Binnsy's Hovel

Avast ye, landlubbers!

It be International Talk Loik a Poirat Day! YARR.

Be shar ter chick out that thar web site fer all the details! Arr…

Arr, banners off the starboard bow!

Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;
For we’ve received orders for to sail for ole England,
But we hope in a short time to see you again.

Until next time…

I hate geese.

I really do.

In fact, I really don’t think there’s anything I can’t stand that surpasses the absolute complete and utter loathing I have for these creatures.

Mark, though, this is not some sudden and instantaneous grudge, oh no. This is a hatred borne of five years’ endurance of honking, copulation and defecation that has brought my insanity to bear more times than I can count.

See, ducks and chickens have sound, logical purposes in life. They benefit from the care and attention we give them, and they produce eggs or fatten themselves up in preparation to be humanely slaughtered and consumed for human nutrition. But geese are the most ridiculously pointless waterfowl on the planet.

So why, in a cruel twist of fate and a completely murderous manipulation of all my anti-goose values and morals, do I whole-heartedly melt when I see these little things?

It goes against all preconceived notions I have of these birds to suddenly go all mushy and deem these things – that will grow up to become the animals that I loathe with every fibre of my being – cute. But I have a theory.

It must be the honking. The noise. I hate it. And until such time as vocal chords develop sufficiently to elicit such sounds, I can tolerate these little things, and actually accept their cuteness.

Now my mind is at ease…

Until next time…

Well, work’s over for another week.

I’m loving the fact that winter’s back. For a while there I thought summer was settling in, but no sooner had it arrived on the doorstep than the Department of Community Services found a loophole in its existence and shipped it off to California where it belongs. And then the wind, rain and chill moved back in from its temporary confinement at the Weatherton Detention Centre.

Too big a metaphor? Mmm, you’re probably right.

For those of you who don’t read The Onion, you’re missing out on some of the best and most easily-accessible humour since the Chaser closed its doors to the non-monthly-fee-paying public. Admittedly it’s based in America, but who doesn’t love any American willing to stab their own country and culture in the back? Certainly not me. Those who haven’t read of the Google purge, you’ve been not laughing for far too long. Read it now.

The United Nations has been under pressure to take all forms of drastic action amidst the eternal debate over its legitimacy and necessity in the world power monopoly. Secretary-General Kofi Annan seems to be the only one speaking the truth:

No matter how difficult agreement is, there is no escaping the fact that the challenges of our time must be met by action and today, more than ever, action must be collective if it is to be effective.

The UN is seen by many world powers as something of an obligation, a drag. I’m sure some of the member nations only placate the UN and its deliberations because of the apparent diplomatic implications such involvement facilitates.

For my part, I only hear of the UN when it’s debating something, when they hold a summit somewhere or when they’re being humanitarian and doing the right thing by the world. I think that the United Nations is a vital tool and conduit of international relations and intercommunication. However, like Annan said, massive changes need to take place if the UN is to have any significant power in world affairs.

If that doesn’t happen, it may as well be dissolved.

I’m sure many watched Enough Rope on Thursday night. Now there’s an embittered man. Though I do find myself agreeing with him on the Australian tendency towards individualism and materialism. Why? I don’t really know. I have a distinctly stereotypical and traditional view of what Australian culture should be. It involves footy, cricket, pies, beer, the Harbour Bridge, the MCG, the beach, Lygon Street, the Queen Victoria Building, Luna Park and the outback. The further we get with Australia-US relations, the less our culture is delineated and adhered to. Blame the yanks. It’s always their fault.

Until next time…

Year 12. Who’d do it?

Oh, that’s right. Me.

Seriously, two nights in a row I’ve been out at random functions to farewell various people or for said people to farewell me. I feel like all of a sudden the end of my secondary education is leaping upon me and tearing me limb from limb. As a result I’ve eaten very well the past two nights but feel distinctly melancholy.

