YsambartCourtin

A traditional proposal

2011-09-25T00:11:00.000-07:00

Friday night I asked Adelle to marry me, and she said yes!

Parents:
My parents knew I would be asking her in time, it was discussed when I visited them in Winter. Last week I formally asked her Father, John. We had just finished dinner, and Adelle had just left. I called him to the room where Sue was napping in front of the Television. "John, I would like to ask your permission to marry Adelle." "Well, I'm a bit taken aback, it's the first time I've been asked that, well um, yes, ahh... Isn't this where I say that I'll think about it for a few days?" "Respectfully, I'll be proceeding either way." " Very good, as it should be" And then I swore them both to secrecy for a while.

Friday night:
Adelle told me that she had leave on Friday night, so I drove up to Canberra from Wodonga, and we met at Koko Black which was the site of our first proper date. We had chili hot chocolates each and shared a brownie. I waited for a natural break in the conversation, but one was not forthcoming, so I palmed the ring. I then took the spoon from her hands. In one motion I went to one knee, slipped the ring on her finger and asked "Will you marry me". She said yes.

Ring:
The ring is gold with an Australian dark blue sapphire and two flanking smaller Australian blue sapphires to either side. Between the sapphires are a sprinkling of diamonds. A photo will be forthcoming.

Wedding?:
Yes :)
I would like a full suit style wedding, so it will likely be in a colder part of the year. We do not have a date, or even a city yet. Canberra for Adelle's family? Brisbane for mine and the boys? Wodonga to make everyone else have to travel? Prague just because?

Any more questions and I'll answer them in the comments.

Dong Dispatches 4

2011-09-21T02:44:00.000-07:00

Job hunting has been constant, but a full time job has been elusive. I'm still waiting on several companies, all well wishes are still required. I have casual work so cash is flowing, I would just like the security of a regular gig.

The house is quite empty with Adelle doing officer training at Duntroon, the budgies are no substitute at all, however Tuesday night armoured combat practice being at my house has been good, it fills the place at least once a week.

My weekends have involved driving to Canberra each weekend. If I had my time again, I would have ignored work in Wodonga and just grabbed a room at a friends in Canberra and taken two nice paycheques of the ABS. Oh well, that is the benefit of hindsight.

I have not been keeping up to date on my blogs since landing here. Lets see if this gets me rolling again. I think I need to find a tool that updates my facebook when someone updates a blog on my blogroll :)

Benefit of hindsight.

2011-08-08T21:04:00.001-07:00

This, suggests Drew Westen in The NY Times, is the story President Obama should've told at his inauguration:

"I know you’re scared and angry. Many of you have lost your jobs, your homes, your hope. This was a disaster, but it was not a natural disaster. It was made by Wall Street gamblers who speculated with your lives and futures. It was made by conservative extremists who told us that if we just eliminated regulations and rewarded greed and recklessness, it would all work out. But it didn’t work out. And it didn’t work out 80 years ago, when the same people sold our grandparents the same bill of goods, with the same results. But we learned something from our grandparents about how to fix it, and we will draw on their wisdom. We will restore business confidence the old-fashioned way: by putting money back in the pockets of working Americans by putting them back to work, and by restoring integrity to our financial markets and demanding it of those who want to run them. I can’t promise that we won’t make mistakes along the way. But I can promise you that they will be honest mistakes, and that your government has your back again."

Dong dispatches 3 - "The Yak" and more job hunting

2011-08-01T22:11:00.000-07:00

The house is now much closer to full order, only the games room and a quarter of the garage to go.

The weekend saw Adelle and I make our first trip away, down to Yackandandah. We did the usual day tripper things, browsing the shops and enjoying nice scones and coffee. We have been on a very low sugar diet recently, and I have been very good, however I did have jam on my scones.

Today has been more job hunting. I am happy with my resume, I've written a complete selection criteria for a job I really want, and I've chatted to a couple of my referees over the last week as catch up, letting them know they may (should!) be fielding job calls soon.

Dong Dispatch Two: Job hunt

2011-07-29T02:43:00.000-07:00

The last week has been all about that joyous game, job hunting.

I have:
wrestled my resume into rough shape
published a resume website
made a seek.com profile
made an application for a local university position

If anyone wants to offer me a good job, I'd be forever grateful. Job hunting bites.

I put my second card in to get my golf handicap, and had my round with two of the same guys as last week. Lots of fun.

Wodonga Golf Games

2011-07-22T19:08:00.001-07:00

I'm a poor golfer, for lack of concentration and lack of practice. Hopefully Wodonga will provide me a little more time for practice, and concentration will come.

Name : Bart Handicap One
Total Par : 72
Total Strokes : 114
Total Score : +42
#	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	OUT
Par	4	4	4	5	4	3	5	3	4	36
Str	9	7	6	7	6	4	11	5	5	60

#	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18	IN
Par	5	3	4	4	4	4	3	4	5	36
Str	7	4	7	5	5	8	6	4	8	54

Highlight - A nice par on the 17th.
Three putted the 6th after driving the green.

Name : Bart Practice round
Total Par : 72
Total Strokes : 109
Total Score : +37
#	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	OUT
Par	4	4	4	5	4	3	5	3	4	36
Str	8	7	7	8	7	4	6	5	8	60

#	10	11	12	13	14	15	16	17	18	IN
Par	5	3	4	4	4	4	3	4	5	36
Str	4	4	5	7	6	5	3	7	8	49

Highlight - Birdie on the 10th. Two drives, a pitch and a two foot putt.

Dong dispatch: My first post from Wodonga

2011-07-21T20:27:00.000-07:00

New Contact Info:

Bart Beswick

36 Dalton Avenue

Wodonga Victoria 3690

Telephone: (02) 6059 8102

Texts: 0407 962 774

Mobile Calls: My mobile is unchanged, but please use a text in the first instance if possible. Reception is patchy around our house. I'm still me, and will call you back as soon as possible. It may simply be on the home phone from here.

What is going on? Wodonga?

Adelle has finished her Engineering degree with Second Class honours. The army have posted her to Latchford barracks, and we have a house in Wodonga. Adelle does like the army way. She is finding it a gentle period of absorbing everything, which is just the ticket after the intensity of the thesis experience.

What about your old job?

I have just finished my paid leave from ABS, and am on long term leave without pay for a year, with a possible extension of that period. We can just get along on one wage, but I want work to make things a lot smoother.

The job I was keen on has been slow about responding. I called their office - they been very busy with other very justifiable work with a higher priority than running a recruiting process. I wish I was there to help. With that slower response, I have been watching the local papers, and will put in a few applications. I got proper broadband internet back last night, and intend to properly scan the internet and place my resume everywhere appropriate, and will register with job agencies etc Monday.

Why so quiet over the last month?

Regional internets = very ordinary. The 3g USB wifi modem was vaguely usable, but unsatisfying in our gap week. Like the iphone, it was very low coverage in most rooms of the house. I'll be posting my home phone number as the suggested line to use from here on in. Texts are perfect, calls are not worth the dropout rate unless we are in town.

Good bits?

Lots of stuff I like doing is much cheaper here. My golf clubs is $50 a month, squash is $2 an hour instead of $15- $20. The heated pool with spa and sauna is $6. Eventually I will get a spouse card. Cool thing there is access to a full gym and pool. Adelle and I are enjoying access to the Bandiana army cinema. The cinema seems very similar to the ANU cinema club - films roll along and you get set movies very cheap - $2. Shopping is a breeze - "All the shops you want with much better parking" is my quote.

How was moving?

I had a blah time after the movers came in and emptied the boxes on 'any flat surface' and a couple of the days seemed like all I was doing was moving things to put other things in their spot. That part is over, and seven of the ten major areas are working - only the garage, gaming room and office to go. The house is great, heaps of room, and our mantra has been "don't buy stuff to fill it." While we have a big house here regionally, it may be a lot smaller if we end up in a big city.

What about people - you are such a have-a-chat, what has the new town been like?

We had our first visitors "Jiss", who had bub and mum and dad along, and we took them to my golf club for dinner. Golf has been good. I'm still a very poor golfer, but I love it, and there is already signs of improvement. I did a competition round with some fine gents on Saturday, and one of them was a officer in the local cricket team. On the strength of our chat round he is keen to offer me a Captaincy of C grade, where I would be the steady hand for the younger members, train them, and select the best to go through to B grade. It would suit me to the ground, and I hope it comes through. I'm pretty likely to be setting up a website for the team as well.

What about armoured combat and other SCA stuff?

It's all good. There are a couple of cool heavy fighters, Magnus and the recently knighted Sir Jon. Magnus is off to Darwin for a couple of months, so my house is the training venue for fighter practice on Tuesday night. Both guys are keen to recruit. I think i'll just get to know the guys over winter and settle in, and run a 10 week newcomer course in early spring. We also went to the monthly bash, which was a Saturday event, with fighting followed by a pot luck feast. I caught up with lots of lovely folk i had met at border war, and have been signed up to quote for their storage area. Plenty to be done! I've also been talking to a few small business owners - there are some cute possibilities for feasts at small cafe's in town. Watch this space!

Last few months in summary

2011-05-16T00:16:00.000-07:00

Rowany - The Burbage smaller team with just as much stuff meant more work - Termites got into the storage adding extra unloading after festival, and it was a very wet festival, which meant that I did two runs to site. David and BJ did three runs, which was epic - and we all got sick. Nothing went wrong with festival per se, but a lot of the 'extras' one could hope for did not eventuate. I enjoyed the fighting, but the extra slog and bad weather meant I spent a lot of night time asleep instead of carousing.

Moving - Adelle's studies go apace, which leaves us closer to moving. Moving currently depends on the complex interactions of the Army and the University, both of which seem to specialize in 'slow reveal' of information, making the whole thing 'very Canberra' It makes planning a slow task with many variables unrevealable. Those who know me well know that I have a massive preference for solid planning and 'cut through', so this process is like pulling teeth. Moving is stressful at any time - add in bureaucracy and I am double twitchy.

Seneschal - I handed over the office of Seneschal (Club President). It was with sadness and happiness. I was sad that the process of leaving had so definitely begun, but happy because I had done what I had planned, and I know it is in good hands. I moved from a structure where the money that came into the general pool was replenished by 'the mysterious other' to one where outgoings were linked to incoming and the general pool. The hall was paid for by the feasts, and rising costs meant that model was not viable. I made sure that the hall mostly paid for itself, the feasts profits were ploughed back into more feasts and general funds, and my successor will even have a bit of discretionary cash, a luxury I did not have. I was also lucky to have not serious personality issues during my time. I believe I headed most issues off by making sure that I had face time with each of my members very quickly after coming into office, and then at least once more for everyone after that. I was also VERY fast on communications, either email or phone calls. I am a blunt, honest person, but that means I become a 'known factor' who can be relied on to deal with issues quickly and directly.

How many reps?

2011-05-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

From a discussion in Armour Archives

Interesting source on the 10,000 reps argument, with references. Hurrah.

Banners & Gonfalons

2011-03-28T20:13:00.000-07:00

I'm thinking of doing a personal medieval Gonfalone, inspired by Jawaballs and his 40k ones

A collection of links to help me:

Gesso is: The materials and techniques of medieval painting. By Daniel Varney Thompson.

Gonfalone and banner definitions

Stretching canvas

http://www.threegoldbees.com/collegia-notes/3-heraldic-standards

Getting ready for my third home town

2011-02-21T16:04:00.000-08:00

At the end of this Semester, Adelle will be a qualified engineer, and we will be moving to Wodonga, Victoria, as she will be based at the army base there. This weekend I will heading down to "Border War", an SCA war event there. It's going to be interesting, interacting with gang knowing I will be a local in few months.

I'm also facing finding a new job. I don't think this will be too much of an issue, as there are some major hirers down there, and I have very solid experience.

Finding fellow geeks shouldn't be a problem, I have those skills sorted :)

This is also a shout out - who knows cool people near the area, and cool places/ things to do?

Birthday Tournament for Duke Cornelius and Baron Ysambart

2011-01-29T16:29:00.000-08:00

Placeholder: More details to come, please refer back here!

What: A SCA Armoured Combatant Tournament

When: 11 pm 27th March 2011

Where: Lennox Gardens, Flynn Drive, Canberra

Cost: $3 Members, $5 Non-Members

Autocrat: Bart Beswick

To Celebrate the fortieth birthdays of Duke Cornelius and Baron Ysambart, we shall hold a tournament. The Tournament shall adapted from the methods laid out by King Rene de Anjou. There shall be a informal helm show the evening before at a local tavern, with the tournament being a SCA event. The tournament can simply be attended on the day, but to be involved in the great events please contact ysambart@gmail.com, and watch this blog post

Nerfageddon Christmas

2011-01-27T15:43:00.000-08:00

New format Christmas was a lot of fun, helped along as the dominant present this year was - Nerf!

To let the junior members retain their anonymity a touch, they will be identified by their Nerf weapons :) After a fine present opening ceremony at Dad &Step-ma, it was time to test the loot. Youngling wielded the mighty Vulcan Teenager had a Stampede, while Uncle got a Raider. Adelle, Aunt, Grandad and I shared around my Recon, and a box of six single shot blasters.

I took up a comfortable position in the shade, with my single shot pistols and a crate of darts. Aunt, Uncle and teenager ran around the garden taking potshots, and bringing the pew-pew. Then, after much re-loading, Youngling would stand atop the trampoline and open up with the mighty Vulcan. There would be much yelping and squealing as everyone sought cover, the ammo belts would be empty and everyone would seek vengeance. After this barrage, youngling would get off the trampoline, gather his darts, return to his emplacement and resume loading.

Running around gave everyone a healthy appetite, and we all loved the food and especially the cooling ice-cream.

I'm alive

2011-01-25T03:07:00.000-08:00

Christmas. Jambaroo. 12th Night. Cancon. Several parties. Too tired to explain further.

marc cohn walking in memphis (official music video) + lyrics

2010-12-28T19:57:00.000-08:00

Christmas in Australia - Bart style.

2010-12-19T18:08:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Birmo's post

1980 - 1996 : Parental Presents Breakfast & Cow Shed Buffet.
1997 - 2005: Parental Present Breakfast & Orphan Christmas
2006 - 2009: No pants week & Orphan Christmas
2010: New format!

Parental Presents Breakfast: Around the turn of the decade my parent gave up on trying to sleep in on Christmas day, and went with the 'crack of dawn' present opening excitement. This was generally done and we would sit around the tree, parents with child-made "Good Coffee" (not the usual daily instant) and children too excited to eat. Then we would pass presents around one by one, and the others would watch. Dad and the three kids would usually finish first. Mum, a much beloved nurse, would usually have the most number of presents, as her patients were very thoughtful. Then we would have a breakfast of fresh tropical fruit, poached eggs, and sliced Christmas ham. I love mine with whole seeded mustard. Once we were a little older, we would join Mum in having Champagne. The table would be set with "Christmas food" while was pretzels, rumballs, apricot balls, chocolates, apricots, plums etc. The kids would go into a present frenzy, and the parents would sneak back to bed till afternoon.

Cow Shed Buffet: My dad is on of 8, and in the afternoon we would go to our Aunt and Uncles who ran a dairy farm in Bald Hills. There was at least 50 people, and I think we got close to the ton (100) one year.The cooking adults ( not gender biased, sometime Uncles, some were Aunts) would all fuss about the dishes they had made, and get them ready for the mega tables. The non cooking adults would grab alcohol and talk. We kids would group up, usually roughly according to age. The farm & primary school next door had - motorbikes, horses, a tennis court, a cricket pitch, and milking. heaps for kids to do. The buffet included several roasts (turkey, chicken, lamb, beef), favourites like lasagna & mushroom lasagna, several types of seafood dishes, dozens of salads, dozens of fruit platters, and dozens of plates of roast vegetables. After this was demolished, the dessert table would be set, including Christmas cakes, plum puddings "plum duff" with silver sixpences, cakes, pavlovas, passionfruit, pears, peaches, bananas, ice cream, brandy sauces, chocolate sauces, custard, brandy custard, banana custard and various ice creams. It was awesome.

SCA Orphan Christmas: With the medieval club, we would have people who were far from family. Uni students, people far from parents, people estranged from their parents, recent divorcees, etc. We had a tradition of having a running 'lunch - dinner' buffet. The hosts would provide a roast, and others would bring the side dishes. Pavlovas, plum duff, salads, seafood, ice creams etc. And alcohol. Happy happy amounts of alcohol. Beers for the boys and champagnes/ whites for the girls was pretty standard. There would usually be some backyard cricket. What would I cook? Golden syrup dumplings.

No pants week - As a share house guy, I was in Canberra, 16 hour drive from family. I was the only one to stay in Canberra for Christmas. So I instigated no pants week. I would bum around the house and get all the little things done that never get done, happily puttering and enjoying the peace. I got more miniatures painting done in that week than most of the rest of the year. For those who might be distressed - I would wear pants when leaving the house. PS - A utility kilt is not pants.

New Format: I'll tell you after!

Too busy having a life to write

2010-12-12T15:46:00.000-08:00

Tournament during trip to Melbourne
Organising Cancon.
Helping L. with youngbloods Orc list.
Helping 12th Night bid
Volleyball.
Two Christmas Parties
Paintball.
Eva visit (featuring flood delays)
Playing WoW Cataclysm
Lite and Easy = loosing six kilos.
Christmas!

Movember fades like falling bristles from a razor

2010-11-29T15:37:00.000-08:00

Dealing with THOSE Americans.

2010-11-24T18:01:00.000-08:00

There are lots of wonderful people from the US of A. This trick is not for them. This trick is for the arrogant asses who we occasionally run into. The purpose is to give them a zen slap that may wake them up from their ignorance and arrogance.

Pretend that you have never heard of the USA.

It completely breaks their brain, and forces them to try and fire neurons that are well out of practice. Force them into new and exciting fields such as geography and history, and if they come along for the ride, give little indicators that you may be understanding what they are saying, but turn it back int a question. Key phrases to help this little ruse.

"America? There are 21 countries. Which One?"

"United States? Nup never heard of it"

"Your English seems passable. What is your mother tounge?"

"Are you guys part of the Commonwealth?"

"I can't be expected to know all the ex British colonies, you know."

"Is that one of the colonies that couldn't hack it?"

