Had he seen me callously place little Noddy in the bobby calf pen? I think he must have - and he plotted retribution.
This was no bobby calf boy. He was big and beautiful, 40 kgs of sleek black and white bovine temperament. And, what's more - he didn't want to feed on a calfateria. He had a mother with warm soft teats. Why should a fine physical specimen such as himself have to suck on a rubber imitation?
It was time for a showdown between calf 202 and me. I walked into the calf pen and eyeballed him. He eyeballed me back. I walked towards him; calf 202 retreated to the corner. I grabbed him and wrestled him up to the calfateria. He planted his feet and leant backward.
I stood behind him so that his rear end was wedged between my legs foiling his frantic efforts to retreat from the calfateria, then I leant over him, dabbled my fingers in the milk and stuck my fingers in his mouth. He sucked vigorously. Calf 202 and I were bonding in true mother and son fashion. I cunningly edged the rubber teat into his mouth. He stopped sucking and threatened to call the SPCA.
And there we stayed for the next ten or fifteen minutes, me jackknifed over him, calf 202 sucking enthusiastically on my fingers but refusing to suck on the calfateria. At some point, something horrible happened within the mechanism of my back. But he was almost feeding. If I could just hang out another few seconds.
Eventually, I had to admit that calf 202 had won that round. I hobbled across to the rails and hung on while crampish pains threatened to lock me in some Quasimodo position for life.
At some point, I glanced up to see calf 202 sucking enthusiastically on the calfateria! If I'd been able to chuck an empty bucket at him, I would have, but by then I could hardly move.
So - reluctantly, the calves and I have split company. My back is recovering and I'm hobbling about again now.
Thank you all for missing me and worrying about me. I have to admit, that for most of the week I've been in too much pain to even think about the blog. Calf 202 would tell you that shows just what a horrible, force a boy to drink, sort of person I am!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Bobby calves
Today was bobby calf day. That's always a sad day for me.
Bobby calves are the male calves who have no further purpose in life. I'm sure if anyone asked them they'd claim that a life eating good grass and lolling about in the sun was a worthy purpose - but no-one asks them.
Their mother has had a calf and will now produce milk for another year. If our poor little bobby calf had been a girl, then she will be retained to one day become a milk producing cow herself. And if he's of a breed that will produce lots of meat if allowed to grow, then his day of reckoning is pushed out into a distant future.
But if you're a Jersey or a cross bred boy, then you have five days in which to enjoy life. At five days of age our wee boy is legally old enough to be put on the "bobby calf truck" and transported off to the meat works.
My husband claims they're made into mince for MacDonald burgers!
So - it's a very short life for bobbies. I try to make their life as enjoyable as I can but I'm fighting a system that doesn't rate quality time for bobbies very highly!
Five days ago, a stumpy legged little Jersey runt was born. He had enormous spirit and wasn't intimidated about sharing his space with calves that towered over him. I called him Noddy.
Today, I stuck Noddy on the bobby calf truck.
Bobby calves are the male calves who have no further purpose in life. I'm sure if anyone asked them they'd claim that a life eating good grass and lolling about in the sun was a worthy purpose - but no-one asks them.
Their mother has had a calf and will now produce milk for another year. If our poor little bobby calf had been a girl, then she will be retained to one day become a milk producing cow herself. And if he's of a breed that will produce lots of meat if allowed to grow, then his day of reckoning is pushed out into a distant future.
But if you're a Jersey or a cross bred boy, then you have five days in which to enjoy life. At five days of age our wee boy is legally old enough to be put on the "bobby calf truck" and transported off to the meat works.
My husband claims they're made into mince for MacDonald burgers!
So - it's a very short life for bobbies. I try to make their life as enjoyable as I can but I'm fighting a system that doesn't rate quality time for bobbies very highly!
Five days ago, a stumpy legged little Jersey runt was born. He had enormous spirit and wasn't intimidated about sharing his space with calves that towered over him. I called him Noddy.
Today, I stuck Noddy on the bobby calf truck.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Calves in the sun
Today I had to return to the farm at lunch time to feed electrolytes to a scouring calf. Normally when I'm there night and morning, all the calves are standing up by the yards in the mud and start bawling when they see me - the great universal mother lugging the bright green calfateria!
Today, at lunch time, they were not expecting me.
