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Today's quote:

Wednesday, September 30, 2026

The Jennings Germans

 

Klaus Scharrer, at 98 years of age, the last of the Jennings Germans in Canberra

 

The fingerprints of the ‘Jennings Germans’ are all over Canberra. They were some one hundred and fifty German carpenters who came to Canberra in the early 1950s to build 1850 homes for construction company AV Jennings.

After travelling halfway around the world, these young men began to build not only houses, but also a life for themselves. Brick by brick and friendship by friendship, they altered the physical and cultural landscape of Australia's then still quite small capital city and left a legacy that has lasted generations.

During my short time as secretary of the Harmonie German Club in the early 1990s, I still met several of these Jennings Germans, including Hugo Klug whose business I computerised - see here - and Tony Finsterer whom I can blame for now living out my life at "Riverbend". But that's a story for another day after I have translated this blog post into German.

 

Rosa (94) and Klaus Scharrer (98)

 

Today's story is not about Hugo Klug or Tony Finsterer but Klaus Scharrer who, at 98, is the last of the Jennings German carpenters in Canberra.

He will turn 99 in December and until only a few years ago he still made things from timber. One of the last things he made was a display cabinet for the German Club’s 70th anniversary five years ago.

It is a fitting end to a working life that began on the other side of the world and brought him to Canberra at the age of 25, with the skills of a German carpenter and little idea of what would happen next. That was in 1951. Canberra needed houses. Klaus was one of 150 young German tradesmen AV Jennings recruited to help build them.

He can still tell you exactly when he arrived: 10 December. He remembers the five-week voyage, the room at Ainslie Hostel and houses arriving in pieces, their walls ready to be stood up. He didn’t have any grand plan to make Australia home. “I had no plans”, he says.

Almost 75 years later, Klaus is still in Canberra — the last surviving Jennings German living in Canberra. Beside him is Rosa, aged 94, the woman who followed him from Munich in 1957 and began married life with him in a timber garage in Queanbeyan. Between them, they remember a Canberra that sounds almost unimaginable now.

 

Canberra advertising poster, c.1940s

 

"There was nothing here", Rosa said. There was Government House and Old Parliament House. Civic was tiny, with a cinema and little else. On Sundays, almost everything closed. In summer, they could head to the Cotter River for a swim and barely see another person.

Rosa could hardly speak English. Klaus owned a block of land but couldn’t afford to build a house on it. Yet neither talks about those years as particularly hard. Rosa remembers open spaces, warm weather and strangers who said hello. Their story is, in many ways, about how a place becomes home without anyone deciding that it will.

For Klaus, it began with a £125 block of dirt. By 1953, he had left Jennings for a better-paying job at a Queanbeyan joinery when a Russian colleague who spoke German pointed to the vacant land next to his own. The block cost £125. Klaus didn’t have the money, but he could pay it off gradually — whatever he could manage each month. So he bought it. It was a small decision that changed the course of his life. He had arrived in Australia unsure whether he would stay. Now he owned a piece of it.

With help from fellow German carpenters, he built a timber garage on the block. In the next few years he saved enough to travel back to Europe. But Australia was no longer a place he could simply leave behind. “I had a block of land here,” he said. “I had a garage.”

Upon returning to Germany, Klaus stopped in Munich to visit an old friend from Jennings. His friend’s sister, Rosa, was also there. It was carnival time, and Klaus and Rosa went to a dance. About three months later, they were married. Rosa had long been curious about the country that had taken her brother halfway around the world.

“I just wanted to go and see the world,” she said. “That was my dream when my brother left.” When she arrived in Australia in 1957, her husband didn’t have a conventional home waiting for her. He had the garage. There was a bed-sitting area, kitchen bench, table and stove. There was no sewer connection and the toilet was outside. But they had land, and they knew how to build. Their house came together gradually.

“Every so often we bought a bag of cement,” Klaus said. He did the brickwork and stonework himself and, naturally, the carpentry. That was how many young German tradesmen established themselves. After spending their working days building for others, they helped each other put up homes, doing everything from window frames and interiors to painting and brickwork.

