Parachute 05

Mystery Creek - it sounds like a BBC soap opera.

"Well now on BBC ONE, it's all happening in the lives of the residents of... Mystery Creek." :)

In fact, this weekend Mystery Creek in Hamilton was playing host to the Parachute Christian rock festival - sort of like Greenbelt, but smaller and not as hot. :)



Having had recent dealings with Life fm, Rhema, Hope City FM and (to a lesser extent) Detour 180, I really reckoned I just had to go.

Therefore last Friday morning I prayed "Dear God. If you want me to go to Parachute, then have me go. If you don't, then stop me." Within 3 hours, quite unexpectedly, I was given a free tent, sleeping-bag and groundsheet. That had taken some divine setting-up.


Thus on Saturday evening at about 8pm I arrived in the soapily-named Mystery Creek in Hamilton, pitched said tent, and headed-off to watch, among others, Audio Adrenaline and Brooke Fraser (7.5 out of 10 - I'm sorry, I like her singing, but I just didn't go much on her chatting).


I spent that night vomitting more wholly and completely than ever before in my entire life. I swear there was nothing else left to come out of me. In my Top 10 Most Painful Conditions I'd Suffered, this was a new entry straight in at number 1, but for me the biggest mystery in Mystery Creek was... why?

As my spinning head hung down a public toilet (some distance from my tent), all my attempts to trace this back to something I'd eaten just drew a blank. Eventually, after well over an hour, I staggered outside, only to realise that I wasn't going to make it, and returned for a second sitting, or more accurately a second sicking.

There was no doubt about it. I was going home. Home? The youth hostel??? What would be better there - being stomach-twistingly ill in a tiny windowless cupboard with 3 other, increasingly nervous, roommates? No, I was well and truly off-the-scale here. I'd been hospitalised twice in my life, for broken bones, but I'd never, ever, been this ill.

I knew people who lived nearby, but while I thought they would help, this was not the way to get in touch. It was time to do the unthinkable. It was time to call in my insurance policy. I needed a hospital.

I was weak. I was beaten. I was going.

Then I remembered - I had to give glory to God in these situations.

So I forced the words together.

Trying to concentrate on the site-map for the umpteenth time, I figured-out where the medical tent was, and staggered, bent-double and shaking with cold, outside and across the freezing grass. It was only about 100 metres away.

It was too far.

I have absolutely no idea how long I lay unconscious for in a freezing cold field in the dead of night, with a pile of vomit next to my mouth.

When I finally came round, I found the medical tent, and went in knowing how drunk/high this lifelong tee-totaller would look, despite his protests.

Steve (slurring) "Bud I'm nod drunker."
Doctor with hypo "No Mr Goble, of course you're not. (whispers) Nurse - fetch the chains."

In truth those volunteers who were kind enough to stay up all night, it has to be said, really couldn't offer me much. But what they could offer I was glad of. Light, a blanket, some hot chocolate that I couldn't keep down, and company. I slipped onto autopilot and began interviewing one of them about his photographic hobby. I remember little else, other than being given a bit of water with a pill (I never take pills, except today) and the advice "When you get back to your tent [on the far side of the site] put on all your warm clothes."

When I got back, it was gone 7am. People were waking up. There was that hum of people, music, microphones starting early and feedback tuning-up that you always get around you in a tent. I struggled into what warm clothes I had brought to go camping in in summer, and an hour later realised what a mistake this was. The sun was up. I was in a tent. I was trussed-up like an eskimo and too tired to take anything off. I had started the hour with no moisture at all in my body, and now I had even less.

I really don't know whether anything that happened in the next 4 hours counts as sleep, just as I don't think that time with one's eyes shut on a long-haul aeroplane counts. At some point I stripped-off and, instead of merely cooking, drowned. The prospect of doing anything that day, especially staying, was impossible, especially when it would all start with having to figure out complicated things like finding and negotiating a cramped port-a-shower.

Eventually, at about noon, I gave up on sleep and ventured out into the beating midday midsummer sun. And I had breakfast.


And I made about 200 iced coffees on the Rhema tent, where God also provided a free lunch and dinner. And I made and saw some more friends. I even saw a play "It's Not Too Late" about the terrible Columbine massacre.

Jesus never refused to heal anyone. He also paid for our healing. Sickness was never part of God's plan, which makes it part of Satan's.

The provision of a free tent appears to be from God to get me there.

The sickness appears to be from Satan, to get me away.

There appears to have been a rather fought-over reason why I was there.

Litter Thugs

Dreamt that there were 2 or 3 people dropping litter around the corner from me in the UK. I chalenged the 3 of them, so 12 people attacked me. Then 3 people saved me.

My memory has been going steadily downhill since arriving here. I meet so many new people, that you would expect me to improve at remembering names and faces, but nah. While undoubtably I have developed myself since being here, the world around does not appear to. As a result, with no changes around me, every day seems the same. JP described life at ACB as "like every day is Groundhog Day." I wouldn't have minded if he hadn't said this every single day.

Today, for instance, (I think, I got the date of this account mixed up) I got talking to this complete stranger who knew me.

