Growing up is fun !

Combine harvesters and experimental rocketry.

Being unpopular with parents as a kid always baffled me, whom ever my mate at the time was, their parents seemed to think of me as a bad influence, right from the start.

When I as about 10 yrs old I couldn’t wait to get out on my bike be it my Roadmaster 3 speed dragster or the B.M.X that I bought of a friend for $20, that was stolen, both the money and the bike. I saw no problem about turning up to Simon’s place at 6:30am on a Sunday to start our day but it peeved his parents of no end.

The imaginative ways Derek and I made money also irked both his and my parents, putting on our scout uniforms and pretending to collect bottles for them and cashing them in ourselves was a favorite. Industrious thinking I thought. Selling fags to the other kids, which we stole of Clyde’s parents whom just got back from England, selling the wagon wheels that Bradley and I stole from the pony club and many various other ways I wish not to mention in writing. And although I got Scott into a lot of trouble at school by doing things like, filling the fish tank with jelly crystals to see if they could still swim - I call this, ‘Great moments in science’, or having flame sword fights with the hoses of Bunsen burners - once again, science, another favorite that always bought howls of laughter was cutting the bottom out of other kids school bags and watching them pick it up, hilarious, and so much more fun games and camaraderie. His mum she just constantly seemed peeved that I was there before he done his chores. Which bemused me, as I was willing to help him along his merry way.

When we had to clean his fathers shed, we found some unused 12 gauge shotgun cartridges, with the help of a vice and a 4” nail, we increased the light and ventilation in the shed considerably, although it must be said, the neighbors looked a bit shocked as they peered over the fence. Oh and then she was appalled to catch us seeing if a lizard could outrun a lawnmower.
Sadly my friendship with Scott had to end, not as a result of his parents keeping him away from me, but rather my parents keeping me away from him. We moved to Anakie.

Again the long exciting road of unpopularity with parents continued unabated. Ok yes it was my idea to un-chock the old combine harvester on the hill, and watch it roll into the dam while Julian was paddling around in a foam fruit box. We were laughing like Hyenas for weeks! I still get a tear in my eye now. Yes it was my idea to tell the weird kid on O’Neil’s lane that to impress Mr Clipperton. ‘You have to show him some initiative, just jump in his truck and start it, he will be most impressed with your enthusiasm.’ Suprisingly, He wasn’t. Yes it was my idea that Lee could out run the cops on his XT 250 with me on the back. He couldn’t. Yes it was my idea to see if the asbestos porta cabin could burn. To my utter astonishment it could, quite well in fact! Yes it was my idea for Linden to piss on the electric fence. I couldn’t believe he actually did it! I told him his shoes would stop him earthing. That was so funny! The look on his face and the noise he made, Oooooom. I still get a chuckle from that one! Yes it was my idea to solder the safety valve shut on Moggies steam engine to make it go faster. It really did, for a while anyways. And yes I crashed his mum’s car and straight after she got it fixed, he thought he’d have a go, and tried rather persistantly to drive it through some trees. Yes it was me who discovered how to make chlorine bombs. So, yes there is a long list and an even longer list to go but I don’t want to incriminate myself any further and my ribs ache too much.

I see all this as the beginnings of a long and prosperous career in leadership, poor leadership maybe, but leadership none the less. I couldn’t possibly be any worse than the ones we have today! And it was so much fun to boot. Which is what these parents just don’t understand. I shall explain further.

You see, it’s kids like me, little horrors that we are, that make childhood fun, we get their kids away from in front of the Atari and start doing constructive, or I’ll admit, destructive pursuits. Because it was also me that started to construct things like the impossibly high tree house, dam the creek at Rowds or getting old machinery started and various other educational life skills that might inspire them to do something better than be a salesman in Dick Smiths.

So can you see it now? If your kids are hanging around a part time arsonist, front wheel nut loosening type of guy whom enjoys fixing fireworks to airfix models and scaring cats, don’t despair. He might end up an astronaught, an engineer, or in jail.

Life is a gamble hey.

Theres a lot of middle here!

Opals, kombi vans and camels.

