Moving forward - or who do you choose now?

Our local community groups through the Throsby Village Alliance were keen enough for us all to be informed about the upcoming general election. So much so, that they invited our candidates to come to the local village school to speak to residents and field questions about local concerns.

The venue was perfect, the stage newly varnished (pity some of the comments weren't) and all seven candidates duly arrived. Several were late due to attendance at a Walk for Warming which of course gained world-wide affiliation and somewhat dwarfed our local political event! One arrived on his bike from this, talking the talk and walking the walk, no guesses for working out he was The Greens candidate!

Do check out the link and see what the fuss was all about with the Gruen Nation ad last week!

Well the Liberals had nothing new to offer, the incumbent candidate was rather smug, several were not too far from Raving Loony party, socialism's idealogical return with no substance, an impassioned young candidate from the Socialist Alliance who deserves support and of course the voice of sanity and reason, our Greens candidate. Eloquent, knowledgeable on local and national concerns. I guess he proves the mantra on the ad. If you think, Vote Greens!

Now I know how to mark my preferences I can vote sensibly and sanely. I do wonder if the rest of the nation do though. Groans and moans accompany the idea that on Saturday we could have a misogynist budgie smuggler for a Prime Minister!

Let's move forward with The Greens ruling the Senate, folks!

Electing chocolate preferences!

So how do you vote? If I do this will my vote count? What will make my vote informal and hence not count? Is any vote wasted? These and many other questions were answered on Saturday at the Trades Council when I went along with an eclectic group of prospective voters wanting to make sure that the right party gets in at the next election.

Whatever your party predilection, it is important that you realise how easily your vote could be put to one side and not counted (informal).

Remember:
1)On your federal ticket, number every box in your order of choice. Do not give any candidate the same number as another. No ties!
2)Because of the inordinate amount of candidates for the six senate seats (84)it will be very easy to make a mistake and again your vote will not count. To act as a safety net, place your number 1 in the box of the party of your choice above the line. This will only be used if you make a mistake in your below the line choices.
3)Voting for a minor party does not waste your vote. If that candidate is your first choice, then vote for them. If they receive the least amount of votes and there is no clear majority winner your vote will go to your next preference.
4) Do not waste your vote - be informed!

I am happy to say that I learnt all this whilst voting for my favourite chocolate, smarties, who I am sorry to say was outvoted by snickers with cherry ripe a close second.

I was happy to earn a chocolate by just voting but I can assure you that if you don't vote and the wrong party gets in...you might not feel like eating chocolate.

So will we re-elect the first woman prime minister or the inveterate budgie smuggler? Will the Greens have their biggest win yet boosted by consumer dissatisfaction with the 'two party' faction?

The endless winter of our content

Short days, long nights. Colder days and fires at night. Winter holidays on the beach. Walking in the depths of winter on the mid-North coast of NSW. The brilliant sky belied the necessity to rug up to brave the weather, water temperature still at 18 degrees. No surfers braving the cold wind save three surfing dolphins who were spotted coasting in on the gentle swell. Did they hear our voices and enquiringly pose their own questions? We didn't have the right answers and they disappeared for more interesting conversation elsewhere.


Walking around Big Hill we stopped and photographed purple lilly pillies, blue native ginger fruit, corn yellow banksia and a lone fisherman silhouetted against the sea, perched nonchalantly on an unfriendly rock with no obvious pathway.

One spout and then another; sharp eyes spotted the tell-tale signs of migrating humpbacks off to frolic in the warmer waters of Byron Bay.

Homage to Aboriginality, the crew painted the cardboard inner tubes of lino rolls. We argued like kindergarteners and produced work of approximately the same quality.
Despite arguments about 'Pollockia' and downright inspiration from Burnum Burnum's Guide to Aboriginal Australia the results were pretty tame. There was discussion though of entering them in the Bellingen Biennale.
Personally I think the photos are of much better quality!

Where is Womboin?

The hills around Womboin were alive with the sound of renditions of Dylan, The Beatles, James Taylor and Neil Young. The lyrics were elusive, verses were repeated or lost until someone came up with the obvious. Google them! Lyrics and guitar chords up on the large TV we gave the karaoke queens a run for their money.

