Gilly Flower

Actually it's more like what a month, since it would have to be at least that since I've had time to contribute anything to this blog, or read/respond to any other WriteLinker. My apologies to all of you, but life on the pulp mill front has been particularly intense of late, and it culminated in last Wednesday's Community Cabinet, here in Lonnie. I was one of the lucky ones who not only attended the public forum, but also secured a one-on-one interview with a federal Minister.

=> Read more!

Usually it's me asking the questions in interviews, but on Thursday I will be the interviewee for Melbourne radio station 3RTT's environmental Green Room programme.

=> Read more!

I've been meaning to put up this link for ages, although I imagine most (all?) of you are aware of the issue anyway.

If not though you may like to consider checking it out, and - assuming you agree of course - adding your name to those who oppose this decision, which is obviously a global one.

"To all authors and illustrators

Many of you will have noticed that over the last week we have hugely expanded the Comments sections on the website www.notoagebanding.org Many hundreds of concerned people had written to us, and we have chosen a typical selection of their views and arguments and put them into separate sections incorporating the views of Education Professionals, Librarians, Book Trade, Authors, Government, Family Members and Readers.

It is our opinion that your publisher may well be startled to learn of the response to this age-banding initiative from so many informed people who currently purchase our books, often in considerable numbers.

We are therefore asking you to forward this letter to all the editors and publishers with whom you deal, in the hope that they will be good enough to take the time to look at this huge variety of comments. For convenience, at the foot of this email we have provided links to each specific section, though of course it may be simpler in many cases for the recipient of the email simply to go directly to the website and click on particular sections there.

Please do not simply assume that others will be in touch with the people with whom you yourself deal. We believe that those who work in publishing houses will easily understand how very important this issue is to all of us, and everybody else who cares and knows about young people's reading. They therefore surely will not mind getting a copy of this email from several different sources.

Thank you."

Sitting down to write a piece for my blog was not part of tonight's plan. The idea was to join fellow writers and poetry lovers for Launceston's annual Poetry Cup - that much anticipated Festival event where the winner is decided by the loudest and most enthusiastic audience applause.

I even had a poem to read, one I've been practising on and off all day to ensure I performed to perfection on the night. It's a poem (a political poem naturally) that I wrote several weeks ago, but which those at last Saturday's writing workshop afternoon suggested was 'a good Cup poem'.

This event does tend to attract entries that deal with topical and current affairs, be they global or local, so it's fair to assume Tassie's political situation will be well represented this evening, as will the global financial crisis, and America's presidential (and Wall Street) respective soap operas.

So what happened? Well, admittedly I was running a little late (I'll blame J for returning home late from his fishing trip which delayed dinner), but I followed the directions on the flyer, and drove up and down the road where the Bowls Club venue was supposed to be, but I'm blowed if I could find it. No signs anywhere, no obvious car parks, no familiar-looking vehicles. Nothing at all. And because I was really late by this time I wimped out and drove home.

Doubtless somebody will tell me tomorrow where I should have gone, and what a great evening I missed. In the meantime this satirical take on our late and unlamented premier is what could (at a very large pinch) have won me the Cup!

Spin doctors

They can crop his face
from the photos
airbrush him from the picture
but it seems
his fingerprints
cannot so easily be coaxed
from the records.

We're rolling up the blinds
you see,
exposing the view,
and it ain’t pretty.

These manipulative medics
don't want the world
to witness how
an eye for a lie,
or a tooth for a sooth
are extracted.

We very nearly didn't go on this. Rain - yes, some much needed rain - was forecast, but the morning actually seemed quite mild first thing, with the promise of sunshine early on when I walked our dog. That soon changed, and I could see J was not really anticipating the day with any enthusiasm, but being my birthday he felt obliged to humour me.

=> Read more!

that ensured she clinched a publishing contract for her first novel?

I realise that probably sounds b*tchy, which it isn't meant to do. It's a serious question that I pose here among a group of fellow scribes, because it was asked at my book discussion group the other night by women who are serious readers. And they have a point.

In fact it was one of the best book club evenings we've ever had, despite the title under discussion being universally derided as a waste of trees.

In fact we all wondered why it was even in the book discussion catalogue because in addition to fulfilling every example of writing no-nos beginning writers make, (lack of focus, too many characters, non-existent plot etc), its literary merit was vitually nil.

According to the blurb on the back cover (written by well-known Aussie exponents of fiction) the novel was a riveting read by an author who is a highly regarded and award-winning journalist with the national broadsheet.

No argument there. The author in question does indeed write excellent features, but the novel fell way below the blurb's description. Had she submitted her manuscript under a name other than her own it's extremely unlikely it would ever have been lifted from the slush pile.

Too harsh? Well perhaps, but I can't help wondering if this novel was published primarily on the strength of the writer's journalistic reputation; because no way was it due to the quality of her fiction.

We came to the conclusion it was a piece of vanity publishing on the part of the writer. But I wonder which novel of greater merit was possibly overlooked in order to satisfy that vanity. As well as the publisher's bottom line.

. . . despite a forecast of -2 degrees tonight.

The swallows finally made their appearance today at around lunchtime. Well, one of them did anyway. It was swooping around the nest in the back porch when I arrived home from school this evening, presumably checking it out for suitability.

Still a definite and encouraging sign that warmer weather is on the way.

But as a small example of the reality of climate change it's interesting to note that the swallows have returned from over-wintering later than they ever have before. Previously we could guarantee their return on 25th August. Last year it was the 28th, and now this year, 2nd September.

An aberration, or the new reality?

Last year our pair raised one family only instead of the usual two. I learned later that they were not unusual in this. So it will be interesting to see what happens this year.

Time will tell.

As anticipated the last couple of weeks were a touch on the active side, and given my seriously weary state at the end of it all is arguably why some of the germs that have been circulating around the school all winter, were finally able to breach my normally pretty healthy defences, and grab me by the nose and throat.

Although I took no time off work to combat these germs, I had little energy left over at the end of each day to either blog myself, or comment on the blogs of others.

And despite having several hours owing to me, my request to leave school early last Wednesday, so I could attend the Albert Hall when Kim Booth was to put his motion to repeal the Pulp Mill Assessment Act, was refused.

So I missed the excitement of 200+ people being turfed out of the Peoples' Gallery for being supposedly 'disruptive'. The photos of this are interesting as two of the first people to be booted out are an elderly woman in a wheelchair (!) and an elderly man (possibly her carer?)

These two were swiftly followed by all those upstairs. Here is Garry's description, that has been circulated widely in the days since. It's reproduced here with his permission:

"The Incident at the Parliament, convened in Launceston's Albert Hall.

I had some days off work owing to me and this was the day that a Bill to revoke the PMAA 2007 would be introduced into the House by Kim Booth. So I arranged to take the day off work and called in and spoke to the people at the Anti-Pulp Mill tent, staffed voluntarily by members of the local community who call themselves TAP - Tasmanians Against the Pulpmill.

I saw Brenton Best being interviewed. He was asked if Steve Kons' lying to the Parliament was not something that was relevant to Nick McKim's being accused of acting improperly by not declaring some vested interest in some busines his partner was involved in. It was exasperating to hear him tell the media cameras outside the Parliament here in Launceston, that the Steve Kons had made a mistake - he wouldn't say that Kons had been caught telling a straight-out lie to the House. No, he called it "a mistake".

I listened to Kim, and later Nick, being interviewed. Various people were coming past the tent and some were stopping and chatting. Mums with babies, school children. The TAP people got a good reception from everyone.

Later it was time to go inside and listen.

We had to pass through security, this took quite a while, and then we were free to sit down. We listened to a long address from Premier Bartlett and a reply from Jeremy Rockliff and it appeared that Nick McKim would not be allowed to speak. This was changed and he was given about two minutes - at which decision the gallery clapped and got told-off for it. The Speaker said if we did it again:

"You know what you'll be doing? You'll be spending your time enjoying the sunshine outside."

Then Kim got his chance to introduce his Bill and after making his address he said "Well Premier, draw that line in the sand and ... reject the Pulp Mill".

He was roundly clapped and again we were chastised by the Speaker. When Bartlett got up to reply, a woman began yelling the word "Corruption" and she was grabbed by Security, roughly, and hustled off. We couldn't hear Bartlett - he was too soft - and some started calling out "Speak up please!". Security came back and hustled off the other two woman who had been with the first 'Corruption!' lady. I hadn't heard them call out. One of them was in a wheelchair, they were no spring chickens. As they were being taken out, they too began yelling "Corruption!"

Bartlett then in relation to Section 11, accused the Greens of over-reacting and said of one of Kim's examples that it was completely false. He went on to say that "The removal of Section 11 would unfetter Gunns completely." He was met with incredulous laughter from the gallery. Imagine! Section 11 according to Bartlett was there to protect us from Gunns!

When Rockliff got the floor he wasted no time in calling the Bill a "classic Greens' stunt" and went on to say that the Greens were "anti-everything". His use of the word 'Democracy' in reference to the actions of the Parliament in passing the PMAA, were met with jeers and he did not improve the situation when he said that there would be "disastrous results for business investment in the state" if the Bill to revoke the Pulp mill approval was approved.

When Rockliff said that "The Greens are trying to move the goalposts as usual" there was again strong laughter from the gallery ... and jeers.

Lisa Singh got up and told the House how she wouldn't need to abstain from a vote this time, because the matter had already been decided and, her views being already well known, "I stand by that position" - whatever that meant. She used the word "outrageous" in relation to the Bill and the public begin to heckle her, for she had been raising her voice in a none too pleasant way. She concluded that there needed to be "a line in the sand on this issue and finished with: "I stand by the Premier - this Government has done enough".

A vote was taken which was procedural and on voices, it not being clear whether the ayes or the nays 'had it', a division was called. As the MPs got to their feet for the division, elements of the gallery, perhaps because they couldn't hear properly, the PA being too soft, thought that the vote for the Bill had been taken and began calling "Shame!" They began standing up. Some began to turn their backs on the MPs and others followed suit, realising that it was too late to be able to stop those who had already stood, who had turned and in some cases, had taken off shirts to show their 'Anti Pulp Mill' T-shirts. And so they joined them.

Voices and hubbub ruled the day and security began telling us that we had to go and it was being said that the Parliament was closed and indeed some of the Parlimentarians were walking off down to a side door. They, including the Premier, had to pass within feet of us and we told them 'Shame' and 'This is not right.' They didn't pay us any attention.

