MRI at the RCH

On Friday Michael and I went to Melbourne for the day, so he could have an MRI scan at the Royal Children's Hospital. He was born with a heart defect that was corrected by surgery when he was a week old. He has annual checks in Hobart, and every 3 or 4 years goes back to the RCH for more intensive checks. This is make sure his heart is growing as its should, and to see if the scars and slightly stretched vessels are affecting its function. So far so good! He really is a remarkably healthy, resilient and happy little guy, and I can honestly say that I don't think about his heart from one week to the next.

Our state government pays for our costs to undergo procedures like this interstate, when the local system can't provide the specialist people or equipment. Which is a great system – it was a very welcome surprise, hard on the heels of the unwelcome surprise of Michael's diagnosis when was he only hours old.

I always believe its better to be being bored at the airport than frantic on the road, so we had plenty of time to wait. Then a power outage in Sydney delayed our flight by an hour. The low morning sun shines powerfully into the departure lounge at Hobart Airport, so we got out the bits and pieces we had available and did shadow/reflection experiments to pass the time.

We finally got airborne and I started prepping Michael for the quiz I was planning to give him. There was a strong possibility he would need to have a cannula (IV drip) in his hand, to put a contrast agent into his blood for the MRI. This is when I would start asking him tricky flag questions, such as "Which Brazilian state has the word 'nego' on it's flag?"

The lady dozing beside me on the plane while we talked flags opened her eyes to say to Michael "you are a VERY clever boy aren't you?". I told her a bit about him and he answered some fairly detailed questions. She closed by saying "Hmm, Michael Rees. I'll keep my eye out for you Michael".

My plan had been to have lunch and see the resident meerkats at RCH before our appointment, but as we were now an hour behind, we just sped straight there in a cab. I took along my iPad to document the day; Michael had been prevailed upon to write a report on it all for his class, so I was taking pics as memory-joggers for him primarily. He doesn't like having his picture taken.

I was allowed in to sit with him while he was in the scanner. He was very relaxed about it and, as always, very easy to look after. He is the opposite of a drama queen - just keen to be accommodating and cause minimum fuss.

The scan takes about 40 minutes. Kids can choose a movie from a menu (Michael took Ice Age 2) which they can watch using a mirror set-up in the head-cradle thingy. They have audio from the movie and instructions from the operator coming in through the headset as well. They have to hold their breath in, hold it out, etc as commanded. This is quite tricky to master for younger kids, and that's why Michael has not had an MRI up until now (he's 10).

The scanner makes some pretty terrible noises, but not constantly, just intermittently. I had earmuffs, and I watched he movie without sound and dozed. I couldn't speak to Michael so there really wasn't much I could do, but he didn't need me anyway. As it happened they didn't need to stick anything in him, which was a happy result.

Once it was all done they let me stand in the doorway of the MRI suite and get some pics for Michael's report.

So, that was that. We'll get the results at some stage via his cardiologist.

We went up to pay a brief visit to the meerkats and have something to eat. There has been massive upgrade of the hospital since we were last there, in fact I didn't recognise it at all. It used to be that the McDonalds was the most prominent feature of the ground floor. Now there is a small aquarium (but big enough to have at least one shark in it), the meerkat enclosure a number of cafes and a sort of interactive-video-touch-screen-fun-wall, where kids can play Pong-style games but involving their whole bodies. Great idea.

Then we had to summon another cab to get us across to the Melbourne Museum for the 3.15 tour of the Aztecs exhibition. We were running late but the ticket said that's OK as long as you aren't TOO late. While we waited for our cab, someone called my name - it was our friend Andy, a pediatrician who works part of the week at the RCH. She was dropping off some paperwork in the 5 minute parking zone, kids in the car yelling, and so we had a quick catch-up on family news and general goss.

The Aztecs were great! They certainly know how to turn a chunk of basalt into an upsetting icon of the malevolent undead spirits.

This one below reminds me of 1980s swamp-billy band The Gun Club, for some reason.

These perky dudes are actual sacrificial knives, used by priests to cut out the hearts of the unlucky victims. They have human teeth stuck on and eyes made of obsidian and ... white stuff. The spike on the right was used for non-fatal self-mutilation to supply the gods with a bit of extra blood from time to time.

I wish I could recall all of the long Aztec names of the diferent gods. Suffice to say this guy below is offering you some of his liver...

... and this is a mask made a from a real skull. With a knife in its teeth! And googly eyes. Weird enough for ya?

