Retirement Dogs

It’s been a very busy few months.  This seems a little apologetic but time really has been stolen out of my life.

October.  Had 55^th Birthday.  Officially entered middle age (but there is still a little latitude for denial ;-)  ).  Also, moved jobs and am now back in the hotseat of the-careering-out-of-control-project-manager’s-nightmare, where there is no such thing as space to act proactively.  It’s rather like driving a car facing the wrong way, turning a steering wheel in the vain hope you’ll avoid catastrohpe.  When facing the wrong way, reality hits your peripheral vision too late and, joy of joys, all the carnage caused by not controlling where you go is laid out in glorious Technicolour behind you.     

November.  We returned to Japan to collect my new katana.  I’m now $8,000 less well off but the plus side is she sings like a dream.  I’ve named her “Taka” which can mean Falcon in the Japanese tongue.  Taka received said name because the cutting action produces tachikaze somewhat similar to the sound feathers make as they hard-brake after swooping in for the kill.   When I collected her from Seki City I was asked if the katana was a male or a female to which I answered “if it cuts me I’ll know she’s a female”.  She’s a female, but only just.  Must adjust my noto slightly to give a little more gap between the flap of skin and the razor-sharp pointy thing.  It ain’t an iaito.  She’s a fine killing machine.  Treat her with respect.

December.  Moved out of the 3-month Sydney flatshare (which has lasted almost two years) and back into Kik’s Drummoyne house.  Now I remember why moving is almost as high on life’s stress scale as divorce or getting married.  Thankfully, we now have two homes:  our County Farm and City Residence.  The Farm is always the Primary home in our hearts.  Incidentally, we spent a labour intensive weekend over the 3^rd & 4^th hand digging tray loads of garlic.  Bliss.



Pepper.  Beauty is having more wrinkles then your Dad.



We also have two new dogs: replacements for Almos and Puskas who passed away earlier in the year.  They are both Shar Pei and 18 and 8 weeks old respectively.  Shar Pei are extremely loyal hounds with a breed history of guarding the Chinese royal palace.  Pepper (the bitch) and Fudge (the dog) will be round for a long time and see us into retirement. 



Fudge.  The mobile food vacuum cleaner.





Chalk and Cheese

Life in Sydney seems to revolve around the twin poles of Work and Dojo.  Work provides us with the means to live, travel and buy stuff for our other “Life”, the Farm.

Last weekend saw the back of our Nissan Navarra laden with 25kg bags of chicken poo, mulch, gypsum and other minerals, disappearing up the F3.  The Middle Paddock was screaming out for work.  Well, in all honesty the middle paddock would quite comfortably look after itself, but if we wanted a decent garlic crop next year then we’d have to prepare months in advance. 

We both love garlic but finding succulent, tasty garlic in Australaia is hard.  It’s a seasonal crop and really only available as an overpriced organic product from about November though to about May.  Garlic doesn’t store any longer: it throws up shoots and wants to grow.  Eat it, plant it or lose it.  That’s garlic for you.  And if you want to enjoy garlic outside these months then be prepared to eat cheap bland Chinese stuff or marginally better Mexican or Spanish offerings.   

If I take a few years worth of steps backwards I can put this into context.  On the face of it garlic isn't a complicated crop to grow.  Plant it in about March and it’ll pop its head up a few weeks later and be ready by December.  Growing garlic is easy.  Growing good garlic is labour intensive and a great deal more comlicated.  For the last five years we’ve found this out the hard way and been gradually moving from the laissez-faire extreme (put it in unprepared ground and leave it to take care of itself) towards an almost full-blown management strategy for next year.

• 2006/07 (and still living in the City).  We’d bought enough Australian garlic cloves from a good source to populate a few dozen polystyrene boxes.  Results.  Small, stunted leaves, burned edges and miniscule cloves.  The pleasure of eating our own pungent garlic was countered by the hard work in kitchen preparation.  

• 2007/08.  Moved out of Sydney into semi-retirement (or so we thought).  Planted the offspring of year 1 into the Far Paddock.  Little bit of soil cultivation in a corner of the Far Paddock but no real husbandry.  Results.  Bigger garlic but still not something I’d say was exceptional.  Certainly not something commercially promising yet.


