What's this?

For once, this is not an unusual photo taken by Monkey.


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We have three Indian myna birds who like to lurk in our back yard. They are a very inquisitive bunch of sods.

I left the cover off the BBQ after cooking up some lamb chops. Later, I found these marks in the fat left on the plate. I had no clue what they were. A few hours after that, I was peering out the window and spied the birds skidding across the hot plate.

That is a myna bird foot print in congealed lamb fat.

Under the bridge

I took a detour on the way home, thinking that the road I was on would loop around and get me to where I wanted to go.

Um, no dice. Just goes to show how well I know my Sydney roads.

I ended up almost directly under the Harbour Bridge. It's a big bugger. Some years ago, I did the bridge climb - something every visitor to Sydney should try. Heights scare me silly, but I did it all the same. The worst bit for me was the very start, when you walk along the girder that I have pointed to with the red arrow. It might not seem very high, but standing down there in the shadows under the bridge is a person. Really, you say? I can't see them.

Yes, because they are very small compared with that very tall bridge. All that you have to walk on when going along that girder is two 6x1 planks laid side by side. Sure, you're tied in so securely that there is no hope of going over the side, but it still gave me the willies.

Very steampunkt. I think the old paint is being sandblasted off at the moment, which explains all the piping and shrouds. The people in this photo give you some idea of the scale.

That's a whole lot of rivets.

Red lights in the sunset

The tipping point

I have been thinking about many things (as usual), because a 40 minute ride each way gives one time to ponder life, the universe, and why some people are thick as two short planks.

Some might say that this has been my week to pick on the females of the cycling fraternity. Not so. I have simply pointed out some things that I have observed. You may disagree with my conclusions, but my observations remain the same. Just like "Charlie don't surf", chicks don't ride - at least not in the same numbers as men.

And then I'll got and post this photo to disprove that theory.

Actually, posting this photo of a female cyclist has nothing to do with pricking theoretical bubbles. I posted it because I realised today that cycling in Sydney has reached a certain tipping point - a very sizable proportion of my fellow commuters have taken to wearing reflective vests of some sort. Green is the most popular colour, with a good smattering of orange. The days of the Ninja (idiot cyclists dressed in black from head to foot) are numbered. Even I have crossed over to the dark side (so to speak).

If you ask me, we've reached a tipping point. Vest wearing has become the thing to do. When I started out, only weird people wore reflective vests - hippies mainly. Men with beards - and women too. Birkenstock wearers. Hairy legged soap avoiders. Lentil chewers. Tofu bandits. In the world of serious road cyclists, that is still the rule; but in commuting land, reflectos are now possibly in the majority.

Here is where I move into the world of conjecture.

I believe that the reflective vest is something that is helping convert some people to cycling. The vest leads them to believe that it lowers the risk of being on the road, and once their perceived risk is reduced to a manageable threshold, they start cycling. The more reflective cyclists there are on the road, the more they are noticed, and the more people start to think, "Hey, I could be doing that instead of sitting on this bus". There is something to be said for the idea of safety in numbers.

Now comes my next theory, and here I move into the world of the theory of the diffusion of innovations. Before I get into that, check out this page that covers systems dynamics - the animations are very cool.

The diffusion of innovations breaks consumers down into the following groups:

• Innovators
• Early Adopters
• Early Majority
• Late Majority
• Laggards

Adoption of a product or service follows on S-curve. I'll see if I can draw some later that will make sense.

Here in Sydney, cycling to work is still a rare activity - albeit a growing one. I think it is down around or under the 1% mark of all journeys to work. Many policy wonks have this grand vision of raising that to 5% or more, but if you ask me, most of them have no idea how that will actually be achieved.

At the moment, bike commuting is moving from the "innovators" phase to the "early adopters" - at least as far as males are concerned. This change is no different to say the adoption of the iPod - trendy innovators took it up first, then the early adopters and so on, until laggards like me finally got around to buying one.

The reflective vest has I think had a lot to do with getting the early adopters on board. The innovators are the risk takers - they'll ride naked at midnight with no lights and smeared in boot polish. Early adopters are not so accepting of risk - they need to see some sign that they can ride to and from work on a consistent basis without ending up as road kill, and the vest has probably tipped them over the edge.

