Last Days of the Mill by Pete Hay and Tony Thorne

I bought myself a book the other day! Not something that happens very often. The soccer kids gave me a voucher as a thank you at the end of the season, so I went and grabbed a copy of Last Days of the Mill by Pete Hay and Tony Thorne, as it's just come out and I have heard people talking about it. I know both Pete and Tony slightly.

It's about the APPM pulp and paper mill in Burnie, the town where I grew up. (I mentioned it once before when it was the subject of a contemporary opera, for heavens sake) It was generally called the Pulp. Generations worked there alongside one another - grandparents, parents and kids. We were not a Pulp family, although I did have a brother-in-law working there during the dark days towards the end of the mill's life. It was a very unhappy place to work then.

APPM  was the big employer in town, and at the time I was in high school, it was still where the average Burnie lad could expect to spend his working life. My dad was a teacher, and so as a middle-class kid I didn't have as much to do with the place. It stank, and we would wind up the windows when we drove past it in summer. It had a cloying odour that somehow combined bacon with burnt sugar and burnt hair. I could rabbit on more about my recollections but this is a book review.

The book is a collection of stories based on interviews Pete Hay conducted with former mill workers. A lot of them talk about the strike that happened 20 years ago. It was a very nasty strike with a lot of militancy on both sides. Hardline union outsiders and hardline free-marketers on the company side decided to make it a test case, and the locals were caught in the middle having to choose to strike or scab. 

Pete Hay has tried to reflect the way working men of that generation speak, and I think he's done a good job. These are men with dignity and self-respect, who are quite eloquent in their way. Here is an example - this is from a time before OH&S had much real importance on the shop floor.

I went through th machine

Clean through. 13 April 1968.

Four operations.

That was no-one's fault but me own.

I seen a fault in th paper go through

and I look up t'see where th break was

and put th ticket in without watchin.

And through I went.

There wasn't guards and things like there was by th finish

but it were still my fault.

And th company looked after me –

brought me pay in, and when I was back fr skin grafts and that

someone frm th mill come in every week …

In the early days, although safety was pretty rough and ready, the company was very paternal, and looked after it's people. I remember the annual Christmas party for all the mill kids was a big thing in town, although we never went of course.

I really like this bit;

Now, a lot 'f th drives had carbon brushes

and they was bloody high maintenance.

Y'cleaned em with compressed air

'brush n blow' it was called,

shitty stuff, bastard 'f a job.

This bloke, he'd been on th brush n blow and he was filthy.

And here he was, sittin in th canteen eatin cream buns.

And he was black –

th only white on him was th tips 'f his fingers

where he'd been lickin the cream off …

I learned a lot about life at the Pulp from this book. Having grown up there, surrounded by people for whom the Pulp was their life, I suppose I have a deeper understanding of those people now.

I met Tony in about 1984, when he was taking a school holiday cartooning course at the Burnie Adult Ed. He is an amazingly talented illustrator and animator - I believe he worked on some of the Harry Potter films. He arranged to spend time drawing at the mill before it finally closed for good in June 2010. He was supposed to have 2 weeks but ended up having only four days, as different processes shut down forever around him. 

Tony, his father and grandfather all worked at the Pulp or on the docks shipping paper. Tony's mum Pam worked with my mum for years as paper artists. The works in the book are mostly digital prints - which I guess he has done from sketches using a graphics tablet. The 2nd image above is the exception, its a big watercolour wash/ink number. If you'd like to know more, the book has its' own blog here.

I think it's a real treasure of a book, and a model of how this sort of vernacular history ought to be done.

A tough day at the Showgrounds

The Central Region U/10s were knocked off their perch today. They won the last tournament in Devonport in fine style, and came into this one fairly confident. The boys won both games yesterday (against Eastern Suburbs and Devonport) fairly comfortably, but the coach Atef saw a few things he didn't like. He warned the boys they would have to change their ways today or they would lose their 3rd game to the big threat, the representative team from Launceston.

