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The bits
of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and outrageous
fortune. |
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| June |
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Close
this window to return to Mike Rudd & Bill Putt's Stop Press |
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When
is a Wol not a Wol?
23.6.08 - Iain Ross, not unknown for the occasional
whiff of pedantry, has pointed out the following in relation
to the article below (Wol) - Do
not read too much into mystical portents as the bird on your
Hills hoist is a TAWNY FROGMOUTH, member of nightjar family
(and) not an owl. Catches moths etc on the wing, does not pounce
on mice and tear them into bloody morsels. A gentle bird and
quite common in my neck of the woods.
In fact, I suspected it was a Frogmouth, but didn't have
the time to check it before rushing to print. It still looks
like a bloody owl.
And, speaking of whiffs and continuing the Shine A Light
saga, (see Burfday below); on Saturday
I made sure Chris and I got to the IMAX theatre well in advance
of 3.00, only to discover that they have a different schedule
on Saturday and the next session was six hours hence! On the
way home I observed to Chris that he smelled a bit woofy, to
which Chris maintained a Christ-like silence. It was only after
I dropped him off - and the smell lingered on - that I checked
the soles of my shoes to find a dog poo lodged pongingly therein.
Fit your own appropriate moral to this smellogram. |
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Wol
20.6.08 - A few nights ago I ducked
out for my pre-bed piss - and became vaguely aware of this ghostly
grey presence in the back yard. I have been visited by owls
before, or maybe this very same owl, but this time he/she indulged
my getting my camera and reeling off a few blinding shots of
his sitting majesterially on the Hills hoist. What's the story
with owls? Do they presage anything in particular? Bad luck?
Good luck? I guess it depends on your cultural background, but
my colonial upbringing tells me nought about the visitation
of owls.
While I'm at it, and apropo of nothing, I'll unload a gripe.
Q. What's more annoying than a late tram? A. One that's early
by several minutes. Now that I'm a regular tram user to and
from Camberwell, that's the only deficiency that I can attest
to. Apart from nearly being skittled by a loony motorist as
I was disembarking the other day, but that's just a question
of being alert. I can do that. |
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1)
Visual pollution in C'well 2) Chris grudgingly poses in front
of the Museum's Diprotodon |
Burfday
15.6.08 - 'Happy birthday, Michael!', my father's voice
boomed cheerfully down the line at 7.38 this morning, dashing
any prospect of my planned lie-in eventuating. As I vainly tried
to sound alert, I consoled myself that it wasn't the earliest
my Rotorua domiciled daddy had rung me, and it wasn't exactly
his fault I'd come home from a convivial evening at Bill Dettmer's
Frankston address to find three games of rugby and the Socceroos
v. Qatar match all vying for my attention. I'd promised Chris
that we'd go to see the IMAX version of Scorsese's Shine
A Light on Saturday, but a combination of bad timing and
even worse congestion on the roads meant we got there too late
for the 3.00 session and had to settle for an amble round the
museum instead. Chris' disposition had soured since Choclatté's
Saint Adam had surprised him earlier with a feast of chocolate
caramel cheesecake, and he gave a masterful account of a sullen
and resentful sibling (pic 2), even making heavy weather
of a disgusting chemical reproduction of a yo-yo and cup of
tea purchased at the Museum Café. Some days you just
can't win. |
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Tez lets
one rip in the van |
Life
goes on
12.6.08 - For those who worry about such
things, the Mitsi is back amongst the living, (see A
day goes up in misty substances below), its carbon
footprint restored to the highways and byways. It turned out,
quite unsurprisingly, that I'd been responsible for dislodging
a vital 'fuseable link' to the fuel pump when I'd taken out/put
back the original battery. The garage sportingly only charged
me for an hour's labour, despite the problem having transfixed
some apprentice for half a day. So, yesterday my bro' in law,
(and boss), (pic) hired us both to help move some domestic
detritus from Kew to his new home in Eltham. After we'd loaded
in, he showed me around. This place has got history! No wonder
their marmalade cat is mortified - the vibes from the basement,
where it looks like there was some sort of drugs lab, are tangible.
Added to which, all the neighbours have dogs, so there's a perfect
set up for a lonely cat. Terry has plans for a studio in the
basement, so that'll fix that, but I'm not sure what they can
do about the dogs.. |
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Up you
go, you bloody bastard |
A
day goes up in misty substances
3.6.08
- It all began when I did the Miss Havachat gig. It was
a foggy morning and I thought it prudent to switch on my parkers,
telling myself as I did that I shouldn't forget to turn them
off. The next morning my battery was totally unresponsive, but
it was only after the RACV guy got me going and observed my
parkers were still on that it clicked. Every day since has been
a problem starting, so yesterday I took the battery out and
wandered down the road to my local garage and they recharged
it for me. This morning I reinstalled it (with great difficulty
and accompanied by much swearing) only to find that the starter
motor barely squished over. I rolled it down the drive as I
had on previous days and down the street towards the reserve
trying to coax it to life - but this time no go. The RACV battery
guy replaced the battery, but it still wouldn't start, so a
patrol man was called - and it still wouldn't start.
A tow truck arrived (pic) and carted it off to Chadstone
Mitsubishi - and the day had all but disappeared. Bugger etc. |
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