The Whole Five Acres

Village life

We've created a flurry of interest within our little community, almost without having to do anything.

Turns out the people that used to live in our house, were rather obtuse. In fact, the man of the house was found to be stalking one neighbour, taking photos of him about his business, complaining to council and almost ending up in fisticuffs with him one day about perceived noise.

Four weeks in, I suppose is a bit too early for us to decide if there is any basis to these complaints. Then again four weeks in we were expecting to hear at least a tinkle of noise to cause us concern. 

Do I need to say zip? nada? nothing? I go to sleep and wake up to the sound of the local birds. There's an occasional truck goes past - we live at the very back of the local shops so I would have thought this would be expected. Apart from that, it would seem pretty mean to complain about the only noise I hear - the sound of the little girls next door making merry, the neighbours chatting to each other and the occasional lawn mower doing it's thing.

The village is lovely. I try very hard sometimes to pop up to the shop, all dirty and sweaty from my walk, hoping to be incognito, to no avail. At every turn there is a neighbour, or local person, who just knows we are the new people and wants to have a chat.

These chats have been so far illuminating. Apparently there was concern that Happy was Tongan. One neighbour though said that if he could afford to buy a house then he would be ok. Several neighbours have remarked on how quiet we have been - are we here? are we around? Happy though that we aren't about to noice up the neighbourhood. A group of them are itching for us to put our flyers out with locally grown produce available for delivery. The local butcher is almost a firm friend since we gave him some hot hot hot chillis to try - he's now keen to sell our chilli pasts. And the local bottle shop guys who are also new are so pleased to chat with us that every time we go in there they have something new to give us as a pressie.

I think we've been a breathe of fresh air to this neighbourhood, and only becuase we can't hear, don't wish to see, and always have a few mins for a chat. if this is how my life is meant to be then bring it on.

(Oh geez I hope it stays this way!)

You can call me Erin

I've had a bit of time to think about my lost investments and think now is the time for me to start whinging. There have been many articles scorning us investors, suggesting that the tax incentives were our only reason to invest. There have been others after the collapse waxing lyrical about how any man and his mule would have known these were dud investments - 'hello Michael Pascoe!' (hand wave there too)

It seems to me that it is all too easy for everyone to become a Latterday Expert. Someone who knows it all when they have all the facts. Where were these people when us investors were signing up to what we were being sold as the greatest invesment on earth? As I wrote to one MP, if ASIC, the ATO, and hundreds of accountants thought these products were good enough to hawk, then why didn't someone get out earlier and tell these reputable organisations that there was something odd in the bookkeeping?

So far tonight I have written to a Federal MP, a local MP, and the editor of the SMH. I'm open to any and all suggestions. I'll write to anyone that has the eyes to read, and anyone with the ears to listen. 

When you can't trust the experts who can you trust? Being an expert gives you special powers, rather like superman...shouldn't they be used and not abused?

What is worse than my losing my investments, is that last night I read that there are others who have invested over 20 times more than me, and most likely more. Yeah, we could say they had lots more money so they could afford to lose it. I'm sure there are other people less wealthy than me who could say the same. We need to save the judgements for another day.

Fact is, people have lost money because of a badly managed company that had all it's boxes ticked by the appropriate people. If an accountant can't see it's wrong, if the tax office can't see it's wrong and if ASCIC, our corporate watchbody can't see it is wrong, then who can - oh yes the hindsight journos, that's right. 

Opinions are like arses...everyone has one

This week has been a doozy. With one thing and another, it seems there isn't a part of our life that is going through a shake up. Today we're learning more about our retirement savings, held by a company that has gone to into receivership.

After many months hoping that one of our local newspapers would pick up the story about a huge company worth many hundreds of million dollars that wanted to steal its investors plans and give them shares instead. The story would have been a good one a while back, except I suppose there wasn't necessarily going to be a bad edge to the story. This investment conversion was just another run of the mill story that happens from time to time.

Now, since the receivers have taken over, all  manner of financial advisers have come out of the woodwork to offer their two bobs worth. Michael Pascoe is today's latest hero.

Hindsight is the greatest science. 

A few years ago I had an impending tax debt that was going to blow me out of the water financially. My accountant at the time advised me that there were tax minimisation schemes that could prove profitable and help me save for a sunny financial future. With little in the way of retirement funds accumulated I thought the hard slog now to pay off an investment, whilst also putting money into something that would grow to be of benefit to me, this idea was intriguing. He then put me in contact with a man who could help me reach financial Nirvana.

To the tune of $30,000 I signed up to purchase droves of cattle which would pay me dividends over an 8 year period as well as providing a nice little lump sum to invest a little way down the track. 

What's up with cattle we thought? Mad cow's disease was a worldwide problem, Australia appeared to be free of this, and our markets looked strong. How hard could it be to look after a pile of cow's on investor's behalf and make a little money along the way.

