RIP Stumpy

Last night our little Aussie battler slipped away to fishie heaven. Just yesterday afternoon he was happily chomping on bloodworms and generally cavorting about his domain, happily wiggling his little tailless form about the place.

During the evening Lovely Leslie noticed The Stumpster doing some stunt swimming, upside down, then a rather odd nose down pirouette, then nothing.

We isolated him overnight but this morning he was gone, so still, just like the fish you see in down at the Ulladulla Fishermens Co-Op.

This little guy had adapted to life as a disabled fish, he had his fins and tail eaten off by a bully-fish. Once we removed that source of conflict he seemed to blossom, his fins grew back but the tail never did. He was an odd looking little guy but always seemed cheerful, wiggling around, eating heartily, getting on well with the other little fish in the tank.

So, cheers Stumpy! Thanks for the fun! It's a shame we have to toss you into the bin but at least you were wrapped up nicely.

Watching NSW Labor Self Destruct

Isn't it fascinating to watch the implosion of NSW Labor.

I can't wait for election day in March 2011 and see them turfed out onto Macquarie Street, all their bongos and boxes stacked up around them and haul their sorry arses into the oblivion they so richly deserve.

Once upon a time, not all that long ago, I was a Labor man through and through. As much as I hate to admit it, I was also involved in the union movement. Looking back I just can't understand what came over me! Maybe it was the angry young man syndrome, all set to take on the world, sort right from wrong, power to the people, bring justice to the oppressed working masses. There's no way now that I could support this train wreck of a party and its industrial wing.

Each time I see the talking heads on TV sprouting their glib cliches I just want to spew. Only the anticipated uproar from my darling partner, were I to soil her clean house, stops me.

Every time I see union heavies whining and banging on with their crap I feel like putting a brick through my 55 inch LED. I'm going out to Clark Rubber to buy some foam rubber bricks for my TV's sake! As an aside, does anyone know who that nasty Scotsman from the ETU is? He's a shocker, he should be timewarped back to Thatcher's Britain.

The Labor of yesteryear has long since died. They were the times you could be proud of the ALP and what it stood for. Legends like Curtin, Chifley, Whitlam and Hawke. The likes of Gillard, Rudd, Keneally and Co aren't worthy to even clean Ben Chifley's boots.

Those that know these things are predicting a massive defeat for NSW Labor. If it comes to pass, as it surely will, Labor have only themselves to blame.

In the aftermath the finger pointing will be a classic study of denial and sloping shoulder syndrome. They're all coated in teflon (registered trademark).

Bring it on I say! Bring it on!

Child support debts threaten parents' holidays

Child support debts threaten parents' holidays - ABC News website

Saw this article and it made my blood boil, not to mention bring back many unhappy memories

Mind you, the following is all my own humble opinion based on my experiences. I acknowledge there are scumbags out there who either evade the system with impunity, or equally milk the damn thing for all it's worth.

So, here goes ...

The Child Support Agency ranks second to the Australian Taxation Office as a bunch of c***s. The lump of granite that passes as their coporate heart is unflinching. Not only do they have no heart, they lack common sense, intelligence and basic human characteristics. I'd be surprised if they breath, eat, piss or shit. Perhaps they don't.

So when I come to the part in the article where Comrade Plibersek makes her stupid statement "if parents have an outstanding debt they can ring the Child Support Agency and talk through their options" I could only laugh. What a load of horse shit! You will get no where. There are no options other than bend over, part your cheeks and receive the pineapple rough end first. Being a scabby, tight fisted federal department they can't afford lube as they would have spent most of their corporate budget on staff development courses and other essential public service activities unrelated to actually serving the public.

You may think I am a bitter and twisted individual. Correct! I am! I suffered with these pricks.

I paid my dues every week, I never missed a payment, I wanted to assist my children to the best of my ability (r) ability. At the same time I was going through a rough financial patch. These bastards screwed me over big time. They would not listen, they were the most stupid people I had the misfortune to interact with up to that time in my life (subsequently Telstra call centres have taken the crown!) I lived like a frigging dog. Eventually I went bankrupt.

In all fairness CSA weren't the only financial burden that caused my bankruptcy and I accept responsibility for the poor decisions that assisted me in getting to that stage, but CSA did not make things any easier.

