Category Archives: Gerard Oosterman

My 1996 RMW Boots

27 Monday Oct 2014

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My 1996 RMW boots.

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These boots were made for walking. They were bought at the same time we bought ‘Rivendell’ back in 1996. Rivendell was a property of over 110 acres. It held a large house and an old convict built slab timber hut. It was the slab timber hut that made us get the property. You could feel the history of it. Hard labour, no running water and no electricity. A family with 9 kids lived in it till the seventies when it was bought by a couple of artists who then also build the house and the farm infrastructure with holding pens, horse stables, a diary ( dairy 😉 ) and lots of dams. The property had a 2km frontage to a river. This river used to roar after rain but became a trickle during droughts. We were told that a grave on our property held the remains of a baby that had drowned in the river during the 1920s while her mother was doing her washing. Each spring a few snow-bells used to pop up above this grave which was surrounded by an old rickety picket fence.

That’s how farming is in Australia, a fairly ruthless game not for the faint hearted or the get rich quick merchants. Wild dogs including dingoes used to go for the kill during lambing times and our neighbours used to put out baits to keep on top of those killers. It also got our Border Collie ‘Bella’, who during a walk along the fence line must have taken a baited chook head. She had enough time to bolt home, crawl underneath the veranda floor and died within minutes.

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We never set out to do any farming. It was a semi-retirement move but with it came the restoration of the old hut into a holiday letting with a handy income. Of course, no move into the country could be undertaken without also getting sturdy boots and Drizabone coats.

Our Farm "Rivendell"

We still have the drizabone coats and wear them during cold and windy weather. They are a cotton soaked in boiled linseed oil fashion item and an obligatory features in many films including The Man from the Snowy river. My RMW shoes are now over 18 years old. They are still wearable but only just. I wear them knowing they came before our three grandkids were born, before the 9/11, the Iraq war or other catastrophes I might have overlooked. The RMW boots cost a fortune but they do last!

Here they are.

photoRMW Boots (1996)

Mr Vlad. Putin cummen all toot’n for ‘n root’n to Brisbane.

28 Sunday Sep 2014

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Mr Vlad. Putin cummen all toot’n for ‘n root’n to Brisbane.

By Gerard Oosterman

images G20

It hasn’t been confirmed but I have it from an unconventional peanut sauce that Putin is coming to Australia’s sunny Brisbane. He was after all invited to the G20, and as most of those coming here are rogues and thieves, it was thought, nay welcomed, he might as well join the tribe of merrrimen and merriwomen. A huge table made from finely hand hewn Eucalypt and French polished with a mixture of gumnut and wombat faeces is now on its edge getting all those little alarm buttons fitted, just in case someone unexpectedly says …boo or, in extreme cases, says..poo. In that case machine-gun toting marshals will drop down with the help of long coiled up ropes (unexpectedly) from the Candela-bras high up, jump on the huge table, say stick’ em up, and shoot blue-berry muffins at the perpetrators.

The meat pies are already on high alert, lamingtons are now in lock-down mode behind reinforced glass counters and Morton Bay oysters have been told to practise coitus interrupt us. (just in case) On previous occasions, many male oysters committed mortal sins by leaving their mass before communion, hoping to avoid an oversupply of little baby oysters… Strictly, a no no in their neck of the salty environs. It is so difficult being a pious girl oyster.

I remember many decades ago, going to a very ‘in’ and ‘up’ market restaurant/ nightclub. The place where one could expect Rod Steward or a fake Elvis to pop in. Ladies were sitting at the bar smoking from elegant cigarette holders. It was during a period where women had their hair held back with large Rhino horned combs. They would blow out smoke and at the same time scan the diners making an or having their entrée.

I was with H and wearing a wine-red safari suit with a huge belt, not around my pants but around the jacket, that looked like phoney gold.(it was), but at least it gave me a bit of shine (where there was none). H was pure Scandinavian and so honestly told me I looked totally nerdy. Could I refrain from speaking at the dinner table, please?

nr two

Anyway, I was so nervously unsettled. All the expense which started off with a taxi and a generous tip. The first course was ‘ spinach stuffed oyster’ which were so expensive I developed an immediately headache. I mean stuffed oysters? I had a main dish of pigeons guaranteed to have been bred with reckless abandon high on the Southern Highlands but with a nervous disposition, making them extra lean.

