it too!<br />
<br />
<b>Add</b> the dry ingredients to the wet. Stir till mixed.<br />
<br />
<b>Cook</b> the large cake about 1 - 1 1/4 hours at <b>160C</b> until a skewer comes out clean. The small ones only took 30 mins. I turned them after 20 mins and moved the front one to the back as my oven doesn't heat evenly.<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-62733299860042109202015-10-11T16:33:00.001+11:002015-10-11T16:35:14.413+11:00A ship shipping ship and free trade shenanigans<i>There was an article in the Daily Mail (UK) recently about this extraordinary ship which clearly called for some witty alliteration. I don't know who came up with the tongue twister, but I'd like to thank them for the fun I and some others on G+ have had spinning off from the original. The fanciful story below is a tale of caution, and is in no way a slight on the ship builders, on their engineering expertise, craftsmanship, morals or professional integrity.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2158305/Thats-load-ships-The-carrier-boat-hold-22-barges--oil-rig--back.html" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdABPKr0NIg4mvBzYLy-iETJU0IbnVphvZqI23alrz02iuNWz7PRc5fBdI7DdhhYuWAYOKE2K3K6VzIhH-GRtvch8OAa_RcHUliM5YVVirayNHEDlDp-4u5VXsetvdC5p5m5XKS_66do/s320/ship.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-align: start;">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2158305/Thats-load-ships<br />-The-carrier-boat-hold-22-barges--oil-rig--back.html</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.2px;">If you shuffle over here, I'll share a startling story about the ships and the ship builders who were to ship them in ship shape fashion to shipping regions around the world.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18.2px;">Shh, it's a bit shady and I doubt the shop steward knows about the shortcomings of his boss.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: whitesmoke;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The super ships were built by Shonky Brothers, the showy local company with the significant signage. It's an unfortunate surname, but their ships are in no way similar to the name. They're superbly slick ship shapers! Rumour has it the ships were to be shunted from the Schippol shipyard slipway, but I'm not sure of that summary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Significantly, last summer, one of the ship shaping siblings, it's said it was Cyril, was shagging shapely Charleen in the shade of a super ship in his classic Scorpion. Because of the deep shade in the chartreuse Scorpion, they surmised they were sheltered from suspicious eyes. Silly them! Shush wasn't their forte! In a spirited moment, Cyril shouted "<i>shazam</i>" and they were seen by Shane who'd snuck out for a siesta and subsequently shamed the sugar coated Cyril. There were lots of sniggers, smirks and snide comments. Statuesque Charleen, the sexy sheila who usually shimmies around looking sultry, was really shirty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #444444;">Cyril was a bit of a sun-baked character. He used to stride around unshaven, with a scarlet parrot on his shoulder singing sea shanties and saying, "Shiver me timbers!" at regular intervals. Sure beats being stuffy!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sadly, Charleen's shifty snaky boss, Sheldon found out (not about the singing, the shagging). He fancied Charleen and felt sorely snubbed. Sheldon is a smooth talking senior in a litigious multinational that wanted the significant contract to shape the shiny ships. He thought <i>"I'll sue the shit out of them"</i>, but that wasn't enough for the smitten spewing Sheldon. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If Sheldon couldn't have Charleen, then he'd make Cyril suffer. (It's an odd kind of logic, but some sad sods are like that.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #444444;">Sheldon really shouldn't have chosen a skirmish, he could have shrugged and suffered the snub in silence. Sadly he's a slave to his emotions and</span> </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">being a short tempered bastard, he shot Cyril Shonky in his shagging equipment. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sheldon's company, which shall evermore be called, <i>We Shit On You From A Great Height Ha Ha,</i> swiftly sued the sovereign state that'd contracted the local ship shaping company. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These sneaky sharks (apologies to all sharks - this kind of sloppy analogy makes you sound sinister) sleuthed around and found a shocker of a sadistic, but subtle ISDS* clause, under the shameful TPP </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">agreement </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(or TTIP** depending on where you live). Many smart systematic thinkers believe the ISDS clauses should be shelved because sovereign states will surely suffer substantially. The shocking sneaky clauses leave many speechless. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's such a sad situation. Some soar, others are shattered. But is this skulduggery sustainable? Will sovereign states be subsumed by self serving multinationals? That's sobering ... are we stuffed? Secrecy isn't soothing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Shonky Brothers previously successful ship shaping business has suffered significant setbacks. Staff were suddenly laid off and are now getting by on a shoestring. Some were paid shush money, others are sick. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cyril struggles to sit without slouching. He's really suffering from the shooting of his shagging equipment. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The whole state shudders to watch <i>We Shit On You From A Great Height Ha Ha </i>erode carefully crafted environmental protection laws and shamelessly shaft the small country which is struggling to cover costs of the suing skulduggery. When questioned about ethics, integrity and honesty, they quote the ISDS clauses, sneer and snort "It's legal, shan't change. We can shoulder your local laws aside! We won't shelve anything, so sod off." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Something stinks when super-powered multinationals can sue countries</span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> virtually unsupervised. It sucks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">**http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/comment/what-is-ttip-and-six-reasons-why-the-answer-should-scare-you-9779688.html</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Massive protests this weekend in Berlin</u>: http://www.reuters.com/article/2015/10/10/us-trade-germany-ttip-protests-idUSKCN0S40L720151010 (Oct 10 2015)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>ISDS clauses: </u></span><b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17.024px;">ISDS is a mechanism for corporations to sue governments.</b><br />
<b style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17.024px;">... the <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/business/comment-and-analysis/trade-deals-acronym-really-translates-to-we-lose-20150618-ghrqm8.html" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black;">authority of sovereign courts is ignored in favour of an international dispute tribunal</span></a>.</b><br />
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If this is such a great deal, why are they hiding it? There is, among other things, a four-letter answer to this question: ISDS (Investor-State Dispute Settlement). ISDS is a mechanism for corporations to sue governments.</div>
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Water and waste management giant Veolia is suing the government of Egypt for lifting the minimum wage. </div>
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Canada is being sued for a ban on fracking and </div>
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Germany for its phasing out of nuclear power; all actions taken under ISDS clauses in free trade pacts.</div>
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US corporations are the biggest litigants, having brought some 127 cases thus far against sovereign government decisions which they claim have damaged their financial interests. Taxpayers have the pleasure of footing the legal defence bills. Even worse, the <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/business/comment-and-analysis/trade-deals-acronym-really-translates-to-we-lose-20150618-ghrqm8.html" style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black;">authority of sovereign courts is ignored in favour of an international dispute tribunal</span></a>.</div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.024px;">The reality is this TPP free trade deal is as much about free trade as it is about entrenching the interests of large multinational corporations.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.024px;">Read more:</span><span style="line-height: 17.024px;"> </span><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/business/the-economy/tpp-the-devils-in-the-unknown-details-20151007-gk326i.html#ixzz3oE1sgatc" style="border-image-outset: initial; border-image-repeat: initial; border-image-slice: initial; border-image-source: initial; border-image-width: initial; border: 0px; color: #003399; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 17.024px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.smh.com.au/business/the-economy/tpp-the-devils-in-the-unknown-details-20151007-gk326i.html#ixzz3oE1sgatc</a><span style="line-height: 17.024px;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px;">In 2011, the Australian Gillard government announced it would no longer adopt international investment arbitration into its trade agreements and investment treaties with other states on the basis that investor state arbitration “</span><em style="background-color: #f3f3f3; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px;">constrains the ability of the Australian Government to make laws on social, environmental and economic matters<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 12px; line-height: 0; position: relative; top: -0.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">”</span>;</em><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px;"> concerns no doubt based in part on Philip Morris’s claim against Australia under the Hong Kong-Australia Free Trade Agreement.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px;">...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #222222; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25.6px;">Australia has now mollified its approach under the Abbott government;</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;">* </span><a class="ot-anchor aaTEdf" dir="ltr" href="https://app.secure.griffith.edu.au/news/2015/08/21/the-trans-pacific-partnership-and-investor-state-dispute-settlement-an-ongoing-controversy/" jslog="10929; track:click" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #427fed; cursor: pointer; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px; text-decoration: none; transition: color 0.218s;" target="_blank">https://app.secure.griffith.edu.au/news/2015/08/21/the-trans-pacific-partnership-and-investor-state-dispute-settlement-an-ongoing-controversy/</a><span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18.2px;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small; line-height: normal;">http://www.msfaccess.org/about-us/media-room/press-releases/statement-msf-conclusion-tpp-negotiations-atlanta</span></div>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-29237595945933290022015-06-21T19:48:00.000+10:002015-06-22T07:13:39.470+10:00Maralinga; a world apart. It's much more than a place where nuclear experiments were conducted, and well worth visiting.<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">The tale of secretly testing numerous atomic bombs, and a wide variety of nuclear devices in </span></span><span style="line-height: 22px;">Australia in the 1950's and 60's,</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> by the British, is a yarn of epic proportions; with twists, turns and sub-plots worthy of </span></span><span style="line-height: 22px;">an airport</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> novel bought for a long haul flight. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">There are lies and cover-ups, as well as betrayal, misplaced trust, wilful blindness and the obsequious kowtowing to the British, by what appears, from our current time and place, to be a fawning </span></span><span style="line-height: 22px;">Anglophile</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> Prime Minister (Menzies). </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Personnel involved in the programme, who had strong moral and ethical ideals were warned that Maralinga had become British territory and that whistle blowing on the reality of what happened, the hugely secretive goings on, could result in being shot, or a 30 year jail term under the British Secret Service Act (<a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=qQYAAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA38&lpg=PA38&dq=maralinga+thought+to+be+a+graveyard+by+aboriginals&source=bl&ots=uCp8aOEKIK&sig=CdHZmDgaBwlV8CnQVU3SEOPvpU8&hl=en&sa=X&ei=PE2FVaGNGIXPmwWByIMw&ved=0CCUQ6AEwAQ#v=onepage&q=maralinga%20thought%20to%20be%20a%20graveyard%20by%20aboriginals&f=false">page 43 Bulletin of The Atomic Scientists</a>). </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><i>Trust us! Nobody could have been out in the blast areas</i>, was the cry. But there were people out there. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Families, such as the Milpuddie's, who were found camped in a crater formed by a bomb blast - innocent inhabitants going about their daily lives, had their lives changed forever (further information <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=nrNQAwAAQBAJ&pg=PT83&lpg=PT83&dq=the+Milpuddie+family&source=bl&ots=N06MSJeqXU&sig=QNPOfirb02KY-j5hJcoNj24_Yp0&hl=en&sa=X&ei=nP2FVa_ZD8O7mgXLwbeYCg&ved=0CDQQ6AEwBg#v=onepage&q=the%20Milpuddie%20family&f=false">here</a>). The ongoing negative ramifications of living, eating food and drinking water from dangerously contaminated land, lives on in children and grandchildren. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">There were human guinea pigs (<a href="http://www.foe.org.au/anti-nuclear/issues/oz/britbombs/guinea-pigs">Indoctrinee Volunteers</a> and <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=nrNQAwAAQBAJ&pg=PT69&lpg=PT69&dq=indoctrinee+volunteers+maralinga&source=bl&ots=N06MSJbuVV&sig=nVJ5ncm9no6o2EbKdZUwgxiaRaA&hl=en&sa=X&ei=YfOFVZ-UFKfymQWF17zABQ&ved=0CDcQ6AEwBA#v=onepage&q=indoctrinee%20volunteers%20maralinga&f=false">here</a>), animal and vegetation experiments and numerous weapons development tests alongside the more dramatic and "explosive" weapons tests. Much of the information only came to light 30 years or so after the events. Much more is considered so secret by the British government, that it's been classified (hidden), and will remain that way, forever. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">It's quite a story.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">Walking on sites where world changing events occurred can have a deep impact. Sometimes immediate, sometimes surfacing and resurfacing long after the event.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">People talk about the impact that visiting Gallipoli had on them, or the sobering effect of seeing the trenches and hearing stories of WW2 battles at Flanders Fields. </span></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Sites such as these, of Pearl Harbour, Hiroshima, The Berlin Wall, and similar places around the world have become places of pilgrimage. Destinations where hordes of diverse people gather to share thoughts, reflections, prayers, and hope. Hope that powerful people in the future will pause, tread cautiously and act wisely before making</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22px;"> decisions which will set in motion similar catastrophic</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22px;"> events. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22px;">Although Maralinga has a different history to those above, in its own way, the impact of what happened there changed the world, many</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22px;"> servicemen, </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">and more locally, the landscape and displaced Maralinga Tjarutja indigenous people, forever. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">It needs to be remembered warts, </span></span><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">dirty</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> dealings and all. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cgN4fmwOv_Y2xCVrIZWW7N92qZwRgp9aTtxxP6wtYEe2vwZdyoYzmETH897VDkSqXak4c386yXISHrgA1HoBfYMbCdopDn1WYlqvwlTQmFyTGD5SlXobHfpMExFAuqA-TyVi6FKv3Iw/s320/IMG_8279.jpg" width="320" /></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">I didn't know what to expect as we drove up the long, often featureless, un-signposted road to the gate in the Boundary fence at Maralinga, where the caretaker and tour guide, Robin Matthews, greeted us with gentle courtesy. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">The place was a name from my childhood and not much more. Like others of my generation, I knew there was something to do with testing an atomic bomb, but as a child I suspect my parents didn't discuss the implications of this in depth, and shielded me from discussion. The Cold War was also little but a name. In hindsight, I expect there was unspoken communication between my parents and relatives, as carefully worded news filtered out about what was happening at Maralinga. But having a father who'd been deeply scarred from service during WW2, I also suspect they didn't want to dwell on details or meaning.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">So Maralinga remained nothing more than a little visited memory. There was a vague recollection</span></span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"> of a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McClelland_Royal_Commission">Royal Commission</a>, (part of the official report is <a href="http://www.industry.gov.au/resource/Documents/radioactive_waste/RoyalCommissioninToBritishNucleartestsinAustraliaVol%202.pdf">here</a>) but mostly, it was a place</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"> off-limits, with prohibited entry, closed to the world, out in the desert .... somewhere. