ajft

Rearrangement of the loot — part one. Now its all in one place.

Loot part two, and later parts, involve finding places to put it all, thanking all who gave it to us, hopefully being able to toss out stuff it replaces. All fun things to be done “in the fullness of time.”

Riding home late this evening, just after the rain had stopped. A light mist hanging over everything, and all the smells seemed enhanced. Eucalyptus from the trees, cooking smells as I was passing houses, a sudden waft of pizza as a delivery driver passed.

Security observation of the day: Mozilla will download style sheets for HTML email articles, at least the copy of version 1.4 that I'm running will. This happens even if you've told it to not download images for mail and news. All those nasty spammers can stop using image web-bugs and use style-sheets now...

Dog poo and near misses with pedestrians on the wrong side of the path... cycling to work has returned to normal.

Lunks

[http://www.oscm.org/]

Open Source Content Management

[http://www.midgard-project.org/]

Midgard, an Open Source CMS

[http://www.opml.org/]

Outline Processor Markup Language

[http://www.outliners.com/]

[http://hnb.sourceforge.net/]

Hierarchical Notebook.

Back to work at last...

Important things to do on the first day back include: paying the rent and phone bill, frantically digging through 200-odd emails that need reading — distinct from the other 200 that the spam filters have caught, replicating all my photos before a gremlin deletes them, checking up on the last two weeks' worth of work-like stuff, and generally fending off colleagues who all want to see the wedding photos.

There was a man with a death wish on Ferntree Gully road this evening — on a bicycle in the dark, no lights, black jeans, dark jacket, riding the wrong way up the middle of the road!

Ah, the fun of small children. Will has a cold and cried all night to keep his parents awake, Jack slept through all this, but then decided to be a brat all morning. Tempers were fraying, so he and I left the house and walked down to the beach. It was either that, or he was likely to get a thumping...

Hardly beach weather, but that's hard to explain to a three year-old. Off came the clothes, and into the tannin-stained waters of the Erskine river estuary. Amazing that when I could eventually drag him out he had neither gone blue nor brown.

The mystery is partially solved...

Convinced that my finger couldn't possibly have shrunk in the past two weeks, I ventured in to the city to visit the jewellers and ask them why my wedding ring is falling off. The ring was checked against the order form, tick, no problem. The finger was re-measured, uh-oh.... It seems that somehow my finger was measured as a “P”, but this was then transcribed somewhere as an “R”, two sizes larger. Not surprisingly, a ring two sizes too big will fall off when I shake my hand! Much apologies all around, me for not checking when we picked it up, them for causing the problem. A resized or remade ring will be available in about ten days.

Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning...

Bizarre coincidence of the day — tidying up all the crap in the kitchen, I found an old cash-register slip from the supermarket. The back is covered with Shop-A-Docket promotions for various businesses. One of the items is for personalised self-adhesive labels, the examples shown are all marked out for “Dylan Lewis”. Yesterday morning in the airport, a young guy was standing next to me at the luggage carousel, his name — “Dylan Lewis”. So hello to all the Dylan Lewises in the world today...

Sleep — must have more sleep…

A midnight start to a plane ride is not a good thing. Over three hours in the air, plus two more for timezones, and we landed at Melbourne just after six AM. Minimal legroom, no pillow, and a screaming baby meant that I didn't sleep much at all. Joey managed to sleep most of the way.

Luggage retrieved and repackaged. Airport bus located and boarded. 7AM into Spencer street, fog thickening around us.

Final stage in the journey home — a narrow escape. We climbed on the tram at Spencer street behind two indian-sounding tourists and sat down while they discussed at great length the intricate workings of the ticket machine. Laziness, tiredness, and bad habits meant that we didn't get up to buy a ticket after they finally finished — and then the ticket inspektors entered… Jo pushed past them to buy tickets, but found she hadn't got enough change for two, my guardian angel must have been hanging around though — while sorting through my wallet yesterday I'd noticed that I had an unused 2hour metcard. A few minutes of frantic rummaging, two tickets appear, and the inspektors took pity on the sleep-deprived scruffy-looking backpackers — us.

Home, to bed, to sleep for a few hours.

