Approaching normal
I can't figure out how to get pictures from my camera on to Mum and Dad's cumbersome PC, or I'd show you the beautiful paddocks, hills and other views of Albany, in the Great Southern, where I'm staying.
In the meantime, here's some of my news in brief bulletins ...
:: I'm very happy to report that Dad is out of the woods, and home with the help and support of the State Government's excellent 'Hospital in the Home' scheme (Hillary/Barrack, please note). It will be a long slow process getting him back to full health, but he's definitely on the way.
:: My brother had surgery for a hernia on Monday, but on Tuesday he marched with me through the streets of Albany to celebrate our Prime Minister, Mr Rudd's, sterling decision to say sorry to our country's Aboriginal people.
:: While I have been looking after things here, I have knitted my brother half a pair of very splendid socks to wear with his Blundstones in winter. I should get the other one done well before I return to Perth next week.
:: I've been tagged by Laura to tell you the sixth to eighth sentences on page 123 of the nearest book to hand, so here goes:

New violence flared as a result of the arrest and brutality. Edward Jones and Peter Chidlow were speared to death at Northam by angry Aborigines who took lime in mistake for flour and thought they had been deliberately tricked. A York settler named Woods was reported to be leaving poisoned damper on a shelf where it could be found and carried away by Aborigines.

The year is 1837; the book is Broken Spears - Aboriginals and Europeans in the South-West of Australia, by Neville Green (Focus Education Services, Perth 1984).
:: I hope you all had a great Valentine's Day. David rang me to wish me happy Valentines from the US, which was doubly impressive as it wasn't February 14 there yet!
:: I'm staying with Mum and Dad in Club Med their seniors' village and it's great ... but though Mum tells me, in all seriousness, that David and I could get our very own place here in just a couple of years (when we turn 55), I, um, think I'll wait.