Rosa had arrived with almost no English, and one of her first teachers was the greengrocer across the road. She pointed at what she wanted, and he gave her the word. “One lettuce.” The next time, she knew how to ask for lettuce. Then came cucumber, apples and the everyday vocabulary of her new country. She read newspapers, listened to people and learnt from neighbours and their children. Today, the shift is complete: Rosa and Klaus speak mostly in English, even at home and with their family.

Soon Rosa was travelling from Queanbeyan to Manuka to work as a tailor. She made men’s suits, and Canberra’s diplomatic community became part of her clientele. “I made suits for all the embassies,” she said. She remembers one diplomat ordering suit after suit – about ten during his posting.

Australia also felt less formal than the Germany she knew. There, Rosa remembers, people generally waited to be introduced before greeting one another. Here, strangers said hello. “Everybody talks to you. Wherever you go, you say hello, I say hello.” The space struck her too.

In Munich, she remembers a life largely lived in flats. Here, a young carpenter without much money could buy a block and build a house bit by bit. Soon they built the house that welcomed their daughter in 1961.

Their son followed in 1963. For Klaus, work rarely ended at knock-off time. Rosa remembers him and his mates coming home about 5 pm, eating, then heading out again around 6 for contract jobs that could keep them working until 10.

In 1978, after securing a major ABC contract, he established K&R Scharrer Joinery. The business began in a workshop of about 100 sqm and eventually grew into a 600 sqm factory employing five people. He retired in 1994.

Canberra, meanwhile, refused to stand still. The open spaces filled with suburbs. Civic grew. Roads became busier. Rosa sometimes misses the old one. “You could go out to the Cotter River, and you didn’t see a soul,” she said. “I liked it better then than what I do now when I go to Canberra. There’s traffic everywhere.”

 

Mother and daughter returning from a three-month visit to Germany in 1969

 

Germany remained as part of their lives. They went back many times to see family, and the Scharrer family crest still has a place in their home. But they never moved back. Rosa didn’t miss six-month-long German winters. She liked Canberra’s weather, its space and the easy friendliness she had noticed from the beginning.

For Klaus, the answer was similarly uncomplicated. “Life is easier here,” he said. Over the years, Klaus kept track of families of his friends and fellow carpenters who had made the same unlikely journey. But time gradually thinned their numbers. Klaus is now the last surviving Jennings German still living in Canberra. He believes another survivor may be living elsewhere in Australia.

 

The two years passed quickly and before the men knew it their contract was completed. Most had originally planned to return to Germany, but only 25 did so. The rest stayed.

 

On 10 December 2026, 75 years to the day since his group arrived, he plans to gather with descendants of the men who made that journey with him. And Klaus, almost 99, will be the living link to the young carpenters who arrived with their tools and two-year contracts, not knowing how much of their lives would ultimately be built here.

 

 

I checked the website of the National Archives of Australia and found that Klaus hasn't 'claimed' his immigration papers from 1951 yet. For a small handling fee, the archives will digitise and make them available for downloading from their website. Perhaps I should arrange it and give him a big surprise on his 99th birthday on the 24th of December.

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

The world's most expensive tap washer

 

 

The new tenant moved in and returned the ingoing report just now. She also reported that the kitchen water tap is leaking. I have attached the video for your review", my friendly rental manager emailed me. "Our plumber is working in this area today; we have just requested him to attend ASAP. Trust you are okay with this."

And just to make sure that I fully understood the urgency of the matter, she had also enclosed the above video clip. Of course, I immediately told her to go ahead; after all, how much would it cost to replace the valve in a leaking tap? BUNNINGS sell them at $6.43 for a four-pack.

 

 

Well, I did find out today just much it cost. $246 ! How much I wished I had pursued a lifelong career in plumbing instead of in accounting!

 

 

Of course, I should have remembered the world's most expensive light switch, but I'm getting old and gradually my memory begins to fade.

But not my sarcasm. As I emailed her: "Amanda, I was gobsmacked by the $246 charged for fixing that dripping tap. Could you please at least supply me with a copy of the invoice so that I can frame and hang it on the wall with the inscription 'The world's most expensive tap washer'?"

