All posts by Steve Lovell

Meena

Literature

‘Each morning I read a few lines from ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North.’

It was ‘Prognosis’ I was touched by – battles with cancer have been present in my world of late; affecting family and friends; affecting people I care about. And now, as I scribe this, the end of the year is always the time for looking back, looking forward. I typed in ‘The Best Poetry of 2018’ and there it was on a NY Times site.

There have been significant deaths this past year – Aretha, an ex-President and a US statesman who stood up to Trump. The author of ‘Prognosis’ was born in the same year as I, but did not survive 2018. Food for thought, food for thought.

So I delved deeper to discover more about Meena. Hooked by that first poem I came across, I was scanning to see what else she had to offer – and then that line reeled me in. A further connection to me, my island and my father:-

‘Each morning I read a few lines from ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North.’

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Meena Alexander was Indian, bought up in Kerala and the Sudan, educated in Britain and finding her fame in the US. She wrote award winning books of verse, had publish two novels and numerous academic tomes. She finished her career being Distinguished Professor of English and Women’s Studies at City University, NYC. She helped keeping poetry from becoming a lost art.

‘The poem is an invention that exists in spite of history.’

Prognosis

You’ll be better tomorrow
And the next and the next.

Our window crammed with bees,
Geese cavorting on the hill

A green pond where we floated
Never dreaming such a fate

Might befall one of us
Mad dance of tumors

This serous thing, spelled differently
But pronounced like the cloud

Cirrus—papa made me see
Lifting me high in afternoon heat

A pallor stroking the inner sky
Ligaments striated

A high interiority picked with ice
Finicky music we dare not hear.

The men with Odysseus
Packed their ears with wax

One or two tore out their tongues
Right there on the Cretan coast.

Morning Ritual

I sit in a patch of shade cast by a pipal tree.
Each morning I read a few lines from The Narrow Road to the Deep North.

Where did Basho go?
He entered a cloud, and came out the other side:

Everything is broken and numinous.
Tiled roofs, outcrops of stone, flesh torn from molluscs.

Far away, a flotilla of boats. A child sucking stones.
There is a forked path to this moment.

Trees have no elsewhere.
Leaves very green.

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More Poetry by Meena Alexander = https://meenaalexander.com/category/works-collaborations/poetry/

 

Laptoplessness

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‘It’s actually been surprisingly liberating.’

Smart phone pride. That’s what I have – smart phone pride. Pride that, as a notorious forgetterer, I’ve never managed to lose, drop or flush my hand-held device down the toilet once – touch wood. Those that know me would say that’s because I rarely have the thing with me. That’s a little bit true, but I do know when to have it on my person. It’s just that I prefer not to. I am also prideful that I can master the basics associated with it, as well as Facebook, Google and Instagram. I realise I am not in the same league as Carolyn Webb or just about everyone else on the planet. Overall, it’s not particularly essential to my existence, nor does it enhance it to any degree – but it does have its uses.

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My laptop, on the other hand, is a different kettle of fish – something I once figured was a necessity to my existence, something that enhanced my life immeasurably.

So, mid-’18, when my existing laptop slowed down to a clunky dawdle, I was indeed very keen to get it seen to, even replaced. Enter my son-in-law who, over the years, has used his immense IT knowledge, as well as a great deal of patience, to keep me up and running in the digital age. He suspected he could fix it, but I eventually felt that, as I had had it since I first retired, it was time for an upgrade. Leigh-lad duly ordered one that, as it has turned out, is a considerable improvement on my now also retired machine.

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But now comes the rub. He is a very busy son-in-law, working five days a week, leaving only weekends for other activities, including the very important business of raising a beloved granddaughter with Katie. As it turned out, I had commitments taking me away from Hobs at regular intervals – so it transpired I was laptopless for around a couple of months. And with that, I agree with Ms Webb and her phone. It was not the end of the world. It was, well, somewhat liberating. Life was perfectly pleasant and functional without it. Granted, said phone took on a bit of extra responsibility, but overall it lead me, to an even greater degree, to enjoy life in the slow lane. Reading, as well as taking even more advantage of the golden age of television, came with the freedom of being away from the never-ending delights the richness that the ether provides me with. My Leigh’s device was always there, but I rarely made use of it, so much was I relishing time without it.

