Last night I attended a regular get together to chat about individual projects, plans and aspirations with a select group of local photographers. It’s an ad hoc sort of thing, sometimes just a few of us turn up, sometimes almost a full house. The only ‘official’ thing that happens is that someone in the group picks a date and a meeting place and then emails everyone with the information

I was first to arrive at the designated meeting place and not long after I’d found a vacant group of seats and a table I was approached by a mature aged woman who is well known to me.

She didn’t say hello or make any form of greeting, other than to say, ‘ Wife kicked you out of the house eh?’ I grinned and just nodded.

At that moment, another of our photography group arrived in the form of a shapely, well dressed young woman who took a seat opposite me. As I introduced them to each other, I could see by the look on the face of the mature aged woman that she was convinced she had caught me in a lovers tryst.

Then, without a further word she walked away to another table where a group of mature aged women were sitting. They were directly in my line of sight and I noted that they immediately looked in my direction and two of them had a bit of a giggle.

My friend and I chatted for a while before she received a call from another of our group who apologised for being late and said he would meet us in the dining room.

Believe it or not, the mature aged group of women were already in the dining room and our table was adjacent to theirs. From my selected seat they were still directly in my line of sight and I could  also hear their whispered conversation but not clearly enough for me to understand what/whom they were talking about. I could certainly guess.

All eyes were on the two of us and as I pulled the chair out for my friend, I got a wink from one of the observers,  grins from the others  and I couldn’t miss the look of disapproval on the face of the woman who is known to me.

Shortly after, our other photographer arrived and he and the recipient of his phone calls exchanged hugs and a few kisses. Are they an item? I’ve no idea but they are certainly friendly and show it.

Now as I’ve said, the occupants of the next table were in my direct line of sight. I nearly laughed out loud when I saw the disappointed look on their faces as they saw my two friends embrace and be affectionate towards each other.

Then it struck me how rumours start and travel like wildfire, particularly in a small country town.

I assume that only the timely arrival of my male photography mate has prevented the tongues wagging with exaggerated reports of my activities last night. Perhaps I shouldn’t use the word assume as we all know it really means making an ass out of u and me.

Unfortunately, no other photographers from the group turned up and it wasn’t long before the three of us decided to call it a night and I headed off home.

When I got home I repeated the evenings events to She Who Must Be Obeyed who immediately suggested that it might make an amusing bit of blogging.

So there you are.

Hoo roo for now.





Recently a friend in Canada nominated me to post seven ‘nature’ photographs over period to seven days on Facebook.

Part of the deal was that in addition to posting the images, I had to nominate seven other unsuspecting photographers to do exactly the same thing.

I agreed but immediately struck my first hurdle. As a Facebook virgin I had no idea how to ‘tag’ my nominees nor how to correctly place my posts on my timeline.

That prompted my Canadian mate to take on the role as my Facebook coach. I think I’m still a bit of a disappointment to him but ‘them’s the breaks’ as the saying goes.

Now on the photographic front, ‘Nature’ images include Landscapes and Wildlife and I noted that landscapes were the images of choice for this assignment.

Accordingly I followed suite and here below are the landscapes I submitted.

DSC_0082 copy 2This is the dry river bed of the Finke River in the bottom end of the Northern Territory. When it occasionally runs it  carries an enormous volume of water. Some wag put this kids bicycle frame in the sand near the crossing’s wheel tracks. It certainly adds perspective.

sculpture _DSC0111 copy 1  This image was taken at sunset at the sculpture monuments on a hilltop outside Broken Hill in the far west of New South Wales. The sculptures dominate the skyline of this arid plains landscape.

DSC_0169 copy3 copyThis NSW police speed warning sign looks totally out of place on this outback stretch of track just over the Queensland/New South Wales border on the approach to the tiny outback  town of Tibooburra in far west New South Wales.

hills 001 copy2Here my friends are looking across the Snowy Mountain range from near the summit of Australia’s highest mountain, Mt Kosciusko, 7,310 feet or 2228m metres. Not high by international mountain heights but we love it all the same. The fact that Kossi as we call it is in New South Wales, my home State make it all the better.

20130630_Lake George_0008 copy 1Lake George nestles between the hills along the Federal Highway between Canberra, our Nation’s Capital and Goulburn, my home town. In places, the lake abuts the highway and it was from one of those spots I made this image. The wind farm on the range across the lake is one of the largest in the State and is still a little controversial because of its dominance of the skyline.