Anyone who as traveled up through the centre of Australia will know that the scenery can be both stunning and spectacular, in pockets, if you know where to look. Typically, it’s rather bleak. People prefer to live underground mostly. Bleak, harsh and un-forgiving, almost cruel in a way that only mother-nature can be. This land is dead flat, so flat in fact that in most places you can see the curvature of the earth with nothing to interrupt the view except heat shimmer. Temperatures of around 50ºC during the day scorch the earth, man, beast and machine. Where 90% of all the wildlife either wants to kill you, bite you, sting you, or if your’ more unfortunate than some, just drive you mad! Although all of this may make you want to pack your bags in this green and pleasant land of England and move over there, I must also inform you that there aint much to do there besides mine opals and drive road trains.

Opals are supposedly a symbol of bad luck in some medieval societies, unless you are Chinese where they become a symbol for good luck surprisingly! The unfounded and unfortunate stigma of bad luck actually came from works of fiction and historic people like the Empress Josephine। The whole opal mining business is full of good and bad luck stories that I can tell you at some other time। What I really want to talk to you about is about some of the locals, the indigenous locals। Fun folk they are।

There are a lot of tails about the shenanigans of the locals round these parts, although all amusing, I found most to be a bit far fetched. Well I did until now! My favorite tale was of a family of aborigines whom are parked on the side of the road with the car filled with about 9 dogs and 6 kids and with the bonnet up they try and flag down passing motorists [they have a 6th sense to spot tourists] to give them a tow just a little up the road to the next town. As anyone who lives in Australia knows, a little up the road is about the equivalent to, from London to Leeds, about 600 km. When they finally get to this town, which aint a town, it’s a turn off in the middle of no-where, they have to be towed a further 200 km down a gravel road, full of bull-dust and corrugations, to an Aboriginal community, usually called something like Ullammekarathemalinadika pronounced amazingly somehow, in a single syllable. When they finally get there, exhausted and out of fuel, the locals get out of their 64 EJ Holden Station wagon or something of that vintage, when the tourist with his big heart asks the bloke if he can have a look at his car to fix if for him. The aboriginal fellow replies ‘No worries brudda, she aint got no engine.’ Opens the bonnet and three more kids jump out!

If any of you have seen the telly series called ‘Bush mechanics’ you will see that this story isn’t to far fetched. I recommend it. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages! But I want to tell you about my personal encounter.

Adelaide being the boring little hovel that it is, my girl and I decided to go up north to Darwin for the winter [Darwin, what a town!] We load up the VW Kombi and headed out on the only road north. The drive was quite interesting, we went to Maralinga, the old nuclear test sight hoping to see the giant glass pans [another urban myth maybe], Flinders ranges and Cooper peedy. Now I could write another chapter on C.P alone, what a bizarre town! Anyways.We were driving past C.P at about 4:00 pm as we had a big drink up at C.P the night before, and to avoid a hangover we kept drinking, as you do. The road north is almost dead straight for thousands of kilometers, there is no speed limit, there are 100 meter long road trains and variant life forms much bigger than your domestic cat to smash your car into. So drink driving may not have been my wisest idea to date. But it was my funest!

We had been driving for about 2 hours when we saw a car broken down on the side of the road with some aborigines milling about, and since we were quite pleasantly drunk and stoned we decided to stop and give them a hand. The vehicle was a 71 Holden HQ station wagon. The HQ was the biggest car Holden had ever produced, big enough to seat 6 adults reasonably comfortably. Unfortunately it wasn’t designed to hold 6 adults with 4 kids and 5 dogs. When I had a look in the car it also had 2, 100 liters drums of fuel with no lids on, for front seats! And a fair bit had been sloshed around the cab, enough to make me gag and whip my head out sharpish anyways. When I went under the bonnet for a look I just could not believe what I was seeing, the state of this engine was appalling, and hardly the sort of vehicle you’d embark upon an Australian outback odyssey in. I had to try and get it sorted anyways.

After 4 hours of drinking, mechanics, laughing and smoking weed, a broken manifold, a battery balancing on its edge and a home made earth lead. Finally I get the old girl going with a cough, puff and a wheeze, and the whole crew just jumps in and takes off without a word of thanks! My girl and I were in stitches of laughter for a good ½ hour before we set off. By now it was dark, and as anyone in outback Australia knows. Only dickheads and road-trains drive at night. Unfortunately, I was made in the former category.