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Then a few months ago, my husband suggested visiting. He'd been doing some research and found that tours were possible. D</span></span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">ue to the remote location in South Australia, two nights camping, and a one day escorted tour in a minibus, could be arranged by contacting <a href="http://www.maralingatours.com.au/">Maralinga Tours</a></span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">. Being stumped for an idea for his 60th birthday, I figured it'd be a memorable gift! A bit out of the ordinary, educational (an important aspect for gifts in our family!) and completely different. Also, I felt ashamed at my complete lack of knowledge of the area or history of this significant event in recent Australian history</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">We'd been listening to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Len_Beadell">Len Beadell's</a> <a href="https://shop.abc.net.au/products/blast-the-bush-1"><i>Blast the Bush</i></a> as an audio book over what felt like a few hundred kilometres of corrugated, dusty red roads, sometimes having to turn it off as the rattling made it impossible to hear! I was beginning to get a feel for the challenges Beadell had faced, </span></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22px;">surveying roads to be ready for the expected heavy machinery and hoards of military and other personnel who'd follow to conduct a wide variety of highly secret tests.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENBtQDM-VhPJdmhNdHCEv0nAjB43IWfAsuxRV7dgR3zbl6h0FX_54JJuxo3iYw3ImqPeZMSA-EBAbguJ9-kzv49xFROpjBUwuEVwnY_bh8z7zxyIMtzsTqGF5H8GKfJBqp-zFOjrauY8/s1600/IMG_8177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENBtQDM-VhPJdmhNdHCEv0nAjB43IWfAsuxRV7dgR3zbl6h0FX_54JJuxo3iYw3ImqPeZMSA-EBAbguJ9-kzv49xFROpjBUwuEVwnY_bh8z7zxyIMtzsTqGF5H8GKfJBqp-zFOjrauY8/s320/IMG_8177.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">But what would be here now? The dot on the map stated in confident black print <b>Maralinga</b>, though some maps show <i>"Maralinga Village"</i> and elsewhere<i>, "Maralinga Community".</i> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Words have power. River. Lake. Village. City people and visitors from overseas are regularly perplexed about the use of these words in outback Australia where rivers are often parched, barren depressions in baked rusty-red sand, and lakes are crunchy with glittering white salt. This often leads to discussions about why there aren't more people living in remote areas. "There's no water" we say, and their reply is "But look at all the lakes and rivers on the maps, there must be!"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Confusion reigns. How can you explain desert to someone who lives in a place blessed with generously regular rainfall, and has never known drought? How do you explain that so much of our harsh, beautiful land is unforgiving and deadly to those who don't know how to live there? Water is scarce. Without it we die.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6HopVkQ_FxF8d8SsOtwecEv-P56AKjU34agLcdDDY9gXuJ84cP-GoWuLGqvJpwUYgJsFbom5KCdfZ-UicCQPVAzxM9wnZ86aQokMXXYmoH3yyppowRA3jxMjofHMLdcr00H2Xn1s5EU/s1600/IMG_7889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="line-height: 22px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6HopVkQ_FxF8d8SsOtwecEv-P56AKjU34agLcdDDY9gXuJ84cP-GoWuLGqvJpwUYgJsFbom5KCdfZ-UicCQPVAzxM9wnZ86aQokMXXYmoH3yyppowRA3jxMjofHMLdcr00H2Xn1s5EU/s320/IMG_7889.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Strolling on Lake Gairdner</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">And so it is with the village of Maralinga. It's a village in name only. The word village conjures up something alien to this land, it's a foreign word, and sits uncomfortably here. If you're visualising a cosy holiday-style, quaint village you'll be sadly disappointed. There are no cheerful homes with the warm glow of lights at night, no bustling tourist stores selling a variety of wares of questionable quality and value. No drinks machines with chilled beverages for the dust covered, weary traveller. Just a kind of ghostly silence, the soughing of a stray breeze through dry leaves of she-oak and desert oak, and the constant regular thump, thump, thump, of the intrusive generator bringing power to the caretaker Robin, and his family, as well as the small groups of tourists. (Bring on the solar panels!!)</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">Maralinga village is a sombre place. Starkly beautiful in a desolate, almost, but not quite, abandoned way. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpCON4pu8-SjkTKkiqdaTe_a6rfkor4z2POSeDA81Ax6XTiAAVdy3IxWK-fY-FP7bsbYyqPGgyC4n31C0DJJFxeqLL2KDm9lBomvarrVRcjLqXNCSj_OK1BvYAKBSbBGkDw7jcs-dsms/s1600/IMG_8191.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpCON4pu8-SjkTKkiqdaTe_a6rfkor4z2POSeDA81Ax6XTiAAVdy3IxWK-fY-FP7bsbYyqPGgyC4n31C0DJJFxeqLL2KDm9lBomvarrVRcjLqXNCSj_OK1BvYAKBSbBGkDw7jcs-dsms/s320/IMG_8191.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxjNrMnB5iTff5lvobKlM7psqVqJegOp9IozRjY4SNjSvxY0U5VQvIrhyphenhyphenqGBDDjYLudy0DSVJOo_iZbMuTP4f3WV2iPNhI4oI6gBaVysux5_t0r7-HYbPnUmzu_a46Qr9DxyUSh674kfM/s1600/IMG_8193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxjNrMnB5iTff5lvobKlM7psqVqJegOp9IozRjY4SNjSvxY0U5VQvIrhyphenhyphenqGBDDjYLudy0DSVJOo_iZbMuTP4f3WV2iPNhI4oI6gBaVysux5_t0r7-HYbPnUmzu_a46Qr9DxyUSh674kfM/s320/IMG_8193.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">"Camp anywhere you like" says Robin, "make a fire, and if you run out of wood, we've got lots more." </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXcVR6Nm1ZkyTTud2DTWjbO8i_yF2LZF9mIgu0WWdfR14lL4YU2SRi0ebSGR0YC-Ig1KboXozaOeMLm1y5WfIe6umDWkAQQbFqg1Bpzu1dWsqwcw-6GVBSQE1dr8OWR9Rt-2dQKx-jN0/s1600/IMG_8186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXcVR6Nm1ZkyTTud2DTWjbO8i_yF2LZF9mIgu0WWdfR14lL4YU2SRi0ebSGR0YC-Ig1KboXozaOeMLm1y5WfIe6umDWkAQQbFqg1Bpzu1dWsqwcw-6GVBSQE1dr8OWR9Rt-2dQKx-jN0/s320/IMG_8186.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">And so, between the checkerboard ranks of chipped and cracked concrete slabs, </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7x8XT1wT4zoKpqv7bI_YUjzST8yf_Emv8kMSQgJzf3vIfTSLE4SdJVpltrxduW4qJpaoJ0BzcPCWSAu9WvLSXgaDKJTqtl_r7KDC5V3AksKZCAnMb6mHhdwxPIm9c6wTZq88qltnRaA/s1600/IMG_8194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7x8XT1wT4zoKpqv7bI_YUjzST8yf_Emv8kMSQgJzf3vIfTSLE4SdJVpltrxduW4qJpaoJ0BzcPCWSAu9WvLSXgaDKJTqtl_r7KDC5V3AksKZCAnMb6mHhdwxPIm9c6wTZq88qltnRaA/s320/IMG_8194.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">which were once the termite resistant bases of barracks and laboratories used by thousands of men, we set up camp, walked up to what was once a fountain ... </span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3INYZZ5SPrLECAAFQNGdOAIv3qfzF3cAWiRsE-qqhTEFCPEJy4WMDGEAvBbaYguXAAZtEUoHTQDmhoTN1ZoUGVeDqQkRsJXA-z20CcbB6bxY05v5kxLuDyzxBZXCx3aj386zY83Ijqk/s1600/IMG_8187.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3INYZZ5SPrLECAAFQNGdOAIv3qfzF3cAWiRsE-qqhTEFCPEJy4WMDGEAvBbaYguXAAZtEUoHTQDmhoTN1ZoUGVeDqQkRsJXA-z20CcbB6bxY05v5kxLuDyzxBZXCx3aj386zY83Ijqk/s320/IMG_8187.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;">... near the remains of the swimming pool ...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPKQUSxBUVaQWlVmJW32jhkh022zYK8LviiTRgKIJt5o4C-6178lET_Pjr3stXzhF5G5bjIAder-He3-TXeROjbmO0zx45MZl9eX5b4dztFn4_2pPIErSRWOi7Q0aBeHJOftNuUAbCFg/s1600/IMG_8272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPKQUSxBUVaQWlVmJW32jhkh022zYK8LviiTRgKIJt5o4C-6178lET_Pjr3stXzhF5G5bjIAder-He3-TXeROjbmO0zx45MZl9eX5b4dztFn4_2pPIErSRWOi7Q0aBeHJOftNuUAbCFg/s320/IMG_8272.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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... watched the sun set, and phoned home ....<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoPL43JcsR1Aci0YU-ZgXvvQ4c8gOt12ykJ7WukKx8dR4R7x30TNYqOE1IUWqGKtz7rPCFebekYjzRiCiuvbptRGZUCtiWn6Qx98rlsSYdwJ4xSK1StaVhnWNfRGmmVNwB7GZ7upM5_A/s1600/IMG_8188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvoPL43JcsR1Aci0YU-ZgXvvQ4c8gOt12ykJ7WukKx8dR4R7x30TNYqOE1IUWqGKtz7rPCFebekYjzRiCiuvbptRGZUCtiWn6Qx98rlsSYdwJ4xSK1StaVhnWNfRGmmVNwB7GZ7upM5_A/s320/IMG_8188.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">... by a</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">ccessing the Telstra mobile phone towers which dot the </span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">distant railway line linking the east and west coasts of Australia.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiblWIoY_wQYKBv1m2QFogIfKjldQguVDlaSbYcm20DuTtw7MqX-3ME03n_HVqA3QeY9i-3aozKOdSE4yJzIAldniVwhMTrygIgC6F_g8tuYcqQz50ndzVWuMw6uW4HY3jGRBlNHqGg-W0/s1600/IMG_8288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiblWIoY_wQYKBv1m2QFogIfKjldQguVDlaSbYcm20DuTtw7MqX-3ME03n_HVqA3QeY9i-3aozKOdSE4yJzIAldniVwhMTrygIgC6F_g8tuYcqQz50ndzVWuMw6uW4HY3jGRBlNHqGg-W0/s320/IMG_8288.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>But what of the tour itself?</b> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">Tour guide Robin's breadth and depth of knowledge of the various tests and impacts on the Maralinga</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"> Tjarutja peoples</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">, his generosity in sharing, his passion for educating others, unflagging energy and enthusiasm were extraordinary. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">This is our history. Up close and personal. Dramatic events on Australian soil with far ranging consequences, which should be taught in schools. Relevant. Confronting .... and regularly ignored. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrVOyLBpYxA_-hOiE6tdpH7QTSTShXCQfDTelktgSiVcTsFQje7GprRnB5Dw12SJk6t-JykkmXIUooADiQGfpURsHOrv_EbJIjz1qhXbEJS_7O60ybZ7MZoeZRwIDYgqUKJWnGFIcl0k/s1600/IMG_8215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrVOyLBpYxA_-hOiE6tdpH7QTSTShXCQfDTelktgSiVcTsFQje7GprRnB5Dw12SJk6t-JykkmXIUooADiQGfpURsHOrv_EbJIjz1qhXbEJS_7O60ybZ7MZoeZRwIDYgqUKJWnGFIcl0k/s320/IMG_8215.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">298 burial pits, up to 26 metres deep, are now filled with pulverised buildings, contaminated soil, machinery, planes, Toyota LandCruisers, double decker busses, tanks, bulldozers, labs, almost everything which had been left or discarded has finally been decontaminated, burnt, bull-dozered and buried - over 30 years after the British left, pretending that everything was safe, but knowing full well it wasn't. It took around 6 years and $108million to conduct the clean up which was finished in 2000, (More <a href="https://www.thiess.com/projects/maralinga-rehabilitation-project/detail">here</a>)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuzOocQgGhIl43fLBEq6zjLcov09HtKBwHjl-Z4ng1HRZpZBpD42SuTWtOTtZnUW23qPBUmyyLI260K6sGJj-N77QRMNKIw-BhZ3h1ydj7xhQNDjpTbPCJ1wDZeG_r9aaHEVPCxztyrc/s1600/IMG_8218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUuzOocQgGhIl43fLBEq6zjLcov09HtKBwHjl-Z4ng1HRZpZBpD42SuTWtOTtZnUW23qPBUmyyLI260K6sGJj-N77QRMNKIw-BhZ3h1ydj7xhQNDjpTbPCJ1wDZeG_r9aaHEVPCxztyrc/s320/IMG_8218.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: small;">Lunchtime at the decontamination and maintenance sheds. <br />No one wanted to picnic in the decontaminations shed. </span></td></tr>
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</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">We'd been joined by other visitors, and for some, the sheer scale of ... everything .... was overwhelming. So much destruction. Vast areas of land impacted (the site measures about 3,300 square kilometres)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; line-height: 14.5600004196167px;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">Too many bombs and experiments, exploring the unknown effects of ways to .... not to put too fine a point on it ... kill people or render equipment useless. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When the nuclear <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_nuclear_tests_at_Maralinga">tests</a> were conducted, little was known about the effects of atomic (and other) bombs and weapons - how do you find out unless you do trials and tests? The military and British government wanted answers to their questions, and what is now known to have occurred shows that the decision was that <i>The End Justifies the Means. </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What happens when an atomic bomb blast hits a bus, a plane, specific plants - at this distance? At a different distance? How about at this angle? And this? And what of people? What happens if they roll, unprotected in the radioactive dust? Now wearing different clothing? How can we decontaminate them? Can we? How do we clean up after contaminating the land? Can we? How much can we get away with before the public begins to question? Do we need to share information? How can we convince the people of Australia and the UK that these experiments are vital to our security? Do they need to know? </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">And from the British government, the thoughts seem to have been: "How secretive can we be? Do we need to tell the Australian people (or our own for that matter) what we're doing and how much it's costing?" 6.8 million pounds was spent to build just the airstrip and village - and that was barely the beginning. This was at a time when the British people were enduring severe rationing and using food stamps sparingly. Yet many, many millions of pounds were poured into further construction, the various tests and transporting vast quantities of equipment (including double decker busses, planes, trucks etc etc etc) and people overseas to Australia. Not a cheap exercise by any means.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4IFTddluV2tY-3k64BvO7VVw722YkbbO8XSfE8j4hpoNWjxQAUSWt9uSlJT68hf7CA1Kpip2xABWRu_uql4WUYEXQlAADz0vuR00bQiYh19E7o85UctL_3vomCg9C9-AjiWV3DlPFJ4/s1600/IMG_8263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="line-height: 22px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4IFTddluV2tY-3k64BvO7VVw722YkbbO8XSfE8j4hpoNWjxQAUSWt9uSlJT68hf7CA1Kpip2xABWRu_uql4WUYEXQlAADz0vuR00bQiYh19E7o85UctL_3vomCg9C9-AjiWV3DlPFJ4/s320/IMG_8263.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">Little of this is comforting, or nice, or reassuring. Naively placing trust in our elected political representatives without maintaining constant vigilance and questioning what's happening, wasn't then, and isn't now, wise. </span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">"... Menzies agreed to allow the British to use Australian territory and personnel for the tests without question or even serious discussion with his colleagues: “Cabinet papers show he devoted more time to organising the young Queen Elizabeth’s first visit to Australia than he spent on the atomic tests.” </span><span style="color: #444444;">http://australianmap.net/maralinga/</span></blockquote>
<span style="color: #444444;">The official line was that there were no Aboriginals in the fall out zone of around 800,000 square kilometres, - roughly 5 times the size of the UK. But for men who reported sightings, the penalty of sharing that "embarrassing" information with anyone other than superiors was that they could be shot or jailed for 30 years. (<a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=qQYAAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA38&lpg=PA38&dq=maralinga+thought+to+be+a+graveyard+by+aboriginals&source=bl&ots=uCp8aOEKIK&sig=CdHZmDgaBwlV8CnQVU3SEOPvpU8&hl=en&sa=X&ei=PE2FVaGNGIXPmwWByIMw&ved=0CCUQ6AEwAQ#v=onepage&q=maralinga%20thought%20to%20be%20a%20graveyard%20by%20aboriginals&f=false">here</a>) There was strong incentive to keep quiet! </span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCoYAGoJbcccHNUhIgvGvAYWEQw2p1IVgv0mJOA5_-1v6lwi-PTFhirkVIUCWJ0MH-4iH8slDACUqWG7j6An5kA8AXqE7tRGnzBT0sPhUXPwpjETEHDE5_tnLQYD4rGFrOSrYHP9hMwk/s1600/IMG_8223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCoYAGoJbcccHNUhIgvGvAYWEQw2p1IVgv0mJOA5_-1v6lwi-PTFhirkVIUCWJ0MH-4iH8slDACUqWG7j6An5kA8AXqE7tRGnzBT0sPhUXPwpjETEHDE5_tnLQYD4rGFrOSrYHP9hMwk/s320/IMG_8223.jpg" width="248" /></a></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #444444;">The reality was that</span> t<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">his vast area had been home to the Maralinga Tjarutja people for thousands of years: "A labyrinth of criss-crossing dreamtime tracks connected the Tjarutja to their ancestors, their stories, their living community. The Tjarutja showed no signs of deprivation in an </span></span><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">environment</span></span><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> in which </span></span><span style="line-height: 22px;">Europeans</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> couldn't last longer than a few days without help. Early Europeans who encountered them noted their nomadic qualities, their love of walking great distances through a magical garden of spirits, to meet relatives, to sample new food, to visit their favourite rock holes, to attend corroborees."</span></span></span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf9x07acHFNOZXkwKa25qE0sgRAY6sC7z6q-N3k6EbqhD1a9MXzEW9tO1M_JE0r1ABTNhq-n3x7UQslcEmt5kOnqWwJPBiDuEi4wuTRLIs7q-zeGYP41Qr4xMjIhhtiBzOt4CFvmB6L0/s1600/IMG_8216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvf9x07acHFNOZXkwKa25qE0sgRAY6sC7z6q-N3k6EbqhD1a9MXzEW9tO1M_JE0r1ABTNhq-n3x7UQslcEmt5kOnqWwJPBiDuEi4wuTRLIs7q-zeGYP41Qr4xMjIhhtiBzOt4CFvmB6L0/s320/IMG_8216.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #444444;">"Despite claims to the contrary, Aboriginal people did wander through radiated lands. They camped in fresh craters, to keep warm and to trap rabbits blinded by cobalt pellets. When discovered, they were compulsorily showered, their finger nails scrubbed with soap. The women suffered mscarriages. They were herded in trucks or pushed onto trains, expelled from a sacred site at Ooldea, a day's walk from Maralinga airport." <span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2003/05/11/1052280486255.html</span> </span></blockquote>
<br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">The Maralinga airstrip is still in use, and at 2.4 km long with a 600 metre offshoot at each end, could, if needed, be used to land the Space Shuttle.</span></span><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"> It's routinely used for military training exercises, visiting dignitaries and camels. Mounds of fresh camel poo were evidence of a reasonably large group of them passing through, possibly on their way to reliable water supplies. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzYaAOBdBXVKmPT852_dn33xWB-bdJ7b4MtaDyF1Xcgb61ck9mIFI0Y133zzfjNu5htZjhO_JixLjmVQUd-DdvJoRrXqMVVt7nQhYJ0XzFcP6iEwvBqT2zq7wy503mzByyGtwCohqUbE/s1600/IMG_8207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzYaAOBdBXVKmPT852_dn33xWB-bdJ7b4MtaDyF1Xcgb61ck9mIFI0Y133zzfjNu5htZjhO_JixLjmVQUd-DdvJoRrXqMVVt7nQhYJ0XzFcP6iEwvBqT2zq7wy503mzByyGtwCohqUbE/s320/IMG_8207.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">Dramatic. Mesmerising. Overwhelming. Words soon fail when looking at the vastness of the areas impacted. Soil turned to glass, burial pits, land where there were trees, but now nothing grows, no life, everything blasted into vapour. Warning signs. Danger - don't camp here. Don't make a cooking fire. Death and destruction. Yet, for all of that, I want to go back. See more. Try to understand (though I doubt that will ever be possible) what it is that enables one country to be a doormat and allow its land, people, employees to be nothing more than a disposable commodity, an experiment, to be used and abused without question or apology.</span><br />
