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WHY YOU SHOULD ADVERTISE IN THE SWAN MAGAZINE

n these difficult economic days with so many media outlets (radio, television, Yellow Pages, business directories of all kinds as well as newspapers) clamouring for your advertising dollar it is important for you to get the best possible value for your money.

We believe an investment in advertising space in the Swan Magazine represents good value for the following reasons: Any published advertisement lasts only until its next issue. A weekly newspaper lasts a week at best and in most cases a single reading only. We are a monthly magazine and so any advertisement lasts at least a month until the next issue.

We have many, many examples of advertisements lasting and working much longer than that since, because of the nature of the Swan Magazine, readers - your customers - retain copies of the magazine and refer back to it.

Swan Magazine covers a unique area of distribution extending throughout the City of Swan and The Shire of Mundaring, with a bulk drop in Kalamunda.

Print copies of Swan Magazine are bulk dropped at various locations, such as shopping centres, libraries, tourist centres and focus points.

This ensures that your message is delivered directly to your customers and potential new customers.

The print copies of Swan Magazine has a monthly readership of around 30,000, all of whom have your details in front of them.

We have gradually reduced the number of home-delivered copies

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and replaced them with bulk drops.

This was not an easy decision and one we took with trepidation - but the results have been unexpected.

Advertisers have reported a increase in results by and large as the copies have been taken by someone who wants to read it rather than have it delivered in the centre of a thick bundle of advertising material where it gets lost or thrown out.

An advertisement flashed onto a cinema screen lasts perhaps 30 seconds and few patrons take pen and paper with them to jot down your phone number in the dark.

Swan Magazine severely limits the percentage of space devoted to advertising, making each one more effective.

We have all seen publications with pages and pages of advertisements with nothing else on the page to tempt the reader to linger, notice and read your advertisement.

Because we carry so much editorial in the way of articles of general interest readers often tell us they read the magazine ‘from cover to cover’.

We are also the only printed, freely-distributed medium to carry both fiction and poetry. In addition the quarto size and the fact that it is bound makes the Swan Magazine easy and convenient to read anywhere.

In addition to the printed version, which we will always publish, we now produce a digital issue which can either be e-mailed directly to your inbox, or a link to a commercial site where you can read the magazine or download or print it out for later reading.

The first, test, issue was electronically published in October of 2013 on the website Issuu and as at the date of writing this has been viewed over 15,000 times locally and globally.

Swan Magazine does not publish so-called ‘advertorials’ for the simple reason that they do not work as an advertising feature. People simply do not read them. When did you personally last read an article all the way through which began ‘We have been in business now for thirty years and our service is .... etc...’

Puff pieces like this are ineffective because they are unread, irrelevant and regarded, quite rightly, by the reader with scepticism. Whatever you sell readers do not care to read about the excellence of your staff or their kind natures.

Our advertisements are more effective on a dollar for dollar basis.

A business card board advertisement in full colour in the Swan Magazine costs $80 per month.

Can you get a 6 by 4 centimetre advertisement in colour for $20 a week in your current publication?

A final point to consider is that Swan Magazine places advertisements on appropriate pages - health product advertisements appear on those pages devoted to health; financial consultants’ advertisements of the finance pages and so on - these advertisements are not placed wherever there is space or it is convenient - each is placed in a relevant, effective, spot.

We offer a range of advertisements to suit every advertising budget why not ring 9298 8495 and talk to us.

IN THIS ISSUE PAGE

FEATURES

Australia Day 20 Books 19 Business Card Board 27,28 Chef-Adventurer 4 Community Samurai Games for Kids 27 New Signs for Guildford 27 SBDC 32 Fitness Classes at Bilgoman 32 Competition Winners 32 Computers 28 Dining Out On Being a Restaurant Critic 5 Le Petomane’s 13 Editorial 2 Education 26 Entertainment Ashbeclee 18 Hyperfest 2015 24 Midlandia’s Back 24 Venus in Fur 25 Kookaburra’s January 25 Finance 29 Food For Thought 12 Gardening Water Features for Summer 6 Pool Heating 7

COVER PICTURE:

Olivia Patmore as Summer Muse

Photograph by Verge Studio

PAGE Health Matters 3 Holiday Reading A Haunting Visit 22 Ballooning 23 Crime Fails to Pay 10 Duty Free Dreaming 11 Harlequin Street 31 It’s All In The Mind 10 One More Day 14 Proof-reading is Important 11 Literary MCC Notes From Parliament Pets Poetry Thanks For Another Year Bandicoots Lines Composed Upon The

Death of Boris Karloff Rotary

30 21 9 33 22 23 30 31

Printed in Western Australia by Vanguard Press using petroleum free inks and green electricity on plantation sourced paper. Both paper manufacturer and printer are certified to ISO14001, the highest environmental standard.

SAFE 33 Thought 9 The Voice of Swan Hills 8 Vignette 17 What’s On

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DISCLAIMER The information in this publication is of a general nature. The articles contained herein are not intended to provide a complete discussion on each subject and or issues canvassed. Synhawk Publications Pty Ltd does not accept any liability for any statements or any opinion, or for any errors or omissions contained herein.

SWAN MAGAZINE

Published by: Synhawk Publications Pty Ltd WEBSITE:

www.swanmagazine.com.au

Publisher: Douglas Sutherland-Bruce editor@swanmagazine.com.au Editor: Jan Patrick office@swanmagazine.com.au Office: 14 Ridge Road, Glen Forrest, Western Australia Phone: 9298 8495 E-mail: office@swanmagazine.com.au Sales: Jan Patrick 0438 988 495 Postal Address: P.O. Box 554, Mundaring Western Australia 6073

FEBRUARY DEADLINES: Advertisements: 25th January Editorial: 30th January Copyright: Synhawk Publications Pty Ltd 2015 1

EDITORIAL JE SUIS CHARLIE

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here is a scene in the film Spartacus where Crassus the Roman General (Laurence Olivier) offers to spare the lives of the rebellious slaves if they give up, alive, Spartacus (Kirk Douglas).

He leaps to his feet crying ‘I’m Spartacus’, at the same time as several others do, then hundreds and finally the whole slave army.

It’s very moving and is, I think, the basis for the current cry Je Suis Charlie (I am Charlie), which has sprung up as people and even organisations and cities identify with the principle of free speech so savagely and brutally attacked in Paris in the offices of Charlie Hebdo (Charlie today) a satiric magazine which poked fun at Islam and Mohammed.

Not exclusively of course, they were pretty much the enemy of all religion and the satire was pretty broad and frequently on the cringeworthy and undergraduate side.

However, the fact remains that they took a stance and were courageous enough to hold to that line in the face of clear and present danger.

One of the murdered men was a police officer detailed as a bodyguard and another was first injured then executed on the street outside.

There are a number of issues raised by this horrific event - free speech, freedom, Islam’s attitude to criticism, Islamaphobia and this particular event and its relevance to other acts of terror.

Firstly I would like to say that as a publisher, editor and writer I am passionate about the principle of free speech.

It was Voltaire’s biographer, Evelyn Hall writing as S. G. Tallentyre who wrote in The Friends of Voltaire the phrase: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”

This is often wrongly attributed to Voltaire himself, but it is an accurate summation of his beliefs, my belief and the belief of almost everyone in the Western world, certainly in journalism.

It is not an absolute right, even here in Australia, probably the country that enjoys the greatest freedoms of any, Section 18c of the Racial Discrimination Act severely limits critical comment.

Free speech is a precious freedom and should be guarded carefully and not be attenuated in any way. This means acting responsibly but at the same time not fearing to use it in the causes one feels are important.

I am Charlie, in that I too, love free speech and the right to be a tosser in print if I want to be, to irritate and confront, to be provocative, to troll and to make readers see things from different

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angles and perceptions, to spark debate and coverage which time and space is usually given over to demands that Muslim leaders denounce discussion.

Even if you convince no one, but make them the terror. examine their convictions for flaws, than the Also missing from the world’s focus is the human carnage perpetrated by Boko Haram satirist has done their job, and done it well.

I am also not Charlie, in that I would not have terrorists in Baga, Nigeria on the 10th of January published most of the cartoons they did, some for of this year. reasons of good taste, some because they were Most of the victims were children, women not suitable for the style of this little magazine and and elderly people who could not run fast enough when insurgents drove into Baga, firing rocketfrankly some because they were dangerous.

This may seem cowardly, but I am not alone propelled grenades and assault rifles on the town in this, Charlie Hebdo stood alone among a sea residents. of newspapers and magazines in republishing the Amnesty International said there are reports cartoons of Mohammed that caused the riots in the town was razed and as many as 2,000 people killed.

Denmark and elsewhere.

I take a stand and will decry terrorism of all Boko Haram (Western education is forbidden), kinds whenever and wherever it happens, but this is a militant and self-professed Islamist movement seems particularly poignant. One sad aspect is based in Nigeria. The group is designated as a that one of the policemen, Ahmed Merabet, was terrorist organization by Australia, and the United himself a Muslim and died defending the right to Nations Security Council, which declared it an alQaeda affiliate. ridicule his own religion.

These people, the perpetrators, were Muslim, The fact that so many terrorist groups and and proudly Muslim, but they were first and ‘lone wolves’ are Muslim makes it easy to label all foremost terrorists, Islam was their excuse, not Muslims, which is a great danger.

Islamaphobia means ‘an irrational fear of’ their cause.

There has been widespread condemnation Muslims. Any fear for a hooded figure brandishing of the terrorists’ action by sections of the Muslim a loaded Klasnikov 47 is entirely rational. communities, which has not received the media But at the end of this we should remember that Crassus was so moved by the loyalty shown by attention it perhaps should have.

Egypt’s highest religious authority – Al-Azhar’s his followers to Spartacus that he crucified them Grand Mufti Shawqi Allam - denounced the all, lining the road to Rome which their dead and Islamic State as a threat to Islam and said that the dying bodies. group violates Islamic law: “[They] give an opportunity for those who seek to harm us, to destroy us and interfere in our affairs with the [pretext of a] call to fight terrorism.”

The Council on American-Islamic Relations – the largest Muslim group in the U.S. – called ISIS “un-Islamic and morally repugnant.”

The Arab League Chief denounced acts committed by the Islamic State in Iraq as “crimes against humanity,” demanding that they be brought to justice.” And there are many more, but lbert Uderzo, co-creator of Asterix has come out of retirement to pen a they simply do not get the cartoon in respect of the fallen at Charlie Hebdo.

The 87-year-old cartoonist said “Charlie and Asterix have nothing to do with each other obviously. I simply want to express my affection for those designers who have paid with their lives.

If you would like to receive a free copy of the “Young designers are on hand now and I wish them courage. They new, expanded digital Swan Magazine keep in mind this terrible thing came to their colleagues that no one could sent to you electronically and save a tree’s life, expect.”

The image is of Asterix and Obelix bowing their heads in grief send an email to: Uderzo also expressed his anger at the attack: “How can you do such editor@swanmagazine.com.au appalling actions? How can people who say they are humans kill people with ‘Subscribe’ in the subject line. they do not know.”

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HEALTH MATTERS EPILEPSY - THE FALLING DOWN DISEASE

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hile good ideas may come to mind only occasionally, we do in fact have brain waves all the time.

These brain waves are really a sequence of electrical impulses generated by a series of chemical reactions.

Sounds complicated?

The human body is, of course, a pretty complex piece of equipment, but in most cases it operates remarkably well.

Nevertheless, problems do happen now and again.

For instance, if those brain waves are interrupted, or if something triggers the electrical impulses at a greater-than-normal rate, then a seizure will occur.

When these seizures take place regularly, the condition is known as epilepsy.

Epilepsy is a comparatively common condition – about 2% of Australians are affected by epilepsy at some time in their lives. It is well known, but not well understood.

I would like to address some of these misunderstandings and misconceptions.

The myths began many centuries ago. The Babylonians first described epilepsy as the “falling down disease” – a fairly reasonable description, but they also believed it resulted from possession by demons.

The ancient Greek physicians, led by Hippocrates, were less superstitious, although they did believe epilepsy was passed on through families from one generation to the next.

During the middle ages, it was thought that epilepsy was a contagious disease. Of course, epilepsy is not contagious, nor is it really a disease.

We now know that there are genetic causes, but there are many other causes too. In about half the cases the actual cause is not known.

Actually, there are several types of epilepsy. In the so-called ‘tonic-clonic’ epilepsy, which used to be known as grand mal, the person falls, goes stiff, and shakes all over. They may be unconscious for

JOHN BELL several minutes. This is probably the typical image of epilepsy.

‘Absence’ seizures (petit mal) are like a blank spell. The person stops what they are doing and just stares for five to thirty seconds. This type of seizure occurs mainly in primary school age children. The child may have problems paying attention in class, resulting potentially in learning difficulties.

‘Complex partial’ seizures are probably the most misunderstood as this form of epilepsy can be mistaken for drunkenness or drug abuse due to similar behaviour patterns.

The person having one of these seizures may wander aimlessly, mumble and be glassy-eyed.

It is important to realise that epilepsy does not affect intelligence. In fact, history has shown that even without the benefit of current medications, people with epilepsy have been high achievers in their field of endeavour.

DO Remain calm Stay with person Time the seizure Protect the person from injury especially the

head Roll the person into the recovery position after the jerking stops OR immediately if they have food, fluid or vomit in the mouth Maintain the person’s privacy and dignity Observe and monitor breathing Gently reassure until recovered DO NOT Put anything in their mouth Restrain the person Move person unless in danger Apply CPR DO Call an ambulance (000) if: You are in any doubt You arrive after the seizure has started Injury has occurred Food or water is in mouth during seizure The seizure has occurs in water The seizure lasts longer than normal for that person or longer than five minutes Another seizure follows quickly The person is non-responsive for more than five minutes after the seizure ends The person has breathing difficulties after the

jerking stops It is the person’s first known seizure This is not an exhaustive list, however it is a starting point to help you consider response to seizures.

More information an be obtained from Epilepsy Scientists Edison and Einstein, artists Van Gogh Action Australia: www.epilepsy.org.au. and da Vinci, writers Socrates and Dickens and musicians Handel and Tchaikovsky are all known to have had epilepsy.

EPILEPSY Julius Caesar has been popularly SUPPORT GROUP supposed to have had epilepsy, but modern MIDLAND medical opinion is sharpy divided over the issue.

Are you, a family member, or In recent years there have been significant advances in the treatment of friend living with Epilepsy? epilepsy with new medicines becoming Would you like to: available. These medicines, usually taken in conjunction with the older preparations,  Meet others living with epilepsy?  Share experiences & ideas to help support each can mean better control with fewer side other? effects.

FIRST AID However, it can be a frightening thing to see someone, possibly a loved one, having a seizure, particularly if you have not seen one before.

There is much misinformation and old wives tales out there in the back of people’s minds, so a quick run down of current thinking may not come amiss.

In a Tonic Clonic Seizure there are two phases- convulsive seizures where the body stiffens (tonic phase) followed by general muscle jerking (clonic phase).

 Help raise awareness about epilepsy?  Enjoy some fun social activities?

THEN COME ALONG & JOIN US !

Dome Café 21 Cale Street, Midland 6.30pm—8pm (Drinks and Supper Provided) Thursday 19th February 2015

Thursday 17th July 2015

Thursday 19th March 2015

Thursday 21st August 2015

Thursday 16th April 2015

Thursday 18th September 2015

Thursday 21st May 2015

Thursday 16th October 2015

Thursday 18th June 2015

Thursday 20th November 2015

For more information, contact: SHELLIE MARTIN

Phone: 0414 640 500 Email: finance@epilepsywa.asn.au Epilepsy WA, The Niche 11 Aberdare Rd, Nedlands

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CHEF-ADVENTURER

GOEDEMORGEN VAN HOLLAND BRENDAN MURPHY

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f there is ever a country in Europe that can pack so much into a small space, then it just has to be Holland! This country is also known as the Netherlands, which when translated means ‘lower lands’, as it has 20% of its land underwater (as in the canals) and another 20% below sea level which is protected by the dykes.

So OK, it’s not got the Alps and the landscape is rather flat, though I just have to observe here that the Dutch seemed to have worked out a rather more dubious way of getting high in a flat country though I better not go down that road just yet!

Instead whatever road you take in Holland ‘get on your bike!’

That flatness of land lends itself to hiring a bike for the day, its cheap and you can really get to see the sights, which is great for young back packers (and old hippies who seem to still be there!)

However, it is hilly out in Maastricht just near the German and Belgium border and you can also hike the dunes in Schiermonnikoog National park, (though try saying that after a few too many Grolche Beers!)

Then there is the famous Port of Amsterdam to explore of course, which is one of Europe’s best preserved cities. It is a beguiling place with their 17th century almost fairytale like houses overlooking their picturesque canals.

I just love it and have been there several times.

You feel like you could walk around and gaze in awe forever and a day.

The Dutch, like the Brits across the English Channel, were also great sea-farers and spent many centuries sailing around the world happily plundering and colonizing in great competition with the British, Spanish and French. (It can still be as competitive today but more on the football field!)

Add to this wonderful port the more modern (I suppose?) Red light area and rather ‘Dopey’ cafes along the canals and you have a magnet for tourists all around the world! No matter what one thinks, it is still a major tourist attraction to this day!

However, the ironic thing is that the Dutch themselves don’t really partake of these rather dubious attractions!

Yet, as ‘Lonely Planet’ declares in an article, the Dutch have a natural talent for making money from others! In fact, being such a small country, originally full of swamps bordering the notorious North Sea they have been very inventive turning it into a modern wealthy country.

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Especially the brilliant engineering needed to build 2400km of ‘Dykes’ to protects a large portion of its coast line which is, as I said earlier, below sea level.

Which brings me to the analogy of the term ‘Dutch Courage’, as it certainly took a lot of it to achieve all this in a small country, but the term really means fuelled by alcohol, and the beer is so good I am not surprised! (Though history will tell you it was fuelled by gin which was supposed to calm the troops before ancient battles) Anyway, I always seemed to end up full of ‘courage’ whenever I went to Holland, but as a traveller I am a great believer in the other analogy of ‘When in Rome..’ etc!

There are also other more cultural things to discover like the artwork of the great artists like Van Gogh and Rembrandt of course, but for now, let’s eat!

I used to often indulge in Dutch Meatballs, which are also known as Bitterballen.

These are a tasty starter that are often served as a snack in Dutch bars and cafés, and may also form part of a selection of fried finger foods.

Originally they were made from left over beef stew like a ragout, but for this recipe I use minced beef.

While often translated as ‘bitter balls’ they do not have a bitter taste. The name, in fact, refers to the tradition of serving these deep-fried snacks with bitters, such as Jenever (gin) but nowadays they are more often enjoyed with beer.

There are countless variations on this recipe from vegetable, cheese and even shrimps but this version is a classic, combining beef and the great Dutch Gouda cheese, and would make an excellent starter for you to make this summer before firing up the Barbie.

BITTERBALLEN Ingredients 50g onions finely diced 300g minced beef 2 cloves finely chopped garlic 80g grated Dutch Gouda cheese 1/2 teaspoon cumin 5g fresh parsley Salt and pepper 50g butter 50g flour 250ml beef stock Seasoned flour, two eggs and breadcrumbs to coat

Method 1. Sauté onions and garlic in butter/oil.

