Kate's Corner

The start of something

2009-09-29T00:28:38Z

Stuffed if I know what, but who knows, maybe a plot will emerge at some point.

***

Of all the crappy jobs the world has to offer, slaying the evil undead is the suckiest. I ought to know, I've done most of them, and somehow I always end up back on the slaying thing. The pay stinks - if you get anything, which you usually don't - you've got to keep the law off your back while you're getting the undead to be just plain old-fashioned dead, and of course any undead with half a brain to call his own figures it's better to take you out before you can stake, behead or whatever. It would drive a girl to drink, except I already drank more than I should and that was on the good days.

You don't even get gratitude from the victims any more, just some dumb teenage girl wailing about you staking her sparkly boyfriend.

I tell you, the job sucks.

Living with the demons

2009-08-29T19:08:59Z

Something a colleague said in the last few days got me thinking - which is never a good thing because there's no telling what will come of it - about the nature of clinical depression and the rest of the family of mental illnesses that are associated with creativity. The association is so strong it's not controversial - the list of musicians, artists, authors and other creative types who spent their whole lives in a running battle with mental illness is enough to fill a book all by itself.

I'm not sure when I started thinking of my personal version of that particular hell as something external to me, and demonic, but it's proved to be a remarkably apt metaphor for depression. When I'm deep in an episode, the depression-induced promptings feel as though they're not me, and given their nature, 'demon' is as apt a description as any.

So, I live with the demons of depression. Mostly they're fairly quiet these days, thanks to the joys of medication and some hard-learned lessons in turning my thoughts away from the old, self-destructive paths. Sometimes they get louder, or something catches me by surprise and I fall into the old habits, but mostly, I'm doing all right.

It's a journey, and perhaps sharing that journey will help other people who struggle with similar issues. For me, perhaps the biggest adjustment was coming to understand at the gut level that I can't trust my own mind. When the demons are in control, it lies. I have been utterly convinced that the best thing I could do for those I loved was to take myself - permanently - out of their lives. That kind of lie.

So... that's the first lesson for life with the demons. They lie. They take your weaknesses and use them to try to convince your world is better if it doesn't include you.

No matter how bad things are, no matter how hopeless they seem, this is not true. Even if you really are the worst person in the world, you can redeem yourself.

The Turtle Moves

2009-07-26T20:22:41Z

Just booked my flights for the Discworld convention in September.

The fun part is that the best arrangement for me means a red-eye out of AZ Sunday night. Monday, once I get home, I"ll be sleeping.

Excitement level may increase as the date gets closer. Right now the thought of airport hassle is overwhelming the excitement levels. I used to love flying, but not any more.

Writing progress and the long weekend

2009-05-26T00:51:06Z

After two lovely, lazy days on the beach, I came home, and wrote about 1k on ConSensual. That one's now over 50k words and hurrying on to the insanity of the final sequence - which is likely to be fairly long all by itself given what's going on there.

Some of the highlights of the weekend:
- jacuzzi the perfect size for two
- walking on the boardwalk.
- American Beach House architecture, completely with candy colors or earth tones, lots of wood or something like it, and BIG decks. I never knew you could have a desert of them. Block after block after block of nothing but beach houses with holiday rental signs and too-perfect-to-be-lived-in appearance. Lots of people around, walking dogs, cycling, going to and from the beach, but stuffed if I know where they get their groceries, or if they eat out, where they go.

Now that I'm home, I've had much velcro from one cat, and am being shunned by the other. We will eventually be forgiven, but not just yet.

Wow

2009-05-18T01:00:01Z

Writing progress two days running. That's got to be something of a record :)

800-some words on ConSensual, in which convention costuming is displayed and commented on. And the competition hasn't even started yet.

The phrase "nudity is not a costume" will be used somewhere, I'm just not sure where, yet.

The weekends are too short. I need to get ready for the work week and put the nice shiny really bad taste SFF costumes away.

Writing update

2009-05-17T01:15:23Z

Back to it after mid-week upheavals and phone calls derailing anything resembling the ability to write. Finished the current chapter of Long Haul and sent it to first readers.

Progress: 1200-ish words.

In other news, I have a kitty showing tummy and doing his very best to convince me I want to rub it.

Writing progress

2009-05-12T01:17:12Z

Clocked a smidge under 1000 words on Long Haul today.