Capable son-in-law and I finally connected and I was up and away again. But, even so, just a tiny bit of me hankers to return to those days of laptoplessness. I suspect by now Carolyn W has her mobile back, or is toting around a replacement. But I wonder if she’s doing some hankering as well?

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Carolyn Webb’s opinion piece for the Age = https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/i-lost-my-iphone-and-i-m-ok-20181218-p50mwt.html

The Walkers and the Dauber

art and photography, historical

There is a resemblance to both, isn’t there? It’s not just me, is it? You can see it too, can’t you?

Every wall of each of three rooms was covered in paintings, many of them portraits. In the first I ventured into, they were from the colonial period and my eye was immediately drawn to her. I knew that face, or so I thought. I soon realised I couldn’t have, given her provenance and lack of fame; also given she died in 1889. And this was painted decades earlier than that. I thought she was beautiful; undeniably striking. There was no descriptive tag to her on the wall, so I had to resort to something I usually abhor for her details – a centrally placed computer device that the Library of New South Wales assured would provide all the viewer could wish to know about any given item in this particular exhibition, simply called ‘Paintings from the Collection’.

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Normally I hate anything to do with digital technology and art galleries. Try as I might to use those hand held devices at Mona, I always end up giving it away in disgust. To me they ruin the experience there, to the extent that I’d rather not be in the know. But I quickly mastered the ones in Sydney and at least made a start getting to know my lady from two centuries ago. In the gen it provided I was delighted that there was a Tasmanian connection with her. I scribbled down a few of the details concerning the art work in question and resolved, as is invariably the case, to delve deeper once on home soil, for Anna Elizabeth Walker was really beginning to intrigue. And a part of that was trying to rack my memory cells as to just whom she reminded me of. Eventually the penny dropped, two fold as it turns out, but I’ll save that for later.

Now at home I wasn’t illuminated much more about her than I discovered in Harbour City, but, as one might expect from those times, of the man she devoted her life to, we could ascertain a great deal. And he seems a prickly sort of go-getting customer.

He had arrived on New Holland shores in 1818 – so quite early on. He was a Yorkshireman by birth, having entered the world in 1791 to a relatively well-to-do family. He had served his country at Waterloo and other engagements in the war against Napoleon; later remaining in service as a master of stores. This led to attachment to the good ship ‘Friendship’ (oxymoron?) which took him and a cargo of convicts to New South Wales. He spent less than a year in Sydney. He was soon sent to take charge of the infant settlement of Port Dalrymple, across Bass Strait, on Van Diemen’s Land’s Tamar River. He immediately took a shine to that scenic part of our island and started to think it may be the place to build a future. To that end he constructed himself a stone house in George Town. But, by the time it was completed, he was finding it impossible to get along with his immediate superior, one Gilbert Cimitiere. Relationships had sunk so low in the small European community that all communication was conducted via their respective clerks. When the latter became so fed up with that and complained about him to Governor Sorell in Hobart, Thomas Walker felt it was in his best interests to hightail it back to Sydney Cove. Once there he was found a position being responsible for the growing burbs of Windsor and Parramatta. He built a home in the district, calling it Rhodes, after his mother’s family pile back in the Mother Country. And around this time he began successfully courting Anna, daughter of prominent citizen and Blue Mountains conqueror Gregory Blaxland. Was it a love match? Did one T Walker see it as improving his social standing? There are indications he was that kind of guy, but we’ll never know. They wedded in 1823.

By 1825 the new groom was crook, a factor he put down to the arduous, as he saw it, work expected of him in his Sydney roles. Five years later he uprooted his family to move back to VDL, still mightily peeved that the authorities in the northern colony had not recognised his true worth. He saw there were opportunities, for him and his burgeoning family, out on the Westmoreland Plains, around Longford, so that’s where he decided to settle, constructing another Rhodes. He worked assiduously at building up a real estate portfolio with properties in the two colonies, plus around the developing Port Phillip region. He was made a magistrate in 1837 – finally some recognition.

