I was twelve years old. My family had just arrived in the rural town of Castle Hill. It was a combination of market gardens, horse studs and growing housing estates. I left our house on it's housing estate and walked up to the hilly overgrown farmland that lived on a slight rise nearby. I could hear a great revving of engines and laughter of boys getting into trouble.

There was group of about seven among the small horse paddocks. Each paddock was not much bigger than a quarter acre and existed as a maze of lanes among blackberries and thorny flame trees. The boys had an olive green Morris Minor they were driving in circles around one of upper paddocks.

Paddock bashing was a major sport among all the guys in those early years. Everyone knew someone who had a farm and a few old cars.

The guys were all older than me but they recognized a common bond. A bit like Toad in Wind in the Willows I got the driving bug that day.

They were all a bit jaded I guess. They must have been there all day. They pointed me to the drivers seat and sat me in there. I wanted to get my hands on that car worse than I wanted to breathe. There was no long ritual . One of the guys stuck my foot on the accelerator and another placed my hands on the wheel. They all managed to fit around me and into that tiny car.

One of them held down the clutch while another started the car. "Just hang on to the wheel" said the nearest "and push that" indicating the accelerator pedal. So I did.

I clung like a terrified monkey to that wheel and held it right, straight. I pushed the accelerator in as hard as I could and held it there. It wasn't until they released the clutch that they realized I wasn't going to be gently directed around the paddock.

The combined shriek of seven guys carried across the landscape as the little car ripped a hundred meters of fencing off the poles. Crushed the old chicken coop, shot down the road and into another paddock before rolling end over turtle and stopping in the nastiest bunch of thorns I have ever been stuck in.

For a moment the shrieking stopped. Dead silence except for the ticking of the heated radiator on the car. A cloud of dust and foliage settled in through the open widows and onto the roof which was now the floor.

There was a strange strangling noise coming from one of the boys who was lying in foetal position on the roof. His reddened tear stained eyes turned to look into mine and he began to hoot helplessly with laughter. The other boys joined him and every bird for a mile took to the wing.

As soon he could get a breath he pointed at another pedal. "You crazy son of a bitch" he gasped "that's the brake" I looked at him with all the dignity I could muster and said "What does it do?" and the whole audience broke up once again into helpless (and now painful) laughter.

AS though this happened every day a rope appeared and was tied to the window frame and the car almost seem to roll upright magically. We were all dumped into a heap and again broke into laughter. The doors didn't open any more so we crawled out the windows and stood laughing and dusting ourselves off. A patient looking farmer was attached to a tractor which was attached to a rope which was attached to the car.

He smiled at me like I was family and the big lump of guilt I was still choking back just evaporated. "They have a ton of cars he said" Next time you can get them to show you the brake." I didn't think there would be a next time. But there was. Many more. We had a lot of fun in that paddock and in those old cars

Just before Christmas 2007 I bought myself a little present to get me through the Christmas period. On Ebay I bought a Colin Mcrae Rally 2005 and two Vinyson Game Controllers. The game controllers were from a supplier in Hong Kong.

The game and the controllers both arrived on Christmas Eve post so I had toys to play with as I had planned. By New Years Day the left top-hat (there are two at the back of the controller) had worn out and was not only not returning to center but was flopping about loosely. By then I had already changed to the second controller and it was in similar condition in another couple of days.

So in less than nine days I had destroyed both game controllers. Two controllers is not enough to call it a scientific conclusion but enough for me to name the Vinyson Game Controller as trash in my opinion and experience. I wouldn't accept one of these if it was free

The real estate (Ray White..Australia) have sent me a new payment method in the form of a swipe card.

 I am aghast (yes, I used the word aghast...look it up!) at the contents of the conditions of use and the position it places the renters in. It gives the company free access to the renters account at anytime and is filled with fees, cost and fines. It is an awful deal.

It looks as though the company is closing down ALL other avenues of payment in some of their outlets and only allowing this one. It is a bit like banks closing down cash and ATM access so they can the extra five bucks per transaction.

I found somebody else who had made a webpage concerning this shabby little contract and seems to cover most of my doubts Ray White Advantage Card warning here

My brothers ashes are being brought back from Vietnam soon and the family has planned a memorial on the beach. Initially it was to be a simple ceremony with members of The Alexandra Head Surf Club taking us out into the surf in their boats or surf skis under a full moon and spreading his ashes. I loved that idea.