Not bad, considering I was also juggling several IM conversations and I"m still recovering from last week's work feralness.

And now to bed, before I fall over - always a possibility for the narcoleptic.

Writing progress update

2009-05-11T01:34:46Z

350-odd words on Long Haul today before creative trainwreck occurred.

Some phone calls completely derail my ability to write. I've got to get past this, although stuffed if I know how.

Progress

2009-05-09T23:15:03Z

Shortish chapter finished on Consensual.

Progress for the day: about 2k words, bringing ConSensual to 47.5k

Reading museum and aboretum

2009-05-09T19:55:35Z

For a relatively small town museum, not bad. Arboretum makes a nice walk despite very sticky weather. Now to try to write.

Let's see if I can make this work

2009-05-08T21:14:14Z

I really need to update this more often - maybe I will if I use a client rather than going to the website. We'll see.

KITTEH!

2008-10-22T23:05:55Z

Since sarahahoyt posted pictures of her adorable cats, I have to post photos of our two. The gray and white one is 18 months old and rejoices in the name Little Bugger. The part-Siamese, part-Persian, part who knows what is Shani, the elderly lady cat who is also my icon.

No, this wasn't posed. I just walked into the bedroom and this was there.

Cute, aren't they?

Yes, my life got eaten again

2008-10-19T20:44:29Z

Honestly, my life vanishes down the s-bend more times than a dog has fleas.

This time? A major client requiring redesign on the fly together with getting infested by a very insistent new novel. Oh, and having my computer crap out on me yesterday. Can I get a time-out please? I really do not need this.

In other news, I'm trolling the internet for odd stuff about daily life of late 15th century Wallachian royalty, the heaters have come out and the cats are positioning themselves for the greatest warmth they can get. My computer is mostly back, although I'm sure I'll be finding stuff I missed for months.

And yes, I'm writing Dracula's autobiography. The things my mind does when I don't supervise it are scary sometimes.

Some thoughts

2008-09-02T00:13:44Z

The political furore of the last few days and the way the commentary on same has repeatedly degenerated into "abortion evil" "is not" is too" has started me thinking. I know this is a dangerous thing, but anyway... Onward and somewhere.

Assuming that a) life does begin at conception, and b) abortion is therefore murder, who should be investigated and/or charged in these scenarios?

A fertilized egg fails to implant and is flushed at the next period. (This occurs quite often without any kind of implant prevention or abortant).
A pregnancy begins with twins. Only one baby is born. (The current estimate is that about 1 pregnancy in 10 starts as twins. One pregnancy in about 110 ends with twins being born).
A pregnancy begins with twins. One twin is absorbed into the other as fetus in fetus. (This is very rare - the absorbed twin can and does continue growing until surgically removed, but is completely non-viable as the cramped space prevents the growth of internal organs)
A fetus can survive in the womb, but will either not survive birth or will be unable to survive long after. (Can be caused by a number of conditions, most relating to failure of egg and sperm DNA to combine correctly during fertilization)
A spontaneous miscarriage occurs. Particularly, how would investigators determine if the miscarriage was caused by external factors such as the mother's illness or trauma or by fetal defects that were so severe the fetus died? (This actually occurs quite frequently)
Acardiac fetus. (Another seriously rare one - usually only observed in twin situations, where one twin develops only hips and legs. The umbilical cord modifies so that the healthy twin's heart is pumping blood for the acardiac one. Unless the acardiac twin is aborted, the healthy twin will not survive to birth. There is a relatively high chance that the process of aborting the acardiac twin will also abort the healthy one.)
Massive multiple pregnancy. The human uterus is not capable of carrying a large number of simultaneous pregnancies to term. Usually with eight or more it's necessary to abort some - generally the smallest and weakest - to allow others to survive. Even so, it's not uncommon to lose them all.
And now we get into the really sticky cases: mother is diagnosed with an illness requiring medication that will abort her pregnancy. If she does not take the medication, she will die. In the case of any cancer, this is complicated by the normal progress of a pregnancy also being favorable to cancer growth. Here the choice comes down to aborting and treating the mother, treating the mother and allowing the pregnancy to miscarry at a time when the mother's health may be further compromised (chemotherapy, for instance), or allowing the mother to die, with a high likelihood this will happen before the pregnancy advances to where the fetus is viable outside the womb.
Changed hormone mix leaves mother suicidal or psychotic. Here the mother herself poses a risk to the fetus, and the medications to treat the condition can cause severe medical issues to the fetus.
Ectopic pregnancy (the egg implants in the fallopian tube. This type of pregnancy can never come to term because the tube ruptures long before the fetus is viable. If it is not aborted before the fallopian tube can rupture, the mother is at high risk of death from shock and internal bleeding.)