I may be wrong here - we might in fact be moving into the "early majority" stage as far as men are concerned, but I doubt it. If you look say at the numbers of people riding in Holland, our numbers are so tiny, we have to be right at the start of the S-curve.

And then there are the women. I postulate that they are a stage behind men on the S-curve because of this risk-perception factor. Men are thicker than women - ie, more tolerant of risk (or just less aware of the consequences of their stupid actions). Women have a higher risk threshold to climb over before getting into the saddle. The big increase in the number of male cycling commuters of late has led innovative women to think, "I'm at much less risk if I cycle with that big pack of blokes - I won't be on my own in the traffic".

I reckon that in a few years time, women will move into the early adopter phase, and we'll see a big jump in women cycling to work. It won't be steady growth - it will be explosive. There'll be the odd one here and there one day, and packs of them roaming the bike paths the next.

So here's my curves - men in blue, and women in pink. That's my explanation for why men currently outnumber women about 20:1 on the bike commute into town.

It's either that, or too many women think lycra makes their bum look fat.

The efficiency of bureaucrats

From an email that I received on 6 August:

The Bay Run will be held on Sunday 2 August.

Better late than never?

Thursday

0610 - crawl out of bed. Monkey climbed in an hour or two beforehand, and has been kicking me in the nuts for the last half hour. Time to get up, have a coffee and read some blogs. I never write a blog at this hour if I can help it - whatever I write never makes any sense 12 hours later. I just read a dozen or so blogs over a coffee, waiting for the big ball of light to appear over the horizon and for my metabolism to crank over.

0630-0700 - Monkey awakes, demanding "eggs for breakfast". We make boiled eggs and toast soldiers, and sit down at the dining table to share two googie eggs. A few strips of toast dunked in runny egg yolk are all I need to settle the stomach for the ride into work. If the trip was flat, I could eat a proper breakfast and ride without fear of chundering on one of the nastier hills on my route.

0715 - pull kit together. Keys, wallet, sunglasses, building security pass, spare tube, pump, clear lenses for the sunglasses, headlight, battery for headlight, socks, jocks and an ironed and folded business shirt. Fill the water bottle with clean water. Climb into stretchy lycra riding gear. Check the weather forecast.

0720 - bugger, broke the zipper on my shoe covers. Shoe covers are essential in winter for keeping some feeling in your feet. My bike shoes are very well ventilated, which is great in summer, but awful in winter. The shoe covers are made of thin neoprene, and getting them on is a right bastard. Imagine trying to pull tight, thick washing up gloves over your shoes. Getting it right requires never before seen yoga positions.

0730 - check the pressure in the tyres, and hit the road.

0730-0745 - easy, backstreet cruising. Keep the speed down initially to about 20km/h, building up to 25km/h after a few minutes. Just ease the legs into it. On Monday morning, after a weekend layoff, the legs warm up after a few blocks. By Friday, after being bashed around all week, it takes 3 or 4 suburbs to light the leg muscles up.

0745 - the first hill. My legs are still not warmed up, so I take the long way round. It's longer, but flatter, and my legs have only a light burn on them by the time I reach the crest. At that point, I join the "bomber stream" - a constant stream of cyclists heading city-wards on Lilyfield Rd. I usually have to stop before joining the bike lane, and wait for a gap in the bike traffic before joining the stream.

From this point, it is on for young and old. The testosterone kicks in a short time later with a nice, fast downhill section. The speed limit on that section is 50km/h - a speed I can hit with just the lightest turn of the cranks. My bike and mass put me up the fast end of the spectrum on this section - I bolt down the hill, kicking out into the car lane and building as much momentum as possible before attacking the slope on the other side. It's always a rush, as cars have a tendency to pop out of side streets, drivers have a bad habit of throwing doors open in your face, and the odd idiot overtakes at high speed, then brakes hard and turns left in front of you. You have to be very, very awake on this section of road.

0810 - arrive at the office car park. My feet are frozen lumps of ice. My toes are numb from the cold.

0815 - bike is locked away, computer is fired up and I am heading for the showers. Plenty of hot water is required to thaw my feet out.

0835 - showered, shaved, shampooed, dressed and sitting at my desk. I check if any urgent crap has arrived in my inbox overnight, then head out for a feed and perhaps a proper coffee.