At closing time we scooted out of there and met Dugald Jellie, author, journalist and football blogger, who walked us over to Lygon St for early dinner at his favourite pizza place. He's a terrific fellow who has the happy knack of talking to kids and actually listening to them – which is surprisingly rare.

Dugald even hailed a cab for us. Next thing we knew we were crowded into the tarmac-level hell-basement that is Tullamarine mega-gate 26/27/28/29/30. Having been in a Peruvian bus station during the Festival of San Isidro I felt right at home. The galling thing is the disparity between Gates 1-24 (TV! Tiki bars! Restaurants! Toilets and drinking water!) and the third world downstairs. Never fails to bring me down.

Due to the Sydney shenanigans, we were on a small plane, packed to the gills, and with more legroom than the Peruvian buses but only just. Bumpy slewing takeoff and landing. Delighted to get to our car and hit the road, actually controlling the mode of conveyance. As we turned into South Hobart we counted down the landmarks before home. "Last traffic lights before home ... last cafe ... last pub  ... last turnoff ... HOME!!"

Awkward time of the afternoon

I came upstairs yesterday and the boys were perched on the back of the couch cheek by jowl. Turns out the sun was in their eyes as they tried to watch Adventure Time.

What I did on my holidays (3)

This is about 3 months in the past now, and still I haven’t got around to blogging all of it. I think I will just do these last chapters as photos with captions. Better for all of us really. We borrowed Phillip and Andrea’s car for the day to go to AQWA, and had a freeway adventure just getting there and back. The coastal highway is a little bit CHiPs if anyone else remembers that show.

This is my favourite letterbox I have ever seen anywhere.

This was at AQWA, the fabulous aquarium at Hillary's Boat Harbour, north of Perth. 
I was trying to get the classic ‘just cracked a joke’ expression moray eels have, and didn’t quite nail it.

Baby crocodile. Cute but fangy.

Toadfish, y’all.

Contractually obliged to call this a ‘denizen of the deep’. Sigh.

Sun setting into the sea -that’s worth travelling 3000km to witness. This was our local beach.

Amnesia

I asked Michael today what this meant, and where he got it from. He said it was joke, but nobody got it. And he had just made it up. It’s got a translated-from-ancient-Greek-ness about it. I’ve said it before and I’ll doubtless say it again - he’s unique, that one. But having said that, as his cousin Arthur grows up some very interesting parallels are apparent.

Boys in the paper, again

Our platypus. They look quite a lot like a rock when they are sitting still, but fortunately he was pretty busy.

Marcus and Michael watch the platypus in the rivulet, with Lily and Katherine McShane. Photos by Sharyn Jones.

The other day Nick and Anna and their girls Lily & Katherine came up for lunch. Lately there have been a lot of sightings of a platypus in the Hobart Rivulet – Elf has seen it herself so many times on her way to work that its practically a big yawn to her now. Nevertheless, she thought we should take the visitors and Winston for a walk down there to see if we could locate the little monotreme.

We did - this was made easier by the presence of a photographer squatting on the bank, giving him the once over with the long lens. She was delighted to get some human interest involved, and so the kids stayed on the bank for about 15 minutes watching him very close up, while they were snapped from all angles.

The story in the newspaper is here, and West Hobart mother of two, Anna Berger, even got in with a nice quote. 

We did think though – doesn't that picture of the kids look a bit Photoshopped? The edge of Michael’s shadow is flat and perfectly vertical. Odd.

Bad dog

One very stormy night, with the power of panic, Winston worked out he could get in through the cat door. Since then he has done it regularly whenever he is left at home and the door is not blocked. I set up the iPad to catch him, so we could see how he does it. This clip shows his eventual success after about 12 attempts.

Ketchup

Time for a catch-up blog. I will go through the family one by one.

Elf is working virtually full-time until at least the end of June. She is coping OK with that. She really enjoys her current boss. She feels much more appreciated for the amazing range of skills she has and her no-fuss way of just getting things done. Elf is the family gardener and the continuing lack of rain is an irritant, but I secretly think she enjoys spending an hour out there in the evening just hosing.

I have had three months of very little work in the freelance design world. Several mooted projects were put on ice, and combined with the usual summer downturn it has been a pretty thin time. Elf took on extra hours as a consequence. Work is now starting to cascade from everywhere, which is a relief. You do wish it would even out a bit though.

