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    Gallery , Oakbank, South Australia. likes. Gallery is now trading as AP Bond Contemporary and Aboriginal Art but Facebook wont let us change the page name. Still same but different. We. Just another classic-tracks.com site. It’s been 10 days now since I last saw my old friend Jango. It’s time I faced the truth: he is either dead, or in prison. See more of Gallery on Facebook. It will be tempting for many to create scapegoats, to put a face to the fear and anger that we all feel. From small beginnings, the ranger Amateur Pussy has swelled to employ about indigenous people on more than teams. Gradually Old Mature Com grew close, Jango and I. But this veteran was also still Nutten Saarlouis more than a child: he was just 17 years old. He let me come right up close. No-one seemed Schwanz Küssen have lost a galah. But there is another story which has come down in the family which reminds me of just how young Grandpa was. He has been at the forefront in supporting environmental Kostenlose Sexanzeigen Berlin and policies in innumerable public debates, including taking a strong position against allowing dogs off-leash in Woorabinda Bushland Reserve formerly Stirling Linear Park. More than once I had to stop him as he started to rip individual keys out of the keyboard with his beak.

    Hanging system, good lighting and all the expertise and cintacts of 17 years of running a gallery included. All genres of art with a focus on contemporary.

    If you're interested in exhibiting please email me Tony edinburghcastlehotel. If you're near North Adealide today take a look at Sculpture For Sight.

    At St Marks Pennington Tce Nth Adelaide Brilliant collection of contemporary sculpture.. Well done Mena Muecke, James Muecke and all those who put it together!

    The building that used to be Greenhill Galleries. Come and say hi and see some great artworks by Pelle Fisher, Jana Wallace Braddock, Meg Cowell and Peter Fisher.

    New space set up under way. It's going to be a bit different ;. Painting by Pelle Fisher. Work on the new Adelaide Hills venue is progressing and an inner city pop up or two in planning!

    Stay tuned! We're having a little break but will be back in in a new space with some interesting format changes. Jump to. Sections of this page.

    Accessibility Help. Email or Phone Password Forgot account? See more of Gallery on Facebook. Log In. Forgot account? Not Now.

    Visitor Posts. None of the Back to Basics group responded to the email survey. Other Back to Basics members have suggested they would like to see biodiversity reserves made more available for activities such as off-leash dog walking and recreation.

    For his sake, I hope it is the former. Jango first came into my life three years ago. He turned up on our lawn one day in spring, chewing — as galahs do — on the kikuyu stems.

    I knew immediately that he was different. The other galahs flew away when I approached, but Jango continued chewing unperturbed. He let me come right up close.

    We had an aviary sitting empty next to the shed, so we put him in there while we decided what to do with him. We fed him some parrot mix and asked around.

    No-one seemed to have lost a galah. About the same time my daughter brought home a rescued rainbow lorikeet, which she called Boba, after the Star Wars bounty hunter.

    Jango did not like captivity, and it upset all of us to see him sulking in the aviary. But we thought we were doing the right thing; that he would surely die if we let him go.

    We brought him inside sometimes, to give him something to do and space to fly around in. Often during the day we would also bring him out of his aviary to a smaller cage on our verandah, where he could see what was going on and not be so lonely.

    We brought him toys — sticks, flowers, gum nuts and the like — which he chewed relentlessly. That, we decided, was that.

    But just to be sure we left some food in his verandah cage, in case he got hungry. Apparently he did; he flew down a couple of days later and helped himself to the seed.

    It quickly turned into a routine — we moved his food bowl to the top of his old verandah cage, and he would fly down a couple of times a day for us to feed him.

    Over time, the relationship developed. At first Jango really only trusted Max. He distrusted me most of all. Ha ha. Jango became increasingly attached to Max.

    When Max walked outside, Jango would appear out of nowhere and land on his shoulder. Max could do anything with him — tickle him, tumble him over in his lap, take him for rides on his scooter.

    A boy and his bird. Because, as I said, Jango did not like me. If I came anywhere near him his crest would go up menacingly, and if I got within a metre or two he would fly at me squawking.

    He would let me feed him when he was hungry, but there were days when I was nervous about going outside because he was waiting to attack.

    It took months to convince Jango to trust me. Gradually we grew close, Jango and I. Sometimes, perhaps bizarrely, it was about sex. In spring Jango would get urges.

    I never knew before that galahs could purr, but Jango could. It was very hard not to bob your head back, and he always liked a good scratch.

    His lust was such that if I did not stop him — and he was not always easy to stop — he would start humping my hand, twisting his tail back and forth.

    Poor Jango, his love affair with the human hand was un-requited. If he was hungry or lonely he would land on the kitchen window sill and tap persistently on the glass until someone went out to see what he wanted.

    It was almost impossible to get any work done with him in the room. More than once I had to stop him as he started to rip individual keys out of the keyboard with his beak.

    Sometimes he would disappear for a while and re-appear holding a gum twig with a few leaves on it. His favourite thing was the clothes line.

