OMG, I am a LARPer

31 August, 2011

The shame, the shame, the shame! Yes, gentle reader, it seems I am a LARPer. If not a terribly good one.

Last Sunday evening we, the Good Games (Lanyon) players, conspired to call the angel Sammael into our magic circle. Many items, many esoteric bits of information were required, and cooperation by a bunch of people who, well, whose goals were sometimes at odds. At the end of the day, we did not get very far with the ritual – succeeding only in drawing and purifying the outer circle. After that a lot of characters got shot by other characters, including mine.

Still, I must say I look awesome in a suit, dark gray shirt, sliver pentacle and shiny shoes. Never underestimate shiny shoes, gentlemen: chicks just go nuts for footwear.

Likewise, it seems I did a bang-up job of reading out a magic spell with a whole bunch of consonants. The trick is to not go back and correct yourself when you screw it up. If you ever need a magic circle purified with the 33rd incantation of Axolotyl, my email is on my WordPress info page.

I did learn some important lessons. Read the material the organiser sends, and (if it’s Matt) be prepared to do a little prep work before the session. If I had, world history might have turned out rather differently. Not to mention being somewhat shorter. On the plus side – WWII would never have happened. On the minus side … well, lets just say that the larp was Cthulhu mythos, and leave it at that.

Good times, fond memories – even if I was a little overwhelmed by it all. I’ll rock up for the next one, no worries.

PS: you know that carpet-cleaning and deodorising powder stuff? Works a treat!

Week 3 – treachery and intrigue

30 August, 2011

And so we are sucessful, and have handed over the educated kobold’s note to our sergeant. A good move! It seems that they were friends. “Friend” – a curious notion. It seems to mean something like “allies without any specific enemy at the moment”.

Nevertheless. We are given liberty until midmorning tomorrow. We break ranks and head to the local

RETCON! We actually had a break of a couple of months during which we levelled up to level 3.

the local tavern, where my unit drink some of the revolting swill (a drug distilled from rotten fruit or grain) that surfacers are so fond of.

This morning, only three of us form up on time – myself, the shaman, and a knight. A dragonborn with some rank calls us and charges us with a mission – we are to go to an address (a home in the city) and stop an assassination. Our sergeant confirms that this one’s orders are to be obeyed. I urge haste – our charge could be being killed as we dither.

After a bit of checking, it turns out that this three-man party is potentially a very effective combo. The shaman gives the blackguard extra attacks, and the druid gives him combat advantage. With these buffs, the blackguard does a lot of damage. He also has diplomacy, which is good, as his alter-ego is a decent roleplayer.

We pound on the door, but there is no response. We break a window, and I make use of my form to enter. But the door is bolted securely. We all enter through the window. Downstairs is nothing. Upstairs is an impenetrable wall, behind which we hear something. But, we cannot make our way in. I reason: if the sounds we heard were an assasination, then we are too late anyway, so we might as well assume that our subject is busy with something.

Eventually we are addressed psychically. Our subject seems amused that such as we are sent to protect him. I cannot help but agree – our subject is clearly a mage of some power. He suffers us to remain, on condition that we don’t break anything.

We wait.

A noise, a crashing. A bull-man charging, battering down walls and anything else in his way. Our subject mentally reacts with surprise, and asks us to deal with the matter. I change. We attack the bull-thing. I cover him and distract him while my not-foe cuts him. The spirit thing also is there, and I am careful to not bite it. My not-foe kills the bull-thing. My other not-foe is upstairs, so I run. There is a wall with no opening, so I go outside and up the building. Below my not-foe battles another. I change and target the assasin. But … the assassin wears a symbol of Bahumut! And it is plain that our subject – a tiefling – has set up a ritual that involves traffic with infernal powers. On the strength of that symbol, I begin to attack the mage whom we were sent to protect. I change and fight. Eventually, my two not-foes join me and we the all fight the devil-thing. We hut it until it stops fighting. Then I change back.

It seems our assassin is some sort of official assassin with a formal death warrant. But he is no army officer or superior of ours, and his warrant is merely paper, as far as I care. He claims that the tiefling is “an enemy of Bahumut” or “will bring disaster on us”, or some such. Delicious! Intrigue and betrayal, just like home! Clearly there are factions at work here – we serve an Orium dragonborn, and not all agree with his methods.

