This is my unofficial post for the August Blog-Chain, a story using the prompt "August-as in majestic" there were moments when I wondered if I could get a story that came somewhere near the prompt.  The Christian link is tenuous though, I have found two references one to Caesar in Matt 22:21 and the Census decree that was sent out by Caesar Augustus in Luke 2:1.

This year in Australia the 9th August was our Census night so I thought that some sort of Roman theme was going to be the basis for my story, hope you enjoy.  

A BUSTED CASE.

'You don't mind that he painted the wall that way?' asked Detective Peter Warner.

'John was a good artist,' said Diana Talbot.

Wattle

That was true John Kyne was brilliant.  Majestic in the sense of an old master, you came in from the outside to the outside.  The window had an archway painted around it, and around the archway twisted a deep red rose.  As the window was only a half wall type, John had painted a path underneath the bottom of the window.

The path meandered through a garden.  On the edges of the path were gladiolus, poppies, violets, marigolds, daffodils, pansies, snapdragons and other flowers Peter didn't know the names of.  Flowers rioted in blues, reds, purples, pinks and oranges.  The brilliant yellow of wattle trees flanked the edge of the garden in the mural.  Peter had never seen these plants flower together but in this bedroom garden they worked

'That's new,' said Diana.  She pointed to a plinth with a head on it.

'Suits the garden,' said Peter.  'What do you know about John's movements on the weekend?'

'Not a lot, I wasn't here, went to Ocean Grove with some friends on Thursday, we caught some awesome surf at Bells.  That’s why I only got back this morning.  I found out something was wrong when you called.'

'I've been trying to get you since Friday.'

'Phone went flat, forgot to pack my charger, only plugged the phone in just before you rang,' said Diana.

'You haven't checked your calls then.'

'Why?  Most of them were from you, weren’t they, and besides, I don't usually answer numbers I don't know.'

'John rang you at 10.32am Friday.  What was the call about?' asked Peter.

Diana was surprised that the Detective knew about her phone calls.  She said

'It wasn't really a phone call.  John left me a message, to let me know that he had emailed me some pictures of his Pompeii room.  He wanted me to print them off as photos, he really was good, the room he did, was a replica of a Roman Villa.  He copied the mosaic floors and walls that have been found in Pompeii, that’s what the client wanted.'

'You don't know who he did that room for do you?'

'I think it was a friend of his father's.  I was not happy about the job, but John wanted to try to make peace with his father.  And it wasn't a good idea for John to do the job.  It took him eight months, being round his father….He came back here two weeks ago on anti-depressants.'

'John didn't get on with his father?'

'No, some people just shouldn't be parents.  They mess their kids up.  I think there was a problem with being paid; John's father is not poor, being a Theologian and Historian something at one of the Universities in town.  You'd think that…all I know is that John had an argument with is dad about it, I just didn't think it messed him that bad,' said Diana who was visibly upset thinking about John and his father.

'You liked John.'

Diana nodded, and said.

'We have been friends since High School, sometimes hope and waiting are just not enough.'

'Have you got a copy of the pictures that John sent you?'

'Yes, I'll print you a set, but they won't be on photo paper.'

Peter did not mind, he was curious to see what the last project had been.  Diana bought the file up, pressed print and after a few minutes handed Peter the pictures.  Rich burnt red walls leapt out at Peter, not a colour I would want to come home to, he thought.

A square spiral border painted in white with gold shading topped the mural, which started thirty centimetres below the join of the wall and ceiling.  Underneath this border was a man dressed in a toga, sitting on a stone seat, Peter thought it looked like a throne, but he didn't think it was supposed to be.  Women dressed in long tops over pleated skirts seemed to be walking past the man as if the he was inspecting them for some reason.

Another panel had a group of men sitting in a garden, from their postures you got the impression that the men were in serious discussion with each other.  Another panel had pictures of animals and birds interwoven with flowers.  One picture caught Peter's attention.  On the wall a throne was painted, there was no doubt about that chair.  It was most definitely a throne.  In front of the throne was a plinth with a bust, the same bust John had painted on his wall.