Cancon Apocalypse 2011 Facebook Group

2010-11-08T20:04:00.000-08:00

Okay, I've got the facebook group rolling. I've got next week off for some serious terrain making. I'm fired up! January 2010 we blew the socks off the other tables with sheer scale. In 2011, we want our little slice of Baal to get people with scale & quality. Stay tuned...

Cancon 2011 booklet is out

2010-10-21T16:41:00.001-07:00

On the Canberra Gaming Society website

Armoured Badger

2010-10-18T15:31:00.000-07:00

I had an idea of being a supplier of equipment for SCA armoured combat. I bought a few bulk loads of rattan, and distributed them at a reasonable price to get it sold, and supply people with ease. I had some armour bits in stock. I called it Hedgehog Armouries, and did a bit of fairly random buying and selling. However, as I admitted in the last post, I have lived a mobile life, constantly swapping share houses. It's not conductive to regular supply and holding stock.

My good friend Alex, or Count Sir Gabs, has picked up the ball and run with it. He has his own house with a envy causing garage and everything, supplying the stability I never could.

If you need SCA bits in Australia, you can't beat Armoured Badger

The other reason for this post is that I occasionally forget the store name, and now I can just search my blog :)

They found my superannuation

2010-10-13T17:47:00.000-07:00

I really lived the "He died with a Felafel in his hand" lifestyle, as documented by John Birmingham.

As a "I've lived in fifteen share houses and had ten jobs" type, my superannuation was all over the place. Plenty of small jobs had decent amounts of super with letters going to share houses I'd never followed up on. I have used this service to great affect. The fee is well worth it. http://www.findmysuper.com.au/ (FMS)

They pulled all the files, gave me a pack of documents to sign, each with a clear explanation of what was going on and why. They gave me a comprehensive list they extracted from the Tax office. There were heaps of options I could pursue if I so desired, but the most obvious one "Please dump everything in my chosen account" was well documented and relatively simple.

I am not getting paid anything for this announcement, just relating a good experience I can recommend.

Interestingly, the Australian tax office (ATO) have a "Super Finding" service that contacted me via phone a short while after I engaged FMS's services. It did not list as many jobs and amounts of Superannuation as FMS had found. Tax Office - 3. FMS - 9

I hope that someone can get some of their own money back under their own control by my message.

Sunday Armoured Combatant Fighter Practice

2010-10-10T21:49:00.000-07:00

Spring has sprung.
La Prova dura has Corny fired up and in an good teacher mode.
We have some cool tournaments coming up right here.

If you have ever wanted to do it, there is a big class and heaps of people.

Sunday 3pm, Scout hall, Maason Street Turner ACT.

Basic unarmoured training takes an hour. Stay to watch armoured combat after that, and then we break to the very nice pub, "Debacle" for an ale, snacks and chat.

To My Best Friend, by Jeff

2010-10-04T17:00:00.000-07:00

To My Best Friend
by Jeff

I have it on good authority that it's unseemly for men to cry in public.

Not this day.

I first met Baz in 1984, at a party organised by a character of not-inconsiderable peculiarity (anyone remember Fabian?). When Baz walked in, I looked him up & down, just as I had every other person there, and my immediate thought was 'Hmmmm, potential threat ...'.

Back in the day, I was prone to categorising people as to how much of a threat they would represent if it came down to a hand-to-hand situation, who would be worthwhile to have in my corner, who I could forget about, who I had to be wary of. There was always a definitive answer, something along the lines of 'threatening - pay attention' or 'non-threatening - ignore', a very Terminator-centric way of looking at people but that was just what I did. Baz was the first 'Maybe' I ever met and that pissed me off no end - every single person I met was one or the other, 'maybe' was not an option! It was a snap judgement, more of a hunch than anything real, but it was that first assessment, that head-to-toe once-over and spider-sense tingly brain-itch 'Maybe' which pretty much set the ground rules for our friendship. And, of course, we never discussed it! That first meeting eventually developed into a good-natured rivalry which was never spoken about but always observed at just about every turn. And I know for certain, even though he was the only one ever, if I had told Baz that he was in the 'maybe' bucket, he would have gone mental - because outwardly he would have liked to have been thought of as 'non threatening' while secretly wanting to be labelled 'very threatening'. Complex, but it worked for us. And really, I should have told him, and I probably would have told him at some stage, later in our lives as we mulled over a good single malt.

Not this day.

It's difficult to define a person like Baz. When you knock around with someone for so many years, when you have so much in common and you do so many things together and you have adventures and and and ... you get to know that someone at a fundamental level. Baz was the twin brother I never had, we shared more common ground than most, he would even get mistaken for me at parties and various events (which pissed him off no end - probably karmic backlash at that initial threat-level size-up). We had similar thought patterns, our business lives were almost identical, we even shared a few of the same women; no, not at the same time, it was more a sort of musical-partners thing, everyone takes one step to the left when the music stops and then the game continues. We lived together on many occasions, for yearly stretches, amongst groups and by ourselves, and I am fairly confident at stating that I knew him very well. But can I define him?

Not this day.

As a very good friend and business partner of many years, let me state this for the official record, clearly and succinctly so there is little ambiguity - Baz was a bullshit artiste.

Note that I didn't use the word 'artist', because that implies someone who is doing something creatively as a profession, or at least would like to get paid for their creative efforts. That was not Baz. No, Baz was a bonafide artiste at bullshittery because it wasn't actually something that he did - the concept of sputing bullshit was something that defined him from top to toe. If there was ever to be a PhD of Bullshit awarded, he would have written the syllabus and then taken over the university.

There's a movie called 'Thank You for Smoking', which revolves around the life of a guy who works as an public relations and positive marketing advocate for all the tobacco companies. Our hero is being interviewed on a daytime Oprah style show with a chain-smoking 15 year old who has lung cancer, and the audience is baying for his blood, a near-frenzied lynch-mob of vitriolic anti-smoking housewives keen to string up this icon of corporate evil; within 3 minutes, they were totally sympathising with him and laughing at his jokes, just because of the manner in which he could spin bullshit. This shameless PR man describes himself as 'that guy who can pick up any girl at high school', but on speed. It is my firm belief that the character in question was based on Baz.

It's a very interesting feeling to go into a verbally combative discussion (argument? meh) against someone and have your position completely turned around, deconstructed and then dumped on your head hard enough that you plead to join the other side, and you only tend to think about it later when your brain has processed everything which just happened and you swivel around to raise a finger and cry "HEY!" only to find your verbal assailant long gone. And that was how Baz worked normally, without so much as a single bead of perspiration clouding his un-furrowed brow as he weaved his sorcerous monologues to the merriment and not-so-occasional detriment of others. Not many people can spin a line of utter drivel that sounds so plausible it attracts an audience of appreciative listeners; Baz could. Not may people can take a single line of bullshit and then weave it in amongst enough half-truths to build a convincing story which would be taken as fact once enough people began nodding; Baz could. Not many people could refute the claims of a dozen onlookers without getting physically flustered, mentally incapacitated and emotionally bedraggled; Baz could. The modern day equivalent of a bard, Baz was a sagacious story-weaver par excellence, able to impart tales of such depth as to hold you completely enthralled, the words subtly yet inexcorably surrounding and enveloping you like a downy-soft duvet or the coils of an Amazonian python as he wished it. If spewing forth un-mitigated yet believable bullshit was comic-book worthy, then Baz was a bonafide modern superhero.

I am comfortable to refer to Baz as a story-weaver as opposed to a storyteller, because he did not ever tell a story - he would interlace a complex selection of fact and fiction with such proficiency and flair that you never thought to question which was which. When bullshit is delivered amongst a stream of truth without missing a single beat, the bullshit can and does appear as the truth. And this was the world in which Baz lived and breathed, as a weaver of reality according to him.

Ever so occasionally though, such tales would be interrupted with a muffled comment or a veiled remark relating to Barry's seemingly factual vacuum. At some point along the meandering stream of verbiage, a metaphoric hand would be raised as someone honed in on a discordant note, a single word or phrase which refuted everything studied or experienced, and that catalyst would be enough to verbally interrupt the flow, usually along the lines of "That sounds like bullshit, Barry!" True to form, Baz would engage such a comment as he would an errant bug - depending on the person foolhardy enough to doubt the integrity of the tale, they would either be swatted away gently (and subsequently treated with the ignorance they thoroughly deserved), else they would be violently squished (and treated with the contempt and derision they obviously deserved) - and that would be the end of that. For those who attempted a continuation after being brushed aside, those who actually felt they could level the verbal sparring playing field by injecting points of fact to the dialogue, woe betide their ignorance! Baz relished in the thought of adequate partners with which to fence commentary, all too often he was dismayed that nobody actually measured up to the task; to the casual onlooker, a veritable wasteland of shattered egos and vacant expressions litters those byways where the expansive words of Baz traversed.

I confess, I couldn't compete with him. Yes, okay, I *tried*, oh HOW I tried! But I long ago learned that to do so was sheer folly. To his credit, Baz recognised that to continually verbally spar with his close friends was a surefire recipe for increasing his loneliness quotient, so between the two of us we worked out a very subtle code, a safeword if you will. If, during the course of a 'discussion', one of us went too far, and all other possibilities for polite interaction had been exhausted, the other could call an immediate halt to the 'discussion' with a single word, and that person would automatically be given the honourable exit. Much to the chagrin of not-a-few others, that word was 'faggot'. Yes, a somewhat derogatory and outdated term for a bunch of sticks. And, to be totally effective, the word could not be delivered quietly, not whispered or muttered as if in defeat - a forceful expulsion of breath was required to effectively deliver an end to one of these dialogues within which we had become firmly entrenched with no sign of egress.

J: What about x?
B: No, x doesn’t matter because of y.
J: Hang on, y doesn't even exist!
B: Well, you see, y does exist because
J: ... ?
B:Here's the thing -
J: FAGGOT!
B: Oh! I’m sorry, didn't realise I went that far, my bad.

Just because I couldn’t compete, doesn’t mean I didn’t make countless attempts. I dare say I have deluded myself into believing that I chalked up a few wins without invoking our rather clandestine codeword; but most times, I received (like many others) a not inconsiderable verbal bitchslap to which my only recourse was to safeword out. With fervent gusto.

It dawned on me that I have just, in effect, delivered this as the last of our quarter century verbal melee, my own personal harangue during which Baz will have no recourse to safeword out or respond with something of fiendish cleverness. And normally, I would take immense pleasure from his complete inability to reply.

Not this day.

Baz told stories. Thus, I think it fitting that he not be sent on his way via dot-point lists of features and attributes more akin to the multitude of gadgetry he used to covet and fawn over, as that is neither my style nor do I believe it was his. I feel it a more suitable endpoint to share a story or three, those which portray him in the light I was accustomed to seeing him in, and perhaps illuminate a long-term friendship from my perspective. To that end, I have three specific tales to recount, one SCA, one business, and one just as friends – skip to the end if you’re not interested.

The ‘SCA’ story

No shit, there I was, Prince of Lochac. Baz was my resident aide de camp, a faithful sidekick most days and a very loyal and incredibly vicious doberman when I needed him to be. I could go on about how he shocked an entire crowd into stunned silence by throwing very real 1 metre fireballs from his hands towards the ceiling of an ‘absolutely NO fires’ hall as a prelude to Margie’s laurelling, I could comment on his political acumen relating to who should be awarded what and why, or his sundry ramblings on twang-jocks versus armoured thug heavies. Instead, this will be a short but poignant battlefield anecdote. Tromping through the trees at Tara during the woods battle, I had lost most of my entourage except for a few heavies and archers, including Baz (aka Karius of Lochford who, in all honesty, was an absolute cracker of an archer …). Out from behind a semi-large copse stepps HRM Garrick, with no entourage at all. My guys square up, the archers raise their bows and I say “OI!”, give them all a look and shake my head, they relax and I walk towards the king for the single combat thing. Baz sidles up close as I pass and mutters “As soon as you hit the deck, he’s a dead man.” I stopped, turned and said “Trust me.” The non-commital grunt I received was only slightly insulting, so I flashed him a big and very toothy grin, then walked over to the king. We chatted, we bowed, we squared off as you do in these situations, and then he stepped in and threw the first shot. I blocked and threw three shots in rapid succession – snap straight to his leg, shield hook offside into his ribs, then another snap to the head – all of which hit good and hard. And during that milli-second of me killing him, he took my leg. He saluted, said “Nice shots!” we chatted a little more, then he walked off to the resurrection point. My guys were doing the happy dance and congratulating me, I swore a lot because I’d been legged, and told them to join the main group over yonder because it would take me some time to hop over there and I didn’t want to prevent them from getting some play. Off they all went, except for Baz. He was just standing there staring at me, an expression on his face that I had never seen previously displayed – his mouth betraying sheer incredulity, while his eyes were shiny with complete admiration. I squinted somewhat quizzically, cocked my head at him in question and he just started babbling: “That was brilliant! I blinked and you threw 3 shots and he was dead and and … that was incredible! How did you DO that? Jesus christ you’re fast! I’d nocked but there was no time to shoot! Oh my god, awesome!” Inwardly, I was basking in the glow of this un-fettered awe, the first tangible pat-on-the-back from my best friend for about 13 years; outwardly, as calm as a refrigerated zucchini, I shrugged: “Nothing awesome about it! Fucker legged me, now I have to hop!” He kept shaking his head, mouth open, spouting tributes at my prowess. I stood up, put a hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye and all serious-like I asked: “Now do you trust me?” He didn’t flinch, didn’t avert his gaze, didn’t try to laugh it off or destroy the moment with a flippant remark – he nodded, and in a rock-solid voice said “With my life.” Interesting in that the forest and sounds of distant combat had disappeared and the only worthwhile thing I recall from that moment was a bond between the two of us which had never been spoken of, but which became all that more real and tangible at that exact point in time. There’s a large amount of backstory, far too much to go into here, suffice to say it was that particular setting which clarified many things for both of us on a very deep and personal level. So, an SCA story the point of which had nothing really to do with the SCA. Meh. Come to think of it, do I really care how this comes across?

Not this day.

The ‘Business’ story

As a friend, Baz was peerless; as an organised and productive person with relation to matters of finance, he was a perpetual train wreck, his personal financial situation was a consistent source of nuisance and dilemma to himself and he shared it with others infrequently because he was so embaressed by it. In matters of business, we fed off each other and did some Really Good Things ™, however when it came to the vagaries of different IT contracts (or, rather, the lack thereof …), our fortunes went down just as far and as often as they went up. In order to save ourselves much trouble, in February 2010 we decided to liquidate our 6 year old IT consultancy company. Many discussions with accountants and financial types were held to work out the how’s and why’s and such, all the while we were going about our daily business and still deciding as to whether this was the best option. Finally, crunch time came in March and we had to act. One final conference call at stupid o’clock in the morning with our accountant and the liquidation principle, and it was game on – our company was being shutdown and all assets frozen. Heavy sigh. Baz had an amazing penchant to remain totally clear-headed and of a completely dispassionate countenance when discussing things which were well over both our heads, and I deferred to his fast-talk skills several times during the conversation which, in hindsight, was definitely the right thing to do. The liquidator gets off the call, and we chatted some more to our accountant, all is cool and froody, everything is going smoothly and we all hang up. Almost immediately, my phone rings. It’s Baz. It’s still quite early, I wanted to sleep a little more before heading into work, but there’s something in his voice which alerts me to the fact that he’s out of sorts. Puzzled, I ask what’s up. He beats around the bush a bit, I quizzed him some more, he beats around some more, I swear at him, he apologises and then came out with what was on his mind (which went something like): “I don’t care if you blame me 100% for this, I’ll take that on the chin. I just never want this to get in the way of our friendship.” It’s not often I am struck speechless (no, really …), this was one of those times. It was inconceivable to me to think that money would ever get in the way of ANY friendship I had, let alone that of my best friend; but more than that, I had been under an assumption that Barry was my best friend and I didn’t want to lose him, and this was the first real spoken evidence that he thought of me in the same way. Being who I am, the only suitable response I could deliver was a stream of invective – loudly, profanely and extensively did I go on about how fucked up that was and how stupid he was and the high regard in which I placed loyalty and how friendship is way more important than money and how we had gone into business 50/50 and this was at least 50% my fault. We laughed, there were a few cries of “Faggot!”, all was sorted to mutual satisfaction and then we both went off to work. Friendship happens, it’s not generally something you have to work at – you don’t speak about it or set rules and guidelines, nor do you have ‘give & take’ scorecards, because true friendship goes way beyond that and just doesn’t need the angst associated with such peripheral bullshit. I have never been shy about speaking my feelings, and Baz knew that he would get a straight answer no matter the question (the ‘Deadwood’ quote by Sol Star during an argument with his partner Seth Bullock has relevance here: “If you keep this up we're going to fight, and you'll have to work by yourself while I convalesce.” because in closed circles I was looked upon as the straight-up though emotionally crippled Sher’ff Bullock, and Baz was definitely my emotive and overtly intelligent Sol Star hardware store partner …). Though, in making that comparison, Baz was probably closer in demeanour and sheer mental cunning to Al Swearengen. Scary, but definitely closer to the truth. I never admitted that to him, that I believed his capacity for manipulation both covert and obvious was akin to the most creatively strategic-thinking character in history. Maybe I should have? Nah, he just would have crowed about it for the next several years. Do I regret not telling him?

Not this day.

In sharing that tidbit about TV characterisations, and as strangely close to the truth as all of those characterisations might be, I volunteer the fact that in over 25 years of tightly bonded camaraderie, including not a few stand-up & tear-down arguments and altercations of various sorts, not once did I physically taken to Baz in anger, nor did he to me (though, somewhat predictably, one would probably have followed the other in super-luminal succession). Even though, on occasion, we both really wanted to. Probably.

But that’s not to say we both didn’t physically traumatise each other on at least a few occasions, one of which I am about to relate.

The ‘Just As Friends’ story

This story was unreservedly butchered when eulogised at the funeral, thus I find it necessary to set the record straight by delivering it in the approximate manner of its creation. And while it should be delivered with high-volume outbursts of passion and riotous hand gesticulation at various points, as any good tale should, please accept this written account as a viable substitute until such time as you hear it in person. The story is about friendly rivalry. And, perhaps more importantly, it is about revenge – a sweet-and-freezy-cold-in-all-its-glorious-goodness type of revenge.

