(with apologies to the original saying- see below)
A climate scientist is said to be a person who knows very little about a great deal and keeps knowing less and less about more and more until eventually he knows practically nothing about everything (particularly when you get rid of those pesky outliers in your data).
Whereas on the other hand, a politician is a person who knows a great deal about very little (and is happy to share that knowledge) and goes on knowing more and more about less and less until finally he knows practically everything about nothing.
The world starts out promised everything about everything, but ends up with nothing about anything, due to the Copenhagen Climate Conference (but still ends up with the bill anyway).
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sleep Apnoea
21/9/2000
Well, everyone knows how well I snore, so it was time to get it documented.
Last night about 9:30pm. After answering an extensive questionnaire about how I slept (which can be a little challenging sometime) that included little gems such as how often your partner sleeps in another room?, and how is your libido? I was wired up in just about every imaginable way. Electrodes were placed behind the ears, on the scalp, forehead, under the eyes and on the chin, then heart monitor, and a couple on the shins for good measure. Add to that a couple of stretchy type band to measure breathing (one for chest and one for diaphragm) and topped of with a little gadget for (I think) measuring oxygen levels that wrapped around your ears and ended up under your nose in this hard little bobble thingy, quite distracting really. Ooh, and I forgot there is this red light thingy that was taped to the forefinger, and all of this was held in place with miles of surgical tape.
Next thing required to do, is go to sleep!
Easy you say, do it every day. Can do it laying down.
Well, always a good sleeper, I dutifully closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. Then sheep, no synchronised swimming, no the GDP of small Central African Countries, hang on, lets try the speech of the South African Reserve Bank Governor (published in fine print in the economist). Wave after wave of fatigue washed over me, and just as I would be zoning out, the bastard mind would kick back in and think of something different. Each time I dozed, more of the edge of tiredness would be eroded so that by 12:30 I was feeling wide awake.
What was worse, was all the wiring went into this little box that was plonked on the edge of the bed where I normally stretch out my arms. With all this wiring I had to be careful on how I turned in bed, otherwise I would end up wound up in wire. Within half an hour I managed to push the pillow sideways (I like to put my head on the ends of the pillow) and pushed the whole lot onto the floor. Left me wondering why I couldn't reach a glass of water as the red light wire was holding me back.
You would think that whoever designed all this would have put a bit more thought into the positioning of all this kit. Not even a place to clip it to the headboard. This place does at least 2 sleepers a night, probably every night, so things like this should be sorted out. Not so.
Next problem was the ambient temperature of the hospital was about 21 degrees, and no way of controlling this. Not uncomfortable, but a bit warm to sleep with covers that provide that extra bit of security. Fortunately, the windows did open, and while that helped it did let in a little bit of light, and unfamiliar noises (though fortunately it opened out onto a quiet suburb rather than a busy road).
1:00am. I rang the bell and said I didn't think I was sleeping. I was promptly told that I had slept OK up till then, and all I need to do was relax, break the thinking cycle and sleep will happen. Read a little (tempting, I am trying to consume the economist weekly now) or flick on the TV (enough games replays for the moment thankyou). Offered a panadol (that sometimes helps people), but that sleeping pills would not happen if they are not prescribed anyway. They only require 2-3 hours of sleep pattern to make an assessment, so we tried again.
6:00am. Dawn chorus. A nice day ahead. 10 minutes later I was being helped out of the wiring. Much ripping of tape quickly off a hirsute body. Just thankful to be done. By 25 past I was in my car heading home for breakfast. While offered the choice of hospital breakfast, I felt that keeping contact to a minimum, including meals, I could pretend that I wasn't really in hospital. Hospitals are not great places in my book, and besides, my brand of muesli won out.
Now I go back for a followup appointment next Friday to discuss the results.
How well do you sleep? I plan to sleep real well tonight.
Well, everyone knows how well I snore, so it was time to get it documented.