The cries of shame continued while the politicians left the chamber. The only ones to remain were the Greens. They remained sitting in their seats, no longer facing the Speaker's chair, but turned towards us. As we saw that they were alone in the Chamber, the others, the Liberals and the Labor Members having gone, our cries were replaced by strong, sustained clapping and we were looking at the four of them. We kept clapping, no voices now. Just clapping. At first they acknowledged us with smiles, and nods. Then they started clapping us, and we continued to applaud them, and they returned this with their own acknowledgement in like manner. Cassy O'Connor, the newest Green, who replaced Peg Putt, was showing signs of emotion as the whole of the gallery in the Albert Hall demonstrated its solidarity with these four lonely people, the Government and Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition having abandoned the Parliament to the People. Her eyes were glistening, as she understood in that moment, that some link was being forged. I too felt that something special had happened and I wanted to tell her she was not on her own. This was not polite, token applause. This was one of those moments which would be hard to forget. The Government had abandoned its own parliament, taking with it the Opposition, both united in their betrayal of the People over the Pulp Mill, over Gunns, over honest, ethical Government. Only the Greens remained with us, the Public.

Police came into the Parliament and helped the security personnel get us all out of there. Some were refusing to move, demanding to know under what law the police had the right to require them to move from the Parliament. It took quite a while before the 200-300 members of the public were able to be excluded. There was no rudeness, no violence from either side. Only a stubborn unwillingness from the public to yet again be excluded from the decisions that affect their lives.

This is why we say the government is undemocratic. Inside it was mayhem. I doubt the speaker even knew what he was going to do next, and whether it would work. When they got the last of the public through the doors, they began closing them.

Finally the outside doors were closed tight and locked. The police and the security remained on the inside. The public were locked out. On the outside of their own Parliament.

This is what Tasmania has come to.

On the inside, the parliament was again convened, and a vote taken. Barring the four Greens, everyone else in the Chamber voted to reject the Bill to Revoke the Pulp Mill Assessment Act of 2007.

Shame! Shame! Shame!

- Garry Stannus,
27th August, 2008"

A lot of people were still at AH, milling around and discussing the situation when I called by the park on my way home. Needless to say Kim's motion was voted down by all but the four Greens, but that wasn't unexpected.

What is extraordinary though, is that two days later, and with Gunns' shares still in a trading halt and a rights issue still being pursued, John Gay himself stated publicly he believes there's a possibility the mill will never be built. What an eye-popping statement that was!

Financing the project is clearly proving a near impossibility, while the chances of Gunns being able to meet all the requirements necessary to secure the remaining 40-odd environmental permits before the October 4 deadline, are also well nigh impossible. And federal environment minister Peter Garrett has intimated he will not be open to further extensions of the deadline.

If you feel so moved you might like to add your name to the letter being sent to him by ClimateArk:

http://www.climateark.org/shared/alerts/send.aspx?id=australia_tasmania_climate

It's all good news, but while some people seem to think it's time to begin celebrating, most of us are remaining cautious. If we pass October 4 with PG holding the line, and then November 30, with David B holding firm on his intention not to extend the deadline on the wood supply agreement, then I think we can truly begin lining up the champagne bottles, and anticipating a very happy Christmas.

So while we've certainly inched a little closer to success, we're not quite there yet.

Keep your fingers crossed . . . . !

Between the dramatic slide in Gunns' share price, the lively Public Forum on Climate Change and forestry practices, the GetUp Climate Change torch, State Parliament sitting in Launceston, and Saturday's rally against the pulp mill, last week was pretty lively. As was anticipated.

Tent city has caused a stir outside the Albert Hall, with school groups stopping by after spending their allotted hour listening to our elected reps trade insults across the floor. Such rudeness clearly came as quite a shock to some, if comments in the local rag are anything to go by.

There's been a definite feeling of suspense in the air since Thursday, when Gunns shares ceased trading. Now we're waiting to see what the next move might be. Rumours abound, but while mill proponents continue to talk up the project, it's difficult to see why given the financial situation globally.

For Saturday's rally we struck gold so far as weather was concerned. It was a day that typifies Tasmania at this time of year, with winter on the wane, yet with spring not quite ready to fully nudge its way through. There was a frosty start true enough, but brilliant blue sky, sunshine and - eventually - warmth, followed. With all the pre-rally preparations, briefings, setting up of equipment, PA systems, banners and placards etc, there was little time to notice the cold.

The crowds drifted in slowly, and I wasn't the only one concerned that this rally wasn't going to attract the massive crowd we hoped for. On stage with core members of Voices of the Tamar, (and a couple of rap musos), in order to add my voice to their renditions of a dissident repertoire of songs set to well-known tunes such as: 'John Brown's body'; 'Let's call the whole thing off' and 'Who wants to be a millionaire', (among others) numbers were looking decidedly thin.

I needn't have worried though. By the time we'd finished our half-hour stint, people were everywhere, pouring in through every park entrance and adding their voices to the chorus.

Reported total numbers vary widely, with estimates of 5000, 7000 or 10000 depending on which newspaper you read. Some of the footage can be viewed here:
http://northerntasmania.yourguide.com.au/slideshowplayer.aspx?id=3079

After singing myself hoarse, I then toted a collection bucket through the crowd encouraging donations, and handing out a variety of leaflets about different aspects of the campaign, so failed to catch all the inspiring words from every speaker. I did stop to listen to Dr Warwick Raverty's speech though, and Peter Cundall's.

After the speeches, we marched through the streets to Civic Square for the symbolic nailing to the door of our collective demand to restore some semblance of democracy in this state. Including repealing the iniquitous Section 11 of the Pulp Mill Asessment Act 2007.

Then it was a case of thank goodness for mobile phones, since without them it would have been near impossible to find D, who'd flown over from Melbourne to be part of this rally, and who was somewhere in the crowd. It was a last minute decision on her part, but one she was glad she'd made. A born and bred Tassie girl she's lived on the mainland for years, but like so many ex-pats her feelings for this island are intense and passionate, and like so many she despairs of the destruction that is being waged here.

Ex-flatmates from our days of living in the West, we've remained close friends ever since, despite infrequent get-togethers. But we managed to pack a lot of conversation into an hour, over coffee and cake, before she had to get to the airport for the flight back.

The day was brilliant but exhausting - and I'm still exhausted, both physically and emotionally - but the following says it all really, and Steve says it so eloquently. Far better than I feel capable of right now. So it's with his permission that I include the words he wrote after the rally, and which have since circulated around the state, and beyond.

Heartfelt thanks from Steve Biddulph

I was so proud of us today.


The rally was a wonderful demonstration of many things...


First, the staying power and strength of the movement against the pulp mill.


Second, the depth of intelligence informing our struggle. Moral intelligence from Terry Martin, a humble man with a backbone of steel because he knows right from wrong. Scientific intelligence and sheer courage from Warwick Raverty. Emotional intelligence and earthy
truths from Peter Cundall, our spiritual elder. Raw grief from the young girls, the generation that sees its world destroyed. Withering rage from the Koori community. The tireless and heartening capability of the volunteers of TAP, who were everywhere, organized, focussed, active, upbeat.


Thirdly, our widening and awakened anger at the astonishing criminality of the Lennon government, and a breathless waiting to see if Bartlett dares to cut to the heart of the rot in his own party.


There was no shyness or ambivalence as we flowed into the streets of Launceston; the dignity and the sheer mass of the marchers, claimed the city, outnumbering twenty fold the bemused watchers in the emptied out streets.


If I had been an elected representative, a Michelle O' whatshername or an Ivan Dean, I would have shuddered in my shoes. There has been no comparable unification of Tasmanians from so many demographics, but especially of middle Tasmania - grandparents, parents, professionals and working people, elderly and young, rural and urban, utterly respectable and thoughtful quiet citizens seething with anger and yet
a kind of joy to be making a stand. These days we represent ourselves.


Its been possible in Launceston's past, to rally a few thousand people at the peak of some one-off community outrage, but to bring onto the streets, over and over again, 10,000 people, means this energy and resolve is increasing, not likely to diminish until it finds
satisfaction. There is a real sense that we are fighting for our state now, and that this is our chance to make a better life for ourselves and our children. There is a new
hope and spirit abroad. People were never completely proud to be Tasmanian, it was always an ambivalent thing, and that is about to change. We will have something to be proud of.


Perhaps every state needs to go through a cleansing process, the Fitzgerald Enquiry that changed Queensland forever, and the WA Inc. Royal Commission which proved that Labor can be as crooked as the Right. Both of those states are different places now. Its time
for Tasmania to throw off the stain of corruption that goes back to colonial days. Robber barons and sleazebags don't belong in the modern world. But it took an activated citizenry to waken up and make a stand.


When the Mill is dead, we should look to make a memorial place on the site at Longreach. Where tourists can watch footage and hear accounts of speeches, and admire what Tasmanians have done. To see that with the Franklin, this was the start of making an island of hope in
a world on its knees. People from all over the world will want to come here, not just to visit, but to live, to help us safeguard the air, the water, the soil, the trees, the ocean and rivers
to redeem a vibrant place that might one day help feed and heal the larger world.

I'm crossing literary swords at the moment, within the Letters pages of our local rag.

A pulp mill proponent has taken exception to some statistics I quoted, that related to the extent of Tasmanian opposition to the proposed polluting monolith.

The local rag - which isn't nicknamed The Exaggerator, or Gunns' mouthpiece, for nothing - edited to the point of total irrelevance the last of my polite, but stinging responses, which has provoked yet another attack.

So one more little riposte to RC of Invermay has now been emailed, via the Ex's editor, so it will be interesting to see how she'll handle that one!

We both have our letter-writing supporters though. But the proponents increasingly sound desperate. For those of us who oppose the mill the scent of victory is getting stronger.

Bring it on!

It would seem Chanticleer III's recent inadvertent incarceration was more traumatic for the old boy than we first thought. He fell off his perch last night. Literally.

He definitely hadn't bounced back with the same gusto as the fair-feathered female who was locked up with him. He'd visibly aged, and was to be seen limping rather than running at any hint of food handouts, but we didn't think he was about to pop his clogs.

He was still alive this morning early when I checked him out poor fellow, but while bringing him inside to warm him up a bit helped slightly, he didn't really recover.

When I put him back outside in the sunshine it was rather touching to see all his females gather round in a silent vigil, giving him the odd peck & cluck until he finally expired.

But it's a case of 'the king is dead, long live the king'. The sexual orientation of the large and gangly bantam we thought might be an 'it', has been established. And 'it' is a rooster. He's given a few tentative cock-a-doodle-dos and was today seen having it away with one of the girls.

So the next generation is assured after all!

We could be close to the finishing line, and with all the Actions about to take place during the coming fortnight, there's a real chance we could be coming to the end of this fight.

The stories on Tassie's current affairs programme Stateline this evening were almost exclusively about matters relating to the mill. The state govt are now facing legal action over the iniquitous Section 11 of the Pulp Mill Assessment Act, and I doubt L would've gone down that route had she not been sure of her ground. She doesn't describe her property as 'the sacrifice zone' for nothing after all. She'd be out of business immediately once the mill started up, as her organic certification for the walnut farm would be lost immediately in the face of all those fumes belching forth.

A couple of other landowners are likely to follow L's lead next week.

