Journal Entries
The circus is in town! One night only!
Posted Nov 16, 2011
Roadblocks started appearing this morning on the road by the lake and in other parts of the Parliamentary zone. The Hyatt was cordoned off. There were burly blokes in uniforms and dark glasses loitering about the place and failing to be inconspicuous. Then the jets started patrolling over the city; they've been at it all day so I'm almost used to the occasional low rumble from the sky.
On the way home there was an air of expectation. Commonwealth Avenue was lined with people, giving me the feeling that they'd all come out to see my (crowded) bus go by. But of course they hadn't. Just after we got the hell out of there, Barack Obama and a few hundred of his closest friends turned up.
Bringing 500 people and a fleet of vehicles all this way for an overnight stay seems a little excessive.
The general mood here is that he's welcome, that he's a much less offensive presence than his predecessor, and that a degree of security is necessary. But in a city where Parliament House was specifically designed to allow the people to wander in and out of the building - indeed, over the roof of the building - at will, we're finding the level of security to be confronting, even offensive. The security individuals themselves, with their glasses and suits and improbably teeth and jawlines, are generally held in amused disdain.
But it's only for one night. It'll soon be over and we'll be able to get back to our more casual, more realistic and human, approach to leadership figures.
Ivan.
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Latest reply: Nov 16, 2011
On feeling like a heartless cad in a shopping centre carpark.
Posted Nov 15, 2011
Today at the office we had a call from K to say that she's unlikely to be in for the rest of the week. Her father, who was moved to the hospice the other day, now seems likely to have only a few days more of life.
There's absolutely nothing I can do now, except remind K that I'll help her as best I can if she needs help. But that's not really what I'm writing about.
At the local shop on the way home I ran into S, who's been on leave for the last few weeks. My first thought was 'she looks so different without foundation and eyeliner', my second thought was to let her know K's situation. Office news can wait until she's back on Monday, but this is different. So I told her what was happening with K's father as we went through the checkout and then into the carpark.
That was when I really felt the difference in our ages. I'm about 15 years older than S. I'm used to people dying. I've seen my own father die, far too young. S still has both parents, a full set of grandparents, and all of the extended family is intact. I could see from her face that she was shocked at how fast things were happening, and I could also see that she was struggling not to cry. She said that she had no way of coping with these things because she simply has no experience of them.
I left her to drive home while I walked down the stairs to my street.
I handled things badly. I should have been softer and gentler in giving S the news, but it didn't occur to me until it was too late. It's not like I was brutally blunt, but I did speak as though to someone of my own age and general experience. It speaks volumes about S that I forget how young she is, and how peaceful a life she's had - and this is one time when I should have remembered.Ivan.
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Latest reply: Nov 15, 2011
On being a performing animal in a cage
Posted Nov 14, 2011
It's those bloody parrots again. Sulphur-crested cockatoos. It was bad enough being mocked by one yesterday, but today they're queueing up to stare at me through the window. There are three of them perched on the windowsill now. When I move, their gaze follows. If I make any sudden moves, their crests go up.
Now they're squabbling among themselves. I'm imagining that one of them wants to go and get an icecream or something, but that the others want to keep on watching the big pink ape for a bit longer.
Maybe they're just hoping I'll refill the birdbath. It does look like the tide's out.
***
Right, I've refilled the thing and there are now three large white birds al trying to be in there at once. They don't fit. There are others on the garden wall, waiting for their turn.
And one of them's back on the windowsill, staring at me...Ivan.
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Latest reply: Nov 14, 2011
In which Ivan talks dirty
Posted Nov 13, 2011
I've had two bouts of gardening so far today, there's another one planned for the late afternoon once the sun's off that part of the garden, and there are a few things I'll have to plant out during the week because I simply won't have the energy to finish everything today. This is what I get for buying plants in bulk yesterday and only deciding where to put them today.
In fossicking about I've found out exactly how the previous owner prepared this place for sale. I've found ivy poking itself back out from underneath the decaying mulch in the lower part of the garden. Clearly she just hacked it all back to ground level and mulched over the top. I'll have to poison that. So much for organic gardening, in the short term at least.
I also dug out a bit of some unexpected root system; the roots went for quite a distance. I lost patience with digging it out and just pulled on one root until it whiplashed out of the ground. As a result I fell backwards into a heap of earth and showered myself with dirt. To add insult to injury, a cockatoo came and jeered at me while I was sprawled there.
It's a strange form of relaxation I've adopted, gardening. But I did have an interesting time getting dirt out of my eyes, nose, ears and various other improbable places.Ivan.
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Latest reply: Nov 13, 2011
Remember, because things could be worse if we forget.
Posted Nov 11, 2011
This is partly a follow-on from yesterday's journal, and partly triggered by various conversations about poppies and remembrance.
My paternal grandfather enlisted in the Australian Imperial Forces in 1914, wearing the slouch hat and the Rising Sun badge with pride. I have a photo of him in uniform, a studio portrait, taken just before he set off for Perth to embark for Gallipoli. He was being sent to fight the Turks, despite the Turks being no threat to Australia and despite his own Turkish/Ottoman ancestry.
I remember seeing the war memorials in every small town I've visited. The memorials in the Barossa Valley towns stick in the mind; the district was settled by Germans from Prussia and Silesia in the 1840s, and in 1914-18 and again in 1939-45 the young men of the district went off to fight for the King-Emperor. These are German names on the monuments to the Australian soldiers who died in those wars.
As I said yesterday, my mother experienced the end of the Second World War as a child in Europe. She was taking refuge in Germany where it was safe for the remaining members of her family. Meanwhile, distant cousins of the boy who would be my father were meeting their end in quite another sort of camp in what is now Poland.
I grew up knowing that the two sides of my family had technically been bitter enemies a couple of decades before I was born.
The only way we can ever stop the gross idiocy of armed conflict is to remember it, to remember those who fought, and all of those who suffered, whether military or civilian, whichever side they were on. Remember that every single person was just that - a person. A human being.
So please - remember them all... If we forget, we might have to do it all again.
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Latest reply: Nov 11, 2011
Ivan the Terribly Average
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