Some people are born famous where some people have famousness thrust upon them. Some become famous for absolutely no reason whatsoever (are you reading this Paris because I have no idea why the hell you are famous and I wish you would just stop doing whatever it is you do that makes people take notice of you) but others become famous because they have that one thing that lets them stand out from the crowd and rise above the average.

Today, January 8 2009, would be the 75th birthday of the undisputed King of Rock 'N Roll - his majesty Elvis Presley (had he not expired in the most undignified way a person could - cardiac arrhythmia while using the toilet of course). Obviously there are various celebrations being undertaken all over the world to commemorate this event. In the city of Parkes, located in the central west of New South Wales, this weekend will see thousands of Elvis fans converge to celebrate the annual Elvis festival. It will also include hundreds of Elvis impersonators and wannabes of all shapes, sizes, colours and sexes (for all I know there might even be one or two trans gendered Elvises out there).

Considering the fact that Elvis died in 1977, he still has a huge impact in todays society. For example, there are a lot of singers and musicians who cite Elvis as being an influence on what they do. When you look at a lot of todays musical artists, can you really believe that they will still have any kind of following 32 years after they finish producing any original material? Elvis is probably more famous and a much bigger money spinner now that he was in the later part of his career in the 1970's.

In the same vein, despite all of the controversies surrounding his lifestyle etc, Michael Jackson will probably be just as well known 30 years from now as well. There is/was something about both of these men that captured the attention of the public and cemented their place in history. I could certainly throw the names of musicians who came and went over the last 30 years who produced some memorable songs that would mean nothing to you but had the same (or similar) quality of Presley or Jackson but, because they never achieved a mystical global following, have been relegated to the "one hit wonder" bin.

My mother was probably the second biggest Elvis fan I ever knew (the biggest being Lindsay Mitchell who went to Graceland every year) and if she was still alive, she would probably be marking this day in some simple way - maybe just playing her Elvis records all day or watching his movies on VHS (why get the DVD when you already had a video?). She would have been about a year older than him as well. so, on some level, she saw him as one of her contemporaries.

I wonder, had he survived to this time, if Elvis would still be getting out on stage and wriggling those hips for his fans or if he would have said around 55 years that it was time to throw in the towel. I'd like to think he had the common sense to go while he was on top. Whatever he would have done, it's good to know that after all this time, he's still remembered with love by so many people.

Mum would have been so proud of him.

Later days.

Trrivial fact number 210:- In 1939 the US political party 'The American Nazi Party' had 200,000 members - and McCarthy was worried about Communists?

Dear reader, as we hurtle towards the end of the decade (only 12 months to go), the penultimate year of the "noughties" has just about shuffled off its mortal coil and it looks like we've all managed to get through another 12 months without resorting to any messy murder/suicides, long prison sentences or, the increasingly popular, cannibalism. For achieving each of these magnificent feats, now would be a good time to pat yourself on the back for a job well done because once the credit card statements come in from your Christmas indulgences, one of the aforementioned options might just be what you need to cope and self congratulations won't be high on your list of priorities.

This is the time of the year that we generally sit back and reflect on what we have achieved and get depressed over what we haven't achieved throughout the year and resolve to do better in the upcoming 12 months. Usually such lofty ambitions are thrown out the window around around the middle of January as the holiday season becomes a slowly fading memory and the harsh realities of life takes hold.

I myself only make small resolutions since I already achieved all the biggies a number of years ago and since everyone needs at least one vice in their life, I won't be giving up alcohol.

There are some years that I simply declare the new year as being some kind of event and then carry on as normal. One year I declared it would be the year I was pleasant to people but that lasted about a week because most of the people I came into contact with really needed to be punched in the face for one reason or another. Some of them still do. The Ace once asked me when the year of having a personality would arrive so he could note it. He's a very strange guy....

I end 2009 pretty much on a high note. I've had enough of an enjoyable time at work and during my leisure time to declare it a moderate success. Add in my two work anniversaries (21 years on the railways and 20 years as an actual train driver) and the picture starts to form up properly. I know work shouldn't necessarily be enjoyable, but when you work in the transportation equivalent of a circus, you really should just sit back and enjoy the clowns trying to run the show.