I had one karma moment which signified the turnaround. A client I worked with last year rang, and I was pretty disappointed when instead of a design job, she wanted me to meet and mentor a young designer, for free of course. I said yes, but actually had to borrow cash from Elf to cover the cost of two coffees. So I didn’t go into it feeling like Mr. Successful Designer With A Lot To Offer. During our one-hour meeting I had contact from two new clients. [One located across the road from the cafe I was in at the time]. This after 3 months of tumbleweeds blowing through my office. Since then almost everything on-hold has come off-hold and various new projects have been sprung on me. 

I am starting a new design/blogging project collaborating with Dugald Jellie, who last year blogged Richmond’s footy season under the name Tiger Tiger Burning Bright. Stand by for details when we launch in time for Round 2. Yeah, well we are playing Gold Coast away in Round 1 so it hardly counts, alright?

Michael is doing a maths extension program at the Uni each Friday. He has finally got his way and we are canning his guitar lessons after the one today. He’s more of a piano guy. He is making beautiful music on it, and his guitar teacher suggested we just expose him to as much piano music as possible. Michael had a fantastic day at the school athletics carnival - he has finally accepted that it is important to participate as much as possible. He went in just about everything, and won his 200m and the sack race, as usual. He has a 100% record in sack races, usually winning by half the length of the track.

Marcus is now settled in at a new soccer club, Hobart Olympia. It’s a bit remote by local standards; but then again on Sunday I broke my previous best and got us there from home in 13 minutes. So – not really that far. He played his first game of the year on Sunday, wearing the blue of Olympia after about 110 games for South Hobart and Central Region, all in red, going back to 2008. So that was weird.

He is recovering well from the cactus incident. High school has been undemanding yet interesting enough for him so far. He just got an A+ on his first Chinese test. He will be learning the flute, and has been given one of Imp’s two(!) Jacki was also a junior flautist so there is some pedigree behind the lad. Time to start playing some Jethro Tull.

Footy predictions 2014

For once I have got to this before the season is already half over. I am seeing Hawthorn as minor premiers, going into the Grand Final as favourites and getting rolled by Geelong. Richmond will be top 4 for much of the season then fade. But this year they will win a final.

1. Geelong
2. Hawthorn
3. Freo
4. Sydney
5. North
6. Richmond
7. Essendon
8. Collingwood
9. West Coast
10. Adelaide
11. Gold Coast
12. Carlton
13. Western Bulldogs
14. Port Adelaide
15. St Kilda
16. Melbourne
17. Greater Western Sydney
18. Brisbane

Brownlow Medal: Nate Fyfe

Coleman Medal: Jeremy Cameron, GWS, 66

Grand Final: Geelong d Hawthorn

Cactus boy

Marcus had his mate Caleb staying with us last weekend. On Saturday afternoon they were walking Winston, who as usual was off the lead. He’s allowed to chase the rabbits up in Wellesley Park as long as he doesn’t catch any. For some reason Marcus decided to chase Winston, tripped over a tree root and fell onto a large agave cactus. Sigh.

They are the strappy yellow and green type pictured above. I’d never really noticed before but each strap has a 1-inch long spike on the end of it. The spike entered his forearm and snapped off - it was very painful. Elf took him to an after-hours doctor across town. He asked for an ultrasound scan to help find it. The broken end, which should have been near the surface, couldn’t be felt at all.

Sunday passed and on Monday I took him to the local radiologists, but they couldn’t fit him in. On Tuesday I took him back, and they found he had 15mm of spike buried in the muscle, about halfway down from the skin to the bone. The local GP passed on it, and asked us to take it to the surgeon at the Royal, to be done under general anaesthetic. We got in for a consultation there on Thursday. Our appointment arranged by the local GP had somehow not been lodged in their system, so we waited a while and finally saw a junior doctor, the registrar, and two med students, who all thought the whole thing was very interesting. They named Marcus Cactus Boy.

All of that week Marcus was going to school, and I would pick him up for the various appointments. He wasn’t able to write, but he could take notes on his laptop and at least he was there (he has just started high school, and I feel like every day some new things fall into place).

The hospital asked us to be there at 7am Friday, so we attended and waited. We were sent home around 8.30am to come back at 11am, but the phone rang while we were driving, asking us to come back now. When we got back things started to happen. (I’m glad we didn’t have to wait longer as Marcus hadn’t eaten since the night before, and was not even allowed to drink water.)