And he was right. There was not the usual teamwork - too many boys deciding to do it all themselves. There is a some immense talent in the team but a few egos to match. They had shots from miles out, or acute angles. The keeper did a good job but he wasn't often required to stop shots on target. Our keeper Ethan made a really stunning save, tipping the ball over when it was destined for the top corner. A few minutes later another shot dipped under the crossbar, caught by the wind, and he just couldn't reach it. The wind was horrendous throughout the two days (and is still howling about the eaves as I write). Down 0-1 at half time, a few boys dropped their heads and we never looked like equalising really. It finished 0-2.

The result in the 4th game against Western Schools was much better, about 7-1 in the end, but I didn't think that the lesson of game 3 was really learned. Boys were still attempting goal-of-the-year with their backs to goal rather than laying it off to a better-placed teammate.

Launceston won the Hobart Cup with 4 wins from 4 games. Our Central Region development squad went through unbeaten to win their division, which is great for those kids who have worked equally hard as Marcus's team. In two weeks the Launceston Cup will wrap up the regional series.

Marcus played very well in defence in all four games. He has really made a step forward since the Devonport Cup. He took possession, looked up and used the ball constructively - which takes more confidence than just getting to the ball first then biffing it away up field. The defence have really become a good cohesive unit, with Ethan the keeper, and I thought could all hold their heads up despite the disappointing result.

Blizzard

The boys and I went up the mountain on the spur of the moment to enjoy the fresh snow, mid afternoon yesterday. We had a great time, although the snow was too powdery for snowballs or snowmen. My hands were in agony from the cold when I said OK, that's it - lets quit while we are having fun. (I've learnt from experience you don't wait for the sobbing to start before coming back down).

The car was only 50 metres away, but as we came out into the carpark a genuine blizzard whipped up. The road was caked with ice and incredibly slippery - we had to walk backwards otherwise the wind was etching our faces with tiny ice crystals. I asked Michael to hang onto the wire rope, and just work his way backwards along it. It was actually pretty terrifying. I picked him up and carried him the last 20 metres.

I was so glad I hadn't locked the car so we didn't have to muck about, just dived in. We just hunkered down and experienced the blizzard for a while. The last photo here is us thawing.

Then I put on the hazard lights and drove down the mountain at about 15kmh with my nose pressed to the windscreen.

Marimbistas

I mentioned a few weeks back that the boys did very well in the Science Competition. They have just backed that up with the only High Distinctions in the school in the UNSW Maths Competition. I was at assembly today when they were presented with their Science Competition certificates (there is always a big lag between results and certificates).

As a bonus I got to hear both boys participate in marimba performances. The grade 4-5 group started hesitantly, struggled on gamely but then the music teacher, brave Mrs Stronach, stepped in and put tthe tune out of its' misery. The 2 kids on the bass marimba were going so slooooooow, everyone else had wisely decided to leave them behind. It sounded pretty chaotic.

So they took it from the top. And exactly the same thing happened. Mrs S recognised she was up against something too big to fight, and she and we rode it out to the end. Not pretty. If you ask me, when you start with the bass part soloing and everyone else has to follow it, you want your gun marimbistas on the bass. Surely?

[Note, the ch in Mrs Stronach's name is meant to be pronounced like stomach, but our dear principal always pronounces it like spinach. Just another of various crosses she has to bear]

Then the grade 3 marimba group came out and nailed their (admittedly simpler) piece beautifully. Michael was paired on a marimba with Corey, a famous loose cannon. I was expecting the unexpected, but they both laid down a disciplined groove. Once their bit was over they kept playing it in mime form, but managed not to clonk any unwanted clonks.

This evening we went out to the opening of a group exhibition of book and paper art, in which Mum has some work. Driving home with our superscientists in the back, one of them said, seriously; "Wow - look, there is like a star in the sky located right above each house!" This boy could probably name you the nearest five stars to us, in order. He can rattle off the moons of Jupiter. He probably has a theory about dark matter.