THE WEIR IN INFRA RED copy 2Some years ago I had my old Nikon D100 SLR converted by Life Pixel Infrared of Mukilteo, WA, in the USA, to only make infra red images. This IR image of the Marsden Weir on the Wollondilly River just down the hill from my house gives an interesting touch to this landscape.

darling at bourke for tafe copy 1This image is of the Darling River at North Bourke in far west New South Wales. The Darling is the mightiest river in the State and flows in a south westerly direction to finally join with the mighty Murray River at Wentworth in New South Wales. When taken together these two mighty rivers rank at number 4 of the worlds longest river systems.

I know the preceding image is final image required but I could’t resist throwing in the following one of the Murray River near Nuriootpa in South Australia. Comparing both rivers, the Darling appears to be the healthier of the two.

IMG_1592 copy 1

Hoo roo for now.



The other day I read a blog by fonzandcancer where he explained how a diagnosis of cancer not only impacts on the sufferer and family but also on friends and associates.

In short, he sets out that many ‘friends and associates’ simply fade out of the picture as they are at a loss how to inquire after the sufferer’s prognosis, treatment, and are unsure how to ask, ‘How are you going”.  To be on the safe side, they conveniently disappear from the scene.

By coincidence, yesterday I attended a morning tea hosted by a young female friend who is in remission after successful surgery and chemotherapy arising from her diagnosis of cervical cancer.

My friend bravely, frankly and most competently addressed the thirty or so attendees with sometimes vivid descriptions of her journey.

Only once during her lengthy address did she falter momentarily, arising from reliving her life threatening experience. Swiftly recovering my friend outlined the support she received from her husband, two children, her in-laws, parents and friends.

Many members of the audience were her friends and I noticed that besides myself there was only one other of her male friends present.

We often read how men dislike talking about their health and it struck me that fonzandcancer’s experience is most probably an off shoot of our silence about our own health and translates into a reluctance to hear about other persons health outcomes.

I must be a strange one as when I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in late 2014 and underwent radical surgery to remove the cancerous prostate I couldn’t restrain myself from telling everyone who would listen how lucky I was.

I was only hospitalised for three days, suffered very little post operative discomfort and almost zero post operative leakage.

The major downside was that my surgeon insisted that I refrain from riding my Harley.

With one male exception, only my female friends inquire after my postoperative health. The male exception is a cancer sufferer himself and we regularly exchange notes and have a laugh about the way others relate to our circumstances.

Almost eighteen months have passed since my surgery and I saw my surgeon last Wednesday. Fortunately he does not need to see me again and no further medical interventions are required so far. And, yes, I can get back on the Harley.

He has written to my GP setting out the occasional monitoring I’ll require for the next wait for it, next seventeen years.

As that will take me past the age of 93 I’m more than happy with that outcome.

Now that gives me another reason to tell all and sundry about my experience. No need though to bother you except to say, when a friend tells you of their cancer diagnosis, don’t just fade away, stick around and give all the moral support you can. It does make a difference.

Hoo roo for now.










One of the great things about being a motorcyclist is accumulating T shirts. After you have acquired your first T shirt, they just seem to multiply and fill drawer after drawer.

Strangely, the same phenomena occurs with caps, except the leather variety of course.

Now the other day as I donned my favourite Harley cap that I had bought from Dudley Perkins Co in San Francisco, CA, back in 1992, She Who Must Be Obeyed said to me,’ Why are you still wearing stuff you bought way back in the last century?’

What a revelation! A bloke likes to wear his age well, but advertising you are still partially stuck in the 20th century. No way, after all, just being in the 21st century is a genuine bonus, and 16 years in to boot.

Now tomorrow being Valentines Day I thought I’d show the Mistress of Cassa Creakingbones how much I valued her observations about my headwear. How to do so without buying heart shaped chocolates was the problem.

Then it dawned on me, T shirts from the 20th century.

Under cover of darkness I ratted through my wardrobe(closet to my American friends) and the drawers of the dresser.

What a find, ancient T shirts still neatly ironed and folded, just waiting to be worn.

Not long after first light this morning, I snuck into my studio and photographed some of the collection before I tucked them all away in the studio’s loft, to be retrieved and discussed when the heat is off.