This year also saw me get serious about taking care of my health, after all I'm not getting any younger. The best news was that I have settled into a very comfortable weight (without the aid of the amputation of any heavy body parts), more and more healthy food is voluntarily appearing on my plate each night and my gym membership has been overly abused to the point where it really should consider taking out a restraining order on me. Mid year, I also discovered a passion for distance running - twice so far with more to come next year.

Old friendships have continued to become stranger and stranger over the year but new friends came along as well. Being the type of person who doesn't make friends easily, getting involved with new people is a big thing for me. Who knew that people who were just passing acquaintances at work or in gym classes could turn out to be genuinely nice people who are interested in me as a person? Stranger things have happened (so I am told).

So what does 2010 hold for me? Other than one or two definite diary entries at this point, it's hard to say where this time next year will see me. Definitely a year older for sure. Photographing my first wedding in March will tell me if it is worth the effort of chasing those kinds of jobs. I may even finally get around to painting the verandas around the house that should have been done two years ago.

All I can tell you for certain is that I resolve to stop biting my fingernails.

Happy New Year dear reader. Thanks for taking a few minutes every now and then to come and visit me and my ramblings - I really do appreciate it. For now, it's time to party like it was 1999 ten years ago.

What? You mean it was ten years ago?

Later days.

Trivial fact number 209:- There are 240 white dots in a Pacman arcade game - wacka wacka wacka wacka wacka wacka wacka wacka wacka.....

Tomorrow will be the 23rd December 2009. Annually I quietly celebrate one of the most important events of the year that isn't my birthday or a made up holiday. For it was on this day in 1989 that I passed all of my exams (with flying colours I might add) and officially became a train driver for the State Rail Authority. There are many things that could be said to describe this 20 year odyssey that was the fulfillment of my childhood dream to drive trains.

Such things as waking nightmare and stroke inducing insanity immediately spring to mind.

Traditionally, if I was celebrating a 20th wedding anniversary, I'd be entitled to gifts made of either china or platinum. Such traditions can be imported to other events but since I already own a china cow milk jug, if you want to send me a gift, please send platinum materials. Platinum may be ugly, but you don't get into "A" list parties wearing a necklace made from china cow milk jugs.

It may sound a bit odd, but I can trace my desire to drive trains back to the age of 5 and a smell from my childhood. It's a well known fact that, in some people, certain aromas can trigger strong memories. When I was a kid, and before it was moved 500 meters up the road, the local railway station had a pedestrian level crossing that was located right at the end of the platforms. When you were waiting to cross when a train arrived, the aroma that could be smelt was that of hot brake shoes. Of course, in the '70's, asbestos was used in train brake shoes so they had a very unique smell to them. It was this smell that made me want to become a train driver.

Or maybe it was something to do with the asbestos...

Strangely enough, when you're in infants and primary school, wanting to be a train driver (or fireman, policeman or ambulance driver) isn't something that other kids would think was weird - all that happens when you get to high school and peoples ambitions rise above childish ambition. I guess, at the end of the day, I really am weird and pretty childish to have pursued such lowly ambitions to their ultimate end.

My railway career actually started in 1983, but since that only lasted 4 hateful days, I don't count that as time served in this 20 year celebration. My original job was as a telephone boy in a signal box at Enfield rail yards. That job consisted of answering the phones and telling locomotive drivers where they were supposed to take their engines when they called. The signalman who was supposed to train me in my duties told me he wasn't there to tell me anything and if I didn't learn what I needed to know in a week, I'd be f**ked since I was on night work the next week and that was when things got busy.

Great attitude eh?

It's a little known fact that the members of my drivers school were actually pioneers (or guinea pigs) for a new training system. Before my class, the training school was only about 8 - 10 weeks in length. My class were the first to have to sign up for suburban duties for 5 years plus undergo 6 months training. It put a bit of a crimp in my plans to spend one year on passenger trains then head back to freight, but after a few months of having a social life again, freight became a decidedly unattractive proposition. My memories of freight working involve lots of night work and sleeping all day.

In the 20 years I have been working amongst some of the craziest and funniest oddballs you would ever meet, I've acquired a lot of good friendships, a couple of enemies and a healthy respect for the diverse nature of the people around me. I don't know what to make of a lot of the new blood coming onto the job though. A lot of them aren't that interested in talking to anyone they don't know and spend a lot of time hooked into their Ipods, DVD players and laptop computers. Honestly, trying to make conversation with some of them is like having teeth pulled without some form of anesthetic. I miss the days when you couldn't get a seat in the meal room because of the endless games of 500 that were going on - if you wanted to eat a meal, it was foolish to try it in the meal room.

