Roman baths in the late republic and imperial era were much more than just public baths. My understanding is they were kind of a swimming pool complex with a gym, cafe and even meeting rooms. People moved through a range of different temperature pools, exercised, discussed sport, business and politics, wrestled, ate and escaped the heat or cold of the season. People used to love just there hanging. The emperor Caracalla had one build in the 200CE that was 330m square!


Last week whilst hanging around at Camperdown Fitness, I listened to a podcast and did an occasional movement with a heavy weight. I noticed a couple doing an extended bathhouse style session. You know, moving, talking, drinking, looking, etc. Halfway through a friend arrived to say hello, they sat on the ground in a circle for 15 mins and discussed sport, business and politics.


A few days prior to that I was with some people who had concluded doing something dirty and were on their way to a place which required them to be clean. They decided to not go home in between, instead to head To the local Anytime Fitness to use the sauna and then the showers.


People love gyms, and not just to exercise in. It’s a place to have a smoothy and talk about Crixus the Gaul or whoever is playing that weekend. 3.9% annual growth, every year for the last 5 in Australia. Gyms are going off, I’d like to think that if Caracalla were to drop into Sydney 1800 years after his time, he’d know where to go for a casual afternoon.

It was a long day of training. The team had done well, yet it wasn’t perfect. There was a bitterness about the mistakes. Rightly so.


With the cleats off we worked on recovery, breathing, focussing and cold water. Then there was the feat. We had to get the manager from the beach, to the pier ladder, without getting wet.


The young men worked with their muscles and their minds. They worked together and hauled their revered team manager high into the air and across the gap. There was sacrifice, there was effort. There was unity and success. At the end of it all there was a team, cheering, ready to face the challenges ahead at the World Championships.

My mate at work had plans to go to a Italian restaurant last week, table for two! On the day, she found out it would be just her - she decided to go anyway. This required courage, not first over the Theodosian Walls of Constantinople in 1453, but legitimate social-emotional courage none the less.


The other night Dani told a story of pain relief during delivery. The point was, the second time around she knew it was possible to have a baby without. She gathered up knowledge, determination and some courage then went into that significant day.


Now she’s a mum and there is plenty of courage required in that job too.


Happy Mother’s Day to mums and well done to everyone who’s found some courage recently

Anakan was found as a child with incredible potential in the Force.
Trump was elected because people believed he had the potential to drain the swamp.


Anakan gained in power and became the most powerful of all Jedi. The one who would bring balance to the Force.
Trump won his second election with an actual majority, a compliment Supreme Court and Republican Senate and House of Representatives. Ultimate US political power.


Anakan turned to the dark side, became Darth Vader and ruled the galaxy brutally on behalf the evil Sith emperor.
Trump started a global trade war, deported people to an El Salvadorian mega prison without trial and slashed public services through appointment of personally loyal key position appointees.


Darth Vader eventually destroyed the Emperor and saved the Galaxy.
Trump was so globally objectionable that conservative political movements with even a whiff of Trumpism lost elections everywhere and saved the galaxy?


May the 4th be with you.

Our younger dachshund Greta died three and a half years ago, Evie last week. It’s brought up a lot of thoughts and feelings for our 7 year old boy. He’s asking questions, we’re coming up with answers. Yesterday it seemed like he spontaneously thought up reincarnation, I told him his idea has a name and some people go for that belief. We’ve been asked what are the options for when we die, cremation is the popular choice in our house at the moment. As I say, a lot of thoughts and feelings.


Much like grief in my own life, the big feelings have flared up mostly around bed time for the little guy. The top bunk timbers have been groaning with the extra weight of a parent most nights this week.


On Friday we bought a small dachshund soft toy. Toy, I’ll just that again. A non living toy replica of a dog. The boy said “it’s soft like Evie, but looks like Greta. We should call her Grevie.” Apt. Grevie’s getting lots of hugs tonight.

Once, years ago, I had a lot of time and not much to do. So, I agreed to take the hounds and pick up the travelling superstar frisbee coach from the airport. Her name was Alex and everyone in town was excited she was coming to run a series of workshops - Alex was probably the best thrower in the World game.


I made Evie and Greta sit in the back because we had a special guest, they didn’t agree and continued to poke their noses forward, I elbowed them back, even though Alex said it was alright. She didn’t understand yet that if you give a dachshund and inch, they’ll take your lunch.


The tree lined streets of Canberra cruised by as Alex pretended to remember me from a tournament in 09, she really was a big star. We arrived at Jonno and Keah’s house where she’d be staying for the week, the hounds and I were also staying there for the week, just like we had for the 20 weeks prior.


Greta sprinted through the back door to bark at a bird, again. Evie sniffed Alex’s bags while everyone said hello and welcome. Alex said “the little dogs are cute”, Keah replied “I’m glad you think so.” Alex settled in and it was cup of tea time so we sat in the sunlight and talked about frisbee, adventure and old memories. For the next 2 days Alex was going to run training sessions for Canberra’s frisbee players. From the new talent all the way up to the National representatives, there would be great learning and insight.


Jonno said to Alex “the main rule of the house is to make sure you don’t keep any food down low.” “Oh sure” she replied unfazed, “I do actually have some incredible truffle coated chocolates as a gift for you, but they’re zipped in my bag up on the bed.”


