THere was always a bunch of kids up for cricket, exploring or riding our bikes around. When I look back, life was just so uncomplicated, we would walk with our arms around each other, there was no call of the behavior being gay.

Then, I moved to canberra.

Canberra is totally different to darwin. The temperature is one change, but the attitudes are pretty nasty too. It was here that I learned unpleasant words describing indigenous australians. It was here that asian people were looked on with scorn, they were getting free housing, health providers, jobs, the dole, and special treatment. So were the indigenous people. There was one aboriginal family at my high school, they weren’t keen on talking to me, as I guess they thought I was going to make fun of them. In hindsight, considering the attitudes and behavior of my peers, I wouldn’t blame them at all for being suspicious.

When I first heard of the Tent Embassy, I went to have a look at it, to see the people who were there and whether they were formed by a council of all the communities across australia. I got spat on. I was told that I am part of the theft of the sovereign lands. I was told that my ancestors killed and raped and pillaged indigenous people. The person that told me all this wasn’t indigenous. From outward appearances, he was european.

My ancestors did not rape, pillage and kill indigenous people. One of my ancestors was heavily involved with the indigenous peoples of south australia – he was a commissioner who took the time to learn the local languages, so that he could assist in settling disputes between communities.

Blaming the Australian people is blaming yourself. Even with a tent embassy, the people who are there are still on the grid, they aren’t unknown, they have identities and are members of the community. The current events throw out questions like: Does the Tent embassy have the same impact that it did when it was established? Can the protestors try to treat all comers equally as trying to understand what they are asking for?

THe biggest instance of racism I have encountered? An Asian guy being told by a tent embassy member to F**** off, we don’t want your kind here (these are not the words that were used). What kind is that? Vietnamese who came over in boats, New zealanders who came over on planes, Or me, who was born here?

I wonder what the communities near Uluru or Nhulunbhuy think of the tent embassy? Are they proud by the representation, or saddened by the stereotype being created?

By the way, what color is the blood that flows in my veins, yours, indigenous people, or every other person in the world? Why are there differences? Bad people are everywhere in the world. So are good people. Skin color isn’t an indicator for a moral compass.

Hmmm. There are two options here. first, I could ignore his lack of presence and go to bed. This wasn’t really an option, as it was apparent that if he was awol, there would be dogs in the neighborhood who would be suicidal enough to take him on. The second option presented itself. I would have to go out into the street and whisper his name, loudly. (it is 3am, after all) as I approached the gate, I could see two paws appear at the top of it, briefly, then disappear to be replaced with a loud bang as he fell against the fence. Damn it. I need to get him in, now. Thinking logically, I freed the latch on the gate, letting it swing quietly open (I thought, but with gates you never know if they choose that moment to be free of oil and make a eye watering creak at 3am) so that he could get back into the yard.

Now the game of cat chess began. Cat chess is nothing like the game. Cat chess involves staring down your opponent until one of you give up, whereby you saunter off with your tail held high. It also has been known to invoke fluffyitis if the game is played when there are things that may surprise one of the opponents, like a gate, un-oiled, swinging back. Fluffyitis, as has been mentioned before, is a cat state that, whilst highly amusing, can result in severe leg and foot damage if you do have a chortle at the appearance of the current fluffy sufferer. I was winning the cat chess, he was backing down, and right at the crucial moment, the gate chose to move. Pow! cat is in backyard. Pow! multiple fluffyitis cases appear as local cats fight for the gap in the neighbor’s fence, blocking the gap with much larger bodies than normal. (fluffyitis means that a normal cat, sleek and slick, expands to a massive cat, with a tail like a bottle brush, they really double their size, almost like terminal flatulence)

so he is in the backyard. the gate has closed, the cat is back and headed like a land shark for my legs. (great white variety) “B*****s!” I scream. “Yowl!” he answers. “would you shut the f@#$%! up?” screams the neighbor. “Yowl!” he replies. “Ah, its you, sorry, sorry, I’ll be off then” mumbles the neighbor, going back inside far faster than a sleepy man should be able to move. I hear him applying the deadlocks to the cat flap. (this came about when he realised that the reason that his cat refused to go outside, was losing weight and had a voracious appetite was that the S&D Cat Module had worked out where the gap in the fence was and was coming in through his cat flap, eating the food, terrorizing the cat and doing it faster than the speed of light. He realised this when I mentioned that the cat seemed to be off his food, causing premature celebrations in the street, Maybe he was getting too old and could face a future of Final Trip To The Vet. Fat Chance Guys.)

