the ability to laugh at yourself

They say the ability to laugh at yourself is a good thing? Well… considering that I am proud to say that I can use power-tools both left or right handed, (maybe too proud), how did I manage to mash the IKEA assembly process of my Rigga coat stand so well? Only after I had tightened the last bolt with the supplied Allen Key, did I realize the whole thing needed to be completely taken apart and re-assembled.

Good Noise

Playing guitar in front of an audience after a lapse of many years was daunting, but totally satisfying. There was the fear of making a fool of myself to overcome. Now that I have done that, I feel relieved. Very relieved!

The opportunity of joining in with some very fine musicians had a dual effect. Firstly it kept me safe, because no matter what I did or didn’t do, the music wasn’t going to be bad. That kept the fear at bay. Secondly, there was the prize of acceptance.

When you become part of an ensemble, eyes meet, and there is a tiny imperceptible nod of approval and greeting. The music carries you. Lifts you.

Playing guitar is like riding a bicycle, you don’t forget.

Noise is the enemy

Sub-Titled: Headaches & Migraines

I can recall only about 5 experiences of having a headache during my entire life. So clearly, I am not in the position of commenting what it is like to suffer from chronic headaches or migraines. With that in mind, I can offer sympathy, but not much empathy. I simply don’t know what it is like to lay motionless in a darkened room for 2 days.

What I do know is… I know what it is like living with someone that does suffer from massive 24 to 48 hour headaches. Everything stops. You end up on tippy-toe, struggling to keep the house quiet. Even the quietest, most hesitant, “Is there anything I can do to help?” is viewed as an intrusion.

So delivering a hot herbal tea or a Panadol becomes an invasion. Shutting the door and keeping the blinds closed becomes a priority. Moving about the house becomes an obstacle course as you make sure you avoid any creaky floorboards or doors. You can’t pack the dishwasher and certainly can’t run it. And even though it’s the weekend, any plans of mowing the lawns are thrown out the shuttered window.

Noise is the enemy.

Try telling that to the kids. 2 days of being quiet is like a life-time punishment. Playing Lego or Pokemon can be great fun, but keeping the volume down isn’t.

With my young daughter, we often escaped to playgrounds. (BTW: I thoroughly recommend the sand-pit playground at Dendy Park, but the tip is… wear appropriate shoes that can contain sand and be prepared to get in at ground level… shifting large piles of sand at your daughter’s command is your job, get used to it.)

My older son was more difficult to contain. We often managed a subdued version of backyard cricket, but with no loud cries of “Howzat?” Backyard soccer was even harder, as goal-scoring meant the ball had to crash into the back fence.

And when my son had a sporting event, I often took my daughter, trying to balance the watching him part and keeping my daughter happy at the playground (thankfully usually located right next to each other). (Also BTW, thankfully)… my daughter is a gregarious, social soul, so at the playground, once she found a friend (at times she was not very discerning in who she considered a friend)… nevertheless, she became engrossed and happy and let me drift a little more towards watching my son play. (Which BTW, is a well-known and important part of “Dad, did you see me?”)

It may all sound a bit chaotic and improvised, but it’s hard to regret good times spent with your children.

The resistance of going to see a doctor was immense. Combined with my lack of personal experience, knowledge and understanding, this was probably the reason it went on so long. Eventually I made myself unpopular by insisting.

Wild Hair Versus Time Management

My hair has always been my distinctive feature. For years I had a very long ponytail. It was obscenely long, and by that I mean, it reached my bum cheeks. I suppose you could brand it a I-could-give-a-fig-what-you-think-of-it look. Now, having cut that tail away, my short hair has decided to appear unruly and a little wild. I like it that way.

Basically I have decided to go for a look that doesn’t require a check in the mirror. It’s now a take-it-as-it-is look. And while I might agree with Leonard Cohen when he says, “I don’t like your fashion business mister and I don’t like these drugs that keep you thin. I don’t like what happened to my sister”… I’d be foolish to think that I was attempting some anti-fashion statement, because, as we all know, my unruly take-it-as-it-is look was claimed by fashion long ago. They are well organized and a little smarter than me. (BTW: I don’t have a sister, but I do worry about the influence of the fashion industry on my 14 year old daughter)

I guess I should qualify what I mean by the I-could-give-a-fig-what-you-think-of-it look... I actually called it my trained-monkey look. Working in Germany as an Aussie, it made no sense pretending I could be reliably & stolidly German, instead, looking creative and a little exotic sure helped put a few extra Deutsch Marks in my pay-check. So really, in a way, it was a calculated, highly manicured I-could-give-a-fig-what-you-think-of-it-performing-monkey look.



