Gone. how long

Once this blog was mostly about life.  Family life.  Doing things together. 

But not much of that happens anymore.  Actually pretty much nothing. It's all gone. I'm a statistic. Dreams shattered.  I wake each night at 1 or 2. It's hard to get back to sleep. None of the kids live with me.

Lord Mayors tea party

Hobnobbing.  To use lingo - Networking.

  You may recall that during Covid the council forked out grants of $10k to help clubs stay alive through the  shut-down. 

 Today they ran an afternoon tea to thank clubs for hanging in there and our vice president, Ros Hall and myself went into city hall to scoff the horse doovas and percolator coffee.  

Oh and we made sure we invited the lord mayor and our councillor (Sarah Hutton) to come rowing.

Data Logger

I wanted to log a 3V3 circuit that could not be loaded down. Used a old nutridose as the CPU operates at 5V so I could get away with no voltage divider. I set the ADC reference to VCC (5V).

Streamed out the serial port.  VCR was unreliable so I used terraterm to view and log the data. 

Brigo rowing

We had brigo rowing yesterday. 5 quads and two doubles. Much lower winds than the last few weeks.  A high tide gently outfliwing.

At about 3:45 I received a text from Catlin saying the bus driver had made a wrong turn.  I went down stairs and Howard was there.  We started to put the tinnies down.  Tim joined us.  This was to speed it up once the kids arrived. 

I had just one quad.  All gr7 girls. Plus Jemma and another girl in a double but they just rowed past us and we kept an eye on them. 

Caitlin asked if they wanted to do international women's day regatta and there was general interest.  The older ones who've done it before were most interested. 

Some discussion after on club matters. 

Down

Local MRP Database

Importing big sql files into mysql

 

Run phpmyadmin on the server. select database
Choose export.  Quick is OK
Open windows file manager
locate the saved sql file.  Look in downloads.
Copy to the root of c drive
run x-ampp on the laptop
on a browser goto localhost, choose phpmyadmin
Choose databse syndetic.
Choose Structure.
Scroll down and check the select all box
In the drop down box, choose drop.  Click yes

On the XAMPP Control panel choose Shell
# mysql -u root -p syndetic < c:\syndetic.sql

wait as it is a big file

Early Hackett by Lewis von Stieglitz

Early Hackett by Lewis von Stieglitz

For the Thomson / von Stieglitz boys early recollections of Hackett are excitement and enthusiasm. Irrespective of rain, sun, warmth or snow; they operated on full throttle. 

Like many children in that quiet suburb nestled against the bush and away from the main highways, they found Hackett was very much a cosy home base. “It was a very nice world where we could easily visit friends, hike in the bush, bicycle to school or go to the shops.”

For children events however mundane were exciting. Parents Edgar and Eileen wanted somewhere away from the parliament area and close to a decent butchers shop. As a Queenslander Edgar appreciated good meat! Like everyone they joined the list for a 3 bedroom “G” government house but were delighted to eventually get a four bedroom home. Efforts to buy neighbouring blocks for space were prevented by the NCDC as “unfair”. 

Frank and Lewis arrived as infants in 1965 just in time for the blanket of snow which covered the district that cold winter. James was next born in 1966 and on a bright cold day in August 1968 Granny, visiting from Queensland, lined the boys up to see Edgar swing the mottled green 1961 VW Beetle into the driveway with Eileen holding brother Henry in the passenger seat. He completed the quartet destined to entertain and plague the neighbourhood. 

From the 1960s  to the mid ‘70s a garden developed and blossomed out of red dirt. No power tools but hard work with push mowers, spades, picks and mattocks. Childrens’ small plots produced endless squash, melons and beans. Edgar and Eileen augmented this with binge tree planting from the Dickson nursery to mark important events such as the Queen’s Birthday and Australia Day. Often gardening included “slap up” morning or afternoon tea. The large metal pot perched on an old stump supplied endless good strong tea - black for Edgar, Eileen and Frank; milk and sugar for the others. Home made buns all round. Around 50 years Henry is still trimming out the overplanting.

Edgar, a stockman turned economist came off the land after serving in the RAAF (and surviving at least two crashes) liked order, though the house was constant movement and chaos. A formidable man; boys visiting his study would knock and wait to be invited in. If the visit was for punishment - walking stick over the knuckles, they would suffer in silence knowing a tiny glass of whisky would follow, with the admonition “I trust you have purged your contempt”.  

Not all disciplinarian Edgar could have the boys in stiches. Sitting in splendour one Sunday lunch he once held his plate to his chin, using a fork to yard green peas into his mouth, as cattle are rounded up, while Eileen pretended to be astounded. Shrieks of laughter.

Frank, Lewis and James started school at Northside Infants (Canberra Grammar) then to Hackett Primary School  in the years to 1976.  “I enjoyed it, being unconcerned at my lack of success,” said Lewis. 