Sojourn in Sydney, Day #6 of 6: Goodnight, Sydney

This morning, I strolled down to Drummoyne Presbyterian Church, where a guy called Darryl was speaking about Psalm 42. Inwardly I murmered "Pleeeeease go on to cover Psalm 43 as well, show it in context." Then, sure enough, he did! After the service we got chatting. It never fails to impress me that one can walk into a church, form a healthy friendship for 15 minutes, pray for each other and then go our separate ways, never to catch-up again until Heaven.

Afterwards, since their washing-machine began smoking yesterday, (I thought it was a bit young, meself) Dave and Fionnuala headed around to her sister's house to do my laundry for me, whilst I visited Koala Park.


Just as when I had visited NZ last year intending to see a kiwi, today was my final chance on this trip to see a real koala bear! Just like the one featured on my very first Safari Card! And if they didn't have them in Koala Park, then I sure wanted to know just who they did have parked in there. In fact, I found quite a menagerie.


Generic koala.


Kangaroos.


Emu!


Cassowary.


Budgies!


Ronnie Corbett. (I'm not making this up you know)

After that it was time to pick up my laundry, and drive around a bit until it was time to jump on the plane back to Auckland.

I had a really, really nice week with Dave and Fionnuala. They were great fun to spend time with, it's a shame we never got around to looking at the Bible like the old days.

As I said at the start, the nicest thing was the week's normality. I remember a few years ago bemoaning to someone that I couldn't justify taking a holiday unless I'd earnt it. My trip to Crete in 2003 was the first one I'd had in 4 stressful years, so I had definitely earnt that one. NZ in Feb/March 2004 (and indeed in July) was a case of following God, so they were service. But Australia 2005 was definitely a holiday that I needed, and had worked for.

What a shame I got back to my room in Auckland to find my bag had been stolen.

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Sojourn in Sydney, Day #5 of 6: Opera Of The Daleks (from the aborted 1990 series)

The day began with my helping Scottish Dave move a desk across town from his workplace. This was strangely reminiscent of helping move his house in 2003.

Afterwards he, Fionnuala and myself headed off to see the Sydney Opera House in daylight.

It be an evil-looking building up close, bain't it? We'll return to this point.

Afterwards we headed down to The Domain park for a sort-of rainy open-air concert by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Here we discovered that all the best seats had been reserved for VIP guests, so during the interval we, well we, well, well what would you have done? It was raining, and they all got free food for goodness sake.


The theme was, rather loosely, science-fiction, allowing for us to enjoy Star Wars, Holst's Mars and the obligatory closing 1812 Overture with fireworks. Two things to note about this final track:

1. It was sort of a Farscape track, although I think I was the only one present who was aware of this.

2. The fireworks started off beautifully. First a few rockets were let-off from the roof of a nearby skyscraper, beginning a lovely subtle build-up to the final devastation that this piece always excels at. Except that it never got that far. Those few rockets off that building over there - that's yer lot. A month later, Auckland would do it so much better. (6.5/10)

After that, Scottish Dave and Fionnuala headed back home, whilst I carried on back to the Sydney Opera House with Mary-Ann, Sonia, Danny and Rita, the last of whom was now apologising for having insulted Britain's fine tradition of weather on Thursday. Smart girl. By now it was bucketing down. I'm starting to like her.

Finally I stomped in the rain around the full perimeter of the opera house, determined to snap a moody shot of it's rugged features at night. Which brings us back to the start of today's entry. Just why does the Sydney Opera House hold such a fascination for me?

Well, back in 1995, while I was working at the BBC Film and Videotape Library, we received some returned 'lost' Doctor Who footage from Patrick Troughton's debut serial Power Of The Daleks. There was only about 2 minutes of it, as it had survived purely as a trailer that Dalek-creator Terry Nation had put together to try to sell a series about the Daleks to Hollywood with. For reasons that probably died with him in 1997, he'd just taken these stock shots of Daleks from the episode, and intercut them with a big evil alien-looking building to appear to be their base. The building? The then still under construction and hence publicly-hated Sydney Opera House. So was this curious design, supposedly based upon orange peel, intended to look like the Earth of the future, or a building on the Daleks' home-planet of Skaro? I'll let you decide...




Daleks, yesterday.

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Sojourn in Sydney, Day #4 of 6: "Behold, I Give You...The Sydney Monorail!"

Naaah, it's not for you. It's really more of an American idea.

About a month ago, in Auckland, I found an Australian Subway sandwich loyalty card, with 2 of its required 8 stamps already affixed. Over subsequent weeks, God provided enough NZ stamps for me to complete the card. Now all I needed to do was pop over to Australia and use it. Today on George Street, my plans came to fruition!

Also today, I was given a 10% off voucher for the Virtual Tour Of Australia available inside Sydney Tower. (the giant cotton-reel-like structure below)


Well of course, since this voucher had only had a few hours to sink into my mind, I got there, paid, and totally forgot to use it.

The idea of paying hard-won money to travel to Sydney for a Virtual Tour Of Australia inside a windowless room at the bottom of the city's tallest tower appealed to my love of originality so much, that I was helpless not to try it out. And anyway, they wouldn't let me up to the Sydney Tower's 360-degree viewing room without buying it as part of the entry-package.