Eleven o'clock and the couriers arrive. Myer's bridal registry delivery. Seven parcels with one courier, one parcel with another! Three items aren't delivered, the printed listing merely states “contact store.” We contact the store to find out, “we don't know, I'll call you back within the hour.” About four hours later they called back and we found that although we had chosen the items, and Myer had accepted the choice, and people had purchased the items, Myer didn't actually have the item in stock anymore. A little insistence on our part and they called back to say that they did have one of them, but not at the moment, the other two we'll just have to accept credit vouchers and buy something else. Not a particularly impressive service.

Dinner time and we finally made this month's meal off the pasta calendar. We're keeping to the promise, but lagging badly! Now we can turn the page to April, with only eight days left in the month…

A hot day in Perth so we headed over to the zoo for the afternoon — as did every second person in the city!

A confusing place to get around, there didn't seem to be any clear maps or directions and at times we found ourselves heading in the opposite direction to what we'd intended. Maybe you're meant to pay more and buy the guidebook...

A thick screen of bamboo between the paths was completely covered in graphiti. Bizarre to see it, and it reminded me in some ways of the graffiti inside the towers of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, every inch of the walls covered...

The waterbirds exhibit was excellent, a giant walk-in aviary with clear signs and a myriad of inhabitants. Seeing a pair of jabiru dancing their mating dance only half a metre away was an impressive sight! Huge wings flutting and gigantic black beaks clacking as they leapt a metre off the ground to impress each other.

A final beer at the pub on our way back to the ferry across the river, a final attempt to photograph the city skyline at night... That kind of photography definitely needs something more configurable than my fully automatic camera, however useful it is the rest of the time!

The taxi-fare to the airport in the evening worked out to be cheaper than for the two of us to catch the airport bus!

A long day of driving, and you'ld be forgiven for thinking that here — as elsewhere — the police are more concerned with revenue-raising than with road safety. From Walpole to Bridgetown the road winds through the forest, one lane in each direction, narrow, no centre divider, but with a 110km/hr speed limit. Not one police car could be seen. Between Manjarup and Perth, the road is a freeway, divided road, four or six lanes wide, assorted speed limits of 80, 90, 70, 100 and 110 km/hr, and we passed five speed cameras!

For breakfast we decided to try the other café in Walpole — a poor choice as it turned out. Two rubbery fried eggs with bacon and a tasteless industrial tomato. The eggs could easily have been used as sink plugs! Then time for a quick rummage through the local market stalls before commencing the drive back. I don't think I've ever seen so many variations of hand-made soaps, there must have been a local TAFE course on soap-making some time in the past...

Into the car to commence the long drive north-west through the forests. Looking in awe out into the Karri forest, speaking without thinking, came the classic comment:

So how often do they fall down?

followed by the obvious answer:

...just the once.

Along the way we stopped at the Diamond tree to ponder, to consider, then finally, to climb. 52m from the base to the lookout platform, up a ladder comprised of steel spikes a disconcertingly wide distance apart. There's a wire-mesh cage about arm's length out from the ladder, but I think its more for peace of mind than protection. Up and up it goes, I tried not to look out, just concentrate on where I was putting my feet

Two-thirds of the way up there's an enclosed platform. A place to rest, to straighten your neck, and in the words of the warning sign “to reassess your situation”. From here up the ladder is steeper, the tree sways a little more and its definitely not a place to take someone who'll freeze up. I wondered how many tourists panic and are stuck up there, and how long it takes before their friends can talk them back down...

Miles and miles of orchards once the forests ended, little towns full of day-trippers. One of the patch clubs was in town at one place — a couple of hundred harleys parked along the street, the local police driving around eyeing them off. In another town, traffic was slowed around a 4WD that had driven through a give-way sign and demolished the car in the main road.

Despite being a public holiday we found a room in backpackers in the heart of Fremantle, complete with a parking space straight outside the front door! Then there was time for a walk around the park before dinner and a beer or two back at the Little Creatures brewery. That brewery would have to be the major find of the holiday, I'd almost be tempted to move to WA just to be nearer to it...

Where?