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Eleven square metres per person

 

German Real Estate Advertisement by W&W

(RESERVIERT is the equivalent of UNDER OFFER)

 

3-room unit, 77 square metres,
in a much sought-after location
in Braunschweig, Cyriaksring 47,
for sale at €147,000

This beautiful home unit in the "Luisenhof" complex has been fully renovated and is now much sought-after ... (for the full advertisement - in German - click here)

 

These days you can find anything on the internet. I have just found an advertisement for the sale of the exact same rental unit at # 47 Cyriaksring in my hometown Braunschweig where my parents lived and where I grew up in in the 1950s.

This three-roomed unit (not just bedrooms; in Germany they count all rooms) was home to my father, my stepmother, my stepsister Karin, my stepbrother Borkhardt, myself, and two sub-tenants who were billetted with us by the authorities because of the acute housing shortage in those bombed-out post-war years. Seventy-seven square metres for seven people, eleven square metres per person.

Acute housing shortage, unemployment, no money, and little to eat sum up those dreadful post-war years. We were lucky to have a roof over our heads, even though we had to share that luck with two total strangers.

The advertisement includes a number of photos showing how beautiful everything looks today. The view across the yard is still as it was then, although the metal bars which were used to give carpets a good hiding (vacuum cleaners were unknown) have been replace by kids swings.

 

 

The front door opened onto a small entry hall, next was the kitchen ...

 

The small door on the left opened up to the "Besenkammer" or broom closet

 

... and straight across the one bedroom in which slept my father, my stepmother, Karin, Borkhardt, and I. My oldest brother and sister had already left but where were my two other sisters, Bärbel and Monika?

 


One bedroom for five. How did we all fit in???

 

The bathroom housed the only loo which, with seven people (or was it nine?), was always engaged. The gas-fired hotwater system has gone. It had to be lit with a match - and always ignited with a loud bang - to get any hot water, but nothing else has changed - well, except for the toilet roll on the wall. In my days we cut up the local newspaper and hung it on a hook. I learnt how to read and became a reader sitting on that loo.

 

 

The kitchen has been renovated and now also has a balcony, but the tiny coolroom is still in the left-hand corner as we didn't have fridges then. Nor washing machines; instead, we had a communal laundry in the basement with a huge wood-fired copper kettle which I had to stoke.

We all lived in the warm kitchen where we did our homework, made our own toys out of bits of cardboard and with 'im Falle eines Falles' UHU, and where we spent the long winter nights playing "Mensch ärgere Dich nicht" or chess or cards or Mikado. We were poor but we didn't know it!

 

 

 

The "large" lounge room belonged to our sub-tenants. I still remember two Bavarian zither-players who could play the Harry Lime theme but, fortunately, there was no third man or it would've been really crowded!

 

 

The smaller lounge room was our "gute Stube", the parlour, which was reserved for visitors and our parents' attempt at being bourgeoisie.

Our own furnishings were far more modest, although my father's pride was an ornate 'Schreibtisch', on which stood a large eagle carved out of marble. As a little boy, I had always been fascinated by it. So, decades later, after my father had passed away and I had settled in Australia, I asked my stepsister to ship it to me. I would've loved it to stand on my own 'Schreibtisch' as a reminder of my father and what used to be my modest home but, unfortunately, they already had turned it into cash.

 

 

Thank you, W&W, for this wonderful trip down memory lane - and, by the way, you just took a couple of thousands off QANTAS's bottom-line.

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Tuesday, September 29, 2026

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

 

Watch the trailer of the movie here

 

Remember Harvey Keitel who plays Auggie in the movie "Smoke", who owns a tobacco shop in New York? One evening, as he’s closing up, Paul, a chainsmoking writer, runs up, hoping he’s not too late to still get some cigars.

Auggie lets him into the shop, and as he’s getting the cigars, Paul notices a 35mm camera sitting on the counter. He assumes another customer has left it behind, but Auggie tells him that it's his camera. He spends a little time each day taking photographs. In fact, there’s a little more to it than that; Auggie has a personal project and pursues it obsessively. Every day, at the same time each morning, he stands outside his shop and takes a photograph across the intersection.