All of these situations pose ethical questions about the ethics of abortion. The point, though, is that if abortion is to be considered murder, many of the situations I listed have no outcome that will prevent death of the fetus. Therefore, each case involves a potential murder.

Really, if there is no way the fetus will survive to birth or to unassisted breathing, what is better? Pregnancy remains a drain on the mother's health until it ends, regardless of whether or not the fetus is viable (that is, can live outside the womb). In a pregnancy where the mother will die before the fetus becomes viable unless the pregnancy is ended, is it preferable to kill the fetus to protect the mother or to do nothing and thereby sentence both to death?

There is no right answer here. All I can say is that I hope if I should ever be so unfortunate as to find myself with an ectopic pregnancy, I am not required to die for someone else's ethics. If I have to die, let me choose to die for my own ethics, thank you very much.

Kate

(troll-spawn will be deleted. If you can't debate the question, don't bother to say anything)

Progress is happening

2008-08-31T23:16:52Z

The first pass revision of ConVent is done.

Next phase, print it and go through specifically for continuity glitches.

With any luck, I might have this puppy submittable by the end of the month :)

Kate

The Breakfast Nazis Strike Back

2008-08-25T23:53:38Z

Those who know me know that a few weeks back I had an issue in which an anonymous person or persons (hereafter known as The Breakfast Nazis for reasons that will quickly become obvious) decreed that I was causing problems in the office at work because - horror of horrors - I made breakfast that had (gasp) bacon in it, and they could smell the bacon.

Being the quiet, conciliatory person I am I did not succumb to my initial impulse to cook sardines with parmesan cheese and extra garlic for breakfast instead. Aside from anything else, it would have gone straight in the trash. I adopted a different method of fixing my breakfast so that I'd still get my high-protein start of the day (while working, I might add) without causing anyone any heartburn.

Alas, my efforts were not enough. It appears that a kitchen that actually smells of food is in fact anathema to the Breakfast Nazis, for they have complained once more unto the sensitive ears of HR, who have promptly asked me to stop making the kitchen smell like food in the morning.

I can accept that there are those who are for whatever the reason unable to face more than coffee in the mornings. I'm not blocking anyone's access to the coffee pots. Nor do I complain about bad-movie-theater-smell instant popcorn, peculiar fish lunches, or any other strange smells emerging from the kitchen during the day - and I sit closest to the room, so anything that's cooking there gets to my nose first. I deal with it.

So, what is quiet, inoffensive little me to do? The prospect of slipping shrimp shells under the coke machine is tempting, but I'd have to live with the stink too. If I cook it at home and reheat at work it won't smell any different. If I cook and eat at home, my chances of getting to work on time drop to somewhere in the vicinity of absolute zero (I know that sounds weird, but it works like this: I'm narcoleptic and I have a lot of trouble getting moving in the morning. I don't actually start to wake up until after I've dragged out of bed, dressed, collected bits and pieces for work, made the ten minute walk in, and fixed and eaten breakfast. If I have breakfast at home, chances are I'll fall asleep while eating it. Just try to get THAT past the ADA.). As is, I spend the first half hour at work up and moving around just to finish waking up. Anything that involves sitting down not doing anything much in that time will be a problem.

I really do not want to move to nukable pizza (although I'll admit it would be entertaining to have the Breakfast Nazis complain about bacon when there isn't any) or to have a lighter breakfast. Nor do I want to set off a tit-for-tat complaint war. I'd rather make the Breakfast Nazis look stupid somehow.

Suggestions are welcomed - preferably before I blow my stack and start making sarcastic comments about how people who don't have the balls to address something this frigging trivial face to face have no right to make anonymous complaints.

Kate

Recovering

2008-08-15T23:55:26Z

I'm back from Denvention, and exhausted. Survived my first ever panel (undead porn, no less, so I had some fun there) and signed a few bits and pieces.