An hour and five minutes from departure to ready for work. My fellow workers drag themselves in, bleary eyed after coming in by bus or train. I am perky. They are cranky. Their envy is palpable.

Where's the karma?

I should be having good luck this week. When I was in the supermarket on the weekend, I noticed a lady drop something. It turned out to be fifty bucks. I picked it up and gave it to her. A few seconds later, another bloke walked up and handed her a second fifty that she had dropped just before. Careless, unlucky or stupid - take your pick.

So where is my karma for that good deed? I was almost doored twice today - once by a short arsed, small dicked bloke in a sports car, the second time by a tradesman who opened his door and stepped out into the bike lane whilst yapping on his phone and not looking at his surroundings.

I will make another statement about chicks on bikes. I did a quick, unscientific survey this morning on the way to work and noted that whilst men outnumbered women about 20:1 when it comes to bikes, women outnumber men about 4:1 when it comes to walking and jogging.

Gee, could it be that men and women are different, and as a result, have different preferences in this matter? Maybe women just don't like riding bikes as much as men, preferring to walk instead. No, that can't be right. It must be some masculine conspiracy to keep the sisterhood out of the saddle. Us male cyclists are surely oppressing women and restricting their right to ride a bike.

One of my explanations for the dearth of women riding to work is the percieved risk. Women just don't like the idea of getting hit by a car. That's understandable. Men don't like it that much either, but then again, I work with a number of cyclists, and our conversations tend to go like this......

me: "I had to squeeze through a narrow gap between two buses today".

roger: "That's nothing. I had to cross a creek full of sharks with lasers on their heads by riding on top of the crocodiles".

pete: "I rode my bike off a 10 storey building into a pit of ravenous drop bears - it's a great short cut that avoids the traffic in Chatswood".

sam: "Pfft. See these burns on my arm? Got them from cycling through a sea of burning petrol after a fuel tanker overturned in front of me".

sally: "I once put a flower in the basket on my handlebars".

Which might also explain why most cyclists who are carted off to hospital are men.

Little blobs of white goo

I was riding past a park today when I noticed what appeared to be large blobs of shaving cream dotted across the grass. Each of these blogs was a bit smaller than a human head.


There are dozens and dozens of them in this photo.


It took me a few seconds to work it out - it's been probably two decades since I last saw anything like this. And as I rounded the corner, my memory proved to be right.

I didn't get a photo of it, but there was a tractor going across the grass towing a boom spray - spraying for weeds. On the end of the boom, there is a "blobber" - some sort of device that drops a blob of foam at regular intervals. This shows the tractor driver where they've been, so they don't double spray some patches and miss others all together.

It's the sort of thing that I'm used to seeing on farms, but I've never seen it used in the city before. Nice to see those "advanced" city folk catching up with the innovations of those rural hicks.

I might have trouble claiming this as an expense

My waiter screwed up slightly. My bill for breakfast came to $135,015.00.

Tuesday grind

It's only Tuesday, and I feel wrecked. Shouldn't have raced the old bugger on the way home.

Things started out well at 7.30 this morning. I passed this sculler on The Bay and thought to myself, "Better you than me". The coach had him doing starts. Oh, how I remember rowing training and starts. It's much more fun in an eight - with a powerful crew and a well-drilled start, the boat almost leaps out of the water when power is applied to the oars. The downside is that doing a start is about the most explosive use of energy this side of sprinting up a flight of stairs with a keg on your shoulder. No wonder my fat content back in my rowing days was in low single digits.


The start of Lilyfield Rd, showing that cycling is becoming a more popular option for getting to work. A few years ago, I'd approach this hill and there'd be no bikes on it and this time of the morning. This morning, there were 8 stacked up in front of me, more behind me and this is becoming typical. I didn't speed up and join the group on that hill - instead, I grouped up with the guys coming up behind me, and we ripped into town as a pack of 10 or so. I reckon if you flew over Lilyfield Rd from end to end at this time of day, you'd see a continuous string of cyclists heading into town - and quite a few coming back the other way (no idea where those people are going).


A few of the guys in my group. Four in front, another five behind me.


