Australia's first astronaut is 50!

"Happy 50th Birthday" to Mr Squiggle.


Mr Squiggle, the man from the moon.

He hasn't aged a day! (Sigh. Unlike moi.) He can draw with his nose. He rides a rocket to the moon every week. He's a marionette friend to talking steam shovels, snails and blackboards. I watched him on TV as a kid, even worked with him (briefly) when we were 21 and 20 respectively, and now we are both past the big 5-0.

I did the kite-making in a 1980 episode of "Mr Squiggle and Friends", entitled "Space Age Kites", directed by Virginia Lumsden. I appeared on the little TV which Gus the Snail wore for a shell, and I had to teach Miss Jane (real-life daughter of actor Willie Fennell) to make sled kites out of beautiful, shimmery, polymer film. (I was taught how to do them by my wonderful teachers college craft lecturer, Klin Sullivan, who is a long-time puppetry colleague of the Hetherington family; Klin recommended me for the gig.)

My episode was made in the January of 1980 but didn't air until the August. It was quite a fluke as to how I became involved. I had stayed in touch with Liz, a prac supervising teacher in my second year at college, and her school kept inviting me back for their end-of-term celebrations. Knowing I was finishing up at Christmas 1979, I was invited to do some volunteer work at the Marrickville kids' drop-in vacation centre - located at Tempe, in the old heritage-listed nunnery by the river. (The students were bussed over every day in a mini-bus, and they were great kids, who were so appreciative of my efforts as a then-fledgling craft teacher.) We did several all-day excursions over four weeks of the school vacation, including Taronga Park Zoo, Channel Seven TV studios and the Festival of Sydney in Hyde Park.

It was at the Festival's hands-on craft exhibit where I bumped into Klin, and she said that if I'd come back on the weekend she'd upskill me to make space-age sled kites for the "Squiggle" show. All I had to provide my own eyelet punch, and fame could be mine! When it came time to tape the episode, the ABC and Miss Jane were able to come to us at Tempe, where we had a ready made child audience - they loved me! - and then we drove to Centennial Park in the afternoon to fly the kites we made for the cameras.

Not a bad opportunity for a 21 year old graduate teacher with no experience.

You know, despite the glorious rainbow vibrancy of Mr Squiggle himself, and the amazing purple and silver sled kites, I've never seen the episode in colour! The week my episode was due to air on TV, there was a lengthy bread strike - I was working in my Dad's independent depot bread shop in Ramsgate. I had to take my portable b/w TV in, and the episode ran for the entertainment of the queue of customers who were lined up to buy their meagre rations of daily bread. Mum and Dad couldn't see the episode at all, since they were back at the Bexley store, serving their own queue of customers. There were no commercial home video machines yet, of course. I had even asked my old college to tape the episode for their archives (and me) - on U-matic video - but something went wrong with their aerial socket that day, and it taped in b/w! (Somewhere around here I have a fairly clear b/w crosstape, but it's probably on Beta. Sigh. Unless I once made a VHS copy.)

Also: a man named Terry Dowling sang a silly song about an alien in the episode - and it was a shock, years later, to meet him in Galaxy Bookshop and realise that Terry Dowling the folk singer was THE Terry Dowling, SF writer - and the husband of Kerry, a fellow ASTREX Star Trek Fan Club member! Small universe!

How I missed the "Star Wars" boat

I came to "Star Trek" fandom, and "Star Trek: The Motion Picture", having purposely avoided the first "Star Wars" phenomenon.

I remember the huge level of fuss about the coming of "Star Wars": six full months of hearing how it had been a monster hit in the USA, the news reports of lines of fans going around blocks outside any cinemas screening it, and - much later - even the sign that eventually went up outside the Sydney cinema screening it, which read "Our 14th big month!"

Somehow, I also avoided "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", too. (And later, "ET: The Extraterrestrial".) I guess I avoided the first SW due mainly to its hype, and yet I was attracted by publicity for other biggies like "Superman: The Movie", "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" (oh wow!!!!!) - and then "Superman II" (a full six months before it premiered in the US).

As a result of TMP, I also got hooked on the then-quite-fledgling "Starlog" magazine. After reading lots of related articles, I eagerly attended "The Empire Strikes Back" in first-run (without having seen "A New Hope"). A friend and I even attended "Return of the Jedi" as Andorians! What fun! Silly film, but the atmosphere of the opening night was great.

It was the "Star Trek" film franchise which continued to be my fandom of choice, and catching up on TOS was a great challenge in the early 80s. The episodes weren't screening on TV, and I had to catch five new adventures at a time, at Saturday Star Trek marathons held at the old ANZAC House in the CBD. (Originally they showed six episodes per month, but I was working in my Dad's bread shop in 1980, and I'd arrive in the city partway through the second episode of each marathon.)