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX43tRlY92noZlEf8V2F18E_Gty1o4cb2n_hrI2zFubeS3Nep9mDj_oUPh_3bFjeun3vIvuZ9tR3vLAbayfNXX5JnVz7B-i28Jk5wtLFxfv80Tl0wdT2FF2jDnqmXcbzy27T5BLwJrOhc/s320/IMG_8259.jpg" width="320" /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZuXwJaznzNXQOdi1mxD-2hlQxUgukWLYTM_01GhrRuJW8nFJNKJu4EPWxEbM-Op49149BQJk3CjDVeVGVWIUuTcab7lYKXbtud_Qhbirysj8ZwN1yWorBLip6wU9uHy0un32Mx8fEVJ4/s1600/IMG_8257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZuXwJaznzNXQOdi1mxD-2hlQxUgukWLYTM_01GhrRuJW8nFJNKJu4EPWxEbM-Op49149BQJk3CjDVeVGVWIUuTcab7lYKXbtud_Qhbirysj8ZwN1yWorBLip6wU9uHy0un32Mx8fEVJ4/s320/IMG_8257.jpg" width="240" /></a></span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">What, if anything, have we learnt about integrity and honest, ethical behaviour, from this ongoing chapter in Australian history?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">We only need to read the final sentence from <a href="http://www.aic.gov.au/publications/previous%20series/lcj/1-20/wayward/ch16.html">this</a> report in the Australian Institute of Criminology to know the answer: <i>"One wonders if the interests of a 'handful of natives' might on some future occasion again be deemed subordinate to those of the dominant culture."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Thinking about the closures of Aboriginal Communities currently happening around Australia, about the vilification of whistle blowers, denigration of scientists concerned about our changing climate, the scornful belittling of those who work to protect our environment, the cruel treatment of lawful asylum seekers, it's obvious that our dominant political groups and culture still have a lot of room for positive, wholesome growth, not just in regard to the Traditional Owners of this country, but relating to many other groups as well. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">...................</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><b><i>Further reading:</i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">http://www.naa.gov.au/collection/fact-sheets/fs129.aspx</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">There's a lot more about the deliberately hidden and devastating costs of the programme here: </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2003/05/11/1052280486255.html</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22px;">http://www.theaustralian.com.au/arts/review/maralinga-nuclear-tests-frank-walker-shows-no-end-to-the-fallout/story-fn9n8gph-1227038874978</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">http://www.naa.gov.au/collection/fact-sheets/fs129.aspx</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;">
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<span style="color: #444444;">Too high a price to
pay video with footage from the tests and cleanup</span>: <span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://splash.abc.net.au/home#!/media/105376/nuclear-tests-at-maralinga"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-AU;">http://splash.abc.net.au/home#!/media/105376/nuclear-tests-at-maralinga</span></a></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 24px;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;">http://www.beadell.com.au/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 24px;">http://lib.oup.com.au/secondary/english/Oxford_English/1/01_MPS_EL1_Maralinga.pdf</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 24px;">http://antinuclear.net/2014/12/10/australian-aboriginal-atomic-test-survivor-speaks-at-vienna-conference/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 24px;">http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/history/maralinga-how-british-nuclear-tests-changed-history-forever#axzz3dbIcstTg</span>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://books.google.com.au/books?id=qQYAAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA38&lpg=PA38&dq=maralinga+thought+to+be+a+graveyard+by+aboriginals&source=bl&ots=uCp8aOEKIK&sig=CdHZmDgaBwlV8CnQVU3SEOPvpU8&hl=en&sa=X&ei=PE2FVaGNGIXPmwWByIMw&ved=0CCUQ6AEwAQ#v=onepage&q=maralinga%20thought%20to%20be%20a%20graveyard%20by%20aboriginals&f=false">This link</a> should take you to the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists and an article about the extreme secrecy, the coverups, Australia's pathetically lax attitude to vast quantities of dangerous tests, and the appalling treatment of the traditional owners of the land. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;">excerpt: </span><br />
<h1 style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 19.3168811798096px; margin: 0px 0px 1em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444;">British nuclear tests at Maralinga – Fact sheet 129</span></h1>
<div class="captionedImage" style="background-color: white; border: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); float: right; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.7072010040283px; margin: 0px 0px 1em 0.75em; max-width: 250px; min-width: 150px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0.5em 0.5em 0.25em; z-index: 99760;">
<span style="color: #444444;"><img alt="" src="http://www.naa.gov.au/Images/7818706_250px_tcm16-50719.jpg" style="border: 0px; max-width: 250px; min-width: 150px;" /></span><br />
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</div>
<span style="color: #444444;">Maralinga, prohibited area sign on the Emu/Nawa Road (A6457, P042)</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0080003738403px; line-height: 16.910400390625px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444;">Between 1952 and 1963 the British Government, with the agreement and support of the Australian Government, carried out nuclear tests at three sites in Australia – the Monte Bello Islands off the Western Australian coast, and at Emu Field and Maralinga in South Australia. An official history of the tests (JL Symonds, <em>A History of British Atomic Tests in Australia</em>, AGPS, Canberra) was published by the Department of Resources and Energy in 1985.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0080003738403px; line-height: 16.910400390625px; margin-bottom: 1em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #444444;">Maralinga was developed as the permanent proving ground site, following a request of the British in 1954, and, after its completion in 1956, was the location of all trials conducted in Australia. It was developed as a joint facility with a shared funding arrangement. Following the two major trials (<em>Operation Buffalo</em> in 1956 and <em>Operation Antler</em> in 1957) there were a number of minor trials, assessment tests and experimental programs (dating from 1959) held at the range until 1963. Maralinga was officially closed following a clean-up operation (<em>Operation Brumby</em>) in 1967.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Open Sans', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-74351559883235396142015-06-03T20:03:00.000+10:002015-06-03T20:03:38.189+10:00EmusI'll see if I can quietly sneak over here without anyone noticing, check out what's on the table and snaffle that sandwich. Tippy toe, tippy toe ... shhhhh.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVxkZLGBHr9RpRSTwUe7xlUoiwavXSCbCg2DwCY14WmJTxb2YxD9EC1hXH36EIcInXaBA-dCWMOa7el0g73ma3qtE29J2YPfzzUhbYWWH9T2kLIQhStW6LZT-uSPfFnXdKqMpX4LE7nU/s1600/IMG_7799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVxkZLGBHr9RpRSTwUe7xlUoiwavXSCbCg2DwCY14WmJTxb2YxD9EC1hXH36EIcInXaBA-dCWMOa7el0g73ma3qtE29J2YPfzzUhbYWWH9T2kLIQhStW6LZT-uSPfFnXdKqMpX4LE7nU/s320/IMG_7799.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Oops, they've noticed me, I'll pretend I'm just strolling past, scuffing my feet in the dirt. Nope I wasn't looking at your food. No, not me. True dinks. Cross my heart and hope to die. Must have been someone else.<br />
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Look! Behind you! There! That's the emu you're looking for!<br />
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Hrmph, they didn't fall for it.<br />
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Oh I give up pretending. I'll stretch myself to my full height and stare them down. Intimidation and threats always work!<br />
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What's this? Foiled?<br />
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Did they read the signs saying not to feed me?? Damn.<br />
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If at first you don't succeed .....<br />
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... Emu entertainment on site 34, Mambray Creek, Mount Remarkable National Park.<br />
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.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-380976179801459732015-06-02T20:42:00.002+10:002015-06-02T20:50:18.544+10:00Big Bugs!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqyWa2ijLYG6Qibd_FLXYpUZTpuXQarcqymiOGkhWUu0t6Eb1XU8ncl_DShKsahalnOpfg4uIoyBRxqdkp2QVNP4hEUxxqvdaq6fWj9GKWJQCkQE0fikzQJ962aRT1qZHkObxwahkgE4/s1600/IMG_8065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqyWa2ijLYG6Qibd_FLXYpUZTpuXQarcqymiOGkhWUu0t6Eb1XU8ncl_DShKsahalnOpfg4uIoyBRxqdkp2QVNP4hEUxxqvdaq6fWj9GKWJQCkQE0fikzQJ962aRT1qZHkObxwahkgE4/s320/IMG_8065.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Near the Eyre Peninsula are some wonderful sand dunes and I came across these strange "fossilised" shapes in the sand. Turning them over gave no indication of what they were, or why there were there. Was it something to do with lightning strikes fusing the sand in the extreme heat? They weren't fossilised wood, as they were too uniform and tree roots and branches are anything but uniform! In my mind they look like Dead Man's Fingers, gnarled and arthritic.<br />
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I posted a picture on FB and G+ and had some interesting suggestions, but nothing seemed to fit with the location, shape and sheer number of them. They only seemed to come in two shapes, finger-like ones, some hollow, some solid; and egg shaped ones, some incredibly fragile, others thicker and filled with sand. When tapped gently together, they make a flat, glass-like sound.<br />
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They're clearly different to the formations below, which look like sand, blown into random formations by salt laden winds. These are strange, surreal shapes, some like skinny mushrooms on top of spindly trunks, others curled and twisted into tortured shapes.<br />
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And different again to tree roots or branches. These are long, misshapen, hollow and generally near the tree line or vegetation. There's lots of variability in both length and shape.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Bt_jWvMZ0bsYhcyHcyoi4PJAX5MhyphenhyphendcBZmY0g8x3RtMfA3FK3SxHZrkI-XXQZqMMAMMQM8HCM6kSfNF9bDAtLCU-VjMviyBLWUIPTTD5hwrnJjV2zARVTpqqZA0eY0bI05nmUZ5-Vxg/s1600/IMG_8140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Bt_jWvMZ0bsYhcyHcyoi4PJAX5MhyphenhyphendcBZmY0g8x3RtMfA3FK3SxHZrkI-XXQZqMMAMMQM8HCM6kSfNF9bDAtLCU-VjMviyBLWUIPTTD5hwrnJjV2zARVTpqqZA0eY0bI05nmUZ5-Vxg/s320/IMG_8140.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZYi2vbhhYnA7Yojzw9_c1T3E0yTkok1Pqs51txHIJZ2VvonPHc3MPcd_L8E8ENJiUtDo1jggo6P-G3668BMAQpJMFE1ABEdRreeJECQPHicFcUCBHFu_n530tMlKE9WbdJw-Gyq1A8k/s1600/IMG_8155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZYi2vbhhYnA7Yojzw9_c1T3E0yTkok1Pqs51txHIJZ2VvonPHc3MPcd_L8E8ENJiUtDo1jggo6P-G3668BMAQpJMFE1ABEdRreeJECQPHicFcUCBHFu_n530tMlKE9WbdJw-Gyq1A8k/s320/IMG_8155.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
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My mystery objects were spread over a wide area, and didn't appear to be specifically related to the vegetation at all. They seemed to be mostly in large (really large!) bowl like depressions and I wondered (not knowing anything about these things at all) if it could have something to do with salt laden winds somehow blowing the sand up the incline and it rolling back making the shapes. Unlikely and weird, but nature can be like that sometimes!<br />
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Frustrated by conflicting suggestions, I wondered if the Museum of Victoria might have someone there who could confidently solve the puzzle. One email, and a couple of hours later I had this response from Simon at the Discovery Centre:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">We think these are the remains of cocoons of a native weevil, <i>Leptopius duponti</i>. These calcified cocoons are not always regarded as ‘fossils’ in the strictest sense, but nonetheless may be quite old depending on their original locality – for example they are quite common in the sand dunes of the West Coast of Eyre Peninsula in South Australia. Some examples of these calcified cocoons have proved to be made of sand or gravel cemented together, and sometimes of limestone. The distinction of whether they are fossils or not depends on the chemistry of the material that holds the cocoons together.</span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">In 1925 it was reported by A. M. Lea in the Records of the South Australian Museum (3; 35-6) that these sands contained the calcified pupal cases of insects, more specifically weevils of the genus Leptopius (see attached for this article and illustrations). As this type of weevil is still alive today, commonly called “Wattle Pig”, we now know the adult female Leptopius sp. feeds on the foliage of acacia trees and lays her eggs on the leaves. When the larvae hatch, they are thought to burrow underground to feed on roots, and when ready to pupate they make a chamber in the soil instead of a true cocoon which is cemented by a secretion from the larvae (rather than a webbing, in the case of other taxa). The emergent adult then climbs the trees to feed, and the empty cases are left to weather underground and can become mineralised. Some of these cocoons from the Eyre Peninsula are estimated to be up to 40,000 years old.</span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
Hooray for Simon at the Discovery Centre!!<br />
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And as someone commented, that's one large weevil, and from the point of view of the acacia trees, it could well be an evil weevil!<br />
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Now to find out what these are! About 10cm long, found at Mt Remarkable.<br />
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And then there's this critter lurking in the toilets at Mt Remarkable, he looks particularly unfriendly ... I hate the thought of finding him under the toilet seat! That's a standard house brick (3"or 75mm) he's sauntering over and looked like something I'd expect to see in the tropics.<br />
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And last, but by no means least, a moth the size of a small bird at Mt Ive. It was quivering and difficult to photograph with a phone, but you can get a sense of the size (again on a standard house brick). He and the centipede are about the same length, but the wings on the moth were massive!<br />
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Isn't nature awesome!<br />
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.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2Eyre Peninsula, South Australia-34.3333333 135.75-59.855367799999996 94.441406 -8.8112988 177.058594tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-79548175483623124632015-04-05T12:29:00.000+10:002015-04-06T16:06:34.906+10:00Apples galore = time to bake an apple cake!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The apple tree is laden, and I'm stewing, dehydrating, and giving them away. I'm also cooking them into all sorts of yummy things.<br />
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Yesterday's effort was this lovely moist German (or Dutch?) apple cake, source unknown.<br />
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<ul>
<li>500 gm apples (I used Granny Smith) Peel, core, slice thinly. (You can sprinkle lemon juice on stop them browning)</li>
<li>Mixed spice - a generous pinch and a bit more because it tastes good</li>
<li>225 gm butter</li>
<li>195 gm caster sugar</li>
<li>6 eggs (you could possibly use 4 if that's all you have, and use milk or yogurt to make up the extra liquid - I'll try this next time and see how it goes)</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla essence</li>
<li>195 gm plain flour</li>
<li>... mixed with 2 flat teaspoons baking powder</li>
<li>Salt - a pinch</li>
<li>Cinnamon - 1/2 teaspoon or more generous if you like</li>
<li>75 gm ground almonds (I think walnuts would go well - or macadamias!)</li>
<li>an extra Tablespoon of caster sugar to sprinkle on top</li>
</ul>
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Oven @ 160 Celsius<br />
23cm circular cake tin (spring form works well, lined with baking paper)<br />
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Mix all the dry ingredients in a bowl<br />
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<ul>
<li>Cream the softened butter and sugar</li>
<li>add vanilla</li>
<li>add eggs one at a time - beat well after each egg. </li>
<li>After the 3rd egg, add 1/2 the dry ingredients</li>
<li>after the 6th egg add the remainder of the dry ingredients.</li>
</ul>
<br />
Taste test if you're that way inclined and don't have problems eating raw egg!<br />
<br />
Ladle 1/2 the batter into the lined tin, layer on 1/2 the apples.<br />
Put the rest of the batter on top of the apple layer and cover with the remaining apple.<br />
<br />
Lightly dust with cinnamon.<br />
<br />
Put in the centre of the preheated oven for 1 hour, turn 1/2 way through if your oven cooks unevenly. At about one hour, sprinkle with the 1 Tablespoon caster sugar and cook for a further 15 or so minutes. I got distracted and it was at least another 1/2 hour. Thankfully I didn't have a charred disaster!<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Edit:</b><br />
<br />
I've now tried the recipe with extra apple, 1 generous teaspoon cinnamon and 1 teaspoon nutmeg. It was delicious! I also want to try it with some finely chopped preserved ginger and cardamom instead of the nutmeg.<br />
<br />