• 2008/09  Sydney work beckoned me back for “three months” (!!!!) so very, very minimal preparation carried out for a March planting.  The whole crop from year 2 was planted into the middle paddock with rock hard ground.  The year was an utter, unmitigated disaster with heaps of smaller cloves than even Year 1.  Boy we were angry with my work.




2009 offering.  The rotary hoe was purchased too late.



• 2009/10   Took some time off work and prepared 2 x 40 metre beds.  Planted in soft soil and, in a fit of madness (in retrospect) decided to groundcover with clover.  Clover was to chosen to help provide natural Nitrogen for the garlic but eventually became so competitive the garlic was strangled.  I’d say we lost over half our crop, what with the competitive clover and torrential rain.  The survivors were only moderate in size. 





Before the clover sprouted....





....and after it took over




• 2010/11.  90% of Year 4 stock was planed in raised beds, dosed with a healthy amount of chicken poo and with no clover!  There’s a month and a bit to go before harvest but all indications show our garlic will be much better than the previous years.  We’ve soil and leaf samples laboratory analysed, know the deficiencies and have tried to counter these before the bulbs are committed.  We’ve also begun the process of preparing beds for next year based on this information.  Year 6 on our journey of experimentation will have about a quarter of an acre of garlic with enough left over to eat and give away to friends.

One day our garlic might even be marketable although that isn’t what’s driving us.  Until then the struggle continues as a demanding juggling act of Chalk and Cheese.   City and Country.   



Thieves

I learned yesterday UK’s Andy Watson, a much more advanced journeyman on the road towards martial arts improvement, failed his Iaido 6^th Dan exam last weekend.  In fact, all 23 European candidates, ranging from 5^th to 7^th Dan, failed their respective tests.  It led me to ponder why.  Were they all abysmal on the day?  Were the panel members in a collective bad mood?   Had the panel members “raised the bar”?

Andy has yet to publish the reasons he felt contributed to his personal failure but a few days prior to his test he wrote:

“I realise that three factors determine if I pass:

1. The opinion of the examiners: the level they determine is appropriate, what they perceive on the day, how they are feeling, what they think about me.
2. The decision from on high about whether anyone will be allowed to pass.
3. My long term preparation and the performance I display as well as my short term condition (i.e. how hungover I am).”

In the light of all candidates failing, number two seems a likely suspect even though it “doesn’t seem fair”.  Isn’t martial arts everything to do with actual ability and nothing to do with politics?  You’d think so, perhaps, and be quite wrong.  Even the giddy heights of Hanshi Hachidan (8^th Dan, master teachers) have to balance personal standards with commands from above.  If the judges are ordered to close their eyes it doesn't matter how bright you shine.  Ignoring the rights or wrongs of this, mentally coping with failure is a test in its own right.

Look at this from a parallel perspective.  In January of 2012 we’ve the Australian National Jodo and Iaido competitions coming up.  I’ve never won either of my grade categories: only come second-best a few times and managed the semi’s once or twice.  Should I feel bitter if my personal opinion about the person who beat me was they were crap and didn’t deserve the victory or if the judges were somehow biased?  It’s educational to watch the look of disappointment on some faces at these events: it’s usually followed by some form of personal (or conspiracy-theory) blame game.  Same with the outcomes of gradings. 

I’m increasingly beginning to think winning and losing bouts like this, or passing/failing gradings, is irrelevant.  Both victory/defeat or pass/fail are consummate thieves.  Thieves who rob you of focus and, in return, bloat or puncture your ego.  I'd like to learn to keep the detached focus.  The sort of detached focus so important in developing Fudoshin.     We're taught to apply this on the dojo floor but what about the rest of the time?    

Easy to say but  let’s see how I cope with that come January!!!  

Andy W. strutting his stuff.  Looks like this is part of the Ukenagashi kata

What makes a good Sensei?

I’m on the cusp of admitting to being a follower of Nagayama Sensei.  Yes, I know I’m pretty low down the food chain and have no right (and therefore should not have any aspiration) to claim to be a direct student.  And yes, I’m fully aware protozoa shouldn’t even be permitted think for themselves let alone choose who to clone themselves on.  But what if?  And then again, leaving the question hanging in the air, but what if?

Sensei demonstrating his nukitsuke 

Jumping back a few days.

