The One Where Cella Comes To Visit

One of the lovely things about being home is getting to see the nieces and nephews more frequently.  And can I just say, although I might be biased, my nieces and nephews are just gorgeous.  The other day we had the lovely Miss Marcella over for the afternoon, as it was such a stinking hot day, and she was just desperate for some 'simming'.  She loves 'simming', it is her most favourite thing to do, I think.  She's such a daredevil in the pool too, you really have to watch her - if you're not careful, she'll jump in in the deep end - and then get herself into trouble.  Although, they've taken to putting Harry's old floatation vest thingy on her when she swims, to give her some buoyancy (like a life jacket) - but its too big, so inevitably she tumbles forward and sinks head first, bottom up in the air, into the water!  It's funny to watch - but wouldn't be so funny should something unpleasant happen - so you have to keep an eye on her.

Anyway, after a spot of 'simming', we decided to take her out in the dinghy.  She's been in the dinghy a couple of times I think, and Dad is starting to teach her how to steer (as much as one can teach a 2 y.o. to drive a boat).  She puts her little hand on the lever, delighted to be doing something so important as steering the boat, and then proceeds to look anywhere but where she is going - for now that's ok as Dad is actually steering the boat unbeknownst to her with his hands at the back of the motor.

Anyway, we took her along the canals to have a little look at the houses and boats, and then moored up at the marina as Dad wanted to look at something.  Marcella and I had great fun running along the piers - until she announced, "Kylie, wee-wee" - yep, she needed the loo.  And there ain't none there, I can tell you.  So it was off with the dacks as I unceremoniously held her up over the side of the pier whilst she let rip with one of the longest wees this side of the black stump...!

We bundled her back off into the dinghy for the return trip home, where she was given her dinner of chicken or something, which she proceeded to feed to Benson over the side of the high chair!  Then it was off to the bath - where she proceeded to squirt me as much as possible with the squirty barnyard animal toys she has!  After this, a spot of bouncing up and down on the spare bed before finally settling off to sleep... it sure is a whirlwind when Miss M is in town!

Starting the engine

"Look Pa, it's Mr Percival!"

Steering the boat (with a little help!)

Looking For Some Hot Stuff

I would just like to check - we are in the 21st century, right?  A time of great advances in technology, what with iPods, iPhones, satnavs, computers - things that make life a little easier... stuff like that.  So, if we can send a man to the moon, if we can enable people to connect to the internet without wires, if we can have a little grey box fire forth instructions on how to get from A to B (including advising us of whether we are over the speed limit, or where the next red light camera is) - then why on earth can't I have a hot shower at home?

Yes, people, for some strange reason the hotwater system here has packed it in, and we have no hot water.  And I have my first proper day of teaching tomorrow - when all the kids are back in school.  And no shower.

This actually happened yesterday, and the solution was, seeing as I was already at Mel's house for dinner, to have a quick shower there.  That was ok, because it looked like the situation would be resolved today.  However, upon my return from my first day at school (with Yr 8s and Yr 12s only in school), I was absolutely flabbergasted to find that we still had no hot water - and that our solution was to - ready for this?  Go down to the boat and use the shower on there!

Yeah, right.  That shower is ok when you're away on holidays, sailing away somewhere, and you don't actually care what you look like because, let's face it, who's going to see you?  Or to rephrase, who's going to see you who you will actually see again?  Obviously, no-one!  But in my situation, I'm meeting my new students for the first time ever, I need to make a good first impression, as you never get to make a 'first' impression ever again - and I will do it after having showered in a cubicle where my hips practically touch the walls!

The alternative?  A cold shower in the house.... anyone got any hot stuff please?

Boyz In The Boat

A couple of weeks ago we had planned to spend a week as a family out in the boat. Unfortunately that was the week that Grandpa passed away, and what with funeral arrangements, plus the sudden shock of it all, and with family travelling from far to be here, we didn't get away. Instead, we took a much shortened trip, just for the weekend (Saturday to Monday) to Bribie Island.