But streetlights are a whole new thing to him, apparently.

Marcus plays footy

I have been getting to a few more events at school since I have been working from home. Yesterday I was there to see Marcus play football (as opposed to soccer) for the first time. Not the first time he has played, but the first time I have seen it. School soccer has finished, and I now have the luxury of simply picking the kids up on Wednesdays after school, rather than running soccer practice.

If you have never watched Australian Rules football, there are 18 players on each side, arrayed all over an oval field. The taller kids play in central positions, "down the spine", and the slighter or shorter players out wide. I don't usually think of Marcus as slight, but in this company he did look quite fragile. I was the only parent there, and I tried manfully to keep my yelling to a minimum. As someone who has played one (1) game of competitive Aussie Rules, I really don't know what I am talking about anyway.

This was the last week of the Winter Sports roster. Six of the ten planned games were actually called off due to weather, or flu epidemics. South Hobart lost all of their previous three games, and this one was against the strongest footy school, Taroona, so there was a sense of foreboding.

At quarter time things were going as predicted, but South had a great second quarter, winning it out of the centre about five times in a row for as many goals. I think they were just 4 points down at half time. Soon after, the natural order reasserted itself and they ended up going down something like 10.6.66 to 7.8.50, their best effort yet.

Bearing in mind that a lot of readers of the blog are in the Phillipines and Moldova and whatnot, and this won't make much sense to them, I still am going to mention that Marcus kicked an unlucky behind and made a few terrific smothers.

City of Samba - small work of genius

This is quite the most entertaining, beautiful and impressive thing I have seen/heard for ages.

Tilt shift of the Carnaval party in Rio de Janeiro.

Soundtrack available here: tinyurl.com/6mrzndl

Made by Keith Loutit and Jarbas Agnelli.

Captured during Carnaval of 2011.

Music by Jarbas Agnelli.

Rees Design Showreel

My showreel! Any feedback would be much appreciated.

 

Another bragfest

“Those Rees boys must be simply stuffed full of science all day by their parents”.

“But she just works in an office, and he doesn’t really do ... well, anything!”

- An imagined conversation between other parents at our school. 

The boys entered the University of NSW Science Competition, and were 2 of the 3 students at school to gain High Distinctions. (Well done to the other one, Keiren Black). The questions ranged “from egg incubation to the direction of gears, from electrical circuits to food webs”.

The mid-year reports came in last week, now in a back-to-the-future “A = excellent, E = poor” format, after 5 or so years of the most byzantine and poorly explained system of dots and circles. Both boys are going very well, and Michael has really surged in maths in the last year or so. It has caught his imagination.

While Marcus and I were watching the football, he called over “Dad, what would 1000 be if you were using base 7 instead of base 10?” Marcus and I both lazily agreed it would be 7x7x7, or 343. I realised later that this was backwards to the right way to work it out, and showed Michael how he could work it out himself. He needed to be reminded how long division works.

Our friends Peter and Fleur dropped in and were impressed that Michael was sitting there doing long divisions on a Sunday evening, presuming that we were making him. I explained that he was doing them of his own volition, in fact as tool to solve a more complex problem that he had posed himself. He got halfway to the answer (2626) before getting lost in his tiny scribblings.

Towards the end of the footy, Michael returned to the fray, and asked me what 0.5 would be in base 7. I wasn’t even able to get my head around the question while willing the Tigers to kick another goal before the siren, so I asked him to give me a moment. He came out with a few answers he worked out in his head while I was stalling him. When I sat down to work it out, his first answer (0.33333...) was correct! Possibly just lucky.

3 Pants Day

Work has drifted into the doldrums over the last couple of weeks. I have two large projects which are hanging, waiting for my client to move. I would dearly love to have a schedule for completing them, which my client must have worked out, but is not sharing with me at this stage. Sigh.