Peter walked over to the picture of the bust in John's bedroom and looked closely at it.  Then back to the photo of the Pompeii room, in that picture the bust was not a painting but a statue.  A copy, or could someone afford the real thing, Peter wondered.

'You notice that the head sits on a tag, see the name on the tag, Augustus,' said Diana

Peter looked closer the bedroom wall.  The bust was sitting on a tag, only it wasn’t a tag.  Peter had seen plenty of those tickets, and he knew where it came from.  The question is, he thought, why is the bust, in the bedroom picture sitting on a pawn ticket?

'So where is this Pompeii room located?' asked Peter.

'I don't know, John would not say when he came back here, something or someone twisted his life, I didn't think he was bad enough to kill himself though,' said Diana.

'Perhaps he didn't,' said Peter.  'Might just have misjudged the effect that alcohol and anti-depressant medication had, when taken together.  We know that he was drinking heavily at the Octagon Club with some of his friends from University; he was with them when he collapsed.'

'His father is responsible,' said Diana.

Peter sighed, Diana Talbot was probably right, she sensed something was amiss, so did he, but what did he have, an argument with a father, an upset child who goes out drinking with his friends, disregards medication warnings.  The autopsy had not picked up anything to say otherwise, everything was explained, and yet…….

Peter could hear his Boss; write it off as an accident, feelings are not evidence of a murder.  Remember I have a budget to control, and when a maniac decides to kill two constables on the 15th of March and it takes my detectives working too many hours till the 10th of August to get a result…don't go playing TV cop, it was a bad mistake, leave it at that.

'I'm sorry,' Peter said.  'John's father probably had something to do with his son's death, but as far as I know, I can't charge the man with being a difficult parent.  I haven't any evidence to suggest that John's death was anything more than misadventure.  I'm sorry John is dead, he was a most brilliant artist.  Anyone who sees these bedroom walls will miss him.'

Peter stood in silence for a minute mourning the loss, then he left, he could do nothing more for Diana Talbot.

 FREEDOM

 I apologise for getting this up late, there are many reasons for this, mid winter holidays with all the family members home was the biggest distraction, computer problems, now sorted, was another, so please consider this as 28th July,

 My thoughts on the Christian Writers theme for July expressed in a fiction story

'This,' said Tracey pointing to the uneaten pile of chocolate biscuits and bars in the middle of Rebecca's bed, 'is not one of our better ideas, I feel awful.'  Tracey picked up a cushion and tossed it onto the top of the uneaten chocolates.  'I can't eat any more, if I do….'

'Yeah I'm about the same,' said Rebecca.

The two girls heard a knock on the door, they watched as the door opened, 'Just thought I'd offer you two girls a cup of hot chocolate.'

'We're okay mum' said Rebecca.

'Okay, if you're sure.'

'We're sure mum.'

Rebecca rolled her eyes, 'I don't have any freedom around here, I feel that I'm being watched all the time.'

'I know what you mean, but I would have said yes to a hot chocolate if I hadn't eaten so much chocolate.  I like your mum's hot chocolate,' said Tracey.

Rebecca agreed, her mum did make a mean hot chocolate, but the thought of more chocolate only made her feel worse.  She had been convinced that their chocolate purchases would not be enough for the sleepover feast; now not even half way through what they had bought, Rebecca was thinking that someone should have said something about too much chocolate.

'I wish we had hired a film instead of buying all that chocolate,' said Tracey.

'Yeah, but we planned a chocolate feast.'

'We need some sort of guide, to protect us from us,' said Tracey.  'Being allowed to choose what you want doesn't come with a manual does it?'

'I think mum hoped that we would buy clothes,' said Rebecca.  'Maybe doing something because you can is not a very good reason to do it.'

