Cablog

Blog Travels

Yobbo's back online travelling in Asia and reporting on taxi-tricks.

Adventure Girl decides travelling alone is the only way to go.

Dirk recovers his bike and is on the road again. Wet and happy, finally.

Wogblog reports on a gypsy-sucking Foreign Correspondent.

Gibbo posts some footy images from a recent trip to Dubbo.

Gianna finds out what babies see on a trip north.

Kim travels to Dublin for a 'giant U2 convention'.

Tortured soul and international fugitive, she'saflightrisk is still running.

Losing It

For some time now I’ve been grappling with the concept of a book on cab stories. I use the word ‘concept’ due to the fact the definitive taxi-story book is yet to be written. Can it be done and how to do it has been my dilemma these last few months.

On Monday night I carried a woman in the publishing industry and put my problem to her. The problem I have is whilst many of my cab stories read well individually, collectively they do not make a book. Namely due to the lack of a unifying theme.

I confirmed with my passenger that the only genres flourishing in the publishing game are children’s books and, narrative non-fiction such as I’m attempting. She assured me the market is waiting for such a book and encouraged me to persevere. ‘Keep the idea alive in your subconscious’, she advised, ‘then one day the answer will suddenly come to you’. Hope she’s right. It’s like a huge jigsaw with one piece missing - very frustrating.

At the same time I lamented to my passenger how I’m slowly losing my command of language. Since my immersion in computers and writing over the last few years, I’ve stopped reading books. Bringing about a noticeable decrease in language skill. Or the ability to access the exact word needed when writing my stories, which more often than not leads to settling for second best. Admittedly, most are first drafts written after work.

My passenger agreed with me when I suggested age may be responsible for this onset in degenerative memory. How depressing. ‘The words are still there’, she said. ‘It’s just you can’t reach them. You need to exercise your mind’. She advised taking up crosswords, word puzzles or the new craze, Sudoku.

As much as I loathe that sort of stuff, I may have no other choice. I can countenance losing my sight, my mobility, even my sex drive but the thought of losing my faculties scares the life out of me. And the knowledge my father in his last years developed Alzheimers Disease is cold comfort. This coupled with family telling me of late how much I’ve come to resemble my father is surely the final nail.

Nah bugger it, I refuse to go gently into the...into...you know what I mean.

Hot Jobs

Before reporting from last night I have some carry-over hot jobs from Sunday night’s shift. On arriving home I’d intended to post on a dream run of jobs but instead was sidetracked by Hot Topics. So here’s the sort of consecutive work which only happens once on a 'blue moon' Sunday.

The City was asleep early in the evening which I’d attributed to the combination of a big Saturday night, the inclement weather and Douglas Wood’s television special. So with nothing going on around town I headed for the Airport, somewhat apprehensive. Mainly due to a recent Sunday night there when I spent over 4 hours waiting for 8 jobs, of which 7 were short fares under $15 ! Cruel...

Hot Topics

Have you ever caught a cab and had the driver rant and rave at you ? It happened to BourbonBird on the weekend when a driver, not me I might add, deemed to lecture her on motherhood. Or something he had no right to.

In Victoria the State Government is looking at penalising cabbies who rave to passengers on politics or religion. So much for freedom of speech. I can just imagine the ensuing court case involving, 'yes he did/no I didn't..'. In a word, pathetic.

Personally I'd rather engage passengers on a level which makes them comfortable. Only then can the 'gold' shine through. For example, last night I carried a young Brisbane woman who is a promising musical talent. She was thoroughly pleasant and carried an air of quiet self-assuredness, without a hint of pretension.

So I interviewed her. It quickly became apparent she was no ordinary struggling muso. Indeed being Conservatorium trained and a proficient guitarist/singer/songwriter, I'm predicting Leica McPhail-Bell has truly got what it takes. Additionally she has just produced her first CD.

Check out samples of Leica's tunes and a cool video, on her equally cool website. Remember, you heard her here first !

A Good Night

After 10 days off I climbed back in the saddle last night. And what a great shift it was. Sure, there was the usual quota of drunks but surprisingly without the attendant trouble. The only potential trouble was neatly sidestepped after one drunken clown insisted on stopping at MacDonalds, in order to feed his face on the trip home. Being only too happy to oblige, I left him there. No charge.

Saturday right through to this morning was a veritable sports feast. Right from the ‘off’ Sydney had the Randwick races expelling its particular brand of sports mad punters into various suburban pubs to catch a myriad of local and international sports fixtures on television. Plus the big Aussie Rules fixture at Olympic Stadium...

Such Things

Right now on this sunny and wintery afternoon, someone dear to me is urgently gathering family members and rushing south to farewell a sister on life support.

In the distance to the south, I can see storm clouds gathering. Yet as an outsider, all I can do is watch helplessly in quiet admiration, praying what will happen is surely for the best. Such things...