But let’s return to the eye-catching Anna. She remained by hubby’s side till his death, in the rebranded Tasmania, in 1861, after which she returned to be closer to her family in NSW. It was, though, during an earlier visit to Sydney that artist Maurice Felton was commissioned to paint the likeness that so attracted me that Harbour City morning. For it Anna dressed in black, clearly indicating she was in mourning. During the family’s 1840 visit her brother, John suddenly passed away, causing the Walkers to extend their stay. The red shawl featured, possibly an heirloom, is used to conceal yet another pregnancy, her fourteenth in fact. Alice was born back here early 1841, giving her and Thomas four sons and ten daughters – what a brood! What does that say about their marriage? They were a productive pair, no doubt, but that wasn’t unusual for those times.

As to whom actually outlaid the funds for a portrait is unknown. Thomas certainly commissioned it, but maybe her parents paid for it. A son just gone, a daughter about to travel back to a faraway place with some of their grandchildren, they had reason. Their portraits were also commissioned from the same painter, as well as one of their eldest boy and heir.

We also know something of the artist himself. Felton arrived on Australian soil in 1839, quickly staging his first exhibition in the following year to drum up business, coinciding with the Walkers time in Sydney. Painting was, for him, initially a sideline to his main work as a surgeon, but he obviously hoped to develop it into another source of income. He also opened a shop in George Street to further advertise his gifts.

Back to the present, there was another Felton portrait on display that morning that is also worthy of mention. The sitter was a fair amount younger than Anna and I would have thought little of it till I read the tale associated with it on the computer screen. 21 year old Sophia Stratham O’Brien never sat for her likeness from Felton. We suspect his first contact with her was in his other capacity.

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She was part of the artist’s 1841 showing in Sydney, but the young lady herself had already been dead some six months. Perhaps Felton was the officiating doctor at her death. He then would have taken a cast of her face and with the assistance of an engraving, said to closely resemble her, put together the image we see framed today. In part, it is similar in structure to a well known painting he’d done of another young woman, Queen Victoria, which was, for a while, the talk of the town. In the days before photography became widespread, his work was the family’s lasting memory of a daughter taken well before her time. Poignant.

Death, sadly, came early to Felton too. Only four years after his arrival he passed away in unknown circumstances.

Again, returning to Anna. What of the question that exercised my mind for some time after the viewing? Just who was it she reminded me of during my time spent at the State Library of New South Wales? I thought and thought and then I twigged – Lady Edith Crawley.

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Many, including myself, miss Downton – although there is a movie version, I believe, on its way, primed for release later this year. The middle daughter was always my favourite. Not as beautiful, in the customary way, as the sisters on either side, she was, for a while, quite a shrinking violet. But when she came into her own, in later seasons, she underwent, for her times, a most unorthodox transition. To me the resemblance to the actress who played her, Laura Carmichael, seemed uncanny. Then, one morning in the bath, I dismissed her, replacing her with Janel Moloney, who, as Anna Moss, had to wait to the very final episode of all those seasons of ‘The West Wing’ to get her man. Janel or Laura? I’m none the wiser now, but something about that portrait did a déjà vu on me.

Am I slightly bonkers?

Paintings from the Collection, State

Hollywood Endings at Home?

Television/DVD review

In recent weeks I’ve entered hitherto foreign territory with the popular platform Netflix. Up until now we’ve been immersed in its vast array of small screen series, keeping Leigh and myself mightily entertained. But, some recent house/dog sits have freed up my time to venture elsewhere and spread my wings. As a result I’ve come away with a long list of movies from it, as well as, to a lesser extent, from Stan. The former, though, houses the first two viewed – very different, but both worth of the time spent with them.

Paul Giamatti’s Richard and Kathryn Hahn’s Rachel are in relationship hell. It’s not that they don’t love each other, but any sort of enjoyment from sex has disappeared long ago. For this forty-something couple its sole purpose is to produce a longed for offspring – but the usual means is not working. Finally, other solutions are sought and we are taken into a warts and all look at the world of IVF, adoption and surrogacy. Eventually there’s a giving young relative, Sadie (Kayli Carter), willing to lend a hand, or her body.

‘Private Life’ takes us to the nitty gritty of the often heartbreaking decisions that have to be made in the pursuit of the goal of mother/fatherhood. When all seems out of reach in this film that pulls no punches, suddenly a ray of hope emerges – but will that too be snuffed out? It’s all passion killing stuff treated with no airbrushing whatsoever. Paul G is superb in his demanding role, Kathryn Hahn simply brave, I would have thought, beyond the call.