From last Thursday until Sunday we were in Perth for the West Australia Kendo Renmei’s annual Spring Seminar.  WA is a big State as far as Australian Iaido and Jodo are concerned with a high concentration of 4^th, 5^th, a 6^th and one 7^th Dan.  Add to that the visiting of Oda and Nagayama Sensei and you have a recipe for a good seminar.

On the basis Nagayama Sensei was extremely good to Klara and I when we visited him at his dojo in Sendai in August just gone, I spent nearly all my Perth time on the Jodo floor picking up titbits here and there, refining moves and adjusting timings under his critical gaze.  He doesn’t suffer foolish questions with a grin or a brush-off, just action.  If you don’t understand why some action needs to be performed, a little painful reminder demonstrates.  Leave an (incorrect) opening and this is what happens, he demonstrates.  There is a reason why things happen in Jodo kata.  It’s a structured battle in a somewhat similar manner as a game of chess but with more serious outcomes.  Force a wrong move physically or psychologically and someone loses.

Forcing a wrong move is what Nagayama is instinctively good at.  What makes him a brilliant Sensei is his ability to inject instinct almost intravenously to his students.

If I were all of the following:

• Japanese
• Living in Sendai
• About 30 years of age

I’d ask him to formally train me as his deshi in all the arts he is superbly proficient in.

But I don’t come close to qualifying so have to make to with the titbits here and there.  It's a good second.

Men are such whimps

It's true (and I've known this for many a year).  When Men are injured or sick it's as if no-one else in the entire world is suffering quite so much.  It's never a 'cold' but it's a rare, incurable form of pleurisy.  Not a slight muscle sprain but a complete and degenerative form of muscle-wastage.

I've a neck/mid-shoulder injury, had it for 10 days and am now climbing the walls.  Bad new is we fly over to Perth on Thursday to train with Oda and Nagayama Sensei. 

That and the Aussie Dollar is in nose dive against the Yen..  Katana now at $9,343.35 as of today.

Bugger.


 

Did Samurai of old have to sell their mothers for a decent sword?

Umm.  Currency exchange rates are not moving favourably.  My new katana is waiting for an export permit to be issued by the Japanese Government department responsible for regulating the movement of swords out of the country.  When they’re ready, I have to transfer the equivalent of 705,000 Yen to the Japanese swordmaker.  Currently, that’s over $8,800 – up from the original value of $7,950 in August.

Add 10% Ozzie import GST onto the total and my exquisite sword starts knocking on the door of $10,000.

Yes, I want my katana (and in fact need one if I ever have to try for 4^th Dan at which time use of a live blade becomes obligatory during gradings) but it’s moving in the direction of the price of a new small car or a second-hand tractor.  This presents an interesting dilemma on the relative dangers here.  What would you rather face?  A Hyundai Getz hurtling toward you at ramming speed; a reversing 55HP tractor with whirling 6’6” slasher blades or me with my new sword?  It’s a no-contest question.  Face me, as I’ll be too shit scared of unsheathing my katana in case I damage it.

Decisions, decisions.

The “little organisation” that pays me has left me dangling on the horns of a small dilemma.  My direct manager wants to extend my “sentence” here from the rest of this year until November of 2012.  Yippidido....  There is no chance of remission as the job he wants me to perform is an absolute bastard and will suck me dry of life force (done it for 6 months before - I know).  Countering this doom is a possibility of working directly for my manager's manager. That person’s suggested there may be a chance of a permanent position reporting to him, on a parallel level to my manager’s, but in a different Business Area.  OK, there would be a definite downward hike in salary from being a greedy consultant but the benefits of paid leave might tip the balance sufficient to almost make it worth considering.  What am I going to do?    

Well, I know exactly what I’d like to do.  Use the prospect of the latter to remove the threat of the former and, when my current contract expires, return to our farm.  That’s a bit cryptic but it boils down to my manager having to find someone else on the off-chance I’d be successful in snagging the senior job.  Not being the sharpest tool in the shed it hasn’t occurred to me what I’d do if I were successful in applying for the permanent job.

If there was any doubt about what I’d like to do (apart from paying off the $8,000 katana I’ve just bought) is summed up by some internet browsing at lunchtime.  I’ve been looking at farm toys, bulldozers, skid-steers and tipper trucks.  Oh, I’ve also bought an acre's worth of seeds to plant and am working out how to increase next year's garlic crop.

Says it all, really.