So here we are, 3am, I have yelled his real name, and he is going to punish me. A lot. There are many reasons for the punishment. Earlier in the night, I laughed at him. A lot. I even tweeted my amusement, telling others about his behavior, which then led to people visiting and reading this blog. As I sit inside, in the coolness this morning, with one leg propped up to aid in the reduction of swelling from the shredded back of my leg, bandages and ointment applied, recounting the horror of the early waking, I know it was worth it.

What made me laugh at him, well, there was the window behavior, which I tweeted about – He was perched on the windowsill, yowling at volume 11, when I got up and yowled back. He got so confused there was a scrabble of claws and he fell off the sill. I didn’t push him, Window screen wire is terribly thin, and this made it even more amusing. The other source of amusement was the fact that his “Bunny Bowl” has been removed, replaced with a bbq tray whilst I try to clean his bowl, and I know the other cats are teasing him about it. Through the fence. at a good distance away. He can’t get the same purchase on the tray, and as a result it skims round the yard while he tries to eat his dinner. That’s funny, right there.

Dear family and friends,

Well, this year has been a bit of a bumpy ride yet again. The Search and Destroy Cat Module is still with us – despite varied attempts to foster him out, let him run away, setting him on the door to door salesmen (hey, they put down dogs for attacking them), and many other ideas that have been pondered and then  discarded.

With the house up for sale, I have been forced to set him up with a bachelor pad in the garage – now he won’t even dream of coming back in. He seems to have embraced feral behavior (I always suspected he was, but dismissed it as a flight of fancy) to the point that I have to shove his food through the slot in the door, with a long pole. Using my hands ends badly. The last batch of scratches are starting to heal, at long last.

The kids have reacted differently to the house sale, we have gone through several stages – Denial, after all, daddy always is cleaning the house anyway, Pleading, where will my bed go, my clothes, my toys? This house is just perfect daddy, why do we need to move? Sabotage, if I draw over the walls, tip out the contents of my cupboards, daddy will be too busy to sell the house. Now, we are in the emotional blackmail sneak attack from the uneasy alliance phase. The Search and Destroy Cat Module and the kids are confusing me with outward displays  of affection and an over the top level of purring - something I never thought I would see.

My standard response is tried and true – “Mummy wants the house to be sold, kids, there is nothing I can do, I can’t buy her out”. I sometimes wonder what carnage this wreaks when they get home to mummy’s house. oh, well.

I have changed jobs again. The last one retrenched me. This new one is challenging, but I am doing my best to succeed. With no kids in the house, I am working late and starting early, and I sometimes wish I had the kids more often, so that I could be a normal worker. Fat Chance. (I get the kids every weekend)

I saw my mother last weekend. She came over from interstate to visit. Strange that she came the week before the week before Christmas.  The kids other grandparents are coming over after Christmas. Strange that both sets that live interstate missed the actual time. I blame daylight saving. I have checked my curtains – they don’t appear to be fading. (Well, I would have if they hadn’t been replaced by wooden blinds)

The weather here is Barmy. (NOT a typo) It is summer and it is as cold as autumn. Where are the high 30 degree Celsius days? When is summer coming? I am having a bit of trouble understanding climate change, we seem to be worse off after they banned plastic bags. Now, I have to pay for them, the weather has lost the plot, and it seems that the hot summer days that make Canberra bearable are avoiding us.

If it doesn’t warm up, I will be forced to migrate. Not to Queensland, but north, if you can believe it. Canberra North of the Lake. First of all the house has to sell.

The kids are all fine, I will organise a photo album when I remember to edit it when they aren’t around, as they seem to be mini models right now, The youngers are starting preschool, the older is in big kid school, and she has homework. Sigh. I can help her with reading, but, as you all know, based on my budgeting skills since the separation, her mummy will need to help her with the maths. I didn’t learn good in skool, but I blame the bullies, the weather, the way I was taught, anything I can. (it has nothing to do with my dyslecksia disklxia lack of a good spell checker)

I wish you all the best for the Christmas period. I hope that 2012 is better than this year, that you get everything you deserve want, that you have great big sores health and plenty of rainy, cold & miserable sunny days.