This was, without a doubt, the finest multimedia presentation I have ever seen. I mean in 1996 I thought Victoria (in Canada)'s model village chronicling Earth's future was a pretty neat idea, but that was just peanuts compared to the Sydney Tower's Virtual Tour Of Australia, listen. (and so on)

First we watched a harmlessly funny health and safety video.

Then we sat in a darkened room wearing stereo headphones. (for some reason the lead comes out of the left channel down here, unlike in the UK where it always comes out of the right)

As we listened, we looked through a long window at a beautiful elaborate model of an Australian farm, on which a little holographic presenter chatted to us and threw his boomerang off to our left. We then heard said boomerang flying behind us, and all around the room until the little holographic guy's little holographic dog caught it on our right. The guy and his dog then got into their little holographic car and drove off behind a tree, emerging on the other side as an identical model car, and driving away into the back of the set. There was some clever conjuring going on here, not least because there were 4 separate holograms operating simultaneously, with their overlapping actions locking together in perfect unison, like a very finely-honed magic act.

As if that wasn't enough, the entire room then rotated us all to the left, depositing us in front of a second window, this time of a city roof-scape. Here a similar 3-minute presentation took place, followed by a further 4 scenarios. These included a beach and an undersea submarine.

After this enchantment was over, we reached the tour's only low-point - the virtual cave. That's right - the Virtual Tour Of Australia indoors at the bottom of the city's tallest tower also boasted a fake cave that we could walk in, just like a party of real tourists.

In recent years I've seen a few real caves, most notably in Slovakia, Crete and Waitomo. This one was necessarily small (smaller than, say, a room), and by definition fairly unimpressive, with typically cavey things found in generic caves the world over. Rock walls. Stone ground. Fire exit. Zowie.

Finally we got to go on the Imax ride, with 3 screens to fill up both our normal and peripheral vision. These things never convince me that I'm actually flying, but I was well impressed at the sheer level of thought that had gone into assembling the entire tour. Apart from in the cave we had the same 2 tour guides all the way, even though they'd taped all their inserts (presumably) years ago.

At last, having been denied the chance to do the whole thing again (they'd have said yes in NZ), I went up to the viewing platform at the very top of the tower, and listened to an hour-long talk on points of interest that we could see out of the giant panoramic windows.


Just as when I'd climbed (taken the lift up) the Sky Tower in Auckland 10 months ago, it was time for the sun to set, making for some majestic sights.



(yes, these pictures actually are in the correct order)

But the day's true highlight was yet to come...

Earlier in the afternoon, as I'd been waiting for the lights to change on George Street, I suddenly noticed a massive horizontal girder lurching out above the street in front of me.

On the side was written a truly iconic word. What was it called?


Ahhh yes - the Sydney Monorail!!!

Now that it was night, and I actually had somewhere to go, (Railway Square) this was my chance to fulfil my lifelong ambition.

I eagerly I bought myself some chocolate and a flavoured milk drink. (in retrospect, I realised this should have included a doughnut) All prepared, I then walked up the steps of the nearest Monorail station, purchased my 1 journey Monorail Token (coin) and keenly slotted it into the turnstile. Already my heart was thumping "Monorail. Monorail. Monorail. Monorail."

I enjoyed the whole circuit more than 3 times, and you know, it's true what they say. They really do glide as smoothly as a cloud, the track does bend (on the corners) and, yes Sir, there really is nothing quite like a genuine bona-fide electrified 2-car monorail!

Ahhh...it was like riding on air.

(apart from the monorail part)

Now all I need is a Top Trumps set.

More on monorails: http://www.monorails.org
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Sojourn in Sydney, Day #3 of 6: There's Something About Manley

Awoken at 8am by the following plot-setting exposition from Scottish Dave: "Steve, when you leave the house to come and meet me at Circular Quay to go snorkeling at Manley this afternoon - can you bring my rucksack with you? I'm leaving it right here, just by the door. You won't forget it now, will you? It's got all our snorkeling gear in it."

I gave him the thumbs-up sign, ignoring the fact that he had, in just 4 sentences, written an entire sitcom for me to act-out.

Dave had headed off to work, so once I'd surfaced, showered, got in the laundry, done the ironing and eaten, I duly caught the 501 bus into town. Sitting next to me was a guy who's name was Bragg. He was related to several famous people who were also called Bragg, most notably Melvyn.

Reaching Circular Quay, I met-up with Kevin and spotted Scottish Dave heading towards us. Well, you know what the first question out of his mouth was.

By the time we were on the ferry, he still hadn't got over it. "I can't belieeeve it - you made the thumbs-up sign and everything!"

Arriving at Manley, we hit the local supermarket for supplies.

After the checkout, Kev and I also put the shopping in his sports bag, purely so that we could later pretend to Dave that we had left it behind in the shop.

Having enjoyed some Wotsits that were called Twists, we went to a Burger King joint, which was called Hungry Jack's.


Apparently, when Burger King first invaded Australia, some tiny outfit was already using their name, hence the change. I told my usual anecdote about eating at a place in Ethiopia called Burger Queen, where they provided a complimentary fly-swat with each meal. It didn't let me down. All this and Scottish Dave totally bought that we'd forgotten the shopping bag. We were laughing like stupid little boys. Things were definitely looking up.