Affirmations of Life

Much water has flowed under the bridge in the last 8 weeks: far too much to relate so I’m only going to give flavours rather than accounts.

Holidays are such exciting periods, full of promise and anticipation.  We had many things lined up.  Catching up with my kids and meeting up with my family to scatter my Father’s ashes; the British kendo Association’s Iaido and Jodo Seminar (and grading); catching up with Irish Rose and meeting her other half for the first time in Dublin; the UK riots (for Riots read excuses-to-loot); and Japan (which deserves a huge chapter in its own right).   I don’t think it can be claimed this holiday was dull.

Before starting, all I’m going to say about the ‘countdown timer’ attached to this blog is that it expired on the 2^nd August.  My Iaido Nidan grading came and went without too much botheration and I was fortunate enough to pass.  I’ve a feeling the high ranking grading panel took pity on me travelling all the way from Oz and overlooked some unforced errors and the peculiar Australian manner in which I performed.  Two other Nidan candidates and myself were up as the last people to grade that day and I’ve a nagging suspicion that if my two fellow candidates had travelled as far as Klara and I they would have passed as well.  But they didn’t and consequently Oshita Masakazu Sensei and the rest of the panel didn’t smile upon them.  Highlight of the grading?  Actually, it wasn’t the passing but what pleased me far more was not being overawed by the panel despite being slap-bang in the centre- right in front of the Kyoto 8^th Dan Taikai winner (Oshita Sensei). 

Japan was glorious and friendly beyond belief.  There were unexpected kindnesses, surprises and delightful things just about everywhere we went.  Having been primed beforehand, we took Omiyage – small gifts/souvenirs – with us from the UK and Australia to give to Sensei and, well, just about anyone.  It is amazing how much the simple act of giving a token gift opens doors between people that don’t share a common language.   Even when Omiyage were not involved, complete strangers would stop and assist if they observed us staring with consternation at a map or an underground sign.   Yes, we were Gaijin.  But we made an effort and tried not to be cultural neanderthals.  Jenna and Jason (carriers of the genepool) were introduced to a phrase while with other backpackers: Gaijin Bashers.  Gaijin Bashers are those who perform cultural howlers and trample ignorantly over Japanese customs.  Thankfully, we tip-toed.

Nagayama Sensei, our Jodo Teacher in Sendai, was his usual combination of Dojo-stern and private-approachable.  He doesn’t know it (or refuses to acknowledge it in direct terms) but he’s our Sensei.  When we first met him, three years ago, it was under difficult circumstances (the story behind which is amusing – now).  It’s taken a few years of gradual ice-melt for him to accept us but now he pours more knowledge into our thick skulls than we could ever hope to assimilate.  Have you ever met someone and instinctively known that person could be lethally dangerous at a flick of a switch?  Nagayama Sensei is one of those.  He teaches his arts as if his finger is "on the switch". 

I can’t point to one particular event in Japan as being the highlight.  There were so many.  I can say climbing Mount Fuji is up there, though.   The most climbed Mountain in the World, they call it and rightly so.  All four of us set out from the 5^th Station at about 8pm on August 29^th.  J and J were in racing mode (which I think they may have slightly regretted at the top) and floored it.  We took a sedate pace.  After all, the Mountain climb begins at 2,300 meters with still another vertical mile to ascend.  Altitude sickness can commence with too rapid a climb.

The feeling of shared purpose and suffering was palpable the further up we climbed.  99.9% of the climbers were not hikers nor mountain climbers but  everyday people, mostly quite young, with a hard-wired desire to climb their National Icon.  They were fit in much the same way as every other twenty-something year old is.  But, undeniably, it is tough for even youthful Japanese.  We met an old lady who was climbing Fuji-san for the 6^th time.  I didn’t know what her reasons were but the fact she was willing to place herself in sufferings way filled me with admiration.  If it were possible, after the gruelling 14 kilometre zig-zag descent, I admired her even more and would have fallen to her feet in worship (if I had the strength left).

We will return to Japan.  Of that I have no doubt.

Hiatus

One of he amusing things about Australia is the fact it takes a bloody long time to actually leave the Country.  Tomorrow (Saturday) we take off at about 4pm.  At 8pm we are still....over Australia.  This is enough time to travel from the UK to Cyprus.  Australia is a BIG Country.  Quite often, I've seen in-bound long haul passengers look at their video screens and get all excited about crossing the Australian coastline near Darwin and begin getting their stuff together.  Four hours later, we still haven't landed yet.