2. Add the mince and cook until the mixture is light brown. Place in a bowl.

3. Add the grated Gouda cheese, chopped parsley, cumin and seasoning.

4. In a small saucepan make a basic light brown sauce by lightly browning the flour and butter ‘roux’.

5. Gradually add the hot beef stock, and cook out gently for a 5-10 minutes.

6. Add this very thick mixture to the cooked beef. This is used to bind the meatballs.

7. Cool in a fridge then divide the mixture into approximately 16 balls. You can vary the size depending on your needs.

8. One way to get even size balls is by actually rolling the mixture on your kitchen table using a little flour into a thin strip, then dividing equally before you roll each into a ball.

9. Set up a ‘crumbing station’ by dipping the balls into seasoned flour, then eggs and then breadcrumbs.

10. Deep fry at 170c until golden brown.

Drain well on kitchen paper.

11. Serve with Dijon mustard.

FOR A MORE IN-DEPTH of A Taste of Europe or indeed A Taste of the World follow The Chef Explorer on Facebook, with more anecdotes on Travel and Food or listen to Brendan on his weekly radio show on Radio Ellenbrook 88fm.

To buy his books go to www. chefexplorer.com. au.

DINING OUT

The Thoughts of an Ageing, Balding Foodie ON BEING A RESTAURANT CRITIC DOUGLAS SUTHERLAND-BRUCE

Who does not care for his belly will scarcely care for anything else.

Dr Sam Johnson

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rom time to time I am asked by people, when they learn that I eat food for a living and write about it, ‘Is that the best job in the whole world?’* This is almost immediately followed by the question “How can I get to do that?” Well, this article is to give you some idea how.

The first principle in writing is ‘Write what you know about.’ Therefore, if you’re going to write about food, you must know about food.

Personally I became interested in food from a very young age. My Grandparents, with whom I stayed a good deal, were restaurateurs and hotel owners - Montrose Restaurant, the Drakensberg Gardens Hotel and Montrose Hotel. Sequentially, you understand, not all at once.

As they were actually running the places, not absent landlords, I got to see all of it from behind the scenes first hand, and occasionally help in the kitchens.

I realise that this childhood training is not an option open to all, but you should eat at as many and as varied places as you can and you should cook at home, experimenting with unusual dishes.

You should be able to tell if something is wrong with a dish, exactly what is wrong with that dish and how it happened.

You need to know the basic sauces, what can go wrong and how to fix it.

For example, if a Hollandaise splits it’s because it got too hot, you put the oil in too fast, it was kept warm too long or it was refrigerated. If this happens, you can try to correct it by whisking in a teaspoon or two of ice water, a drop at a time or even an ice block.

If that doesn’t work, put another egg yolk in a bowl and very slowly whisk in the split sauce.

Usually, the sauce will come back together with one of these methods.

You need to know what makes a restaurant successful and how that is acheieved.

For example, what would you say was the most vitally important factor for success in a restaurant?

Good food? Great Menu? Wine List? Value for Money? Price? All good answers, but the real answer is consistency. The meal you eat there on Monday in February must be the same quality that you eat on Saturday night in September –

MacDonalds, Colonel Sanders and Hungry Jacks know this to be true and have built mighty food empires on the back of it.

Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach; and those who can’t do either become critics.

This is the generally held view of the profession of critic. And not entirely without a grain of truth, too.

Not all have taken the view of the role of critic in an attitude of kindliness.

‘Critics are like eunuchs in a harem. They’re there every night, they see it done every night, they see how it should be done every night, but they can’t do it themselves.’

Brendan Behan Now how do we go about reviewing a restaurant? What are the points to look out for?

Firstly we must ask ourselves “What is this restaurant trying to achieve?”

And secondly, “How well have they measured up against these aspirations?” Fast food, pub food, gastro-pub food, family restaurant, fine dining, Chinese/Asian/Mongolian/Ukranian/ Indian restaurants, nouvelle cuisine, classic French, comfort food and so on all have differing aims and must be judged only on how they fulfill those aims alone.

It’s no use going to a French fine dining restaurant and complaining that there’s no Chow Mein on the menu, or that everything seems to have cream in it.

ETHICS - NOT JUST A COUNTY IN ENGLAND Before we go any further we need to look at the ethics of criticism – and yes there are some.

Now, some years ago, I wrote food articles for another paper, and the editorial policy then was never to write anything which might be considered even faintly suggestive that the food, service, atmosphere, decor, drink, weather, waiters’ uniforms were anything less than perfection.

The reasoning behind this, I was told, was that it was a community newspaper and so I should avoid being controversial and besides ‘these people pay us a good deal in advertising so we should be nice to them’.

Frankly, this is garbage - the public are not fools, and are not to be fooled for long by this nonsense.

And the foremost ethic we have absolutely to adhere to under any and all conditions is that our loyalty is to the reader, not the advertiser nor the sales department.

If you lose the reader’s trust by saying bad is good, you will never get it back. Mr Justice Darling summed it up neatly: “You do not have to advertise ‘stinking fish’, but you may not cry ‘fresh fish.”

I got round the ‘everything is lovely’ policy as long as I could stomach it by praising the decor where the food was poor; discussing the history and development of the fork if even the decor was no good and so on.

I recall one review of a Chinese Restaurant, since gone out of business, in which I described in excruciating detail the fitments, pictures and light fittings of the restaurant and ended with the

words ‘and food is available’.

The editor wouldn’t publish it and now that I too am an editor, I have a certain sympathy for his point of view but it does not alter my opinion that the first duty of any magazine, newspaper, blog, vlog or website is to the reader, not the advertiser.

What is often overlooked in all of this concern by editors for the advertising dollar is that it is the readers who must decide what is important and what is not before parting with their hard-earned cash.

Secondly, payment for meals. The food writer of a local newspaper asked in print, in essence, should food writers and critics pay for their meals or should they ‘freeload’, (his word not mine) and write nothing but praise.

This makes two assumptions, both false.

Firstly, that supplying me with a meal automatically acquires my support.

This is not the case. I don’t know whether I can be bribed - no one has ever offered enough for me to be tempted - but I do know it can’t be done with a plateful of bad food.

Secondly, it assumes that everything I wrote is praise, which is absolutely not the case.

To write nothing but praise is not criticism, because to praise everything is to praise nothing, and readers will, rightly, consider what you write as advertorial, not editorial. (A little bit of journalistic jargon there for you).

Finally on that point, theatre critics are never asked to pay for their tickets, and I know several excellnt restaurants where I could dine twice for the price of the average ticket for His Majesty’s.

What other considerations should be evaluated when reviewing a restaurant? Food?

Service? Menu variety and range? Ambience/ atmosphere? Wine list? Cost/Value? Are there vegan/vegetarian/gluten free dishes on offer?

Seating? Toilets? the list is entensive.

The list of questions to be answered by Gold Plate judges (at least when I was one) was some three hundred questions, so there are many aspects to consider if you’re going to be professional about it.

They do not all have to be written about, but in evaluating them you get a firm grip of the restaurant’s intentions and performance.

Let’s now look at the subject of ‘to tip or not to tip?’ Tommy Cooper the commedian was nororiously mean and used, at the end of a taxi trip would pay the exact fare and then push something into their top pocket with the words ‘Have a drink on me’, ‘Thanks Tommy’, they’d say and when he was safely inside they’d take it out to see how much and find a teabag.

I personally am against routinely tipping in Australia where the wage for servers is adequate, if not lavish. If the service has been above average, I tip, if not, then not.

This is not the case in America, where the minimum wage is risable and servers rely on tips to make a livable wage, or France where the servers frequently do not get a wage at all, but rely on the tips. Some servers in restaurants in France will actually pay the management to be allowed to work there for the priviledge of the tips.

Continued on page 13 ...

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GARDENING WATER FEATURES FOR SUMMER ROXY CALLAHAN

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re you looking for an eye-catching feature for your garden? Why not try creating your own little oasis in the back yard and enjoy the soothing sounds of water all year round!

With this round-up of beautiful water feature ideas, you can do just that! Whether you’re a DIY expert or you’re a bit of novice, this series has something for everyone. We begin with a DIY Recirculating Fountain This inexpensive fountain looks amazing in any garden and is really simple to make.

Choose any ceramic pot you want that will blend in beautifully with your garden while creating a fantastic stand out feature to be enjoyed year round.

You will need a ceramic pot in the style you like; a twenty-litre bucket; two aluminum L-brackets; screen material, a submersible pump, hose and if you want — an attachment for fountain spray as well as an outdoor plug.

mesh material to fit over the pot with a hole in the middle for the pump hose to go through.

You should also cover the mesh with some smaller window screen material to keep debris from falling inside of the bucket.

4 Put the pump on the bottom of the bucket.

I rested the pump on a plastic tupperware container filled with rocks.

This keeps the debris that is collected at the bottom of the pot from getting in the pump.

5 Run the tubing up through the mesh and through the ceramic pot above and attach it to the Nozzle kit to the top.

I used rocks to hold the tubing in place at the bottom of the pot. I also ran the tubing through a length of PVC pipe to keep it straight. I painted the PVC pipe black to match the tubing.

I had to experiment to find the right kind of caulk to use for this project. You need water-proof silicone caulk. Apply the caulk and allow it to dry according to the directions before you get it wet.

6 Then add water, add power and you are ready to go.

CONTAINER WATER GARDEN Visit any nursery, and most of them have special sections now just for lovers of water gardens.

Water is a restful element to add to any garden, and they can potentially attract birds, frogs and butterflies as well. Not to mention, water plants themselves are beautiful, and can be fragrant in addition to being low maintenance.

It is fast becoming a very popular garden design element in many back yards! But you don’t

need to build a pond, or to install an expensive Method: fountain in order to enjoy water and the water 1 Dig a hole to bury the bucket in your yard. plants.

Here is an easy step by step tutorial on 2 Cut aluminum L-brackets to fit over the making a container water garden that is simple, bucket (these will carry the weight of your pot and inexpensive and a easy DIY garden project. water for the fountain).

You will need container that holds water; 3 Use wire cutters to make a square of wire water plants; rocks or bricks, and oh yes, water!

6

GARDENING Choosing a Container When choosing a container for your water garden, keep in mind that technically, anything that holds water will work. If you choose a porous container such as terracotta or wood, make sure you give it at least two coats of a water proof sealer.

Otherwise, water will evaporate from the container too quickly. Choose a container large enough to comfortably hold at least three or four water plants. A sixty centimetre wide container will be a perfect start to your foray into water gardens.

Once you get comfortable with a small garden, you may want to move onto to bigger things!

of their pots fifteen to thirty centimetres under water, so don’t worry about having to have them all at the same water level.

Place your tallest plant in the back, or in the center, if the garden will be viewed from all angles.

Then add your smaller plants until you like the composition. Fill the container the rest of the way with water, then add your floating plants last.

Container Water Gardens Place your water garden where it gets at least six hours of sun every day.

Make sure the water level is topped up on a regular basis… If the roots are exposed for any length of time, you will likely damage, if not lose the plant.

Choosing Plants When choosing water plants for your I like to overflow the top of the container with water every couple of days, just to make sure no mosquitoes are using your new garden as a baby factory.

And that’s it!

Some water plants are winter hardy, but you will likely have to wrap them and bring them under cover for the winter if you want to try to use them again next year.

SAWS AND MOWERS

cnr

Grt Est Hwy & Chipper St, Mundaring

9295 2466

~ Sales

container, keep in mind to choose in line with the scale of your container.

Huge plants in a tiny container will just look like a wet jungle. Just as too many tiny plants in a large container will just look like clutter.

Choose your types of plants much the same way you would design a regular garden bed.

Use different shapes and textures of plants to add contrast, and to set each plant apart. I like to use at least three.

First a tall spiky plant, such as one of the many rushes available. Then a broader leaved plant, and finally, a floating option such as water hyacinths, or even a single water lily.

Arranging Your Water Garden Arranging the plants in your water garden is easier than planting a garden bed. If you don’t like the arrangement, you just pick them up and move them, because you never remove the water plants from the nursery pot.

Fill your container half full with water, then start setting in plants. Use rocks or bricks to raise up the height of any plant that needs to be more of a focal point.

Most water plants do just fine with the tops

POOL HEATING

I

~ Spares ~

Repairs

GEOFF FRANCIS

n heating your pool, it may be worth considering an electric heat pump.

These don't actually use electric heaters, but rather draw heat from the surrounding air and transfer it to your pool water in much the same way that an Air Conditioner cools.

These pumps use around a third of the energy of a traditional electric water heater and have the advantage of very low running costs once set up.

Some models can be used to actually cool the pool in warmer climates.

Gas fired heaters have the advantage of being quicker to warm the water, but do cost more to run than most other systems.

It is essential that a gas fired heater is fitted with thermostatic controls otherwise over heating can occurr and a lot of energy wasted.

Whichever system you choose, it must suit your needs. eg. rapid but only occasional heating would be best suited to gas fired, whereas constant warming for a lot of use probably better suits an electric heat pump or solar heating.

Courtesy of Eastern Hills Pool Supplies 7

THE VOICE OF SWAN HILLS 2015 - THE ROAD AHEAD

I

FRANK ALBAN MLA

n last month’s column I ran through some of the accomplishments achieved in the electorate throughout 2014 and this month I’ll cover what we’ll be seeing throughout this year.

The Bullsbrook community and Chequers Golf Club in particular have long been vocal about the idea of retaining grey water for the Bullsbrook area rather than having it piped down to Ellenbrook.

This is something that has been successful in other rural municipalities. Initially raised in 2001

by Bruce Rowley, then president of Chequers Golf Club, it has been strongly supported by the Club’s current president Bruce Milburn since 2009.

While developers with interests in the area, the Bullsbrook Resident and Ratepayers Association and the community are largely supportive of such a request, longer term planning from the Water Corporation is indeed a consideration that must be taken into account.

I’m hopeful that 2015 will see a feasibility study on the idea and I believe that such a study will see a resolution to a matter that has been discussed for some time. I remain committed to the use of grey water for the Bullsbrook community, as I believe the benefits will become even greater when development starts as an effect of the NorthLink WA (Perth-Darwin Highway) project.

Speaking of which, Main Roads WA has started negotiations with landowners it needs to acquire land from for NorthLink WA. While planning is expected to be undertaken through to August 2015, with construction due to commence the following year, I will endeavour to keep you updated with this $1.12 billion project that will provide significant benefit to significant parts of the electorate of Swan Hills as well as the Swan Valley as a whole.

The upgrade of Gnangara Road from Alexander Drive to Drumpellier Drive is under way. This is as major route for visitors to the Swan Valley as well as for residents of Aveley and surrounding suburbs to access the Mitchell Freeway and Alexander Drive.

During my first term when Ellenbrook was located within the electorate of Swan Hills I advocated for upgrades from Drumpellier Drive

Frank Alban with Members of Chequers Golf Club, Bullsbrook, supporting retaining grey water for the area

to Pinaster Parade, with the State Government providing the City of Swan with $4 million in funding for these upgrades.

The Alexander to Drumpellier upgrades is funded with $22.6 million from the State Government and an additional $4.3 million from the City of Swan. The first stage of this upgrade is the construction of the new east-bound lanes parallel to the existing road from the Water Corporation pumping station (next to the United Service Station) through to Drumpellier Drive.

While construction of the two new lanes through to Alexander Drive as well as the upgrade of the existing two lanes of Gnangara Road is anticipated for completion in 2017, the long term results of this investment in the region will be worth it.

While on the topic of key routes, the State Government is still committed to upgrades along Great Eastern Highway from Greenmount to Mundaring. It has committed $12 million to such upgrades and is seeking Federal Government

funding for the remaining half.

In November last year I raised a grievance to Minister Nalder regarding this, and the Minister stated that he had recently written to Hon Warren Truss MP, Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Infrastructure, nominating this project as “our highest priority for consideration of future funding” in addition to advising Main Roads to continue planning for the proposed upgrades and commence pre-construction activities.

This will ensure that works can commence upon a Federal funding commitment. I welcome the Minister’s commitment to this essential route to Australia’s east coast and a key road within the electorate of Swan Hills.

With Minister Nalder’s support and as noted last month, we have also seen works commence along Toodyay Road near Lewis Jones Cross and also at The Springs Roads, with planning for the Noble Falls area underway.

Over the next couple of months my column will focus on some of the smaller projects that I am working on for the electorate, allowing you to see just how long some of these little things can take to achieve.

Unit 8 Vale Town Centre 31 Egerton Drive Aveley WA 6069 Phone: 9296 7688

Frank Alban with City of Swan Mayor Charlie Zannino, Members for the East Metro Region Alyssa Hayden and Donna Faragher, viewing the works at Gnangara Road 8

Email: frank.alban@mp.wa.gov.au

THOUGHT THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

NOTES FROM PARLIAMENT HON DONNA FARAGHER JP, MLC Member for East Metropolitan R egion

CLAIRE SCHULZ

R

ead each one carefully and think about it for a second or two:

1. I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.

2. No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.

3. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

4. A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.

5. The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.

6. Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.

7. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

8. Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you.

9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.

10. Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.

11. There are always going to be people that hurt you so what you have to do is keep on trusting and just be more careful about who you trust next time around.

12. Make yourself a better person and know who you are before you try and know someone else and expect them to know you.

13. Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.

PRINICAL SHARED PATH FURTHER EXPANDED

R

egular readers of the Swan Magazine may recall that last year this year, I wrote about the start of construction of a new section of Principal Shared Path adjacent to the Perth to Midland railway line.

I am pleased to announce that it has now been completed and is open to cyclists and pedestrians alike.

Principal Shared Paths (PSP) provide cyclists with safe, high quality paths to ride on and this new section gives cyclists a much safer alternative to using Railway Parade and crossing the busy Lord Street.

It also links to the path already completed between Bassendean Train Station and Tonkin Highway.

The new three metre wide path includes signs, pavement markings, lighting and a small bridge over the Wilson Street underpass. At the eastern end, it travels under the very busy West Road-Lord Street Bridge near Success Hill.

The next section of path to be constructed will link Guildford Railway Station to the East Street crossing outside Guildford Grammar School. Construction of this section will start in mid-2015 and the following year Main Roads WA will focus on extending the path to Morrison Road.

Part of this exciting new project also includes the construction of more park-and-ride facilities at Guildford Station, with the number of parking bays set to quadruple.

These works will see another 350 bays constructed on an unsealed section of land adjacent to Victoria Street, opposite the existing

parking area.

Importantly, there will be no changes to the car park’s entry or exit points during construction and no existing bays will close.

This part of the project is expected to be completed mid next year and should be welcome news for commuters who regularly travel from the Station.

It also builds on work already undertaken to improve facilities at a number of stations including Midland, Bassendean and Meltham Train Stations.

Happy New Year!

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Your local Liberal East Metropolitan Members of Parliament

Here to help!

WESTERN AUSTRALIA

Hon Helen Morton MLC Ph: (08) 9452 8311 Fax: (08) 9452 8366 helen.morton@mp.wa.gov.au

Hon Donna Faragher MLC

W

herever you see this symbol you will be able to get more information by scanning it with your smartphone, laptop or iPad. The relevant can be downloaded free from your App Store.

Ph: (08) 9379 0840 Fax: (08) 9379 0845 donna.faragher@mp.wa.gov.au

Hon Alyssa Hayden MLC Ph: (08) 9274 8484 Fax: (08) 9274 7874 alyssa.hayden@mp.wa.gov.au

9

HOLIDAY READING IT’S ALL IN THE MIND RYAN PETTY

P

eople have written numerous songs about cities in Europe: “I love Paris in the Springtime,………” and America: “New York, New York, it’s a hell of a town,….”

And many other places around the world.

And these songs always say how beautiful, how exciting the place is. They sing about the climate, the people, the glamour, and they always make it sound so wonderful.