Paul expresses interest; Auggie isn’t "just some guy who pushes coins across a counter". Soon the two of them are back at Auggie's place, having a beer, smoking (of course), and flipping through Auggie's fourteen albums. It turns out, he's been doing this for fourteen years straight and has accumulated more than 4,000 images of the same thing. He's never taken a vacation because he needs to get his shot.

Paul is amazed but also dismayed. Here’s the dialogue that follows:

 

 

PAUL
"They're all the same."

AUGGIE
"That's right. Four thousand pictures of the same place. The corner of 3rd Street and 7th Avenue at eight o'clock in the morning. Four thousand straight days in all kind of weather. I can never take a vacation. I got to be in my spot every morning at the same time. Every morning at the same spot, at the same time."

PAUL
"I've never seen anything like this."

AUGGIE
"It's my project. What you'd call my life's work."

PAUL
"Amazing. I'm not sure I get it, though. I mean, what was it that gave you the idea to do this project?"

AUGGIE
"I don't know. I just came to me. It's my corner, after all. For me, that's just one little part of the world but things take place there too like everywhere else. It's a record of my little spot."

PAUL
"It’s kind of overwhelming."

AUGGIE
(Still smiling)
"You’ll never get it if you don’t slow down, my friend."

PAUL "What do you mean?"

AUGGIE
"I mean, you’re going too fast. You’re hardly even looking at the pictures."

PAUL
"But they’re all the same."

AUGGIE
"They’re all the same, but each one is different from every other one. You’ve got your bright mornings and your dark mornings. You’ve got your summer light and your autumn light. You’ve got your weekdays and your weekends. You’ve got your people in overcoats and galoshes, and you’ve got your people in shorts and T-shirts. Sometimes the same people, sometimes different ones. And sometimes the different ones become the same, and the same ones disappear. The earth revolves around the sun, and every day the light from the sun hits the earth at a different angle."

PAUL
(Looks up from the album at AUGGIE)
"Slow down, huh?"

AUGGIE
"Yeah, that's what I'd recommend. You know how it is. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, time creeps in its petty pace."

 

The plot of this movie drifts and swirls like smoke. Characters and subplots are deftly woven into a tapestry of stories and pictures which only slowly emerges to our view. This movie tries to convince us that reality doesn’t matter so much as aesthetic satisfaction. Each day passes as Auggie tries to teach us to notice the little details of life.

 

 

I've tried to follow Auggie's routine and take a photo each morning as I sit on the jetty with my first cup of tea of the day, but I might as well have taken just the ONE photo, after all, they are all the same from one day to the next: the same peaceful river, the same blue sky ...

 

 

Ooops, I spoke too soon! Two kayakers just whizzed by, too intend on getting where they're going to take in the tranquillity of the moment. But not so for me: I shall continue to savour this precious moment, today and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow ...

 

 

Come back tomorrow for more of the same. It's my corner, after all!

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Monday, September 28, 2026

I never became a lion-tamer!

 

 

I didn't have to visit a vocational guidance counsellor to tell me what to do when I needed a break from boring accountancy and decided to change to something else. Not something equally dull, such as lion-taming, but writing computer accounting software.

It started in 1985, my very own annus horribilis, after I had returned from my last assignment overseas and, in anticipation of getting more work from my old Saudi boss, tried to settle in tropical Townsville.

The work never came - well, not until two years later when he offered me my own office in the Banque Des Echanges Internationaux's building on Avenue Kléber in Paris but by that time I had grown tired of the fickleness of Arabs and declined the offer.

 

 

With few other job prospects in Townsville, I had hastily relocated to Sydney where I eventually took up the impressive-sounding job of "Internal Consultant" with Wormald International which required me to be 'on the road' - or rather 'in the air' as Wormald's operations were spread all over the world - for nine months of the year. After the first rush of adrenalin had passed, I remembered that I had just given up an even more highly-paid overseas job with even greater perks in order to live a 'normal', domesticated life.