Thankfully tonight signifies the end of my responsibilities as Student Councillor for Year 12. Those of you who’ve been reading for a while will remember my School Captain campaign at the end of last year. My failed School Captain campaign. Not to worry. As cynical as I am now about the whole scheme, the SRC has given me a lot of great memories in the three years I’ve been a member (Years 7, 9 and 12), and has reaffirmed my complete and utter lack of desire to be involved in any form of leadership role.

Other than that, trying to keep up with study amidst all the pomp and ceremony has been a huge challenge. I received some very sound advice from a teacher this evening, that sounds very cliched, but it hit home. ‘Don’t ease off this week.’ Succinct and spot-on. This weekend I have another 18th party to go to (at which alcohol will not be consumed… I’m into the hard stuff – Home Brand Cola), and will also be working from 9am-11am Saturday, but all other times will be working my fingers to the bone trying to polish off essays, concoct brilliant ‘motherhood statements’, cram dates and building programs into my head, memorise formulae and the finer points of geostationary orbitry.

I have a theory that the next week will be a lot easier to cope with if I put my head to the grindstone and keep at it. Come our last day celebration on Thursday I’ll let myself go emotion-wise, but up until then it’s hard yakka (How many cliches for ‘hard work’ can I put in a blog post?).

And tomorrow evening I have another bloody night out – broomball.

Will it ever end?

Until next time…

Well, what a weekend. Such a weekend in fact that I haven’t blogged about it until this evening.

First up on Friday night was a grand total of doing homework and working for about two hours on my latest endeavour, the Blue Thunder DownUnder website.

On Saturday I trooped off to the University of Western Sydney and the Regional Entry Test, an alternative method of entry into UWS if one does not attain the UAI one desires or requires. It was a rather different kind of test, being an odd mixture of random questions like those from English Comps, Maths Comps, Science Comps, Basic Skills Tests, general knowledge, and a little philosophy and psychology thrown in for good measure.

The two-hour first section contained 70 multiple choice questions from the above classes. The second hour-long session was the Written English component, with two essays to write. The first of the two was based on a current affairs issue (in my case, the media), the second on a more personal reflection (music as an expression of personality).

I don’t think I went too bad. But time will tell. I’m really not depending on the results from this test, but it’s handy to have as a backup.

On Saturday afternoon I filled in time doing the weekend’s homework and other random stuff I have to organise for our Year 12 end-of-year celebrations. I had to draw three caricatures of different teachers and write a speech to deliver at our Student Council dinner on Wednesday night. I also had to knock up a report on a Physics excursion we went on several months ago that I had been meaning to write for… ah… several months. I didn’t end up getting the report done until tonight, but the other stuff was all done.

Then on Saturday night we ordered pizza and settled in to watch my new Eagles DVD. Absolutely bloody brilliant. That DVD is awesome. They just get better as they get older. Can’t stop raving about that one.

Then yesterday morning I had breakfast (woo) and attempted to watch the Live Aid DVD. When I say attempted, I mean it was there, but I really couldn’t have been bothered watching it. You know how it is. Ten hours of doing nothing versus ten hours of doing other stuff. Meh. I’ll watch it some other time.

Why do the days seem to get longer towards the end of term? The end of school? I’m slowly, ever-so-slowly approaching the end of my secondary schooling. Next Thursday us Year 12’s celebrate our final day of structured school, and then we’re off for three weeks to prepare for the HSC.

I don’t really know how I feel. I’ve discussed it with several of my mates and they all seem pretty torn between the elation of leaving the dragginess of school, assignments and the like behind, and the sadness of abandoning what we’ve known and become familiar with over the past twelve years.

As we move off into the world, go our separate ways, pursue our dreams, we leave behind so many memories, great friends, inspirational teachers, an entire school community. It really is the end of an era. I suppose I’m looking forward to a life beyond school, and all the opportunities and rewards that offers, but I’m also terribly melancholy and loth to leave school behind.

Meh, so be it, and c’est la vie. It never ends!

