It seems remarkable really - perhaps even astonishing - that with only six weeks until the US Presidential election, Trump and Clinton are neck and neck in the polls. Sure, Clinton is nominally up a couple of points since the first debate, but that in itself must be cause for concern. Even if you don't like or trust Mrs Clinton, there is so much that is disqualifying about Donald Trump that those few percentage points that separate him from his opponent are simply head-scratching.

I get the conservative view point, or a version of it at least. Government is better off smaller, individuals should be empowered, marriage and many other traditional institutions shouldn't be tampered with, taxes should be lower, business unshackled from regulation, and so forth. I may not agree with these and the raft of other choices that are usually offered, but I still think that these are defensible positions.

Trump is incoherent, childish, inconsistent, rude, dangerously populist and (please insert a string of negative qualities here). He may well be inept. I cannot understand how a serious Republican could make such a choice, even if they loath the alternative.

Charming. Would even John Falstaff drink with this man?

I bought Ann a second hand Giant mountain bike last week and today we cycled together down to Woodford Lake. I have walked this track many times in the past but surprisingly, our jaunt this afternoon was the first time I have tried it on a bike. It was a genuine pleasure to get back on the saddle and scoot along at what was really only a leisurely pace at best, supplemented by even more sedate moments when we were pushing our machines up steep grades, of which there were many. It was also a great pleasure to be cycling with Ann, who is starting to get the hang of the 18 speed gears.

Unfortunately we didn't take a camera - next time we will - but below I reproduce a stock photo of the lake in all its glory.

Ann and I went to Canberra the week after our wedding, ostensibly for a short honeymoon. I've been to the capital city many times but I was only too happy to see things for the 5th, 6th or 7th time, since I was with the bride. We stayed at the charming Hotel Mercure and met up with my old school friend Hawk (and his wife Elo) for dinner once, though otherwise we were alone for the duration. I am not one for gratuitously dumping photos at this blog, but perhaps this single time I might indulge the reader. Honeymoons don't happen everyday.

I rarely weigh in on forums online. The sheer volume of personal vitriol that accompanies perfectly reasonable commentary makes it an unpleasant chore, no matter how weighty the issue. Even responding to a mild Facebook provocation can cue fanatical responses, which begs the question really. The middle ground from which I usually reply is an increasingly diminishing space in the cyber-world and it is the relatively covert nature of the latter that guarantees that anyone with an opinion can sally forth. That is not necessarily a good thing - democratic or not - there is surely some obligation on the correspondent to make an effort to be informed. More often than that, it is not the case.

A few days ago I sent a response to an article that appeared in local Sydney daily which, while certainly dressed up as entertainment, was nevertheless a poorly thought through attack on a popular TV comedy. So I wrote this short note. My apologies for the quality of the screenshot.

I may have mentioned that NHK World on my cable network has started broadcasting the highlights of the Grand Sumo Tournament. Such contests last 15 days and the current one is being held in Tokyo. Sumo is an acquired taste but once the spark is ignited, it starts a fire. When I lived in Japan, sumo was a constant late afternoon companion, with the top division (Makuuchi) being an especial treat.

Since that time many wrestlers (rikishi) have retired and a new crop are on the scene, though I recognised Hakuho and Harumafuji as two standouts from the past, who are still dominating in the present. But this tournament has gone, somewhat surprisingly, to Osaka native and ozeki Goeido, who is at 14-0 after defeating Tamawashi today. His first Emperor's Cup!

This being the 100th blog of the year (some congratulations surely being in order) I will revert to type and address the man of the moment, Donald Trump. I do not mean this in any laudatory manner, for the oafish Don is not a person whom I respect. But Trump brought to mind one other great liar of the past, Joseph Goebbels. I do not mean to conflate the American with Nazism or with any Nazi type, because I think that regime is in a category of its own. But Goebbels and Trump understand at least one tactic with which crowds might be swayed - the big lie. "If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it." the venomous Nazi once said, before proceeeding to do just that, over and over again.

Trump tells a lot of lies but few bigger than his assertion last week that Clinton had invented the (President Obama) Birther Issue back in 2008 and that he, Trump, had finished it. As brazen as lies get, this is quite near top of the charts. As the words came out of his mouth, mine was hanging open in disbelief. I have followed this story for years now, with Trump leading the charge, demanding birth certificates, casting doubt on their authenticity, reveling in his role as the champion of the cause. As coded racism it does not get much murkier and unethical.

But the big lie can work and it has worked for Trump and others in the past. Whether he pays a price remains to be seen, but he has proved thus far to be the orange-flecked teflon man.

Once upon a time though, this one was the real deal.....

I don't want to indulge in much more post-wedding celebratory photography, but a couple of photos more won't hurt, or so posterity tells me. Firstly, my son Tom, for whom this might have been an awkward day, held the ring that I placed on Ann's finger. He acquitted himself admirably on the occasion and won a lot of praise, not least from the Thai women who wanted to line him up for marriage with their future daughters.

Secondly my mum - for whom my numerous romances post high school have have held a special terror and who I know wishes me only happiness - this day was a kind of triumph. She is very happy with Ann and has earned a new daughter along the way. At the very least, she knows that I am sorted out for the future and likely to stay that way. And truly, that is the plan.