My hair was always a topic opener. I'd be approached by strangers, in the street, in shopping malls, on holidays, asking, "How long did it take me to grow it? (the pony-tail)"... After a while, my answers became more creative. One story was that I started growing it in school. It was a strict school and didn't allow long hair, so, subversively I attempted to pretend I hadn't grown my hair long at all by brushing the back part forwards. Then (according to my story), my Maths teacher Mr McIntire stepped in and decided to humiliate me in front of the other students by making a pony-tail. Only he didn't succeed in humiliating me at all. I liked it... and.... kept it. So much for Authority trying to teach me THAT lesson.

That was one story. It's sort of true. It did happen that way, but I couldn't endorse it as the entire truth. Mostly it just happened without me noticing it. And that's not much of a story.

What I did notice though was that my look annoyed my family, so I think I played on that a bit. Call me a rebel or a black sheep, but it was a subject that cropped up constantly in the family environment.

Mum and I would joke that when we went out together, that I should perhaps walk a few steps away from her so people wouldn't think we were together. We joked about her disassociating herself from me. just in case she met someone she knew. She was fairly good-natured about it really.

My Dad, typically, applied his own sense of wry humour. He just said, "Enjoy it while you still have some."

That always reminds me of George Carlin's comment about people that shave their heads. He said, "If you really want to be bald, do what I did, wait a while."

But what do looks have to do with time management? Well, having maintained a I-could-give-a-fig-what-you-think-of-it look for years and, now cultivating a take-it-as-it-is look, I must also accept some perceptions about me that may or may not go with that look.

For instance… not too long ago I received a text message at about 8.30am from my sister-in-law. The text started with the line, “When you are awake….” At first I felt like I wanted to defend myself. “Hey! I wake up every day at 7am (even bloody Sundays!!)”… but I fought the urge, realizing I would be wasting my time with that sort of reply.

So fortunately I resisted the moment. Fortunately I realized that I wasn’t going to change a perception or opinion. Fortunately, the thought occurred to me, that…  and I had to admit that I been the one to cultivate the perception in the first place. When you think about it, one of the best things about Performing-monkeys (especially & after all) is that they don't need to respect the standards of mundane human behaviour like effective time management. There's a certain lack of expectation super-imposed in the look. That's the message of the look anyway.

Let me just add this… A few weeks later, on a Sunday morning no less, at 7.29am, I had a valid & legitimate reason for texting her, but I couldn’t help beginning it with “Sorry, I know it’s a bit early on a Sunday morning, but… “

Making Things Up…

Today I was told I was making things up…

When you are the one that needs to fix something that has been broken in an anger tantrum, you tend to remember it pretty well. For example: watching a door being slammed violently & repeatedly in a fit of rage (slammed perhaps 20 to 30 times?)… you realize that you are predicting an inevitable result.

To be true, the circumstances that caused the tantrum do become blurred over time, but the broken item and the process of fixing it become solid memories. I remember throwing stuff in the bin and seeking out replacements. I remember using various tools. I remember working with Dad as he used the welder, listening to his opinion how violent the action must have been to snap a piece of solid metal.

(Later, meaning today)… to be then told the breakage never happened is difficult to respond to. To be told that I am making things up leaves one speechless and leaves only one practical option … to simply walk around and point at the various repaired items. What else is there to say?

Alfred Hitchcock Lights

Sometime in the nineteen-nineties (I forget exactly when), Bavaria Film Studios dismantled an old studio, pulling down the building to erect a new one. This old studio had been the one that Alfred Hitchcock had used in the very beginning of his career. In fact, (or so I think), this was the place that Alfred Hitchcock got his first break. It wasn’t England and way before Hollywood… this was Munich in Bavaria.

To set the scene, let me explain that Bavaria Film Studios are big (you can compare them as the Warner Brothers of Germany). They even have a Studio Tour (which I also worked on, doing the camera effects of the Wild West Show)… Yes, the Germans have a Wild West Show!!

Now in case you don’t know, a sound stage is effectively an empty shell. Apart from sound-proofing, a massive door to allow a semi-trailer in, an extremely high ceiling (to position lights out of the way), and a large array of separate electrical fuses to run those lights, a sound stage is more like an empty warehouse. Not very romantic considering the “magic” that is made in there.

Apart from Hitchcock, who was making television in the early 50’s, (I was told he shot the scenes in German during the morning, then repeated those exact same scenes in English in the afternoon), many German and international films of the 1950’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s had used this old studio. It was a piece of history.

I was involved in the design process of the new studio, so in a way, I am partly responsible for its’ demise.