Best regards.

It appears that I have sent the draft out. The crossouts? Oh, just a few jokes. This version is the real one.

It appears that I have sent out the draft AGAIN. I give up. read it however you like.

NOT Happy. Did I mention that? He seems to think that snakes, lizards and spiders will attack him. Luckily, he hasn’t been “attacked” by christmas beetles yet, but that is only a matter of time. Christmas beetles were his sister’s favorite play toy, but, as she is now in cat heaven, he has no-one to defend him from these spiky, evil crawly things. (yes, there probably isn’t a cat heaven, but what else do you tell 3 kids under 7?) Not only does he have to suffer the indignity of being trapped outside (usually he fights to get out) but there are all these funny noises. and lights. and other cats. (who have all learnt the hard way that he isn’t species specific when it comes to hatred, this is a cat without boundaries regarding attacking anything that comes into his backyard) He is starting to be a nice cat, attempting to be my friend at every chance he gets, but you can hear him grumbling at this.

So the scores now read – Human owner 1, cat and uneasy child alliance 0.

The real estate agent called to tell me how the exhibition went today. He also mentioned that the cat seemed really friendly, purring around the people who came to see the house, trying to get in to “show them around”. There are two things he was trying to do. One, get a chance to get in the house to trash it. All to no avail. I have already warned the estate agent about this behavior. Two, get one of the people visiting to take him away from this nightmare, knowing full well that if they buy the house, he will be back. The agent had to resort to a chair and whip to get him out. The purring, love fest cat was quickly replaced by spawn of evil cat. if the agent hadn’t been tipped off to where the chair and whip were kept, he may have been forced to resort to psychology. The cat would win. He always does.

Part of me wishes someone would take pity on him and take him with them. At least he wouldn’t be there as a tool of the unholy child alliance to “make daddy stop trying to sell the house”, and I would have no resistance. But then, there would be a hole in my reporting on his antics.

They have formed an alliance of “inflict mental torture on daddy so that he doesn’t sell the house” and they are getting damn good at messing with my mind. Last weekend, my son was sitting on the swing chair with a fluffy kitten beside him. being patted, purring, what the?

firstly, the cat is NOT a fluffy kitten. something went “ding” in his head when we bought him, a switch that ended up being stuck on evil, hissing attack cat. Search and destroy cat modules do not allow small people to pat them. They demonstrate de-boning techniques, they run away, they hide in very hard to access places. They don’t act like a kitten and purr. I was very suspicious.

When my son went to play on the swing set, the cat went and lolled on the retaining wall. “ah”. I thought, perfect chance for one of the kids to exact revenge and topple him off the wall via a well timed jump. it didn’t happen. Any chance I got to give him a fright, I would take that chance and run with it. and then run away. lock myself in the car like a prisoner. The kids rubbed his ears, tickled his chin and I went inside to dig out the peroxide, the dettol and the bandages… this was not going to end well.

the cat ambled towards me.  I tried to climb the sapling we had planted in the back yard. I searched desperately for a cricket bat, tennis racket, anything to fend him off with. (whip and chair would be favorite, but then people might get the wrong idea about me – what whip and chair? oh, this one, oh, no, it isn’t for the kids, I use it on the cat, oh. you work for the RSPCA? ah. right.)

I even contemplated climbing on the roof and pretending to check the tiles, but as the house has a for sale sign out the front, how would that look?

No avenue of escape was available to me, so I surrendered, tensing for the shredding of the shins. he rubbed up against me, purring. Damn cat! playing with his prey! one of the kids had left the door open. I bolted in, locked the door, and realised that the purring hadn’t stopped. He had joined me in the house. I had a moment of dread. leave him inside with me and have all of the arrangements on tables and chairs covered with cat hair, as he trashes the lounge, or try to herd him outside.

Herding cats is compared to good management skills. what is the issue? I can herd the cat, I just need to make him think that outside is where he wants to go. Manipulation is key. (it only works on cats, kids are immune) threats don’t work, but the promise of sunshine is always a motivational tool. Doesn’t help when it is a canberra winter, in summer.

After getting him back outside, into the circle of small people who were patting him, making him seem normal, I let my guard down. If the kids could pat him, and he hated them, maybe I could pat him too?