Last night about 9:30pm. After answering an extensive questionnaire about how I slept (which can be a little challenging sometime) that included little gems such as how often your partner sleeps in another room?, and how is your libido? I was wired up in just about every imaginable way. Electrodes were placed behind the ears, on the scalp, forehead, under the eyes and on the chin, then heart monitor, and a couple on the shins for good measure. Add to that a couple of stretchy type band to measure breathing (one for chest and one for diaphragm) and topped of with a little gadget for (I think) measuring oxygen levels that wrapped around your ears and ended up under your nose in this hard little bobble thingy, quite distracting really. Ooh, and I forgot there is this red light thingy that was taped to the forefinger, and all of this was held in place with miles of surgical tape.
Next thing required to do, is go to sleep!
Easy you say, do it every day. Can do it laying down.
Well, always a good sleeper, I dutifully closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. Then sheep, no synchronised swimming, no the GDP of small Central African Countries, hang on, lets try the speech of the South African Reserve Bank Governor (published in fine print in the economist). Wave after wave of fatigue washed over me, and just as I would be zoning out, the bastard mind would kick back in and think of something different. Each time I dozed, more of the edge of tiredness would be eroded so that by 12:30 I was feeling wide awake.
What was worse, was all the wiring went into this little box that was plonked on the edge of the bed where I normally stretch out my arms. With all this wiring I had to be careful on how I turned in bed, otherwise I would end up wound up in wire. Within half an hour I managed to push the pillow sideways (I like to put my head on the ends of the pillow) and pushed the whole lot onto the floor. Left me wondering why I couldn't reach a glass of water as the red light wire was holding me back.
You would think that whoever designed all this would have put a bit more thought into the positioning of all this kit. Not even a place to clip it to the headboard. This place does at least 2 sleepers a night, probably every night, so things like this should be sorted out. Not so.
Next problem was the ambient temperature of the hospital was about 21 degrees, and no way of controlling this. Not uncomfortable, but a bit warm to sleep with covers that provide that extra bit of security. Fortunately, the windows did open, and while that helped it did let in a little bit of light, and unfamiliar noises (though fortunately it opened out onto a quiet suburb rather than a busy road).
1:00am. I rang the bell and said I didn't think I was sleeping. I was promptly told that I had slept OK up till then, and all I need to do was relax, break the thinking cycle and sleep will happen. Read a little (tempting, I am trying to consume the economist weekly now) or flick on the TV (enough games replays for the moment thankyou). Offered a panadol (that sometimes helps people), but that sleeping pills would not happen if they are not prescribed anyway. They only require 2-3 hours of sleep pattern to make an assessment, so we tried again.
6:00am. Dawn chorus. A nice day ahead. 10 minutes later I was being helped out of the wiring. Much ripping of tape quickly off a hirsute body. Just thankful to be done. By 25 past I was in my car heading home for breakfast. While offered the choice of hospital breakfast, I felt that keeping contact to a minimum, including meals, I could pretend that I wasn't really in hospital. Hospitals are not great places in my book, and besides, my brand of muesli won out.
Now I go back for a followup appointment next Friday to discuss the results.
How well do you sleep? I plan to sleep real well tonight.
Knowledge
A geologist is said to be a person who knows very little about a great deal and keeps knowing less and less about more and more until eventually he knows practically nothing about everything.
Whereas on the other hand, a geophysicist is a person who knows a great deal about very little and goes on knowing more and more about less and less until finally he knows practically everything about nothing.
A field assistant starts out knowing practically everything about everything, but ends up knowing nothing about anything, due to his association with geologists and geophysicists.
Whereas on the other hand, a geophysicist is a person who knows a great deal about very little and goes on knowing more and more about less and less until finally he knows practically everything about nothing.
A field assistant starts out knowing practically everything about everything, but ends up knowing nothing about anything, due to his association with geologists and geophysicists.
ACROSS AUSTRALIA IN A P6B
This is a tale of a fairly ordinary crossing of Australia, west to east style. Done out of a job by those that know better (or those that control the purse), I was at a loose end for the first time in nearly 4½ years. Having a friend involved in the political scene, and with the upcoming 1993 “GST” election, I thought I could amuse myself there well.