Terry McNeil (G+ profile <a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/+TerryMcNeil/posts">here</a>) suggested the following: try adding some citrus zest, either lemon or orange. You could replace a little of the liquid with a tablespoon or so of a liqueur like Calvados. Drizzle some caramel over the cake. If you're feeling adventuresome,, the tiniest bit of freshly minced rosemary is a nice addition or some dried fruit.<br />
<br />
Thank you Terry! So many variations to try!<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-62056112771075023042015-03-25T17:08:00.000+11:002015-03-25T17:09:35.522+11:00A simple cheesy treat!Here's an excellent cheese recipe, good at any time, and a real treat when camping!<br />
<br />
Whether it becomes Paneer or Ricotta or you invent your own name, you'll be making cheese! It's easy, quick and mostly successful ;-)<br />
<br />
Two litres of full cream milk makes about 250 grams of soft, cheesy goodness. You can use less or more milk depending on your needs.<br />
<br />
Heat the milk in a saucepan. Stir with a slotted spoon to prevent a skin forming and to distribute the heat. Keep an eye on it! You can be guaranteed that as soon as you wander off or get distracted it'll boil over or burn.<br />
<br />
When the milk just begins to get a little surface jiggle and appear to come alive keep stirring (not too vigorously) and add 1 - 2 tablespoons of lemon juice. If you only have lime juice, add that, or white vinegar.<br />
<br />
Within seconds, all being well, the milk should begin to separate. At that stage, gently pull the curds to one side of the saucepan. This encourages them nestle together and helps the rest of the liquid to separate.<br />
<br />
Occasionally my lemon juice hasn't resulted in separation of the milk into curds and whey (perhaps they weren't acid enough??) so I've added vinegar as well. It worked!<br />
<br />
Now, gently pour everything into a muslin or chux lined sieve which you've placed over a bowl to catch the whey. You can add salt, chili, herbs or your favourite curry powder to taste, depending on how you'll be using the cheese.<br />
<br />
Let it drip for about 10 minutes, then you can put it in a container to shape it into a round, square, or leave it crumbly.<br />
<br />
The soft cheese is great crumbled in spicy Indian dishes, sliced and grilled for sandwiches, or used plain with fruit then drizzled with honey and cinnamon.<br />
<br />
The best part, apart from the satisfaction of saying you made your own cheese? It's about 1/2 the price of buying it from my local supermarket, and takes less than an hour to make!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JJ950bCGA6eXrOEHZWIt5QG4u7ajRHOw1hyWP2UppM0_tVl1tFgYea9dGP_EuJNsGd3CEpHlFg3ydkD6ha8qZyUwDfP-RYi6BQV_6rc2nSaDDfnx6EjCyCMatWq-YnZCXv9pDaZ7AWA/s1600/IMG_7491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0JJ950bCGA6eXrOEHZWIt5QG4u7ajRHOw1hyWP2UppM0_tVl1tFgYea9dGP_EuJNsGd3CEpHlFg3ydkD6ha8qZyUwDfP-RYi6BQV_6rc2nSaDDfnx6EjCyCMatWq-YnZCXv9pDaZ7AWA/s1600/IMG_7491.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Top left: the milk is just beginning to jiggle.<br />Top right: we have separation!<br />Bottom: the curds before being pressed to shape. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As for the whey, don't throw it away! It's great as the liquid in bread (here's a good, <a href="http://jumpingaground.blogspot.com.au/2015/01/bread-staff-of-life-its-easy-and-fun-to.html">simple bread recipe</a>), can be frozen for later use for sauces or failing all that, can be used in the compost.<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-79448027016114413842015-03-18T14:33:00.001+11:002015-03-18T19:23:28.826+11:00Apples galore! And how not to prune an apple tree.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040;"><span style="line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">Real gardeners probably shouldn't read the following. It could be distressing</span><span style="line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #404040;"><span style="line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The hubster knows even less about this thing called gardening than I do, and while he often shows little interest in the mundane, repetitive aspects of day to day plant care, on the odd occasion he is ... let's use the word </span><i style="color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">energetic</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">Last winter he took the chainsaw to the apple tree. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The apple tree needed pruning. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">He was fast.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">He was decisive. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">He was enthusiastic. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">He didn't have a clue what he was doing. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">But he had fun! He was a Happy Husband!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">There were lots of rather substantial limbs strewn around the garden, reminiscent of trees after a cyclone. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #404040;"><span style="line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The apple tree looked very wonky. Misshapen. Forlorn.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">It's possible the husband was proud of his workmanship. I didn't ask.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The wifely member of the partnership was not happy. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The horticultural neighbours were aghast. They prune with understanding, knowledge and many, many years of experience. We could have asked their advice they said, with sad, sad faces and tearful eyes.</span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgMyWuam1_7AZg30kBvkJt0Yimt48pPGmhfLAwOkqh8R_CmmJNSeAM6UR9VKaH5yd4CJEdHM5uosoGUCD1kLaIhG21lB3FI4l0YHMqTfjtgJkuzWwCprpkR3nFij16TmaBjLab5oE6iw/s1600/apple+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlgMyWuam1_7AZg30kBvkJt0Yimt48pPGmhfLAwOkqh8R_CmmJNSeAM6UR9VKaH5yd4CJEdHM5uosoGUCD1kLaIhG21lB3FI4l0YHMqTfjtgJkuzWwCprpkR3nFij16TmaBjLab5oE6iw/s1600/apple+tree.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The tree survived. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The tree thrived. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The tree did not get bugs or rot </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">in the torn ends of the limbs.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">We constructed a net to keep the rainbow lorikeets off the fruit. The fruit grew and grew and grew. There is lots of fruit. It's large. It's prolific.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">The codlin moth seems to have been frightened away.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">We're eating apples. Lots of apples. Apple crumble. Apple sauce. Stewed apple. Apple pie. We're freezing containers of stewed apple for later in the year. We've spent hours peeling and slicing apple to be dehydrated. The neighbours are receiving gifts of bags of apples. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">One year I tried to make apple cider, but I botched it up and ended up with very tasty apple cider vinegar. Maybe I'll try making cider again!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">I'm sure there's a lesson in here somewhere, I'm just not sure what it is.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3I1VXLctJ3zlnCzC9F1zsHyYp3AxJldtvQLbz5BLWffC-wZM94BQnsvqzVwR4my1Hzr92vVMQefPQeuIhYuD_JjrZmqy4p0EdeIxzr5_806hcwPU-eE5_-bPg1RYJnVFfysklnWPUQu8/s1600/apples.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3I1VXLctJ3zlnCzC9F1zsHyYp3AxJldtvQLbz5BLWffC-wZM94BQnsvqzVwR4my1Hzr92vVMQefPQeuIhYuD_JjrZmqy4p0EdeIxzr5_806hcwPU-eE5_-bPg1RYJnVFfysklnWPUQu8/s1600/apples.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2svNasSSA29OlGrVRvj7qBgLtUCHETtZp8mU9CgEv8jg92VaaNuTqTB7kVk2JzjBnmPCTbRiFdPEPVj03s_LhHV4Fk36Xe-OkIWRkNsfuyV-mEXnVHlEBoRKZoeLjV90rmf_rdGm2Ys/s1600/P6081238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2svNasSSA29OlGrVRvj7qBgLtUCHETtZp8mU9CgEv8jg92VaaNuTqTB7kVk2JzjBnmPCTbRiFdPEPVj03s_LhHV4Fk36Xe-OkIWRkNsfuyV-mEXnVHlEBoRKZoeLjV90rmf_rdGm2Ys/s1600/P6081238.JPG" height="168" width="200" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">PS. A friend suggested what the lesson was! Prune all deciduous trees hard every year. Though perhaps with a little more planning, and a little less chainsaw enthusiasm ;-)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.5454540252686px;">.</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-21213878313444102042015-01-18T17:19:00.000+11:002015-03-23T13:21:17.075+11:00Bread. The staff of life - it's easy and fun to make!I injured my elbow a while back which meant that kneading dough for bread wasn't possible. I enjoy the process of mindful kneading, watching the dough change, grow, and at times expand so much it overflows from the bowl, in a luxury of sticky bubbles and glorious yeasty aroma. But that wasn't to be with a tightly bandaged and extremely painful elbow. What to do?<br />
<br />
I'd seen <a href="http://altonbrown.com/">Alton Brown</a> on TV and watched him prepare a no-knead bread and cook it in his dutch oven. Perhaps that was worth trying as a temporary stop gap measure till my elbow healed?<br />
<br />
No-knead breads were something we tried in the 70's. Back then we joked ... No knead. No work. Not because they weren't much effort, but because the results were ... unimpressive to say the least.<br />
<br />
Perhaps back in the 70's we tried to rush the process, because this time, more or less following what I could only call a slap dash method, the results were outstanding! Not only are my loaves significantly cheaper than what's available at the supermarket or local bread stores, they're far tastier, and allow for a wider range of ingredients, and best of all there are no unknown additives!<br />
<br />
<b>Ingredients</b><br />
<ul>
<li>4 cups flour ... I usually use 2 bread flour 2 wholemeal. But you can also substitute rye, spelt, soy for some of the wholemeal. I've also used Atta flour which was fine. Note - all wholemeal can be somewhat heavy and adding soy flour seems to help it rise.</li>
<li>2 teaspoons yeast</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
<li>1 Tablespoon oil (I've successfully used butter, olive, coconut, macadamia and avocado oils)</li>
<li>1 teaspoon or so of sweetener to nourish the yeast. (I've used white, brown, dark cane sugars and assorted honeys - all were successful). I'll try molasses soon.</li>
<li>Grains: Sunflower seeds, Pepitas (pumpkin seeds), linseed, raw buckwheat and I'm sure there are many more interesting grains available in different areas. The selection here isn't exciting. I might add 1/4 cup of each, depending on how I feel and what's left in the pack.</li>
<li>Liquid: If I have leftover whey after making soft cheese, (here's the <a href="http://jumpingaground.blogspot.com.au/2015/03/a-simple-cheesy-treat.html">soft cheese recipe</a>!) I use that, it gives a slightly different flavour depending if I've used lemon juice or vinegar for coagulation, otherwise I use water. Depending on the amount of wholemeal and whether I'm distracted it can vary between 2 and 4 cups. I heat it to be snugly warm to an arthritic knuckle.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>Method</b><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Combine all dry ingredients and mix to distribute the seeds, yeast etc evenly.</li>
<li>Make a depression in the middle. This stops the flour puffing up when you slosh in the liquid.</li>
<li>Add the warmed liquid. </li>
<li>Stir till it looks like a muffin mix and is just combined. It shouldn't take any effort at all. 1-2 mins max.</li>
<li>Spray a small amount of oil on top and around the sides of the bowl. </li>
<li>Now cover and let it rise (Not in the hot sun! We have temps up to 45C here and the dough dries out and lumps up in an awkward way) I put a large soup bowl on top and leave it on the table then tend to forget it till a few hours later when it begins to smell deliciously yeasty. I've also left it in the frig overnight and let it rise the next day which worked well.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>Now the messy (fun) part</b><br />
Scoop the dough onto a floured area. I use a baking tray generously sprinkled with flour just to keep everything together. It's quite sloppy and very sticky, so the challenge is to scoop and flop the dough onto itself a couple of times - not too much! I do it about 8 or so times, but when it's extra gooey a few more times with extra flour so I can get it into the pan without too much sticking to the tray. If you're using a dutch oven, juggle the dough into a large well oiled bowl to rise again while the dutch oven heats.<br />
<br />
Turn the oven on to 220C (that's according to the flour pack, but I've also cooked the bread at 200C which worked fine).<br />
<br />
If using a dutch oven, grease it and put it in the oven to heat (if you're camping and have an open fire, put it in the coals).<br />
<br />
Then after 20 mins CAREFULLY (burns hurt!) put the dough in the dutch oven with a splash of olive oil and sea salt on top and cook with the lid on for 20 mins. Take the lid off and cook for about another 20 mins. (Half way through I turn it 180 because my oven cooks unevenly). Then check for doneness - it should look golden brown and sound hollow when you tap it with your knuckles.<br />
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Yesterday we wanted square bread to make jaffles - I only had one standard loaf tin and two petite loaf tins. I cut the dough into halves and one half into halves again then kneaded (not in the traditional way, more a lethargic fold and flop) - till they were neat and the right shape to fit into the pans. I left them to rise about 15 mins then put them in the oven. The small loaves took about 15 mins, at 200C the larger loaf tin about 20 - 25.<br />
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Today I used 2 cups bread flour and 2 rye, added a mix of seeds, some cardamom, some finely grated orange rind and a sprinkle of caraway seeds.<br />
Oh. My. Goodness. That's a winning recipe!!! The dash of orange rind is amazing!<br />
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As an aside I'd always accepted that it was vital to follow the recipe on the back of the flour pack precisely if you wanted perfect bread of the knead variety. It was an eye opener to follow a discussion on Instagram where a friend went to a bread making class and used far more liquid than I'd ever dreamed of - it seemed to be far too wet, but it worked. He posted pictures of the process, and there was a discussion about the % of liquid and what happened when that % was varied. I figured if he could get great results there was nothing to prevent me being a bit more relaxed about quantities and working on the trial and error basis. It's been fascinating to see the different textures that come from adding more liquid.<br />
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Would I go back to the traditional way of making bread by kneading, knocking back and kneading again? Possibly not - this way of making bread works wonderfully, it's quick (apart from the rising time) and there's little chance of aggravating my elbow.<br />
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Why do we outsource so much cooking when it's so easy to do our own? I feel we've brought into the con that food preparation is too hard - it's the domain of a professional, and in doing so, we've lost the skills and sense of achievement of making a meal from scratch .... and to be honest, I really appreciate the positive comments, the outlet for creativity and experimentation ... and the wonderful aromas!<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-22504798140376551172014-04-27T16:05:00.001+10:002014-04-27T16:05:31.151+10:00On iconic Australian wildlife ...... and what to do if you come across an injured animal.<br />
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It's a horrible feeling to run over one of Australia's higher profile, and much loved animals, and it occurred to me in only a mildly tongue in cheek way that knowing what to do really should be included in any immigration qualification test.<br />
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Christmas Eve last year, we were pootling along a quiet country road, eucalypts arching overhead, birds twittering quietly in the summer heat, listening to Christmas carols and singing along in a toneless way when a man stepped out into the road and flagged us down. A rapid discussion ensued - should we stop? Could he be a crazy fellow with an axe hidden behind his lycra covered body? Why oh why did he look panic struck and dishevelled?<br />
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Figuring that three of us should surely be able to overpower one lone person if he did turn out to be problematic, we stopped and wound down the window a smidgeon. He stumbled toward the car with crazed eyes, gesticulating wildly and gabbling about a koala. Realizing that his intent wasn't malicious, we paid closer attention and made out that he'd just cycled past an injured koala and needed help to get it off the road.<br />
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Driving on a bit further, there was indeed a koala in bad shape. It was staggering around at the side of the road and appeared to be injured and disoriented. Doing my best 'action woman' impersonation I commandeered the cheap *billabong blanket and remembering to look both ways before I crossed the road, strode over while unfolding the blanket.<br />
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Getting closer it was obvious that the animal had been hit by a car or truck, its eyes were bleeding and it was dragging one leg. Steve Irwin would at this stage have been proud of his legacy. I remembered watching him leap on assorted animals, and knew that the fight put up by the koala when I tackled him could well be far, far more than I anticipated. I also know they have very sharp, long claws, and no matter how cute they look on tv, they are more like a ball of aggro muscle, intent on discouraging any threats.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the length of the claws!<br />This koala looks docile, <br />but it can go from sleeping to slashing in milliseconds.</td></tr>
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Holding the blanket in front of me a bit like a matador, I knew I'd only have one chance to throw the blanket over him, but given that it was a cheap, lightweight one, that I'd not only have to get it over him, but hold it in place, cover his eyes and somehow tuck his legs in away from me so I didn't get slashed.<br />
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I was prepared for the angry, frightened LOUD growling of an animal in dreadful pain, and I knew I'd only have one shot at this before he either headed bush or into the road (horrible thought that I might be up close when another car hit him), so I kind of just looked at him, worked out the trajectory of leap needed and went for it.<br />
