Ed Queensland - A Positively Glacial Response

Close enough to a month ago, I wrote to my Grandie's school and the Minister for Education and finally today I received a letter back -  Not from the school you understand but from the Director General of Education and Training - the Minister presumably being too busy covering all the other portfolios she has, to bother answering me herself.

Dr Watterston - well clearly NOT the real Dr W - it would have been one of his minions or maybe a committee of junior clerks, made it clear that he could not discuss specifics about my Grandie's education, cos I am a nobody, and instead fed me the usual bullshit about composite classes - Multi -age classes for you modern folk. What is interesting is that he has made it very clear that kids are thrown into these classes because of student number shortages. Yeh it's just expedient, and he at least doesn't pretend that any fine educational outcomes are expected.

When he stated that the school staff are 'committed to working with all the students to ensure they achieve their best educational outcomes', I snorted so hard that I had a little vomit in my mouth.

The school  didn't even have the common decency or reasonable manners to tell me that they were not gonna address the issues cos I am a nobody, they just stuck their collective heads in the sand and figured I would go away, eventually.

So my Grandie's 'Best educational outcomes' came in the form of the very worst report card ever, for semester 1.

Seriously  it would not  take a detailed forensic analysis to notice that his results were very poor indeed and certainly not a indication of his NAPLAN proven ability.

Do you know what really gives me the shits? It's the pretence that all the kids are getting a quality education. It'd be different if the school just copped to the fact that these kids are getting a piss poor deal and that in a bid to smear the shit evenly, they spread the joy of the composite class around. There are 4 terms so there could have been 4 chorts into the crap class, or if that was too much trouble there are 2 semesters so there could have been at least 2 different lots, and then all the kids would have had at least 6 months of reasonable education. But NO, instead these 9 year 6 kids have a whole year of shit.

My Darling Boy was ashamed to tell me about his report card. In years gone by, he has begged his mum to call me as soon as she opened it, so he can brag and boast and be proud, but not this time. I had to drag info out of him. He admitted that he hadn't done his best. He admitted that he had not done any homework. He admitted that he played the clown. He admitted that he talked too much to his one and only mate.  He admitted that if after asking for help, he still doesn't understand, he just gives it up as a bad joke. He admitted that too often he, 'Just couldn't be bothered'.

I very much doubt his teachers over the last few years would recognise him as the same boy they knew.

The school can not claim to be unaware of all this. I have called and written and his Mother has written.

Oh I know the answer is that you get what you pay for and as it's a State School, it comes free of charge, except that that, like the justification about the composite class, is just more bullshit. Send a bill for this and a bill for that, but let's not for a millisecond think that there is any obligation to provide a decent service.

If this place was a restaurant, it would be a stinking Hungry Jacks but actually not as good, cos at least at Hungry's you can make a complaint and something is done to rectify the problem. Here they don't give credence to the complaint and charge you double.

Drones - WTF

Say Cheese!

Yeh I know that if you ask someone as old as me to explain what a drone is, they would more than likely launch into some long story about Bees and Queens and honey making and all those bloody worker bees which spend time in the clover, waiting to sting the barefooted carefree kids as they climbed trees - those busy old Drones.

I met and killed quite a few of these suckers when I was younger. They really fucking hurt when you kill 'em and in the end I developed such an allergy to 'em that if I ran into one today, I would no doubt be yelling for an Epi Pen as I slumped to the ground. The swelling up, is pretty unattractive.

But not anymore.

Today, the first thing that comes to mind are those fucking annoying, intrusive, noisy, pieces of machinery which are armed with state of the art photographic equipment, which relays video of action as it happens.

On a very quick google it seems that they range in price from about 400 bucks up to how long is a piece of string, so they are not for nothing. And generally you see 'em being operated by geeky looking middle aged blokes. Well I haven't done any research into ownership of the fuckers, but in recent times I have seen 3 such fellas working 'em, so it's a generalisation that I am happy with, feel free to let me know if your experience is different.