There was so little sustenance in that meal I had to take a pain-killer while sitting on the toilet, reflecting also what a huge mistake it was to try and join the ‘in it folk.’ I left hungry but relieved we got out of the place.

I remember the nightclub/restaurant was called ‘Rogues’.

The New York steak makes US all good.

23 Tuesday Sep 2014

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The New York steak makes US all good.

By Gerard Oosterman

imagesNewYork steak

There is nothing more unreliable than the memories of writers. Remind them of what they wrote last year and they will vehemently deny it. Such is their hold on facts. No sooner have they put down their feeble thoughts and their mind’s shredder takes over and it all ends up into oblivion. Forgetfulness is their raison d’être for writing things down. Forget about vivid evocative pictures as absolute truth.

That’s why my posting the link to Dutch Professor’s Cees Hamelink’s ‘Apology to Putin’ ought to be taken in the same obscure vein. He might well fall in the category of being a nutcase. His writings as short-lived as a fly spinning around on the floor in a last frenzy. It is my own default position; Why not those of others?

Even so, I don’t think America was all that pleased with Mr Fidel Castro either, perched on their side of the world. I have some sympathy for Putin being chagrined about sharing a border with a Pro-West leaning country. Can you imagine the Golden arched Big M in front of the St Petersburg’s Winter Palace?

I am sure the US was miffed with the leftists governments in South America. I have seen enough Oliver Stone movies to consider that the victims of Pinochet, the uprisings of Nicaragua by the Sandinistas, many of the Latin Countries, opposed by the CIA and their induced bloody adventures, would far outweigh anything that has happened so far in the Ukraine. Don’t get me going on Colombia and their past pro US dictators. Garcia Marquez wrote all about that.

It is after all Father’s day.

As early as yesterday I was treated and feted as a good father. I chose New York Steak with peppery sauce. It was fabulous and America is the best country in the world. I haven’t had such a lovely meal for a long time. Sorry vegetarians, I admit to liking a meaty dinner but as a concession and feeble purgatory aim, I have also doubled my vegie and fish intake.

Before plunging in the details of New York Steak, I believe it is known as Porterhouse in England and in Australia. It is the short loin section at the back of the cow. I suppose ‘New York’ steak adds weight and ..above all prestige…Some of my best friends are American and I have always revered New York ,even considered visiting it many times.

An impression once caught sometimes lingers forever while others end into oblivion. I am sure that my New York steak with peppery sauce has now made me benevolent, even more determined to visit that lovely country. We might even go far South to partake in a piece of grilled, honey glazed honest Kansas Steak.
How about that?
It’s delight will last forever.

An apology to Mr Putin. (food for thought)

18 Thursday Sep 2014

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An apology to Mr Putin. (food for thought)

by Gerard Oosterman

imagesCees Hamelink

http://macedoniaonline.eu/content/view/25981/53/

“Dear Mr. President Putin,

Please accept our apologies on behalf of a great many people here in the Netherlands for our Government and our Media. The facts concerning MH17 are twisted to defame you and your country.

We are powerless onlookers, as we witness how the Western Nations, led by the United States, accuse Russia of crimes they commit themselves more than anybody else. We reject the double standards that are used for Russia and the West. In our societies, sufficient evidence is required for a conviction. The way you and your Nation are convicted for ‘crimes’ without evidence, is ruthless and despicable.

You have saved us from a conflict in Syria that could have escalated into a World War. The mass killing of innocent Syrian civilians through gassing by ‘Al-­‐Qaeda’ terrorists, trained and armed by the US and paid for by Saudi Arabia, was blamed on Assad. In doing so, the West hoped public opinion would turn against Assad, paving the way for an attack on Syria.

Not long after this, Western forces have built up, trained and armed an ‘opposition’ in the Ukraine, to prepare a coup against the legitimate Government in Kiev. The putschists taking over were quickly recognized by Western Governments. They were provided with loans from our tax money to prop their new Government up.

The people of the Crimea did not agree with this and showed this with peaceful demonstrations. Anonymous snipers and violence by Ukrainian troops turned these demonstrations into demands for independence from Kiev. Whether you support these separatist movements is immaterial, considering the blatant Imperialism of the West.