Walpole, Bridgetown, Fremantle

Tree-top walks, the Valley of the Giants, Giant Tingle trees, Circular Pool and an eco-tour. The highlights of the day. Running into Jo's yoga teacher at breakfast was the bizarre coincidence of the day.

Definitely Easter-time, the tourist density increased markedly as we drove into the carpark at the Valley of the Giants. Queues to get in, then a constant stream of people around the walk itself. Bouncing and swaying gently, some find it very disconcerting, some try to make it bounce and sway more... If there hadn't been so many people around I think I'd have taken longer and maybe walked around again, as it was, it was just too noisy and too crowded. A brilliant way of getting a different perspective on the forest though.

The Valley of the Giants — every time I say it I can't help thinking of the Irwin Allen TV show from the 70's — Land of the Giants. Shockingly bad TV SciFi.

We'd decided to try and have dinner somewhere other than the pub tonight and we're just walking out the door when the thunder cracked and down came the storm. It didn't seem likely to stop soon, so much easier to step inside the pub and eat there again. $12 a head, serve yourself, anything from the bistro. When we joked with the cook that there was no more of yesterday's apple pie, he replied that there was only one large slice left, so he hadn't got it out of the fridge. Four dollars more and we finished off the pie.

A beer and a meal had exhausted the night-life of Walpole, so we retired back to the motel room, plonked on the bed, and spent the rest of the night watching Ben Hur on TV! It seemed bizarre, here we were 4000km from home, on our honeymoon, on a Saturday night, sitting up in bed watching an epic 1950's movie on a ten year old TV. Ad breaks and all, the epic turned into a major epic. I was glad when it finally ended, give me the cinema over regional West Australian advertising any time!

Walpole Touristy Links

[http://www.wowwilderness.com.au/]

WOW Wilderness Cruises.

[http://www.naturebase.net/tourism/valley_of_the_giants.html]

Valley of the Giants Tree Top Walk

[http://www.valleyofthegiantsbirdandreptilediscoverycentre.com/]

Valley of the Giants Bird and Reptile Discovery Centre (and one of the longest and silliest domain names I've ever seen)

Where?

Walpole

Arrived in Walpole around 4PM, first impressions are of a tiny town, all set out along one side of the highway, with a park and tourist information centre on the other side. The old lady in the tourist centre was horrified that we hadn't booked our accomodation months in advance. Told us that we had almost no chance of finding anywhere in town to stay — but the motel might have some rooms left. Rather than try to book them, she then launched into a great rambling spiel of all the local tourist attractions and which ones to visit in what order. Eventually we dragged her back the topic at hand — accomodation — and persuaded her to call the motel.

Not only did the motel have a room for the night, but when we pointed out that we had asked for a room for two nights, they very apologetically dropped the price by $10 per night because the only available room had a crack in the ceiling. With a little trepidation we headed up the road to find this room-with-a-crack. After checking in we subjected the room to an inch-by-inch search, but despite our best efforts, we couldn't spot the cause of the discount! Just a standard, non-descript 1960's motel room — door one end, double-bed, mission-brown bricks and faded carpet, nothing to get excited about, but nothing more than we'd expected.

A quick stretch and we headed off along the local self-guided walk, it winds around from the tourist centre to the beach, plaques along the way describe the life as seen through the eyes of a ten-year-old boy, part of the original group of settlers sent here during the 1930's depression. Even out of season there are plenty of wild-flowers about, and foot-high ant mounds of sticks and gravel, loose-knit and very fragile, they fell apart at the slightest nudge of a shoe.

Dinner in Walpole was a choice of either the local take-away, or the pub. Being Good Friday, even the bar of the pub was shut — only the bistro was allowed to be opened, and then only because there were guests staying.

Where?

Margaret River, Walpole

Pouring rain this morning as we got up and dressed and drove into Busselton centre for breakfast — a lacklustre coffee and a toasted sandwich. Coffees still cost $AU3, even for bad ones out here in country towns...

We walked out to the Busselton jetty to see whether the new underwater observatory is open yet — no, it's due to open in October. The thought of paying $AU7.50 for a four kilometer walk in the rain was a bit off-putting, especially since there's nothing out there to see, so after a brief look around the shop we ducked into the art galleries in the old police station and courthouse.

