13 October 2017


Yes that's a Nanny goat in a car. My Boer goat. She got out of her paddock when I wasn't looking, straight into the car, then round the roses for some swift trimming and back into the car again. I only mention it because not a lot of people have this kind of thing.
By her second entrance I had my camera out of my pocket. She's a sweet thing.

13 September 2017

sheepish in Merino

Just going to the shop for the papers, when the pedestrians clear. 
In 1855 my earliest ancestor in Australia married in Tasmania in 1842 and came to Victoria in 1855 to live to the right on that hill just beyond the sheep.
Mr Kelpie lost interest in the papers and wanted really really badly to join those other Kelpies herding the sheep.
The September air is fresh out here too.

The Western District has always been pretty righteous but journalist Richard Zachariah in his recently published
'The Vanished Land, disappearing dynasties of Victoria's western district' paints a turgid picture of the place which inspired that saying "Australia was carried to wealth on the sheeps back".
His knowledge is based entirely on a few years at a Hamilton college c.1960 when his father was the headmaster.
Zachariah thanks one graziers wife for her hospitality to him as a schoolboy by publishing that 'she visited Hamilton every fortnight to have her hair blonded'. First it is poor research. Fortnightly bleaching would result in baldness.
Nor will he be welcomed again in the place he described as 'the damp and lifeless town of Harrow'.
From chapter to chapter he contradicts himself, most hilariously after one grazier's wife describes turning sheets 'sides to middle' for economy, he then claims he slept on silk sheets at one sheep station. A schoolboy? In the 1960's, no way.
Page 64 refers mistakenly to the Western District as The Western Division and the readers at Wakefield Press missed it. They missed 'gauze' for 'gorse' too. Oh look, it is a horrible book and I am not going to recommend that you buy it. That is all.

30 July 2017

Cloud Appreciation Society, Coleraine Chapter.

Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see
Bluebirds singin' a song
Nothin' but blue skies from now on
I never saw the sun shinin' so bright
Never saw things goin' so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly by
Blue days, all of them gone
Nothin' but blue skies from now on

Willie Nelson - Blue Skies Lyrics |

[both images Coleraine 3310, July 2017]

01 June 2017

dear Google+ - Less is more

and Google+ is a bucket of guts.
I managed to resign from it so that people can comment here, and now I cannot comment on my own blog.
That was the dealbreaker.
I've had it.

Thank you for your comments dear
El Chi and Andrew Highriser and Barry who has discovered ice, and Helen whose blog link I cannot find despite clomping all over dopey horrible Google+ which has rooned everything and I am going back into my cave.

Ooh look over there - Pants has a new post.
She is always worth the clickthrough, see youse there ...

29 May 2017


I live where I live because I want nothing and that is what there is the most of here.

The sky is a constant, and here is yesterday's view from my kitchen window.

Big fat cumulo-nimbus clouds full of precipitation [they looked better than my snaps show them] so there's  a lot of rain in the gauge and the 26,000-litre watertank is overflowing.
Last weekend I drove the 700 kilometre return trip to Melbourne's urban traffic nightmare, surviving the Burnley tunnel, and the M3  after some years in a mere dot on the map.
I criss-crossed  the entire 150-kilometre wide sprawl that Melbourne is now, going through Eltham, Port Melbourne, Balwyn, and Brighton
[the supermarket had chinese-language newspapers and my old friend now has double security doors on her jewellery store] and
I was very glad to be back here in NothingButSkyville afterward.