A sad day for Australian journalism
My favourite investigative journalist Naomi Robson is leaving the esteemed Today Tonight current affairs program. It is the end of a thought provoking era of unprecedented coverage of weight loss schemes, single mothers and shonky panel beaters.
Where am I going to learn what to think about the world I live in without my Naomi?
Naomi Robson admits her biggest mistake at Today Tonight was sporting khaki and a lizard on her shoulder when covering Steve Irwin’s death.
Goodbye Naomi. I’ll miss you.
An e-mail to Peter Garrett
TO: Peter Garrett MP
CC: Fiona Richardson, Alex Bhatal, Greg Barber
Dear Peter
Thank you for your letter earlier this week regarding Greens preferences in this weekend’s election in Victoria.
I am a bit confused about the second paragraph which states that “If you’re thinking of voting for the Greens in Northcote you should be aware of the preference deal between the Greens and the Liberal Party which greatly increases the Liberal’s election chances in a number of critical seats.”
Having received your letter I looked through the ‘How to Vote’ information on the Greens website (http://www.vic.greens.org.au/2006Election/how_to_vote).
In Northcote the Greens first preference is, understandably, for their own candidate, followed by an independent 2nd, the ALP candidate 3rd, the Liberal candidate 4th and the Family First candidate 5th.
If my reading of the Greens’ ‘How to Vote’ information is correct, the Greens are preferencing the ALP candidate ahead of the Liberal candidate in 60 out of the 88 seats in the Legislative Assembly. In the remaining 28 seats I would classify the Greens preferences as neutral- they either outline the options of voting Greens with ALP or Liberal preferences or direct voters to put the Green candidate first then number all the remaining boxes in the order of the voter’s choice.
I don’t understand how this “greatly increases the Liberal’s election chances in a number of critical seats.”
Have I misunderstood something? Are you aware of other information that I’ve not been able to access?
For myself the question is somewhat academic. Having studied the Victorian electoral system in Grade 5 at Melton Primary School I will, as always, make up my own mind about my voting preferences without relying on any party or candidate’s how to vote card. However I am concerned that others may be similarly confused and possibly even misled by your letter.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Your sincerely
Campbell
address, etc
Read the fine print
Further to my tome about the theft of a favourite old white car, I thought I would share some of my hard-learnt knowledge about insurance and what you don’t get if you are in the unlucky position of making a claim for a stolen car. I will refer to them from now on as GOLDEN RULES .
Here’s how my tale unfolded:
1. Car stolen
2. Contacted insurer
3. Sent many documents proving ownership and condition of car
4. Wondered out loud to phone rep how long this will take, but noone willing to outline timeline
5. Negotiated perceived market value of car
6. Received cheque for market value amount MINUS excess (fair enough) AND the rest of the year’s insurance premiums (as I had elected to pay monthly)
7. Still waiting for compensation for contents lost, having spent an afternoon touring retailers asking for ‘quotes’ for items, even though my insurer will not pay replacement value. A mystery algorithm will be applied to item value and age of said item, resulting in the amount to which I am entitled. Hoping I will receive the maximum of $550 to replace the $1300 worth of stuff hidden in the boot of my car for the 40 minutes it took for the *insert expleeeetive here* person to take my four-wheeled friend.
Point 6 troubles me, even though it is in the fine print (which we all know noone reads). Name another industry where you pay for a service you don’t receive? I am going to write to the Insurance Ombudsman Service to voice my disappointment with this ‘industry standard’. Stay tuned re outcomes.
On a happier note, VicRoads gets a round of applause for the good sense that governs their policies - they will return a percentage of my registration for PUF, as she will not be on the road under the care and guidance of her rightful owner for the remaining 9 months of the year’s registration that I paid in September.
I must say I feel safe that my car-that-is-no-longer-in-my-possession will be insured until July 2007. If a crazy person ploughs through a red light and t-bones me in my imaginary car at an intersection, I will not have to worry. I will be insured. It’s a weight off my mind. But wait a minute, my imaginary car will not be registered.
I am told that my experience lines up with ‘industry standard’, but I think it sucks anyway.
GOLDEN RULES for jaded:
GOLDEN RULE 1: Document car services for future reference to prove state of repair/mileage (thus assisting calculation of market value)
GOLDEN RULE 2: Check your policy - will you be returned a percentage of premiums paid if you make a claim?
GOLDEN RULE 3: Grab the car hire offered to you as soon as you report the car gone. I decided that I would wait (as noone could tell me how long the claim would take to process) and 8 days later was told I was too late as on that very day they were finalising the payment. Efficient but mean spirited.
GOLDEN RULE 4: Check your policy - will your insurer give you cash for the items that are in your car when it gets stolen? Do they offer replacement value or depreciated value? To what total value?
Four points
On the Sunday of Cup weekend a friend and I walked to the lighthouse at Wilson’s Prom (a fantastic walk, possibly the subject of a future post).
As we approached the granite teardrop at the point of the prom where the lighthouse stands I realised that I was about to complete the set of the East, North, West and South most points of the Australian mainland. Not like this was some long-held ambition* or tick-list or anything like that but still worthy of recognising, I reckon.
Four points of note:
- I saw an echidna within a couple of hundred metres of the tip of the Prom in 2006 and also within about ten metres of the tip of Cape York in 1994. I suppose in theory it could have been the same one but that’s probably pretty unlikely.
- I didn’t actually make it all the way out to Steep Point in WA (you need a 4WD), so I’m counting Shark Bay / Monkey Mia which is about as close as you can get in a normal car. Sue me.
