Good Indian food in Brisbane

I have eaten Indian food in India, Indian food in London and Indian food in Sydney so think I have some claim to knowing Indian food

For various reasons, however, I have not eaten a lot of Indian food in Brisbane. But one thing I have often noticed is that there is an Indian restaurant at Annerley which fronts onto the main road there - called Sankalp. It is part of a chain by that name. And every time I have driven past they seemed to be busy. So I thought I should go there.

I went there tonight, via DoorDash, which was very convenient. I ordered Tandoori chicken. It was a good size and came with the proper mint and yoghurt dipping sauce. And it was cooked to perfection. So yes, you can get Indian food in Brisbane that is as good as Indian food anywhere -- a most satisfactory situation. No need for travel and no need even to step outside your house

https://sankalp.com.au/pdf/Annerley-menu.pdf

ANZAC DAY

ANZAC DAY is the High Holy Day for the entire Australian people. The Left try to portray it as a celebration of militarism. All the troops marching through the streets can give that impression. But they overlook that on this day we actually celebrate a military DEFEAT. Pretty poor militarism. Two typical ANZAC day scenes below. Note the big crowd turnout.

ANZAC commemorations are stlll widely embraced in Australia. To the undoubted chagrin of the Left, there are marches in most of our cities and crowds turn out to watch them and applaud.

What we are really doing on ANZAC day is remembering and thanking our war dead. And as demographer Berard Salt rightly notes, No family was untouched by the two world wars. Some of my relatives were among the dead.

https://www.theaustralian.com.au/weekend-australian-magazine/no-family-was-untouched-by-the-two-world-wars/news-story/0ae3f2585b8b1cd47208f6830849cd27

The deaths among the ANZACS at Gallipoli were among the more insane of the military engagements of that war so we rightly praise the grit and endurance of those who participated.

I personally see war as the greatest of human follies. To have men marching into gunfire seems barely sane. Yet it happened and still is happening in Ukraine. Chapter 1 of the Bhagavad Gita makes most sense to me of any writing on the matter.

Yet I am not a pacifist I volunteered for service in the Australian Army and reached the rank of Sergeant. I served in both the CMF and the ARA back in the 60s. I can see why some wars probably have to be fought, WWII, particularly. But WWI can be understood in the context of its times

http://jonjayray.com/short/ww1.html

I exist, however because both my grandfather and father never went to war. My grandfather was excused because he provided a highly skilled essential service. He was a bullocky. And transport is in huge demand during a war. My father volunteered but was rejected on medical grounds. He had a slight limp. I volunteered for the Vietnam war but failed to get a posting there. So here I am still kicking at age 80.

I think it is worth noting that the Gallipoli engagement was greatly marred by the cowardice of the British generals involved. The first landings were unopposed. The Turks were taken by surprise. But instead of charging to take advantage of surprise as any German general would gave done, they decided to wait in place for reinforcements to arrive. The Turks used that warning well. If only the British generals had studied Vom Kriege in their staff colleges

Stratford (Not on Avon)

Most of my postings here involve female persons so it must be time that I posted on something else: My first year living in Cairns

1956 was a rather good year for me. I was 13 and in the final year of primary school. The family moved to Cairns from Innisfail half way through the year. It was just after my father's father (Jack Ray) had died and we went to live in the house formerly rented by him.

It was a half-house at Stratford, an outer suburb of Cairns. We were on the main road and a railway line ran on the other side of the road.

It was in the days of rent control and Jack had been given a controlled rent that was very cheap. The rules at that time allowed a controlled rent tobe inherited by the children so my father took advantage of that. He thought he would get work more easily in Cairns, so it was a good opportunity for him

Shortly after we moved I got on the bus from Stratford one morning and found my new school by myself. My mother or father did not go along to help enrol me. I did not think much of it at the time but in retrospect I see it as another example of my mother's indolence. Though I suppose I was an independent little bugger

After that I went to school on the rail motor, which had a stop conveniently over the road from where I lived. It was one of the old red ones and had another stop a short walk from the school in Sheridan St


Wonderful old things. I can still hear the growl of their motors -- probably AEC Diesels

As a result of the move to Jack's old house, I inherited a store of old children's books which I promptly set out to read. I remember a nursery rhyme in one of them: "Our greatest battleship the Hood is made of iron, steel and wood". No wonder the sinking of H.M.S. Hood by one salvo from the Bismarck in the early phases of World War Two made such an impression. (H.M.S. Hood was actually a battle cruiser, of course, which explains why it was sunk so easily).