So, I am working through a list of various desk and non-desk jobs each day. Yesterday I presented my folio to a prospective client, them went home and mowed the lawn. I didn't feel like getting into my Good Pants again to go to the dentist, so I put on the fairly shabby Good Jeans instead. It was a three-pants type of day. I also bought a large bag of gravel, and collected the mail from over at my parents place.

That was relatively productive compared with today. I have been trying to nail a little problem I have with an animation special effect - three of my figures look good with it and three look pretty crummy. And I can't work out why. I have banged my head on that wall for a few hours today, but also eaten toast and read too much Olympic news online. 

Why???

In the + column, I did walk Winston before the rain came, and I bought some gravel. Yeah!

I am feeling a little anxious about the future of freelancing. My regular Monday job starts next week - then at least I will be out from under my own feet for one day a week.

The weak link

Speaking of a conspicuous lack of sporting success - my outdoor soccer career has hit the rocks. My last couple of games have been horrid. We had a very important game last Saturday - essentially the title decider. We won 2-1, and are untouchable on top of the ladder now. There were no goals in a very tense 2nd half, most of which I watched from the bench. Our usually democratic rotation policy was shelved for the day, and it was very much a case of keeping the best 11 on the park with just occasional rests on account of age.

In my 30 minutes or so on field I first slipped in the mud and let my man get away in the penalty box - he scored. Then I was moved to midfield, ran in support as Nigel went on a surging run, received a pass from Nigel approximately 2 meters out, and failed to beat the keeper. I was nervous about hitting it first time in the mud, and tried to gently place it rather than just wellying it into the net. The keeper got a foot to it.

I have replayed it about 100 times in my mind since. At least we won the game. We have 2 games left in the season, and my first reaction after the game was to just say that’s it for me. I have felt this season like the weak link in an otherwise formidable team of blokes with a lot of first team soccer behind them. I was never a firsts player and haven’t got any better from playing six years of indoor, which encourages bad habits.

However - I would like to strive to finish the season on a good note. There is less pressure in these remaining games, and I can hopefully go out there, run about and do some good things I can use as inspiration for another season next winter. But I think then I will offer my services to the Uni 4ths, who are more my level.

In the waiting room, waiting for gold medals

Once again I am in the dentist’s carpark. I can never quite judge how long it will take to get out here, and I keep finding myself 20 minutes early. Last time I refused to take the laptop out in the waiting room, and was kept waiting (as advertised,  I guess) for about 35 minutes. And the magazines there are either Hello! or very worthy and dull eco-shelter periodicals.

I have to say I have turned into a bit of an Olympic hypocrite. In the early days of this nation’s gold medal drought, I expressed the view that medal tables are nationalistic nonsense, and that the athletes are competing as individuals. That is the Olympic spirit, and how it was meant to be. Furthermore, there are too many ridiculous sports that ought to be chucked out. Messing about in boats, for instance. And hopping on a horse for a bit of clippity-clop around a paddock, leaping over amusing pastiches of London landmarks.

Now, however, it is day 12 and we have only just won our first individual gold medal, in the Laser class sailing. We, Australia. Our proud sports-mad nation which has been lagging behind Kazakhstan and 17 other countries. And our prospects of more depend on a bunch of sunburnt North Shore-y boatie types in about 27 different classes of ketch, yawl and wave ski. Also hopefully Ffiona Tops-Forpington might snag another gold in either the Pony Race or her other event, Horse Dancing. And if we come by a couple more in the Sawn-Off Shotgun or the BMX Race To The Shops - you will not hear any carping from me. Any more.

Things have come to head, and I realise that all my high-minded idealism is just thinly painted over a standard-issue Aussie win-anything-at-any-cost mentality.

STOP PRESS: BRAVE AUSSIE GIRLS SCOOP GOLD IN OBSTACLE RACE AND DODGE/WEAVE CYCLING.