Baz was getting hitched. Hoo-rah. I could make mention of his bride-to-be, but the abuse would come across as cruelty to animals and likely prove unpleasant to some; I could go on about how he was falling from our noble bachelor ranks, but I was already quite happily wed; I could comment on the lead-up to the day, but it’s all irrelevant garbage. The decision was made to provide Baz with a bachelor party he would never forget, and that involved 5 days. Minimum. We ran him ragged, and tag-teamed him solidly in 16 to 20 hour slots, leaving him little time to recuperate prior to his next flogging. Many and varied were the activities, trials and tribulations all, but by far the one needing the most attention is that stalwart of bachelorhood, that most sacred of activities - the ‘Night Out on the Town with The Boys’.

The ‘Groomsmen of the Apocalypse’ (as we were self-styled), plus numerous hangers-on, were out eating and partying. And drinking. With a capital ‘D’. Quite a bit of alcohol had been partaken of and the night was coming to a close, so there we were all wandering (shambling? staggering? rolling somewhat drunkenly?) down Little Collins Street to our final destination. Our hero, the intrepid groom-Baz, wanders to the left of the footpath, towards the road. Thoughts of his mangled corpse rag-dolling off the bonnet of a wayward taxi as he staggered uncontrollably were alleviated by a quick head check up the street. And then, as I turn back, I notice that Baz has paused mid-stride, leaning forward and to the left, one leg still in the air, facing down into the gutter. He is in the this pose for no more than a second, but, in that time, he spits.

Men spit, it’s what we do! We grunt, we hoick, we make weird sounds with nose and throat, and in the end we expectorate whatever is in our chest, lungs, throat, mouth and sometimes even our nasal passage. Normally, it’s phlegm, saliva, mucosa of some description, and this is what I was expecting to see – a small gobbet of whatever being shot from mouth to gutter. Baz had something in his mouth that he wanted to be rid of, so he was spitting it out. Meh.

But actually, no. What I saw was a large mass of whatever being ejected from my friend’s mouth, a fist-sized lump of something being almost dropped straight down in no particular hurry other than as gently dictated by gravity.

And then, as if he had briefly paused to observe an interesting pattern of cobblestones, Baz continued on his way. Wiped his mouth, kept walking, more fun to be had, ho hum.

I was a more than little confused at what I had just witnessed. Many thoughts were running through my head, first and foremost amongst them: did Baz just vomit? Is that what that was? He is quite obviously drunk, but surely he just spat, because that was not a vomit!

I ran over to the gutter, crouched, squinted, managed to focus my slightly inebriated eyes, and carefully scrutinised the mess in the gutter. A fairly hefty chunk of semi-digested Asian food mixed with alcohol stared straight back at me. I blinked. This was no mere collection of spittle.

“OI!” I shouted.

The posse halted, turned, looked at me. I was standing firm and tall, one hand on hip, the other pointing straight down into the gutter. The look on my face could have been read as anger, I was actually more bewildered than anything.

“What the fuck is that?”

Baz craned his neck forward, dropped his gaze to the offending pile, then looked back up at me as he dropped into the posture and calming voice of someone explaining art to a physicist.

“It’s vomit.”

The crowd surged toward me, jockeying for position to see what I was talking about. Nods, a general murmur of agreement, everyone pretty much agreed it was vomit. Then they all looked at me as if I am retarded.

“I know what the fuck it is!” I growled. Pointing down once more, I then levelled that accusatory digit directly at Baz. “Did that come from you?”

He looked around, a little confused. “Yes.”

There was a chorus of confused murmuring, Baz shrugs and says “What?” and continues on his way. The lads are now discussing the concepts of being drunk and vomiting, in addition to making general non-specific comments relating to both my somewhat dubious intelligence and my questionable parentage. The common theme though is vomit – the whens, the hows, the whys etc. They continue, I am now lagging behind, pondering what I had just witnessed.

And then, out of the crowd Baz does carefully manoeuvre, and once more the tableau unfolds in exactly the same sequence – he moves towards the road, he pauses mid-gait, then he drops another load into the gutter, carefully, fairly precisely and, above all, serenely, as if he is merely spitting out an errant morsel of garnish stuck between his teeth. But it’s not a small morsel, just as it is not merely a garnish – it is a full mouthful of recently digested food.

And this time, he has an audience.

Baz turns back towards the group and stops cold. Everyone is staring, many eyes agog and mouths agape. There is a stunned and not entirely comfortable silence. He turns to me, then turns back to the group.

“WHAT?” he shouts.

Heads swivel, and now all eyes are on me. Including those of Baz. And nobody utters a single word.

Because I. Am. Furious.

“You bastard …” I parrot back to Baz one of his favourite phrases. But it is delivered low and growly, there is more than an undercurrent of menace in those two words. And it is noticed by all; someone pipes up.

“What’s wrong? He’s drunk, he vomited, I don’t see the problem …”

And now, to put it in the vernacular, it is on.

I begin to draw a crowd of non-wedding participants, because I am beginning to get a little vocal with my displeasure.

Displeasure? Nay, I am fucking livid. I have not been that angry in a long time, and I feel it my solemn duty to spout exactly why my ire has been invoked. And I do so, vociferously and righteously.

I don’t care that he vomited, I don’t care why he vomited, I don’t even care what he vomited. I stand there in Little Collins Street bellowing volubly, and with much wild gesticulation to make various points about exactly HOW Baz vomited.

When I vomit, I am that little ball of painful exertion crying into the tiles as I hug the toilet bowl for comfort. My insides involuntarily remove themselves from my body, my throat cannot elicit even a momentary shriek of pain because it is too concerned with forcibly ejecting the entire contents of my body, from sphincter to front teeth, and hurling them as far and as wide as inhumanly possible. When I am violently sick it is not a pretty sight, my head splits open, my armpits bleed, my toes curl and my back buckles, nor is it an experience I wish to ever repeat. For me, upchucking is damn hard work, it is not something I do on purpose as the entire act is a torturous series of accidental spasms which cause me incredible amounts of pain, and which I felt much more loathe to do as I grew older. I am lead to believe, from experience and various stories, that most people feel as I do during this sort of event.

Most people, except for Baz.

And THAT is why I was a somewhat irate. And that is what I was, at the top of my lungs, advising all and sundry of. How dare my best friend so casually eject the contents of his stomach in front of me with such composure and tranquility!

My ranting was attracting quite a bit of attention of numerous passers-by, and I did not care because I was definitely on a roll. I was providing large quantities of good quality vitriol on the subject of why Baz should be punished for his inability to behave like normal humans when sick, of how he should be curled into the foetal position surrounded by his friends as he moaned about the pain of his complete lack of technicolour yawning.

And during my lengthy tirade, I made a vow that I would do whatever it took, as only a good and close friend should, to subject Baz to the rigours of what I would be going through in his place were I to be sick. I vowed it in front of many witnesses, both known and strangers passing by, and I was most sincere in my desire to see this occur.

Fast forward several years.

No shit, there we were, the New Year’s Eve cocktail party at the house of Baz. As the evening began, Baz was gently reminded of his buck’s turn and the infamous ‘Boy’s Night Out’. In true confrontational fashion, the gauntlet had been tossed by me and Baz promptly took it up, put it on and gave me the forks. With a smile.

I recall quite distinctly that I smiled in return and then uttered three words: “Game on, fucker!”

There were others partaking in this mano-et-mano duel, and they all fell by the wayside as the night wore on (and I do mean wore on…). Except I.

Baz had a drink, I had the same drink at the same time. Wherever he went, I followed, usually with several full glasses in hand so both of us would be dutifully and suitably pickled. Shots? Many and varied. Full blown cocktails in all their paper-umbrella and swizzle stick’d glory? Quite a few. Cocktail shots? Oh my, entire trays of cocksucking cowboys, brain haemorrhages and B-52’s were each downed in 60 seconds. It was a war of attrition and I was not giving in. I was staggering, I was beginning to slur my words, I was even at one stage having fairly lucid hallucinations – but I did not falter. 1 for 1, matching quantity and concoction, for the entire night. For him it was a game; for me, it was for honour and dignity.

Finally, after a long and arduous journey of alcoholic gullet cleansing, sometime in the wee hours of the morning Baz collapses. Literally, I mean he just drops straight down on the spot, his muscles apparently no longer capable of holding upright. I look down and notice, somewhat elatedly, that he has naturally curled himself into the foetal position. I stand over, swaying slightly, but still quite lordly, my arms resolutely crossed over my chest, my eyebrows are raised. He looks up at me and shakes his head.

“Baz,” I ask, an expression of concern completely failing to cloud my features “Are you unwell?”

“You bastard …” he whimpers.

He rolls over and makes several feeble attempts to get up, eventually managing to haul himself into a crawling position. As the dutiful friend, I stay by his side, steadying him as he gingerly makes his way up the front steps and across the entrance to the toilet laundry area. At the door, I watch as he makes his way inexorably toward the porcelain bus.

“Do you want help?”

“Not want,” he croaks, “Need.”

I step forward, shut the door and move inside to provide whatever assistance is required. Which, to be fair was very little other than to hold him upright as he bent forward over the bowl.

Then he threw up. Again. And again. And again.

And it was not a gentle spit, not a polite little ‘hoik’ and merrily on your way type of vomit. No, this was in the order of magnitude which sagas are written. Baz was not merely tossing his cookies, he was evacuating his very soul from the toes up. In between raggedly gasping for every painful breath of air, he would lean forward again and the spice did flow. And flow. And flow.

And I laughed! Oh my god, fuck how I laughed [NOTE: I am laughing right now remembering this event as I write, it’s not good …] None of this light tittering or the occasional chuckle – this was full out belly-aching laughter, those side-splitting guffaws only occasioned when someone you know very well is suffering horribly due totally to their own stupidity.

And he tried, oh how he tried to abuse me; but because he was throwing up so much and so violently, he had absolutely no chance to. I continued to laugh, he continually spewed, it was a wonderful situation. Well, it was for me.

Time passed. The neverending torrent that was Baz’s stomach contents seems to have ebbed and flowed to it’s completion. Numerous dry retches later and I pronounce that he is now ready to have some water and attend to his thoroughly destroyed oesophagus. Baz pauses and declares that he needs to actually use the toilet for what it was meant. I state that I am going to leave, and he yells at me.

“You stay, I need help!”

I shake my head emphatically.

“Hey, fuck you! I’ll be outside that door! It’s none of my business what you do AFTER I leave, copraphagic fucktard!”

“Bastard, STAY!” he yells, pointing at me.

“Ok!” I yell back, pointing at him. “But I’m not looking and I’m definitely not touching you while your pants are down!”

I grumble and make some noises about men in toilets, then turn away to allow him to do whatever it is he needs to do, making loud small talk the whole time so I don’t have to hear anything. The toilet flushes and he croaks at me.

“Help!”

I turn around, squinting, a little scared at what I might see, but all is mostly well – Baz is now being propped up by the wall, underwear thankfully holding everything in place but his pants still stuck around his ankles. He mumbles something about dignity and pants and again asks for help. For the assistance he required related to helping him retrieve his pants from his ankles, so as to affect a reasonably decorous exit from the toilet in order to make it to his bedroom roughly 10 steps away. I moved forward to render this assistance and, ultimately, that was his undoing.

Amongst the confusion of two drunken lads attempting to sort out the trousers of one, balance becomes a very nebulous concept. For some reason, possibly to do with the earth’s rotational cycle, Baz starts sliding downwards without support. I attempt to arrest his fall, and in so doing am taken along for the ride. Baz turns as he falls, neatly cushioning himself with the floor, while I, movement hampered by a washing machine, a wall, the toilet and my now helpless friend moving somewhat ungracefully downwards, fall with him. Naturally, my arms shoot out to grasp hold of something, but to no avail as handholds are in extremely limited supply. Thus, I end up cushioning my fall with Baz, one knee firmly implanted in his ribs, while the other sinks with some finality into his groin, an vigorous “Oooof!” of pain as the connection is made. I made it reasonably safely to the ground, while Baz is now grunting semi-quietly in agony, possibly with broken ribs and a mashed testicle or two.

We are in this position for a few seconds, and I start laughing (just as I am right now as I reminisce while penning this – oh yes, it was the best of times, for at least one of us …). Baz is just laying there, probably not enjoying my knee placement but unable to do anything about it. I laugh a little more, then extricate myself, much to his relief.

“Ouch,” he says, calmly and without malice. He opens his eyes and looks at me. “You win.”

I smile “I know. But it could have been worse.”

Baz raises his head to peer at me quizzically. “How?”

I shrug. “Well, I could have hurt my knee.”

Eyes closing, he drops his head back to the cold lino and mutters “You bastard.”

For years following that event, Baz would continually bring it up during moments when he felt a little fragile.

“… and then there was the time you almost broke my ribs and kneed me in the groin …”

Invariably, I would usually laugh at that point and state that it was his fault for getting drunk. I never apologised. Maybe I should have.

But not this day.

To this very day, when someone asks me for assistance, I think back to that episode and respond that I can’t promise they won’t get hurt in the process.

Barry never had a nickname. I mean, many of us called him Baz, or Bazrick, Bazza, The Baz, for a period of 6 months I even called him Bumface (his ex-wife's dog, people look like their pets, it's a long story), and to be fair there were truckloads of far more interesting names which aren't really suitable for repeating in front of his mum. But nothing really fitted, there was no single label which really encapsulated the essence of what he was or represented.

Except the word ‘ronin’.

I can't recall anyone actually calling Baz ‘ronin’, but that was his name for himself. He named his first IT business ‘Ronin Systems’, he had a slew of email addresses and chat names and social media contact information all identifying him as Ronin, he would name his personal items with the word.

His affinity and association with the word ronin goes a little deeper than many would imagine. A ronin was a masterless samurai, someone who was adept at both the combative and more peaceful pursuits connected to the feudal Japanese warrior class, yet had no master to serve, either through choice or due to circumstance. The attributes personfied by the samurai, whether masterless or not – attributes of honour, courage, benevolence, loyalty – were traits which typified Baz about his daily life. Baz was truly ronin, he was mastered by nobody yet conducted himself through those qualities proudly.

But more than that, Baz was more a ronin because of its actual meaning. The literal translation of the word ‘ronin’ is: wave man, one who is tossed about like a wave in the sea. There were no plans, no major goals, no grand adventures to escape on or challenges to conquer - Baz just went where life took him, up or down, left or right, forwards or backwards, just like a wave. Always with purpose, occasionally without direction, never pausing or standing still, just continually moving with the tide of life. When the final accounting is done, it can be said that the true measure of Baz was that he actually lived his life – he didn’t wait for something to happen, he didn’t force things to occur, he didn’t engineer circumstances such that others were inconvenienced so that he could do whatever it was that he wanted or needed to do; he always went with the flow of his own life.

And he lived.

It’s taken me almost 4 months to do this. Not because I am slow or lazy or for any other lame excuse. It has taken this long because I was lost for words, and that’s not something I am readily accustomed to. Losing Baz has been like losing an appendage; probably worse, because I could make do with a plastic arm or titanium hip joint, but I will never get another opportunity to have a best friend like Baz, and I wanted these words to reflect that my life with a man of his calibre was worthwhile, and I wanted them to stand as testament to the things we shared, both good and bad. Encapsulating two lives so fundamentally intertwined for over a quarter century is not an easy thing to do, and doing it with grief clouding my thoughts was impossible, hence the delay.

It’s difficult to let go, because there’s this hole where he used to be. And the day I was told he had died, the same day that cavernous void appeared inside me, I was lost because it really needed to be filled with something. I tried despair, I tried rage, I tried many different emotional combinations, none of them up to the task of filling this gaping pit. The funeral did nothing but make me angry for a variety of reasons, and then the aftermath of attempting to assist his mother attend to the business portion of the estate while vultures picked off his gadgets was just making me sick and feeding that inner turbulence. For those of you who chose to make off with whatever choice pieces of gadgetry as Baz was want to purchase, and indeed to those who took it upon themselves to provide advice as to the keeping of said assets, I give you fair warning – with regard to these ‘missing’ business assets, I took the time to investigate, I was nice about my enquiries, and I was given the run-around and lead astray, so I moved on, meh; the ATO and the liquidation company employed by them to recover these assets are not so forgiving. If you have never borne the brunt of a government sponsored financial audit specifically designed to retrieve money, I suggest you get your affairs in order because you’re in for one hell of a rude awakening. And, to be perfectly honest, you brought it upon yourselves and thus you thoroughly deserve it.

I feel no regrets now that Baz is gone, as there was nothing left to say, no hidden secrets between us, no words or feelings or anything that needed to be shared that hadn’t already been. Baz and I were totally comfortable with each other, and while there was always a friendly rivalry between us over the most inane things (the Colin McRae DiRT ‘Pike’s Peak’ track immediately springs to mind), we were both content that equanimity within the relationship was satisfied. Neither of us was leader or follower in one area without the reverse being true in another area, and within those areas it was definitvely clear who was who and for exactly what reasons.

I’ve come to accept that the hole inside me will never be completely filled. It’s gotten smaller over these past few months, the edges are a little more rounded now so it doesn’t feel so sharp and jagged when I get near it. Truthfully, I guess now that I don’t want to fill it in, because that means I would lose that part of me which feels grief at not having Baz in the next room or on the other end of the phone. I can and always will cling to those memories of a life shared, rejoicing in the fact that I was able to share them for so long with a man whom I was honoured to have as a business partner, and a kindred spirit that I shall forever be grateful to for being my closest and dearest friend.

The adventure was everything it should have been Baz, and so much more.

Thank you Ronin.

Hurrah! & Boos...

2010-09-19T19:16:00.000-07:00

Adelle: Hurrah!, and a new Android phone. Hurrah!

SCA: The Baronial process is done and we have Angus and Gwen selected. Hurrah! We are going to be making drastic decisions re hall hire & storage because we are not fund raising very well: Boo!

Movie: A friend is making a medievaloid short film. Over three weekends, we have it in the can. Now for editing, ADR, etc. My next contribution will be websites and marketing. Hurrah!

Adelaide & La Prova Dura. We didn't have the money to fly, or the inclination to drive alone. David and Katrina said 'road trip' and we agreed and booked. Hurrah! However, J. has developed severe Glandular fever ("Mono" for American readers.) So leaving him behind running a brutal fever and half dead is not happening, so that is canceled. Boo

Parents: My parents are coming down to visit Floriade. Hurrah! It looks like I'll be paying for a motel, as asking someone to couch surf just after glandular fever is a bit harsh - very minor Boo.