HMS Hood

Some of the books even predated World War I. They were mostly books given as presents or won at Sunday school to the children of my father's family. After I left home, my mother gave them all away! All the maps of the world in them did of course show vast splashes of red. I wonder how many people in future will know what that signified?

So I got strong doses of Victorian ideas from those books. When they were written such ideas were still current. I still to this day agree with most of them (such as the distinction between the deserving and undeserving poor).

Another thing left at the Stratford (Cairns) house was an old wooden windup gramophone with lots of old popular 78s (78 r.p.m. records). No pictures of the actual family gramophone have survived but the one below is very similar



The spring that drove it had a habit of breaking, unfortunately. After that I rotated the records with my finger. It was my introduction to music of various sorts but the record I particularly remember was "Florrie Forde's Old Time Medley" -- songs from about a century ago.



By some miracle there is a video of her online singing exactly the songs I remember: The Lassie from Lancashire; Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?; Down at the Old Bull and Bush etc. I think they would still have a broad appeal today. See below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYWygJSetbA

There were also wrecks of various old pushbikes left behind under the (low set) house and, being a clever kid, I used parts from them them to create a single "new" bike. I think my father was rather impressed. I rode it to school after that and seem to recollect that my father also rode it to work for a time. I painted it maroon.

My cleverness extended to being the home handyman. I used to fix the family toaster, the family electric jug and the house fuses, all of which would "blow" from time to time. I knew only what I could see however and had no formal knowledge of electricity. So one day I replaced a house fuse with wire that was too thick -- which let through too much current. It "blew the pole" outside the house -- requiring a a call from the CREB to fix it. My father felt embarrassed by that and started to speak aggressively towards me. My mother however said to him: "At least John does things around the house. You do nothing". It was very crushing and reduced him to silence

The toilet arrangements there were old-style, with "thunder boxes" that had to be emptied once a week. A "honey cart" used to come along early in the morning and the "dunny-man" would come into the back yard to exchange the full receptacle with a clean one. Since it was very early in the day when the light was poor, there was some possibility of the dunny-man tripping over any obstacles left his way -- such as children's toys. So I remember my mother going around the yard the evening before making sure there was nothing there to trip the dunny-man up. A wise precaution.

And then there is the episode with "Rex", the dog. Rex was a "mung" (mixed breed) with a fair bit of German Shepherd in him who just wandered into our place one day. My mother fed him, so he stayed. He was covered in ticks but they didn't seem to bother him. He seemed to have a particular affection for Christopher, my little brother, who was around one-year old at the time. A much remembered occasion is when my mother was telling Christopher off for something he had done. Rex got up and placed himself between Christopher and his mother. He was protecting him from her. Pretty good for a "mung"

I read a bit of the works of Karl Marx at the local "School of Arts" library around this time and occasionally talked about what I had read. For this reason I was sometimes at that time called "Commo John".

At the end of the year I did my "Scholarship" exam, necessary for entry into High School. I got an 80% mark overall. I seem to recollect that that was seen as a very good result at the time. To "pass your Scholarship" was a big deal back then and you only needed to get 50% or more to pass.

Our sojourn at Stratford ended when my father bought a house at 308 Mulgrave Rd, formerly owned by John Timbs, who still lived nearby

A good day

Small things make a difference when you are as disabled as I am...

I got up at 8am after a good night's sleep; Around 9:30am Jenny and I had a good breakfast at Buranda; I had my usual Calamari and their excellent iced coffee and Jenny had smoked salmon

Then was the big triumph. I managed to go shopping at Woolworths. I bought some fruit and some frozen food; then next we went to Vinnies and I asked if they had any ladies' watches. I wanted to give Z another one. But they did not have one I liked

I then went home and promptly had a big nap, which I enjoyed

Now it is lunchtime and I am hoping to see Z this afternoon; She gives me "the peace of deep combes, no world anger consumes"

A poem I like

It's not easy to access online so I thought I would make it easier. It is a poem about WWI

The Misfit

By C. Day. Lewis


At the training depot that first morning

When the west-country draft came forth on parade —

Mechanics, labourers, men of trade

Herded with shouts like boneheaded cattle —

One stood out from the maul

Who least of them all

Looked metal for killing or meat for the butchery blade.


He wore a long black cutaway coat

Which should have been walking by blackthorn-fleeced

Hedges to church; and good as a feast

Was the spare, wild face much weather had flavoured.

A shepherd or ploughman

I thought, or a cowman —

One with a velvet hand for all manner of beast.


I cannot forget how he stood, bemused,

With the meek eye of a driven thing

But a solitude old as a cromlech ring

Was around him; a freeborn air of the downland,

A peace of deep combes

No world-anger consumes

Marked him off from the herd to be branded for soldiering.


