Saturday night at the club

Australia has very strict laws about drinking alcohol and driving. Australian Police are authorised to stop any vehicle and breath-test the driver at any time. There is no absolute safe level of alcohol consumption for competent driving. For fully licensed car drivers the legal limit is 0.05 g/100ml. Get above the leal limit, and even a first-time offender can expect a fine of $1,100 plus an automatic six-month disqualification.

So last night, after a few drinks at the club in town, I did something I've never done before. Believe it or not, I took a bus home. Yes, a bus! And I arrived home safely and without incident.

This was really a surprise to me as I'd never driven a large bus before.

A Nightingale emailed from Londonderry

Merv Nightingale, my boss on the Bougainville Island contract with the Camp Catering Services Group almost forty years ago, sent me this message:

"Oh I thought that I better let you know that I have been working my way through your various blogs and am both amazed and impressed by your ability to produce such items. I must admit to also being very impressed with your obvious computer skills and your excellent command of the English language. If all else fails you would have no trouble in switching to journalism such is your ability ... I was fascinated by the blog on the Islands, but still have not come accross the old camp office. Brings back a lot of memories, but looking at the areas and the people, I am glad that things turned out the way that they did as I think that it would have proven to be a disaster had we all stayed. Hope all are well down there, and while I think of it, you look well in your photos and obviously the area agrees with you. Best wishes, Merv Nightingale"

Thank you, Merv, but of course you were always most flattering of my abilities, as testified by the glowing reference you gave me when I left Bougainville to take up the position of Financial Controller in Camp Catering Services' head office in Sydney. This reference, together with some fifty other similarly glowing ones, is now slowly yellowing around the edges and fading away just as I am.

Click on image to enlarge

And here's a photo of the old office ...

... with me inside it:

 

P.S. Click here for the sad sequel.

P.P.S. For more information on the catering contract, click here.

 

In memoriam

VATI born 9.12.1907 died 31.1.1984 Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die. Steht nicht an meinem Grab und weint, denkt an mich, wenn die Sonne scheint. Ich bin nicht mehr an diesem Ort, Ich schlafe nicht und bin nicht fort. Ich bin der Wind über brausender See, Ich bin der Schimmer auf frischem Schnee. Ich bin die Sonne in goldener Pracht, Ich bin der Glanz der Sterne bei Nacht. Ich bin die Freude der Blumen die blühn, Ich bin für Euch in allem was schön. Steht nicht an meinem Grab und weint, denkt an mich, wenn die Sonne scheint. Ich bin nicht mehr an diesem Ort, Ich schlafe nicht und bin nicht fort.

Happy Birthday, Helmut!

Dreiundsiebzig Jahre, ach du Schreck,
die Jugend und der Lack sind weg.

Knochen knacken - Muskeln drücken,
manchmal hast Du's auch am Rücken.

Im Mund da sind die Zähne weg,
um 20 Uhr gehst du zu Bett.

Die Haare grau, wenn sie noch da,
und manchmal wirst du sonderbar.

Hattest Höhen und auch Tiefen,
warst stets da, wenn wir Dich riefen.

Doch das Eine sollst Du wissen,
ohne Dich da wär´n wir aufgeschmissen.

Wir wünschen Dir von Herzen Glück,
Denn Du bist unser allerbestes Stück!

Helmut in his former career as Camera repairman

I hope you didn't get all puffed out blowing out those 73 candles, Helmut! I'll have a beer with you next time I'm up there again!



Your friend

Cold Weather Work Ethic

I sucked in the philosophical belief of the Protestant Work Ethic with my mother's milk and always regarded hard work as a component of my moral and spiritual duty and lived my life accordingly.

However, as I have been slaving away at "Riverbend" over the past few days and weeks in temperatures above 30 degrees, I have come to the conclusion that it is a belief strongly held only by people who have never visited hot climates.