Today Ann and I had our second AZ shot, so we are now fully vaccinated. Twelve weeks between injections is a long time and I can understand people opting for the much shorter turn around time of the Pfizer shot.

But I am just grateful for the hard work of nurses and doctors and researchers. Their efforts collectively will help everyone find a pathway out of the pandemic.

I really hope that the people who desperately need vaccinations in South-East Asia and elsewhere can soon get the help they need. To all those who sprout absurd conspiracy theories, or who spruik false or misleading information about being vaccinated, I hope you don't have to learn the hard way.

Like many others now, stay-at-home orders have meant a lot more TV viewing. So the arrival of the Tokyo Olympics has been a boon. Even if you are not a sports lover, there are so many stories of hardship and triumph that it is difficult not to see the Olympics as a symbol of hope. We put to one side the unevenness of the playing field and the allure of wealth that might spoil the Games for some, in order to become immersed in a kind of shared human experience running the gamut of emotions.

This morning I watched a replay of the women's 55kg weightlifting, about 90 minutes worth of pushing flesh up against steel. All the women were extraordinary, but the winner of the gold medal, Hidilyn Diaz, of the Philippines, demonstrated the kinds of moments that can bring vicarious joy and tears to all of us. Her country had never won a gold medal and her struggle through four Olympics, without government support or the largesse of private wealth, was nothing short of spectacular.

Her final lift, a world record, was such a moment of triumph that she wept, prayed and rejoiced without ceasing. I think that the people of the Philippines have a new and deserving hero. You know, I could watch that final lift and the celebration a thousand times.

127kgs.

Photos courtesy of Reuters.

I was reminded yesterday of the fact that is 20 years this week since Nadia and I went to Sanda City in Japan to teach English at a small eikaiwa. It was not our first trip to Japan, that being three years earlier at a commemorative concert with our Blue Mountains based choir. But one did indeed lead to the other.

I had already racked up two decades as a secondary school teacher so was not unduly concerned about the teaching side of things, though we were both curious about the set-up. I have written before about how the teachers immediately before us had put a lot of effort into creating a workable environment for the school, which had formerly been held in private homes and community rooms. Some of the those conditions continued, but the school now had a house and a classroom, and from there was able to thrive. We tried our best to improve upon what we inherited and I think we succeeded if enrolments are anything to go by.

In that first week our boss lent us a camera so we could send some photos home. Here are a couple of the house in Sanda and the view from an upper bedroom. To say I miss this place is too much of an understatement for me to comment further upon.

I don't always watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics, but this being an unusual year and Japan being a unique country, I sat down last night to watch anyway. 

I am told that it was a pared-back version of what would have taken place if not for the coronavirus and I am thankful for that. It was simple and beautiful. Just what I expected. I was especially impressed with the Olympic rings which had been fashioned from the wood of trees planted after 1964 Tokyo Games, a lovely cyclical gesture so typical of the culture. I also loved the lotus-framed Olympic cauldron and the extraordinary world made up of drones, that hovered like an apparition about the stadium.

I often used to say to drama students, when they were puzzling over how to make a scene better, that less is more. It is a cliché now to say such a thing, but it remains true in many instances. Fill a simple spotlight on a bare floor with genuine commitment and belief, let the character within come to life, and you will create profound meanings.

Well done Japan.

While Hakuho won the most recent Grand Sumo Tournament in Nagoya by the impressive margin of 15-0, it is his nearest competitor, Terunofuji, who deserves the most praise. As related before, the latter has come back through the ranks, having suffered injury and illness, from a seemingly impossible position. He was beaten by Hakuho on the final day, and thus finishes the bashou at 14-1. No mean feat that.

And he wins the greater prize too. He will be elevated to zokozuna in the next tournament, the highest honour for any professional sumo wrestler. I take nothing away from Hakuho, who is an amazing champion  and wonderfully skilled. His return from surgery and other injuries has also been impressive.

Both are Mongolians, so Ulan Bator has a lot to cheer about.

The 73rd Yokozuna. Omedeto.

I have written before that things are never as bad as they seem, once a longer perspective is viewed. I read often that the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but comparisons with the recent past suggest that not a lot has gotten worse while many things have actually improved.