A fortnight of civil unrest started today with an Action outside the West Tamar Council offices, but the big one is coming up. A tent city is being organised at City Park, close to the Albert Hall - where state parliament are sitting for the next two weeks - all leading up to the rally and march on Saurday 23rd. We shall also have the Climate Change Torch Relay (a GetUp initiative) in town (& I hope to be one of the many torch bearers in L'ton).

Thousands are expected at the rally, but I hope tens of thousands will turn up.

Doubt there'll be much time for blogging next week, so apologies in advance for my failure to read posts, or make comments. In between all this activism I've an interview to transcribe, and an article to write for Vet, and at this precise moment I'm not exactly sure how I shall fit it in!

Cross your fingers for a win for both the Tamar Valley & the planet!.

Contrary to what you might be thinking this isn't a new brand of copy paper, it's the rather clever title our Head of Visual Arts has chosen for an exhibition she's planning, which will showcase the creative talents of staff. All staff, not just teaching staff. And at SOC this potentially could involve entries from around 130+ people. The catch of course, is that entries can be no larger than a piece of A4 paper.

So in between looking after the patient (see previous blog entry) - and given that today's weather has been less than tempting for outdoor activities, I've spent some of today licking a few pulp mill poems into shape, as my creative offering. Or offerings since they will run to several sheets of A4 paper.

It remains to be seen if this suite of seven will be deemed too politically sensitive. Given the school, & the fact that a subsidiary company of Gunns Ltd is building the brand new Middle School as we speak, I suspect our Principal might be unamused by my particular brand of creativity. But we shall see.

At least that's what it looks like so far. Not mine I hasten to add, but J's. He's been suffering for some time with pins & needles sensations in his left arm and shoulder, which had begun to extend down to his leg and foot.

=> Read more!

Now the weather has warmed up to a few degrees above freezing, with blue skies and brilliant sunshine to boot, I'm tempted to be outside pulling a few more weeds, instead of catching up with the blogs of others, and fiddling about with mine, but before I do I thought this story was too good not to share.

A few days ago J and I were mystified at the sudden and inexplicable disappearance of our rooster and one of his harem. They were around for their wheat at brekkie time, because I fed them, but somewhere between then and lunchtime, when J gives the chooks a bit of bread and scraps, they'd vanished.

No amount of calling or searching made them come running. And if you've any experience with chooks, (sorry, an Aussie term, those in the mother country are probably more familiar with the term chickens or hens) you'll know they aren't creatures to ever miss out on a free meal.

Our chooks are completely free range by the way, and have over five acres in which to do so, not counting their frequent forays into next door's paddocks, or across the road into the vacant bushland.

These two birds didn't appear the following morning, or for the next five subsequent mornings. We searched all over but there wasn't a feather to be found - should they have fallen prey to a snake (unlikely in winter as snakes are hibernating), or an eagle, (also unlikely as it's not breeding season, and the speed with which chooks melt into undergrowth hiding places at the first hint of circling birds of prey is astonishing to witness. They stay there for ages too until the danger is passed.)

Needless to say by Day Six we'd given up hope they would reappear. In fact we were now crossing our fingers that one of the teenagers - whose reddish plumage suggested it might just be a male after all - would in fact grow up to be one, so the chook production line would continue, when hey presto, J found the errant birds. Alive!

They practically fell out of one of the sheds where J keeps fertilisers, the spray pack, and all our spare buckets. Six days ago he'd gone in there for some piece of equipment or other, left the door open while he did whatever needed to be done, replaced his stuff, and shut the door, never noticing that Chanticleer The Third and his lady had followed him in.

Currently they're drinking and eating like you wouldn't believe, but other than that both seem fine, if a little unsteady on their pins.
Which begs the question about whether this story is one of incredible survivial, or amazing stupidity.

We're still undecided!

You could say rather a lot has been happening on the pulp mill front since I last had time to sit down and add something to this blog. The issue has widened considerably of course in the wake of premier Lennon's departure, and the parliamentary scandals that involved two of his former deputies.

So our next Action will not only incorporate demands to restore democracy, and the establshment of an Independent Commission of Inquiry for the state, it will also be reinforcing community determination to pulp the mill project.

Thursday's meeting of Tasmanians Against the Pulp Mill (TAP) was lively to say the least. I rarely get to these meetings as they clash with other commitments, but I was asked to specifically make an effort to go to this one, and lend some moral support to the decision about joining the Alliance. A good deal of misinformation has been circulating about the decision to form an alliance of all the various groups up and down the state - and inter-state - a decision that emerged from the Grindelwald Strategy Meeting weekend back in April.

To those of us who attended that w/end, the idea is a no-brainer, but either genuine confusion, or a deliberate attempt at mischief, encouraged a puzzling degree of panic about TAP aligning itself with other groups. The fear being TAP's autonomy would be lost, submerged, or taken over by others.

Not so of course, the whole idea of an Alliance was to enable more rapid communication and exchanges of information, to work together and support each other's initiatives in fighting this monolith, but the Chinese whisperers have been out in force, and they did their work well.

And while all has now been sorted satisfactorily, it was a lesson in how easily ideas can be misconstrued, and how quickly confusion can potentially split the goodwill of a group. I don't wonder the UN has trouble.

So now we're gearing up for Saturday 23rd August, and what is hoped will be the biggest rally yet. It will be in Launceston, where State Parliament will be sitting for two weeks, at the Albert Hall, (not quite as big or impressive as its London counterpart of course, but an elegant building nonetheless!)

Bass Greens MP Kim Booth will be presenting a Private Members Bill to repeal the Pulp Mill Assessment Act 2007. That arrogant and ill-conceived piece of legislation that was bulldozed through parliament in less time than it takes to blink, and without any debate or discussion, after Gunns withdrew from the RPDC process because "of unacceptable delays".

Needless to say the reason for the delays was entirely due to Gunns repeatedly failing to provide all the additional information requested by the RPDC panel on various sections of the dodgy data included in their Integrated Impact Statement. And the reason for that was because Gunns knew perfectly well they were dodgy, and were probably aware the RPDC were therefore about to toss out the proposal.

Sceptical? Sound unlikely? Believe me, you don't know the half of it. We don't know the half of it - yet - but the fraction we do know suggests there's something very, very smelly at the bottom of all this, and the deeper we dig, the smellier it gets.

However, there has also been cause for optimism over the last couple of weeks. Gunns' share price is steadily heading south. Yes, it has the occasional 2c recovery, but essentially it's on a downward slide, and financial commentators have publicly stated they think it unlikely this mill will be built. Yaaayyyy,

Mr Gay and his apologists naturally remain upbeat, but JG is still travelling the world trying to drum up sufficient dosh. Clearly he's met with no success or we'd have heard about it:

Now -
(with apologies to John Betjeman)*

come friendly furans
fall on Paul
and Will and John -
spew on them all,
for why should they
miss out on death
let them, (like us), breathe in
poison-filled breath

but perhaps death by log truck
is more their style
than slow months of heaving
on toxic bile -
or maybe it suits them
to chance their luck
of being rolled off the road
by a top-heavy truck

but if this fails to
kill them
there’s always the smog
you know, that lethal white
shroud that is
denser than fog

I could keep on going for
for the list is so long
of ways it can
kill, maim
and harm us,
or make us less strong.

It will damage our hearts,
it might drive us to drink
though it won’t be the water
(which is tough don’t you
think)

for when it comes
to us sharing
this precious resource
the pulp mill takes precedence,
and there’ll be no recourse

so if rain fails to fall
and the rivers runs dry
it’s the community who’ll suffer,
and it’s us who will cry

© 2007 AL-B

* A reference to ‘Slough’ by John Betjeman - ie. “Come friendly bombs, and fall on Slough . . .”

And that's enough for one night. As ever, if you made it this far, thanks for listening.

Readers of Chausiku's blog may have already read the following, as it's the (rather long) comment I've just posted in response to the excellent piece she's written about the pulp mill at Fray Bentos. With a few more bits added.

Given they're not really to be found on every street corner, it's interesting that pulp mills are quite a feature in these blogs. But where the Uruguyan sounds good, the monolith we're up against is an example of the very, very bad.

"I can hardly let this one by without commenting can I, given the fight we have here in Tassie about a pulp mill.

I found this very interesting Paola, and thanks for going into such detail. You don't say, but I suspect this mill is actually the model that was initially sold to us: chlorine-free, and closed loop, which *is* as clean & non-polluting a pulp mill as you can get."

They still stink though. All pulp mills stink. And while I've no idea if fogs and mists are a regular weather feature there, they are certainly associated with pulp mills. The thick fogs due to emissions are one of the many reasons people here are so opposed. Due to our particular geological characteristic we already struggle with a thick blanket of cloud & fog at certain times of the year (winter mostly). This would be exacerbated to such a degree by fine particle pulp mill emissions it would be impossible to see. Road accidents & fatalities would increase several-fold. It happened in USA, where a mill was built in an area similar to the Tamar Valley, & within weeks of opening there was a 15-car pile up.

The mill has since been closed.

"Clearly there are plenty of checks & balances on potential damage to the environment at Fray Bentos. Sadly we cannot rely on Gunns, or the current state govt, to be so vigilant.

But the devious, shonky and unethical company that we are battling (ie Gunns Ltd) isn't going to build that model here in the Tamar Valley at all. Hence the scale of opposition.

Even the pulp & paper expert, with over 20 years experience in the industry, has said on several occasions he wouldn't support a pulp mill built by this company - no matter where they wanted to build it.
However, you may find your blog being checked out by all manner of folk, as (with your permission of course!) I'm going to forward the link to a few people."

Apologies if this seemed like a rant. I guess our experience here is the other side of the coin.

Don't apologise 'Portia', your comment is great, and valid, and puts my piece into perspective, as of course I wasn't living here when either Lake Peddar, or the Franklin issues were happening. That so many Tasmanians were affected, both emotionally and ideologically, is apparent today. You just have to read some of the vitriol being published in the Letters pages of the Ex and Merc - and to which I've just replied in some pointed, (but polite) words of my own.

But you have to wonder at the mentality of Gunns. On Friday we learned they are to close down the Scottsdale sawmill they were adamant would remain open, (following its controversial take-over earlier this year), with job losses numbering 145. And the first these people knew about it was on an ABC radio news bulletin.

It was the first the premier and his relevant minister knew about it as well, so they're also spitting (wood)chips.

And this all follows an industry report - commissioned by former Howard fed minister Eric Abetz, (about whom the less said the better really) - that practically insists on Forestry Tas shedding over 1000 jobs, directly and indirectly, to remain sustainable.

It also follows that iniquitous sovereign risk deal for wood supply, hatched in secrecy by Lennon & Co, and extended for a further five months by premier Bartlett, at the behest of Gunns, because finance has still to be secured for this poxy mill. And all the deadlines for the necessary federal environmental permits have still to be met.

