Listen to Learn - Vote YES

 

For too long, successive governments have ignored the problems faced by the indigenous people in Australia. It’s too hard a basket to fix and besides they represent under 4% of the population. It’s not a vote winner. The time has come to give these first nations people a voice, forcing the governments at least to listen. 

Listen to learn, please. Vote YES on 14 October 2023.

Working nine to five

I learned to drive, bought a VW Golf, sadly, it was not the flashy GTI model. I also managed to snag a house, a cosy little terrace that cost less than pocket change today. To tackle the mortgage game, I unleashed my entrepreneurial spirit and rented out a room to a co-worker. Thanks to that genius move, I was living the dream while he paid the mortgage. 

Not very handy, the house was a mish-mash of DIY renovations. Imagine a mad bull in a hardware store or Dali meets Picasso The house was comfortable, but more important, it was mine (and the bank's). 

One weekend, the smart lawyer friend visited and I was in the middle of a bathroom renovation. There were no curtains in the bathroom and as expected, one tile lead to another. We were in a passionate tryst when the doorbell went berserk. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, I embarked on the legendary showdown with an irate neighbour from the rear. Her daughter had front-row seats to my impromptu performance, most likely earning herself a distinction in her O Level Biology.

I have to admit, the tiles were a little crooked, the grouting messy but the curtain, that was perfect.

University Days

I finally made it into university. The last refuge before going on into the real world, that dreaded place where I have to fight monsters, earn money and pay bills. 

Studies were good, no exams in the first two years, only had to pass one set of exams in the final third year. That meant I could have fun and postpone all the hard work until the very end. Rather than doing a three-year marathon, I could do a last minute sprint. 

I met a lady (actually, it was the other way round, she found me, lost during one of the student society dances). We were both virgins and I remember our first time, there were so many first times. It was the first time I was in love, really in love, the first time I had someone to care for and care about, the first time I felt jealousy, the first time we fought. We made promises and talked marriage.

Sex was wonderful, doing odd things, at odd times, in odd places. We experimented and learnt. I was a very quick learner!

She was smart, studying law, me an economics dropout. After graduation, I stayed on in the little country town and found a job, she went to London to be a barrister. 

She was, after all the smart and ambitious one.

Pen Pal

 

Wonder if anyone knows what a pen pal is? There was a time before the internet became all pervasive, before emails, before FB, WhatsApp or social media, people actually wrote letters to each other. 

I had a pen pal. Threw my name and address into a pen pal introduction service (think sanitised Tinder via mail) run by some UN agency. She was a girl residing in the US, which was on the other side of the world.

A letter arrived, I was excited. Her handwriting was immaculate, all those curves, commas and full stops. We exchanged letters, then photos and I got even more excited. This was a time before Nigerian scams and fake profiles. 

When I moved to the UK for schooling, the distance between us halved. I made plans to attend FAU and even took the SAT exams. For years, we continued writing, sharing laughter, how much of a pain parents are, our teachers and our lives. 

What happened? I broke her heart, but that is a story for another time.

Stupefy

There was this belief in my family about getting a good education. 

“….whatever happens, just make sure the kids received the best education the parents can afford”. 

So, I was sent to a public school in the UK. Public schools are in fact very expensive private schools.

The school buildings were so very Harry Potterish, tall turrets, dark gloomy halls, gay teachers in gowns, house colours, tweed jackets and no girls. What I meant by saying "no girls" was the school being single sex. Girls, there were plenty, the village lasses hoping to snare a rich public school kid. We didn't play Quidditch but rugby, cricket and fives. What is fives you may wonder. Instead of a racquet, players wear leather gloves to smack a ball against a wall.

We were twinned with another private all-girls school down the road. Whenever there were balls, girls from that school were invited. The girls were, hmmm.. snobbish (think Hermione). I’d rather sneak off down the village green for a quiet smoke than attempt to seduce them. 

Spent two celibate years there, lower sixth and upper sixth. Most of the kids sat the Oxbridge exams (for entrance into Oxford or Cambridge) but not I. I applied, got the required A-Level grades and entered a working class university in England’s north.