This should've, in theory, been perfectly fine. Mum, Dad, me, Lach and Haz - all on the boat. The boat is big enough for all of us, so no probs. At least, it should've been...

The problem is that this, being Dad's boat, is actually his second dumping ground for all things that he just might need whilst on it. That shouldn't be a problem, because let's face it, if you're out to sea and your engine packs it in, or your sail rips, or whatever - then having the right tools to fix those things could actually be quite useful. Plenty of life jackets, buckets, fishing rods, everything.

To be fair, I don't care - if you need that stuff there, fine. Have it. Its just that Dad (bless you Dad, I love you but this point is true) has his own space to put these things in, which in my mind is not always logical, or practical - like storing things on the bunks that people have to sleep on, or areas where they might need to be sitting, or shower in (Dad - the generator in the toilet?).   I guess that's ok for the daytime when you're sailing - but then if you need to lie down, or sit, or shower, you kind of can't - until a new locale is found for said item - usually somewhere else you might want to lie down, or sit, or shower later.

So that was the first problem - a lot of stuff. But if you climbed over it, and tried to turn a blind eye to it, it was ok. Problem number 2, however, was not so easy to avoid - the weather. Because you see, Dad had asked me to print off the weather forecast, which I duly did, but although he read it before we left, he didn't share the information until we were underway - and that's when we discovered that we were in for a well and truly rough ride. Wind up to 45 knots or so, waves extraordinarily high, the boat being chucked from side to side... Harry was nearly sick, poor kid - he had to sit there in his life jacket with a bucket in case he spoke to Ralph.

Things didn't get any easier when we arrived at Bribie - we tried to anchor in 2 different places, and each time, the waves being so rough, and the wind so strong - we just kept draggin anchor. So this put us in a bit of a dilemma - because we couldn't go back, it was too rough - and there was nowhere else to go. In the end, Dad decided to moor at the Bribie jetty, where one of his mates had moored. This then turned into a mammoth operation, with me, Mum and Lachie manning different ropes and different positions on the boat, ready to fling ropes at Reg and Gail (Dad's mates) when we got to the jetty. But you try standing on the side of a rocking and rolling boat, in strong winds, where when the boat dips down, you literally have to fling yourself back onto the wall of the boat's cabin so as to try not to fall in! It was really somewhat like a scene out of that movie "The Perfect Storm" - except alas, George Clooney wasn't there...

We got to the jetty and flung our ropes - but some dipstick, who wasn't part of 'Operation Dragon Lady Rescue', caught my rope and then decided he was strong enough to hold the boat there by the rope (without locking it onto the cleat on the jetty - even I know you should never do that!). Suffice to say he nearly had his arms ripped off, and he nearly ended up in the drink.

However second time lucky, we managed to get tied up to the jetty, and then problem number 3 started - rubber neckers. Here we are, sitting inside the boat, minding our own business and eating dinner, when a bunch of people come past and start calling out for us. We come out, thinking there was a problem with the ropes or something - but no, all they wanted was to see if they could have a tour of the boat. Get out of here!

A little later on we discovered problem number 4 - the boys, being boys, and being 10 and 8 respectively, have no sense of packing or anything - and had forgotten to bring shoes. Normally that's not a problem - you're on the boat 24/7 - but on this occasion, with nothing to do, and nowhere to go, we needed to get off the boat and explore a bit, which thus required walking down the jetty to the main road and then off to see the 'sights' of Bribie - the Bowls club, the fish n chip shop, and the icecream parlour. Wow, what excitement. I could hardly contain myself, I was just giddy with joy.

However, we survived the weekend and lived to tell the tale..

... until the following weekend, the Australia Day long weekend. Now to be fair, I'd now started school, so I really had a lot of work to do - but the boys convinced me to come along (and bring my laptop - which I didn't, I'm not silly - as if I'm bringing a $3000+ macbook away on a boat - no sir, I'll just use Dad's cheap pc laptop!).

