Season's Greetings.

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas, and a prosperous and peaceful New Year.

The Subjective Dictionary - A.

The idea of the Subjective Dictionary is to fill it with words and phrases/terms that are of special significance to you at this point in time, followed by why they mean so much.

Naturally, you begin with the letter A.

A is for ...

• APOLOGY - Alphabetically speaking, this is out of place, but it's an appropriate word to kick off with because I think I owe one to the people who come to this blog. I know there are people who visit on a regular basis, and I can imagine their annoyance at nothing being written here for the last couple of months or so. Kind of like visiting your favourite pub, only to find it's always closed for stocktake.
  So, without making excuses for my slack attitude - I have none - my apologies and a promise to make more of an effort to keep the Retreat vibrant. Now, on with the dictionary proper
• ABLAZE - Three States across Australia currently on fire. In Victoria alone, over 600,000 hectares (1,482,633 acres) have been incinerated. Many properties have been lost. Unfortunately, so has a life. As I write this, the township of Mansfield is bracing for an ember attack.
  Summer has always marked the bushfire season, but with Australia suffering the worst drought in 100 years, the problem has been compounded. Surprisingly, South Australia hasn't ignited yet, but I feel it's only a matter of time. Our prayers and thoughts are with those brave souls who are valiantly battling the fires.
• ABSOLUTE - A word that means finality, without variance; black and white, without grey. More and more, lately, I seem to be encountering people with this attitude. Everything runs in cycles. Could it be we are returning to an era of intolerance and close-mindedness?
• ABUSE - We hear and see so much of this in our daily lives; racial abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, civil rights abuse. It's getting to the stage where the word itself is practically being abused. Any right-minded member of society naturally cringes at evidence of any kind of mistreatment, and for those who have suffered, the pain runs deep. Sometimes, far deeper than they realise. As I discovered a few months back.
  My childhood was not a nice place. Details aren't necessary; that's just the way it was. Needless to say, by the time I left my teens behind, I was a mess. Over the years, I have had to face my reflection and deal with who I am, gradually coming to terms. That I still have a way to go was brought home to me by a radio show one morning.
  The announcers of a breakfast show on one of the local radio stations were lightheartedly discussing a news item about the proposed reintroduction of corporal punishment in our schools. The discussion went off on a tangent about the different forms of punishment doled out by our parents, and they invited listeners to ring in and describe how they had been chastised. I appreciate that it was all in a bit of fun, and they weren't being analytical by any means, but I was surprised to realise that their comments were stinging some areas which I had thought calloused. By the end of the segment, I was emotionally responding exactly as if I had actually been abused.
  I suppose the bruises may fade, and the scars are less livid, but inside ...well.
• ACCIDENT, The - September 23, 1993 - 4:30pm. It was bad, it was horrific. I died. They brought me back. Apparently I wasn't happy with their first effort, so made them repeat the process.
  Many things changed that day.
• AGGRO - Bloke I work with. Constantly ranting and raving, non-stop whingeing; a headache on legs. Brags about only having about four hours sleep a night, so I'm not surprised he's got such a lousy temperament.
• ANCHOR - This would be my partner, S. Since meeting this wonderful woman, my life has had substance and foundation. I no longer feel like I'm adrift.
• ANTS - With the advent of the warmer weather, they're on the move. Why the feel they need to move inside, though...
• AUSTRALIA - A great country with extraordinary potential. The problem is, we seem to be losing our identity. Political correctness, combined with saturation levels of other cultures, is eroding that essence which is Australian.
  It's time to stop bending over backwards, trying to please all-comers. It's time to stand up and say; "No! This is our country. We made it ours, and it made us. We are kangaroos, koalas, emus, the duck-billed platypus. We are football, cricket, meat pies. We are sun-blistered, rain-soaked, cyclone Tracy. We are the Outback, the Nullabor Plain, the mountains blue with the haze of eucalyptus. We are Australia, and it's not for sale at any price!"

Well, that's it for the A's of the subjective dictionary. There are probably more that could be added, but these are the most immediate to hand, thus the most significant at this point in time. I'll start thinking about the B's now

Once again, apologies for the lack of input over the last few months.

Crusin' with my girl.

Last September, we celebrated S's birthday with an evening dinner cruise on the Spirit Of Melbourne, a floating restaurant that cruises up the Yarra River. The dinner was a prize I had won earlier in the year, and it just so happened that S's birthday fell on one of the cruising nights, so it was a natural progression. It also seemed natural to book a hotel room for the evening. I managed to get one on Collins Street, right in the heart of the city and only a ten minute walk from where we were to embark.

It turned out to be one of those glorious Spring days; bright sunshine, mild temperature, a cool evening to follow. One of those days when it's impossible to believe that anything has ever been wrong with the world.