 

 

But not in Sydney! So when I saw a job advertised for a PICK computer programmer in Canberra, I remembered having studied PICK with Ranger Uranium located in the Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory almost a decade earlier. I applied and a few days later two directors of the company flew down from Canberra to give me the once-over and then the job.

I had found it puzzling during the interview when the directors asked me if I had any objections to working in the 'adult video industry' which, as they repeatedly pointed out, was involved in the duplication and distribution of X-rated videos. I had never heard of an 'adult video industry' nor did I know what X-rated was or who rated it. As for videos, the first and last time I had seen a video was at a friend's place in Saudi Arabia during the endless screening of 'Bambi' to his young kids.

However, I wasn't going to let this lack of knowledge get between me and a lucrative job in Canberra. And so, one early morning before the crack of dawn in late November 1985, I drove out of Sydney, against an endless stream of headlights coming into the city. I still remember thinking to myself, 'You can keep it, you suckers! I'm out of here!'

Arriving in Canberra, I acquainted myself with my new 'boss', a brand-new AWA Sabre mainframe, its empty bowels hungrily awaiting its very first line of computer code. But before I could start 'cutting code', I had to learn about the business. And what a business it was! Quite simply, it was Australia's biggest - by far! - distributor of pornographic movies with a client list as thick as a metropolitan telephone directory and a turnover running into the millions. The problem was that it was all done, slowly and expensively, by hand.

After having accepted the fact that pornographic movies were just like any other movies except with the boring bits removed, the professional challenge of introducing some methods into the madness was simply too good to be missed and I was itching to get started.

Which began each morning with Australia Post delivering several large bags of letters containing orders and cash. Lots of cash because many customers didn't want to use their real names which were needed to pay by Bankcard. I had never seen so many Donald Ducks and Mickey Mouses buying pornographic movies! ☺

The girls - it was an all-girl crew! - would write up the bank deposits and Bankcard slips and then pass the orders to the 'production department' with its banks of fifty-or-more duplicating machines. The 'production manager', when drunk (which was often), delighted in turning up the sound. I don't know how many heavy grunts and groans got embedded in my computer code. ☺

Creating a database of tens of thousands of customers, adding their 'profiles' of likes and preferences (I won't bore you with the details ☺) and their purchase histories, and then linking their orders to produce daily picking slips for the production department, bank deposits, and Bankcard submissions seems to have been, in retrospect, quite a simple task but was in fact colossal. There were many nights I couldn't sleep; not because I had watched too many of their movies - as it happened, I didn't watch my first X-rated movie until several months into the job! - but because of the many programming problems.

One particular problem was the 'lending' side of the business. With the price of a movie around fifty dollars (when fifty dollars was still real money), many customers preferred to borrow, which sounds a bit like your local library and in many ways it was: a customer would buy his first video and, after viewing it, exchange it for another.

This was a very profitable side of the business and, to keep it going, customers were given one free 'exchange' after six (six, not sex! ☺) exchanges. To keep tabs on their exchanges, a bunch of girls kept 'library cards' for all customers which presented a problem as harddisk space was still at a premium in those days and a decision had to be made on how many and for how long such records should be kept.

 

 

My idea was to do away with library cards altogether. "But what about the free exchange?" asked the 'library girls'. "Give them a coupon with each exchange. After they've collected six coupons, they can return them in lieu of money for a free exchange", was my reply.

"But what if they lose them?" shot back the girls who seemed more concerned about losing their jobs than the customers losing their coupons. "Tough!" I told them, on both counts. But they still had one shot left in the locker, "Without a library card, we won't know what they ordered before. What if they had borrowed the same video before?" "Girls", I said, "if they want to do Debbie twice, they're welcome!"

 

 

And so it came to pass that, in a matter of months, the business was fully computerised. The order backlogs vanished, turnaround times were reduced from more than a week to just one day, and I like to think that those 'library girls' found work elsewhere - maybe even in your local library in which case say 'hello' from me next time you borrow a book.

As for all those people who tut-tuttingly told me, "How could you?" (they were probably the same who signed their orders with "Donald Duck" ☺) and wanted to know what it was like working for an X-rated adult movie distributor, I tell them it was hard. In fact, it was constantly hard. The drunken production manager saw to that by turning up the sound.

