Go Us!

We're at it again and we've been doing it for years!

Australia Day has come around again and Aussies are all out backslapping, barbequeing, drinking, having citizenships ceremonies and generally celebrating.

Two hundred and twenty-three years ago, Captain Arthur Phillip and 11 ships with 1332 souls aboard sailed into Port Jackson to establish the first European settlement on Australian soil.

While the First Fleet first landed at Botany Bay, between 18-20 January 1788, it was decided the bay wasn't suitable for the establishment of the colony. There was no protection as it was an open bay, the trees (probably ironbark) proved too tough for the tools brought and there was no fresh water nearby. On the whole, not the best spot for a colony and little like the perfect place Captain Cook described.

Captain Phillip took a small party in boats and sailed up the coast. There, he found Port Jackson - named, but not explored by Cook. Phillip spent three days at Port Jackson and decided to move the colony.

He wasn't the only European looking around. On a scientific expedition, Jean-Francois de La Perouse had expected to find a settlement where he could repair his ships and re-provision. Instead, he found the convict fleet worse off than his ships. Although La Perouse and Phillip never met, some of the officers of both nations did have cordial conversations.

Captain Phillip moved the fleet to Port Jackson on 26 January 1788 and began construction on the colony at Sydney Cove, inside the harbour. The French hung about until early March before moving on.

Captain Phillip did not lose one ship on the 15,000 mile journey. Given the lack of proper medical care, the threat of scurvy, small ships, crammed conditions and rough oceans, the First Fleet's journey to Australia has to be one of the greatest sea voyages in maritime history. Yes, 48 people died along the way, but for the time, this was considered a win.

It must have been terrifying for the voyagers, travelling halfway around the world and not knowing what to expect once they arrived. Australia would be totally alien to them, with different trees, astonishingly weird animals - Botanist Joseph Banks compared the kangaroo to a giant mouse - bright, hot sunlight and wary indigenous people who knew more about the land than they ever would.

Today, we celebrate the sheer tenacity and courage of the First Fleet colonists and convicts. Today, we welcome new citizens from around the world, all of whom, throughout our history, have made Australia what it has become and what it will be.

Back at it

We waved off the last of the visitors on Sunday and I returned to work today.

Not writing work - I'm organising the furniture so it can be more easily moved when the carpet peeps turn up - but my work at the moozeum. I didn't want to go; I have too much stuff to do, but once I got there, all the stress of the last few weeks fell away and I wallowed in historical research.

I sat in my shared office and checked over all the work I had to do and had missed since December. It all reminded of why I love history and why I'm at the museum. Regardless of the personalities I deal with, I can plug in the MP3 and get on with it. No telephones, no requests, no interruptions, just me and all those juicy databases I can explore in the pursuit of bringing a little known part of history to those interested.

There isn't much on Lady Gertrude Denman, for whom the museum is named - okay, it's actually the ferry, but the ferry was named after her. Most Australians know her as the woman who announced the name of our new capital city, Canberra. But she did so much more, did so much here and in England. Her husband, Lord Thomas Denman, Governor-General of Australia between 1911 and 1914 also has an interesting history and yet is almost consigned to the dustbin of history.

I need to write more fact sheets and finally get started on those extended pamphlets/books I've been planning for the museum. Other staff members are dealing with the local history stuff, but I'm more interested in the the people who shaped this country and have a local connection, in particular, the Denmans.

I haven't forgotten the fiction writing - I'm anxious to return to that, too - but with downstairs about to get a make-over, I've hit the pause button until next week.

Cyberspace finds

With downstairs still in disarray - slacker that I am - I decided to bring the broadband modem upstairs rather than laboriously wait on the dial-up. The damn thing kept giving me local access only, not a global environment to explore.

It took me about an hour to realise I still had a split filter on the line. Now I've sorted that, I'm free to roam fast and still take phone calls.

While surfing the gnarly cyber-waves, I came across JM Tohline's weblog post on the 12 biggest mistakes writers make when querying agents. It's a long post, but well worth reading.

Paperback writer has some sub-ops peeps might be interested in, or you can go direct to the source at Ralan, a marvey database constantly updated with opportunities.