The reality was that the old studio wasn’t flexible enough to meet the demands of modern production. Back in the 50’s, to fulfill the obligations of Hitchcock’s television production process, it had been fitted with a lighting-grid. This lighting grid was now old, but in use on a daily basis, most often for television. It was functional, but it had one major drawback; the lighting grid wasn’t retractable. It was hung too low. That meant it was still suitable and appropriate for TV production, but with a few caveats. Crane-work was limited. And clearly the height of sets was also an issue.

Well… the point of all this anecdotal meandering is this. I have 4 lights from that old studio. They are Bernhard Deltschaft 2K Fresnels. In perfect working order. They were given to me, but to keep the legalities intact, I paid $100 each for them. (To put that in some perspective, the globe alone is worth $1500).  Also, to keep the info flowing, in German, a light is called a Scheinwerfer, which translates back into English as, a light-thrower, which is a very apt description of what a film light does. Also, the word Fresnel explains that the light is focusable.

Well, I can’t certify, verify or prove that these lights were actually used in an Alfred Hitchcock production, but I can claim that they are from the “original” 1950’s studio, so there is a strong likelihood they were.

I am not big on collecting, but these lights count amongst my most prized possessions.

Memory Jogs

There is a good chance my daughter might not remember some of the things that happened when she was younger, so let me take a few moments to jog the memory.

Remember the time? Through the laneway opposite your old school? Remember the place I’d always park when picking you up from school?… When we discovered the ant march? Remember how we tracked it all along the street trying to guess just how many ants there were? Millions!

Remember how we tried to chose one ant and then follow it along its’ travels? And how impossible that was! We were pretty determined weren’t we, trying again and again. Remember how we squabbled, you claiming our special ant was over where you were, while I nonchalantly insisted it was here with me! And just because you had better eye sight than me, don’t think I will admit you might have been right!

Remember how we kept on telling each other, “Be careful where you stand, there’s another line behind you!” And there was! Remember how we discovered that whole new parallel march near the curb, and watched it spill over onto the road, realizing only then, that the other side of the street was connected. We needed a new estimate. Zillions!

Remember how we followed the trail… the trail that kept going around the corner of the street? Remember how we kept asking ourselves, “Was this one mighty ants’ nest or was it an ant jamboree, where all the local ant tribes had gathered?”

It was truly awesome. The word of the day. Does this jog your memory? It does mine.

I know you remember this? (You took the photo).



Our Playground Motto: “If it’s not dangerous, it’s not fun!”

I think we could confidently claim that we knew where every single one of these spinning-things was

(and could rate the playground) spanning an area from Port Melbourne to Wantirna down to Mordiallic.

Picking a Pet Hate

If there was ever a reason why I would wish my blogs could be read by millions of people it would be this… I would like to get the message out to those people that pick their noses.

Especially I’d like to remind the nose-pickers of this world… that… when you are stopped at the traffic lights and are feeling secure in the cocoon of your car, and you feel the urge…. please consider that your car has windows!

And just to prove that I know a little about nose picking, this is a photo of me at age 10.
PS: I got over it.

Sleeping Through Xmas: The Facts

Ooops, it was pointed out to me that I had promised this as my very next blog. My Bad. (Better late than never)

The actual details of how I managed to sleep through Xmas are quite simple. I worked in Munich on the 23^rd, got on an airplane, arriving in Melbourne fairly late on the 24^th. Falling asleep on Xmas Eve, I couldn’t be wakened till 3pm on Xmas Day.

Washing

Who would have thought that I would know something about washing clothes? Certainly not me! And yet, here I am, capable of operating a programmable washing machine, inclusive of making decisions on water temperature according to the type of fabric!  

Not long ago, someone “caught” me hanging the washing out, and a comment was made that expressed her surprise. How is it possible that she doesn’t know that I have been doing the majority of the washing over the last decade? I admit I felt the insult.

But that’s too harsh. It wasn’t even an intentional put-down. It just came out of the typical stereo-typing that women do for men & likewise, that men do for women.

But I won’t be delving into the sticky area of women V men. Not today. The subject is washing. And a new washing machine. But is it necessary to read the instructions? Surely a little prior experience will help me through? All of the known buttons are there… except one. The selection button for “woolens” is missing. (Looks like I need to ask my Mum).

Sitting and sharing a cup of tea, my Dad chips in and suggests we don’t truly need a washing machine at all. Raised in the arid lands in a place called Benetook outside of Mildura in the 1920’s & 30’s, he tells us about using a rock.

With Mum reading through the new washing-machine instructions to solve our “woolens” puzzle, Dad proceeds to tell us about his time in Tennant Creek in the 1930’s. He was working the gold-fields and the proud owner of a lumber-jacket. He gave it to the local aboriginals to wash. When it came back, it was as thin as hessian… certainly not a thick lumber-jacket anymore. Which prompted me to comment, “I think we had better stick with the washing machine Dad.”

