At Perth's Supanova last year, my full-length fur coat attracted quite a bit of attention.

So much attention, that it wound up on YouTube with Nichelle Nichols and Jeff Nimoy.

Can't post the video here, but you can follow this link  The Trouble with Tribble Trailers to see it, or check it out on my Facebook page.

Which reminds me... tickets are on sale for Supanova in Sydney and Perth which means the Worldbuilding Workshop Tickets are available and I just found out  KARL URBAN!!!!!!!!! is going to be at both cons!

God, I love my life:)

For some reason, I haven't been able to get into my Facebook page for months.

Today, for no apparent reason, my new password worked and I'm alive again!

Not only that, I had nearly fifty people wanting to be my friend. Clearly they don't know me very well, or they'd be running the other way screaming SAVE ME!!!!!!!!

Hahahaha

Anyway, now (in lieu of a real life) you can follow me on Twitter and get no sense at all out of me on Facebook.

I will have to stop all this virtual socialising soon, if I expect to get The Undivided written by the deadline:)

Seriously...

His name is Antoine. He's been best friends with my son since he was 10 years old.

His childhood nickname was Twiggy. (Didn't he grew up into a big strong boy?...hahaha).

Not only is he cute, and buff, but he's a lawyer who works in Germany. He modelled his way through uni for spare cash. This is one of the shots he took modelling in Germany for a whole bunch of stock images on imagesource.com.

You can find the rest of his shots on their site if you search for any of the following key words...

storytelling, threat, fairytale, fantasy, legend, macho, mythic, serious, bravery, handsome, heroic, protection, sexy, strength, sword, muscle, muscular, bare chested, attractive, long hair, Caucasian...

Twiggy just happened to be in town visiting his family this weekend and we caught up with him at the funeral. The evening ended up being just like the old days with my son and all his nutty mates cluttering up my living room into the wee small hours.

They kinda improved with age though, dontcha think? :)

Well, the funeral went off without a hitch. No exes slugging it out, a perfect day and over 100 people in attendance.

Sadly, today, tossed onto the backseat of his car, we found a form from his doctor for the scan that would have detected the thinning walls of his aorta, and may well have saved his life if they realised how close it was to rupturing. It was dated November last year.

Below is the eulogy, delivered by Thirdborn's Godfather, which is, I think, a fitting end to this chapter of his life (and mine)and is probably going to be my last post on the subject.

We’re here today to honour the memory of Ron, or Razz as he came to be known. I have known Ron for almost 30 years and for me he will always be Ron, so please accept my apology in advance for not referring to him by the nickname by which many of fondly remember him.

Ron was born in Yass in 1952 to Cecil and Coral, a surprise baby, younger than his siblings, Ted, Pam, Frank and Mary by more than a decade. Tragedy struck when not long after his second birthday, when Ron’s father died. Seven years later, his family abandoned him to a Salvation Army Boys Home.

Despite constant promises to bring him home, his mother left him there from the age of nine until at sixteen, Ron took the initiative and applied for an apprenticeship in the Royal Australian Air Force.

There are no words to describe the deprivation and emotional distress of that time, which left deep scars on Ron’s soul that he let only a very few of us see. Instead, he rose above the pain. More than that, he made something of his very shaky start in life. He told us once that of all the boys he grew up with in the home, by the age of 25 there were only two of them not in gaol.

At 25, Ron was the flight engineer on the Prime Minister’s VIP aircraft.

Ron found a home in the air force and for the first time found some peace. He also found a friend whose comradeship and companionship, helped him recover from that darkest of times. Ron and his best mate, Paul Gibbs, were inseparable. They served together, they worked together, got drunk together, swore they’d name their firstborn sons after one another and together they took up skydiving. Tragedy was soon to strike again, however. At 19, Paul was killed in a skydiving accident, a tragedy made even more heartbreaking by the fact that it was Ron who had packed sold him and packed the parachute two days before the accident.

Although cleared absolutely of any responsibility, Ron carried the pain of Paul’s death with him always. Behind the smile you all remember him for, was the bittersweet memory of his brother-in-arms: a life cut tragically short, and for which Ron always blamed himself.

On completing his apprenticeship, Ron was transferred to 2 Squadron in Richmond, followed a couple of years later by a transfer into his dream job. In 1973, he was ordered to report to 34 Squadron, the VIP squadron responsible for transporting the Prime Minister, Heads of State, other government ministers and, when she was in Australia, the Queen and her consort, Prince Phillip. Ron qualified as a flight engineer on the BAC 111 aircraft and flew with 2 Prime Ministers, served the Queen, had a prank played on him by Prince Phillip and knocked back a promotion to stay in the squadron.

At 25, Ron met Jenny, proposing to her a month after they met. Jenny accepted, despite the fact that on their first date, he ran his car into a tree and they spent most of the evening, not in a nice restaurant as he’d promised, but standing by the side of the road in the rain, waiting for a tow truck. They married in July of 1977, not long after which, the inevitability of military service caught up with Ron and he was transferred out of 34 Squadron. The RAAF sent him to 482 Squadron in Amberley to work on the F111s.