And... speaking of Lynn Viehl, I am now going to sit down and read her latest, Frostfire - now that family have departed to their various homes. I'm off tomorrow to find some new carpet.

And now, the new

So I've worked like a... well, worked hard today, taking photographs of the damage, breaking furniture down and tossing out stuff.

It's not like Queensland, Victoria, Tasmania or northern NSW, but it's miserable enough. Now, it's the insurance company and getting new carpet. All week, I've seen the carpet cleaner vans pull into driveways and next time - if there is one - I'm calling them.

I could lament the destruction, but I'm not going to: it's an opportunity to buy new things, and who wouldn't want that? Whether the insurance company comes across or not, I am going shopping and I'm rearranging the office. Then I can get back to work.

I miss not sitting at my desk (it's in pieces for easy shifting), my books (stored up high in another room) and the creative process (too busy with the other immediate stuff of child care and visitors).

I am determined to read a book and edit a book by the end of the month. So far, that's looking like a dream. Come... ah... next weekend? I might just have a chance at it. I'm over Summer; the consistent humidity and heat is awful and I want the coolth of Autumn and Winter.

And gee, only another six weeks to go...

Wrecked

I am wrecked. Oterly and tutterly wrecked. I promise never to curl my lip at the men who dig trenches and lean on their shovels ever again. It is hard work.

It looks like we're going to be hammered again with rain on Saturday, similar to that of Sunday, so it was imperative we initiate some flood abatement methods. That meant digging a trench along the driveway and at the back of the house.

Fortunately, my b-i-l is here and assisted with the shovelling of mud and the vacuuming of excess water out of the carpet - and the shifting of furniture. Because of the continued humidity and showers, the carpet is... damp and only dry in parts. With the weather conditions due to deteriorate, it's not going to be completely dry any time soon. Do I even bother given we've decided to replace it? The carpet is robust and has weathered a number of floodings - the underlay, not so much. Who knew when it gets wet, it smells like dead fish?

I broke the bookcase, so that will have to go. It's made of particle board, and when I tried to move it, the top shifted but the bottom didn't. It broke neatly under one of the shelves. This is my first bookcase; one that has moved house with me for more than twenty years. Heavy, unwieldy, it has hosted my favourite reads for two decades. But now... I don't know whether to keep as a truncated bookcase or buy a new one.

The what-not is doomed - also particle board - and the top, glassed in piece is squashing the soaked bottom part. (I don't know what the proper name for it is, but I'm guessing it's usually used for the storage of dining-ware.)

The good news is that only four books perished - some Betty Neels of my mother; I'm hoping I can replace them for her.

I've yet to get to the back storage area... that is going to be ugly because I know I stored stuff in cardboard boxes. It can wait, the outside is more important.

So. I've been kept busy, especially with the kids I'm looking after at the same time. I currently have three under ten, one teenager and four adults - two of whom are unable to help out. All leave tomorrow.

It feels like it should be later than the middle of January; I've been on the go since before Christmas. No writing, no reading, no work at the museum.

My youngest sister is arriving on Saturday with a ute to cart away the wreckage; my oldest sister is coming Friday night to help with the back room and furniture moving. We'll have a couple of kids again, too, for the weekend.

Sigh. I need a day off... Maybe next month.

Water, water everywhere...

I know Queensland is being deluged by buckets of rain and so there's flooding all over the place, but... we got hammered today.

The heavy, tropical rain started at 5.30 am and did not stop until about ten o'clock. Needless to say, the drains in the backyard, and three out on the street didn't cope.

It has temporarily stopped, but we're expecting more. Which is really bad because we've been inundated by water. The carpet is a mess and I've spent some significant time this morning sweeping water out. Since the next couple of days are also going to be rainy, I'm not hopeful of drying stuff out any time soon.

Still, I have no choice but to persevere in mopping up and digging alternative trenches to funnel the water away from the house. Since the drainage problem started with the villas being built next door, I'm returning the water to their system.

I am grateful to my neighbours on the other side who came when I called for help and worked so hard to shift the water and also help with the trenches. John works for the SES so he knew exactly what to do. Yay!