Washing makes one aware of the weather. A good drying day? I have been told that ironing clothes is therapeutic. That I have never understood.

Progress: A Vent by Request

My Mum requested this. And who I am to deny a mother’s wish?

Mum likes to say, “In the good old days”.

OK, let’s see what that might mean in relation to Progress by looking at this specific example.

Updating Health Insurance Paperwork. “In the good old days” my Mum went down to a local Australian Unity Health Insurance branch. It was a shop-front store located only 10 minutes walk (3 minutes by car). There were counters with staff behind them, and if it was busy, you might have to wait in line.

When you were served, you laid your paperwork on the counter and completed the business at hand. The person behind the counter maybe offered some advice and perhaps helped fill in the correct form (or not… depending on the number of customers waiting in the queue). At best, a simple bill payment took a few minutes of your time. Or, if there was a complicated and difficult decision to be made between multiple alternatives, it took a little longer. Maybe 30 minutes, tops! Mum says that “in the good old days” she could complete all of this and walk away with a piece of paper in her hand to file away in the Health Insurance folder. It had certainly been done.

In “the good old days” Mum had a signed & stamped document. She could wave that in court if she had needed to.

Now, if we progress not a lot of years to the present time, the process of doing the same business is quite different. It has all pretty much become automated, with on-line forms to fill in, logins & passwords to keep secret, help-desk telephone numbers to call when it doesn’t work as planned. You then need to listen to the options… carefully… pressing buttons 1 or 2 or 3 or 4 or 5. Not forgetting the hash-key to activate your particular option. That places you in the queue. If you are anything like me, you begin to worry about how much battery you have left on your phone.

But why am I explaining all this? We all know about it. We have all experienced (or to use a much better word ‘endured’) waiting on-hold. We have all experienced the hours and days needed to work-through an error in the automated world.

Because, even if it all the technology works, there is one vital difference between “the good old days” and our present time. It is the uncertainty of the result. There will always remain an element of doubt that everything has in fact functioned correctly. Yes, it’s always a good idea to keep in mind that you have just returned from a journey into the virtual reality of cyber-space.

I don’t think anyone would consider me anti-internet or anti-online. And I am certainly no Luddite. I not only embrace new technologies, I have been involved in some of them.

Nevertheless, my Mum has a particularly valid point when she sighs and compares “the good old days” with this uncertain journey we call Progress.

Learning New Things

I don’t think I can claim that I learn “something new” very often.

Usually (or so it seems), any given day or event falls simply into the category of confirming what I already knew. A repeat performance. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. There’s a lot of power in repetition. If it was sport or playing guitar, it would be considered practice. And that is certainly positive.

Yesterday though, I added a new knowledge. Loosely speaking, it was the technique of “panel-beating” (specifically, it was straightening a bent metal tube from my professional-grade Millar tripod). My Dad (who BTW is 96), is a “mechanical-advantage genius”. Yesterday he taught me… (again)… that most things are possible if you only know how.

He is a genuine Mr Fix It.

Again?... Dad has been repeating this to me since I was a kid. “If you have the right tool, most things are possible, if you only know how.”

Dad doesn’t always have the right tool. Enter the concept “improvisation”. Or to use that expression “improvisation is the mother of all invention”.

And if improvising, with the handle of a screw-driver, a triangular wedge, a hacksaw blade, a rasped washer, a cut-off piece of water pipe and some looped wire doesn’t work? Dad makes a tool that does. (I did say that he was a “mechanical-advantage genius” didn’t I?)

Working with my Mr Fix It Dad isn’t easy… (that’s a Father-Son thing), but… (without going into the Father-Son Thing that says I will forever remain 14 years old in his estimation of my abilities, especially highlighted by my Mum coming up to us working together with a bemused expression to ask, “Are you two still talking to each other?”)… I have to recognize that over the years, I have benefitted by learning how to use all manner of tools, and have learned the lesson of seeing a problem as fixable.

With my status of being the eternally youthful 14yo apprentice accepted, (all sons and daughters may nod their heads in agreement in that regard), the ability of hammering or using a screwdriver in either left or right hand is one such bonus. It’s brilliant to know that I can take a leaking tap/faucet and fix it.

In response to countless times I have been asked why my Dad and I tackle a job ourselves (even at age 96), rather than calling in the appropriate plumber/carpenter/builder/etc? The answer: I have been trying to change/influence my father for years…

In conclusion: Dad told me this story about a genius panel-beater that he knew. It was during WW2 and a front fender/wing for a Rolls Royce needed to be repaired. Spare parts during WW2 didn’t exist, so the genius panel beater took a raw piece of flat sheet metal and with nothing more than a hammer and anvil, created a perfectly shaped replacement part!