I saw him not after. Is he now buried

Far from pastures buttercup-strewed,

Or tending his beasts again with the same rude

Rightness of instinct which then had brought him

So quaintly dressed In his Sunday best

For the first step along the Calvary road?

Double doctors

I get a LOT of skin cancers so I have a skin clinic where I regularly go and am well-known. But today was a surprise. I was attended to by TWO doctors, who also happen to be married to one another. I get on well with Rupert and extra well with Penny, who is a lovely lady in every sense of that term. It was actually Rupert who sprayed my bad bits while Penny watched.

So why was that? My guess is that it was Rupert's last consultation of the day and Penny was simply waiting for him to finish. It was all very pleasant

Dealing with a problem of loud music next door

The article below has some reasonable suggestions but I have my own way

https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/life-and-relationships/love-thy-neighbour-what-to-do-when-you-can-t-stand-who-s-next-door-20240408-p5fi62.html

I once had some young people move in next door and they liked their music loud. I called on them and asked them to tone it down. I also mentioned smilingly that we both had equal rights about playing music.

When nothing changed, I dealt with it promptly. I put my HiFi speakers on the window sill nearest to them and promptly played Janacek's Sinfonietta through them -- loudly. Within minutes the kids came streaming out of the house and into their cars. They couldn't stand it.

The Sinfonietta is brass-heavy avant garde classical music which to most people sounds like scratching your finger-nails on a blackboard . Even some classical music fans don't like it. But I do. It was a very simple lesson in human diversity that some young people needed to learn.

I must mention some day how I dealt kindly with an incessantly-barking dog. I am a psychologist and ever since Ivan Petrovich Pavlov, psychologists have modified animal behaviour

An event with an ode

My sudden inspiration to write an ode called up an amusing memory from 1965 when I was a student in the English Dept. at the University of Qld. It was in English I which was heavily populated by student teachers, who had to do that subject as a course requirement for their teaching diploma. So, as it turned out, I was the only real literary enthusiast in my tutorial group. I was there because I wanted to be.

My tutor was a "Mrs Curry", who was a very good looking woman who undoubtedly made Mr Curry happy by having a part-time job. And she too was a genuine literary enthusiast. So we got on well. Teachers have always liked me because I understand immediately what they are trying to convey. So I was undoubtedly her star pupil

So one day we were studying a poem which turned out to be an ode. It was probably Shelley's ‘To a Skylark’. Mrs Curry identified the poem as an ode and asked the class, "What sort of an ode is it?" All heads in the class stayed down, looking at their books, including mine. But I silently mouthed the word "Pindaric". I did not want to be the only smartypants in the room and actually say it. But I had evidently been under expectant observation by Mrs Curry, who promply said, without naming me, "Go on. Say it" which I did, to her obvious satisfaction.

As I said, it is satisying to a teacher when student really knows the subject. But it was one of the many occasions when the student teachers looked at me askance. Student teachers were not as much the bottom of the academic barrel as they are these days but were certainly not the cream of the academic crop. But it was amusing to be so watched that even an unuttered word was taken as a desired answer.

A lunch and an ode

I had lunch with an old friend of journalism fame today and was pleased when he recognized my reference to my "runcible spoon". It rather encouraged a revival of my literary inclinations. So what did I do? I wrote an ode! I think it is even Pindaric

Ode to Z

O heart who does just what she will
regardles of restraints
and does so without complaints
Of her I n'er will have my fill

I think between us there is a glue
of strange but strong content
that never once was meant
but keeps us close and true

Do autism and psychopathy overlap?

Answering that question runs into a lot of difficulties over definition. For reference, I give the Mayo definition of both conditions below

* Autism spectrum disorder is a condition related to brain development that impacts how a person perceives and socializes with others, causing problems in social interaction and communication. The disorder also includes limited and repetitive patterns of behavior.

* Antisocial personality disorder, sometimes called sociopathy, is a mental health condition in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others. People with antisocial personality disorder tend to purposely make others angry or upset and manipulate or treat others harshly or with cruel indifference. They lack remorse or do not regret their behavior.

As you will see, psychopathy is no longer called that any more. For a while it was renamed "sociopathy" but now it is usually called "antisocial personality disorder'

There would appear to be one clear area of overlap: concern over other people and their feelings. But the causality would appear to be different. The psychopath is aware of other people's feelings but doesn't care while the austistic person is not aware. Both ignore other peoples feeling but for different reasons. Still, that indifference is a central feature of both syndromes so their apparent identity is an important question.