So packing up my gear and stashing half at my parent’s place, I still had the P6B stuffed to the hilt, such that the headlights were better suited to spotting possums.
Just 2 days (and weekend days at that) and final going over on the car, facing the drive across the Nullabor with some trepidation, I purchased the de-riguer spares (Fan belt, hoses, oils, container for water, etc). I also had the car run up on hoist for a quick going over. To my horror, one of the uni joints in the half shafts was a bit sloppy. Enquiries as to whether I could get this replaced (on a Saturday morning) were met with disbelief. A last ditch was to obtain the replacement bearing kit.
Setting of on a fine Sunday morning, with my mother traveling with me for company, we cleared the hills behind Perth by midday. The journey was uneventful until some 5 hours later at Coolgardie the dreaded “knocking” of a buggered bearing became evident. By this stage we had already booked ourselves into a hotel for our overnight stay. Tense is one description for the next 170 odd klicks to Norseman
Fate was fair to us that day, and we made it in the darkness (almost 8pm) to town without incident. The next morning I set out to trawl the local garages to find a mechanic who appreciated my restlessness. By 8:30 I had it up on a hoist, supervising some poor apprentice in dismantling the rear end of my car.
The key to all this was the preparation. Without the bearing kit, I would have paced that town for at least an extra day waiting for delivery, and then most likely suffered that usual fate of receiving the wrong part.
I knew little about pressing out bearings, and the next two hours was an interesting education on the use of vices, oversized and undersized sockets to drive the bushes out, and when to employ the gas axe to provide extra encouragement. End result, I was back on the road with no trauma before midday.
Striking east towards Adelaide for some reason seemed quite a daunting task., With roadhouses becoming more scarce (in fact not really, but seeming like that) and armed with everyone’s horror stories, including those of my folks who were occasional traveler’s of the dirt track it used to be. For some reason every rhythmic bump and grind, whether by road or engine seemed to augur doom.
My nerves were being tested. I even had the bonnet up checking the fan belt when the ignition light appeared, but that was just a loose shovel clip at the back of the alternator (it still drops of from time to time).
Somehow, by the time the SA border loomed, I had begun to relax, and infact the rest of the journey was trouble free (mechanically). Nullabor Roadhouse overnight, then ploughing on to reach a place called Carathool in western NSW late the next night (or was that early morning). Sharing the driving certainly made the push worthwhile, dropping in on an old friend of my Mother’s.
Perhaps my only horror was driving at night, and having relinquished the wheel, waking to find Mother playing a judgement game on when to dip the lights. Now, my car has never had well aligned lights courtesy of some little front-end bingle and dodgy repairs prior to my ownership. With a heavily laden boot they tended to look up a bit. Mother decided she would try to judge the dipping of the lights to within 5 white posts of the oncoming vehicle.
In reading the new national road rules in the paper, the new rules is that lights are to be dipped by at least 200m distance from the oncoming vehicle. Having grown up in the country, and done a lot of driving since, particularly with spotlights, I have always considered it proper to dip much earlier than this. But these events do pass us by.
Canberra, the original destination was then reached after 4 days, and not too much difficulty. The election passed, and I drifted back into my original game (exploration geology) and found myself working up in NT. After a 3 month period, they let me out for a quick break, and taking advantage of company paid flights, I came to Canberra to rescue the car from my Uncles back yard. Sydney beckoned for some quick partying with some friends.
Thus, at 9:30am, slightly hungover in the Eastern Suburbs, I fueled up once again, and pointed the car west. The next 3 days saw me break some personal driving records, and impressed me on the ease of the old car to drive. Having driven many miles in Japanese 4WD’s, they seemed a breeze in this car. With a big day of 950 miles in the middle, I covered Sydney to Perth, and collapsed on a friend floor around 4:30 pm, who had enough sense to pull the cork from a bottle of red as part of the recovery program.
To keep fuel economy records, all fuel was purchased on credit, and this leads to an amusing little side story. A week after returning to work in the NT, I received an urgent message to contact my bank. So calling them to find out what the problem was, they stated that they had tracked my card moving rapidly across the country, and were concerned that I may have lost it (particularly as I was now in the NT).