What a pleasure it was to see my little crew all laying in the sun on nice clean grass fast asleep, every last one of them. I snuck in and bottle fed electrolytes to my little "sickie" without disturbing the others too much. A couple got up and came across to see what I was doing but most of them slept right through my visit.
Scours can be a killer with calves. They die of dehydration, but a couple of days on electrolytes will pull them through. Luckily, this little fellow has decided the taste is acceptable. Some simply refuse to drink it and have to be stomach tubed. It's almost inevitable that a few will pick up one of the bugs that target young calves, and sometimes they spread it to every one else.
The sick calf was looking much better by this evening. He'll be on electrolytes again tomorrow and by the next day should be back on milk.
Another two newborns in during the day. Both looking well and one of them very feisty!
So, although I don't normally visit during the day, it really was a pleasure to see my babies looking so content.
Today, at lunch time, they were not expecting me.
What a pleasure it was to see my little crew all laying in the sun on nice clean grass fast asleep, every last one of them. I snuck in and bottle fed electrolytes to my little "sickie" without disturbing the others too much. A couple got up and came across to see what I was doing but most of them slept right through my visit.
Scours can be a killer with calves. They die of dehydration, but a couple of days on electrolytes will pull them through. Luckily, this little fellow has decided the taste is acceptable. Some simply refuse to drink it and have to be stomach tubed. It's almost inevitable that a few will pick up one of the bugs that target young calves, and sometimes they spread it to every one else.
The sick calf was looking much better by this evening. He'll be on electrolytes again tomorrow and by the next day should be back on milk.
Another two newborns in during the day. Both looking well and one of them very feisty!
So, although I don't normally visit during the day, it really was a pleasure to see my babies looking so content.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Rainy day at the calf shed
Well, I may have changed jobs but it still rains! Some things never change!
I had three "babies" come in today. It was lovely to arrive at the shed this afternoon to find they were all in the yard with their mothers having a feed. Those first couple of feeds are just so important but many farms take the calves away almost immediately. Sure, they still get fed colostrum but let's face it, no one can dish it up quite like mum.
So after I had fed all the older calves I whisked those three away from their mums into a shed for the night. The farms calf rearing facilities are very basic but at least they will stay dry tonight.
When I say "whisked", it isn't quite that easy! The littlest one I picked up and carried but even the littlest calf is about 20 kilograms, so I actually more staggered along with it and hoped mum wasn't about to charge at my behind and send us all sprawling in the - we'll call it mud in case some of you are eating. The other two calves were too heavy for me so I shepherded them along bent over in an inelegant and potentially back breaking position with my arms around them and again left my rear end as a potential target for a mother who thinks I'm stealing her beloved!
I also put another calf in the shed. This one was just skin and bone and too weak to stand up to feed when I arrived a couple of days ago but is feeding well on the calfateria with the others now. I figure it will thrive better if it doesn't spend the night in the rain.
Do you have calfaterias in your part of the world, I wonder? It's a large half circle shaped container which can be hooked onto a yard fence and has, usually, ten teats coming off it so the the calves fan out around it. The milk is tipped into the container and each calf sucks as fast as he/she can.
In NZ we also have mobile calfaterias which can be towed out into a paddock and will take 40-50 calves at a time.
OK, that's probably more than you ever wanted to know about calfaterias! I know one of my old bosses from my Australian calf rearing days reads this occasionally (Hello Theresa!) but it is probably as boring as can be for all you writerly types. I'd give you an update on the writing front except there hasn't been much progress. Hopefully, all the good thoughts I had are "composting" away in my mind and as soon as I've settled into this new routine and get home feeling not quite so tired and sore, I'll get back into it.
I had three "babies" come in today. It was lovely to arrive at the shed this afternoon to find they were all in the yard with their mothers having a feed. Those first couple of feeds are just so important but many farms take the calves away almost immediately. Sure, they still get fed colostrum but let's face it, no one can dish it up quite like mum.
So after I had fed all the older calves I whisked those three away from their mums into a shed for the night. The farms calf rearing facilities are very basic but at least they will stay dry tonight.
When I say "whisked", it isn't quite that easy! The littlest one I picked up and carried but even the littlest calf is about 20 kilograms, so I actually more staggered along with it and hoped mum wasn't about to charge at my behind and send us all sprawling in the - we'll call it mud in case some of you are eating. The other two calves were too heavy for me so I shepherded them along bent over in an inelegant and potentially back breaking position with my arms around them and again left my rear end as a potential target for a mother who thinks I'm stealing her beloved!