Walking up to Manley Park, we watched a storm begin before meeting Dale who, living practically on the deserted Shelley Bay, had all the snorkeling equipment in the world.



Despite the breaking storm, we met Fionnuala, we swam, mucked about, took a photo of ourselves with a girl we didn't know, retired down the pub, listened to girl and a very angry-looking guy sing Everywhere You Go Always Take The Weather With You in cabaret, walked along Freshwater Beach, saw a crab and retired again to another pub in town, this time the Ship Inn. Here we met Sonia, Mary-Ann and Rita, the latter of whom decided to start having a go at me about Britain's bad track-record at weather. Clever girl. And the subject had only cropped up because of the storm raging outside.

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Sojourn in Sydney, Day #2 of 6: Australian Barbie

A really bad stomach overnight (which I attribute to watching Voyager), in conjunction with the heat and general exhaustion from packing and flying (I never sleep before travelling) led to a very long day of general unconsciousness. I knew I was wasting the wonderful opportunity of being in Sydney, but I was also there to rest. So between eating and watching the Australian Tennis Open, I just kept crashing. And proud of it too.

Was awoken by Scottish Dave and Fionnuala returning home from work both looking at me utterly amazed. It really seemed as though they had forgotten my arrival yesterday and had just seen me for the first time. I really expected them to stammer “Look – it's Steve Goble from London! But-but what on earth are you doing here in Australia... inside our locked house???”

In fact, it turned out that Scottish Dave had got home from work early that afternoon, but had been unable to gain entry due to my having his key. Apparently, he claimed, he'd rung the doorbell, banged the door and shouted for me to let him in, but I had slept through it all.

Why had he thought that I was in?

That evening Scottish Dave and I went to an indoor Sausage Sizzle with our old Aussie friend Kevin, and his mate Ian. (artist/horror writer) For me, seeing Kevin again really made the trip. David and Fionnuala I had expected, but the news that I would see Kevin was a complete surprise. The three of us wasting time together really did feel like ordinary everyday life again. I think Dave, having now been here for nine months, was grateful for the link with 'the motherland' too.

That evening, Kevin led Dave, Ian and myself down the road to view the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge at night. I'm always a bit apprehensive of calling man-made buildings a 'view', but Sydney's clear skyline really was something special.


So Kevin points down at the harbour.

Kevin: “There. That's where the first British settlers first landed and planted the Australian flag.”

Scottish Dave: “Kevin, there was no Australian flag at the time. They would have planted the British flag.”

Kevin: “Which at the time was the Australian flag, David."

Fig 1: The Australian Flag.

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Sojourn in Sydney, Day #1 of 6: Hello, Sydney

Touching-down in Sydney, and overcoming the omission of my middle name from my visa, I caught a double-decker train to Central Station. (passing through other attractively named stops like 'Domestic') It was there I found a huge poster of the British Houses Of Parliament, along with the caption “The Spirit Of Australia.” Maybe the reasoning was “Well it takes one to know one, cobber.”

From here I walked to Railway Square, an intriguing name for a place that was wholly triangular. Here I was to rendezvous with my old home-group friend Scottish Dave. All right, I've never called him that to his face, but in my mind he's always been Scottish Dave. Sorry, Scottish Dave.

The moment I spotted his yellow-t-shirted self beaming at me from across the crowded Sydney street was a good one. Since leaving the UK last July, I had seen only 2 people with whom I could honestly say that I had built-up a regular friendship. (Bill and Karen) But suddenly there was Scottish Dave, grinning like not a day had passed since I'd last seen him back in London last March - ironically when I'd shown everyone my NZ photos. This week was to be a holiday for me - a holiday back in normal everyday life. Only in Australia.


Scottish Dave was (and is) married to Australian Fionnuala, another good friend from back home, in fact the friend through whom I knew him.

There's not a lot else to say about day 1. I caught the 501 bus to Drummoyne, moved in, boiled in the heat, caught some zzz's after my flight, met Fionnuala's brother Gerald, looked at pictures of Johnny B, recognised many ornaments and pictures around their house...


...actually had a real shrimp stuck on a real barbie for me and, to my shame, re-watched the last episode of Star Trek: Voyager on TV. It had promise, but these days Star Trek is a universe of empty promises.

Still, Scottish Dave's early words will remain with me for a long time.

Me: "Scottish Dave – I have to point out that the inaccurately-named Railway Square is in fact a triangle."

Scottish Dave: "That's right English Steve, it's also a bus station."


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Star Trek: Voyager

For a show about a starship flying more or less in a straight line for seven years, it's a shame that Star Trek: Voyager progressed so little.

It's really not that hard to watch the last episode straight after the first one, in fact it's probably a better idea. I mean okay, so they've lost one castmember (Kes) and gained a replacement (Seven of Nine), but that's about it. There's the odd romance and child floating around the ship's corridors, but nothing to really make you put on a Scooby voice and exclaim in incomprehension "Hurrr?????"

Even in tone. Sorry to say, but I thought that Star Trek: Voyager hit the ground crawling, and never quite figured out how to walk.