Lewis remembers the school days in summer with the sound of the big sprinklers and smell of cut grass drifting into the class room. “Likewise, playing outside in winter in the cold, breaking ice in puddles and freezing our hands on handlebars before having cocoa at home.”

Hackett Primary was a large, buzzing hive of activity barely containing the amalgamated children of the suburb.  Monday to Friday in term time the boys would ride (usually no hands) down Mackenzie St, across the school grounds and chain bikes securely to the white cement racks. Twice a week the school would assemble in dazzling sun on the tarmac parade ground to sing God Save the Queen, later augmented by Advance Australia Fair. 

As noted by other former Hackett Primary students, Lewis was one of many children who greeted the Queen at Fairbairn in 1973-74.  “I was furious at the time”, said Lewis. “I spoke to her for longer than anyone (probably all of 8 seconds) but the newspaper carried a story and picture of Melanie Kelleher there!” “I remember dad (who was there) putting aside the paper at breakfast and saying gravely, ‘I say old man, didn’t you speak to HM? You seem to have missed getting any credit’.” 

School was a cheerful place, where Mrs Turnbull would ensure nervous young ones would get in line to pay 4 cents for two slices of iced bun. The biggist worry was that Eileen, a stay at home parent, would embarrass everyone by not being up to serving in the tuck shop. “We did not regard her as a working person and were horrified when she volunteered. I recall lecturing her in how to cut frozen oranges” said Lewis. “We were unaware that she was a graduate of Sydney and Oxford Universities, a senior school teacher and social worker. In later life (after Dad died and we moved to Qld) she returned to accomplish greater and greater things to our astonishment.”

The school included Croatians, Italians, Greeks and many others who had the good fortune to come to Australia.  Multiculturalism hadn’t been invented, but some kids carried the tag ‘wogs’ or more politely ‘New Australians’ though I never saw anyone teased on racial grounds.  Amid the pushing and shoving, and occasional fights at the bike racks, the only time I saw anyone bullied was when a young swine wouldn’t let up on our younger brother Henry, forever pushing and hassling him.

Resolution was characteristic of the time. One morning walking up from the bike racks, Frank reached back over into his backpack for the bike pump. It came slamming down. The kid was left howling in the dust, digesting the message.

After the school system was transferred from NSW to ACT control, teacher driven impetus to work declined as did supervision. Boredom often set in. Warm summer afternoons in the class room listening drowsily to power sprinklers beating water over the ovals were soothing. But on a cool morning or after a rousing from distressed teachers, action was needed.  Down the man holes into dank Hackett drains, using candle light or the odd torch to navigate.  

One destination was the Ainslie Dump (later a waste transfer station) containing everything from  working televisions, radios, tyres and other equipment.  Frank said, “The gate manager who wanted the treasures for himself, tried to coordinate action with the person in a hut at the dumping point. When we worked this out we took the phone cable. In the chaos of succeeding months we got the hand sets as well”. The spoils were used in a small private phone network up Mackenaie St”.

An alternative was to bicycle behind Ainslie to the War Memorial or what is now Old Parliament House. At that time security was less prevalent and politicians weren’t locked away as they are now. The boys would wander about, occasionally being shown out of the Cabinet ante room or kicked from the Senate or House of Representatives gallery for rolling red jaffas down the polished wood boarding. Lewis remembers “I watched Gough Whitlam lie down and unfold sections of newspaper until fully covered for a nap”. Efforts to land a jaffa on him failed.

Bread and fruit were delivered to homes for many years. They built up a supply of wooden boxes, some of which are still in the house.  David Jones in town was for treats, Young’s at Dickson for everything from hardware to bedware.  Other hardware shopping at Horton the Elephant on the other side of town. 

When travels took them to Dickson, downstairs at Youngs (later Alans and now Harris Scafe) was the business end of town. It held hardware - red and black wheels, metal axles and split pins essential for billy carts. Built of wood to a simple pattern of a rear platform seat and steered by outstretched feet augmented by ropes to the front axle, they were robust and fast. But wheels were the key. Lewis remembers Frank (aged about 10) storming up and down shouting “what’s the use” as men in long grey coats regretted lack of the right ones. 

The Thomson/vS boys, Reeds, Milans and others would drag carts laboriously to the gate at the top of the hill behind Kellaway St. All aboard, then rattle at alarming speeds down the hill, ending down near the current car park. Braking was rudimentary, gingerly lowering the heels of gym boots. A common result was an ugly heap in a ditch. Home to mum for band aids and tea, then back up the hill.

Within Hackett the shops were a hive of activity.  A pervading smell was the dry cleaner (in what is now a café), belching starch and other chemicals into the air with abandon. 

The main store was The Little Owl (now an IGA) for groceries, particularly Lackersteins marmalade and baby food.  “Mum was skilled at keeping the trolley in the middle so little ones could not add to the shopping from shelves.” Very skilled cash register operators would bash out the numbers on tape as they pushed items to be packed in heavy greased paper bags. They could go as fast as people scan nowadays” Lewis recalls.