Wind really annoys me. I have no idea why, which annoys me even more. Think about it. Wind serves no logical universal purpose whatsoever. You could argue that were it not for the wind, we wouldn’t have wind power. But if you think harder, wind power is only an example of humanity’s opportunist nature. The megabureaucracy says, ‘Hey, there’s wind, let’s build turbines and waste millions of dollars’ worth of taxpayers’ money to fund some massive scheme for minimum return.’

But no. Wind serves no purpose at all. It only really seems to be there to annoy mankind – to tousle well-prepared hair, to chafe lips, to dry out skin, to erode rocks, to blow leaves all over the yard. Give me one good reason why wind is necessary, and I will abscond from my arguments. But until then, I rest my case.

Vega FM rocks. Listen to it now. But I wish us Sydneysiders got Shaun Micallef in the mornings. Oh God, see, that just proves my point. As I type this, Crowded House’s Fall At Your Feet has come on. Too good.

Until next time…

The action. The drama. The buzz. The crowd.

Just another night on the broomball rink.

As one of my teammates triumphantly declared, ‘We had it tonight. It was happening.’ And I have to agree.

Another of my teammates was running late, and incidentally she just happened to be the one giving me a lift to the game. Hence our first 60 seconds was spent hurriedly running to the gear corner and kitting up, but by the time that opening whistle blew at 8pm, we were ready for action.

This week we were up against the Carney Clownz, who obviously have dubious literary talents, given their colloquialisation of their town of origin and their misuse of the letter ‘z’ in a plural context. But that’s really beside the point. All we really needed to know is whether or not they could play broomball. And they could.

A lack of decent defence saw the Clownz up 2-0 at half-time, and us Unco’s were starting to lose our focus. But a quick pep-talk by our two B-grade champs at half-time quickly brought us around, and were ready for them once the next half began.

Not only did we spend players in defence, and spend them well (like a well-purchased pair of trousers), we also were able to attack, and before we knew it there were five precious minutes left, and we’d come back to be one down at 3-2.

The first three of those five minutes was a stalemate. The ball went nowhere. And then we attacked. And the four reserves on the bench, myself included, went nuts. The ball stayed up near our goal for two minutes, and I swear there was a shot for an Unco goal every ten seconds. Each time there was a cheer, and then a groan of disappointment as each time the ball was parried by the goalie’s broom or only narrowly slipped away. They all went wide of the mark. Even the last brave and valiant effort – with only a second and a half to go – went begging.

Come that second half, we were good, but it was too late.

Crude and uncultivated Clowns: 3.
Unphased, unabashed, and unashamed Unco’s: 2.

Yes, Pierce, it was happening for those dying seconds. We really were in the zone. And the feeling is still with me now.

Bring on next week.

Go Unco’s.

Until next time…

No blog today, my muse has gone away.
My blog it stands forlorn, a nothing in the dawn.
No blog today, it seems a common sight,
But people passing by don’t know the reason why.

All of you today, know what this message means:
The end of my flair, the end of all my gleams.
How could they know the brilliance there had been?
Right here on this blog, where my word reigned as king.

No blog today, it wasn’t always so;
The words they would play, oh I could blog all day.

But all that’s left is a blog dark and lonely,
An empty blog in a mean back lot of the net,
Becomes a glory when I think of blogs only,
Just three words to set…

Until next time…

Oh, what fun is the international monopoly on virtual airlines.

As followers and pilots will know, my beloved virtual airline, Executive Airways, has fallen into a slump in enthusiasm and maintenance, due to my taxing real-world commitments. Thanks to Mike Adams, of Austair.net, it has been updated intermittently, but we realised before long that my little VA was on its last legs.

So it was that last week, on August 28, I cleared the server and put up my farewell message:

I wish to inform you all that as of today Executive Airways is no longer active…

…there has always been a spot in my life for flight simulation and virtual airlines, and once I get settled into life out of school, I may resume operations here…

I’ve always tried to maintain that the VA world is one of fun, where nothing should be taken too seriously. I’d like to thank you all for ensuring that my vision was upheld.