Jonno and I looked under the table - no Evie, we looked outside, then at each other. Without explanation or warning we both broke from the table and charged upstairs to the guest room. The carnage was complete. The door was open, the waterproof field bag was unzipped, clothes were dispersed and a brightly coloured package lay in shreds on the bedspread.


As we entered the room Evie looked at us in triumph and a hint of the addict’s jealous fear. “These are mine” she said with her wide stance and cocked ears. “No they’re not!” I said by snatching her up into my arms. “Welcome to Australia” Jonno said sheepishly. “I thought I had to watch out for the snakes and spiders”, Alex murmured as we all traipsed back downstairs in a mix of disappointment, embarrassment and defiant glory.






This week, after nearly 18 years of successful food heists, we said goodbye to Evie the wonder dog. Ever vigilant, ever stubborn, forever hungry. She’s off on the next adventure and wherever you go to after you die, the people there better hide their snacks.

Two weeks ago I stood in an art gallery in Brisbane. This weekend I stood on a frisbee field in the middle of a rain cloud.


There are times when I find it very hard to write something every week. I’ve been doing it for a few years and my once a week streak has suffered this month.


The art gallery was filled with work by my dad. His first exhibition in 15 years and a real triumph to my mind. Talking a line for a walk, his new series that continues to give and give. Sharp corners and soft colours. It’s great stuff. He spoke at the opening about the creative process and open hands. He said that for years he’d been trying to clutch at creativity, to catch hold of a new idea and turn it into a work. This was not the way, he said. Recently he’d been visualising the process as waiting with open hands for the next ideas to come.


Conversely, the frisbee tournament in the rain featured 8 teams of players trying to close their hands at the exact right moment so that a disc was caught in there. This seemed to me to be the opposite strategy, waiting with open hands only serves for while, then you’ve got to take action.


I’m not completely sure what it all means for me and my weekly goal of sharing a thought here. I suppose I’ll keep my mind and hands open for now and see.

5 years ago I did not know anything about sailing, if there were 100 possible things to know about sailing in order to be the complete practical and theoretical sailor, I knew comfortably less than 0.1%


Now, there is a chance I’ve come all the way up to a percent, it’s been a big 5 years. Nearly all 1 percent of my sailing knowledge is about what teenagers from the north shore of Sydney do when they are put into one specific type of boat and asked to sail between Balmain and Greenwich. This, I know about.


Something I learnt about recently is 18ft Skiff racing in the Sydney Harbour. On a bright Sunday afternoon, with a strong breeze, Chris took us out into the middle of a race fleet. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t seem like it should be allowed. Yet there we were, amidst a very fast Skiff race.


The way this particular sailing craft works requires all 3 sailors to attach harnesses and “stand” on the very outer edge of the frame. I say “stand” because whilst they are in a standing posture, they’re also completely horizontal, literally parallel with the water. Observe the image attached. Spectacular!


My main learning though from the race was beyond the physical courage and skill required to sail these boats, I drifted on to other broader ideas. Each 18ft Skiff seemed to take a slightly different line around the course as they looked for more wind, tried to block the wind of their competitors or tacked around the harbour. From our vantage point in the middle of it all there were times when the race leader seemed to be behind the boats chasing and vice versa.


The nature of the open race course; with multiple avenues to round each mark, the shifting nature of the wind and tide and the quite large distances they were travelling, combined to create moments of complete uncertainty about relative positions.


It felt totally reflective of life and the uncertainty of forces that shape the race and our relative position. It’s confusing and deceptive when you look around the harbour and see that everyone is charging off on their own adventure, looking for their version of the best course. It can be hard to judge where you’re at and the best way to chase the goal.


Sometimes it feels like you’ve got space and time to look around and read the conditions, other times you’ve just got to trust the harness, lean out over the water and hold on.


There we go, I might be up to 1.1% of all possible sailing wisdom. All the best to the people in a ex-cyclone right now.


Thanks for the cruise and the lessons Chris.

I stayed up too late on Saturday night, not the responsible thing to do. We were up the coast at a beach house. Both families had successfully gotten to kids to bed. There was a bit of red wine, some chocolate. Then a bit of whisky.


Anyway, at about 10pm it was just me and Pete left charging - sedately on the couch to be honest. It was the decision point of the night, where either you, sensibly, pack it up and get a good nights rest, or you kick on and wake up tired at 5:30am with beach ready kids knocking on your temple.


We were talking about frisbee, an upcoming tournament and how the draw would be best worked. 8 teams, 5 games each, 3 fields, a showcase game at lunch. You know how it is, exciting possibilities. The tipping point of the night, we tipped. Out came the spreadsheet, laptop keys flying; columns, colours, formulas. At midnight I succumbed; enough fun! It’s good.


The draw though, chefs kiss. It’s going to be a top tournament. Worth the big night.

Most mornings I wake up to the sound of claws on the floor. Clickity clack, clickity clack, clicky clack. Evie the dachshund is 17 years old now. She doesn’t walk around too much anymore, but when she does, I hear it.


The floor upstairs is timber, downstairs - timber. The stairs, yes mam - timber.


Clickety clack, clickity clack, clickity clack. I hear it more with my feelings than with my ears. It’s loaded, we’ve a lot of history.


On Sunday I tried to read while the kids made Lego. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness I heard Evie shuffle down the stairs and clickity clack across the room. Heading out to the bathroom 5% of my brain thought.


Except that Evie wasn’t in the house. She was away with Jacqui for the weekend. It’s a funny old existence sometimes.


Clickity clack, clickity clack.