Chris Burchett – Page 5 – Chris Burchett

Politics

My Great Gran

Posted in Politics

My great-grandmother, Jacqueline Ardour, became the first President of the United Australasian Republic, after successfully steering the unification of New Zealand and Australia. The move, discussed since 1894, finally came in the aftermath of the continuing waves of the Coronavirus pandemic, in the 20s.

I came across her diaries recently. They were on an old USB stick I found as I was clearing out Mum’s house. The library still had USB technology!

My Gran described her world in a surprisingly matter-of-fact manner. She interspersed notations of domestic and international issues with a note, that as winter is coming, she must remember to plant the broad beans and daffodils. It was also noted that she needed a new cardigan, against the invitation to attend the funeral of assassinated US President, Donald Trump!

There was a whole folder dealing with the Coronavirus pandemic: outcomes of the several strategies adopted to deal with the waves of infection that followed the relaxation of containment measures. Jacqueline noted how China, the US, the UK and much of Europe desperately competed to get their economies kick-started first, with their eagerness estimated to have cost two hundred and ninety million lives over the intensely infectious, first four years. I found it fascinating to read the assessment of the pandemic’s inability to penetrate the small Pacific nations and the largely forgotten Indigenous communities – a fortuitous consequence of isolation and government inaction!

She allocated a couple of pages to documenting the collapse of the oil industry, the shift of the geopolitical base towards South America, and the rise of extreme nationalism and civil unrest as borders closed against the pandemic. Jacqueline noted the rediscovery of home gardening!

She served two, four-year Presidential terms, and by the eighth year, her advisers were reporting that digital conferencing and home officing had slashed aircraft and vehicle movements. Combined with the breakthrough in battery technology, it seemed a reduction in Global Warming was achievable! Polar monitoring confirmed a decrease in ice sheet and permafrost melts, with climatologists confident the planet could repair itself.

An odd inclusion in her diaries was the transcript of the first line of the then, new UAR National Anthem. I suspect she had a wry smile as she wrote:

“I am, you are, we are Orz-tral-iaise-eon.”

The Centennial celebrations of United Australasia start next week. There is to be an unveiling of her statue in the Capital, to mark the occasion.

Animals

My perfect Sunday

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Animals

Tomorrow is the best day. She doesn’t go off in the car early. We get to sleep in, and if I am extra careful, I can sneak up onto the bed and cuddle up against her back! It is not like other days when I am rudely woken, pushed out the door, usually spending the rest of the day asleep on the old couch in the courtyard. Yes, it is dry, but I’m lonely, and the cold wind sometimes sneaks in around the corners!

Tomorrow starts late, and there are lots of chin scratches and smooching. I love it when she idly tickles my head, we laze there, blankets rumpled, the warm fuggy smell of the room.

When we are both up, I get weet-bix and hot milk for breakfast! Sometimes there is a dollop of golden syrup. And there is no rushing around. We plan our day together, and we always include the park!

One glitch might be the hose! It was just lying on the ground yesterday. That orange, hard bit at the end was too tempting, and yes, I admit, I did just give it a bit of a chew! I wonder if she will notice it?

Poems

I lost Autumn

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Poems

Autumn passed by me, in barely a trot

One moment twas hot, and then, well, it was not

Yeh, I did see the changes, the trees turning brown

From the lounge room bay windows, the leaves falling down

But closed up inside home, your cut from the world

And the friend’s front-gate banter has all but been furled

So while sunshine was there, on one or two days

I know winter is coming, cos we’ve done most of Maze.

Domestics

Covid 19 and I

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Domestics

With the current social distancing restrictions and the semi ‘lockdown’ at home, the last thing I expected was to be happy with my personal situation. I thought I would be climbing the wall, bored, anxious, possibly argumentative. But I am surprised at the ease with which I exist within this Covid bubble!

I have an extensive vegetable garden. My quinces need stewing, the cumquats to transform into marmalade. The strawberry guavas and feijoa will be ripening in the next few weeks.

I have unpacked, recharged and loaded my e-reader. There is the daily newspaper quiz, crossword and sudoku, and I have found the SBS Movie channel.

As a pensioner, I’m told that I am at risk, but think I am fortunate. My thoughts are with those who have lost family and friends, the hundreds of thousands, their livelihoods, have tenancy fragility and the future burden of a $230,000,000,000 mortgage to service!

Domestics

On the rack

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Domestics

I presented a beautifully crackled Pork Belly, with our homegrown broad beans, broccoli and freshly dug, roasted kipflers. There was also our apple sauce and, a spicy, plum sauce.

It had taken me years to predictably get the crackling to work. Stephanie advised fridge-drying the cut for eight hours, getting the oil and salt into the scored skin without penetrating the flesh, and then, on the rack, into an extremely hot oven for 30 minutes, reducing the heat for another 30 minutes, resting and serving!

I awoke with a start – Mon Dieu, had I killed the pig before roasting it!

Characters

A soliloquy

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Characters

My troublesome neighbours are, in fact, delightful companions to have next door! A few parties, and a wandering cat. But you’ve gotta pick when to pop in! The other day I desperately needed a smoke. I had run out. Their front gate squeaked.

“Hiya, wanna cuppa? Kettle’s just boiled.” Julie was hunkered down in her favourite seat on the verandah, out of the wind and catching the watery, winter sunshine. “Here’s the rollies, help yourself.”