But here in Australia we don’t seem to write many songs about our local cities. Not these days anyway. Certainly in the past there were a few.

There was one about Woolloomooloo, but that was mainly an aid to remembering how to spell it.

And there were some very old convict songs about Botony Bay and such. But they hardly made the place out to be exciting or glamorous or a place you would want to go to.

But these days songs about Australian cities, town, religions just don’t get written.

Why is that? Well, there are two reasons.

One is to do with the sound. How would “I love Widgiemooltha in the Springtime’’ sound, or

“Maybe it’s because I’m a Gidgiegannupper,

that I love Gidgegannup so’? or

“I belong to Marangaroo, Dear old Marangaroo town, But there’s something the matter with Marangaroo….”

There certainly is something wrong. It just doesn’t seem to sound right does it? Not to me anyway. I suppose if you live in one of these places you might say, ‘No, it sounds great. It’s got melody. And rhythm. It catches the essence of my town perfectly.’

And you could be right.

There’s a second reason why we in Australia don’t write that sort of song. It’s to do with perception. It’s to do with how you see the place.

And how we see our own cities, and how we see those foreign cities. “Yes” we say, “Paris, New York, they really are exciting places. They are the places to live.”

Until we visit them. Then we find they’re smelly, they’re dirty, they’re crowded, they’re noisy, they’re sometimes dangerous, they’re too busy, they’re too expensive, there are too many people, there’s too much traffic,……

And we come back to Australia, and seeing it through different eyes, we write our own song about the places we really loved all along, but just didn’t realise it.

Here are my contributions: ‘I love Perth, The city of my birth, There’s nowhere else on earth That’s worth As much as Perth.’

Or ‘Hurry up! Hurry up!

We’re on our way to Munglingup’ Or ‘There’s a place I want to see, It’s a place called Youanmi, And we’ll go there both together, You and me to Youanmi.’

What do you reckon? Couldn’t get much better than that now could you? National Anthem material, those.

And they’re just the beginning. Using them as a guide, you could write something yourself, perhaps not as good, but nearly. And then between us we’ll put Australia on the musical map of the world.

CRIME FAILS TO PAY Colorado Springs: A guy walked into a little corner store with a shotgun and demanded all the cash from the cash drawer. After the cashier put the cash in a bag, the robber saw a bottle of Scotch that he wanted behind the counter on the shelf.

He told the cashier to put it in the bag as well, but he refused and said "Because I don't believe you are over 21." The robber said he was, but the clerk still refused to give it to him Because he didn't believe him. At this point the robber took his drivers license out of his wallet and gave it to the clerk.

The clerk looked it over and agreed that the man was in fact over 21 and he put the Scotch in the bag. The robber then ran from the store with his loot. The cashier promptly called the police and gave the name and address of the robber that he got off the license. They arrested the robber two hours later.

Las Cruces: A woman reported her car, which was for sale and had been taken for a test drive and not returned as ‘stolen’. She mentioned that there was a car phone in it. The policeman taking the report called the phone and told the guy that answered that he had read the ad in the newspaper and wanted to buy the car. They arranged to meet, and the thief was arrested.

San Francisco: A man, wanting to rob a downtown Bank of America, walked into the branch and wrote "this is a stickup. Put all your money in this bag." While standing in line, waiting to give his note to the teller, he began to worry that someone might have seen him write the note 10

and may call the police before he reached the teller window. So he left the Bank of America and crossed the street to Wells Fargo.

After waiting a few minutes in line, he handed his note to the Wells Fargo teller. She read it and, surmising from his spelling errors that he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, told him that she could not accept his stickup note because it was written on a Bank of America deposit slip and that he would either have to fill out a Wells Fargo deposit slip or go back to Bank of America.

Looking somewhat defeated, the man said "OK" and left. The Wells Fargo teller then called the police who arrested the man a few minutes later, as he was waiting in line back at Bank of America.

see it. The judge discovered a packet of cocaine in the pocket and laughed so hard he required a five-minute recess to compose himself.

Oklahoma City: Dennis Newton was on trial for the armed robbery of a convenience store in district court when he fired his lawyer. Assistant district attorney Larry Jones said Newton, 47, was doing a fair job of defending himself until the store manager testified that Newton was the robber.

Newton jumped up, accused the woman of lying and then said, "I should of blown your (expletive) head off." The defendant paused, then quickly added, "if I'd been the one that was there."

The jury took twenty minutes to convict Newton England: A motorist was unknowingly caught and recommended a thirty year sentence. in an automated Speed trap that measured his speed using radar and photographed his car. He Detroit: R. C. Gaitlan, 21, walked up to two later received in the mail a ticket for forty pounds patrol officers who were showing their squad car and a photo of his car. Instead of payment, he computer felon-location equipment to children sent the police department a photograph of forty in the neighbourhood. When he asked how pounds. Several days later, he received a letter the system worked, the officer asked him for from the police that contained another picture... identification. Gaitlan gave them his drivers’ of handcuffs. The motorist promptly sent the license, they entered it into the computer, and moments later they arrested Gaitlan because money for the fine. information on the screen showed Gaitlan was Pontiac, Michigan: Drug Possession Defendant wanted for a two-year-old armed robbery in St. Christopher Jansen, on trial in March said he had Louis, Missouri. been searched without a warrant. The prosecutor said the officer didn't need a warrant because Detroit: A pair of Michigan robbers entered a a "bulge" in Christopher's jacket could have record shop nervously waving revolvers. The first been a gun. "Nonsense", said Christopher, who one shouted, "Nobody move!" happened to be wearing the same jacket that day When his partner moved, the startled first in court. He handed it over so the judge could bandit shot him.

HOLIDAY READING DUTY FREE DREAMING KATY ROSE WARNER

Airplane travel is nature’s way of making you The girl with the nonchalant expression look like your passport photo.

A l Gore decided she didn’t want the perfume.

The girl within the girl with the nonchalant nother stop, Dubai now, for what was meant expression really, really did want it … to be an hour and a half but I have a sneaking But you can’t just buy something so suspicion it has been, and will be, longer than extravagant before your adventure / international experience / holiday even begins, can you? Plus, that.

I’m in another departure lounge. I don’t quite you know, I am going to Paris so there’s that. Yeah. understand the use of the word lounge in this Paris.

Meanwhile, back in the departure lounge … context.

‘Lounge’ conjures up all sorts of images, none A man in a fluro vest (so he must be official of which are even remotely like the thing I am and know what is going on) just made everyone sitting in. It is not that this departure ‘lounge’ is seated in rows 1 to 21 stand, expectantly, to board the bus which will take us to the plane (finally). any worse than others I have been trapped in.

So I stood. And waited.

He was wrong. Despite the fluro vest.

Everyone in seated rows 1 to 21 could sit down again. Most of them didn’t want to.

I can understand that.

What I don’t understand is why this part of the airport even exists. We got off the plane.

Went through security. I wandered around the Duty Free stores. I tried on expensive perfume.

Then I had to show my boarding pass, again, and passport, again, and wait in this thing they call a They’re all pretty much the same. Cheap, lounge which is more like a holding pen. heavy-duty carpet with mind-blogging patterns. Or the setting for some bizarre psychology Vinyl bench seats in a colour scheme which clashes experiment. Stand up. Sit down. Beep-beep. beautifully with the mind-boggling carpet. Big, There are no bathrooms here. No water. Not even empty white walls. Big, nasty fluro lights. That enough places to sit. Just crazy carpet. And vinyl constant beep-beep, beep-beep as they recheck seats.

And a lonely girl wearing Chanel perfume she boarding passes and passports.

This particular departure lounge is spinning. cannot really afford.

It could be the carpet. Or the lights. Or the fact I Roll on Heathrow … haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. Probably some sort of combination of the three. The carpets makes 3D shapes which jump into my face whenever I look down.

I should stop looking down.

I feel disgusting but at least I smell nice.

Upon passing through security I was greeted by the bright lights and empty promises of the Duty Free stores. The United Arab Emirates Dirham makes everything look expensive. The US Dollar makes everything look affordable.

I wasn’t fooled; Australian Dollars will get you nowhere. So I browsed and attempted to keep that nonchalant I-could-afford-it-if-I-wantedit expression plastered on my face. I tried to not look guilty every time I passed a security guard.

Not that I had anything to feel guilty about – except, possibly, the fact that there was no way in the world I was actually going to buy anything or shoplift anything for that matter. That feeling of guilt for not actually doing anything wrong KATY ROSE WARNER always happens when I have to show my bag to Describes herself as an ‘Emerging playwright, the security guy at the door of the store or when I actor and theatre-maker who wishes she had walk past a cop … It’s just a thing I think.

Shirley MacLaine’s haircut circa 1960 but isn’t Anyway, I tried on some Chanel perfume brave enough to try it ...’ because Keira Knightley strikes me as a really Ms Warner is abundently modest about her lovely person and someone I think I could be accomplishments. She is an award-winning great friends with one day. (OK, OK, I know – I playwright, director and actor. Her blog is just completely sucked in to celebrity branding. always an entertaing read and may be found on Gross.) I put on the perfume with my nonchalant Wordpress here: http://katywarner.com/. expression.

A

PROOFREADING IS IMPORTANT ~ IMPORTANT NOTICE: If you are one of hundreds of parachuting enthusiasts who bought our Easy Sky Diving book, please make the following correction: on page 8, line 7, the words "state zip code" should have read "pull rip cord." ~ It was incorrectly reported last Friday that today is T-shirt Appreciation Day. In fact, it is actually Teacher Appreciation Day. ~ There was a mistake in an item sent in two weeks ago which stated that Ed Burnham entertained a party at crap shooting. It should have been trap shooting.

~ There are two important corrections to the information in the update on our Deep Relaxation professional development program. First, the program will include meditation, not medication.

Second, it is experiential, not experimental. ~ In the City Beat section of Friday's paper, firefighter Dwight Brady was misidentified. His nickname in the department is "Dewey." Another firefighter is nicknamed "Weirdo." We apologize for our mistake. ~ Our newspaper carried the notice last week that Mr. Oscar Hoffnagle is a defective on the police force. This was a typographical error. Mr. Hoffnagle is, of course, a detective on the police farce. ~ In a recent edition, we referred to the chairman of Chrysler Corporation as Lee Iacoocoo. His real name is Lee Iacacca. The Gazette regrets the error. ~ Apology: I originally wrote, "Woodrow Wilson's wife grazed sheep on front lawn of the White House." I'm sorry that typesetting inadvertently left out the word "sheep." ~ In one edition of today's Food Section, an inaccurate number of jalapeno peppers was given for Jeanette Crowley's Southwestern Chicken Salad recipe The recipe should call for 2, not 21, jalapeno peppers.

11

FOOR FOR THOUGHT CONSENT

O

n a regular October morning in 2011 I couldn’t access my email or Facebook. I didn’t think anything of it – I forget passwords all the time – and just tried again. Waiting for me upon entry were hundreds of messages and emails.

Messages and emails with pictures of me in them.

One: me, naked, in my ex-boyfriend’s darkened room. Seventeen, a little awkward, slightly hunched forward: a harmless attempt at sexiness.

Another: two years later, in my room in Uppsala, Sweden. Older, a little more confident, but not a whole lot.

What had happened was apparent: the pictures were now online. I had become one of the thousands, hundreds of thousands, of girls thrown into the porn industry against their will. I thought “how bad can this really be?”

The guys at school would find it hilarious, probably; talk about it for ten minutes: “Holy shit, have you seen Emma?” It was humiliating, of course, but I’ve never been ashamed of my body or my sexuality. No doubt, I wished it had never happened, but I couldn’t have imagined the next two years.

The weeks passed and more messages trickled in. I was on sites filled with pictures of my fellow victims, women who’d never intended their pictures to be public, who’d never wanted attention from more than one person.

“Men love naked women,” I thought “I knew as much.” But their questions in my inbox made it clear that the appeal did not rest solely upon my apparent nudity.

Do your parents know that ur a slut?

Did u get fired?

What’s the story behind this?

Who did this to you?

Send me more nudes or ill send the ones i have to your boss.

These messages were from men all over the world. Teen boys, university students, nuclearfamily dads. The only thing they had in common was that they were all men.

They knew it was against my will, that I didn’t want to be on those sites. The realisation that my humiliation turned them on felt like a noose around my neck. The absence of consent was erotic, they relished my suffering.

It’s one thing to be sexualised by people who are attracted to you, but it’s quite another thing when the lack of a ‘you’, when dehumanization, is the main factor.

I realised that if I had been a model sexualising herself I would have been of little interest. My body was not the appealing factor. Furthermore, I saw that my loss of control legitimised the harrasment.

I was a fallen woman, anyone’s game. What was I aside from a whore who had got what she deserved?

Then, suddenly, I noticed that this dynamic – sexualisation against her will – was everywhere.

Take ‘creepshots’, a global phenomenon which entails photographing women without their knowledge or consent, in order to share them in a sexual context online.

On similar sites, people link to Facebook pages

12

EMMA HOLTEN

Emma Holten (Photograph by Cecilie Bødker)

asking if anyone can hack or find more pictures of the girl.

Here, again, women are used as objects whose lack of consent, of participation, provides the reason and allure of their sexualisation.

This dynamic is a commonplace online and is a concrete manifestation of a larger discourse around the female body, the notion that it is erotic to sexualise someone who is unaware. We all know the tropes: the sexy teacher/student/nurse/waiter/ bartender/doctor.

All jobs, if staffed by women, can be sexualised.

What is sexy is not the job, not even the woman, but the fact that while the woman is just doing her job you are secretly sexualising her. She has become public property by simply being?

The danger is not in arousal or finding another person arousing, but in the idea that a sexually arousing situation in which two people take part, can exist without one of the party’s consent.

Feminists are often singled out and ridiculed for our critique of catcalling, the suggestion is that we cannot handle it. Of course we can. Rather, our critique is directed at how it positions the female body in public spaces. It is an object, to be sexualised, even if the woman to whom the body belongs is working/shopping/picking up her kids/ waiting for the bus.

It is a notification that, whatever she is up to, a person is passing and sexualising her. Catcalling forcefully moves the female body from a non-sexual to a sexual situation.

If the men who contacted me thought about my humiliation, about my humanity, would they still write me? If you viewed women as beings with their own autonomy and sexuality, would you feel you had the right to photograph them without their knowledge?

If catcallers saw women as complex individual people would they forcefully enter their private sphere? No. No, because such actions can only

be justified if the female body is fetischized as an object. Not an object like a dice or a winter coat, but an object for your utilization. Forcing a person to play a part that you need them to play.

Because such actions only take place when you forget, or do not know that a situation in which one participant has not consented is not a sexual situation. It’s just a situation with you and someone you find sexy. Nothing more.

Seeking out my pictures, and the pictures of my fellow victims, is to actively participate in the dehumanization of the female body. To do so is to forget that these women are people who, by sexualizing themselves for one person, have not become sexualized objects. To do so forgets that no person deserves to be reduced to an object.

But, it is also dangerous. For, if one is exposed to the objectification of women for long enough, one will internalize it.

Worse, those who are objectified will internalize it too. When you are told enough times that you do not deserve to be treated as someone of worth, you lie in bed at night and begin to agree. It has been a huge task for me to muster any kind of self-worth after being told every day for three years that I don’t deserve it.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how I could possibly stop hating my body. I blamed it for my humiliation. Why did it make people treat me that way? Would I ever be able to look at myself and see a human being?

There is no easy solution to such thoughts.

You are caught between a wish to never be seen again and a determination not to live a life ruled by shame.

I thought about this a long while.

I would have to write a new story about my body in order to make it possible to see myself naked and still see myself as human. I decided that a sort of re-humanisation had to happen.

Continued on the next page ...

DINING OUT

The Thoughts of an Ageing, Balding Foodie LE PETOMANE’S

DOUGLAS SUTHERLAND-BRUCE A Gastronomes Delight

T

here is a new restaurant in Midland, in great Eastern Highway.

Many people may not think that this is a good time to open a new venture, but Jacques Le Petomane has come up with such brilliant decor and such an original menu that I am sure that the restaurant Le Petomane’s will go well.

For a start the shop front entry is discrete so that one may dine in privacy, shielded by the elegant sweep of dun-coloured cheesecloth draperies from the gaze of the vulgar.

Inside, no expense has been spared, with the deep Imperial Purple walls contrasting vividly with the starkness of the tables and chairs, fashioned largely in the Bauhaus School of Walter Gropius - the chairs rise straight up and are without unnecessary padding, excellent for those who have suffered spinal injuries and require that extra amount of support.

Concluded from the previous page ...

I talked to the photographer Cecilie Bødker.

She told me that photographing unclothed women without catering to the male gaze and sexualising them was almost impossible.

Would it be possible for her to take pictures of me without my clothes on, where it was obvious that I was, in fact, a human being deserving of respect? We gave it a try. This isn’t just about me getting better. It’s also about problematising and experimenting with the roles we most see naked women portraying. We seldom smile, are in control, live. We never look, we’re always looked at.

The pictures are an attempt at making me a sexual subject instead of an object. I am not ashamed of my body, but it is mine. Consent is key.

Just as rape and sex have nothing to do with each other, pictures shared with and without consent are completely different things.

The ancients habitually dined off gold and silver platters and Jacques has continued this idea with tin plates and cutlery melded with crockery of the finest “Faux China”.

The napery is of a pale, not entirely uniform, grey brightened with gay patchwork sections. A simple arrangement of dried flowers makes the whole table setting quite remarkable.

The very air of the restaurant makes one think that cooking has been carried out there and quite recently too, with the effluvia of Cabbage a la Anglaise and Boiled Legumes Haricot.

The restaurant is dedicated to the principles of Cuisine Primatif, with a simple menu uncluttered

with choice.

The prices are most reasonable, with the single entree - Haddock Fillet in Brown Windsor Sauce ($2.54), coming with the diners’ selection of pan-fried butter or crumbed clove of garlic.

Main course for all diners is Fillet of Stachelschwein ($5.35), a dish almost unknown in Australia, but much prized in Lower Saxony where the hedgehogs are specially bred and fattened on a diet of acorns.

The dish is indescribable, with the flesh being at once earthy and musty with an over-all tang provided by the dressing of bacon cooked lovingly to the consistency of a long-dried autumn leaf.

The dessert course of Suet pudding ($3.27) varied from the traditional in that the raises and dough were omitted, leaving the suet in isolation, a most pleasing variation and one typical of the Cuisine Primatif, as practiced by Jacques Le Petomane.

I urge you to live dangerously, and try the meals provided by this outstanding exponent of the culinary art at Le Petomane’s.

Remember the name - you will never forget the food.

Concluded from page 5 ...

The next issue is the fashion in foods and dining. I nearly called this article Chips with Everything because when I arrived here in 1974 that how it was.

Exotic dining consisted of prawns in pink sauce, Steak Diane and a Pavlova. In some areas of the country this attitude persists to this day.

In the early 1990s I was eating and writing for Destinations magazine and so travelled a good deal in Kalgoolie, Geraldton, Esperance and Albany.

There were some good restaurants, even excellent, but breakfast at Mrs J’s Country Diner consisted of ‘Steak, Egg & Chips’.

At the Hampton Arms in Greenhough breakfast was grilled mushrooms, kippers, sausages, fried egg on a fried slice, kidneys and toast. You could hear the arteries going ‘clang’ all over the room. Bloody great breakfaast though.