We offer to take them both bound to a better authority. The assassin refuses. He moves to finish his job. Well, our orders are plain. We will kill this assassin, then destroy the death-warrant. As far as we are concerned, we have followed our orders, and slain an unknown assailant. We will pretend ignorance. My companions seem to be practical sorts (fortunate the other knight is not with us) and it will be difficult to fault our conduct once the evidence is dealt with. I daresay the warlock can be persuaded to dispose of the body. And even those who know that we have killed a licensed assassin – faugh – any assassin that gets himself killed by bodyguards of his target, that has to wave about pieces of paper and beg leave to do his job deserves to die.

Let us see if the four of us can take this gith …


Kingmaker – solving all our problems with magic, pt 2

27 August, 2011

A heist! A heist! Again I enter where and when they expect not, and take as I please. Preparation and planning, watching and waiting. Peril all around. Then swift entry and safe exit. Well done, verdant-daughter. This too, I shall remember.


Well, there was not much more up here. That light we saw is simply a cave opening, which afforded us a breathtaking panorama of the mountains. Beautiful, but not very useful. We headed back downstairs. A day or so later, we approached the foot of them. There were guards at the bottom, but we avoided them.

I forget how. It was a fairly long session.

On the way down, we had discussed tactics. All we could really do was raid the goblin armoury (we simply presumed they had one), hand out the weapons, and either attack above or set up some traps in the kobold tunnels. There’s no doubt that the goblins would be attacking within hours – as soon as someone worked out that the armoury had been looted. (The tunnels also had the benefit that the drow would find them awkward).

That left the question: where was this armoury, and how were we to loot it?

Poor Dave! I rather suspect he had it all worked out, stealthing into the goblin camp, disguising ourselves, finding where they reported to, somehow getting large numbers of weapons out. Risky, risky, risky. And that’s just not how this party rolls.

Well, presuming that the (or at least “a”) armoury was in goblin-town, the layer below that is riddled with kobold tunnels. Finding an armoury was a matter of dowsing the location with a Locate Object spell: I was looking for a large weapon rack holding a number of small sized weapons. We chalked a mark on the ceiling directly below, and I triangulated: the rack was about 30′ up.

Locate Object: You sense the direction of a well-known or clearly visualized object. You can search for general items, in which case you locate the nearest of its kind if more than one is within range.

Then Improved Invisibility, Dimension Door 30′ up, and Dimension Door 30′ back down. I always prepare two, you know, for precisely the reason that it’s wise to be able to get back out again. Well, I teleported in right on top of the weapons rack – stupid of me. But, no disaster ensued. The armoury had patrols outside and a couple of windows, but no-one inside. Couldn’t be more perfect … well, except for those pesky windows. Drat. And, of course, 30′ of stone.

Ovthen and I put our heads together. A dwarven druid, of course, can cast Stone Shape. Ovthen can prepare four of them if he goes all out. It took a moment to convince him to not even have one Flame Strike ready to go. But, if our mission was to get the weapons, then it was going to be necessary.

The plan was: I would Dimension Door Ovthen, myself, and as many Kobolds as I could take up into the armoury. I would then do a Major Image to cover what was going on inside. Ovthen would Stone Shape a tunnel down to the corridor below with a bit of a slope on it so we were not simply dropping the weapons, and so that more kobolds could climb up to help loot (we wouldn’t bother with a tunnel that would accommodate the big folk). Finally, he would use my metamagic rod and extend a Silence spell – he had three prepared. That would give us an hour. At that point he and the kobolds would empty the armoury. Finally, he would Stone Shape the floor closed and we would Dimension Door out.

Ovthen prepared 4 castings. One was to seal the hole when we were done, leaving 1 casting per 10′ of stone. A 10th level cleric can stone shape 20 cubic feet. So we are talking a tunnel 2ft by 1 ft, or 1.5 ft diameter (roughly). Enough for a kobold to shimmy up, and for small-sized weaponry and armour to be put down.

Meanwhile, the other kobolds would be trapping their tunnels in preparation for the goblin attack, and Duke Jope and General Rainor would be doing whatever it is that military commanders do (I don’t really have more detail than that). When the Goblins attacked, well, it would rather be up to the kobolds at that point.

As to the Drow: that would probably be our job.

And so Jope presented that plan to the council. Not much of a plan, really. I played a part – discussing drow tactics briefly. It seems that some of those dull history lessons stuck. Our old family friend had a point or two to contribute, as well. Unfortunately, His Lordship badly, badly – shockingly badly blundered at one point. He doesn’t know draconic nearly as well as he thinks he does, you know. We would get no help from the master of mines, but everyone else was on-side.

