Wednesday, January 18, 2017


Have been listening to an ABC (Australia) Radio National program today about what it is like to turn up in another country and not know the 'language'.  (turning up in different States, or towns and villages), within Aus - and not 'knowing' the jargon belongs to a different post. Suffice it to say that one is ALWAYS considered an "outsider" - unless, or until, ones great-grandfather, grandfather and progeny is actually buried in the local township's graveyard. But that might be my own peevish impression, since have always been a 'traveller' around this rather wide, diverse, brown and green land.

O, where was i? Ah. images.

there is always a longish story behind each 'image'. Snapshots in time.

 This is a pic labelled "the Williams brats" - all children - my mother is in there somewhere; probably the one on the left.

Um, was hoping to find a pic, electronically recorded -  of me as a child - do have them; the images of yesteryear - but apparently have yet to be 'digitally' enhanced and 'shared' with all and sundry - worldwide ... as seems to be the 'fashion' these days ... heh.

O, found this ...

Which is probably pertinently reminds me that fell off my Yamaha XT225 recently and ripped a tendon in my thumb. Nothing disastrous, smallish, repairable, damage to motorbike.

Why do i bother to mention this? Well, am 'dexter' ' - 'right-handed'. Trying to achieve some of the simplest tasks with a painful thumb (on either hand, presumably) - is an excercise in adaptability.

One learns and re-learns, over a period of mere days, to use either hand - and there is nothing sinister about the left hand.

yer ... on a different thought - self cannot comprehend this weird - political - 'separation' of 'left' and 'right'.

An eagle cannot effectively fly with only one wing.

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