Gradually we have become more adventurous - cuisines have been imported and assimilated - Indian, Italian, Greek, German, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, Thai, African, Mongolian and Indonesian - all are available within easy walking distance of your home in many cases.

Which brings us to rating a restaurant – none or some? – stars, score out of ten, or my current favourite ‘Not recommended, Recommended, Highly Recommended, Very Highly Recommended and very occasionally, Very Highly Recommended Indeed’, all have their merits and drawback, so it’s down to personal preference, just being super careful to be consistent.

Now to the question I asked at the beginning - ‘How do you translate this hobby into a paying job or at least make it pay?’

In 1986 I was writing book reviews for the books for a local newspaper when I was asked to write a restaurant review because the existing reviewer had asked to be paid and so got fired.

I wrote for several years before I started to get paid at the princely rate of $35 an article – but always expenses were met and I ate some fabulous foods and met some great people.

Print media is still the first and most visible point of entry so look for a local publication that doesn’t carry a food or restaurant review and make the offer.

Alternatively there are writing groups such as Yelp, Urban Spoon, Trip Advisor and so on. All of these are valueless to aspiring writers because they are un-moderated, unreliable in the public’s eyes and anonymous and we seek/need to make a name for ourselves.

Weekend Notes is a possibility as a website and they pay – which none of the others do.

You won’t get rich, but you’re writers – you don’t expect to get rich. *Yes, it is.

This article is featured in HYSTERIA #5 Nonsense. If you have found this article Editor: This is a reprint for your entertainemnt of an interesting consider helping support the aricle published on the 1st A pril, 1996. Please check publication of the magazine HYSTERIA through the date of publication before you ring me for details Kickstarter here - https://www.kickstarter.com/ and Le Petomane’s address. projects/829143091/hysteria-5-nonsense

13

HOLIDAY READING ONE MORE DAY JESSI FORD

W

hen I became familiar with the changing seasons, I learnt that the coldest part of the day was just before the sun rose. The air snap chilled and, in that moment between night and day, life took a new breath.

We rose together, the sun and I. It was an agreement which was easy to uphold in the warm months but crazy hard in the cold.

After a cramped night, my muscles were claustrophobic. They wanted to pull my body apart, so it could be stretched and put back together. I needed to get out of the car.

My toes fiddled with the door handle. It was still too tight for those appendages, but I tried every day; nothing if not consistent. I had never actually been able to open that door with my toes, but the day that I did, I would scream and laugh with joy.

I grabbed the latch, instead, with my fingers.

The door groaned as it opened. I kicked it wide and flopped back again.

My skin puckled and pulled with the cold. The heat of the spring had made cold weather a distant memory and a novelty this morning.

Each breath drew in the rainy smell of dew on the car and I huffed out a long deep one, seeing if it was cold enough to condense.

I let myself stare at the car’s roof, or out the window into the awakening sky. This time was selfish, my own mind’s time to reflect on where I was, what today was going to hold and the reasons why. It was the benefit of being alone out here.

Mornings were not meant to be a rushed mess; they were slow lazy things that took time.

The back seats had been hacked into, completely remade into my ‘bed’, a gift a` la Simon, re-upholsterer extraordinaire, former lover, present friend. The boot had become my wardrobe, my bedroom, my junk storage, my pantry and my kitchen. It wasn’t luxurious, but it worked for me.

The vinyl roof-lining was the best representation of the lifestyle that I had. Friends and lovers I had met along the way made their mark there. Little notes, messages, phone numbers, caricatures and pictures filled the expanse in a collection of colours.

My favourite? That was written by a man I had met early in my travels. We skinny-dipped in the warmest beach water, he wrapped me in his arms constantly and wooed me with his guitar and with me, made the closest thing to love I was ever going to experience.

He had written a graffiti’d ‘Gypsy’ in black marker. It didn’t overshadow the other messages, but it stood out to me.

The other message that held importance was written on the back of my sun visor. ‘1000 days’.

As neatly as possible, I had written the words. I’d gone over it so many times since then. It’s not so neat anymore. It was the amount of time I had left because my heart isn’t right.

The doctors told me that I had an enlarged heart from a condition. I told everyone else that

14

God gave me the biggest heart He could to make room for all the people I was going to love.

I was diagnosed when I was twenty-one. I fainted in one of my classes and, because I’d hit my head on the way down, was rushed to hospital.

The CT scans came back fine, other things didn’t.

It was then I realised that my life wasn’t heading the way I wanted it to go. All my life goals became irrelevant because I was fighting time.

Who gets to say who grows old and who doesn’t?

-oOo ‘But, what happens when my heart stops?’

He was young, my doctor. But when he’d looked at me he’d aged. There was something about his clear grey eyes that told me he was something different, special. His face was a mess of negativity; he was frowning with his lips drawn tightly together.

‘May I talk frankly with you?’ he asked, his eyes glancing over to my parents beside me. I nodded slowly. What had they not told me?

He pulled up a chair. Legs screeched on the linoleum floor but he was eye level with me. There was a silence before he spoke. Of everything I could have thought about, I took that silence to wonder if they were trained in the ways to break bad news to patients.

‘You see, so far as we can tell, you’re kind of one of the lucky ones. You haven’t yet had a heart attack, so the muscle is still strong…’ He was struggling to form the right words.

‘There are medications or different operations…’ He seemed to be telling me this reluctantly, looking at me pitifully like he didn’t want to get my hopes up.

I looked at him expectantly. ‘Please, just… straight.’

When he spoke to me again, it was straight into the eye. ‘We’ve seen cases like yours before.

Nothing really helps. The heart muscle just keeps growing until it gets so big that it just can’t pump anymore. They don’t have heart attacks, no palpitations, it just stops.’

There was more silence for me to rationalise.

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‘How long?’

‘Usually, anywhere between three to five years,’ he said.

I swallowed back the ache in my throat.

‘Three years? I’m going to die in three years?’

‘Yes.’ ‘So, I’m going to die?’ I heard the childlike sounds in my own voice.

His lips tightened again and he nodded.

I broke eye contact first. I pulled my legs into my chest, hugging them, and stared blindly at the wall in front on me. My chest ached.

‘I’d like you to go,’ I said.

From the corner of my eye I saw the doctor scrunch his face and sigh. The chair screeched again when he stood.

I turned my head quickly to watch him walk out. His hand reached for the door frame for support as he rounded it and was out of sight. The hand lingered. I wondered if he was going to turn and walk back in. But my attention was caught by something else in the room and by the time I’d returned my eyes to the door, he was gone.

My mother sat beside my bed, her hand across her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. My father stood behind her, his hand was on my mother’s shoulder. He looked broken, and trying so hard not to cry too.

Before I could, my mother crumbled and sobbed into my hands.

-oOo My 1000 days started one month after I was released from the hospital. It was a deal I had with my family. I had 1000 days of complete and utter freedom to live a life that most people only dreamed of.

This morning was day number 942. My twenty-fourth birthday. Would I see my twentyfifth?

I had decided to spend my last two months of travelling here, in Australia, making my way around once more after drifting around the world for two years.

I traced my finger over the black ‘Gypsy’,

smiling as I thought about that man.

‘Smelly gypsy is more like it!’ I whispered to myself, snickering. Driving across the country was not favourable to girls who lived in their cars.

My muscles couldn’t take it any longer. I forced myself out of the car with a groan.

I stretched. No wonder it was cold. The sky was clear, bar the horizon that was covered by clouds. It was when I turned to the sun that I remembered why I was doing this again.

It was the sun, there was no way it couldn’t be, but it was so big and so luminescent white that I believed, undoubtedly, that it was a full moon in the morning.

And on the twenty-sixth of November, 2011, after all the miraculous things I had seen, nature’s beauty was still the one that moved me the most.

-oOo I think I had been heading home for a while, but it really only hit me when I saw the big green sign in front of me pointing left to Perth, or right to Geraldton. I pulled off into a gravel bay to the side of the road and turned off my car. I rummaged in my glove box and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

I made myself comfortable, cross legged, on the bonnet of my car, inhaled the warm, numbing smoke, and stared, wondering, at the sign.

I hadn’t seen my family in 942 days. My heart missed them. Saying that, my head always enjoyed beach hopping my way up the west coast.

My eyes flicked back and forth on the sign.

My cigarette burnt out. I ground the butt out against a tyre. I was still undecided, so I lit up another.

Wide-load trucks hauling various massive mechanical parts drove past the sign on the narrow road in the direction of Geraldton, and it made my decision for me.

-oOo The city made me cranky when I drove in it.

It was claustrophobic and it had me concentrating too much. The beauty of the open road was the way you could just cruise and gawk at the scenery at the same time.

My parents, when I left, promised me that they weren’t to move in the time that I was away so I was always to know where home was.

I worried that I wouldn’t be able to remember the way, but it’s like riding a bike – just sort of come back to you.

Standing in front of my parents’ house felt a little weird. There was a mixture of my body feeling squished, my mind going into overdrive with all the outside stimulation and my heart pounding heavily in my chest with nerves made me want to run.

The sweet smell of the neighbour’s gardenias brought back memories I thought I had lost. I folded my arms across my chest and studied the house. I tried to pick if anything had changed in the way I felt I had.

I couldn’t tell how long I stood there. I shook my head and hands, throwing off the weird vibe.

It was good to be home. I could shower. I could do my washing. I could stock up on food. And I could take time to go over my car and make sure it was in good working order to get me through the next fifty-eight days.

I threw some mostly clean clothes in my duffle bag that I could change into after a shower.

And I fished the house keys that I hadn’t seen in two years from my secret hiding spot. My fingers shook as I unlocked the door.

The smell of home. How I had missed it. My eyes even filled with tears.

‘Mum?’ I called out, my voice breaking with emotion.

I dumped my duffle bag, throwing my car keys and house key on the side table at the entrance.

‘Dad?’ I yelled out again, looking up the stairs to see any sign of life.

The only sound I heard was shuffling in the kitchen. I frowned and made my way into the house.

‘What the fuc–!’ I yelled seeing an unknown man with music blaring through headphones in his ears, dancing in only his boxers in my parents’ kitchen while making tea. Instinctively, I turned away and then turned back again ‘Who are you?’ he growled. I heard the shivering sound of metal on metal as he pulled a knife from the magnetic holder on the wall. The exact one I had bought Dad for Christmas when I was fifteen.

I wasn’t in the wrong here. ‘Wait! Who the fuck are you? I live here!’ I shouted back, watching the knife in his hand.

‘The fuck you do! I live here!’ he shouted back.

The kettle began to whistle.

There was the quick thumping of feet down the stairs. My father burst into the kitchen, golf club pitched over his shoulder. The club clanked noisily as he dropped it on the tiled floor and pulled me into his arms.

‘Charlotte.’

‘Daddy.’

Then Mum was there, tears streaming down her face as she took me into her arms. I cried too.

‘Happy birthday, sweetheart!’ she whispered, kissing my cheeks over and over.

My mother kept my hand in hers. My father stood by the man in his underwear who was looking relieved but sheepish. The knife was back on the strip.

‘I’m confused, because you are definitely not my brother!’ I looked from one parent to the other. ‘Care to share?’

The underwear guy piped up. ‘Sorry, I’m Edmund, honorary family member. I may not be your brother, but he is the one who brought me here.’

‘Still bringing home strays, I see?’ I asked, squeezing my mum’s hand. ‘And you let him keep this one?’

My mother blushed. ‘He brings us tea every morning. How could I not?’

It felt good to be home. I rolled my eyes at my mother like a sassy teenager and smiled at her with as much love as I could muster.

‘I’m Charlotte, actual family member.’ I held my hand out for him. I shook his, hard, and felt victorious when he winced. He politely excused himself after.

We were ushered into seats by Mum. She made each of us a mug of tea.

‘My darling! What are you doing home?’ My mum couldn’t keep her hands away from me. She had to remain in contact the entire time. I was sure she thought I would just disappear.

This page appears only in the digital issue

‘It’s my birthday.’ I smiled. We all smiled, but there was obvious sadness that laced that smile.

‘Are you home? Or will you leave us again?’

I was a coward. I knew that. Because I couldn’t look either of my parents in the eye when I said that I would leave in the morning.

‘Honey, you don’t have much time left before you’re…’ the word was precarious, difficult to say, so we didn’t. ‘Are you sure you won’t spend it with us?’ Mum looked hopeful.

I still didn’t look at them as I shook my head.

‘Only another fifty-eight days.’ It was meant to be happy thing but, my dad, he said it with such sadness.

A sombre, reflecting silence fell over the table.

It was comfortable in the sense I sat there with the two people who gave me life; who I loved and adored more than myself. But it was heartbreaking too, and I wasn’t sure my poor, precarious heart would take it much more.

‘Could you spare some hot water? I desperately want to shower and I need to do some washing.’

Mum rolled her eyes. ‘Go, go, you stink anyway.’

She took a tiny sip of tea. ‘Not enough to cover the smell of cigarette smoke, but truly awful.’

She caught my eye; there was a discrete note of chastisement.

How to respond? I meekly smiled and slinked away.

-oOo Showers are amazing. Their value in a first world country is seriously understated. By the time I’d shut off the water, I felt almost human again. That feeling diminished when I, dressed scantily in a towel, bumped into the honorary family member.

‘Jesus Christ, Edmund!’ One hand clenched tighter around the joining of my towel, the other over my pounding heart.

‘Sorry.’ It was mumbled. ‘I, uh, overheard your mum. You’re dying?’ He was nothing if not blunt.

I picked up my shattered pride and pushed past him. ‘Get out of my way.’

He moved, but it was too late. I was now angry and he was the cause, therefore I had due cause directing said anger at him.

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15

‘What gives you the right to ask that, huh?

So what if I am? Does that make me any less of a person? I have—I have feelings too! Does the fact that I’m dying give you the impression that I’m okay with it? Huh? Well, I’m not!’

Shock admission number one came from my mouth. Never had I admitted that I was completely one hundred precent okay with my own death. My brain, the only part that wasn’t fuming, hoped my parents hadn’t heard that.

Edmund looked shocked and sympathetic. An emotion that I thought was apt.

‘No, I—uh, it just makes stuff make sense.’

‘What stuff?’

He was gun shy. ‘Me, living here. It’s obvious that your parents are trying to fill a gap.’

Okay, ouch. And shock admission number two came from Edmunds’. Because, as everyone was thinking it, Edmund was brave enough to say it.

-oOo The folks made a big thing of my day home. My brother and sister were summoned and dropped everything to be with me. I was an old times sort of a day.

I dropped plates quickly around the table, racing my sister for who could get their job done the fastest. She was on cutlery. I finished and threw my hands in the air, hollering my victory.

She grumbled, bumped me off balance with her hip and sulked her way back into the kitchen.

‘Sore loser!’ I called after her, laughing and continuing my victory celebrations.

‘Behave, you two!’ My mother growled at both of us, hands full with plastic takeout containers.

She slid them onto the table and wacked my behind playfully, scorning my victory dance.

‘I still don’t know why I couldn’t take you out for your birthday.’ My mother pouted, looking at the Chinese takeout filling the table.

I slipped my arm around her shoulder. ‘This is exactly what I wanted, thank you.’

My father and brother came bustling in, Edmund following. They were laughing as we sat at the table. All hushed as eyes turned to my smirking father. He raised an eyebrow at me before proudly pulling a bottle from beneath the table.

The recognition of the bottle was instantaneous. I had vivid memories, which spanned my entire childhood, of kegs of distilling whiskey in a corner of the kitchen. Of course, us kids only found the beauty of them late into our teenage years.

I sat back, mouth dropped open. ‘Pour that!’ I demanded, pushing my tumbler to him.

16

It was raised in a toast to me and my health.

Our meal was still present but forgotten with the decks of cards thrown onto the table.

We dealt out rounds of gin-rummy. We drank merrily. I pushed food into Edmund’s mouth and, in our drunken state, it spurred more psychotic laughter from all our souls Edmund, who sat beside me, kept bumping my shoulder with his. He was peeking at my cards, determined to win at least one round by the end of the night.

‘Cheater,’ I whispered to him.

‘Not cheating,’ he replied back in the same hushed tone, ‘just upping my chances.’ He sent me back this smile that made my heart respond weirdly. It sent it into a more thrumming sensation than its usual thump-thump.

‘So cheating!’ I giggled as I laid all my cards out on to the table and won another game.

‘I call a conspiracy,’ Edmund yelled out, slamming his hand on the table. ‘I watched those cards the entire game, and I did not see that!’

I continued to chuckle as I counted my score.

When my heart hadn’t returned to normal, I frowned and held my hand to my heart, taking deep breaths to try to pull it back into its normal rhythm.

Mum caught my eye and frowned. I shook my head and smiled. My heart was not going to be discussed tonight.

Two more empty bottles in the early hours of the next morning sent us all to bed.

Edmund escorted me. Our room joined by one wall. I thanked him for walking me.

I turned to go into my room ‘Hey.’ He grabbed out and caught my wrist and pulled me back to him. He stared at me with blurry eyes and a dopey smile on his face. ‘Happy Birthday, pretty girl.’

I reached up and tapped his cheek twice.

‘That was yesterday, silly, drunken boy.’ I was smiling too.

‘Goodnight,’ I insisted, softly laughing and pushing him towards his own room before he could tease my heart further.

-oOo The night wasn’t restful. My bed kept me awake with its large expanse of softness and the noise of the city had me constantly alert. It was the call of the wind that woke me again at morning light.

It had my soul to tease and enticed it with people not yet met, things not yet done.

I didn’t wake my parents before I kissed them goodbye. My duffle was just thrown into my boot

This page appears only in the digital issue

when I noticed Edmund standing at his bedroom window, looking down at me.

There was this funny frown on his face like he had yet to figure me out. I stared bluntly back at him. For a moment, my heart was the dominant one, controlling my body. My muscles tensed to pull my bag back from the boot and throw myself into a love.

But the wind blew strongly and my muscles relaxed. I turned and threw my face up into it, shutting my eyes and taking in a deep breath. By the time I looked back to Edmund, he looked sad.

He was obviously hurting too. And I couldn’t heal that. I shut my boot and nodded once towards him in goodbye.

I was driving on country roads before most people even withdrew from their beds. My mind was elsewhere, my foot pressing too hard on the accelerator. The thumbnail on my right hand slowly got shorter with every mile as my teeth chewed it down.

I only had one hand on the steering wheel, directing easily, eyes on the road but not comprehending where I was or what was flying past. This was the free feeling that I lived for. Then why did my gut churn in regret? Why were my cheeks aching from holding emotion behind my eyes? I heard my own groan in frustration. Was I that disconnected that I wasn’t controlling myself anymore?

Every side road was an opportunity to turn around and go back. I kept going. Past and past.

I drew blood in the inside of my mouth from tugging on the inside of my lip with my teeth. The tangy taste that I had to swallow made me think of my heart. My heart was why I was still driving. I had unfinished business still to attend to.

And until I said my final goodbyes to people I’d met along the way, I would never settle in my grave.

-oOo I drove to pass the time, but so much driving gave me too much time to think. I was almost sending myself a little insane with everything I thought of.

I picked up hitch-hikers to keep me company and to break the silence, dropping them off as close to their destination as I could.

Ever since Edmund had made me admit I was not okay with dying, I’d started going through the grieving process. The whole anger, then bitterness, then denial … it went in some logical order. Wherever bitterness sat in that process, I was there.

I was happy, I just wasn’t fulfilled anymore. I

was able to share precious moments with amazing people and I smiled and laughed until my belly ached, but a heavy stone swung precariously in my chest, just below my lungs.

-oOo Toes were dipped lazily into the still water.