Well, for the next 5 weeks, this is probably goodbye.  Japan is going to be (and I hate the phrase but I'll be hep and use it anyway) awsome!  I'll let you know if I stuff up my Nidan grading in the UK - not that anyone particularly cares apart from me.

But that's the beauty of life.  We are defined by what we find value in - what make's life worthwhile.

Gradings

Just three more days until our holiday.  Not to place to fine a point on it but I was seriously considering installing a countdown timer for that as well.…

Speaking of countdown timers, the shonky one written into the code of this blog is decrementing far too quickly for my liking.  It means I have a grading to concern myself with.  OK, ok, it’s been a blip on my radar for months but now the whole screen is covered with a great unknown blob.  I’m lucky though as Nidan (or 2^nd Dan) is relatively only a minor grading in the scheme of things and, providing a certain level of skill is demonstrated (and you don’t stuff up), expectations aren’t too excessive.  The real test is the transition from 3^rd to 4^th.  Think of 1^st to 2^nd as climbing a steady slope.  2^nd to 3^rd as a hill requiring the use of hands and 3^rd to 4^th as a sheer rockface.  It’s where the percentage of grading failures in any aspiring 4^th Dan group rocket above 30%.

Idly mulling on that last point.  While the idea of a 4^th Dan grading doesn’t scare me – because I’m willing to put the time into working for it – it’s just occurred to me I’ll be 59 at that point.  And that’s assuming I don’t stuff up one of the gradings before it.  But that one of the beauties of Iaido:  your skill level with a Japanese sword is only marginally affected by the effects of age.  In much the same way as a 90 year-old can still pull the trigger of a gun, a 70 year old can still display extraordinary prowess with a sword.  The interesting thing is the hidden, ‘internal workings’ of Japanese martial arts appear to add a good many years to what you can force your body to endure.

Trouble is, can I acquire the ‘internal workings’ before I’m 70? 

The Emporer's New Clothes

Don’t ask me my opinions on the Hunter-Gatherer intellectual-luddism philosophy deeply buried within the Greens Manifesto.  Their philosophy is as poisonous to modern tolerant society as fanatical religious fundamentalism.  Perhaps worse, as it’s based on the myth of the tribal society being some sort of idyllic egalitarian paradise.

The Emperors of Fascism and Communism appear to be alive and well but have donned new Ecological Clothing.

Hell I’m irritated!!  If supporters of the Greens naïve policies applied any reductio ad absurdum rational thought to the matter then they should all voluntarily self-euthanise immediately.

Giri = Obligation in Japanese

Paul Maloney is quite a bit older than I and was around as a junior student under Shimizu Takaji.  Shimizu Shihan passed away back in 1978 and anyone who’s anyone in the Jodo game will be in utter awe of him.  Anyway, Paul was aware Klara and I were heading off on holiday for two weeks so handed me two Letters of Introduction to some Sensei in Japan.  My knowledge of the Japanese language is quite small but I am aware there are strict social customs which prevent me just turning up unannounced.   Things have to be performed properly and protocols observed.

Initially I was quite pleased with him going to the trouble, with this warm fuzzy feeling lasting until I got to the car. It then quickly evaporated as it dawned on me the introductions were also a burden of responsibility.  We're expected to attend.  Not only that but we're also expected to not disgrace Australian Jodo by being technically incompetent or, worse still, ignorant, stupid and bad mannered.  OK, this is do-able.  We can pull this off with a bit of concentration. 

Since then I’ve carried out a bit more research and discovered some disturbing facts about these Sensei.  Notice I used a capital ‘S’ just then - Times New Roman 12 Font Size.  It should really be at least a 32.   One of them is so influential he’s on the small panel of people who run martial arts in Japan. 

And here he is.   Kaminoda Tsunemori Sensei (and who also trained under Shimizu Takaji Shihan in his youth).  He’s head of the 4^th Division of the Japanese Riot Police: the people who have responsibility for guarding the Japanese Imperial Family.  Not a pushover.

Control your breathing.  Be introduced to Sensei.  Bring biscuits (apparently the done thing when turning up anywhere).  Perform out of your skin.  Don’t disgrace yourselves.  Be allowed to live. Go
home.  No pressure!