- Can’t really remember much about Cape Byron. It would be cool to be able to say that this was because of all the great drugs we’d been taking but in all honesty it was just quite a long time ago and didn’t make that much of an impression.
- It’s good that you have to walk in to the lighthouse at the Prom (no Tidal River doesn’t count even if this contradicts point 2). You can more or less drive all the way to the other three. If you take the main track all the way, the distance from the car park to the lighthouse and back is almost exactly that of a marathon.
* I do have two long-held travel ambitions- to see a live volcano (ideally with flowing lava) and to see an iceberg (ideally as it calves from a glacier). Maybe I could do both with a trip to Iceland?
The Giant of Provence
We leave from Bedoin, a charming little town at the foot of Mt Venoux. It’s a beautiful autumn day with the temperature in the low 30s.
Our route is one of the most famous climbs of the Tour de France and is regarded as one of the hardest. The 22km climb is rated at 7.6% but the first 3 three kilometres are flat-ish so most of the riding is in excess of 9-10%. There are signs every few hundred metres in case you forget… but you don’t forget.
Mt Ventoux is relentless. Richard is riding like a robot and I try to keep pace but it is futile. At one stage I am suffering so much I get off to check my bike because the road feels unnaturally heavy. Its a desperate move. The sweat stings my eyes and the flies have a field day. I’m having the time of my life. No seriously.
In around 1.38.00 we reach the summit. Other cyclists are there to greet us. We nod to each other. There is a man selling fudge and candy and unfortunately there are many motorists. Motorists should not be here.
For around an hour we bask in the sun and stare off into the distance. Kinda like they do in Brokeback Mountain. We then begin our decent and briefly our speedometres display 82kph. That was stupid.
We return to our hotel, nestled amongst rolling hills and vineyards. Our hosts have a beer waiting.
I then hear about a man who climbed Mt Ventoux with his 12-year-old son. They probably weren’t the fastest but they made it.
That is why I love riding my bike.
PUF the magic pony
My car got stolen. PUF was there, then she wasn’t. It is a strange state of affairs. Not the worst thing that can happen to a person, I know, but it’s not the nicest either.
My 16-year-old car has been a loyal steed, waiting patiently in alleys and car parks, weathering ice and sleet and well-aimed squirts from feathered friends. It dozed patiently through my love affair with two wheels - I climbed on a bike and let leaves collect around the pony’s wheels. But a bike don’t cut it on excursions to the market or the odd occasion it rains or if I head out of the city for a breath of fresh air with friends. So I returned, gave her a pat and a polish and we set out on an adventure or two.
So how do I know that the person who decided that he/she should have her is treating her right? Last seen in Richmond, parked safely, I have concocted a theory that she became transport home for someone who had scored their Melbourne Cup eve fix and then needed to head to a familiar place. Or she could be charred and smoking in some forgotten place, having obediently particpated in some circle work (large loops only - no power steering here) and hurtled along at top speed (perhaps 140km/hr), then, proving unsatisfactory to her jockeys, dumped for something with rims and fins.
Either way she is sorely missed. And as I negotiate the paperwork and disappointment of insurance claims, I hope that bad bad karma strikes those who decide that they will have what is not theirs.
p.s. if you see a lost looking Nissan Pulsar Vector (white) with plates PUF 972 please send her home
The Motivation to be a Student
I am just now hoping to enter into a new phase as an institutionalised student. I should preface this by saying that for the past four years I have been working as a Lecturer A for Monash University and during that time embarked on the academic journey towards a Masters degree. I have since stepped off that boat. I must admit, the burden that has been lifted off my shoulders was unexpected but totally welcome.
You see, I was only doing the Masters because it was a requirement of my employment. Due to the astoundingly complex nature of the bureaucratic machine that is a university faculty, my topic (one which I was dearly fond of), was transformed into a painful thought cancer that turned my stomach and leached upon my soul. It took me a very long time to realise the amazingly ironic nature of what is meant by the term ‘research’ as opposed to what I naively imagined it to be. At every turn my motivation was squashed by requirements that had no place in my personal research methodology. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that the system of institutionalised research does not have its place. I am saying that it doesn’t suit me. It took me some time to realise this because I had bought into the myth that as you progress from undergaduate to postgraduate status, you are able to refine your study focus and become immersed in the field of your choice.
Instead, I was faced with teaching responsibilities that were based on an antagonistic relationship between lecturer and student. Most students, in my experience, have become overcome with apathy. Postmodernism has left a stain so thick and stinking that students mistakenly believe that it is ok to have no belief. The stucture of the Masters and PhD degrees restrict the evolution of ideas. As I progressed through my studies, I was confronted with more and more administrative work. I love(d) teaching and I love to learn but I was unable to do either of these in this environment.
I know well the arguments that would be thrown my way in opposition to all of the gripes that I have expressed and they certainly have their validity. Their value though is largely based on the propagation of the current system. I don’t like this system.
“What are you babbling about you idiot?” you may well ask.
“Didn’t you open by saying you are hoping to be an ‘institutionalised’ student again?”
Right you are. I am going to be a student again. I have applied to go to Tafe to study remedial massage. But, I have always and will always be a student. This has nothing to do with schools and qualifications but raher is based on the continual education that is required to remain conscious (I will define consciousness as the experience of existence). Institutions are a resource. They have libraries and interesting people and physical resources. They do not qualify students; being alive qualifies you as a student. If you are not a student then you have either died or were never born. What I am stuggling to express here is the importance of the point of departure for motivation. I believe it should come from a desire to increase and enhance the experience of existence. It is the only thing that can be undertaken with any sense of certainty. Everything else can change.
Exist Now, Love Funk and Learn Eternally.