A quick look around, then back into the car to drive to Dunsborough to check on accomodation. The railway carriages at the homestay were recommended by a friend, but we felt that we hadn't come far enough today and they were a long way out of town — and quite expensive. We stopped in the town anyway, an essential visit to the bakery to stock up on hot cross buns for lunch. Then back in the car to drive out to Cape Naturaliste to look at the lighthouse and walk to the end of the cape. It threatened to rain the entire time, but we never quite got wet. Out on the cape there were almost no other people, and no sounds at all except for the waves on the rocks and the ever-present ravens. Nothing man-made to be seen either, as far as we could see in any direction, quite a desolate area.

The lighthouse has been cordoned off, where it used to be possible to walk up to the building, they've now built an ugly 3m fence around it and now charge $AU8 admission to walk there from the park's tourist office and be escorted inside. I managed to take a photo through the gaps in the fence, the resulting picture looks better than the reality did!

Time to start heading towards Margaret River, with a detour out to the coast to see Canal Rocks — hardly a canal you would want to take a gondola through! Winery country, and we tried to visit one winery, but just couldn't find the way in — a huge pretentious mansion and restaurant façade, but no cellar door to be found. Maybe we were meant to go into the restaurant, we'll never know, no signs anywere, so we drove back out again. Next corner we came to had a small roadside sign “tastings and sales, so we drove in. Sandstone Winery couldn't have been more different — relaxed atmosphere and down-to-earth facilities, just a big shed with a bench in one corner for tastings. They've only had the cellar door sales since January, but the wines tasted good and the people were friendly, which meant far more than the sandstone mansions up the road!

As well wineries, other gourmet delights fill the region. Inspired by the visit to Fremantle's Little Creatures, we made the detour down the road to a brewery and restaurant to see what they had to offer — unfortunately one that I've forgotten the name of! The Wheat Beer and Tom's Ale that we sampled were both good, and very enjoyable to drink while sitting on their lawns.

Conscious that we hadn't made any accomodation bookings, we thought it was getting a little urgent to get to Margaret River and sort out somewhere to stay. Mad Fish winery intervened, somehow saying to us “just this one last tasting, then on your way.” An enormous place, a lot of money has been made here, and a lot of it has gone back into it. A special offer on a 3-bottle pack of their red blend was attractive, but nothing else seemed to be special — except the $AU75/bottle cabernet sauvignon — yum yum!

Mad Fish are also highly successful with their merchandising — tee-shirts, hats, glasses, even custom-painted surf boards! The bus loads of visiting Americans can't seem to get enough of the combination of the quirky name and aboriginal motif.

We needent have worried unduly about accommodation. The first B&B that we stopped at had a vacant room — although warning us that it was “the last one” (presumably in case we wanted to book a second room). An almost overwhelming rose and floral motif, but very comfortable. They were obsessed that we book immediately if we intended to eat out anywhere for dinner — it didn't take long before we too started to believe that the whole town was booked out over the easter weekend.

Gathering up all the delicacies that we had accumulated, we headed back to the coast to see the fabled Margaret River surf beach. Twenty or so surfers were out on the waves, the sun gradually setting out to sea.

Dinner in a three-star restaurant, a stylish old farmhouse converted to a restaurant for visitors from Perth. The food was very good, but I feel that I better enjoyed a hearty meal in a country pub. Walking home we spied a kangaroo through the mists on a vacant block.

Tourism

[http://www.watercorporation.com.au/marinecam/]

Webcam on the Busselton Jetty

Where?

Busselton, Dunsborough, Margaret River

Just our luck — the day that we spent most of the time in the car has the best weather!

Where?

Busselton

Breakfast was a little haphazard — the bakery that we thought we'd visit is now a dusty empty shell. So much for three year old guidebooks! We walked around the corner and spied a place with tasty looking croissants in the window, then sighed when the toasting of these was performed in a sandwich press. Tasty fresh croissant to a steaming crushed mess in 10 seconds...