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There’s a no doubt deliberate drabness to the tone of this film – one that does not detract from its quality, but seems wholly fitting. Director/writer Tamara Jenkins underwent fertility treatment herself and her first hand experience shows. It’s engrossing viewing as our ever-hopeful pair try so hard to be positive when all the signs point to failure.

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Little drabness, though, in the offering from sunny Argentina that was huge in its homeland, largely for all the wrong reasons. The on-set affair between ‘The Red Thread’s’ two leading protagonists outraged a nation, but sure bought the punters, in their droves, to the megaplexes.

There is an ancient belief that there is an invisible scarlet thread (thus the English title) that people, who are meant to be together, in this case vinter Manuel (Benjamín Vicuña) and air-hostess Abril (María Eugenia Suárez) will eventually be. The duo make contact over Amy Winehouse and then a flight to Colombia. A customs mix-up see the pair separated, preventing any possible continuation of an obvious mutual attraction and they go their separate ways. She weds a rock star; he successfully raises a family and quality vines.

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Then the thread comes into play and a chance meeting at a resort location sees them reunited and how; lustily forgetting any consideration of the supposedly loved-ones back home. Perhaps it should have happened years before, but what now for our love struck pair?

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Both leads are appealing to the eye, although the movie brings little new to the theme of attraction lost and regained in in awkward circumstances. There’s obvious chemistry between the pair which, as it turns out, resulted in an ugly confrontation during film making between Vicuña’s then wife and Suárez. The pair are now together. The film is not as testing to watch as ‘Private Life’ if some light relief is the order of the day.

Be aware that both movies display a fair amount of nudity and sexual activity and of the two, the first is the stand out. Also viewed, but of lesser quality were ‘The Devil’s Mistress’ (Goebbels takes a lover) and ‘A Spanish Affair2’ (definitely helps to be Spanish and know regional idiosyncrasies). Still, if my list is anything to go by, there would seem to be some fruitful movie watching from Netflix to last me quite a while.

Trailer for ‘Private Life’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1orjA9Z8g4

Trailer for ‘The Red Thread’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1pQeMaCV7E

Coffee and Me

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It’s so rare for me to have anything to do with a takeaway brew I can remember my last time I sipped on one. Shouldn’t be so difficult, I hear you say – but it was way back in 2011. I was still teaching then, doing beach duty at a school end-of-year picnic when some lovely soul bought one down to me on the strand from the Boat Harbour shop. I must admit I was a bit perplexed how one drank the delicious stuff – by taking off the lid or through the raised hole in it. Logic eventually won out.

Takeaway coffee is, to me, akin to morning showers, bottled water and trolling on social media – why would you want to partake?

I do grant you I crave my first coffee after waking, but, apart from that, I could go a whole day without another, although that’d be a rarity. And I love cafe flat whites, be that at a relatively downmarket venue like Banjos or Hudsons, or somewhere with a bit more class, such as is the case with my regular meetings with affable mate Rob at Whisk and Co.

But the joy of it is the ‘to have here’ to indulge. It is then a truly relaxed experience, be it in solo mode with the morning papers or in the company of my beautiful lady when we’re out and about.

Send out for coffee from the workplace! How ridiculous. What a waste of money and (wo)man hours, although perhaps it keeps a barista or two in work. Buy a coffee machine, for heavens sake, if you’re too sophisticated for instant. Son Richard makes world’s best morning coffee with his little machine. Or there’s the new-fangled pod devices as mastered by my friend Chris of Coogee fame. Delicious.

Of course, the best reason of all not to be sucked in to the takeaway trap is the environment. What an abomination! Look at the stats. What will our children’s children one day think of our stupidity about coffee, let alone everything else we’ve done to wreck the planet gifted to us?

Takeaway coffee just adds to the rush of modern day living. Drop back a gear or two, sit down, chill.

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Matt Holden’s view of takeaway coffee = https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/life-s-too-short-for-a-quick-takeaway-coffee-20181215-p50mgv.html

The Blue Room’s Best Movies 2018

annual reviews

2018 gave us ‘Juliet Naked’ and ‘Normandy Nude’, but by far and away the best ride we’ve had for many a year in a cinema house was ‘Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri’. It tops the list down below and deserved all the gongs garnered during the award season earlier in the twelve months just past. It was perfect in every way, from its casting to its over the top blaspheming. I just adored it. So best movies 2018:-

1. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.