My life at high school was dominated by talk of an oil shock, environmental degradation, overpopulation, wars and rumours of wars, inflation, famine and the omnipresent threat of nuclear war. I know this because I have a list in my homework book in Year 9 that tells me so. More than likely, this was something I jotted down in history one day when I forgot my book.

The same notebook today might contain the following: global warming and environmental degradation, coronavirus, wars and rumours of wars, the still omnipresent threat of nuclear war, em (that's enough lists-ed.). Stubbornly, I would like to add, the attack on truth or the rise of the irrational, since what was held quite reasonably as expert opinion in the 1970's is now disputed by anyone with a mobile phone and five minutes to spend on google.

However, in the intervening years, medicine has improved, crop yields are higher, millions have been lifted from poverty, a hand-help device can give you access to vast amounts of information and so forth. So there are improvements to set against the deficits. As for billionaires jetting into space on expensive toys - I know not which side of the ledger this sits.

It could all be hell in a handbasket after all, but I am hoping that humans do muddle through and do not become the victims of a Great Filter. You know, the one whereby all technological civilisations eventually destroy themselves.

 The Cloud Unknowing

Strange species of cloud this,

That casts no shadow,
That moves unseen,
Just rising numbers
On a screen.
The odd hit and miss - 
For every secret blow, 
Another is unkissed.
Oh, a cloud that neither,
Rains nor shades,
But heaves with silent breath,
The better to insinuate -
Recumbent lottery of death
For any passing through.
The perfect egalitarian,
(If it could choose)
For anyone will do.

Compliance is one of those sometimes mysterious things that it is wise to become acquainted with prior to diving into a project or making a purchase. It is often as not somewhere in the small print or in a place that requires an active search.

For example, before I bought my e-bike I was all set on getting an e-scooter, on the recommendation of my physio. I diligently researched all the models within my budget and came up with the most suitable machine. All ready to buy, I found an obscure note at the bottom of a seller's online page which said that riding e-scooters on public roads or footpaths in my state (NSW) was not legal. Upon checking further, I found that this was true. Segui to e-bicycle.

Since buying the Himo, which at the time seemed perfectly legal in all respects, I have come across a debate over e-bike compliance. A bike shop owner told me that bikes with throttles were not compliant. Of course, he had skin in the game. An reputable online seller insisted that bikes with locked or disabled throttles were compliant. They operated in essentially the same way as the pedelec variety. This was the prevailing opinion at other sites too. My throttle, which is electronically locked, only operates when I am pedalling. No pedal, no power. However, the same model in China can be used as a moped if required. There is a world of difference.

Fortunately, I have compliance stickers that indicate my bike's bona fides, at least within European standards. But it is a bit of a minefield and well worth looking into before taking a plunge, which I recommend that you do.

 As a postscript to my last entry, I would like to add that the movie "Goal" is on You Tube. I sat and watched the first 45 minutes of it yesterday and if you are a football fan and just want to see the games, or highlights of the games, then you will be disappointed.

"Goal" is very much a creature of its time, combining an edgy sixties tone with endless cameras shots and angles (way too many close-ups) topped off with an enigmatic and minimalist commentary. I haven't re-watched the second half (boom, boom) but I can guess it's more of the same, an arthouse approach that seeks to recreate the ambience of the 66 World Cup, rather at the expense of the action on the field. Still, it is worth a look and is in hindsight, quite amusing.

On the lockdown front there is little to report, but the potential for restrictions is now beginning to stretch into the medium term, as it were. Not much to be done but take the medicine and have a good lie down. In the press, there are recriminations about the rich and famous getting away with things that us poor plebs cannot. It is probably so, and has often been thus, though to quote Bowie,

"Fame - puts you there where things are hollow."

So perhaps, we should just pity them.

As England prepares to take on Italy in the final of Euro 2020, my mind wandered back to the 1966 World Cup, the last time the team appeared in a final. I don't remember much of that World Cup, being only 8 at the time and living in a country that thought soccer was for "sissies or wogs." Much has changed in Australia since then, beginning with the historic qualification for the 1974 World Cup.

But I digress. On the eve of the 1970 World Cup in Brazil, the film "Goal", a documentary about the 1966 World Cup, was doing the rounds again of suburban cinemas in Sydney. As I recall it, my Forest U/11 soccer team attended a Saturday screening of the movie at an old cinema in Crow's Nest. It was exciting to be out with the team and the movie was great. All of us were rooting for England, of course, no offence meant to the West Germans. And such a clear recollection too!