We again had some problems getting away due to weather - this time, not wind and wave, but rain. So whilst we should've left on Saturday, we left Sunday afternoon (after a visit to the movies for the boys), and headed again to Bribie. By the time we arrived, my Uncle had phoned to say he was coming up with Grandma and my other uncle, so we had to moor up again at the jetty (irritating the fishermen there) and wait til Grandma arrived. Unfortunately though, this weekend the heat was unbearable, and there simply was no breeze - so everywhere you sat on the boat you were hot. Just as we'd decided to go and get an icecream, the heavens opened up - but didn't bring any relief, no, it just made it more humid. And by now Uncle David, Uncle Raymond and Grandma had arrived, and we had nowhere comfortable to sit. So, we adjourned to the Bowls club and had a nice meal. By the time we got back it was too dark to go pushing off to look for a spot to anchor, so we stayed there at the jetty. And stayed. And stayed.

The reason we didn't move is that the next day, Melissa had phoned to say she, Kevan and Bethany, and Beck, Dem and Marcella, were on their way and should be there in an hour. Try more like 2. We sat at that jetty for the whole morning, and when they finally arrived, it was when we were getting icecreams. That was ok, but when we got back to the boat - the heat literally enveloped us. It was soooo hot! And there was nowhere to go on the boat!

I volunteered to take the boys to the park where there were some Australia day celebrations going on, so we headed off there. Dad cranked up the BBQ and grilled up the meat. Demo came with us to watch the sky divers.

The display they had going in the park actually wasn't so bad, and Dad's burnt sausages were sort of edible, so we managed to get through the afternoon. The boys, Cella, Beck, Dem and I went for a bit of a swim - I taught Cella how to make a drip sandcastle - and all too soon it was time to go home. We packed up the boat and finally left that blinking jetty.

It was nice to be together with the fam, but I'm not sure I want to spend another Australia Day like that, cooped up in a stinking hot boat, and with 2 little boys who just want to jump all over you...

Anyway, here are some pics...

Aren't these just two of the cutest little girls on the planet?

Lach and I

Cella drives the boat (whilst it's stationary)

One of the skydivers

Bethany, Mel, Marcella and Demo

Harry on the swing

Dragon Lady at the jetty (the far left boat) - a different picture to the week before!

Oh How I Miss The NHS!

I bet you never thought you'd hear me say that, now did you? But it's true...

I've forgotten how expensive Australia is for health care. A few weeks back, I signed back on with a doctor (well, actually, you don't have to sign on but seeing as I have quite a few stupid health issues, I thought it best to do so - and then get my NHS stuff sent over so the doctor would know what on earth I was going on about). So I make an appointment, rock on up to the "quack" - and then promptly pay $90 for the privilege. $90! (That's about 45 pounds...). Granted, under the Medicare system, I got about $60 back in my refund, but still - $30 (15 pounds) out of pocket just to sign up with the doctor and get her to write a few referral letters.

Then this week I had the first of those referral appointments. You see, for some time now I've had quite a lot of problem with my voice, which is not good (a) for teachers, and (b) especially not good for music teachers who spend quite a lot of time singing with their kids in class. Not good at all. And this problem has been going on for some time, ever since 2004 when I first received treatment for it with the NHS. I was referred to the hospital and an ENT put a scope up my nose and determined that I didn't have nodules on the vocal folds, and then sent me off to a voice therapist. I went to her for about a year but really didn't make any progress at all, and as it was very difficult to get there for her appointments, I kind of made out to her that it was now all ok, and stopped going. Well, the reason it was now "all ok", of sorts, was because we'd taken on a few student teachers, so I wasn't doing as much talking and singing as I had been. But really, there had been no improvement, and I thought maybe that was down to the accent thing, or something.