They cap-and-gowned us both, as I was allowed to come into the little anaesth. annex with him. Elf is thoroughly needle-phobic, and in fact argues that it is the only logical way to be. She was at work, but on her behalf I asked if Marcus could have gas to dull his senses before the cannula went in for the serious anaesthetics. They said no - but they used a local anaesth. cream called Angel which they swore by. I distracted him with a blow-by-blow account of the previous evening’s cricket. Still, the cannula going in felt about the same as the original injury, Marcus said.

Then I was invited to go for a walk, and they said they’d call me when he was out. It took about an hour - they said later that is about as long as these procedures ever take – it was unusual that it was entirely within the ‘muscle capsule’.

I wandered about for a while but I find the environs of the hospital completely charmless and dispiriting. Someone is smoking in every nook and cranny, and across the road the police station and magistrates court host their own nervous and/or pissed-off knots of smokers. I once thought the large public hospital with its pregnant teens and freshly stitched pub-brawlers made an interesting nexus with the courts opposite, with their extended families of dumb, unlucky or plain bad Tasmanians. Now I just don’t want to be there.

Marcus was awake but very woozy when I went in. He felt terribly tired, and a few tears slid down his face, just from fatigue I think. He looked older somehow. He was asking “have they done it? Is it out?” and a male nurse gave us a little specimen bottle with the culprit in it - looking actually pretty harmless. After an hour or so in recovery they took him down to the street in a wheelchair while I fetched the car.

We were home by 2pm. I thought he would just zonk out, but he stayed awake until about 9.30pm. Unfortunately being Friday we had the usual visit from Imp, Ed, Karri and Miah - everyone else has dinner while Ed and I play indoor soccer, then we catch up after, and it sometimes is nearly ten before they are out the door and we can get the boys into bed.

We got a call during the week asking if Marcus would play for Olympia* in a national under-13 8-a-side carnival in Launceston. It’s on next weekend. Because of a school camp, today was the only chance he had to train with them before then, so I took him along with strict instructions to stand out if any activity was hurting his bandaged arm. He threw himself into it just as he usually would. Hopefully in a week’s time I will be able to watch him play without wincing like I was today.

*Now Marcus has finished primary school, the question of where to play soccer is a complicated one. He has been training with Olympia, over the river at Warrane, where some of his friends from Central Region are playing. Central Region, for whom he played rep soccer the last three years, has either been dissolved, or not been dissolved, depending on who you ask.

Closed captions

The things you miss when you don’t turn on the closed captions!

What I did on my holidays (2)

I should say a bit about the house we borrowed in Perth. Our first impression was it was dark and cool. All across the front were louvres that can be opened/closed independently, or swung back out of the way. We had most of them closed most of the time. The bedrooms and living room had those reverse cycle air con units - we tried to use them as little as possible, only when it got over about 40° in the day, and few of the hotter nights. There was a proper pool just by the back door, an entertainment area beside it, and beyond that a path/cricket pitch, a bit of lawn, and an amazing treehouse in a big tropical palm - it was completely invisible from down below. 

I enjoyed the cricket setup very much, especially because as right-handers we both had to play offside shots. Our cricket spot at home has the house hard up on the offside, and you can only score by hitting straight or hoiking legside across the line.

Elf planned our days out very well. While the tempertaures were low, about 27°-30°, we got through some of the “walking around outside” attractions, such as Perth Zoo. We caught the bus into the city, then walked about 4 or 5 blocks to the river, where we caught a ferry over to South perth where the giraffes, parrots and lizards were waiting. Our all-day bus ticket covered the ferry too. The zoo is a just a short walk from the jetty on the other side.

We thought it was a great zoo - and it catered for visitors well with lots of shade and water fountains. Highlights were the elephant, orangutans, the massive reticulated python and the nocturnal house.

On the ferry - emu outside, Michael inside.

Cassowary with lethal claws apparent. It does not like being called “bonehead’.

Does this need a caption? Not really.

Some kind of mutant leopard-horse.

These guys are not of sufficient rarity or zoological interest to have in the zoo.
Yet they too would like free food. It’s a bit of a dilemma. It’s hard to tell but they
are on the roof of the enclosure, about 10 metres up in the air.

On the way back we decided to have look at Perth Bells,
the spiky building in the centre.

The clock that is attached to the bells came from Ascot Racecouse in England.
It was time for it’s daily wnding and the boys were invited to help out.

Perth city from up in the spire. This re-developing area on the left is Elizabeth Pier, or “Betty’s Jetty”

What I did on my holidays (1)

We did our house-swap with a family in Perth, as mentioned a couple of posts ago. Then we were doing a major top-to-bottom clean of the house. It’s a bit of an unusual situation for people you don’t even know to be living for weeks in your fully furnished and clutter-laden house, while you are elsewhere. In fact, while you are doing the same in their house. We felt like we had to bag and bundle and stow a whole lot of stuff that had just been floating around, not for security but just to make life easier for our guests (and hosts), the Brandises.

