Disco Knitter

I just had a call from Mum, Dad is out of theatre and in the recovery room. She’ll call with more info as it comes to hand.

He got the flowers we sent last night. Apparently he was rather chuffed, he’d never been given flowers before….

SMH Link

I know I am a little out of step with public opinion. OK, a lot. But I am truly surprised at how much crap has been flung at Germaine Greer. As M-H points out, the nerve was still very raw, but I am surprised at just how raw.

I remember hearing the first Princess Di jokes less than 24 hours after her death, and though thinking them in bad taste, was not shocked. The death of a celebrity can inspire strong feelings (I mourned deeply for Freddie Mercury), but Steve Irwin wasn’t someone that was really on my radar, and I apologise to anyone that thought my defence of Germaine Greer was in poor taste.

I stand by that support, but apologise for any offence the timing may have caused.

Poor Germaine Greer.

Having felt the barbs of the press myself, it was nauseating this morning to read the attacks on Germaine Greer because of her comments about Steve Irwin published in The Guardian today.

Steve Irwin loved nature. He tried to conserve it. He made a lot of money, and spent a lot of it buying up wilderness and protecting it. As a strategy for protecting habitat for vulnerable species, this doesn’t suck. But roaming around the countryside poking wild animals with sticks doesn’t endear him to me much. Credit where credit is due – he was a great ambassador for Australian tourism in the US, he used his wealth for good, and many thought him charming, charismatic, and entertaining.

He also fed a crocodile while holding his one month old son, he described John Howard as the greatest leader the world had ever seen, and he was busy developing a TV series for his eight year old daughter when he died.
A commenter on the SMH website sums it up well. I’m paraphrasing here, but the comment went something like “Get a grip. He was an entertainer, not a saint. It’s not like he was Fred Hollows or Victor Chang – those people really made a difference”.

Germaine wrote The animal world has finally taken its revenge on Irwin, but probably not before a whole generation of kids in shorts seven sizes too small has learned to shout in the ears of animals with hearing 10 times more acute than theirs, determined to become millionaire animal-loving zoo-owners in their turn.

And I have to admit that I have a great deal of sympathy with her. And also for Terry, Bindii and Bob.

My parents are on holiday for a month. They flew into Thailand, and intended (after careful consideration and consultation with expats in Australia) to travel to Burma. Last I heard they were on the road to Mandalay with a car and driver, and having a wonderful time.

I sent Dad an email this morning, wishing him a happy Fathers Day. At lunchtime, I was talking to a customer when my brother interrupted me to tell me that Dad was on the phone.

“Happy Fathers Day”, I shrieked into the phone, to be met with a shocked silence. “He didn’t tell you then”, Dad said…

Mum had left the car to take a picture (with her snazzy new camera) of another bloody temple. Since it was raining, Dad gallantly got out of the car to hold an umbrella over her (and her new camera). She took the picture and got back into the car. Dad walked around to the other side of the car and slipped on the wet road, and broke his ankle – both bones.

They were flown to Thailand yesterday, and it has been deternmined that when the swelling goes down, he will need an operation to put pins in his bones to help them mend. He’ll have to stay in Thailand for a few weeks healing before he can fly home.

Travel insurance is paying for everything, Mum has a bench in his room to sleep on, the nurses are very pretty, and he was given a single rose with his breakfast. The hospital has a reputation for being a leading destiantion for “medical tourism”.

All well and good. Until I did a wee google serach and found this link.

I’m sure it doesn’t need to be said that I love my Dad. That anything happening to him disturbs my happiness and sense of wellbeing. Add to that my memories of my grandfathers death when he and my grandmother were in Broome on holiday, and I have a paranoid fear that something terrible will happen while I am miles away.

I’m sure everything will be fine, but I’ll be sleeping with my passport under my pillow tonight.