'Freedom has rules?' said Tracey

'Maybe it does.'

The two girls were silent for a while thinking about what they had said.  Feeling sick because you ate too much of a good thing wasn't good.  Buying a lot of chocolate wasn't bad if you were going to share it with your friends or brothers and sisters.

'If freedom has rules, we need to make some so we know how to work freedom?' as Rebecca.

'How about we start with the Ten Commandments?' said Tracey

'We can't do that.'

'Why not,' asked Tracey.

'Because that sounds like my mum,' said Rebecca.

'It does; scary thought to sound like a mum.'

'Maybe that's the secret, that a mum's freedom or anyone's freedom has limits'.

'Oooh I hope not, what's the point of getting older if you don't have freedom?' asked Tracey.

'We won't have a choice about getting older,' said Rebecca.  'But we do have a choice about what we do, maybe that is what freedom is, not doing something but choosing to do something or not to do something.'

'And you can make a good choice or a bad choice, we still need that manual,' said Tracey.  She grabbed a handful of eaten chocolate wrappers and said while she held them, 'was a bad choice, this many, we didn't need.'

FRESH AIR

I watch the golden sand beach that closes into a point on the horizon, first to the right, then to the left. I can see one lone fisherman, two hundred metres distance. He holds his rod still and straight, like a praying mantis, waiting for a catch. 

There have been other visitors to the beach, smudged footprints, just out of wave wash reach can still be seen. A grey-green crumpled paper sea is rocking gently to shore. Looking out to sea, a thin vertical mark can be seen where the water meets the sky, so thin that if you didn't know it was there to be seen, you would miss it. Man claims his oil. 

Is that all life is? Energy. What happens when you run out of energy? Easy, go and buy more petrol. Works for a car, but not for me. I wish life was that easy. 

I am like a piece of driftwood washed up on the shore, hoping there is more to life, but fearing there might not be. How long do I wait? Will I ever know? I cannot wait here on the shore, if I stay here this will be the end. I want a beginning, but my sea, my life, is large and uncharted.

I have to leave, if only I could put the seaside air in a can, because any can of air fresh bought, is not like the air here, calming and relaxing, incense, myrrh, the embalming fragrance and wound dressing. Is that the perfume that the Mary's took with them? I need their Gardener. Weeds smother me. 

Clearing an overgrown garden takes time, I pray and wait, like the mantis. One day soon, I hope my path will have fewer weeds, and I won't feel so smothered. Then I will be able to walk in the fresh air alongside the Gardener.

Winter Solstice

Morning and light rain is swept across town by wind that has blown in from Antarctica. Winter is only twenty-one days old and grips the shortest day of the year with chilled claws.

Cats with cabin fever ask to go out, five minutes later they want to come back in. I have lost count of how many times I have repeated this today. They just can't believe the wind is so cold.

I spent the day with a good book, and the heater helped too. 

My cats, now that the sun has set, are seated in their favourite chairs, they are pleased with themselves, it is so much easier to hunt off their companion, and are happy to sleep inside tonight.

Tomorrow my sunlight allocation increases, a tiny, tiny bit, and winter will be another day gone. I can't complain, dare not complain, this wet winter is so, so, better than a dry one. 

 

Should we have a Carbon Tax?

Denmark has had a Carbon Tax for around 18 years and while the tax generates some 700 million euros a year, has not been as successful at reducing carbon emissions as hoped. Denmark has the same level of carbon emission it had in 1990 and people are querying why the taxing of carbon has not produced a better result.

Industry in Denmark has been blamed for absorbing most of the gains achieved by the individual. But is industry all bad? Some industries like mining are essential to life as we now know it. I just don't fancy cutting my steak with a stone blade, not to mention all the cutting and dicing by butchers and abattoirs before it reaches my metal frying pan.