The best part was catching up with friends - the Hoyts and Hoytlings, OMike, various Barflies. Also meeting the inimitable Toni Weisskopf from Baen, and meeting Lucienne again. Of course, events being scattered from one end of Denver downtown to the other, I walked my feet off. I think without the couple of days recuperating at Sarah's place I'd be completely dead. As it is, two days back at work and I'm ready to pass out.

The short-short version - Philly airport sucks. So does altitude sickness, even the ultra-mild version you get going from sea level to Denver-ish. The con was a blast although the less said about the organization the better. Fortunately the people manning the information desk and various other "help" places were very helpful indeed. I don't think I was anything less than frazzled any time I ended up there. Panels were fun, discussions with friends old and new even more fun. Denver airport despite the evil press seems to be okay if you're flying Frontier. I'll admit I was kind of impressed with Frontier. They actually had the baggage on the carousel in the time it took to hike from the gate to the baggage claim. Both times - and when you're dealing with Philly airport, that's nothing short of a miracle.

And now I'm going to be very, very lazy for the weekend.

Kate

Worldcon Prep

2008-08-02T19:35:00Z

Clothing has been purchased. Including glittery sparklies that wouldn't disgrace a demon's dress sense. As a side note, it's bloody PAINFUL to find clothes that a) fit, b) are something I would actually wear, and c) look decent. I'm one of those pale white people who can't wear pastels without looking pastel. So why does everything come in pastel? And why is it assumed that when larger than "average" females (aka females who actually have boobs) want to dress up, the preferred style is "tent"? We won't go into the obscenity of "Large sizes" meaning 14 or more. Or just what a sparkly stretch tent actually ends up looking like when it ends up gracing my rather less than beeyootiful bod.

Printing of novels is in progress. I'll be handing over to mentor at some point during the con. Or she'll be smacking me with them. I guess I'll find that one out later.

Still to do - haul the big suitcase down from the attic and get the bloody thing packed. Locate assorted confirmation printouts and position where they can be accessed easily and grabbed at an hour of the morning when I'm usually doing well to be upright. Functioning doesn't stand a chance. I know I shouldn't bitch, since I chose the flight, but it was either leave at fart of sparrow and arrive sometime mid-morning, leave at a decent hour and arrive way too late to be useful, or take the red-eye. Oh, and the fact that it's Philly airport doesn't help. There's no way to get into or out of that place without lots of loop de loop loop loop, and we won't go into the other little inconveniences like inter-terminal shuttles that are OUTSIDE the security gates and the waiting areas of discomfort that seem like a kind of Pratchettian hell with all the humor leached out.

Also need to make sure the eee is fully charged so I can get some use out of it on the flight, check that Bugger inundating my desk didn't kill my MP3 player, and fill the pill box.

Whee...

Kate

katepaulk @ 2008-07-31T20:21:00

2008-08-01T00:31:42Z

The Project From Hell has successfully eeled its way out of another release, and is lurking in the background, waiting to pounce as soon as I get back from Denvention. I'm seriously looking forward to getting away from the usual stuff for a week and some, even if I've hardly gotten anything organized.

Well, technically. I've booked flights, hotel and airport shuttle. And convention membership. What I'm going to wear and what I'm going to take for the two panels I'm on is anyone's guess. Yes, including mine. Especially including mine.

Still to do - quickie bio for Denvention, hopefully semi-coherent. Print two novels for mentor to review - if she liked ConVent enough. If not, to bludgeon me with. Try on assorted clothing to see if its suitable for con-going. Feet are easy, hiking boots and pumps in the unlikely event I need to be formal. It's the rest that's a problem. I can't show up sans clothes, or I'd send the congoers running in terror, as well as break who knows how many indecent exposure ordinances.

(Hm. This could be the way to get clothing taboos relaxed, airlines... Require naked passengers. Yes, you'd have to boost the temps on the planes by about 10-15 degrees (on a good day) and possibly hand out disposable shades for those who are too traumatized by the sight of all that jiggly white-white moon tan... Oh, and clean the seats after each flight. Remember the immortal warning: "The problem with nude dancing is not everything stops when the music does". This insanity brought to you courtesy the PFH and a two hour credit certification today.)

Kate

Yet again...

2008-07-19T18:45:11Z

My life has been eaten. This time, it's the Project From Hell. I'm not entirely sure what will eat it next, although I'm hoping the return of the return of Myst Online will be it :-D (Long story, read about it at http://www.mystonline.com )

In other news, ConVent awaits cleaning up, and I'm playing with a bit of fanfic here and there. But mostly work, eat and sleep, not necessarily in that order.