I also put another calf in the shed. This one was just skin and bone and too weak to stand up to feed when I arrived a couple of days ago but is feeding well on the calfateria with the others now. I figure it will thrive better if it doesn't spend the night in the rain.
Do you have calfaterias in your part of the world, I wonder? It's a large half circle shaped container which can be hooked onto a yard fence and has, usually, ten teats coming off it so the the calves fan out around it. The milk is tipped into the container and each calf sucks as fast as he/she can.
In NZ we also have mobile calfaterias which can be towed out into a paddock and will take 40-50 calves at a time.
OK, that's probably more than you ever wanted to know about calfaterias! I know one of my old bosses from my Australian calf rearing days reads this occasionally (Hello Theresa!) but it is probably as boring as can be for all you writerly types. I'd give you an update on the writing front except there hasn't been much progress. Hopefully, all the good thoughts I had are "composting" away in my mind and as soon as I've settled into this new routine and get home feeling not quite so tired and sore, I'll get back into it.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Farming 101
Big day today and I am tired - but happy. I stayed on after doing the calves and helped draft the "springers".
For you non-farming types, springers are the cows that are almost ready to calve. They are usually put in a herd by themselves so that it is easy to check to see if anyone has calved. This means that over the beginning of the season, the farmer has three herds of cows. The "milkers", the ones that have already calved and come to the shed twice a day for milking, "springers" who are waiting to calve, and the others who are still a little way from calving.
Then, of course, the milkers are often subdivided into smaller groups. Freshly calved cows produce colostrum and this milk can not go into the vat for pickup to the dairy factory. This is the milk that I feed to the calves. Then some cows will get an infection in a teat and have mastitis. They will be treated with antibiotics and this milk also can not be put in the vat.
And after helping draft cows, I washed the shed down. The hose used is not even distantly related to your garden hose! It's something more like the fire department use! Very big, very heavy, (because of the length of it) and if you haven't done it for awhile, very hard on the arm muscles.
Oh well, I do recall a few months ago saying I wanted to tone my arms!
For you non-farming types, springers are the cows that are almost ready to calve. They are usually put in a herd by themselves so that it is easy to check to see if anyone has calved. This means that over the beginning of the season, the farmer has three herds of cows. The "milkers", the ones that have already calved and come to the shed twice a day for milking, "springers" who are waiting to calve, and the others who are still a little way from calving.
Then, of course, the milkers are often subdivided into smaller groups. Freshly calved cows produce colostrum and this milk can not go into the vat for pickup to the dairy factory. This is the milk that I feed to the calves. Then some cows will get an infection in a teat and have mastitis. They will be treated with antibiotics and this milk also can not be put in the vat.
And after helping draft cows, I washed the shed down. The hose used is not even distantly related to your garden hose! It's something more like the fire department use! Very big, very heavy, (because of the length of it) and if you haven't done it for awhile, very hard on the arm muscles.
Oh well, I do recall a few months ago saying I wanted to tone my arms!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The times, they are a changing
The gas station may not want me at the moment but a farm just down the road is desperate for someone to rear their calves. That's good news for me because I love calf rearing.
It's not every ones bag. You do need patience - and not mind getting covered in milk, and pooed upon, and the occasional kick! But there is much satisfaction in turning out lovely big healthy calves and I guess that is what appeals to me.
They start off so little and dependent, and so often they have to put up with having their needs met by someone who doesn't really like them. The world seems to be divided in to people who like rearing calves and people who hate it. There doesn't seem to a middle ground!
I find that people who don't like calves never seem to spot the things that seem so obvious to me - like tonight, the lad who has been filling in hadn't noticed that the back teat on each side couldn't actually be reached because of where he was placing the feeder. So whichever poor little sods got that position would get very little to drink at that feed!
Hopefully over the next few days, a few of the very bony little ones will start to fill out.
I haven't raised calves for several years now so hopefully I soon settle back into a good routine with them. It is a seven day a week job for a couple of hours morning and night over several months.
Over on my website, in the latest news or current news or whatever I called that page, there is a photo of me with my "Australian babies" which was the last job I had rearing calves. I have no idea why I put the photo there, other than I try to include a fresh photo each month. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything current - until now!