We were heading up when we see this bright red light in the middle of the road and then it just disappeared, we looked at each other thinking ‘what-the-fuck-was-that?’ when it suddenly appeared again for a minute or two and then disappeared again. This happened again and again for about an hour, we didn’t have a clue what it was, then again, we were quite drunk and stoned by this point, ‘hammered’, is probably the more accurate term. We kept driving and as we got closer to the source of the light we realized what it was, it was the Aborigines with their faulty earth lead, densely over populated vehicle that was filled with open petrol drums. Oh my god! They were swaying all over the road with one flat front tyre! We couldn’t stop laughing! Again.
Finally we overtake them and we are looking in the rear view mirrors at the headlight, singular, going on, off, on, off amazed how these people would drive such a vehicle with their kids and laughed for a good 10 minutes, when we almost hit a herd of camels as we were laughing so much, and so drunk, and so stoned.

We hit the brakes in an orchestra of screeching and billows of blue smoke। That sobered us up I’ll tell you! We edge our way through the herd and drive off. It wasn’t 5 min when we realized that that car load of people were about to run into the same herd, with a flat front tyre, no headlights, 200 liters of fuel and 10 people and a pack of wild dogs!

And you know what, they would survive, butcher the camel they killed, throw it on the roof and have a party when they get where their going.

Unbelievable! What an amusing people!

Girls, Quarter horses & Gravel rash !

The Problem With Women Is -

Why is it when us blokes are alone, practicing whatever it is we do in our playtime, do things seem to work out better for us men? We never seem to fall of, get lost, crash or generally make fools of ourselves. But the moment you bring a woman into the picture, especially a pretty one, it all goes pear shape sharpish.I can only speak for myself, from my own experiences and from what I have been fortunate enough to witness. So lets take me for example.

Whilst learning to ride a horse from the people up the road, they had a rather comely daughter. She insisted in putting me upon a Quarter horse in the corral leading me around with a lead reign, at a trot.Now those of you who have had the good fortune to learn how to ride will know that the trot is rather uncomfortable until you get the rise right, especially if you have your twig and berries in the wrong position. As usual though, I wasn’t interested in learning to rise, I wanted to learn to gallop.

So when I was supposed to take my horse back to the stables to un-saddle and brush down, I in my finite wisdom, I decided to take the beast for a little stretch. Not only did the horse ‘Flash’ was his name, get a stretch but so did my imagination upon my abilities. You see they call a Quarter horse a Quarter horse for a reason. As it is the fastest of the equine species over the quarter mile. And they called Flash, Flash, for a reason. As he was fast for his breed, with me on top, this was an accident waiting to happen. And happen it did.

I swing myself into the saddle and dig my heels in straight away. This preposterous beast, weighing neigh on a tonne, was at full gallop in three strides. I have vivid yet vague memories of the Australian countryside flying by at warp speed and the 6th sense that this vile monster, Flash, was actually enjoying himself! The loathsome creature he was. Then as suddenly as it began, I was sprawled out upon the grass.

The comely creature that I was trying to impress couldn’t stop laughing, and Flash came trotting back looking as scared as me. He actually had the audacity to come back to me, with a look on his long striped face like ‘What did you do that for?’ The look on my face said ‘I didn’t, you did’ as it was obviously his fault, stupid beast. The comely country girl broke into giggles nearly every time I saw her for a long while, actually, if I went to see her today, I have no doubt in my mind that she would crack up again. Oh dear me !

What is it that makes riding a horse so exciting? I mean at full stretch Flash could probably top about 60 km/h, if he’s lucky. Yet I have driven cars at speeds of 280 km/h way above their design limits and felt completely safe. I even lost control of a 5.0 liter 74 Monaro GTS at that speed on a bend, had two tires blow out and hit a storm water drain, and found it almost relaxing. Put me on a horse at 60, and my pants start to go lumpy and smell funny.

What I think it is, is that whilst in the Munro, it has wheels, and I’m in control, yet on Flash, he’s just a tangle of legs and it’s him that has all the power, and him that’s enjoying himself. Although I haven’t had the opportunity to get back in the saddle for quite sometime I do miss the feeling of a horse at full stretch, especially in the sand, when this majestic and noble beast can give no more. What a thrill!

Ok let’s see if I can embarrass myself some more then hey. Oh that's easy!

Although I spent some time on the back of a horse I spent most of my time on the back of a bike, an 83 Honda XR 350 RD amongst others, another noble and majestic beast. My friends and I used to explore huge tracts of country, through all kinds of terrain, in all kinds of weather and rarely come off. I could ride on the back wheel for hundreds of meters with the sun in my face and the wind in my hair without a problem. That is, until a pretty girl turns up. For starters riding a motor bike in shorts and a t-shirt aint the most intelligent thing that I have done, it’s like wearing a seat belt, you don’t seem to have an accident until you’re not wearing one, and this time I wasn’t.