On a walkway jutting into the ocean that was too narrow for me to consider it a jetty, the boy that dubbed me gypsy in black marker sat facing me.

‘You've changed, Gypsy. Where's my spirited little girl?’ he asked, reaching out to twist a piece of hair from my shoulder while his own flopped into his eyes.

My toes played, splashing the water in the ripples, each bigger than the one before.

‘I’m so tired.’ The words came honestly. My heart pumped off beat again. It reminded me why I had come to see him.

I could feel his confusion but it didn't trouble me and felt like too much effort to explain It was time to move on. I withdrew my feet and dried my toes with socks that I'd stuffed into the combat boots I wore.

‘You're leaving?’ His voice was panicked. ‘Did I say someone wrong? I’m sorry if I did?’ He reached out and held my bicep too tightly.

‘No, nothing like that. I’ve got places to go, people to see.’ I released his grip on me and placed his hand back at his side. He could keep his hands to himself.

‘Stay, Gypsy, stay with me. You said you’re tired, come, rest here.’ He cupped my neck. ‘Stay with me, please?’ The thumb of his other hand traced the skin over my hip bone that stuck out so slightly.

But there was no fire in his eyes. Perhaps passion and lust, but nothing enough to make me stick. I kissed him slowly and languidly. And without words, I pulled my boots on my damp unsocked feet and walked away.

‘Gypsy! Wait up, please!’ His pleading had less of an effect on me than Edmund’s stare. He caught my hand as I was trudging up a grassy hill to the car park.

‘Why won't you stay?’

I shrugged. ‘I can't.’

‘No, I deserve more than that!’ It was said in anger.

I took his hand gently, and swiped my fingers

VIGNETTE OLD AGE

ANGELA SUTHERLAND-BRUCE

A

gain you asked me to marry you. You've forgotten that we are.

We meet each day for lunch, but sleep separately. I enjoy my outings away, but I'm glad to return home to you.

You can't remember much any more, you see only shadows. I am you eyes, as I have been for many years. Everything has changed, but we're still the same, inside.

Don't be frightened. Please take your medicine. It will help you. It's sunny outside and the birds are flying around. What is that you say?

Wait. I'll put my hearing aid in.

I love you too.

over his anger red cheek. ‘You knew that I would never stay. Why are you getting so angry?’ Serenity coursed through my veins.

‘Will I see you again?’

‘No.’ When did that word get so easy to say?

Goodbye was even easier.

Time can be so subjective. The last fifty-six days of my thousand had lagged so much I would have sworn they were much longer than they actually were. The stone in my stomach had been chipped piece by piece to those I said goodbye to, now all that was left was nothingness. Peace?

Maybe. It felt kind of peaceful, but I thought peace would be more satisfying than this felt.

But I was done, and I was at liberty to go home.

The concept was trivial. It had me bouncing in my seat and singing loudly to the crackling radio. I was early by one day as I slowed my speed on the outskirts of Perth. I would surprise my family on my nine hundred and ninety-ninth day and be home.

And kiss Edmund and fall hopelessly in love in some whirlwind romance until our final day where, in true daydreaming fantasy, I would die in his arms. It would be perfect and beautifully tragic.

The giddiness that bubbled in my stomach, which showed itself as the smile on my face and psychotic behaviour, was a mask. I rubbed my fingers on my jeans for the warmth of friction.

The song on the radio bored me; I was in the mood for up-beat and dancing. The road was straight but the traffic was average. My eyes were off the road for just a moment as I tuned the dial to another station for a pop tune.

A car’s horn blared. I had veered to the right side of the road, close to the oncoming traffic. I thought I’d hear my own scream, but I didn’t, only gasped a little. My hand instantly came back to the steering wheel and I sharply threw my tyres left.

My leg recoiled and the flesh of my thigh pressed into the steering wheel tightly. It prevented a serious over-correction. My eyes found the mirror just in time to see the hand, middle finger erect, hanging from the drivers’ window of the white sedan traveling in the opposite direction. A sigh came from a shaken breath.

Faster, my heart beat, insanely racing. My fingers were icy cold despite the January heat. So were my toes. Swallowing became hard. So did breathing.

I was so cold.

Nothing made sense, my mind raced with explanations, but my head felt heavy and too fogged to function. The weight of it was too much for my neck and it slumped forward. My vision flickered from the tiniest pinpoint of light to complete blinding white, continuing back and forth.

Fear filled my body. Please, I’m not ready.

The last forced breath filled my lungs with ice. So cold. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be in my mother’s arms, not at the wheel of the car that had stolen time.

I disconnected finally and the body slumped forward over the steering wheel. I was warm again when my body and my soul finally became two.

The fear was gone; the sadness dissipated, but the regret of lost time sat heavy, low in my soul.

The car slowly veered to the left. A power pole stopped it in its path.

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-oOo Edmund shot up in his bed. His heart was pounding.

‘Damn it,’ he muttered. His hand rubbed and squished his face until he was awake. He looked back at his pillow and wanted to just flop back down to sleep. He’d had another nightmare. He was lost in darkness before water washed all over him and he started to drown. He’d dreamt it before, but he always woke before he died. He pushed at his mobile for the time.

‘Nmm,’ he mumbled.

He wasn’t going to go back to sleep. With the lights from the streets, he could see patterns on his ceiling coming in from the uncurtained window. The phone rang downstairs. His feet jarred as he ran down the stairs.

He wished he hadn’t picked up the phone. He wished he hadn’t heard that Charlotte was in the morgue and that someone needed to identify her as soon as possible. Edmund volunteered himself for the task.

Her parents would be home mid-morning.

They’d stayed with friends overnight, celebrating Charlotte’s impending homecoming. He decided they shouldn’t have to deal with the task of identifying their daughter straight after that.

He ambled, lost, around the house until morning came.

She was not meant to be in such a sterile room, Edmund concluded as he was led into to view her.

Charlotte’s green eyes, lifeless now, had opened and stared up at the ceiling. Her face was undamaged, save for a cut that had bled very little on her forehead. He touched her briefly as he shut the eyelids so she could rest and covered her quickly with the white sheet.

He nodded slowly, confirming with a raspy, ‘yeah.’

The tears came involuntarily. He was still crying back as he threw his keys down in the house.

‘Edmund?’ Her motherly voice was confused.

He wiped his cheeks with the sleeves of his sweat shirt. ‘It’s Charlotte. She’s not coming home.’ They were the wrong words.

He explained and she sobbed. Her husband collected her and tried his best to hold her together. Their bedroom door was shut behind them, but Edmund could still hear their grief.

A banner in the kitchen was up. Welcome Home Char. His tears caused a low moan. He stared at it for a while, but the silence only broken by two grieving parents upstairs, so he twitched at a corner.

Fluttering, it fell into his hands easier than he expected.

17

ENTERTAINMENT ASHBECLEE, WEB SERIES - REVIEW DOUGLAS SUTHERLAND-BRUCE

I

can well remember the thrill I got reading The Honey Ant by Duncan Kyle when I realised the thriller was set in Perth.

Kyle mentioned St Georges Terrace, where I worked at that time, and a lot of the action took place in Kalgoorlie in areas I knew.

It added a lot to my enjoyment of the book that it was set in what was then relentlessly called 'the most isolated capital city in the world'. The author wrote a follow-up book set mostly in Albany called Exit and that's pretty much it for Perth as a site for adventure.

Films too, very seldom even mention Perth.

'Gone to live in Perth' was, and for all I know still

18

is, a clichĂŠ in TV soaps meaning 'written out of the script, but we don't want to kill them off just yet.'

So a web series set actually in Perth, called Ashbeclee, with real recognisable landmarks is a treat. Hyde Park, Subiaco Markets, Northbridge and Ascot Racecourse all feature. What makes it even more of a treat is the original concept based very loosely on a mixture of Sex in the City meets Friends.

The premise is simple - three women, very different in outlook, ability and approach are firm friends from school days tackling the problems of the 'quarter life crisis' together.

What is new and

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refreshing is the dialogue, partly written and partly improvised.

Director Michael Matthews: "We wanted it to feel real, instead of like a gag comedy. It was really important for us to find an honest tone, so we had more rehearsals than usual. I also allowed the actresses to improvise a lot of the dialogue when it wasn't feeling natural and this produced some of the funniest lines."

The women are three rising young actors who are on the brink of very big careers indeed. Emily Rose Brennan, Adriane Daff and Sarah Danze play Ash, Bec and Lee, the eponymous roles of the title.

I, who have absolutely nothing in common with twenty-five year old women, thoroughly enjoyed the series.

The humour is closely observed and just a tiny bit cerebral. Not everything is telegraphed, spelled out and pointed at in retrospect as we find so often in situation comedy.

In one scene a customer is trying to buy the last waistcoat, which the assistant is in fact wearing as it's hers, and in the next scene, without comment, we see the assistant without the waistcoat, so fill in the dialogue yourself and make assumptions about the character.

I look forward very much to the next episode.

Episodes are available free on the web and the first can be viewed on YouTube, here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qT0PullvpE Very highly recommended.

BOOKS REVIEWS Book: Author: Publisher: Reviewer:

Murder As A Fine Art keep reading long after her usual bedtime.

David Morrell Four and a half stars .

Mulholland Books/Little Brown & Co KRW Treanor -oOo his is a totally different type of book to Book: Festive in Death Morrell’s more famous First Blood which Author: J D Robb introduced Rambo into the language and Publisher: Piatkus Books onto the world stage.

Reviewer: KRW Treanor Those who aren’t particularly interested in Rambo need have no fear; the protagonist in this nce again it’s the holiday season, and new work is a man of thought and intellect, not once again our heroine, Lt. Eve Dallas, is gore and violence. dreading the festivities.

Thomas De Quincey is one of those quiz- Not only does she have the burden of buying night answers most of us know, the author of presents for friends, she is facing an obligatory Confessions of an English Opium Eater, but few house party planned by her husband, the world’s of us know more than that about him. richest, handsomest and sexiest man, Roarke.

The sickly child of a widowed and strict The party means getting glammed up and mother, De Quincey was a brilliant scholar suffering the attentions of Trina, beautician but had a patchwork education, culminating at extraordinaire, who terrifies Eve more than an Oxford where he never took the oral exam that axe murderer in a dark alley. would have given him a degree.

Fortunately a murder interrupts the holiday Morrell introduces De Quincey in his later plans and Eve hopes that with a little bit of luck years, the pressure of his debts eased due to an she might have an excuse not to turn up for the inheritance, and the fact that his daughters now party. manage his affairs better than he could.

It’s hard for Eve and her faithful assistant Delia As a literary device, Morrell co-opts the Peabody to feel much sympathy for the murder unmarried daughter, Emily, as De Quincey’s victim. He’s a personal trainer, Trey Zeigler, and partner in detecting—and detect he must, the more they find out about the people who because he finds himself suspected of five horrific had a reason to wish him dead, the more they murders. Someone has apparently used one of De understand why he ended up in that condition.

Quincey’s books, On Murder Considered As One Trey was a sexual predator, a blackmailer, and Of The Fine Arts as a blueprint for the slaughter of a thorough rotter, to use an old-fashioned term. a shopkeeper and his entire family.

Trey may not have been likeable, but he’s Police Detective Inspector Ryan and Constable Eve’s case now, and she’ll work as hard to find his Becker literally have to fight their way to the murderer as she would for a victim she felt was murder scene, the local people having turned into more worthy of her attention. a mob ready to string up anyone they think might She interviews his employer, his competition, be the killer. They are particularly ready to find the other trainers in the business; she interviews an Irishman responsible, so Ryan’s red hair is a his lovers—if one can use that word for the way distinct disadvantage.

Trey treated them—and his neighbours.

Ryan’s boss points out the striking similarities In between tracking down clues, she manages between the current murder and the infamous to get her Christmas shopping done and makes Ratcliffe Highway murders of a previous era. an ill-considered promise to Roake’s major domo, The police illustrator (precursor of the crime Summerset, to be available to help organise the scene photographer) notes that De Quincey’s big house party. book gave “so many gruesome details it’s like he All the usual supporting cast is here : Captain was there.”

Feeney, e-geek McNab, Dr Mira, Medical Examiner Ryan and Becker track down De Quincey, Morris, the boys and girls in the detectives’ but unlike many fictional policemen they don’t bullpen, and the slightly futuristic post-urban-war automatically assume his guilt, and in fact find city of New York. him and his practical daughter Emily quite useful. The scene where Eve has to front up and keep Emily is a modern woman with a logical mind, her promise to Summerset is one of the funniest who knows a great deal more about the seamy you’ll ever read in this usually fairly dark series; side of life than most young women. you’ll wish you knew someone like Eve to help She doesn’t bat an eye when her father goes you organise your own holiday activities. to ground and spends time quizzing “the linen- Does she also manage to solve the murder? lifting tribe”, as he calls the lowest order of Need you ask? prostitutes in London.

As always, a very enjoyable read. OK, so it’s These raddled hags have important not ‘Great Litrachoor’, but come on, ’fess up: when knowledge that may lead to the killer, so Thomas was the last time you picked up a literary classic as promises them a guinea each—a fortune at the an escape from the humdrum, or to cheer yourself time—from Lord Palmerston if they agree to help. up?

This is a wonderfully atmospheric novel, There’s a time for Thomas Hardy and a time thoroughly researched and well-written by a for J D Robb. writer who knows how to compel the reader to Four stars .

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BANKER JOHN

FOR SALE

Copies are for sale of this charming autobiography written by local identity John Edgecombe. $20 plus postage and handling.

Phone: 9296 7780 Email: edgecombejn@eftl.net.au Web: www.swanmagazine.com.au/books

Have a book to publish? v Family History v Non-Fiction v Autobiography v Biography v Fantasy v Fiction v Poetry Get expert advice on layout, editing, costings, publishing and marketing from professional editors First consultation free Free quotes

Swinburne Press (founded 1989) P: 6296 5161 E: douglassb@iinet.net.au

19

AUSTRALIA DAY AUSTRALIA DAY FOLLIES

O

n the 26th of January we celebrate Australia Day. Traditionally there are numerous special events held throughout our vast multicultural country.

People celebrating with new Australians’ citizenship ceremonies in fine suits and posh frocks. Barbeques and beach parties for others, where swimwear is accepted attire.

It’s a day of celebration of all things Australian and to be honest, a welcome paid holiday.

Here in Perth we have sun, sand and surf, boating and our annual Sky Show fireworks display and it’s held on the Swan River. The City of Perth and other sponsors spend mega dollars for half an hour of spectacular musically co-ordinated fireworks. Producers aim for an increasingly stunning display, improving annually.

Fat low barges are sluggishly towed up the river containing the drums of fireworks and positioned in centre of the river giving citizens of Perth wonderful vantage points around our city.

Some Perth families and social groups arrive early setting up their perfect location to watch the show. From the air, collectively they’d look like ants massing around a jam sandwich. They spread their picnics on the picturesque sloping green lawns of Kings Park and shady riverside foreshore’s pristine parks.

The lucky ones feasting on sumptuous hampers of chicken, prawns and local produce, perhaps socialising with a few forbidden cold beverages and games of beach cricket fill in the hours as heat soars.

Rugs are spread to mark their territory and umbrellas sprout up like colourful mushrooms in manure. From vantage points on city roof tops people gather, small parties and groups can be spotted sipping champagne on luxurious hotel balconies.

Gradually the scorching summer sun dips over the horizon and the cooling breeze drops to a whisper. As the evening approaches spectators swarm in to the city, with hardly a vacant rug space between groups; the foreshores are packed.

Generally the weather is idyllic and the Freemantle Doctor sea breeze drops early in the evening when the iconic Swan River becomes as still and reflective as a mirror.

There is a hushed silence and with precise timing the sound of rhythmic beating of a helicopter’s rotors begin to be heard. Necks crane skyward, high above their heads, the enormous Australian flag hangs below the big bird, with its seven white stars catching the fading sun.

Seeing our flag proudly floating under a helicopter around the city shores, is quite moving and reminds us what Australia day is about. The patriotic National Anthem plays on thousands of radios, preceding the spectacular fireworks show.

Spectators lining the shoreline can see the flotilla of boats anchored in the river, perhaps aspiring to either own or be on a boat to watch the show.

My experience of watching the Skyshow, on the river is a little different.

20

CAROL TIPPING

The annual event arrives and every floating bath tub, canoe, fishing boat, yacht, launch or pleasure craft owner wants test their nautical skills; crafts come out of retirement. Even I, a “non-boatie” wouldn’t consider floating some of the dilapidated craft.

They sputter and chug up the winding river, billowing plumes of black smoke and no yellow RAC boat to assist. Some boats may have been permanently parked on a patch of overgrown weeds at the front of their property, hidden in garages or used as kid’s cubbies or a roost for chickens.

Cobwebs are hosed off and boat trailer are hooked to cars. There is an unrealistic urgency to launch boats at the ramps around the suburbs and chaos reigns at the boat ramps.

It’s as if they are lining up for bang of the Olympic starter pistol, to gain pole position at the head of the flotilla. When they arrive at the designated area, boats crowd carelessly together, jostling for space at prime vantage points.

There is a strong resemblance of my spouse to Captain Ahab of Moby Dick fame. Nautical tales of whaling voyages has similar planning to boating on Australia Day. The quartermaster insists on huge supply of provisions; ten live chickens, two hogsheads of rum and barrels of pickled pork, all to feed the ravenous crew.

For goodness sake it’s only for six hours!

A privileged few have been invited to spend the day as crew for techy Captain Ahab. He’s impressed them with a day of adventure watching the Sky Show. If you’ve never succumbed to the temptation previously, you may weaken after a few light sherbets and think ‘what a great idea’.

What would surprise me is, if you accepted the invitation a second time. Past crew members usually politely have a “can’t get out of

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commitment” when invited for the second time.

To rattle the good Capt’n’s chains, guests arriving late have him fuming; he’d supplied the GPS co-ordinates of the boat ramp, how dare you delay his start; the Sky show doesn’t start for another five hours!

A peeved look over your tardiness says a thousand words. Here we go a good start to the day. Our twenty-five foot boat certainly isn’t large, more like the SS Minnow on TV’s Gilligan Island.

Guests trundle onto the jetty dragging their esky packed with food and bags of warm clothing for a cool evening; he’s nearly apoplectic.

The minimal deck space is clogged with guest’s paraphernalia and now there’s barely standing room.

Joining the flotilla cruising down the Swan River is a spectacular sight and an unforgettable occasion. We have one of the prettiest rivers in the world flowing through our capital city. It is clean and accessible to everyone.

Our afternoon evolves as we jostle for a spot near to the marker buoys at the designated mooring area. Our self-designated Captain has spotted a gap in moored boats and slowly motors through the spaghetti tangle of anchor ropes. He obviously plans to drop his anchor between boats the size of launches in Monte Carlo harbour.

Parking the boat - sorry mooring the vessal at the Sky Show can be as challenging as finding a parking space in Subiaco at the Eagles game.

“Man the scuppers and break out the anchors!” he bellows to the green uninitiated crew - they look mystified, what’s a scupper? - they barely know what an anchor is.

He uses familiar boating terms known only to him, giving directions - port or starboard or don’t let the anchor drag, the bewildered apprentice deckie (aka new found friend, who is never to be

AUSTRALIA DAY seen again after the event) had no flaming idea what he’s talking about.

Dropping a weighty anchor to hold the boat in a silty sludge of the riverbed and praying it’ll hold firm is somewhat difficult and problematic.