The quiet cup of tea

This cup of tea was significant for me. Of course I do not think that this ‘significance’ went the other way. I would have been a dim recollection in Audrey Hepburn’s memory.

It was 1992, It was at the Munich Film Festival. Audrey Hepburn had attended to promote her Good Will Ambassadorship for UNICEF. She was inspiring, suffering from cancer and clearly frail.

I was working as a news cameraman. The various TV crews had each booked an interview. We were last. (we were always last in the pecking order.)

After the many interviews, she was visibly tired. Depleted. She was advised to rest and offered a cup of tea. She then invited me to join her. That in itself was an awkward decision, because I felt like I was taking advantage of her graciousness. She insisted with these remarkable words, “You must always appreciate the moment. Please join me.”

With the utmost honesty, those 10 minutes were significant for that alone. How many times per day do I forget that?

She asked about me, my family.
At the time, my son Lukas wasn’t yet two years old, so I beamed joyful anecdotes of this 'new being that had changed my life'. I rattled on about Fatherhood & Responsibility, and his infectious giggle.


Of course I could sense her frustration that her time was nearly gone, that her body had been sapped of vigor, and considering that… and because of that… and in spite of that… maybe… maybe I sensed that this moment… this moment in time that she was choosing to spend with me… was a human moment. Maybe I sensed the importance and significance of that?

10 minutes later, I was back in the bustling crowd.

When Joe Cocker spat on me

What I notice so far is that I haven’t talked about the camera that creates my camera-eye, or as it is properly known, POV (Point Of View). (I intend making some technical, practical, philosophical and esoteric observations about that a little later.)

But first… some day-to-day stuff. Starting work at 6am every day, or working 16 hour days is common. (For me it has been).

Glamorous? Can be. Having a quiet cup of tea with Audrey Hepburn counts in that category I believe.

Contradictory? Being 40cm away from a singing Joe Cocker sounds pretty cool, until you realize that you are getting covered in saliva.

Frustrating? Being one missed phone call away from working with Michael Jackson.

Doubly frustrating? Doing work for Ronnie Woods (Rolling Stones) and not getting paid.

Thrilling? Dangling my legs out of a helicopter while filming.

Dangerous? Being literally blown 15 meters (and landing on my arse) after getting too close to the blast of a Top-Fuel Dragster. (Yes I had been warned, but did I listen?)

Interesting? I have also enjoyed chatting/debating/arguing with Malcolm McLaren (re: Sex Pistols fame)

Pushing The Envelope? I worked about 5 years in Research & Development (R&D) of Digital Cinematography BEFORE it became what it is today. We came up with some new techniques, new solutions, and dare I say… inventions.

Well, before all of this begins to sound like a verse from Bruce Springstein’s song “Glory Days”, I should mention the downside of the 24/7 lifestyle I was leading … that my family constantly reminded me of having missed my son’s birthday and having slept through Xmas.

(my next blog I will call How I Slept Through Xmas)

Gillard V Rudd = MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction).

Normally, I avoid political comment, but really, this current week of Australian politics cannot be avoided.

This Gillard V Rudd jostle for leadership appears to me that the Labor Party has their finger on a self-destruct button.

Current political commentary is a flurry of revolving & spiraling synonyms; contest, leadership, presidential, democracy, factions, politics, lunacy, coup de tat, fight, slogans, surreal…

I grew up in a world of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). Etched into my memory are the names of Khrushchev, Kennedy, Reagan and Doctor Strangelove.

Thankfully, the outcome of Gillard V Rudd is not the end of the world.

To quote the quotes: “History teaches us that we learn nothing from history” and “History Repeats” …but maybe the appropriate quote goes to an AGE Newspaper  Letter-To-The Editor writer Russell Castley, Creswick who says, “ANYONE but  Abbott.”

Funny things people say to me (Part 1)

Why do you need your glasses? What do you want to see?

BadDesign

As someone that speaks both English and German, shouldn’t I tell them what their company name means in English?

Translation: The Magazine for BAD CULTURE.
BAD|DESIGN
The 100 Best Bad-Designs

Talk Back Radio

I was a little unsure what to write for my next blog post. Having recalled a 1986 nursery rhyme as my first blog, then added a birthday memory and a couple of preamble entries on being a grassroots football cameraman, I realized I wanted to do something contemporary. All this retrospective stuff was locking me into the past.

So yes, I was a little unsure what to write for my next blog post… that is… until I received a JokeMail. It originated from XXXXX and so therefore, I treated it as not-spam. It arrived today, so that filled the credentials of being contemporary. Perfect.