There was the lazy fella who sent his up Mt Warning cos of course walking up there was outta the question. The alternative clientele, parked up in their, stinky old combie vans with the tie dyed shirted drivers whipping up veggie burgers on their camp stoves precariously perched on the manky mattress, were all unimpressed with the noise and the invasion of their privacy and then ultimately were loudly pissed off cos Dog went ape shit about the high pitched whizz of the fucking thing. Shit.

Then there was the time Dog was going nutso out the back at home and I went out in time to shake a fist at the low flying fucking thing that, call me paranoid, seemed to be looking into the lounge room and watching the tellie. This drone belonged to the neighbour across the road and I know this cos I ran upstairs in time to watch it land in their backyard.

I might have droned on about these bark inducing moments before, but yesterday was something new.

Dog and I were at the beach - Mermaid or Nobby's never sure what it's called, down the rocky end where there are usually just another couple of dogs and sometimes the odd person lazing around with not much on. But it's holidays and so it was crammed with families and kids were running amok amongst the rocks and splashing about.

Dog and I played the usual 'chuck the sand into the surf' game and she had that joyful look on her face that others might confuse with drug addled gormless stupor. We played hard and she was buggered, so we headed for the concrete pipe thing for a little sit down.

All was good with the world. Dogs, kids, parents, runners about turning, and oddly 3 old fat blokes in various stages of undress.

Then Dog was off. She went from melting into the wet sand and having a little ZZZ off, to barking like a maniac and scaring the shit out of the other punters. This is unusual behaviour.

Sure enough, I looked up and right above us was a fucking drone! Where had that come from? It did not move away. It was like it was enjoying taunting Dog. I spied the bloke -  see, it's always a bloke, operating it and he was but a few metres away. He has watching Dog live and on his screen, but he didn't move that fucking thing away.

We moved well away.

He landed the menace and then on his way off the beach he stopped to chatter to the semi-nude old fat fellas. Yeh I got an awful feeling in my guts.

All I can say is that if I had a child there yesterday and I saw this fucker flying the drone and photographing my kid, I would have at the very least asked him what the fuck he was doing, but more likely I'd have told him to bugger off with his camera away from my family.

Is this the way of the future? Everyone with their perving devices up whizzing around driving dogs mad and gathering up private footage for questionable at best old fat fellas?

It's time that someone invented a device that fucks with the remote controls, so that if the thing is too close - and remember the long lens capability, you can push a button and the fucker does a 360 spin and either goes straight home or more preferably dives hard into the ground or the water and smashes into a million piece.

I'll place the first order.

Please scientists of the world, make me one!

Insomnia and the wee dark quiet hours.

I have been so so lucky these holidays cos I have had the grandie boy all to myself. I was selfish, so there were no invitations to his mate from school, it was just him and me and we pleased ourselves and of course Dog.

So the dark wee hours of usual wakefulness, were filled with anything but quiet. There was no reading and no wondering about the world and no gently shoving Dog back onto her side of the bed.

Instead, the days started with a BANG. There was laughing and singing and giggling and growling to get Dog going. There was leaping onto and off the bed and the merciless teasing of Dog by hiding her chew toy - yeh I know it looks a lot like some novelty slipper, cos that's what it is, thanks to a mother's day parcel from 'the kids' but Dog saw it and declared it her's and then the other one found it's way downstairs, so there's this grubby one downstairs, and a less chewed up one for sucking on at bed time.

Yesterday was the last day of the holiday and so I suppose all rules flew out the window, and my bed became a dawn playground for Dog and Grandie and me. The sheets and doona were covered in dog hair and slobber and all the usual neat corners were messy and crinkley. I know Dog thinks she's a lap dog but the bed was definitely full up to pussy's bow by the time we were all bouncing around.

It was hectic to say the least. And bloody wonderful. And last night I was so pooped I feel asleep in the middle of something on the tellie, after I had already nodded off when I got home from delivering him back to his Mum's place.

So I guess it should be no real surprise that I was awake this morning in the dark, listening to the quiet.

Dog seemed to be missing her mate and had spent the night wandering around the house looking for him, having a good sniff in all the usual places and then tippity tapping her nails back down the hallway and into her bed. She came and went and came and went and she must have figured I had disposed of her playmate and had the shits up with me, cos she didn't even try to climb up onto the bed.