The paradoxical commandments of government

2010-09-07T21:56:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while a small document summarizes your challenges in an elegant, funny way.

The paradoxical commandments of government

1. The reward for doing good work is more work. Do good work anyway.
2. All the money you save being more efficient will get cut from your budget now and forever. Find efficiencies anyway.
3. All the bold reforms you make will be undone by the next administration. Make bold reforms anyway.
4. There is no time to think about improving what we do. Make time anyway.
5. Employees may fight the change every step of the way. Involve them anyway.
6. The future is unpredictable and largely out of your hands. Plan anyway.
7. The press only cares when something goes wrong. Share your success stories anyway.
8. Legal will never let you do it. Simplify it anyway.
9. If you develop your people they will move on to better jobs. Train them anyway.
10. Your ideas will at best make someone else look good and at worst get you ostracized by your co-workers. Share your ideas anyway.

Taken from: Empowering change: Fostering innovation in the Australian Public Service, Commissioned by The Australian Public Service Commission.

Broadband choices; From Crikey

2010-08-11T23:41:00.000-07:00

Simply Brilliant, Vincent.

Vincent O’Donnell writes: Re. "The broadband battle: what will they really deliver?" (yesterday, item 4). Two centuries ago, railway engineers chose broad gauge and iron rails rather than wooden rails and narrow gauge that were then the norm, as they planned the expansion of railways from haulage in mines and collieries to a national communication network.
Certainly, wooden rails were cheaper and narrow gauge easier to construct and allowed the speed of a galloping horse, but they had vision. Engineer George Stephenson signalled his vision when he named his locomotive The Rocket.
And the railways drove the development of hitherto unforeseen technologies: the electric telegraph -- the first commercial use of electricity; the anomalous behaviour of long telegraph cables, especially undersea cables, led to recognition of capacitance, inductance and resistance as electronic factors; also the observation of photoconductive effects, and the recognition of semi-conductivity, the basis of the transistor and the solid state laser.
We face on 21 August the choice between iron rails and wooden rails in broadband policy.
Every fibre optic cable is a parallel universe of radio communication spectrum, multiplying, many times over, the natural spectrum that is hugely congested. Once installed, fibre is cheap to run, cheap to maintain and hugely reliable, with bandwidth and data speeds far beyond WiFi and satellite services.
There are good reasons to punish the Labor Party for aspects of its stewardship of the nation, but to favour the Coalition and its wooden rails broad band proposal, is to punish the nation, not just the Labor Party, and deny our children a place at the technological table of the 22nd century.

Go Blarkon!

2010-08-09T18:27:00.000-07:00

Over in Birmo's Brisbane Times column:

"Winning" at Democracy is about the highly effective organization of idiots. Religion is the ultimate idiot organizational tool. It forms them into relatively coherent groups that are easily led by those that are clever enough to be in on the joke. The religious get pandered to by politicians because pandering to the religious is a proven electoral strategy.

Impressively sharp comment from Blarkon.

I do not believe that religious people are all idiots. My father is religious, and one of the smartest people you would meet. I do believe that this is how many of the parties see religious parties, as toys to manipulate and bribe. And manipulating this group is one of the key ways to get elected. I wish more people could think independently.

The other white blog

2010-08-03T22:27:00.000-07:00

I have bundled out my miniatures hobby blogging to "Needs more skulls" Funny thing about that, is that it is now where I am writing most, as I am on a hobby run. Those who care can head on over, and those who don't can stay here and wait till I do something interesting that is not miniatures related :)

Timing is everything

2010-07-27T17:38:00.000-07:00

Last Friday: Was the first Friday Night Fight!

Last Sunday: Armoured Training, Sui 40k

Wednesday: SCA Council

Thursday: Haig Park Planning.

Friday evening: Family games night

Saturday: soccer, gardening, little planes

Sunday: rugby, Armoured training.

The last couple of weeks - point form.

2010-07-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

Weekend two back SCA college war - good fight, good fun, yay further bonding with new crew.

Birmo and Burgers - good chat, good food, drinks - hurrah

Last week and Last weekend - Four days straight moving house. Two days of move with ute. Yay Sui and ow muscles. Two days of unpacking boxes.

Dropped trailer on foot. Still purple a week later. Boo!

Week was early starts Up @ 6.15am for 7am starts when it is under freezing out.

Weeknights were unpacking boxes and some chillax.

Saturday - Went to Matt Farrer's book launch @ GW Woden, then 4 loads from the house. 2 to Sui's house, 1 to the tip, 1 to the house.

Sunday - Pottered around clearing boxes, the NRL with BP and Gnomes. Then dinner with BP. Watch "Twilight." Found it to be a reasonably good comedy.

Today - finishing shift soon then off to last run at Macmaw.

A gamers take on the practicalities of moral rights and fair use

2010-06-29T21:50:00.000-07:00

Ahh, the synchronicity of interests. I read a lot of Birmo's books, and his blog. From this, I have run into some other great bloggers, many of whom feature on my blogroll now. One of them is law professor Paul Nicholas Boylan. He has just reposted a great article of his from a faded online law journal.

He said it was quite dry, but I found it interesting withing the context of better understanding the interaction between artists and companies from Europe, the Commonwealth, and the United States.

The internet is full of bush lawyers with all sorts of unproven and untested opinions. They comment on letters of demand to close down web sites, they comment on what they perceive as "draconian" restrictions of free expression, and sometimes the companies seem to work at directly opposition to the expansion of their companies.

The thing I most enjoyed about Paul's article is that it included a lot of plain, clear talk about the law, and the very principles on which the law is based, and the different jurisdictions.

One company I follow very closely is Games Workshop, being a big fan of their games and miniatures lines. They are an English company. After reading the article, I have a great understanding of the complexities of the issue, and more empathy towards those who have to make the decisions about IP for that company.

Well worth a read, and thanks Paul!

Repost from my comment on "things Bogans like"

2010-06-24T22:54:00.000-07:00

We have been considering a few things. Bogans don't vote for their local members, they vote for leaders. Who was the biggest bogan in the race.? Hawke V Fraser - Hawke. Hawke V Peacock? Hawke. Keating V Hewson? Keating. Keating V Howard - Howard. Howard V Beasley - Howard. Howard V Latham? Howard. Howard V Rudd? I would actually say Rudd.

Who was a bigger bogan - Rudd or Abbott? I would actually say Mr.Togs. So now, the real game in town - Abbott or Gillard? I think Abbott needs to photographed in front of the HSV plant, and Gillard needs to 'accidentally' call someone 'darl'.

The race is on.

Supernova Overnight trip

2010-06-20T23:10:00.000-07:00

At the last minute I took up the spare ticket for Supernova. It's the geek convention for comics, manga, sci-fi teev etc. I was never that keen in attending, but it was a road trip with a good crew, so why not? Adelle reveling in the end of exams, and was doing SCA workshop stuff all Saturday, and said that I was okay head off.

The crew was Dr Nick, the Womble, Uncle Ray-ray, Keefer, BK and myself.

The first run was Womble and I chatting about stickery jockery, Baronial succession, Kendo, when my wrist injury was going to heall enough to fight again, etc. And Dr Nick helped by snoring.

After Maroulan Keefer hopped in, and we got up to speed on happenings in QLD, and filled in our own ACT news services.

Arrival was done via a lot of wandering, and bitching about people from NSW not putting up useful signs. We walk a kilometre line, but that felt pretty good - I don't normally walk past 5000 people and fell trim and sexy. Thanks, geeks.

Once we were in on our pre-paid tickets, it was wandering around looking at stalls 20%, and going "Cool" to all the cosplayers 80%. Tell yah what, without the cosplayers it would have been pretty dull. I liked what the boys at 501st have done, linking cosplay with charity. Props, gang.

BK had never seen the "Bart knows people everywhere" thing in affect. As we were going for lunch, Numbat showed up, rescued us from the convention queue for food, and took us to a nearby pub. Win! (Later, when we randomly chose a pub in Sydney, the barmaid was a fellow Beswick. From ten metres away and not being able to hear, the gang thought I was trying to pick her up as I was yapping to her for five minutes and she seemed quite keen. Heh. One - I have Adelle at home. Two - I'm not Tasmanian!)

Next was more wander around the convention. It was okay, but I wouldn't rush to do it again.

After, we got a park near the hotel, and checked out our rooms. We called the MM crew but they already had dinner plans.

We just wandered around, and due to having an Alice in our party, decided to got to Alice's Thai restaurant. A cheesy way to choose and eatery, but it worked! Well worth a try, the Musulman curry is great. After this we wandered into the bar staffed by my discovered relative, discussed the Beswick facebook links, and had a few drinkies. As usual, I had one to everyone elses three, but the chat was good so I had fun.

We wandered slowly back to our rooms, and I stripped off and hit they hay. Not so early! Others had ordered pizza and a six pack, and so we had a room party. We watched Australia's first world cup goal, I explained why Kewel was sent off (I called it off the live feed - he twitched into it. Not much, but he did. ref saw what I saw) and we saw the equaliser.

After that it was 2am and ready to crash. Next morning it was time for some Ray-ray and the Audi ( He loved it when i said 'It sounds like a car from the movies') Come Marulan the other way, BK, Womble and I hopped in the toe-rag and put on a obscure 90's collection we found on the way in. Hitting Canberra to the soaring strains of "Stay" by Shakespears Sisters seemed somehow right.

Once I landed I got texted that J had sprained his Ankle. I got stuck into the dishes, and J was amused that the best way to get him around was via piggy back from me. Home!

The Reading

2010-06-08T02:54:00.001-07:00

A few people requested Bruce's reading. Here it is:

A Life That Matters - Author Unknown

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours, days.
All the gadgets you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.
So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won't matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived.
At the end, whether you were beautiful or brilliant, male or female, even your skin colour won't matter.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success, but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.
What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched,empowered or encouraged others.
What will matter is not your competence, but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.
What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those who loved you.
Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident.
It's not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters.

Barry Fitzgerald Photos & Wake Invite

2010-06-02T04:40:00.001-07:00

Album
http://picasaweb.google.com/ysambart/BAZ#

Wake Invite
http://picasaweb.google.com/ysambart/BAZ#5478495638671421106

Barry Fitzgerald's Funeral

2010-05-31T02:13:00.000-07:00

Barry Fitzgerald's Funeral:

Will be at 3pm Friday 4th June 2010.

Norwood Park Crematorium
65 Sandford Street
Mitchell ACT 2911
(02) 6241 3177

Flowers are not requested, the best gift would be a donation towards costs.

This will be followed by a wake at:
4 MacRobertson Street Mawson

To match his desires the wake will include poker and whisky tastings well into the night, and Eggs Benedict the next morning...

Vale Barry Fitzgerald

2010-05-30T06:44:00.000-07:00

My friend and flatmate Barry Fitzgerald died today. Family have been contacted and are coming in to CNB soon. Local friends gathered for an impromptu wake today. I will be organizing contacts with friends. Please contact me at ysambart at gmail.com if needs be. More news later.

Why untied shoelaces give me the hibbidy jibbedies

2010-05-25T23:07:00.000-07:00

So Flinty had never heard about my busted neck? Well, then it's time to go back to the seventies... I was about 7 years old, and we were playing in the back yard. Woodridge back yards had a standard fence, wooden posts and cross posts about three quarters of a metre high, with a roll of fencing mesh. They were easy to hurdle, even at our young ages.

We played a LOT of backyard cricket, and wilder strikes would put the ball over the fence. So I jumped the fence the standard way, first foot on the crossbeam, and then leapt. However, this time I had my shoelaces untied. When I think about it later, the lace end must have wrapped around the top of the fencing wire, and my leap turned into a pivot-slam, and I ended up with my face in the dirt at solid velocity.

I'm not sure if I passed out for a moment, but when I started making sense of everything, I was in a world of pain and I realized that I was choking. My tounge had gone back down my throat, and I was turning colours. I waved at the other kids, but they were just kids and standing there looking at me in shock. I realized I might die, and got determined - I shoved my fingers down my throat while rolling around on the ground - somehow I broke the seal, and was able to breathe again.

I went to show mum, but there wasn't much to show, and I explained it, but I think I was so excited I must have failed to exactly explain it. I vaguely remember not being able to play rugby after that, but I'm not sure if it was becuase of this accident, or my mothers general concerns about getting a broken neck, which my mum had seen before as a nurse.

I didn't really think about it much again until twenty years later, and my gf at the time, NA, took me to see a chiropractor for free to celebrate some health week. They said the first thing was x-rays, and they showed my neck. Still sitting there was level three damage - a spinal vertebrae that should be a rectangle was essentially a worn triangle. The chiropractor said essentially that my muscles were what kept my neck up, not that bone.

So yeah, no rugby for me, and I'm glad my main sport involves lots of solid metal head protection.

It also explains why I hated 'headers' in soccer, and why even gentle ones would give me an explosion of light. Might also have something to do with those migraines - but then again, only maybe.

So yeah, unties shoelaces have always given me the heebies - I don't see the laces or the laziness - I see the burst of pain, and feel the choking just a little.

I'm dating a soccer Mom, and it's hot.

2010-05-24T20:54:00.000-07:00

My new relationship is going well, and living with a 14 year old and nine year old is cool. They get on with their thing mostly, and we cross in interests with indoor stuff like Warhammer, Computer games etc. But this is about outside.

J. is a rugby league and rugby union player. With my busted neck I never got to play those, so J. is left to his devices. I don't know the games well enough to suggest coaching techniques, and he seems QUITE on top of it himself, doing very well at the matches I have watched.

L. played previously, but A. didn't like the team so much. L.'s best friend T. is a soccer player, and talked L. into playing a year up with him for Belnorth. And they seem to be having fun, and I'm helping out with the driving, and the coaching. The attitude is great - encourage the good stuff, and move them towards better skills. They are just emerging from 'we all follow the ball around in a blob' and are moving toward positional play. Crosses occasionally happen, rather than random booting in a roughly forwards direction.

It's an interesting process to watch. My instinct has been to pull it all back to basic skills, in order to have a foundation. I see a lot of people trying to advise on complicated tactics - stuff so complicated that they could not even execute the plans on the pith themselves.

A., L. & I played "The old one - two" Two forwards charge down a goalie. The forward has to be ready to decide - shoot or pass? The goalie has too much room to defend, so he has to charge down the forward with the ball. The receiving forward has to think about space as well. They have to be far enough away from the other forward to a) react to the pass b) trap the pass and c) still have time to shoot before the goalie responds.

It was good sweaty fun, with each of us getting each role in turn. Little mobs fail to get the angles. Good positional play turns it into a win. The plan is obvious - but it needs a good grounding in a dozen skills to make it work. Little steps, and keep it fun.

It's brilliant having brilliant friends

2010-05-17T19:30:00.000-07:00

Dirk's Blog has some great points about State Run enterprises, Corporate enterprises, where profits go, and where you would rather wish to live.

General reminder to everyone- please pull your heads out of the complete rubbish that is in most newspapers and think.

Brisvegas shines on like a crazy diamond

2010-05-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

We parked in the new half built car park. Caught our flights on Virgin Blue. Caught the Airtrain in the Valley.

Grabbed a super bright long sleeved shirt from a goth botique on Brunswick street before heading up to Mana Bar. Manabar was heaps of fun, with about 20 friends all jammed in having fun. SCA, Burgers (Cheeseburger gothic blog fans) and gamer friends represented. Medway's awesome gurning unleashed a thousand photochop memes. We even achieved the internet fame of a Mana bar advert!

Went to dinner at the Tibetan place next to the Arts Theatre. 13 fine people did the banquet. It was nice, basic stuff, breads, dip and curries. Once they knew we needed to be done by the show, they got their shuffle on and we made it comfortably. There was plenty to eat, and some small amount was left behind - impressive with that ravaging horde. Burgers and my mates are good at maths - we were $1.50 over on the bill :)

Meeting up with the crew went smoothly, and tickets were distributed. Two friends who were just winging it managed to get in - Simon generously gave one of his comp tickets to Greg, and Toni managed to get in on the standby list.

They play was good fun. A couple of roles were compressed, but the right cuts were made. The jokes from the book all hit home despite knowing they were coming, and the latest jokes slipped in perfectly as well, with the added bonus of shock of the new. There were a couple of themed return reference jokes that were played perfectly, especially the musical numbers with Beyonce's "Put a ring on it" and "The Teddy Bear's picnic"

Nat's blog did a great job of outlining last night shennanigans.

Abe's ten bucks was returned in a very Birmo way - taped onto the commemorative urinal. If you want your ten bucks that bad, Mr Frellman...

Birmo popped a reference to the evening, with better Burger lists than I can recall in the comment.

I picked up some merch, a couple of stubbie coolers and a "Team York Street" t-shirt.

Brisbane Weekend

2010-05-11T19:33:00.000-07:00

Saturday - Fly in to Brisbane. Meet people at Mana around 14.30. Rig dinner somehow with people at Manabar. Go To Tasmanian Babes Fiasco closing night. Figure out something cool to do Saturday evening. Get back to Parents late Saturday/ Early Sunday. Sleep the sleep of the just. Introduce Adelle to the family, and meet my nieces for the first time. Sunday night - fly back to CNB.

Brilliant Government Rant.

2010-05-05T20:22:00.000-07:00

I love a good rant.

http://www.nixonthehand.com/

“This morning I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock powered by electricity generated by the Public Power Monopoly regulated by the US department of energy. I then took a shower in the clean water provided by the municipal water utility. After that, I turned on the TV to one of the FCC regulated channels to see what the Weather Service of the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration determined the weather would be like today using satellites designed, built and launched by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. I did this while eating my breakfast of US Department of Agriculture inspected food and taking drugs determined safe by the Federal Drug Administration.
At a time that has been kept accurate by the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the US Naval Observatory, I got into my National Highway Traffic Safety Administration approved automobile and set out to work on roads built and maintained by local, state and federal departments of transportation. I checked my mail delivered by the US Postal Service and dropped the kids of at public school, then stopped for fuel of a quality regulated by the Environmental Protection Agency.
After work I drove my NHTSA car on DOT roads back home, which has not burned down because of state and local building codes and a fire marshal’s inspection. My house has not been plundered in my absence because of the local police department.
I then log onto the internet which was developed by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Administration and post here on AWE, in freerepublic.com and of course the Fox News forums about how socialized health care is bad because the government can’t do anything right.”