I had no initial comparison between SW and TMP whatsoever. Even though I did enjoy the first two SW very much, and the total ridiculousness that was "Jedi" (still a fun night at the cinema, though), I'd already been enchanted by TMP. I was 21. TMP spoke to me. It was an all-immersing experience. "Star Wars" - even "Star Wars pre-publicity - didn't speak to me; it was just a fun movie I eventually caught on television.

Once I'd found ST fandom in 1980, and caught up on every TOS episode I'd missed, I was part of a large group who went to first night openings of anything science fictiony. With "Star Wars", I'd kinda missed the boat. I was 19, in my first year at teachers college, studying hard, and firmly believed that one ever never went to the cinema alone. Most of my college friends were mature age students, and "Star Wars" never really rated a mention with them.

I've never really even checked the date before: according to IMDb, SW premiered Down Under on 27 October 1977. My family had just moved house, and I was deep into my first practicum as a student teacher: a class of 43 Kindergarten children. Lots of long commuting by public transport, and weekends spent making teaching aids and writing lesson plans. Wrong tme to discover a new SF franchise.

TMP, on the other hand, had premiered the week after my college course finished - and I was a free man! Its gala sneak preview had been a few days before my 21st birthday, and old school friends had been to that screening and couldn't stop talking about it the night of my party. I was inspired!

So much is in the timing, isn't it?

And, as for the SW revival: I had very much enjoyed the theatrical re-release of the first trilogy with their new prints, and new CGI and bonus scenes added. But then came "Episode One: The Phantom Menace". I was there, at a midnight screening (reading a "Star Trek" novel waiting for the curtain to rise).

Ugh! I loathed that movie. From the opening banner scroll that mentioned politics and trade routes, it was s tedious. Ick. "The Phantom Menace" was a mess! Give me "Star Trek" any day.


"Star Trek: The Motion Picture":
I felt like I was in that movie. Hence my first
fanfic featured one Therin of Andor.
(Drawing by Kamu; reprinted with permission.)

The customer is always... annoyingly right!

I was so angry, but I stood my ground and I won!

Maybe I had something to prove after Wednesday's frustrating photo ID defeat, but I've always said that everyone should devote some time towards serving the general public at some time in their lives. I'm giving the Target checkout guy the full benefit of my doubt: maybe he's new and he didn't know about "the customer is always right" adage, or maybe he was on a toilet break when that bit got mentioned during training.

I left for the city yesterday in short sleeves. It was a gorgeous, sunny, spring day - but, in the concrete and steel canyons of our CBD, it was a little breezy, and I began to realise I was going to need to buy myself something light, yet long-sleeved, for returning home.

Finding everything else I'd been looking for (I had one purchase which had taken me to Dymocks' Broadway Centre shopping centre, on the site of the old Grace Bros department store. It was quite a nostalgic walk, past buildings that were removed (no more Tooth & Co brewery), or being removed (no more St Barnabus's church), since my days at teachers' college in Ultimo in the late 70s).

I found a light jacket I wanted to buy. It was a great price, $29.88, marked down to $19.88. But a sign said, "Buy any second item and get the second one for a further 50% off." The second jacket I found had a $29.86 price tag, with a markdown sticker of $15.86. Being of average size, I rarely find "el cheapo" clothing bargains in my size!

My problem was that that the first item rang up at its original price, and I had to prompt the guy to check the price, and then the second jacket would only scan at its high price.

"This isn't part of the sale," he said.

Huh? Even if the price tag was wrong, every item in the store was part of the sale; the sign said so. And then he elaborated, "A customer has changed the sticker from another item."

Again, and louder?: "Huh?"

Was he saying that I changed the ticket? Isn't there some rule about wrongly priced items, and similiarly, about sales signs that are incorrect?

The checkout guy was not budging so I told him he could keep the lot, including the $35 DVD I had on the counter, too. Then I had a second thought. There was another identical jacket, although of smaller size, back on the rack - and would he believe me if it had the same prices marked on it? Off I stormed, returning with a victorious grin.

Suddenly, it was no problem for him to adjust manually the price tags at the computerised cash register. I got 50% off the second jacket's reduced price, and a further 50% of the remaining amount as an apology.

Now that's bargain shopping! I'm glad I didn't have to stick by my guns and walk out jacketless (and DVDless). It was getting chilly out there on Broadway.

100 friends - nostalgia plus!

Congratulations children's author Geoffrey McSkimming (aka Cairo Jim), and information specialist Karen Bonanno who just made the cut: I now have 100 friends on Facebook. For what it's worth. Not bad for three weekends of diligent combing of virtual nooks and crannies.

Through Facebook, I also made renewed contact with two colleagues from my Guild Teachers College days, and have found myself rummaging through photograph albums, and dusty nooks and crannies of my brain, to swap anecdotes.