We set off from the hotel a little earlier than we really needed to - mainly because I'm a relative newcomer to Melbourne and was somewhat anxious that we might miss the boat - even though S, who has lived here all her life, assured me we would have plenty of time. So, dressed in our finery, S and I walked through the centre of town and across the river to the pier on Southbank.

Of course, we got to the pier with time to spare. In fact, we got there before the Spirit Of Melbourne did, and there were some anxious moments when I thought I had maybe got the times wrong and it had sailed without us. This fear was further compound by the presence of a rather dilapidated looking houseboat on the next mooring. It had obviously been converted as a restaurant, but it didn't looking exactly inviting. S apparently didn't think so either; I could tell by the tone of her voice when she asked me if that was the boat. I bravely said that it wasn't - it had the wrong name - but I was secretly worried. Shortly, however, other people began showing up and milling about, and I took comfort from that, although I did notice some of them throwing glances at the houseboat. I think there may been a collective sense of relief when a beautiful low cut craft with large expanses of glass smoothly slinked up to the jetty.

We were greeted by the skipper of the boat who asked our names as we embarked. These he passed on to a waitress who was waiting to show us to our tables. S and I were the first to board and we were led to a table right next to one of the windows on the starboard side. Almost as soon as everyone was seated, the boat eased away from the dock, and our dinner cruise began.

It was one of the best nights S and I have shared. We moved along the river at a leisurely pace. Spotlights on top of the boat lit up the riverbank. In between courses, we watched the bank slide by, marvelling at some of the houses overlooking the water. Every now and then we would spot roosting waterfowl, or possums moving through the branches of the trees. Most of the time, the trees and shrubs beside the water were simply varying shades of grey, their tortured shadows crawling across the ground as the spotlights went past. Occasionally though, we would go past a tree whose leaves would shine in the light. Quite eerie looking, and somewhat awe inspiring. It's easy to see why the ancients would revere such a tree as spiritual when first seen in moonlight.

About three quarters-of-an-hour into the cruise we swung around Herring Island. Looking at its reed covered waterfront and bushy embankments, I suddenly knew I had found the dumping ground for the killer in my book. Now that Summer is here, you can take a boat across to the island. With a bit of luck, I might be able to do that and have a look around during the Christmas break.

The cruise took three hours and seven courses. The food was luxurious, and so much of it! I pride myself on being able to empty a plate that's set before me but, by the time the dessert arrived, I was stuffed. My plate went back with food still on it. And I couldn't even face the cheese platter that followed. A couple of times, S and I went up top and stood on the observation deck, just to try and let dinner settle a bit. It seemed so quiet and tranquil, and it was quite cold. At one stage, on the return leg, we had to duck our heads as we passed underneath one of the bridges that span the Yarra. We eventually arrived back at Southbank and disembarked. S and I took a leisurely stroll along the river, down to the casino, where we spent an hour or so before returning to our hotel room.

If ever you are in Melbourne. and looking for something to do, I highly recommend the dinner cruise on the Yarra.

Avast there! Ye scurvy dogs!

Today be International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Arrr. I figured if you're going to talk like a pirate, you need a pirate name. Here is mine;

My pirate name is:

Red Roger Rackham

Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Of all the international days, this one sounds like a bit of good fun, and it's slowly catching on. Could be it's time for an Australian chapter.

The Crocodile Hunter, 1962-2006.

Wildlife around the world lost one of its greatest ambassadors yesterday with the death of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. Ironically, for all the highly dangerous animals he encountered, it was a freak incident with a creature not considered as deadly - a stingray - which ended his life.

He was a larger-than- life character, the quintessential Aussie larrikin - as evidenced by his taking his new bride crocodile hunting for a honeymoon - and a true champion for the conservation of our wildlife. Few have done as much as Steve Irwin to raise our consciousness to the plight of the world's creatures.

This blog expresses deep sympathy to his family.

The picture on the right was drawn by daughter, E, as a tribute.

Have you tried the Yellow Pages?

Melbourne taxi driver Jack Thomas (Jihad Jack) became the first person in Australia to be imprisoned under the country's new anti terrorism laws. Six months into his sentence, his conviction was overturned on appeal. It appears that the interview in which he admitted his complicity with Al-Queda was illegal.

So Jack gets out of gaol and decides to go with his family to the seaside, to ostensibly get away for a while and let the dust settle. The holiday was cut short and he was forced to return to Melbourne when he was served with a control order by the Australian Federal Police yesterday. The order places Mr. Thomas under a strict nighttime curfew at his parents' house, and he must report to a police station three times a week. He is also banned from using any telephone that hasn't been approved by the AFP.

Naturally, he is not allowed to contact any proscribed terrorist organisation. And he is specifically forbidden to contact Osama Bin Laden.

After all the time, money and effort we've put into trying to find Bin Laden, are you trying to tell me an ex taxi driver from Melbourne has the wherewithall to get in touch with him and speak to him personally?

What, does he have his number on speed dial?