There are lots of things I could talk about if I was write up a summary of our wedding day on September 10th. But an interesting historical note seems apt here, because on this day, two my oldest friends from high school were present as guests. Wayne and John had not seen each other in 30 years, and we had not been together as a group(of three) for at least that period of time. Wayne and I went our separate ways, almost by accident, not too long after high school. Hawk and I kept up through the common ground of our political outlooks, which stood at odds with our school cohort. So the following photo, which includes my gorgeous bride and Hawk's lovely wife Elo, is kind of a remarkable document.

Sometimes I am walking along, as is my near-daily wont, and I burst into laughter. Occasionally I am in proximity of other people, so the matter is a little embarrassing, though really it shouldn't be. There is nothing wrong with laughing out loud, even on a lonely bush track, or in the midst of suburbia, or whilst queuing at a checkout, though laughter out of a specific social context can be seen as awkward, or even dangerous.

It is not a sign of madness, per se, though it might be in some cases. In my circumstances, it is almost always occasioned by a podcast I am listening to, that podcast generally being political. I could narrow the field even further to a few particular podcasts but I won't bore you further. Today's FiveThirtyEight podcast was hilarious. Below, Silver, Malone, Enten, and Avirgan. Thanks guys.

Photos from our last-weekend wedding are starting to come in now from a multitude of sources. There were only 25-odd guests present, but, with the advances in camera technology in smart phones, everyone is a potential photographer these days.

My friend Rick, who took some official-style photos on the day, dropped around with some lovely examples and a thumb drive full of his work. I think that Ann will like them very much as she looked a Thai peach on the day. It really was a lovely, quite simple wedding and I am a very happy man today. Sometimes it takes a few tries to get it right but in Ann I have found someone who I can live with until the end of my days. I know that she feels the same, so I am the more greatly blessed.

Marrying left your maiden name disused.
Its five light sounds no longer mean your face,
Your voice, and all your variants of grace;
For since you were so thankfully confused
By law with someone else, you cannot be
Semantically the same as that young beauty:
It was of her that these two words were used.


So wrote Philip Larkin in the first verse of the wonderful poem, Maiden Name. There is a lot less confusion by law with someone else going on these days, since women do not have to take their husband's surname, which is all right and good in my opinion. There seems to be no logical reason for one name being obliterated from the family record by simple virtue of gender.

And yet, I was very pleased when Ann said that she wanted to take my surname over her Thai name, Kunakhum. I made no request nor was it my desire but still, this is what she wanted to do. And that is also right and good, surely.

last night's secret rain
left grey puddles in opposition
to the sky's high blush

Tomorrow Ann and I will marry. Tonight we are apart, of necessity, for she is Sydney-bound, her hair and makeup to be done by a Thai specialist. This is a mysterious Thai women's matter and I have no notion of its content or import.

Ann has worked really hard to make sure that this wedding and luncheon goes off well, even if it is a very casual affair. There were no formal invitations and therefore no RSVP's, nor have presents been sought or desired. There are no speeches and probably no toasts and you can dress however you like. Ann's skill is in the detail, arranging where guests sit, the design of place cards, the little gift bag for attendees, the arrangement of flowers and the banquet menu at the Thai restaurant.

I've done a lot too, most of it involving handing over money but also negotiating venues, explaining the process of marriage in Australia, organizing wine and stationary and so forth. It falls to me to do the big canvas stuff and I revel in that. Ann is fond of the minutiae and that is just as well. A good team we be and by this time tomorrow, a married one.

Sometimes when I am standing in the quad at HPS waiting for the bell at 3.10, my mind drifts back to my own primary school days. It occurred to me that it was rare to sight a parent waiting for a child back then, since just about everybody walked home (this being at Killarney Heights PS) and the times were uncomplicated. Parents were less inclined to fuss and worry than nowadays, though I suspect the dangers, if there were any, were just as great as now. Looking around the playground at Tom's school there are always parents waiting for their kids even if the walk home is relatively short.

Going back even further in time to my days at Rose Bay Public, I remember catching a bus home in the afternoon with nary an adult in site, save perhaps for the teacher on duty. These old green and yellow double-deckers grunted slowly into action as they left the kerb, pausing dangerously for air between the gear shifts. It was not uncommon for one of these ancient beasts to completely stall going up the hill on Old South Head Rd to Vaucluse. The bus stop at the top of Young Street had a small cluster of shops, one of which sold sweets. The elderly and easily irritated man who was the proprietor would wave his stick at the first sign of cheekiness. From there I walked the short distance home, past South Head Cemetery. Nobody bothered with us - we were just kids walking home.

This afternoon Tom surprised me by appearing in a costume put together for a kind of bushranger/damper-making day. Here he is, together with one of the aforementioned buses on Easter Show duty in 1972.

Back to beautiful Spring sunshine after a wild and cool Saturday. The wedding on that day went smoothly and uneventfully, which I suppose is a good thing. Best man and MC duties were performed ably (I'm told) and the happy couple departed for a honey moon in Oberon.

Ann looked lovely and seemingly enjoyed herself and the whole shebang was good practice for our upcoming union, a much simpler affair next weekend. During the reception, we snuck off to a photo booth and these two meager strips are the fruits of that diversion.

First day of Spring, the gravelly splut of mowers, insinuations of cut grass, bees mad-humming and earnest searching through blossom-tangled boughs, the sky blue and high and without blemish and me t-shirted and short-panted, this is what a departure from winter looks and feels like.

Even as I write though, grape-dark clouds are gathering and rain is much in the offing. Later tonight I will attend a wedding practice for my friend Greg, whose best man I am. My speech is written, only the time and manner of its delivery remain unknown.