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2. A Star is Born – Lady GaGa is mesmerising and what a set of pipes co-star Bradley Cooper possesses.

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3. Bohemian Rhapsody – Freddie comes back with all his strut with Rami Malek almost as mesmerising as the Lady.

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4. The Shape of Water – an odd fish of a movie, but wonderful with Sally Hawkins and Michael Shannon standouts.

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5. Ladies in Black – This Aussie delight took all of us who can remember back to a nostalgic place in time.

6. Custody – Brings to the movies, in sledgehammer fashion, the scourge that is domestic violence.

7. Ladybird – Saoirse Ronan is so unbearably and achingly beautiful in oddball fashion.

8. Tully – a bravura performance from Charlize Theron when all is not how it seems

9. Phantom Thread – ‘Das Boot’s’ Vicky Krieps lights up this 50s fashion house affair with great performances from Daniel Day Lewis and Lesley Manville.

10. The Wife – for Glenn Close revenge is so sweet

The Best of the Rest – Chesil Beach, Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, Juliet Naked, The Party, Back to Burgundy, Molly’s Game.

The Blue Room’s Best Music 2018

annual reviews

Not sure how I came across him, but I reckon I must have read something or other about him in the print media. I vaguely remember that someone described him as an Aussie version of a young Leonard Cohen. Anyway that would have piqued my interest and sent me to YouTube to have a listen/watch – and from there I was hooked enough to source his CD. Certainly there are similarities to the great Canadian poet/songsmith, but the local product has more strings to his bow than just that. After two EPs, this is the Melbourne lad has now a fully realised long play, and what a gem it is. Hopefully 2019 will be his break out year, taking his music and sublime voice to a much wider audience. And so to the best music of 2018:-

1. Ryan Downey – Running

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2. George Ezra – Staying at Tamara’s. Just that superb voice.

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3. Courtney Barnett – Tell Me How You Really Feel. The part-Tasmanian’s sophomore collection has all the spit and polish of the first.

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4. Jack River – Sugar Mountain – Another new discovery for 2018 and another Aussie to boot. Thanks Paul.

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5. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit – Live from the Ryman. Culled from his sold out shows in 2017, this alt country discovery has the ‘it’ factor in spades.

6. Cat Power – Wanderer. She’s had a troubled time of late but has hit back with this collection of well honed tunes.

7. DMA’s – For Now. On first appearance these guys look like rap artists, but they’re something else entirely.

8. Marlon Williams – Make Way for Love. Bradley Cooper plucked the New Zealander from semi-obscurity for a cameo performance in ‘A Star is Born’, but those in the know have been with him for years.

9. Lucy Dacus – Historian. A vibrant new voice just hitting her straps.

10. Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats – Tearing at the Seams. Music to make you sweat is a good call.

The Best of the Rest – Sarah Blasko – Depth of Field, Catherine Britt and the Cold Hearts, Kenny Chesney – Songs for the Saints, Willie Nelson – My Way, Mia Dyson – If I Said Only So Far I Take It Back, Ruby Boots – Don’t Talk About It, Kasey Chambers – Campfire, Missy Higgins – Solastalgia.

The Blue Room’s Best Television 2018

annual reviews

A gay woman from the north west tip of my island had a year to remember for all of us. It started with her contemplating retirement from stand up and ending with her being in the running, in the light of ‘Me Too’, to host the Oscars. Hannah Gadsby is a true original and moved the planet on its axis and changed the face of her profession with the searing ‘Nanette’ for Netflix. She is thankfully no longer contemplating giving the game away. She is marvellous. Do we all now say a collective ‘Sorry’ for what never should have been and hopefully never will be again?

But its getting ridiculous, the good stuff that keeps lighting up our small screens, from a plethora of platforms. And the beauty is that most who now read the lists below can, by pressing a few buttons on a hand held device, view most of the items at any time they desire. And so to television 2018:-

1. Nanette – Netflix

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2. Babylon Berlin – Netflix. Germany just before Hitler was a goldmine for those on the make as well as the bohemian.