So I'd decided that once I got back, I'd get it looked at again. Basically, not one day goes by that my voice doesn't hurt at the end of, because of normal talking (and it absolutely kills on days when I've been teaching). As for singing, well, I haven't done that in ages - I've lost half of my range. This is pretty scary when you think that from next week, I'll be back teaching using a methodology that relies extremely heavily on singing - and I can't really do it.

So therefore I requested a referral again to check out whether I've unfortunately developed any nodules or something. That appointment took place this past Wednesday. The only advantage of the Australian medical system is that generally, because you have to pay so much, you don't usually have to wait so long.

Anyway, I went to the ENT, he had a quick look, shoved the scope up the nose and so on - and the outcome is that it seems to be nothing to do with my vocal folds, rather, I've developed a load of polyps or some such up there. So I'm on some medication, and some vicious nose drops, and have to go back in a month's time. This is a huge - let me say again - HUGE relief!

Unfortunately, its not a relief on my wallet - that little 15 minutes cost me $260 (130 pounds - although I should get some back on Medicare), plus the cost of the medicines (try $70) - and a repeat visit in a month's time! Oh how I miss the lovely NHS...!

New Year, New Job

I've said it in the past, and I'll say it again - I hate change. Change really sucks. Change is scary, it means going out on a limb, and risking failure. I hate change.

My whole life recently has been one of change - relocation to a different continent, readjustment to a different culture, having to retrain one's mind to understand the value of money when it is in a different currency - everything has been adapt, adapt, adapt.

And then there's been the shock of change - like the loss of Grandpa the other day. Even now, I still can't believe it, and find myself being reminded of Pop and then being brought to tears by just the littlest things. Like, the other day I was at the Cheesecake shop buying a cheesecake for dessert with the family - and I remembered that the last time I was at that shop I was buying a cheesecake for Nanny and Pop's wedding anniversary. How cruel life can be at times.

But I digress. Anyway, as I was saying, I hate change. And the biggest change I hate? Changing your job... which was the change facing me today - my first day at my new school.

I have now worked in only 4 schools in my life (not counting my prac teaching school) and I have to say, the first day at a new school has got to be one of the most scary experiences in life. And not only for the kids, but for the teachers too! Especially when its a 'pupil free day' (aka in England - 'Inset' day) - because you've got to make a good first impression - and you only ever get one chance at it...

So the first dilemma is "What to wear?" Because you see, being a pupil free day - you could theoretically rock up in a tank top and a pair of thongs (flip flops, not the undies!) - but then what sort of message does that send, bearing in mind you need to make a good first impression. And, if you overdress - well, then everyone thinks you're a complete and utter dufus because you didn't figure out it was inset day and you don't have to wear "school clothes". Oh, the pain of it all!

Then, the second dilemma is - "How will I get there - and how long will it take?". Because, obviously you don't want to be late - but conversely, as you don't know anyone, don't know what's exactly expected of you and so on - well, you don't want to be too early either! What a pain! So for me, I decided to drive to work, because although I didn't really know how to get there, I had access to a rather old GPS - so surely it would be able to get you there. And, because I didn't want to be late, I allocated plenty of time (so I thought, 90 minutes) to get there.

The first thing was that I didn't really bank on the changes to Brisbane traffic over 10 years. For starters, when did the Gateway Motorway became Brisbane's own London M25 car park? Seriously! I tried to enter the motorway at the Deagon Deviation at something like 7.30am, and the traffic was already backed back to there! What on earth has happened - accident? Police? Alien invasion? No, its just the regular Monday morning traffic! I have to say, I must've sat on that road for absolute ages before we moved.

And when I finally did get almost to school, the antiquated GPS sent me off to the left - and suddenly I was stuck in one way traffic heading over Story Bridge, seeing my new school to my right and being completely unable to get there. Instead, I had to cross the river, continue for some time, and eventually I was able to make a u-turn. Fortunately the antiquated GPS I had been cursing managed to get me back to the right place eventually.