For now, unless the universe conspires against me more than it usually does, I intend retiring at the ripe old age of 60 - it's a nice even number and will still give me a few years of coherent living before I'm legally allowed to euthanise myself (I have faith this country will come to its senses in the intervening years) or nature takes it natural course. I know I'm going to see a lot of change in the ensuing years - some good, some bad and some just plain ridiculous (management has definite form on that one) but through it all, I'm going to be able to say with confidence that I achieved exactly what I said I would do when I was 5 years old.

How many people can truly say that?

Later days.

Trivial fact number 208:- South American gauchos were known to put raw steak under their saddles before starting a day's riding, in order to tenderise the meat - one wonders if it was rump steak.

It's almost half a century since I escaped my uterine gulag and began my slow and steady rise to ultimate power. While there are still just over 6 years to go before I hit the big 5-oh, that time will fly past in an instant so it's never too early to think about what I would like to get done between now and then, so I now present my 6 year plan of the things I would like (not must) to achieve by my 50th birthday (it's short and in no particular order):

1 - Photograph the Golden Gate and Brooklyn Bridges:

I have more photographs of the Sydney Harbour Bridge than you could poke a stick at and they great to look at. One of them graces the walls of at least 3 houses. However, the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco and the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City are the two that I really want to experience up close and personal.

2 - Have a photograph published in a notable publication:

A few years ago, I entered an online competition to have a photograph published in a book and it turned out to be a bit of a rip off as the photo that I entered ended up about the size of a large thumb in a coffee table book full of similar sized images, so technically I have already had a photo published. People fluke brilliant photographs all the time - logically, if you take 1,000 photos, you are going to come up with at least a handful that people are going to gush over and will win you an award of some kind. I'll pass on the gushing and awards and settle for seeing one of mine in either a newspaper or popular magazine.

3 - Run the entire 14km of the City To Surf:

As you should know by now, I have been attending the gym on and off for a few years and have recently taken up distance running. There is something addictive about running and I itch to continue competing in races - not necessarily with the aim of winning or placing high amongst the finishers. My ultimate aim would be to run a marathon, but I would be quite happy to be able to complete the City To Surf race without stopping (that includes not walking).

4 - Have a short story published:

Having an active imagination fuels my interest in creative writing. While I hated writing essays in high school for English because they relied less on imagination and more on factual data, I always enjoyed it when we had to write non fiction. In year 9, I remember loosely basing almost every short story I wrote on H.G. Wells' War Of The Worlds. Since my English teacher was obsessed with Shakespeare, she never really twigged onto it, even though I turned what she had hoped would be a story about 1930's gangsters into a pseudo-science fiction event. I was either very clever or she was very ignorant of good literature.

5 - Drive across the United States:

The plan here is to start in Los Angeles, drive through the Southern states then up the East Coast to New York then drive back to LA through the Northern states then down the West Coast. Along the way, I was going to meet up with some of my internet friends as well. Originally, I was going to do it 2 years ago. Since I was completely debt free at the time, I had most of the money saved up when I decided that I needed to rebuild my house. I had to rebuild the house - if I didn't do it then, when I got back from my trip, I may not have had a house to live in. When I finally get around to making this trip, I will be able to fulfill the first thing on my list.

It's a short list since I am pretty lazy and there would be enough energy expended in just doing the above 5 things let alone adding in near impossible feats or just plain crazy things (skydiving, lion taming and bear baiting are just too fraught with danger in my opinion). Unlike New Years Resolutions which are abandoned on the first stressful day of the year, I think I can achieve everything on my list in the time frame I have set for myself.

I'm looking forward to trying.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 207:- A Parthenophobic has a fear of virgins - not a good thing if your religion promises you 72 of them when you martyr yourself.

Before we get on with what I've won, let me first apologise to you dear reader for my month long lack of writing to you. I've been busy with some things (including a 10km run) plus I've been a bit uninspired. Don't worry though, with Christmas now rapidly approaching, I am pretty sure I can crank out some outstanding anti seasonal sentiment over the next few weeks for your enjoyment. As for now though, please enjoy.

