In 1996 Dad went and raced at Rob Roy despite his cancer being pretty advanced.

Though we are not having a party for your 80th birthday, I think if we did, you’d be up for it and be the last to leave.

I think if we had speeches at this not-happening party, I’m fairly certain I’d make a speech, you would make a speech and then Stephen would make one to beat us both.

It’s right that the young end up bettering the old.

Today we took your grandson off to get his broken arm set. It was an oddly proud moment as he joined the family proper. (In my family, you’re only truly “in” after you break a bone),

I think you’d like The Boy. He is very much one of us. He’s outgoing, talkative and always keen to have a go.

As for your grand daughter- well she’s quite a piece of work. Though only 3 months old, she’s well and truly got me worked out and already getting me to jump whenever she so chooses. And I love it.

So, while it’s your birthday, I can’t help but think about my own birthday this year- 40. I’m not far off the age you were when I was born and this has made me reflect on my own performance as a father. It’s probably not for me to say how I’m going (and it’s fair to say Harry’s broken arm has kinda put me back to the field…!), but I do often find myself wondering what you’d do in any given circumstance. Sometimes I don;t do what you would have done as I’m not so certain that it was or is the right thing to do. So in circumstances where you haven’t set a good example- you’re serving as an example. I’m sure I’ll end up the same with Harry.

It’s right that the son tries to be a better father than his own father. It’s for others to judge whether he has succeded.

If I have reflected on anything this year, it’s been the words that used to annoy the hell out of me when I misbehaved: “You know what’s expected of you..”

And you know what Dad? I think, maybe, after all these years, I’m beginning to understand what you meant.

I just wish you were here to see it.

Happy birthday old boy.

My Father, Richard Reynolds died from complications caused by prostate cancer in 1996.

I am so clucky it’s actually a bit pathetic.

We (that is to say I) have agreed to not find out what sex this one is. Rachel, being an only child, simply must a/ get her own way and b/ find out what her present is before the days it’s due to be opened. We’d like a girl, but I am convinced (and equally stoked) that it will be a boy…

Speaking of due- this one is due on the 4th of October, some 26 odd months behind Harry!

Here’s the three of us with member number four not quite in view:

Rachel's Birthday 2010.

I went to the Bourne Ultimatum with Wife and former (female) housemate. Before the cinematic event we enjoyed a lovely dinner where my wife and ex housie decided that a heroic dose of wine was called for.

Once drunk, they decided it was time for me to outline what happened in the two preceding films. The glazed eyes and repeated questions such as ”but WHY did he lose his memory?” indicates this is not going to go well.

Arrival at the cinema finds me in the queue behind Nadine Garner. I attempt to flirt with her, only ruined by the wife and ex housie ”mumble mumble HENDERSON KIDS!”.

One in the movie, the oversize handbag carried by ex housie turns out to be full of plastic glasses and a bottle of red. They open this (oh we’re late BTW) in the dark, pour some on the floor and sit back.

They eat snacks in manner that I’m pretty sure sounds not unlike the Germans shelling Stalingrad. Ex housie has to go to the toilet three times (the last one to throw up due to hand held camera angles and wine). Both ask me questions throughout the movie in that faux ”I AM WHISPERING’‘ yelling voice.

At one stage they put their hands up to ask me a question. This is , according to them, the funniest thing they have ever done.

I reach for a killing implement.

Wife crosses and uncrosses her legs- desperate to go to the toilet. Finally she goes, and the movie ends a minute later. Housie is still throwing up in the ladies. I ponder going home with Nadine Garner.

They want to kick on to a bar. I walk home through the golf course. At midnight, the sprinklers come on for no apparent reason and I get wet.

We saw wriggly little feet and hands. Was awesome!

158 days to go

This blog post was started back in the earliest days of Rachel’s pregnancy, but as we needed to make it to at least 12 weeks before we made any announcement, I decided to keep this as a a draft until it was time.

Monday 19th November.

Rachel had some interesting news this morning. She has a faint, but likely positive pregnancy test. She read the instructions and thinks she may not have done it right.