I wish the fuel economy figures were more amusing. With the load I was carrying I struggled to average 16mpg.
So packing up my gear and stashing half at my parent’s place, I still had the P6B stuffed to the hilt, such that the headlights were better suited to spotting possums.
Just 2 days (and weekend days at that) and final going over on the car, facing the drive across the Nullabor with some trepidation, I purchased the de-riguer spares (Fan belt, hoses, oils, container for water, etc). I also had the car run up on hoist for a quick going over. To my horror, one of the uni joints in the half shafts was a bit sloppy. Enquiries as to whether I could get this replaced (on a Saturday morning) were met with disbelief. A last ditch was to obtain the replacement bearing kit.
Setting of on a fine Sunday morning, with my mother traveling with me for company, we cleared the hills behind Perth by midday. The journey was uneventful until some 5 hours later at Coolgardie the dreaded “knocking” of a buggered bearing became evident. By this stage we had already booked ourselves into a hotel for our overnight stay. Tense is one description for the next 170 odd klicks to Norseman
Fate was fair to us that day, and we made it in the darkness (almost 8pm) to town without incident. The next morning I set out to trawl the local garages to find a mechanic who appreciated my restlessness. By 8:30 I had it up on a hoist, supervising some poor apprentice in dismantling the rear end of my car.
The key to all this was the preparation. Without the bearing kit, I would have paced that town for at least an extra day waiting for delivery, and then most likely suffered that usual fate of receiving the wrong part.
I knew little about pressing out bearings, and the next two hours was an interesting education on the use of vices, oversized and undersized sockets to drive the bushes out, and when to employ the gas axe to provide extra encouragement. End result, I was back on the road with no trauma before midday.
Striking east towards Adelaide for some reason seemed quite a daunting task., With roadhouses becoming more scarce (in fact not really, but seeming like that) and armed with everyone’s horror stories, including those of my folks who were occasional traveler’s of the dirt track it used to be. For some reason every rhythmic bump and grind, whether by road or engine seemed to augur doom.
My nerves were being tested. I even had the bonnet up checking the fan belt when the ignition light appeared, but that was just a loose shovel clip at the back of the alternator (it still drops of from time to time).
Somehow, by the time the SA border loomed, I had begun to relax, and infact the rest of the journey was trouble free (mechanically). Nullabor Roadhouse overnight, then ploughing on to reach a place called Carathool in western NSW late the next night (or was that early morning). Sharing the driving certainly made the push worthwhile, dropping in on an old friend of my Mother’s.
Perhaps my only horror was driving at night, and having relinquished the wheel, waking to find Mother playing a judgement game on when to dip the lights. Now, my car has never had well aligned lights courtesy of some little front-end bingle and dodgy repairs prior to my ownership. With a heavily laden boot they tended to look up a bit. Mother decided she would try to judge the dipping of the lights to within 5 white posts of the oncoming vehicle.
In reading the new national road rules in the paper, the new rules is that lights are to be dipped by at least 200m distance from the oncoming vehicle. Having grown up in the country, and done a lot of driving since, particularly with spotlights, I have always considered it proper to dip much earlier than this. But these events do pass us by.
Canberra, the original destination was then reached after 4 days, and not too much difficulty. The election passed, and I drifted back into my original game (exploration geology) and found myself working up in NT. After a 3 month period, they let me out for a quick break, and taking advantage of company paid flights, I came to Canberra to rescue the car from my Uncles back yard. Sydney beckoned for some quick partying with some friends.
Thus, at 9:30am, slightly hungover in the Eastern Suburbs, I fueled up once again, and pointed the car west. The next 3 days saw me break some personal driving records, and impressed me on the ease of the old car to drive. Having driven many miles in Japanese 4WD’s, they seemed a breeze in this car. With a big day of 950 miles in the middle, I covered Sydney to Perth, and collapsed on a friend floor around 4:30 pm, who had enough sense to pull the cork from a bottle of red as part of the recovery program.