Apparently I've won a watch. I wasn't really taking too much notice of the phone call I got from Ripples Hydrotherapy that was interrupting an otherwise relaxing afternoon of reading, but there was definitely some mention of a watch and a pick up location. My name had been picked out of a bucket that I vaguely remember tossing a few dollars into a couple of weeks ago as part of a Movember competition/promotion Ripples has been running. I didn't know what the prizes were at the time and, serendipitously, I am in the market for a new watch since my old one recently died after 10 long years of faithful service.

Outside of a couple of small gambling wins, I've never really won too many things of great value so I'm pretty chuffed. It's always nice to win something unexpected. I remember winning a rug when I was in 6th grade in a raffle that my mothers womens group ran which was quite nice and was only thrown away abut 5 years ago when it finally wore out.

However, my most memorable win was 16 or 17 years ago when I dropped into the pub on the way home from work one Friday night since I knew that Garry and some of his workmates would be there watching the "exotic dancers". As is the general case at most pubs on a Friday night, after the Salvation Army guy had guilted people into tossing some of their hard earned into his little box, the fellow running the meat tray raffles came along offering the promise of meat and beer for the extremely modest outlay of $1 per ticket - believe me, a much more desirable proposition than was on offer by the Salvo.

Of course, as is the case with greedy drunk men about to be entertained by scantily clad women, large denomination notes were produced by all of the people at the table in the hopes that they would be a recipient of this dubious promise of carnivorous and alcoholic delight. Using the very stable logic that it only takes one ticket to win, and not being known for my willingness to invest big when it comes to buying raffle tickets, I offered up the bare minimum amount required and settled back to enjoy my beer and the entertainment that is the spectacle of drunk men becoming entertained by scantily clad women.

I also got to enjoy the relentless sarcastic comments about being a big spender and all the other cliches that go along with not being willing to part with money, as I am often reluctant to do when it comes to large scale gambling.

So, you could imagine the surprise at the end of the night when it turned out that my single solitary $1 ticket came up trumps. Obviously, there were other winners of the many meat trays and cases of beer on offer that night, but between Garry and his workmates and the money they had invested in the raffle, I was the only one who took home enough meat and booze to last a month.

Who was having the last laugh now eh? Go on, you know you want to take a guess.

Just for your information, it wasn't me because gloating about that sort of thing isn't my style at all....

Later days.

Trivial fact number 206:- Bonnie Prince Charlie, the leader of the Jacobite rebellion to depose of George II of England, was born 31 December 1720. Considered a great Scottish hero, he spent his final years as a drunkard in Rome -which is the least you could expect of a Scotsman.

Every couple of years, I format my computer just to clear out the clutter and I do so love the adventure of it all. There is nothing to compare to spending an entire weekend attempting to put things back together the way they were. It's an even bigger bonus when it's time to upgrade to a new operating system because there is mystery as to whether things are going to work properly. Windows 7 is overall a very stable and workable operating system, but there are a couple things that I think Micro$oft have toyed with a little too much with this version of their OS.

I will state for the record however, that the user experience of this brand spanking new version of Windows is a lot better than the one I had using Vista on a laptop for a week in 2008.

On the positive side of things, all of the programs that I can't do without are working fine even though I was assured that, after running a compatibility program, some of them were incompatible and would need replacing. I am still to install a few of my multimedia programs for audio/visual editing so I won't say that things are 100% just yet - let's say 95% and counting. At least it recognises my camera - Vista, on the other hand, didn't.

Negatively, the issues are more or less just cosmetic or inconvenient. For starters, I miss my old XP Classic Start Menu - I am a bit of a control freak when it comes to putting things in order so I am a tad perturbed that the W7 start menu doesn't allow me to go and create new folders to sort things into categories. The ad hoc dumping of everything in one long list (albeit in alphabetical order) just doesn't do it for me. I like to have all my start menu short and ordered.

Unfortunately, the speed at which technology becomes outdated meant that I had to buy a new modem since it appears that the drivers for my old one won't be upgraded to work with the new operating system. As for my webcam, well Logitech abandoned my particular model around the time Vista was introduced. The program package works fine, the camera doesn't. Luckily, I rarely used my webcam anyway so it isn't a great loss to my day to day used of the computer.