So by the time I actually did arrive at school I was a bit of a ruffled bundle of nerves. Add to this the fact that I didn't know where the staff carpark was (I'd parked in the visitors carpark when I went in last week) - so I'd parked there again, hoping I wouldn't be towed away - and the fact that I still hadn't met the Head yet, so I had all the pressure of making a good impression - and I was really deep down a bit of a train wreck. Nevertheless, I pulled myself together and made myself get out of the car.

I was pleasantly surprised to meet others there who felt the same as me - have I worn the right thing? Did I park in the right place? Yada yada... I was even more pleasantly surprised to find that the actual induction went very well, the school are extremely well organised, and I managed to be able to not only log on to the computer, but I could almost access everything that I needed to - AND they provided me with my ID, my photocopy card and my carpark pass. Result!

The staff were lovely, the day went smoothly - and surprisingly the rest of the week did too. So despite my initial worries, this just might not turn out to be alright after all... maybe... as long as nothing else changes...

... but wait... I haven't met the kids yet...! Uh-oh...

Neville Keith Drews: Our Loving Memories

We held the funeral service for my Grandpa today.

Although very difficult for all of us, it was a lovely service, and I think Pop would've been proud.  His BCOF buddies showed up, the whole family (except for Rachel who is in China working) were there, and the chapel was packed.  It was standing room only.

Here's the little slideshow presentation I made which was played during the service:

The quality is not so good on this version, I'll upload a better one soon.

Bye Bye Pop

Today the most awful thing happened. One I never, ever expected.

The day started off ok, my nephew Lachlan had stayed over and he, my Dad and I had popped out to the shops (having bunked church - oops, sorry God) whilst Mum did a bit of last minute grocery shopping as the plan was to be away on Dad's boat this week with the boys. All was going good until Dad, having left Cash Converters with a few well earned bargains, realised his phone was off. Turning it on, he discovered a missed call from my Uncle Tim - my Grandpa ('Pop' to his kids and Great-Grandkids, 'Grandpa' to the rest) had been suddenly rushed to hospital.

Dad raced Mum up to the hospital whilst I waited with Lachie to hear the news. At 3pm, the news I had feared the most came - drop everything and come now, he's not going to be with us much longer.

We got up there and my poor Grandpa was hooked up so many machines. He looked so pale, so helpless, and so not like the big, strong man I remember. Apparently he had complained of a terrible headache, and went to lie down. The pain was so bad that Nanny asked him if he needed the ambulance, and he said that he thought he did. Turns out he suffered a massive haemorrhage in his brain from which there was no recovery.

I felt so privileged though to be able to spend time with him there in the hospital, even though he wasn't awake. We sang to him, talked with him, and then Major McMurray (who had only just been sworn in at Stafford Salvation Army that morning, and who knew the family from his youth when he and my uncle Neville went to school together) prayed. As he prayed, Grandpa sat up a bit in bed and squeezed Nanny's hand - she took that as a sign that he was telling her he loved her. I like to think he was saying that too.

The nurses took him off the machines around 4pm or so - because if he passed away whilst he was hooked up, then it would be a coroner's enquiry, and an autopsy would be required - but if he passed away without the machines, it would be a completely different scenario. We would be able to spend as much time with him as we wanted. This was particularly helpful as my uncle Neville was having to travel down from Atherton and wouldn't be arriving until 7.15pm to Brisbane airport - so he probably wouldn't be at the hospital until at least 8pm. We told Grandpa that Neville was on his way in the hopes that he could hang on that long, but unfortunately at 5.27pm he slipped from this life and into the next, to meet his Saviour.

This is so sudden, especially when you realise that not 2 nights ago we were celebrating his and Nanny's 60th wedding anniversary, and now, 2 days later - he's gone. Tonight I should've been blogging about the wonderful anniversary party, not this. I just can't believe it. Especially when you remember that we lost my other Grandpa only 3 months ago. Just can't believe it.

