P, Meth, call it what you like…

…the stuff needs more chemistry and electronics whiz-kids to come together.

It’s a shit substance, cooked up illegally and immorally by ass-holes, sold illegally and immorally by ass-holes, bought illegally and immorally by muck-witted idiots, smoked illegally and immorally by muck-witted idiots –who include sick-minded parents of children suffering what amounts to child abuse.

The a-holes who cook it leave toxic residue in the “labs”. This residue sticks around, affecting any who come to live in the place after the “cooks” have moved on to ruin some other property.

Rental properties, in which the “cooks” have no vested interest, are the most common “kitchen”. But a rental, after the cooks have shifted out, may be in no condition to be re-leased to new tenants. The property will need checking, registering as a contaminated building, decontaminating (and sometimes extensive repairing), and re-testing to a safe standard before the landlord can rent it out again. Some properties cannot be made safe, and have to be demolished. In some countries, rental property insurance will not cover P contamination’s financial losses, as they are due to illegal activity.

But the property owner is not the only victim, or loser. The whole community is affected in some way, as during the fix up period prospective tenants, including homeless or low income families, have reduced chances of finding a place to rent.

So…where do our chemists and electronic technicians come in to this? If you’re in one of those fields, now I’m talking to you.

For the love of god, would you please partner up with someone in that other field, and come up with an invention for a specialised gadget?

It should, at the very least…

  • Work like a smoke alarm
  • Recognise/Detect methamphetamine in the air of a “kitchen”
  • On recognition of meth, send an electronic alarm to the landlord
  • Be obvious to the tenant – a proactive deterrent
  • Be tamper-proof, physically, or send a “tampering” signal
  • Be proofed against scrambling or blocking its wireless signals

Who’s going to fund the development of your gadget? Think insurance companies, landlord consortiums, government housing departments…
Who’s going to benefit from your gadget? Think landlords, tenancy agencies, new tenants, child health agencies, drug police, government… If you’re smart enough to have earned your degree, you’re smart enough to see the potential. You’re smart enough to find the developmental funding.

Methamphetamine is an extremely addictive, powerful stimulant. It produces wakefulness, hyperactivity and a euphoric effect.
Methamphetamine is also known as speed, pure, P, burn, goey, crank, meth, crystal, ice and yaba.
Methamphetamine is manufactured … in clandestine (secret) drug laboratories, known as ‘clan labs’, or imported in crystal form.
here are risks in the process due to the poisonous, explosive, corrosive, toxic and extremely flammable chemicals used.
Exposure to chemicals found in clan labs can cause various symptoms including headaches, watery or burning eyes, nausea, burning skin, coughing or choking, diaphragm pain, feeling of coldness or weakness, shortness of breath or dizziness, decreased cognitive function, vertigo and convulsions.
{ Retrieved May 2017 from…Methamphetamine and the Law }

Depressant drugs include: alcohol, Valium, Xanax, Librium, and barbiturates
Hallucinogenic drugs include LSD, PCP, MDMA (Ecstasy), marijuana, mescaline, and psilocybin.
Opiate drugs include heroin, morphine, codeine, and OxyContin.
Stimulant drugs include: cocaine, methamphetamine, amphetamine, MDMA (Ecstasy), nicotine, and caffeine.
{ The above list and links were found at Villanova University. }

For Landlords— Are you wondering why this should concern you? Then please read these reasons.
In New Zealand there is a commercial service which monitors your property and reports to you,.
If  you decide you would prefer to have a monitoring and reporting service working for you, protecting your property investment, check out the NZ developed gadget MethMinder, at Meth Solutions.
Their Meth-Minder device comes in three “packages”, the cheapest of which is the Short Term Protection Package, at $59.95 per month ($13.83 / week).
This includes property monitoring & device lease for a 12 month minimum term. Their central control room monitors all installed devices, and depending on the device readings, either calls the landlord, or immediately calls the Police.
There is a set up and installation fee, and baseline meth testing is carried out.
This is suited to a landlord without the confidence to receive the warnings at home.
All prices are GST inclusive and include a3 Year Warranty.
Read the company’s Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

I welcome comments about other, similar, rental property
Meth detection and reporting in any country reading this.

Disclaimer: This site cannot be responsible for verification
of links posted in such comments.



“Yarp, Yarp, Yarp” – Mother-in-law bird

Some people get a “bee in their bonnet”;

Borrowed from OwenWilson.com.au

I have a bird on the brain.


