Wednesday, June 8, 2011

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.     

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

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 13th  of June isn’t the Queen’s Birthday (it is the 21st 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.

Almos

It is with deep regret I have to report the passing away of Klara’s favourite boy on Friday 13th May.  Almos, the last canine link from when Klara’s Mother was still alive in the late 1990s, passed away in his thirteenth year.  He was on heaps of medication but remained alert and faithful up until the last.


Anyone who met Almos (pronounced Almosh) would instantly know he was a one-person dog.  Klara’s.  No one could compete with her for his affections – not even Klara’s Mother when she was alive - but he was more than willing to share his slobbery jowls with anyone who was silly enough to place their mouth near to his. I don’t think I’ve ever met a dog with such a single-minded devotion than Almos.  Despite being in his life for almost 6 years he needed him ‘mum’ more than anyone else in the whole world.

Many years ago I was brought up with a Boxer and know how many of the “doofus” traits are ingrained deep within their psyche.  Permanently juvenile with the attention span of a gnat but yet highly intelligent.  People, especially men, usually took to Puskas more than Almos because Puskas was the “strong and silent’ type.  With Almos, on the other hand, what you saw was what you got.  Unbridled loyalty and affection all rolled in with entertainment and fun.


Almos was cremated and has joined Puskas, ever watchful over our farm.    

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Winning the Lottery


Last Friday saw us belting up the F3 after taking half day’s leave.  It’s a good feeling that rises in crescendo the further away from Sydney we get.

By the time we arrived home it was just past dusk and the 3km cross country drive from the main road gate towards the shed provided it’s usual, oddly comforting, bumpy ride.  There was nothing untoward: no trees down and the cattle obligingly stood back with that air of studied indifference tinged with distrust all cattle seem to have.

Inside the shed the unpacking of food commenced until suddenly I noticed a plant had taken root inside the satellite TV box/DVD player cabinet.  Strange.  Then we noticed it wasn’t a plant but, along with various other insulating fabrics and coconut husks (decorative mulch from around other house plants) had been made into a big nest.  A nest harmoniously wrapped around one of our few bits of technology.  It was invitingly warm in there. 

Now, mice don’t really make nests like this.  They’ll find a cosy spot in a drawer full of clothing or such like and have their broods there.  This was not a mouse nest.  Not a rat’s either.  The culprit was in the living area of the shed somewhere so it was left to me to track her and, being the seasoned and highly trained pommie bullshit artist tracker that I am, ran her to ground in the bathroom.  Klara came in as requested then beat a healthy retreat when one of the biggest mice I’ve even seen leapt out from a head-height shelf right in her direction.  Kamikaze-like.  I’m pretty sure it was an Antechinus.  A native marsupial mouse with the males having suicidal breeding habits.  A little bit of home-grown entertainment to greet our arrival and one that makes living where we do so rich.

We also have a growing normal field mouse population that ensures we have to hide every bit of food behind sturdy cover.  This is to say we've given up trying to catch them and are just content to stop them finding their way into food and clothes. 

Thankfully outside, there is something more sinister living in the 'patio' sofa though.  Lifting off the cushions there was a mass of feathers suggesting some bird had been dragged back and systematically devoured.   I don’t think it’s the Python but can’t be certain.  It might be the Bandicoot because it regularly digs up our “lawns” looking for grubs, frogs, etc.  On quiet summer nights he/she/them can be seen half hopping around the area foraging for goodies.

Yes, resources at ‘Stuki’ might be considered by some to be borderline third-world poverty or even primeval.  We consider it as winning the Lottery and are fabulously rich beyond mere millionaires.   

Monday, May 23, 2011

Caveat Emptor

Kata is a Japanese word which we take as meaning a ‘set’ or form’.  It’s a way in which the basics that go into forming the skeleton of a style are fleshed out into practicality: but practicality within the confines of a controlled environment.  Quite simply put a martial art is a dangerous creature, bred to inflict harm on one or more opponents so the controls within Kata are absolutely necessary to prevent serious injury or death.  At first the controls are there to prevent accidental harm but later on are there to stop the intentional harm that will happen when you can wield the weapon with some confidence.   In any case it is vital you follow what some people call the ‘dance’ of the Kata.

Despite these controls many truly experienced practitioners say Kata is merely a mode of transport to catch on the way to the destination of mastering spontaneity.  Of course, there are Japanese phrases that I should be using to describe the concepts and  process here but I won’t for the sake of the thread.  Keep in mind the ‘spontaneity’ versus ‘dance’ thing for later on, though.