So - we flew to Perth. I took Hattie down to the cattery the day before, but Winston stayed behind to welcome the visitors - he would be looking after them while we were away. My Mum was at the house when they arrived to explain the things that Winston could not.

I have some very good old friends, Phillip and Andrea, who happen to live 3 minutes walk from our swap house, in the suburb of Floreat. Phillip collected us at the airport and drove us “home”. It was pretty warm and very dry. It didn’t crack 30° in our first five days, so we had an easy introduction. Just lovely, blue skies all day, day after day. (Meanwhile Hobart was getting blown sideways by freezing winds, and after a white-knuckle landing the Brandises arrived at our house to find the power out for hours due to fallen trees).

In Perth we dumped our stuff in the house, had a bit of a reconnoitre and then walked up the road to have dinner with Phillip and Andrea and their kids, Isobel and Ronan, roughly the same age as ours. They were supposed to be going to Tasmania the next day, to see family and gad about for 2 weeks, but due to some non-serious medical misadventures they had to postpone leaving for a week. So we had neighbourhood buddies for that week, and then enjoyed the use of their car once they had gone.

We had a list of outings we wanted to make, starting with Scitech and Kings Park. We did all but one of our first week of outings by public transport. The bus stops for downtown were close, and the buses were on time, clean and pretty economical. We paid $11.60 for a family day ticket, only useable after 9am. We found our groove after a while, packing sandwiches, fruit and water to be as self-sufficient as possible, so then we felt like a pick-me-up we could spend our money on an ice-cream or coffee.


Our first trip was to Scitec, which was right by the bus route into town. It’s a science exploration centre, full of well thought-out and well-maintained activities. The boys have been to a few of these places, and they thought this one was great.

Michael generates around 2000 kilo-rads of science.

This is a trough of rubber crumbs, that is 3D-tracked in some way so as the kids push it 

and pile it up, the contour lines change, the colours change and water animates in the  

lower areas. If you shade an area with your hand "rain" falls on it and animated water 

gushes down the side of the real hill. Its ... incredible really.

Here are a few pics from Outing 2, to Kings Park. It’s a massive expanse of land on a hill overlooking the city and the broad waters of the Swan River.

Michael and Marcus make friends with a ficus.

In fact, a very large Port Jackson Fig.

Admiring the Swan. I have never been able to work out how Perth works from looking at maps.
I have a slightly better feel for it now.

This 750 year-old boab had to go when a highway up in the Kimberley region was being widened.
It was carefully removed and trucked 3200km to Perth.  

There is a water-play area where we found this vermillion-coloured dragonfly.

The old Swan Brewery has an amazing position on the water.
It’s now luxury apartments.

A view south, over to South Perth (centre) and down towards
the confluence of the Canning and Swan Rivers (right).

Tim McTaggart 1963 - 2014

My brother-in-law Tim McTaggart passed away at home early on 16th January, of throat cancer. My sister Jacki did a magnificent job looking after Tim over the two years since his diagnosis, and she walked every step of the way with him. Tim squeezed every bit out of his life, he even went 4WD-ing despite his condition just a couple of days before the end. RIP Tim and thank you for being so good to Jacki and a magnificent dad to Malachy, Pip, Sam and Brin.

Mr Careless

We are now doing our biggest ever deep-down house clean. We are just two days away from heading off to Perth for a 19-day house swap. Strangers will be living in our house, so of course the back of the TV needs to be dust free and the stray fluff removed from the 3rd drawer down in the back bedroom linen cupboard. Etcetera. Crumb tray of the toaster? Check. Springs on the trampoline? Polished.

Yesterday I was a bit over-zealous about cleaning down the sides of the snugly fitted-in gas stove. I rocked it forward, and saw a flexible hose, which I guessed was the gas line. I slid it towards me a little and ... smelt gas. I had broken or dislodged something. The flexible hose was the exhaust outlet, while the gas comes in via a rigid copper pipe. GAH! I must have been studying cloud formations when the ironclad rule NEVER MOVE A GAS STOVE was announced. I have been living with this one for 6 years, but only now had I felt the cleaning urge to the point that I was moved to move it.