Another year passed. Given that the cow's were not due to pay a dividend for another year, and that nothing adverse had been mentioned about this investment, we decided we would go for plantation trees. Another $15,000 was invested.

Do you know how good it feels to work towards paying off investments that an adviser had said could return up to 27%, 'but he didn't believe these figures really...if we got a 10% return we were still doing well'.

Zooming right along to late last year, GREAT SOUTHERN LIMITED, sends us information to let us know that all the advice that they had received from their appointed (and heftily paid) advisers was flawed. It had been necessary to drain another enormous sum of money to find more advisers to conclude that all our investments were worthless and we should be happy to accept shares in their company instead.

I've got a thing about shares. Everytime I've ever owned them, the stockmarket has crashed. Never have I made any money from shares. I lost big with AMP, I lost big once I bought out my daughter's shares, and my gut told me I would lose big if I accepted these shares.

As is typical with my life, I screwed up the return dates for non acceptance of their kind offer, and missed taking my vote. A letter then arrived to tell me I was the proud owner of over 35000 shares the company said were worth 50c each. Crazily though, while they said they were worth 50c the stockmarket said they were worth 12c or less. Note though, a day or two before the share dispersal the shares spiked to 17c. Funny dealings?

My next thought, after this shock was ok...I now almost own the shares (still have a few months to pay off the debt) if the company bounces back to 50c or more per share I can get out and at least have a partial return on my money. Silly me...was I looking the other day when the writing was on the wall?

Share certificate arrives late Jan.

Loan book sold to a bank sometime around then.

Company goes into receivership this week.

Shares worth fuck all.

No mention yet of what my trees are worth. Perhaps the company is hoping I will forget that I own a few spindly sapplings.

KPMG were the new independent advisers who advised investors that taking the share offer was in their best interest. I'd love to know what sort of flawed logic they used to come to this decision. Did they confuse investors with the directors of GREAT SOUTHERN LIMITED?

Tonight though, I read that Michael Pascoe, only last week referred to us 'mug investors' as people worthy of scorn. I'd love to meet up with him and find out why he thinks that I'm a bit player in some ugly farce of a financial investment.

I'm good at my job, at times very good. I don't pretend to be good at things I know nothing about. This is why I look to those with years and years in their respective industries for advice. Why then would I doubt my accountant when he referred me to a financial planner? Why would I also question graphs that even on the lowest scale* showed a reasonable return for my investments? Why would I reinvest in a company, if I had nothing but glowing reports for two years on how fabulous my investments were growing?

*Interestingly, KPMG had a graph for the cattle project that showed their projections were within the scope of our initial investment. With their little slidey line, even if their worst fears were founded, the investment was set to show a profit equivalent to the worst case scenario I had already accounted for.

Excuse me while I swear - these 'advisers' fucking screwed with my investments. I'm one of those scorned mugs who didn't know enough to realise that my retirement investment was not for my retirement but for the indemnified retirement of the financial advisers, the GREAT SOUTHERN LIMITED directors, KPMG the dodgy report preparers and everyone else along the way.

I only hope that these bastards decide they need some design work done - I have a great reputation for doing financial design work. If they come to me, I'll screw the blighters blind and laugh all the way to the bank. And if they have any opinions on how work should be done, I'll tell them to kiss my arse!

Like I burst out all over the place

Randomly spurting out my thoughts has had a positive effect on my well being. My head isn't anywhere near as crowded as it was a few days ago, and after a major decision last night, my life is also not quite as crowded.

Wednesday, when I was supposed to be at the markets, the weather turned wet which favored a day for me in front of the computer invoicing. This is when I discovered that the client that takes up 60% of my time, actually accounts for only 20% of my monthly invoicing. Something was dreadfully wrong with this equation.

Then after taking a lot of crap with regards my work, and then writing it all up on here last night, I decided that life is too short to put up with this working relationship. I sent out an email and quit the portfolio.

Fear had kept me from doing exactly this for the past few months. Anger and frustration pushed me to the brink.

Today, we woke up early to visit the vegie markets at Flemington. We've stocked up on some great local produce and both Happy and I have a spring in our step, and a smile thinking about some of the new marketing strategies we are going to test out this weekend.

The client is still bumping around in the background trying to bring everything back to her and her needs - but you know, sometimes the right decision just feels good.

When push comes to shove, and shove wins

Everyone has a point where they can not be pushed any further. For some it's a short line, for others the tolerance is greater. Generally I would say I fall into the former, yet in my working life I somehow manage to weigh up monetary needs against personal needs and somehow fit into the 'keep pushing and I'll keep coming back for more' mode.

Tonight I think I finally broke that tradition. I've sat here for several hours writing an email in my head; scratching out the personal remarks, rewriting sentences, getting back to the point of contention, removing any discourse about my emotions and trying to stay on a professional tangent. Hours later I'm still back to where I was three days ago thinking I need to just bite the hard biscuit and tell this one client in particular that I have no interest in doing their work.