Now I hope my Harley owner friends who read this blog will forgive me for including evidence of an occasional lapse where I’ve been astride a BMW since getting the Harley bug in 1992.

The following images from some of my last century T-shirt collection are here for your amusement. I’ve cropped off most of the shirt fabric as I’m sure oceans of black are of no interest to you.

Last Century T shirt 3_20160213_0001 copy 2In 1962,my employer sent me to the United States of America on a study tour. My first port of call just happened to be the above Harley Dealer in LA where I bought the cap that’s caused today’s feverish exercise.

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0012 copy 2As a guest of the LASD I was presented with this great T shirt and  I’ve worn it many many times here in The Land Down Under.

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0014 copy 2Similarly, I’ve proudly worn this LAPD T-shirt presented to me by the Department, way back in 1992.

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0021 copy 2This and the following images are not in chronological order as they speak for themselves.

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0003 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0026 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0028 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0018 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0023 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0017 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0019 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0009 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0010 copy 2

Last century t shirts No 2_130216_0006 copy 2

When time permits I’ll photograph the balance of my last century T-shirts and in the mean time I’ll come to a decision as to their ultimate fate, in full consultation of course with the Mistress of Cassa Creakingbones.

Hoo roo for now.

PS. The lengthy report I submitted to my superiors after three months overseas conducting  fastidious, meticulous and learned research contained no mention of Harley Davidson dealerships in the USA, Canada and other countries.




Back in late 2014 a blip on my health radar and subsequent surgery caused an immediate curtailment of my regular Harley rides.

Now, after almost eighteen months of regular visits to my GP, Specialist and of course the pathologists (who always seem to be lurking in the shadows) I’ve been given the green light to get back on the bike, subject to a few more tests next week.

During the enforced break, my enthusiasm for motor cycling waxed and waned.

With a dry weight of 719 lbs or just on 326 kilos, and fully fuelled at 761 lbs or 345.2 kilos, I had genuine doubts that I still had the physical strength to  manoeuvre my Heritage Softail Classic around the shed, let alone hold it upright when I brought it to a halt out on the road.

I looked at lighter cruiser style bikes, some of which were over 100 lbs lighter but they just didn’t have the appeal of my Harley, nor did the riding position suit my body shape.

Anyway, a few weeks back, while I was having trial runs pushing the bike around the shed, I suddenly remembered that on all my previous Heritages I’d scrapped the original mini ape bars and installed Fat Boy bars instead.

Fat Boy bars are lower and slightly narrower than the standard Heritage  ones. Why didn’t I make the change when I bought the current Heritage in January 2014? I haven’t the slightest idea.

So, two weeks ago I rode the Heritage over to my favourite Harley Dealer and arranged to have the Fat Boy bars fitted.

Now it so happens that every time I ride over to any Dealership anywhere for service or repairs, it rains.  Now I hadn’t been on the bike in the real sense for well over a year and guess what? The weather didn’t let me down. It not only rained, it was a deluge. Over 100 klms, nearly 70 miles in the downpour and I was like a drowned rat when I finally walked into the workshop. Didn’t do much for my confidence either.

I’d discussed my riding dilemma with the chief spanner man on a previous occasion and as weight was my chief concern he suggested I fit a saddle bag quick release kit and smaller sissy bar and pad. Seemed like a great idea and I gladly accepted his advice, after all ten or 12 lbs off is better than nothing at all.

Then to compliment the deal the bike would be delivered to me at home when the work was finished. How’s that for great customer relations.

The bike is now safely back home, the boys did a terrific job and not only is the machine just a tad lighter but it looks great too. The changes have really given me two bikes for the price of one.

With the panniers and windscreen in place I’ve still got a grand touring machine.

Minus the screen and the panniers I’ve got a street machine.

Now all I have to do is wait for a fine, warm day, start the bike, roll out onto the road and work at getting my mojo back.

Now, here are two images, the first is the before, the seconds the after.

Heritage with a bit more bling_0603_0002 copy 2The Heritage Softail Classic complete with screen, panniers and large sissy bar and pad.

Heritage changes_080216_0003 copy 2What a difference, minus the screen, panniers and large sissy bar and pad. The Fat Boy bars make a vast difference to riding position and manoeuvrability.

Pitty I can’t show you the smile on my dial.

Hoo roo for now.