Yes, Mr Gay is still touring the world trying to drum up support from a bank or three.

What hope for logging contractors, or the poor b**$$#! driving those log trucks now. Most would be struggling to pay off their rigs, having been first encouraged into the game by Gunns, and now being hung out to dry.

The bonus of course, for those of us opposed to this stinking monolith, is that all of the above, combined with Ross Garnaut's Climate Change Report released yesterday, has got a few more folk finally beginning to wake up, and seriously question the wisdom of a pulp mill.

Not before time.

This I had to share. The WE game-players are regular readers of my pulp mill spleen, and given the subject matter of many of my contributions I'm sure most have very little difficulty in working out their authorship.

But I'm having trouble working out who wrote the witty reply!

This is mine: And the words we had to include (at least three of them) were: genie; beg; compromise; edge; running.

John Gay's three wishes

Now the mill teeters
on the edge of destruction, do
you think a genie -
your own personal genie
will come running,
do your bidding,
and save it?

As you travel the world
and bend your knees
to beg
a bank
for funding
you need to know
that our genie -
(the planet's genie)
will bid higher
and run faster

because she,
and we,
can't afford
to lose.

Now for the reply: And the words to be included were: amazing; bus; frosty; purl; seedy

Chance Meeting (with apologies in advance)

On the bus he can't help thinking
She looks familiar
Can't place her, though.
Knitting a scarf
Or something like that
One of those do-it-yourself
Poet types

She switches to a purl row
Her hands move so delicately
She notices him watching
Gives him a frosty stare

So she recognises him, too,
It's exciting... Amazing.

Her name suddenly comes to him
If she knows who he is
She must be less of a challenge
He'll introduce himself
To refresh her memory
Of what could be.

He draws nearer...
"Ms (my name)
I think we've met before...
John Gay...

But I shall have to wait until Wednesday to confirm who wrote it . . . . (it was Richard Higgs, who is based in South Africa)

Tuesday 1st July was the 25th anniversary of Australia's High Court decision that stopped the damming of the Franklin River.

Now I realise that most people who might be reading this blog won't have a clue about the significance of either the Franklin River, or the historic decision, but in the context of Tasmania, and the fight we are currently having about a pulp mill, the timing of this particular anniversary is really quite extraordinary.

The campaign to save the Franklin back in 1979 was an environmental landmark for a number of reasons.
A - it was the first serious win for the environment in Australia
B - it saw the birth of the Green movement in this country, and
C - it catapulted a Launceston GP (who had initially come to the state as a locum) into politics. Dr Bob Brown is now a federal government senator, and leader of the Australian Greens.

For many of us he is a national treasure; a hero; a person to admire and emulate. He's also genuine, humble and completely committed to environmental and social justice. The antithesis of your average politician really.

Coincidentally 1979 was the year I first came to Tasmania. I came here on a fly/drive holiday from WA, with M. It was our first holiday since arriving in the country 18 months previously. I can't say that we heard the words 'Franklin River', 'Hydro-electric Commission' and 'dam' spoken during those three weeks that we toured the island, but I do remember we visited some of the more remote areas in the state, (including Cradle Mtn) so we certainly gained an appreciation of the wilderness, and its unspoiled wild beauty.

Back home in WA I remained unaware of the Franklin until an evening in probably 1982 when my then flatmate, (a Tasmanian) dragged me and a number of other friends off to a film being screened at the uni. D was absolutely insistent we saw this film about an amazing wild river in Tasmania's remote west coast, that was under threat of being dammed by the state's powerful Hydro-electric Commission. And the campaign being waged to stop it by a local GP and the fledgling Wilderness Society, of which he was director.

The uni theatre was packed, the film photography was stunning, and we were all encouraged to donate as much as we could to the cause. And I was subsequently very pleased to ultimately read the news that the Franklin was to be spared.

It wasn't until I came here to live that I gained a greater appreciation of what had occurred at that time, the history behind it, and just how significant the win was for environmentalists.

And here we are, 25 years on and with another environmental battle on our hands. The third major battle in fact, (the first was over Lake Peddar; environmentalists lost that one). But the big 'do' at Hobart's Grand Chancellor hotel on Tuesday evening was a sell-out. Over 1000 people from across the state, the country, and the world, (David Bellamy was there for one) came along to remember, and celebrate.

As well as take the opportunity to remind our current (and very new) premier, just what he can expect if this pulp mill goes ahead.

I travelled down on a bus with 11 others, having wangled a couple of hours off work, and negotiated a slightly later start the following day. The atmosphere was incredible, the speakers inspiring, the film footage of the blockade, and the personal stories of some of those who took part in it were equally inspriring, and the emotion was palpable. We sang, we clapped, we listened, we laughed. Some of us even cried a little. It was definitely a night to remember, and well worth the three hour drive there, and the three hour drive back again, (in the pouring rain). I arrived home at 2.30am, and survived the remainder of Wednesday on minimal sleep and adrenalin.

Along with at least three other fellow travellers I even went to the L'ton launch that night for Geoff Law's book 'A river runs free', with more footage of that time of the Franklin blockade. Peter Cundall launched the book, and naturally used the occasion to compare the Franklin fight with the pulp mill. But I think Peter is right about that 'sweetness in the air'. I can smell it too. Gunns are 'protesting too much' and the rumours we're hearing are seriously encouraging.

Never, ever give up, he says. And we won't.

But enough for one night, and if you've stuck with me this long, thanks for listening.

Where to begin? Here I am, two weeks into my UK trip home, with one week to go, and I’ve not managed to write a word either in the blog, or in the holiday diary I usually keep on these visits home. And yet momentous happenings back in Tassie re the mill situation. In fact I could hardly believe what I was reading when I was able to check emails on the computer of Mum’s neighbours about three days after I arrived.

Premier Paul Lennon has resigned, and the ANZ bank have officially said what we’ve suspected has been unofficially on the cards for some time: they won’t provide funding for the mill. Whoopee!

I was in fact responding to emails with tears streaming down my face because I couldn’t believe what I was reading. A fair indication of the stress levels we’re all operating under. In the space of three days the situation had made almost a 360 degree turnaround and given us the first positive and genuinely optimistic news in months.

Why?

The cold hard light of the following day threw some light on the reason. Why would PL be his typical belligerant tub-thumping self on Friday, saying he would be staying on as premier, and fighting the next election, yet two days later be resigning? Could it have anything to do with the sudden and unexpected death on Saturday of D McQ, a member of Gunns’ board? Especially when speculation has long suggested that when PL finally stepped down he’d be immediately sliding onto a seat on Gunns’ board?

Cynical or what?

Whatever the reason, the campaign focus has swiftly focussed on incoming premier David Bartlett, (only recently elevated to the position of deputy in the wake of the scandal surrounding former DP Steve Kons). DB initially gave cause for optimism by saying no further public money was to be given to a private company project, but in the few days since has diluted his statements and taken a more ambiguous position.

GetUp were immediately on the case, inviting all their members & supporters to write to DB telling him exactly what they felt about the mill, and asking him to withdraw support. I hope his inbox was overwhelmed.

I suspect it would have been as the next email from GetUp was to invite donations to fund an ad in as many newspapers as possible in the wake of ANZ’s withdrawal. A victory there - while important - doesn’t mean another bank might not be tempted. Vital therefore to alert every bank possible, either in Oz or elsewhere, that underwriting this project risks damaging both their reputation and their all-important bottom line.

Reading emails today offers more cause for optimism since it appears some of Gunns’ major investors have requested presentations from GetUp as to exactly what mill protesters are concerned about. Apart from wondering what planet they’ve all been living on for the last five years not to know, it does appear that just maybe the economics of this godawful project might finally be about to sink in, and those with serious money might finally be about to see the light.

One can but hope.

In the meantime (and because every comment counts) I invite you to click on to www.getup.org.au and scroll your way along to the pulp mill issue to add your voice of dissent to this disastrous and polluting pulp mill planned for Tasmania’s Tamar Valley.

It would also appear that a number of contractors have either pulled out, or been told to stop work, so it's all good news just now.

before I step onto a UK-bound plane. I'm not remotely organised or ready for this trip, and feel cheated of the usual anticipation due to the gruelling workload circumstances have conspired to burden me with in these last few weeks.

Thank goodness there's only one more full week of term left. For me that is. For everyone else there are two weeks, but because my flight was booked before my colleague upped and left for a fulltime position at the town's rival private school, I'm excused working those final two days. Days I don't work in the normal scheme of things.

My life

My brain's a buzzing bedlam of
ideas, thoughts, items to remember,
a never-ending 'to do' list
that if i was clever
and smart
and more organised
i would write down

instead the constant,
creamy flow
of words
and thoughts
jostle and jiggle
through my mind
and only slither
and slide to
a halt when
i sleep

Not quite true because lists litter my desk and are constantly being updated. Whether I can tick off all the items in the next nine days remains to be seen. I can but try.

I can tick off one though. I've managed a blog entry for the first time in over a week. And I've also manged to avoid those P & M words, and I bet some of you thought I wouldn't!

Or that's what it feels like anyway.

Submission is an unfortunate choice of word I've decided. It implies acceptance. Meekly kneeling with bowed head and acceding to whatever those in authority consider is good for us.

But the tide is turning down here in Gunnsmania. A growing number of people are no longer prepared to submit. They're rattled, and cranky, and completely fed up with the arrogance of a premier who continues to dismiss anyone who disagrees with him as being 'anti-everything greenies'.

Well last Tuesday evening's 'Tasmania: a failed democracy' Launceston meeting should have given him something to think about. Coming as it did, hard on the heels of a similar meeting in Hobart. The Tailrace at Riverside was packed. People of all political persuasions came to listen to a raft of speakers that included TT editor Lindsay Tuffin, MLC Terry Martin, Kim Booth (Greens) MP, Jeremy Rockliff (Liberal) MP, Dr Warwick Raverty (pulp mill scientist & former RPDC panellist) and former AMA Tas president Michael Aizen.

Kim, Terry & Warwick all received standing ovations, and while Jeremy R was initially politely received, when the meeting was thrown open to Qs from the floor, & Jeremy consistently side-stepped all references to the pulp mill the mood turned ugly. Not violent ugly, just we-insist-you-answer-the-question ugly.

He didn't of course. He blustered belligerently on, sticking determinedly to the script his media minders had so obviously written for him, and contradicting himself along the way until Warwick eventually stood up to give him a truly stunning put down to which Jeremy could offer no reply.

The gist of it was that if Jeremy was so supportive of a pulp mill for Tassie, and so adamant he had the best interests of his NW electorate at heart, then how come he was so silent over the initial option to build the thing at Hampshire, an area that is considerably less environmentally sensitive than the heavily populated Tamar Valley, and which would've been far less likely to result in the furore that this ill-advised project has spawned thus far.