I'll try not to bore you with every little detail of my charges over the next couple of months. I'm inclined to get besotted with my calves!
Now - I just have to work the calves into my writing routine!
It's not every ones bag. You do need patience - and not mind getting covered in milk, and pooed upon, and the occasional kick! But there is much satisfaction in turning out lovely big healthy calves and I guess that is what appeals to me.
They start off so little and dependent, and so often they have to put up with having their needs met by someone who doesn't really like them. The world seems to be divided in to people who like rearing calves and people who hate it. There doesn't seem to a middle ground!
I find that people who don't like calves never seem to spot the things that seem so obvious to me - like tonight, the lad who has been filling in hadn't noticed that the back teat on each side couldn't actually be reached because of where he was placing the feeder. So whichever poor little sods got that position would get very little to drink at that feed!
Hopefully over the next few days, a few of the very bony little ones will start to fill out.
I haven't raised calves for several years now so hopefully I soon settle back into a good routine with them. It is a seven day a week job for a couple of hours morning and night over several months.
Over on my website, in the latest news or current news or whatever I called that page, there is a photo of me with my "Australian babies" which was the last job I had rearing calves. I have no idea why I put the photo there, other than I try to include a fresh photo each month. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything current - until now!
I'll try not to bore you with every little detail of my charges over the next couple of months. I'm inclined to get besotted with my calves!
Now - I just have to work the calves into my writing routine!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Can't win 'em all
The first bad review of Ripples has come out in the Listener.
It has, the reviewer tells me, "an overwrought plot and special effects lacking in subtlety or surprise". "The narrative is a blunt weapon" - which could be a good thing but not in this case!
The reviewer clearly did not like Ripples.
He also tells me that Saffron Delaney is part-Maori which she is not. I ought to know! I wrote her.
It doesn't feel as devastating as I thought it might. I suppose that lots of things in life are like that - you dread them, but when they happen you think "oh, that wasn't so bad."
Don't get me wrong - I would have preferred if this gentleman had enjoyed Ripples, but he didn't and I accept that you can't please everyone.
I prefer to dwell on the growing number of emails that tell me they loved the story. It's for them that I'm writing the next one - not for reviewers who want subtlety.
I never have been subtle!
It has, the reviewer tells me, "an overwrought plot and special effects lacking in subtlety or surprise". "The narrative is a blunt weapon" - which could be a good thing but not in this case!
The reviewer clearly did not like Ripples.
He also tells me that Saffron Delaney is part-Maori which she is not. I ought to know! I wrote her.
It doesn't feel as devastating as I thought it might. I suppose that lots of things in life are like that - you dread them, but when they happen you think "oh, that wasn't so bad."
Don't get me wrong - I would have preferred if this gentleman had enjoyed Ripples, but he didn't and I accept that you can't please everyone.
I prefer to dwell on the growing number of emails that tell me they loved the story. It's for them that I'm writing the next one - not for reviewers who want subtlety.
I never have been subtle!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
On my wall
My computer is set up in what should be a spare bedroom but has become my writing room. It faces a plain cream coloured wall and on this wall are pinned dozens of pieces of paper.
This wall is my inspiration.
On it you'll find a photocopy of my first advance cheque and beside that there is the email that Kim Wilkins sent when I asked her if she would read Ripples. Right beside them is the email from Tania who sent me the very first "fan mail".
There's a copy of the cover of Ripples on the Lake and images of scenes around Taupo.
There is a photo of a hawk and images of the Northern Lights - both are connected to the current story.
There are quotes from various people: James D Macdonald, Woody Allen, Stormy (a character out of a Dean Koontz novel), Mary Carter, Chief Tecumseh of the Shawnee Nation, Holly Lisle and a heap of anonymous ones.
And when the going gets tough, I look at my wall and I read what needs to be read. It helps. That's why they're there.
Let me share the one by Chief Tecumseh with you today.
That final line gives me goose bumps. It inspires me.
Pin it on your own wall if you feel it might help.
This wall is my inspiration.
On it you'll find a photocopy of my first advance cheque and beside that there is the email that Kim Wilkins sent when I asked her if she would read Ripples. Right beside them is the email from Tania who sent me the very first "fan mail".