Like I said the other day, a 7.30am start is too early for most women - except this one. Most of us blokes went tearing past, which is why I am utterly knackered, and this woman is probably at home feeling quite relaxed and energetic. I really have to learn to slow down and not burn out so early in the week. Better get some oestrogen injections.


A few of us stacked up at the lights in Pyrmont. Note the bare arms and legs on some of these guys - it was 8 degrees at the time, and I was rugged up so much, I was sweating and steaming. I'm going to have to be brave one day and leave my jacket at home and adopt a vest and undershirt approach. Also note the sign on the pole which says "Left turn - beware of cyclists". The taxi dude at least can read, and is nice enough to let us pass before turning. Well, in fact he has to, because at these lights, there is a bike light - we get a green to go straight ahead whilst the cars get a red arrow. It's the only way to stop meat heads from wiping out bikes as they turn left.


The old guy on the way home. Grey hair, lean look - must have been in his 60's. Bastard rode like the wind though. I thought about overtaking for about 1/800th of a second, then just tucked in behind him and went with the flow.


Me and the geezer, in shadows. Very cool.

Impatience, and being lucky not to get knocked down

I wrote last week about the cyclist that was knocked down on Lilyfield Rd by an idiot driver who overtook and then turned left in front of him, leaving the cyclist with a broken arm and a wrecked bike.

I was queued up with about 8 other cyclists at the lights at the top of Lilyfield Rd this morning, waiting for a green. There are two lanes each way at the lights, but it turns into one lane as soon as you cross the intersection. Cars take the right lane, bikes the left lane. It turns into one lane because there is a large section of bus parking just down the hill, and they occupy the entire lane, plus there is a bike lane running down the length of the road. So long as cars stay right and bikes left, everyone is happy.

The lights went green, and I was halfway across the intersection when I heard a loud, anguished yell behind me. I couldn't work out exactly what was said, but whoever was yelling was clearly very unhappy with what was going on.

When we stopped at another set of lights in town, I asked the bloke next to me what the yelling was about - he had been a few spots behind me in the pack, and had seen the event.
He said that there was a car turning right at the lights, so the woman in the car behind him barged left into our lane to go around the car, cutting off a number of cyclists who were already in the lane. Yes, failing to look and give way is alive and well; or perhaps she looked and thought, "I am in a car, they are on bikes - therefore they can go to hell because I am bigger".
It's astounding how impatient some people can be. Apparently she didn't indicate - she just suddenly roared into the left lane.

Men are more cooperative than women

I typed the phrase "women are more cooperative than men" into Google and got over 4.5 million hits. A typical one was this - Study finds women cooperate better than men. If you type "men are more cooperative than women", it gives another 1.5 million hits on stories that set out to prove the opposite.

Sorry, but that is just crap.

Here are two photos taken by me in the last week.

First, women riding together. Not. There is no co-operation going on here. Each to their own, sister.


Second, men riding together. All cooperate to form an orderly line.


Armies are the greatest form of cooperative behaviour. Men have been joining up for thousands of years. Ever heard of the concept of a "band of brothers"? That, my friend, is cooperation.


Seriously, sitting around in a cafe with your girlfriends, gossiping about Sex in the City, does not really count as cooperation.

Keeping track of the rent, part 3

Week three of me tracking the high end of the rental market in Drummoyne, post code 2046.

This my original sample, taken 3 weeks ago. Here's progress:

• 434 Great North Road ABBOTSFORD $700 - deposit taken last week, but still on the market
• 85 Renwick Street DRUMMOYNE $750 - still available after 2 weeks
• 9a Wrights Road DRUMMOYNE $780 - still available after 2 weeks
• 30 Preston Avenue FIVE DOCK $800 - still available after 2 weeks, dropped to $780
• 20 Thornley Street DRUMMOYNE $900 - still available after 2 weeks
• 6 Shackel Avenue CONCORD $950 - still available, and according to Google cache, it has been around since 26 May. That's now two whole months on the market, meaning the owner has lost $7,600 in rent. You have to wonder how long they'll hold out at this price.
• 32 Polding Street DRUMMOYNE $1,000- still available after 2 weeks
• 32 Barton Avenue HABERFIELD $1,000 - still available, but interesting to note that back on 18 June, it was listed at $670 per week. Something odd going on here.