There really and truly is just nothing wonderful about being awake at silly o'clocks, especially when there is nothing pressing to be done.

I reached for my book.

I have been reading 'Not Quite Dating' by Catherine Bybee. It's possible that I bought this trash, but only if I had a moment of utter senile nanniness. It's the greatest load of rather poorly written, predictable bullshit. I finished it this morning and to say I was underwhelmed is monumental understatement. It has quite put me off starting anothery in case I had a day of questionable purchasing.

Stevie is clever. He orders a sample of a book before ordering, but I am too impatient for all that malarky. If it sounds sort of OK then I buy it. I guess that's the only problem I have with the Kindle. I am pretty sure that I would have tossed this crap aside like it was diseased, if I had picked it up in QBD, but instead it's now on my Kindle, so I can't even offer to lend it to someone I am not much fond of. Bugger!

The washer and the drier are humming along as I do the usual after entertaining house guests and apart from that it's very quiet.

Yep I am a lucky old Ma. Lucky that the Grandie boy seems to enjoy his visits and that he is such a good easy boy who brings me such joy, but lucky too cos now I can crawl up onto the couch for a little ZZZZnap, any old time I like without having to wonder about honey sangas and how to get in his 5 a day, and if he is being entertained.

Luck, that's what I am gonna contemplate when I am awake in the wee dark hours tomorrow.





 

What is fidelity?

fidelity

fɪˈdɛlɪti/

noun

1. 1.

   faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support.

   "his fidelity to liberal ideals"

   synonyms:

   loyalty, allegiance, obedience, constancy, fealty, homage;  staunchness, fastness "fidelity to your king"
2. 2.

   the degree of exactness with which something is copied or reproduced.

   "the 1949 recording provides reasonable fidelity"

   synonyms:

   accuracy, exactness, exactitude, precision, preciseness, correctness, scrupulousness; strictness, closeness, faithfulness, correspondence, literalness, conformity;  realism,verisimilitude, veracity, authenticity, naturalism "the fidelity of the reproduction"

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Urban Dictionary: fidelity

www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fidelity

Top Definition. fidelity. faithfulness to a person, cause, belief, etc, demonstrated by continued loyalty and support. he had no fidelity so he cheated on his girl.

I have been consumed with sadness, being party to the weak minded sneaky meanness of a fella fooling around while his wife continues to make the dinner.  

The more you go looking for a definition of fidelity, the less appealing it appears to be. It just doesn't sound like fun at all really. I mean they are not easy words are they? Obedience? Who wants to do as they are told? Shit I have spent my whole life questioning the orders of others. Being obedient just doesn't sit well with me. I am far more likely to run if I am told to stop - well in my mind anyway, cos let's face it has been a bloody long time since I ran anywhere, and definitely I will be seen to stop if told to run, yeh that's far easier to believe. I question just about everything, perhaps because I don't have a very high opinion of authority figures. Yep I would say I have spent my life defying the orders and expectations of others.

I didn't play with dolls and always wanted the be in charge of the 'boys'' tools even though that caused an ongoing battle with my lovely but chauvinist dad, who might have made me be in the tough maths class but who could not control my smoking sojourn almost every double lesson on a tuesday. Dad could make me be in the class but not do the class.

I was anything but obedient on either side of the teacher's desk and have been party to some monumental melt downs with Head Teachers and other education administrators. Not for the sake of being irritating, although I certainly have the capacity to be that too, but mostly because I had a fundamental disagreement with 'em and refused to accept that they knew more than me or had more of an interest in the kids than me, or had the authority to tell me what to do. Arrogant - yes I will cop to that, and perhaps that's what it takes to be disobedient, that or just being a willful pain in the arse.

I am not obedient, but I don't reckon that makes me guilty of infidelity.

Loyalty - YES

Constancy - YES

Staunchness - YES

But Obedience - NO.

But perhaps in terms of Fidelity, obedience has more to do with being obedient to promises made, willingly and with full understanding of expectations.