Then nobody could wait for a full moon so it became a day mission. Still good right? His friends have been contacted, his fellow desealers, a few media guys following up the story, his family etc. A big gathering in all.

Now I get an email from mum saying she is talking to an RAAF padre about officiating over the whole thing. And my face falls and my heart sinks but I wait a while a hearing that there will be a simple ceremony with a celebrant after all I do the hairy, fat-man dance of triumph. Mum is funny. She was trying to convince me that Rob was a Christian. Here is her argument.

Rob's first big girl-friend was a Catholic so he attended Catholic Mass. His first wife was a Mormon (Methodist? nobody can agree.) and he attende church with her. I am not sure but I think people whao have a Christian outlook take people to their church rather than the other way round. And then the kicker is the fact that she didn't even mention his second wife. She was a buddhist and they married in a buddhist ceremony. Seems quite eclectic to me.

Its after 5am in the morning and I am exhausted. The last week has left me feeling humiliated, betrayed and worthless.

You have to be able to look at life and recognise when you have reached a point where even comfort is not a condition that can be expected anymore. Constant pain, illness and a seemingly endless number of people prepared to use any dishonest and vicious method to make one's value a thing of question have become the norm here.

I don't seem to have the resolve to make a final choice at this moment. Exhaustion and depression have left me weakened even in that. I have decided to begin to prepare the tools to make passing over as painless as possible when and if the resolve to do so can be found. I would have to be without wit not to know that there is another deeply humiliating and painful experience just out of sight and awaiting unexpected but close.

I have recorded as much of the sequence of events as I can although all of the constant smaller incidents have been left out. I guess all of the online stuff will pass out of existence not long after me. Which is a fair comment on it's value...or the value of any of us

Just how bad can customer service get...read this...

To the Management
Sleep City

I just want to thank you for your prompt reply to my complaint and request for assistance.

In 1980 I was injured in a motorbike accident and lost 30% of the use of my left leg and shoulder and was left in constant pain. In 1983 I was shot in a home invasion and my fiancé was repeatedly raped.

In a subsequent accident I was given blood transfusions that resulted in me contracting hepatitis C and later contracted diabetes.

Another more recent series of accidents saw me with spinal injuries and damage to my right shoulder.

My lungs were damaged during a period of working on a rock-crushing mill at a quarry when I was sixteen and I developed a chemical sensitivity from unprotected contact with dangerous chemicals during a term of employment when I was about seventeen and later.

In the period between 1990 and 2000, despite being severely disabled I attended university and TAFE earning various academic awards including a Bachelor of Fine Art, Certificates in Graphic Design and Business Management as well as a year of Corporate Law. During this time I was regularly hospitalised for exhaustion and malnutrition. Going to university was very expensive

I held the positions of director, operations and project manager until my health collapsed and I lost everything. I have set up and still run Windmill News Online, a non-profit magazine.

I have worked for charities and when my health allows still act as a lobbyist for various social justice and environmental causes.

For the last few years I have been in desperately ill health and under the care of Aged Disability Support Services. They have been concerned because I am so ill and fighting constant pain and am sleeping on an old mattress on the floor which at times I am unable to rise from without assistance.

With this in mind they convinced me to accept their offer of a new bed. I apologise for purchasing that bed from you.

According to the police who came to arrest me yesterday I have one of your staff so frightened she is in fear of her life and that, or another, staff member informed the police that I am a bludger who was has rorted some vulnerable community group onto giving me a bed for free. Apparently I am unworthy of such sterling charity.

In order to get beyond the end of my street I use a battery propelled mobility device. I often require assistance from a community worker to buy groceries. The outing to get the bed took me almost a year to arrange. I insisted on checking pamphlets and online looking at beds to see what I like because I rarely leave the house without assistance. I have so little money that this expense was a huge matter and I needed to get it right. My mother flew in from Queensland for my fiftieth birthday and for a gift assisted me to get to Tuggerah to look at bedding stores including yours. I was so ill after visiting the shops that day I had to be helped to the car.

When I found something I informed my case worker and it took another month to organise community workers to assist me to get about and make the deal.

I spent some time trying to make the sales person aware that I had problems with my lungs and would be affected by chemical fumes. I also made it clear I was in considerable pain and needed a soft bed. I was informed the wool mattress was fume free. It certainly was in the store but when a unit was delivered it made me very ill. The fumes were strong.