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3. Bodyguard – Netflix. Action, action, action at a frenetic pace – and the surprises! Love Keeley Hawes.

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4. Killing Eve – ABC. Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer spectacular as the odd couple in this violent delight.

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5. Endeavour – ABC. Every episode eminently watchable and atmospheric of a time that we can only hanker for.

6. The Bridge S4 – SBS. Sad to see her and it go. It was the epitome of Scandi-noir.

7. Black Mirror S1- 4 – Netflix. Uneven, but at its best this omnibus is terrific for imagining what lies ahead of us in the digital age.

8. Squinters – ABC. Such a simple concept of mates, travelling together through the traffic, just having a chat.

9. The Kominsky Method – Netflix. Michael Douglas and Alan Arkin taking us on a different sort of journey through the pitfalls of old age.

10. Monash and Me – ABC. Peter Greeve brings a wartime hero back to earth.

The Best of the Rest – The Ozarks – Netflix, The Sinner – Netflix, Simon Reeves Burma and Russia – SBS, Shetland – ABC, Get Shorty – Stan, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs – Netflix, Spin – SBS, Howard’s End – ABC, Cardinal – SBS, Food Safari Water – SBS, Great British Food Revival – SBS, Shameless (US version) – Netflix, Jack Whitehall Travels with my Father – Netflix, Apple Tree Yard – ABC, The Split – ABC, Line of Duty S5 – ABC, Poldark – ABC, Loch Ness – ABC, Das Boot – SBS, Tick, F***ing Tock – ABC, Joanna Lumley The Silk Road – ABC, Dying Laughing – SBS, Jimmy Barnes Working Class Boy – Seven, Springsteen on Broadway (Netflix), A Private Life (Netflix),Vikings (SBS).

Guilty Pleasures – Doctor Doctor – Nine, 800 Words (sad to see it go) – Seven, A Place to Call Home – Fox..

Special Mention – the Noni Hazlehurst and Ernie Dingo episodes of Who Do You Think You Are – SBS.

The Blue Room’s Best Books 2018

annual reviews

In 2018 the reading public saw Tim Winton return to the top of his game, but the highlight of the year, of course, for me was the publication of my daughter’s beautiful release ‘Girl Running, Boy Falling’. Stay tuned for more from her in the new year. So best books 2018:-

1. Kate Gordon – Girl Running, Boy Falling

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Tim Winton – The Shepherd’s Hut

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2. Richard Glover – Flesh Wounds. Hilarious, poignant – it rivals Clive James’ ‘Unreliable Memoirs’.

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3. Gregory Day – A Sand Archive. Features love amidst the sand dunes of France and the Great Ocean Road.

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4. Alex Miller – Passage of Love. Autobiographical or not, there’s few better than Miller when he’s on song.

5. Roger Averill – Relativity. A son endeavours to escape the shadow of an infamous father. Terrific.

6. Carrie Cox – Afternoons with Harvey Beams. Have we the new Nick Earls?

7. Gail Honeyman – Eleanor Oliphant is Perfectly Fine. Perfectly fine she isn’t, at least to start with. A great journey.

8. Holly Throsby – Cedar Valley. A sophomore novel every bit as good as the debut.

9. Gabby Stroud – Teacher. What a farce is NAPLAN!

10. Bob Murphy – Leather Soul. Tall tales and true of AFL from a footy icon who can actually write.

The Best of the Rest – Tex Perkins – Tex, Joanna Trollope – An Unsuitable Match, Colin Melloy – Wildwood, Martin Flanagan – A Wink from the Universe, Gayle Foreman – I Have Lost My Way, William McInnes – Fatherhood, Susan Midalia – The Art of Persuasion, Steven Herrick – The Bogan Mondrian, Julie Murphy – Puddin’, Josephine Wilson – Extinctions, Michael Robotham – The Other Wife,

2018 – Twelve Months in the Year of Wonder Weeks

annual reviews

1. Nervous. I was decidedly nervous. Not pacing up and down nervous when the nerves are almost on top of me – but nervous nonetheless. For, you see, I hadn’t done it in this fashion for decades. Babysit. She was so tiny – just a year old and a bit. I’d agreed to it. Why wouldn’t I? I loved her dearly and as 2018 has progressed, I can see she is going to be someone so special, my second born granddaughter. My son and his wifeare busy people, but they care so well and much for this darling imp, lavishing love and attention on her. She is secure in her world of the big gentle dog (with new addition) and a town/business tied to the sea and sea-faring, as well as with her grandparents on the other side. But, that morning, it was me taking on the responsibility of that precious little being for a few hours as Mum and Dad beavered away preparing for another sailing north to the Furneaux Group. Ollie’s incredible mother had bustled in and placed her in her cot up in the nursery and with a cheery, ‘You’ll be right Steve.’ she was away.