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Me! I still can't believe I did it. I have no idea why I took over, why I didn't shove the blanket in someone else's hands. Strangely some part of my brain took over and did the directing. And this isn't like me, I'm a wimp. I hate seeing injuries where there's blood and I've been known to freeze in an emergency. <br />
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Anyhow, there I was, lying on top of the violently squirming, extremely strong koala, being savagely growled at, now wondering what the hell I was going to do next.<br />
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It was all well and good to have his limbs tucked in (no claws in sight) face covered (it's what they do on tv, and is presumably an attempt to calm the terrified creature) but he's got 4 legs, each ending in 4billion long, sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth, and I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to lift him into the esky that my hubby and daughter have brought over. If I let go of any bits, I'm likely to get severely slashed, gouged or torn to bits. (Reminiscent of classic drop bear injuries.) Not good.<br />
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Meanwhile, my daughter had called the local wildlife help service (there were numbers on signs along the road) and had been given details of the closest vet that we could take the injured koala to, to receive treatment. This is a <b>free service</b> provided by vets! Hooray for vets!! </div>
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A trucky had stopped and supplied a pair of leather gloves, and the extremely concerned lycra clad cyclist was hovering overhead clucking encouragingly.<br />
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Hubby and daughter manoeuvred the esky as close as possible and two of us lifted the distressed animal into it. I exchanged phone numbers with the cyclist as he wanted to know the outcome and hoped beyond hope that the koala could be rehabilitated.<br />
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The drive to the vets was distressing for all of us. I was glimpsing in the rear vision mirror and every so often could see an arm extending up from under the lid much like a vampire rising from a coffin. It was horrible and needless to say, he kept growling.<br />
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The vet was wonderful, but the outcome wasn't. It turned out that the koala had been hit by a car or truck some time previously, and that large cut was filled with maggots, he'd then been hit again which had damaged his head and eyes. The vet was very compassionate when he told us he'd put the creature down. The worst part was phoning the cyclist to share the news with him, he was clearly very upset and couldn't understand why no one else had stopped to help, as a number of cars had driven past him ignoring his pleas for help.<br />
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(Even though the service was free, we did make a donation to help cover expenses.)<br />
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If you do happen to hit an animal and kill it, it's best to drag it well off the side of the road. In many areas Wedge tailed eagles and other birds and animals will feed off the carcass and far too many of them are also killed because they are unable to move to safety quickly enough.<br />
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A wedge tailed eagle with its wingspan of over 2 metres (about 7ft 5in) and length of around a metre (3ft 6in) is slow moving on the ground and needs time and space to take off. Seeing a pair of these magnificent birds splattered on the roadside is horrible.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Hunters should also ensure that any feral animals they kill are well off the side of the road.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild pigs left to bloat and rot by hunters. </td></tr>
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Wallabies, kangaroos and emus are scatty to say the least. They'll appear to be heading in one direction, then completely without warning will leap in the opposite direction, often directly into the path of the car. Beware when you see them! They're completely unpredictable and passengers, in particular children, can be extremely distressed when one is hit and run over.<br />
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<b>A comprehensive list of wildlife care groups is at: </b><br />
<b><a href="http://www.fnpw.org.au/resources/wildlife-carer-arescue-groups-australia">http://www.fnpw.org.au/resources/wildlife-carer-arescue-groups-australia</a></b><br />
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These groups will also give instructions on how to manage if an animal is injured, and you are unable to get it to a vet.<br />
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*A billabong rug is a woollen picnic blanket with waterproof backing. The one we had in the car was a cheap imitation which was good as it needed to be discarded after use.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 14.5600004196167px;">.</span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-38755274474111572002013-12-09T17:49:00.000+11:002013-12-09T17:49:53.688+11:00The Zeppelin Museum and the truth about swivel chairs revealed! The truth just occurred to me.<br />
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The truth about swivel chairs.<br />
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You know all those severe, haughty looking business men in their intimidating black swivel chairs, steepling their fingers. The ones who can barely deign to look down upon mere mortals who weren't born into a position of entitlement and privilege. You know the ones, the media barons, the mining magnates, the arms manufacturers ...<br />
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The truth is that when there's no one in the room they act up just like the rest of us when we think no one's watching! Unlike the teacher mentioned below, they just haven't been caught ... yet!<br />
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Their black leather covered, official looking, high backed, swivel chairs are really the corporate excuse for a trip down fantasy lane and into the realms of childhood!! But they probably won't admit it ;-)<br />
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... and maybe, just maybe if they could allow themselves to make a habit of enjoying the fun and fantasy and Mindfulness, (read on!) the world would be a happier, healthier place.<br />
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While on the subject of fantasy, aren't these playgrounds superb!<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (yes, I can see they're not covered in umpteen centimetres of soft material for the children to fall on, perhaps German children don't whinge if they fall and their parents expect them to hang on tight.)</span> They're in Friedrichshafen Germany, the city which is home to the arty, interesting, wonder inducing Zeppelin Museum.<br />
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A kiddy sized zeppelin complete with lookout, steampunkish wheeled swan/boat, and slide; and while I was tempted to shoo the kids away and have a play, I put on my grown up face and took photos instead, secretly imagining I was in the lookout, flying over the town.<br />
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Speaking of flying, sometimes you can be really lucky. I could hear a low droning, humming sound coming from over the lake, and overhead, pushing through the clouds was ...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTl4AI7li-VZdTWHO8F8_L2FD3cJVr5P4ErC4nmbOeNLtyvUiCOV1yrK525g3y0cjxoo4xMeN1vqCVDzk8S9MmwLcNH55TALDLEW4QmHW-mjAmsTtP1ZO2MQ8BxNNCNXfRdkGs62CwqQE/s1600/PB010068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTl4AI7li-VZdTWHO8F8_L2FD3cJVr5P4ErC4nmbOeNLtyvUiCOV1yrK525g3y0cjxoo4xMeN1vqCVDzk8S9MmwLcNH55TALDLEW4QmHW-mjAmsTtP1ZO2MQ8BxNNCNXfRdkGs62CwqQE/s1600/PB010068.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
... not a fabulous building with interesting reflections, but a dinky di blimp!<br />
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It was funny to watch people diving for their pockets and dragging out their phones all with the one purpose - to take photos. I don't know if the blimp we saw was as big as this, but the models give a real sense of scale of the Hindenburg - it was HUGE.<br />
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This is just one tiny section which has been reconstructed so you can climb up, </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeoO2spCd_h5vF48NWUaAvuhObDSzo0mfztk98qOYkW2luIuV-7OjOT9MdCIhOfRx9DoCGZnM833dQwDyYDyd4HNMdnldVxFjB7Cp9cTJzIqs7F-xHz4M9HavCAyVZypGVi7N0aoFdwM/s1600/IMG_3523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSeoO2spCd_h5vF48NWUaAvuhObDSzo0mfztk98qOYkW2luIuV-7OjOT9MdCIhOfRx9DoCGZnM833dQwDyYDyd4HNMdnldVxFjB7Cp9cTJzIqs7F-xHz4M9HavCAyVZypGVi7N0aoFdwM/s1600/IMG_3523.jpg" height="320" width="259" /></a></div>
walk through and get a sense of the living and sleeping quarters and the immense scale of the structure<br />
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functional art<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yQ5GjdsWwLXHQlDR2JkPJ2HDlnlmv4jVMf9lkuW1THoR1RR-LYKSpMbGaxZakYy9R7u_VAjMjiyab8fyHwP6x1lcFZZjPKNcsortakzifNqrY9fFWr9_d7duFkWRgTuviF24bVINr-4/s1600/IMG_3527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yQ5GjdsWwLXHQlDR2JkPJ2HDlnlmv4jVMf9lkuW1THoR1RR-LYKSpMbGaxZakYy9R7u_VAjMjiyab8fyHwP6x1lcFZZjPKNcsortakzifNqrY9fFWr9_d7duFkWRgTuviF24bVINr-4/s1600/IMG_3527.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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intricate criss crossed beams (?)</div>
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... and the beauty of the workmanship.<br />
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This is a different kind of fantasy and shows the result of a productive, creative imagination (and impressive engineering).</div>
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But back to playgrounds as a powerful device to promote a rich and full inner life for the young and not so young! Cogs, shells, sea creatures and propellers ...<br />
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which could lead the imagination to who knows where ...<br />
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Clearly much loved and buffed to a lovely copper colour where countless children have sat and imagined who knows what ...<br />
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This magnificent playground is a superb example of a rich imagination, a city prepared to celebrate art and sculptures, excellent craftsmanship, and shows how playgrounds don't have to be garish plastic sanitised clones of each other.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSSwAXK3ZkskVdXeg48F9H5XZSEWF1j5LrWTBAoBt6cWj1WHeas-8pt3L1Hfh1qdzLe7GbwozfLDvS5YOwvIlkdCnx-3vkSMJWIlw2jQ-VwK3kNg5Tq0aAndsQCe5hVz4C0tMUs_UsZE/s1600/PB020081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSSwAXK3ZkskVdXeg48F9H5XZSEWF1j5LrWTBAoBt6cWj1WHeas-8pt3L1Hfh1qdzLe7GbwozfLDvS5YOwvIlkdCnx-3vkSMJWIlw2jQ-VwK3kNg5Tq0aAndsQCe5hVz4C0tMUs_UsZE/s1600/PB020081.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
Weird and wonderful humanoid rabbit/seal/Idon'tknowwhat creatures<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdEPU-zZhcWyMc9Yqr2Bp5yMUAdnJVDS8uCbCkCTHjdJAbySynolQKh-o-ZaSUcbTeobpjZOMyJlDwCC2yMOyvWi32IMtTkVWzsSr7ShOM_-zWZgwQr9UvXpQTvn3TC6moMtfpa_Euyg/s1600/PB020082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdEPU-zZhcWyMc9Yqr2Bp5yMUAdnJVDS8uCbCkCTHjdJAbySynolQKh-o-ZaSUcbTeobpjZOMyJlDwCC2yMOyvWi32IMtTkVWzsSr7ShOM_-zWZgwQr9UvXpQTvn3TC6moMtfpa_Euyg/s1600/PB020082.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
So, in the spirit of nurturing your inner child, take a moment to slow down.<br />
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Without comment or criticism, notice what your thoughts are doing. Notice what you can hear, see, touch, taste and smell. <br />
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Feel the weight of your bottom on your wheely chair.<br />
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Put aside the serious you for a moment.<br />
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Give your hips an experimental wiggle.<br />
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Feel your muscles stretch and tauten as you twist back and forth.<br />
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Feel the fabric of your clothing as it pulls against your body and the way your lungs expand with the anticipation of action.<br />
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Place your feet against the floor and feel the pressure of your feet as they push against the floor.<br />
twist right<br />
twist left<br />
twist right<br />
spin!!!!!!!<br />
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Notice how your face forms a goofy kind of smile, a little embarrassed (was anyone watching?) but oh, so satisfied!<br />
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Note the physical sensation of slight, but pleasant dizziness. There was possibly also a sense of exhilaration, of daring to do something different and perhaps a bit naughty? What would people say!?<br />
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Make room for your thoughts and feelings; allow them to flow through you. If your inner critic is wagging it's derogatory finger, observe it without buying into the "shoulds" and "oughts" for a moment.<br />
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Breathe, have a little shake and relax.<br />
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Reconnect with your values and choose a course of action.<br />
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And notice ... the desire to do it again ;-)<br />
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Immature?<br />
<br />
You bet. But it's also ...<br />
<br />
Mindfulness in action!<br />
<br />
.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com0Friedrichshafen, Germany47.6617648 9.48001130000000147.4907403 9.1572878 47.8327893 9.8027348000000014tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-24259848263731176132013-11-29T13:30:00.001+11:002013-11-29T13:30:51.516+11:00A jolly swagman in Tubingen, Germany.<br />
Channelling the Australian theme in Tubingen, Germany ...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatx4dHxDpZWr849OEFZ7mZ1AtQlqKSmlXQZLnjMpV_iW2AilRefltVBncN2s6Dml9BibwUJDjXMt5iByhtzxC4h1jxEZ3Eq62S62RnpdWh7ETrZFBAlH_7mR4wCk4EP3T6Pb308io1Fc/s1600/IMG_3627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatx4dHxDpZWr849OEFZ7mZ1AtQlqKSmlXQZLnjMpV_iW2AilRefltVBncN2s6Dml9BibwUJDjXMt5iByhtzxC4h1jxEZ3Eq62S62RnpdWh7ETrZFBAlH_7mR4wCk4EP3T6Pb308io1Fc/s1600/IMG_3627.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0p0p6-wOoA-VOo_CS5IWB_I07skGODXuGiX3J-H-XNrqJ64WQFrWwDcMd14Tw2sPaVd1A-s-10cjF1JXq2YcjkOhptwFHMI0Wyacvat39ozQwSTKY3I9gLZ6C847x0C9hNO8Qg8IOEs/s1600/PB030116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0p0p6-wOoA-VOo_CS5IWB_I07skGODXuGiX3J-H-XNrqJ64WQFrWwDcMd14Tw2sPaVd1A-s-10cjF1JXq2YcjkOhptwFHMI0Wyacvat39ozQwSTKY3I9gLZ6C847x0C9hNO8Qg8IOEs/s1600/PB030116.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A watering hole although not quite a billabong!</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKg0TuKNzOXuS6BTbWTCyRqo-T1EgzwPvrqp8raYnozSMFu2jqqB3RF8ikpl6kZYoNx8Xw1Fua7oU0TSvCpmQKpCCkLQZxDs-VjWzZincQSAG2HIOd388SDNl0lRvnh8R6yN6Jnmw8gK0/s1600/IMG_3655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKg0TuKNzOXuS6BTbWTCyRqo-T1EgzwPvrqp8raYnozSMFu2jqqB3RF8ikpl6kZYoNx8Xw1Fua7oU0TSvCpmQKpCCkLQZxDs-VjWzZincQSAG2HIOd388SDNl0lRvnh8R6yN6Jnmw8gK0/s1600/IMG_3655.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What picnic would be complete without beer!</td></tr>
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under the shade of a Coolibah tree </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggo5eItB91JAlxQZ8FJejL3u0oiJ94iMLGmFd1dMrTWoJb5q_FfcugET_QUSWSwOxV2-QPhDrBjeRw1uJV3EbjzoMbBKGBizyqsI9uzEXzj68X0unc8IJXgT8eqc4X1-_iecJfzfAbttE/s1600/PB020090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggo5eItB91JAlxQZ8FJejL3u0oiJ94iMLGmFd1dMrTWoJb5q_FfcugET_QUSWSwOxV2-QPhDrBjeRw1uJV3EbjzoMbBKGBizyqsI9uzEXzj68X0unc8IJXgT8eqc4X1-_iecJfzfAbttE/s1600/PB020090.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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and he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled</div>
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you'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnJ72egfUZcoFF0Y0S5LZJJ55PtwiXL_oIhQFYZzfk6ymNamwxCHZAO05yMok-S7vg4Kuosc4-cuRtVJS48MeBBNg1l13rH_aGmqvQ2xXb4pWTixWSpcV8wPUbgACI4Ry9UHr5pccNxo/s1600/PB030163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnJ72egfUZcoFF0Y0S5LZJJ55PtwiXL_oIhQFYZzfk6ymNamwxCHZAO05yMok-S7vg4Kuosc4-cuRtVJS48MeBBNg1l13rH_aGmqvQ2xXb4pWTixWSpcV8wPUbgACI4Ry9UHr5pccNxo/s1600/PB030163.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda</div>
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You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me</div>
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And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled</div>
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You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3sFFxYuqS-QZ6Olcz1vvQ0K_sKBDuOR0vydSSlsaPMpNxvurrEjm3djr4F6T9GpKDjga2qP6ka1Ny2gbVLIpV7hDJS7KvcnlheGKCqyaSvngqK1FHlAqiwuBdndqqN_nsrrMQwbhBYk/s1600/PB030180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3sFFxYuqS-QZ6Olcz1vvQ0K_sKBDuOR0vydSSlsaPMpNxvurrEjm3djr4F6T9GpKDjga2qP6ka1Ny2gbVLIpV7hDJS7KvcnlheGKCqyaSvngqK1FHlAqiwuBdndqqN_nsrrMQwbhBYk/s1600/PB030180.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots to look at while waiting for the billy to boil!</td></tr>
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Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong</div>
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up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee</div>
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and he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag</div>