Shy or frightened?

 

I've always had problems approaching women. Even if I'm madly in love with one, I would merely worship from afar, fantasying about how romantically it will (can?) all end. Petrified of rejection, of failure or even a public smack in the face. Maybe.

I think I've only ever asked once, it was a girl leaving boarding school to return home. Of course she said 'No' adding 'I'm leaving...'.

Where were my brains? Of course she would refuse, she was, after all going back to the UK and that is over 6,800 miles away.

I did get a perfumed letter many months later. That, made my heart soar!

All my life, it's been the ladies who made the first move. I guess that way, I won't get a kick in the guts eh?

Growing Up

 

I was growing up and fast.

Proof of that, I took up smoking. Tried Marlboros to Camels (too strong), JPS and Bensons (too smooth), finally settling for Stuyvesants (just right). It was odd, how one managed competitive soccer and smoking. I can only attribute it to the vigours of youth.

Took up serious reading, drifted from Enid Blyton to Westerns, fondly remember the sexy passages in Gilman's Edge.

Started reading Asimov's Foundation, science fiction and fantasy are still my favourite genres, now some decades on. Westerns were abandoned along the way, though I must confess recently enjoying Steven King's Dark Tower series.

If smoking and sexist western intellect were insufficient to attract the girls, was also a DJ, playing funky music, wiring strobes and ultraviolet lamps for school hall discos. Had the customary groupies, three strawberry blonde girls in tow.

That for a fifteen year old, was the ultimate definition of C-O-O-L!

Boarding School

 

When I was eleven, I went off to boarding school.

It was co-ed, and there had my first taste of girls, literally. She was 16, my best friend's sister, wavy blonde, big boobs, long legs and a very short uniform.

And I never wondered why she insists on hanging from the playground equipment in a short skirt. I was so innocent, never occurred for me to touch her boobs (nor anywhere else). When she took me to the back of the block just before lights out, no dirty deed ever cross my mind. She would kiss me passionately with her tongue wiggling in my mouth.

I look back with REGRET, missed opportunities, especially when her brother casually mentions having seen her erect nipples and pale boobs in the shower!

Never did drugs, wasn't suspended or expelled and kept my hands mostly to myself. Hands to myself in the shower that was, fantasizing about those breasts. It was in the shower when I had my first cum, not orgasm mind you, orgasms, I've had plenty.

Had another damn friend who kept plying me with dirty magazines, the one photo which sticks in my mind was of a guy straddling a girl, fucking her boobs. That image seared into my brain and to this day is my ultimate unfulfilled fantasy.

Kissed another girl, she was French, freckles and a real cutie. We lived in the same city and met up even when we went home from boarding school during the school holidays.

Strolling in the afternoon downpours, soaked to the skin, her blouse and bra becomes see-through. Ahhh, to be young once again. Je t'aime mon ami.

Junior

 

Attended another Catholic institution in pursuit of a decent education. Totally infatuated with this young lady, her face, now beyond recall. Was so madly in L - O - V - E, manage to have my parents name my sister after her. No doubt, poor sis, is today eternally grateful!

Progressed onto a large junior school. It was an odd setup, there was morning and afternoon school, and never will the two sets of pupils meet, nor interact.

This bastard, Micky kept picking fights with me, and I still remember his smug face. There was another kid, forever suffering from diarrhea. All the kids would have to assemble in lines when returning to class, and it was definitely no fun following him. He would often try to hide the brown stain with his bag as we marched back to class in our starched white uniform.

Corporal punishment at assembly were pretty common, had a close shave once and almost crapped myself in the Principal's office. He had a rack that held a variety of canes, from the thinnest to thick sticks.

After school, I discovered my parents stash of Oui magazines and boy, did I have a good time. I'm sure, my love of women, boobs and pussy stem from those magazines, throw in a sprinkling of hormones, stirred with puberty.

Oui aside, started to enjoy Enid Blyton too, Famous Five and the Blah... of Adventure.