Anyone looking for either a modem or webcam that works with Windows XP is welcome to get in touch with me - I'm sure we can come to an amicable arrangement (as long as your bodily parts are all healthy that is).

I also lost a dandy little program that changed my desktop wallpaper on start up and for now, I have to live with one desktop, even though I have checked the box in W7 to randomly change it on start up.

It's still early days though and it did surprise me a little that there were already 7 updates to W7 that needed to be downloaded and installed on the day I installed it which was about a week after it was released. Constant updates to itself seems to be the standard with any Windows operating system though.

At this point I would give it a rating of 8/10 - it loses the 2 points simply because of the things that don't work anymore that I liked, even though they weren't absolutely necessary for the computer to work efficiently.

If it doesn't end in tears, it will be good.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 205:- The Russian mystic, Rasputin, was the victim of a series of murder attempts on this day in 1916. The assassins poisoned, shot and stabbed him in quick succession, but they found they were unable to finish him off. Rasputin finally succumbed to the ice-cold waters of a river - and Boney M sang a very boppy song about the whole sorry affair in the 70's

Dear reader, if you know me well then you know that I have a cat and that I am what you would call a "cat person". In fact, one of my friends has predicted that when I die, I will be discovered 6 months later surrounded by anywhere up to 35 cats. There is a good chance that this will never happen - I have no intention of dying.

At present, I have one cat and she is a minor source of entertainment to those around me. Firstly, I tend to talk about her in the same way that people talk about their children - being a card carrying non-breeder, she is very much like a child to me, except a lot cleaner and I can legally put her outside when I want some peace and quiet.

Secondly, and this isn't my fault, her name is Buffy. My younger brother (the ex-fat bastard - he's lost weight) was responsible for naming her as I was at work on the day it happened and couldn't slap him around the head. At the time he had a very unhealthy obsession with Buffy The Vampire Slayer. I think he still has it, but nowdays he's having it in Tasmania where that sort of thing would probably be pretty much classed as normal as being your own uncle (along with having two heads).

Buffy became part of the family in February of 2000 and the story of how she came into our lives is in no way interesting or controversial at all. My neighbour had found a litter of kittens that had been abandoned in a dumpster where he worked and rescued them. He found homes for all of them except one little ball of black fur and claws and in a last ditch effort, he offered her to my mother. Since one of our other cats had been put down after it contracted cancer, we took this tiny little black kitten that constantly mewed in and my brother cursed it with the aforementioned lamest of names a few days later.

Meggs, the ginger tom who had the run of the house at the time, was both unimpressed at the idea of an interloper and a very caring big brother at the same time. Cats can be very complex psychologically.

My mother was the figurehead owner of Buffy but, being a cat of immense independence, she was going to have none of that. For most of the time, ma was nothing more than the provider of food and a lap to sleep in. When I came home from work, no matter where she was in the house, Buffy would come running the moment I opened the back door and would then spend all of her time sitting/sleeping on me.

When my mother passed away a few months later, I inherited both cats. I really didn't mind it because they were both pretty much low maintenance and outdoor cats. Buffy didn't seem to notice the absence of my mother, but I think Meggs did because his personality changed and he suddenly had a desire to spend more time indoors and became much more affectionate.

When my younger brother moved to Tasmania in 2001, that left just me and the two cats to fend for ourselves which was a pretty agreeable situation and I looked forward to my quiet cat filled life. About a year later, Meggs had to be put down after suffering a stroke. He was about 18 years old and I buried him up behind the shed.

Once again, Buffy didn't seem to notice the demise of another member of the family and continued on with her life of causing distress to the local mynah birds and carried on living with being constantly dive bombed by them for eating one of their number when she was younger and more foolish.

Buffy has a couple of scars on her body and a hole in one of her ears as the result of encounters with a number of the local stray cats who seem to be attracted to my house for some reason. A couple of years ago, she almost lost her left eye because of her propensity for protecting her territory and getting into fights. Thankfully the vet was the kind who was reluctant to operate and, other than a slight deformity in the pupil of the eye, she pulled through. She became an indoor cat of a night from that time.

She's nearly 10 years old now and sheds fur like there's no tomorrow. I'm starting to find gray fur here and there but she hasn't hocked up a fur-ball in a long time and believe me, that's definitely a good thing. I'm fairly certain she sleeps almost 20 hours a day but will still yawn at me when the alarm goes off in the morning as though she's been out partying all night and only had a couple of hours of sleep.