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you'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgig4E1Jft8S7u9yCLp5Q3Qs0Pi2pHcfcSHwm5PTN7qvR6TzHoqmulzzuH1-MApkTQQ6ZC9qxRTzw00_ZK6tjfalTo07or0UKU1rlMmuIMWdHFpNoeX_QvElQvWE9A4pSLGdq9CHeyicbk/s1600/PB030136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgig4E1Jft8S7u9yCLp5Q3Qs0Pi2pHcfcSHwm5PTN7qvR6TzHoqmulzzuH1-MApkTQQ6ZC9qxRTzw00_ZK6tjfalTo07or0UKU1rlMmuIMWdHFpNoeX_QvElQvWE9A4pSLGdq9CHeyicbk/s1600/PB030136.JPG" height="320" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Selfie with swagman and jumbuck!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWPXKfGVY5ccdgXP9cFZ24lEiwM48QRO6v1E4XXhEyIr0ckUGpZXfdnykeBoCEU1w8bO58M2JAsdrZKRFK8e3YSOOP0TSQhBXx25BldSXyfv9bIi-Y9gdvICdpqCCRrYuBON1edP-TXw/s1600/PB030119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikWPXKfGVY5ccdgXP9cFZ24lEiwM48QRO6v1E4XXhEyIr0ckUGpZXfdnykeBoCEU1w8bO58M2JAsdrZKRFK8e3YSOOP0TSQhBXx25BldSXyfv9bIi-Y9gdvICdpqCCRrYuBON1edP-TXw/s1600/PB030119.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3pWHAbnTENv-e3Vh_JW2Wqx9UaTCy_FmHlGWf3Bvsdb0n5qP42iyIumx0xlnO35jjhqjsrd5ESkzmOtujnPIcxrM8dLjJFs8vx-8XXbbCxsfcxLUysPl2sflu_z_vG7WhJ8CyX7ezeU/s1600/PB030113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3pWHAbnTENv-e3Vh_JW2Wqx9UaTCy_FmHlGWf3Bvsdb0n5qP42iyIumx0xlnO35jjhqjsrd5ESkzmOtujnPIcxrM8dLjJFs8vx-8XXbbCxsfcxLUysPl2sflu_z_vG7WhJ8CyX7ezeU/s1600/PB030113.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Up rode the squatter mounted on his thorough-bred</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Down came the troopers, one, two, three.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoJNvB8gFT_Z8SYjxRGZApZoCM4VJVjceSfPHgiZjU3bGB1jDGIAqfjpxAi2Vfn_S2I5mqwiyhVbdVo5pn0DLp05Y54cNLpHRDNy0KIL0XyljP7XM75hDo1Po1XmPqkSRrcQPYdT3JyJw/s1600/IMG_3599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: start;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoJNvB8gFT_Z8SYjxRGZApZoCM4VJVjceSfPHgiZjU3bGB1jDGIAqfjpxAi2Vfn_S2I5mqwiyhVbdVo5pn0DLp05Y54cNLpHRDNy0KIL0XyljP7XM75hDo1Po1XmPqkSRrcQPYdT3JyJw/s1600/IMG_3599.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hO8rRva9n6hzWLjMsdZ_40gp-Ni00Ed0RnnQ1uLOfaKehlxlTM565-fWgu-ApHgCQ7-TUVtKtIbxnVeYVl2PkzCfGQTftBonkHffKLd26zVxWg8TsqSnDUyNrbiQ4M9AF5Y3iZW6KuI/s1600/IMG_3600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hO8rRva9n6hzWLjMsdZ_40gp-Ni00Ed0RnnQ1uLOfaKehlxlTM565-fWgu-ApHgCQ7-TUVtKtIbxnVeYVl2PkzCfGQTftBonkHffKLd26zVxWg8TsqSnDUyNrbiQ4M9AF5Y3iZW6KuI/s1600/IMG_3600.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEpVBcF2aRSMP2TTPF6S1p6NEYMxM5K_XSiW7LeLxEYaJA9yGsygxYTMhjhB4rox-NE8FHwOf2YH27KG1i4KXgzHFaNAZaQJY6CFHhfVdAawMfaNmi0bB5mdTRxAF-rc9uYFM8l_CWqs/s1600/IMG_3628.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEpVBcF2aRSMP2TTPF6S1p6NEYMxM5K_XSiW7LeLxEYaJA9yGsygxYTMhjhB4rox-NE8FHwOf2YH27KG1i4KXgzHFaNAZaQJY6CFHhfVdAawMfaNmi0bB5mdTRxAF-rc9uYFM8l_CWqs/s1600/IMG_3628.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Three.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Whose that jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZheDg2ZousMPeyCTQyTBtWKKGDeWvNKxMflvFsR_Zh6Z4UtnAO90omRjpltMoBUQb3MjE5kQguor0yRFG9-95oNl5QFVpSqtCasLZag0Mfyk1i_UNgH1j9RdZEOtdasYVOcbgHVBIuaY/s1600/IMG_3644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZheDg2ZousMPeyCTQyTBtWKKGDeWvNKxMflvFsR_Zh6Z4UtnAO90omRjpltMoBUQb3MjE5kQguor0yRFG9-95oNl5QFVpSqtCasLZag0Mfyk1i_UNgH1j9RdZEOtdasYVOcbgHVBIuaY/s1600/IMG_3644.jpg" height="175" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOdBHj80C2mne1jopfTdMFaV2H3Zpx9SqsZHQDblq3CDuEHzdoJc8yu5JG5N49m2zdMCbI8UQoUetBaOEhBWw8xngtR9czA40aBGS0egdutpoWKaRygtVns7i_N17S1LxwyeaPz0ByGU/s1600/PB030168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV552OWHNeB8FBP39s8bbGi1ONc7MMwhQB8so5Q-uMglpT08iI23ruRyACPCTrR88RJBpekJf-WLfwM2TIPX9zz5MxsG4oxZH6uJlvV7uqGidJlzUeagHGN8XHX_G0l0qXmmMy1Oxv2o/s1600/PB030173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV552OWHNeB8FBP39s8bbGi1ONc7MMwhQB8so5Q-uMglpT08iI23ruRyACPCTrR88RJBpekJf-WLfwM2TIPX9zz5MxsG4oxZH6uJlvV7uqGidJlzUeagHGN8XHX_G0l0qXmmMy1Oxv2o/s1600/PB030173.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOdBHj80C2mne1jopfTdMFaV2H3Zpx9SqsZHQDblq3CDuEHzdoJc8yu5JG5N49m2zdMCbI8UQoUetBaOEhBWw8xngtR9czA40aBGS0egdutpoWKaRygtVns7i_N17S1LxwyeaPz0ByGU/s1600/PB030168.JPG" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOdBHj80C2mne1jopfTdMFaV2H3Zpx9SqsZHQDblq3CDuEHzdoJc8yu5JG5N49m2zdMCbI8UQoUetBaOEhBWw8xngtR9czA40aBGS0egdutpoWKaRygtVns7i_N17S1LxwyeaPz0ByGU/s1600/PB030168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JauSMPOwhhjDpfJoZ2vVWh3f_or8kynyurs6K14bQWApPA1HADCZO4W5IRbEKPojDXVPLCD5_fJHn4RFgE0vS0Dqsru2reLtdNLM6c0iGg_QLfom-Y0Tl7Pep8ZFE99wpbXL07s85F8/s1600/PB030162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JauSMPOwhhjDpfJoZ2vVWh3f_or8kynyurs6K14bQWApPA1HADCZO4W5IRbEKPojDXVPLCD5_fJHn4RFgE0vS0Dqsru2reLtdNLM6c0iGg_QLfom-Y0Tl7Pep8ZFE99wpbXL07s85F8/s1600/PB030162.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Up jumped the swagman, sprang in to the billabong</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRei88dXlfsA2ZiFEG4PR0SJc_ABknDOExATc4tCndXrTYXYCeeTF2D4zBeP7K3Ylgfle0zEIYwUDx1XK196aelAhQUXod5Is0j6YYbz4FuXbO3CF3v-sfeXdsJvE06PJC7E3HOGD_RP8/s1600/PB030191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRei88dXlfsA2ZiFEG4PR0SJc_ABknDOExATc4tCndXrTYXYCeeTF2D4zBeP7K3Ylgfle0zEIYwUDx1XK196aelAhQUXod5Is0j6YYbz4FuXbO3CF3v-sfeXdsJvE06PJC7E3HOGD_RP8/s1600/PB030191.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PpS2vUHOHcNX17xbsg95H-WgxCiy1GmW5DXELAHSroQgsFaxtYljl05FKexl9kVA_7PE0K0JtNegbHb1U7gkU70No_jTigv5Cz__tou5cqTwJEylkEZPhOh_y-OoqwdECcK4aIchd04/s1600/PB020109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PpS2vUHOHcNX17xbsg95H-WgxCiy1GmW5DXELAHSroQgsFaxtYljl05FKexl9kVA_7PE0K0JtNegbHb1U7gkU70No_jTigv5Cz__tou5cqTwJEylkEZPhOh_y-OoqwdECcK4aIchd04/s1600/PB020109.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>You'll never catch me alive said he,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTOKA-76WMhR6TUbO-M2TLoore23I8j-2LjBRWjxmpi5TKmC905oOvYylQGEZqDy6LL1IjVsyEYPgoaeKp3QrRRPOY91y3SzikcB5s1DXbXxlX9sF9W7CZKa9TmcotSlCggkk2X5hUHo/s1600/PB030110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTOKA-76WMhR6TUbO-M2TLoore23I8j-2LjBRWjxmpi5TKmC905oOvYylQGEZqDy6LL1IjVsyEYPgoaeKp3QrRRPOY91y3SzikcB5s1DXbXxlX9sF9W7CZKa9TmcotSlCggkk2X5hUHo/s1600/PB030110.JPG" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And his ghost may heard as you pass by that billabong</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvnTp3J2dHuw5Pb02_x52uhNzHaSt8oG2RHhs0Be8igbDyq9s1slTw3KHbYjNQTe878dLm9QKmyvNSpzRpE1TBnRgCgnEUpjji2jzpLWO24G8_YLzyq6qkaNYdn1tEeUxHb6gWqJZLAQ/s1600/IMG_3657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVvnTp3J2dHuw5Pb02_x52uhNzHaSt8oG2RHhs0Be8igbDyq9s1slTw3KHbYjNQTe878dLm9QKmyvNSpzRpE1TBnRgCgnEUpjji2jzpLWO24G8_YLzyq6qkaNYdn1tEeUxHb6gWqJZLAQ/s1600/IMG_3657.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You'll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41iuZam1Sa0cwafB3nAM-wYuhVKzfb8rzFXFhVgJzVQxkE3q9Zv3GAwDBLttWMl-8NQwEdz38ZhSBkohpHd3eDX_T7Vh2VjJgYyw81rJtDUnNYVIeZAf4TcMWYjo-yqTsi5GdvfDFdqg/s1600/PB030114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh41iuZam1Sa0cwafB3nAM-wYuhVKzfb8rzFXFhVgJzVQxkE3q9Zv3GAwDBLttWMl-8NQwEdz38ZhSBkohpHd3eDX_T7Vh2VjJgYyw81rJtDUnNYVIeZAf4TcMWYjo-yqTsi5GdvfDFdqg/s1600/PB030114.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Documented by the colourful crew from Mars TV</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66z71BF7_Q9A4E_91fL6IyurBSUwn73RPP83yzACQy3MSmwHoAZhI8xLYyj_IBql2DsVaaX5WFD7HguLwakhz8DgV1e4P6XyBjjYqJmeGF1GselF4fY8VbVA-oQ18pDo0GvT9GdSyVhM/s1600/IMG_3631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66z71BF7_Q9A4E_91fL6IyurBSUwn73RPP83yzACQy3MSmwHoAZhI8xLYyj_IBql2DsVaaX5WFD7HguLwakhz8DgV1e4P6XyBjjYqJmeGF1GselF4fY8VbVA-oQ18pDo0GvT9GdSyVhM/s1600/IMG_3631.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These students were interviewing passers-by about refugees, inequality and prejudice, and while they were focusing on refugees from war-torn countries, marginalised and poor people, such as the swagman in the ballad,<br />
were/are often poorly treated by dominant, powerful groups. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div>
From Wikipedia with additional information:</div>
<div>
<b>Waltzing Matilda</b> is Australia's most widely known bush ballad written in 1895 by Banjo Paterson and has become our unofficial national anthem. <i>Waltzing Matilda</i> is slang for travelling on foot with your gear slung over your back in a bag (apparently this is known as waltzing or <i>auf der Walz</i> in German). </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The song is about an itinerant worker, a swagman, making a cup of tea in a billy, (a kind of tin saucepan), at his bush camp by a billabong (waterhole) and stealing a wandering sheep, (jumbuck) for dinner. The swagman wouldn't have been wealthy and would have seen the sheep as fair game and something nutritious to pad out his meagre supplies. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We know the sheep's owner is a wealthy landowner (squatter) because he arrives on a thorough-bred horse accompanied by three troopers (police) - he wouldn't have been at all happy about having his sheep stolen, particularly by a poor, itinerant worker!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Naturally, the worker wouldn't want to have been locked up so commits suicide by drowning himself in the billabong, leaving his ghost to haunt the site for evermore.</div>
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Admittedly, they keep the toes toasty warm on a cold day, when the heating is down low to save on energy bills, but they're not aesthetically pleasing no matter how much bling they're weighed down with.<br />
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Unlike a sheep, they're not waterproof. They have no support. And even if they have heels and solid soles, are in no way a match for dedicated outdoor footwear.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxNrrQS6JMgV5iJ73x15AAm-rQ3IB45ckU0Kzhk15AGd5Hh1yDzPaxgnlnMGzQC17C4olFMfm6psLpyKcUDz97ePg2oEH3TlscC8Us_4ZZ5-to4ug-sog5Xehn7bhnGlVQRQNsji613c/s1600/IMG_4159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxNrrQS6JMgV5iJ73x15AAm-rQ3IB45ckU0Kzhk15AGd5Hh1yDzPaxgnlnMGzQC17C4olFMfm6psLpyKcUDz97ePg2oEH3TlscC8Us_4ZZ5-to4ug-sog5Xehn7bhnGlVQRQNsji613c/s1600/IMG_4159.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAJVX3EH6p-SD_gPvgpdmh8ytUP7-AaV4H3VsGBZq802TRtrLwOtxPlSdbW4VuD2gV5rW8UVq7SJ5t4EPNDBtCa45gyKp6tVrHz_lyUsUbTHz5-dssHjUYkEeFsjBWzqTMEkF_D8V3dw/s1600/IMG_4224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAJVX3EH6p-SD_gPvgpdmh8ytUP7-AaV4H3VsGBZq802TRtrLwOtxPlSdbW4VuD2gV5rW8UVq7SJ5t4EPNDBtCa45gyKp6tVrHz_lyUsUbTHz5-dssHjUYkEeFsjBWzqTMEkF_D8V3dw/s1600/IMG_4224.jpg" height="320" width="190" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0MdJD08QaPew5Ws53lXhQl_PotMel2vqozo35OVkPsCkOEVrrejlqL8ugfj_3HrvcYjS8pNCQnYoUK6KjQBt6w79L9USQ22BI71VnCQn8kXLX6CGE8G2FiHWFsocAy5NIXME8ztcaBM/s1600/IMG_4162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0MdJD08QaPew5Ws53lXhQl_PotMel2vqozo35OVkPsCkOEVrrejlqL8ugfj_3HrvcYjS8pNCQnYoUK6KjQBt6w79L9USQ22BI71VnCQn8kXLX6CGE8G2FiHWFsocAy5NIXME8ztcaBM/s1600/IMG_4162.jpg" height="248" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqcYOuS8Co86X8-SJG1rEDa1Qcla6uGQf26T1ciFX__LAxKlozJ_YrkG4rf6LRDo61PLY3rtCtIOtBC8SwDXEh7qduIfDhMAY_Z3T353ZY_uPZV-ZRppEcOjDM40cBH0QAWBP0F52EQU/s1600/IMG_4223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqqcYOuS8Co86X8-SJG1rEDa1Qcla6uGQf26T1ciFX__LAxKlozJ_YrkG4rf6LRDo61PLY3rtCtIOtBC8SwDXEh7qduIfDhMAY_Z3T353ZY_uPZV-ZRppEcOjDM40cBH0QAWBP0F52EQU/s1600/IMG_4223.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">In short, they're a furry, snuggly slipper. </span><br />
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And like a slipper, they're designed to be worn indoors. They can be slipped on and off the feet easily so that when, for instance, you need to take some scraps out to the compost heap, you can slip them off and put on something more suitable for the trudge through the damp grass out into the wilds of the back yard.<br />
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Speaking of slip, when UGG boots are worn outdoors have a tendency to slip when the sole, heavy with the weight of a human body, is placed on a wet autumn leaf of which there are many in London at present. Don't be fooled by the use of the word "boots".<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRtPuHl9h1rQuO_hjsKeyM8KncxVm1ZeXKpgsSK7NvsO1_-7fY3xcP-7mhDtQX_78eRyF1io5GQhRpRDbZgIi12VmK6OsLxUCgv6m03RrVwdzYW15j5-U4euvhhNmpNMz35pwmZ4wQUM/s1600/IMG_4244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwRtPuHl9h1rQuO_hjsKeyM8KncxVm1ZeXKpgsSK7NvsO1_-7fY3xcP-7mhDtQX_78eRyF1io5GQhRpRDbZgIi12VmK6OsLxUCgv6m03RrVwdzYW15j5-U4euvhhNmpNMz35pwmZ4wQUM/s1600/IMG_4244.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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They. are. not. outdoor. footwear ... Even if you're feeding a cute squirrel.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQFQuRc4jVxuGKoV0sXG7rN0XQcYyEoz0ZRu5I83PBL_PTPdny_ZS0Tb88QWDFPlwjo5LoWEEf5szlwj0PtccFKt9iQdngDFgCbw8vEJes6m3GBONIyFGIwWGWUNhBF8ZTL9lskow55c/s1600/IMG_4138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQFQuRc4jVxuGKoV0sXG7rN0XQcYyEoz0ZRu5I83PBL_PTPdny_ZS0Tb88QWDFPlwjo5LoWEEf5szlwj0PtccFKt9iQdngDFgCbw8vEJes6m3GBONIyFGIwWGWUNhBF8ZTL9lskow55c/s1600/IMG_4138.jpg" height="261" width="320" /></a></div>
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Watching relatively well dressed people shuffle around like little old folk in a nursing home is perplexing.<br />
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They scuff uncomfortably along through the bleak weather, feet slopping around, unsupported in their furry wrapping, the sheepskin getting wetter by the moment. <br />
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How did it happen that this useful item of footwear has become an outdoors fashion (sic) item?<br />
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Very clever marketing if you ask me!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvAp6wPyfHqtMexasBoN-NOFaLffYEFAe0CreyNCU5ZmsKn9o0JSVsCYhMw5gcptbh-XxxnFwI92W6qfY9QkisEg5M0f9GkTQC2b7Q_hw4pLc5NZHInZvP0t_B5qz7NJqsThS32033FU/s1600/IMG_4146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvAp6wPyfHqtMexasBoN-NOFaLffYEFAe0CreyNCU5ZmsKn9o0JSVsCYhMw5gcptbh-XxxnFwI92W6qfY9QkisEg5M0f9GkTQC2b7Q_hw4pLc5NZHInZvP0t_B5qz7NJqsThS32033FU/s1600/IMG_4146.jpg" height="320" width="191" /></a></div>
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But I'll never be convinced. Put the bling on; laden them with bows, jewels and heels, no matter what decoration they're strewn with, they'll always be indoor footwear for me.<br />
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UGGGGGHHHHHH!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiws3Ghhb0aX3mT2aSgNbOQfYGbQ4uJgezN-oml3GDWBeR-zaceJb30hx4K5uvbFF026QOiDKXGuRm9TIbTfR5d-NJSVwRng7VhIKHWVz7JuTU2_wxK08RbO1NS4YVK3yHIVNyEe1vS8vA/s1600/IMG_3446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiws3Ghhb0aX3mT2aSgNbOQfYGbQ4uJgezN-oml3GDWBeR-zaceJb30hx4K5uvbFF026QOiDKXGuRm9TIbTfR5d-NJSVwRng7VhIKHWVz7JuTU2_wxK08RbO1NS4YVK3yHIVNyEe1vS8vA/s1600/IMG_3446.jpg" height="242" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Bemused sheep, giggling that people have been "fleeced"<br /></td></tr>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com6London, UK51.511213899999987 -0.1198243999999704151.195100899999986 -0.7652713999999704 51.827326899999989 0.52562260000002958tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-11885617155977867172013-10-11T17:02:00.001+11:002013-10-11T17:02:22.211+11:00Flies, flies and more flies. The curse of the Aussie bush fly or: More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About Flies.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3S6GLvW31dvdO5bZiD42aVRU0KER6Zeiw-ydgYay_OgFLb3Y_pKE1iSR2RcF7WHjIJw9q6P11-RcS5DxBrihC9C8w-ODf2tX1D_D36H26GkXWA_eDOWQEA416dzkaa99KM2XqrC2oFg/s1600/IMG_3168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3S6GLvW31dvdO5bZiD42aVRU0KER6Zeiw-ydgYay_OgFLb3Y_pKE1iSR2RcF7WHjIJw9q6P11-RcS5DxBrihC9C8w-ODf2tX1D_D36H26GkXWA_eDOWQEA416dzkaa99KM2XqrC2oFg/s1600/IMG_3168.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Here they are up <i>inside</i> the fly net.</span></td></tr>
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Sometimes you just have to laugh at the rash claims of <a href="http://foxflynet.net/aboutBF.html">advertisements</a>. Not that I would have wanted to be without a fly net, but as for the statement that the flies won't want to go inside the fly net, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA who do they think they're kidding! "...bush flies sit happily on fine mesh fly veils ... but steer well clear of the demarcation line ..." they won't go inside the fly net.<br />
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This year's bush flies obviously hadn't read the ad!<br />
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My fetching fly net, purchased in desperation after unladylike curses became the norm rather than the exception, came complete with a draw cord around the neck (best not to think too much about what would happen if it got caught on a branch) and the little buggers found some tiny spots where they could sneak up inside the mesh, then saunter up to see what the world looked like from inside the lenses of my prescription sunglasses. You'd think with the way their eyes are arranged they wouldn't be interested, but there they were, balancing on my eyelashes, pirouetting on the arms of my glasses, queueing up to get a turn to see what all the excitement was about.<br />
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And of course, now they're <i>inside</i> the flynet, and the drawstring is closed around my neck, I can't get at them can I? They're completely free to wander where they will, inside my ears, up my nose, explore the edges of my tightly shut mouth and worst of all between my eyes and glasses so that I can't even attempt to brush them away.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQ84sTFVphNosylWuXyC5R88CzbWX4iJXDvA58Z1XSot2s1BaOkIwORpwKomTClCnLY2t1YSZ7ftHGnojNgJ0i7G2sLILN0SXcf8N8PQwXtjh07CdFpGTorJUOYrN125BBcmRYO-Cxik/s1600/IMG_3204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQ84sTFVphNosylWuXyC5R88CzbWX4iJXDvA58Z1XSot2s1BaOkIwORpwKomTClCnLY2t1YSZ7ftHGnojNgJ0i7G2sLILN0SXcf8N8PQwXtjh07CdFpGTorJUOYrN125BBcmRYO-Cxik/s1600/IMG_3204.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Immediately after brushing them off, they're back.</td></tr>
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Do you remember Samantha from Bewitched? She'd wiggle her nose and magic would happen. These guys didn't even notice my frantically twitching nose let alone move. They do a little exploratory foray up into a nostril ... maybe there's something interesting up there? I do a deliberate <i>outwards</i> snort and the fly just clings on tighter, "Wheeeeeeeeee" it seems to call to its mates, "this is fun, come on in and have a go!" Some of them are far more curious about the corners of my eyes, but I suspect they're communicating with each other "Hurry up, surely it's my turn now?"<br />