1904 St Louis Olympics - an entertaining shambles

I have just been reading about the 1904 Olympics, which were hardly Olympics at all. (Either were the 1900 version actually). It was supposed to happen in Chicago, while St Louis was holding the World's Fair. Then the World's Fair organisers announced their intention to hold their own sporting tournament that would blow Chicago's off the map. They had the IOC over a barrel and the Baron himself, Pierre de Courbetin, officially awarded them the games.

Some fun facts from St Louis quoted from Wikipedia;

• Various indigenous men from around the world, who were at the World's Fair as part of the Department of Ethnology exhibits, competed in various events for anthropologists to see how they compared to the white man.
• One of the most remarkable athletes was the American gymnast George Eyser, who won six medals even though his left leg was made of wood.
• A Cuban postman named Felix Carbajal joined the marathon, arriving at the last minute. He had to run in street clothes that he cut around the legs to make them look like shorts. He stopped off in an orchard en route to have a snack on some apples, which turned out to be rotten. The rotten apples caused him to have to lie down and take a nap. Despite falling ill to apples he finished in fourth place.

Showreel time

I am making a showreel. I've never had one before. I have done lots of different kinds of moving pictures over the years, and now its time to wrap them up in a pacy greatest-hits combo with some kind of upbeat dance track - that seems to be what people do.

Then again - I would like to hold it down to around 80 seconds, and when I did a quick spin through iTunes looking for briefer tracks I came across Trio Bulgarka. They were a bit of a World Music sensation in the early 90s, and appeared on a Kate Bush album The Sensual World. They hail from Bulgaria and sound a bit like they are singing backwards - lots of "Veep vooooop vvvit vvvvap" sounds, in very strange time signatures. They often stop singing, then in unison squeal "Yip!". It's quite strange but endearing and might be just the thing.

Of course I have no right to use their music and that is a bit of a concern. I would quite like to cook up my own soundtrack but that will take ages and stop me getting the thing just done - perhaps I will aim to replace the music ASAP.

I have quite enjoyed opening up old files from 2006 or 2008 and seeing again the Photoshop layers that never made it to the finished piece, and the animation versions that I preferred but the client did not. I have just rebuilt a build-the-Sydney-Harbour-Bridge interactive I made, to make it more impressive in this new era of High Definition and massive screens. I can do that, you know.

I have been doing special effects for a documentary, this last week. I probably shouldn't blab about it, as the director is presenting my augmentations as reality. I did sign something at some point, which probably said "You will never reveal that the stuff that looks like night was filmed during the daytime". So - you didn't hear it from me. And I probably shouldn't put before 'n' after pics in my showreel.

Working from home

I have been working from home for a month now, and I really love it. If I could have my job back I would really love that too, but that isn't going to happen, so I am embracing the new life.

On clear days Elf walks the boys down the rivulet track to school and continues into town to work. If it's wet or just freezing I drop them all off, then come back to base to start work. Just before my job at Roar ended, Elf's workplace moved from New Town into the centre of the city, which has enabled me to have the car at home each day.

I am still doing quite a bit of work for Roar, and I am driving down there most days to pick up and drop off big movie files. I have just increased our home upload/download quota, so I will probably just send the files that way more often now. But it's nice to see the people you are working with, and it's good for communication to actually get five minutes face to face now and then as you work through a project.

My office is set up in the front room downstairs. Winston has a big cushion to sit on beside me, but he prefers the sunnier space upstairs, where he has a choice of his ridiculously large doggie futon, or the front deck. The sun warms upstairs so effectively that on most days I can actually afford to leave the front and back deck doors open. Winston loves to survey the neighbourhood from the front, and can take himself out the back into the yard when he wants to.

