Next Chapter - Jellybeans in the Jungle

Clouds and Things

Last Friday was a little different.

We were supposed to depart Roma for Cunnamulla at 7am but when we arrived at the airport, we were met by Eddie, our unflappable pilot, looking a little more agitated than usual.

"Give me your mobile number"  he said, "and I'll phone you when we can leave".

The reason for the delay was obvious - a pea souper of a fog. Now, in Toowoomba, this would not have been remarkable. But in Roma - it was unheard of. I've been travelling out this way for five years, and had never seen fog before.

The weather gods were obviously high on some illegal substance, as the day before there had been tornadoes at Lennox Head.

To add to Eddie's hassles, only half the strip at Cunnamulla (our destination) was available, as it was being resurfaced. This meant that we could not carry the required maximum amount of extra fuel for a diversion en route, so we couldn't leave the ground until all fog cleared.

I went back to my motel and ordered a hot breakfast. Because our original schedule was too early for the motel to cook one in time, I'd taken the option of securing a continental version the evening before.  So the day didn't start all that badly. There are worse things than two breakfasts.

We got airborne at 10am, three hours late - "we" being the flying surgeon, myself and another advisory teacher, and a Speech Language Pathologist and her prac student. Two things about this student were interesting. One, he was male - the other was that he was Singaporean Chinese studying at U of Q.

Males in the Allied Health professions are like hen's teeth, and I guess there aren't too many Singaporeans visiting Cunnamulla. This bloke had never been outside of Brisbane, so he was a bit gobsmacked by the country he was flying over.

He kept saying in an amazed tone of voice "There is nothing....."

I guess someone accustomed to living in one of the most densely populated places on the planet was bound to be a bit surprised by the lack of crowds West of the Maranoa. I discovered we had something in common. He had done his compulsory military service in Singapore in Infantry, although he had no idea what I meant when I used the term "baggy-arse". He had achieved some rank (NCO of some kind) - more than I did.

Cunnamulla wasn't foggy, and it was generally a pleasant day. I always get plenty of exercise on these trips, as without a car, I have to walk between the two schools in town, and unless I want to eat lunch at the hospital (not recommended - although they're very hospitable) I have also to walk into town to eat. There's no tuckshop at either school.

On the flight back, this student told me that he wanted to get a job working for an NGO in a third world country. I hope he's successful - his attitude and enthusiasm for his profession was admirable.

Posted are some interesting cloudscapes taken from the Beechcraft Kingair 200C on the return flight, a shot of downtown Cunnamulla, and a pic of the plane on the ground in Roma (that's the intrepid flying surgeon standing at the port wingtip). Click on the pics to see them true size.

Next trip is Quilpie, Thargomindah and Eulo - all driving.

Next Chapter - Jellybeans in the Jungle

Icelandic Elections

Politics is conducted with panache in Iceland

 

They won.

Send them back ....to what?

Paul Dobbyn in the Catholic Leader sheds some light on this vexed issue.

Is this what we've come to - a race to the xenophobic and ignorant bottom? It reflects what we used to call a "Jack Attitude*" when I was in the army.

The scary part is that fear of boats and refugees has traction with some voters. We've not really progressed since the 1950s.

*As in - stuff you - I'm alright.  See - http://www.thefreedictionary.com/jack 

I'm all right, Jack Brit informal

a.  a remark indicating smug and complacent selfishness

b.  (as modifier) an ``I'm all right, Jack'' attitude

Some Mothers do have em

 It's cold and wet in the garden city - so a fire is handy.

I phoned the usual mob and asked for a delivery of wood. It was arranged for Saturday morning. The man called early today and asked if I'd mind if he put it off until tomorrow because it was still raining this morning, and he didn't like operating in the rain. 

I'm easy going and said "no worries".

An hour later he phoned again and said the rain had eased and he could come this morning. It hadn't on this side of town, but I'm easy going and said "no worries".

He turned up - not the usual bloke, but one much younger and a bit gormless looking. He was driving an Isuzu diesel ute of indeterminate tonnage and quasi-vintage appearance. Previously deliveries had been performed with a Nissan 4WD ute - very handy in Toowoomba with soft soil and steep back yards. The previous sentence describes our place pretty accurately.

I was worried about the possibility of bogging (he had two loads - ours and someone elses) on board. He said (and I quote) -

"She'll be OK - I've driven into steeper yards before - it pulls like a train".

It occurred to me that trains run on rails, not red soil and couch grass, but I'm easy going and said "no worries".

He backed in, scraped the fence on the way, and stopped close enough to where we stack the wood to beging unloading. I helped him.

Then the fun started. When he tried to drive out, the truck simply sat spinning its wheels and turning our backyard into something resembling the Somme.

He kept trying to drive out until I finally stopped being easy going and asked politely for him to stop. He then began to look quite plaintive, and phoned base for help. I only heard his end of the conversation, but I'm pretty sure that the person on the other end was not pleased - nor was he prepared to help.

We have a neighbour across the road, a generous family man who holidays on Fraser Island. He has a Navara 4WD crew cab ute with all the bells and whistles. He offered to help, and carefully reversed the ute into place. He hooked up a chain to the front frame of the truck.

After some carefull manouevring on the part of the neighbour, and some ham-fisted driving on the part of the Woodman, he was free. He clouted the gate on the way out. See the outward bend in the frame? Obviously it was open when he hit it, but the way this character drove, you couldn't assume anything.

He handed me back the cheque for the wood, on account of the damage done to the lawn and gate. I'm easy going, said "no worries",  and told him to keep the cheque. 

I couldn't abide his doleful look. Maybe he's learned something.

Now I've got to stack a tonne of wet, muddy wood. I'll wait until it stops raining. Nana (visiting at the moment) will have a fire. When you're nudging ninety, you feel the cold a bit, especially when you come from FNQ.*

* Far North Queensland

Next Chapter - Jellybeans in the Jungle