So today we had a visit from a very nice gasfitter named Ben. He was polite, thorough and tidied up after. I heartily recommend him. People who know Tasmanian footy might know him as a stalwart defender for years for the Glenorchy Magpies. A safe pair of hands with the gas appliances or bringing the ball out of the back half.

His name? Careless, Ben Careless.

Kentucky governors

I am by now well-established as a world authority on US state governors. I think it’s time to mention a couple of Kentucky’s finest.

Gabriel Slaughter
Lazarus W. Powell
Ruby Laffoon
Happy Chandler who defeated Republican nominee King Swope, and won a 2nd term in 1955 with the slogan “Be like your Pappy and vote for Happy”.

I'd also like to squeeze in a special mention for another Kentucky politician, Marvel Mills Logan.

Highs and lows and a surprise trip to the sub-tropics

Thursday was one of the most emotional days I have had for a long time. It was Marcus’ last day of Primary school, and I was expecting to have a bit of a quiet blub at the end of the final assembly. Turned out the blubbing happened a bit later on.

This year there was a certificate assembly a few days before the final one, to get a lot of the long lists of names and lengthy ovations out of the way. Marcus and Michael both raked in a great deal of certification for maths, science, spelling, chess and so on, to the extent that the principal said “they won’t need wallpaper at the Rees house”. She’s not given to jokes so by her standards that was a ripper.

Now to the final assembly. The senior marimba group were divided against themselves and struggled to agree on a tempo. As ever the junior marimbas showed them up. The brass ensemble were very bad, sure, but possibly not as bad as last year. The best thing musically was during the getting-settled period right at the start, when small girls took turns to sit at the piano and play a variety of things from memory, as we all filed in. It was lovely and refreshingly competent.

Each grade had one or two Teacher’s Prize winners. After one of the grade 1 or grade 2 winners were announced a mum behind me blurted “Jesus!”

Most subject areas had a prize, and there were others for environmental awareness, social justice etc. Elf was quietly disappointed that Marcus didn’t win the PE prize, as he has been a bit of an all-round star and is famous for his fairness and encouragement of others. No good at swimming though.

Michael was called up and won the ICAS gold medal for outstanding performance in the international maths competition. While he was up he also received a book voucher from Rotary, a prize for all round academic excellence. He was very happy and fairly gracious - there were no fist pumpings or brief mime performances as we have seen in past years. He’s just a lot less self-conscious.

Then Marcus was called up to get the same gold medal as Michael - amazingly the fourth year running he has won one. The first time in 2010 we were all told how rare these medals are, but it doesn’t seem that way now. He also won the same Rotary prize as Michael (I believe they spent their $50 gift vouchers yesterday). (And while I am doing asides, I just passed through a train station named Fassifern).

Marcus was asked to stay standing, as he had also won the ICAS gold medal in Science. Then, as it is apparently outrageously rare for one kid to win two medals in one year, he was presented with a special plaque in honour of his two medals.

Next, he was given a trophy and certificate for his effort in the Maths Olympiad, where he got 24 out of 25. Then came a special framed testimonial the school had put together listing his five medals and various other academic gongs he has won over the last four or five years.

We were all completely agog by this stage. We had got the nod that there would be some awards but the sheer number of dignitaries and teachers all standing beside Marcus at this point was staggering. He was a little stunned. Each time the principal said “but stay there, Marcus...” the crowd gave a little gasp, mixed with a cheer and a good-natured mock-moan.

Finally, a vice principal from Taroona High was called up, and she presented Marcus with a bursary towards next year’s school costs. This has never been awarded before, but they are giving onset at each of the five or six feeder primary schools.

So about fifteen minutes of the final assembly was all about Marcus. Soon they moved on to the a farewell to the leavers, this year it was done as a series of short filmed statements from the kids projected on the big screen. Then they went out to ... Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. So no chance of a good cathartic cry with that. They really need to consider Bohemian Rhapsody or The Rose by Bette Midler or something by Johnny Cash or Edith Piaf.

The local paper had sent a photographer, and he arranged Marcus and all his loot then took about 200 photos. (The article was terrific). Finally he was allowed to go, and I went off with Elf and Mum and Dad to have lunch at a cafe near the school and digest everything that had just happened. 

Now, important background to this bit is that my brother-in-law in NSW has been suffering from leukaemia for a couple of years, and has been going downhill. The news had been generally poor and we didn’t expect him to live very long, maybe two or three weeks. On Wednesday we got some good news, that an operation to put a stent in his throat had gone very well, and he would be heading home from hospital. During lunch I sent a ‘hooray’ text to my sister Jacki, but then got a very sobering reply that things had suddenly changed, he now had only days to go and may not survive to Christmas.