I particularly love these two photos from the 1979 College Yearbook, which I edited in my last term at college:


Ian with Peter Morris in George Street, Sydney, "Jog to College Day" (1979)


Kermit (Angela), Miss Piggy (Manny), Ian McLean, and Fozzie (Simon) in
Circular Quay Park, Sydney, about to head off to Guild Teachers College
at Smail Street, Ultimo, "Jog to College Day" (1979)


Sunday's Magic Number: 94.0 - No pain, yet no gain?

More learning, growing and achieving

Unlike the last conference I was asked to speak at, I went into today's events without that heavy weight of responsibility and impending disaster. I mean, if I could fill an hour on my own last time, how much easier would it be this time? We knew our material back-to-front, if necessary. The most difficult aspect would surely be, what bits do I leave out?

My co-presenter, Cath Keane, had prepared eleven of our PowerPoint pages, I'd added my own hyperlinks to the twelfth and last slide, and we only had 50 minutes or so to fill anyway. We also had plenty of time before our session, "Young rappers", to play on the interactive whiteboard (IWB), test our hyperlinks and cache all our web pages that we were planning to visit. We also knew in advance that we had about twenty people signed up to hear our talk. Everything worked in the rehearsal and off we went to the first keynote event of Day 2 of this Early Years Conference.

Clinical psychologist, Lyn Worsley, presented her fascinating session on "The resilience doughnut: the secret of strong kids" and, while she probably didn't say anything terribly new, especially to a ballroom filled with teachers who already had solid backgrounds in early childhood education, the strength of her approach was the clear answer of "where to know?" that one could glean after having used her clever, simple analytical tool for gauging the resilience of a particular student. Wonderful!

Before we knew it, Cath and I were deep into our presentation on book raps, blogs, wikis and Circle Time. Our only hitch was that our computer connection, which had worked so perfectly in rehearsal, had been lost for the presentation. A tech person came in and got us back online most efficiently, but our live connection to the Wilfrid rap blog (on Edublogs) was no longer working. Luckily, our PowerPoint had lots of frame grabs from the site, and the links to the Departmental website and my school's wiki pages were still viable, so we carried on regardless. We finished off with a reading of my Kinder students' "Zebra with spots" fable of 2007, and a walk-through of selected pages from my school's wiki pages. I hope our presentation has encouraged more schools to start dabbling in wikis and blogs.

It all seemed to go very well, but a highlight for me was that two attendees hung back at the end to (re)introduce themselves. It was none other than Warren and Kathy, two of my colleagues from my teachers college days! They'd noticed each other in the audience of my workshop session - I'm not sure at what point they realised that I was also from the same year - but morning tea turned out to be a mini-reunion of the Class of '79 of the Guild Teachers College. We swapped anecdotes about the good ol' days and pocket histories of our lives. It was the first time we'd seen each other since Graduation Day in 1980 - very exciting, and great to know that they are doing so well in their own teaching careers. (I can see a bigger reunion coming up in the next few months! I hope.)

Next up was Peter Gould, Manager, Mathematics at NSW DET - and one of the people I worked with on numerous occasions back in my Scan editor days. Peter's keynote was "From ABC to 123: what counts in early numeracy" and - despite some frustrating glitches with the movie clip elements of his presentation - it was an invaluable reminder of the essential differences in the ways young children learn to be numerate as opposed to literate.

After lunch, I attended two more workshops, both of which (again) ably demonstrated the amazing array of teaching and learning strategies that interactive whiteboards are bringing to classrooms in the 21st century. I guess that's the main thing I'm taking from this conference: that most of today's students are already citizens of the digital world of Web 2.0. The sooner their teachers and parents play catch-up the better. Every presentation I went to was using IWBs as part of their presentation - even my presentation, and today was the first time I'd actually been able to use one! Knowing that a little knowledge is dangerous, I can't wait to get my hands on an IWB as part of my school library's facilities and let my imagination run wild. Or wilder.

This conference left its delegates with so much food for thought (and delicious food for the body - the Novotel, Brighton-le-Lands always does well in that regard), great ideas we can start using on Monday (first day back of Term Three), and some wonderful memories of networking with colleagues, old and new. Synthesising all the learning into our daily lives will take time, but I'm glad I gave up two days of my vacation to absorb it all. I'm also grateful for the very handsome, gold-embossed "Presenter" pens, which Cath and I received for doing our workshop.

Roll on Term Three...

Glee in Glebe on a Saturday

Today had such a nice, relaxed, nostalgic feel to it, and the only annoyance was the crazy bumper-to-bumper traffic that seemed to be everywhere - all afternoon! so much for the petrol prices everyone complains about.