To keep fuel economy records, all fuel was purchased on credit, and this leads to an amusing little side story. A week after returning to work in the NT, I received an urgent message to contact my bank. So calling them to find out what the problem was, they stated that they had tracked my card moving rapidly across the country, and were concerned that I may have lost it (particularly as I was now in the NT).
I wish the fuel economy figures were more amusing. With the load I was carrying I struggled to average 16mpg.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Inland Fish
A long time ago it was pointed out to me the folly of ordering fish and chips too far inland, when I watched so fellow students ditch some greenish battered fish bought from if I recall correctly, North Banister, southeast of Perth. Since I have been working up in the Pilbara for the last 5 years I have been having encounters with live inland fish that is far more delightful. Commonly any near permanent water will have fish in them, even when the water is muddy and stained with cattle dung and smelling to high heaven. While that would put me off any temptation to eat them, it does provide a feed for various eagle or roaming pelicans that can turn up for a look.
Recently I was looking at a prospect some 200km inland not far from the FMG railway in the east Pilbara and apart from the country being burnt out, rainfall had made a permananet pool overflow, which was still trickling over a rock bar while I was there. Splashing alerted me to some bigger fish trying to get back to the deeper pool upstream, and on watching it for a bit I saw the fish make about 3 attempts, getting caught up in trash, before turning back and resting in weeds. I was able to take two steps and pick up this fine looking fellow, a spangled perch that was probably 20cm long, get a quick photo before helping it on its way to the bigger pool. Any longer there and it would have been a feed for an eagle I saw not far away. Under a nearby tree was the remnants of a fish that was not so fortunate to get that assist, and from the freshness of it had been a mid morning snack for the bird.
Spangled PerchI also learnt a simple trick to find out if any fish are present., Lob a small pebble into the water near weeds or reeds, and if there are any decent fish they will rush out to have first crack at a possible feed. Doing this I have seen fish from Marble bar to old mining pits sounth of Karratha.
Another fish left behind in a shrinking smelly waterhole in the Pilbara. Possibly a Hardyhead? or Tarpon Sunday, October 25, 2009
Acid drainage
What you are looking at here is sulphate crystals forming out of creek water flow. This sort of crystal formation is often only seen on the top of a car battery where the acid has been evaporating. In this case, this has lead to the naming and finding of a significant mineral resource called Sulphur Springs of zinc, copper and silver. As the orebody has been oxidised and weathered near surface, the water perculating through the hills flows out down this deeply incised creek/gorge and all the rocks are coated with this mostly white sulphate salts, though in places more pure sulphur is found (which is yellow in colour). This is how the deposit was located when in 1984 a geo H.Wilhelmij decided to investigate this encrustation and followed it up until it stopped and then sought an explanation for this.
As an aside, this deposit is yet to be mined though as the tiranny of distance, the ruggedness of the location and the fluctuations of comodity prices has left it a marginal deposit, though one day all the ducks will line up and this will be developed. More than 50km of drilling has been completed to get it to this stage though.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
It's life Jim, but not as we know it!
Occasionally, just occasionally we get to see some really cool stuff in our wanderings in the shubbery. Well, OK cool stuff if you are into rocks and geo stuff. In 2006 I got to see a site that is considered worthy of the equivalent of heritage listing at a location generally known as North Pole (in the Pilbara).
A bit warmer than that other joint, it is also home to some outcropping sedimentary beds that are dated by lots of careful science (you need volcanic rocks to date, so you carefully map out the rocks in the area and decide which ones brackets the age of the sedimentary rocks you are looking at, then figure it out that way). Anyway, I digress. These rocks are bloody old, somewhere in the order of 3.5 billion years (3,500,000,000) ans they have this wavey dome like structures in them.