Kate

A Cat Named Bugger

2008-05-23T00:27:40Z

It came to pass that after the passing of Commander Tia Clawmarks, beloved assistant of Captain Silkfur McFluffy and his Lady, and rival of Her Royal Highness Shani Fluffybutt, the regal feline Shani Fluffybutt did become grieved and marked her laments for the loss of Commander Tia with insistent demands that Captain Fluffy and his Lady serve her every whim.

Thus it was that Captain Fluffy and his Lady decided that Her Highness Shani Fluffybutt did need a companion of her own species that she might have company when their duties required their presence elsewhere.

With hearts full of concern, Captain Fluffy and his Lady did take themselves unto feline death row, where they sought to rescue some
blameless feline from such an unwarranted fate. And there did wait a handsome young male kitten of nervous demeanor, who quite captured the Lady's heart.

As is the way of such things, the kitten had no true name, for his nature was not known to Captain Fluffy and his Lady, and a name must come in its own time.

Thus it came to pass that when the young one was required to present himself for medical inspection, his nerves did fail him, and he concealed himself within Captain Fluffy's home. So well did the young one choose his place of hiding that Captain Fluffy did search lo! many long and fruitless hours ere he found the young one.

And many names the young one had been called during Fluffy's search, names such as 'Damned cat' and 'You Bastard', but the name that came to CaptainFluffy's mind was not one of these, but 'Little Bugger'.

And so it came to pass that the young one did earn the name Little Bugger, and did strive mightily to prove that he was indeed worthy of such a name.

Kate

(Little Bugger is now a bit over a year old, and promises to be a big cat
if he can manage not to get squished when he trips the people whose feet
he winds himself around)

When Plotbunnies Attack

2008-05-16T01:38:42Z

So, I'm cruising along on two pieces of fiction, one fanfic, one ConVent, and get plotbunnied by both. Much angst ensues in the former to make sure everything fits nicely into the canon. The latter, well....

I realized a while back that ConVent was the first book in a potentially endless series (so long as I keep going to enough cons to get source material!), but now I have a truly bizarre bit of recurring character. He's a zombie. He dies in every book. Understandably he's not terribly pleased about this, although I suspect the inspiration for him will be.

In other news, another member of the field has given me permission to Tuckerize, with the bravest words ever said to an author: "Use your inspiration."

Is it any wonder I think my brain has absconded to the Caribbean and is enjoying Pina Colada and not bothering to send postcards?

Why Hollywood Musicals Suck

2008-05-13T23:12:05Z

Well, the later ones do. Back in the 50s, and even into the 60s, they still remembered that a very important part of filming a musical was that it is in fact a musical - a performance that requires all concerned to actually be able to sing. Really sing, not just burble along more or less in tune.

The Madonna Evita sucked, because she wasn't a good enough singer. Sure, she can act and she looked good in the part, but she didn't have the vocal expertise to carry what is really a bloody difficult role.

Some musicals you can get away with "looks good and can act" in most of the parts. Some you can't. And there are a few musicals and parts that absolutely HAVE to have a top-quality singer in them.

Evita is one - Eva Peron MUST be played by a woman who can sing. You can fake the rest, but she's got to be able to sing. If she's taking a breath every three words (yes, Madonna, that includes you), she can't sing well enough for the part. Period. You can get away with meandering more or less in tune, or in the case of the Che role, chanting rather than singing, but you can't make Evita work without a good Eva Peron.

Cats - everyone has to be good in this one. There's no escaping it.

J.C. Superstar - You can get away with a lot in this, but you have to have a solid swinger with Herod's song or you'll lose one of the best pieces in it. And if your Judas can't sing the house down, you might as well pack up and go home, because you're screwed. You can get away with a wussy Jesus, but Judas HAS to be able to sing, and be charismatic.

Les Miserables - like Cats, no-one's been brave enough to make a movie of this. Yet. (No, Liam Neeson doesn't count. That wasn't a movie of the musical). When they do, they'd better have damn good singers for Valjean and Javert, or they can kiss their box office goodbye.

Phantom of the Opera - this is the one that got me thinking on this theme. No matter what other sins the cast commit, the Phantom HAS To be able to sing. In the movie, he couldn't.