The subject title told me nothing other than, “Ross Greenwood”.

Do I know him? Who is Ross Greenwood? Should I know him?

I opened the email. I read it. Then I scratched my head a couple of times. After a couple of internet searches, I now know that Ross Greenwood is a 2GB TalkBack Presenter. He has a show called Money News.

Now, apart from the obvious connection that 2GB TalkBack is run by that crackpot Alan Jones, I was wondering why(?) I was being sent an email with contents claiming to be current (today being the 19^th of February 2012), when the contents were from June 2009? There it goes again, even my attempt at being up-to-date gets locked into a time-warp and throws me back to 2009!

Well, I guess jokes can be universal and not necessarily time-stamped either, Mark Twain, Groucho Marx and the Abbot & Costello routine “Who’s On First?” are great examples of that. But this JokeMail didn’t make that grade… and if I have ever made an understatement, that was it! To use a Borat style idiom, “This is funny … PAUSE… not!”

No, this was certainly no joke! It was in reality a propaganda chain-email. It was the “if you agree, send it on” type.

It was a TalkBack Radio rant. The gist of it being; Australian Government Debt is a plunging Australians towards financial disaster. The Labor Party (Gillard, Rudd, Swan etc) have no experience running a business (small or large), no years working as a director of a public company, family business… no years of anything except being Trade Union lawyers. One sentence would have said it all… “They are incompetent and have no experience.”

To keep the vitriol folksy, he even says he uses a home-loan calculator! Figures are produced to explain this debt and how it affects the Australian people. $200 billion is $2 hundred thousand million. $733pa for every man, woman & child over 20 years to repay this debt. (2009 figures)

The rant concludes with, “If you have read this you may like to pass it on to your friends to help educate a little as you, them and I, will be repaying the above.”

The tag line is “Confirms my long held belief that we go to the ballot box to vote in people to manage our country that we wouldn’t employ.”

At first I felt like replying to XXXXX, asking him…”Why are you sending me this Ross Greenwood/Alan Jones Quote from 2009?”

BTW: I call it this Ross Greenwood/Alan Jones Quote for the following reason. It is a combination-quote, and by that I mean… it actually combines a direct-quote of this Ross Greenwood – 2GB Money News fellow, with an Alan Jones direct-quote (who is not attributed for his contribution).

Did that make sense? Can I put it this way? The whole direct-quote is attributed to Ross Greenwood, but it isn’t all his. He only said half of it. Well… why quibble with that? … let’s just assume that Ross Greenwood might have said it - if only Alan Jones hadn’t gotten in before him. Alan Jones employs Ross Greenwood at 2GB, so maybe it’s in his best interests not to quibble either?

I have listened to Alan Jones on the radio. (If you don’t know who he is, look him up). He owns the radio station 2GB and expresses views that are…. well…. ummm … let’s put it this way… Alan Jones is very good at isolating a piece of information to suit his political agenda. He extrapolates, expands and distorts that piece of information into opinions of his own… opinions that are very out of context with the original fact. Why should Alan Jones be concerned about that? Extreme views are provocative, and therefore boost his ratings.

Yep, his resulting view/opinion is often quite ridiculous and makes you wonder how he started using that particular fact to get where he ends up? It’s classic train-of-thought stuff, and if he didn’t actually own and run the radio station, it would be easy to dismiss him. But he is a powerful voice. Dismissing him as a crank doesn’t work.

Debt? Good or bad? The people of Greece wouldn’t be ones saying it’s good, nor the people of the USA paying for the trillions they spent in Iraq. But looking at the way the News Corp (Rupert Murdoch) empire was built on debt, there are clearly two sides to any issue, but what do I know? I am no expert.

Gillard, Rudd, Swan & Co? I am certainly no fan.

So? How to turn this piece of propganda back into a JokeMail? Mmmm, let me see? Unlike those jokers from the Labor Party… of the 18 points listed that disqualifies the Gillard/Rudd/Swan crew from being competent managers (or even employable)… How do I rate? ie: I have experience …

spent running their own business ü - spent starting their own business ü -  spent as a director of a family business or company ü - as a director of a public company – in a senior position in a public company ü– in a senior position in a private company ü – working in corporate finance – corporate or business restructuring ü– working in or with a bank ü – experience in the capital markets – in a stock-broking firm – negotiating debt facilities with banks ü – running a small business ü– at the World Bank or IMF or OECD – in Treasury or Finance.

As you can see, I personally have 9 of the 18 positively ticked. Can I add one more they forgot? Multi-Million $ Project Management ü

That means… (according to Alan Jones & Ross Greenwood), I am half way there in qualifying for the job of running this country!

