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The Moon in June
It looks like the rain is here to stay. I can’t complain. It is winter after all and we need all the rain we can get in this bit of this wide brown land. But it did mean the odds were not in favour of watching a big fat full moon rising.
Last Wednesday was a wonderful day slinking about in the city, sipping coffee by the river, catching up on the papers and then visiting the lush gardens of City Farm for their new Wednesday evening markets. So figured it would be fun to do it all over again next week.
But it’s a bit hard to slink and sniff about in the gardens when everywhere is wet. Likewise the river is a bit cold and miserable on such a grey windy day. But the day was not completely wasted.
Last week was spent planting angels trumpets, acacias, a macadamia and most precious of all, two baby pecan trees along with tossing around an assortment of bird seed with some coriander added for variety. Precisely in time for the winter rains and if the moon planting stuff is true, then these tree babies are off to a very good start.
Monday’s public holiday was also spent sorting out and planting seeds. Some of the shrivelled and mouldy old guavas had seeds inside that had already started sprouting so it will be interesting to see how they fare in the ground.
All these weeds and seeds were a good distraction from a dreadful dream the night before. I dreamt that creepy Cardinal Pell was not just lurking but living in the Lair. Went downstairs to see what other unwelcome guests were out and about. Out on the verge was a caravan with the door open and Uncle Vernon sitting there reading the paper and sipping a cup of tea.
It was then that I woke up. The radio was still on and there was a story about a woman who used to be very middle class. She got sick, lost her job and nice house in Sydney and ended up living in some horrid caravan park in the suburbs where most of the other residents were ice addicts.
The price of housing is so ridiculous in most big cities in Australia than many folks are no more than a couple of pay checks from homelessness so her story is not even unusual.
I vaguely remember George Pell being on the news earlier that morning so that’s how he made his way to the Lair.
Sad to say that there’s been so many creepy creatures in the news lately that even pompous Pell looks good in comparison. There’s been the endless and depressing coverage of Mad Dog Monis - the man with the monster sized ego behind the siege in Sydney’s Lindt Cafe last December and the 40 something year jail sentence imposed on a rapist who murdered a woman while he was on parole and who used to go out hunting for women. This piece of filth is actually the father of four children and when he was arrested for the murder of Jill Meagher back in September 2013 he was whingeing and whining and making out that ‘it was all her fault’ because she spoke to him, she provoked him, she fought back, she didn’t fight back….. Whatever. It was the most disgusting and pathetic pity party ever. It was even worse that none of his previous offences could be mentioned during the trial. Proper procedure, fair trial and all that. He must have attacked at least 8 women but none of it was his fault at all.
But one thing that all three of these men have in common is that they have ruined countless lives and made life hell for so many people but still insist on seeing themselves as poor innocent blameless victims more sinned against than sinning.
Some of these creeps do manage to avoid getting themselves killed or tossed in prison and go about getting old disgracefully. I can think of at least 8 such sorts who ended up in the nursing home where I used to work. The sad antics of the Lindt loser with his endless letters to lawyers and threats to everyone who failed to appreciate his tragic tale of unappreciated genius was almost straight from the playbook of one of these slimy suckers.
The male of the species (by far the majority) would use their fists or feet to make life a misery for those around them. Biting and screaming were also on the agenda. There was also the endless begging and pleading and pity parties and promises not to behave so badly again. And of course it was always the fault of the people they attacked or injured. That was not just their opinion but that of their families and management too.
The women were more likely to use the evil eye, the martyr’s sigh or the forked tongue to maim, confuse and destroy their victims. It was passive aggression on steroids.
Yesss. I thought that was all ancient history. It must be the full moon. It brings out all those memories of madness.
Last Wednesday was a wonderful day slinking about in the city, sipping coffee by the river, catching up on the papers and then visiting the lush gardens of City Farm for their new Wednesday evening markets. So figured it would be fun to do it all over again next week.
But it’s a bit hard to slink and sniff about in the gardens when everywhere is wet. Likewise the river is a bit cold and miserable on such a grey windy day. But the day was not completely wasted.
Last week was spent planting angels trumpets, acacias, a macadamia and most precious of all, two baby pecan trees along with tossing around an assortment of bird seed with some coriander added for variety. Precisely in time for the winter rains and if the moon planting stuff is true, then these tree babies are off to a very good start.
Monday’s public holiday was also spent sorting out and planting seeds. Some of the shrivelled and mouldy old guavas had seeds inside that had already started sprouting so it will be interesting to see how they fare in the ground.
All these weeds and seeds were a good distraction from a dreadful dream the night before. I dreamt that creepy Cardinal Pell was not just lurking but living in the Lair. Went downstairs to see what other unwelcome guests were out and about. Out on the verge was a caravan with the door open and Uncle Vernon sitting there reading the paper and sipping a cup of tea.
It was then that I woke up. The radio was still on and there was a story about a woman who used to be very middle class. She got sick, lost her job and nice house in Sydney and ended up living in some horrid caravan park in the suburbs where most of the other residents were ice addicts.
The price of housing is so ridiculous in most big cities in Australia than many folks are no more than a couple of pay checks from homelessness so her story is not even unusual.
I vaguely remember George Pell being on the news earlier that morning so that’s how he made his way to the Lair.
Sad to say that there’s been so many creepy creatures in the news lately that even pompous Pell looks good in comparison. There’s been the endless and depressing coverage of Mad Dog Monis - the man with the monster sized ego behind the siege in Sydney’s Lindt Cafe last December and the 40 something year jail sentence imposed on a rapist who murdered a woman while he was on parole and who used to go out hunting for women. This piece of filth is actually the father of four children and when he was arrested for the murder of Jill Meagher back in September 2013 he was whingeing and whining and making out that ‘it was all her fault’ because she spoke to him, she provoked him, she fought back, she didn’t fight back….. Whatever. It was the most disgusting and pathetic pity party ever. It was even worse that none of his previous offences could be mentioned during the trial. Proper procedure, fair trial and all that. He must have attacked at least 8 women but none of it was his fault at all.
But one thing that all three of these men have in common is that they have ruined countless lives and made life hell for so many people but still insist on seeing themselves as poor innocent blameless victims more sinned against than sinning.
Some of these creeps do manage to avoid getting themselves killed or tossed in prison and go about getting old disgracefully. I can think of at least 8 such sorts who ended up in the nursing home where I used to work. The sad antics of the Lindt loser with his endless letters to lawyers and threats to everyone who failed to appreciate his tragic tale of unappreciated genius was almost straight from the playbook of one of these slimy suckers.
The male of the species (by far the majority) would use their fists or feet to make life a misery for those around them. Biting and screaming were also on the agenda. There was also the endless begging and pleading and pity parties and promises not to behave so badly again. And of course it was always the fault of the people they attacked or injured. That was not just their opinion but that of their families and management too.
The women were more likely to use the evil eye, the martyr’s sigh or the forked tongue to maim, confuse and destroy their victims. It was passive aggression on steroids.
Yesss. I thought that was all ancient history. It must be the full moon. It brings out all those memories of madness.