Here's a free hint - people who go to see movie musicals usually aren't there for the star names. They're there because they love the MUSIC. Screw up the music, movie tanks. Get the music right, have hit. It's that simple.

Pirates of the Caribbean drinking games

2008-05-12T00:25:18Z

So I'm listening to the soundtracks and thinking of the movies, and ahoy there matey! The PotC drinking games come to me in a burst of inspiration. The truly scary thing is, I'm quite sober.

Supplies - shot glasses, copious quantities of the rum of choice, a strong bladder.

Curse of the Black Pearl:
Drink one shot every time Jack Sparrow steals a scene.
Drink one shot every time Captain Barbossa steals a scene.
Drink one shot every time Elizabeth faints or pretends to.
Drink one shot every time Will is a sap.
Drink five shots whenever a totally ludicrous sword fight is decided by a bizarre event that has nothing to do with the sword fight.
Drink two shots every time you want to say "Yeah, RIGHT".

At the end of the movie, give your bladder a rest and wait several days to sober up.

Dead Man's Chest:
All the rules for Curse of the Black Pearl apply, plus:
Drink one shot every time Davy Jones facial tentacles act on their own.
Drink five shots whenever something ridiculous is done for comic effect.
Drink five more when the waterwheel sword fight really gets going.

At World's End:
All the rules for the first two movies apply, plus:
Drink two shots every time Jack Sparrow and Captain Barbossa try to steal each other's scenes.
Drink one shot every time Jack Sparrow shows adequacy issues in Captain Barbossa's presence.
When the swinging starts, take the bottle and keep drinking. Nothing else will make sense anyway, so you might as well keep drinking.
When the ship-board marriage begins, look at the bottom of the bottle and giggle hysterically, then lean back to enjoy the rest of the silliness.

Oh, and yes, I did enjoy the movies. It's just that by the time the water wheel sword fight hit, my suspension of disbelief had been suspended so long it was well and truly dead.

The music for all three movies, by the way, is awesome.

Kate

ANZAC Day

2008-04-25T00:51:09Z

Tomorrow (April 25) is Anzac Day in Australia and New Zealand. This day - in Australia at least: I can't speak for my Kiwi cousins - is as close to sacred as anything in Oz ever gets. Anzac is technically a misspelling - it's an acronym for Australia New Zealand Army Corps, the combined army that was sent to help the 'mother country' in World War One, and should be spelled ANZAC.

The day commemorates the start of one of the more spectacular military errors made in the 20^th century. With the entirely sensible intention of freeing the Dardanelles to allow Allied shipping into the Black Sea, the British generals planned to land on a lightly-defended beach in South Turkey and move rapidly inland to take the Turkish gun emplacements from behind. Instead, at dawn on the 25^th of April, 1915, the Allied army, consisting mostly of Anzacs with British commanding officers, found itself attempting to land at the bottom of a cliff well defended by Turkish gunners.

Despite determined defense, the Anzacs made the landing and entrenched. There they remained for nine months of fierce fighting that so impressed the Turkish defenders their leader is reputed to have said "They are our sons too." More than once Anzac troops captured the heights, but without support from disbelieving British officers had to abandon the gun emplacements and retreat back to their entrenched positions in the cliffs.

To this day the war cemeteries at Gallipoli are sacred to Australians, New Zealanders, and Turks. In recent years the Australian tradition of the Anzac Day dawn service has taken root on the Gallipoli cliffs, and draws huge numbers of Australians, New Zealanders and Turks to the ecumenical ceremony.

Anzac Day in Australia begins with a dawn service. This is always ecumenical, commemorating the sacrifice in life, blood and suffering for an ideal. The service is held in Returned Services League clubs throughout the nation, and always ends with the Ode to the Fallen:

They shall not grow old

As we that are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them

Nor the years condemn

But at the going down of the sun

And in the morning

We will remember them.

(We will remember)

Lest we forget.

This ode is always preceded by the Last Post, and followed by the Reveille after a minute's silence - a tradition preserved in the RSL clubs at 6pm (sunset, roughly) every night.

After the service, breakfast is provided to the Diggers (the old soldiers and current troops), the band providing music for the service and the later parade, and anyone else who is in the club at the time (usually relatives).

Some time later, the band or bands take their position, and the Diggers and their families form into their units to prepare for the parade. All of the World War One units and many World War Two units are now represented by the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of soldiers, all of them proudly wearing their forbears' service medals.