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Bush flies are extremely excitable, it's like they've been guzzling caffein since breakfast. Actually, some of them had, and had managed to drown themselves in the hot brew. I'm not sure how many others had just wandered down into the mug, had a bit of a slurp, then shimmied up and flown off again in that hyperactive way they have. It's not worth making a second mug after fishing out the tiny carcasses. You'd never get to enjoy a cuppa at all. Suicidal flies. Who would have realised!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdoq6TA4tdomskccP8tDqpxw7r2hhxzsnU5-YQqATlxTHNDrQXhUYa-6onLDxQL9k9l3Ay21JVAinSskL-UTiFOi-YcXBaDPthhLrvAyZfVcizJdi4o3FdR02MsINWhOuXjqJQnhjnf8/s1600/IMG_3292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtdoq6TA4tdomskccP8tDqpxw7r2hhxzsnU5-YQqATlxTHNDrQXhUYa-6onLDxQL9k9l3Ay21JVAinSskL-UTiFOi-YcXBaDPthhLrvAyZfVcizJdi4o3FdR02MsINWhOuXjqJQnhjnf8/s1600/IMG_3292.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My barely damp tee-shirt is being sucked dry.</td></tr>
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Australian bush flies just looooooooove the moisture around your eyes, mouth, ears and nose as well as any sweat <i>anywhere</i> on your body or clothing. They are the most irritating, sticky, persistent, bloody minded insects known to man and they seem to be able to detect you with unerring precision even before you've stepped outside the tent, pub, house or car. They wait. They hover. They buzz persistently. Then they pounce. Not just one or two, but billions upon billions of them. Simultaneously. I reckon if you were weighed <i>before</i> going outside <i>then after</i>, you'd have gained a kilo or more in weight. Honestly.<br />
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You can see them kicking each other aside to get at any hint of delectable moisture. They stand on top of each other and kick and shove. It's amazing to watch. Which I did. Quite a lot. You tend to get a bit fixated when they're this bad. Even the locals were commenting "Me and my ten thousand new best friends went for a walk." Yep, the flies were bad.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A billionth of a second after pointlessly<br />trying to shoo them away.</td></tr>
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And the irritating sods tickle with their tiny little feet and wings giving you very unwelcome fairy kisses. Sometimes they land, pause, stand around singly or in groups then appear to look around and assess which are the prime locations. Toes? Between the fingers? Under the watch? Variety is the spice of life! They rub their front legs together like a used car salesman who has seen a potential customer enter the car-yard. Bwahahahahaaa.<br />
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Then of course there's the danger of breathing. With any sharp intake of breath through nose or mouth, such as the intake of breath with exercise or laughter, there is the danger of breathing in dozens of wriggling little bodies. Learning to be a ventriloquist has never been easier! But it's not so easy to prevent a cough or sneeze. Were you aware that the intake of breath is quite substantial with those perfectly normal functions? Guess how many flies it's possible to kill with the inhalation prior to a sneeze? Naturally this results in more coughing as your body tries to expel the now rather worse for wear intruders. And when you cough you breathe in again. UGH.<br />
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As for smiling, such as when telling a joke or sharing news, the rule of thumb is DON'T. It's not that Aussies are taciturn or lacking in humour, but the risk of ingesting unwanted protein is never far from the mind. A couple of blokes we met failed to heed this advice. I doubt I'll ever forget watching flies land on the teeth of a really friendly, smiling bloke, or another spitting little carcasses out of his mouth with monotonous regularity - it was a long and interesting story he was sharing, but I couldn't help but be distracted. ICK.<br />
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Naturally one needs to brush ones teeth when on holiday. Regular dental hygiene is undoubtedly important ... except ... flies.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhzSojbsgxPray1nvcJgvOtF1HOjo2kx-3shUfJz4DWgiq7edKgF3At3_hQzF_f9q3E6X3nx7iHeIXSDZ8lKxTlWthy74yMnWs1zyRa-ALeNJHNxLMK9tjnT_0ffTK59R3dntoW8y9Qg/s1600/IMG_3111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhzSojbsgxPray1nvcJgvOtF1HOjo2kx-3shUfJz4DWgiq7edKgF3At3_hQzF_f9q3E6X3nx7iHeIXSDZ8lKxTlWthy74yMnWs1zyRa-ALeNJHNxLMK9tjnT_0ffTK59R3dntoW8y9Qg/s1600/IMG_3111.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>One day I learnt a new lesson about flies.<br />
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When it's a glorious Spring day in the Flinders Ranges and the cicadas are chirruping contentedly, the birds are cheeping and calling with joyous abandon, when flowers are carpeting the ground in ones and two's or hundreds upon thousands, when the sky is blue and flocks of cloud-sheep are being buffeted across the sky by the gentle breeze, and when it's fly season, that brushing your teeth outdoors is, not to put too fine a point on it, positively gross.<br />
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Because with all those spring delights of the impossible greens after good rains, the fabulous reds of the soil and amazing blues of the sky, come the little black bush flies. Squadrons of them appear just when you thought there was a break in the barrage and that it was safe to brush your teeth. Brushing your teeth produces froth. Flies like dampness. Froth is damp. Froth escapes from the corners of your mouth. Flies burrow in with glee. Gag, gag, gag.<br />
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And last but not least: Did you know that after a cool night, that flies do exercises? They do, honestly! When the gentle rays of the morning sun hit them, say at 6:30 am, they kind of stretch one wing this way and that, then they stretch the other one, then one leg and so on. It's all quite elegant in a controlled tai chi kind of way! They they give a little experimental buzz, have a bit of a rest, then they're ready for another day of searching out a feast. Nom, nom, nom!<br />
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My son on seeing the photos asks "What's the attraction of going bush mum?" and I don't have an answer.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A useless attempt to protect my mug of tea from curious invaders.</td></tr>
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For more detailed information about the Australian bush fly you can't go past this well written, amusing and helpful booklet:<br />
<a href="http://www.viacorp.com/flybook/fulltext.html">http://www.viacorp.com/flybook/fulltext.html</a><br />
Comfortingly I'm reminded that these little irritating bush flies aren't like the common house fly. In comparison they're positively hygienic and unlikely to spread illnesses. Just as well really.<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com4Flinders Ranges, SA, Australia-31.8646749 139.36531489999993-38.7750694 129.03816639999994 -24.954280400000002 149.69246339999992tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-6507818640003269762013-10-10T09:29:00.000+11:002013-10-10T09:29:19.494+11:00World's End. SA.<i>World's End</i>. How could you not stay at a place with such a fantastic name!?<br />
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The last time we were here the unrelenting gale force winds weren't conducive to erecting a tent (one of the few times I've thought a van would be worthwhile). And whilst the winds were marginally less fierce this year, the random squalls of rain weren't welcoming. </div>
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On the plus side, it's free camping! (Apparently there was an honesty box, but it appeared to have gone AWOL when we were there.) And we could have a fire with the wood we'd brought from home!! It would be a rain splattered fire admittedly, but a fire! And it wasn't busy - always a plus! All in all, worth the soggyness and squelch underfoot as we wander around peering upwards to observe overhanging limbs and check the wind direction. Choosing the right spot for one night's camping can be quite an ordeal sometimes ;-)</div>
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But what's this? The solid looking picnic table is subsiding into the ground, in a somewhat dangerous way and it's been placed in an interesting location directly under a red river gum. These beautiful large trees are well known for randomly dropping limbs - not the little ones like the limb of an arm, but massive ones that all too frequently make people and vehicles go splat with in a terminal kind of way. </div>
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Oh well, we'll need to put up the tent by the not entirely enticing creek. For a transit spot, World's End is fine, but it's possibly not the ideal spot for a long visit - although some folk did seem to be well set up ... to watch TV in their vans. </div>
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Reminder to self: It takes all types; be tolerant! I just hope they don't have their generators going all night.</div>
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Driving in along the Goyder Highway, the mist had been hanging heavy and thick over the distant hills, occasional squalls were lashing the paddocks full of blueish saltbush. Definitely atmospheric, but not what I'd visualised - blue skies with fragrant spring flowers carpeting the side of the road in glorious colour, playful breeze, you know the vision! Idyllic this wasn't.</div>
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You may have noticed the blue sky in the photos above. I took those last year. While the wind was ferocious then, the sky was clear and the only danger was leaves, twigs and larger branches being torn from the trees and flung across the paddock. Ah the joys of the great outdoors!</div>
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We managed to manhandle the tent into something resembling well erected, dragged out the raincoats and extra tarps and listened to the frogs croaking melodiously in the creek to the backdrop of rumbling thunder and sheet lightning blanketing the sky. The thunder sounded like convoys of road trains rumbling past in quick succession. The slightly wonky, but solid, practical tarps provided shelter from the intermittent, heavy dumps of rain, but we needed extra poles to stop the awning and tarps from caving in under the weight of water. Not the setup to grace the pages of a camping magazine! </div>
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And it was cold. And wet, though I think I mentioned that already. Jeans legs are rolled up to stop wicking - the grass here hasn't been mown for some time, and allows the wind to chill exposed flesh above my woolly socks - but at least they slow down the biting mozzies. Darn, the hem stitching is coming undone and the whole lot is frayed, though I doubt anyone will notice. Or care. </div>
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The quick succession of squalls move on and become less frequent during the night. At one stage, I'd counted 3 storms converging from different directions, but it could have been four. </div>
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An animal scrambles noisily up a nearby red gum, shredding bark and dropping it to the ground - a bit later it scrambles down just as noisily. Some sort of goanna perhaps? Bats chirp in that high pitched way they have. The tent is buffeted noisily by random gales and I lie awake hoping the extra poles hold the tarps and awning up not just from the heavy rain, but from the rising wind. </div>
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Not one of the more restful nights I've had camping. </div>
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South Australia is full of amazing stone houses built when it appeared to be a welcoming fertile land. It isn't. Rainfall is temperamental and unreliable and the early overstocking of fragile lands led to severe problems. </div>
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They also have unfriendly plants - I'm still using pliers to remove steel-like bindis from my thongs (flip flops).<br />
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And yet another abandoned house.<br />
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As for the camp fire I'd been looking forward to. Hahahahaha. Everything was way too wet and windy. Maybe next time?</div>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2Worlds End SA, Australia-33.787709600000007 139.04541300000005-33.998841100000007 138.72268950000006 -33.576578100000006 139.36813650000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-59900689188896272462013-10-09T15:39:00.000+11:002013-10-09T15:39:58.730+11:00The Grampians - western VictoriaHead west to go north. Not the obvious or recommended direction, but whilst Hattah Kulkyne National Park would have been more direct, I wanted to revisit a different part of the state.<br />
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What was completely unexpected was to have billions and billions of school groups and international visitors swarming over the Grampians. It was also a bit of a surprise to have one whole camping ground closed due to asbestos contamination and various other known and loved campsites off limits.<br />
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Sigh, sharing a camping ground and drop toilets with mobs of hormonal teenagers it'd have to be.<br />
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After many years of being a teacher on school camps I know that not all students behave well when they're in an unfamiliar environment, so I'm always a bit wary when I see school groups. I also always try to give positive feedback when groups are respectful of others.<br />
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Fortunately the kids must have been well primed by the wranglers (aka teachers) and all was well. There wasn't too much yahooing through the chilly night, and the peace was broken at the almost respectable hour of 7am by one bright spark deciding to wake his mates by shouting at the tent flap - oblivious to the fact that sound carries exceedingly well in the bush. In the scheme of things that's pretty minor so with a wave and cheery "great group you've got there" comment to the staff, we packed up the soggy tent ready to explore before heading to drier/warmer northern areas.<br />
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We set off expecting to have a bit of a stroll through the bush, but as so often happens the pre morning-tea stroll extended into something more resembling a 12 km walk across gurgling creeks ...<br />
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behind waterfalls - complete with water! ...<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">over big rocks, little rocks, stable rocks and not so friendly rocks ...</span><br />
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and finally, panting and puffing up to a lookout where the wind was too strong and cold to relax and take photos.</div>
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Eventually a patch of blue sky peeped through the clouds at just the right moment to capture a lone tree appearing to teeter over the top of a (much higher than it looks) chasm. Timing is everything! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVL42gM9Zlo4BWdMDJPQ88lj9x_cvgFLROBAZaFnUoPRuYt7wr3bFeS2RuinvD9tjZETbJoH_Tn1FqjhHBSpzaXbGAbl4uWYvB9snfi1uJGIsnWhIJ3O2fiUSvwt1YFk1O-s4e761tcI/s1600/IMG_3040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVL42gM9Zlo4BWdMDJPQ88lj9x_cvgFLROBAZaFnUoPRuYt7wr3bFeS2RuinvD9tjZETbJoH_Tn1FqjhHBSpzaXbGAbl4uWYvB9snfi1uJGIsnWhIJ3O2fiUSvwt1YFk1O-s4e761tcI/s1600/IMG_3040.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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And finally a belated picnic lunch! Thank goodness for a hot thermos. This tiny flower had dropped from a small bush by the picnic bench. I love the little shadows it cast that look like the legs of an insect.</div>
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And onward to World's End!</div>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2Grampians National Park, VIC Australia-37.13332 142.51835800000003-37.942204499999995 141.22746450000002 -36.3244355 143.80925150000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-27038949874096762122013-10-05T16:22:00.000+10:002013-10-05T16:22:07.307+10:00"Sorry to bother you mate, but I've just run over mum."This really isn't a great way to begin a phone conversation with your son who has just this minute popped down to the store to pick up some bread for a convivial family luncheon.<br />
<br />
The son had come over to help his retired, but not elderly parents chainsaw the ornamental tree uprooted by the fierce winds during the recent dramatic storms.<br />
<br />
The storms had lit the night sky with angry cracking lightning, and walloping deluges of rain flooded streets and yards. The SES had been extremely busy clearing streets of massive fallen trees, uncovering cars bent beneath limbs and leaves, and providing emergency covering for houses unroofed by the violent winds.<br />
<br />
This tree hadn't produced quite as much drama as others had experience around the state, and had been neatly and efficiently chainsawed up by father and son into dinky pieces of wood, suitable for a petite pot bellied stove. The chainsaws used for this exercise had been recently unboxed with a flourish; cute little electric numbers, just the ticket for tidy suburbia!<br />
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It's a bit of a challenge to put a positive spin on running over your children's dearly loved mother. Not a call that one would be proud or eager to make. It's not as if it was deliberate or anything like that, just a mistake. Unfortunate admittedly, unintentional (surely that doesn't need to be stated?) and extremely distressing for those involved. But really, anyone could have confused the figure standing by the letterbox with a broom in her hands busily sweeping up fallen leaves and debris for a limb from the tree - couldn't they? <br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">He'd said</span> "Shall I move the car so you can sweep underneath?"<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">She'd said</span> "Leave it a minute while I finish the driveway."<br />
<br />
He'd decided to move the car regardless. Whether he didn't hear her, who knows, but the next thing she knows is that above the shwooshing sound of leaves being briskly whisked away to a new location, she hears the sound of the car, then whammo, she's on the ground, just missing cracking her skull on the brickwork holding up the metal letterbox. Oops.<br />
<br />
Startled by the shock of finding herself on the tidily edged lawn face first in recently swept leaves, and aware of a sudden, unpleasant rise in blood pressure, she began cautiously to take stock.<br />
Limbs intact? Check.<br />
Gushing blood? No, thank goodness.<br />
Obviously broken bones? Hmm, possibly not.<br />
Headache? Yes, definitely.<br />