This lot came on the market last week and are still available:

• 3 Norman St FIVE DOCK - $1,000
• 18 Fitzroy CROYDON - $900
• 51 Macnamara Ave CONCORD - $750
• 31 KINGS ROAD FIVE DOCK - $750

No price drops, and no rentals either. At the top end of the market, things are dead.

Climate change and the Aztec Solution

The Aztec Solution is quite brilliant.

You can hear a podcast of it here at counterpoint, or read the article at Quadrant.

A taste:

Climate modelling of new data from the Aztec Codex Cihuacoatl has identified a relationship with important implications for global warming mitigation. The research suggests a strong causal pathway exists between climate change and Aztec rituals of “nourishing the gods” with blood sacrifice.

Why we should develop more land on the urban fringe

Yesterday, I ranted about academics and ivory apartment blocks.

Today, thanks to Douglas Carswell, I now know this:

Gardening is good for you.

How do you garden properly without a backyard? And don't talk to me about flowerpots on the balcony of an apartment - been there, done that, and it is not the same.

So is high density housing driving us all insane and making many people desperately unhappy?

Junior goes sleuthing

Junior was so taken by the factory fire at Silverwater this morning that he asked if he could ride over and have a look and take some photos.


At the time, we had no idea it was at Silverwater, which is miles away. I thought it was a lot closer - like the Arnotts factory not far from here. I told him to ride down to the water where he'd get a much clearer shot of the smoke.

He of course completely disregarded everything we had to say and kept riding towards the smoke until he was stopped by Police barricades. Even then, he tried to slip through to get closer, but was thwarted at each turn.

I'm impressed with how far he went - no map, no water, no GPS, no mobile phone and no idea how far he was going; just a tower of smoke to guide him, and best guesses to get him home.

Whilst he was out there, he was interviewed by a TV crew. Being an utterly observant teenager, he has no idea what station did it. He told them a made up, bullshit story - if he makes the news, my respect for the main stream media will sink even further than it has already. I'll have to tape it if he is on tonight, so he can take it to school for his media studies classes and show his teacher how easy it is to dupe the media. Either that, or the plod will be knocking on our door next week, thinking he is an arsonist.

J gave him a bollocking when he got home, because he was gone for so long, and I thought he was going to be grounded, but I ended up driving him to a shopping centre so he could see a movie with a friend. Is that twisted or what?

How long does it take for a story to break?

I went outside half an hour ago to continue weeding the garden, and noticed a colossal column of black smoke rising out to the west. The smoke went up a few hundred feet, and had then been spread by the wind in a thick blanket to the side. We can smell it from here - it has the same sort of chemical taint that the cleanup plant at Rhodes has. Could in fact be that plant that has gone up in smoke.

None of the major online news outlets are carrying it, even though it must be visible (and smellable) for miles.

Junior has been sent out on his bike with the camera to get some better photos than we can get from here.

How long does it take the ABC, SMH etc to actually publish a breaking story?

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M notes that the SMH has picked up the story - 50 minutes after I did. Who said that blogs just leach off the main stream media and broke no news?

Ice cream and culture

I have found a cafe in our local area that is a bit further than my usual strolling distance that does the most incredible ice cream. Nothing like going for a walk, and buying a chocolate truffle ice cream in a cone for the wander home.

The pricing is also rather incredible - I looked at buying a 1 litre tub for home consumption, and found that it was over double what I normally pay for top-notch ice cream from our local specialist ice cream maker. Ouch!

I don't mind the price, but I can't stand their attitude. I've been there 3 times recently, and something about the staff is just "off". I've been unable to put my finger on exactly what the problem is, but I figured it out this morning - the owner is a grumpy, arrogant prick.

Although the place was not particularly busy, or even half full, the staff were all running around furiously, trying to look busy. As a result, their service was shite. As I was leaving, I met the owner, and he was all "What do you want?" with a sneer. He's like the Soup Nazi.

His attitude has clearly rubbed off on the staff, so although the food is good and the ice cream to die for, the only people who eat there are wogs who are also insufferably arrogant. They're almost as bad as South Africans.

The quality of the ice cream unfortunately means that I'll just have to grin and bear it.

The pitfalls of lowering the voting age

Conversation with Junior this week:

Junior: "These Gameboy games are wrecked! Who wrecked them? It's not my fault!"

