We’ve been a 4-car family for a while now.  A work car (Calais), a 4WD farm car (X-trail), the old ute as well as the old work car (Camry).

The old ute has been on death row for a while, but it’s got us out of many scrapes.  It’s been useful around the farm, and we might have kept it just for that, but now it has blown the starter motor.

I’m no mechanic, and it’s not worth enough to justify having professionals fix it.  So it will go to the wrecker.

The X-trail has been a comfortable and very useful car, but it’s done a head gasket and has been in for repairs for the last week.  Apparently they are prone to this.  Grrr.

We bought the Calais because the Camry was on its last legs.  The Calais runs on gas or petrol, so it’s good for the regular run into Canberra.

The Camry has mostly been driven by wwoofers, mostly for short trips into Goulburn though Pat did drive it to the medieval festival north of Sydney.   The motor was sounding increasingly dreadful, and again it wasn’t worth the cost of repairs.  It was due to go to the wreckers in 4 weeks when its registration expired.

With the X-trail out of commission, we’ve been back to the Camry as our second vehicle and for towing.  It’s still a very comfortable car, and really good for fuel economy.  We’ve been driving it with our fingers crossed, hoping the engine would get us back each time.  But now its starter motor has given out too, and again there’s no point in fixing it.

I think we do need one backup car that we’re happy for wwoofers to drive, and able to tow a trailer.  When the bank balance recovers from these recent repairs, I might look out for something suitable.

(posted a week later, sorry)

As I’ve mentioned before, this was a bad summer for riding horses.  Lets of rain, including a month of almost continuous wet.

My young Clydesdale Gawaine played a trick on wwoofers Lulu and Michelle one day, spinning his body around to nearly knock them over.  Worked really well, so he kept on doing it.  As he’s nearly a tonne of horsemeat, they found this a bit disturbing and refused to work with him.

He tried the same with me, and ran into my steady fist with a pointed knuckle.  Ouch!  No fun any more.

We moved him back in with the charming gelding Chad, and since then Gawaine has returned to his traditional good manners.

Last weekend, I took Gawaine for a ride — his first for a long time.  Michelle was going to ride Paulie, but he’s decided he doesn’t want to be caught, and worked out that if stays in the muddy corner I can’t come and get him.  So she rode brat-boy Doc, who was also well out of work but shouts “pick me” when you come into the paddock.

And both of them were great.  Back to their best – a lovely ride.

Here’s a quick update on the other horses:

* Gawaine’s mum Domino is being a paddock ornament — she was going to be in foal to a Gypsy Cob stallion, but she’s hard to handle and couldn’t meet the stud requirements.  She might go back to Gawaine’s dad in spring.

* Rocky the very tall thoroughbred had a foot injury last year, and we rode him a couple of times carefully.  Great to ride but starting to get old.

* Chad is looking great, and is always a pleasure to have around.

* Paulie is friendly if go to him in the paddock, but he runs off if you come with a lead rope.  Have to work on him.

* Bonnie the old mare we fed to the lions.  She was having real trouble with arthritis on colder days, her hind legs had withered to nothing, and she was having trouble eating and drinking.  She would not have lasted another winter.  We could have got a neighbour to shoot her, but what do you do with the carcass?  If she had been trucked away, she would have collapsed in the truck. So we had the zoo come and put her down humanely, and they took away the body.  The end result is what would have happened in the wild, so it completed a natural cycle.  Looking into this for slower wwoofers too.

* Jasmine the miniature horse was overweight with too much grass, so she’s locked in the orchard behind the houses.  During a recent big storm she climbed onto the back verandah and made plaintive faces at the back door to be allowed in the house.  Bad luck Jasmine.

My son Owen had his 13th birthday on Saturday.  To mark it, he had three good friends over for a camping weekend.

The boys used our medieval tent — which could probably sleep 20 boys or more.

My work colleague Rick lent me his trebuchets (siege weapons).  He made them for his own kids’ parties, and they allow two teams of kids to lob fruit at each other.  Here’s a clip of his kids doing this.

Rick recommends buying a box of identical apples, to allow maximum calibration — but then he’s a scientist.  Allison got a box of miscellaneous over-date fruit, which meant that they sometimes flew erratically, but some of the over-ripe pears did indeed land on the intended boys.  By the end, the kids could pretty consistently hit the opposing trebuchet.