If I was going to approach a weight loss programme with a sense of fidelity I would sort of be promising to weight shit or count shit or buy smaller plates or only eat white stuff or green stuff or spend 2 days a week being miserable, and so every time I snuck around the corner and shoveled a sweetie snack into my gob I would be being promiscuous. The smear of chocolate and the spittle leakage on my chin would be a give away, and the speed of the shoveling would all amount to making me feel guilty. Yeh that's more than any other reason why I don't bother, that and the fact that I have zero will power and a sweet tooth that can chomp up sugar for Australia.

Being faithful to a promise made willingly and knowingly doesn't seem too taxing to me. Being obedient to rules you have made for yourself seems all too achievable.

So what I don't get is INFIDELITY.

I don't get the sneaking around, the trying to fool yourself that your behaviour is acceptable.

I can easily see how circumstances change and that promises need to adjusted, but it's the timing of it all that I just don't get.

It takes courage I suppose to sign off on one thing before you start looking for the next thing. If a woman is bored with her fella then it just seems to be a lack of integrity to go hunting for a new partner, before you have told the old one that promises have run their course. I guess women who do this are just afraid of being on their own. Even after all these years I reckon it must still rankle my ex-hubby that I prefered to be with NOONE rather than with him. He would have found it easier to take if I had left him for someone else, and maybe it's this feeling that drives people to cheat on their husbands or wives.

Except that's just BULLSHIT. Cheating is not a benevolent act of kindness. It's weak and dishonest and disloyal and pathetic.

Relationships fail, but there just doesn't seem to be any excuse to play both ends against the middle. There seems no excuse to go looking for a replacement just cos you are afraid to be on your own.

People don't routinely stumble upon someone who they find so completely intoxicating, if they are fully committed in their relationship.

If you are no longer interested, by all means suck it up and have the courage to bugger off. Just don't guttlessly  try out replacements cos this is mean and nasty and designed to make your partner, with whom you have an agreement, feel like shit.

So what is fidelity?

It's being your partner's most staunch loyal ally - that's the hard part. The easiest part is just simply keeping it in your pants, or your pants on.    

Falling over sucks.

Going arse over tit sure as shit gets harder the older you get.

It seems according to my somewhat dimming memory, that I spent a lot of time on my bum when I was a youngster, no not out of laziness or stubbornness, but because I had been attempting something ridiculous and being merely mortal, was unable to counter gravity, science is a pisser that way.

Some splatterings are still accessible memories, like the time when I was 11 and doing some foolhardy fly through the air thing on the uneven parallel bars and I flew up up up and like in a cartoon, there was that exaggerated moment of stillness before I slammed, back first, down onto the floor. The coach didn't believe in mats and told me to get up and have another go. Yeh No! The bars were never my friends after that. Fucking things! And whilst I can see all this play out in my mind all these years and kilos later, it didn't really stop me doing shit.

And then there was the time we were on a family holiday in the pink place on Chevron Island and the diving into the pool had gotten all a bit tame and ordinary, so I started back flipping into the water. As I practiced and practised, I took off higher and higher and the flip became tighter and tighter, and I can still hear my lovely Dad call out, ' Push out, not so high, you will bang your head on the wall.' Yeh I knew he couldn't be talking to me, what wall? Oh shit bloody head, that wall. In the 80's AIDs craziness they would have had to drain the pool cos of all the blood, but in the 60s they just cleaned me up and told me to get back out there, and so I did.

But as you get older there is a real fear of falling.

Out in the park sometime ago, Dog and Sam were playing and getting rough as they do, and they  ran right into me, taking my legs from under me and I landed inelegantly spread eagled, with 10 bucks worth of coffee all over me. I sat for a while waiting for the youthful 'jump up' factor to kick in, but it didn't. Somewhere in my adulthood, that elastic bounce backability had evapourated and I was now just some fat old gal on her arse on the ground trying to work out the best way to haul myself up. With shit for knees, I need to do a sort of crazy woman roll over and balance myself on my pathetically weak arms and go the push, the bum end leads and I do a bit of the downward facing dog making my face all bloodshot and if I am lucky I can manage to be vertical in one try. Other times I pivot around on my arse with legs and arms flailing, like I am the cup and saucer on the Disney ride. I imagine it's all very amusing to watch, like some anxiety ridden flubber raging from desperation to stillness as I struggle to have another go.