But to return to the submission of the title - which needless to say is pulp mill related - it concerns the Bypass planned for the East Tamar Highway. A road notorious for the number, and speed, of laden log trucks that travel along it 24 hours a day. Not to mention the number of road accidents - many of which involve log trucks - that occur along it.

A Bypass is long overdue, and I'm certainly not knocking a Bypass, but its design has been quietly reduced from the safest option of an overpass (the model the community were initially advised would be built) to what is known in the trade as a 'seagull intersection'. A T-junction in other words, that would involve those of us living in this area risking life & limb every time we got in the car to go anywhere. Entering a highway heavily populated with log trucks hurtling along at 100 kph, on a stretch of road characterised by thick fogs during winter, would be akin to playing Russian roulette on a daily basis. And it doesn't appeal.

So our close-knit community hastily convened another public meeting last Thursday evening in our tiny community hall. That was packed too.

Never mind we're all becoming rather expert at this type of organisational ability, we shouldn't have to do it. I'm all for knowledge and learning new things, but the ins & outs of civil engineering, road building & traffic really doesn't do it for me. I resent having to spend precious hours sifting through academic reports & documentation in order to write a submission with a deadline of barely a week.

But, I've done it. Tomorrow I shall re-jig it on behalf of J since the word is the more of them the council/RPDC receive the better. And the more likely we are to achieve the second best outcome to an overpass, which is roundabouts.

And the next time I add to this blog I'm determined the words 'pulp' and 'mill' won't be mentioned. Sadly, though, there's no guarantee. Sorry folks.

In readiness for the next four weeks. As if life wasn't already busy enough, the thought of what must be achieved before I can step on that plane and head off to the land of my birth, is enough to send me into a screaming heap.

My library colleague at school left last week, (she scored a fulltime job at the other private school in town, so to paraphrase some of the senior students has 'gone over to the Dark Side'!) I have to be pleased for Kimmy because as a single mum she needs fulltime work, but with only four weeks of term left, it's pointless putting anyone else on until the start of Term 2.

So you can guess who's being obliged to do additional hours. OK in one way (and yes, of course the extra dosh is handy), but fitting journalism commitments into the schedule is going to really stretch the resources, both physical and mental. Never mind all the other stuff that must be done during the course of an average, or not so average, day.

I've filed two shortish pieces this w/end, and begun transcribing an interview, but cannot realistically see myself achieving much more in the writing line before next w/end arrives. Political activism rules this week, with a public meeting on Tuesday evening: 'Tasmania - A failed democracy' - that promises to be an interesting night, and on Thursday a meeting to address residents' concerns about the flawed model for the Bypass planned for this neck of the woods.

Both are pulp mill related, spawned by this ghastly hydra-like project.

In yet another piece of governmental skulduggery, the community weren't included in any discussion about this Bypass, or even notified about the plans, so when one citizen took it upon himself to find out a bit more he was horrified to discover just what was on the drawing board.

I suppose our little community of approximately 400 souls wasn't regarded as being sufficiently important. Certainly it would appear we are expendable. But then so is the entire population of Tasmania it seems to me. With one or two notable exceptions of course.

Oh dear. This is turning into another rant. And that's despite adding a couple of biting comments to online blogs, and writing letters to editors.

Time to calm myself down with a good book. G'night.

Jodie had hers a couple of weeks ago in Lonnie, now Kevin's hosted the main event this weekend in Canberra. 1000 of Australia's 'brightest and best', split into 10 groups of 100, to each formulate one Big Idea to offer the Government. How many of these ideas will actually be turned into future policy remains to be seen. Climate change was obviously up there in the top five, but it was interesting (and, speaking personally, disappointing) that governance seemed to be the issue that most captured the collective imagination.

Out of those 1000 invited delegates, only 17 were Tasmanians. I appreciate we're the smallest state, but it suggests something of an imbalance to me even so.

What really gets up my nose though is that the woman involved in the scandal surrounding deputy premier Steve Kons' fall from grace, and who's clearly in it up to her armpits, was not obliged to stand down as one of the key facilitators of this Canberra jaunt. And it has to be said the media's role has been sadly lacking over this one. Or have their journalistic instincts been forcibly suppressed?

Kevin may well hope that the stench from Tasmania's increasingly sordid little saga won't drift north, but by not sidelining Linda Hornsey at the first whiff of suspicion, he risks his own reputation being irretrievably tarnished. A bit like Big Red's really.

It's that or, like his predecessors, Kevin's equally in thrall to Forestry, in which case I'm really not sure where we go from here. But the day we might have to actually lie down in front of those bulldozers could just have got closer.

Welcome to Australia's Zimbabwe. And the sad part is I'm not really joking.

Richard Butler's photographic project has actually been underway for several weeks now, but I've not had time to document it. RB grew up in Tasmania but now lives in Melbourne. He's a professional photographer, and like so many ex-pats living on the mainland, is appalled at what is happening down here.

His contribution to the cause therefore is to compile a photographic record; 500 portraits of people opposed to the mill, which will eventually be donated to the Queen Victoria Museum & Art Gallery. Before that happens though RB hopes to mount an exhibition of a selection of portraits - with permission of the subjects of those selected - to tour the country. Preferably beginning in Tasmania.

It's an expensive business however so he's trying to drum up some funding support.

Ideally a selection of poems, songs, essays, diary extracts, car sticker slogans etc will accompany these portraits so the exhibition will involve both a visual and written expression of community protest, opposition and despair in the face of a state government that is stone deaf to community concerns about the impact of this mill on their health, wellbeing, environment etc.

On the first weekend he came across to Tassie Richard took 75 photos. I was among them. It was the same weekend as the media w/shop, so when I had my pic taken on Sunday I was still feeling emotionally fragile from the pretend media interviews the day before. To be honest it took several days to regain emotional equilibrium after that w/shop, which doesn't bode well for the follow-up currently scheduled for early in May.

At his request I've sent Richard 7 or 8 of my pulp mill poems, a couple of which he's included in a major feature that (fingers crossed) will eventually appear in The Age newspaper's Good Weekend magazine.

I think this is one of the ones he said he'd chosen, and - as with almost all the poems I write - the trigger was the WE game:

Victim

you would sacrifice our river
on the altar of your greed
render it still and stagnant,
a dank and empty womb,
a harbour for dioxins and death

you would sacrifice the air
we breathe
to satisfy ambition
poison and pollute it
so we cough, and gag, and choke
trapped beneath a deadly shroud
of a pulp mill's noxious smoke

you would sacrifice our forests
to your flawed and fatal plan
saw, and cut, and chop them down
clearfell them from the land,
and turn their ancient timbers
into woodchips or to pulp

except

we will not let you
we will fight and make a stand
we refuse to cower like jelly
so you can brutalise our land

Fingers crossed this weekend will be the one when Richard's amazing photographic feature will hit the headlines. And throw one more spanner to spoil John Gay's plan for a poxy pulp mill.

Quite frankly I hesitate to call this state Tasmania any more. Some - including our wonderful novelist/activist Richard Flanagan - have been calling it Gunnsmania for some time. After the jaw-dropping revelations over the past week or so I can only agree.

I absolutely urge you to check out RF's excellent article from last Saturday's Mercury newspaper (also published on www.tasmaniantimes.com.au http://tasmaniantimes.com/index.php?/weblog/article/battle-cry-for-our-tasmania/), that once again exposes the spreading stench of corruption that pervades our state Labor government.

So far as blowtorch tactics go though, the gold star has to be awarded to Bass Green MP Kim Booth, who was not only responsible for exposing the extremely dodgy deal done by former deputy premier Bryan Green, hours before the 2006 state election, but in the past few days has also brought about the downfall of BG's successor Steve Kons, through the infamous, and still ongoing, 'Shreddergate'.

This week the third DP in less than two years has been hastily annointed. One wonders how long D. Bartlett will last. Indeed how long the state govt as a whole will last.

A criminal trial recently found the disgraced BG 'not innocent'; the sh*t is still sliding down the wall so far as SK is concerned, and I have it from KB himself that the info he has yet to reveal is sufficient to bring down Big Red himself. But timing is all. Plus guaranteeing his own back is well and truly covered. Which is no doubt why he's been closeted with a barrister for much of this week.

What I could write about the pulp mill this week would test my stamina, and your eyes, so I will endeavour to be brief, given the lateness of the hour.

Blogging was off the agenda last w/end due to the Strategy Meeting at Grindelwald. This meeting, financed through a grant made to the Wilderness Society from a foundation organisation sympathetic to environmental concerns, brought together representatives from many of the groups across the environmental and social spectrum who are opposed to the mill. Including the Greens.

The meeting was professionally facilitated by a mainland organisation called The Change Agency, and they knew their stuff. We moved along at a cracking - but mutually respectful - pace, given there were 28 highly opinionated and passionate individuals voicing their ideas.

For myself, it was wonderful to meet some of the faces behind email addresses, meet the wonderfully articulate and passionate 15 year-old Gabby, from Students Against the Pulp Mill (and her mum!) and come away with renewed energy and hope that together we most certainly can - and will - ensure this monstrous mill is never built.

Finance and Federal topped the strategy list, and it does appear that the ANZ Bank are beginning to crumble under the weight of sustained community and international pressure in relation to their much vaunted signatory status to the Equator Principles.

As well as that then it's target Kevin & Co since they're also hawking their environmental credentials, post signing up to Kyoto, and making a noise over Japanese whaling. There's a good case for suggesting they clean up their own backyard before criticising the shortcomings of others.

Indeed.

More tomorrow. At least, that's the plan.

What a week. Busy doesn't even begin to describe it. Which is why this blog has been on the silent side, and few blogging friends have received comments from me. I shall be extremely glad to see J return later this evening - fingers crossed, with medal(s) in hand - and not just because his presence in bed will negate the need for the electric blanket on these chilly autumn nights!

I'm well over juggling three jobs in his absence. Rushing home from school to pick a few flowers in the remaining daylight, walk the dog, cook a meal, transcribe a bit more of an interview for an article whose deadline looms, before collapsing into bed is not a schedule I either want, or am able to, keep up for long.

Especially when still recovering from that challenging OT walk.

And into the mix this weekend has been Jodie's 2020 Bass summit, to which I was determined to go if at all possible, given so many of the discussion topics' relevance on the pulp mill angle for this region.

I should explain. Bass is one of Tassie's electorates, and one of the country's most marginal electorates in fact, so there's nothing safe about Jodie's seat. And so far as the pulp mill issue goes, her position is identical to Michael F, our previous - Liberal - incumbent.

All that can be said about Michael is that he, at least, answered his emails. I've yet to receive a reply from Jodie to either emails or snails. She's permanently missing in action.

But the summit yesterday was vibrant. It only lasted for two hours but approx 200 people packed the Raymond Farrell Hall at the University campus, and after a short introduction we split off into groups to discuss the topic of choice, each facilitated by an 'expert' in the field. Mine was - needless to say - Population, Water, Climate change and Sustainability, and around a dozen of us offered passionate and energetic input. There were even some school students which was good to see. All in uniform too. None from my school though. Pity. Shall have to find out why tomorrow.