After a full day of riding around pretty much uneventfully I decide to test my skills in front of another rather comely creature. I get on the back wheel and I’m in about 4th gear doing about 60 km/h [full gallop in horse terms, again] when I hit something I didn’t see. [Because I was to busy looking at the her, to see if she, was looking at me!] where I cartwheel over the handlebars and proceed to body surf down the gravel, rapidly removing all my skin and some flesh on 1 leg, 2 buttocks, 1 arm and ½ a face. I also suffered various scratches, bruises and wounds all over. Ouch! And the bike didn’t even trot back to see if I was alright! And the girl didn’t come running and giggling, she was white with fear and shock. I still had to ride my bike home which was the most painful experience of my life. It took about an hour, then an hour to the hospital in the car where I had to peel myself off the vinyl seat, then an hour of the scrubbing brush to remove all the gravel. Not the best day of my life to be honestly said.

I blame all this pain and suffering upon those pretty girls that so obviously caused those accidents. If they hadn’t been there, I would not have been so daring, and stupid. Hence would have still had the skin on my arse.
So have a little think guys. How have those evil women embarrassed you in the past, and would you do it again. I would. Viva la diffrance.

A bit thirsty downunder !

Do you know what the problem with the Hoover Dam is ?

Its just way too small!

Well it looks like Australia has once again started its mass migration scheme, soon there will be another 100,000 or so British flying over to start a new life and a good life it is. As-well as the cheap housing, good weather, better working conditions and the abundance of things for kids to do, there is also so much potential for the country. As yet, un-realized by its people, and leaders. Australia has one massive problem that will not go away and one day be its downfall if people aren’t careful. That is, water.

What some people don’t realize is that Australia is dangerously teetering on the edge of ecological disaster, that would make cane toads, rabbits and European carp combined look trivial. The Murray-Darling System, Australias largest river system is at breaking point, and that feeds three states with water. Just ask any Sth Australian what their tap water is like. In some parts if you run a bath it's the color of rust, and un-filtered hot water systems don’t last long neither. Sth Australia is the only place in the developed world where ships refuse to take on water. They wait until they get to Africa or the America’s. The problem is, although Australia has a tiny population on a huge continent (there are more people in the M25 of London and it’s as big as the mainland of the USA) it has minimal rainfall in the south. Which is a problem, but it can be solved.

We have all heard the debate about re-cycling water and the people who have no idea saying “I for one will not drink someone-else’s piss” Which is a load of tripe. There is no such thing as un-used water on the planet. Even the bluest ice-burg from Antarctica, frozen for 30,000 years has been through countless T-Rexes backsides and probably been peed out by several of our Neanderthal cousins. Water is constantly re-cycled, it’s a part of the cycle of life. The cleanest water on the planet is distilled water, which is an industrial process. Making pure, H²O.
As so many Australian who have traveled have seen, there is nothing wrong with re-cycled water, I would gladly drink some London water right now if I was there. Now that they have sorted all the problems out such as estrogen. Or there is another way.

We could tap the Great Artesian Basin which I for one think would be foolish and short sighted for we don’t know how long it would take to re-fill once emptied and a few ecological reasons. I think it should be left alone, for emergencies maybe. Or there is an even better way, a more constructive way.

We have all seen Las-Vegas in the states. It is fed water from the giant Hoover dam. We have done the same thing in Australia, Lake Argyle. Lake Argyle is a man made lake designed to open Australia’s top end but as usual in Australia it never happened. We built the dam, got the lake and then decided to go home, how bloody Australian. You see in the North we have monsoonal rains that you can set your watch by that could fill thousands of similar, even bigger projects. Then we could pipe it anywhere we need it. Make Alice Springs into the city of Alice Springs and leave the springs alone for nature to take her drink. That is one of things Australia really needs, more water, and we can do it. But will we? We will probably do the usual Australian thing and wait till the last minute and do to little to late. I for one would love to be able to drive across the top end and see thriving communities with trees, parkland, swimming lakes and industry that would pay for everything in the long run, instead of little starving dust bowls of settlements that cant support themselves let alone expand. The problem with Australia is the same as the problem with the rest of the world. Poor leadership with little vision.
Australia could be an even more amazing and prosperous country with a bit of vision. I see an Australia that is much more abundant and beautiful that could comfortably hold 10 times its current population and wealth.

Let’s see which comes first, the death of the Murray, or the start of the dams.