Fair Play

Before I fall into the trap of chronicling all the injustices & negative aspects of the game of football, (as seen by The Camera Eye), I think it’s important to balance all of that, with some of the positives and the rewarding side.

So… let me state categorically…  Not all of the parents are ugly self-centered ego maniacs. In fact, 91% seem to be just Mums & Dads that want their child to do well. My microphone picks up quite a lot of the good-natured chatter, calls of encouragement and applause that originates from their direction. Of course they are partisan, and (at times) blindly one-eyed when calling out “off-side!”, but there is nothing wrong with that in my opinion.

I’d also like to specially thank the woman that bought me a cappuccino and then simply disappeared again without even waiting for my thanks.  And also the guy that bought me the souvlaki while I was perched up on the narrow scoreboard at the Oakleigh Cannons ground.

Often, the admin & team-managers are Mums and Dads, typically identified by their harassed look. With few exceptions, their good intentions outweigh their occasional hysterical fits when it is discovered their team doesn’t have the correct colored socks! I do not envy them, (particularly when they have travelled from country Victoria and the game is scheduled to start within the next 15 minutes). You could maybe call them ‘The MacGyver’s of Football’.

Fair Play takes various forms. Clearly, spontaneous on-field good-sporting behavior is the one that most readily puts a smile on your face. I have only published a couple of these on youtube, but there were more that I have neglected… Interestingly, George Lambadaridis made his A-League debut for Brisbane Roar only last week, but here is a clip (from 2009) that illustrates fair play.

The Camera Eye sees what it sees through the lens of the camera. The peripheral world beyond it isn’t recorded. Both the shot-gun & omni microphones are professional, so they pick up a lot that isn’t  discernable to the naked ear. I do attempt to warn spectators of that fact.

I am often asked for an instant replay, ie: “Was it handball?” “Off-side?” “Did it cross the goal line?” “Linesman, the throw goes the other way!”… “Show the Ref there are 2 sides playing!” is a common call. Following the game with a camera as I do, I naturally become a spectator to not only the game itself, but to the spectators themselves.

I try to see my position as impartial. I am a mere documenter of the event. When I was filming a match that included my son, even he suffered from that. When re-viewing the match and creating/editing the highlights package, I have a strict guideline I adhere to. Only the best play is used. No favorites. Both sides are handled equally. Any of the highlight packages will prove that.

What do I think of the Referees? (that is a separate blog, but generally speaking they do what they can)

The FFV & FFA? … Not all are autocrats.

Coaches? Quite a variation there. Good intentioned I have no doubt. (Perhaps another separate blog?) I will venture to comment however, that some have managed to impress me, while some others have raised the incredibly pertinent question in reference to their’ (what is the best word, how do I say it?)… wisdom? (Also noting that the Camera Eye does record pretty much all that goes on)

More on fair play… I do like the introduction of the organized team line-up and the shaking of hands (notably topical in light of the Suraez - Evra Handshake controversy).

And what of the players then? 99.99% are fantastic! I can say with honesty and include players from 5 to 36 year old, that it is an absolute rarity to come across someone that is (or could be called) a bad egg. Admittedly, there are degrees… as there are some that are more prone to forgetting themselves in the heat-of-the moment, than others.

Yep, from A Camera Eye, it’s enjoyable to watch a great play unfold, even if it doesn’t result in a goal. I see a lot of good football being played.

The Bubble-Wrap Rap

Quite honestly, one of the best ideas I have ever had, was to collect sheets (and sheets and sheets and even more sheets) of bubble-wrap, for my daughter’s dance-party birthday. Secret preparations took many months. It was kept as a surprise.

On the day, while the kids were still inside, I laid the sheets of bubble-wrap out on our concreted patio area. The multiple layers were soft and spongy. The music system was set up and ready to go. We were ready for the Bubble-Wrap Rap.

When the kids came out, I was more than disappointed. I was gutted. The dubious looks on their faces told the story… This was “WTF?”... This was, “What moron likes to dance on bubble wrap?” … and, “Was this some devious adult plot?”

So while the specially prepared age-orientated music blared, tentative toes prodded the bubble-wrap on the ground like they were testing to see if it was contaminated with toxic-waste. I was mortified and in shock. All those months of obsessive bubble-wrap hoarding and storage! My shattered mind recalled my thoughts filled with the anticipation of seeing their faces light up. The joy. The glee. One of the best ideas I have had, ever! Everyone likes popping bubble-wrap!

Don’t they? Not only had I already pictured the kids going wild, I had already heard them creating a new soundtrack of crackling, popping beats.