Down to the river to checkout the ferries and cruises to Fremantle — there definitely seems to be more collusion than competition here! They were very laid back about discounts though, asking us what discounts we had, and then took my word for it that I had a YHA card in my wallet somewhere! Eight bucks one way, including all the free tea and coffee you can drink — so long as you don't mind International Roast in a polystyrene cup. The ferry was being laid out for a coach load of pensioners, shortly after we'd boarded one old gent asked me where the coffee and toilets where — being one of the few people under 50 onboard, he'd just assumed I worked on the boat!

The real captain and crew turned up shortly afterwards and we headed off down the river. It's a great way to see the place, and the captain was very knowledgable — not just with which suburbs and houses belonged to which millionaire, but details on the commercial shipping and the history of the river, which added a little more than your average tourist cruise. I caught a brief glimpse of a dolphin too, there are supposed to be twenty or thirty that live in the river. We'd been told to visit the new Maritime museum, but hadn't been expecting to spend the entire day in there! Modern displays that are well explained and once again we were given discounts on entry! There's also the option of paying extra for a tour through one of the decommissioned Oberon-class submarines — since Jo and I have an attachment to Holbrook (NSW) where another of the Oberons is, we just had to take the tour.

Unlike the Oberon embedded in a park besides the Hume highway, HMAS Ovens is up on the dry dock, towering overhead. Even so, it doesn't look as though a tour from one end to the other could take an hour! With another highly knowledgable guide, I thought it could well have taken all day — one glance at our guide and he just looked like a submariner. Apart from a minor idiosynchrocy of referring to World War II as “the last war”, there was little of the history submarines and especially the Australian submarines that he didn't seem to know — as well as considerable amounts of the operational aspects of the Oberons.

Safely out of the Ovens at last — and after only banging my head once on a piece of plumbing — there was still more of the museum to see. Australia II hangs from the ceiling in a position of honour, winged keel revealed for all to see — I can remember watching that last race of the Americas Cup back in '93 at college in UNSW, and then us all queueing up and banging on the doors to be let in for an early breakfast. A history of cargo shipping, fishing, and indigenous boats were other exhibits that caught our attention.

4PM and we finally got out of the museum! Walked up the street into Freo proper, marvelling at the old buildings around the docks. Most of these have been restored and repainted, unlike other dockland areas I've visited where a lot of them were torn down and replaced during the early part of the 20th Century.

All the cafés appeared to be shutting, but we managed to find the — uggh — “tourist precint” with all the open cafés and restaurants. Nothing was cheap, everywhere was full, but we finally managed to get some lunch! “Soup of the day with crusty fresh bread” in the Italian restaurant turned out to be seafood lhaksa with no bread, but it was hot and filling and restored our energy. Walking around town afterwards, by pure chance we wandered into the Little Creatures brewery/bar/café. It's been there around two years, but our Lonely Planet guide is at least two years old, and around Fremantle there weren't any signs to the place. The beers were good, the service friendly, the views into the active parts of the brewery interesting — so we sat on the balcony with a beer or two and some pizza, and watched the sun set into the ocean.

We caught the train back to Perth, feeding an endless stack of 5c coins into a ticket machine — and a good thing too! We'd only just left Fremantle station when the security guard/ticket inspectors walked in and checked everyone's tickets. I'm not sure what it is about them, but they just seemed friendlier and more competent than the ones in Melbourne — maybe there just isn't the general public dislike of the whole system. Just another feeling that the public transport system here works well, maybe we're just not here for long enough to experience the problems...

Walking, walking, walking... a day spent walking around Perth. But first... down to the hotel restaurant to make the most of the “free” breakfast.

We could just see the river from the hotel-room window — so down to the river to view the Swan Bells, then off for a lap of the CBD, an attempt to orient ourselves. I was impressed by the number of cyclists around, and especially near one office building where a bike rack has been placed solely for the use of couriers! The public transport looks good too — the CATs are free buses on intersecting loops, a bus every seven minutes, hop on and hop off whenever you like.

A restorative coffee in what may have been the most expensive coffee shop in Perth, then it was off to Northbridge to seek accommodation for tonight. Not particularly fussy, our criteria were “something with more atmosphere and less price.” The Governer Robinson filled both, an excellent find in one of the brochures I'd picked up at the airport.