It has taken me a few weeks to relax, and not try to do everything at once. I have a year planner on the wall, and a spreadsheet of work invoiced and jobs in the pipeline. All that is very reassuring - helps me feel that I do not have to squeeze billable work into every waking hour. I have been pretty disciplined about making a list for each day and working through it.

Things are quiet enough this week that I have had a chance to drop my main work computer in for overdue repairs and also get a start on my showreel. I know from experience at Roar that important things like those are carried on the Work In Progress list for months waiting for some "quiet time". When quiet time arrives everyone feels they have earned the right to just put their feet up and have a few beers. While I hope to be busy, and I have to maintain my gear and spend time on self-promotion whether I like it or not, I am looking forward to the time in spring or summer when I can just join Winston on the front deck with a foaming ale in the sun. Maybe on a Tuesday morning - why not?

Flames leaping in the living room

Today our new woodstove arrived, and I am now sitting in front of it, with dog, cat and glass of cheap muscat. 

About the muscat - I recently inherited a beautiful decanter that was my grandmother's. Obviously needing something to decant, I went looking in the fortified wine section, and came out with a 2-litre glass flagon of muscat. This cost all of ten bucks, and I declined a paper bag in case the bottleshop attendant thought I was a hopeless case heading straight for the nearest park bench - which he did anyway. It's a bit like sweet grapey metho, but it's a beautiful colour in the decanter.

The woodstove has long been a dream of Elf's, ever since we were designing the house. Ideally we would have had a built-in fireplace with a mantelpiece and crossed blunderbusses (blunderbi, sorry) hanging on the wall - but we have a standalone unit with a flue going up to the slopey cathedral ceiling. Looks quite nice, and its doing a great job. It's probably 1/3 about (A) giving the room a focus and 2/3 about (B) keeping us warm. A 100 watt column heater doesn't have quite the same welcoming ambience.

So - if you are in the neighbourhood, come by and burn some wood with us.

Peep

I'm blogging from the dentist's carpark in Moonah, home of all-you-can-eat food, ten pin bowling and ... dentists. Most of the dentists in the metropolitan area are either here or in one street in Kingston. Odd.

This tiny blog-from-the-car is just to say I am still alive, working hard at establishing myself as a freelance designer, and generally pretty pleased with my progress on that front.

I have a Work In Progress list of projects, the phone is ringing fairly frequently, and my first set of invoices from the start of July ought to paid over the next couple of weeks. Ought.

If you have anything you'd like me to do in the wide gamut of work between motion graphics, graphic design, laying out publications, illustration, (video clean-ups are currently a speciality) etc and so forth - please drop me an email.

And now, time to go for some drill and fill.

Knackered 4 d Abstract 2, Indoor Soccer Grand Final

We surprised ourselves by getting to the Grand Final and winning it on Friday night. Three weeks ago we were out of the top four, then we beat the top team Wilkins in our last roster game to sneak in.

Last week in the semi final we came from behind to beat Eskimo Pie. Ed and Paul won it for us with outstanding goalkeeping. Meanwhile Wilkins unexpectedly lost their semi to Abstract.

The final was incredibly tight - we were down 1-0 at halftime. Brett equalised just after halftime, then I found Ed twice in about 3 minutes for 2 more goals. One pass was a square ball across the goal circle, and the other was actually a backheel. Cam is dismayed at the thought it going to encourage more backheel attempts in future. Ed's finishing was perfect each time.

Abstract got a goal back, and I was feeling pretty tense (and wondering about it going to penalties if they scored again). Then Paul wriggled free to score and made it 4-2, and that was it. Everyone played well and Josh (our recent Balinese recruit) had his best game ever, and really worked hard defensively.

Going into a shared weekend away with Ed and his family, it felt great to have combined to pull off this win that looked out of the question a few weeks back.

RIP Bill Fullagar 1928 – 2012

My friend and father-in-law Bill passed away peacefully early yesterday morning, at home. He had done everything that he wanted to do, and once he was ready the end came quickly. His heart had been beating irregularly for a few weeks, and there were a few other things wrong, but what took him in the end was cancer which spread from his lungs (he wasn't interested in chemotherapy). He was listening to Beethoven's ninth.