It's a tremendous shame, for the show went into production during such an infuriatingly potential-filled planetary alignment of all the different Star Trek realms at the time. The movie Star Trek: Generations was getting made, promising to at last bring together the casts of the original series and The Next Generation. The weekly TV series Deep Space Nine was also currently in production. And the pilot for this new show Star Trek: Voyager was shooting too, and all of these properties were being overseen by the same few executive producers.

You gotta admit, the crossover potential here was a marketing man's, and a writer's, not to mention a Star Trek viewer's, dream. To bring Kirk's crew and Picard's crew together on Deep Space Nine just as the USS Voyager was setting out, and have them all encounter a common enemy together, and each from their own perspective, was nothing short of obvious.

Star Trek could have laid in a course to become the hottest property of the year.

In the event though, all the Voyager pilot show Caretaker could muster was a single brief cameo by Quark. Yes, Quark. The barman from Deep Space 9. That's it. What's that? Everyone/everything else would have been too expensive? What - with all those sets and costumes etc. getting reused in all four? And I thought Star Trek was all about how you should reach for the stars...

Anyway, they didn't even try.

As a result, that very first Voyager story was pretty straightforward, which might have been merely disappointing, had the plot not rotated around such an enormous black hole.

Having travelled to a very distant quadrant of space (the Delta Quadrant), the crew of the USS Voyager decide to break the Prime Directive to blow up the array that is their only means of getting back home. If, during this episode, you found yourself hopelessly shouting at your TV set the words "timer detonation, woman, timer detonation!!!", then you probably found that you continued to shout such suggestions over the course of much of the next seven years.

Almost as bad as being asked to root for characters who couldn't even think of the obvious, was the series' premise: that the crew of this Starship were to spend the next seventy years flying back home towards the Alpha Quadrant. You could be forgiven for assuming that this isolated set-up precluded Star Trek's tendency to introduce a new crewmember who had never appeared in the series before, but no. Out there in very deep space, week after week, for seven years, no end of Ensign so-and-so's would keep on showing up out of nowhere, while the ever-silent extras continued to get passed over.

I also doubt that there was a single viewer anywhere in the world who wasn't fully aware of the futility of the Voyager crew's hope to one day make it home. Specifically that they were all doomed to fail, every single week, until whenever the series finally got cancelled. As mentioned above, in the end we had to wait a long seven seasons for that happy event, and when that last episode Endgame finally did arrive, the writers never even showed us it. All those family reunions that we were supposed to have been rooting for? Nah, we got fewer than 20 sentences back home within less than two minutes at the end of the final scene. Terrible. What a waste of seven years.

Today I found myself rewatching this final instalment on Australian TV. (6/10 – I can't believe Paramount actually wanted their company name on this one) With it I am disappointed to have previously in the UK sat through an incredible 172 episodes of this intergalactic snail. Although Captain Janeway developed into quite a brilliant strategist - forever revealing that she had earlier anticipated a development and planned for it - most stories were still the definition of formulaic. Occasionally the direction was embracing. Trek movie director Jonathan Frakes figured out what he was doing on this series, such as with the episode Parturition. Some of the comedy lightened the mood enough to make the rest palatable, particularly thanks to Ethan Phillips as Neelix, and Robert Picardo as the nameless Doctor.

Well, he was usually nameless. Every so often we would get an episode when he was trying out a name. On 7th September 1996 in the UK, the ITV review show Movies, Games And Videos was interviewing Picardo about the latest release, when they suggested that he name himself after their presenter - "Doctor Steve Priestley".

Robert Picardo: "Doctor Steve Priestley would be a wonderful name. It does not inspire much respect however. The name Steve Priestley sounds a bit like, y'know, someone who's earnest, but, slightly foolish."
Steve Priestley [IN VOICE-OVER]: "Cheers, mate, I'll just keep my ideas to myself from now on..."

That high-spirited moment contained more joy than any other in the whole seven year run.

The thing is, I never thought that Star Trek: Voyager ever made an episode that was great, but now and then they did come out with one that was merely good, and genuinely enjoyable with it.

My list of these is quite short, but for the sake of giving this critical article a slightly kinder backbone, here they are:

#37: Deadlock

The ship and crew get duplicated, one ship in perfect condition and the other in tatters. At the end of the episode, it's the one in tatters that survives. I remain mightily impressed at this conclusion, which is apparently significantly more impressed than the writer of the following week's episode was.

#50-51: Future's End

The obligatory two-parter set in the present day. Great fun!

#75: Scientific Method

A clear anti-animal experiment message as the sickening crew slowly realise that they are test subjects for aliens who they cannot see.

#106 Bride of Chaotica!

Season five's comedy episode, set extensively within a holodeck program representing an old 1950s sci-fi movie. This one's really notable though for not featuring any threat to the crew. I think this is also the one when Tom Paris gets a terribly smug line about how rubbish continuity was in that genre. Well, maybe he should take a look at his real life sometime. Still, at least this time it's not a holographic projection of a 3D movie house... :)

#124: Tinker, Tenor, Doctor, Spy

A rare thing indeed for any version of Star Trek - an on-the-quiet parody of Doctor Who. The opening daydream scene is probably the finest scene in the entire seven-year run, and shows just how hip and subtle this series could have been on a regular basis, if only real events had been portrayed with this much wit. At the show's climax, the Doctor really just needs to offer the Sontarans Hierarchy a jelly baby.