I contacted staff who proceeded to tell me, yes, the fumes were strong, their children would suffer terribly on a new bed as they had asthma too but I would just have to put up with it as they would not help. When I asked to have my complaint directed to management they refused, told me more stories about how they coped with new furniture fumes. I got very angry and told them off.

I was contacted by my case worker and informed that I had threatened a staff member personally and there was nothing anyone was prepared to do to assist me after such foulness. I again contacted staff to demand they contact head office and get someone to talk to me. I did this several times and was delighted to actually be hung up on several times.

Two very angry police arrived at my door and slamming me against the wall told me what they would do to anyone who treated their sister (?) in such an evil manner. They claimed I was a bum who was ripping off charitable people and they were going to arrest me. You may find it hard to imagine their confusion when they realised I could barely stand. In the corner of my tiny bedroom is a ripped and ancient mattress sitting on the floor. The new mattress was in a sealed bedroom and quite obviously filled the room with strong chemical fumes. They informed me that I was hassling and threatening staff who were only trying to help me by retrieving the bed. You will note I did not mention bed retrieval. Perhaps because that is not what was happening! Their distress at my condition was obvious and they shook hands and apologised as they left. You will be delighted to know that slamming someone like me against a wall causes a lot of pain and old wounds to my neck and back are now alive and well after such a long absence.

I contacted my case officer and told her she was fired but she managed to talk me out of that. She also offered me another bed but the earlier comments about my worthiness to have charity and the whole aura of nastiness from one of your staff members made me refuse any further assistance. The case worker insists that I cannot go on sleeping on such a pitiful and distressing (for me) old mattress but I really prefer the pain and difficulty to any more nastiness and lies and I really don't feel I have any reason for the community to give me anything. I am just a cripple after all and worth nothing to anyone.

I wanted to thank you and your great staff for reinforcing that realisation with such gusto! I have a few other items this charitable organisation has seen fit to assist me with and as soon as I can find the money from my disability pension to replace them I will return the items. You have done the community a great service and the trauma that sees me sitting up in the middle of the night wrapped in pain and too upset to sleep will assist to remind me of what a creepy and insensitive creature I have become to good working people and their corporations

Warmest regards

I think I was wrong about this town. My little empathic antenna is sensing currents of sympathy and support.

I wonder if the things that happened to me were happening to them also.

I had whipped together a really nasty little website about all my beefs here but I think these people might need something to look at and see the good in themselves and this place. It is a beautiful little town if you are not angry at it. I will fix it when I wake up although my damn antenna is pressuring me to start now… I have to listen. It’s THAT voice in the head

I wandered into George's and took a seat with several elderly, and one younger man as I waited my turn to get a haircut. George's always looks inviting. It has the look of an old-fashioned, small-town barber shop and I guess I feel some nostalgia from my youth.

Al, the tobacconist, wandered in and took up his post reading the newspaper on the counter. We had spoken several times in the street so I attempted to catch his eye so I could nod hello. He seemed to bury his face deeper into the paper and I searched my mind looking for something I might have done to offend him

A few of the seated patrons had been looking as I entered the store so I'd nodded and most of them simply turned away. The younger man moved on his seat so he was angled slightly away from me. I sat in my social isolation and enjoyed the scents. The place smells of fresh tobacco and some form of hair treatment. It's another of little things that make the place seem inviting.

We sat for a long time while the men before me took their turns. I had begun to suffer a lot of pain. A crushed hip and some spinal damage means sitting is a problem even for very short periods. I started to feel nauseous from the painkillers combined with diabetes. I had taken my sunglasses off but I was convinced my face must be ghostly pale so I replaced them and hid behind them while I struggled to stay upright.

A man entered and took a seat, he looked past me too. By then the shop had almost emptied and finally all except the younger guy and the recently arrived customer had been seen to. The younger guy's turn came and he gestured to the new arrival, who nodded, hopping into the empty seat. As he gestured, the younger guy turned in his seat so his back was facing me and he was totally sideways on the seat. The shop was almost empty. I wondered about the way he was facing, I couldn't figure what might make him so uncomfortable.