Ouch! Literarily tagged.

Some of the memes floating through blogs leave a lot to be desired, and normally I'd politely decline to play along. However, occasionally there's one that piques the imagination. Miss Eagle at the Trad Pad tagged me with one such meme.

One Book That Changed Your Life.

I don't know that there's one book as such; more like a sentence in the front of a book. So I guess the book takes the honour by association.

It was an encycloædia given to me for a birthday. One of those encapsulated varieties, with pictures, A - Z in the one volume: you know the type. The quote was "In reading lies knowledge, in knowledge lies wisdom." I can't find any reference on who said this, but it has stuck with me through my life, and greatly influenced the way I read, and look at books.

One Book You've Read More Than Once.

This one's easy. Harry Potter; all the books.

I was a late bloomer when it came to Harry Potter. But, when I did finally read The Philosopher's Stone, I was impressed. A ripping good yarn with lots of magic and mystery to fire the imagination. The magic continued with the following books, and I like the way that as the characters got older, so did the writing style in the books.

One book you’d want on a desert island.
Why do they always make these things so hard? Only one book? That's like telling a chocoholic only one piece! Impossible.

No, I'm afraid I will have to put my foot down and demand that the desert island has a library, or they can find someone else to shipwreck.

One book that made you giddy.

Aside from the volume of Encyclopædia Britannica that fell off the shelf and hit me on the head?

Sorry.

I'm not sure what is meant by "giddy" in this instance, but if it means feeling dazed and shell-shocked after having ploughed through a tome, then Edgar Allan Poe wins hands down. To finish his Tales Of Mystery And Horror was a real accomplishment, worthy of a Victoria Cross, I reckon. Full of classical allusions, phrases in foreign languages, and full of that wonderfully archaic English which would have challenged even Roget. I certainly came away from this one numb.
One book that you wish had been written.

Mine.

It's almost finished - in my head - but I get so slack. Procrastination is an old adversary.
One book that wracked you with sobs.

I'm afraid I can't name any book that has had this effect on me. Unless of course you count the volume of Encyclopædia Britannica that fell off the ...
One book you wish had never been written.
I'm probably going to upset a few people with this answer.

The Bible.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying the Bible is a bad book, but if ever there has been a symbol of fundamentalism, the Bible is it. Perhaps, in the beginning, it was looked upon as a guide to life and the worship of God, but over the centuries it has been used as a tool of subjugation, oppression, fanaticism, apartheid, and countless other attrocities. Organised religion siezed upon it and held it up as evidence of their peity, whilst at the same time ostracising those who did not share their beliefs.

Good or bad, full of contradictions and ambiguities, this book has polarised the peoples of Earth, and you cannot convince me that this is a good thing.

One book you’re currently reading.

I'd love to be able to say that I'm currently reading some wonderful piece of literature, an edifying work by an illustrious writer. However ...

The book I'm currently reading is The Judgement by D.W. Buffa, a pulp fiction type pot-boiler about a lawyer caught up in a murder conspiracy. Basically a bit of an aspirin for after reading Poe.

One book you’ve been meaning to read.

This is the desert island question again, isn't it? Just one book I've been meaning to read?

Be honest now. How many times have you heard about a book and said to yourself "I must get a hold of a copy"? That's what it's like for me.

But, that being said, I do have one that has been sitting on the shelf for a couple of years, waiting for when I feel in the mood. Another murder mystery type (perhaps my favourite genre) The Poet by Michael Connelly.

Now tag five other bloggers.

Again, this is not something I do, but the invitation is there for you to help yourself. And if you do take up the challenge, let me know so I can have a look.

Hair of the dog.

News that Paris Hilton's handbag accessory (dog) bit her yesterday. Ms. Hilton was taken to hospital for treatment.

The dog was signed in to the Betty Ford clinic to undergo detox treatment.

Peeling back the euphemisms.

In this age when political correctness has run amok, I thought it would be good to look at a few of the things that are part of everyday life, and name them for what they really are.

• MILK - Cow secretions.
• CREAM - Separated cow secretions.
• YOGHURT - Curdled cow secretions.
• CANOLA OIL - Processed secretions from the seed of the rape plant.
• McDONALDS SOFT SERVE - Frozen, sweetened pig fat.
• EGGS - Chicken (or other bird) embryos.

That'll do for a start. Hope you have a good breakfast.

Why computers are female.

Computers are female because;

• They may appear relatively easy to figure out, but they are really quite complicated.
• They have a logic all their own.
• They will tell you you're doing something wrong, but they won't tell you what. (The old "If you don't know, I'm not telling you" ploy)
• They're quick to point out your mistakes.
• They can recall something you said or did right down to the very second, even if it was ten years ago, and recite it word for word.
• They put things away where you can't find them.
• When you want to do something, they will ask, "Are you sure?"

I'm sure there are a few other reasons, but I think I better quit while I'm ahead.