In my case, I am a person with a pretty full set of autistic characteristics, and I am aware of how little other people's sufferings and feelings impact me. I am not a sympathetic person. I do for instance greatly deplore the vicious October 7 attacks on innocent Israelis by a deranged Palestinian minority but I cannot FEEL anything about that event.

But on the other hand I have always been generous to others in some ways. At present I give roughly half of my disposable income to a charitable cause while living a generally frugal personal life. I have long given away a large slice of my income

So there is clearly a possibility of mistaking the two traits and unwinding any confusion depends on looking at other characteristics of the person

Another potential confusion is the way I drive. I am a "demon" driver and that could be mistaken for psychopathic carelessness. But it is an item of pride to me that in 60 years of driving I have never hurt myself or anyone else. I just work with fine margins, that's all. I have been known to give my passengers the shakes however

So again, things that may look the same may in fact be fundamentally different

This very post is an instance of autistic behaviour. It is common for autistics to be unusually self-revealing. Psychopaths, on the other hand, tend to be devious and to "fake good"

Professor Simon Baron-Cohen is an acknowledged authority on autism and he argues that calling it a "disorder" is wrong.

https://acamh.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/jcpp.12703

Like some of the people mentioned in the article linked below I am inclined to think it can be a gift, or even a "superpower"

https://www.smh.com.au/politics/federal/beautiful-minds-inside-the-identity-politics-of-autism-20240221-p5f6sc.html

I commented on that article a few days ago

https://pcwatch.blogspot.com/2024/04/beautiful-minds-inside-identity.html

Am I a Christian?

I follow Carnap in thinking that metaphysical statements are not even meaningful, let alone right or wrong. Yet I sometimes call myself a Christian. Why? Because I try to live a Christian life. I do get rewards when I do the Christian thing in a situation. It's rather wonderful how often and sometimes how promptly kind, forgiving and generous behavior is rewarded

I will mention just one small and rather amusing example of such an occasion.

I was working in a Real Estate office when one of the salesmen began abusing me for something I had said. In reply I said: "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa". I accepted blame in accordance with Matthew chapter 5 but I did it in Latin.

He was however an older Catholic who remembered the Latin mass so understood what I said and was amused by it. So he instantly went from condemning to laughing. Others nearby said frantically, "What did he say? , What did he say?" They thought I had used some sort of magic spell to get such an abrupt change in him, which, in a way, I had

One of my alien episodes

I probably should not put this up as it is a sort of boasting and boasting is never wise. But it is too amusing to remain unmentiond.

When I was teaching at the university of NSW, I was also in my spare time doing rather a lot of property renovations. It was mainly a hobby for me. I liked to see how much better I could make a run-down property look. And it did increase the amount of rent I could ask. But it did make some perfectly legal tax breaks available to me. So much so that in some years I paid no income tax

I then did something that most people do not know you can do. I wrote to the tax man and said that I expected my record of having no net taxable income to continue and would he therefore write to the university paymaster and tell him to stop deducting tax from my university pay. And he did so.

So when I got my first pay with no tax taken out I was rather pleased and mentioned it to someone else in the school. The word of course got around and my colleagues were stunned. How the Devil did I manage that? They had never heard of such a thing and could hardlly comprehend it. It seemed uncannily clever to them.

I gather that they were not well pleased to have someone so alien among them

My life as an alien

Being non-neurotypical can have both negatives and positives. My negatives: I have no interest in sport, no interest in dancing, no interest in the great outdoors and I really don't understand what scenery is all about. I have watched very few movies in my life and almost never watch TV. I find popular music unpleasant. I greatly dislike crowds and meetings and have mostly managed to avoid both. So it is clear that I am so far outside the norm that I might as well be an alien from outer space.

But I am outside the norm in positive ways too. Being a high-functioning autistic brings a high IQ with it and high IQ solves almost all problems. I have been rather successful in both academe and in business. I wrote my Ph.D. dissertation in 6 weeks (average is 3 years) and I made enough money to retire when I was 39.

But I think relationships are the most important thing in life and my record there is a bit debatable. I have been married 4 times so there are some wonderful women who will even go to bed with an alien if he is very self-confidant and laughs a lot. But 4 marriages have also led to 4 divorces so that is a failure. But is it? I regard all 4 marriages as successes. I learnt a lot from all 4 and enjoyed all 4.

So I am pretty alien. But I am a happy alien. A lot of things that bother others don't bother me. I tend to accept criticisms as just information and nothing else, for instance

And my autistic calm allows me to have a very autistic girlfriend who is nonetheless good looking, good humoured very intelligent, very fit and who goes to bed with me a lot. We often fall asleep in one-anothers' arms, which I really like.

Not bad for an 80-year-old, I think