Anyway, yesterday a friend of mine fell in the park.

I saw it in slow motion.

She panicked about being able to get up.

I put my coat under her head and told her to take it easy for a second and then our 2 dogs who have spent day after day happily playing decided that the stress of watching all this was too much so they had a big barking rouse at each other, which was so loud that the builder from across the way heard it and saw us and doned his chivalry superman cape and came to help.

My friend calmed down and Superman and I helped her up.

She said that falling was the thing she was most afraid of. She worried all the time that if she falls she will not be able to get up.

But you know what? I reckon that there is more good than shit in people and that if we fall, more than likely there will be someone around to give us a hand up, and so the fear of falling aught not stop us having a go.

How's that for philosophical Tuesday? yeh I just made that up cos the last bit made me wonder if I had begun to stream live from some evangelical Baptist Sunday service.

Posh new Pacific Fair

The Posh end of the shopping centre has been open for a little while now so I ventured in for a little look see this morning. I figured that with all the 'beautiful' folk here at the Goldie out pounding the pavement and working up a healthy glow doing the Marathon, there'd be hardly anyone there, I was right. It wasn't quite deserted but it was close.

Coffee and a toasted croissant saw me in good form for an explore.

All the swanky labels are either there, or 'coming soon', so if you want the latest in thousand dollar handies or some real sparkles for your ears, then maybe you want to pop in. And if you need to have a little sit down after flashing the black plastic then the relaxing areas are really lovely. I do hope that there is some sort of maintenance contract sorted though cos I wouldn't want to see it all fall into disrepair especially as it seemed most used by youngsters who had more interest in playing and slopping water from the fountain all about, than just taking a load off. I reckon the fountain which is very fine, will prove to be an excellent swimming hole for kids in the summer. Seriously I don't think I will be able to resist dipping a toe in, so there will be no stopping the kids.

The new David Jones is spacious and glittering and new and surprisingly empty of punters. Put it this way, if had planned on a big stealing fest, today would not have been the day, cos sales' folk outnumbered shoppers many times over. Yeh it was early, but still. It was a similar story in Myers and any other store I went into.

Now that might have been because everyone was out running, or it might be simply because locals are driving to Robina, where they can park all day for nothing. Yep there is no checking of the time to see if you are close to overstaying your welcome, you can just have a really good mooch around.

I knew I wasn't gonna be more than 3 hours cos I only wanted a look, but come serious shopping days, time just seems to slip by me and I have been known to be as long as it takes to gather up enough shopping bags as to make it impossible to walk any further, so requiring a trip to the car, and I have done this on a loop. But alas, this won't be happening at Pac Fair. Certainly not while I can drive to Robina and park up without running a hour glass.

I hate having to run to a schedule when I am doing a leisurely hunt for nothing in particular, and so I got a bit cross when I noticed that I kept checking the time just to make sure. I would have gone a bit nuts if I had run a few minutes over so checking happened.

I guess the truth is that parking is a growth industry. A decade or so ago, hospitals worked out that charging to park up was gonna generate huge returns, so they built parking garages in lieu of patient facilities and raked in the cash from visitors and patients alike. When they first brought in paid parking at the Wesley Hospital in Brisvegas, if you were a patient you could get your parking validated, but that has gone by the wayside, so now, if there's a car involved, there's money owing. But at least the car parks are generally well planned and easy to traverse. Not at Pac Fair. The Flyover entry to the car parking 'best for Woolies and the cinema' is all over the place like a mad woman's breakfast. You drive up to go down and then to get out you drive down again but there is no lane to turn off into Hooker Blv, so there is all sorts of argie bargie going on at the lights onto Sunset Blv. The exit signage is poor and don't be surprised to find yourself going the wrong way up a oneway lane cos the signage for that is pretty shit too.

See it's ridiculous isn't it? My morning of sight seeing which was lovely, is so tainted by the parking fiasco. That's the final impression I have of the place.

Robina here I come.