It was in Queensland, that Ron first became involved in competitive Pistol Shooting. A year after Ron and Jenny married, their dirst daughter was born, followed by yet another hiccup when she was six weeks old. While testing a load of faulty ammunition, Ron accidentally shot himself, and injury that almost cost him his leg. Despite this setback, months on crutches and many sessions of painful physio, 10 years later, Ron was not only a top pistol shooter but he was able to run a half-marathon in Darwin as part of his prison officer training.

Nothing, as you all know, could keep Ron down for long. By now, the Air Force had lost its sheen for Ron.

His injury had sidelined him from his trade and after 34 Squadron, everything else in the Air Force was doomed to be a letdown. He was discharged from the RAAF in 1980and following a short stint as an Ambulance Driver in Boonah, packed up his wife, two babies and everything they owned in a trailer, and headed for the NT.

His son was born in Tennant Creek and it was here that I met Ron when he and Jenny joined the Tennant Creek Pistol Club. We elected him President about a month after he arrived. He was enthusiasm with a smile underneath and twinkling eyes above. Nothing was too much trouble and nobody worked harder for our sport. This is the man so many of you remember. Whether it was pistol shooting, gymnastics, Marching Girls, bowling, speedway or the Finke Desert Race, Ron was the ultimate volunteer. Hard working, always cheerful, if you had him on your team, you knew you could rely on him to deliver whatever he promised.

It was during his time in Tennant Creek than Ron and I became friends. Perhaps even more than that. He was the younger brother I never had. I was the older brother he’d always wanted. That friendship weathered the test of time. I am proud to be the godfather of his son David and a friend to all his family. Ron’s time in the Territory is remarkable because of people he helped along the way.

He worked in the mines in Tennant as well as Nobelex Mining. He moved to Darwin with his family in 1983, where he worked for CIG and then took a position with the NT Prison Service and was transferred to Alice Springs in 1987. After two years as a prison officer, Ron took a job with Hospital Maintenance for the first time.

During his time in Tennant Creek and in Alice Springs, he and Jenny also found to time to be foster parents to over 30 children in need of emergency assistance. This was also typical of Ron. The memory of his own childhood never left him. It was the least he could do to ease the burden for other children as much as he could.

Ron’s time in Alice Springs is a proud list of the many organisations he helped. He was a great Dad who, in addition to his own passion for pistol shooting, was deeply involved in the sports his children took part in. He coached the marching girls at the Youth Centre. Anybody who attended a Gymnastics competition will remember his brilliant commentaries as the announcer. He represented Alice Springs and the NT as a shooter, qualified as a coach and a referee, and worked tirelessly as a committee member.

Ron left Alice in 1998 for a time, and then returned a couple of years later. After a few other jobs, he returned to the Maintenance Department at the Hospital where his endless jokes and ready smile made him familiar and welcome face, particularly as his arrival usually meant something was about to be fixed.

He threw himself into motor racing, both at the speedway and Finke, with the same enthusiasm and dedication that he brought to everything he was passionate about.

And that, I think, is how we should remember him, a man who did not let the pain and adversity of his early life bring him down. A man who had a smile and a joke for everyone he met, even though he had more reason than most to be in pain. A man who wanted to make everyone happy. And ultimately, I will remember him as my mate – the bloke made of enthusiasm, smiles and twinkling eyes.

He died too soon, but he made the best of what he had, did the best he knew how and, did what most of us can only hope to do — make the world a better place for him having been a part of it.

Let's see if I can summarize the Jerry Springer episode that has become our lives this past week, in a way that makes sense:)

1. Drama Queen 1 (the ex-girlfriend insisting the other ex is gunning for her) rings Firstborn at work to say she's organised a celebrant for the funeral. Firstborn thanks her politely and assures her the funeral is under control and we have a celebrant.
2. Another person rings. DQ1 has instructed this one to take care of the flowers. Firstborn thanks her politely and assures her DQ1 need not have bothered. The funeral is under control and we have arranged flowers.
3. DQ1 rings again. This time to let Firstborn know some Mate We've Never Heard Of and the Registered Sex-Offender have gotten together (on their own initiative) and will be writing and delivering the eulogy.
4. Poor Firstborn is starting to lose patience. Thorugh gritted teeth she politely assures DQ1 the eulogy will be written and delivered by a long-standing family friend (Thirdborn's Godfather, actually), not the Mate We've Never Heard Of or the Registered Sex-Offender who have taken it upon themselves to do the honours.
5. DQ1 relays the message to the Mate We've Never Heard Of and the Registered Sex-Offender.
6. Mate We've Never Heard Of and the Registered Sex-Offender are now up in arms because DQ1 stuffed up the message and they think there won't be a eulogy at all.
7. DQ1 rings Firstborn to pass on their displeasure at this turn of events, in the hope of making her reverse the family decision about the eulogy.
8. Firstborn, (God bless her) in the nicest way possible, tells DQ1 to F**k-off and mind her own business.
9. DQ1 is now all wounded and offended and sent a text announcing she's boycotting the funeral in protest.

I  think that qualifies as a happy ending...

To be on the safe side, Firstborn has turned her phone off and is no longer taking calls.

Sadly, I guess this also means if the Drama Queen 1 is not around, there won't be a slug-fest with the other ex (who, in fairness, has maintained a dignified silence through all this), after all.

I'm thinking that, perhaps, if we have enough duct tape on hand, we can still manage to have a dignified and respectful funeral...

We might have to bring the video camera along, though. Just in case:)