The scratches are doing fine. thanks for asking. yes, they are still bleeding a bit. yes, my cat did it. no, he didn’t attack the kids. oh. The doctor will see me now? right.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/peterhact/

check it out. as the year ends, i will put more stuff up there…

I resorted to visiting websites about other chasers and their achievements. Then, I got separated. I don’t chase on weekends when I have the kids, I don’t rush outside to photograph storms when they are with me, I am a sensible daddy. I itch to take the brand new camera that i bought for my 40th out, but I resist. It is hard, as the storms are like a different kind of addiction, and I always play it safe.

Okay.

So, last week, on a work night, on the 29th of November, we had a bit of weather round Tuggeranong, fairly loud storms and green clouds. I recorded them on the iphone, and was talking about it on twitter when a comment was made by a guy who reports weather in Gungahlin. This wasn’t the big storm, there was a second one brewing out round Wagga Wagga.  I announced that I was going to head up Mount Ainslie for a bit of a look see. I was told I was mad, crazy, what was I thinking?? Off I went, leaving my brand new camera at home, as I had run out of batteries and couldn’t find my inverter. (both packs were flat)

When i got to the top, there was a storm out over the airport towards Queanbeyan, which was producing great lightning. I chatted to a couple of blokes there, one was named Tom, and he already had great shots of the lightning in the clouds. I mentioned that there was activity on the other side of the summit, and they ended up wandering over to take a look. We were nearest to Anzac parade viewing area watching what was coming in. There were a couple of nice strikes, but then it got muggy. not your average humidity, this was a drenching. I mentioned to tom that my weatherzone radar showed a front that I was predicting would  come in over Gungahlin. There was a rain shield around it, but there might be a chance for some decent strikes.

So there we were. The storm was coming, I was feeling more alive than I thought possible, and I was talking a lot. I do that when I am nervous. As I pointed out to another person on the mountain, I go silent when I am scared. The strikes were really big on the horizon to start with, then they got closer. Ever been fishing with friends? that sweet moment when everyone has a fish on, and you keep landing them only to hook up a second later? That was what it was like. Tom was getting crazy shots, they were fantastic, the other guy near me was getting them too, and everyone except me had a camera and a tripod… I am going to fix that. next time it is a tripod for me too.

I was “doing the count” timing between flash and thunder, and it was agreed that when it got to be 1 second between the flash and the bang, it was time to go. 10 seconds, 6 seconds, 5 seconds, 2 seconds, BANG!! that was too close for comfort! I said, calmly, i thought, “that is me. goodnight all.” and headed for the car. I reviewed my shots that I had taken with the iphone. and there it was. double exposed, grainy, but it was the lightning shot that I never thought possible:

Wow. Now I should have paid attention as the other photographers all got in their cars and got the hell outta there. I didn’t. I drove out of the carpark, down the darkened / lit road (by lightning), as the car got buffeted by major gusts, whiteout rain – I mean, there needs to be a setting of 11 on wipers, I couldn’t go faster than 40kph, considering that there was a curtain of rain on my windscreen. I had the lights on high beam, and I did a bit of praying – that the kangaroo population didn’t decide to cross the road, that the massive gum trees around me stood up to this beating, that I could see where the hell the road was. I made it down without any of the mentioned concerns happening, and then, just before reaching the T intersection, in the light of the streetlights, I watched as a massive branch tore itself from a tree and cartwheeled across the road…. It was too close for comfort, so i took it even slower at the intersection, turned left, and headed for tuggeranong.

The drive home was a hell ride, with an extra helping of devils. Firstly, avoiding tree debris was interesting, and having a strobe effect from the wiper / lightning combination was interesting, but concerning. I considered pulling over for a couple of shots out the side window of what I was seeing, but I am certain I would have been hit by a couple of cars that seemed to not get the concept of hazards on the side of the road meaning people had stopped. As I passed hume, there was a multitude of cars sheltering at the service station. next to the bowsers. as debris was blowing in. and lightning was striking close. Not on your life.

I have already posted my trip home, but I am repeating it, i know. Wow. it was just so…. surreal. awesome, scary and invigorating. next time, I go when the others do. or, I stay up till the front passes. Never trying to outrun the storm rain front.