Sports Development - The team player

2010-04-22T20:02:00.000-07:00

Inspired by Birmo's piece about sporting development:

From my first sporting development memories, there were lots of kids around playing backyard games. There were the ’straight’ backyard/ street games, like red rover, force-em-backs, scorpion, brandy etc. Also we would play ‘backyard’ modified versions of real sports like cricket, all the football, the Olympics, the winter Olympics, everything. Modified? Heavily modified. There is not a lot of snow in Oz, so luge would be done careening down the street or storm drains on a skateboard, on your back.

Formalised sport was Cricket in summer, and soccer in winter. I played cricket from age 6, and at 39 have missed some season, but played winter cricket enough seasons to say I am into my 32 season of cricket. Cricket started at under 10’s, so I played under 10’s for three years. Soccer didn’t last long, as some of the rules very demanding of the parents. We were in the championship thingy, and it had to be decided. We ended up playing this other team FOUR times. Also, the team culture was vicious. They were training us to slide tackle to maim our opponents - at six years old.

So cricket was summer, but we wandered through a few winter sports. Mum, as a nurse, had violent objections to rugby and the neck injury possibilities, and I already had a neck injury. I remember “Little Athletics” quite fondly, but they most amazing skills leap came from gymnastics. They had us tumble and balance and leap, throw sommersaults etc. I don’t remember it being difficult. I do CLEARLY remember that is where my team sports skills just took off. From the unskilled ruckus of backyard muck-arounds, once I had the physical skills of gymnastics added to my drills, I was in a class above. In cricket, diving, tumbling catches were easy. In athletics, the Frosby flop etc were just modified leaps.

In schoolyard fights, the kids who never did the other sports were like they were standing still. It’s only a step to the side and throw, but I never did any martial arts - these skills just made sense. Don’t be there. Adjust your weight. One of the things you also learn - explaining this is crap. It won’t work. You can’t book read and cheat physical skills. You have to do them. Some people have to do them less times, some people have to practice them for years - but you need to practice.

So I am at the ‘very very’ side of gregarious, and this was done by the exact opposite methods Birmo described. I was doing team sports from age 6, and I ran with mobs of kids to learn the team skills. I also had the fantastic help of gymnastics. I cannot recommend gymnastics enough to anyone, let alone anyone with kids.

Rowany Festival

2010-04-15T21:10:00.000-07:00

Wednesday - leave, yummy breakfast Golburn bakery, drive, re-tie ropes, drive, arrive, unpack cars, put up tents for several hours, run around checking stuff out, dinner in Gosford.

Thursday- Organizing more stuff and putting more stuff up. Give my ute & trailer to autocrat, shopping run to Gosford. Set up officers tent and pick up pit. Help lay out all the areas for Ladies of The Rose Pas d' Armes. Gabs has many great toys: nice corners, flags and viewing pavilion. Get armoured myself, fight a round in Pas, run around and order others to do marshalling. Organise court announcements. Run marshals meeting. Run around distributing gold "Ive been checked" ribbon to major marshals I know were not in attendance. Burbage feast with royalty. Adelle gets AOA. Yay. Sleep.

Friday - Set fields for Heraldic Melee. Advise Lists and Heralds of format. Complete full round robin for all eight teams between 10.10 and 13.00. Full rounds run, while previously it took same time for three rounds. V, V. happy with this. Two field and the sides arming and standing ready was brilliant, it allowed things to really work. Even got a few fun byes in. Heralds, Lists, and Assistant Marshals all did GREAT job. While others lunched I went and tried to prep the war field. Didn't really work that well. Improvised. Cornered in the field. An assistant Marshal for the back lines, and tree lines for the edges. I was in full armour and roamed the field, as did one other. Peak - 50 combatants. Scenarios. I guess 7 sets of five per location, so about 35. After, had to make a Hospital run for a householder. Hospital run bad. Hot commercial food good. Sleep.

Saturday - Helped Adelle set up Market day stall, and wandered market with her. I purchase presents for her, and bits of armour for me. Main win - $220 for stainlees gauntlets. Woot! made fields for Second Gen. Watch a few moments of jousting. Eat. Organise Dark Ages Melee. Two Atlantean speed tournies to begin, then small melee units fighting speed tournies. Dark Ages challenged the combat of the 30 - French surrendered. Heh. Instead of unmeshed war, people just fought pick ups on 30 field and in the pit. Field more popular due to shade. Got in armour myself. Fought some new people. Gave a College guy some forearm gutters. Fought female knight. Did well against her. Went to the tavern and had a drink or three with Sir Yves, and invited him back to the campsite.

Sunday, War day: Ran around organising stuff. At 10.00, was on field with a happy keen guy - fought the first round of war scenarios just one on one with him :) Things built, and fought 10.00 till 13.00. Two hour break, then fought 15.00 till 18.00. Many, many scenarios. I guess 12 sets of five, and four custom scenarios, so 65. Very happy with amount of fighting. Dinner. Got purchased in Fighter Auction Tournament by Sir Bain for $40. He said "There's a bargain". I purchased Orlando the pure for $30.

Monday - Fighter Auction. Went to "Floz man camp" to give Orlando a token, and asked Bain if I could wear an old school Ventbarre tabbard as my favour. He agreed. Round one - Red shield. GREAT defence, no offence. It took a lot, but I got through him eventually. Newly cut sword. Made it a touch too long. Dammit. Not enough time to remake. Bother. Round Two - No clear recollection. Round three - Perth dude, good guy, could win next crown - he had not integrated thrust defence. Legged and left, then drove the one backhand - two thrust combo. he hadn't seen it. Skewered. Neither had Everard in Round Four. Same process. Round Five - King Bran. Several passes, then a double kill. In refight, I rip his leg. On the way in, he rips my right arm. I could not defeat him with only my left arm. Loose round Five. Round Six - Angus the Axeman, one of our locals. He has a very long hafted axe. I take the bastard sword. I keep him out okay, but my feet are too heavy. To use my speed advantage I have to use superior footwork or strength to negate his superior reach, then strike faster than he can defend. My feet would not respond, and he is stronger than I am. Eventually he took my leg. While he had superior reach, I had to catch the head, draw it past me and strike. His superior fitness meant that I could not execute the manouver, and my attempts at 'speeding' past him were blocked. He struck me a flat blow to the side of the head, and there was a light thrust to the side of the helm, but eventually he hit me a light one clean to the faceplate, which was a kill. Sixth round meant I was in the lot of three combatants eliminated that round, so we were 12-15, so tied 12th. Not bad out of 90. That night was FINALLY relaxing, drinking and eating night. Good food and yummy fried stuff at Casacelli, then drinkies with White Company and finally Mordenvale. Hot chips and ginger beer. Mmmmm. Learn about Adelle alcohol tolerances :)

Tuesday - lots of packing down, and on the drive home had an exploded trailer tyre. Got home safe.

This has forgotten more than it included, but gives an impression of the stuff that I did. It was big fun.

Easter Holiday return

2010-04-11T21:14:00.000-07:00

Too busy to write. Too busy to read. Will tell stories soon.

Global Financial Downturn = More Touring Bands

2010-03-24T14:50:00.000-07:00

One of the most obvious signs of the Global Fnordancial Downtown is the way that the Australian dollar is worth chasing for international touring acts. The "It's too far, and the take isn't worth it" factor seems to have disappeared. It's a golden time for music fans, ride it while you can.

Acts as obscure as the one below would never have made it before - but now Australians are supporting these acts, and the international word is out, and all sorts of acts are making it down under.

Provided by HM Clare, as my example, I present:

Alestorm

Description:

Avast, ye landlubbers! From the deepest darkest depths of eastern Scotland comes ALESTORM, a drunken band of three mad Scots and one Irishman, setting sail to Australia on an epic quest to slay posers, drink beer, and steal our lands of all its metallic riches! Describing their style as “True Scottish Pirate Metal”, ALESTORM plays an infectious blend of folk and power metal in the vein of bands such as Turisas and Korpiklaani, but with a unique piratical twist. Their latest offering "Black Sails at Midnight" offers a treasure chest of sweeping Scottish Pirate Metal worthy of any loot-loving corsair. Irresistible growling choruses from the port side and lively keyboard melodies and heavy metal riffs from the starboard side form the basis of this highly explosive rum-induced metal mix. Australian metal fans let us unite our forces, storm out en mass and present to ALESTORM the strength of our mighty comradery.
Preparing for battle to defend our vast lands is Australia’s own CLAIM THE THRONE. Inspired by ale and ancient battles, this mighty five piece have become renowned for their exciting stage shows and unique brand of metal. In 2009, the mini-CD/DVD “ALETALES” was released showcasing a more folk metal approach with greater production and songwriting to rival the leaders of the genre. CLAIM THE THRONE is sure to have the metal lords craving for a feast of turkey and a brew to celebrate victory!

Styles:

Rock, Metal and Folk

Web Address:

www.myspace.com/alestorm

I like the fact that three mad Scots and an Irishman are enough to make a five piece. Maybe there is someone whose country of origin isn't piratical enough to mention?

"Tony" Grandad de Bondi

2010-03-22T19:02:00.000-07:00

I'm looking up my Grandfather's service record out of interest. I've looked up before, but I'm checking it again, and recording some notes this time.

Service Record
Name    DE BONDI, ANTHONY
Service    Australian Army
Service Number    QX7531
Posting at Discharge     2/15 Battalion

http://www.ww2roll.gov.au/script/veteran.asp?ServiceID=A&VeteranID=7091#summary1

Service record - 'not yet examined' - not available on the online databases. SO I would have to pay to get it.

At this point I have decided to examine the actions of the battalion. I believe Tony joined as a stretcher bearer in this, his second division.

The 2/15th left Egypt aboard the Acquitania on 25 January 1943 and disembarked at Sydney on 27 February. After leave and jungle training on the Atherton Tablelands in Queensland it embarked for Milne Bay in Papua on 2 August 1943.
On 4 September the battalion landed on Red Beach, 15 miles north-west of Lae. Shortly after it fought its way ashore at Scarlet Beach near Finschhafen and defended the area against Japanese counter-attack. The battalion also took part in the Huon Peninsula campaign, advancing along the northern coast of New Guinea from Lae to Sio.

From: http://www.awm.gov.au/units/unit_11266.asp

Battalion Diaries
http://www.awm.gov.au/collection/war_diaries/second_world_war/diary.asp?levelID=1054

What do I want for my birthday?

2010-03-21T18:37:00.000-07:00

Nothing really. What I have here is better than any gift.

Although I did smile some of my Facebook besties calling it my "Bart-day", and thanks to everyone celebrating with a nice cup of Joe.

I'm off the see the SCA crew over Easter for Rowany Festival

I'm off to see my family and new nieces a bit after Easter, and I'll catch a showing of the play for The Tasmania Babes Fiasco.

I need to save my bux to travel more. I'm missing the OS crew at the moment. Michael & Ash, my men in Amsterdam, Barn in Japan, and Steve, Jen, Kev and Steph in London.

I think that's the one I want to save for next, a big OS adventure with my girl. My only life promise I haven't kept is to spend a fortnight at the British Museum of natural history. I have to get around to that one...

Read Eat Boom Eat Kick Whack Eat

2010-03-17T20:55:00.000-07:00

One day, I'll get a chance to write something on this blog that isn't just planning.

Yeah sure. One more thing for the category "After Festival" :)

Saturday:

morning: A. library

afternoon: BBQ with fam

night: skyfire & Corny's B'day

Sunday:

morning: Jball

afternoon: Fighter practice

night: dinner with S&R

Week Saturday 15th Onwards

2010-03-12T02:10:00.000-08:00

Weekend:
Bunnings run - cheap spray paint for war objective - holder for objective.
Mow Lawns
Paint gold swords on marshal tabbard.
Gym
FP?
Hedges @ Beyan?
J. no FP
J. Jacket by A.
A. study

Weekdays
Mon: Auth @ Br
Tues: Kendo / AFP
Wed: J. RL Possible couch pickup
Thur: J.RL - J.&L. Burbage intro
Fri: ?

March Tasks

2010-03-10T18:54:00.000-08:00

Scout hall - finish shields to make them display ready
Photos - sort the photo's and get the best ones to Bat & Macca
Shelves -
Cushion Box - make Rachel and Alex's cushion box.
Marina - keep promise to trim hedges
CM - paint Talisman figures - done - In ute awaiting delivery.
Painting schedule - none till after Easter.

Marshal:
Gear - paint swords, make pole, paint goal object, find parts for goal object, make signs, make stickers.
Chat - make post out for Festival Marshalls, email Sheridan.

Hannah & Abbey-Rose

2010-03-09T12:17:00.000-08:00

For 35 years, my mum complained that she was the one girl, surrounded by four boys. 2008, the score was clawed back to 2-4 with the addition of Matthew's wife, Dianne. Over the weekend was the equalizer. I'm an Uncle to two tiny twin girls.

I'll be heading up to see the newly enlarged family after Easter.

Mr Flinthart has requested photos, so here we go. When I said tiny, I meant Tiny - they were born week 31. The doctors have advised that there should be no developmental issues. Dianne is a small lass - I guess they just wanted more room.

GREAT NORTHERN WAR XII

2010-03-08T14:05:00.001-08:00

11-14 June 2010, BP Park, 68 Cash Avenue, Samford, Brisbane.

The might of the Northern, being the Baronies of St Florian de la Riviere & River Haven, and the Shires of Bacchus Woods and Willoughby Vale, issues this: we declare WAR on our Southern Enemies! We CHALLENGE all who would take the field against us to join us for 4 days of War, Feasting, Tourneys,
Archery, Rapier, Jousting, Massive Flaming Siege Weapons, Markets, Collegia, Tavern, Games, a Fighter Auction Tourney (Heavy & Rapier), Pirate Party, Dancing, Feats of Skill & Strength and much more! This is a fully catered event.

SO – COME & HAVE A GO IF YOU THINK YOU’RE HARD ENOUGH!
Baden Powell Park (BP Park) is 15km North West of the heart of Brisbane in stunning Samford Village. The park offers ample camping amongst picturesque grassy, shaded grounds with modern amenities. This is a fully catered event from the Friday night Ring of Fire Tourney until Monday lunch during the Fighter Auction Tourney.

Times: Site Opens 9am Friday June 11th and closes 4pm Monday June 14th, 2009.

Event Costs: See booking form on our website. Payment secures booking. Book early to avoid price increases!

Accommodation: Camping & Limited bunks available for wayfarers. See booking form.

Event Steward: Lord Dimitrii Borodinskii (gnw at lochac.sca.org)
Bookings: Lady Josseline de la Cour (gnw-bookings at lochac.sca.org)
Website: www.sca.org.au/gnw

The website contains any event updates, booking form, information booklet and any other relevant details.

We hope to see you there!
Dimitrii & Lorcan.

My Kendo Dictionary.

2010-03-04T19:42:00.000-08:00

At school, my only ever VLA (lowest rating) was in Japanese. The irony of having to learn it again for my sport is not lost on me...

Needed Now:

Yame -the command to stop

reiho (ree-hoe) - manners

Men (Men) - Head.
Kote (Co. - Tay) - Gauntlet
Do (Homer Simpson 'DOH') - Breastplate

Kendo-gu OR Bogu - kendo equipment.
Kamae - the basic forward standing guard position.
Rei - a bow
Ritsu-rei - a bow at the standing position.
Zekken - the name tag, made of cloth or leather and attached to the Tare.

Numbers 1-10

ichi ni san shi go roku shichi (shi-chi) hachi (hat-chi) kyu (coo) ju

Others:
http://www.rain.org/~galvan/glossary.txt

March 2010

2010-03-04T18:21:00.000-08:00

Kendo - Every Tuesday 7.30 from March 2nd to June 1st

SEPT
ACT Kendo Open

MAY
29/05/2010 SCA Royal visit - Privateers.
22-23/05/2010 - Radburne - Dubbo feast
22 May 2010 - Turias
07-09/05/2010 Rowany Crown (not fighting)
09 May 2010 - Goovin the Moo Festival

APR
06/04/2010 Travel back Tuesday 04/04/2010 Easter Sunday 01/04/2010 Festival Thursday

MAR
30/03/2010 Pre Festival Monday
07/03/2010 College Newcomers Feast @ Haig Park Hall
06/03/2010 College of Saint Malachy Event (not attending)
06/03/2010 Okewaite - Taste of T.M.A. (not attending)

Kendo @ ANU

2010-03-03T22:36:00.000-08:00

I've started on a Kendo beginners course at ANU. 14 weeks. I had my first lesson Tuesday. A mate of mine, Mr C. did the beginners last year, and graded to 5 kyu over Christmas.

The course was bigger than I thought, with 35 people. It will be interesting to see how many stay.

I am terrible at languages, so one of my hurdles will be training my quite resistant brain into memorizing new words.

Things we started on:

Strikes:
Men - "Men" - Head.
Kote - "Co. - Tay" - Gauntlet
Do - "Homers 'DOH" - Breastplate.

Practice drills:
Kiri-kaeshi: Striking the left and right men target points in succession, practicing centering, distance, and correct technique, while building spirit and stamina.

Amusing moment - we were all pretty new, and the instructor yelled a few calls in Japanese. Japanese doesn't mean anything to us, yet, good teacher :)

The only things that hurt - there was some strain repeating the sword strikes, and my throat was sore from over doing the shouts, or Kiai

Japanese Kendo Dictionary

Nothing

2010-02-23T22:30:00.000-08:00

This Saturday, I am doing NOTHING. Getting up when I feel like it, watching some video clips, and toodling around the house. I am so looking forward to it. Several things popped up - I am so glad that I just said no.

Soundwave 2010

2010-02-21T22:14:00.000-08:00

Soundwave 2010 was good fun. The weather was scortching, but so were Placebo and Jane's Addiction. Faith No More were headliners, and with good reason - a great set, Mike Patton was prowling the stage, and the music was tight. They played with the crowd a bit, starting with a 70's lounge version of 'Re-united". Later they played a couple of songs over each other, and the undercurrent song was 'popcorn.' I got the joke and new the music, so was screaming along with Mike, but I think it was just the two of us :) Lots of people thought I was a freak (they are sorta right) but then patted me on the back when they realised I was correct :) Every song you would have wanted was there, and the final 'We care a lot" was AWESOME.