Russia is wrongly accused, without evidence or investigation, of delivering the weapons systems that allegedly brought down MH17. For this reason Western Governments claim they have a right to economically pressure Russia.

We, awake citizens of the West, who see the lies and machinations of our Governments, wish to offer you our apologies for what is done in our name.
It’s unfortunately true, that our media have lost all independence and are just mouthpieces for the Powers that Be. Because of this, Western people tend to have a warped view of reality and are unable to hold their politicians to account.

Our hopes are focused on your wisdom. We want Peace. We see that Western Governments do not serve the people but are working towards a New World Order. The destruction of sovereign nations and the killing of millions of innocent people is, seemingly, a price worth paying for them, to achieve this goal.

We, the people of the Netherlands, want Peace and Justice, also for and with Russia.
We hope to make clear that the Dutch Government speaks for itself only. We pray our efforts will help to diffuse the rising tensions between our Nations.

Sincerely,

Professor Cees Hamelink “

The Venice adventure looming

12 Friday Sep 2014

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The Venice adventure looming.

by Gerard Oosterman

imagesvenice

We thought it wise to continue our travelling. The seventies are marching on and one just never knows. We still have all our limbs and can walk unaided. But for how long? Our intestinal organs are floridly in good health and have kept us away from any precarious situations so far. Lately though, I have found myself scanning available public toilets. Just in case! I would hate to be running through Venice and over a steep bridge, in search of one. I remember vividly and was desperate for one in Paris. No paper, no water and just my cheque book slips for use while squatting above a very odoriferous and gloomy hole. I had trouble contemplating over the beauty of gay Paris. It took a train trip to the Château de Versailles and gazing at chandeliers to get over that one. I even had a full plate of ‘Raw Steak Tartare avec un raw egg’ after that.

From our last trip to Bali and the lack of food and water, we will be sorely tempted to fly a plane whereby the passengers will be kept alive as much as possible. The worst aspects are the miles and miles of walking through the acreages of getting through customs,, the ignominy of taking belts and shoes off, the padding up, down, and across, then, to the gates and again be padded down before traipsing inside to the plane. The hoisting of bags over-head and selfish knees protruding in such limited spaces. Duty free emporiums, and the hopping about in socks and dropping trousers before even getting on the plane. Why can’t the duty free be separate from the airports for those keen on buying yet another watch or pearl earring? Do people travel now in order to do the same as at home, ‘shopping’?

Soon there will be airports where people can mow a lawn or put out the garbage, pay the rates and go to Aldi.

Venice is beckoning as never before and am already speaking per favore et grazie to our postman who comes from Messina. We are prepared.

We can’t wait!

A Faltering Step

30 Saturday Aug 2014

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A faltering Step.

by Gerard Oosterman

DSCN2902

As I took the empty cup back from the bedroom, I, for no good reason and totally unintentional, faltered and like sometimes seen during a weird religious procession, feebly took a step backwards. This step was not intentional or religiously motivated. I never felt that a belief in the Here-After would necessitate taking a step backwards. I meant to keep going forwards towards the kitchen-sink in a normal straight line. I wanted to rinse our first ‘coffee of the day’ cups, resolute in making the second one.I have done so for many years. There was nothing in this mornings procedures to indicate there was going to be a lapse in that.

Am I now on the cusp of an era whereby I will, and with increasing frequency, falter? Up till now I prided myself that no one would get up for me in the bus or train. I still jauntily would hop on and hang from a strap, pretending to have an IPhone, scrolling through important data.

My wife spoiled this illusion, of still being youthful, by pointing out that many elderly were also hanging from straps and in any case, the young now don’t get up anymore. That the world of consideration and respect on public transport has disappeared together with knitting, friendly conversations and reading newspapers. Stress is now the main catalyst in the lives of many, especially the young and the previous effervescent. It shows in the faces, all so puckered and tensely concentrated. There now exist a kind of restless concentration on public transport. I don’t really understand this as yet, but am getting close. I’ll let you know.

Ever since large families have disappeared, the young are now hooked on getting ‘likes’ and ‘face-book’ alerts on their 5G IPhone. They connect on dating sites and even have sex on line through vibrating messages on their Apple inside their pockets. No time for getting up on public transport. It would show up and be embarrassing.

