Monthly Archive for April, 2005

Why does everybody suddenly give a shit about the Pope? Why does everybody suddenly care about Catholicism and how it elects a spiritual leader? Having been brought up a Catholic I have witnessed first hand the greed, stupidity and hypocrisy peddled by the Vatican and it’s bureaucracy. Franciscan brethren who give schoolboys blowjobs, that’s very Catholic. Telling the poor and impressionable in developing nations that wearing a rubber will send you to hell, that’s very Catholic. Hoarding more wealth than the poorest 100 nations put together, that’s very Catholic.

Cardinal Bean would put some life back into the Catholic church. A converted Leyland-Mini-Pope-Mobile would be fantastic.

Just when I though I was in for a quiet Sunday…

Graham rolled into town on the wide gauge from Albury and gave me a call. We met up at the MCG to see Hawthorn get thumped by Essendon, at least that was what I was expecting. Graham has great faith in his Hawks and was showing his colours. He had the whole kit. The scarf, the jersey, the hat and his membership card hung proudly around his neck. The Hawks didn’t let Graham down, or the crowd of 45000 for that matter. I must say it was the first time I’ve come home from the footy a little hoarse even though my team wasn’t on show (they were playing 2kms away, and they won too).

Read the match review if you’re interested. Even though the Hawks lost, they put up a great fight.

I’ve lived all over the joint.

An array of houses starting in Brisbane, then London, then Paris, and ending (for the last 7 years) here in Melbourne. One important aspect of living where you live is the community around you. Most people are too involved with themselves or their television and home theatre system to be bothered getting to know the people who live around them.

My neighbourhood is a very busy one. Take 70 steps from my front door and you have 10 restaurants, 7 bars, a grand old cinema, a bottle shop (for the non-Australian readers, bottle shops specialise in alcohol) and a couple of take-away pizza/fish and chip shops to choose from. Cooking is something I’m good at, so I tend not to eat out very often. Alcoholic beverages, however, are harder to brew at home so I buy a fair few of them around the corner.

When I buy my few bottles of beer every couple of days I always meet some of the local drinkers. You know, the old blokes who always have a story. The blokes who always have a point of view to share and always say g’day. No matter what. They have time for everybody, young or old. Larry was one man I chatted to most days. He was always leant on the arm of the kerbside bench, sometimes sleeping and sometimes just staring into the air waiting for someone to say g’day. By six in the evening most days he was plastered and couldn’t say much when I said hello. Other days he was less drunk and we’d have a yak about politics, the weather or the why the country is better than the city.

A few weeks ago he disappeared. I didn’t think much about it at first, well, until I saw an orbituary for Larry in the local paper. It said, in part,

“About 40 people attended a funeral at Fawkner Crematorium on Friday for Larry Ramage, who died at Royal Melbourne Hospital after being dragged by a tram up High St on Easter Thursday…

…Mr. Ramage, born in Morwell in 1957 was ‘a lone spirit, a gypsy’ with a gentle nature.

Mr. Ramage went to school in Collingwood until he was 15 and often cared for his ill mother. His mother’s death 25 years ago affected him badly and he began drinking, getting into many scrapes…Family members wept as they heard his favourite song, The Wanderer.”

See you later Larry.