Solo Ventures

Not to burden anyone with my issues, more to unburden myself of these issues by writing them out. Here goes..  Okay. On my broader familt, there is a wing that has been delving in darkness; drug use, unruly teens, metal health, crime, biker gang membership and suicide. The media make movies about this shit, but being on the fringes of it in real life is bewildering and frankly drives me speechless. There's stuff gone on in the family branch that no-one will ever know about.  One of the byproducts of a brief, probably distasteful,  sexual encounter. This occurred in a drug rehab oremtal health ward, I dont know. The issue of this encounter was immediately placed on Care where he has remained for the previous 12 years. Unfortunately, these arrangements have been unstable, volatile and not much publicized.  In January this year word spread that this "poor boy" needed urgent placement as his host family, his aunt, husband and three teens, were in conflict and at risk of break

I haven't been onboard this week, due solely to the fact that she lays some 300k from where I live.  I do have good news though, and that is that this week I took formal ownership of JS and am about to secure the Clareville Beach mooring. The very same Clareville Beach from where Ann Gash departed and returned from her solo circumnavigation. I have new lateral chainplates to install too, so apart from shipping safety gear (flares, vhf & ?), I just need to overhaul the anchoring gear and  ready for sea. SydHarb is just 16nm, head to head, so a solid halfday's sail could see us swanning around under the coathanger. Apart from getting under sail and testing her out, the under the bridge sail is the only immediate goal I have for JS. Taking a dump out the front of government house and Vaucluse mansions are two other perverse pleasures I may take part in, though l will need to mind the Fun Police.              *     *     *     *     *     *  Yesterday I avoided 42° heat inland

After motoring to the beautiful Clareville Beach, I found the waters calm and silky dark. Slow skidding cumulus that reeked of showers, hung without menace.  The lovely Barry Marshall (previous owner) arrived with a bag of ship's papers which provided a potted history, receipts, manuals and registrations. Generously, he also passed on a porta potti, boat hook, auto bilge pump, two headsails and a spinnaker. The headsails felt heavy and crisp, were labelled North Sails and are possibly unused.  I also became the caretaker of the yellow surf ski. I'd seen Barry, who paddled across Bass Strait calmly paddle this as a tender and as he told me the lock code, extolled it's virtues and how easy it was "to stand on to get onboard ". Of course I couldn't wait to try out the new tender in order to check on on Jack Sprat  so off we went with se new chain plate fittings and little else. As we arrived at the gunnel Barry's words came to mind as I shuffled and jerked, g

I had hoped to get a new surf mat but they're not in vogie anymore. I settled for some new flippers, or fons, that I have just christened on all surf at One M ile Beach. The waves were hard to crack, but the fins helped &_being on the water was a blast. This tam beach is popular with tourists & learning surfers,_so it has a relaxed, dorky & cosmopolitan vibe  But I kind of enjoy the chill, fin feeling Jere when compared to chic uptight cloyong/claustrophobic  of my old local break.  Yesterday i had a bad tumble. At the risk of sounding like an old crony, ... O wasowing up a steep bank beside my"driveway" when my old boots lost their tempus grip on the planet. For a few milliseconds o did the cartoon thing of running fast and going nowhere, then the weight of the mower, its wheels were skidding too, came back at me. and I lost it. I recall rolling saodeways & backwards onto a very rocky surface & shitting myself over. breaking  bones. I copped a few ñce

today I seed to be picking up a trail of clothes, open doors, empty food containers and so on, left by my foster son. leaving the toothpaste out, was the last straw so I designed a story with a message.  a fellow staying in a large motel evacuated his room because the mattress was on fire. he walked out calmly standing on the street watching the motel catch fire while hundreds of patrons ran screaming from the building as it was razed to the ground.  the man overheard two exhausted fire chiefs discussing the cause of the blaze. He listening passively for some time, and heard his room identified as the start of the fire. He stood forwards and affirmed that indeed that was the case and stated that his mattress had caught fire. when asked whether he has started the fire, he uttered the famous line: " no, it was already on fire when I sat on it ".  I allowed my foster son to understand the personal distress and property loss caused by the fire, and of the man's decision to qu

i go out to gather firewood from the pile and overhead  a sky full of sparkling ancient orbs exuding timelessness. but inside an 11 year old squirt struggles with his illogical brain and oppositional heart to settle into what he must know is a secure and calm home. is a minute by minute focus far removed from the life of the stars.