Social media, and blogs, act like a diary record of some aspects of the author’s life when pursued over extended periods of time. That, in itself, makes the effort spent in compiling them worthwhile – assuming that you have had something worthwhile to talk about. ‘Worthwhile’ in this context, I understand and hope that you do too, has nothing in common with pouting images of self, pussy cats, rabbits or dogs.
I just realised the perils of focusing on one outlet of expression, to the detriment of other records. Early in 2012 I began writing on Facebook and continued to do so, sometimes many times a day, until Early August this year – when I downloaded a record of everything about my FB account – for posterity and validation – before deleting that account. It was fortunate that I made that record because I now realise that this downloaded data is the only complete record of my life over the past eight years.
At about the same time as I began ‘Facebooking’ I also began blogging here at ‘Not Something Else’ on WordPress, sometimes mirroring my Facebook posts but mostly not. Between 2013 and July of this year, I gradually lost interest (mostly due to the additional effort required) in blogging here, except for a six month period between late 2016 – early 2017 (the reasons for which I have now forgotten), preferring the ease of doing stuff fairly easily on FB.
That is sad really, because in those intervening years much happened that never got recorded here, only on Facebook. I moved home twice in that period – with renting property, that is a hazard one has to accept. I chose to rent. I didn’t want the burden or the attachment (possibly fatal attachment) that those who own the property in which they live, either knowingly or unknowingly accept.
My first move, from a little cottage hidden away at the bottom of a creek valley, came about because (after promising me that I could stay there as long as I wished) the owner of the property (for her it was an investment) injured her back and needed to sell. The new owner of course wanted to live there themselves. Nevertheless I had three happy, productive and educational (to rural living) years there.
I found an old farm house (a three bedroom farm manager’s family residence) at the back gate of quite a large (1500 acre) beef farm along with about 100 acres of grape vines, where the closest neighbours were around 1 kilometre away in any direction. As soon as I saw the place I knew I wanted to live there. There was no indecision. The home was set in over 2 thirds of an acre of mostly grass and a wind-screen of large acacias. It had a 360 degree rural aspect and a gated, curving driveway of around 80 metres, plus another 50 metres set back from a quiet country road – which turned out to also be a tourist road and a logging truck route. Ah, well.
I adapted my life to the new circumstances, even surviving three months of no mains electricity supply a few months after moving and following a report I made of an overhead power line that was frayed and sparking and also passing through the tree line on the property. I bought generators to help me get through that trying experience. Here’s how it began, recorded in an FB post:
That situation was temporary, since it was realised that the line between meters was actually illegal and it was removed. I was then reliant solely on my own generator and PV panels for power until the permanent fix was in place. Here is an intermediate update which details some of my adventures. The text is smaller – for screen capture purposes. I hope it is readable…
…and my trials ended three months to the day from the start, January 28, 2015 – an event which I apparently failed to record. I wonder why?…
That wasn’t the only power outage I suffered in the 5 years I lived in Glenburn, as the following FB update attests. This event took place before the 3 month outage but these things were a feature of that particular rural area, at least one such – even if only briefly – happening almost every month.
I spent 5 happy years on the farm, transforming a sea of grass, or part of it – as much as I thought I could get away with – into vegetable gardens and fruit orchard. There are some images already here from 2015/16 posts but not nearly as many as I posted on FB. I may make a separate gallery here. I learned so much in those five years.
Sadly all things come to an end, and both age and the debilitation resulting from my illness back in 2010 caught up with me and meant that I could no longer maintain that fairly large property (for a single person) as it needed to be kept. I now was obliged to look toward the next stage of my life.
This post, from April this year and copied from my VK site, before I started to duplicate my posts from there to this blog, records that process…
So, here I am now, living on the edge of a small city – something I swore I would never do. But, coming up to 75 years of age, what choice do I have? I want to retain an independent lifestyle for as long as I am able, and this solution works for me. And if the world turns into a global latrine (see, I can even say ‘shit’ nicely), well I am still vehicularly mobile, still have my camping gear and more than simply basic survival equipment, and the accumulated knowledge of years of partial self-sufficiency – plus a supply of seeds – and though I don’t know how long I would have the strength to make it in an apocalyptic scenario, I am as prepared for it to happen as I possibly could be, given the circumstances.
And that is all anyone can do. The rest is up to luck …and fate.