Executive Airways started in 2002, and has seen many ups and downs. To the many pilots who have flown for us, I extend my hand in the utmost gratitude. You remain the essence of what Executive stands for. Without you, we are nothing.

And so I thought that was the end for Executive Airways. Ah, to know then what I know now…

Yesterday morning I was contacted by Ben Lord, former CEO of the now-defunct SphereAir, and now running Terra Australis, with an offer from himself and Mike Adams to revive, redesign and take over control of Executive Airways. They also asked me if I’d be interested in staying on as an advisor.

Suffice to say I was quite stunned and honoured. When I formed Executive in 2002 – even when I was working on its predecessors, Omega Air and e-Air – I never thought I’d be so lucky as to be involved in such a dynamic industry, and be supported by such a caring group of people. I really do owe the VA industry so much, and I’m now ecstatic that my little virtual airline will be left in good hands.

Until next time…

I don’t think I’ve ever had quite as big a Saturday as I did yesterday. Both in terms of size and content.

It all began at 5:45am when I arose and tried vainly to wake myself up, before heading off with my stepdad (who, after about 40 years of getting up at such ridiculous hours, was excruciatingly happy) to be dropped off at McDonald’s to meet up with some good friends and head off into the city.

First port of call was the University of New South Wales Open Day, our time at which we spent moaning about how much we didn’t want to be there, but feeling obliged to stay for an hour and a half or so, given that it was the purpose of our trip.

We ended up giving it away and catching a train to Town Hall, where we spent countless hours wandering around JB Hi-Fi and Kinokuniya Bookshop. We then found more bookshops and cafes and such and the day ended up whittling away to late afternoon and we thought it would be best to head home. 7:10pm our train arrives back home. What a bloody day. And somehow I still didn’t end up asleep until about 11:30pm. Christ.

And then I had to get up at 8:45 this morning to deliver Father’s Day presents and such. Ugh.

I have Physics to do. Ugh.

Until next time…

The past 24 hours are a blur of ice, brooms and pain.

As of around 9:45pm lastnight I am now a member of “The Uncos”, the current frontrunners in the Penrith C-grade Broomball Competition.

Hold on, you’re saying. Back up here a minute. Broomball?

Imagine an odd meshing of ice hockey and indoor soccer with flashes of Inuit ingenuity. Basically it goes back to when eskimo icepeople dipped brooms in buckets of water and then froze them, hence getting some vague form of frozen-broom-paddle thing. Then they’d split into teams, whack on eskimo-shoes with some pretty dodgy traction, and try to get the ball (a 6-inch diameter rubber thing, but in those days it was more than likely the head of the captain of the team that lost last week) into the goal up the other end.

Nowadays broomball has a state competition with slightly less hideous gear and must more stringent safety regulations and forms to sign and such. Never has broomball been so very… corporate.

Lastnight I spent a cumulative total of around ten minutes on the ice, as I very quickly discovered how terribly unfit I am, and thus resolved to spend no less than three hours on my bike over the next week. However, in that ten minutes I managed to fall on my backside with a good deal of force, and become very familiar and acquainted with the ice when I faceplanted and split open my chin (it’s only a flesh wound). Hurrah!

Despite the aches and pains I’m feeling today, I’ll be back again next week. ‘Tis such fun!

In the past few days I’ve also managed to acquire the Eagles’ latest DVD, live from Melbourne, of which I’ve seen and listened to fragments intermittently this week. I intend to actually sit down and watch the show in its entirety. Rod Laver Arena in all its Melbourne-ish glory. I was there to see Agassi take on the mighty Marat Safin a few years back. Nicole Pratt and Megan Shaugnessy we saw too. Good stuff.

Other than that crap all is happening. Apart from school and the HSC and the most important few months in my pre-uni academic life. But apart from that crap all.

Until next time…