On top of that Klara and I will train with Igarashi San (our swordmaker) in Seki City, Nagayama Sensei (our Seitei Jodo Sensei) in ravaged Sendai and also Shimizu Yuji Sensei in Tokyo.  The dance-card is filling up for what was supposed to be a holiday.

And then there is the little matter of climbing Mount Fuji overnight on August 29th.     

Two for One

Part 1.

It’s now rocketing through July so yesterday I picked up my trusty spreadsheet and twiddled with the planning of our holiday.  Not the UK one.  That’s relatively structured and we know where we have to be and who we’re seeing.  I’m talking about the Japan portion.

I had absolutely no idea just how complicated matters can be!  My dearest darling Daughter, HR Manager and denizen at the enlightened end of the gene pool, seems to think it’s all easy.  Turn up, sleep rough, eat dried rice and ask a passer-by for directions to Mount Fuji in broadest cockney.  It’s her opinion holidays are not subject to the normal financial laws of nature and that we’ll sleep cocooned in cherry blossom petals, eating fragrant fugu fish and all the while being serenaded by Geisha.  (And, I know, I’ll be receiving the rough edge of her tongue for that one!)

Rude wake up alarm for everyone.  Travel in Japan is astronomically expensive if you buy over the counter.  Staying, even in Ryokan (Japanese traditional inns), is as equivalent to a 5 star hotel in Sydney.  Only ready-to-eat food bought in a supermarket can be cheap.  I think we’ll come to a compromise.  In Tokyo we’ll splurge.  In Kyoto and Yamagata/Sendai/Matsushima we’ll be literally sleeping at Monasteries, eating Buddhist monk food.  Might even do a bit of rent-boy stuff.  Joking here (I hope).

You know what?  When the possibility of a trip to Japan raised its head earlier this year I had a cherished dream of buying a new katana.  A shinken from Igarashi San from Seki City.  His creations are functional works of art that are a joy to hold and a dream to use.  Tatami matting just falls in neat piles just at the mere mention of a blade made by him.  Well, it’s not going to happen this time round.  I’ll have to make do with my old chinese chunker of a blade and bludgeon the straw into submission.

Part 2 -  A short pictorial story.

We were Home last weekend.  Running repairs to 3 kms of dirt road, some slashing (grass cutting) and general ‘tying down’ of things before we leave for the UK.



Early morning mist in the Far Paddock





Yes, the 'mice' can gnaw through metal lids



What happens when you run out of gas

 



I can't capture the feeling but this one represents three days of bliss



Terminal

A month tomorrow we’ll be taking off for dear ol’ Blighty.  This is the plan and the tickets were bought months ago.  However, the last time we arranged tickets, in April of last year for my Father’s funeral, the day we bought them the Icelandic volcano blew up and modern air travel ground to a halt. 

I remember the frustration of watching the news reports of Northern European airspace closures, pictures of UK families stranded in darkest gawd-knows-where and equally disturbing footage of Aussie families stranded at UK airports.  As the countdown to the funeral day got closer our airline phoned and told us our “...tickets had been cancelled”.  Just like that.  Yes, they could take us to either Moscow or maybe Southern Italy but that was it.  If we elected for that option we’d be on our own.  Later on, it appears many thousands of Poms did try that option only to find themselves eventually stranded at a port on the wrong side of the English Channel.  All the ferries were full.  It was 1940 Dunkirk all over again, but this time without the spirit.

For the past few weeks, on this side of the world, Australia has been bothered by high altitude ash particles from a Chilean volcano.  Certain airports have been closed and flights cancelled depending on the location and height of ash clouds.  Up to yesterday the flights affected were mostly those from Perth, Adelaide, Melbourne and Tassie.  Oh yes, let’s not forget those flights to and from New Zealand (who’ve had more than enough problems dealing with Christchurch earthquakes without having more sorrow heaped upon them).

Yesterday, matters took a more worrying direction.  International flights out of Sydney were cancelled after 15:00 and the normally busy airport terminals were empty apart from a few people who couldn’t be contacted by their carriers.

Planning for international travel is no longer the relatively certain matter it used to be.  While passengers have no choice but to tolerate the sheep-pen conditions at airports and plane leg space more suited to pygmies than people, it become absolutely intolerable if your flight is indefinitely postponed.