Getting to the car at 11pm, then taking till 1.15 am to clear the carpark, and getting home at 4am was less awesome, but well worth it. My eyes are burning, but I have no regrets.

New technological signs of blossoming relationships

2010-02-15T00:13:00.000-08:00

Having a compatible phone charger added to her bedside table.

Buzz Glitter Twitter Flitter Vampires

2010-02-12T16:42:00.000-08:00

GW - Buzz - So... it's like... twigter? gtwit? Nifty.

Bart Beswick - Well, it's gooGLe crossed with twITTER, so it must be GLITTER. I wonder if Mariah Carey uses it yet?

BC - Got to love the sparkle

GW - Do Vampires use it?

Bart Beswick - Vampires use Buzz / Glitter during the daylight, then turn into Bats and use Twitter at night, but they call it Flitter.

Feb Misc stuff to do

2010-02-10T23:25:00.000-08:00

Adelle - adore :) - working on. Also working on holding the nausea bucket due to wisdom teeth removal :)
Scout hall - finish shields to make them display ready - not yet
Hospit gear - sort and label the pile Maxx donated - done
Photos - sort the photo's and get the best ones to Bat & Macca - not yet
Shelves - make better shed shelves so I can slip cricket/ armour/ fencing bags in and out more easily - not yet
Cushion Box - make Rachel and Alex's cushion box. - not yet
Marina - keep promise to trim hedges - timing proving complex! - phone call made - gave up on meeting - will just go over and do it randomly some time.
Corinbank/ Work/ SCA - get first aid certificate up to date - nope. Will help on clean up instead.
Study - sign up to the DPM - not yet
Kendo - sign up - 15th Feb sign up starts - have set calendar alarm - not yet 15th
CM - paint Talisman figures - undercoated white - done. Base colours - done.Shading and inking - done - protective coat - done.

Painting schedule - wait to get Jeremy's commision.

McParadox and why I love the interwebs

2010-02-04T22:01:00.001-08:00

Mc: chest hair sexy or not

me: not.

Especially not on girls

Mc: what if they are hippies? all natural?

me: They had better cook a real good tofu

Mc: What if its the best tofu you have ever had but there is a chest hair sitting at the bottom

Sent at 4:55 PM on Friday

me: Then I would say "That is the yummiest unhygenic tofu ever"

Mc: Ownage

Sent at 4:58 PM on Friday

me: I am posting this on my blog under 'why I love stupid stuff on the interwebs.'

Mc: Lol include me... Paradox XD

Let slip the electic worms

2010-01-31T22:22:00.000-08:00

I was a little slow Sunday morning, and eventually slapped myself awake with a coffee and breakfast. After much enjoyable chat and some business with Adelle, I readied myself for APS cricket for my employer, the ABS.

We had Treasury suppressed and the wickets flowing gently in the first session. We went to drinks at 4/68. Afterward their captain started exploding, and the runs began to flow. Fours and sixes aplenty, then he retired at 50 exactly as per the rules of A.P.S. cricket, but the others did not slouch, and they were eventually all out for 190. A difficult, but not impossible task, as we had gotten more than this earlier in the year.

My tale went off the wires about six overs before the end- with a visual aura. What is a visual aura? I'm glad you asked. It's one of the signs of the upcoming pain apocalypse known as a migraine.

Stage one. Vague feeling of wrongness. I was in slips and had a vague sense that something was wrong. I cleaned my glasses, and stretched out a bit, and moved my muscles about, but the vague sense of wrongness was there.

Next over, came 'the blobs' It's like someone has gotten a little blob of Vaseline and smeared it on the lenses of my glasses. I can still see through these blobs, but they are right in the middle of my vision. Uh-oh spaghetti-oh. This is where what is happening clicks in.

I'm in slips. This means that, under a standard circumstance, a very hard cricket ball could be flying straight for me. Not only should I catch it for the sake of the team, I should also be ready and able to catch it for the sake of not injuring myself.

This becomes increasingly unlikely as the 'auras' get worse. They get larger, and more blocking of my central vision, and more 'grey scaled', going from Vaseline clear to sewing machine oil light grey.

I talk to the captain, and request getting the hell out of slips. He puts me in covers/ square leg, much safer. It has the quarter second more time to adjust if needs be if the ball comes to me.

One more over, and the blobs clear, and I get 'the electric worms'. These little things are like 5mm 'strings' that are bursting with rings of electric, unnatural colours. The colours on these little worms are deeply strange, and their colours do not occur in nature - too vivid, too electrical. The worms are actually an improvement on the aura's - they do not occur over the central eye, so are not as dangerous during a cricket match.

However, the next stage will be the pain. We come off the field, and I ask Mike, our Captain, if I may open the batting. I'm on a race - soon, I will be hit with the pain, and likely unable to return. Mike agrees.

The drinks for sale esky was there, so I inhaled a coke, and then dropped two sunkist orange drinks in about three minutes. I'm not sure if it was the caffine in the coke, the icy coldness of the softdrinks, or the sugar, or what, but the visual auras cleared.

That meant, the pain was next.

We went out to the centre. My partner knew what was going on, and he was fretting, and called out the opponents to get onto the field. I was embarrassed but thankful. It's not their problem if I have a migraine coming...

I knew I was there for a good time, not a long time. I belted the first ball to the boundary with a perfect late drive through gulley. I wasn't sure if it would make the boundary, so I ran a couple of runs... woah. Hello Mr thump.

I could see. I was upright, but each heartbeat had a little friend with a bellows blowing pain through the upper right quadrant of my brain. Special. It was the thumpy fullness pain, not the sharp 'hammer' pain. Tolerable. I played and missed at the balls outside for the rest of the over, and blocked the two on the sticks.

Next over my partner had an over of playing and missing or blocking, which I appreciated.

Next over it was back to business. Poor bowler had me clipping things away with my bat close enough that leb byes were not called for my next few runs. I was too tired to check up on the umpire, as each time I was running and my head was pounding.

Next over I faced the other opener, and smacked a beautiful four. I hit it wonderfully cleanly. It went straight through the legs of the fielder on the cover drive - he tried to get down to it, but couldn't do so fast enough. That balls was TRAVELLING.

I next tried to drive again, and got some luck, french cutting for two more. Meh. By this time the thumping was pretty industrial, and things were getting fuzzy.

I ran a few more runs, but the initial opening bowler shot one through the gate between bat and pad. Poor form came to play once the energy ran out and the thumping got too much.

I had a nice little 14, and drove straight home. I stripped off straight away, and got myself two Panadine, two Ibuprofen and a cold shower. Cold water straight on the skull really helps, and having no hair to hold the heat helps even more. I was hoping to grow out my hair - but even the 3mm holds so much heat in that situation. It's going to go back to blade none next time Nick and I are both at home.

The straight cold shower staved off the pain, and I made a call to Adelle explaining what had gone down, and requesting that we could skip our 'before we sleep' phone call, explaining that this was it :) She had experience with another person with migraines, so she knew the deal.

Within a few minutes, I had put my room in blackout, and gotten a black cloth to wrap my eyes around 17.00

21.00 saw crisis averted. Either a) the migraine did not go to the next, brutal steps, or b) it had done so while I was not awake to feel it. I came too, and my body was whinging that it was hungry. I crawled of bed and went and fixed some food.

After a nice chat & call with Adelle, I cleared an email or two, and even read a few pages of my book till crashing around 23.00

Today I made it to work okay, and took 44 calls. My only symptom has been my nose running like a tap, essentially running all the liquid in my body through my nose. Still, better that than a migraine!

Background: I used to get migraines weekly as a teenager, which is indescribable hell. Attending school four days a week and doing catchup pretty much every week and being in minor pain for a small period each day made study, social continuity, and sport more complicated than it needed to have been. Eventually the barrage of tests turned up a couple of useful things. I'm allergic to dust mites and cockroaches. Interesting aside. But the killer - photophobia. Allergic to sunlight. FFS. There is no cure, only avoidance. Great.

Extra: I went through this article after having read it to add in some wikipedia links - and have been finding cool stuff just by surfing wikipedia. Hooray undirected research uncovering interesting stuff :)

February 2010

2010-01-31T18:56:00.000-08:00

Kendo - Tuesday 7.30 from March 2nd to June 1st

MAY
29/05/2010 SCA Royal visit - Privateers.
22-23/05/2010 - Radburne - Dubbo feast
07-09/05/2010 Rowany Crown (not fighting)

APR
06/04/2010 Travel back Tuesday
04/04/2010 Easter Sunday
01/04/2010 Festival Thursday

MAR
30/03/2010 Pre Festival Monday
07/03/2010 College Newcomers Feast @ Haig Park Hall
06/03/2010 College of Saint Malachy Event (not attending)
06/03/2010 Okewaite - Taste of T.M.A. (maybe)

FEB
28/02/2010 CRICKET SEMI FINAL V TREASURY
26/02/2009 ??? Border War (not attending - cricket)
26/02/2010 ??? Corinbank Festival (not attending - bump out)
23/02/2010 Initial consult - 8.00 -
21/02/2010 Jane's Addiction! Soundwave Festival Sydney
20/02/2010 Festival Site Walk with Pauly & LAJ
19/02/2010 Go to Sydney Fri evening with Dr.Nick - Opera - Tosca
17/02/2010 College O-week stall
16/02/2010 Jason big birthday!
13/02/2010 SCA - Valentines Event
09/02/2010 Eva to BNE
08/02/2010 Superbowl flex day.
07/02/2010 Georgia BBQ
06/02/2010 National gallery "Masterpieces from Paris"
05/02/2010 Dinner Unbooked currently- Couch Club? Which country? Which movie?
04/02/2010 Dinner Unbooked currently
03/02/2010 A&S
02/02/2010 Eva arrives CNB - OOA training Tuesday night, Eva helm fix

Rowany MIC tracking.

2010-01-28T19:07:00.000-08:00

CURRENT QUESTION:
Who's balliwick is regulating a metal weapons group that wants to do a demo at Festival?
READING TIME!

So I'm Marshal in charge for Rowany. One of the things I like to do is put my tasks and thinking 'out loud' on the internet so I can track it with easy access, and others who care can help or correct me.

Email my volunteer marshals:
Done.

Timetable:
Heavy - done
Rapier - waiting P.
Archery - awaiting L.

Adverts - Final Heavy Timetable awaiting going up on Rowany

More webpage stuff - I'll grab a summary of how each tournament format works.

Pas d' Armes - written
Rowany Fighter Auction - to be done
Heraldic Melee - to be done

Stuff to make or source:
A Tree of Chivalry
'The object' - now 'the pot of gold' - made - now needs painting. Purchase Black primer.
The border markers, made from the special mesh mat spikes.

Linky Linky:
Rowany Festival Site

Rowany Festival Marshal Site

Miscellaneous Stuff To Do

2010-01-27T18:34:00.000-08:00

Adelle - adore :)
Scout hall - finish shields to make them display ready
Hospit gear - sort and label the pile Maxx donated
Photos - sort the photo's and get the best ones to Bat & Macca
Shelves - make better shed shelves so I can slip cricket/ armour/ fencing bags in and out more easily
Cushion Box - make Rachel and Alex's cushion box.
Marina - keep promise to trim hedges - timing proving complex!
Corinbank/ Work/ SCA - get first aid certificate up to date
Study - sign up to the DPM
Kendo - sign up - 15th Feb sign up starts - have set calendar alarm
CM - paint Talisman figures - undercoated white - done. Base colours - done.

Australia Day

2010-01-25T15:18:00.000-08:00

"My Island Home"
by Neil Murray.
Performed by Warumpi Band,
and also Christine Anu

Six years I've been in the city
And every night I dream of the sea
They say home is where you find it
Will this place ever satisfy me

For I come from the salt water people
We always live by the sea
Know I'm down here livin' in the city
With my man and the family

My island home My island home
My island home is waiting for me
My island home My island home
My island home is waiting for me

In the evening the dry wind blows
From the hills and across the plains
I close my eyes and I am standing
In a boat on the sea again
And I'm holding a long turtle spear
And I feel I'm close now to where it must be
My island home is waiting for me

For I come from the salt water people
We always live by the sea
Now I'm down here livin' in the city
With my man and the family

X 3
My island home My island home
My island home is waiting for me
My island home My island home
My island home is waiting for me

X3
My island home (my home)

Life

2010-01-18T18:15:00.000-08:00

Lass - All is new and shiny. Hooray. I'm her bit of fluff :)
Cancon - Apocalypse has seven players, more than last year. Prep day is flexed off, going on a terrain frenzy.
Seneschal - hall contract fun again. Contract finalised, permissions sorted, awaiting getting paper under a board members nose.
Festival marshal - Proposed schedule is nearly firmed up, King happy, just confirming last bits with Festival Stewards Friday night. Pickup pit, meshed war, unmeshed war, Pas', team melee's, and fighter auction. The only ones disappointed will be those who like the tradition of no fighting on Saturday. AND it's timed for more drinking for those who enjoy that :)

January 2010

2010-01-13T12:33:00.001-08:00

APR
06/04/2010 Travel back Tuesday
04/04/2010 Easter Sunday
01/04/2010 Festival Thursday

MAR
30/03/2010 Pre Festival Monday
07/03/2010 Possible Powder Event

FEB
28/02/2010 ??? R7 V Climate Change
26/02/2009 ??? Border War
26/02/2010 ??? Corinbank Festival
21/02/2010 Jane's Addiction! Soundwave Festival Sydney
09/02/2010 Eva to BNE
08/02/2010 Superbowl flex day.
07/02/2010 Georgia BBQ
02/02/2010 Eva arrives CNB

JAN
31/01/2010 R6 v Treasury
22 - 25/ 01/2010 Cancon - T.O. of Apocalypse
22/01/2010 Not going... Big Day Out Sydney
17/01/2010 R5 v PM & C
16/01/2010 Talisman (early in the decade hey Jase lol)

Stuff

2010-01-05T22:19:00.000-08:00

I often have the intention of writing blog posts. All about life, impressions, news and little anecdotes. I fail. Because I am so busy living life that I don't get around to writing it up!

Christmas - yay - International Turkey day was full of turkey and good food and good company.

Work shutdown - I planned cleaning, personal financial organising, socialising, SCA organising, minatures organising, getting back into exercise, and making miniatures stuff. I ended up doing everything I wanted to, except making the miniatures stuff. I ended up doing a heap of painting as well, while re-watching Deadwood, Alias and band of Brothers boxed sets.

New years - 4 parties out of five. Sorry Blair! The order was Womble penthouse drinkies, ML lake party, Gnomes block party for the kickover to 2010, and then Woodstock-Zombies till 6am. Sweet!

Exercise experimentation paid off - I spent some time shooting hoops, alone and with flatmate Gunnar, and I found the location of the Canberra fitness trails. Well. I found all of the one around Lake Burley-Griffin that starts near the boat ramp. Womble and I found 3/9 of the stations of the ANU one, but suspect that some stations bits have been pulled up in the recent refurbishments.

It's been seven months since I was able to exercise to any intensity. I really missed it, and am so happy I'm back.

12th Night - Be there!

Cancon - Five confirmed palyers for Apoc, and several more possibles. 3 have returned from last year, two newcomers. It will ever increase :)

Steampunk cruise

2010-01-02T21:13:00.001-08:00

The drought has broken.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/patrick-twyford/

Christmas Calendar

2009-12-23T16:54:00.000-08:00

MAR
07/03/2009 Possible Powder Event

FEB
28/02/2010 ??? R7 V Climate Change
26/02/2009 ??? Border War
26/02/2010 ??? Corinbank Festival
21/02/2010 Jane's Addiction! Soundwave Festival Sydney

JAN
31/01/2010 R6 v Treasury
22 - 25/ 01/2010 Cancon - T.O. of Apocalypse
22/01/2010 Not going... Big Day Out Sydney
17/01/2010 R5 v PM & C

DECEMBER

New Years - Yard party, Zombie Party, Penthouse Party or Indulgence Picinic.

Choices, choices!

Christmas break: Scroll saw Scenery-O-Rama 4 Cancon

29/12/2009 Sign Ute papers
26/12/2009 GW 3pm giffle
25/12/2009 D&K -10am kickoff
24/12/2009 G&A - After work followed by Descarte Poker @ Jatz

Christmas Shopping.

2009-12-21T21:58:00.000-08:00

My Christmas shopping for others is pretty small. For my nuclear family, we swap small thoughtful or funny gifts. For those who share Christmas lunch, there are a few small thoughtful gifts.

With almost everyone else, I say "Thanks for the virtual $50. here is your virtual $50 in return. Thanks!" and then go on to buy something for my self, and say "Thanks for the X you got me for Christmas."

This comes from when my brothers and I were all "Big Day Out" fans, and we would all go to that summer rock festival. What we would all do is buy our own tickets, and say "Thanks, Brothers of mine. What a perfect and thoughtful gift."

Now, many of you might be wondering - what has Bart bought with all of your virtual Christmas fifty dollars?

I'm glad you asked.

Netbook - Many times during the year, I've been wanting to take my data with me. Not games, not media - just spreadsheets, word processing documents, emails and pdf's. I process data at work or at home. I like grunty desktop PC's. Notebooks never did it for me. Too many compromises. My phone, while a vaguely usable data point, is not use for sharing data with others. So in comes the netbook. It's a HP Mini 110, running Linux. It's fast to boot, light and V. portable. Claimed 3 hours battery life, and will hopefully be able to plug in my HTC diamond to act as my 3G modem. $400.

Vehicle - I got rid of the van. Two regos was silly, and the unreliability of an older vehicle is something I could very much do without. I also thought about the amount of times I had four passengers. Almost none. And I hated it anyway, because most of my friends are tall. So it sucked. Why did I get the van? CUBES. I am in hobbies where moving a lot of stuff is a necessity. Medieval Stuff. Gaming Stuff. Tents. bed, tables.

I was driving and loving my Yaris. It cost almost nothing to run, could move a few people, and could move a lot of stuff. But I needed cubes.

So as of early January, I will own a Hilux Ute. It's the basic 4x2 workmate ute with alloy tray, tray cover and 2250 kg powered brake towball. White. 4 cyclinder 2.7 litre petrol, manual. 2.7 litres is my biggest engine ever. My previously reasonable environmental cred is slipping... Still, I've never owned a v6 or more.