There are two seats in operation and as the other barber finished his work the younger man hopped up and walked over to assist an older man from it. Barely had the older man cleared the seat before the younger popped down on it. It was becoming obvious that I was in the way of somebody’s ill will. I walked over and asked if he was sure it was his turn. My idea was that it was fine to give up his place to someone but I hadn't agreed to giving up mine and I was past uncomfortable and into really suffering from the hard seats and all.

The words were barely formed in my mouth when the younger man leapt from the seat, threw off the towel the barber had placed around his neck, and bellowed "Right mate, you wanna take this outside!!!" I don't know how that works in other cultures but here that is a universal challenge to a fight.

I was taken aback. A simple query had turned this totally unknown person into an aggressive blowhard. I simply stated. "No mate, I think we can deal just fine right here. He cringed and I realized he thought I was going to haul off and belt him one. I guess he had been rude on purpose, knew I was a cripple and picked a fight thinking I would fold up in fear and now realized I am a lot bigger closer up.

He bellowed at me that the guy he had allowed to take his place had been putting his coat in the car and only gone for a moment. I will draw your attention to the timeline of events; several people had been sheared while the old mate had been dropping off his coat so the car must have been a few kilometers away.

Rather than allow the now perspiring trouble maker a free run I said "Well, that solves it then, why didn't you say so?" and turned to sit.
He again demanded that we go outside and sort it out. I threw up my 'fierce face' and pulled my pants up in the theatrical gesture of a silent-movie brawler. He stalked out the door while I relaxed back into a seat, being on my feet hurts worse than sitting. As I watched him waddle out the door I was struck by the way his backside was so much wider than his shoulders. The tiny moment of pity that emerged on that thought was quickly driven away as the mate he helped from the chair started entertaining me with a blustering monologue about what a bastard I was.

I could see the silhouette of the bully standing by the door with his hands on his hips glaring at me. The fact that I had not gone out on the first challenge had given him the heart to do a second, I smiled and waved.

Every time I attempted to answer his verbal attack the furious 'old mate' started babbling as if by talking over me he could make my position less tenable, I guess he could have stuck his fingers in his ears and gone "la la laaaa laa" until I went away, same thing.
Finally I got a little annoyed, looked the old bullhorn in the eye and demanded he shut the F*** up!

Somehow at this point Aaron's (the male barber's) brain-cell kicked in and he resolved his lack of an idea by resorting to that bastion of the brain-dead, chivalry! His two mate's attempts to bully me and shout me down were making them look stupid so he pointed a furious finger at me and squeaked "You can't use that language in front of a woman, get out"

The woman was the other barber, a delightful woman in her thirties who was standing calmly enjoying the show . She has a nice smile that warms her eyes and working in that place I can see she might smell nice too...anyway.

t was obvious Aaron had used up his available brain power for the moment and he was never going to be any use anyway. To be honest his move had blown me away, such a simple shedding of responsibility and panicky avoidance tactic. He shifted it all onto me. I had sworn, I was evil, nothing could save me now! I had been insulted, set up, they had attempted to get me outside so they could assault me and now, with the potential attacker standing by the door the one responsible adult in charge of the premises had demanded I go out to meet him because I was evil and had used bad language.

With attacking male's brainpower totally locked into a willfully stupid mode I saw only one answer. I got up and left.

Suddenly the looming bully noticed I was actually coming straight at him and by the time I got there he seemed to have moved a good way back. He didn’t merit my attention so I simply turned my back on him and hopped in my little red electric old-fart-mobile.

Thinking I had again not belted him because I didn’t have the stomach for it the perspiring bully blurted out, "Ill bet the bastard hasn't worked in years." By the time I had turned the cart about and driven it into the road to the driver side window he and the verbal "old mate" were safely in the car with the windows up. He looked straight ahead as I roared. "Some people can’t work you dimwit" "Is it cripples you don’t like tough guy!" "C’mon fat-arse, I growled, "we are in the street now, people want to hear this".

He drove off. I understand he came back and spoke to the barber when I was gone.

I had gone home when I decided I should try to calm the waters a bit and rode back to the barber shop. As I sat outside, Al, the tobacconist came out, stood barely two feet from me, lit a cigarette and stood with his back to me. After five minutes I rode the scooter to his front and said "If I was paranoid I would think you were being a rude bastard on purpose”. He grunted and turned away.