Here is a pic of my Grandpa as I would like to remember him, from his 60th wedding anniversary 2 nights ago...

My sister Beck has more photos and her loving account here if you would like to read it.

Bye Bye Pop... We love you and we miss you...

Welcome To The World Nina Barina

Car dealers of Brisbane, breathe a sigh of relief.  I will no longer be knocking down your doors, peering through car windows in your yard, demanding test drives and asking you to 'sharpen your pencil' a bit more so the car I'm looking at is closer to my price range.

Yes, I finally have a vehicle - meet the lovely Nina Barina, a 1995, 123000kms on the clock, 4 door, manual, air con, hatchback Holden Barina.  Now for the English among us, a Holden is an Aussie car, owned by General Motors - so its like a Vauxhall or something.  Only nicer.

I meet Nina in the Trading Post, the Aussie version of Loot, which comes out every Thursday or Saturday or something.  I was at the point of being so sick of looking at cars that I was tempted to just stab my pen at the newspaper and just pick one, it was so bad.  But we took one last stab at it, rang around a few people in the Trading Post (got a lot of dropkicks in there too - but then, you would know that if you'd seen "The Castle" - lot of people were "dreamin'" about how much they'd get for their mechanical bombs!).

But fortunately it was there that we found Nina, went and had a look - and then enroute to Grandpa Moore's ash service, we put in an offer which was accepted subject to some terms and conditions, and now, she's all mine.

What do you think?  Zippy little thing, eh?

The Saga of Buying a Cheap Car in Brisbane

You wouldn't believe just how difficult it is to buy a cheap car in Brisbane.

In London, you can pick up a reasonably good bomb for around £600-700, which is about $1500.  For that, you'd get something that would have a bit of tax (rego) on it, maybe it wouldn't have MOT (safety certificate - but that's not a legal requirement til you have to renew the tax) and it would go relatively well.  As bombs go.

But here, you can't get anything even in that condition for under $4000 (£2000).  And actually, its a legal requirement that if you are selling the car with rego (tax), then you must have a valid, recent safety certificate (MOT).  So seeing that cars under $4000 are usually the sorts of things you would be selling because they're too expensive to repair, or too expensive to be made road-worthy, you can be sure that there is absolutely no point in buying one.  But my problem is, I have only just got back here, and Redcliffe has no decent public transport, so if I want to go anywhere, I need a car.  Which brings me to problem number 2 - money.  As the £ is crap now against the $, instead of me getting 2.5 times (i.e. £1000 = $2500), I'm only getting 2 times (ie £1000 = $2000 - and in some cases, with the necessary transfer fees, even less).  And seeing as I am currently unemployed, and won't be paid for some 2 months anyway once I start my new job, that means that the situation is dire.  I don't have that much cash just lying around - and I'm not able to get a loan as I don't have any Aussie payslips. 

So as a result, I am on a very tight budget.  Dad and I have been going around so many car yards that my head is literally spinning - and there's nothing remotely suitable in my price range, which means I have to re-evaluate my budget.  I bring Dad because, let's face it, I don't want to buy something that will fall apart the minute I drive away - and actually we did test drive one like that, the engine literally fell apart during the test drive and we only just made it back.

So for now, it's back to the drawing board, more car yards to hit, more newspapers to read - until I find the one.  Meantime, what do you think of this one?  If I had $8000 I could buy it....

Pretty swish, eh?  Wanna lend me some cash?  Support the "Kylie needs a car so I'm going to help her buy one" fund?  Come on, you know you want to...

Stone The Crows - It's The Brisbane International!

Every year, when my sisters and I were growing up, we had a summer ritual.  Basically, once January hit, the TV would go on, all day, every day, tuned to only one thing.  The tennis...