It’s a bird I first heard while up in the hill farmland over Hawkes Bay, long before I saw it. It has a distinctive call. ‘Yarp, yarp, yarp, yarp…’ I asked one of the local farmers about it. He named it the ‘Mother-In-Law’ bird – really, the Spur-Wing Plover.

The farming community did not approve of it, as it is a ground nesting bird, making its scrape in the centre of an open space. It is also extremely protective of its scrape, at which one partner of the other is always in attendance, if not covering the clutch of eggs.

If any person or farm beast approaches too closely, they will rise and swoop ferociously at the intruder,  screaming, and trying to rake their spurs – complete with poison glands – across any part they can swipe over.

I saw a couple in Palmerston North, in the front grounds of the Research complex. For weeks they strutted around their scrape. Staff there mentioned how the groundkeeper never mowed their real estate, leaving them a wide berth. One Monday morning, there was only one. I learned from a scientist there that they mate for life, and if one is killed, the other will stay around their site for years before giving up. I would see the lone mate on the peak of the roof, and hear it calling to its spouse. I fell in love with the bird, right then.

The next time I saw them was in Masterton, in a new housing area on what had been a football club’s ground. I left the car to move closer to the scrape, over which the pair were already wheeling. And, yes, they swept over towards me. They didn’t rake me – I’d lowered my head, and turned back to the car.

Now in Rotorua, I’ve heard a pair flying over our house during the evening, just around sun down, every autumn.

‘Yarp, yarp, yarp, yarp…’ I love their call. It’s as if one is calling to the other ‘Come on, I’m taking you home’, while the spouse calls back ‘I’m coming, I’m coming’.

20170523_124346I know where they go. I’ve seen their scrape one year, in an open green space between a clothing outlet and a large hotel. The space is so wide, truckers have, in summer, parked their rigs there for the public to see them up close, and rides are given to special children.

20170523_124438Last year, I didn’t see the Plovers – only their abandoned scrape, after a week-end’s ‘paddock bashing’ by hoons spinning across their nesting site that autumn. I only saw the mess of their scrape – two shattered shells, abandoned.

The marks of their tyres are still there now, along with the marks of a go-cart, being ridden by a child under Dad’s supervision, during summer when the plovers would have been back in farmland.

2017-05-23 12.51.44Today I caught some pictures of the couple.
They seem to have chosen a nesting site a little
closer to the hotel, but still with a
clear space for lookout duty all around them.

They may start their family.


That is a freaking CAT prowling around!

They may get through the autumn and winter
without being disturbed, or killed. I hope so.




For better images than mine, visit the New Zealand Birds Online site… http://nzbirdsonline.org.nz/species/spur-winged-plover and learn more about this raucous couple.



Cole’s Funny Picture Book 1

Cole was a book dealer in Melbourne, whose “Book Arcade” was the biggest book outlet of its day.

Cole published two Picture Books for children, and one included a section titled Smoking Land (among other sections titles as, for example, Naughty Girls, Boys’ Names, Puppy Land, School Land…).

The Gutenberg Press has converted the Coles Funny Picture Book 1; from this I rediscovered some of the (now, fairly horrendous) rhymes written for children in 1879.

Contents, Cole’s Picture Book 1

Coles Funny Picture Book 1,  Section Titles

(O M G – How writing for children has changed!
But still, there are many copies of Cole’s Funny Picture Book 1 and Cole’s Funny Picture Book 2, hiding in grandparents’ cupboards. Theses are the {gauche/babyish} chapter headings considered appropriate – by Mr Cole, anyway.)

BABY RHYMEScover_Coles Funny Picture Book 1




























COMIC ADVERTISER ( under which you’ll find various sections, then…)

        Boy Smoking

        Narcotics and Intoxicants

        Pipes of the world


–        The Ancients’ Idea of God

–        The Name of God in 48 Languages

–        The Moderns’ Idea of God

–        Eternal Goodness


Suspense – a writing exercise

I don’t know what the hell the shop at my back sold, but its windows’ steel shutters were cold to lean against, and the concrete sill dug deep into my butt. I’d be numb if I had to stay there much longer. But if I as much as twitched, the sensor above and to the left of me would light up the whole shop front like stage lights.

It was a hell of a night to be stuck like a statue. Chilly—probably a frost coming in. Wet—a slight sprinkle with heavier rain a definite probability. Clothing—absolutely useless for the job.

