Some of my recent Bluesky posts

The expanded World Cup has its pros and cons but a corner of every TAB in the land is decorated with a slew of Arab/Muslim world flags and that's pretty cool. Build your perfect multi then go stand under the flag of Iraq as it all falls apart in the 3.40 at Doomben.

Pride leads to a fall

After my morning run today, I thought I should top up the big water bowl we leave out for the wallabies. It’s up a steep slope from our back gate; and I usually carry a bucket of water up there to do it.

In winter I wear a head torch for my run. I came inside to fill the bucket and took the torch off, meaning to put it back on to find my way back up the hill and down again safely. But… I started thinking about how lovely and shiny my bucket is. It’s shiny silver metal; maybe meant for florist displays or something? I snaffled it when we were having a big clean out at work.

So I was thinking about how proud I was of my shiny new bucket then… damn. It’s dark. No torch.

I stumbled going up the hill but managed to get there, and fill the bowl. Coming downhill through the wattles I was grabbing at branches to steady myself, then a branch snapped and I fell, suffering minor abrasions and major loss of dignity. The bucket went CLANG. 

No-one else heard or saw this classic case of Pride Leading To A Fall: Bucket Category.

On my own wavelength

In Grade 10 my soccer team were the North West coastal champions. This entitled us to go to Launceston to play Brooks High School (to be Northern champions, I guess?) Before the game we all lined up for some reason; I don't think it was a national anthem but maybe someone said a few words. I went along the opposing line and shook hands with each of them; as I had seen players do on TV in this sort of setup.

No-one else on my team followed my lead. I wasn’t captain or anything, I just felt like I should do it. Every guy I shook hands with, transmitted through his handshake and expression that they thought I was a real specimen. Check out this guy willya.

Anyway how I felt then is how I feel every day in my new spot in the large office at work. I am in a team of one and on some sort of emergency wavelength not shared by anyone else.

World Cup Boycott 2026 version

“If you don't stick to your values when they're being tested, they're not values: they're hobbies.”
― Jon Stewart

It’s World Cup time again. It’s been on for about a week. I am looking forward to the 2030 World Cup which will be hosted in an array of countries; at this stage none of them are actively evil. And I hope against hope that FIFA is broken up and rebuilt from the rubble, between now and then.

I boycotted the 2022 World Cup, which was really hard. I struggled with it. The hardest part is friends and family that want to talk about it. I do not want to say “oh, I am better than you; I am boycotting it”. I cobble together some lame explanation but I don’t like having to do it. I caved in and watched just Australia’s games with Marcus last time.

This time there is FIFA – which gets worse by the day under Gianni Infantino; and there is Donald Trump’s USA which is a perfomatively evil place. Canada and Mexico are also hosting and I apologise to those nations for boycotting their big moment. But come on; this is the 3rd time Mexico has had it. 

The US immigration regime has relished the opportunity to abuse and discriminate against brown people, on a larger than usual scale. They turned away a FIFA-appointed Somali referee on the eve of the tournament. They knew he was Somali. They could have made their bigoted objections earlier and he could have officiated in Mexico and Canada. They wanted a highly-visible controversy, it’s how they like to operate.

Again I am permitting myself to watch Australia's games only.

But I bloody hate my boycott. I loathe myself. Why can’t I just enjoy it? Why can’t I be normal? It’s just soccer, it’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s a wonderful treat just once every four years. 

This time it is 50% bigger, so there is a ton of group games and they are being played in daylight work hours in Australian Eastern Standard Time. My team has recently been moved into the big room at work; so I am surrounded by people. And we have a TV set up with the sound up broadcasting every game. People are chatting about it, it's part of the social currency of the office.

Why can’t I just enjoy it? Why can’t I be normal? Why do I have noise cancelling headphones on most of the day? 

The reason why comes down to the Jon Stewart quote at the top. Not cheating is important to me. Not being racist is important to me. And in 2022 and 2026 I have had big opportunities to prove it to myself.

Far North Queensland trip part 1: Wonga Beach, Mossman, Port Douglas and Cape Tribulation

I have just had a week in Far North Queensland, visiting my sister Jacki. And I met her new partner Dave who is a good man, but who beat me at both pool and backgammon. We both stayed most of the week at Dave’s place in Mossman where there is more space than at Jacki’s more remote place at Wonga Beach.

Jacki picked me up at the airport in Cairns and we drove north to Wonga Beach, which takes about 90 minutes at the moment. There are a handful of stops on the highway which is being rebuilt after the most recent cyclone damage.

We stopped at Ellis Beach for lunch and for a look.
The beach is patrolled and netted; this massive cable is here to hold the net. 

This beachside bar by the highway brought back deep down memories
of stops on bus trips in Peru and Ecuador, where the climate was similarly steamy.
But this place was clean, had good food and the beer was kept in the fridge. 