The day your children reach their majority and start earning for themselves is the day you can turn around, with your anus still stinging from the removal of large, rough skinned tropical fruit and give them, the CSA, the finger with a very hearty and loud salutation to go and take a right royal flying fuck and get the hell out of your life.

I have not had contact with CSA since 2006 and never will again. For those that are currently in the system, you have my sympathy.

On a closing note, for those scumbags not paying their maintenance, who make life difficult for the honest dads - you are low-lives, not even worthy of being pond scum. Pond scum floats on the surface, you are down on the bottom, among the duck shit and old tyres and tin cans.

I feel better now.

Peace.

PS: The term used throughout that article - "parent" - is trendo public service speak for "father", has anyone ever heard of a woman being done over by CSA?

How wrapping a cat for Christmas doesn't always work!

We saw someone wrapping a very patient cat in christmas paper on YouTube so gave it a bash.

Didn't work!

Beware The Crazy Eyes!

I had an unnerving experience with a lunatic in Fyshwick this morning.

Some may be aware of my washing machine woes of late and my need to move three of the beasts around. Having left my nifty red trolley safely in the shed at Ulladulla (which is clever) I zipped around to Supercheap Auto in Fyshwick.

I was exiting with my new $16 red trolley (how can they make these things so cheap! Pump up tyres and all!) when a ute pulled up and a guy got out. Seeing my ute, he must have thought I was a fellow traveller because he approached me in a manner that suggested we shared a bond. I come across a lot of people in my line of business, most of whom never want to acknowledge me in public so I thought it was a refreshing change.

As the bloke drew nearer I thought maybe this was a case of mistaken identity. Suddenly, without warning, right there in Supercheap's carpark and in the pouring rain he began a tirade. It's hard to recollect exactly what he was saying but I do know that the main thrust of the whole ridiculous rant was about the inadequacies of modern cheap BBQ burners and how it was all a plot to sell more LPG.

Initially I humoured him but I was becoming wet and worried. I have seen crazy eyes before and his were A Grade Nutter crazy! It was like looking into a black pit of insanity or worse! Maybe even the eyes of Beelzebub himself.

Moving slowly, so as not to spook the horses, keeping myself between him and my car, I bravely advised him he was in the wrong place for BBQ accessories. Flinging my trolley into the ute I leaped into the cab. As I was frantically lighting the fires I could hear him either abusing me or thanking me in a very loud, maniacal shriek.

Gunning the trusty VZ toward the carpark exit I could see his rage contorted face mouthing obsenities in my direction as he headed into the auto parts shop full of poor unsuspecting innocents. I hope everyone was okay. There were no gunshots or sirens heard in the hour or so following.

The above is true, albiet a little tounge in cheek. What concerns me though is this guy's wandering the streets, driving a motor vehicle, interacting with innocent civilians, maybe even breeding or voting.

How can it be!

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Teetotaler

Maybe a month ago I had a unique experience that was of great import. DenMother (aka @lesliedupreez , aka Leslie to her real world friends) myself and delightful lady friend of ours attended a wedding. The fact we were at an event such as a wedding was significant enough, but there was another reason for the occasion to be memorable. As I was sitting in the chapel watching the beautiful couple exchange vows I realized with a jolt that this would be the first wedding I have attended, as an adult, where I would remain stone cold sober.

In the past I looked forward to a wedding as an ideal opportunity to “hit the piss” at someone else’s expense, hook in there with a gusto and enjoy it to the max. Lots of yahooing, crazy dancing (ever seen the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine does her thing?), getting into an argument with your own spouse and being driven home. Next day invariably would be the nightmare, sore head, sensitive eyes, breath like a brewery horse’s fart. The whole day wasted as you gingerly began the recovery process, hopefully knocking over a cold one by lunch time, thereby being in proper nick by dinner!

Most people who know me are aware that I have been on the wagon now for some time. I know exactly how long, 4 years as of Melbourne Cup Day 2010.

Wow! The changes, tears and pain that have been expended during that period are difficult to explain. Still, 4 years later here I am, in one piece, feeling pretty good for someone who’s leaped over the 50 year barrier, in reasonable nick and hopefully will be so for quite some time to come.
People are wary, with good reason, of those that beat drums of various tones, be it religious, political, anti-smoking or tee totaling. I honestly don’t think I have stood in the way of anyone’s enjoyment of alcohol during my ongoing abstinence although it’s hard being in the company of people who are drinking when you are afflicted by the demon of alcohol addiction. The smell is incredibly distinctive, I can smell an open can or bottle a mile away and to me now it is plain horrible.