And it was certainly harder than becoming a lion-tamer!

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Das gibts heute nicht mehr

 

 

Wie der Hannes Wader schon sang:

 

Nach acht Jahren Schule konfirmirt
Stand ich da mit meinem Zeugnis
Zeichnen, Singen, Religion gut
Mutter wollte gern das ich Schriftsetzer
Würde wie mein Großvater
War aber nichts zu machen
Zu viele Bewerber mit Abitur
Vater war mehr für Maurer oder Tischler
Aber ich, klein und mager,
Blass vom Lesen jede Nacht
Heimlich bei Kerzenlicht
Gedanken immer woanders
Und dann auf dem Bau
Das ging eben nicht
Doch ich bekam eine Lehrstelle
In einem Schuhgeschäft
Als Schaufenstergestalter

 

Für mich: Stiefvater war mehr für Insolierer so wie er ... aber ich, klein und mager, blass vom Lesen jede Nacht ... bekam eine Lehrstelle in
einer Feuer-Versicherungs-Gesellschaft als Versicherungskaufmann

 

Das ist doch ewig lange her
Ist vergessen, das war mal
Das gibts heute nicht mehr
So sollte man meinen und doch
so was gibt es noch
so was gibt es noch

 

Für mich: Zeichnen ausreichend; Musik befriedigend; Religion gut
(Drücke aufs Bild für mehr!)

 

Erstes Lehrjahr
40 Mark im Monat
Tagesablauf wie folgt:
Morgens um Sieben zum Bus
Brot und Henkelmann in der Aktentasche
Und Ermahnungen, Ernst des Lebens,
Lehrjahre sind keine und so weiter,
Dann in der Firma
Pampelmusen, Teebeutel, Jokurt einkaufen
Für die Kollegen zum Frühstück
Dann Ware auspacken ins Lager einräumen
Etiketten kleben dann Glühbirnen auswechseln
Mittagspause
Dann in den Schaufenstern Schuhe Glasplatten abstauben
Dann in den Keller Arbeitsstiefel fetten
Neunzehn Uhr Feierabend

Das ist doch ewig lange her...

 

Für mich: Erstes Lehrjahr 86 Mark im Monat

Zweites Lehrjahr
60 Mark im Monat
Tagesablauf genau wie im ersten
Nur alle vierzehn Tage Nachtarbeit
Dafür durften wir abends warm essen auf Geschäftskosten
Ich bekam das erste Steak meines Lebens mit vierzehn
Einmal setzte sich der Chef zu uns
Und bestellte sich ein Mettbrötchen
Und erzählte wie er angefangen hat
Mit einem Bauchladen, Schnürsenkel
Durch Fleiss und Sparsamkeit
Heute Besitzer einer Ladenkette
Präsident des deutschen Schuheinzelhandels
Mein erstes Steak ich habe es wieder ausgekotzt

Das ist doch ewig lange her...

 

Für mich: Zweites Lehrjahr 105 Mark in Monat

 

Drittes Lehrjahr
80 Mark im Monat
Tagesablauf wie gehabt
Hinzu kam das Bedienen der Kunden in Stoßzeiten
Dann die Verwaltung des Gummistiefellagers
Aufblasen von Reklameluftballons
Und wachsender Unmut unter uns Lehrlingen
Gewerkschaften kannten wir nicht
Aber trotzdem wurde ein Sprecher gewählt
Und das ist in so einem Fall
Immer der naivste oder der mutigste
Ich war beides also sprach ich
Ergebnis: ich bekam das Filzpantoffellager noch dazu
Durfte am Betriebsausflug nicht teilnehmen
Und die Kollegen schnitten mich

Das ist doch ewig lange her...