So thanks everyone for my netbook and my new ute. Merry Christmas!

You don't know enough to know that you don't know.

2009-12-14T21:24:00.000-08:00

Littlest Amazon asked a few fighting question. I wrote an answer in notepad (my word processing package of choice) but the comments would not accept me pasting the result. So here it is.

>> I am so incredibly annoyed about this stuff that I don't even know where to start.

Good. I don't really mind what your emotion is, as long as their is lots of it. No emotion is the one I tell to get packing and try and learn off someone else. Creepy dead fish.

>> Firstly

Weird ass zen answer:
You don't know enough to know that you don't know.

WHat?:
What is your green alien pelt brushing technique like? You don't know. You've never brushed the pelt of a green alien. What do you think you can analyse your shots? What do you know about shots?

>> Secondly

Basic/ Flow/ power: Once you can mechanically throw a shot correctly, your teachers want to ensure that you can generate power from flow. One way power ccan be generated is from a large arc of swing. I suggested that when you were practicing you tap your own butt between each shot. This will guarantee a large arc. Once you get this to become a gentle brush past, you will have power and flow. This is one of the long, slow lessons.

Teachers who do not practice: 100% correct.

>> Thirdly, Lets face it at this point I just suck.

Do I suck?: Yes, you do. You know fighting is hard. Hard to do, hard to learn. One of the greatest things about is that it cannot be faked. It cannot be purchased. It does not come on sale. It doesn't care if you want it. ANyone who is good has practiced, likely for years. YEARS. The 'quick studies' - BS. The quick studies are the ones who have done sports conversion. Some people want XP. Well, you don't level up in SCA Heavy like you do in Diablo by ten minutes of clicking. You want a formula? One pell shot is one xp. Levels are based on 100,000 XP. One shot in armour with someone shooting back is 10xp.

>> Fourthly Everyone seems to know what I should be doing.
Anyone who tells you this is easy is trying to sell you something. The old 'show me how by winning crown' is a good comeback.

>> I like the little hurts.

Watch the line between pain for discipline, and simply having crappy gear.
Next time you see me, (or Corny, or Stephen) ask them to teach you the pell technique that involves going as fast as you can and NOT hitting the pell. Save pounding your hands into condition for once you have your lighter basket hilt.

>>I am not sure why I want it soo much, but I have to do this.

Cool. SOmething that you don't know that you know you don't know :)

>> I once thought I would never uni/ run many k/ bigger challenge.

Weird ass zen answer:
You don't know enough to know that you don't know.

>> Fighting is hard. Competition avoided / competing to lose / another type of intelligence and one that I don't have a lot of.

You were likely taught not to strike people. "Nice girls don't do that." "Nice girls don't wrestle in the mud and smack into each other." And wrestling is the basis for non linear movement, which gives you a good skill set for contact sports. The dodge, the duck, the weave, the fake, the power-kill attack once the other person is out of position. Once you know the basics, you move on to doing it with more complex tools. The combat books all move out in distance. First wrestling. Then daggers. The swords. Then longswords, and finally polearms.

You simply have the long path. Wanna wrassle?

>> Relax your grip

I'm shutting up on that one. I haven't learnt that one. I grip my sword like it's a million bucks. I don't throw 'snaps' (tm). I throw forehands.

>> just because it takes my 3 times as much effort as everyone else.

No. "Everyone else" is in the smae spot, or using skill conversion. What was my first question - "What are your other sports?" When you answered 'none really' I said straight away - that means you are on the slow path.

>> I want my armor to be ready

Weird ass zen answer:
You don't know enough to know that you don't know.

Once you are in armour, you will begin to see what people have been trying to tell you about pell work, and you will have something wonderful - physical feedback. A teachers words and your thoughts will not help nearly as much as those first few bits of getting hit (damn, I should really move my feet) or hitting someone ( ffs, she didn't even NOTICE that shot).

One thing I tell newcomers in armour - hit the other person as hard as you can. Your technique is going to be poor. Your headspace will very likely be awful, as you have been societally trained not to hit people. You will be so busy defending, what you think are good shots will be rubbish because your brain is so busy defending that it will not give you the spare power to attack. I've never seen a newcomer be asked to not throw excessive shots inside of three months in armour.

Stuff!

2009-12-01T14:02:00.000-08:00

Exercise- minor fail yesterday. I did ten minutes of touchwork the bag, five light minutes on speed ball and an small empty bar weights session before work. Fail. The nerves in my left arm complained like crazy.

Jugger - I've been playing alittle of that crazy post apocalyptic boffer sport. It's silly, but good exercise and fun. http://www.jugger.org.au/

Cricket - Slow and steady. I've been batting down the order, and just fielding in slips. I'm enjoying the games, but annoyed by my low level of fitness.

Cancon - cancon was given a boost by the arrival of three 8x4 foot tables. My mega table for cancon is going to be cool... I also completed the strategy table - it's off beingchecked

Space Hulk - My copy of the new Space Hulk is now completely painted, genestealers and marines both. Not sure If I'll keep it or hoick it on ebay and see what I can get for it. Fully painted copies were going for $500 on ebay in the US.

Genestealer cult - painting has slowed, with the campaign delayed by the ANU gaming rooms being closed for exams. And because I have more than enough points painted.

Blood Angels- painting is happening slowly but surely. Have found a nice power weapon colour scheme. Jump troops are no all undercoated. Trying a new five pass process on them.

SCA - still trying to russle up officer reports so I can do mine. Got the photos onto my drive so Bill can sort them.

Work - just got Windows 7 virtual machines and ordered the Windows 7 bible so I can work through it methodically.

Christmas Eve and Christmas day - sorted, with friends for both.

Van - very likely selling it. Was not utilizing it enough to be worth the expense/rego etc. Waiting on payment.

Movie - Looks like I'll be helping shoot a 'medieval feel' short movie. Pre production rolls along. Location scouting on the weekend

Ladies - don't ask me, I'm the last to know.

Back in the saddle

2009-11-24T14:16:00.000-08:00

I was going nuts, and had to declare it a bit early, but it's official - I'm back to being able to exercise. I'm starting gentle, with skills and drills with SCA, a bit of running around with Jugger, playing down the order with cricket when out and about. I'll also be doing boxing and weights at home.

My aim is to not fight SCA heavy until Valentines - just to do skills and drills over the Summer heat, and hope it has cooled down enough by February. I would like to have a clean festival - good equipment, good fitness, etc so I can do a good job of Festival Marshal.

And being fitter in general is a great thing.

December Calendar

2009-11-15T17:58:00.000-08:00

MAR
07/03/2009 Possible Powder Event

FEB
28/02/2010 ??? R7 V Climate Change
26/02/2009 ??? Border War
26/02/2010 ??? Corinbank Festival
21/02/2010 Jane's Addiction! Soundwave Festival Sydney

JAN
31/01/2010 R6 v Treasury
22 - 25/ 01/2010 Cancon - T.O. of Apocalypse
22/01/2010 Not going... Big Day Out Sydney
17/01/2010 R5 v PM & C

DECEMBER

Christmas break: Scroll saw-O-Rama 4 Cancon
26/12/2009 GW 3pm raffle
25/12/2009 D&K -10am kickoff
24/12/2009 G&A - After work
22/12/2009 BP Zef - After work
19/12/2009 Steampunk party
13/12/2009 R4 v DFAT (Reid Oval)
12/12/2009 Yule Feast (tbc)
06/12/2009 RAPIDFIRE @ANU

NOVEMBER
29/11/2009 R3 v Customs
21 n 22 November Info: Okewaite Camping
17/11/2009 Leonid meteor activity w/ ML

CODES:
CRICKET - depends on selection and fitness
SCA - events
MUSIC -Summer festivals and so forth
??? - Maybe attending
INFO - Not attending, there for information.

Physical traits affect your every moment, like it or not.

2009-11-12T19:14:00.000-08:00

Spynat has a good blog post about the nature of beauty. I started responding, but it all got so complicated I killed my comment and decided to start again here. I was going to take it little broader, and go into the nature of physical traits.

Physical traits, such as beauty or intelligence, strength or height, are given by quirks of genetics for the science minded, or gifts from God for the faith based. Regardless of who or what threw them to each and every one of use, we all get a different mix. Some people get blessed/ lucky, some get unlucky/cursed.

There seems to be two main ways of responding to this. Rail against luck & God, or get to work maximizing what you have got.

Height seems to be the odd one out here, but beauty, strength, and intelligence can all be worked on. If you have a decent plan, and wish to strive for betterment, you can get smarter, you can get stronger, you can get more attractive. Results will vary. Life is unfair.

But the very act of striving for betterment makes you more attractive. Assessing your trait openly, and working on it will improve your lot. I like people, and I like a big range of people. I like some really pretty people, and I like some real ugly people. I like some smart people, and I like some dumb people. These curerent status traits fall into insignificance versus the will to improve. The drive to make themselves better.

Dumb people who do not see, or revel in their lack of intelligence, I avoid. From bitter experience, they are dangerous, and bad things happen around them. People who moan about their fitness levels while sitting on the couch growing a bigger butt will try and get you into their bad habits.

I'm on a IT help desk. I'm in the helping industry. I am by nature a helpful person, and like to get my "knight in shining armour' on. But once again I have discovered that there is no point even offering help to those who do not strive. You can give a perfect solution to someone who doesn't want it, and they will muck up their life and everything and everyone around them.

Being pretty makes life much easier. Being smart makes life even more significantly easier. Not striving, or giving up, makes life intolerable, and people detect it, and the good people leave and the broken ones come flocking in.

I summarized this in some advice I gave to someone previously on this blog: You are not smart enough to be lazy.

Movember Nine

2009-11-09T18:20:00.000-08:00

The Mo bunch

http://picasaweb.google.com/ysambart/Movember#5401983959764916370
http://au.movember.com/mospace/114233

I am doing Movember for two reasons. One, of course, is to raise money for worthy charities.
The other, is to prepare a hefty Victorian soupcatcher for an upcoming steampunk party.

A possible head wear preview:
http://picasaweb.google.com/ysambart/Movember#5401983781620814738

I did post this yesterday, but thought it would make a cool journal post as well.

2009-11-05T13:36:00.000-08:00

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The gunpowder treason and plot,
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

-.-
Hi Team,

On this highly relevant day, I would like to gauge interest in a special kind of event. A small team is putting together the requisite paperwork and licences to have a period firearms day in the New Years.

There are two types of interest needed.

1) Those who would be generally interested in attending a period (& just after period) firearms day

and

2) Those who would be interested in getting the relevant firearms licences in order to assist.

Please indicate interest via an email.

Attending the event would cost somewhere between $30- $50.

Those who are interested in acquiring a licence in order to assist, cost would be - Going to courses, and paying around $250 in necessary memberships and fees. Please advise via comment.

I will be doing the licensing procedure.

I assure you that all involved are loyal to the crown!

Thanks,

Bart

Ysambart Courtin

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Lgehumble_1400.jpg

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gunpowder_plot

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes

-.-

Remember, remember

that ‘V for Vendetta’

whilst an awesome film no doubt;

was naught but a fiction

with impeccable diction

rendered contextual for added clout.

Movember has begun

2009-11-03T15:28:00.000-08:00

Scruffy sunburnt person alert.

We didn't win...

2009-11-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

we drekked it in. And I can't get better bowling figures :)

ABS Cricketers,

A great start to the season with a big win on Sunday.

We won the toss and batted and managed to pile on 3/254 in our 40 overs. Top scorers were X 50no, X 50no, myself 47, X 36, X 27no and X M 22.

We then managed to roll the DEEWR batting line-up for just 57, for a rather comprehensive 197 run victory. The wicket takers were X (1/22), X (2/12), X (2/8), X (1/4), X 1/8 and Bart (1/0 off 1 ball).

While we only had 10 players, DEEWR only had 9 so that made things a bit difficult for them, but nonetheless it was a really good effort with bat, ball and in the field, so well done guys.

The Captain

Weekend

2009-10-28T20:10:00.000-07:00

Saturday Morning : Welcome new flatmate, Jason. Possible Breakfast BBQ. Don't get any ideas, Birmo - we had it planned before your column on Breakfast BBQ's was out :)

Saturday Afternoon: The Wedding

Sunday Morning: Help Sui move industrial stuff in the van for his end of year installation

Sunday afternoon: First game of cricket for the year. I'm sitting in slips, and having a chill out.

ENTP

2009-10-25T04:40:00.001-07:00

http://www.typelogic.com/entp.html

Because I was asked what it was.

Hypnomania

2009-10-24T06:37:00.000-07:00

Now:

Ah okay, here it is. The counter to being sick all this time. Hypomania. Someone at work caught me - they said "Stop! You are confused, and it's like you don't know what day it is!" And they were dead right.

I'm going to be typing this at stream of consciousness, and so I will be throwing things around, giving others an experience of what a Hypomania state is like, and hopefully slapping myself around and rebooting myself so things don't head on to the next step, full mania.

Then:

In the late nineties, I was working a job where I was doing fifteen and sixteen hour days, and getting no sleep. I was partying hard, and I was promiscuous. I have a science brain. The chemicals I was playing with I had researched, and I was on very low doses. I know there are no safe doses. but they were very low. Much lower than the legends some people might tell. I had no interest in babies or loosing my sexual health, so I was a safety boy. Bareback is a nicer ride, but HIV and penicillin injections hold no appeal. The most dangerous thing I was doing at this time was abusing my sleep.

Late 1998 I quit a cool, well paying job as a Tipmaster because I had on the certain feeling that 'something was wrong.' I had two warnings about sleeping on the job. Actually, that wasn't true. I had warnings for going to sleep in my car before the gates to the compound I had to open. The truck drivers would be there, and I would open up once they blasted the horn. If I didn't try and sleep there, I couldn't get to sleep at all. I couldn't explain it, I couldn't fix it, and I didn't want to get fired so I left before I was pushed.

I had been to medical specialists. I had been to a couple of counsellors and shrinks. Unfortunately, the old adage was true. They were, without a doubt, much, much more messed up than I was.

So I spent about half a year travelling around Australia visiting friends, and then about a year doing odd jobs. I talked to people, but they couldn't figure it out, and no-one spotted it. Eventually I worked at a seed factory. The job was easy labouring and sorting work, and involved throwing 25kg and fifty kg bags around. The job perfectly suited my body. I carved off my usual 120kg down to 87kg, and a six pack stomach. I was back to being able to do hand stand push ups, which I had not done since I was a kid and a gymnast.

My labouring meant that I was exercising all day. And I had never been that fit post puberty. So when I shrank my needed sleep, I just presumed it was a side effect of fitness. When I was going into pubs and club, smiling and winking and a charisma stunned girl would follow me home and we would shag like bunnies, I just presumed this was western, decadent, pagan Australia.

Our good friend wikipedia says " Patients may be relatively unlikely to seek psychiatric treatment for Hypomania alone." To which I say "Hell yeah".

"People with Hypomania are generally perceived as being energetic, euphoric, visionary, overflowing with new ideas, and sometimes over-confident and very charismatic." I'm not sleeping, being hyper charismatic, I'm shagging like a bunny, and I'm super fit and energetic. If Hypomania was a tablet, it would be the most valuable and potent pharmaceutical in the world. Quick, doc, I want to be fat, asleep, boring and unattractive! Cure me!

And when I'm hypnomanic I'm a natural born poet, which I can tell you doesn't hurt with the hyper charismatic factor. "In the hypomanic state, people may feel like they can't slow their mind down, and that the speeding thoughts are crafted exceptionally well. Some examples are speaking or writing in rhyme or alliteration without planning it first; quick responses to people talking; or the ability to improvise easily on the spot."

Of course, this has to fall down. Now, the really unlucky (vast majority) of bastards plummet from this height to depression. For some reason, I don't. I might get as low as 'a little blue' or 'slighty miffed.' I thank goodness that I don't plunge into the black. Conversations between myself and depressed people are weird. I can't even imagine what they are trying to express - and they sit there jealous as hell but not really understanding mania.

When this falls down for me, it goes to mania. The trouble with mania is that from sitting inside, it's Hypomania, but EVEN BETTER. The merry-go-round is going faster. You need less sleep. Nothing hurts. The vast majority of people are electrified by your company, and want to share it. I got disciples. The kind of people that want a hand to get through life latch onto you and ask to receive your wisdom.

Manic symptoms include irritability, anger or rage, delusions, hypersensitivity, hypersexuality, hyper-religiosity, hyperactivity, impulsiveness, racing thoughts, talkativeness, pressure to keep talking or rapid speech, grandiose ideas and plans, and decreased need for sleep (e.g. feels rested after 3 or 4 hours of sleep).

I had every one on the list. Bingo! Eyes heavenward for a full house! Rapid speech meant that I was motormouthing so hard that no-one could follow. From the inside, it just seems like everyone is a bit slow, and not following the new improved you. Racing thoughts - I think we had covered that. Decreased need for sleep - I was down to a couple of hours a day. I was not angry. I was hyperfocused on what I was doing, but I never got violent, I walked away from impediments to my plans, I didn't try to hurt anyone. Hypersexuailty - I've already covered that. And thank goodness I always 'covered that'. Boom boom.

Hyper-religiosity was weird. I was raised devoutly catholic, and it is completely ingrained into my thinking and actions. I have never denied its massive effect. So when the strong religious feelings of need for exploration came, I decided to try and commune with God, using meditation methods I was researching. The fact that you decide "I'm just going to talk to God" also neatly covers grandiose ideas and plans. Well I made it, which has been handy ever since. It took days of meditation, and travelling without moving. When I got there, God's message was "I will call you if I need you". That was quite reassuring, and has been handy every since. My rational science brain says that it was a scientific explainable chemical imbalance. And when I talk to the deeply religious, I can look them straight in the eye and say "Sorry, when I spoke to God, that's not what he said to me." Like I said, Handy.

The religiousity and charisma mix was very strange. As I said, I got very charismatic, and had followers and stuff. I also became a compulsive gift giver and receiver. People seem to just give charismatic people gifts. And I wouldn't keep them, I was stuck by the 'you need nothing but faith' where faith is fine amalgam of faith/ confidence and arrogance. I was giving stuff away at a great rate of knots, and minimalising my personal possessions. I've always had a strange relationship with money, and it got weirder with the mania.If you have
have enough disciples, all you need to do is cover rent and people just invite you out for food to hear you speak.