What’s the point of these musings? Good question!

Maybe it’s a crazy online version of AA, acknowledge my weakness, shore up my spirit and hope that someone may gain from hearing my little tale of woe. In fact I did attend a few meetings of AA and a more confronting experience I have yet to come across. Having said that, I stopped going after a while, somehow I managed under my own will power, something that many in AA say can’t be done.

What I do know though is that without my loving partner, the aforementioned Den Mother, I would never have embarked on this radical journey, let alone stick it out! I needed an impetus to get rolling and loving support to keep the momentum going. It was tough, it was nasty, but we got there in the end!

Since being able to stand back and observe, I do believe that alcohol has Australian society firmly in its grip, particularly the young. There are powerful alcohol industry lobby groups pressuring governments to make consumption of this evil chemical easier to obtain over a greater time span, In the name of all that’s holy, why does a pub or club need to be serving intoxicating beverages at 3am or later?

Something really needs to be done and done fast! Sadly, I don't think it ever will.

Reflecting on my own journey I have to say to Leslie, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

To those who are able to drink with restraint and in moderation, I take my hat off to you!

Stumpy's World

I couldn't resist trying the waterproof feature out on the Kodak Play Sport video cam. Bit shaky, as you'd expect considering the camera was attached to a piece of coat hanger wire.

Queazy

Do not spin in office chairs!

Ella Happyfeet kicks back.

Pizza and other nonsense.mp4

A sickening experience.

Hey Leslie

Pretty much as the title suggests ... Hey Leslie!

Signals From Space?

Sometimes I think my brain is a radio receiver, specifically one that picks up electro magnetic transmissions that squeezed through the ionosphere and hurtled through space, only to be deflected back our way by some unsuspecting planet or star, returning to Earth many years later.

Tonight, as I was getting into the shower, I began to sing Ball Bearing Bird, a ridiculous piece of musical endeavour from the mid 70s. I haven't heard it in decades.

All I could do was scream "WTF!!" and earth myself via the nearest metallic object, in my case a tap.

Gee things are getting weird in my life!

I know you are curious, especially the younger folk spared the pain, so I've attached the profound and touching words below:

Oh, what a hey, what a my, what a bird it is
Rare as the rarest that ever occurred it is
Said to be known to be roaming around
For it scatters ball bearings all over the ground

The ball bearing bird, the ball bearing bird
Has never been seen, has never been heard
It is said to be known to be roaming around
For it scatters ball bearings all over the ground

Just like the rooster that crows in the morn
It is thought to explode like a shotgun at dawn
It is said to be best to be out of the way
When it's loaded with shot and it's ready to spray

Nobody knows if it's able to fly
It's probably too bloomin' lazy to try
It's known to be prone to lay fifty pound eggs
Which is probably why it's weak in the legs

The ball bearing bird, the ball bearing bird
Has never been seen, has never been heard
It is known to be known to be roaming around
For it scatters ball bearings all over the ground

The ball bearing bird, the ball bearing bird
Has never been seen, has never been heard
It is known to be known to be roaming around
For it scatters ball bearings all over the ground

Thanks for hearing me out again, I hope St Mary McKillop is smiling down on you all.

Cheers

Peter

Utes, Aerials, Lights & Mudflaps - An Unholy Combo

Let me confess ... I drive a ute and I wear (some) RM Williams clothes.

I’m considering forsaking these idiosyncrasies due to a cringe inducing phenomenon that assaults all facets of public good taste. I refer to what I believe is called the BNS Ute (see pic, example only).

Yesterday, returning from my rage inducing visit to Toys R Us (see earlier whinge on this blog) I came across one of the aforementioned monstrosities heading along Majura Road toward Canberra.

This beast was the father-of-all-utes, oversized RM Williams logo on the back window, triple RM Williams mudflaps (one for each wheel and one huge one in the middle), and a plethora of BNS stickers. The bad taste continued, two monster HF whip aerials that wouldn’t look out of place on a warship, a rack of massive spotlights on the roof and when I pulled up at the next set of lights I noticed a bullbar that could have been sourced from one of those armoured fighting vehicles you see being used to bust up Muslim terrorist strongholds in Afghanistan.

