Goodnight from Sydney

It's that time of night where I use this final post to ramble on a bit, hopefully with some degree of coherence.

Sydney has been invaded. No, Mr Bush isn't trying to bring democracy and liberty to Sydney - he's far too late for that anyway - we have been invaded by a load of Bambis.

Deer from the Royal National Park, have apparently discovered that the railway line that passes through the area, makes an ideal transit route to Sydney's southern suburbs. Cute as they may be, they have caused a few accidents. After all, you don't really expect to come across a deer in the middle of the road when driving to the shops for a sliced loaf of what the bakers call bread.

Frankly, I was a bit disappointed when the reporter fully explained their use of the railway line - until that point I had imagined a whole herd of Box Car deer jumping a freight train south.

If you want to view the video, go to the Channel Seven website (in conjunction with Yahoo) and you should see it under "Local News". I am not sure how long that story will remain on the website.

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I visited my local public library today to try to get a copy of "The Child In Time" mentioned in a post last night. Unfortunately, none of the local libraries now have it on the shelves, but they will try to obtain it for me. At the end of this post, I will leave you with a short extract that was kindly sent to me by one of our gang!

While I was there, I picked up three CDs (borrowers can take out 10 Cds), Carole King - The Carnegie Hall Concert; Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris - and wait for it - Tom Jones Greatest Hits Volume 2.

Yes I know - but I actually like Tom Jones. He doesn't stand in front of me on the telly, poke his finger in my face and tell me to get ****d, or suggest I do something I am too knackered to do, even if I could remember how to start doing it. These days it's a case of, "You go ahead dear - and if I'm not there in ten minutes, start without me".

I also imagine myself at a romantic candlelit dinner in my local tapas bar, looking in to the eyes of a beautiful woman in a long black dress, and singing one of Tom's romantic ballads to the object of my desire. No - not "I who have nothing" and definitely not "What's New Pussycat". I can't do the high notes on that one any more anyway.

Oh yes, there seems to be a cock-up in the way I am notified of new responses. I have a feeling my incoming email is a bit delayed or even returned to sender. If you have any problems with newperspectives@iprimus.com.au try mikehitchen@mhitchenconsult.com

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This is an extract from "The Child In Time". See if you can spot the difference between Stephen (the father of the kidnapped girl) and Gerry McCann.

P19. (Stephen) carried with him a folder of photographs and lists of names
and addresses, neatly typed and alphabetically ordered. The photographs –
enlarged holiday snaps – he showed to anyone he could interest. The lists,
(P20) compiled in the library from back numbers of local newspapers, were of
parents whose children had died in the preceding six months. His theory,
one of many, was that Kate had been stolen to replace a lost child. He
knocked on doors and spoke to mothers who were first puzzled, then hostile.
He visited child minders. He walked up and down the shopping streets with
his photographs displayed. He loitered by the supermarket, and by the
entrance to the chemist’s next door. He went further afield until his
search area was three miles cross.

Wherever you may be - be safe