#132: Blink Of An Eye

They encounter a planet on which time moves much more quickly than where they are in orbit. As a result, the episode shows us an entire civilisation rising up over millennia, as all the while Voyager hangs silently in the sky, visible to all. Until it starts getting shot at.

#144: Life Line

With the final season approaching, the Doctor's program is transmitted back to Earth to treat his dying programmer. This is one of those episodes when I have to admit defeat regarding my dislike of Star Trek's human emotion content. Normally I hate the standard plot about one of the male characters not getting along with his dad, but this one is performed with such life, especially by Robert Picardo in a flawless dual role, that I just loved this. I recall that my own dad had recently passed away when we watched this, which no doubt also made this one special for me. My favourite episode.

What Do You Want?

Had an interview with Dr Tony at a local Bible School.

Fig 1: Dr. Tony.

Tony is a medical doctor as well as a Bible teacher.

I told him that I just wasn't sure whether God wanted me to enroll. One thing in my future is certain, but until then, it's hard to know what else to go for. Did Jesus go through this? He knew how his ministry would end, but before 30, did He wonder whether He should stick with carpentry, or jack it all in to try plumbing? Does God want me to go to Bible college?

I found a book in the kitchen library at the youth hostel recently. It said that when we talk about God's will, we usually mean 1 of 3 things:

1. God's moral will - is it right or wrong?

2. God's sovereign will - his will over everything, e.g. atoms, dinosaurs and grains of sand on planets on the other side of the universe.

3. God's will for me personally - His plan for my life.

We can usually tell whether a decision is within God's moral will. There's nothing wrong with my going to Bible college.

Neither are we generally fussed about God's sovereign will. Que sera sera - whatever will be will be.

God's will for us personally however, that's the one we get wound-up about. Does God actually want me to go to Bible college?

If He does want me to go, then he should tell me somehow. But perhaps He stays quiet, because He knows that I will go anyway. Or perhaps He stays quiet because He knows that I won't go anyway. DARRRRGGHHH!!!

Dr Tony offered me a place at the college in principle. I told him, like a typical Christian, that I would have to go away and pray about it.

I have a gift for indecisive procrastination.

The Incredibles

Headed down to Auckland Harbour's 1,400-seater open-air cinema tonight, to see Pixar's super-hero flick The Incredibles.


First off, I've decided I don't like open-air cinemas much. There really seems to be very little, if any, advantage over a real cinema. The area is not blacked-out, so the picture cannot be seen as clearly. The area is not sound-proofed, so inevitably the soundtrack suffers. There was an intermission as they changed reels.

For all that though, it did create a sense of comradeship, at least until I realised the heightened danger of people talking. The people behind me just didn't get the pre-movie short. They seemed to think it was funny in a bad way because it was aimed at kids. Not a promising start from people who'd just willingly shelled-out 16 dollars each to watch a full-length Disney cartoon. At some point I moved.

Second, The Incredibles is a parody of/homage to Marvel's Fantastic Four. It's pretty well everything you would expect from the advertising, which is why I enjoyed it so much. It was clever. It was well-executed. There was an awful lot of thought that had gone into everything. And it was FUNNY.

The film begins in Mr Incredible's heyday - in the 1960s. Here he defeats a baddie who specialises in bombing people and speaks only in his native French, with subtitles. His name, pronounced with a French accent, is "Bomb Voyage." I think that joke's a 10. The rest of the movie is genius too.

Shortly we dissolve to "15 years later," which of course, although never stated anywhere, must therefore be the 1980s. And it IS. The cars are 80s, there are no mobile phones, and the only future technology is the stuff you only get in science-fiction anyway. The makers knew what they were doing. They didn't put a big "1980" caption up to distance the kids, neither did they mess up the story's period by updating it all. We were all happy.

My only negative points are these:

1. It's a thin story, following the Spy Kids plot-format. (family member gets kidnapped and taken to remote island - the others follow to rescue)

2. There's no way his wife never phones him at work for all that time.

3. The publicity surrounding John Ratzenberger's character - he only has 2 lines right at the end.


Cliffy and his character The Underminer. And that's pretty much all we get to see of him.

This film is absorbing, wonderfully designed (which we've come to expect from Pixar) and very long. Long as in good and long. I walked away afterwards feeling the same way I used to as a kid when I'd leave Richmond Odeon. In those days, I'd feel as though I'd just spent an entire lifetime in another world. Entering the cinema seemed like about a year ago, because there had been so much to stimulate my imagination. Tonight I felt the same way again.


9 out of 10.

Pot Blacks

Dreamt I put some money in a pool table, and alot of chess pieces came out.

Closedown

After I had finished my show on Hope City Radio tonight, I went to unplug my tape-recorder, and accidentally unplugged the station.

Goble In Wonderland

So I was heading back to my room this afternoon, when underneath the payphone outside I spotted a book that someone had left behind. I figured that its owner would be back for it shortly, so I went to continue on my way, but then something about it caught my attention. On the front, inside the dustjacket, was a yellow post-it note that declared in a John Inman-ish way "I'm FREE!"