3,500,000,000 year old stromatolites in the Pilbara
While a few like to seek other explanations, the majority of people who see this accept that this is the earliest evidence for life on earth, which had probably not been solid for a full 1 billion years yet. The life form is generally known as stromatolites, and WA is also home to a couple of extremely rare examples of living stromatolite locations, most famously Shark Bay near Denham, and less well known but closer to civilisation in Lake Clifton, just south of Dawesville between Bunbury and Mandurah. I have also had the opportunity to visit both of these locations as well. Now, these domes are made up of particles of sand and silt trapped in algal like mats, or cyanobacteria, which are filament like stringy things naturally matted together like felt. They look for all intensive purposes like rocks, or black coral like bombies, but are in fact soft like felt, and can be easily sliced with a knife (as was demonstrated on a student field trip).
Shark Bay Stromaltolites
Soft enough to cut with a knife (and less, we did put it back afterwards).
You can see the layers and the gentle wavey domes.
Lake Clifton Thrombolites - Living fossils! These thrombolites are just next door to a winery that I noticed was suffering from the loss of trade now the new Mandurah bypass road is up and running. Easy to get to for a quick visit then of for a tasting (and cheap wine).
I have also seen more recent outcrops of fossil stromatolites from different parts of the state, and have a small example of it sitting on the shelf in my office, but this one is probably only 450 million years old or there abouts.
What so cool about these things? Well, in the begining, we had a massive "greenhouse gas" problem. So much CO2, that literally there was no oxygen for us to exist on. This is evident by the nature of various sediments of the time. Some minerals that normally oxidise in the presence of air as we know it today can be seen rounded by abraision... litterally plucked from the rock they formed in, and rolled around in water in a stream similar to pebbles we like to use inlandscaping these days, and then deposited into a pile of other sediments and re-cemented to protect it from oxidation.
Anyway, back to no oxygen. Along come these cyanobacteria, and in the presence of sunlight we get that marvelous process called photosynthesis occuring, producing sugars and oxygen, both of which we now rely on to exist today.
It took a little while to get going... but about 2.6 billion years the cyanobacteria got plentiful enough to make heaps of oxygen, permant changing the makeup of our little 3rd rock from the sun. In fact, youmight say they almost did themselves out of a job, except plenty of other forms of life evolved to utilise this stored energy and convert it all back to CO2.
One final connection to where I am now.... once all this oxygen was freely available, iron which used to be quite soluable in water started to convert into rust coloured scum, like Perth bore water and become insluble in water. This happened as the water mixed (storms or algal blooms or something) and tiny layers of iron started being put down in the sediments with the usual stuff, givig rise to the funniest of all rock types.... BIF's (Banded Iron Formations). These have now become the source of much of our iron ore industry that has made WA a source of a lot of the world's steel.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Fish
As part of my early mid life crisis (plus a resources slump) I went of teaching science at a country high school. One of the most enjoyable component for me was I was allowed to teach aquaculture. Below is the feeding procedure we used when I high tailed back off to Perth to catch up with my girlfriend and left students in charge to feed. I tender the photo below as a measure of our success. I would like to try the aquaponics in the back yard now to grow herbs.
FISH FEEDING PROCEDURE
· Fish are generally fed twice a day. They are used to about 8:30am and between 3:30pm and 5pm.
· Currently (beginning of July) they are being fed between 75g and 100g pellets per feeding session.
· 100g works out to be approximately 200ml in the plastic beaker provided with the pellets (25g per 50ml). There are approximately 600 pellets per 100gms.
· Throw the feed out in small handfuls, and observe the feeding activity between each handful. Stop feeding them when the activity slows down.
· Record the temperature (thermometer on weldmesh bench inside enclosure) at the time of feeding.
· All records to be noted on sheet in blue file (currently kept in grey plastic bag wedged behind pole near door).
· If you miss a feeding do not try to make up the food amount. It will not harm them to miss a feed or two, and there will be less cleaning as a result.
CLEANING
· Clean the floor when build up of brown waste on tank becomes noticeable (approximately every 3 days, but this depends on feeding rates). This is done by starting a siphon with the hose attached to the aluminium pole and vacuuming the floor. It is easier to turn off the pumps while doing this to see the bottom. Replace the water by turning on the red tap while siphoning.
· It is also useful to drain the biofilter about once a week by turning off the pump and pulling it out of the water. It will then drain out, and you can clean the pre-filter of the pump during this time. Just pull it apart and wash under tap at sink outside.