There's a copy of the cover of Ripples on the Lake and images of scenes around Taupo.
There is a photo of a hawk and images of the Northern Lights - both are connected to the current story.
There are quotes from various people: James D Macdonald, Woody Allen, Stormy (a character out of a Dean Koontz novel), Mary Carter, Chief Tecumseh of the Shawnee Nation, Holly Lisle and a heap of anonymous ones.
And when the going gets tough, I look at my wall and I read what needs to be read. It helps. That's why they're there.
Let me share the one by Chief Tecumseh with you today.
When it comes your time to die,
be not like those whose heads are filled with the fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.
That final line gives me goose bumps. It inspires me.
Pin it on your own wall if you feel it might help.
Friday, August 10, 2007
No gas today
No weekend work at the gas station over the next few days. The concrete forecourt is all dug up in preparation for the holding tanks to be removed and the garage will be closed for the weekend.
I can't pretend to be sad. I'll miss the money, of course, but it will give me an opportunity to settle into my new balanced routine.
This is the routine that is going to work so much better than my old balanced routine, which was, of course, the new improved version of the "I am a balanced person" routine before that!
Quite what will happen eventually with the gas station, I'm not sure. It may run as a workshop only - no petrol and therefore no need of me - or it may become a diesel truck stop which may require me.
Or, the pizza parlour being built fifty metres from my back door may put a late spurt on and open its door - in which case I shall be job hunting there!
Nice warm kitchen, the smell of pizza - against wind and rain and the opportunity to blow myself sky high!
I know which sounds the most appealing to me!
I can't pretend to be sad. I'll miss the money, of course, but it will give me an opportunity to settle into my new balanced routine.
This is the routine that is going to work so much better than my old balanced routine, which was, of course, the new improved version of the "I am a balanced person" routine before that!
Quite what will happen eventually with the gas station, I'm not sure. It may run as a workshop only - no petrol and therefore no need of me - or it may become a diesel truck stop which may require me.
Or, the pizza parlour being built fifty metres from my back door may put a late spurt on and open its door - in which case I shall be job hunting there!
Nice warm kitchen, the smell of pizza - against wind and rain and the opportunity to blow myself sky high!
I know which sounds the most appealing to me!
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Lost my balance
I recall blogging about balance six weeks ago. I had the best of intentions.
And then a week ago, once more I was prattling on about how writing was my priority and how I wasn't going to allow anything to come between me and the next story.
Fine words but they amounted to doodly squat!
I'm not a balanced person. I go overboard on everything I do. I concentrate on one task to the detriment of everything else. Although I can multitask within an activity, I can't multitask with life!
One thing I've noticed over the years is - the thing that I start the day with is what dominates. So, instead of fighting against my own nature I'm going to try working with it a little more. That means no more morning time on the internet which is going to put me completely "out of synch" with my trusty little gang of fellow bloggers. That's you!
I'm going to allocate one hour a day, mid afternoon, to come on to the net and post and visit. I'll probably be the last commenter for most of you and will be hopelessly behind with the news. Bear with me. Please! I'll try this for a week and if I get back on track with my writing, well and good, I'll stick with that routine. If it doesn't work then I'm going to cut myself down to a weekly post!
Today has gone well, and I'm hopeful that this new routine will work. When I was writing Ripples, I would get up, make a cup of coffee, switch on the computer and look at the story. Even if I didn't immediately start writing, the story was in my mind.
Nowadays, I switch on the computer and go straight to the blog!
Time to get firm with myself before I topple right off the beam!
And then a week ago, once more I was prattling on about how writing was my priority and how I wasn't going to allow anything to come between me and the next story.
Fine words but they amounted to doodly squat!
I'm not a balanced person. I go overboard on everything I do. I concentrate on one task to the detriment of everything else. Although I can multitask within an activity, I can't multitask with life!
One thing I've noticed over the years is - the thing that I start the day with is what dominates. So, instead of fighting against my own nature I'm going to try working with it a little more. That means no more morning time on the internet which is going to put me completely "out of synch" with my trusty little gang of fellow bloggers. That's you!
I'm going to allocate one hour a day, mid afternoon, to come on to the net and post and visit. I'll probably be the last commenter for most of you and will be hopelessly behind with the news. Bear with me. Please! I'll try this for a week and if I get back on track with my writing, well and good, I'll stick with that routine. If it doesn't work then I'm going to cut myself down to a weekly post!