I’ve mentioned Pat, one of our first wwoofers who recently came by for another visit.  He and Allison came up with a treasure hunt around the farm.  Each clue led to the next, requiring powers of inference and some decoding of clues. One site had marshmallows, another a firelighter, others drinks or lollies and the like.  Some had a hint of danger, like the clue hidden under a chicken sitting on eggs, and the clue hidden amongst the “bulls” (long-horned Highland cows).

The kids headed off bravely, and criss-crossed the farm with Ginger the kelpie-cross in tow.  What fun for her! Unfortunately they started a bit late and didn’t get the quest finished by dark.

They did in the end need some help to get their fire going, and they cooked up their sausages and potatoes.  As the sausages were cooked, they were transferred to a plate … but nobody noticed that the stack never seemed to increase.  Ginger the dog was stealthily helping herself!

In the end, I think Ginger got about 80% of the sausages.  I found her snoring deeply and contentedly next to the campfire.  The boys had plenty of chips and other junk food, so they didn’t starve.

They did try some fishing the next morning, but I think they made too much noise.  Then a McDonalds lunch, and I took the visitors back to Canberra.

We went to the Rowany Festival over Easter.  This is the biggest medieval event in the country, and a great chance to catch up with old friends.

Our local SCA group, Okewaite, was not so well represented this year.  We’ve not been particularly active in recent months, and various personal circumstances intervened.  So we didn’t need a separate kitchen tent, just used one end of our huge group marquee.

Last year, Allison ran a full-on food fund, where we catered for the whole campsite with really medieval food, all cooked over the campfire.  Fabulous, but it took a lot of time for both of us with help from Jan too.

This year, it was rather less formal.  We did do a fancy feast on the Friday night, with a goose and some ducks from our farm cooked over the spit — worked really well.  Also some boiled salted beef, which was good, and various vegies.  I did the early cheesecake as made last year, but it didn’t work quite as well — needed a little longer.

The other days we still cooked over the fire, but we didn’t have as many dishes and things were a little simpler.  The work required dropped dramatically.

Some of our friends didn’t come this year.  The critical decision period was during that month of continuous rain (after a wet summer) and people probably thought the event would be washed out.  I thought so too.  In fact, once that month of rain stopped it was pretty dry right up to Festival.

Rowany Festival is held at Glenworth Valley near Gosford, in humid mangrove swamps north of Sydney.  It was still quite boggy in places, but the roads held up well.

The weather was sunny for most of Festival.  It’s too hot for me in the middle of the day, and for some reason the King and Queen liked to schedule courts then.  They of course get to sit under a sunshade, and the populace cooks out in the hot sun.  So I just didn’t go to courts then, and the K&Q were puzzled why lots of people failed to show up to receive awards.

We had a couple of showers, mostly negligible but one night we got a reasonable soaking which kept the dust down.  The weather was as good as you could reasonably hope for.  The Sunday was war day and fortunately it was a bit cooler — I actually wished I’d brought some armour along.

Our neighbour Lois is a great brewer of fruit wines, and sent along a few bottles for us to enjoy.  I particularly enjoyed the pear wine, a smooth and relaxing drop with just a little spritz.  Very convivial to enjoy with friends, then the 20% alcohol sneaks up on you and knocks you over.  I didn’t ever disgrace myself, but my lateral stability became a bit impaired, a couple of days running.  And after that I stuck to cider.

Allison went to a number of the craft classes, as did our friend Jan.  New ideas, and new techniques.  Jan’s embroidery and tailoring got many favourable comments from the costume laurels.

Festival is always good for renewing your enthusiasm for the SCA.  Lots more wayfaring to other groups this year — and fortunately many of this year’s main events are within driving distance of home.

On Friday we went out to dinner to celebrate wwoofer Lulu’s birthday.

We went to the Thai Bank restaurant in Goulburn.  We’d been there about 10 days earlier for Pat’s birthday, and had such a nice time that we were all keen to go back.

Of the five main dishes, I would rate four as exceptional and the fifth as merely very good.  Every dish had a distinct flavour, and the ingredients were top class.  This was one of the most delicious meals I have ever eaten.

Khammul, the owner and chef, is highly skilled and she always comes out for a chat.

Better still, the dinner cost $109 for six of us.  Plus they have a loyalty system, so we also got a third of a later romantic night out for Allison and me.