I went out and called Jacki and got the details, had a bit of a weep and went back in to break the news to the happy and celebrating family. This is not something I have a lot of experience with. My mum has been the news source and the link between us and Jacki and Tim. 

Elf and I and the boys are going to Perth for three weeks from Jan 1, and suddenly I had to think about going to a funeral. Jacki and Tim live at Smiths Lake, two hours drive north of Newcastle. Getting there from Tasmania is a complicated business. And not knowing when you need to go, it is very hard to plan.

I am usually guided by my mum and dad as to what is the right thing to do in family dramas, but I thought this one I had to work out for myself. So I decided to go and see Tim while I could, right away. And Mum, Dad and my younger sister Sally decided to come too.

I had a meeting on Friday so we made it Saturday. Less than two days after we got the news of Tim’s downturn, we were in Sydney on our way up. I had booked a car in Newcastle but after walking to Budget from the train station in the baking heat, I found they had closed a couple of hours earlier. (Fortunately I did not buy the 2kg of prawns I was tempted by on the way).

I found a cab, went back to the station and collected everyone, and thankfully Sal found another car hire firm on the phone who were just closing but would wait for us to get there. So huge thanks to Thrifty Newcastle and also to Harry the cab driver.

When we finally got to Smiths Lake in time for dinner, the news was good. Tim had held court on the front verandah all day, was feeling better and had just gone for a rest. He got up and met us at about 9, and I think we we all relieved to see him able to walk with a stick, have a conversation, and still his old self inside. He is self-administering morphine but doesn’t need it so much that he’s away with the fairies.

So, we spent the evening and yesterday, and a brief time this morning, just enjoying each other’s company, telling stories again that we have mostly heard before, getting drinks and pillows for Tim, and mostly doing all the usual weekend-at-the-shack things people do. His drama on Thursday was the result of a bowel obstruction which seems to have sorted itself out, and he is confident of being around for Christmas. We will do a family skype and try to keep talking every day or two so we are in touch with what’s happening.

Tim is really looking forward to the Boxing Day test on TV too, just propping in front of it with his family and mates around him.

We took the car back to Newcastle this morning, and we are currently on the train back to Sydney. Tonight before the kids go to bed I should be back home. There were no tears or deathbed confessions, not too much deep analysis of what it’s all about - that would be out of character for Tim and for us too. There were a lot of shared beers, laughs and plenty of hours of just quietly sitting together on the verandah while the cicadas shrieked.

I am very thankful we got the chance to do that.

The Jellies in town

Today we had a visit from fellow blogger and Richmond Tigers man Dugald Jellie of Tiger Tiger Burning Bright, and his lovely family Clare, Alistair (Ali) and baby Marcus. I got to know Dugald over the interwebs through the 2013 season, and enjoyed his writing very much. His passionate and thoughtful writing was always supportive, win or lose, and articulated the feelings of the regular folks in the outer. He did not have any special access to the players, and made a point of respecting their privacy, but at the same time he was able to get insights into what makes them tick, and their relationships with one another.

Dugald was actually at Presentation Night #2 but although I thought I covered the room pretty thoroughly, I didn’t track him down. He had long planned this visit to Tasmania with his family, so at last we had a chance to meet. His main purpose in visiting Hobart was catching up with VFL legend Brent Crosswell. 

“Tiger” Crosswell played in nine VFL Grand Finals, winning two each with Carlton and North Melbourne. He was a unique character in footy, quite the intellectual. And he was Dugald’s geography teacher! He suffers from Meniere’s Disease these days, and is quite reclusive. I understand that Dugald had a few ups and downs trying to get a visit organised, but it did finally happen the day before we met, and was a great success. I am sure Dugald will write about it in time.

When they arrived, Ali (who is 3) made a beeline for the boys’ corner, and was very happy there playing with our Marcus and with Michael. We have regular 3-year-old visitors in Finton and Arthur, and still have plenty of cars, trucks, blocks etc that a knee-high person usually enjoys. Marcus Jellie is a very well-adjusted baby, who seemed to spend most of the visit just beaming and chuckling.

Elf made a highly-praised flourless orange cake, and we all got on like a house on fire. Clare works as a historian at Monash Uni where she specialises in Black American history between the wars; the Cotton Club in Harlem and the like. I am very interested in American history. After the bicentennial in 1976 I was completely sick of Paul Revere and George Washington (who popped up in everything from the Brady Bunch to Archie comics) and generally felt like American history was something to avoid. Whereas I am now addicted to a podcast on the Civil War, and one of my favourite authors is Sarah Vowell who writes popular American histories such as Assassination Vacation.