For now, I have to get back to mopping. Oh... joy, it's started to rain again...

Twain, Austen and Angry Robots

Controversy first? A competition for literature? Or an opportunity?

Controversy, then, because this kind of shit always makes my blood boil:

Publishers Weekly is reporting, in my opinion, an assault on a much-loved classic. Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is about to have the word 'nigger' removed by Auburn University Twain scholar Allen Gribben. Quote: "This is not an effort to render Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn colorblind," said Gribben... "I'm hoping that people will welcome this new option, but I suspect that textual purists will be horrified," he said. Unquote.

Is it ever okay to change literature so as not offend the sensibilities of current schoolchildren? My answer is a resounding 'no'. Yes, the word nigger is offensive in today's socially and politically correct climate, but that does not mean it has always been offensive. You cannot change history and to remove a legitimate word from an historical piece negates the value of that piece. There was a reason Twain put the words nigger and injun into his works to make a point; to remove them devalues the book and denies kids the ability to analyse literature.

And while some supporters of this move suggest NewSouth is only a small press and that the idea seeks to make Mark Twain a more attractive option for teachers, I think the argument is a metaphoric pat on the head and a 'don't you worry your little head about it'. I find that contemptuous.

What would be the outcome if an academic decided to change Bronte, Dickens or Austen because they found something offensive in the work?

* * *

And speaking of Jane Austen, the website Bad Austen has a competition: "Write Like Jane". The prize is money and the entry published in an upcoming book, Bad Austen. What makes this fun is that you can write in any genre. The site has works up already and you can vote on your favourite. You need to register to submit your entry.

You're not asked to change any works of Austen, but write in the style of Austen.

* * *

Here's a rare opportunity, Angry Robot Books is holding an Open Door Month in March. This means it will be open to submissions from authors who don't have an agent.

Angry Robot’s Editor, Lee Harris, said, “We’re delighted to be able to offer this opportunity to unpublished and unrepresented novelists. There are a lot of exciting authors out there, just waiting to be discovered, and we’d like to be able to help them kick-start their careers.”

So get your manuscripts ready. It's a new year with new opportunities.

Faffing about

While mooching about the internet, I came across an article: Ripping yarns can take their toil by Caroline Overington.

It reminded me that it's time to get back to work. I haven't written anything since November so the books have stewed in their own juices for long enough.

I also recalled that I needed new ink for the printer; for some obscure reason, but probably a total mental freeze up (got teenagers here - had a nine-year-old, too - so I'm working on fumes) I bought the wrong colours, ie, I missed the black cartridge and bought more blue and red. I'm guessing reading a blue or red manuscript will be hard on the eyes. Why I think I'm constantly out of those two colours, I don't know, but the black will have to wait until tomorrow.

Then I can start editing a book for a beta reader in preparation for submission. And I really need to get going, rather than sitting on my duff watching American College Football, or the NFL. Hah! The Saints are gonna hammer someone next week!

Er... right. Faffing about doing bugger all on the wips. It's time to stop and get back to work, once I get the ink cartridge... and now, the teens are 'gonna die if they don't get snackage. sigh

Turn of the year

It's the last day of the year, when lots of bloggers reminisce on the year.

Yeah, not so much for me. The past cannot be changed and future is yet to be, so no New Year's resolutions either because of the variables likely to pop up and screw around with any future plans.

So. I will simply say that if your out partying tonight, stay safe and enjoy yourselves. Tomorrow begins a new year with unknowable potential. Once the hangover passes, it's a clean slate, with no regrets and plenty of energy to think on what's to come.

Let's hope 2011 is an improvement on 2010.

Now, I'm off to take the teenagers to the local carnival and water-slides; it's hot here and tomorrow it's going to be gruesomely roasting at over 100 degrees Farenheit. It's good to live next to a beach...

Tour De Balcony

I tell you, the exercise bike is getting hammered. It's bad enough to over eat at Christmas, but there are still all those left-overs, and the food visitors bring.

