Dad 20/4/31 - 31/10/01 - this is the more promised...

Today is my father's birthday. He would have been 79.

Dad, although not perfect (as are we all), was the only father I had. I loved him, perhaps I didn't show it enough.

Dad had many interests. Flying, aircraft, gliders, photography, boats, caving. There were so many things he did.

He was a wood lathe operator by trade, but during his life he had many jobs. He worked for AWA, Kriesler TV, had his own building company until his partner robbed him blind and Dad (and Mum) were left with all the bills because the partner owned nothing, and even took the company ute! He built boats and worked for a company called MJ Bain fibreglassing boats and he became involved in a boat race in Macksville a few years when he was doing this job, I think it was a water skiing race - Bridge to Bridge? Bridge to Ocean? Dad was somehow involved with slot cars, too. Later he worked for Sebel Furniture, in R&D. He was into the injection moulding of the furniture - the Sebel Integra chair was one he worked on.

Dad (and the family) were recreational cavers, most of my immediate family were members of the Sydney Speleological Society. Dad was a member of The Explorers' Club. The photo here is of Dad after he received his gong from the NSW Governor in the early 90s. He was so proud.

Dad had his demons. He drank, was an alcoholic. It was only after his death I learnt that he had been stalked by the black dog, I suppose this is why he drank... but it didn't work, because the dog was always there. Eventually he had alcohol psychosis and paranoia. I knew my Dad when we were young. He taught me so much. As we got older he drank more, and I had less time for him and his drunken silliness.

Dad was a good guy, always taking people on face value, helping people if he could. He trusted people, sometimes to his detriment. Unfortunately he was a soft target for people who used him, particuarly his business partner who left Dad's business owing approximately $25k (that I knew of), in about 1977. The debtors came after my father because the partner owned nothing. Mum and Dad had cars, a house, and good paying, regular jobs (Mum was a school teacher). Dad had the builders' licence. Dad's accountant warned him about 18 months before the proverbial hit the fan. Mum took out a third mortgage to pay back the business' debt.

I was looking for the eulogy I wrote for Dad, but I've lost it again. I did find some letters.... I'm thinking there might be enough there to do something interesting with. He had a very interesting life, and perhaps I can tell a bit of that story?

Here's some pix of my Dad...

What do you say? (9:04PM)

Bundy is dying. Slowly, he's falling apart. Every day there's a change, he's slower. I doubt he'll make it to 16 years old, on about April 11 this year.

Sunday was very hot and humid (about 36C), and didn't cool down very much over night. He didn't eat Sunday night, he seemed to be concentrating on breathing, I fed him on Monday morning as it was cooler and he ate with a little effort.

He seemed to have perked up on Monday, it wasn't such a struggle for him. Monday was a stinker, 38C. When it cooled down just before the usual time I feed them and he seemed okay, it was just the heat knocking him around. He ate his dinner. There was the usual water gone from the water buckets.

Today, Tuesday, I had checked their water before I left home, I would only be gone for a few hours at work (more catching up), and so I thought the water would be fine. It was okay. When I went down to feed them at about 6pm the water wasn't as low as it should be on quite a warm day (it was only about 34C today). Bundy was standing panting, his nose was dry and it looked like he was dehydrated. I put his food down for him, he left it for a while. Quite a while. Then he munched a dog biscuit, and ate a little of it. I brought a bucket of water over for him to have a drink. He drank what seemed like a lot. Then he started 'herc-ing', he wobbled down the yard and I thought he was going to do a 'job', but he tossed the water.

The girl who clips him for me phoned today and left a message. When I hear from her I'll see if she can help me get him to the local vet tomorrow.

*** My friend, the lass who clips the dogs for me and has clipped them for years, was just on the phone. I've arranged for her to come over and we'll see if we can dig a grave for Bundy. Both of us are unfit and have problems with our backs/shoulders so it should be interesting. If we're successful and can make it deep enough we'll bring him home from the vet. She's going to help me take him to the vet, too.

I was thinking about this in the shower. I've been crying a bit tonight.

When I first moved here I got a job at the university, it was local. There was a lecturer there, a vet, very well respected and loved by all his students. I heard that he looked after pets for uni people. He looked after my dogs for many years - not that they needed much, just the initial desexing and then their annual shots, which he'd come to my home to administer and when 48 and then Katie needed to be euthenased he came to my home and took care of that, helping me to bury both the furry kids after they'd been seen to. (The graves had been dug, he helped carry them there and helped bury them.)

He was at the uni for many years. He was a respected member of staff and a leading light in the campus community. He was a warden in the Halls of Residence for years, too. A few years ago he retired (well, maybe about five years ago), and moved to Toowoomba. He would still take some classes each semester, specialising in animal parasites. In the last two years he and his wife retired to Bribie Island. Gone, but not forgotten. A kind and helpful man.

Late last year we heard terrible news of this Vet. He had been diagnosed with an inoperable, aggressive brain cancer. He had not taken it very well and was raging. Understandable.

I dearly want to write to him. To tell him how much he's helped me in looking after my pets. How much I appreciate all that he has done for me. The kind words, the help to bury my pets. To thank him.

But what do you say?

Olive Riley, world's oldest blogger

Olive passed away last year, however, a film was made about Ollie in 2004 when she was aged 104 and I've just seen it on ABC today.
Link to film information, and click on the study guide PDF link to see more photographs of Ollie.

It's a great yarn. Ollie was such a character!

Her blog seems to have been removed from Blogger, which is a shame. It was entertaining.

Update:
I received an email from a friend of Olive's. Eric has sent me a link to where Olive's blog is now, go and have a look! Olive Riley (missspelt Reilly).

Oh, and Eric has also told me of a new "Oldest blogger in the world", Elvira Oliver in New York.

Cartoonist, Bill Leak, seriously injured in balcony fall

Cartoonist Bill Leak is being treated for serious head injuries in a Sydney
hospital after falling from a balcony.

Leak had brain surgery in the Royal North Shore Hospital last night
after plunging about seven metres at a property at Mount White on the state's
central coast yesterday.

He is being held in intensive care and will have further tests
today.

Read more here.

Bleak's daily gallery at The Australian.