And I knew it would be. They were only down the road if required. But I still wondered how would she react to me on waking for, after all, I couldn’t be the presence in her life I would love to be due to distance. I wondered, when the magical alerting device told me she was awake, if she would cry with gusto and displeasure that it was me coming to bring her back into the world outside her bedroom? Would she be irritable, crotchety or worse, sob inconsolably at this unforeseen change in her routine? So yes, I was a tad on edge, waiting.

But there were no cries to tell me she was no longer in the land of nod, just quiet murmurings and soft chortles. There seemed to be no resistance to this semi-foreign old fellow picking her up and cradling her out into the lounge room. I sat down on the sofa and arranged her on my lap. She seemed content enough just to look up into my eyes as I whispered words of affection and praise to her. It was a cherished time, a time to be repeated on several other occasions when I was able to visit during the year. Eventually she grew a little restive so I delved into her book draw and retrieved several tomes to read to her. She remained very at ease as I worked my way through the small pile, just occasionally reaching out to turn a page or to pull down a flag to see what it revealed. And then, little by little, she wearied of that as well, so we turned on the big screen and tuned into ‘Where is Spot’. When Mum returned we were both happily snuggled up together, watching the canine’s mild adventurings. I had had the loveliest, loveliest time. Nothing beats being a grandfather.

2. Money doesn’t buy happiness. I’d be happy with my Leigh even if we were were dirt poor living in a hovel. But, with retirement approaching, I knew she was, if not exactly worried about finances post that event for I would would always have her back, but wondering just how careful she’d have to be. She’s has always been independent in this regard and was resolved to continue to be. Then, out of the blue, a few days into ‘18, we were called into the back room of a newsagents and told some astonishing news. The amount wasn’t huge huge, but it was enough. And I know I am not biased by saying that it couldn’t happen to a more deserving recipient. Leigh is just so giving – giving in her personal relationships; giving in her working situation. We all know that.

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3. Presents come in all forms and I have received some glorious ones over the last 12 months. A highlight were the hugs and back pats I was gifted from my other beloved granddaughter with her greeting to me on the occasion of turning yet another year older back in August. She is a radiant sunbeam in my existence. Leigh presented me with tickets to ‘We Will Rock You’ which I thoroughly enjoyed, perhaps not quite as much as I did, though, watching Jimmy Barnes unwrap his life on stage. That was a wonderfully thoughtful present from my son last Xmas. Did I say enjoy? Perhaps not the best word for some of the tales Barnsey told that evening. And this Christmas Katie gave me the best t-shirt ever. Again, from Richard, came the best gift of all in 2018 – news that, in a brand new year, I am going to be a grandfather again. Another granddaughter? My first grandson? It doesn’t matter. I am just so chuffed. To make the year complete my gorgeous, gorgeous niece across the water will soon give my sister/brother-in-law another grandchild. Some reading this will know just how special that is.

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4. My life is being continually enriched by friends. Some, from Sydney, are newly back in my orb after a long absence. Anthony W, Andrew I and Andrew R’s re-entry have given my existence some extra polish. Whisk and Co is the venue for my regular coffee and treat with Rob W and I relish it, as do I the sharing I have had this year of a Coogee residence with old mate Chis B. Leigh and I have reconnected with past Burnie pals Karin and Michael C. Denise W (with Stefan) and Denise G continue to be a wonderful presence in our lives, as do world’s best neighbours Noel and Jane S. All these people add the lustre that continues to make our planet such a treat to be on. Thank you.

