Of DT and the Real Deal.
It all began early; I'd worked a little longer to make sure all was tidy and ordered for the arrival of our guests (MTF) - second coffee, feet up, stable ship shape - time for a little R&R. Then, the shadow of doom crossed the threshold - Domestic Tyranny - armed with what looked like gardening equipment. "Whuzup"? say's I. Aye, there was no escape; trapped, without excuse. The attack beautifully managed; all escape routes covered.
“I hate gardening! What sort of a person has a power complex about flowers? It’s dictatorship for inadequates. Or to put it another way, it’s dictatorship.“
I hate gardening! There were plants to split, soil to be shifted and placed in new pots etc; insects and other stuff everywhere, hot, dirty work overseen by a daemon of the sixth hell. Eventually, I managed to limp off into the shower in time to light the BBQ and pull a well earned pint of good Ale. I could never see why 'man' must interfere with nature - let the bloody weeds triumph I say, let nature take it's course; there is a natural 'order' so why bugger about with it? - Anyway, as it happened, turns out that the natural order of things 'parliamentary' may yet be our only salvation.
"No clever arrangement of bad eggs ever made a good omelette."
You see; as it was explained to me over an Ale by an ex 'heavy duty' mandarin, there is a settled order to the way government, in the Westminster system operates and that the key to resolving many of the serious problems aviation faces is fully and freely available to any Minister who cares to ask for it. To say it was a fascinating lesson fails to encompass the shear logic; and, (N.B.) the horsepower a minister actually has, on tap. OK; short version: within the Canberra bubble there exists scions of the Mandarin dynasty; reared from birth to 'manage' the incomers. The real power and brains behind the ministerial charade. For when the minister (exeunt 'stage left') departs the fix, no matter what horror has been left behind, the Mandarins mop up the dross and keep the ship of state 'steady'.
There; lead in done, now to business. B Joyce Esq. has a problem; he, through a bipartisan agreement has no control whatsoever over a government agency which is 'rudderless' and creating havoc; the CASA. No matter how much he sings and dances; the die is cast. No matter how much he can see that radical change is required; or, that an industry is dying on it's feet; or, that the investors are leaving in droves - essentially he's as buggered as the industry is. Time to call in the experts - the Mandarins. Time to bring CASA back into the sphere of influence and intelligence provided by the heavy weight folk who can - if asked politely - put the genie back in the bottle. Sure, the minister would be 'responsible' but the back up would be there to ensure 'electoral' protection. The Mandarins are as concerned as industry is about the CASA antics and cost and total failure - probably even more so than a minister who may only be 'in power' for a short time. Listening to the logical, sensible mandarin over an Ale (or perhaps three) I fail to see why a clever fellahin, like Joyce, just don't call in the heavy mob and regain control, with full protection from the slings and arrows of those who have denied their sworn duty for decades and 'bipart insanely' stood back and allowed an industry to descend into the present sorry state.
No matter; it is cool evening, the dogs and cat have had great fun scavenging morsels of BBQ, the place is quiet, at peace. Instantly grounded by simply running a callused hand over an 1830 bench plane, fully restored and functional, a wonderful tool, hand made by the man who's name is stamped on the end; there is fame of the human kind; a humble man, earning penny's who created with his own hands a thing of beauty which still, to this day, performs it's design function effortlessly and flawlessly. Food for thought? Oh: You bet.
Selah...
It all began early; I'd worked a little longer to make sure all was tidy and ordered for the arrival of our guests (MTF) - second coffee, feet up, stable ship shape - time for a little R&R. Then, the shadow of doom crossed the threshold - Domestic Tyranny - armed with what looked like gardening equipment. "Whuzup"? say's I. Aye, there was no escape; trapped, without excuse. The attack beautifully managed; all escape routes covered.
“I hate gardening! What sort of a person has a power complex about flowers? It’s dictatorship for inadequates. Or to put it another way, it’s dictatorship.“
I hate gardening! There were plants to split, soil to be shifted and placed in new pots etc; insects and other stuff everywhere, hot, dirty work overseen by a daemon of the sixth hell. Eventually, I managed to limp off into the shower in time to light the BBQ and pull a well earned pint of good Ale. I could never see why 'man' must interfere with nature - let the bloody weeds triumph I say, let nature take it's course; there is a natural 'order' so why bugger about with it? - Anyway, as it happened, turns out that the natural order of things 'parliamentary' may yet be our only salvation.
"No clever arrangement of bad eggs ever made a good omelette."
You see; as it was explained to me over an Ale by an ex 'heavy duty' mandarin, there is a settled order to the way government, in the Westminster system operates and that the key to resolving many of the serious problems aviation faces is fully and freely available to any Minister who cares to ask for it. To say it was a fascinating lesson fails to encompass the shear logic; and, (N.B.) the horsepower a minister actually has, on tap. OK; short version: within the Canberra bubble there exists scions of the Mandarin dynasty; reared from birth to 'manage' the incomers. The real power and brains behind the ministerial charade. For when the minister (exeunt 'stage left') departs the fix, no matter what horror has been left behind, the Mandarins mop up the dross and keep the ship of state 'steady'.
There; lead in done, now to business. B Joyce Esq. has a problem; he, through a bipartisan agreement has no control whatsoever over a government agency which is 'rudderless' and creating havoc; the CASA. No matter how much he sings and dances; the die is cast. No matter how much he can see that radical change is required; or, that an industry is dying on it's feet; or, that the investors are leaving in droves - essentially he's as buggered as the industry is. Time to call in the experts - the Mandarins. Time to bring CASA back into the sphere of influence and intelligence provided by the heavy weight folk who can - if asked politely - put the genie back in the bottle. Sure, the minister would be 'responsible' but the back up would be there to ensure 'electoral' protection. The Mandarins are as concerned as industry is about the CASA antics and cost and total failure - probably even more so than a minister who may only be 'in power' for a short time. Listening to the logical, sensible mandarin over an Ale (or perhaps three) I fail to see why a clever fellahin, like Joyce, just don't call in the heavy mob and regain control, with full protection from the slings and arrows of those who have denied their sworn duty for decades and 'bipart insanely' stood back and allowed an industry to descend into the present sorry state.
No matter; it is cool evening, the dogs and cat have had great fun scavenging morsels of BBQ, the place is quiet, at peace. Instantly grounded by simply running a callused hand over an 1830 bench plane, fully restored and functional, a wonderful tool, hand made by the man who's name is stamped on the end; there is fame of the human kind; a humble man, earning penny's who created with his own hands a thing of beauty which still, to this day, performs it's design function effortlessly and flawlessly. Food for thought? Oh: You bet.
Selah...