Today has gone well, and I'm hopeful that this new routine will work. When I was writing Ripples, I would get up, make a cup of coffee, switch on the computer and look at the story. Even if I didn't immediately start writing, the story was in my mind.
Nowadays, I switch on the computer and go straight to the blog!
Time to get firm with myself before I topple right off the beam!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
I'm a "Trade Me" baby
It isn't something that I ever considered happening - but today it did. Or at least today it showed up on my Google Alert meaning it had already happened.
At the weekend, a second hand copy of Ripples on the Lake sold on Trade Me (similar to ebay). It was described as being in tidy condition after one careful owner!
Initially, I wasn't sure how to respond to this, but I browsed through the other books on Trade Me - a zillion copies of various Harry Potter's, lots of Jenny Pattrick - and decided I was in good company.
I suppose all writer hopes that every copy sold will hold pride of place on a bookshelf somewhere to be lovingly reread each year. A nice thought - but it ain't gonna happen. That being the case, I can see virtue in being handed on to (hopefully) brighten the day of another reader.
So that is how I choose to see this. The ripples are spreading out. That's good. I hope the new owner of that preloved copy will make it a "keeper" but if not, let the ripples spread.
Shame I can't pick up a royalty on that second sale!
At the weekend, a second hand copy of Ripples on the Lake sold on Trade Me (similar to ebay). It was described as being in tidy condition after one careful owner!
Initially, I wasn't sure how to respond to this, but I browsed through the other books on Trade Me - a zillion copies of various Harry Potter's, lots of Jenny Pattrick - and decided I was in good company.
I suppose all writer hopes that every copy sold will hold pride of place on a bookshelf somewhere to be lovingly reread each year. A nice thought - but it ain't gonna happen. That being the case, I can see virtue in being handed on to (hopefully) brighten the day of another reader.
So that is how I choose to see this. The ripples are spreading out. That's good. I hope the new owner of that preloved copy will make it a "keeper" but if not, let the ripples spread.
Shame I can't pick up a royalty on that second sale!
Sunday, August 5, 2007
The gas station with no gas (almost)!
Yet another extraordinarily fun filled day at the gas station.
I defrosted the icecream freezer.
I discovered a horde of potato crisps that had, whilst my back was momentarily turned, crept dangerously close to their use by date so I corralled them in a box and stuck a "Cheap Chips" sign on them. That'll learn 'em!
I kept a wary eye on a dog who seemed to think that the gas station belonged to him and snuck up behind me each time I turned my back. Eventually he got bored with baiting the gas station lady and wandered back home.
I wondered where all the customers were until I discovered my boss had put an announcement in our local weekly paper stating "no petrol sales whilst we retank" - except we don't start doing that until next week.
I ran out of diesel (in preparation for the retanking) aided by a few trusty souls who had obviously not read the local rag and didn't realise that they weren't supposed to stop.
I would have run out of petrol but not enough customers came in (because of the announcement in the paper!) to quite pull that off.
Shame!
I was looking forward to being the gasoline equivalent of the pub with no beer!
I defrosted the icecream freezer.
I discovered a horde of potato crisps that had, whilst my back was momentarily turned, crept dangerously close to their use by date so I corralled them in a box and stuck a "Cheap Chips" sign on them. That'll learn 'em!
I kept a wary eye on a dog who seemed to think that the gas station belonged to him and snuck up behind me each time I turned my back. Eventually he got bored with baiting the gas station lady and wandered back home.
I wondered where all the customers were until I discovered my boss had put an announcement in our local weekly paper stating "no petrol sales whilst we retank" - except we don't start doing that until next week.
I ran out of diesel (in preparation for the retanking) aided by a few trusty souls who had obviously not read the local rag and didn't realise that they weren't supposed to stop.
I would have run out of petrol but not enough customers came in (because of the announcement in the paper!) to quite pull that off.
Shame!
I was looking forward to being the gasoline equivalent of the pub with no beer!
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Get your butt into a bookstore
I'm assuming that most of the folk who find their way to my blog enjoy reading. That being so, how do you lay your sticky little fingers on the book of your desire?
If you're anything like me, you wait until it hits the library!
I'm endeavouring to stop being such a cheapskate. If I want people to buy my book then it seems reasonable that I should buy other people's.