Then I took a look at what I do in a day, from driving a car, using public transport or riding a bike to work; think about it, a bike is made in a factory from metal and plastic, not as green as thought. I sit in front of a computer for an hour or two, the hot cups of coffee, breakfast, lunch, food cold or cooked not to mention delivery to the shop I buy the food from. I'm not even halfway though my day and I realise that I am alarmingly dependant on carbon emitting industry, and that just simply taxing industry may not be enough.

So what can be done to reduce carbon without making life overwhelmingly expensive for the individual? Could we find other ways to reduce carbon? Perhaps the classic low tech tree planting, don't scoff, they do absorb carbon. To the drastic action of closing down all coal fired electricity, world wide, the inconvenience of this action is mind boggling, just think of where the electricity that is in the lines comes from, and just because you subscribe to green energy does not mean that is what you get.

And then, the quandary that the Amazon rain forest as we know it, that magical carbon absorbing region of trees and vegetation, may only be 500 years old, is in archaeological circles, gaining increasing acceptance. I thought the rain forest had been there for as long as the planet earth set course around the sun. I may have been mislead, just proves that what you think is correct, might not be the case.

Then we need to work out why the oceans aren't absorbing as much carbon as they use to, this alone would increase carbon in the atmosphere. Is low absorption rate just a cycle in the life of oceans or is there something amiss, or have we fixed the problem and what we are seeing is the tale end of the cycle that caused the ozone hole.

Even the mammoths extinction has been blamed on climate change induced by humans. I just can't cope with the concept that hunters with bows, arrows and stone axes wiped out the mammoths. Prehistoric cultures used every last piece of the animal, and so far, I have not found an explanation produced by climate scientists for the snap frozen mammoths that are still found in the Russian permafrost. If man is responsible for the extinction how come so many beasts were frozen? It seems to me that climate change got the mammoth not man. The question should be, what caused the climate to swing so disastrously to cold? Not the easy assumption, that a man walk passed and the climate changed.

Is a carbon tax the right way to deal with the rising carbon levels? Or should we be encouraging wind and solar for starters, weaning ourselves off electricity derived from burning coal rather than quick sudden withdrawal, at the same time expanding bio fuels, carbon eating bacteria, microbes and algae research for our future energy requirements.

The future will be decided by politicians, who they listen to, who they believe is right, that a carbon tax might be more than an individuals finances can cope with, I fear, is not high on the agenda. I question if we may have crossed the line of no return already, there is some evidence to say that climate is different. If we have crossed the line, what ever we do, will not be enough, the only thing that seems to be guaranteed is change, like it or not.

My email provider has a problem

I have spent months being frustrated by my email account with dodo.  Some days the account works fine, I can do everything you expect to be able to do with an email account, other days, the more common days, I spend two to ten minutes waiting to see the screen either open an email or delete the mail I don't want to keep.

On really, really bad dodo email account days I need at least two tries to get the selected emails to either open or delete. My most practised option is to go away.

Then there are the occasions when you might just think an email you have been sent is worthy of the spam file, I tried and my email account for reasons I don't understand cannot cope with this filing command, of course I might have hit the spam button on a bad day.

Just to make sure it was not my computer I ran a search through google, and what did I find? Phew, the provider has problems, but they don't want to discuss their problems with account holders and that the company is in denial about any problems with their email account service. This was the view expressed by individuals who had complained.

What did I do? I thought that seeing the complaints had already been made and that posts expressing disgust at the lack of care for customer culture of the said company, I might be wasting time even trying to complain about the dysfunction of my email account, so I explored a service offered by googles gmail-accessing mail from another account.

SUCCESS and how blissful it is to have access to my emails and to work in an account that does as soon as you click a function.

I have to add though, that not all dodo's customer service is bad. I have had times when I needed to sort out connection problems, the IT service side is excellent, also the cost of having an account with dodo is what I want to pay for an internet provider, which is as little as possible. That is possibly why I stayed, but now with my google gmail I am smiling and no longer worry about logging into dodo email.