You may remember the post a few weeks ago (15 March) about the destruction of the trees at the ovals near here. Well, we lost the fight.
At a meeting of Stirling Council last Tuesday, the vote went about 14 to 3 to spend $5 million on a new football club, so nearly all the trees in the photo below will be bulldozed.
|All for the chop|
One of the things I find most disheartening is that most people don’t care. I mentioned it to my “friends” at the club on Friday night. All I got was blank looks and so-what shrugs. “When did you last walk under those trees, Crofty?” was one response. My turn to say, so what? Whether I use them or not now, plenty of people do. But more importantly, dozens, scores, hundreds of birds do. I’ve been watching them for 25 years.
One of the councillors is quoted as saying, “they build what the community ask for.” The community in this case is the subset of parents who have kids who want to play football. I can’t believe that subset is a majority. It’s more that they have the ear of the council.
It’s not as if they can’t play football now. There’s already a full sized oval and a smaller, but still legal-sized oval, plus a clubroom. But, not content with having 95%, the sporters want 100%, or even 110% by the time they take over the car park area as well for the clubhouse.
I think it’s summed up by a Holden SS ute I saw at the shops yesterday. A big sticker in the back window said, “Don’t like my driving? Call 1-800-EAT SHIT”. How nice.
How nice to be getting some rain and coolness. I got my March /April electricity account yesterday and it was less than half what I used for the same time last year. That’s because that time last year was hot, hot, hot – 33/34C every day from January right through to May. I was running the aircon nearly every day, whereas I haven’t needed it now for many weeks. Good.
I drove up the street round the corner from me yesterday and saw a For Sale sign on a house I know to be the home of Cyril, a fellow dog walker who was 92 last time I saw him, which was more than a year ago. I can guess what the for sale sign means, then. He was a widower with only his dog Tina for company and he was very hard of hearing, which made it hard to talk to him much, but … he was a nice bloke. Thick Yorkshire accent. I wonder what’s happened to Tina?
Sorry for the strange ending — the blogging software went bad on me last night and I was too tired to correct it.