Distractions….

Autumn light

Captains Log - 0012/ 02nd June 2024 / 0600hrs

I know the blurb in the original Captains Log said something about this being a weekly release and there was a time when deadlines were something that were absolute in my world……unfortunately (depending on your point of view), that time is not now. I find myself quite distracted these days and said distractions have impacted my reliability in keeping this weekly. I am completely aware that in this world of digital influence that reliability and “social” postings etc are paramount to successful outcomes but blah blah - I have had chickens to raise. Anyway, the mood has taken this morning so this log entry brings me back on the path….until the next distraction anyway.

Speaking of chickens…..Roula, Toula, Soula, Voula, Foula and Agape are doing well. I think it is fair to say that they are the best fed chickens on the planet at the moment and we have bonded over raspberries. Yep, you read that right. I bring over a handful of raspberries to the Kubla Khan of chicken enclosures that is their home, and they all become my best friend, running over to my location (I have a ‘chicken whisperer chair” now at Kubla Khan which I sit on when our bonding and chicken therapy sessions are on) and all gather with great anticipation for the offering of the red berry from the upright ape that is their current God (me). I have to say though, I do believe that our little T’Rex’s have entered the surly teenager stage and everything is a little one sided for my liking. The deal is that I bestow my grace on the court that is Roula, Toula, Soula, Voula, Foula and Agape in exchange for their future unfertilized offspring (or eggs) for our breakfast. At the moment there is a great enjoyment of somewhat independence from their side coupled with restaurant quality snacks and meals without the balance being achieved. My tone is beginning to change during our discussions to “enjoy this period of time little feathered court dwelling evolved dinosaurs, but it is now time to give back and to restore balance in our kingdom”. Of course they all look at me with their little eyes with an expression of “where are the raspberries”.

The royal chickens of Kubla Khan court of The Ship Bay of Fires

Over the last two weeks I have been sailing solo at The Ship with my first mate departing this island to catch up with family on the big island to the north. With hugs and waves at the airport and the obligatory “I will miss you” said, most males I know drive away with the music blaring and the prospect of “whilst cat’s away…” formulating in their minds. I guess I fit into that subspecies and with the music blearing and the formulations gathering I made my way back to The Ship for two weeks of solo sailing.

The reality however is always that the first three days are non rule based (although to be fair, that is a huge exaggeration as there are no rules in our world!) but then the quietness of one hand clapping kicks in and the obligatory “I will miss you” becomes not a fare thee well statement, but a thing. Not a pining country song depression mind you, but more a “mmmm, these lamb cutlets are yummy” sort of missing the sharing of the experience sort of thing.

So, without making this a novel of detailed events of the last two weeks (which I could easily do), I will give some brief narratives so that I have it recorded for future reading (by myself I expect)……

I got a haircut. If you have seen the top of my head you will know this is not a big thing. But rather than drive straight over the road to Binalong Bay and back home, I turned left and drove to Pyengana. A great day out exploring St Columbia Falls, the Pub in the Paddock (bangers and mash with peas baby!) and picking up bits and bobs from the roadside stalls that are sporadically scattered on the way back (I picked up an original cheese mold, some tomato chutney, farm grown King Edward potatoes as well as some caramelized apples that good way too well with ice cream!). Lots of treasure to be found if you just stop!

St Columbia Falls

I do find it hard to not order bangers and mash if it is on the menu - the Pub in the Paddock did not disappoint.

We have a music room. Our shed which is the museum of our life and the soon to be garage sale Mecca of Binalong Bay (we need to get rid of all this stuff!) has now had a third of it transformed into a “jamming” space. On one return from purchasing lamb chops from the Providore in St Helens I randomly called into the carpet shop to see if there was any second hand carpet I could scrounge. As luck would have it, a whole house of carpet, underlay and some quite fancy floating wooden floor pieces were “just down that lane mate, help yourself to anything, it will be going to the tip anyway”. Treasure - I spent the next fifteen minutes stuffing as much as I could into the back of the Volvo (so much so that I had to force close the rear door). The next day was “music room” creation time and after eight hours of moving left behind tiles, wood racks and two million boxes of garage sale stuff - “The Ship Bay of Fires Jamming Room of Destiny” was created (although I could not move the next day from all that lifting and cutting of carpet!). The Stratocaster and 100watt amp are out, the pearl drum kit is in place, the damn expensive keyboard we bought when Debi wanted to learn how to play the Game of Thrones theme is plugged in, the Bose amp I bought from Meta market place in Launceston is ready to be fired up. I have had a few goes on the Strat and the drums and it does sound excellent. Watch this space!