Now the word FREE always gets my attention, so I stopped and peered a bit closer. Underneath I could make out the words "I'm not lost!"

I looked around me. The corridor was empty. There was no-one about. I gently crouched down and read further.


"Please pick me up, read me, and help me with my journey! (see inside)"

So I gingerly picked it up, opened the dust-jacket, slid out the book and scrutinised it.


The grey backgrounds were actually shiny silver, but apart from these, it was a fairly ordinary looking book.

Then, I gently lifted the page and found a further message on the inside front-cover, which told me I was wrong.

"Howdy! Hola! Bonjour! Guten Tag! I'm a very special book. You see, I'm travelling around the world making new friends. I hope I've met another friend in you. Please go to www.BookCrossing.com and enter my BCID number (shown below).

You'll discover where I've been and who has read me, and can let them know I'm safe here in your hands. Then...READ and RELEASE me!

BCID:***-1479446"

So what did I do? Answer here.

I Was Expecting Gleaming Control Panels, Flashing Lights, Computer Screens. Not Old Mattresses.

Today Kate, my boss, asked me how many people were staying in my room. The rest of this entry, like too many episodes of The X Files, will be told in flashback.

When I first checked-into the 4-bedded room 704 on August 10th last year, I had two room-mates - Pat and Paulo. Kenta was currently back home in Thailand, but after a few weeks he returned and worked again for a while, before leaving to attend University in the US. Kenta was replaced by the Chinese Wei. (pronounced "Way")

One morning, Wei didn't show up for work, prompting exclamations of "No Wei, dude!"

Eventually, towards the end of the year, Wei moved out. A few miscellaneous backpackers were put through the room by accident, but on the whole his bed was now empty. Then, in December, Pat moved out to another backpackers. Finally, on 15th December, Paulo moved-out. I had the room to myself.

I had been considering going home for Christmas, but ultimately concluded that this was not where God was leading me, so I decided to stay. I would have told my boss Kate, but she was off sick. So Barbie on reception phoned and told her.

Then Christmas happened, and Kate remained away.


A backpacker called Derek was checked-in by accident for a few days, but I was grateful of his company. He had spent the last year teaching English in Japan, and we got along famously.

He told me that while in Japan, he'd seen a guy fall out of his wheelchair in front of a vending machine. Derek had been unable to help him though, due to not wanting to embarrass him. Helping him would have implied to everyone else around, who also wasn't helping, that the guy on the floor was weak. That's the Klingon homeworld for you.

Then Derek left. I was alone again.

In the new year Kate returned, having completely forgotten that I had not gone home for Christmas after all. As a result, for a few days she actually didn't realise that I was still working for her.

When the penny dropped, I knew it was the end of my luxurious single accomodation. Except it wasn't. Somehow the fact of my solitude got overlooked, and for some time everyone knew that I had a room to myself. I was never asked, and I certainly wasn't about to make everyone's life harder by demanding that I be squeezed in with 3 of them.

I was the envy of the other housekeepers. What they didn't realise was what a double-edged sword my position was. With no-one to talk to, I would waste an awful lot of time doing nothing. I realised that I needed someone's company, if only to make me talk more and think-dream-sleep less.

Today Kate, my boss, asked me how many people were staying in my room. And tomorrow Nat would move in.

And Nat and I would get along brilliantly.

Fire At Free Will

Went to see around a Bible Study School. It's very nice. There are no course fees, and the emphasis is on being taught by the Holy Spirit, rather than by people.

Met a Bristonian guy called Lenn, who lives on-site in a caravan. He told me that the college's teaching was too basic for him, and thrust a book at me that he said was more his level.

I flicked through said book and read that, before conception, each person meets with God to plan their entire life. This plan is then stored on a scroll in a giant domed library. This is why sometimes people will dream that they are in a giant domed library reading about their future, but upon awakening can never remember what their scroll said. (as remembering the future is not allowed)

This book went on to detail how someone had been tape-recorded during a hynotically-induced out-of-body experience, in which they visited said library and met with someone who worked there, whose voice came out on the tape.

This is fascinating stuff. I'd love to write a story about this idea, in fact in the 1980s I remember reading a Doctor Who tale along these very lines.

Just imagine working at such a library of scrolls, chronicling everyone's life. How much would you be paid to do so? What would the currency be outside the universe? In fact, why would anyone be motivated by money, unless fairness and society broke down without it?

No, there wouldn't be money. That worker must have been a volunteer. So where does everyone else volunteer? At shops? At factories? Do they hate Mondays too? Maybe everyone else lives a life of luxury, while this poor mug slaves away in a library that only gets pretty well no visitors.

Does she ever misfile stuff? Consequently, do people ever wake up one morning to find they're living someone else's life? Are they looking to eliminate these faults by computerisation? In fact, why have a building for the library - why not just one computer? Or just one mind to remember it all? I suppose that would be God's mind. Yes, that's right, God doesn't need to keep records. Maybe God imagined the library.

Or maybe the author of this book did.