I went into the shop and tried to explain to Aaron that by turning me out knowing I would be assaulted he had taken responsibility for any hurt coming from a clash. He seemed to find that simple concept a bit difficult and told me no publican cared what happened when he ejected a drunk. (So now I'm a drunk and his idea of a responsibility is some weird fantasy publican. Gimme a break!) I explained to him slowly, a publican who knowingly places a patron at risk of physical injury and maybe death might face charges, serious ones.

All a bit much for our Aaron I'm afraid. I gave him a first draft of this and will give him the address when I have it online

I have not been keeping my blogs up as I’m too ill. But today I had another of the nasty little incidents that seem to be unique to Budgewoi.

I went up to get my hair cut at the local tobacconist. I didn’t want to sit there on a queue because I have that nagging pain in the hip after a few minutes in a chair but mum is coming and I want to look neat.

The guy a couple seats away sorta looked me up and down and turned his back to me as though I smelt or something. A few guys had their hair cut and I was getting really sore. The pain killers were making me want to puke and I was hiding behind my sunglasses as my I reckon my face was going bone white.

Then the guy's turn comes up and he waves some guy who had just entered to be seated in his place then slides in his chair till he is sitting sideways in the chair with his back to me.

His turn came up and he leapt into the chair and I stood and asked if it was actually his turn. He leapt up and demanded we go outside and settle it...(what?) I was being polite, I asked a fair question and to be honest I didn’t get it all outta my mouth so I’m thinking this guy was drumming for a fight from the moment he saw me.

He yelled at me that the guy he let in front had just been outside getting his coat and why didn’t I come outside and settle it. He kept abusing me, talking over me as bluster and a big mouth made it all okay. I was still being polite, I’m sick of going to court because some arsehole thinks he can pick fights and then calls the cops if he gets hurt. Plus, for anyone who hasn't read my notes, most of the bones in my body are bent, twisted, cracked and I am really, really ill. I don't ride a cripple cart because I like it I said, " well, if that's the case we don’t have a problem, why not just say that?"

He still wants to go outside

I tell the loud, fat guy..."sure, let's take it in the street" I watch him wobble out the door and sit back wondering if stupidity is contagious

Some old guy jumps into the debate and starts telling me off. Every time I open my mouth to say something he talks over me until I tell him to "F*** off" and suddenly the idiot of a barber gets his brain cell working and decides I have sworn in front of women and should be ejected.

I have been picked for a fight, insulted and yelled at and now the barber has thrown me out, with the protagonist waiting on the pavement. I guess it is contagious and I’m lucky I did not stay in case I began to suffer from an irresistible desire to go looking for cripples to make myself feel big like these guys do.

I barged out the door, knocked the loudmouth out of the way and hopped onto the scooter. As he turned away he said "Ill bet the bastard hasn't worked for year". They were in the car by the time I turned the scooter, shot onto the road and slid alongside the car.

I punched the glass and yelled, "some people cant work you nasty sod" "Is that it sonny" "Got more to say about cripples" I yelled, flailing at the glass. He started to drive off and I had to back the cart away from where I had wedged it against the car.

Later I came back and sat outside for a moment pondering what to say. One guy from the shop, a guy called Al who I know to say "hi" to and have spoken with walked out, stood a foot in front of me and turning his back, lit a cigarette. We sat like that, barely feet away, him with his back turned.

"Finally getting really sick of this treatment I rode around him and said" If I was paranoid I would thing you were standing barely inches from me with your back turned" “And that is really insulting and rude.” The guy had been looking right through me since I had arrived. ( So now I’m thinking I must have done the wrong thing somehow and nobody has the decency to tell me what it is…Can’t be much I can barely leave the house most days)

He turned away again and went back to smoking with his back to me. I think I would have been within my rights if I had of punched his head off but I’m too nice. Anyway he made my mind up and I went into the ship and informed them that they had almost put me into the hands of a guy waiting to bash me. For today my final act in this, another chapter in Budgewoi behaviour, will be to post the story and give a copy to the barber.

My point being that if this keeps happening I am going to have to defend myself and want a court to know it is not an isolated incident. A few of these guys seem to see my disabilities as making me someone they can beat in a fight and so they challenge me. Maybe, in the hour or so during a week when I’m well enough to leave the house, I look too happy. Or maybe some of the locals are simply genetically inbred arseholes. Lots of great people of course, really nice. But the arsehole contingent has me in it's sights or something.