After the dinner, we went out to the Goulburn Club for a drink.  They had guitarist and singer Tony Wade there, and he’s always fantastic.  There was an open fire going, and the place was at its friendliest.  Allison and I had a dance, to my son Owen’s horror.

I think I’ve said this before, but sometimes we don’t understand how good we’ve got it.  Goulburn has a reputation for being a drab, dull place, but the reality is that it’s wonderful.  Nobody realises they are living in a Golden Age until after it’s over.

Speaking of which, a developer has put in a bid for the Goulburn Club, and the offer is being seriously considered.  I’m a bit puzzled as to why; takings are down, but the place is still profitable.  There’s increased competition from other renovated venues, but I’ll bet we lose one or two in coming years.  The club has a maintenance backlog, and a retired handyman is doing wonders catching it up week by week.  Volunteers are in short supply, as always, but we’re muddling through.

We have the best beers in Goulburn, and some great entertainment.  Don’t miss our Beatles weekend in June!

Maybe there’s some opportunities for collaboration, but I think we’re a 140-year old club in a position of strength.  It will take a lot to convince me that we should sell.

We’ve had the fire going a few times lately; some quite chilly nights.  Right now, we have a few days of reasonable weather, then from tomorrow it’s back to Groundhog Day and endless afternoon showers.

Furthermore, there’s a cyclone off the WA coast and a high chance of more serious rain on its way.  We’re going away for Easter for the medieval Rowany Festival, but our campsite was mostly underwater last year and we’re a bit concerned whether this year’s event will even go ahead.

Back at the farm, we’ve run out of wood.  The wwoofers (Michelle, Lulu, Pat) have been collecting barrowloads of fallen wood, but it goes quickly.

On the weekend, we hired a chainsaw for about $100 and Pat set about getting us a bulk supply of wood.  A big yellowbox tree fell over in the recent downpours, so that was a good place to start.  So we have a whole stack of green wood drying out — but it probably won’t be suitable for this winter.

The plan was to start with the easy (green) wood and work our way into the harder wood — but the chainsaw wouldn’t start on the second day.  The hire firm did give us $20 back, but I think next time I’ll go to their competitor.

Our neighbour Shane, who is a whizz with a chainsaw, has offered to cut down a big dead old yellowbox for us.  That should get us through a winter, if he gets the chance to do it.

Summer is now officially over.  The very last day was the wettest of this very wet season, measured at 150mm by our neighbour. About a quarter of an average year’s rainfall, in a day.

But mostly it’s been just a regular shower every afternoon.

Goulburn cracked 30 degrees just once in February, and only barely.  There were eight hot (30+ degrees) days in January, once making it to 34 degrees.  Needless to say, in a usual summer most days are hot.

I don’t do well in hot weather, so it’s OK with me.  Allison enjoys warmer weather, so she’s a bit cranky about it — but she had a week in Darwin recently so she’s had some hot days.

Our current wwoofers, Michelle and Lulu, enjoy riding our horses, and that’s not really possible when the paddocks are soaked.  Right now, some of the property is actually underwater.

They have just been joined by Pat, one of our first wwoofers, who is visiting Australia again.  I see lots of boardgames in our future! (and hopefully some of Pat’s wonderful aubergine fritters).  He’s also introduced us to the fantasy TV series, Game of Thrones, which is coming along well.

This wet summer is the result of a La Niña weather pattern.  I monitor this here and at this stage the index is moving rapidly back to neutral conditions.  Then we need to wait to spring to see what is in store for us next year.

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Update: Southern Australia has very bad flooding at present.  Goulburn was flooded, but not as badly as last year.  About 10% of our farm was underwater, again less than last year.  We had two weeks of nearly continuous rain, and now we’re back to sunny mornings and an afternoon storm – for at least another week.

The Goulburn Club is 140 years old.  That’s ancient in Australia.

The club owns a crumbling building in the middle of town.  We’re there most Friday evenings, sitting out on the balcony overlooking Belmore Park.

Live music, cheap dinners, good company … it’s a great place for us and our wwoofers.

Unlike most clubs in our state of New South Wales, the Goulburn Club doesn’t have poker machine gambling.  The other clubs have heaps of money, and cause lots of social problems, and the Goulburn Club doesn’t.

As far as I can tell, the Goulburn Club has been nearly broke for 140 years now — they just muddle through.