Settling Up

When Aussie hostage Douglas Wood was released I was overjoyed at the news. Then on hearing the news he'd sold his story to the media, I had some misgivings. Which were compounded when he called his captors 'arseholes'. If nothing else I thought, the man is unambiguous.

So I put myself in his situation. If held for 47 terrifying days by abductors who executed my fellow hostages, and (most likely) forced me to watch, then sure, I'd call my abductors 'arseholes'. Fuck 'em. An understandable spontaneous response at a news conference, soon after release.

And knowing my family had indebted themselves in committing to a large donation to charity, and to the families of my executed Iraq staff, I too would feel an overriding obligation to make whatever contribution possible to such a financial commitment.

Having now lost my business in Iraq and the real possibility of ongoing physiological incapacitation, a media deal would really appeal at this point in time. With a couple of interviews I could quickly settle up said family debt, thence concentrate on recovering my health and a semblance of life. And who could blame me ?

Blog Roundup

Thrillseeker and former 'evil Catholic girl' BourbonBird, posts on earlier preparations for Hell. She also has a new tattoo. A monster right across the shoulders. Ouch. Scroll down for image.

Cherry Ripe of ReMe is a London lass living in Sydney. Check her recent post on some encounters with a couple of dodgy cabbies. Why do all cabbies consider themselves God's gift to women...

AdventureGirl has dumped me and fallen in love. Sheesh, after all I've done for her. No loyalty. She's suitably high on a romantic holiday in Amsterdam. Keep away from those cafes mate.

FarmerDirk's in love with Telstra. Currently. Elsewhere he posts a great ditty by John Cooper Clark, supported by a amusing reference to a Catholic girlfriend.

Newly married MrLefty joins the ranks of the aspirationals and buys a house, for the bank. Earlier he hosted a leftie grogblog in Melbourne town. Keeping the dream alive and all that.

Speaking of lefties, notorious Sydney blogger Darp got his ugly dial on Channel 7's Sunrise Monday morning for a rap on blogging. He may just post a tape. In the evening I spotted NT blogger Ken Parish of Troppo Armadillo commenting on the weekend election on ABC's 7.30 Report.

Now for some real politics - the politics of blogging. John Quiggan posts on lazy fact checking in the blogsphere. The comment box quickly descends into a lively debate on reporting ethics. Quiggan, Lambert, Blair, Nabakov, Beck and others dissect stories on turkeys and mozzies.

Finally, Emerald Bile discovers memes. Sorta. And shock horror, they respond to one ! Sorta. Prepare to be shocked...you're warned.

Brisbane snaps

Here's some snaps for my expat Brisvegas readers. As mentioned in my Service Plus moblog, we scored another meal of the same standard in New Farm. I thoroughly recommend Johnnie's special pizza from Johnnie's Pizza. Where else ? This converted church lit up in Fortitude Valley appeared to be a nightclub, of which there were plenty in that locale. Gay plus straight. Another attractive City area was the converted Powerhouse on the River with it's cafes and adjoining parklands. Ditto the man-made beach outside the Southbank commercial and retail complex. Finally, I couldn't resist capturing this CBD monument to the justice system, calling to mind Queensland's famous enviromental maxim, 'It's better to ask forgiveness than permission'. A classic. Welcome to Queensland. (images enlarge)

Brisvegas

After a relaxing few days spent in Brisbane I can report it’s the perfect antidote to the hustle of Sydney. At least around my City hotel and my son’s downtown area. I thought it may be due to the weekend but even at lunchtime Monday the CBD seemed to be operating on cruise control.

This coupled with an ideal location straddling the winding Brisbane River plus no hint of cold weather indicates a desirable lifestyle in a big Aussie metropolis. With yesterday’s intermittent rain precluding an afternoon session at the Brekkie Creek Hotel, my son and I opted for a movie instead.

If you were thinking of catching The Assassination of Richard Nixon don’t bother, it’s shite. Sure it has some half decent acting by Sean Penn and Jack Thompson, but the story lamely attempts to make a martyr of a nut case. A story which is actually true but it’s pretty boring all the same. For mine, the movie is nothing more than an historical curiosity.

The City proper appears to have a much smaller cultural mix than Sydney, with the second biggest race after skippies being East Asian thence Pacific Islanders and a few Persians. Yesterday catching the train to the Airport I was bemused to see a City station with multilingual station signs in Chinese. I wonder if the Gold Coast still has Japanese streets signs..

Otherwise I was impressed with the amount of new developments around town, contrasting and complementing their wonderful traditional and heritage structures. Obviously Bananas Peterson didn’t destroy everything historical in Brisbane.

Whilst I spotted plenty of well designed multi-unit residential buildings there was no evidence of the Lego-land style developments blighting Sydney of late. One city is enough of that rubbish. All in all Brisbane was a pleasant suprise and somewhere I’ll happily revisit.