But... the knee feels terrific; no more pain and I'll soon have stronger leg muscles to balance my carcass on. The arthritis isn't going anywhere, but it can be managed with more muscle support and an adjustment in walking style.

It's actually nice to have the bike on the balcony, overlooking the road and the beach. I can imagine I'm anywhere, like competing in the Tour de France or Giro D'Italia, and look at the people wandering by while playing the new MP3 player. I'll be back walking on that beach in no time - if it doesn't become too hot, of course. It is Summer here, but you wouldn't know it from all the rain.

Haven't touched a manuscript either, although I have been tempted. I'm trying to make it to the new year before throwing myself back into the work. I even have a new digital voice recorder to read the work into and check for anomalies. Now, all I need is to buy new ink cartridges and I'll be ready to go - regardless of the teenagers visiting for between two and four weeks, and the other little relatives coming to stay at various times during January. That's what we get for living next to a beach.

And if you're still reading, nip over to Pecked by Ducks and say some kind words; Marina recently lost her mother.

Blerk...

Blerk. Is that a word? It must be a word. It has to be a word, coz it describes how I feel at the moment.

Way too much eating and drinking. I made too much for just the two of us for breakfast and lunch and three for dinner.

I love getting into the kitchen at Christmas and everything worked! I know I'm not supposed to use new recipes for the first time on important occasions, but it worked!

Now, I have plenty of leftovers for tomorrow, for what we call 'Bread and Get It'. I put everything out on the table with bread and everyone gets their own dinner. We have peeps turning up tomorrow evening. Simple. Especially since I'm gonna be on the bike working overtime to compensate for the over-eating today. And I can do that while watching the cricket and the NFL - go the Cowboys!

I hope everyone had a most excellent Christmas, with or without the blerk...

Merry Christmas to all

Here it is, Christmas Eve.

Today, I have made half a dozen beds for visitors arriving over the next couple of days, washed the kitchen floor, done a couple of loads of washing, dusted, vaccuumed, shopped (twice), baked, made eight mini-trifles - two standard and six Black Cherry chocolate and fondled the presents under the tree. Tonight, I will make a peach upside-down pudding and a smoked trout salad (washed down with a rather nice Merlot).

Tomorrow, the real cooking begins - after I have trashed the aforementioned presents. We'll begin with Vanilla French Raison Toast, then mince pies, followed by prawn cocktails, roast chicken with all the trimmings and the trifles accompanied by a nice Sauvignon Blanc. For dinner, there'll be roast pork with potato and leek bake and green beans followed by the Christmas Pud my brother made for us and custard, and a Cabernet Merlot. After that... well... I'm guessing the exercise bike for an hour or so if I'm not too, ah, tired. And then I shall relax and think it fortunate this day only comes around once a year, while playing with the loot.

Actually, I have no idea if I'm getting any toys this year. I've poked and prodded and fondled and shaken and rattled, but none make any noise - damn it.

So. Happy Christmas everyone. Be calm in the face of the weird relatives, be understanding of the irritating children and be ferocious in protecting your own toys. Remember: all that happens this season is grist to your writing mill.

The Australian version of the 12 Days of Christmas:

Twelve possums playing,
Eleven lizards leaping,
Ten wombats washing,
Nine crocs a-snoozing?
Eight dingos dancing,
Seven emus laying,
Six sharks a-surfing,
Five kangaroos,
Four lyrebirds,
Three wet galahs,
Two snakes on skis,
And a kookaburra in a gum tree.

'Tis the season...

Yes, a little writer's humour but it made me laugh. My sister mentioned it; a work colleague sent it to her and another staff member came in asking what they were giggling over. L. showed her. The reply? "So, what were you laughing at?" Which was even funnier to them.

Also on the giggle front is Allie Brosh's six-year-old view of the Nativity. All I can say is, 'poor Kenny'. I'm sure many a family has a tale of revamped Nativities.