The weight of our boat creates a continually swinging motion and the anchor can shift in the river bed in a light wind. Boats moving while moored in a wide expanse at sea, with no other boats in the vicinity aren’t a major problem.

However we are a trifle too close to the “QEII”.and from their giddy heights, white clad guests peered down their thin aristocratic noses at our antics. I can imagine them saying “Peasants on the river!”

Our boat swings precariously close to their pristine launch. Guests/ crew continually try in vain to reposition our anchor and not drift. The erstwhile captain is barking commands like a sergeant major on parade. This was supposed to be fun!

The Captain’s friend arrives in a similar sized boat and proceeded to park – er, moor beside us. Watching their amusing antics was cheap entertainment, like seventeen year olds parallel parking for the first time. I daren’t offer a word or advice or encouragement.

Not everyone has the natural ability to throw ropes across a ten metres expanse of water, time again and they tried.

The genius captain had the deckie jumping like a cat on hot tiles between the boats; our reluctant deckie had orders coming from two masters. Observant onlookers, with tinnies in their hands, have free entertainment to pass the time. The two boats are eventually secured together and swing in unison with the afternoon sea breeze.

Moving around the tiny deck of the boat is a sideways shuffle around ropes, bags and people and it has minimal comfortable seating for the next four hours. Two guests have fold out chairs, (briefly comfy) two more are perched up like parrots on a pole, on boat seats and two are sitting on uncomfortable unshaded seats beside the motor, roasting gradually in the heat.

A pod of dolphins swim nearby, attracting the attention of our guests. With no thought to the consequences, they’re in a mad rush to watch the frolicking cetaceans and all move to one side of the small boat.

“Hell, you can’t be on the same side,” bellows the captain. The boat leans over at a forty five degree angle, threatening to drop them all into the murky water.

“Can’t you see how unbalanced it is?”

Oh dear! Here are the vigilant water police, flitting between the pleasure craft and make an attempt to have supervisory control of boats and people. Shouting through a loud hailer trying to be heard above the din of ten different music

sources, “Move your boat back past the buoys.” Some boat owners do comply with their instructions and others give impolite gesticulating signs and hand waving in response. Boat numbers and owner details are written in the water policeman’s little black book, non-compliance could be expensive.

Our two captains decided to move back as requested and like Siamese twins, all actions need to be simultaneous to maintain the balance. By now their anchors have lodged deeper into the oozing mud and slime on the river bed and the river is dangerously shallow in parts.

You don’t need to be Rhodes scholar to see that the logistics of moving the two boats is another horror story. Crew from nearby by boats

offer unwanted advice on how to move the boats, secured at the hip by ropes.

High above from the upper decks of the “QEII” ladies drinking wine or champagne in tall flutes, dressed in designer cocktail dresses, stand alongside men in pristine white, watch the inexperienced and lubberly boaties.

The performance of the moving boats was also unpaid entertainment for their guests.

From their lofty heights, they appeared to be were worlds apart from boat owners and friends on smaller craft surrounding them. Did their superior glances say “What are the riff raff boat owners doing on the river? What is the world coming too?”

Time to unpack our own luxurious provisions and copious refreshments: crayfish, prawns, cheese and biscuits, salads, fruit and for the tipplers white and red wine or soft drinks. Only three hours to go before I can relax and head home for a bed that wasn’t rocking.

Captain is an unsettled and fidgety person; he can’t sit still for ten minutes. He’s up again as a new problem has arisen. The slight zephyr of a wind and mill pond still water has changed to churning white caps on the open water and there appears to be a force ten gale building up.

All the surrounding boats, with the exception of “QEII” are bobbing like corks in a barrel. Our guests are looking decidedly green from the increased rocking and rolling motion of the boat.

Small craft are unpredictable and don’t This page appears only in the digital issue

always swing in the same direction. The tethered craft are swinging in an extremely crowded spot, bumpers and boat hooks are hastily deployed to fend off the encroaching boats, as owners pray to the wind gods to stop blowing.

The two tethered boats are now swinging precariously close towards “QEII.” My thought was, are we sufficiently insured?

Denting or scratching a luxury boat would cost the equivalent to the market value of our home.

Another mad dash by our captain and deckie to re-tie bollards to that side of our boat.

White clad men aboard the “QEII” hung their ineffective phallic like bollards over the side, dangling two or three decks higher than our cabin; useless in a collision. Our captains had no option but to start motors and move away from the possibility of damaging such a pristine craft. I prefer to be an onlooker in these situations – just a beatific smile and silence.

As the sun began to set, the river gods took piety on the boaties and the wind dropped to an eerie stillness.

At long last the captain stopped jumping around like a bumble bee in a jar after all the commotion. Watching him is never relaxing, only amusing; we now had the time to finish off our refreshments. Wafting over our cold collation was smells of barbeque cooking from the decks of “QEII”- outdoing us every time.

I could imagine a white porkpie hat wearing chef from the Sheraton hotel cooking their Cordon Bleu quality barbeque.

Well sated with food and sensibly drinking refreshment in the searing heat, now we had a wee problem with full bladders. It wasn’t dark enough for men to dangle equipment over the side and for myself and lady friends, we were beginning to resemble twisted pretzels.

There was no chance we’d expose our pale rumps to the surrounding boats. Thoughtfully the captain had set up a very primitive arrangement in the tiny cabin, and I do mean tiny. After calculating it could be possibly another three or four hours wait before we’d get our boat back on dry land, we had no choice but to use the $2 cheap bucket.

One by one we all bit the bullet and sheepishly crept into the cabin. Slightly redfaced when coming out of the uncurtained cabin, knowing that twenty pairs of snooty eyes could be watching from the deck of “QEII”.

At last the entertainment commences and the Australian flag is flown around the river foreshore and the spectacular show begins with huge bangs and flashes of fireworks lighting up the evening sky.

For the duration of the show heads are turned to the inky black sky and the profusion of fireworks sent skywards from the barges.

Conluded on page 23 ...

21

HOLIDAY READING A HAUNTING VISIT SD WASLEY

R

ecently, I visited New Norcia. It’s a weird place – its own little kindgom located northeast of Perth, unanswerable to any shire or council – rather it is owned and governed by the benevolent monks of the New Norcia brotherhood.

It’s stuck in the middle of nowhere, a collection of somewhat awe-inspiring buildings that seem to have grown up out of the gravel, red dirt and coffee rock.

We agreed that the staircase and balustraded area were deeply spooky. However, not a ghost to be seen.

We wandered and poked into every corner we could, but alas no ghosts. This was quite disappointing for us both, so we posed in the bathroom together, imagining how we would look if we HAD found a ghost.

We did manage to find one spirit. A fine vodka

to switch the overhead light back on at the wall without any problem. Who had switched it off?

Then my friend had to actually crawl under the bed to switch the power supply on at the wall to make the bedside lamp come back on.

Two switches flicked off simultaneously while no one else was in the room and the two girls were huddled together over a pile of papers? Very odd.

Mmm, such good writing fodder!

I leave you with a picture of the mysterious, inaccessible windows, and the spooky ghost whom we later identified as the cheeky young waiter.

The trees are sparse and the only green is the occasional surprising patch of carefully watered lawn.The buildings are all orange and white, so in a strange way they match the environment’s colour scheme, but the architecture is an unexpected mixture of 1930s Art Deco, Edwardian, gothic, and old Spanish.

I was there for a murder mystery night which, I’ve got to say, was incredibly good fun. We were dressed in 1920s costumes and practically had the hotel to ourselves, so you can imagine how the characters emerged and the champagne flowed!

We had heard that the New Norcia hotel was very haunted, so expectations were high for some ghostly action.

Once the murder mystery was close to being solved, my partner and I decided to explore the hotel and do a little ghost hunting. We found a creepy chair, which I had to pose in, ‘looking spooky.’

22

which left me feeling rather un-fine the next morning.

IS NEW NORCIA HOTEL HAUNTED? Who knows? We found no evidence and had no sightings, although the blurry waiter in one photo got us all excited for a short time. I was very suspicious of some windows high above us as we sat on the balcony, to which I couldn’t find any access whatsoever.

There’s obviously either an attic or roofspace or another storey to that place – but it’s one to which there is unfortunately no public access.

There were, however, one or two odd things that happened.

Firstly, when I arrived in my room I was unpacking and suddenly, right next to the bed, got a whiff of that distinct and nasty odour that is an unmistakable sign something has died and is returning to the dust whence it came.

The smell was strong and specifically located around my bedside table.

‘Great,’ I remember thinking to myself. ‘I get to sleep in the stinky room where some possum or mouse has carked it.’

However, I did not once smell the smell again, even when I was sleeping with my nose right next to the bedside table.

The other thing that happened (not in my presence) was that the lights, an overhead light and bedside lamp, both went out in a room where two of my friends were working on part of the game.

When they called to one of their husbands, he was able

S.D. Wasley’s debut novel, The Seventh, will soon available on Amazon and at www.evernightteen. com. Find out more about this local author at www.sdwasley.com.

POETRY THANKS FOR ANOTHER YEAR GENEVIEVE JOHNSON

t's a brand new year. Wow! I'm still here To see the sun rise on another day My hearts still ticking My legs are still kicking I'm a tad overweight But heh! I'm okay It's a brand new year. Wow! I'm still here To witness the hustle and bustle of life My sights a bit dodgy And I'm getting podgy My hairs going grey But heh! I'm okay It's a brand new year. Wow! I'm glad I'm here To feel my aches and pains and fears To be a mum, nan and carer To those I hold so dear My Family Happy New Year

HOLIDAY READING

POETRY BANDICOOTS

BALLOONING

SUE MORLEY

SUE MORLEY

A

dream of mine came true last week. I was magically lifted up into the heavens. I know this sounds fanciful, but it is true.

I felt, saw and experienced what it was like to float 3000 feet above the earth, amongst the clouds.

Some of them being white and fluffy, others had a darkness within and around them. There was no sound as I floated effortlessly, reaching out to touch the clouds so tantalisingly close.

I had drifted right through a cloud of misty grey, the dew wetting my face. There was an ozone sort of odour, assaulting my senses. Suddenly I broke through this mist, into a bright blue sky.

The sun was shining brightly and felt warm on my body. I looked to my left; there I could see the shadow of the hot air balloon I was travelling in. One could see the basket hanging below the colourful silk of the balloon.

Circling the shadow was a band of colour, all the colours of the rainbow were around the shadow, it was surreal. I felt as if I were weightless, standing on a few millimetres of wicker, so high above the world.

How could this be possible, that such a flimsy vehicle could lift the weight of the twenty-five people who were my fellow passengers on this magical flight? Three tons of weight, this brightly coloured balloon can lift, with the help of the hot air burner, which intermittingly broke the silence.

I expected to see an angel or some celestial being to appear. Just imagine if you can, the feeling of standing on such a flimsy platform, so high above the clouds, it was the most breath taking experience of my life.

All too soon it was over; we descended through the grey cloud, again the moisture tickling my face as we drifted down, until we were once again hovering above the canola fields in the Avon Valley.

We were scaring the sheep; they ran noisily in a panic, trying to outrun this monster in the sky. The noise of their frightened cries was easily discernable from our lofty position.

As if we were a huge bird or creature from out of space, we descended even lower, until the

aramelamorphias are round my garden The male is large and hairy He is looking for a fight.

The ground is full of craters

P

prowling

He has mined with his strong feet.

He can hear your every movement He is looking for some meat.

Keep really still, there might just be a chance, He will not see you watching him.

His eyesight’s poor he’s nearly blind, To eat you he is disinclined.

Do not fear this creature, there is no need to persecute A peramelamorphia is just a bandicoot!

underside of the basket was brushing the tops of the crops. A stand of trees were in view and I wondered if we were going to be able to rise quickly enough before we collided into them.

Our pilot skilfully lifted the magnificent beast just in time and we were swept along, just touching the upper most branches. I looked down upon the patterns made by the farm machinery; there was a similarity to the paintings made by indigenous people.

How did they get that perspective one wonders? There was no feeling of breeze across my face; we were at one with the wind. I know how it feels now, to be a bird in the sky, with the freedom to catch the thermals and effortlessly drift along.

All too soon this experience came to an end.

It was time to find a safe landing spot. The air speed on the ground had picked up, the pilot said to expect a bumpy landing. He casually mentioned that the basket may even tip over. I was undisturbed by this and was just thrilled to be part of this wonderful experience.

We landed safely; the ground crew appeared from across the paddocks, to help pack our beautiful beast away. Then it was off to Northam for a slap-up breakfast and a glass of champagne.

It is one experience I shall never ever forget.

I fell asleep that night, imagining all the space beneath my feet, as I floated outside in the air, amongst the clouds.

Continued from page 21 ...

The fireworks and music are truly magical and unforgettable.

We always wait a while for the stupid stampede of boats to subside a little, before we too headed back towards the Maylands boat ramp.

The finale for the evening is crazy alcoholinfused boaties’ mad rush for boat ramps. Idiots speeding dangerously up the river with minimum or no lights to guide them to their destination.

At the boat ramp, it’s like the Boxing Day sale at Myers and a free-for-all. The pleasure of the evening can be spoilt by bad tempered rude and overbearing boat owners, who can’t back trailers.

Meanwhile I silently sit on the stinky muddy river bank, being eaten alive by mosquitos the size of Hurricane planes. I’m holding the boat rope, waiting to retrieve our boat onto our trailer. The captain takes his turn backing the trailer into the dark murky water and heated arguments ensue who was first in the queue, nasty words are exchanged. This was supposed to be fun.

Onlookers who’d camped on the shore all day, would’ve been home for hours and tucked in their warm beds, while I’m covered in river slime and fighting off the dive bombing mosquitoes on the banks of the Swan river at Maylands and busting for the toilet.

Another twelve months have passed – same scene different crew ...

I think I’ll volunteer to work that day.

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ENTERTAINMENT HYPERFEST 2015

MIDLANDIA’S BACK!

DOUGLAS SUTHERLAND-BRUCE

MEGAN DOLLING

M

M

elbourne based hip-hop legend Illy will headline HyperFest 2015, joined by Slumberjack, Coin Banks, Japanese Wallpaper, Make Them Suffer, The Bennies, Ecca Vandal, Super Best Friends and more!

Perth’s biggest and best drug, smoke and alcohol free all-ages festival, HyperFest, is set to deliver a huge line-up over two main stages, plus a silent disco, chill tent and sideshow in 2015.

Following the hugely successful release of his 2014 album, Cinematic, Illy is heading back to WA and bringing an entourage of hits: including One For The City, On & On, Tightrope, I t Can Wait and Youngbloods.

Local electronic duo Slumberjack have had a bumper 2014 and come straight to HyperFest from their appearances at Stereosonic and Wonderland this summer.

Body Cry ft. Father Dude will set the mood as Slumberjack work their w a y through their set of bass-heavy, experimental electronica.

Cutting his teeth in collectives including The Stoops, Letters To The Sun and UPNUP, Coin Banks first surfaced on most radars in late-2013, with the release of his bone-rattling single, Hatches– a collaboration with rising star producer, Ta-ku.

Following the release of his highlyanticipated, Tails EP, led by its ecstatic new single Someone, Coin Banks joins the line-up with a huge following in his wake and a bright future in his headlights.

Make Them Suffer are the undisputable kings of heavy music in Western Australia. The six-piece have been busily touring the country and writing a follow-up to their hugely successful debut Neverbloom, recorded by Roland Lim (Birds of

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Tokyo) and regarded by critics as “symphonic deathcore done right”.

Japanese Wallpaper, The Bennies, Ecca Vandal & Super Best Friends lead the charge from interstate and head up a huge line up of local talent, including Finders, Puck, Roswell, Odlaw, Being Beta, Girl York, Daybreak, Rag 'N' Bone, Calm Collected and Sanctions.

City of Swan Mayor, Charlie Zannino, said HyperFest provided many opportunities for youth development.

“The Hyper Team of volunteers, under the direction of City staff, should be commended for the great job they do in bringing this event to fruition and it is great to see their success in securing these acts,” he said.

Councillor Mark Elliott, said local bands would also be given an opportunity to shine at HyperFest.

“This year more than a hundred local bands applied to secure a spot on the HyperFest line-up, with bands from all over Australia applying to play at the gig,” he said.

“We’re thrilled with the depth of talent available in the region and proud to be able to offer the performance exposure of HyperFest to these aspiring bands.”

HyperFest will take over Midland Oval on Sunday, March 29 from 11am to 8pm.

City of Swan’s HyperFest, presented by Drug Aware, is an All-Ages (12+) drug, smoke and alcohol free event that would not be possible without the support of so many organisations, including Drug Aware, Healthway, Headspace, YACWA, Music Feedback, Midland Gate and The Music.

For further information: www.hyperfest.com.au or www.facebook.com/HyperFestival.

idland will soon be buzzing with Fringe World fun when Midlandia makes its return to the Midland Junction Arts Centre.

Midlandia won the Fringe World Best Independent Venue last year and is looking to build on that success.

There are seventy-two shows scheduled to be performed by thirty Fringe acts, with a great variety on offer. There was very positive feedback from last year’s event, from festival goers as well as from local businesses.

Many retail stores, restaurants and cafes reported increases in trade on nights when Midlandia events were held.

It drew people into Midland and brought a great energy to the area.

With DJs playing in the MJAC courtyard this year, plus a pop-up garden bar and tasty food treats on sale, Midlandia is anticipating this lively atmosphere will be back all along Cale Street and neighbouring areas.

Midlandia runs from January 29th to February 21st. Entry to Midlandia is free so pop on in for a drink and a bite to eat. Tickets for Fringe World shows are available from www.fringeworld.com. au For more information on Midlandia and to sign up for the newsletter, visit www.midlandia. com.au Midlandia is presented by JumpClimb Events and supported by the City of Swan.

One of the performances will be by Claire Healy - A Bit of an Overshare.

How does one negotiate the world of seductive recycling, arm hair admirers and a murderous goldfish named Gavin? A Bit of an Overshare may not have all, or indeed any answers, but it will give you a chuckle, a tune and leave you utterly delighted, and possibly with too much information.

Claire has traversed the globe with her music, taking her songs from the theatres of Dublin to the streets of Croatian Islands. Now she brings her ‘powerhouse singing voice’ (Theatre People) and fabulous hair home to Australia.

Her unique brand of biting whimsy is injected into original songs of honesty and venom. She will enchant you as she plies you with biscuits and sings in your face.

A Bit of an Overshare will be at Midland Juntion Arts Centre on the 12th and 14th of February at 9pm. Tickets available through Fringe World: http://www.fringeworld.com.au.

ENTERTAINMENT VENUS IN FUR IRENE JAZABEK

A

sexy and gripping exploration of domination and power – part comedy, part thriller.

Thomas Novachek is an aspiring playwright and perfectionist.

He is attempting to adapt the masochistic 1870’s novel Venus in Furs for the stage, but hasn’t found anyone right for the part of Vanda. That is, until he meets the brash, audacious actress, ironically also named Vanda.

At first, Thomas doubts Vanda is the actress he’s looking for. He wants someone graceful and dignified; Vanda is provocative and salacious.

However, as she begins to read through the opening scene, Thomas is enthralled by the abrasive sexuality Vanda brings to the role. It isn’t long before Vanda has convinced Thomas to act alongside her.

The two read through the play, occasionally interrupted by Thomas’ fiancé insisting he come home.

As the two are drawn further and further into the drama, the line between reality and stage begins to blur, along with the distinction between actor and director.

This quirky take on the intimate

relationship between man and woman, is sure to ignite excitement.

Can you respect those without power?