The club has no paid staff — just volunteers.  I do a couple of bar shifts a month, and about once a quarter we cook the Friday night dinner.  Recently Allison cooked paella, and another night I did a selection of Spanish tapas.

The club is run by a volunteer committee.  There is an established pattern of having a bad committee every second year, and last year’s was a shocker.  The people actually on the committee all acknowledge this — the group dynamics just didn’t work.  Individually, they are all good people.

The annual meeting was scheduled for December, but on the night there was only one nominee for eight committee positions.  The meeting was adjourned till February, and the club put out an urgent plea for help.

The end result is that they did get a full committee last week, and I’m the Vice-President.

I guess it’s yet to be seen whether we can get the club moving again.

Before Christmas, I tracked down a mint-condition copy of Kingmaker on EBay.  This was my favourite boardgame at boarding school in the 1970s.

The price was kind of expensive, but at about double what a similar game would cost in the shops today, I thought it was worth it.

Kingmaker is about the Wars of the Roses in England in the mid-1400s.  The counter for King Henry VI starts in London, and his rival Richard of York starts in York.  There are five other royal counters, of both the red and white rose factions, scattered over England.

The players typically start with two or three noble characters, possibly with special titles like the Marshal of England.  Each noble has a counter showing their unique heraldry, and (adding all their cards together) they command a certain number of troops.

The game is about controlling the royal pieces and eliminating rivals.  Combat is simple but effective.  There are many more wrinkles, as the game is actually quite complicated, but essentially that’s it.

This was the second edition of the game, produced from 1975, and the box had never been opened.  I was charmed to see an included note on software for the TRS-80, the first microcomputer readily available in Australia — with all of 4 Kb of RAM!  I remember them well.  So this box must have been produced in about 1979.

We’ve had two games so far, once with wwoofers and once with other friends too.  We didn’t get to finish either game (limited time, too many distractions) and we agreed that it shows promise.  It’s 30 years since I played this game, so some of the finer points of the rules are still coming back to me.

Dairy cows need to have calves every year to keep up their milk production.  Mostly the calves are turned into dog food in their first couple of days of life.

Some friends collected three baby calves from a dairy, fed them on artificial milk, then planned to raise them on grass.  As it turns out, growing calves need an enormous amount of grass, more than they had, and so they ended up at Cockatrice Farm.  With all the wet weather, we have had heaps of grass.

After a year, the steers (ie grown up desexed male cattle) started going through our sometimes dubious fences.  We asked about taking them to the abattoir, but that had a number of practical difficulties.  We don’t have an adequate loading ramp, for instance.

Allison found one of the steers in Barker’s Lane, from where he could have wandered onto the Hume Highway — a serious traffic risk.  So it became urgent to deal with them.

One of the people at my work recommended a Goulburn mobile butcher.  He was happy to come, and the price was excellent.

We rounded up the steers without incident.  We have a cattle crush coming off our round yard, and that worked well.

Each steer was put through the crush, and knocked out quickly and humanely with a stun gun, technically a “captive bolt pistol” where the bolt is fired with gunpowder but the bolt doesn’t actually leave the pistol.  The butcher slit the throat for bleeding and then the neighbour’s ancient tractor was used to haul the carcass away for skinning and quartering.

We had some initial problems getting the tractor going (thanks Jim for solving that one) but otherwise it was an efficient process.  The butcher has plenty of abattoir experience, and is a master with a knife.

The butcher left the quarters in a mobile coolroom at the farm for 10 days — the meat needs to hang to become tender and for the fats to harden.  Then the butcher came back and chopped the meat up into all the standard meat cuts.

To get the best price, we had to pack the meat ourselves into plastic bags the butcher provided.  So we would get a huge plastic tub with each cut, for which he printed labels showing the cut and the packing date.  For the most part we packed two of each thing per bag: sometimes it’s just Allison and myself, or us plus wwoofers, or random amounts of friends.

We got roasts, enormous numbers of steaks, schnitzels (which he tenderised), osso buccos, even ribs and soup bones.  There was corned beef, sausages plus about 50kg of mince per beast.  Immense amounts of meat.  We got a tongue, but didn’t take the kidneys and liver though we easily could have.  We decided not to tan the hides — too much work at the moment.

We ended up with a barbecue with our friends, for which the butcher joined us.  The meat is great and we’re very happy with the results.