It surely sounds like she's becoming a teenager.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 204:- Chop-Suey is not a native Chinese dish, it was created in California by Chinese immigrants - yet, like real Chinese food, you still feel hungry 3 hours after eating it.

I don't know about you, dear reader, but I have a very visual imagination. When I think about something I want to do, I can actually see the way it will be as a visual representation in my head - very much in the same way that I see the movie of the books that I read. When I read a book, I picture the described scene as if it were being projected as movie. I get an idea of what each character should look like and experience the utter disappointment when the actor that actually gets cast in the movie version of the book ends up being a Leonardo Di-Caprio, Tom Cruise or Nicholas Cage type.

Since a majority of the books I read don't have strong female characters, they could cast Paris Hilton or any other $2 whore in a role I have read in a book and I wouldn't care less.

So, bearing in mind that anything I imagine appears to me as a fully realised three dimensional model in my head, it would come as no surprise that an idea for a one man show has already been written, stage designed and performed without a single physical thing being done to bring the project to fruition - I even gave this inaugural show a name (I won't tell you what it is just in case you decide to steal my idea) plus worked out what the next show will be about - FYI, the second shows title will contain the words "Confessions of...." in the title.

This is the exact same process I used when I was considering the knockdown/rebuild on my home in the years leading up to the event.

I've always said that everyone has an autobiography in them. If you actually listen to the people you hang around, you would realise that they are really very interesting. I also think that everyone could turn their life story into a show. My life (to me at least) is as boring as the day is long, but if I told it with a few alternative views and day to day observations thrown in here and there, it could become entertaining to (some) people.

Recently, I finished reading "Official Book Club Selection" (a book with words in it by Kathy Griffin) and my show would be modeled on what she does - imitation IS the sincerest form of flattery I hear. She goes out on stage and tells stories about the strange things that happen to her on a daily basis. Of course, being the celebrity type, the strange things that happen to her involve other interesting people and events so my show would have to rely on me being witty about the strange people I know (just through my job I know a lot) and dredging my memory for those things that have happened to me throughout my life that would qualify as being odd (you really will want to see this show if you want to know why I am the way I am).

I am always up for a challenge of any kind.

Now, being the nobody that I am, I certainly couldn't expect to fill a large venue or spend a lot of money on advertising, so my idea would be to rent out a storefront on the main street of the town I live in for a few days, stick some (home printed) posters in the windows, rent some plastic chairs and pay for some ads in the local papers. With any luck, people would turn up. I'd have to charge some kind of entry fee, but I think I would leave it as a donation kind of thing. For all I know, whatever I end up doing may not be worth you parting with any real money.

Remember this though, if you were to come to my show and donate, you would get free coffee and biscuits.

The whole show would be a very simplistic affair - a stool, a table for water and a microphone. Through some wheeling and dealing, I'd convince my mate Garry to come along and we'd perform some musical numbers - I've always gotten a kick out of jamming with him. Someone would work a spotlight (Garrys son Brendan perhaps?) and the show would ramble along for an hour or two. I'd even throw in a Q & A section so people could get to know me better if things were going well. I could see it working out well, but I can also see it failing dismally. I am a glass half full guy in general, so that wouldn't be much of a disappointment at all.

Would you come to listen to me talk about myself? There would be free coffee and biscuits...

Later days.

Trivial fact number 203:- Paul Revere was a dentist - which proves that even the lowest of society can be a force for good.

That title sounds like it should be a horror movie, but alas, it's just another of my disjointed commentaries.

After an extensive (and exhaustive) search, I bought a new piece of furniture recently. It's a pretty solid pine bookcase that just about matches the buffet and hutch unit I bought earlier in the year and will certainly fit in with the bar I plan on getting somewhere down the road. I had to wait in all day one Saturday for it to be delivered, but it was well worth it in the end for I now have emptied all of the boxes of books in one of the middle bedrooms thus creating a spare bedroom plus I've gotten rid of an unsightly 70's looking piece of furniture that was begining to fall apart.

When I decided to knock down my old house and rebuild, one of the things I wanted to avoid doing was filling the new place with the cheap second hand, home built furniture and useless knick-knacks that were the hallmark of the old house. Most of the home built stuff disappeared very quickly and a lot of the other cheapish stuff went to Tasmania with my brother long before I got serious about rebuilding.

