As I have noted before, the world does seem to be in a parlous state. Yes, it has always been in a pretty bad way and communication is now instant and omnipresent. So we get to hear a lot more, much faster. The 24 hour news cycle seizes upon and then spits out any piece of bad news. Perceptions are different. People can consult their smart phone to get a hold of any tidbit they desire.

My mother's generation relied upon the wireless radio and newspapers, not to mention that curious thing called the telegram. My first teaching appointment came by telegram and that was the 1980's. I suspect now I would simply check my inbox. The waiting game is over but something is lost in the process. Patience? the act of waiting itself? I don't know.

In all this blink-of-the-eye fastness we are left with a hydra of stories and story fragments. The underlying narrative of each is essentially lost. Of course, if you have the time and the interest you can pick up those threads and unravel them, though as for that, when I have actually chased a story down, it is more the case that the unravelling reveals a lazy sameness of story fragment. Many news services run with an almost identical news bite.

One way I have of remaining sane is to read history. The reassurance that 'things have always been thus' cannot be underrated. We have been to hell in a hand-basket so many times now. Somebody has lost count, if anyone has been counting.

In the last week, the faux winter has ended and a real one has begun. We have had blasting icy winds and generally cold days, with the odd frost thrown in. My winter garden is strewn with leaves and fallen clusters of twig from the many trees that comprise it. Soon I will have to take down the old acacia at the front and the remains of the dead nicolai at the back. Both were planted when I first bought this property. To be honest, I never expected to be back here to witness their demise. But I am, at least for the meantime.

I find the times when I don't have Tom to be quite difficult. The house is empty and quiet and while I generally like my own company, being alone is something I would rather choose than have chosen for me. Added to that is the fact that I miss my son. We get along quite famously most times and whilst he is sometimes demanding, this is but a tiny complaint. He is improving at football (soccer) and this week attended an AFL clinic at school. He is also enrolled in jazz and tap dancing classes and seems to enjoy this variety, though he complains about the reduced playday opportunities.

I don't have any specific memory of the playday from my youth. We generally went cycling, played cricket or football in the park or hunted through the surrounding bushland without any need for parents to organise anything. It just happened. There really wasn't anything else to do. It was common too to walk to the shops to buy the afternoon papers and grab a bag of lollies. Twenty cents bought a fat fistful of joy that lasted through to dinner.

It was just much easier to do stuff then. But then, there was no internet or personal computers, nor mobile phones or VCRs. Sure we had record players (generally one per household) and cassettes were becoming popular. Not a single game console graced the confused decor of the seventies lounge room. And four TV stations were all we got.

I'm sure the generation before mine could weigh in with an even more austere selection. We all make our fun. I hope that Tom's cohort can get the balance right.

Football is not always a fair game. The team that deserves to win (or draw) sometimes doesn't, if they can't put the ball in the net. It is a brutal numbers game. You might have 20 shots on goal and lose; your opponent might have 3 and win.

Against Chile, after a terrible first 15 minutes, Australia recovered and deserved to share the points. But they lost 3-1. Against the Dutch, Australia were the better team for much of the game, but lost 3-2. That's football!

But the Socceroos have really stepped up to a challenge that many thought was beyond them. Even without the "Golden Generation", the future looks bright and the Asian Cup is realistically within our grasp.

There was a time when qualifying for the World Cup in Football was a pipe-dream for Australia. Following the remarkable success of getting to Munich in 1974 (a campaign that I followed closely as a kid) the Socceroos struggled against the odds against often superior opposition and fell short of the mark. For decades.

Now we have qualified three times on the trot and find ourselves in the last 32 in Brazil. Our group is very difficult(Spain, The Netherlands and Chile) and we are expected to falter at the group stage. The team is young, inexperienced and lacking the talented big guns of past campaigns. We don't appear to have produced another golden crop.

The World Cup could surprise. The team might step up and that new generation may take shape in the same inspiring way as the team of Viduka, Kewell, Schwartzer and the like.

I'll be getting up early to follow the boys. What greater stage to be on than that which saw the likes of Zico, Ronaldo and Pele develop as youngsters into household names. It is the place to be. Goodluck to the Socceroos.

The last few weeks have had their distinct ups and downs. I have been in and out of doctor's surgeries and had random tests. There is nothing organically wrong with me as far as anyone can tell. My suspicion is that my anxiety has increased and produced a number of unpleasant emotional states and physiological phenomena. It is wondrous to behold the many ways that the mind can create time bombs and roadblocks for the body.

Xiaoyu and I continue to exchange daily emails. Hers are necessarily short (her English is rudimentary and she is writing from internet cafes) and mine tend to be simple renderings of the day's events. This is where we are at the moment, heading towards something purposeful, slowly. That's fine by me though I wish we could chat on QQ. She seems reluctant to buy a laptop but I think that maybe she is just very short of time.

I have a completely open mind about marrying Xiaoyu. I have no problems meeting women I like and this raises all sorts of issues for me. But I continue to hope that steady progress towards Xiaoyu and I knowing each other better remains my best course of action.

There is a beautiful, almost surreal light being thrown on the pine trees across the road from my house. The sun is about to drop below the ridge and its getting colder.

Our planet is magnificent.