    I learned a lot from Jango. I can never look at another bird, indeed another creature, the same way again. Somehow, across the huge divide which is the species barrier, we connected with each other.

    We got on. It was a funny sort of a relationship, which was always — on my part at least — tinged with concern.

    Because I knew every time I saw Jango it might be the last. I worried about that, a lot. I thought that way at least someone might ring me if they found him.

    No-one has. Then he vanished, and I have not seen him again. I doubt now that I ever will. I really hope he is dead, that it was quick, and that he is not trapped in a cage somewhere.

    I miss the little guy. And I would go outside onto the verandah to sit with him and watch the sun set. Sometimes he would nibble my ear, or purr.

    Sometimes we would bob heads at each other, or I would scratch him. But mostly we would just sit quietly together, two old men of the world, and watch the sun set behind the trees.

    Can you imagine any adult you know writing his initials like that? Can you remember doing your initials like that as a kid? I certainly did, on the back of my ruler at school.

    Remember that these initials are the work of a capable AIF veteran, a man who — surrounded by death and destruction — had already earned the respect of his superiors, had been wounded, and would shortly be commissioned as an officer.

    But this veteran was also still little more than a child: he was just 17 years old. Like so many others, he had put up his age by two years so he could join the army.

    The year before, aged 16, he had already fought for several months in the Somme , one of the legendary bloodbaths of World War 1.

    He was evacuated from France to England. Lying in hospital in London, my grandfather saw a medical note attached to the foot of his bed. He asked the man in the bed next to him to read it for him.

    The notice, his mate told him, said that Grandpa was scheduled to have both his feet amputated. By May Grandpa was back in France.

    Soon after graduating from that, he was commissioned as an officer. Later in a few days after his 18th birthday my grandfather took part in the now-famous Battle of Polygon Wood.

    Perhaps it was there that he picked up some of the other objects which have come down to me, via my father. My grandfather told my father he had got them from prisoners of war, a story which my father has never questioned.

    But I wonder — how do you get a belt buckle and indeed, the entire belt from a living prisoner? How do you get buttons? Whatever the case, my grandfather returned from the First World War with his souvenirs, and with some other enduring legacies.

    The war never really left him — literally. He died in with pieces of it still embedded in his body. As a boy I can remember my grandfather showing me a small dark mark — not unlike a deep tattoo — under the skin of his arm.

    It was a piece of shrapnel from World War I, he told me, still working its way through his tissues. Over the years several other pieces had already found their way out.

    My dad tells me that Grandpa loathed rats. He detested particularly the squeal made by feeding rats when they are disturbed. It is not hard to imagine why.

    But there is another story which has come down in the family which reminds me of just how young Grandpa was. When he finally returned to Adelaide after the war, he moved back in with his parents.

    His father — my great grandfather — told this veteran of the Somme, Polygon Wood and who knows what else, that he must be home by 11pm.

    When my grandfather did not comply one night, his father locked all the doors and windows of the house except one, then moved his bed under the unlocked window so he could catch him when he came home.

    There was one final, bitter irony. The implication is obvious, but thankfully unprovable. I doubt I ever will. Skip to content. Home About.

    Posted in Uncategorized Leave a comment. The country would be heaps better off, right? It would save taxpayers a motza? Who am I? More information about selected Candidates: 1 MAYOR — Bill Spragg Bill Spragg — the current Mayor — is standing again.

    MANOAH WARD This is our local ward which includes Aldgate Valley. The candidates whom I believe are the best choices for the environment in order are: Jan-Claire Wisdom standing again, currently Deputy Mayor.

    The candidates whom I believe are the best choices for conservation and environmental issues in no particular order are: John Kemp standing again.

    John responded thoughtfully to the email survey Anthony White new candidate. MARBLE HILL WARD Jan Loveday standing again.

    Posted in Uncategorized Tagged Jango Leave a comment. Look at this photo for example. His feet recovered. There is no moral to this story.

    Posted in Uncategorized Tagged anzac day 2 Comments. Search for:. Create a free website or blog at WordPress.

    Collection of best big free videos. XVIDEOS german-old-mature videos, free. classic-tracks.com 'german-old-mature' Search, free sex videos. classic-tracks.com 'Old german mature porn' Search, free sex videos. Whatever the case, my grandfather returned from the First World War with his souvenirs, and with some other enduring legacies. Jan-Claire was enormously supportive in getting the Aldgate Valley Nature Walk finally happening, and has been a terrific help on several other conservation issues as well. I have spoken to Kirrilee, and am convinced that she is knowledgeable, interested and sympathetic to conservation issues, and that she has lots of energy and good ideas. Stockings Lingerie Sexy Stockings Black Lingerie Women Blonde Hexe Pornos Hazel Hair Color Confident Woman Sexy Older Women Voluptuous Women Curvy Hentai3d. Stepmom and son hidden cam. Three old mature Gangbang Hard share one cock He finds old mature couple and teen taboo sex

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