Me:" I haven't seen those games before - where did they come from?"

Junior: "I got them at school. It's not my fault!"

Me: "So how did you bring them home?"

Junior: "I put them in the pocket of my school jacket. It's not my fault!"

Me: "And what did you do with the jacket when you got home?"

Junior: "I put it in the washing machine. It's not my fault!"

Me: "uh-huh".

Junior: "Look at them - they're wrecked! I want new ones! It's not my fault they're broken!"

Me: "Did you empty your pockets before you put your jacked in the machine, like we tell you to do at least twice a week?"

Junior: "No, but that's not my fault!"

Me: "So you put the games in your jacket pocket, and then put the jacket in the wash - correct?"

Junior: "Yes, but."

Me: "But what?"

Junior: "But it's not my fault!"

Busy people are happy people

I read a letter in one of the papers yesterday from a bunch of 15 wankers - er - academics, who were pontificating about the awfulness of allowing the construction of 40 or 50,000 new homes on the fringes of Melbourne. They were all urban blighters, I mean, planners of some sort - the sort that have their head wedged firmly up their arse. To them, having a detatched house with a bit of a yard out in the sticks was the equivalent of the Four Kevins of the Apocalypse. No wait, the Four Kevins of the Apocalypse are Debt, Carbon Taxes, Unions and even More Taxes.

Sorry, I meant the Four Gores of the Apocalypse - CO2, Urban Sprawl, Car Dependency and Kids.

Kids?

Why else would you want a largish house with a bit of lawn unless you have sprogs? These days, thanks to infantile land release policies, zoning stupidities and rapacious land taxes, the only way for a family on an average income with kids to afford a house is to go and live way, way, way out in the 'burbs. Given that these Wacademics were all decrying the free-standing house, I presume they all live in inner-city apartments, have no cars, no kids, have an average income and never, ever travel overseas for an academic conference.

Yeah, right.

Anyway, I got annoyed at their letter, and then thought about why so many people are miserable these days. It seems the more we get, the more unhappy we become.

Well, not me. Other people might get miserable, but I'm not one of them. I keep myself too busy to have time to get blue.

I was pondering this as I was cranking through a full list of weekend duties. We did a big shop this morning, and since I am not riding this weekend (already rode four days this week), the kitchen and garden are keeping me flat out. A tray full of tomatoes has been sliced, scooped and salted and is now in the oven drying out - they will make sauce to go on pizzas tomorrow night.


A whole chook went into the stock pot, and we now have shredded chicken in the fridge for sandwiches during the week, as well as a litre or so of stock for risotto. A huge pumpkin was chopped up and slow roasted in the oven, and together with the rest of the stock, it is now soup. (Funny how when we mash roast pumpkin together with stock for Mr Squishy, we call it "mush". When adults get the same thing, we call it "soup".)


As soon as the oven is clear of tomatoes, I'm baking biscuits. Then I have to make dough for the pizza (it can rest in the fridge over night). In between all of this, I've been weeding the garden and keeping the kids busy - none of them have seen any TV for nearly 2 weeks now. There's guitar practice to annoy the neighbours, homework to be caught up on and toys to be put away.

J is making curtains and spring cleaning and re-arranging most of the house. I've already pulled everything in the office apart and put it back together - all the computers and so forth - in order to improve our workspace. We have outdoor furniture to repair, bikes to clean and maintain, ovens to scrub, shirts to iron and on and on it goes.

In other words, my day is full. I barely have time to blog between stirring things in pots on the stove and extracting weeds. I write a paragraph, then leave the office to carry on with yet another task. The blogging gives my back a few minutes of rest between activities.

We have lots to do because we have a house and garden. If we had an apartment, we wouldn't have to do half of this (no garden) and we probably wouldn't be able to do the other half (no room to cook). We'd probably be bored.

Bored people are malcontents. The brain needs something to keep it occupied. I ride, and weed and so forth because the body likes to be kept occupied as well. If I find myself with little to do, I generally try and find something to do. Loafing in front of the TV, eating take away pizza, is not my idea of filling in time.

Back to our idiot academics. They are trying to deny people those things that will keep them happy - the space and peace and quiet that comes from owning your own bit of land with a house on it. All I can say to them is this - fuck you.