But, the smith was keen to get some decent weapons, and had some burly (for kobolds!) lads. With 3:1 approval from her advisors, the cheiftainess approved the plan.

Our side of it (Ovthen and I) went – really rather well. We decided not to cast the Silence first, because you can mispronounce spells that way and it was simply crucial that these spells go off as planned. Ovthen was clanky and noisy. He should have taken off his armour, but try telling a dwarf that (in fairness, we may very well have needed to gakk a goblin or two who came to get weapons). But I had my illusion up first. I think at least one goblin outside might have heard something, but I fooled him. And then – and then I had to maintain an illusion of an uninhabited but full armoury for an hour. It was … well, just you try it. An armoury which as you try to maintain that static illusion is being emptied and has kobolds running about the shop. I faltered about three quarts of an hour in – which frankly is not bad going. I did have another Major Illusion good to go so took a deep breath and cast it.

In the end, it all worked exactly as planned. Ovthen sealed the escape chute, and we got out. 30′ below, the kobolds were carrying away the last of the weapons and we followed them back. I think our friend rather enjoyed being part of a heist again. It’s a good idea to keep him sweet, you know. Nothing worse than when companions get crotchety.

The more I think about how we handled it, the more I like it. This is absolutely how an Arcane Trickster handles a big job like knocking over a vault. You are a goblin on guard duty. Boring, boring, boring. Just at the end of your watch you check the armoury one more time, and everything is gone, just plain gone, cleaned out, and not a clue as to where it went or how. That’s precisely what happens when you get rolled by an Arcane Trickster.

The battle was … a battle. The kobolds were victorious (thank Desna) but took very heavy losses. Not one in four survived. At the end, I don’t know that their new weapons and armour did them much good – it was mainly weight of numbers (more slaves than overseers).

Dave used the mass combat rules, which I think was one of the aims of the exercise. Andrew rolled for the kobolds, of course. I think he managed three 4’s out of maybe eight rolls. The battle did not go terribly well. Dave divided the army into “kobolds with gear” and “kobolds without gear”. The kobolds with gear were defeated – but it was mainly they who the goblins were attacking.

Heaps easier than attempting to use minis. We didn’t break out the minis all night, actually.

Anyway. One or two drow were overwhelemed in the battle, but there are something like a few dozen in the fortress which – I might add – is not built on top of kobold tunnels. I confess I am afraid. I will have to rely on my bow more than on my magic, I suspect, as I cannot match them spell for spell.

The next part is ours, and it may be the harder part.

Your sister,

Week 2 – A kobold with a degree

24 August, 2011

Not quite sure how I shall blog this, yet. Azroth is supposed to be a bit of an aloof misery-guts, but I can’t help wanting to dive in and be involved. Also, I want everything to be nice and for everyone to be friends. But Azroth being both a drow and a druid, wouldn’t give a flying f for kobolds – they are beneath notice. So – I’m not role-playing the character terribly well. Maybe writing this out might help congeal the personality a bit.

The session was a bit chaotic, and there’s been some list traffic about that. Also some incorrect rules calls – I misplayed by character at least once. It’ll take a bit of time for us to hit our stride, I think.

And so it comes to this: I venture into battle at the side of surfacer scum, and what is more: as a mere auxiliary, as an unwanted extra. They do not even try to hide their distrust and fear, although their fear is warranted. I am still drow. I will never be one of them – but there is nothing more contemptible than to whine at how hard your lot in life is, and so I will not whine about mine. I chose my path. How many of the uncountable thousands of other thralls of Lolth can truly say the same? Whatever else, I am free. A small price, then, to tag along behind these surfacers – small cog in that armies of the great and beneficent Platinum One. If not for this war I would be back in the forest, or deep in the earth. I can only pray that…

Pray? To whom? Lolth? Bhamut? No – I left one god, I do not need another. I’ll fight in his army, but I will never prostrate myself before him in worship. This world is enough for me. Hah! Enough!

Our first mission, then, to kill some worthless kobolds. A fitting mission for our company. Leaving aside the earlier encounters, we came to a room filled with the cowering vermin. One of them had some nobility, and was better spoken than the usual crude yapping. According to him, the recent attacks on humans were the result of their clan been taken thrall of a dragon, and that under his chieftanship the clan had never done such things.

A surprisingly easy story to believe. I can well imagine that this reasonably intelligent specimen would never have thrown his pitiful kin against the might of the human armies, but that’s precisely the sort of thing a dragon would do. Arrogant well past the point of folly.