The facilitator and his scribe had their work cut out getting all the ideas down, and we had difficulty selecting one idea out of many as the major one to flesh out in a bit more detail. That's the one that will be taken to Canberra for the Main 2020 Event being held there later this month.

In addition individuals are being encouraged to write 500w submissions on the ten topics to send in - either online, or by snail mail. I've done that too. Why not. Democracy in action. I love it!

In theory normality should return this week, so I should be able to return to my OT adventures, and posting pics. But I wouldn't put money on it.

Like I said, we set off accompanied by the odd snowflake so was glad of S & J's gloves and hat. In fact these generous neighbours & friends loaned me about 90 per cent of the gear, with most of the rest coming from school.

I wore my own boots and socks of course, & I did take advantage of the Kathmandu sale a couple of weeks ago (along with half the town) to invest in hiking pants, a long-sleeved shirt, (2 for 1 offer)& a set of thermals (3 for 1 offer; leggings, short-sleeved top and a long-sleeved top). Plus a new polar fleece. It was quite an experience to be honest, I'd no idea all this rugged, outdoor gear had such an attraction for the fashionistas, but I can see why given it's characteristically lightweight yet warm, so brilliant for anyone planning on travelling in these days of cut-price airlines with limited luggage allowances.

But I digress. We'd only walked a short distance when I had to admit to Steve my pack was heavier than I could manage. Carrying most of a tent, and a trangia stove, and a bottle of fuel, was just a bit too much, on top of my own stuff, so Steve relieved me of some of the weight, adding more to his own pack, and on we went.

Skies remained leaden all day but despite the cold we soon warmed up walking and it wasn't long before the water bottles came out. We all walked at different speeds so the pattern of the next few days was soon established. Debbie (quickly dubbed the Deloraine Thoroughbred) led the whole way, every day, with Joyce and Angie not far behind her. Jo and Marian followed, with me bringing up the rear. Well, not quite the rear since Steve was always last - for safety reasons.

So I was soon dubbed the Tortoise. Slightly unfair perhaps, but as I was quick to point out, tortoises might be slow, but they do always get there. While Jo - who was responsible for the nicknames - very nearly didn't. About which more later.

It's true though that I did struggle that first day. Heavy pack, lack of sleep the night before, all took their toll, and the hurdle of Marion's Lookout was every bit as daunting as anticipated. However as hurdles go it was mercifully short, so while it would not have been a pretty sight watching me scramble to the top, once there the view was awesome and all the cameras were out in force.

So was the food since we stopped for a snack as well. Snacking was integral to the walk in fact. I can't believe how much I ate during the five days. How much we all ate in fact. And drank. Two litres of water went down my throat without any trouble at all every day. At least. Plus soup, and cups of tea/coffee.

Yet the urge for the loo was almost non-existent. All that liquid was sweated out during all the walking and climbing.

I should say that there were lots of people on the track to the ML point since this section of the track is a notable day walk, or short walk, so many people were just doing that, and returning the way they'd come. As we pressed on the numbers thinned out considerably.

To be honest I've been back since Wednesday, but with John leaving for NZ the day before I returned, (to compete in the Commonwealth fly fishing championships) there was no time to rest and recuperate, or to spend time savouring my success. It was a case of hit the ground running ready for flower deliveries, grocery shopping, and flower picking on Thursday, followed by more flower picking on Friday, Saturday, and today - Sunday.

I am, of course, talking about the Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair walk - otherwise known as the Overland Track - which is arguably Tasmania's most well-known bush walk.

And yes, it was as tough and as challenging as expected, but while I did occasionally wonder what the hell I was doing there, I never seriously doubted I would finish it. Possibly that has more to do with Steve, our leader, and one of the outdoor ed teachers at school, who was totally brilliant in the face of (it has to be said) several unexpected 'incidents' that would've tried the patience of lesser men. Or women if it comes to that.

The weather? We were incredibly lucky with this. There was a definite autumnal chill to the 6am air when we left L'ton, and by the time we reached the start of the walk - the Waldheim hut at the Cradle Mtn end - the skies were leaden, and a few flecks of snow were drifting down to settle on scattered snow patches already on the ground.

Thank goodness I opted to wear my thermal leggings as well as a long-sleeved thermal top under my polar fleece. More than one in the group headed for the loo in order to don theirs before we set off.

A few minutes to rejig the packs, fish out hats, gloves and waterproofs, and have the obligatory group photo taken outside Gustav Weindorfer's restored Waldheim hut, and we were off.

Photos Sue K? I took loads, so unsurprising the camera memory filled up by the last day. How to upload some of them onto this blog is a skill this self-confessed technoprat has yet to acquire. So any help in that direction would be welcome.

More tomorrow. All being well. For now though, it's bedtime.

Well, that's what I'm telling myself. I should go to bed given I have to be up at 4.30am, but to all my WriteLink friends I just wanted to say I'll read all your posts when I return from this five-day bushwalk, so don't think I'm ignoring you.

My pack is bulging & there's no way my laptop would fit in even if I wanted it to. Which I don't. Cradle is a computer-free zone. And unless one has a satellite phone (which our leader does for safety reasons) it's a mobile phone free zone as well. No signal where we're headed, it's far too remote.

I have slipped in a notebook & pen though. And a book.

Forecast is hopeful. Not so good for those who went today (it's likely snowing on the mountain tonight!), but the cold southerly change has gone through, to be followed by yet another high, so fingers crossed we should have a dry run (please God(dess!)

I'll catch up with you all next Thursday.

Happy Easter.

But after today I feel a lot more confident I can do this. Most of the morning was spent walking. I estimate approximately 7kms before brekkie, (with pack), and then another hike up Mt D with J after brekkie, before it got too hot. His idea not mine, but probably a good one as it replicates more accurately what we'll be doing for five days after all.

No snakes today though, probably a bit early in the morning still for them to be out and slithering.

Mona (our dog) will be relieved when this training is over. She's a creature of routine this dog; a complete contrast to our lovely Midnight (a kelpie, hound,labrador X,) who was full of beans, raring to go, & alert to every possibility of exercise, & the opportunity of chasing creatures.

Mona, bless her, is equally lovely natured, but not exactly brimful of get-up-and-go, or canine athleticism. Her expression on these longer w/end walks is one of puzzled dismay and resignation, but once past the usual turning point she perks up a bit & clearly quite enjoys the different scenery. And the roadkill. Which seems to be increasing as the dry continues and the search for food intensifies for our stressed and hungry wildlife.

I wrote the following a couple of years ago, but it's still relevant now, despite being supposedly autumn. I removed three bodies from the road today, and one had a joey, also dead, which is even more upsetting.

Sometimes mum is dead but the joey is still alive. But despite making several mercy trips to the nearest wildlife carer, the survival rate for those I've rescued remains nil. But one has to try.

Season

Abandoned on a haze of dust
summer drifts on.

Here and there a pretentious splash of pink or blue
mocks a parched and thirsty land
that wears patched, frayed
remnants of shrivelled brown.

Along roads and highways lie
signposts
of sculptured fur and bone,
that highlight
hunger’s
reckless lust.

These bloody blooms exposed on bitumen
display a cruel sacrifice
to the season’s paucity
of rain.

After the walks I had a practice pack. Everything is in, but shall have to do a better job of stuffing it all in before leaving because there's still some food to cram in there, along with what for me are essentials: a book, a notepad & a pen.

from a close encounter with a tiger snake. It slithered out on the track when J & I walked the Mt Direction track late this afternoon. Again. I hope my legs appreciate the practice I'm giving them in readiness for Marion's Lookout a week on Friday.

Less than two weeks to go now to the Overland Track walk.

We were on our way back down from Mt D, & J had stopped to watch, and alert me to, a large skink (sort of lizard). I never did see the skink. I was too focussed on the five foot tiger snake that was heading straight for him, and could only squeak a warning.

It didn't strike - thankfully - it just slid away as fast as it could. More terrified of us than we were of it, quite probably, but since it's the breeding season when snakes can be notoriously aggressive, and since all snakes in Tassie are poisonous, to say I had palpitations & trembling knees is an understatement.

J of course was far more sanguine, being Tassie born & bred and a bit more used to snakes.

A disturbing end to an emotionally disturbing weekend (today has been a public holiday here), but you'll have to wait until I've gathered my thoughts a little more to hear the details.

Maybe tomorrow.

They say you don't know what you can do until you try, and I surprised myself today, and obviously a few others as well. Along with nine others I went to a media workshop, facilitated by Greens' senator Christine Milne's PR person, Cassie O'Connor.

The idea behind it was so there will be a pool of people better equipped to talk to, and interact with, the media now the pulp mill stakes have been raised another notch, and we draw ever closer to the final last ditch fight. The one those closest to the seats of power and knowledge say is all but inevitable. The blockade at Longreach.

The moment of truth. The time when people really have to decide how far they are prepared to go. To lie down in front of the bulldozers, to chain themselves to machinery, to be arrested.

But these people aren't long-haired youths. They aren't dreadlocked tree-hugging hippies. These are law-abiding, middle-aged, middle-class grandmothers in many cases. We are owners of small businesses, respectable citizens. Hardly your typical protesters.

Will I go that far? I really don't know. I'd like to think so. I had a practice run at being arrested a few weeks ago at the PCP training. But that was role play, a taste of what we might expect if and when we do have to man the barricades. Or blockade. And face the real police. Not Kerin, a friend, a pretend policewoman for the day.

If we get that far we'll be facing hostile forestry workers and log truck drivers. Big, burly men all, with equally large and loud-mouthed wives. Stereotype? Actually no, having seen a few of these people now, this description actually isn't an exaggeration. These are tough people, fighting for their livelihoods. Livelihoods that even some of them can see are no longer viable long-term. They aren't stupid, these people, and they can see the writing is on the wall. But they are as trapped by their situation, as we are. That's the tragedy really.

But a blockade could go on for weeks. Months even. But while we might know that in theory, it's a different matter in reality. Everyone today claimed they would go all the way. 'For as long as it takes', we all said - and we meant it. But will we if it really comes down to that? Will I?

I don't think any of us will really be able to answer that until it happens.

So how did I surprise myself? Well give me a piece of paper and a pen, or a keyboard and screen and I can be as articulate as you like. I've got time to arrange the words properly in the order I want to say them. I've got control.

Stick me in front of a media interviewer with a microphone and I'm reduced to a tongue-tied mumbling idiot. Well, that's what I anticipated anyway. But I wasn't. It just goes to show what you can achieve if the issue stirs sufficient passion.

Cassie said we all did well. We should all be phoning Talkback radio, writing letters to editors, blogging at every opportunity, and making appointments with our elected representatives. But the group apparently voted me number one for managing to remain articulate, yet authoritative, and determined in the face of Cassie's deliberately provocative questions - she was playing devil's advocate after all.