Big Town Boy

 

Dad quit the government service and we moved to the big town where he ran a business with his siblings and father. As a newbie in town, we lived in a third floor apartment while looking for a place to call home. I remember the shiny parquet flooring.

When Dad went to work, Mum became friendly with the neighbours, especially this American lady. She had a daughter. Think she was blonde with blue eyes. But, Cathy is a faded memory. Kathy or Cathy, now a blur.

On the ground floor corner of our apartment block was a toy store. There, I would spend my hard earned 10 cents on a fake ring for Cathy, or was it Kathy.

Old School Days

 

Back to where it all began, a little boy growing up in a provincial town. I attended a Catholic kindergarten, the name escapes me now.

I remember the coconut trees and a sloping embankment going down to the river. As little kids, we were told never to go down that slippery slope.

As children, we had forced afternoon siestas. Not always tired. This was when I 'discovered' the pleasure of playing with my cock, my first ever wank, spanking that tiny monkey.

Mum caught me of course, don't remember any punishment. More a 'Tut, tut. Please don't do that.'

Too young to be embarrassed...

Lucky

I've been lucky, born in a peaceful country, at a time of relative prosperity and into a not-too-poor family. My Dad was working for the Government and Mum, a stay-at-home wife.

We were provided with a large rambling house and I grew up chasing geckos from room to room. This, I got from black and white photos, now yellow with age. I recall little of my early youth; it must have been happy and safe, as I bear no scars.

Three years after I was born, my brother came along and sister not long after. We had moved by then, into a modern house in the middle of a new housing estate on the outskirts of town, surrounded by uncles, aunts and cousins.

I do remember having to drive past a cemetery on the way to town and at night, the tombstones sparkled with an eerie glow.

Reuben Kaye offensive or are we more sensitive?

Reuben Kaye joked, "I think it's hilarious when someone messages me and says, 'You have to accept Jesus' love or you will burn in hell,' because I love Jesus. I love any man who can get nailed for three days straight and come back for more."

Polls

It matters not

It matters not how strait the gate,   

How charged with punishments the scroll,   

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

Invictus - William Ernest Henley

Climate Change

 

The weather should be cooler,
Summer should be gone,
but it seems to be hanging on buy its claws.... 

Autumn, where art thou?

Write a blog post about getting old - by ChatGPT

 

As I look back on my life, I can’t help but think about how quickly time has passed. It seems like only yesterday that I was a wide-eyed child, full of dreams and ambition. Fast forward several decades, and here I am, a senior citizen, reflecting on the many changes that have happened over the years.

I’ve gained wisdom and experience, and I’m grateful for all the opportunities I’ve had. I’m also thankful for the people who have crossed my path and the knowledge I’ve gained from them.

However, getting older isn’t always easy. I’ve had to make some difficult decisions, and I’ve had to say goodbye to people I’ve cared about. I’ve also had to adjust to the physical changes that come with age.

But even with the challenges, I wouldn’t trade my age for anything. I’ve learned so much in my life, and I’m still learning. I’m thankful for the wisdom that comes with age, and I’m grateful for the time I have left to make more memories.

As I continue to get older, I’ll cherish the moments I have with my family and friends, and I’ll look forward to the adventures that lie ahead.

By ChatGPT

The Road Not Taken

 

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

By Robert Frost

Fish and Chips

 I miss the UK especially a good great fish and chips. 

Chips drenched in vinegar, with a sprinkle of salt. The batter, hot and crispy covering a piece of cod all wrapped in butchers paper which one has to juggle from one hand to the other because it's too hot to hold... sigh. 

Blockchain for Babies (Dummies)

Dummy I am not, but then babies 👶 and dummies 🍼 go pretty well together. Always wanted a simple explanation what blockchain is, and it can't get any simplier than this...

It's been so long...

It's been so long since I last blogged. Do people still blog? 

Maybe I'll start again but first, some housekeeping. If this page looks a little different, you know why. 

Love and Happy New Year to all still online.