March 12. Day 71. Competitive edge

Competitive creatures boys. On the rock climbing wall, riding bikes, in tasks of speed of strength or in the science lab - boys love to be faster, higher, stronger or smarter. I saw how competition and opportunity brings out the best in young men at the school open day this evening. The school was showcasing its facilities and one of its greatest resources - its people - at the annual open day. Students at the school and those who want to go there were trying their hand at a variety of activities from music to sport, industrial design to drama. I love that although its an all-boys school, this is a school that caters for all young men no mater what their interests. And as someone whose son is just months away from graduation, I can say what they tell you in the prospectus and during the principal's address is true and not just words but followed through in action. Good schools don't just teach you what you need to pass exams they give you skills for life and harness those competitive skills in whatever field life takes them.

March 11. Day 70. Balance

Balance. In all things. That describes my life perfectly. The Ying and the Yang. The work and the play. The sleep and the wake. Yeah, that's me. Miss equalibrium. And if you believe that I can recommend a great psychiatrist because you are truly delusional. I am not a glass half full or even a glass half empty person. My glass is either full or empty. I rather avoid half measures. Right now it's a calendar that's full and a tank that's on empty, which is far from ideal. What I think I need is a big stick and a few strings like my favourite artwork at South Bank. I could rely on the stick to find balance and if that doesn't work I could get someone to use it to beat some sense into me. The string could either hold me up or be pulled to take off some of the load. And  I could learn to ride a unicycle or something more difficult such as finding out whether people are talling the truth when they say mobile phones have an off switch. Yeah, now I'm getting silly but I do know a bit more balance is called for.

March 10. Day 69. Dog attack

The only thing more vicious than some dogs are their owners. Seriously, I don't know where some people get off. For the record, I will just put it out there that there are few pooches more pathetic than mine. I'm okay with that. We suit each other. Anyway, some time back I decided to avoid one of the dog parks on the river at West End because I took objection to the fact that dog owners saw no reason to close the gate and when I did would repeatedly open it again so their dogs could do a lap into the river and back into the park. My problem with that is that dog parks have fences for a reason and leaving the gate open really negates that. But today our walk took us by the park and the gate was shut so I figured what would be the harm in giving it another go. Bad move. We got to the gate and five big dogs pounced blocking our entry. Their owners did nothing. I decided the only way for us to get in - and their dogs not get out - was to pick Rumple up and push. That was fine but once inside all the other dogs jumped on me and a terrified Rumple climbed on my shoulder and wouldn't move. Then the "fun" started. The dogs continued to jump and their owners decided this is my problem. I should put Rumple down and let him fend for himself, apparently. I should stop "projecting" my fear. Excuse me. If I want to hold my dog I will. If I want to turn my dog into a big, fat sooky-la-la that's my prerogative. I do not want your pouch parenting tips, I will ask for them. Otherwise will you just shut up (and keep your dogs out of my face and more importantly out of Rumple's)

March 9. Day 68. Building bridges

When the wind is blowing the right way, I can hear racquet hit ball on the tennis courts of the University of Queensland. Even on a very still night you can hear just about every song played at functions on the campus. We are close, so very close - at least as the crow flies. But unless you happen to be a crow or a fish, the campus is not exactly around the corner. There's a great, big snaking river between us and them. The only way to get there is via the hideous traffic black spot that is Coronation Drive or to take the Eleanor Schonnel Bridge. There is a catch if you happen to be a motorist. This is a world first Green Bridge. You can walk or cycle across the bridge or catch the bus but all other vehicles are forbidden. I'm not sure what I think about a great big bridge for just buses and bikes but I know I really like the bridge as a piece of engineering. It's an incredibly impressive structure any day of the week but on a day like today with the setting sun and clouds behind it really does bridge the gap.

March 8. Day 67. Going soft

Remember that bit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the Black Knight insists that his increasingly horrific injuries are nothing but a scratch or a flesh wound? I'm more likely to insist a flesh wound is something akin to amputation. Fact is, I'm a bit  somewhat totally soft. I don't do pain but I admire those who do. If I'm soft, today I saw in action a group of people I could only describe as well hard. I called in at New Farm Park on my way to Nash Theatre and was somewhat surprised to see what I later found out to be a game of Jugger in action. It just appeared to be two teams going at each other with a variety of weapons. Clearly this was sport and not an assassination attempt but these guys and girls were going at it in a no-holds-barred fashion. I stopped and asked and was told it was based on a film The Salute of the Jugger and was huge in many parts of the world, especially Germany. The competitors playing today may well head off to the world camps in Germany in September, I was told. Now given I had only known about the sport for about 2.5 seconds at that stage I would hardly consider myself an expert but if commitment means anything these guys are good. One girl copped a weapon direct to her side. She fell but then insisted "I'm just winded" before getting up and carrying on. Like I said they are tough but good natured with it. The fighting was all on the field. As soon as it stopped they walked off together and I walked off to the theatre where the worst injury I was likely to get was a sore bum from sitting.

March 7. Day 66. Nice girls do

There's this scene from Wicked where Glinda, the Good Witch, tells her then room-mate Elphaba that she is going to give her a make-over.
"You don't have to do that , you know?" the completely underwhelmed Elphaba says with more than a touch of irony.
"I know, that's what makes me so nice! ... " Glinda replies.
...That's what makes me so nice. I thought of that today when I took my neighbour Margaret shopping for new orthotic shoes and her favourite brand of make-up her local pharmacy no longer stocks.
 Wherever we stopped and shopped Margaret took great joy in telling everyone who would listen that I was her neighbour. Repeatedly people would look at me and say something along the lines of "isn't that nice of you?". Seriously, we were going shopping. I wasn't exactly donating a kidney. Navigating the maze that is the Myer Centre is something now out of Margaret's comfort zone. Shops, I can do. Charity doesn't just begin at home. I think it makes perfect sense to extend it next door. In the end, it's as simple as this. Treat others as you would want to be treated. Some times, nice girls do.

March 6. Day 65. Pouring a bucket of cold water on it

It wasn't that long ago that people were paying large amounts of money to sponsor their nearest and dearest to have buckets of ice water thrown over their heads. Frankly, there would have been plenty around town this week who would have taken that bucket of ice water for free. In fact in the uncomfortably hot and humid autumn weather we've been having I wouldn't be surprised if people would pay to take a bucket of cold water over the head. Of course, if a refreshing bucket of water is your thing, the water play area at South Bank is about as good as it gets. The large buckets fill with water and tip randomly on the squealing kids playing underneath. Now here's the thing. It's only ever the kids. We might all be feeling hot under the collar but the adults are too "mature" to take a wall of water to the head. How dumb is that? In the 30 plus hot steamy weather we should have been queuing up. Be charitable to yourself, people. It begins at home, right?