In Jodo and more especially in the Shinto Muso Ryu Jodo I practice, there are more Kata to be learnt than you can literally ‘shake a stick at’.  Heaps.  And all with particular emphases depending on your level.  Even the entry level Kata called Omote has 12 Kata designed for big, broad movements where distance and timing can be drilled into the practitioner in a relatively safe environment with the pace of the kata placing its own controls to assist in safety.  Later, the next series (called Chuden – and there are 13 really with two variants of number 4) the pace begins hotting up with the two people changing speed, distance and energy quite quickly.  It’s been said the Chuden set is a young person’s set but the exposure to harm is a consequently ramped up.

Then comes Ran-Ai.  Two very, very long forms pretty similar (with minor changes) but where you really have to have your wits about you when performed quickly.  The pace of change is quite breathtaking.  I’m wrestling with the next series beyond that, Kage.  Kage is a many-faceted jewel and when performed well (read 'by others') demonstrates the true versatility of the art.  Andy (my Teacher) always seems to have new slants or takes on particular parts of these kata that emphasise the inate subtlety of Jodo.

Where is all this leading?   Going back to “spontaneity and dance”, it is easy to appreciate a momentary lapse of concentration could have serious consequences.  Keeping this in mind also implies you have to think on behalf of your opponent at times and not intentionally plan to harm him (or her) with a strike that clearly is intended to inflict great harm.  You also have to consider momentary lapses of concentration on their part which might lead to a dangerous situation. “Pulling your punches” is a phrase that comes to mind, but retaining enough sincerity to show what you are doing isn’t for show.

For the last month or three I suspect I’ve been “overly sincere” (for the want of a better phrase) with my strikes and the speed in which they are delivered.  Worse still, some bits of my kata appera to have taken on spontaneous lives of their own and are pushing the envelope of the “dance”.  My opponents’ wrists have been badly hurt, ribs and internal organs stressed and other body parts (like heads) have come under real threat because of this.  It is causing me increasing concern the purpose of Kata – teaching me to use the ‘tools’ with spontaneity – is far, far more dangerous than I signed up for, years ago.

Perhaps I should have looked more carefully at the small print.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Wanted, experienced Ninjas.

Things are hotting up at work and the ‘extra’ projects are consuming more and more time.  What with investigations into this, that and other events; resource planning for the new camera project and my usual paternal responsibilities for my staff, time is in very short supply.

Yesterday we had a Financial Management Course.  It was a day-long overview of various aspects of project planning but in the introductory preamble a note was made about the Depot’s Resource Budget.  This intrigued me to asking a question as to how they arrive at it and if it is a dynamic process driven by current and planned future projects.  Silly me.  I should have guessed it is about as dynamic as jetlag and probably just as useful.  Bottom line is, here’s your financial budget allocation and it reflects who (not what) you have on your books in any March.  Planning be buggered.  Suck it up and deal with it with what you have.

So, not being the sharpest tool in the shed, it occurs to me I don’t actually have any staff allocated for the proposed new camera project.  A project I hasten to add should benefit the books by an estimated $8 million in the next financial year.

Or maybe not.

The Big Man, boss at the top responsible for delivering many, many millions of dollars worth of services for Sydney, is a man who I have immense personal respect for.  He’s sincere, engaging, quick to anger but perhaps a little too prone to make promises our resource budget struggles to keep.  He makes these promises to promote this arm of the organisation as a “can do” one and leaves his staff (in which he also appears to have a little bit too much confidence at times) to worry about how to deliver.

There are two layers of management between me and the Big Man. 

Contract assassins ‘r us may be called…..

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Mud, glorious mud!

A short one.

The mornings are getting darker and darker with me setting out for work at about 05:45.  I think what classifies ‘dawn’ in muslim circles (thus triggering a call to prayer) is the amount of light needed to distinguish a dark thread from a light one.  It was about that time when I was driving past Granville Park.

Granville Park and the surrounding area isn’t particularly wholesome: not the sort of place anyone would want to wander around in darkness.  This isn’t to liken the area to New York’s Central Park (which, if US crime series are anything to go by, find cunningly murdered bodies littered everywhere) but isn’t a safe one.

Anyway, driving by in the cool grey of pre-dawn I glanced over and had one of those trigger-memories of running through Whitewebbs Park, UK.  Adjacent is a 2002 picture of “Hairy Harriet”, mother of 6 and certifiable after a few drinks.  She also had no other choice but to plod through the Whitewebbs mud on an almost daily basis.  A genetic, hard-wired thing.

I wonder if Kik’s and my knees are up to a little romp through the mud this July???