Roxy must have seen my face. Or maybe the thought just “popped” into her head? She flew to the rescue. It was a brave act. Even at your own birthday party it is still difficult to resist peer pressure. Or… maybe her own love of bubble popping drove her? She jumped & popped. She sat & popped. She rolled & popped. A few eyes twinkled with uncertainty. Little pops rocked the air. Roxy said, “Oops I farted!” Did I detect a giggle from the outer circle?

There is no need to describe the utter mayhem that took place after that. 10 x 10 year olds can make a lot of noise without assistance.

The Bubble-Wrap Rap was… in the end… a popping sensation!

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, of The Beautiful Game

As someone with a professional looking video camera (that has filmed elite sockahh kids for a number of years), a lot of people approach me. Usually it’s about whether they can obtain the video footage for their own purposes, and whether or not I can do them a special favor?

Am I offered special favors in return? Not yet!

To be fair... There are times when I do get offered money. $5 or as much as $20 is common. It's understandable why the offer will go as high as $20... after all, they can pay about $40 for the latest Hollywood blockbuster DVD and they reason that my video won’t be a blockbuster, (and they are right it won’t include a ‘making of’)… so they seem to think that offering half of the latest Hollywood blockbuster DVD is really a pretty amazing offer on their part!

To clarify... I did donate my services for a number of years, and I did actually do quite a few of these special favors, producing Sockahh DVD’s, (with menus, but not including a ‘Making Of’)... and apart from a couple of glaring exceptions, all at no cost (not even asking $5).

I don’t do that anymore.

Well I still do occasionally... but I set a limit. To qualify, they have to be courteous.

Instead of courteous, maybe I mean respectful? (In Jamaica we’d bang fists together and say “Respect!” – Hey, been there, done that)...

I can recall many occasions when I have been approached for that special favor, and immediately got a demand. It was like hearing, “My son will be the next Harry Kewell, and you should feel honored doing this special favor for him!”

But wait! I didn’t make that up! That was actually said to me! (as near to word-for-word as I can remember)

Yes a lot of things are said to the guy with the professional looking video camera. But not everyone wants a special favor video. Some think I can DO SOMETHING about their grievance. I get to hear all the gritty details. “The coach/club/football federation did this, did that, did something else, promised me, reneged on the promise, lied, paid off, selected the wrong talent, wouldn’t know talent if, the system is all wrong, there is no system...”

Yes, I get to hear a lot of people’s stories & complaints, (and some are disturbingly similar, even true), but sometimes the complaints I hear are directed at me. In another blog I will tell you about The time I was threatened with a tax audit to convince me to stop filming an U15's Sockahh match, but maybe I've given the plot away to that one.

Frivolous and Soul Searching

As this is the first entry, it is best to explain very quickly that I have intentions of making some frivolous entries, as well as, exploring a few deeper themes.

This one is not merely frivolous, it is also drawn from some of my writing a long time ago.

It's a nursery rhyme which I have called...
Old Mother Hubbard Revisited

Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard
To fetch her Doggy a bone
But when she got there
The cupboard was bare.

So she sat down to eat
With the dog at her feet
And with her dog
She wasn't alone.

****** (written in 1984)******

You can notice the change from the orginal (first published in 1805). (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Mother_Hubbard)

As you can see, the original rhymed bone & none, which is an Eye Rhyme. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhyme)

Now, I am NOT saying that my version is an improvement on this very well established nursery rhyme, but I DO think that I made that first verse slightly more moral and sympathetic to her plight, simply by adding "the solace of companionship". (Note: I only revised the first verse because at the time of writing it in 1984, I didn't know there were multiple verses!)

I admit, a Nursery Rhyme is surely an unusual way of beginning my series of frivolous and/or soul-searching blogs, and begs the question how this fits in with the theme of A Camera Eye? Well... I have named it that, because I intend to look at how we view things, how we perceive, how we (maybe) take certain things for granted or perhaps gloss over them...

Interestingly, according to this web page (http://www.rhymes.org.uk/old_mother_hubbard.htm) Origins of Old Mother Hubbard lyrics in British history, it is claimed that the words to Old Mother Hubbard allude to Henry the Eighths' attempted divorce from Queen Katherine of Aragon. Old Mother Hubbard is supposedly Cardinal Wolsey who denied the divorce, and Henry VIII was the "doggie". I was certainly ignorant of that historical perspective when I did my version.

One more thing, (in the form of a disclaimer)... there has been activity called "nursery rhyme revisionism" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nursery_rhyme) which apparently 'improves' nursery rhymes. (ie: reforms involving violence & crime, political correctness, racism, sexism, etc) To the best of my knowledge, I am not associated with any of those.

Finally, lastly, and in conclusion, I notice this ended up a bit too scholarly, so rest assured, there will be other entries that will ignore facts entirely.