Can you love those you cannot respect? Venus in Fur is a brilliantly written psychological strip tease.

Director Lawrie Cullen-Tait: “David Ives has tapped into a rich vein of art, desire, suspense and fantasy. Performance and discourse, drop us, beat by beat, into a surreal space of imagination in his play within the play as it triggers our conscious and our unconscious. The source being the real-life novella Venus in Furs, written in 1870

by Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch.” [For whom masochism is named] Produced by the Black Swan Theatre Company, Venus in Fur is presented as part of Perth’s Fringe World Festival.

Venus in Fur runs from Saturday the 17th of January until the 8th of February.

Curtain up at a variety of times to suit all: 4pm, 6pm and 8pm.

Tickets may be obtained from Ticketek online at Ticketek.com.au or 1300 795 012.

Tickets: $30 to $50* Venus in Fur - Felicity McKay and Adam Booth

For more information visit www.bsstc.

Photograph by Daniel Grant Photography com.au.

WARNING: Adult themes, sexual references and coarse language

KOOKABURRA’S JANUARY PROGRAMME Pride (M) January, Saturday 10th, Sunday 11th.

Drama/Comedy Starring: Bill Nighy & Imelda Staunton.

U.K. gay activists work to help miners during their lengthy strike of the National Union of Mineworkers in the summer of 1984. The miners are not too happy with that idea.

The Love Punch (M) January, Saturday 17th and Sunday 18th.

UK Comedy.

Starring: Emma Thompson, Pierce Brosnan, Celia Imrie & Timothy Spall.

A divorced couple scheme to recover the retirement money that was stolen from them.

This film has not been screened in WA before.

"The House Of Magic (G) January, Friday 23rd ONLY Animated kids comedy.

Voiced by Cinda Adams & George Babbit.

Thunder, an abandoned young cat seeking shelter from a storm, stumbles into the strangest house imaginable, owned by an old magician and inhabited by a dazzling array of automatons and gizmos.

Felony (M) January, Saturday 24th and Sunday 25th Aust Crime Drama.

Boxtrolls (PG) Starring: Joel Egerton & Tom Wilkinson.

January, Friday 16th ONLY Three detectives become embroiled in a tense Animated kids comedy. struggle after a tragic accident that leaves a child Voiced by Ben Kingsley & Jared Harris. in a coma.

One is guilty of a crime, one will try to A young orphaned boy raised by underground cover it up, and the other attempts to expose it. cave-dwelling trash collectors tries to save his friends from an evil exterminator.

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COMMUNITY SAMURAI GAMES FOR KIDS LISA SKRYPICHAYKO

Y

oung students of Sensei Bob Allen's Swan Hills Goju Ryu Karate have finished their training year in true samurai form, embracing the spirit of fair play and having fun in recent club events.

The inaugural Swan Hills Goju Ryu Samurai Games, held at the Midland dojo, helped prepare participants for upcoming karate tournaments and their year-end gradings now completed.

Junior samurai aged five to twelve challenged themselves across four stations, with activities including agility races, kick-bag showdowns, Ninja Limbo and the extremely popular and entertaining Pool Noodle Samurai event.

Nationally accredited veteran judge Sensei Chris Papamarkos presided over the noodle duels, ensuring everyone played safely and fairly, always giving their best effort.

Students observed formalities such as bowing to opponents and officials, demonstrating good sportsmanship and familiarising themselves with tournament proceedings before competing the following week.

A demonstration of kobudo (traditional aspect of martial arts they may wish to pursue participants were rewarded with pizza, popcorn and the original Karate Kid film, based on the Okinawan weaponry) was given at the interval, when they get older.

At the conclusion of the Samurai Games, Goju Ryu style of karate and highlighting the offering junior students a glimpse of another importance of fair play, courage and fighting spirit.

Many parents, friends, siblings and club volunteers assisted to make the event a resounding success, and overwhelmingly positive feedback from all indicates that the Samurai Games will become a regular feature on the Swan Hills Goju Ryu Karate calendar.

Sensei Bob Allen remarked, “This event has been great fun and an excellent learning opportunity for our junior students as well as the organisers, but we couldn't have done it without the commitment and goodwill of our parents and other volunteers – I can't thank them enough for supporting our club and especially our kids.”

Classes for this year finished in December and will recommence Monday 19th January 2015.

Sensei Bob Allen is the WA head of Goju Ryu Australia, and has been a referee at the state and national level for ninteen years.

He teaches karate, tai chi and kobudo, and has students of all ages at his Midland and Mt MEGAN DOLLING Helena dojos. ew wayfinding signs have been installed was the result of a walkability and wayfinding in Guildford. City of Swan Mayor, Charlie audit of Guildford.

Zannino, said five signs had been installed at “This area is very popular with visitors coming various locations around the townsite to help to explore the region’s heritage buildings, shop in pedestrians and visitors to navigate through the the antique store strip or enjoy the public open space,” she said. popular tourism destination.

“The wayfinding signage consists of double “Whether people are coming from near or far, sided map-based signs which highlight places of it will now be easier for them to find their way around and to enjoy beautiful Guildford. interest,” he said.

“These include the locations of historic “The signs have been placed in well trafficked buildings, business precincts, the Swan Valley locations, including near the Guildford Train Visitor Centre and parks and recreation reserves. Station and another near the Swan Valley Visitor “They also have other important information Centre.” on amenities in the area such as public toilets, Guildford was established in 1829 and is classified as a historic town by the National Trust playgrounds, seats and parking areas.

Councillor Sandra Gregorini, said the signage of Australia (WA).

NEW SIGNS FOR GUILDFORD

N

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CARE AND FEEDING OF YOUR PC • I work for a security company installing alarms • I’m safe because my computer always uses HTTPS and SSL. I read about them recently. so I know all about security.

WHY YOU DON’T NEED TO TAKE PC SECURITY SERIOUSLY PC SURGEON

I. JUST. DON’T. GET. IT.

I

STILL encounter unprotected computers. No anti-virus or seriously out-of-date a/v, no malware scanners or protection (malware…what’s that?) and a cavalier attitude to PC security in general.

Excuses … explanations … whatever the name… I’ve heard some beauties all over the years.

For example: • I don’t usually share files and links.

• I never bank online.

• I never use the internet for porn, online games or shopping.

• I believe the government would never spy on its citizens. [My personal favourite - Ed]

• I can easily spot phishing scams.

• I never use public WIFI in any other public place, or share mine at home.

• I never share my computer with anyone so I know exactly what’s going on with it.

• I use a firewall that protects me from viruses • Nobody online knows my address, full name, DoB or other things like that. That’s because I only and other nasties. give those details to reputable sites that ask for • I never click adverts nor any other links on a them.

There’s more, but by now the more PC literate site, come to that. readers will be quietly chuckling at the incredible • I don’t use Facebook and stay away from social naivety of those who (still) don’t know what they are doing with a computer media sites.

The rest of us, of course, know all too well • I only visit well-known websites where I know that the very instant our PC is connected online it’s vulnerable.

I’ll be safe.

No matter how careful, cautious or canny we think we are we’re ALL vulnerable to viruses, • Ransomware? Nonsense – it doesn’t exist. spyware, adware, nagware, trojans, worms and • I never change my password ‘cos I’m the only other types of malware.

Visiting only so-called trustworthy sites is risky one that knows it. I never give it to anyone else.

– at any moment they can be compromised by • The few times I want to download something outside sources.

I only download from trusted vendors and never No site is 100 percent safe from pirate sites.

100 percent of the time • I carefully avoid clicking links in emails, except There are hundreds of thousands of hackers for the ones that my family or friends send me. I out there, training courses and resources are readily available so more join their ranks day by day. always click and open those.

Whereas some hackers are interested only in • I only use safe email providers such as Yahoo, site testing and penetration to help owners harden their protection, other hackers are most definitely Outlook and Gmail. more interested in doing harm and making easy money.

• I always read a site’s privacy policies.

Today, creating and spreading malware is a • My computer is fully protected ‘cos it’s got very big business both for individuals and more especially for organised crime.

Windows Defender installed on it.

Why malware? Put simply, it’s all to do with • Very wisely I don’t use search engines. Instead, profit.

I always type the target URL into Internet Explorer. Any site can be deliberately poisoned. The instant you land on that site your device is • Internet Explorer has security features that compromised -- without your knowledge.

You might be a ’nobody’ in your mind but protect my PC. you’re ‘a somebody’ online, a ‘somebody’ with a • Nobody is going to bother stealing from me definite value because your details can quite easily be captured and sold. ‘cos I don’t have much money.

There are vast amounts of money involved • I am not an important person so why would in digital scams, identity theft, data breaches and anyone bother stealing my identity? I’m a nobody. other digital (or mobile!) fraud.

What’s that? You just want digital-peace-of• I rarely turn my modem on to help keep my PC mind? Flog the PC, buy a quill, use the phone and write letters. safe.

• Why would anyone want to break into my computer? There’s nothing on it that will interest them.

• I never hurt anyone so nobody has any reason to do me harm online.

• Yes, all those toolbars just turned up out of the blue. But you know what? They are completely free!

And some of them are quite useful – I use them all the time.

• Just to be safe I use the same password for everything so I’m not likely to forget it.

• What? Change the password regularly? That’s plain daft. How am I supposed to remember it?

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FINANCE WILL CHINA FAIL? - BOOK REVIEW STEVE BLIZARD

T

he events of the past twelve months is a firm reminder of how interconnected our investment world has become, with national economies hanging in the balance and investor capital under threat.

For anyone attempting to make sense of these challenges, the book Why Nations Fail - The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty, coauthored by Massachusetts Institute of Technology economist Daron Acemoglu and Harvard political scientist James A. Robinson, is a must-read.

Based on fifteen years of research, it is hard to overstate the scale of their effort, which examines extraordinary historical evidence from every corner of the globe.

Unlike most economic works, Why Nations Fail is an entertaining and informative ride through history.

In the style of Dr Who, each chapter transports you to a different time and place.

On arrival, you meet a range of goodies and baddies - inclusive institutions, extractive institutions, and the odd decentralised regime.

As one would expect, it is the self-interested elites who provide the best entertainment.

These include the Russian tsars who feared the spread of information should railways be constructed might threaten their rule, or the Sierra Leone president who went one step further and dug up existing track, with the similar concerns.

One intriguing destination is the town of Nogales - which is divided by a fence.

On the north side is the United States, and on the south side, Mexico.

And the inhabitants of the northern side face lower crime rates, live longer and earn three times as much as their southern neighbours.

The authors set out to answer how two places – which share an ethnic background, a geographical location and a climate – could be so different.

They argue that success or failure is determined by the economic and political institutions that have been put in place.

To prosper, citizens need “inclusive institutions” which create virtuous circles of innovation, economic expansion and more widelyheld wealth.

Nations thrive when they develop “inclusive” political and economic institutions.

Regrettably nations fail when their institutions become “extractive” and concentrate power and opportunity in the hands of only a few.

IS CHINA HEADED FOR STAGNATION? With Australia’s ironore exports impacted by China’s economic slowdown, the question arises: can China continue to expand if the Communist Party refuses to loosen its grip?

Acemoglu and Robinson are pessimistic.

According to their matrix of processing this scenario, China’s past success may not translate into sustained growth.

There are parallels with the development of the former Soviet Union, which underwent rapid growth as the economy industrialised and grew, only to grind to a halt.

The booming Chinese economy may appear impressive, but for Acemoglu and Robinson, China's leaders revealed a critical flaw in 2003 when they arrested Chinese entrepreneur Dai Guofang, sentencing him to five years imprisonment.

Dai's crime was to start a low-cost steel company that would compete with Partysponsored factories, and was forcibly shut down.

Their theory asserts that members of an extractive elite will not allow creative destruction to eliminate their own enterprises; the potential of existing technologies is fully exploited, but no innovation develops—and growth cannot be sustained.

However there is a lack of a real explanation of what’s going on in China – a nation ravaged by extractive institutions, if there ever was one.

China’s economic growth is still the envy of the western world, despite slowing to its weakest level in thirteen years.

Hence the author’s view of China’s future in Why Nations Fail has created heated controversy in the academic and development communities.

Opponents, including Bill Gates, contend that making sense of the Chinese success story is simply too complex for such an institutional theory.

Extractive states can have bursts of growth.

The elites have an incentive to invest in and grow their own businesses.

But can authoritarian growth miracles last?

Has guanxi devolved into cronyism?

Fundamentally the Chinese concept of guanxi describes building a network of mutually beneficial relationships which can be used for personal and business purposes.

For millennia, China has lacked a strong rule of law, so guanxi networks arose, as there was no real legal framework in place to determine outcomes.

However one of the problems with guanxi in China today is that due to the entrenched damage wrought by the chaos and fear of the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese family and social systems which underpin the traditional hierarchical value systems, have broken down.

As a result, any distortion of guanxi ensures winners in business are often the best-connected, not necessarily the most economically efficient.

SLOW PROGRESS The challenge for China’s ruling elite is how much ground will they concede, if any.

On November 15th, the Chinese Communist Party released their party’s reform plan.

Accompanying the release, President Xi Jinping wrote a letter highlighting eleven key features of the plan.

This included integrated rural-urban development, with land reform for farmers being the key.

In addition, a landmark pilot “Stock Connect” scheme was launched on 17th November, with the aim of creating mutual market access between the Shanghai and Hong Kong stock exchanges Both these initiatives are small indicative steps.

However, whether one agrees with their theory in relation to China, Acemoglu and Robinson have most certainly provided a thoughtprovoking book, not to mention a great read.

Courtesy of Roxburgh Securities 29

LITERARY

T he Idler

The Idle Thoughts of an Idle Mind

THE CHOCOLATE RESOLUTION GLENNYS MARSDON

T

he dawn of a new year always finds me in a reflective mood as I ponder the lessons learnt last year, and the possibilities of the months ahead.

As I write this, during the last weeks of 2014, my thoughts are more circumspect than usual, so too my resolutions.

Past resolutions usually focused on the C word … chocolate or should I say ‘the absence thereof’. On most occasions my resolve would last until Australia Day, although one year I made it all the way to Easter but that year I had help.

‘Help’ came in the form of a full house at the Perth Concert Hall, several vats of fake tan, six judges with pens at the ready, one tiny lime green bikini and me standing front and centre on stage in said outfit.

That year, during the foggy haze after a recent break up, I was guided by ‘friends’ to enter a body building competition. I know I can hear your gasps already.

Thanks to ‘Plugger’ Locket I now know that I was in the midst of a ‘brain snap’. Anyway I accepted the challenge and spent several months training six days a week and living off a limited range of ‘foodstuffs’.

For three months my plate consisted of nutritional items that, while diverse in food groups, had one thing in common, a bland beige appearance.

From oats in the morning to egg whites for lunch and rice with boiled chicken in the evening, the word ‘variety’ took a leave of absence from my caloric intake. I lived for my mid-afternoon

juicy, sweet raspberry jube-jube reward. I’d swirl the small dome-shaped goodness around in my mouth, sliding it over my taste buds making sure each one received a moment of respite from their bland existence.

Judgment day came and went in as much time as it takes to whisk ten egg whites into a foamy mass, slide them onto a pan, throw in a handful of chives, flip the resulting disk out onto a plate and lament the fact it was dinner, again.

In a demonstration of extremely bad timing, the first morning after the competition coincided with Easter Sunday. Consequently everyone arrived at my place laden with chocolates and champagne. Everything a girl with a 6% skinfold would want.

To my surprise the first piece of chocolate tasted like copha, an opaque, colourless slab of fat usually reserved for cementing rice bubbles into chocolate crackles.

I instantly spat out the first piece of chocolate, but by the third tasting I was hooked. The saving grace was that I lived in Perth not Switzerland.

According to Leatherhead Food Research, the average Swiss consumes 11.9kg or roughly 240 chocolate bars a year.

Given their proximity to Nestle and Lindt I guess that’s hardly surprising. What was surprising however was that Ireland came in second (9.9kg), followed by the UK (9.5kg), Austria (8.8) and Belgium (8.3kg), mmm Belgium chocolate.

Australia made it into the list at thirteenth (5.9kg), roughly half that of Switzerland and ahead of the USA (5.5kg). So that’s about 120 chocolate bars per person per year.

That’s a lot of Turkish Delights, Cherry Ripes and Picnics, but I’d hazard a guess somewhat fewer Flakes, Moros and sadly no Polly Waffles.

This year as my New Years Resolution thoughts turn to chocolate once more, my mind has taken a different turn.

In the past chocolate always provided me with relief, a small oasis in the midst of a hectic day, or a much deserved reward after finishing a particularly tricky report.

The only negativity came much later as I watched the continued weight gain projected before me on the scales. Now, as I sit here one week after the Sydney siege chocolate has been tainted, associated forever with visions too horrific to comprehend.

Throughout the siege I was intrigued by the use of the word ‘incident’. The message was clear, not to let this ‘incident’ change our lives and yet how could it not?

Surely there needs to be some sort of personal acknowledgement or recognition of its impact … a New Year’s Chocolate Resolution perhaps.

And so from this day forth chocolate will no longer be my enemy. I will still associate its richness with indulgence, romance, love.

But now whenever I eat chocolate, and Lindt chocolate in particular, I will think about things like courage and selflessness while savoring each mouthful as if it were my last.

This piece is dedicated to the hostages who made it and those who didn’t, the brave forces who continue to keep us safe and the dignified response of the Sydney community.

Wishing all readers a healthy, happy, safe year ahead surrounded by loved ones … and the odd chocolate or two to help lift our nation’s average.

POETRY

LINES COMPOSED UPON THE DEATH OF BORIS KARLOFF K R W TREANOR

hey say your name was William Pratt; T There’s nothing frightful about that.

But then you changed to Karloff (Boris) And gave us all the hairy horrors.

We’ll miss your Monster and your madness Your leaving fills us with a sadness.

No one robbed a grave like you Nor so horribly made up a stew.

Those gleaming eyes, that fearsome chuckle; Our nails were nibbled to the knuckle.

You and Lugosi: what a twosome— no one else could be so gruesome!

Your time on screen you never frittered, Within the hour the place was littered With nameless things, neatly dissected, Pale heroines (gasp!) vivisected.

We loved your playmates round the fire: Chaney, Carradine and Ouspenskaya-What thrills when the latter read a palm And whispered low the werewolf alarm!

You always scared us half to death; We’d turn quite blue from holding breath.

It’s often said, but ne’er more true: There’ll never be another you.

[The 2nd February, 2015 marked the 46th anniversary of the passing of one of the greats of film, William Pratt, aka Boris Karloff. I felt this day should not pass unremarked and penned the above as a suitable memento mori. KRWT]

30

HOLIDAY READING HARLEQUIN STREET SHEY MARQUE

run up the hill after gymnastics. On our front verge my bare legs pas de chat, flecked with green confetti, catch a shower of grass.

arms extended either side, palms splayed, fingers twirl a flourish. I copy her but get stuck half way. She waves to my mum, calls her ‘aunty’. I shadow

I think my face might explode. Next day, Lesley’s family still haven’t come home.