“Kylie popped in the other day as I was sitting here. She needed to use the loo and suggested we should go shopping. She’s after one of those new earbuds; the ones with the pink and grey stripes? Nichole got a pair last week. Apparently, they deliver great sound, and you can just imagine those colours against her new green cardigan!”

“Talking of being caught short, I was in the kitchen making scones earlier, and I ran out of self-raising flour. I luckily had some baking powder, and I mixed two tablespoons into the plain flour. It worked a treat, and with the lime marmalade, they will be great for morning tea. Jason will be home shortly. He had to go to the doctor for his annual prostate thingy. Ya know where they stick their finger up – oh yer, ya know all about that, don’t ya!”

“It levels the playing field a bit – we ladies have all of those fingers prodding, and those bloody cold speculums and it, well, ya know, it sorta levels things a bit.”

“I was talking to Melissa last week, and she has found this amazing recipe for spaghetti bog. Ya fry the onions first, then add everything else quickly, so ya don’t burn it. She uses the premium mince. It doesn’t cost that much extra and, while there is still a bit of water in it, it’s nowhere near as much as the ordinary stuff!”

“We are going to have plums tonight. I thought I would give Jason a treat. Renee says she sometimes adds vanilla to her custard as Darren really likes that. I cheat and buy the ready-made stuff from IGA. It is only $3.79, for nearly a litre!”

At that moment I made a commitment to never, ever, run out of smokes again!

Politics

A Canberra voyeur

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Politics

In a bedroom, somewhere within the Canberra ‘bubble’, a fly, on the wall, is listening!

“Jude, it has been a hell of a few weeks; I don’t seem to be able to take a trick. Do you reckon they would come at a new, multi-million-dollar research facility, to finally nail down Clean Coal? Could I convince the faithful that the pictures of me holding that lump of coal were manipulated, … you know, fake news? Arsonists have lit over 35% of the fires and yet we are still being blamed! It’s as though they expect me to man the trucks!”

“This climate thingy is a global phenomenon and, our share of emissions is only 1.3%. We are doing our fair share. We have to protect the economy – jobs and growth! But how do I convince those woke, inner-city lefties?”

“Relax hun; you need to relax! Your marketing spin will win the day, it always has. Thoughts and prayers might help, too! “

He ponders and absent-mindedly starts considering options. He settles deeper into the pillows and starts to relax. “OK Jude, we need to cuddle so where the bloody hell are you!” The mood softens and the fly retreats.

In the morning the fly has moved to the kitchen. The couple are sitting down to breakfast. The bloke is distractedly licking excess jam and crumbs from his plate. “What about the religious discrimination business? Or a media stunt, demonstrating my record of under-promising and over-delivering! Maybe ‘throwing somebody under a bus’. Enthusiasm lifts his spirits – yer, that’ll work! What’s her name, you know, the girl who runs that sports funding program – er whatsername!”

The mood lightens significantly as the idea begins to take form.

“You know Jude, I reckon we deserve a holiday. Why don’t we leave all of this behind, for a bit. We can take the girls to, err … weren’t they talking about Vanuatu? We can slip away quietly and be back before anybody knows we’ve gone!”

Childhood Memories

Grandpa

Written by Chris Burchett

Posted in Childhood Memories

65 years ago, I often climbed into bed with my Grandpa, who slept in the room across the hall. He was a wonderful storyteller, ever ready to lead me into the wonderous adventures of his own early childhood. Tales of clearing tall timber in Gippsland, about huge, vaguely controlled burns, subsequent windrows of potatoes, the first dairy cows purchased, a growing herd, frosty, barefoot mornings in the milking shed, surplus milk going to the Poowong butter factory.

I absorbed stories of family tragedy, his late-night trek through a dark, trackless bush to fetch the midwife, the loss of a young life, a small coffin in a darkened front room! He showed me a faint scar running across and down the sides of his nose. He told of a sliver of tin, thrown high by his brother leaving his nose hanging by the septum and of another neighbourly dash for medical help, stitches and eventual bragging rights! He retold of the day he returned from school to find the house burnt, a pile of smouldering timber, the tears at the loss of his teddy!

The neighbours took in the whole family – there were eight children and the subsequent town project over the next few months to rebuild the house. Donated or loaned furnishings – he remembered a new teddy!

There were snakes, huge ones slithering into and through his life. One was found in his sister’s bed, another underneath the Coolgardie meat safe on the back verandah. Many years later I witnessed Grandpa, loaded shotgun across his knees, sitting in our lounge closely watching a saucer of milk placed to entice a Tiger’ out from a crack near the fireplace.

And then there were the black jelly beans – a bag full, kept high on a shelf in his wardrobe. My efforts to increase the ration achieved a broken chair and a smacked bottom.

As I got older the stories moved to the verandah and refocused on living in Ballarat, his worldview and his political interests.

With the death of his daughter, he abandoned Christianity for Communism, explaining to me “…to punish God for abandoning him.” He maintained a commitment to charitable works, but his context broadened dramatically. He threw himself into the Jewish Welfare Society, helping to resettle refugees fleeing Nazi Germany. He followed the Indian Independence Movement, calls for Aboriginal Citizenship and the impacts of the Depression.

He remained a ‘concerned, vocal citizen’ throughout his life, ever writing letters to The Argus and The Age’s Editor, and I suspect would have been ashamed of the notion of “the quiet Australian”, the government’s leadership failures, rampant corporate greed and the disengaged electorate.