At any rate, we can only wonder what was in the coffee God and Hitler enjoyed as together they plotted his torture of the Jews.

Superheros vs. Nazis!

This evening my Korean friends and I went for a swim in Mairangi Bay.

Afterwards we had a BBQ and I TV-surfed through Shine TV and Cartoon Network's Justice League: The Savage Time, episode #1 of 3.

This episode in the continuing struggles of Earth's mightiest D.C. heros was the show's obligatory foray into time-travel, and clearly owed some of its inspiration to Star Trek: First Contact and Sliders.

Tonight, they all (except Bats) get back to Earth at the end of some mission or other (it feels like a comicbook already) only for history to suddenly change on them. All of a sudden the Nazis won the second world war, and the show's regular baddie, Vandal Savage, is now in control of the present-day world.

After very slowly figuring out that Earth's history has been tampered with, someone actually asks "So how come we weren't affected?"

At this, someone else guesses "Maybe Green Lantern's special effect protected us." Yeah, Yeah that ought to do it. That'll stop them writing in.

They then meet the alternate Bats who, without any prompting, tells everyone that his parents were killed by stormtroopers when he was a kid. Inevitably they all decide to go back in time and put right what once went wrong, to which Bats comes out with "Wait! If you change history, then that means that my parents will still be alive!" Sigh...he just doesn't get it.


The effect used for travelling back in time is virtually, nay, TOTALLY the same as on Sliders, even in the way they fall out of it when they arrive.


World War II is a strange time. Giant metal machines roam the Earth, the evil Vandal Savage rules the world, and Adolf Hitler has been cryogenically frozen in a big glass tube.

Sadly, this was only part 1, so I'm left with the lasting impression that they got stuck in the 1940s and never made it back again.

Apart from the slow-thinking superheroes, I really enjoyed this. It was so in-genre.

7.5 out of 10. There ain't no Justice.

Who Needs A Kwikimart?

So Jamie and I were at the Kwikimart, when Jamie spotted a load of chocolate muffins in the bin. They were all wrapped-up in plastic, and perfectly edible, but the local Apu had chucked them for being out-of-date. So we asked him if we could have them, and Apu enthusiastically agreed, giving us some outdated Cadbury's Snowflakes and Yoghurt into the bargain. We left the shop with a nice bulging Kwikimart carrier, stuffed full of goodies, and the cheery cry of "Thankyou! Come a-gain!!"

We were looking forward to our free lunch back at ACB, when I pointed out that, just as we had received such delights out of nowhere, by the time we made it back we might not still have them. But what were the chances of that? ACB was, after all, only 2 minutes walk away. What could possibly happen to us in that short walk? Then, as we walked, Jamie uttered the words I could not forgive him for. "Please God, show us who to give these to."

Tramp. 20 seconds.

10 minutes later we sat back in my room at ACB, eating jam and cheese sandwiches, really wishing that we still had our chocolate muffins.

Overheard During A Heated Argument Here At The Internet Café

"The Irish wouldn't have their troubles if they didn't drink so much all the time."

Secret Asian Man

Let's play spot the white guy. Are you ready? Here we go:


Have you spotted him yet? That's right. He's the guy wondering whether his camera will work properly.

This is obviously the Korean church that I go to at the Salvation Army here on Queen Street. The guy on the far left is the Captain. I'd tell you his name, but I just don't know it. Heck, I don't know any of their names! In a curious way however, this language barrier has given me a wonderful relationship with these guys. With little opportunity for arguments, misunderstandings or justification for false expectations, there is really nothing else left except simple friendship. As I've struck out on my own here, these people have really supported me, just by being there.

The Captain leaves today - he's been recalled back to Korea. I will genuinely miss him. I will miss him because he accepted me although I couldn't understand a word of his sermons, and because, strange as this concern may sound, he never turned me away for not speaking Korean.

The guy with glasses on in the middle, is his replacement - Kang. Here's a clearer image of Kang:


The guy in the baseball cap is Tiger. Here's a clearer image of Tiger:

After we'd all said our goodbyes to the Captain, (who's ironically going to Sydney next week) I strolled through Myers Park, where a band was playing.

Last Thursday, in the Christian Resources Centre, I had made friends with a guy called Dalphon. We'd had a long discussion about the Bible's order, and discovered that we had a common desire to read it all chronologically. He explained to me how today the epistles are arranged according to their length, which switches around some letters written by the same author. I told him about the old Hebraic order, which had grouped epistles written to the Jews first, so that those written to the Gentiles could subsequently be read in context. I've always felt that the order of the Bible is a bit of a moot point. I mean, we all dip in and out of it, mixing up its order something chronic. Whoever heard of someone actually reading it through start to finish like a... err... like a book? I know it happens occassionally, but those really are the exceptions.

Anyway, Dalphon had invited me up to his church - the Urban Vineyard - on Ponsonby Road, so tonight I made my way up there.


A guy called Geoff, who turned-out to be a film-maker, was speaking about planning. He made alot of sense. Afterwards I met two Alexs, an Oliver and several others, as we all went out to Food Court for a meal. This gave way to a heated debate about creationism vs. evolution. Both teams played well, and at the end of the evening I found I'd really felt quite at home with these people.

I will come back here again.