I strongly suspect I couldn't repeat this achievement though, and I'm certainly not about to phone Talkback radio. I'll just continue to email my questions, and write more of those letters to editors.

And blog of course!

Cheers all - and thanks for listening.

At least I think it's number four. Along with many this week I'm still reeling with Paul's latest state government skulduggery, and I'm way behind keeping up with a record of events.

Not content with building Meander Dam with taxpayer's money, (thinly disguised as important infrastructure from which farmers would be the principal beneficiaries, but quickly exposed as being a lot of the proverbial), and persuading those of us in the north that the East Tamar Highway upgrade was a federal government initiative, (and for which a $60 million grant was received), we're now being told the govt is considering taking over the funding of the water pipeline to this cursed and poxy mill.

And for why? Because surprise surprise, rather a lot of landowners are not willing to have part of their land requisitioned to enable this seriously large pipeline to be accommodated, and are refusing access.

To overcome this little glitch in their pulp mill plan therefore the govt is postulating making the pipeline 'necessary public infrastructure', which effectively renders landowners powerless.

And no, before you ask, it doesn't involve us personally, but it does involve several properties - farms, orchards and other businesses - very close to us. But it's the breathtaking, mind-boggling, totally unbelievable arrogance of this government's determination to do literally whatever it takes to ram this appalling project down our collective throat.

By now it shouldn't take us by surprise, but it always does.

The upside (I have to believe there's an upside or I would go stark, staring bonkers) is that the news was received with a collective, audible, gasp of disbelief. This could be the step too far because an awful lot of people across the state are now really, really angry! That their taxpayer's dollars are going to fund Gunns' personal water pipeline at the expense of our crumbling public hospital system, lack of affordable housing, and under-funded public education is a decision that's seriously on the nose. With everyone.

And while the economics bods have also been critical, it appears Paul hasn't done his homework so far as fed govt guidelines go, & this latest decision - hee, hee - breaches quite a few of them!

For those who have managed to read this far, I fully intend continuing tomorrow with a description of other initiatives I've been - and will be - involved with in regards to pulping this godawful polluting pulp mill.

In the meantime, the issue made national television this week, and the link - if it works - is:
http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2008/03/06/2181548.htm?site=northtas

If you can access the video footage & want to see what I look like, then I'm the red haired woman in a stripey teeshirt, looking serious in the middle of the front row, and holding the banner. This was footage taken a few weekends ago at a Peaceful Community Protest training day. Like I said, I meant to write it up earlier, but time eluded me.

En avant! Or something.

It's Sunday night and feel like that animated female on a breast cancer awareness email that relentlessly circulates in cyberspace. (I'm sure it must have entered your inboxes over there in Europe as it has mine here in Oz.)

I've walked my socks off this weekend.

After J left for his fishing comp weekend away I decided to do a spot of training so packed my boots and my 15 kg pack and drove up to the start of the Mt Direction track - not that far from where we live. It's the third time I've walked it since deciding to do the Overland Track at Easter, but it was the first time alone, with full pack.

Perfect walking weather though at around 21 degrees & I had the track completely to myself. Next time I do it though I must remember the camera, as there are some good views along the way, if you get the angle right through the trees.

I made it to the top with only three stops along the way for some much needed water, and to catch my breath. This is one very steep walk, but several people have now told me that the OT is mostly pretty flat walking, & nothing like so challenging as the Mt Arthur walk of a couple of weekends ago, or indeed, Mt Direction. At 65 kms it's just a lot longer! So, if I can cope with Mt D , the OT should be a piece of cake. Theoretically.

Arrived back at the car as someone else was arriving, plus his dog. We got chatting, as you do in this neck of the woods, & soon realised (also as you do, and at this time, in this neck of the woods) that while we hadn't met, we knew of each other through the Tasmanians Against the Pulp Mill network.

Dr E is in fact a specialist medic, & if memory serves his expertise is in the respiratory area, which is a pretty crucial area given our particular circumstances in this valley - already challenged in the air quality stakes due to the inversion layer that characterises the region, and renders us very fog-prone in the winter months especially.

Saturday was more walking - this time up hill & down dale a bit, with Mona our dog, on our cherry farmer neighbour's property. This one also incorporated the picking of a few more blackberries. Continued lack of rain has sadly rendered a lot of the remaining berries rather dried up and shrivelled specimens, so suspect I may not be picking too many more - despite - theoretically - there being plenty still to ripen.

Today - following the splendid advice from Dr E - I decided to concentrate on distance - so donned my boots & my pack & set off with Mona to walk a few kms along our road. About 5 kms to be precise (I checked it later in the car), so felt that wasn't a bad effort for one weekend.

And along with the flowers I had to pick with J being away, I've also filled a bucket with tomatoes, and another bucket with capsicums, cucumbers & the odd, stray, runner bean.

Not a bad effort really.

Oh, and in case you were wondering. Yes, I did finish the article I was in meltdown mode over, at about this time last week. However in addition to being late with the info, the tiresome pollie also failed to answer all the Qs I'd posed, so while I can't claim it as my most brilliant piece of journalism, the editor seemed to think it was OK - & that's the main thing. Along with being paid of course!

With a deadline of Monday, and after sweating for over two weeks on information promised by our new fed minister for ageing's media bod, she has finally sent it through today. Which means of course I now have to spend tomorrow writing up the commissioned article.

You would think wouldn't you, that this squeaky clean, newly-minted minister would be anxious to take every opportunity to get her message out there to movers and shakers in the industry. Well not this one apparently. A phone interview was going to be 'impossible' in the time frame, (a face-to-face was geographically impossible given we live at opposite ends of the country. Or as good as anyway.) But despite my diligent research, and emailing questions through in plenty of time, the minister's minders either all went on leave, or refused to respond to my increasingly anxious emails and phone calls. Frustrating to say the least.

No matter that this writing job is not my only job (a fact I appraised said minders of from the start), it's just typical that this weekend is one of the rare ones in the calendar when social events dominate. So if there are typos in this piece put it down to one too many glasses of red. Today was a friend's 70th birthday, tomorrow it's a major fundraiser for the anti-pulp mill group.

A Chinese New Year BBQ no less, for which I'm providing copious amounts of blackberry & apple dessert, + cream. So it's up at sparrow's tomorrow in order to pick the necessary blackberries. Apples are no problem. Our property was once an orchard and we are blessed with several of the original apple and pear trees, some of which are ripening nicely now.

My editor, god bless her, is fully aware of the situation re Min for Ageing & is prepared to hang on for as long as poss - but since the 'proper' job demands all of my time for the first three days of the week, I suspect there will still be a need to burn some midnight oil.

It's one of those times when I wish I was a faster and more nimble writer . . . . But I rarely am when the situation demands it most.

Those of us walking the Overland Track at Easter had a meeting today with Steve, our lovely outdoor ed teacher at school, who's leading us on this five-day walk. The good part about doing this through school is being able to borrow a lot of the gear we'll need - I've already borrowed my pack, and I'm up to hefting about 12kg in it while dog walking each morning. Which means I need to increase the weight to between 15-16kg if I'm to carry the advised weight of a quarter of my body weight.

Plastic bags and pillowcases are obviously the go - colour-coded even for various categories of items. Cooking utensils in one, clothes in another, breakfast in something else, etc.

This evening's meeting was all to do with this kind of thing. To think about what we have to take. Which is basically everything. Food, clothing, cooking stuff, tent, the works. This is rigorous, DIY stuff, with no guarantee of reaching the huts that punctuate the track at strategic points along the way, in time to bag a bunk.

I'm also told that some people prefer to pitch a tent as the huts can be noisy with snores, inconsiderate late night chatting, or the general difficulty of relaxing sufficiently to sleep in a room full of strangers. A category I certainly identify with. The assumption is that one is so totally knackered at the end of each day falling asleep presents no problems. However I'm not convinced.

I scored first go at bringing home one of the three stoves we are taking, to have a play and get used to using it. It's a neat little invention designed to boil water for tea, soup, rehydrating the evening casserole, or heating up the can of beans. If that is your preference.

I don't think it will be mine. The emphasis is on lightening the load as much as possible, so it's packets of food that just need boiling water added (like soup for instance) wherever possible. Steve gave us an idea of what's available, we now have to go & find some of it, & test out some of these suggested meals before we go. He even advised drying some of our own fresh fruit and vegies, so it looks like the gadget I bought on a whim some years ago (and have yet to use) is going to come into its own after all. I knew there was a good reason for hanging onto it!

I wonder how well strawberries dry. Too late for the greengages, but shall have a bash with apples, tomatoes - even bananas are supposed to dry well.

As for the clothes, well it's hardly going to be fashion on the boardwalk, with thermal underwear, polar fleeces, beanies, gloves, and trousers that are not made of either cotton or denim as if this material gets wet or sweaty it doesn't dry well, quickly. The weather at Cradle is unpredictable at the best of times, but we're all praying we'll be as lucky as last year's group who experienced no rainy days at all. Highly unusual, but with Easter being early this year, and rain not exactly being a feature of Tassie's summer so far, we may just have a repeat of their good fortune. I really hope so.

Obviously I shall have to spend an hour or two in town in the next week or two, and trawl the likes of Paddy Pallin & Kathmandu. As well as the op shops - a good source of polar fleeces apparently, although perhaps not in the middle of summer . . .

Needless to say a notebook and pen will definitely find their way into this 15kg pack. As will the camera.

This will not be a long entry because I'm totally stuffed. I am however feeling rather proud of myself having successfully completed the most challenging bush walk of my life. Not that I've done that many, but after signing up to walk the Overland Track at Easter - through school - I'm now in serious training so I don't either stuff up, or disgrace myself. Or both. It would be just too embarrassing for words if I had to be airlifted out!

Ten of us did the Mt Arthur walk today, described as a 10km return 4-6 hour 'beautiful forest climb on a well-graded track followed by a rougher scramble on a marked route up on to the summit ridge. A very satisfying climb, rewarded by excellent views.'

Well, that bit was right, and as the sun burned through the mist just as we approached the summit we certainly were rewarded with spectacular views over Launceston & the Tamar Valley. My new boots gave me no grief, (I've been breaking them in for a couple of weeks during morning and afternoon dog walks), and I managed with a reasonably light pack on my back, but oh, my legs. Quivering jelly probably describes them the best after negotiating all those boulders and rocks and I suspect they will have their revenge on the rest of me tomorrow.

But with a bit less than six weeks to Easter I really need to get in some serious practice both with the pack, and the uphill work. So it's another turn up Mt Direction tomorrow I think (seriously steep, but about 90 minutes return, and considerably closer to home).

For now though it's definitely bedtime, & I won't need any rocking tonight!