I accelerated smartly away, leaving him in my wake. After all, my bog standard VZ SV6 is much more nimble than something carting half a tonne of surplus military hardware. I just needed to get to a happy place, a place of good taste.

There are only a few things I don’t understand. Women, opera and economics have eluded me for years, now I can add this to the list. What is the need? Do these people (believe it or not some are girls!) work or live in areas so remote as to need HF radio? Do they drive around in feral camel territory? Do they need to see things as far away as the next planet?

If anyone can shed light (low beam only please) by all means let me know!

Gotta run, dumping my RM Williams stuff in the Salvo bin and I’ll trade the ute for a wagaon.

The Curse Of Halloween In The Antipodes

Twas in Toys R Us this morning, shopping for the grandson's birthday pressie, as you do. Couldn't quite get over the fact that in the entry way was a section totally devoted to Halloween.

Ok kiddies, repeat after Uncle Pedro, "Halloween is celebrated in North America and Europe. It has never had any significance in Australia, nor was it "celebrated". We do not Trick and Treat. We do not hollow out pumpkins. We do not dress like witches!"

Casting my mind back as a kid in the 60's and early 70's I can't remember even a whiff of Halloween making it to our insular little kingdom other than what we read about and saw in TV shows and movies. We never actually embraced it by participating.

Nowadays, there are kids banging on your door on the night of 31 October, trick or treating, their little faces all expectant at the thought of something for nothing. Not only is it annoying but I would think a little dangerous, you never know what kind of Uncle Pervy lurks behind some doors!

I'm sure that Halloween's awesome fun if it's a part of your national culture and I have no issue with that at all. But some things are best left in America where it must mean something. To all those late model Gen X and the Gen Y parents out there ... Stop it! Stop it NOW!

My rant is finished.

A Tale Of Courage!

My SO, Lovely Leslie aka @lesliedupreez, had 2 goldfish. One was a bully and ate the other smaller one's fins and tail. The bully was banished. Now we just have Stumpy, a little battler. Stumpy wiggles around his tank. Check out the happy smile on his little fishy face! We think The Stumpster rocks. Go Stumpy!

My Family

Us!

Fun at Maccas Ulladulla

Having some fun at Macca's, extolling the virtues of the Mega Mac et al.

When I Wore A Younger Man's Clothes #1

From the archives.

Naval Air Station Nowra, 1985, passenger in a Westland Wessex Mk31B helicopter.

Not sure what the occasion was, maybe being used as a crash test dummy for winching practice.

Awesome fun!

Choices, Choices

I have a headache.

It is an excuse for not going to the gym.

Now I have to prepare our tax shit.

What's worse, going to the gym with a headache or doing tax shit.

It is a toss up!

Ken Wyatt - A Great Bloke!

I've never been much of an apologist for anything to do with aboriginal affairs, but I really do take my hat off to Ken Wyatt, our first indigenous member of the House of Representatives.

With quiet dignity, he's done more for black/white relations in a single afternoon than a decade of the likes of Michael Mansell et al. Morover, Ken belongs to the Liberal Party, an organisation viewed as a bunch of rascist hard-arsed bastards by the urban, leftie chattering classes.

Well done Ken, awesome work!

PS. I think the boohka is a nice touch!

What is it with Russian politics?

Hands up those who are confused by Russian politics?

For the life of me I can't nut it out! The bloke that's now the PM used to be the President? Who the hell is the President now? Is it some kind of musical chairs? Who is the bigger swinging dick, president or prime minister?

One thing that strikes me as really weird is that the current PM, Mr Putin, was some big knob in the KGB. How does that translate to suddenly being a kind and caring democratic chappie?

My head spins!

Deputy Dawg Dips Out

Heard via the Twittisphere and then the TV news that President Obama will be visiting Indonesia later this year but not gracing the Kingdom of Oz with his presence. I'm not really sure how to take it.

On one hand, there is the embuggerance factor of an event such as this. If you have ever seen a US Presidential Visit you will understand what a circus it is.