Our leader (more or less, the surfacers are stupidly lax about such things) exchanged worthless promises with this kobold, and in return was informed that the corridor leading to the inner chamber was trapped. Our shaman dealt with the traps by having his spirit companion wander down the hall and trigger them. Hah! “Companion” indeed. I am reminded of that surfacer word “chum”, whose meaning is “to toss your friend overboard in order to attract sharks”. I wonder how he induces this “companion” to stay with him and take his orders? The usual price for such companionship is one’s immortal soul.

In any case. Further down the corridor was a device that looked like a trap. We made a clumsy mess of the simple process of getting past it. And finally came to a large chamber containing a dragon and some of its kin.

The thrall of Bhamut challenged it. It – sensibly enough – laughed at the paladin an ordered its kin to attack. We stupidly permitted ourselves to be surrounded. I made use of my form and distracted them while others attacked. We discovered that these dragon kin explode with a blast when slain, so I removed myself to a safe distance and called on the winds to slay the weaker ones while the fighters dealt with the stronger. Once or twice the fighters struck one of the weaker ones – a foolish waste of effort.

Dudes, let the spellcasters with 1d6 AoE burst attacks take care of the minions.

Eventually, only the wyrmling remained. We surrounded it and hacked it to pieces.

On the way out, more promises were exchanged. Someone though to ask for something written from this kobold savant, in order to give us something to show the sergeant. No point being punished for not killing them all. By the time they go back on their word and resume killing humans for sport and meat, hopefully our part in this will have been forgotten.

There was a moment when it was suggested that we should kill them anyway. A telling pause. For my part, if this Bhamut truly is such a hypocrite, the I must reconsider the wisdom of my choosing his side in this war. But it seems our paladin is a noble fool, or at least is content to play the part of one for the moment.

A not unsuccessful conclusion to the day’s efforts. I remain stuck here with these surfacers until Bhamut and Tiamat resolve their differences.


22 August, 2011

Back to Kingmaker. Yay! We finished up last session before Dave went away with a cliffhanger.


Well, it has all turned out all right in the end. We solved all of our problems with magic, which is as it should be.

Rainor and Rainen responded to the Farie Fire spell by dropping down into the chasm. The goblins were sweeping the south border of the chasm, so I cast invisibility and extended it with my rod (I am using it to extend the darkvision spells for His Lordship and Rainor, but that leaves one zap free per day). After a bit, Rainor and Rainen came up from the cavern. Curious, because Farie Fire usually lasts for longer than that.

Anyway. I signalled them with Dancing Lights so that I could keep my invisibility. This attracted attention, of course, but (with the help of an old family friend) I had some in reserve and so cast invisibility on them both. No diving headlong into that chasm for me! We decided that rather than go to join His Lordship, we would go to the great stairs in the west and wait there. I’m not entirely sure why we decided that, but it worked out quite well.

We totally metagamed. There was stuff going on with Jope, and the party was going to have to get out and escape up the stairs. I might let Giacomo tell that story.

As it was, we arrived at the foot of the stairs. We sent back Rainen alone to pick up His Lordship, Giacomo, and Ovthen. I gave him a scroll of Reduce Person for Ovthen (hoping Giacomo would be able to cast it – it’s a simple spell really), but it was still going to be quite a load, and he was beginning to sound a little puffed. So I used a scroll of Bear’s Endurance as well to give him a bit of a lift. A clerical Restoration would have been better, but we do what we can. I must say – just as soon as we get home, I am going to shut myself in for a month and scribe scrolls day and night. Maybe a wand or two, too – my wand of Grease is just about done.

Anyway, Rainen returned with His Lordship, a kobold, and a shrunken dwarf – all four little the worse for wear. Then we began to climb the stairs.

Then strode forth Jope, hero hewn mighty ‘neath stone-roofed lightless cavern, thrall home and prison both and to kobolds made known hope of freedom, he bringer of war and true drow foe, with immortal words “They may take out lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!”. Right quickly they bore him to council grave, where within their hearts did hope and fear make battle. Though plans be set on the morrow sooner yet would foul goblin, drow-thall and kobold-bane search kobold home from east to west. So Jope did remove himself to make ready, faithful sky-wolf reuniting him with his companions, they to ascend dragon-stairs to conceal themselves for a time.
As always, Giacomo puts a slightly brighter gloss on events than strict accuracy would suggest. But Andrew’s speech – shamelessly ripped off Braveheart – cut short negotiations with the kobolds.