I decide to keep a watch on future falter or other signs of decrepitude of which, so far I have not been bothered too much. Sure, my recall of names and facts are somewhat slower but I still remember my first books (Eric The Norseman) and loving dates, alas without vibrating IPhones in my pocket.
There is still so much to experience.

Wagyu is the latest

27 Wednesday Aug 2014

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Wagyu is the latest.

By Gerard Oosterman

imagesWagya

It is amazing how fast words and phrases travel and become part of a fleeting but popular vernacular. Years ago, in Australia, we had blokes and sheilas. Now it is guys for all sexes, including the indeterminate (third sex), who are now so indicated on their birth certificates and passports.

I remember the rage of everything having ‘logistics’. Every advertising sign had ‘logistics’ tucked in somewhere. Trucks used to race past me on the M2 with Logistics written with large lettering on their canvas hoods. It did not take long and it was followed hot on the heels with ‘solutions’. ‘Logistical solutions’ was so popular it took the world by storm. There were no problems anymore; only solutions. Our local butcher in Marulan started selling meat solutions. Divorce lawyers were keenly sought offering ‘solutions’ and fruit laden semi-trailer were hurtling past offering Queensland Pineapple Logistical Solutions.

Of course amongst the young, including some being almost comatose by their addiction to IT mobility, had ‘stuff like that’ and ‘I like that shit’ with ‘awesome’ well ingrained as well.

Lately, many politicians,especially amongst those keen on dehumanising boat people or the oppressed minorities, are now deeply immersed in learning a new catch phrase of being on a ‘humanitarian mission’ often indicating their support for the dead but not so much for the living. They fly off almost daily to somewhere but always on ‘humanitarian missions’ their faces flushed with a righteous fervour, hoping voters will be taken in with their faux intent of spreading sweetness and goodness, instead of the reality of fanning world’s discords and hatreds. ( not heard much of dropping food parcels over Gaza)

But getting to the latest Wagyu. It used to be good old Angus Beef used in ham burgers. Not anymore. Out of nowhere it has morphed into Wagya beef. Restaurants are quick to print off new menus. The much revered Angus beef has now staled.
It is now Wagya beef. It has taken us by storm.

Those Shadows

24 Sunday Aug 2014

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Those shadows.

By Gerard Oosterman

Sparkling windows.

Here’s a Song;

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

(Christina Rossetti 1830-1894)

A wise man knows nothing, a fool everything! It is to be hoped by many that gaining some insight and wisdom might be the final reward for getting old; apart from the inevitable final curtain call of dying 😉 There isn’t a great deal that can be done about that one, except be prepared and choose your own coffin in time. ( the laminated Mount Calvary with chrome handles might be a good choice) 😉 🙂

I usually welcome the coming of personal shadows and my advice to others; welcome them! I know there are Men’s sheds and Beyond Blue orgs to help out for those in serious downers. I take a different tack. I invite the blues and let it wash over me like a thick but reassuring fog and accept the challenge. It will dissipate as sure as the sun goes down behind the horizon. Who wants to be happy; happy all the time? It is badly overrated. The nurturing of Western forms of happiness is nothing more than terminal capitalistic Overlords wanting you to empty your wallets, doing shopping in huge shopping malls filled with truly depressed and oh so sad people seeking ‘happiness. Is that what I want? No, go and get fucked; give me a solid dose of clear sighted shadows at any time.

Lately I have been deeply immersed in cleaning windows. With the double glazing and carpenters fingerprints all showing, with the yellow afternoon sun at a certain angle, I decided to seek survival through a bout of window washing. I love dish washing and avoid dish-washers and not because of economics, no, more of enjoying swirling my hands around warm water. It satisfies. Don’t ask, why? There is a lot there, I know.

With windows I could not understand that using the clear blue tinted window washing liquid from that Mecca of cleaning detergents, Woolworth, and a good cloth, that the glass seemed keen on showing a film of milky white as soon as the afternoon sun hit it. I re-washed them again, this time with sparkling clean water and brand new cotton cloth, cut from my old pair of pyjamas. The same milky white again. I then remember my mother using a special cloth. Is it called a chamois? It was a kind of leathery cloth and made a squeaking sound when drying the windows. I bought one…and…victory. The windows are sparkling. I am so happy.