I was a very minor cog in the huge machine involved in George W Bush's 2003 visit to say a big thank you to his best buddy, John "Deputy Dawg of the Pacific" Howard. It was at Parliament House in Canberra, my job was to stand on a platform, ostensibly guarding a TV cameraman, looking down on George Dubya as he alighted from his limo to shake hands with Deputy Dawg. I was armed with a trusty H&K 9mm, I kept my hands well clear of the holster at all times. Guys in dark suits and darker sunnies would not have been impressed! They were everywhere, thicker than ticks on a coast cat's coat. Later in the day I had the pleasure of lining Adelaide Avenue outside The Lodge staring at lots of unkempt people waving signs whilst George & John had a barbie on the other side of the brick wall.

There were in excess of 30 vehicles in that presidential convoy. Ambulances, armoured black vans with machine guns inside, armoured black vans with weird aerials sticking out of the roof, stacks of other cars and to cap it off the behemoth of a presidential limo. This thing had the biggest wheels I have ever seen on a car. The doors, when they opened, appeared to be a couple of feet thick. I shudder to think what would happen if George had jammed his fingers, as happens to us all occasionally. It was a truly amazing beast of a machine; it romped all over Mr Howard's Holden Statesman "C1".

Add the noise of FA-18's patrolling Canberra's airspace, the fuss caused by Air Force One parked out at Fairbairn air base and you have some serious competition for Ashton Bros or Cirque Du Soleil.

On the other hand, does it show that the Americans don't really think very much of us? Are we so insignificant that Mr Obama only has time to jet into Indonesia, a third world country which, coincidentally, is the world's largest Muslim nation? Does Indonesia go around helping fight America's wars? Have they stood by Uncle Sam in WW2, Korea, Vietnam, Gulf Wars 1 & 2 and the ongoing War on Terror? Do they host “Joint Defence Facilities”? Do they participate in the UKUSA agreement? Do they have a bond such as the ANZUS alliance? No, they don’t. How do they rate so highly? What's in it for the Americans may be more the question.

Consider how often US presidents actually make it out here, 4 different presidents in 50 years. LBJ twice in the 60s (once to go to Harold Holt's funeral), George H Bush in 1992, Bill Clinton in 1996 and Dubya in 2003 and 2007, the later being for APEC. Take away LBJ’s funeral visit and Bush’s APEC, which he would have attended no matter where it was held, and you really have only 4 official visits. Pretty poor effort for a loyal and stalwart ally.

If anyone is a foreign policy guru please let me know what it all means!

Escape ARTfest - Leslie's Enties, Shoalhaven Open Art Prize

Escape ARTfest is being held in the Milton Ulladulla area from 1st - 10th October and it will be the exhibition debut of my lovely partner, Ms Leslie Du Preez. Here's a preview of her entries in the Shoalhaven Open Art Prize section with the theme being "Reflect".

Fingers crossed for a successful outcome Leslie!

Find out more about the festival here - escapeartfest.info

Escape ARTfest - Leslie's Entry, Postcard to Milton

Escape ARTfest is being held in the Milton Ulladulla area from 1st - 10th October and it will be the exhibition debut of my lovely partner, Ms Leslie Du Preez. Here's a preview of her entry in the Postcard to Milton section, with the theme being "Reflect".

Fingers crossed for a successful outcome Leslie!

Find out more about the festival here - escapeartfest.info

Escape ARTfest - Leslie's Entries 8 x 8

Escape ARTfest is being held in the Milton Ulladulla area from 1st - 10th October and it will be the exhibition debut of my lovely partner, Ms Leslie Du Preez. Here's a preview of her entries in the 8x8 canvas section with the theme being "Reflect".

Fingers crossed for a successful outcome Leslie!

Find out more about the festival here - escapeartfest.info

New Public Holiday in ACT - Total Wank!

Must admit they did give us a year's notice but this new Family & Community Day public holiday scheduled for Monday 27 September has caught me pretty much unawares.

My initial reaction on finding out was ... "What a load of touchy-feely wank!". Seriously, this is the kind of rot that you'd expect from a Labor-Green coalition. Gather the family and community around, sing Kumbaya, bask in the love of one and all.

I noticed in the Chief Minister's press release on his website that the whole silly saga had the support of Unions ACT. Now isn't that a surprise! I doubt if a labour organisation would ever knock back another public holiday for the poor old down-trodden prols who pay their union fees. Bit of a free kick for the unions as they are the tail that wags the ACT Government dog. Read the touching epistle here.