The downside to all this produce ripening and bursting forth at the moment is what to do with it all. Well, no that's not quite true, of course I know what to do with it. Eat it, freeze it, give it away to friends and family, or - if you have one of those gizmos that dries fruit etc - you make 'leathers' out of the excess. The fruit excess at least.

The problem is it all takes time, and that's a scarce and precious commodity when deadlines loom, the 'proper' job requires my presence, the pulp mill fight has reached a critical stage, and I really can't go another week without writing a letter to my mother.

But with plums dropping off the tree, tomatoes ripening by the minute, onions, capsicums and cucumbers all ready to pick, and some of the apples this much away from being ready to pick, I put the writing job on hold this morning and cooked up a tomato, onion and garlic storm (liberally sprinkled with parsley), for which I shall doubtless be eternally grateful in the depths of winter when a tomato base is needed in a hurry for pasta sauce or whatever.

The plums can wait until tomorrow.

But our freezer is not that large and it is already nearing capacity, chock-full with blackberries, green beans, apricots, raspberries, chook bread and dog bones.

Just leave them for the chooks says John, and the chooks certainly do well out of the rotten fruit & windfalls, but maybe it's my northern hemisphere roots showing here, I simply can't let all this food go to waste. The need to 'lay food down for winter' is ingrained in the psyche or something, so I shall continue to pick and preserve, in addition to feasting on it fresh, and fill up the freezer a wee bit more.

At least we won't starve, and the grocery bills are wonderfully diminished, but (and I never thought I would ever say this) I'll really be quite glad when the strawberries finally call it a day. They've been on the menu daily for at least two months and still aren't showing too many obvious signs of slowing up. I shouldn't complain. With the need to provide fruit salads at two functions we've been invited to next weekend, a few strawberries and plums won't go amiss. And I'm sure a tomato, capsicum, cucumber and red onion salad won't go astray at either of the BBQs.

I'm glad to say I also met my deadline, so a day well lived.

I cannot end this historic day without scribbling a few words to acknowledge the occasion. How much The Apology has hit the radar in northern hemisphere countries I've no idea. Probably it made page 7 or thereabouts in some of the UK newspapers, but couldn't hazard a guess as to how it may have been reported in the rest of the world.

So for those who haven't a clue what I'm talking about, today in Australia, at Parliament House in Canberra, our new PM Kevin Rudd formally apologised on behalf of the nation to the indiginous people of this country. He said sorry for the truly appalling policy of removing children from Aboriginal families, because it was felt they would be better off being brought up far away from their mothers and communities, while often (but not always) being abused and mistreated along the way.

The arrogance of whites is truly breathtaking sometimes, and nothing at all to be proud of.

This policy, that was only ditched a little over 30 years ago, was something I certainly never learned about in geography lessons at school, and was news to many Aussies until relatively recently.

The Sorry issue has been on the political radar for some years here, but our previous incumbent in The Lodge refused absolutely to offer this symbolic apology for past wrongs to Australia's First Peoples. An apology they have waited for, and repeatedly asked for, for decades.

Today, a more enlightened PM has said it, and the mood in the country is just fantastic. Watching the ceremony while at work (a school library so it was relatively easy to do this, fortunately for me), and seeing students and staff also taking time out to be part of this historic day was just amazing, and emotional.

Finally, for so many of us, we can hold up our heads again after the previous 11 oppressive Howard years, and feel proud to call ourselves Australians.

Thank you Kevin.

Ah, the WE game. I should have explained it a bit more perhaps when I mentioned it in the Barricades piece.

So for jak (& anyone else who was puzzled by this reference) WE or Word Expo is a program designed by a writer & clever computer person in New Zealand, and he coordinates it. It's all done through email and those wishing to be involved nominate a word each week - one that's not been chosen before. Easy to check as there's list of words that have been previously offered in each weekly email.

From the words submitted for that week, the challenge is to write a poem, story, article, script, anything really (but not necessarily very lengthy; a single paragraph might be enough).

Players of the game are then asked to briefly comment on each piece of
writing, & as all entries are initially anonymous, it's also fun to guess who wrote what.

The following week a 'complete exhibition' of a previous WE game is emailed, with authors highlighted, and comments published so you generally also receive a bit of useful feedback.

There's no requirement to submit every week, but if no contribution has been received for five successive weeks then you're automatically knocked off the list. Can rejoin at any time though.

Personally I find it good fun, a creative challenge, & like I said, for some peculiar reason this list of words - anything from 4 to 12 depending on who's 'playing' that week - often prompts poetry. Most of which tends to be of the political variety.

Somewhat bizarre for somebody who has never been known for her poems!

However it has been a great way to vent my spleen on our recently departed, and not remotely lamented, PM - John Howard.

Then there's that pulp mill of course, but you'll have to read installments of Barricades for the updates on that sitution.

Well they say strong emotions are the inspiration for poems, and this mill has certainly inspired a few from me. A bit of a surprise really considering poetry was never my thing. And I still don't regard myself as a poet, but the creative juices are stirred in mysterious ways and the WE 'game' has successfully stirred mine. Amazing what emerges from a list of disparate words.

Prescient too this week given the release of a new economic assessment report by NIEIR which casts serious doubt on the economic viability of the mill. What a surprise. Not.

Whose funeral?

did it ever cross your mind
that we might dare to
disagree with your rear vision
for our future.

when you stitched us up
with woodchips, and wrapped us in
their charred and patchwork remnants
did you ever contemplate
we might not want their dark
and poisoned patterns
in our days

and now that others are
snapping at the threadbare heels
of your assurances
do you tremble?

as they stack the
weight of your words
on their economic scales
and find them wanting
are you worried

it might be your future
that will be pulped -
not ours

(The words in case you're wondering were: dark; discovert; ever; funeral; snapping; weight. There's no requirement to use all of them, although that's the ideal, just three of them at least)

I could just as easily have placed this post in my 'write stuff' category, since fighting the mill has added a few new strings to my writing bow. Letters to editors flow freely from my pen (OK, keyboard) these days. Letters to politicians ditto. Need advice on writing submissions? Well, I wouldn't yet call myself an expert but I've certainly racked up more than I ever would have thought possible in the last four years.

Of course one could argue that if our elected reps were doing their jobs properly there shouldn't have been a need to write submissions at all. I suppose I should be grateful I live in a democracy where it's possible to do so. Here in Gunnsmania we do still laughingly call our political system democracy.

In fact the mill issue has arguably prompted a largely apathetic community to reclaim the D word. It's fascinating to be a part of it.

We live in interesting times.

Never mind that we're still awash with strawberries, plums and cherries, my growing craving for a crisp new season's apple was finally satisfied yesterday with a Gravenstein. Total heaven.

There's always a dark side though. Ripening apples (and blackberries) = the beginning of the end of summer. Picked the first blackberries too this morning, so a blackberry & apple breakfast is now assured for several days. And weekend morning dog walks will incorporate a spot of blackberrying for a few weeks. Always amazes me that I never have any competition - not that I'm complaining.

Looking good so far then for another year when the freezer will be put to good work storing blackberries, runner beans, and - if the tomato crop is anything like last year's - several containers of pasta sauce as well.

I draw the line at jam. Why Aussies can see no further than turning an excess of fruit into jam is beyond me. Give me a good blackberry & apple crumble any day.

As for all the strawberries and raspberries (I hope John is right & we will get a second crop) then I'm of the gorge-while-they're-in-season school. So we did. And we are. For breakfast, lunch & dinner.

Tassie has its moments I have to admit. And an abundance of summer berries is one of them.

There will be a series of these, as I expect those of you who've read the first one will already have realised. And thanks to those concerned folk who took the time to point out that No 1 was posted in the wrong place, & what I needed to do to plonk it in the right one.

Now I'm apparently set up properly for this blogging lark (I will never get used to the extreme ugliness of that word) I'll start again, although realise in my haste to set up categories I forgot to include the 'r' in 'fiction'. Friction would describe our situation here better.

You thought Tasmania was clean & green davidr. You're not alone. Lots of people did. Some still do, but their numbers are dwindling. Even the UK's Guardian, & Daily Telegraph newspapers have printed stories about the monstrous mill & its less-than-democratic fast-track assessment by our state government. Simon de whatsisname, the fellow responsible for introducing the Westminster system of government to the world, will be rotating rapidly in his grave at the shenanigans that are par for the course at the moment in our Tasmanian parliament.

So what's the situation today? Well, we're another day further and Gunns' board have still to formally & officially give the project the nod. Their chosen construction contractor (so word has it) has - unofficially - said there's no way they'll be involved. And the ANZ Bank has also - unofficially - refused to underwrite the mill. (Officially they're saying they've asked Gunns for 'more information' on the environmental risk aspect).

It seems those 28,000 signatures on a petition, have given the ANZ's ceo pause for thought. Good. And that was only one petition. There were at least two more online petitions, (you may have come across one called 'Tell Mr Smith'. If not, do, please, feel free to Google & add your name. I'm sure it's not too late!)

The hour is late however, here, for me, so while you in the northern hemisphere are waking up to another day, we in the southern half are about to call it a day.

Au revoir for the time being.

Blog. Blogging. Blogged. They are such ugly words. They look ugly and they sound ugly. Remove the 'B' and you have log, logging and logged. Not good words either. At least not for me. Not for a lot of us here in Tasmania where logging = Gunns = pulp miill = pollution, environmental disaster, health risks, oh the list is endless.

And here we are - here I am - about to enter the fifth year of the fight. Did I think it would take this long? No, I didn't. Did I imagine the issue would go way beyond the decision to pollute our valley with a stinking, poisonous mill? No, I didn't.

Possibly none of us did when we turned out one freezing winter's night to find out more about a pulp mill that Tasmania's largest company Gunns Ltd wanted to build in the Tamar Valley. Our valley. Our stunningly beautiful, pristine valley that was about to be plundered and trashed due to the greed of one man.

How could it happen? How indeed. Anyone not familiar with Australia's smallest state, this outpost of civilisation, would shake their head in disbelief. Don't worry, I did too when I first came here to live. But the extent of the corruption goes deep, and crosses political party lines. The major ones anyway. The world's first Green party started in Tasmania. It was forged in the turmoil of the Franklin Dam issue back in the '80s. It is an island of extremes. The enchanting, the corrupt, the beautiful and the very, very ugly.

So why am I writing all this in a Blog? I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. Primarily I'm doing it for me, a way of de-briefing, chronicling the saga. For it is a saga and one that will eventually spawn dozens of books. It's already spawned thousands of articles and column inches, online comments, blogs (there's that ugly word again), radio phone-ins and TV docos. There have been protests, marches and rallies. The issue played a significant part in the recent federal election, and will undoubtedly play a dominant role in our next state election.

That the project even made it onto the table is the bad.

The good is the mill has brought together an amazing group of people from every conceivable background, all united in their determination to stop this mill. And it's mind-boggling to realise just what a small community can achieve when it puts its mind to it.

But that's enough for one night.