Again my legs slide over the grass and stop short of the full splits. My brother and sister

Dad motors over the lawn and laughs. He her cartwheels around to her back door step. doesn’t notice my batmanimitate me, giggling. Beside the rubbish bin Inside, her mum wipes dry a glass masked brother jump from the roof of the on her dressing gown. I wonder if I should next door, empty bottles tinkle as they fall garage onto the strip of lawn from green bags. Tea leaves from Mum’s call her mum ‘aunty’ but the word hides silver teapot cascade into the rose garden. down the centre of our driveway. Emerging under my breath. Bradley’s mum blows smoke from the afternoon shade My family never goes anywhere. rings at the table while he climbs on her my brother springs upright, kneecaps of lap. Down in their henhouse a single rooster green. Beside him crows. Their father’s flushed face yawns. my sister fumbles a tape measure and chalk in her hands. Inside, Mum raps against the lounge room window, wags a finger. Through the flyscreen, the house

On the cherry laminex an ashtray, potato chips, aspirin and rum. Bradley squeals, his father gives him a Chinese burn and an open hand. I fall backwards into a bendback.

smells like grass and cupcakes. I shake off my gym shoes at the door. Two open bags of Plaster of Paris lean on the fence, leaking chalk dust. My siblings’ pale

After dinner Lesley bangs on our door, says her mother won’t wake. Dad tells her to stay with us while he calls triple zero and runs next door. Mum feeds her spaghetti

faces grinning in the kitchen. The cat hisses, slinks by on her belly. Raw sausage mince thaws on the sink, melts in my mouth.

My slippery fingers plunge

and an ice-cream cone piled higher than mine. Outside, the red light of an ambulance flashes while my family watches Roadrunner.

I practise a pirouette and Lesley does

ROTARY NO JANUARY MARKETS

GEOFF FRANCIS he Rotary Club of Mundaring does not have a meeting till mid January after the Christmas break.

In consultation with the many Market stall holders. It was decided to have a break in January when it it usually so hot. So, with no market and no early January meeting I don't have a lot to report.

January will see our two locally sponsored students come home from their European adventure and another hound student, Craig Ford head off for a year away.

T

into the chest freezer, sneak inside a plastic the splits until Bradley’s mum comes home bag and pull out a fist of frozen to collect her. Early in the morning, three peas which tumble onto the tiles like a of them drive away and I wave goodbye. The broken string of pearls. Unwinding, station wagon is stuffed with pillows feet up in front of the television and snifter beside him on the table, Dad hollers at the umpire for having only one eye. He doesn’t see Bradley outside

and running shoes. I see the father’s hooded face peering out of the front room window, red and yellow diamond curtains draped around his body. Later he is frogmarching

the boy next door who still toddles in a nappy that bangs on his knees. Bradley slaps me and says fuck off. On the lawn his sister Lesley slides into the splits

down the driveway with two men in suits.

Running out onto our front lawn, I perform a trio of forward flips then stop and fall slowly back into a bendback, hanging there,

Shey Marque lives in Two Rocks and has a MA in Writing.

Formerly the Literary Program Co-ordinator at The Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers Centre, she remains a member of their poetry group Poets at KSP. More information on the group and new poetry collection The Light Painters can be found on their website at http://poetsonline.wix.com/poets-at-ksp Her poetry is widely published in literary magazines including Westerly, Regime, and Trove. Harlequin Street won the Karen W Treanor Poetry Prize in 2013 and is published in Award Winning Australian Writing 2014 and in The Light Painters.

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COMMUNITY SBDC

FITNESS CLASSES AT BILGOMAN

DI GRAHAM CARLI ALLEN he Small Business Development Corporation’s redeveloped business information centre at 140 William Street is a unique starting point for budding entrepreneurs.

Small Business Commissioner, David Eaton says small business owners make a significant contribution to the State’s economy, and the SBDC is keen to ensure that new business starters have all the information and guidance they need to start off on the right foot.

“The business information centre provides free and low cost workshops, and the opportunity for face-to-face meetings with experienced business advisers,” Mr Eaton said.

“Each week, we hold a free, two-hour Business Basics workshop providing the information you need to evaluate a business model and decide whether you have what it takes to run your own business.”

The centre also provides access to comprehensive market research information Participants in the fitness classes at Bilgoman Aquatic Centre via IBISWorld, to help business starters test the financial feasibility of their ideas. esidents looking to get into shape can now join artificial grass area.

The SBDC is open Monday to Friday (except in early morning fitness classes run at Shire of Classes start at 7am and are just $5 per public holidays), from 8.30am to 5.00pm, and is Mundaring’s Bilgoman Aquatic Centre. session. There is also an option to enjoy a swim at easily accessible. For a virtual tour, visit: http:// The 30 minute classes are a total-body the upgraded Centre for an additional $5. www.smallbusiness.wa.gov.au/one40william/ workout.

Classes are run on Mondays, This is a great opportunity to start your day Wednesdays and Fridays by a qualified personal off on the right foot and make some new friends.

Fact file: trainer. Participants will work all their core To book into any of the session, contact WA has more than 209,000 small businesses, muscles in circuit-style training on the shaded Bilgoman Aquatic Centre on 9299 6597. contributing approximately $44 billion to the Gross State Product.

An average of thirty small business starters attend the free, two-hour Business Basics CARLI ALLEN workshop each week at the SBDC. During 2013-14, the SBDC assisted 55,000 clients directly and through 25 small business centres located around the State.

The SBDC was established in 1984 as the state government agency dedicated to the development and growth of small business in Western Australia.

T

R

COLOURING COMPETITION WINNERS

Winners in the colouring competition at Bilgoman Aquatic Centre’s Family Fun Day were delighted with their prize packs

F

ive hills children were excited to receive their prize packs after entering a colouring competition run by Shire of Mundaring.

As part of the Family Fun Day held at Bilgoman Aquatic Centre, children could enter a colouring competition.

Shire President Cr Helen Dullard said the Fun Day was a community celebration of recent $2.3

32

million upgrades to the centre.

“The five winners ranged from four to eleven years and took home age-appropriate prize packs after being selected this week,” she said.

“It is great to see so many people enjoying the new facilities at Bilgoman Aquatic Centre and it will continue to be a hit as the warm weather kicks in.”

PETS DOGS DIE IN HOT CARS

D PENNY

JUDY WEBB

G

orgeous Penny is one of the many kittens in SAFE’s rehoming program that missed out on being adopted over the Christmas period.

While Christmas symbolizes love and joy, the reality for Penny and her kitten friends is that they are still in limbo - waiting to bring their kitten version of love and joy to permanent homes.

Summer is the peak of the kitten season and SAFE has been inundated with adorable, appealing kittens just like Penny. Despite the high numbers, SAFE’s goal is to find homes for all of them.

SAFE Saving Animals From Euthanasia (SAFE) was founded by Sue Hedley in 2003. Since then SAFE has developed branches and networks across the state.

SAFE’s dedicated work has had a positive impact on people, pets and wildlife.

SAFE’s innovative foster care program provides temporary care for animals until a permanent home is found. This means there are no cages or time lines on an animal’s life.

Your donation or bequest can ensure SAFE can continue its life saving work.

Have a look at our website: www.safe.asn.au

Dog Logics Training & Behaviour One on One Lessons and Group Classes Puppy Classes 8 - 16 weeks

Jacquie Humphrey 9295 1768 30 years experience Accredited by: Canine Evaluators of Australasia

With the assistance of volunteer foster carers, the kittens have been lovingly brought up inside their carer’s homes and are toilet trained. They have been vet checked and come with vouchers which cover desexing, microchipping and vaccination.

Kittens grow up to bond closely with their humans and make marvellous companions. They are an easy pet with very low maintenance.

Whilst SAFE is working diligently to address the problem of unwanted, abandoned and neglected domestic animals, their rescue program is constantly flooded with new animals needing their help.

Karratha has a largely transient workforce so there aren’t many rehoming options available locally. SAFE is heavily reliant on Perth residents adopting their animals and pets are regularly flown south to their new homes.

Contact SAFE Karratha on 08 9185 4634 to enquire about Penny or any of the other beautiful kittens listed on the website http://safe.asn.au/ cats_in_karratha.htm If you don’t want to adopt, but would like to help SAFE, you can volunteer to be a foster carer or can contribute financially to vet costs.

on't leave your dog alone in a car. When it’s 22°C outside, the temperature inside a car can reach 47°C within an hour.

Dogs pant to keep cool. In hot stuffy cars dogs can’t cool down - leaving a window open or a sunshield on windscreens won’t keep your car cool enough.

If you see a dog in a car on a warm day, call the Police on 000.

HEATSTROKE Heatstroke can be fatal. Some dogs are more prone than others:

Dogs with short snouts

Fatter/muscley dogs

Long-haired breeds

Old/young dogs

Dogs with certain diseases/on certain

medication Heatstroke develops when dogs can’t reduce their body temperature.

Symptoms include:

Heavy panting

Profuse salivation

Rapid pulse

Very red gums/tongue

Lethargy

Lack of coordination

Reluctance/inability to rise after

collapsing

Vomiting or Diarrhoea

Loss of consciousness.

First aid: Act quickly, heatstroke can be fatal! If dogs show any signs of heatstroke, move them to a shaded, cool area. Ring your vet immediately.

Urgently, gradually lower their body temperature: Immediately douse them with cool (not cold) water, to avoid shock – you could use a shower, or spray and place them in the breeze of a fan.

Let them drink small amounts of cool water.

Continue dousing until their breathing settles – never cool dogs so much that they begin shivering.

Once your dog is cool, immediately go to the vet.

WARM WEATHER TIPS Your dog must always be able to move into a cooler, ventilated environment.

Never leave dogs alone in cars, glass conservatories or caravans even if it’s cloudy.

If you do leave dogs outside, you must provide a cool shady spot where they can escape from the sun.

Always provide good supplies of drinking water, in a weighted bowl that can’t be knocked over. Carry water with you on hot days.

Groom dogs regularly to get rid of excess hair.

Give long-coated breeds a haircut at the start of summer.

Never allow dogs to exercise excessively in hot weather.

Dogs can get sunburned – particularly those with light-coloured noses/fur on their ears. Ask your vet for advice on pet-safe sunscreen.

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WHAT’S ON IF YOU WOULD LIKE AN EVENT LISTED IN THIS COLUMN RING JAN ON 9298 8495 ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS Glen Forrest Group Every Monday evening We meet at 7.00pm at the Glen Forrest Uniting Church, Mc Glew Rd, Glen Forrest. Call Dermot 0488 905 211 or John 0448 074 536 or the Perth Office (all hours) 9325 3566.

AUSTRALIAN BREASTFEEDING ASSOC. Discussion groups, guest speakers, morning tea. Free breastfeeding counselling. Expectant mothers, mothers, babies and children welcome.

National Breastfeeding Helpline 1800 686 2686 is a 24 hour 7 days a week service.

HILLS CHRONIC PAIN SUPPORT GROUP 1st Wednesday of each month Hilltop Grove Estate, 1645 Jacoby Street, Mahogany Creek. Morning tea provided, between 10.30 - 12.00 noon.

Enquiries Terina 9572 1655.

SWAN HARMONY SINGERS Every Wednesday evening Swan Harmony Singers are welcoming new members, especially men, to join us at the Salvation Army Church Hall, 371 Morrison Rd, (opposite Swan View Primary School), Swan View.

We meet from 7-9pm, to sing music ranging from jazz to pop, plus the occasional classic.

As we are starting on a new programme of songs, this is the perfect time to join. No auditions.

For more information, call Chris on 9298 9529 or 0435 062 728. Come and sing with us!

Swan/Mundaring Group meets every Monday, 9:30-11:30am at the Gumnuts Family Centre, 8 Mudalla Way, Koongamia. A qualified ABA counsellor is present at each meeting to give confidential information and support on breastfeeding issues. Contact Natalie 9572 4971. MAD TATTERS MORRIS DANCING Tuesday Evenings - commencing Feb 3rd Kalamunda Group meets fortnighly on a It’s like bush dancing, with sticks and bells. It’s Thursday, 9:30-11:30am at the Maida Vale Baptist aerobic exercise and great fun! Guildford Town Church, Edney Road, High Wycombe.

Hall, Cnr James St & Meadow St, Guildford.

Contact Jenny 9252 1996.

Practice from 7-9pm, drinks later at the Woodbridge Hotel.

Northam Group meets each second Tuesday of For more information please contact: the month at the Bridgeley Community Centre, Christine Hogan: 9279 8778 Wellington Street, Northam 10am to Noon.

Email: Madtattersmorris@iinet.net.au Fourth Tuesday each month at Toodyay Playgroup, Website: madtattersmorris.myclub.org.au Stirling Terrace, Toodyay. Noon to 2pm. Please THE HILLS CHOIR phone Louisa 9574 0229.

Monday Evenings Do you enjoy singing and joining with others to make beautiful music? Come and join the Hills Choir. We meet from 7.30 to 9.30pm at the Uniting Church on Stoneville Road, Mundaring.

Contact Margie on 9295 6103 for further information.

GUILDFORD MARKET Third Sunday of every month At Guildford Town Hall, Corner of James and Meadow Streets. 9am - 3pm.

Situated in the heart of Guildford, within five minutes walking distance from the Guildford Train Station, a visit to the Guildford Market is sure to please.

With a diverse and unique array of locally handcrafted products and produce, there will be something of interest for all. From garden ornaments, homemade jams and relishes to handmade soy candles, cards, bags, cushions, children’s toys, bears, baby and children’s wear.

Individually designed and crafted glassware, jewellery and beautifully made wood products and so much more to tempt you.

Sausage sizzle, live music all day.

Make a day of it, stroll around the markets and then take the time to wander about the heritage listed town of Guildford. Enjoy a picturesque Heritage Walk Trail or pay a visit to the antique, art and craft shops along the cafe strip.

Enquiries: Bromwyn, 6278 4252.

MUSTARD SEED - DISCOVERING COMPUTERS Mustard Seed is a non-profit organisation and caters for all aspects of everyday computing.

Ability levels from beginner to advanced are welcome and learners proceed at their own pace.

There are desktops, laptops, iPad and Android tablets, scanners, printers and Wi-Fi broadband internet. Cost is $3 per session. Enrolments in 2014 exceeded 100. To gain a place in 2015 enrol now. Forms and information are available by: Phoning 9299 7236 or 0416 815 822 or E. discoveringcomputers@westnet.com.au.

ELLENBROOK COMMUNITY WEIGHT LOSS CLUB Every Wednesday evening We meet from 6.45pm to 8.00pm at the Woodlake Community Hall, Meeting room 1.

Highpoint Blvd, Ellenbrook. Friendly support group and low cost. Male and females of all VALLEY ages welcome. Contact Shirley 9276 7938 – shirleysardelich@aapt.net.au.

SWAN SQUARES ELLENBROOK Every Friday Night

Modern Australian Square Dancing from 8.00 pm – 10.00 pm Woodlake Community Hall, 1 Highpoint Blvd, Ellenbrook. Friendly, fun and low cost. No previous experience necessary. All Welcome.

Contact Greg Fawell 0417 912 241 or www. s w a nv a l l e y s q u a r e s. weebly.com

34

LIONS CLUB OF SWAN DISTRICTS INC The Club is celebrating it’s 50th Anniversary in March, 2015.

We would like to make contact with any past members who would like to be involved.

Tel Gavin 9296 9474 BINGO AT ELLENBROOK Every Tuesday evening Eyes down 7.00pm at Valley Bowls Club, Cnr Maffina Parade and Cashmore Ave, Ellenbrook.

Lots of games and prizes. Lucky number draw.

Continuous jackpot. Bars open. Tea and biscuits available. Enquiries Ray 6296 5580.

BUSINESS CARD BOARD ACCOUNTANT

CARPET CLEANING

ELECTRICIAN

BOOKS

CEILINGS

FIREBREAKS

BOOKS

COMPUTER SERVICES

GARDENING

PC Surgeon

Servicing most areas

A Sick Home PC? Treating viruses and software Low Cost Home Visits Professional advice Police Clearance 9295 5238 (All Hrs)

BRICKPAVING Specialising in Brickpaving & Soakwells

FREE Quotes No job too big or too small Call Larry: 0431 057 124 or 6278 2301

CALLIGRAPHY

DRY CLEANERS

GARDEN SERVICES

FOR QUALITY & FRIENDLY SERVICE • Wedding & Evening Dresses • Doonas & Blankets • Curtains • Woolens/Silks etc • Alterations and Mending

Phone 9295 1488

Shop 5, Mundaring Shopping Centre 7025 Great Eastern Highway, Mundaring

EDITOR

GLASS

Need an editor?

Get expert advice on layout, editing, costings, publishing and marketing from a professional editor.

First consultation free. Free quotes.

Swinburne Press (founded 1989) P: 6296 5161 E: douglassb@iinet.net.au

Your business could be here in colour from as little as $80.

Ring Jan on 9298 8495 35

BUSINESS CARD BOARD IRRIGATION

PAINTING

A . T. ASHMAN Bore installations, all pump requirements Reticulation, pipe and fittings Pump repairs and service. Water tanks Unit C/7 Orchard Avenue (next to Cov’s)

MIDVALE PH: 9274 2201

MAINTENANCE

Professional Interior & Exterior Painter and Decorator (No 4917) Free Estimates

Phone: 9250 7515

0417 946 206

PUBLISHERS

Have a book to publish? v Family History v Non-Fiction v Autobiography v Biography v Fantasy v Fiction v Poetry

Swinburne Press (founded 1989)

P: 6296 5161 E: douglassb@iinet.net.au

MARKETS

PLUMBING

Guildford Town Hall, James Street 9:00am--3:00pm Held on the third Sunday of each

Bromwyn 6278 4652

MODELLING ACADEMY

REAL ESTATE

OPPORTUNITIES

RUBBISH REMOVAL

SAW AND MOWER SERVICE

SAWS AND MOWERS

cnr

Grt Est Hwy & Chipper St, Mundaring

~ Sales ~ Spares ~ Repairs

9295 2466

TREE SERVICES

Just Trees

Your Affordable Local Tree Service Pruning - Lopping - Removals - Mulching

9274 3236

~ Fully Insured

~ Call for a Free Quote

7B Bushby Street, Bellevue, WA 6056

TUITION

CALL FOR A FREE ASSESSMENT MUNDARING - 9295 6255 ELLENBROOK - 9297 3654

TV ANTENNAS

WEB DESIGN

COMMISSION SALES Swan Magazine is looking for someone to sell advertising.

The position would suit a selfmotivated person who wants flexible working hours.

We offer generous commission rates, training and advice.

Ring our editor, Jan Patrick, on 9298 8495 for an appointment to discuss options.

36

Your business could be here for $80.

Ring Jan on 9298 8495

A TASTE OF THE WORLD

A HAPPY CHRISTMAS GIFT & SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL AUTHOR!

$20 FOR 2 BOOKS!!

If you love TRAVEL, FOOD & TRUE STORIES from the HOSPITALITY Industry, containing over 50 RECIPES, then Come and Explore the World with Ellenbrook’s ‘The Chef Explorer’!

TWO BOOKS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE, and an IDEAL CHRISTMAS PRESENT OR TWO!

A SUPER SPECIAL FOR SWAN MAGAZINE READERS OF $20 FOR THE 2 BOOKS, (OR $12.50 EACH) * THAT IS A SAVING OF $22 ON AMAZON & BOOK SHOP PRICE!!

37

Your one stop local pump shop......

Household, Submersible, Bore and Pool pumps Controllers, Solenoids and all reticulation products

s thi % t 0 n se a1 Pre t for t er un adv disco

We sell: DOMESTIC WATER FILTERS – Your solution to clean household water S D D

s

WE SERVICE & REPAIR WHAT WE SELL Unit C/7 Orchard Avenue, MIDVALE (next to Cov’s)

PH: 9274 2201 F: 9274 2284

www.aquapump.com.au - email: bill@aquapump.com.au 38