The council are another matter. Each member wants a shrubbery of one sort or another – each is worried about some aspect of this proposed uprising. The hatchery-mistress wants a better future for the kobolds, so that’s sorted. The smith/armsmaster wants to know where the kobolds will get their weapons from. The planner/workmaster dude needs to be convinced that we have some sort of workable plan. Hmm – tricky.

But, if Andrew wants his mini-artifact from the DM – he’ll have to come up with something It’s his mini-quest, after all. Go Andrew! We are all right behind you.

To continue:

Oh – the stairs. As you know, kobolds usually have a dragon cult of one kind or another. The stairs follow a dragon-sized shaft that goes right to the top of the mountain. Apparently their private god is long dead although he still guides them spiritually. Bless! Anyway. “Up” is as good as “away”, which is where we needed to be. And so we began climbing.

Of course, we were followed. A party of goblins, to be exact. The stairs had periodic platforms, about two hours climbing apart. These platforms service some quite old (and non-drow) machinery. An elevator system of some kind. I should make some drawings, come to think of it. In any event, once we were well above the cavern floor we laid an ambush for the goblins.

Which I totally ruined. I jumped out early and hit them with a spell that I have been wanting to try for a while (Dust of Darkness), which accomplished very little. The party attacked, and we did rather a dreadful job of cleaning up some goblins. But any fight you walk away from is a victory.

Essentially, we had forgotten how to play these characters. Switch should have cast her buffs – Blur in particular – before combat. Rainor was tanking it at the back to prevent their escape … which is not really what we pay him to do. Andrew forgot about his ring of free action and could have just walked through the greasy stairs. Etc. A two-month break will do that to you.

After the immediate problem was dealt with, we still had a mile or so of stairs to contend with. It was going to take a week to get up and back, which frankly is way too much like work for us. We discussed our options. At the end, we came up with something that could work. I would summon some riding horses with Mount, and Ovthen would enchant them with a rather nice clerical spell he called Air Walk. Ovthen’s spell would permit the mounts to simply walk up the stairs (not normally the sort of thing a horse enjoys). It might take a while, but it would be a hell of a lot quicker than doing it the hard way.

And so that’s what we did.

And our DM threw his hands up and said “Ok, it’s magic.” That’s kinda the game, after all. We turned a week-long climb of immense religious significance to the local kobolds, a trial of endurance, into a day trip.

DM-ming is like life: just as the imaginary conversations you have with people never actually turn out that way, the players always find something you didn’t think of (and ignore your most obvious hooks). The DM’s problem is that the players know their characters far better than you do. But then again: the whole point is that it’s collaborative fiction. The unexpected things that the other participants do is what it’s all about.

Another thought is that although “we solved our problems with magic”: it’s no more than what real-life technology does for us all, every day. I routinely do speeds on my scooter matched only in nature by a running cheetah or swooping hawk for minutes at a time. It’s magic.

Enough philosophising!

Getting down? Well: I do know Feather Fall, and we do have this dragon-sized vertical drop. We would have to free-fall for a while, is all. We’d need to judge it just right. I think it might be safer to build sleds and sled down the stairs, or just to go down the way we came up. Hmm – I wonder if I could adapt the Grease spell to be longer-lasting? You’d have to apply the material component directly to the object at hand, rather than conjuring it from a distance, perhaps use wax rather than butter … but it would be do-able. The key part of the spell would be

We don’t have a font for discussing the ins-and-outs of pathfinder spellcraft on wordpress, sad to say. Switch’s digression on the Grease spell gets a little technical and involves diagrams not reproducible here.

Anyway. Getting back to the story. It started to get seriously chilly as we approached the top of the stairs – no doubt at the summmit of a mountain. I crafted a wand of Endure Elements a while ago. It’s a simple spell (a basic abjuration), but when you need it, you need a lot of ’em. So a wand was the way to go (not to self: must do up a wand of Resist Energy). With that and a round “Coises! Foiled again!” from the DM, gallivanting about on mile-high mountain-tops becomes a rather different affair.

Which is where we eventually emerged.

A mile-high mountaintop plateau with an obvious dragon-cave. We had rested the night two-hours below (at the penultimate elevator-stop) and prepared for a dragon encounter. Essentially, the three of us who cast prepared some Resist Energy spells. Venturing into the cave, we encountered a dragon skeleton! But it was quite non magical and very dead. Encased in ice – a silver dragon if I am not mistaken. Interesting.