As I know nothing of these tests, I assume it’s false. Their accuracy is unknown to me. (99.9%)

Tuesday 20th November
Well little one, seems you really are there and I really am to become a father. WOW!

Two tests, done properly and two strong positives. Holy crap. I’m not freaking out, I am just excited. Your mother is going to be pissed- she wanted to have a few drinks all over Xmas and her 30th birthday promises to be a quiet affair. I think she’s cool with it on balance.

…of course she’s not really cross- she’s all a glow. I get her to come in and meet me and I took this picture. Now might be a good time to mention that I am a sentimental softie at heart and I cried a little with happiness. Your mother laughed at me. You’ll discover that she does that a lot.
See how happy we are? Your mother is but 5 weeks pregnant at this time. You are the size of a pea, about the same size as your father’s brain.

Regarding the photo, don’t freak out about the mo’. It was NOT the fashion at the time, it’s just I was raising funds for Movember- a charity aimed at (amongst other things) eradicating the cancer that took your grand dad. Don’t sweat about not meeting him BTW- he’s just like your dad, only older.

Friday 13 November
Today your mum went to the doctor’s for the first time. He took some blood, lectured your mother about her drinking (I made that part up) and told her that the results won’t be back ’til next Wednesday, but three positive pregnancy tests from two different brands is good enough for him. He tells your mum congratulations and she calls me straight away. I suppress the urge to have a another cry as I have eight months of occasional cries ahead of me and I think I might try pacing myself. For once.

She sent me the following text:

no fish more than once a fortnight!!!!, no soft cheese, no sushi, no cold cut meats…no drinking…my baby is going to starve!!!

You won’t starve, I promise. By that I mean I won’t personally find food for her, but rather I know your mother well enough to know she will find food- and lots of it.

So after leaving to doctors your mum freaked out and went straight to the shops for some retail therapy..she did manage to buy a book “What to expect when you are expecting”

But mostly she bought clothes for herself… while she could still fit into them.

We have decided to tell the family at Christmas, and announce to the world in January sometime. You will only be 11 weeks at Christmas, but your Aunt and Uncle will be here and this will raise the roof!

As is the family tradition, we have given you a pregnancy name. We have a budgie called Wudge and you are called Budge. Don’t panic, it won’t stick. You will get your own name in good time, and I will find a stupid variation on that name to call you. It’s what I do.

Oh and for the first time your mother used you as an excuse today. She wanted a new toothpaste tube as the old one was almost empty. She said “The baby wants me to have a new tube”

7.5 loooong months to go.

Monday 26 November
We had a very relaxed weekend and talked about our plans for the future. Your mother will stop work in June and take 6 months maternity leave, so guess who has to work like mad?

Yo, Daddy does.

Your mother is ready from the pregnancy book, usually just highlighting bits like “your partner should do half the work” and “If the father gives up alcohol as well, it will make the journey easier”. Well that’s crap, how will I cope with Mrs Crazy Hormones huh? So now, as soon as I hear another quote coming from that damnable book, I switch off and play Xbox.
I might also add your mother has latched onto a quote that says “even when inactive, just being pregnant is the equivalent of mountain climbing every day” She has taken this as as fact and now has a nap. When I ask her about this nap she is using you as an excuse “the baby wants me to have a nap”. Hell, *I* want her to have a nap, it stops the quotes from the baby book coming thick n fast.
All this aside, we are very happy and very much looking forward to your arrival. I was waaay cluckier than your mother, but the flood of hormones has sent her past me in a big way. It should be quite wonderful, but weird.

