It's another bloody week and I better put something in this space.

On the way down on Sunday for a splash I nearly crashed as I passed through Geelong as some wag had mixed around the letters on the little Uniting Church in Grovedale.

Instead of God Loves You or Jesus Saves, the clever dick had fiddled 'round and God Loves Deep Anal greeted the passers by as the poor parishioners filed into Church. It was gone as I drove home but I must admit to a few tears of laughter as I headed towards Torquay.

The weekends waves were a mixed affair. Nice, but inconsistent 3-4foot waves on the Surf Coast and my session at Bells on Sunday was a little marred by a group of guys on longboards who all paddled out together and then took turns on the few waves coming in... to the detriment of every other surfer in the water.

I couldn't be bothered with all of that so paddled up to Rincon where I eventually got a long and passable one, didn't go all the way through but it was ok. Then back to the Bowl and snagged a couple that were, well one that was ok, where I actually felt good, but it's been a while since I had a good go at it and what with the bung leg I've got more excuses than I usually have and I've usually got a few.

Out in the water too, was Damien Hardman, former very low key World Champ, who between ripping the top right off a few waves, was pushing his daughter into the odd insider.

My board this day was an asymmetrical 6'2" creation of Maurice Cole's. He loaned his to me to try out and I'd like to try more. He's full of surprises that lad.

And picture for the day is Back to the Banyaks. This was forwarded to me recently and comprises the entire motley band of Old Farts, with the oldest of them all in a borrowed pair of shorts and my favourite rag of a T, on the extreme right. Last Day. Wish We Were There.

Fun and games at home lately, the kids being right little ... teenagers, which has only added to my disinclination to post over the past few days.

That and the news that a really good mate decided to do the right thing and get a medical because as an early fifties type it's the responsible thing to do... only to find he has advanced prostate cancer.

Fuck me why would anyone go to a doctor's?

He's taking it as you would would expect from him... I quote: "bugger it... I'll work twice as hard, surf twice as much and I'm damn sure gonna take a few with me"

From that you'll gather he's not the usual roll over and die type and he even has plans to either top himself by learning how to sky dive and neglecting to pull the cord, or get towed into the biggest possible wave at one of our hell spots down here, pull in and not come up. My response to the last comment was "yeah but it'd be just like you to make the bloody wave."

Laugh... we almost cried.

Still, I sense a certain understandable dread of bald and bedridden as it's not him at all, so to be honest I'd respect the exit strategy. That being said there's a lot of fight there and I hope the initial prognosis is tempered a little.
Since I'm not one for prayers it's time for a reprise of the Great Ringworm in the sky.

Well if I thought it was cold last time I had a splash the Abominable Ice Chicken came home to roost yesterday as I ventured out at Bells with an air temp of around 5C and wind chill that would have pushed it close to ZERO.

Now I know some of you Canadian or UK surfers would go "ya bloody softy", but with holes in your booties and a two year old 4/3 wetty, it was enough to restrict me to just under three hours and a cry of "my legs, ah can't feel mah legs!" by the time I exited stage left.

On top of that as the first surf in three weeks, with a bung leg, my contribution to the action in the water was even more lackluster than normal, and that's saying something. The visual highlight from me may have been the limping crab walk as I staggered up the beach, .... and I've decided, despite the warmth, I hate hoods, at least at the moment. No doubt my view will change by the next surf as blinkered or not it's better than an ice cream headache and chill blains on the ears.

Pics today are of said freezing Bells, and a view across to Winki, which I have to admit, may have been a better option if the view from the carpark was any indication.

Hopefully soon I'll manage a surf somewhere different. I'm getting deja vu a bit, looking at these snaps.

I just had to share this, courtesy of Niega.

Sorry all for not posting.

The waves have been either crappy when I can go, or it's been 'politically incorrect' to disappear for the day, and to top it off running across the road to get out of the way of an approaching car the other day I tore a muscle in my leg and had to hobble back to the office, even being passed by an old lady as I limped along.

It's getting better and hopefully I'll be able to surf on it in time for the what looks to be fun weekend.

Some good things going on now though. The Musica Surfica DVD is finished, finally, with the menus working, voice overs in place and now we're just finalising music for the soundtrack CD.

There's even an outside chance I'll be heading to New York next month to attend the New York Surf Film Festival. If so I hope to pop in for a few days on the West Coast to try and get it into the appropriate shops and perhaps get some waves. Couches gratefully accepted if anyone has one as the budget will be a bit tight I suspect.

Some lucky soul might even be lucky enough to see me flail down a wave... swell permitting. The last time I was over there I had a splash at Malibu and even got a pass into The Ranch. (My mate Brian was a pal of Glen Kennedy's, and we all went for a little expedition one day and got nice Drakes to ourselves. )

Which reminds me of a story.

A couple of years back I was working with a copywriter who hailed from LA in an earlier life.
Not a surfer but we got talking about family and stuff one day. He mentioned the family inheritance that had been sold off years before. The money was almost all gone now and there was an 'if only' element to his musings.

It turns out his Mum was a Hollister, and for a brief period in his childhood he was a co-owner of ... you guessed it, that Holy of Holies Wave Haven just north of Santa Barbara.

I nearly choked on my butternut snap biscuit when he told me that.

Pic for today is from my mate Rod. He is deep in production of his Latest Calendar, this years edition being a digression from many on the Great Ocean Road. This time it is on the Surfers Coast, and the cover is our dear Bells looking quite tasty and a tad busy, but tempting nevertheless.