Why, you ask perplexed, would you be so anti this Peter? Good question! Since becoming a business owner several years ago I tend to see public holidays as being a nuisance, they effect business, there are staffing issues, it costs money.

Obviously I accept the fact we currently have 12 public holidays per year and have done so for many decades, it's a fact of life. But to create one for no particular reason other than to let the over-worked toilers of the territory gambol through Floriade on a cool spring Monday just takes the bloody cake.

What makes it worse, the rocket scientists who infest the bureaucracy have scheduled it for the week before the October Labor Day long weekend. Two long weekends in two weeks! Sheer bloody luxury I tell you! Just imagine how much work will get done around the capital over those two weeks.

In my twisted mind I imagine most pubes will flex off on each of the Fridays. Mr or Ms Pube says "Shit! That means I have to come back to work on Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday before I flex on Friday! I'd better take a few reccies as well!" Sweet!

As for the poor mugs in the private sector I guess shit just happens.

Anyway, enough of my rant. I have a lot of trouble coming to grips with this sort of thing. With a Labor-Green Wank Fest in the House of Reps and Senate imagine what kind of time small business is in for on a federal level!

Gotta run, need to brush up on how to strum Kumbaya

Hugs and communal love

Pedro

Scouts - made me the man I am today.

Last weekend I was visiting my local Bunnings and true to form a local community group had control of the famous Bunnings sausage sizzle. To be honest, I had no intention of buying a toilet seat or some screws, I was hungry!

The lucky campers were a Scout Troop, Lake Burley Griffin Sea Scouts to be precise. It bought back a lot of memories, most good, some not so good, of my time with this worthy organisation during my pre and early teens.

Ahh, the late 60's, they were the days, dark ages by today's standards.

I remember being invested as a Cub, proudly standing there in front of Akela in my new navy blue serge jumper and shorts (that's what cubs wore in those days), little green cap on my head. Can't remember how old I was now, must have been 8 or 9.

I was thrilled to be a part of it all, the Grand Howl with the dibbing and dobbing, instruction in arcane subjects like the history of the flag, how the scout movement started, how to grow up to be a good little citizen of the British Commonwealth of Nations, love the queen, fear god and salute the flag, sleep with the window open, turn your mattress regularly, salute a funeral procession, give up your seat on a bus or train (the little town I lived in had neither). I can still recite the Cub Law (since changed I notice), over 4 decades later - "A Cub gives in to the old wolf, a Cub does not give in to himself" - maybe I should have lived by that law more often over the years!

Anyway, cutting a long waffle short, I moved on to Scouts at around 12. These were the pre-environmentally considerate times, we would cut down nice straight trees to use as the poles for the cumbersome canvas tents with a fly, all suitably lashed together with regulation lashings and knots. Build a big fire, burn everything in sight. Love it! Try doing that now!

The greatest highlight of my entire Scout career was attending the 1972 World Scout Jamboree at Woodside, near Adelaide. I was the only kid from my Scout Troop to attend so was initially pretty scared and lonely as one is at the age of 13. We travelled in a special train that left Sydney and picked up kids all along the way through to Melbourne and on to Adelaide. It was like a scene out of a WW2 movie, the carriages were that old, if not older. Wouldn't doubt they were used as troop trains during WW1. At one stage we were inspected by the Chief Scout of Australia, Sir Roden Cutler VC, a towering man and a legend resplendent with a chest of medal ribbons and a wooden leg which was probably the reason he was the only one there wearing long trousers.

Sadly, I lost interest in the whole Scout thing not all that long after, teenagers being what they are.

Every now and then I think back with great fondness to the woggles, scarves, lemon-squeezer hats, Bob-a-Job Week, left handed handshakes, the prim and proper teachings of Lord Baden Powell, the badges, camping and the enthusiasm and innocence of youth lost so long ago.

One lasting impact that all this has on me is a long running sense of guilt every time I remember the last of the Scout Laws from that period (since discarded I notice) and I quote it below along with amplifying notes from BP himself ...

A SCOUT IS CLEAN IN THOUGHT, WORD AND DEED. Decent Scouts look down upon silly youths who talk dirt, and they do not let themselves give way to temptation, either to talk it or to do anything dirty. A Scout is pure, and clean-minded, and manly. - "A scout is clean in thought, word and deed".

Indeed!

Greetings!

Hi all

Just turning my hand to blogging ... not sure if I have anything of note to say, but here goes!