Specialties shops were crowded, included the newsagent where the ATM is now, specializing in Coke and Fanta yo yo’s, string and stationary. 

Last and not least the butcher and chemist kept them in beef and aspirin respectively.  Resplendent in blue and white striped apron the butcher talked about sirloin roasts with extra undercut, while the boys children gazed at the saw dust covered floor, before heading to the chemist for bulk aspirin (served crushed in honey as a last resort for the aches and pains of headaches) and bee sting medicine. One day they noticed the chemist had changed.  “Asking Mum what happened, she remarked that he ‘drove his car up a tree’.  I recall thinking it curious but unimportant,” said Lewis.

Later they would bicycle down to the end corner shop (now Wilbur’s café) for 2 or 3 cents of mixed lollies and later Coca Cola (20 cents included a refund for returning the bottle) 

 “It was only years later that I realised so many differences for us. For one thing neither of our parents ever swore.  Without being in any way wealthy we were unaware of anything from domestic violence to poverty.  We were aware of someone on Mackenzie St whose mother was divorced but didn’t know what it was about.”

Edgar did not allow a TV until about 1975 and most entertainment was playing the in back yard, hiking or visiting friends.  They played lots of scrabble, monopoly, dressing up as cowboys and Indians, knights etc.  Most afternoons Lewis, his brothers and others would climb a tree, read, rush around and all the things young children did.

Lewis would also spend a lot of time on Mt Ainslie.  “We often hiked to the ‘bottom and top’ gates and occasionally further.  We spent hours and hours traipsing over the hills, racing billy carts down the tracks and just exploring.  Occasionally we did a ‘day camp’ where we would hike up, light a fire and boil a billy and fry eggs.”

They attended the Holy Cross Anglican Church but their attendance was patchy as “we boys played up too much for Dad. Must have done something for we all attend Church today.”

“We loved digging gardens, seeing the results in flowers and food.  Climbing trees and all the outdoor fresh air you could want.  With no air con and only a few fans, summer was taken as warm and winter as cold.  It made no difference to the endless activity of a small child.”  Perhaps the only downside were the magpies; “Wretched things swooping and screeching.  One day my brother was attacked on the front veranda.”

Queens Birthday Cracker Night was huge in Hackett with exploding penny bungers, ferris wheels nailed to trees, rockets, and Catherine wheels.  The boys would build a huge fire outdoor BBQ with sizzling meat in gridirons and potatoes baking in the coals. The night sky would light up as rockets and explosives delivered value for money. 

Lewis said “We never saw (or were immune to) any racism or prejudice and were never subject to any.  We thought it was pretty exciting to have Hungarians, Italians, Greeks, Croatians, Russians, Indians and Germans within a couple of hundred metres.  I was very vaguely aware of tensions between some groups but if anyone had asked, it would not have been in my top 100 worries.  I sometimes heard the term ‘new Australian’ but only as shorthand for many different backgrounds.” 

Lewis von Stieglitz (formally Thomson) (for the four boys – Frank, Lewis, James and Henry)

_________________________

Chris Lenovo

 Problem:
P-Toch editor V5.0 give "Out of Memory" error

Get the driver and the ptouch editor from
http://support.brother.com/g/b/downloadlist.aspx?c=au&lang=en&prod=9800neas&os=10011

Installed
P-touch Editor5.4
Reboot

Ran Brother P-Touch 5.4001

(PT-9800PCN Printer Driver?)

The problem shows up with Solidworks AND P-Touch both running.
 

Boot -> F2 to getto bios.
Bios shows the PC has 16GB

It looks like the PC only has 5.7GB RAM.  But we know the bios and windows both know it has 16GB

Move with Ute- not ha

Some time back i sold the Ute to my rowing and school friend Graham.  He's been really supportive. Listened to my heartaches and practically by helping to move furniture. Renting is just homelessness with breaks.

Today (Sunday 31 Jan) we met at Syndetic loaded the Ute. I travelled in the Ute to show Graham where the new place was.  We were just crossing the lights on Fairfield Rd when beep beep beep.  In good air crash investigations style,  Graham kept his hands on the wheel and I scanned the instruments.  Identifying an over temperature condition in the engine.  We pulled off Fairfield Rd and down a side street in the tennis ctr.

Graham found a fire hydrant and started adding water to the engine.  Concerned with adding cold water to a hot engine,  I started it and observed the water just being pumped out. 

Graham being a super gold member of RACQ dialed the number for the second time in a couple of weeks. He arranged a RACQ tech who in turn arranged a tow.

Pondering what to do with the stuff.  Called Darren Newman who said we could use his Ute but that he was on the way to his mother's birthday.  Phoned Dan who kindly went round and collected Darren's Ute and the rest as they say is history.