On my travels round the web I found this extremely interesting post My Top Six Reasons for Buying Harry Potter 7 at My Local Bookstore at the Woza Books website. You have to scroll down a wee bit to find it but it's worth the journey. Amy Wachspress is the author of The Call to Shakabaz.
Did you know that the very first print run on the very first Harry Potter was a paltry 1000 books! Heck, even in little old NZ, the publisher churned out more than that for my first run.
This article shows what the magic of "word of mouth" can accomplish. And it also shows how we need to be looking after our book stores. Yes - the internet is changing the face of publishing, but in the meantime, don't we just love the idea of seeing our books out there on the shelf.
This is simply one of those articles that make you feel good.
Read it - and you'll see what I mean.
If you're anything like me, you wait until it hits the library!
I'm endeavouring to stop being such a cheapskate. If I want people to buy my book then it seems reasonable that I should buy other people's.
On my travels round the web I found this extremely interesting post My Top Six Reasons for Buying Harry Potter 7 at My Local Bookstore at the Woza Books website. You have to scroll down a wee bit to find it but it's worth the journey. Amy Wachspress is the author of The Call to Shakabaz.
Did you know that the very first print run on the very first Harry Potter was a paltry 1000 books! Heck, even in little old NZ, the publisher churned out more than that for my first run.
This article shows what the magic of "word of mouth" can accomplish. And it also shows how we need to be looking after our book stores. Yes - the internet is changing the face of publishing, but in the meantime, don't we just love the idea of seeing our books out there on the shelf.
This is simply one of those articles that make you feel good.
Read it - and you'll see what I mean.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Advice from a friend
Always do a visual check inside the sack of pellets before you put your hand in to scoop out the hen's morning rations.
Just a friendly word of advice.
There was a mouse inside the sack this morning.
Yeek!!!!!
Just a friendly word of advice.
There was a mouse inside the sack this morning.
Yeek!!!!!
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
The caring side of Big Brother
Out of all the talk surrounding this latest case of child abuse in New Zealand comes one idea that might achieve something.
Statistics tell us that in four out of five of these cases, the caregiver is on a benefit. The suggestion was that there should be some sort of additional check on these children. If you want to claim a benefit then you put up with this intrusion into your home life.
Sounds good to me.
There would be an uproar, of course, as people yelp about big brother tactics, but if it could be presented as something that good parents on benefits just need to suck up and swallow down in the interests of helping these poor battered kids, then maybe it would achieve something. Sure, it's making a judgement call on people simply because they're on a benfit, and that isn't fair, but beating kids to death isn't fair either.
It wouldn't have helped in this latest case as the little girl's mother had a job, but if those stats are right, then a public health nurse visiting homes every so often just might reveal when a family (to use the term very loosely) is so dysfunctional that the safety of babies and young children within the group is being compromised.
I do question whether you can actually use the term family because so often it sounds like a mother, a boyfriend, and dozens of hangers-on coming and going, partying, drugs, and absolutely none of the things that I associate with family life.
I hope someone looks at this idea. It seems to me that it might help. Can the country afford it? I don't know. But like I said, sometimes you just have to suck it up and swallow it down.
Statistics tell us that in four out of five of these cases, the caregiver is on a benefit. The suggestion was that there should be some sort of additional check on these children. If you want to claim a benefit then you put up with this intrusion into your home life.
Sounds good to me.
There would be an uproar, of course, as people yelp about big brother tactics, but if it could be presented as something that good parents on benefits just need to suck up and swallow down in the interests of helping these poor battered kids, then maybe it would achieve something. Sure, it's making a judgement call on people simply because they're on a benfit, and that isn't fair, but beating kids to death isn't fair either.
It wouldn't have helped in this latest case as the little girl's mother had a job, but if those stats are right, then a public health nurse visiting homes every so often just might reveal when a family (to use the term very loosely) is so dysfunctional that the safety of babies and young children within the group is being compromised.
I do question whether you can actually use the term family because so often it sounds like a mother, a boyfriend, and dozens of hangers-on coming and going, partying, drugs, and absolutely none of the things that I associate with family life.
I hope someone looks at this idea. It seems to me that it might help. Can the country afford it? I don't know. But like I said, sometimes you just have to suck it up and swallow it down.
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