A chinese curse

It's been a weekend of drama. We had all the fun of an ex-boyfriend taking his frustration out, in a violent manner, against Morgan. I can't honestly say that I believe she was blameless in all of this; she can be a most provoking young lady at times and there have been moments when I've had to remind myself that, step-father or no, one is no longer permitted to administer a curative slap.

Misery Guts (my step-father) had it much easier; back in the 1960's no one batted an eyelid if he chose to take his belt to our bums. Of course, we also had hidden domestic violence and hidden incest; we have those today as well but people are rather less likely to turn a blind eye. *shrug*.

So I spent some of the afternoon at the local police station, or, as I think of it, the local cop shop. I suppose it's a reflection of the reality of a gun owning society that the cop shop was nothing like the police stations I'm familiar with. High security entrance; bullet proof glass between us and the receptionist. Doors leading from the reception area to the interior that looked like they could withstand a nuclear blast. Cameras trained on the side road leading to the station and razor wire on the entrance to the police car park. Well I suppose some desperate criminal could break free during the walk from the patrol car to the cells...

So we sat outside while the officer asked Morgan pertinent questions about the perp. After he'd ascertained the particulars they were preparing for picking him up and the first question was; does he carry a gun? Now please understand that, even though Australia holds the world record for the highest number of people killed in a shooting spree[^]such a question still rings alarms in me. That's just not something that I worry about in Australia.

And what is it with the word precinct? The such and such precinct station instead of the such and such police station? If my wife hadn't told me that building was the police station I would never have known though I drive past it most days! The police officers wear a badge of office but you can search until your face turns blue before you'll find a representation of that badge on the building! Fortunately a police car looks like a police car pretty much wherever you are in the world.

I remember driving home that Sunday afternoon, April 28th 1996, a sunny day in Melbourne. I was driving from North Melbourne toward Dynon Road Footscray and had just emerged from beneath the railway line when ABC Melbourne interrupted the program with news of a shooting in Tasmania. First reports were of one or two dead but as the afternoon wore on the numbers kept rising and rising. It took a couple of days for the final toll to be known.

I'm living in interesting times!