Italy will be a tough ask for England. Like Germany, they are an excellent tournament team and not averse to diving in the box, or falling over, as they did against the Socceroos in 2006. Yes, I'm looking at you Fabio Grosso! I think they call it gamesmanship, though I have other ways of expressing it, none of them kind.

I found this copy of the "Goal" movie poster online and reproduce it below. Love the comic strip artwork, reminiscent of "Scorcher and Score."

Australians, for all their larrikin pedigree, are pretty compliant when it comes to authority. They may whinge about government and complain about the so-called "nanny state", but for the most part, they do as they are told.

So the regulations and restrictions imposed as a result of the Coronavirus have largely been followed to the letter, with only a tiny minority opting for opposition. Even such opposition that there is has been at best rag-tag, poorly-thought-through and incoherent, with no genuine intellectual base. There is a case for personal responsibility within the framework of liberty(in the broadest sense), but it has not been made.

We are left with images of people refusing to wear masks for reasons which they cannot articulate, unevidenced statements and a general irritability at being asked to do something that is mildly inconvenient. Truly, even as an asthmatic myself, it is not hard to wear a mask. It is not that difficult to remain home during lockdowns, even if it is boring. It is pretty easy really not to organise social gatherings either. It requires, at best, a mere skerrick of willpower.

Maybe affluence dilutes character for some people or selfishness is so ingrained that it cannot be overcome. Liberty is important, but not so important that my liberty causes the suffering of others.

And it is truly great to see the champion sumo wrestler, Hakuho, back in the dohyo at the Grand Sumo Tournament in Nagoya. Plagued by injuries to his feet and knees, it seemed to many that he would never step on the clay again.

But there he is, at 3-0, looking masterful. I hope that he can last the 15 days.

Alas, we have another week of Coronavirus lockdown imposed on top of the existing two weeks! It affects me very little in truth, except for the cancellation of volunteer jobs. I do miss friends dropping by, but I have a family around me so loneliness is not a big problem. And I have the inside of my head, which is labyrinthine.

But I am sure that isolation is a huge problem for some people - those who live by themselves, for example. It is not the same kind of isolation that would have been experienced before mobile phones and the internet came along, something which would have been more of a social blackout, save for the radio and television. Then again, community and neighbourly contacts were more tightly knit back then and far fewer people lived by themselves. I am not sure how to properly balance this equation.

Putting things further in perspective, our closest neighbour, Indonesia, is currently deep into the pandemic, with predictions of potentially 100,000 reported infections each day in the near future. Hospitals are full. Compare that with today's total in NSW of 26. I hope that Australia acts with speed and tact in offering assistance of whatever kind the Indonesians require. It is not about self-interest, though I know that there are those in Canberra with just such a calculation in their heads, but about our common humanity.

Further to my previous post, I was rifling through some old school books in my library and found a list of albums handwritten on a torn out piece of paper. It was lying in the back of a Year 8 novel (I don't know how I still have it!) and was in my hand. So the year is 1972 most likely, or early the following year.

I looked over the list and many of the albums were not in my own collection, and wondering at a clue as to its provenance, noticed a faded J and two quavers in the top right corner. I puzzled over this slight mystery for a day or two. I went for short walks and listened to tracks from the albums. At Leon Russell's "Roll Away the Stone" the penny dropped.

This was a list of my brother John's albums, ones that I had obviously been influenced by, on the occasions he came down from Queensland and stayed for (invariably) short periods. When only us boys were home, he would play them loudly, as I faintly recall, impossible for anyone to miss. Many of his selections I obviously liked and it broadened my taste in pop.

The artists included Yes, The Cream, The Who, Leon Russell, Rod Stewart, Pink Floyd, The Kinks, The Masters Apprentices, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Cat Stevens, The Beatles, The Moody Blues, David Bowie and many others. I have John to thank for setting me on the road to a broader knowledge of (admittedly mainsteam) musicians, one that I filled out myself as I grew older.

Those teen years are so critical to how we develop. To balance pop and rock, I had a plentiful supply of classical (I use this term broadly) as well as my mothers love of the crooners, jazz and latin music. There is much now to be thankful for. This list and many other artefacts from the time are like mnemonics for me, crucial in the task of remembering, bit by bit.