Yesterday's Lunar Eclipse was as spectacular as expected:

Source: Gary Ramage, The Australian. My photos weren't nearly as amazing - the trees got in the way. Scientists say the colour is due to the dense atmosphere of the Earth; pagans will say it is a Hunter's Moon, or Blood Moon, where violence is sure to follow. A Solstice full moon is a Honey Moon and pagans pass around the honey cakes and wassailing - a ceremony of placing toast in a selected tree, as a representation of the Green Man, to scare away the evil spirits and pouring cider around the roots as a token to ensure a good harvest. 'Wassail' means 'good health' in Middle English, with the hope of a better year to follow.

And so, on to Christmas...

Long-range visitors

This is a White-throated Needletail, otherwise known as a Spine-tailed Swift. It is the largest of the swifts and we had a flock overflying the house this morning.

According to the book, What Bird is That? by Neville W. Cayley, they breed in Siberia, Mongolia and Japan making a migratory journey to the warmer climes of Australia during late spring and summer.

These birds rarely settle on the ground, preferring to eat on the wing and scoop water when they're thirsty. They're also harbingers of a change in weather. When I saw them, the sky was a clear, cold blue; now, a couple of hours later, it is grey and overcast. It's also bitterly cold, like mid-Winter.

I've never seen these birds here, which was why I was so interested in identifying them. They wheeled and whirled overhead, into a very chilly wind. I suspect they usually stick to the warmer inland areas, but the gale force winds have blown them to the coast.

They've come a long, long way for a summer holiday; shame summer has decided it's staying home this year.

Which will you be?

A reminder that the Solstice and Christmas isn't about denying yourself (an e-mail from my sister, who might just be going to hell for this one; and since that's where all the fun people are, I might just join her.):

This woman is 51.
She is a TV health guru advocating a holistic approach to nutrition and ill health, promoting exercise, a pescetarian diet high in organic fruits and vegetables. She recommends detox diets colonic irrigation and supplements, also making statements that yeast is harmful, that the colour of food is nutritionally significant, and about the utility of lingual and faecal examination.


This woman is 50.

She is a TV cook, who eats nothing but meat, butter and desserts.

So forget join a gym and eat more celery.

This Christmas, it's food and booze all the way.

And the only exercise you need is dancing and shagging.






I'd like to think I'd look more like Nigella Lawson by the time I turn fifty, but I fear I will more resemble the 'health guru' instead! Fortunately, I have plenty of time yet.

Just remember: this Solstice (Summer, like us down here, or Winter up there) and Christmas comes but once a year. Eat, drink and be damn thankful the relatives will only stay for a short time.

Plan A moving alone

Yay! I'm done with the Christmas prezzo shopping. The menu is nearly done, too. We have been setting aside a dollar a week into a jar so we can buy the more exotic seasonal stuff without spending any extra. I'll be picking up the tiger prawns on Christmas Eve; I already have the pork for roast (love that crackling) and the chicken. I'm still thinking on desert and the wine and I'll buy the veggies later on in the week.

I'd be dashing around cleaning up, but whenever I do, Canine the Destroyer finds something else to chew - usually in a different room; and yes, I know he should be outside, but I doubt the neighbours would thank me for all the howling and whining and barking and general mayhem he wreaks. I'm hoping the plants will recover from being trashed...

So, the skirmish around the house starts on Tuesday after the Destroyer returns home.

We're going to have full house for a week or so starting Boxing Day, with the teenagers staying for month or so to lounge around on the beach.

I am determined to spend some quality time with my new toys rather than cater to everyone's needs, every minute of the day. So there. I'm just saying. Now, I have to go rescue the seat cushion from the Destroyer...

A pain in the...

I've been having a few problems with the internet connection, so posting might be spotty until the ground dries out - it only happens when we've had buckets of rain; go figure.

I have a new exercise bike; not new new, but new to me... actually, it's quite old. But. If it helps my poor, misaligned knees, I'm all for it - see what happens when you spend your younger years playing sport? The hockey field, the soccer pitch, it wears on the joints.

I haven't ridden a bike in years, but I'm enjoying riding away while watching the teev. And I'm sure the old buttski will get used to the seat... soon; please, make it soon!!!. Also that the jelly-leg syndrome once I'm done, will pass...

Yes, well, I'm sure it's all good for me.

