It's a funny thing, moving house, especially when you move to a place you've been chasing for two thirds of your life but step into the reality of making a living while attempting to live a dream.

We've dropped anchor four minutes from Bells, and an hour and a half from most of my life's work. Stuff is on the boil and I am now getting into gear for several projects that I have high hopes for. In the mean time the winds have been mostly from the devil direction, with weeks of on-shores, the odd smattering of off, and a little bit of swell.

My errant son has returned home with a carpetbag full of bad habits and an attitude to match, but I am glad to have him with us, bless his barbed wire, ...er cotton socks. Our journey continues.

Totally under inspired to write, mostly from utter shagged-ness, and too much to process as the emotional roller coaster of relocation lurches towards the scariest ride on Magic Mountain.

The highlights of three weeks so far include a high tide body bash with a hand board and small alaia yesterday just a 100 yards from home, and a few individual waves that have had me acting surprised that I did that.

Mostly though it is the intense quiet at night, albeit a quiet punctured at around 4am many mornings as a possum lands on the roof from a nearby tree with all the finesse of a fat burgler. You read it right. Nothing catlike about this creature.

Must be eating  a lot of some neighbour's fruit.

It ain't coming from me.

Pics. A couple of dawns over the past few days, plus our friendly new pets having their morning snack, and a young Chinese lass, visiting Bells, with a clear lifetime companion in Little Pooh Bear, on location. 

I'm pinching myself all this is out the back door.

Well it's been quite a while since the last post, for a variety of reasons, but one great big one in particular.


We moved house.


A long time coming, and driven mostly by circumstances financial and unwanted, but the up side is it has forced our hands and moved us to the coast. It is a big punt, income sources become just that little more classed in the maybe department, but I... we, have to say it is much quieter at night. 


I expect when there is a swell that might not be the case, as, as the crow flies we are about 200 metres if you're lucky from the mighty Southern Ocean, and exactly four minutes by car from the Bell's car park.


Yes, I timed it. And I can run there in fifteen...(ish)


Fortuitously we have moved in in a two weeks of onshores run, which has been good as there have been no distractions from the traumas of home making. Needless to say I will have my ear out for the boom of the next swell and look forward to getting more surf fit that I've been for many a long year, and working hard to make my sun damaged skin even more so.


Outside of this I've been developing a project that hopefully will give birth to more in a similar vein. I had the pleasure, a few weeks back, of interviewing a great man named Sir Gustav Nossal, and later bending an hour and a half conversation on a life devoted to fundamental discoveries in immunology, into four and a half minutes.


My aim was to get to the heart of a man who manages to blend humility with a vast and potent intellect. The piece has now gone up on The Conversation, a new forum for, as they describe it, scientific rigour with journalistic flair.  It is well worth exploring. 


As for my chances for getting more of these off the ground, I could do with a few positive responses. First cab's off the rank have been great, but the more, and the more international, the merrier.


I rarely ask for help, but please hop on line and say how much you like it. 


But only if you do.


Pics: Sir Gus, and my new home break... (not that you haven't seen it before)..



In Conversation with Gus Nossal from conversationEDU on Vimeo.