Monday, October 12, 2009
I'll huff, and I'll puff....
This is a picture of a small exploration camp in the way of a cyclone.... I think less than 12 hours to impact. This one blew category 4, almost category 5 which means the winds were greater than 250kph. Our guys hooked up the vans and headed up the highway. The donga (set of accomodation rooms could not just be hooked up... instead was chained to the ground with cemented in anchor points).
Some days later we got to go back into the site. The dark rail-track like things in the foreground is all that is left of the donga in the original location. The rest was spread over a trail of at least 2km, where the remnants of a bar fridge (minus the door) was located.
In this cyclone unfortunately 3 people died. We are only now two and a half years on, going through the courts to understand the reasons. If this was anywhere else in the world the number would have been higher. It is just that so few live in this country, but this will always be a lesson that buildings need to be well contructed, properly anchored, and people need to get to somewhere safe (either away from the cyclone or a properly rated building). To see building tossed around like some three year olds play building blocks shows the potentency of these storms.
A new cyclone season is about to commence... it never hurts to be prepared.
Somebody’s got to do something!
One of the most distressing tragic events being played out reguarly across this country is the plight of the indigenous people. Any visit to any remote community leaves most city folk deeply saddened to see the squalor and crowding evident in community housing. The thing is, most city folk do not visit. The closest they get is a visit via the local tabloid with a few photographs, but the page gets turned (whether to the back page or page three) and the problem forgotten. I have attached a few words I wrote following the death of a young child electrocuted in a wall space, and our local Premier daring to say what many thought.
http://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/a/-/newshome/5984134/barnett-attacked-over-roebourne-death-comments/
I have been mulling over this tragedy wondering how it connects (it may not have made much of a story in the east) and one of the key things about this is that state of the house. Barnett has just been castigated for saying what he sees by the looks of it. I am amused by the rallying cry - yet again “Somebody’s got to do something” or “the government to blame” . It looks to me the hole in the wall that this toddler has crawled through and got zapped has been temporarily repaired (see glue patches on the wall and the panel leaning up against the wall). I wonder when this was ripped off, when was the hole either uncovered, or enlarged. The lack of an RCD is a tragedy and I don’t want to predict the cause of that (apparently one was supposed to have been installed according to records, but there was only one for next door).
We take the blame for nannying these people, yet we also cop it for not fixing the (often willful) damage where they live.
Let me take up the cry “Somebody’s got to do something…” Guess who!
http://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/a/-/newshome/5984134/barnett-attacked-over-roebourne-death-comments/
I have been mulling over this tragedy wondering how it connects (it may not have made much of a story in the east) and one of the key things about this is that state of the house. Barnett has just been castigated for saying what he sees by the looks of it. I am amused by the rallying cry - yet again “Somebody’s got to do something” or “the government to blame” . It looks to me the hole in the wall that this toddler has crawled through and got zapped has been temporarily repaired (see glue patches on the wall and the panel leaning up against the wall). I wonder when this was ripped off, when was the hole either uncovered, or enlarged. The lack of an RCD is a tragedy and I don’t want to predict the cause of that (apparently one was supposed to have been installed according to records, but there was only one for next door).
We take the blame for nannying these people, yet we also cop it for not fixing the (often willful) damage where they live.
Let me take up the cry “Somebody’s got to do something…” Guess who!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Launching something new
Six Mile Creek after a cyclone - Pilbara WAI strongly suspect I will be an irregular poster due partly to a busy lifestyle with two older boys at home, and a job that takes me away from the bright lights to where I think Australia shines it's best. What I will try to do is relay some of the great stories that I have collected over some two decades of working in the mineral industry, in particular exploration geology across this wide brown land. A bit of a snapper with the camera, I think I can share some of the pictures, but at all time I will have to be cautious to not expose who I work for or any commecially sensitive information.
If you happen upon this post, perhaps give me a little time to adjust to the technology and get my rusty memory working to relay some of the adventures I have experienced, then return to sample to see if it is to your taste.
Bigtones
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