I met Bill not long after I met his daughter Elf, who I married. We stayed with Bill and Felicity in Canberra over Christmas, and we were all required to play a handbell in a team rendition of Joy to the World. Felicity had written out the music for us so we could all see when it was our turn to play. Bill may have had his wrong glasses on - every time his bell was required Felicity had to say "Bill … BILL!!".

As time went by I heard from Elf more and more impressive stories about Bill's exploits as a merchant seaman, diplomat and intelligence analyst. (Bill would expand on the stories if pressed but he was modest to a fault). In his days as first mate on British India company ships, he had travelled the world. He could tell you about the tricky navigation hazards of Valparaiso, Vancouver or Valetta, Malta.

Bill came from a thoroughly lawyerly family, but he turned his back on that life to go to sea. His father Sir Wilfred was Chief Justice of Victoria, and took a dim view of his middle of son of five, declining to continue the family trade.

Bill was 2^nd-in-command of a merchant vessel for a long time, and one day realised the shipping company was slowly going bust. He was ashore in Singapore at the time. He posted his resignation, made his own way back to Australia, and resumed studying classics. Like most educated people of his generation, Bill spoke and read Ancient Greek and Latin, and his love of the classics lasted until the end of his life.

At some point in his studies he was talent-scouted by the Department of Foreign Affairs. When Elf was eight (with three younger siblings) he was posted to the Australian High Commission in Delhi. Later he held a similar post in Seoul. I believe it is customary to have officers with titles such as Third Assistant Secretary who are simply there to keep their eyes and ears open.

I don't know a lot about Bill's work, but he often served us drinks out of engraved Australian Secret Intelligence Service whisky glasses, and later gave us our own set. They all mysteriously broke within a couple of years. Cheap workmanship – or cunningly planned self-destruction to avoid leaving behind clues?

When I met Bill he was in his seventies, and still required at the Department two days a week to analyse intelligence, as he had irreplaceable knowledge. As his health declined, and eye and knee operations slowed him down, he finally retired fully.

He is survived by Felicity; his children Elf, Fred, Imp, and Chonk; and grandchildren Karri, Marcus, Miah, Michael, Beatrice and Eric.

Marcus plays even more soccer, in sun and rain

Marcus played in the Devonport Cup regional soccer tournament on Saturday and Sunday, with his team representing Central Region - chosen from under 10s around the city of Hobart. They had five games over the two days, and won them all, and the tournament! Sadly there was no "cup" as such but they were all given medallions and were praised by everyone for their high standard. (They scored 36 goals to seven over the 2 days).

We drove as far as Launceston on Friday evening, where we stayed with Lynn and Scott and their kids Isobel and Tom. We only catch up properly every couple of years but the kids always pick up right where they left off. They all disappeared off into the house with pillows, and then all we heard were distant shrieks. The dynamic between the children is fascinating - Isobel is in Grade 7 this year, and Lynn was interested to see if she would choose to to be a "kid" or a "adult" when it came to seating arrangements for dinner. She chose kid.

Scott is now teaching at a "Big Picture" system high school. It was interesting hearing about how all that works, since Marcus is now only 18 months away from high school. The aim is to tailor learning to the child's own interests from a much earlier age than is customary. It sounds good in theory.

In the morning we had to break up the kid's fun to get on the road, as we were needed in Devonport at ten. We had to park some distance away from the sports grounds, as the traffic was incredible. There were actually 59 teams competing in the one place! It was really quite huge. Amazingly the toilet facilities consisted of one team changeroom each for Ladies and Gents. The Gents featured a 3-person urinal, three showers and one (1) sit-down toilet. I am told the Ladies had 2 toilets but the queues were long.