Nausea and shaking? Ugh, yes.<br />
<br />
Husband's horrified face appeared in her line of vision - she shrieks, with a certain amount of force "don't touch me", no doubt sending the neighbours to the front windows to see what the commotion was all about.<br />
<br />
"Ohmygodohmygod what have I done are you alright honey ohshitohshitohshit I didn't see you there I didn't mean to hurt you are you ok? ... What's that noise?"<br />
<br />
She's dimly aware of him frantically looking back to the car.<br />
<br />
He begins to take a step towards where it should have been, looks at her with undisguised shock and disbelief, and though he's clearly desperate to be by her side to comfort and apologise and tender assistance, he leaps gazelle like towards the violent metallic crunching, tearing, ripping LOUD noise moving steadily away from them into the road.<br />
<br />
Craning her thankfully unbroken neck, she sees him leap into the driver's seat just inches before the car reverses into the over-the-road neighbour's front garden, and with the front driver's side door swingingly drunkenly at an extremely awkward angle, (definitely not according to the manufacturer's specifications) he swiftly and gracefully manoeuvres the runaway vehicle onto the nature strip ... without further incident ... or, more accurately none that she's aware of or that he admits to.<br />
<br />
Apparently in the shock of the moment of hearing the thud of wife on ground in response to being nudged by the rear bumper bar, he'd leapt out, forgetting to shift the gear out of reverse and put it into park; forgetting to pull the handbrake on and also forgetting to shut the door. Oops.<br />
<br />
Throughout the ordeal (I think it's fair to refer to it as such?) she managed to maintain her ladylike composure from her prone position, nose to dirt, and not utter any words that would have made her mother blush, although I wonder if in the privacy of the house later on, her comments might have been a touch more terse and colourful.<br />
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Bodies generally heal, the wifely one was bruised, shaken and distinctly upset, her blood pressure was unhealthily high, but is expected to settle quickly. I suspect she will invest in a high vis vest, flack jacket and crash helmet for gardening in future, it's clearly a dangerous pastime.<br />
<br />
The car whilst technically drive-able was assuredly unroadworthy and unable to shelter its occupants from drizzle, rain or wind, and needed the tender, and no doubt expensive ministrations of the local smash and repair centre.<br />
<br />
Interestingly this couple was thinking of purchasing a new vehicle. My suggestion would be to go for something with clear rearview vision, few blind spots and possibly a reversing camera. It's a no brainer really.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtOZaY7uZK2qU37fn3YrCMdnQoUWouu7uAy8T_pXwI6et63B_GzokipWr4UcmSkMLRjWPYkB45LAB0SLpmTYU5ipOVgWjWWifjFLAnei_RW4ImT3Rn-JNvNjDffnbzZnGQ0Pb52dwHYA/s1600/IMG_2956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibtOZaY7uZK2qU37fn3YrCMdnQoUWouu7uAy8T_pXwI6et63B_GzokipWr4UcmSkMLRjWPYkB45LAB0SLpmTYU5ipOVgWjWWifjFLAnei_RW4ImT3Rn-JNvNjDffnbzZnGQ0Pb52dwHYA/s1600/IMG_2956.jpg" height="300" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank goodness the paramedics weren't needed!</td></tr>
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<br />
Blogged by Sue Travers<br />
& based on a true story.<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-54700853183322656282013-07-31T14:52:00.000+10:002013-07-31T14:52:02.578+10:00An unhappy coffee experienceYou can be sure that Aussies have an unhappy relationship with the US when the issue of coffee is discussed on the National News in serious tones. But while we often hear about "that disgusting muck that passes for coffee in the US", or "a pale imitation of the real thing", and sometimes, "it's even worse than used dishwater", we rarely hear about what the Yanks think about the glorious beverage we treat with deep respect.<br />
<br />
I was delighted when I attended <a href="http://contextualscience.org/wc11">a conference</a> in Sydney recently, to discover that there wouldn't be urns of stale coffee waiting to be dispensed into ghastly styrene cups at break times, or even barely palatable ground and filtered coffee, which has often been sitting for hours and become bitter and decidedly unpleasant. No! The organisers clearly understood the needs of the group and had arranged for four high-tech, mobile coffee machines, staffed with keen-eyed and enthusiastic baristas, to wait on attendees. The beans were freshly roasted, then ground as needed, the milk (your choice of full cream, low fat or soy) heated and frothed as required, to become a welcome cappuccino. Yeehaaaaa!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP066joYu70-5BcvOXAYw7zN2WtoavYX3Md0Ub4I9-4cPly622azJ-XsXA4sM1qamTQMcTSpy5hC_pkjFf_dc3BBWrEDBFaj7dVDrWV_U0QsIExxl2mWnImF1nxTalqnEzrVRJszx8DKE/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP066joYu70-5BcvOXAYw7zN2WtoavYX3Md0Ub4I9-4cPly622azJ-XsXA4sM1qamTQMcTSpy5hC_pkjFf_dc3BBWrEDBFaj7dVDrWV_U0QsIExxl2mWnImF1nxTalqnEzrVRJszx8DKE/s1600/photo.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not quite conference coffee, but close enough!</td></tr>
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At morning break, the situation on the coffee machines was as streamlined as humanly possible; one person writing the name and order on the plastic lid, one person working the coffee grinder and filter basket, (or hot water for those who wanted tea) and another frothing the milk. Very impressive!<br />
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However, not everyone was happy.<br />
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I was eagerly waiting for my order when I became aware of a tense, some might even say terse, exchange between a barista and a conference attendee, an American woman who clearly wasn't happy with the beverage she had been given.<br />
<br />
<i>"This isn't cawfee, I want regular cawfee."</i><br />
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"Yes, that's what I've made you."<br />
<br />
<i>"No it's not. I just want cawfee."</i><br />
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The look of complete confusion on the barista's face would have been amusing in a different place. You could see her thinking "You asked for coffee, we made you coffee - how could that be wrong?"<br />
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My attempt at explaining the differences in terminology, strength and taste were met with an icy chill - clearly the woman needed her kind of coffee <i>NOW</i>!<br />
<br />
The cogs in the American woman's brain were apparently struggling with lack of caffein. She began a few sentences, then finally spluttered: <i>"I want American cawfee".</i><br />
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A look of comprehension "Oh you mean a <a href="http://www.blogger.com/(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_black)">long black</a>!"<br />
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Oh deary me - this was not going well.<br />
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The poor American couldn't bring herself to repeat the words, such is the power of cultural taboos and inappropriate language with its racist overtones. I'm not sure what she was visualising, but I doubt it was a cup of coffee.<br />
<br />
By now her husband had joined her and taken his cup of coffee - aka cappuccino - with a look of disgust. It appears that they hadn't realised that simply ordering a "coffee" will lead to confusion and that in the hurly burly of the noisy morning break, and without further clarification, that a cappuccino would be produced with a professional flourish.<br />
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So, it goes both ways, it seems that on the subject of coffee, the differences in our expectations and tastes far outweigh the similarities and that many of us return home to our respective countries with tales of undrinkable coffee.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPHJ2HpxstCfRboMQwBQ-IF54hAtcZigUBLdbwhgx9tn7KJOkV4QGbY6DEwH_hmJUPtdNkJtVcIoRbdKDoHq9p5cYguVeQtYOp804OcvsC0dGurOG6fv8BvsnR0IEfD7yCNFVRIshcLs/s1600/caffe1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPHJ2HpxstCfRboMQwBQ-IF54hAtcZigUBLdbwhgx9tn7KJOkV4QGbY6DEwH_hmJUPtdNkJtVcIoRbdKDoHq9p5cYguVeQtYOp804OcvsC0dGurOG6fv8BvsnR0IEfD7yCNFVRIshcLs/s400/caffe1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">from: http://inspiredm.com/coffee-infographics/</td></tr>
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In the interests of easing cross cultural coffee tension it might be an idea to study <a href="http://www.wikihow.com/Order-Coffee">How to order coffee</a> before leaving home ;-)<br />
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My previous spluttering post about the American excuse for coffee is <a href="http://jumpingaground.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/c-is-for-coffee-images-of-america.html">here</a>.<br />
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.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-19067803784565125752013-07-18T13:42:00.000+10:002013-07-18T13:42:39.300+10:00Perplexing signs which lead to questions rather than answers.<div style="text-align: left;">
What on earth does this sign, strategically placed atop the motel toilet seat, tucked in carefully and neatly between the lid and the seat mean? </div>
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<b>"Hygenically Cleaned</b></div>
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<b>and Sealed</b></div>
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<b>for your Protection"</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHaPtVUZob7BYKFikBhomMHBCUDG6vDl9EYyW5xMWm-5C24suyLQVoY4cgUgjJlVp_pifVAG0qLWJql8amKroBP0nJE05bXwk66Vwp6t4MDpy2S7iVJB3C4F-mzCLWNw6uw0NVmj1Iek/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHHaPtVUZob7BYKFikBhomMHBCUDG6vDl9EYyW5xMWm-5C24suyLQVoY4cgUgjJlVp_pifVAG0qLWJql8amKroBP0nJE05bXwk66Vwp6t4MDpy2S7iVJB3C4F-mzCLWNw6uw0NVmj1Iek/s1600/photo+1.JPG" /></a></div>
I understand the individual words and I think I know what it's getting at, but why is it considered necessary? It raises so many questions ... most appear to have no answer.<br />
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Of course it's nice to know that someone has spent time hygenically cleaning the toilet, that's great! So much more welcoming than an unhygenically cleaned loo, brilliant in fact and totally welcoming after a long coffee fuelled drive.<br />
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Good to know that a vicious chemical has been sloshed around because as we all know it's so very important for the rear end to be protected in this way and for that chemical to be flushed away into the sewerage system to be treated, neutralised and "disposed of". Vital for one's health wouldn't you say?<br />
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Seriously though, I'm never sure what it is I'm meant to be protected from. Extensive research (I asked a couple of friends) has led to more confusion. There are vague comments, some lacklustre handwaving and the implication that "Really you should know about this without being so uncouth as to need to ask."<br />
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Clearly I'm not being protected from a white pointer or a croc. It's possible that any stray red-backs or white tails (small, particularly nasty spiders) have been moved on and that's welcome news, but somehow I don't think the sign relates to spiders.<br />
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But this is Australia, so it's possible I suppose.<br />
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However it's not the toilet I'm most concerned about when arriving at a motel. It's the cutlery and crockery I'd be keen to see with the sign strategically placed, obvious and reassuring:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigesXxuiDAhIf-JYk7WNoX0lKUH79BPwvuqNaIA4UR0JJQl8qJil3_hyphenhyphenoqsnyj7aFukUlmTM_KtzdsbN95jTIHBXxGE5peFMWObhk8aocg_1iJvCufyPc-kjcEoaTLRka5B9Oo05ypKI0/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigesXxuiDAhIf-JYk7WNoX0lKUH79BPwvuqNaIA4UR0JJQl8qJil3_hyphenhyphenoqsnyj7aFukUlmTM_KtzdsbN95jTIHBXxGE5peFMWObhk8aocg_1iJvCufyPc-kjcEoaTLRka5B9Oo05ypKI0/s1600/photo+2.JPG" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KqpltsbfOUungzLw_qoQEiSE_M7q0tvE7O981eTV_xJaeF5SX_2LOL5jy2QUXVRSK0P2y20nYS1Dy5LbhY95IwB0yxMz9EdnuhVvLjU-96C2XsWaYJjVobE2z4j1ngvHojhg1E9ABTs/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KqpltsbfOUungzLw_qoQEiSE_M7q0tvE7O981eTV_xJaeF5SX_2LOL5jy2QUXVRSK0P2y20nYS1Dy5LbhY95IwB0yxMz9EdnuhVvLjU-96C2XsWaYJjVobE2z4j1ngvHojhg1E9ABTs/s1600/photo+3.JPG" /></a></div>
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Because, at present, my dread is that the same person who "hygenically" cleaned the toilet may have inadvertently used the same cloth to "clean" the mugs and glasses after the previous occupant left them unwashed, with toothpaste smeared around the rim, or with dregs of tea or whiskey in the bottom. </div>
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The cleaner wonders: "Hmm, let's see, which cloth did I use in the bathroom? Was it this one, or that one? Oh, hang it all, who cares, no time to waste, on with the cleaning!"</div>
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Or perhaps the previous occupant had a cold sore, the flu, a sneezy snuffly cold or some other infection; and being a thoughtful kind of soul they swished some lukewarm water around the drinking vessel then dried it with the bath mat or bath towel, generously spreading germs, soap debris and assorted grime around. They've then placed the items neatly back in place ready for the next occupant to use without any trustworthy sign reminding one to wonder about hygiene or protection.</div>
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In short, the sign presumably put there to reassure me, is anything but reassuring!</div>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8568198983140309755.post-22064197665999456782013-05-29T16:43:00.002+10:002013-05-29T16:43:41.918+10:00My new neighbour - Rattus lutreolus, the native swamp rat My new best friend, now officially named Swampy! At least I hope he'll be a friend considering that the <i>swamp rat</i> or Rattus lutreolus is a protected mammal and setting traps of the terminal variety is a definite no no.<br />
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Fossil records for <i>Rattus lutreolus</i> date back around 4000 years making it a relatively new animal in Australia, but without the yuk factor of recent arrival, <i>rattus rattus</i>, which is thought to have arrived here with the First Fleet a little over 200 years ago. <i>Rattus rattus</i> are the ones to watch out for; they carry fleas which in turn carry diseases which are harmful to humans (think in terms of the bubonic plague or black death) and will happily take up residence in homes and generally create havoc.<br />
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In contrast,<i> Rattus lutreolus</i> is a shy inoffensive creature, dieting on insects, funghi, seeds and grassy stems, and I've been assured by the Museum of Victoria that they don't pass on ghastly diseases. Given that this little fellow (or possibly girl - I have no idea which) arrived unannounced on Saturday this is good news.<br />
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The Discovery Centre at Museum Victoria has a service where you can email them a photo for identification purposes. So, on Sunday, when it was obvious that a creature of a rat like appearance had begun burrowing near my very small pond and compact rockery, (small mounds of scattered pebbles and dirt were a dead give away) I sat patiently by the window, camera at the ready and spent far too much time enchanted by the scampering, munching, skittish little creature. I got the photo above and promptly emailed it to the Museum, not expecting a reply for weeks as per the advice on the web site. However within a couple of hours they'd got back to me - that's impressive!<br />
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My concern is that the swamp rat's penchant for digging burrow systems and constructing runways will be bad for our garden. *Wails - I'm new to this permaculture business, give me a chance and please leave my yam, lemon grass and the water chestnut alone!<br />
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I phoned the wildlife rescue people thinking they might take him to what I'd consider a better location, but was told quite firmly that the rat has chosen my backyard and it knows what it's looking for. They won't assist by relocating it which would most likely lead to it dying because a more dominant creature wouldn't take kindly to an intruder dumped on its doorstep.<br />
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So it looks like we'll be neighbours for a while yet, or at least till he moves on, or a wandering cat gets him. (We don't own a dog or cat so there was no home grown deterrent). In the wild, owls and other birds of prey would be the main predators of the swamp rat though he does seem quite nervous when the pigeons land nearby and darts incredibly quickly behind the pots. Unlike some rats, they're active both day and night which makes for good entertainment and photography!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r8Bsq6ZOFX8/UaVec-8fE_I/AAAAAAAAHjY/jt8Ra7u15dc/s1600/13+-+1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r8Bsq6ZOFX8/UaVec-8fE_I/AAAAAAAAHjY/jt8Ra7u15dc/s320/13+-+1" width="320" /></a></div>
Swampy doesn't appear in the photo above, however behind the dragon it's possible to see the scattered soil covering the right half of the tiny pond which used to be water right up to the yam (with the heart shaped leaves) and water chestnut to the left of the yam (it looks a bit like a stiff grass). It's now mostly covered in, as a result of enthusiastic digging and pushing pebbles aside, which might, with a bit of luck suit those plants better!<br />
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Further information is available <a href="http://www.science.smith.edu/msi/pdf/i0076-3519-299-01-0001.pdf">here</a> and some basic identification information from the Museum of Victoria <a href="http://museumvictoria.com.au/discoverycentre/discovery-centre-news/2007-archive/is-this-a-native-or-an-introduced-rat/">here</a>.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #f6f4ed; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 19.176136016845703px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: #f6f4ed; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 19.176136016845703px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica;">.</span></span>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09715879775216108688noreply@blogger.com6