Friday 13th December
Yes little one, it has been a few weeks since an update so let’s do that quickly:

• You have given your mother morning sickness. Not vomit-y bad, but “I iz siiick” bad. Cure: Vegemite toast made by Dad at 7am. This must be buttered and “vegemited” while it is still hot or all hell breaks out.
• You had your first photoshoot this morning. It was entertaining as your mother had to be up at 6 am for wee, followed by the consuming of a litre of water. She was hell busting when we got to the ultrasound place. I enjoyed it no end, nearly another cry, but I saved it as I wanted to enjoy the moment. The moment I wanted to enjoy was the look on your mother’s face as she tried not to wee while the ultrasound was being run over her stomach. Yes, we have a strange relationship.
• We saw your heart beating. Mine jumped. It was sublime.
• We told your maternal Grandmother. 5 minutes of squealing noises ensued.
• We’re telling my family tonight. They will act excited I am sure.

Right so there’s that done. We’ve locked in all other details: you have an obstetrician, hospital (frankly I am looking forward to the double bed and pay TV more than I ought) and we even looked at baby capsules and related. I want a Formula 1 style baby car seat, but apparently you have to be able to hold your head up and stuff before you can go in one. Your mum is looking out for you on this score junior.

I’m very excited still. Let’s see how long that lasts…

December 25th 2008
The day we tell everyone.

Here’s the info

Here’s the scooter itself (not another one, but the actual scooter!)

On the night of 30-31 October about 40,000 allied troops moved towards Beersheba, including units of the Desert Mounted Corps, about 15,000 men, under Lieutenant General Sir Harry Chauvel, in a night march of nearly 30 miles. On the morning of 31 October the British 60th Division attacked Turkish positions around Beersheba. The infantry made steady progress but by late afternoon had still not secured the wells in the strongly defended town, which were vital for the welfare of the Mounted Corps’ horses, many of whom had been without water for several days. Chauvel decided to send in the 4th Light Horse Brigade, under Brigadier General William Grant, with the words, “Put Grant straight at it”.

I’ve blogged previously about how my Grandfather Thomas Hugh Sarre was a Light Horse trooper, how he was wounded and how he was awarded the Military medal. I also turned up this photo in a search of the Australia War Memorial database:

Some other info about Trooper T H Sarre:

• His official records
• A scanned copy of his records
• Military Medal on Wikipedia

Thomas Hugh Sarre

Thomas Hugh Sarre was awarded the following honours:

Military Medal

Service Number

1438

Service

Army

Rank

Trooper

Unit

10th LH

Conflict

First World War

Date of London Gazette

3 July 1919, page 8357, position 91

Date of Commonwealth of Australia Gazette

17 October 1919, page 1531, position 35

It Remembrance day this weekend.

I accidently searched across the “collections database” for my Grandfather Trooper Thomas Hugh Sarre (instead of personel), and I found the following (second) pic. It’s a photo no-one in my family (to my knowledge) has ever seen. It has been with the War Memorial (or in other war related storage) for 90 years.

Here’s the photo we have from before he went to war (from approx 1914):

And here is the “lost pic” from 1918:

ID Number: B01153
Maker: Unknown
Place made: Syria: Lebanon, Beirut Tripoli Area- Tripoli
Date made: c December 1918
Physical description: Black & white
Summary: Portrait of Trooper T H Sarre MM, 10th Australian Light Horse Regiment.

I’ll post the one other pic we have of him in uniform- and it’s from before he went. The contrast between this second photo of Grandad – the battle hardened, recently wounded, Military medal winning soldier and the pic from before the war is as fascinating as it is depressing. He’s not looking to camera in the second one- as if it no longer matters, in the second his hat is in “full hat” (ie not slouched) position/mode- a pragmatic rather than fashion statement due to the heat. He’s also got his arms by his sides at attention in the first pic- but “at ease” (read: “over it”) in the second. In the first he has his bandoliers (ammo storage) in place- for .303 rounds. In the end, he was a machine gunner who probably rarely used the Enfield .303, except for when he used the rather ominous bloody great bayonet just visible at his side.

My overall impression: the first pic is your classic “keen to go, where do I sign?” pic, with the second pic being the image of a man who’s been through a number of awful things that he will now go home and never speak of.

…and that’s exactly what he did.

Read my other post about World War I and my Grandfather, Trooper Thomas Hugh Sarre

Update I:
I’ve ordered this photo as a print. Then I’ll scan high res for others to download (family that is!)