Now I know most other normal Aussies would have their TV's tuned to the cricket, but not us.  We just loved our tennis.  First there would be the Danone International, held in Milton, Brisbane, and then the tournament at White City, before the big one - the Australian Open.  I remember even one time when we went away on the boat (although to be fair this was when we were much older - adults, in fact) we had the tennis tuned in on the TV on the boat - the reception was so bad that you couldn't even see the tennis ball as it merged with the dotty image on the screen - but it didn't matter, the sound worked.  This was the year that Pat Cash made it to the Australian Open final, and we were just egging him on to win - alas, he didn't - but this goes to show you our diligence and determination to watch every minute of the tennis.

In fact, one year, Melissa and I actually made it to the Danone International at Milton.  There we sat, precariously perched on the wooden seats on the practically falling down rickety old stadium, watching our favourites.  I think Melissa got a photo with Jana Novotna or Hana Mandlikova or something - although her absolute favourite was Helena Sukova, for whom, one year, she edited an entire Helena Sukova video montage based on the snippets she recorded from the TV, and added the song "Take My Breath Away" as the mini-movie's soundtrack.  But it was not long after that that the big names stopped coming to the Danone, basically because the money wasn't good enough, and the stadium so rubbish that the audience wasn't coming either.  So the Danone folded, and the big names went to things like the Hopman Cup in Perth, or just didn't come to Australia until the White City tournament.

So this year, I was surprised to learn that they have now built a new tennis stadium at Yeerongpilly, at the site of the old Tennyson power station, and that they have reinstated the 'Brisbane International'.  But I was even more surprised, pleasantly so, to receive a ticket to the opening day's play in the Pat Rafter Arena - a Christmas gift from Beck and Dem.  How fab!  In fact, we all got one - Beck, Dem, Mum, Mel and I - so on Sunday 4th January we made our way there (in Beck and Dem's car, despite the publicity advertising that there was no parking and you have to take the train - seriously, there is no train station on the Peninsular anyway, so it would've been extremely difficult to get there that way).  Actually there was no problem parking anyway, as we just parked in one of the residential streets nearby.  I'll bet next year they'll have parking restrictions in place once the neighbours complain about the numbers of cars parking outside their houses this year...!

Anyway, back to the tournament.  I have to say that the stadium is pretty good.  Ok, its not Wimbledon, or the US Open - but its surprisingly very good for what it is.  Pat Rafter Arena houses centre court, and the seating is laid out such that there really isn't a bad seat in the house - you get a fab view from anywhere in the stadium.  And the big plus is that the arena is covered - not like a fully sealed, permanent sort of thing - no, there's a substantial gap between the wall and ceiling which allows the breeze in, which means that you are not overheated in your seat, and you don't ever sit in direct sunlight - so really, we needn't have packed the sunscreen.

But the one thing, other than the breeze, that this arrangement allows in is this - crows.  And boy do they come in!  In the second match, between Gasquet and Gicquel, one lone crow came in and perched high up in the rafters - and proceeded to 'crow' loudly.  Of course, in that environment, the acoustic amplifies exceptionally well - and at one stage the serving player looked up exasperatedly at the roof as the crow gave a full on animated commentary on the proceedings (as only an Aussie crow could do!).  It happened later on in the day too, when Marion Bartoli was playing some young Aussie chick - Bartoli looked up at the crow in sheer frustration at the interruption to her concentration - which the audience found most amusing.  One of the venue staff eventually went up there and managed to scare the crow off.

That got me thinking about Wimbledon.  At Wimbledon, they have a dirty great big hawk circling the perimeter of the grounds to scare off the pigeons.  This year there was a bit of a hue and cry over it, as someone wanted to shoot the pigeons, or something like this, whilst others thought it wasn't terribly humane to have a dirty great big hawk flying around.  Personally, I never saw the hawk - but then, I never saw any pigeons either.

Anyway, we had an absolutely fab day: here is a brief slideshow of our highlights...

Eric Alexander Moore - The Final Farewell

Yesterday, at 4pm, at Grandma and Grandpa Moore's favourite spot overlooking the sea from the Shorncliffe Cliffs, we released Grandpa's ashes and said our final farewells. It was a shame that the weather wasn't very helpful, as it was quite wet and windy, but then again, maybe that was the heavens offering up a little tear too.