"Manic patients are frequently grandiose, obsessive, impulsive, irritable, belligerent, and frequently deny anything is wrong with them." Eventually it all came to a stop. Enough people who cared had said 'what the hell' to enough people who knew me, and eventually my brother Matthew, who is a psych nurse, had the sense to call it all to stop and convince me to go to hospital on 2nd January 2000. I sometime use the line that my brain had the millennium bug. I was on a 21 day order, and I was out in 14. I was medicated heavily for a couple of days, and weaned off really rapidly down to some seds and lithium. I think the main things I needed were real sleeping hours and real food.

Hospital was great fun, and really interesting. Only one thing CREEPED ME OUT, even when I was doing it, and that was the ability to play the piano. Why did it creep me out? Because I can't fracking play the piano normally. I can sing, but I couldn't stand doing the drills necessary to learn to play the piano. I learnt as a kid, but I found the whole process painful. In hospital, I could think of a song and play it. When I asked the staff
"Hey, Is this any good or am I just crazy" they said " It's pretty good, but rushed." Then I said "Well it's scaring me 'coz I can't play when I'm sane." They had tight smiles at that point. That's the trouble - all your question and answer and testing mechanisms are out. Was I crazy? Was I playing well? Were the staff humouring me?

I was at my parents place and was a zombie on lithium and seds. They got me off the seds after about three months, and I came back to 'slow but reasonable function' pretty fast. By March that year I went to Rowany Festival okay. I was a bit of a slow mover, but I was there and happy. I was out of my parents place and back into sharehousing pretty quick. I spent a year doing all sorts of little stuff. My nominal house I had keys for was B's, but I was couch surfing and crashing in with friends and exes. I was on sickness benefit, and was not able to work until after I was off the lithium.

I moved to a student sharehouse and decided to use my free income support to study. I know, studying while on medication was going to be special, but I gave it a go. It was a mistake. My biggest mistake was my choice of subjects. I decided on philosophy. Thinking about thinking. What was I thinking? I had a ball. It was freaking great. It made my head go so fast...

The wise amongst you will see where this is going.

I was in trouble again, and this time it was spotted a lot faster, by a certain red headed angel. She found me, owned me, smacked me on the nose like a naughty puppy, supported me through another two weeks in hospital, and this time shared everything with me and married me. It might have only been a symbolic 'jump of the broomstick', it might not have been in a church, it might not have been the type of married that would have made my mother happier, the terms might have only been the old pagan 'year and a day' but it was real in our hearts and heads. We got each other pointed in the right direction. It didn't last, but the happy ending was that the next boy she dated I approve of heartily. She did get married in the way that made her mum happy. I think we are both happy with the fact that we know we love each other but know that we can't be together. I have not been back to hospital since then.

Back to Now:

I have just today realised that I am having a Hypomania episode. All the symptoms were there. As I said before, I caught it this time. I do not need hospital. I have developed the instinct to pull it back. I need sleep, and I probably need something to get me to sleep.

Theoretically others should be able to spot it. But I am an odd fish, I am a very smart person/ genius, and I am stubborn as any Beswick and strong willed. So to call it, and then back your call, takes the sort of guts and sensitivity that is very, very rare. So far it has only been two other geniuses who love me, and even those had Psych training, who have had the certainty of will. Thanks to all who have given me enough 'little warnings' to realise what is happening this time. ML, RC, ST, KB, KP and Dr Nick.

Sorry to anyone who I have freaked out. Sorry to anyone who I have worried. Thanks for reading this far.

I hope to resume regular programming after fixing these small technical difficulties. :)

Little Lion Man

2009-10-21T22:42:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lk1wkbWI6I

Mumford and Sons: Little Lion Man - My current earworm

It is bluegrass with the boring taken out and the punk poured in.

Naughty words warning.

Why was it familiar? I remembered - i believe one of the parts is shared with "Journey of the Sorcerer" by Led Zepplin.

Well, isn't everything Led Zeplin via 12 bar blues anyway according to Flange Gasket :)

November 2009+

2009-10-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

CRICKET - depends on selection and fitness

SCA - events

MUSIC -Summer festivals and so forth
??? - Maybe attending
INFO - Not attending, there for information.

MAR
07/03/2009 Possible Powder Event

FEB

28/02/2010 ??? R7 V Climate Change
26/02/2009 ??? Border War

26/02/2010 ??? Corinbank Festival
21/02/2010 Jane's Addiction! Soundwave Festival Sydney

JAN

31/01/2010 R6 v Treasury

22 - 25/ 01/2010 Cancon - T.O. of Apocalypse

22/01/2010 Woohoo! But Now not going... Big Day Out Sydney

17/01/2010 R5 v PM & C

DECEMBER

19/12/2009 Steampunk party

13/12/2009 R4 v DFAT
12/12/2009 Yule Feast (tbc)
06/12/2009 RAPIDFIRE @ANU

NOVEMBER

29/11/2009 R3 v Customs
21 n 22 November Info: Okewaite Camping
17/11/2009 Leonid meteor activity w/ ML

15/11/2009 R2 v Finance

14/11/2009 JTurk graduation BBQ
13/11/2009 November Crown XLIV Southron Gaard

07 n 08/11/2009 INFO: Stout Hammer 40k,Ainslie

07 n 08/11/2009 INFO: Crossroads Scorpio B'day bash
07/11/2009 ??? Sydney first in too long?

03/11/2009 Melbourne Cup Mega ride & Zombieland release

01/11/2009 R1 - V DEEWR

OCTOBER
31/10/2009 BK n Rob wedding

30/10/2009 Wedding Poker

29/10/2009 Wedding MacMaw Party

25/10/2009 ~~Royal thanks BBQ~~ postponed
24/10/2009 Attending : - Okewaite first event

24/10/2009 Info: Rollerderby?

23/10/2009 Rob the Vet wed drinks starting @ Debacle after work Friday.

Weekend: Short and Sharp:

2009-10-18T21:32:00.000-07:00

Saturday wedding was fun catchup with the gang. Drinks at the pub was a cool catchup with some It was amusing that the wedding was located just by the large goldfish pond where an ex-Australian prime minister was lifetime banned for a nude swim in his student days.

Sunday was Apoc followed by ANU campaign. Apoc was the recently finish 5k of Tau V Roger's "Megafauna" Tyranids list. ANU was my GC Cult V John's Eldar. Both fun in very different ways.

Will expand once I get a moment. Make that if.

Jen - I said "Hi" to Birmo for you.
Birmo - I loved the possible flavors of the introduction "This is Bart, a friend of Dirk."

Career Advice

2009-10-14T17:02:00.001-07:00

Part One: You are going to be doing SOMETHING a lot of hours a week to earn money. Do something you like, and life is cool. Do something you hate, and you will hate life.

Part Two: If you are lazy, you will hate life. Becuase you are not smart enough to be lazy well.

Well enough to paint and model

2009-10-07T23:02:00.000-07:00

And I'm feeling creative and confident in my focus, so I've decided to do a modelling diary.

To the non-miniatures geeky, this is where you commit to making and painting a miniatures army from the piles of plastic and concepts in books all the way to a completed army ready to play and looking good on the table.

Since my health is poor, all those fit and active things I normally do won't get in the way. Since I'm currently single, those lass related distractions are gone as well. I reckon it's a pretty safe bet I'll stay single as well. "Hey good looking, I smell like linament and my arm doesn't work, how about it?"

(Note for me: Might have found a cool, obscure planet for my IG - http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Baraspine)

No Spring War for Mr Bart. Anothe two months of nothingness. GAH!

2009-09-30T23:35:00.000-07:00

Explanation Post. This post isn't fun, or even all that interesting. It's just laying out some details so if someone says "Why haven't you been at blah" or "What did you do over winter" or "Why do you in such a surly mood" I can just say - read the damn blog post.

Not a good winter. I caught a bad flu. I had three terrible days with sweats, pain and hot and cold running orifices. I was back at work after that. My head was mush, but I was able to make shift. However, I didn't really progress from here. I got my few hours of 'operational' but not much more. Any attempt at doing anything made confused, sweat like I was knifed and just plain hurt. These symptoms stuck around for just over two months. TWO MONTHS. Gah. Two months of no exercise. Two months off the computer & reading (couldn't concentrate with 'cotton wool brain').

So eventually I started feeling better. I'd had a good week, I'd started some hill walking, and my SCA kartas were flowing. So when the offer of paintball came up, I jumped at it. I was SO bored and adrenaline deprived I just had to. So I played. I played casual, no running, only a jog trot at most. Not much crouching, just taking cover behind trees etc. Can't be that bad? Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Over a day or two, my upper left quadrant of my back swelled up like a ballon. Muscle swelling, whoopee. What really got me was these muscles swelled up and pinch a nerve. And that felt like my arm was on fire. I spent a couple of days not able to sleep wandering around in the pain haze, before the voltaren 50's, panadine and mercyndol finally calmed it down. Then my remedial therapist got into it, massaging it to work to great effect. Maybe too great - I thought the worst of it was over, so started dialing back the drugs. Wrong, wrong again.

Well I was back on the pain roundabout, and then grabbing the drugs at chemist strength, rather than the previous doctors script strength. I also started going nuts on the heat creams, as they seemed to be working very well. Then came the Qld wedding trip.

I did have a ball, a quick flight in, drop off of stuff at Eva's place then off to the bucks night at the Globe theatre in Fortitude Valley. Great catchup, good shows: nice theatrical burlesque, great bands, great juggler and funky acrobats. My highlights were the band "Chick Flick" and the creepy cool skilled juggler. I must say however, that sober Buck's nights are a bit less fun than they could be.

The next day ended up being rest and recovery - not for a hangover, as I was on too many drugs to drink, but for the back. To add to the fun - lung infection, and I was sneezing the good old green goo. Luckily I got into a doctors in Kuraby in less than five minutes, and it was bulk billing. Free- and less than five minutes waiting. Cop that America :)

The next morning Samtreea and I.. wait. Samtreea. Half of you won't know Samtreea.

I'm in the SCA. I have a knight. I am a squire. He trains with me and teaches me. Samtreea is my Man-at-arms. I train with her and teach her. I'm in Canberra, she is in Qld. We both travel enough to justify it and see each other and make it work. Yes, she is young and cute, no I'm not shagging her. Back to the story.

Next morning Samtreea and I drove up to Bunya mountains for the wedding. The wedding was cool fun, and I enjoyed it a lot. Will and Cindy decided the dress code was 'outrangeous', so a lot of us went with it. Uniforms, Victoriana, Pajamas, Punks, supergoth - all sorts. The wedding was great.

Sunday morning, Samtreea and I set off to drive back to Canberra. The two day drive was pretty standard. The exception was Samtreea was pretty low chat to help with concentration, and I was on a lot of painkillers and had stinky heat rub. Her car is a pretty sweet Subaru, but interior noise level killed any chance of talking. Fat cannons rumble away the talking possibilities.

We stopped overnight with her great Aunt. It was a nice stop, great country hospitality with sound country grub - Corned beef and three veg, followed by ice cream and peaches. After we had a good round of chat. The latest news - some ratbag had broken into the Gilgandra bowls club safe to pinch the post-afl grand final takings. Ratbag!

I got back, and while the pain levels were manageable in the car, I knew something had gone wrong. I got Dr. Nick to look at it - the swelling was back up.

I had a long chat to Gnomes (consort, ex-nurse) about likely outcomes, and she summarized it as this. REST. Rest, and keep everything to a minimum. try and do anything remotely interesting physically and you will set yourself back weeks. Do anything REALLY fun, and you could set yourself back months.

Marshalling at Spring war would not be keeping it to a minimum. Going to Spring War and camping would not be resting. Going to Spring War and not being able to drink would drive me a little insane...

So I have re-cleared my schedule. I'm in the pool/ spa/ sauna around work hours. I'm planning on doing some basic walking. And I'm planning on doing only the smallest amounts of anything, even for a fortnight AFTER the pain stops. Gnomes estimates another TWO MONTHS before I can do anything. But she warns - go too early, and rip something srious or tear a nerve, and I could hurt myself in a way that effects me for years.

FFS.

Wish me luck.

October 2009

2009-09-27T22:24:00.000-07:00

Info - Not attending, there for info
???- May be attending

26/02/2010 ???Corinbank Festival
21/02/2010 Jane's Addiction! Soundwave Festival Sydney

22/01/2010 Big Day Out Sydney

12/12/2009 Yule Feast (tbc)

21-22 November Info: Okewaite Camping
14/11/2009 JTurk graduation BBQ
13/11/2009 November Crown XLIV Southron Gaard

07 & 08/11/2009 INFO: Stout Hammer 40k,Ainslie

07 & 08/11/2009 INFO: Crossroads Scorpio B'day bash
07/11/2009 ??? Sydney first in too long?

03/11/2009 Melbourne Cup Mega ride & Zombieland release

31/10/2009 BK n Rob wedding
30/10/2009 Wedding Poker
29/10/2009 Wedding MacMaw Party
25/10/2009 Royal thanks BBQ
24/10/2009 Info: Okewaite first event
24/10/2009 Rollerderby?

23/10/2009 Rob the Vet wed drinks starting @ Debacle after work Friday.
17/10/2009 Robbie + Jola Wedding
10/10/2009 I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition
10/10/2009 Info: Chris R wedding
02/10/2009 01:00 PM Spring War 2009 Mordenvale

Globe Theatre Bucks Night

2009-09-25T00:12:00.000-07:00

So the Buck's night was at the Globe Thetare. We had big fun: burlesque teasers, burlesque hula hoop show, burlesque acrobats, an awesome juggler, a cool and fun improv poet and a couple of bands, Wretched Villans and Chick Flick. Villans had a cool set, giving a sense of Nick Cave, The Smiths et al. Chick Flick rocked our socks, it was great seeing four powerpacks of rock coming from such tiny frames. Their originals were great toe-tappers, their covers great. They finished thet set and the night with Rage Against the Machines "Killing in the name of" Which had me head banging like it was the nineties. Great band, would def. pay to see them again.

After we disappeared to Gus's new place, and then home. Good night.

The arm was saying "I hurt", but I was on enough painkillers to be able to get on with it.

Bunya Mountains wedding tomorrow!

In Queensland for a bucks night.

2009-09-24T00:44:00.000-07:00

About to go to Will's Bucks night. Im still busted, but I don't care. I am here to party.

.
.
So pained.

.
.
Arm is pounding.

.
.
Must party.
.
.
Sparta?

Song Lyrics Posts

2009-09-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

I have a bit of a project to do some singing. Getting the lyrics together when I feel like I've got a little rig happening on the computer, and will soon start recording more stuff. So soon I will have the lyrics of the songs that I plan to do as posts. I'll try to include a place where you can buy the song.

Unsent Letter
Machine Gun Fellatio

I try to talk to you
And can't get past the weather
The friend I thought I knew
Found somethin' somewhere better
So I'm hangin' on your line
Thought we could speak together
Don't know what it is with you
You seem gone forever

I'm spending all my time
Driving 'round, faking clever
With a girl who seem alright
And another one who's better
I don't know if I lied
When I said we're not together
But I tried to talk to you
And somehow you seem gone...

I know what could've been
Try not to think about it
Found it hard to live with this
Longed to live without it
My dreams have caught me out
I find myself surrounded
By the odds of our own ends
Enough said about it

I'm spending all my time
Driving 'round, faking clever
With a girl who seem alright
And another one who's better
I don't know if I lied
When I said we're not together
But I tried to talk to you
And somehow you seem gone...

I've given up some things
I guess that doesn't matter
Started other things
I guess that doesn't matter
I finally wrote your song
Another unsent letter
In a pile addressed to you
Care of something somewhere better

I'm spending all my time
Driving 'round, faking clever
With a girl who seem alright
And another one who's better
I don't know if I lied
When I said we're not together
But I tried to talk to you
And somehow you seem gone...

I'm spending all my time
Driving 'round, faking clever
With a girl who seem alright
And another one who's better
I don't know if I lied
When I said that I'm together
But I tried to talk to you
And somehow you seem gone forever
Yeah, I tried to talk to you
And somehow you seem gone forever
Yeah, I tried to talk to you
Somehow you seem gone...

(I tried to find a link so people could buy it, but couldn't. Dear Music Industry - while pirating is easier than buying, you will fail.)

I found a way to buy it! Hooray!

Broken Wing & Charcoal Restauraunt

2009-09-17T16:37:00.000-07:00

Gina, my remedial therapist, got into my arm yesterday, working it hard, hurting like blazes but doing the right stuff to fix it. The back has been worked and has stopped hurting, it's just down to the mess just above the elbow. Back in the pool after work. I won't be doing much at the guild day except talking. Can't paint or fence one arm down!

A few of the gang have a payday expensive dinner ritual. I felt a bit cashed up so headed along. It was 'Charcoal Restaurant' in the Melbourne building, Civic. They proudly have not changed their menu significantly since the seventies, and the only change in the eighties was to remove one of the lobster dishes. We started with the deep friend camenbert, and as we were all ex-Queenslanders, had to know what 'Avocoado' as an entree would be. Apparently, an Avocado as an entree is sliced in half with vinaigrette in the seed hollow. :) Mains were mainly big cow. I went with the veal scallopini. Wonderful stuff. Dessert was the funniest for me. There was chocolate mousse withe creme de menthe. I have only ever seen creme de menthe served ironically, or at heavy theme parties. I had to order it. Nothing says seventies to me like creme de menthe, creamed rice, rhubarb or glaze fruit.

The company was good, and the clientele pretty standard expensive Canberra fair. A couple of conservative politicians were behind us. It was amusing, as I got to actually overhear someone admit in public that they were a climate change denialist. There was lots of gruff manly talk about 'crucifying' various factional enemies. At the other end were some nice family groups.

No &*^& there I was

2009-09-15T18:14:00.000-07:00

Since new blogs seem to be the new thing, I've joined in. "No S&*^ there I was" is going to be a collection of tall tales from my many years as a medievalist. I've put the adult restriction on it, as some of the stories will include details that are adult in nature. There are others who can constantly tell good, clean entertaining tales without dipping into adult concepts, but I'm not one of them.

http://nsthereiwas.blogspot.com/