So Writer's Digest have an article on 17 writing secrets. Every one of them resonates for good reasons. Of course, this close to Christmas, the Solstice and the New Year, writing isn't really on the list of things to do, but bookmark it anyway. New Year = New Goals.

Now is the time to think carefully on what those goals are going to be. And you have time to change them. I'm still thinking, but a plan is forming.

Work beckons; the last newsletter of the year for the moozeum and I think a retrospective is due.

Short and sweet

Prezzo run done and I now only have two more gifts to get - go on, hate me.

I'm also dog sitting for a week or so and Canine, the Destroyer, is so far behaving nicely; he's collapsed on the carpet, 'zausted after the trip down and a walk. Hopefully, he'll settle down and not trash the veggie patch. I'm sure he'll find a way around the barriers I've put up.

Now, I'm off to finish wrapping, then putting my feet up.

Oh, and welcome to Australia, Oprah; have a time!

Window to the past

I admit it. I've been watching the Sharpe Series again. I wasn't going to, honest, but I saw a piece on Napoleon, with an actor reading from Captain Mercer, an artillery officer who wrote of his time during the conflict, and I had to revisit a more stark period in history.

The Regency era is noted for heroism and romanticism, with language that beautifully brushes over the brutality of war. The politics, the militarism, society, is all so different from what we have today. When aristocratic men bought their commissions, where noble sacrifice was the ultimate honour and ordinary soldiers were the 'scum of the earth', flogged or executed for misdemeanors and still fought for the King's shilling.

Life for ordinary folk was hard and brutal, poverty rife, and yet many men saw the army as a better option - if they survived the battle, then the loot was theirs to spend as they wished.

Even at the aristocratic level, women's rights were what their husbands gave to them - unless they were independently wealthy - and gossip was considered sport.

It's a fascinating part of history, of astonishing bravery. Standing in line, one-shot rifles facing an enemy in a similar formation, waiting for that bullet, the soldiers must have prayed very hard indeed for luck. It seems madness to march 'in good order' towards the enemy like that, into the teeth of cannon and hot lead. To be briefly mourned by colleagues and then buried quickly, without the accolades and respect soldiers of today receive was simply... the way it was.

The Industrial Revolution was yet two decades away (although some would argue it began in the late 1700s), classes were distinct between the aristocracy and the rest, politics was all about favours and royal connections more than what the politicians could do for the poor and the working class; and yet moves were afoot to change the face the industry even as class warfare was waged in Europe.

I suppose every 'Age' in history has its attractions for various reasons - at least, for me it does - but the modern era is more global and more difficult to distil because of the vast wealth of information combining to affect us all. Pre-20th century, individual nations' history is more easily understood because of the tyranny of distance and isolationism; post-20th century we are all interwoven politically, socially, economically, militarily - a global village where nations consult and act for a variety of reasons and makes the study of history that much more difficult.

History isn't simple any more, but for Richard Sharpe and those who, in reality, fought the Napoleonic Wars, his life is encapsulated by 'I do my duty, sir'. Concise and to the point. Not such a bad idea, even today.

Of droughts and flooding rains

It's so humid here, it feels like Queensland - and it's not. Thunderstorms, buckets of rain and, sadly, the cancellation of the Santa Ride.

While the northern hemisphere freezes, we have humidity and rain and flooding rivers; makes a nice change from heat and flies and drought.

I love a sunburned country; (one of the highest melanoma countries in the world)
A land of sweeping plains, (in the outback, you can see the curve of the horizon)
Of ragged mountain ranges, (which aren't so ragged really, being worn down)
Of droughts and flooding rains. (one or t'other, rarely in between)
I love her far horizons, (13,000kms of coastline)
I love her jewel-sea, (with the sharks, the crocs, the blue-bottles, jellyfish...)
Her beauty and her terror - (funnelweb spiders, taipan snakes, cassowaries, death adders, redbacks, stonefish...)
The wide brown land for me! (that's either the dirt of drought, or the muddy water of rivers in flood).

Two months ago, some of our dams were at crisis levels, as in less than ten percent full; now those dams are overflowing.

Here on the coast, we're getting a caning too. But at least we haven't flooded... yet.