 

Für mich: Drittes Lehrjahr 142 Mark im Monat

 

Ende der Lehrzeit
Was hatte ich eigentlich gelernt
So gut wie gar nichts
Dann die Prüfung
Alle wussten ich würde durchfallen
Aber ich bestand
Freisprechung mit allem Drum und Dran
Streichquartett, Reden, Kaufmannsgehilfenbrief, Glückwünsche
Nur die Geschäftsleitung war sauer
Und warum? Sie hätte mich gern durchfallen sehen
Um mich als billige Arbeitskraft
Noch ein Jahr länger behalten zu können
Nun drei weitere Jahre habe ich das noch mitgemacht
Bevor ich mich traute zu sagen
Das ist nicht mein Leben

Das ist doch ewig lange her...
Laalalala

 

Für mich: zwei Jahre habe ich das noch mitgemacht bevor ich mich traute zu sagen "Das ist nicht mein Leben", und wanderte nach Australian aus.

 

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

Sunday, September 27, 2026

Stop reading the news

 

 

The news is an addictive substance that rewires our brains. We are too weak to dip in and out. The only option is ‘radical abstinence’ and the books suggests an initial decontamination period of thirty days to see the effects. The result is a calmer mental life, more time, and the chance to be truly educated and empowered.

 

Click for a preview or listen to the complete audiobook here

 

This book consists of 33 very short chapters, most of which make a separate argument for giving up the news. The titles are things like ‘News is to the Mind What Sugar is to the Body’, ‘News Kills Creativity’, ‘News is Invented by Journalists’, ‘News Encourages Terrorism’.

By all means, stay informed – just not through the news. Read books – twice. Read textbooks! Seek out investigative journalism and analysis of current affairs in periodicals. Make time for conversations with intelligent people. We’re even encouraged to use the internet, as long as we can avoid news sites. The news feeds us facts without context and says little about the slow and hidden processes that really shape the world. The news obscures the truths. The news makes us stupider.

I leave the final word to the author of the book, Rolf Dobelli:

 

 

That's it from me. It's seven o'clock in the evening. Time for the news!

 


Googlemap Riverbend

 

It's a grey and rain-filled morning at "Riverbend"

 

 

It's a grey and rain-filled not-so-SUN-day morning at "Riverbend", but I don't mind because we needed the rain and it gives me time to catch up with my reading. What to read on a melancholic day?

Hermann Hesse, a German-Swiss poet, novelist, and painter, comes to mind. His best-known works include "Steppenwolf", "Siddhartha", and "The Glass Bead Game", each of which explores an individual's search for authenticity, self-knowledge and spirituality. Watch this YouTube clip:

 

 

The film is a moving documentary, filled with photos and video clips of Hesse's intense yet simple attempt to find meaning in his life. He indicated in his writings that his life had two pursuits: the need for solitude, and the need to communicate. To meet his need for solitude, he spent much of his life in the remote village of Montagnola, Switzerland (which towards the end of his life became a major tourist attraction, which he often lamented in his works). To meet his need to communicate, his house became a major asylum for German-born artists during the Nazi regime in Germany, as well as the many admirers of his works throughout his life. The video includes interviews with his two sons, his editor, and the doctor who examined him after his death.

Highly moving, Hermann Hesse’s "Long Summer" truly captures some of the author’s intensity and need for simplicity throughout his life. He liked the simple life of gardening and pulling weeds, and stated in his letters that he found most of his inspiration during this type of work. Hesse also answered over 35,000 letters during his lifetime, part of his need to communicate with others. He also dabbled with painting and artwork, which is featured throughout the video.

 

Read a tattered old copy here

 

Well, it's almost 10 a.m. and my ennui (best said with a stuffy nose) continues as I start to read "The Journey to the East", which is a small book about a very large human wish: the wish to find a path that gives life unity and purpose. It shows that people can become lost even while seeking truth. It also suggests that meaning may return through humility, faithful work, and a new way of looking at others. The novel does not offer one simple lesson. Instead, it invites the reader to ask better questions. My own question will soon be: "What's for lunch?"

 

 

As for the rain, it hasn't stopped! What has stopped is a houseboat that has anchored - to use the nautical term - on the other side of the river (as seen just below the overhanging tree branches). Its occupants hired it for a weekend ON the water, not IN the water. I hope they brought along enough books to read. "Fifty Shades of Grey" comes to mind.

 


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