Bottom line is, I’d rather be stranded here at home than overseas, broke and badly re-enacting a version of Tom Hanks’ role in Terminal.

Old Age

This morning I had to preside over a disciplinary affair.  Not a big problem: just a member of public complaint regarding the driving behaviour of one of ‘my’ Technicians.  He’s quite young, quite bright and in his very early twenties.

Anyway, after the preliminary interview was over he tacked over to his favourite topic and expressed his continuing disappointment issues surrounding Nightshift hadn’t been addressed. In short, he felt unsafe working in some areas of Sydney at night.  I must point out there are always two people out in a team for nightshift: a Technician and his Trades Assistant.  This particular Technician was particularly unhappy about security and the ever-present possibility of violence near pubs at kicking out time.  This is despite being told on more than one occasion that if any nightshift staff felt the slightest bit uneasy at a site then they were to pack up and move to the next location.  Period.   

Even though he practices some sort of martial art he still wanted to bleat a little more.  When I mentioned he was not alone on site he said (let me see if I can recall the gist) “It doesn’t help me if my TA is 55 years old”.  The way he said it implied people of that age have no business being out after dark and are worse than useless for anything physical.  The Supervisor (a confident man in his 50’s who punctuates his sentences with the ‘F’ word a lot) and I just looked at each other.

I think I’ll be moving him to another Section, shortly.   

It took me a little while to ‘get’ this joke sent by a colleague.

Expectations

Preamble. 

This is a quote from the celebrated English author, playwright and critic Cyril Connolly.

“Young writers if they are to mature require a period of between three and seven years in which to live down their promise. Promise is like the mediaeval hangman who after settling the noose, pushed his victim off the platform and jumped on his back, his weight acting a drop while his jockeying arms prevented the unfortunate from loosening the rope. When he judged him dead he dropped to the ground.”

-------------------------------------------

This last weekend was immensely enjoyable.  A trip down to Canberra for a long weekend of stick bashing and sword swinging during which Klara deservedly picked up her 2^nd Dan in Jodo.  From my perspective the weekend was just the right length: long enough to receive some priceless lessons but short enough not to feel burdensome.  The lessons I need to internalise I’ll mull over and post in the standalone pages. Instead I want to relate about some unease.

Our Seitei Sensei is a powerful 68 year old 7^th Dan Kyoshi in the three Seitei arts of Kendo, Jodo and Iaido.  He also has earned a Menkyo Kaiden scroll (the highest possible “Licence of Transmission") in Kage Ryu, has his own family style handed down through the generations and is skilled in some martial arts I’ve never even heard about.  He’s also had first hand experience in what a Katana can do to limbs since people with violent tendencies have been unfortunate enough to challenge him by threatening people he cares for.  He is, without a shadow of doubt in my mind, a scary man with a fierce temper and very hard to please.

This weekend just past he was in a good mood, though.  Yes, he has a very ‘English’ sarcastic streak, wields it as deftly as his katana and neatly trimmed people’s egos all weekend.  Including mine.  Having never learned the diplomatic art of keeping my mouth closed when I have a question to ask I often bear the brunt of him telling me I know nothing.  But on several occasions in this last year he’s nodded approval about something or other I’ve done and this is about all we’ve ever heard him utter in any form of approval for anyone.  It’s praise enough considering we receive the rough side of his tongue mostly.  This visit he’s roundly praised me twice – once in earshot of Klara and once in front of my Seitei teacher while we were practicing Midare Dome.  One sentiment was pure and the other (I think – but what do I know) was used as a blunt weapon to unfavourably compare my teacher’s level to mine and to humble him.

This is the rub.  I work hard at what I do but this is a ‘given’ knowing my character.  What I’m having a difficult time dealing with is ‘praise’ and being seen to be ‘praised’.  The first event can cause permanently elevated expectations and the second may create powerful, resentful enemies (not from my teacher but from other, influential higher grades).  Both of these creations are Monsters.

Cyril Connolly’s actual quote leading to the Preamble is:  “Those whom the Gods wish to destroy they first call promising”.  What I need to establish now is if I have to destroy these Monsters, let them gnaw at me or cohabitate with them as bosom budies.

I’ve this foreboding feeling this is another of his lessons.  

Things repugnant about working here.