It's been a while since I've been to inner-city Glebe - but I wanted to gather up some reasonably priced Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander children's books for school/work, and past experience had told me that Gleebooks is usually the best port of call for these items. The staff were so helpful - at one point I had three staff members scurrying around at my whim - and any chance to wander through their children's and second hand collections is a pleasure. ("You can smell the shop before you get there", to quote - loosely - the line from "84 Charing Cross Road".) Because that store is at the opposite end of Glebe Point Road to their other bookstore, it meant that Jack and I had a great stroll past all the amazingly eclectic curio shops and cafes in between. And - more colourful than ever: Glebe Saturday markets in the grounds of the primary school. Jack found lots of happy, friendly, Glebe doggies to touch noses with.

Gleebooks also had three of the CBCA (Children's Book Council of Australia) shortlisted books I've been after. Thanks to the shop's trusty computer cataloguing, they identified that three of my elusive (ie. "awaiting reprint") needs were sitting, forgotten, on shelves somewhere in the well-stocked shelves! Every year it's like a crazy little hide 'n' seek game I love to play: how quickly can I round up all of the shortlisted titles for the school library. Thanks to Gleebooks today, my search is almost over for 2008. (Of course, but the time Book Week comes along, all of the books will be freely available in most bookshops - but I want to use them in my teaching in the lead up to Book Week in Term Three, not after the event.)

It's a shame so many of the Glebe stores are vacant now, victims of the nearby Broadway Centre shopping mall that has evolved from the old Grace Bros buildings. Where Grace Bros and Glebe shops had survived, almost side-by-side for decades, so harmoniously, it now seems like the might of the all-inclusive air-conditioned mall has done its job and killed off a lot of the life from the street shopping strip.
i recall in the 70s and 80s, people waited for restaurateurs to die before they could rent an empty shop in Glebe!

For three years (1977-1979), I spent many an afternoon or lunch break strolling through Grace Bros at Broadway, eventually venturing further afield into Glebe and its amazing shops, during my years at the Guild Teachers College. Then, for a while in the late 80s and early 90s, it was worth going back to Glebe Point Road every so often just to see what was for sale in weird shops like Half a Cow (now long gone) and second hand bookshops such as Cornstalk Books.

I've also been squealing with delight over some recent Amazon online purchases. The official soundtrack album of "Ironman", a few tricky-to-find old science fiction paperbacks (postage will be more than the $1 or so for the book, but who cares - I found them at last!), and some television rarities on DVD. Yes - I'm a happy shopper in both real and virtual bookshops.

For all the criticism that goes on about Amazon, such as odd quirks in their product descriptions, I still think they do an amazing job. It has become such a comprehensive website - with all their links to the international second hand and remaindered markets - that it's a rare thing to seek out a book (from any era) and not be able to get any leads. I can forgive their sometimes-bizarre semi-automated computer listings any errors that inevitably creep in. My days of haunting bricks 'n' mortar bookshops, week after week, on fruitless searches for impossible-to-find-stuff are mostly gone. Now when I go into such a store I can browse at leisure, not search frantically.

There is also a recent exciting eBay purchase, but I'll save that story for when it arrives from Melbourne - hopefully Monday - by registered post.

Puss in boots - and other fabulous felines

Now that I have my pro account with Flickr!, I really must do something about my tragic collection of photo albums. Most of them date back to the early 70s and were the then-innovative, original plastic sheets (and no-glue) technology. Sadly about ten years ago, most of the pages have oxidised badly - and many pages have either lost their self-adhesion, or refuse to give up the photos now seemingly bonded to the pages.

Here are three favourite cat photos!




Tiger-striped Dugil (left) was born in late 1978, and moved with me from the family home in Kingsgrove to my new Lakemba flat in late 1984. He lived a much longer life than his alley cat siblings, whom I'd tried to catch first, mainly because he was a dead ringer to my first cat, Meggsie. Named for the newspaper of the Guild Teachers College ("Dugil" is an anagram of "Guild"), Dugil loved playing "Puss in Boots", or sitting on any important sheets of paper!

Meggsie (right) was Dugil's older brother from an earlier litter. Meggsie ended up in my care in 1976 as a two-day old kitten, and was a traditional ginger tabby whom I raised on an eyedropper (during the crucial Higher School Certificate examinations). He survived our family's move from Rockdale to the new house in Kingsgrove, but lasted only three months before being skittled on Stoney Creek Road at age fourteen months. He's seven weeks old in that photo.

The black and white photo (below) illustrates a familiar Winter scenario, which we always called "frying your eyeballs". My younger brother would stretch out on the floor in front of the heater, preventing the rest of us on the couches from most of the benefits of the radiated heat. Mac, our German Shepherd/Boxer cross, would sneak between Brian and the heater to "fry his eyeballs". And then Meggsie would slide into place in front of Mac, to "fry his eyeballs".