A group of school friends now dispersed to all parts of the country came together to laugh, talk and make new friends with partners of the same. The wild and woolly kids, the unconventional and the rebels all came to show how they had changed. Middle aged and middle thinking? Not likely. Conversations ranged from death and dying to death and religion with a good sprinkling of politics and law thrown in. These school friends moved onto university, mostly together, and these musings were long removed from pot induced conversations from the 70s. Or were they?

So who were these people who were never going to stay in 'the Shire', well all bar one? An environmentalist, a river specialist, a lawyer, several teachers, a palliative carer, and a government official.

So what did these non-captains industry do besides sing and eat? This interloper was intrigued by a very strange game, perhaps peculiar to Sutherland Shire, which involved finding a non-funny transposition of the word love for knob in popular songs. Various offerings included the obvious She loves you, Love is a many splendoured thing, and This is just another silly love song. But of course the winner was My love is like a red, red rose, which some unkind person pointed out was actually a poem and in fact the funniest. (you have to do the substitutions yourself and speak them out loud. They are funny. I was told so.)

We ate some more and then decided a walk was in order. In the gloaming we raced up a Womboin hill to see the lights of Canberra starting to twinkle. Magnificent and so quiet. We descended and retreated into the warm fire-lit house to observe the falling frost from the inside and to talk some more!

Rampaging trees

Fig trees in Newcastle's Civic Park are on the rampage. These large figs planted around 1930 which give the adjoining Laman Street its character are set to be the council's number 1 enemy. We, the public, laugh at the signs and the removal of the benches. Across the park, equally large figs have lovely benches underneath.



This park with its towering trees, splashing fountain, scattered artwork and the war memorial is the location for all the end of year proms photos, weddings and even the filming of Superman 2. Carefully planted flower beds form an incomparable backdropin Newcastle. I cycle past and watch the shadows and the light playing in the branches and imagine the trees in Ent style moving slowly at night, crossing the path to the safe side of the park.

Honeysuckle

I used to cycle through the Dorset lanes buoyed up by the heady fragrance of honeysuckle. At the time it made a lot of things easier.

Now I cycle to work along the Honeysuckle foreshore in Newcastle. Honeysuckle grew along the banks of the Hunter River (Coquon) long before the settlers came. The wattle birds were attracted to the emitted soft scents and had no inkling of the dirt and destruction that would be caused by the deposits of coal found in this new settlement.

Today the area is paved, the dirty railyards have gone (not in Tighes Hill or Carrington thanks to Port Waratah) The pathway linking the inner city suburbs is fringed with salubrious high rise apartments mostly housing the newly retired coming up from Sydney. They are attracted by the harbour, the beaches and the harbour life.

Old warehouses are being turned into expensive dining options, gyms and museums. Former dockland is being landscaped with sculpture and seating areas around the reclaimed boat sunk in the harbour many years ago.The boat had been used for target practice and was unceremoniously sunk. Now it has a new life, deconstructed and reassembled into an installation wafted by the sweet smell of garlic at a nearby Italian restaurant.

Installations come in all sorts of shapes and sizes and I recently heard that the piles of books or unorganised items loitering around your house could be said to be wondrous art installations. Welcome to my gallery!

Reflections on being a mother

I am a little late, it being nearly a week since the much celebrated Mother's Day. But it is a time when we reflect on what it means to be a mother. Memories rueful, memories laughable, memories poignant and memories ridiculous.
So what do I most remember?
Looking at two little heads covered hopefully with Father Christmas hats fast asleep on their pillows and wishing I had a partner to say, "Come and look, aren't they adorable!"
Peeling onions in the kitchen with my eldest crying tears of laughter as we looked at each other in swimming goggles trying to avoid the tears!
Locking the doors to foil the determined exit of my youngest who complete with pyjamas in her backpack was running away to spend the night on Lewesdon Hill.
So happy to find other parents who actually liked swimming and felt it natural to spend hours in chlorine laced pools watching slim figures slice their way through to the next PB (that stands for personal best, something I did learn).
Reaching the sun gate gazing down at Machu Picchu holding one daughter faint and weak with Montezuma's revenge and smiling at the other with the sheer achievement of it all.
The despair when you are far away and not able to surround them with loving arms and kiss it all better.
The homemade cards and the sentiments within - unconditional love indeed. How you have made my life worthwhile. To my darling daughters, I love you both.