Generally, it's hard for me to dispose of anything because of a habit I picked up from my mother, may she rest in peace, who was a hoarder of universal proportions and if hoarding useless stuff was an Olympic sport, she would have won multiple gold medals. To give you an idea of how much of a hoarder she was, when I cleaned out her bedroom after she died, I not only found clothes dating back to when I was a kid, but an entire drawer in the wardrobe filled to the brim with packs of cigarettes - most of which hadn't been on the market in years.

The packs of unfiltered Camels were a bit confusing though as I don't recall her ever smoking anything without a filter.

I don't think that her hoarding habit was a conscious thing though. You have to bear in mind that she was born bang in the middle of the depression in 1932 so keeping something in case it could be re-used or over buying stuff in case there was a shortage would have been something that was instilled in her from an early age and judging by the stuff that was left behind by my grandmother when she passed away, it was something that she had picked up from her own mother. I figure if you were to look at the possessions of your own parents/grandparents (depending on your age), you'd probably find a similar thing going on.

In some ways, I caught a little of the hoarding bug. For instance, there are a couple of drawers in the kitchen that should only be opened if you have a strong heart, don't fear for your very sanity or have someone on hand to counsel you should you be unfortunate enough to have to open them. It can be guaranteed that if I ever clean them out, the following week I am going to be needing an egg separator, apple corer or a cookie cutter in the shape of someones messiah.

It has happened before.

Every few years, I have a clean out of things. On the five year plan, I purchase an entire wardrobe of clothing since I tend to wear things until they are almost rags. In between times, I hit the linen closets and kitchen cupboards to consider what has and hasn't been used for a long time, bite the bullet and send it off to a new home.

Lately, I've been eying my George Foreman grill that hasn't been used in 3 years and doing the math.

I tend to have an attachment to certain things. Just from my desk in the office, I can see a few things that are only being kept because I either paid a lot of money for them years ago or I  know that as soon as I get rid od them, I will want to use them sometime in the future. For example, my old camera bags - as I get more equipment, I have to buy bigger ones but I don't want to dispose of the old ones. Not even the one with the broken zipper. Complicating things is the fact that I need a new bag to cater for a new lens I bought so that means I will have three spares lying around.

Sentimentality plays a small role in why I tend to keep some things. For instance, I have a painting stuck on the fridge that was given to me by my friend Rebekah that her daughter Jessica did about a year ago when she was 2 years old. It's just a couple of blobs of paint with some glitter stuck to it. Exactly the sort of thing that you'd expect a 2 year old to do. In my filing cabinet is a drawing that was done by Craigs daughter Tahnee when she was about 9 years old. That's a drawing of her family but, oddly, it excludes her brother but includes the family dog and me - I guess she liked the dog and me more than him 11 years ago.

Knowing how nice the dog was and the kind of person I am, it's understandable really.

So hoarding, like most things in life, is a double edged sword. One of those damned if you do, damned if you don't sorts of things. Growing up in a house full of junk gave me an appreciation for being sparing in what I keep and throw out and having a touch of sentimentality makes me appreciate that there are some things that you keep just so you have a reminder of people before they grow up and become cynical about the world.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 202:- On 9 February 1942, soap rationing began in Britain - on that day 24 years later, the world was blessed with my birth.

You might remember that a little over a month ago, I wrote that I had entered the Sydney Running Festival, which was to involve a 9km Bridge Run from the Northern side of Sydney Harbour at Milsons Point to the forecourt of the Sydney Opera House via the Sydney CBD and Woolloomooloo. The good news is that I competed in that event on Sunday morning and fared better than I expected considering my right knee had started to act up on me during my last training run at the gym on Friday morning and seemed to be getting worse.

My training regime for this event was haphazard at best, comprising mostly of running on the treadmill at the gym rather than outside on the local streets - in hindsight, running on the street would probably have proved to be more of an encouragement to do better since, after a while, the inside of the gym becomes boring.

Since this was the first time I had ever voluntarily entered any kind of athletic event, I wasn't really sure what to expect when I arrived at the marshaling point at Bradfield Park under the Northern approach to the Harbour Bridge. The little booklet I got when I picked up my race kit (which comprised my bib number, timing tag for my shoe and a plastic bag to put my clothes in) gave me some useful information about the day, but it was vague at best.