Small 'l' liberal Vs Fascist

I am sure that some people will even find fault with this photo, but I say, 'Suck it up sweetheart'

I reckon all too often its the small 'l' liberals, the lefties, the greenies, who want us to be free and loving and equal and calm and peaceful, but who only wear their come-hug-me cloud bandanas around like minded folk, and when they come upon - oh shit don't tell me, don't talk about it, how could anybody be so fucking stupid?, people who disagree with them, well then they rear their fascist flags and go all aggressive and antsy on their oppositions' arses.

It's been a big week of slagging off and name calling and the foolish displaying of more than a little suspect stats to prove an all too often not well defined point. I would like to say I am over it, but in truth I do enjoy a vigorous debate, although when it deteriorates into name calling and bullying, then I walk away, not feeling the need to have the last word, except of course I am having it here.

I did engage in the Brexit debate and then when it became heated and illogical and mean, I just stopped, not caring for a millisecond that the bullies might have thought they had won, cos their opinion is of no consequence to me.

And now with the Aussie election tomorrow, the rabid flag waving is creating a stormy gale again.

'Anyone who votes Liberal is a selfish fool who wants to see the permanent demise of Medicare and the public education system and the Barrier Reef and trees and the very air we breathe oh and also wants innocent children to die in detention.' Yep Liberal voters hang your heads in shame, you are the scum of the earth.

I have already voted. I voted Liberal.

This morning I saw the ultimate in small 'l' liberal bullshit, when a Sydney mum declared that her teenage son needs to reconsider his friendship with a mate of his cos the mate dared to pop up a selfie of him holding up a VOTE LIBERAL sign.

Now I didn't fancy engaging in that little discussion cos god knows no-one likes to be told how to parent their kids and I rather imagined that she had to be kidding, although I didn't see any LOLs. I am sure we'd all like to be able to choose our kids' friends and tell 'em who and what and where and why they can do stuff, under the guise of keeping 'em safe, but really it's all just more of the taste of the fascist fare that seems to be the dish of choice on social media at the moment.

I am positive that my girl's vote will cancel out my vote and whilst I could perhaps sway her to my perspective, I recognise her right to vote for whomever she chooses, and even though she has explained to me how she has decided on her choice and I reckon it's a bit limited, again I say, it's her right to vote however and for whomever she wants. It doesn't have to get to some slanging match where I call her all sorts of stupid.

I am a big believer in democracy.

And oddly that makes me a real small 'l' liberal. I am happy for people to choose for themselves, I don't think people need to bandy together in a common cause, people need to choose for themselves, have integrity and stand firm, but still be tolerant of other people's right to choose. Every person has a right to their own opinion and they have the right to be free of intimidation and threatening behaviour when expressing it. I'd like to think that everyone has the responsibility to use their brains, to think for themselves, and determine their own futures, but that might just be taking things a little too far.

The leftie tolerance seems very much to end at the leftie end.

I am yet to read a comment from this week's loudest lefties, that I am entitled to my opinion, a different opinion, a considered thoughtful opinion,  and when I have pointed out a fundamental flaw or ignorance of the facts that is irrefutable, they have just glossed over it. Really the conversations have been more than a little like arguing with a year 9 kid. Those kids are experts in only hearing what they want to hear and then jumping up and down having a little tantie in a bid to get what they want. I learnt very early on that when dealing with teenagers, it was vital never to back 'em into a corner cos they just come out swinging. I reckon lefties must feel backed into a corner all the time, cos they so often seem to be swinging, tossing around the guilty stick.

Yeh I want to be a winner on Saturday, and yeh I enjoyed being a Brexit winner, but if the majority of folk want something else then I will just have to suck it up and hope that my sort of sanity prevails at sometime in the future. No I don't have to like it, but I do need to respect it.

See that's what I reckon is missing in all this heated shit shoveling, RESPECT.

And the irony is that RESPECT is exactly what the lefties are supposed to be big on, but in reality they only seem to have respect for 'their own tribe', any difference of opinion is met with ridicule and bullying and name calling.

Aretha Franklin must just want to let loose with her hit from the roof tops at times like these.