I know, I know, but it is probably a Dutch thing.

Three or six Carrots?

19 Tuesday Aug 2014

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by Gerard Oosterman

Pradha guest house

We are again on the cusp of taking yet another break. We know that between birth and death there is life, so, while we are still able we would like to travel, not least now that the mortgages have been settled, the credit card in credit, and the kids have more than left home.

We don’t like the fridge keeping food for our return and normally prefer eating it empty. Even so, we had misjudged our appetite and found the fridge bare with yet still two days to go before our departure.

That’s why we found ourselves this morning at Woolworth deciding on how to sustain ourselves without going on a binge of last minute eating before the plane takes off. I suggested we could always take a few sandwiches on the plane or a nice crispy salad with bits of toast in lieu of croutons. I got smacked.

H suggested making a chicken curry dish for two days. A good choice as I had discovered a couple of thighs (chicken) at the back of the fridge. As we only had a few stalks of chives I decided (decisively) to buy some vegetables to go with the chicken. H wanted a bag of carrots but I felt this was overdoing it. For two days a bag of carrots? “Are we feeding a horse somewhere,” I asked? H; “Oh, lets not go into that again”. “Do we have to go on about the number of carrots?” “Is this what we are retired for” she added and gave a good sigh to emphasise a determination to get her way?

“Ok, ok, lets compromise and get 6 carrots”, I said. “That’s three each for two days, plus a zucchini that I found in the fridge as well, and two potatoes, I added for good measure.”

While the chicken is on the way, the carrots sliced and simmering, I decided to concentrate on trying to figure out not to get charged exorbitant 3G IPhone charges. The most horrifying stories of thousands of IPhone users being charged enormous costs on using their IPhones overseas appeared on Google. Even not using the IPhone costs thousands. Apparently all those ‘Apps’ keep rumbling on in the background, adding costs even when you are asleep and not using the IPhone.

Despite all the hints of switching Off Data while overseas, I still haven’t found this button on my Apple IPhone. I suppose to have a button on my ‘settings’ to disable all data downloads. But I can’t have that button, no matter how often I check and re-check. It is all so tedious.
Worse than 6 carrots.
Anyway, here is the address:
Just ignore the ratings. We do know the place and the friendly owners.

http://www.agoda.com/en-au/pradha-guest-house/hotel/bali-id.html

Near Ubud, Bali

Iphone triumphs and models

12 Tuesday Aug 2014

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By Gerard Oosterman

phototulips” Troubles will never leave you alone, Gerard,” “wait till you are married and have children too”, she added with gusto and succinct foresight. Mothers know best, don’t they? Nothing prepared me for IPhone and computer connectivity though. You read more and more about road rage attacks. The latest in Australia where a man with a revolver pursuing another driver up to speeds of 200km an hour. The man being pursued screaming for help as he drove on till out of petrol. I wonder if there has been IPhone rage around?

Boy did I get close to hurling my computer out of the window.All out of the blue I could receive but not send e-mails with strange messages of protocol and socket errors 10060. My outgoing POP was not right. I was advised to contact my service administrator. First I got a lady with an incomprehensible English who kept rattling on about my identity and password. I hung up and had a little rage and strangled a tulip. I tried again and this time a man with an accent I could manage to hear most of it. I was on the phone for about 45 minutes and went to my ‘account’ and changed pop and outgoing and ingoing mail while Milo was lustily farting away underneath my chair. However, that is nothing compared with the inability to get my IPhone and computer synchronised.
photomodel

The sad thing was, that it was working before but I suspect Microsoft Live Mail is a very unstable entity. I gave up and made my outgoing mail to an outdoor eating place and with H had a nice Fish and Chips.

As we were eating I glanced through a Vogue magazine and noticed that the models all seem to be scowling so unhappily. Do they have IPhone troubles too? Who would want to open the door to those model sourpusses. I would phone the police or at least an ambulance. Look at the photo of the couple. She has her back to him and he looks as if he needs a bit of a Charley Chaplin or perhaps some counseling.
photo

After lunch I went back to the computer. H had calmed me down and the fish and chips worked their magic as well. (Barramundi fillets) Amazingly, the IPhone and computer are back working as normal and as before. A triumph of a fickle and unstable world. And I did nothing except skirt with a coronary.