Caught the Blue CAT back down to the river, then walked off in the direction of Kings Park.

Foot access was up a very steep path, laid out with plaques commemorating the WWII campaign along the Kokoda trail. A very effective mixing of the steep trail and the historic plaques — each time we stopped to catch a breath, the next plaque drew you in to the saga of the military campaign.

At the top, time to relax and lie on the grass, then stroll around and look at the myriad of banksias. On the way back down we decided to try and visit the old Swan Brewery — a myriad of fences and closed off paths conspiring against us. Eventually we found our way back down the path we'd first entered by, then had to walk alongside a main road to get to the brewery! An interesting enough place, but very little of the brewery remains, its now an up-market hotel and conference centre.

By now time zones and holidays caught us out — by the time we started heading back, the buses had stopped, so it was a very long walk! Peaceful enough walking along the river, it seemed a very enjoyable ride home for the cyclists who passed.

Walking around Northbridge in the evening, a Spanish restaurant caught our eye, so we stepped inside for a paella. Sitting down to eat, Jo glanced over my shoulder to the next table — the same four Frenchmen who were in Duxton's winebar last night.

A magnificent meal, we couldn't eat it all. If all our dinners are like this it's going to be a good week!

Ten PM we arrive at the hotel. It has all the ambience of… a hotel. Nondescript, boring, large anonymous international hotel. I turned to look around the room and suffered flashbacks to the five weeks I spent in an identical room in Johannesburg in 2001.

After quickly unpacking we foolishly decided to head back downstairs for a drink at the bar. It had been open when we came up, but despite the signs stating “Open 7PM to Late,” they'd shut by the time we returned. I guess ten o'clock is late here….

In search of a relaxing drink we headed out into the night — not realising that it wasn't just the hotel bar that shuts at ten on a Sunday night in Perth… We quickly realised that nothing was open.

Last resort was to venture into the hotel bar of the Hotel Duxton, which looked dangerously up-market. It was quite affordable, we had a relaxing glass of wine in pleasant surrounds, to the gentle murmur of conversation from the four Frenchmen at the table behind.

Then it was back to Mercure, a big day satisfactorily completed.

What a day! Where do we start? How do we finish? How do we feel!

You could say it started in 1993 when I first met Jo... or maybe last year in Uralla when we decided to get married

However it started, today was a high point on how life progresses.

Butterflies and nerves this morning, Joey departed early to be made ready. Evan arrived to provide moral support and breakfast company. Breakfast was had, last words were spoken. Evan departed to dress for the occasion.

A minor moment with the heart in the mouth as Evan and Kyllie failed to reappear, then turned up twenty minutes late. An effortless drive to Kellybrook and we were all back on schedule. From there on, the day was just a blur of smiles and happiness.

Jo is tired and getting a little stressed... I'm tired and getting a little edgy... and we woke up to find it's absolutely pissing down! Tomorrow's forecast is “Early rain clearing to a fine day.

MLP du jour

[http://www.robbastiaansen.nl/vmware/vmnw6cluster.html]

hints on bringing up a demonstration NetWare 6 cluster under VMWare 3.

A bad start to the day. A car was stopped in the middle of the freeway with hazard lights on and a two metre chunk of timber stuck through the windscreen. As I went past, the ambulance was just departing — a sobering ride the rest of the way to work.

Get to work, check the email. A message on teamRC17. One of the guys died a couple of weeks ago in a collision with a car, his brother just sent us an email to let us know. Sadly I can't remember Mark's presence, but his departure touched me and everyone else on the list....

A bizarre phonecall this morning — someone rang me up at work and asked to book a place on the Easter Deadly Treadly ride! I guess someone has either told them I would know the number, or mis-read a page where I said I've been on the rides! Redirected them off to Freedom Machine, I guess they'll know who to call.

This evening the momentum gathers; the best man, MC, usherette and bridal couple sit down to coordinate. Champagne and Spaghetti Bolognaise aren't normally considered ideal partners, but seem to go well together at the time. Timings and schedules are arranged, Evan delves into my phone book for access to friends and families who can deliver useful anecdotes....