The chamber had been quite thoroughly looted, and there was old evidence of a dragon fight. No great mystery there, although one does wonder who the winner was. Behind that chamber was another chamber with some sort of mosaic. All covered in ice of course. We took quite a bit of care and spent an hour or three uncovering it. It depicted a landscape – quite clearly the mountain range we are in. And a temple of some sort with a horde of refugees heading to it. Rainor was quite taken with this. I believe he believes that that temple might be “Cloudarc Monastery”, or some such – something of interest to mystics like that monk on the island (and, I suppose, himself). I was rather interested in it from the point of view of convincing the Kobolds that there was sanctuary close by to which they cold escape.

In any event. There’s more of this complex to explore yet. If it takes the rest of the day, I can do a Tiny Hut for us to camp in.

The fabled Cloudarc (or arch) Monastery! Nothing yet for us to report back to the kobolds … but then again, we are not trying to get them to revolt in order to serve some other purpose, but because we actually are trying to free them. So it’s not a matter of tricking them into thinking we have a plan – we actually have to have one.

Fun times!

Next week – what’s in that chamber a little bit own from where we are?

Mum died, Tuesday

14 August, 2011

Mum died, Tuesday. She hung on for our birthdays, when I would come up to Gosford and visit. I Came up last weekend, left 2:00 pm Monday. We all think she just gave up, really. She was always terrified of winding up in a nursing home, always frightened she would lose her marbles at the end, as Dulcie did. Neither happened – we played scrabble together Sunday night. She got ‘Arroyo’ on a double word score.

I knew it was the last visit. I said “goodbye”, rather than “see you next time” as usual. She was to old and weak to stand at the door and wave as I left, as usual, too exhausted to have a little cry and put the kettle on. I had arranged on Monday for ongoing care. She, I think, wasn’t interested. She wanted her son to move up to Gosford and live with her, and I was unwilling to do it. So one final visit, and then she died the next day. I wrote something about that, but it’s a little raw for a blog entry, I think. And I can’t find it.

Here’s the notes I wrote for her eulogy. I didn’t read this out verbatim, but I didn’t ramble too much and kept mostly to the topics here.

Read it if you like.

The main thing about mum is something that is perhaps not obvious – which is, that she was a survivor. She was tough. Not that that’s rare: every nice old lady who makes it to their late 80’s is.

I didn’t know mum as well as an adult friend would. After childhood, I became a surly and withdrawn teenager. I left home at 19 to go to Canberra, never to return except for twice a year: at christmas and her birthday.

But I do know that she, in her 50’s, raised two kids on the age pension. She would paint portraits at Circular Quay, all jaunty and pleasant for the tourists. She would busk at King’s Cross. I didn’t understand that she didn’t just do it for fun, but that we needed the money.

But these things – the busking the street witnessing – these were things that she loved to do. She loved the bustle of the city, the people, the activity. She loved colour and movement. An artist at heart – always a little lost, I think, out in the world.

Aside from her art, the other part of her life was church, and Jesus. She was always looking for a small community church, a family, a home, a place to belong. I recall a succession of small congregations and odd characters. She joined a small church of 50 meeting at Double Bay – Christian Life Center – but left when it grew too big and uncaring.

But if always little lost, she was never timorous – she had courage: I don’t think I understood how much. She would go to Kings Cross on a Friday and Saturday, and chat with whomever and witness. She would street witness at Punchbowl and Central Park. She was not afraid of the dark – she’d seen worse, although I won’t burden you today with stories. I was there, too, for some of them. She did what had to be done, as well as she understood it.

I have miscellaneous memories: the christmas camping holidays rock-hunting all across eastern australia. The piano-accordion, at which she was never very good; the steel guitar, at which … well, it isn’t difficult to play, I suppose. Music wasn’t really her thing. Her quavery old voice – she was old for as long as I knew her, really.

But this is more about who she was than what she did. A a product of her time, I think. A moth to a flame, she never wanted to return to the country.

Ty for your support, these last few years.

Cleaning out mum’s house

14 August, 2011

Mum died Tuesday.

I wrote some stuff, but I think I might not post it here for a bit. ATM: cleaning out the house. The market is bad – really bad – in winter. So the way to go is to rent it out.

Thoughts? I don’t know. I’m struck by just how much paper a person accumulates. I’m inspired to go through my place and throw things out.

Anyone need a bass rig?