I received emails from people who were interested in showing me storm shots from the mount. if you want to see the type of shots they are, visit this site: http://www.gregsoandso.com/ - he had taken shots that i dream of, but I will get to take my own soon. The photographers all were helpful in telling me what to do, how to capture the lightning on a digital SLR, and I am going to try their advice next time.

So I did. I drove up mount Ainslie, positioned my car close nearby & found that my camera battery was flat. I grabbed the wrong one.if I drove home to get the charged one, the storm would have been gone. I decided to use the iPhone, clicking really fast in the dim hope that I would get a great shot.

There were others up there. I chatted to a bloke named tom, he was using a canon digital camera – seems that’s the camera brand of choice, and he had a couple of decent images already. He didn’t laugh at my misfortune, but expressed surprise at my decision to use the iPhone.

Then the show started. Over black mountain, we saw some small strikes. Over Gungahlin, it was a different story. Strike after strike, rain shadow building, and then the world went mad. We agreed that when the flash and bang had a delay of a “count of one”it was time to get into the cars.

The iPhone gave me some great shots, I even got a strike. The count was at 10. The count got to 5, really quickly. Then, as the strikes became faster (and closer) the nervous glances towards cars grew. Then, with no warning, the count went to zero. Bugger.

In the car. Now. Must get door open. Must get in. Mustn’t forget umbrella. Crash! Aaaagh! Now, the smart thing would have been to drive off right then. Nah. I stayed to edit the photos, deleting all the blanks, and, as the storm was just 100m away, then decided to go home.

The road down the mountain is always tricky. In a thunderstorm, with driving rain, high winds, surrounded by gum trees, well, I did not go very fast, the wipers were on medium, then really fast. Driving slowly allowed me to avoid the fallen branches, not that many, but the rain was amazing.

The drive home – I didn’t go over 40 in the 60 zone, 60 in the 80 zone, and when I got to the monaro highway, well, 100 was never a possibility. What with the strobe effect of lightning, the buffeting wind and the horizontal rain, I drove carefully. After all, why speed and end up in a tree, a gutter or a pole? How could I do this again?

I need a tripod. Oh, and a power inverter. And I will be ready for next time. This is an addiction I will be enjoying. Joining a group of people who are like minded, enjoying the power of nature in its rawest form…

What i got for my birthday was a camera that I saved up for myself. I got presents from the kids, of course, handwrapped, and then unwrapped by them as I was patently way too old to manage. of course I was. The camera though, now there was something the kids got. Daddy could take their photos at the park, in the backyard, on a trip, at the botanical gardens, any chance they got, the camera was demanded to be used. And I obliged.

I took photos of action figures, dolls, stuffed toys, kids, interesting trees, leaves, flowers, kids, interesting rocks, lizards, butterflies, chairs, kids, and there was a pattern emerging. The kids were everywhere. pick a shot of a creek, there was a small child in the shot. like my portwine magnolias? oh, the child? how did they get there? The only time that they weren’t relentlessly jumping into shots, was when i was attempting to take photos of the Search and destroy Cat Module. No child present. I considered strapping the cat to the front of my camera bag, but then decided against it after he started yowling at me.

I wrote a post a while ago about forgetting things. Now that I am “normal” well, for me at least, it has intensified.  I forget the iron is off, put away and can’t possibly be on. I realise that the lights are off in the house when i walk into things in the dark. I could have sworn the light was on… Don’t get me started about the car. The lock clicker will wear out soon, with my “I think I locked it better go and check for the 10th time”.

The hair on my head is greying, as it is growing back. Really true. I have more age marks, laugh lines, WRINKLES every day, and I am NOT laughing much at all. The cat scars are taking longer to heal, though this could be attributed to the number of times they are nearly healed and I get a fresh dose. As my colleague pointed out the other day, if I was a horse, no pasture for me. Off to the knackers – though even the glue factory might have second thoughts.

The terrible thing is that i feel as young as I did when I was 20. My mind still looks out through my clear eyes and sees me as I was, then reality crashes in with a photograph. Nah, that is not me. There is no way that fat, balding wrinkly thing is me? if I am desperate, I ask the kids. “is daddy old?” See the can of worms I open there? the boys are 4. anyone over 4 is old. My daughter is 6. she tries to butter me up for the hope that I will let her have / do / buy whatever it is she wants. I am old and cunning. I can see what she is doing, but I am a daddy ruled by his little girl. And she does say such nice things…