It might not look much here, but there is a labor of love in this picture that cannot be captured!

I have become a published columnist in the local monthly “The Valley and East Coast Voice”. After a dare to put my ramblings on the local St Helens Noticeboard Facebook thing (that went semi viral with quite a lot of people saying that they liked my writing style), I was asked if I would like to write a piece for this, what I consider to be, prestigious publication that is effectively the newspaper of the local region. It has been going since 1968. One morning I penned about six hundred words about the Korean studded Jeep driver in a paddock along with a small introduction as to “who is this new fella in town” and sent it through. The other day when I was buying lamb cutlets I saw the publication in the rack at the supermarket and bought it (cost A$1.00) and low and behold there was my column on page four! I have written for a few magazines (Forty South) about travels as well as shipping and business papers (The Tasmanian Business Reporter) over the years and at the moment, all of that pales into comparison beside The Valley and East Coast Voice.

I have gone off the tracks on our property. It may appear lazy to some, but I have taken to rugging up with three layers and a scarf and hoping on the John Deere lawn ride on (without blades spinning) and meandering around the twenty seven hectares on which we live. There is only so far the trusty ole mower can go, so I have been parking up and walking the trails where John cannot go and observing the incredible nature that surrounds us. From time to time I venture off the established tracks to the animal trails that are defined through the property and find myself in new wonderlands of micro diversity that include towering gum trees, rare man ferns, native fora and kingdoms of fungi that have landed from out of space. It is truly an honor to be the custodian of this incredible piece of the planet and I give every reader an open invitation to come and visit (if you want to stay, we have accommodation here - but you know this).

I have been reading a lot. I always have, but it has a new dimension now. The other day it was a still, autumn sun filled day and I had completed everything that needed to be done (I know there are sixteen stairs to reach the living quarters on The Ship - I know this as I often traverse them with arms full of firewood and for some reason I count them every time), so I threw a camp chair into the back of the car along with my book and drove down to “Cosy Corner Beach”. There are camp sites there for grey nomads that have cashed out their super and tow extravagant homes behind their land cruisers - these sites are on the lip of the beach and the views from the campfires and doors of airconditioned and heated mobile Hilton’s would be amazing. On this occasion one of those spots where free so I rumbled in and set up the camp chair overlooking the Tasman sea and took up the place in my book with a sense of great relaxation and a smirk of “I think I am the luckiest person alive”. The book of choice was Guy Pratt’s “My Bass and other animals”. For context, Guy Pratt is the Bass player for Pink Floyd (post Roger) as well as Brian Ferry, Madonna, Michael Jackson and other legends. Whilst reading the section about preparing to tour with David Gilmore and learning the Bass line to “Learning to Fly”, a Learjet flew overhead at about 100 feet over the coastline of The Gardens. Someone had a hoot of a ride that day and I saluted them as they took off into the distance. Hum Pink Floyd’s “Money” song here.

Plenty of other stuff kept me occupied and “distracted” during this time of course. A friend popped around and it was not unusual to have the fire pit on the fire pit on the deck with ales flowing on many afternoons. We performed for the first time for decades live at the open mic at Easy Tiger. We have had friends come and stay with great food and company. I have spent time at a ceramics studio creating a masterpiece (in my eyes anyway - more on that when it is completed), I have begun the mechations to bring a Blues Festival to St Helens (more on that another day), I have bought stuff on Meta Market place that will feature in future logs as building projects, I have semi applied for a job at a cafe for some reason and met many more locals - each one of them amazing humans that deserve a story of their own, but that’s for another day.

Thank you for reading my ramblings again – keep safe and see you next week or at a time when I am not distracted.

The Captain.