Looking around at all the various competitors made me feel a bit self conscious. It appeared to me that every fitness fanatic who could pull on a singlet was out in force to make me look well and truly out of place so I was extremely happy when I started seeing people who looked like they would be more at home on a building site than an athletic event. I must have looked a bit lost and overwhelmed by it all because this lovely young girl started talking to me and giving me encouragement as the start time got closer.

When I registered online to be in the race, I was asked to estimate what my average speed would be and to my surprise, I found myself in the "A" group of runners which made me feel a bit nervous. Once at the starting zone, I found myself in the midst of all those young fit runners I had seen when I arrived and then started worrying about what I had gotten myself into. By now it was too late to back out. At the sound of the starters gun, right on 8:30am, the crowd slowly started moving forward and, roughly a little over a minute later, I crossed over the timing mat, hit the stopwatch and started jogging at a nice steady pace up hill.

As I have said, I have never done anything like this so I was quite unprepared for the sound that hundreds of pairs of sneakers make as they slap the road. It's something to experience and was almost soothing at times. Once on the approach to the bridge, the crowd started to thin out as everyone started settling into their own particular pace. I was overtaken almost immediately by people (which really didn't surprise me) and I started to overtake people (which really did surprise me). For about 1.5km, I kept up with the girl from the park, but she was experienced in these kinds of events and started pulling away from me on the first downhill section.

I formulated some kind of plan as I ran - steady on the uphill bits, sprint on the downhill bits and a faster pace on the flat. By the 3km marker, I was starting to get my second wind and my knee had begun to stop throbbing. By this stage, we were rounding the corner off the Cahill Expressway onto Macquarie Street and the first water station. That seems to be another quirk of these races - as you approach the water station, you can hear the runners ahead of you crushing plastic cups on the ground.

During the week, while training on the treadmill, I had decided that I would walk for about 50 - 100 meters at the two water stations along the course to get my heart rate back down and to cool off a little for the next 3km or so before the next water stop but since I was carrying a water bottle anyway and I was doing so well at this point (according to my stopwatch) that I decided to give the water and walk a miss and continued on up Macquarie Street towards the Art Gallery and the downhill run to Woolloomooloo.

This was where I took the opportunity to start overtaking a few people who were starting to slow down a little but once the course rounded the bend and began to head back up towards the art gallery, it got steeper and I started to find it a little harder to maintain my steady pace. That hill seemed to go on forever and I was really pleased to finally get past the 7km marker because I knew that at least the last 1.5km was all downhill to the finish line.

That was where it became a little amusing because I was overtaken by this kid who must have been about 10 but he would get about 20 meters in front of me, then start walking and I would overtake him. A few seconds later, he would sprint past me again for about 20 meters, then start his walk again until I passed him. This went on for the last 500 meters of flat road before the downhill run when I saw in the distance an inflatable archway that I thought was the finish line and started my own sprint. If I had been able to, I would have kicked myself when I realised that the actual finish line was about 200 meters past the archway but I kept up my sprint until I crossed the line, sweaty but happy.

According to my stopwatch, I completed the race in 51 min 58 sec but that was a little out on the official statistics. In reality, this is how it turned out:

• Race time from starters gun - 53m 21s
• My actual time - 52m 06s at an average pace of 5.47
• Out of 13,071 race finishers, I was 4,456
• Out of 5,332 male finishers, I was 2,827
• Out of 905 40yo - 49yo male finishers, I was 459

The brother of one of the Push And Power guys also did the same run and he did it in about 37 minutes but he's a healthy 15 year old. I also ran into an ex Push And Power member who did the same distance in his wheelchair in a little over 47 minutes.

For my efforts, I got a nice medallion and a downloadable certificate of achievement and, if I am feeling narcissistic enough, I can buy photos and video of myself finishing the race - I am thinking that I might be a tiny little bit of a narcissist.

All in all, I had a great time and, now that I know that I could do it, it was good practice for next years City To Surf event. Of course, my legs and ankles are a bit stiff and sore but I expect that all to be done with by the time I get to my gym classes on Wednesday.

Later days.

Trivial fact number 201:- The Great Pyramid of Giza consists of 2,300,000 blocks each weighing 2.5 tons - imagine paying a brickie to lay them nowdays.