1)                  Professional Service Contractors or Skill Hire staff have absolutely no “delegated authority”.  By that I mean we are not entitled to approve anything which might commit the Government Agency to financial liability; we can’t sit on OH&S committees, Selection Panels, or to allow ourselves to be seen as representing the work of the Government Agency in any respect.  (This is scratching the surface of the restrictions, I might add.)

2)                  Following on from 1), above, our status as ‘temporary staff’ means other rights are consequently reduced.  I heard the other day the annual Staff Awards nominations can’t include nominations for staff in our ‘temporary’ category.  A year or two back this resulted in a Team recommendation where the Team was composed of a mixture of true staff and skill hire being conveniently edited so only part of the team received recognition.  A sort of institutional employment apartheid.

3)                  Following from 2) was the comical affair where a professional engineer – who was/is a skill hire member of staff – was nominated for and ‘accidentally’ received an award. There was consequent huge institutional embarrassment because checks were not made during the nomination vetting process.  Embarrassment?  I suspect it’s because the Government Agency don’t wish to admit relying on up to an eighth of its staff as being from outside the Agency.

4)                  Contradicting 1), we have a corporate dress code where temporary staff have to be issued personal protective equipment with the Governmental logo on.  Cynically thinking, “We can’t bear to be seen to rely on skill hire people so much we feel we need to hide the fact by dressing them as if they were staff”.

5)                   OK.  Done bitching.     

The Long Weekend

This weekend we’ve a trip to Canberra planned.  It’s a long weekend with a Bank Holiday on Monday the 13th to celebrate the Queen’s Birthday.  This is an odd thing for two reasons.  Firstly, the 13^th  of June isn’t the Queen’s Birthday (it is the 21^st of April) and, secondly, I find it bordering on the disgraceful how Commonwealth countries celebrate the Monarch’s Birthday (no matter when it’s conveniently placed in the calendar) and the Poms don’t.  By “don’t”  I mean “give the workers a day off”.

Our weekend will start with a traditional half-day dash to leave Sydney before those heading for the winter snowfields also try to leave.  Canberra is about a two and a half hour trek South along the Hume Highway and much of that journey will be shared with snowboarders, skiers and varied other snowsports enthusiasts before they pare off and head more to the snowfields of Thredo, Perisher and the like.       

We, on the other hand will be playing with sticks and swords with Nagayama and Ohara Sensei. 

Jun 2011: 4th East Coast Annual Iaido and Jodo Seminar:
(Nagayama and Ohara sensei) - CONFIRMED

Day	Session	Time	Art	Location
Fri 10/6	1	1830-2030	Iaido/Jodo	ANU (MPR)
Sat 11/6	2	0930-1045	Iaido/Jodo	ANU
	3	1100-1230	Kendo	ANU
		1100-1230	Iaido/Jodo	ANU
		1230-1400	Lunch	Bowls Club (all 3 arts)
	4	1400-1520	Iaido/Jodo	ANU
	5	1540-1700	Iaido/Jodo	ANU
		TBA	Dinner	Restaurant (location TBA)
Sun 12/6	6	0930-1045	Iaido/Jodo	ANU (MPR)
	7	1100-1230	Iaido/Jodo	ANU (MPR)
		1230-1400	Lunch	Civic
	8	1400-1520	Iaido/Jodo	ANU (MPR)
	9	1540-1700	Iaido/Jodo	ANU (MPR)
		TBA	Dinner	Darren/Majdies
Mon 13/6	10	1000-1230	Tameshigiri	Damons
		1230-1330	Lunch	Damons
	11	1400-1700	Iaido/Jodo	ANU
Tue 14/6	12	1000-1200	Iaido/Jodo	BCC
		1200-1400	Lunch	Westfield Belconnen
	13	1400-1600	Iaido/Jodo	BCC
	14	1945-2130	Kendo	ANU (MPR)

It remains to be seen if Nags is in a good mood or if, as he usually does, rants at certain people if they are playing the incompetent.  I think he has time for Klara and I.  Oh yes, he will firstly rant, accuse us of knowing nothing, threaten to rip up our last grading certificates but then he proceeds to spend the next hour fixing some minute detail of Klara and my kata, ignoring everyone else.  It's my considered opinion Nags wouldn't invest time on wasters as he'll also rant at others but not spend the time.  Yes, he’s a literal two-edged sword.