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5. It is the Golden Age of Television and our extra platforms this year have given us much to talk, as well as write, about. Some of it I savour on my tod, but it gives an extra tinge of pleasure to watch with my beloved. I adore her input. She was never one for a running commentary, just a comment or barb here and there. Often she has to clarify for me just exactly what is going on. I love her commentary on Jo, the news reader’s, fashion sense; ergo Portillo’s utter lack of it as he boards yet another train to blind its passengers. We’ve recently started watching the US version of ‘Shameless’ and I receive the benefit of many audible comments of disbelief, even horror, at Frank Gallagher’s antics. But my Leigh saves her best for when evil family member Regina appears on screen, with her nasty, nasty machinations, to bring chaos to the House of Bligh in the two seasons of ‘A Place to Call Home’ we watched over the winter. There were many, many mutterings of ‘the cow’ emanating from her chair across the way from me. There’s countless reasons why I love my Leigh so much – this is just a minute one.

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6. There were some great stories to emerge from the AFL during Season ‘18, but a West Coast premiership, for me, was not one of them. I did, though, think it fantastic, for several reasons (departed Collitragics, my next door neighbour, a mother who loves the coach) that Collingwood made it through to the big dance. There were statements made by various players in various ways, Aliir Aliir and Majak Daw – so sad about his post-season woes; Adam Saad and Bachar Houli; Alex Johnson, as well as, on several occasions, classiness from the Richmond Football club. There were some great games with nail-biting finishes and my Hawks were in the mix into the finals. And, turning to cricket, wasn’t it great seeing Tim Paine leading us to a non-boorish test win?

7. I love stays at Sisters Beach and Bridport, both now second homes to me – so thanks to Kim and Ruth, Rich and Shan for putting up with me. For some of that time, at the former, I’ve had my precious mother come stay too. That truly is a blessing.

8. A very special canine I am lucky enough to be in the company of, as I write, is now a century old in doggy years. She’s at present snuffling quietly in her bed in front of the tele. She is a remarkable and beautiful staffy, much adored by owners, Phil and Julie. It’s always a treat being responsible for her well-being over the yuletide period, together with her furry mate Bronson. I remember my first meeting with Summer, also answering to the Pie, many, many years ago now when Leigh’s brother/sister-in-law lived on the Gold Coast. She won my heart then and still holds it now. Gemma, from a greyhound rescue source, entered my world this year, as did my son’s new addition Pat the Dog (aka Round Hound, aka Square Dog). He’s going to be a ripper. Days spent with Sammy the Spoodle were, as always, delightful and I am looking forward to my dog-sit of another very fine and personable dog, Jasper, early in January. That’ll be a treat.

9. Out and about in Hobart there are terrific people selling wares in various outlets around the city. These give service well above the norm – contact with them being always an enhancing experience. Eleni has looked after our travel requirements at the RACT for years and she’s irreplaceable. My stamp man David, at his Trafalgar Arcade premises, always has time for a chat and what a trove of treasures his premises are. The cheery smile and greeting of Jess at Harvey Norman Glenorchy is always valued as she hands over the endless number of snaps I have developed there. And then, there’s the beautiful Adeleen whom I love encountering at Woolworths, Claremont Plaza. She puts some joy into the often fraught business of shopping for groceries. She goes beyond the call as well.

10. It is my usual routine of a Sunday morning to visit Northgate, mainly to collect the Age and treat myself to a flat white and date scones at Banjos. I’m always greeted out the back, where I normally park, by a cacophony of birdnoise – it’s hardly birdsong. The Australianness of this racket always places me in a more positive frame of mind – as do the efforts of the avian-life of Sisters and Briddy when I visit. And the joy I receive from the blue wrens on our front lawn is endless.

11. Again I have had the pleasure of keeping in touch with many friends through snail mail, so my gratitude goes to all who have received my letters and take the time to read my humble scribings. I love putting them together and will always be thankful to my Katie and her Leigh for giving me the wherewithal. And Lisa, I break out into a great big smile every time I see the contents of my envelopes looking back at me from Instagram.

12. Again I’ve had the pleasure of spending time at Aberdeen and Sheffield on Christmas Day ‘18. Ta muchly Laurel and Craig, Ilsa and Keith. In Laurel’s superb garden, at the former, Tess came up to me, gave me a hug and stated, ‘Do you know what Christmas is really about Poppy? It’s all about family and love.’