The whole procession moves off at a slow march, towards the local war memorial. There's one in every city and every town, as well as in many suburbs. Each unit has a wreath carrier, and at the memorial, each unit's wreath is laid respectfully in place before the memorial is saluted. The big cities have eternal flames at their memorials, since they typically list many more soldiers who never returned. The wreaths are laid at the base of the eternal flame, and the flame saluted.

The whole event continues until all wreaths have been laid and the procession returns to the RSL, where volunteers have prepared lunch for all participants. Many of the veterans drink copious amounts of beer to soften their memories and allow them to relax once more in the company of their mates. Ceremonial games of two-up (a simple gambling game, technically illegal but quietly ignored this one day of the year) are played, and veterans reminisce about the good times while doing their best to forget the bad.

Anzac biscuits are usually provided by one or another of the volunteers. These oatmeal and coconut cookies are traditional Anzac Day fare. They got their name because the substitution of Golden Syrup (a sugar by-product) for eggs made them effectively everlasting so they could be sent to soldiers serving at Gallipoli and later the trenches in France despite a several week ocean journey. Batches made at home rarely test their ability to last forever - the sweet, chewy treats invariably vanish within a few days.

The best Anzac biscuits are chewy, not crisp, and have the distinct taste of Golden Syrup. Molasses and treacle do not make viable substitutes.

The day generally ends with a final visit to the memorial before heading home for dinner. It's significant that hedonistic Australians have resisted every attempt to make Anzac Day a permanent long weekend, and perhaps even more significant that, to the best of my knowledge, Australia is the only nation that chooses to commemorate her war dead on the anniversary of a defeat.

The light-hearted summary is usually, "Without those people we'd all be speaking German or Japanese," but the sentiment beneath it is no less heartfelt. Australians are not, as a rule, given to overt patriotism outside the sports field, but we still remember that we owe a great deal to the people who defend us, even when the war they are fighting isn't a popular one.

I have no idea if this happens in other nations, but in Australia it's quite common for representatives of our former enemies to march beside the units they fought against. This began with German units, and has slowly spread as the children and grandchildren of soldiers from other nations wish to express their pride in their forebears. There was more resistance to allowing Japanese units to march than to allowing Vietnamese units - despite the unpopularity of the Vietnam war in Australia - something that says more about Australia's memories of Japanese treatment of prisoners of war than of racism. Where possible, Australia gave Japanese soldiers and sailors burial according to their traditions and after the end of the war offered to send the remains back to their families.

How many other nations would be so forgiving towards the representatives of a nation who treated their prisoners - and other nationalities - as less than human? How many would make the distinction between soldiers and sailors doing their duty for their homeland and the people who made the decisions that sent them into combat?

I personally don't know of many.

So, in the spirit of Anzac Day, of commemorating the sacrifice of those who serve their country irrespective of what we think of the cause, have an Anzac biscuit, and remember:

They shall not grow old

As we that are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them

Nor the years condemn.

But at the going down of the sun

And in the morning,

We will remember them.

We will remember.

Lest we forget.

Kate

Anzac biscuit recipe:

1 cup flour

1 cup sugar

1 cup shredded coconut

1 cup rolled oats

2 tablespoons Golden Syrup (This can be ordered from www.simplyoz.com if there's no World Market in your area. It lasts forever, so don't worry about it going bad.)

1/4 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda/baking soda

1/4 teaspoon vanilla essence (optional)

2 tablespoons boiling water

1 stick/4 oz butter.

Mix all dry ingredients except the soda in a large bowl.

Melt butter and golden syrup together over low heat (or in microwave on low)

Add soda to boiling water (be careful, it will fizz) and stir in.

Add soda and water to butter and golden syrup.

Add vanilla to liquid mix.

Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour liquid mix in. Mix together all ingredients until the mixture is damp and holds together when pressured.

Spoon approximately 1 tablespoon onto a well greased flat tray. Each spoonful will become one biscuit, and they will expand, so leave space.

Cook for 15-20 minutes at a medium heat (approximately 130-150C or around 250F) until golden brown.

Leave to cool for a short time before attempting to remove - the biscuits will be very soft and fall apart until they've cooled a little. They're particularly delicious when still warm. A glass of milk makes the perfect accompaniment.

You'll get about 12 biscuits out of a batch this size.