Dugald and I talked about all sorts of things including but not limited to footy. We ran through the footy cards and discussed one of my favourite aspects; the mechanics of taking the photos, which I have rabbited on about enough here.

When it was time to move on to their next engagement, lunch at Snug, we all looked over and Ali was horizontal on the floor, drowsily driving a truck back and forth. When roused he said “But I haven’t played with this car, and this car. And I haven’t played outside!” So we took them out for a bit of a bounce on the trampoline before we waved them goodbye.

Dugald in his TTBB outfit. I love his typography.

South Hobart go to the Chess Nationals

Marcus and I had a couple of days in Melbourne with the school chess team, at the National Schools Chess Championships. The team was Marcus, Fergus, Joe and Tom. The Ed Dept rules say that all interstate school excursions must be accompanied by a teacher, so the principal Cathy Franz decided to come with us. She reasoned that she could do a lot of her work remotely, unlike class teachers. Cathy actually paid her own way to Melbourne as well as personally donating to help cover the families' costs. Our former principal Greg Turner also donated.

Cathy picked up Marcus and I and then Fergus at 4.30am. Joe's dad Andrew dropped Joe and Tom off at the airport shortly after we arrived. All aboard with no problems. I sat with the Grade 4s Ferg & Tom, who played iPhone games. Cathy sat behind with the Grade 6s Joe and Marcus, who had a couple of games on the magnetic chess board as we crossed Bass Strait.

Last time I was at Tullamarine I waited half an hour for a cab, but we had no trouble getting a taxi van to Queens College, our home for the next 2 days. A nice fella named Ross intercepted us on our way in and showed us the ropes. Magnetic keys etc. Rooms were small but fine, with very high ceilings. The college is quite fetching, castellated buildings in classic Oxbridge style. Our rooms were just a short walk across the quad from the dining hall which was also the competition venue.

We had a bit of settling in time, then Day 1 of the tournament kicked off. The day panned out like this;

• Marcus: win loss win win
• Tom; loss loss loss win
• Joe: loss win loss loss
• Fergus: loss win loss win

Tom’s third game was one he should have had no trouble with - but he was very tired and a bit headachey. He had a panadol and came out very well in his 4th game. After winning his first game, Marcus was sent to the Nº 1 table to play the top seed, Kris Chan. He aimed to hang on for 20 moves and just managed it. (Marcus is rated about 940 and Kris about 1550).

Joe and Fergus (both mid 600s) lost a couple of games against high 800 rated players. Considering our early start to the day, it was great to finish off strongly with three wins from the four final round games. In all we scored 7 points from a possible 16 and were placed 17th of 23 schools at the end of the day. Our boys were all hoping to get at least one win in the tournament, and they had all achieved that by the end of Day 1.

Cathy paid for a wristband to have access to the "VIP Suite", where one-on-one coaching and seminars were offered. Marcus went through his games with a coach; later Joe took the wristband and listened in to some seminars on strategy and tactics.

We had penne bolognaise for dinner, floppy penne but good chunky sauce - needed black pepper though. Boys all seem happy with the food, apparently it is superior to that dished up on the recent Canberra trip. After dinner we just took a walk around the University area, then put everyone to bed by 8.30. The boys each had their own room; we considered pairing them up with mattresses on the floor but they were all content to be on their own. Neither Cathy or I heard a peep all night.

Day 2 of competition turned out to be very tough. Tom improved on his Day 1 effort, getting a win and a draw. The other boys only mustered two draws between them, for a return of 2.5 points from a possible 12. We slipped to finish 22nd - which was disappointing after such a good Day 1, but reflected our position as equal 5th in Tasmania. The boys were not downhearted and showed excellent sportsmanship.

We walked them down to Lygon Street for ice-cream, and a visit to Readings bookshop, which was our only off-campus excursion of the two days. On the way we talked about the differences between Carlton and South Hobart – I think the preference was for South Hobart. When we got back to Queens it was time to head to the airport. Although worn out, the team were well behaved and I was proud to be out in public with them.

It was a great experience for the boys and hopefully will have good spin-off effects on the rest of the school as well. Thanks to the parents, the School Association, staff and students and especially Greg Turner, Cathy Franz and school business officer Bev Thomas for supporting our trip.