I find my sense of humour somewhat strained.... Finally back at work after a week away, a great backlog of work to get done, and the on-again/off-again evening work finally rescheduled for tonight. Nobody else seems to have anything to do so they stand around gossiping with a visiting ex-colleage for an hour and a half, then go out to the pub for an hour for lunch, then come back and have a birthday celebration in the middle of the room! Open-plan offices suck.

To top it off, there's an email from the one non-responder to the wedding invites. “Oh sure, we're coming,” but somehow it hadn't occurred to them to send any kind of RSVP. Serve 'em right if they have to stand in the corner and eat dry toast....

The bucks' party that wasn't really a buck's party — just an excuse for some friends to get together and go for a bike ride, then to have a few beers and a meal at the pub.

Crossing the river was delayed a little... we turned up to see a police launch sitting where the punt normally docks. In a jovial mood, everyone started cracking jokes about what a wild bunch we were, and how Evan hadn't really needed to warn the police of our wild invasion of the western side of the river.... Turns out that the launch had just fished a suicide out of the river, one of the many people each year who jump from the Westgate bridge. High bridges and water form a magnetic attraction for the terminally depressed... it really wouldn't matter whether they jumped into the river or the parkland from that height!

Final day of the ZfD course at Excom — and the first day that ran to nearly the full length of the alloted time. I think we spent a total of 27 hours on the week-long course!

Off down Chapel street this evening to meet Neale and friends for his birthday celebration — bowling! Seems that bowling has become trendy, and combined bowling alleys and bars are now the places to be. Strike on Chapel [http://www.strikeentertainment.com/] is all flashing video screens and dance music, expensive beers and good fun. We played two full games, by the end of which I thought that my arm might fall off! The first game was wildly inaccurate, by the time the second came around I had partly got the hang of it, and was leading for a while — a fluke strike on my last bowl helped a little!

When we left, Chapel street had degenerated into its normal Friday night lunacy. Bumper to bumper cars crawling along at less than a walking pace, beany-clad lads shouting witticisms as they pass, every second car sporting enormous plastic wings and “For Sale” signs that exist solely to advertise the owner's mobile phone number... There's no hope of catching a tram or taxi, and not much point if you do, since they can't move, so we ended up walking home!

Not quite a wedding present — but definitely a present that was well appreciated! After several months of covetting MarkO's port barrel — not the least because he picked it up in a second-hand shop for around $AU5 — we've acquired our own.... MarkO, the guru of the second-hand shop and flea-market, discovered it while poking around last weekend in a market in Bendigo.

I wonder how things are going at Monash this week— I've been away on a course, generally fun to be out of the office, but the five-day course feels like it could be compressed into four, or even three. We've been leaving at around 3:30PM everyday so far. In another example of small-world syndrome, I've discovered that the instructor is the brother of one of the Smeg cyclists....

Judging by a phone call I received at lunch time, things are proceeding as normal. The call was to tell me that the work I was going to do this evening — the work that nobody had asked me to do, that some had just assumed that I would do and then told others that I would do — well, that work, had been cancelled because one of the other groups hadn't got something working yet. Actually, it hadn't been cancelled, it's been postponed to Friday evening, and would I be available to come in then and do it... Unfortunately the answer is no. I've already got other bookings. We'll continue to haemorrage money by giving the students free printing, because the ability to generate paperwork is fundamental to the operation of a computer network, and letting thousands of people print in a total unmanaged way is more important than saving trees, printers and our time. Bah!

The bogey-man is coming, the bogey-man is coming — or someone nearly as bad.... Today was the day that the real-estate agents were performing an inspection. Would they complain that the front room resembled a bicycle repair workshop? Would they notice that the bathroom wall can't be cleaned because the grouting is so badly done that it falls apart when you wash it? A total non-event. He rang the bell, he walked in, said a brief hello, glanced into kitchen and lounge, and left without even looking in either bedroom or bathroom. Total time of inspection — approximately 35 seconds!

Strange sight on a blackboard menu in South Melbourne today — “Café Late.” They'd taken the time to put the accent on the e, but couldn't spell latte... Oh well, five minutes later I saw a SNITZEL being advertised....