From my damp and cold position I could see both of them—she, leaning against a lamp post three metres along from the restaurant door over the road; and he, hidden in the dark, half sitting on the window sill of the fashion boutique diagonally across the intersection from me.

I knew he couldn’t see me. A large planter was butted against the shop wall beside the window, its tall, full shrubbery hiding me from his view. There were just enough gaps that I, right there beside it, could see his position. Every so often a pin-point of red, glowing at the end of his cigarette, assured me he was still there, after seventy-two minutes.

She knew where each of us was. She was counting on me, and dreading any move he made. Her job was to wait until the Brit left the restaurant and approach him before my marked man intervened.

I knew she was armed. Her silly little hand gun would be tucked in her left knee-high fashionable boot. Being ambidextrous, but mostly using her right hand for everything except fighting, gave her a fractional moment’s advantage should she need it—which she often did. God knows where she kept her stiletto.

My peripheral vision caught flickering sparks from his fag butt as he tossed it down. He moved away from the wall, by about a half-step.

With a sudden rush of chatter and clatter, the restaurant doors swung out into the entry. The doorman stepped out and latched them open as the inner door glided closed, shutting off the brief sound of diners having a good time. That was appropriate—no one in my sight was going to have a good time for much longer.

The doorman stood with a shoulder tucked behind the edge of one door, his back to the man who had silently moved further to stand in the far gutter. The Brit and his minders came from the lobby and stood waiting for their ride. One minder at each shoulder, they ignored the doorman, who knew better than to look at them.

She had already straightened up and stood away from her lamp-post. She grabbed her shoulder tote and slung it on her right as she moved towards them, a gentle sway of her hips suggesting a less than honourable job.

One minder spotted her. He moved from behind the Brit and around to stand in front of him, already on his toes, his knees relaxed, and shoulders balanced ready to go. His shoulders’ tension was an easy tell. This one meant business.

She raised her hand—just a simple flex of her wrist. He relaxed back onto his heels and eased his shoulders.

She continued towards them, the strap of her shoulder tote now wrapped firmly in her right wrist. As she reached a point where the minder’s bulk blocked our man’s vision—he was now halfway across the three-lane road—she raised one finger from the strap.

The minder moved only an eyebrow—up, down—acknowledging her warning.

Aversion – Show Don’t Tell Exercise

Daniel’s girlfriend caught on to his family’s expectations of Mrs Smith’s cooking while joining them in the dining room, all awaiting the bearer of the platters. The family drew out their chairs and sat. Sue and Daniel were the last to arrive.

She was quick of eye and caught many a surreptitious ‘sniff’ as she sat to Daniel’s left. After each one around the table had inhaled the not too pleasant odours from the kitchen, the conversation around the table died to an awkward silence, filled only with the quiet shuffle of fidgeting.

Mr. Smith’s reaction to the test of the approaching flavours was to pull in his chair tight against the table’s edge, as he pulled from his pocket a tube of peppermints. He sat bolt upright, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Sue noted Daniel hooked his right ankle around the chair leg of Amy, the youngest daughter, beside him. On Amy’s other side, another brother had her far chair leg also hooked by an ankle.

Peter’s shoulders had slumped, and Rosie’s head was drooping. Thomas rose from his chair and fetched two more salt and pepper sets and another pot of mustard. Mister Smith motioned to Joanna, who began pouring and passing glasses of water. Large glasses.

The younger Peter passed around the paper napkin dispenser, and Sue noted how they all took at least three.

Daniel gripped her hand, and whispered “Don’t worry. It’ll be alright.”


Written at March meeting

How Not To Write… A Novel

Great post, via Plaisted Publishing here at WordPress.

How Not To Writte

They say everyone has a book inside them (and we don’t mean in the ’embarrassing visit to A&E’ sense). We all have a story to tell, a journey to share or an idea that sounds like it could be worked into a passable novel.

But if you’ve just come up with the best idea ever for a chick lit flicker – featuring the forbidden love between a chocolate company owner and his down-at-heel cleaning lady – how do you get this blockbusting idea out of your head and into 100,000 words or tear-enducing literary prose?


  • Commit to writing, a LOT, and then some, and then some more, again… and wash, and repeat.
  • Learn the basics of editing skills. You don’t need swish software but you DO need patience and – in our opinion – rewards for getting your edits done. Chocolate works well (Ed: there’s a theme emerging here……

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