I was so honoured to be a part of this little informal ceremony as I hadn't been able to attend the funeral (except by skype). My sister Melissa did the little service, which was brief but poignant, and gave a little poem for me to read, thus enabling me to finally feel a part of the goodbyes and tributes to my lovely grandfather. It was just a lovely poem - here it is here for you to enjoy too:

Be Comforted My life is ended here at peace with the cliffs and the sea. The Lord has called me home and I am free to go peacefully. Don't mourn my passing as I am now in the presence of the Glory of God, His bright love is abundant and his promises are real. I will wait here for you dear ones in Jesus’ arms & watch over you with him until you also come home. Be comforted loved ones. "I shall go the way of the cliffs and the open sea,

To the Lands before you came,

And the cool ocean breezes shall blow from me,

The memory of your name."

The service was attended by just a few - all my Dad's brothers and wives, Grandma of course, my Grandpa's sister Beryl and her husband, plus us 3 girls and my sister's families, and Ray and Bess, Grandma and Grandpa's dear friends.

My brother in law Kevan prayed as my sister released the ashes, then we all threw rose petals into the wind and my father, his brothers, Aunty Beryl and Grandma released helium filled balloons as Kevan gave the traditional committal, which is I think something like this:

'We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.'

The bad bit (well, other than the fact we were saying goodbye) was, that during Kevan's prayers for the family, some hoons, or so we thought, started honking their horns to be disruptive. It got so bad that I turned around to give them my evil eyebrow - and discovered it was my 2 year old niece Marcella who, after having been unable to keep quiet, had been put in the car alongside her 1 year old cousin - and had discovered with great delight that by pushing the steering wheel, a wonderfully loud noise happens! Damien quickly rushed to stop her though, much to her disappointment.

Anyway, here are some pics of the occasion, which Aunty Meredith took:

Our little gathering at Grandma and Grandpa's "spot"

Mel reads some thoughts

Me reading the poem "Be Comforted"

The release

Erik Alexander Moore - Rest In Peace

New Year's Resolutions

Now we all know that new year's resolutions don't usually work.  I mean, if they did, I would be a thin stick (instead of the size of a small moon), be married, rich, own a fabulous mansion, live on a remote, exotic island, and have travelled the world.  Well, one out of six I guess isn't so bad - and even then, its not complete - I've only visited 59 countries in total, a mere fraction of the earth's 225 or so countries...

visited 59 states (26.2%)

Create your own visited map of The World or try another Douwe Osinga project

So anyway, back to the topic at hand - New Year's Resolutions.  Why don't they work?  I kind of figure that the only resolutions I've ever kept have been either ones that I've been really interested in, or that have been relatively easy to observe.  Losing weight is not any easy resolution to keep because I have no will power.  Deciding to do mad things like exercise regularly usually goes the same way, for the same reason.  So, bearing all that in mind, here are my resolutions for 2009:

1.  To respond within 24 hours to any email that has been sent to me which is not junk mail.  That's easy enough, I could (if I wanted to be really lazy) set up one of those automatic 'out of office' emails like what my cousin has.

2.  To be nicer to people, less cantankerous - and to not let the little incompetencies of others drive me to distraction.  That one is going to be a bit more difficult I think, but its something I do need to do - so that's why it makes the list.

There you are, that's it.  Let's see how we get on with these then, eh?

Now, if you are actually reading this blog (I checked google analytics before and found that I've had a -57% downturn in people accessing the blog last month, so hey, I guess no-one is reading it), and if you feel like having some accountability for your resolutions by putting them out there on the world wide web for all to see - then please, feel free to drop me a comment and let me know what your plans are. In the meantime, if I haven't said it before, Happy New Year - here's hoping 2009 is happy, healthy and prosperous for you...