There are automated traffic lights instead of stop-and-go lollipop men,
but the lights have to be supervised.

A walk on Wonga Beach itself. The tide was in and we had to hop
over a lot of recumbent palm trees. That is Snapper Island out there.

Jacki has a couple of immense orb weaver spiders in her driveway

Mossman District Hospital is a jaunty art deco / Spanish mission hybrid

Dave’s local, the Post Office Hotel (cash only).
The cane trains used to run right past it.

Still from an YouTube clip only a few years old

On Day 2, Jacki took me down to Port Douglas for a look. It’s 8km as the fruit bat flies and 20km by road, because of swampy mangrove flats. We took an interesting boat tour up the creek; and I learned a lot about mangroves and crocs. I saw my first croc; about 60cm long.

I think Port Douglas is the first hot and humid yet swanky place I have been. The main shopping strip has galleries and designer fashions, as well as many gentrified pubs. I had occasional vague flashbacks to being a kid taken to fancy enclaves on Sydney’s north shore in summer; and to visiting the bourgeois side of Lima, Peru.

Full of crocodiles

I’ve heard Jacki talk about the Sugar Wharf; this is it.
Recently redeveloped; the shed is used for events.

This is the view north from the wharf towards Mossman and Wonga Beach.

St Mary’s By The Sea in Port Douglas, a very popular place for weddings.
Wonderful stained glass.

On Day 3 Dave did the driving and the three of us went ‘over the river’, north of the Daintree to Cape Tribulation. To a Tasmanian this feels like you are just about in New Guinea; and you are closer to PNG than to Brisbane. But there is so much more Queensland to go. 

The ferry across the Daintree River costs $50 return for a tourist car and is free for locals.

We did the Madja boardwalk through the rainforest at Noah Beach which was terrific.

Then we had a walk along Noah Beach (or this might be Thornton Beach?)
and I imagined sharks, crocs and deadly jellyfish lunging at me from every rockpool.

Dave and Jacki

Above is today's haul of critters, starring a wild cassowary. We had pulled up at one of the traffic queues, I think we had just crossed a one-lane bridge; and there he was. I snapped him heading left then he changed his mind, crossed over again and disappeared into the rainforest on the right. This was obviously exciting for me but more so for Jacki and Dave who understood how rare this is. Neither had ever seen one.

We got home, showered and changed and then it was time for a night out at the Mossman Bowls Club where both Jacki and her son Malachy work. She’s on food and beverage service and he’s assistant chef. He's also one of the club's star bowlers. 

We were there for a birthday party for one of Dave’s friends, who happened to be manager of the Mossman Woolworths. 

Dave and I snuck into the ‘Sports Bar’ and he beat me at pool but it was really nice to see the traditional colourful set of balls; you mostly just see reds ‘n yellows these days.

Dave said again and again what a wonderful day he’d had. He’s lived in Mossman for 10 years, but he works pretty hard and he has never once been over the river before.

 

I'm told my goal last week looked like this

I scored the only goal of the first half last Sunday. I went on a bit of a run and ended up cutting it back into the net past Andy. At half time, Kell made a fuss and even pulled out his phone to show me this goal which he claimed mine resembled. Apparently I left bodies on the grass. I can only really remember my last two touches, the rest is a blur; so I am happy to take Kell's word for it.

Today I was back there; and probably thought I was too good to warm up properly and get a feel for the grass. It was a bit long and wet and I didn’t play to the conditions, kept giving away the ball. So I have to get my head on straight for next time.

Friends with horses

 Elf and I were walking home last night. We were still passing through the hotel district, waiting at the traffic lights when a group of four older tourists hailed us for directions to Woolworths. One lady had her phone out with a set of directions on it; so I thought we could just point out the first street in the distance and they could follow those instructions.

But. It was pretty much dark. Woolworths in the city is hard to find; you literally don't see a sign until you at the top of the escalator. They were pretty elderly. So I said to Elf; we really should walk with them. We scampered after them and said, do you mind? They were happy for us to escort them.

Mrs Directions-On-Her-Phone was leading the way so I caught up to her, and Elf chatted to the other three. One gent with a stick was 92! My lady's name was Rosemary and we have now exchanged numbers. They were all in town for a square dancing festival at Town Hall! They were staying at a city hotel but keen to have their own provisions for breakfast.

Once we'd got them in sight of the escalator we said our goodbyes (with hugs) and chuffed off to try to catch a bus home. We missed it by that much. We caught an inferior bus and had a late dark hungry walk instead.

But, we have new friends from WA; they live in the country out east of Perth. Rosemary said we should visit if we are in Perth. "We have horses - for the kids. But the kids are in their fifties".