It was a pretty miserable morning, and it got worse, with steady rain right through the day. My umbrella went inside-out three times, and is now a bit of a wreck. Every time Marcus took something off, Michael put it on, and in the end he was almost unrecognisable. Michael is always terrific about tagging along to Marcus's soccer things. He doesn't ever watch the game, and long ago made it clear that he would not be cheering in a pink fit. But he was keen to hear the scores and very pleased for Marcus that they did so well.

Central Supporter #1

On Saturday night we took the easy option and went 2 blocks to KFC for dinner. The boys had never been and neither of us had for years so that was it. And it was horrible. We ordered a Family Nosebag or whatever it's called, with lots of pieces of chicken, a large tub of coleslaw and a large tub of instant-spuds-n-gravy. No plates, just plastic spoons. "When you finish digging through the coleslaw with your licky germy spoon, can you pass it to me so I can do the same?" Ugh. Also had not really noticed before how 8/10 pieces of secret spices chicken have recognisable anatomy (I am fine with this) but all advertising images of pieces show something like a big golden crispy nugget. It occurred to me as we sat there grimly ploughing through it all, that when you order anything other than nuggets or burgers, the "eat-in or take-away?" question is just redundant. With no plates or decent cutlery you cannot eat-in in a civilized way - so why even suggest it?

That night we arrayed all our damp clothes about the cottage and hoped for the best. All slept better than Friday night, in proper beds.

Sunday morning was actually sunny, and everything had dried out. We went to Bella's down by the river for breakfast, which was pretty good. The soccer tournament was a big enough deal that we kept seeing other participants all over town. After breakfast we had to get to the ground for the muster for Game 3.

This is as good as my action shots get.

As this is a reliable blog of record, I shall set down all the scores for future reference.

• Central d Northern Suburbs (of Hobart) 11-0
• Central d NTJSA (Launceston) 4-2
• Central d WSSA (North West Coast) 8-0
• Central d Devonport 6-3
• Central d Eastern Region (of Hobart) 7-0

The paparazzi descend after the fifth win from five.

Marcus played very well. He started as a pure defender, then was given a license to go forward more in the later games. He would have loved to score a goal but that just wasn't his job. He made some marvellous tackles and always looked confident and calm when he had the ball. He encouraged his team-mates, and amazingly kept up his concentration through all five games, right to the end. Near the end of the final game when the coach, Atef, was calling him to come off, Marcus didn't respond until the third yell. He got the biggest laugh of the weekend when he yelled back to Atef "I thought you were just waving to me!" Atef replied "Yes Marcus, I was just missing you".

Sunday stayed sunny all day. I took Michael down to the nearby beachside playground, and he had a great time on an interesting roundabout/netting pyramid contraption, while I sat on a hill and soaked up the rays. Michael told a couple of dozen other children about centrifugal force. "Some of them didn't really take it in, Dad". Some of the looks he was getting from teenage soccer girls were priceless, yet uncategoriseable.

The champions

Looking the part

After Game 5 we had time to dash back to the cottage, give Marcus a shower and put him into a clean version of his uniform, then whizz back for the presentation of medals. It was all done very well, and we managed to be on the road home by about 4.30. There was a small team re-union at Zeps at Campbell Town (had a small garlicy tomato pizza that was delightful) but apart from that the ride home was ... uneventful.

Shrinking

I need to document this without sounding like I am bragging - I have lost weight. I am on the last hole of my belt, and am hitching up my jeans all day. I could make a new hole but I have simply too much jean now.

Yesterday at soccer I was the last one to the bag of shirts, and all that was left was unlucky no. 2, size M. (Everyone says they won't wear it because it has brought bad luck and injuries to everyone who has donned it - seems to me it is simply because we are an old and fat bunch of blokes who mostly need an XL, minimum).

It was stylishly form-fitting on me, but not uncomfortable, and I realised after the game that I hadn't given it another minute's thought. I am now an M, you guys!