Have you ever met a person that has their own opinion, and that there is no other opinion to be had? The client who has no idea how to do what you do, but still wants to tell you how to do it better? The client who tells you they want x, y and z and then the next day wants a, b and c? To be swiftly followed the day after with x, y, c and d? Even though those four components don't actually go together and will never follow each other logically?

I didn't know until this afternoon that my frustration would leak out in the middle of a client conversation so much that I would feel the need to stack my dish washer. Physical mindless activity was preferable to listening to the needs of this client, yet I couldn't have one or the other I had to find an outlet for my frustration.

We have three big catalogue/inserts planned to be designed and printed within the next three weeks, and I have to say I'm so close to pulling out of this and don't know if that is funny or not. Do I stay or do I go now?

Actually I think I just answered that question...I think I'm outta here...

The day of reckoning

Today appears to have a financial overtone, perhaps the planets of money and budgets have aligned. Let's hope for the better.

First news of the day was disappointing. I bought into some cows and tree schemes a few years ago as a way to save for my impending retirement. Last year the company decided that they would make all us investors a fabulous offer. 50c shares for our cows if we agreed. At 50c I would have made my money back, but no interest. Strange though the 50c shares, when handed out were only worth 11.5c so my cow holding became a negative investment to the tune of many thousands of dollars. I didn't actually agree to this arrangement, however the company deemed that through some amazing accounting and reckoning that they could declare a majority yes vote which affected all investors. The financial spin doctors sure have a way with words and figures. 

The news this morning however, received just four months after the shares, is that the company is now going into the hands of receivers. Basically I think this means that the few shares I did receive for my retirement now amount to not much at all. As I'm not sure what this will mean I'll just have to consider the investment a total wipe off.

Second news of the day was promising. After finally succumbing last year to having an external office, my knee and a few other niggly difficulties such as no drivers license made working externally incredibly difficult. Fortunately the monthly rent was a pittance, and I was able to strike the experience up to a lesson about myself. Whilst I enjoyed the office space, I learnt that I don't want to employ staff anymore, and to be brutally honest, am not even sure I want to continue being a graphic designer these days. 

The estate agent called this morning to inform me that they are in the process of doing a new deal for the place, and i'll be out of the lease fingers crossed this week - with only a couple of hundred more to pay. This represents a good saving on the next three month's rent.

Thirdly, between my accountant, a client and myself we've almost navigated the minefield of some payments and invoices and finally worked out who's paid what etc etc. Whilst it may not mean I have any extra money owing, it also doesn't mean I have any more to pay out. 

One result up, one down, and one in the middle. 

What will the rest of the day bring?

Bliss, today we could wake up at anytime we wanted...

Which then makes me wonder why my eyes startled open at 6.15am. Must be a carry over from the market day routine. I wonder if it will ever stop on a Sunday.

Yesterday we were in Parramatta at the Farmer's Market. It is a bit of a stretch still to call it a farmer's market, as the farmers are a bit thin on the ground. We're still there, as are John the Bilpin apple man, Chris the sourdough bread man, and Maree the smoked fish guru. There's the honey and plants people on top of a host of other bric a brac stalls and some hot foods. The bird and fish man has been with us now for two weeks. We're hoping he keeps plugging away at the day as his truckloads of friends, fine, furred and feathered is a big draw card for the sightseers.

With the wind biting at our ears all day, we can totally understand why it was a slow down in the mall. Shame when you think we all get up at five or six to set up, and then the day isn't as busy as normal.

It's high time Happy and I get ourselves some work shirts. For the third or fourth time in the last two months we were approached by someone in the media to do an interview. Without a mirror to check hair or makeup, and my hair quickly tied up due to the wind, I was pushed once again front of the camera! With years of teaching and sales behind me, I can gab on for ages when asked about our work, much to the delight of yesterday's young journalist. I wonder where this piece will pop up, and dread seeing it in case I have bok choy leaves stuck in my hair.

From week to week I'm fascinated by the changing tastes in produce. One week we'll have a run on eggplant, the next it will be lettuce. While I thought lettuce would only be a summer veg, it's proving incredibly popular in winter too. The broccoli becomes a firm favourite in winter which is encouraging. Next week the Chinese veg will be back, and we'll encourage our customers to try something new for a change of pace in the kitchen.

After a long day at the market, we pack up and head back to the farm, where we start repicking items to fill the boxes for today. Many hands make light work, and I think Happy was relieved to have someone (me) there to wash and pack while he tramped around the fields topping up the pickings. It's dark though by the time we finish and still we're a little way from home. At least HE'S still snoring in bed  this morning - my main reason to convince him that Sunday's should be a day of rest.

Now...if only we didn't have to go and get on with packing up our old house. Will this house move ever end?

Crockpot inventions

Now that we are half way through our house move, our holiday to Tonga is behind us, and can almost see the wood for the trees, it's time to start concentrating on all things Field to Feast. We've already started the purchases for the new work kitchen, and whilst I know this is going to take some time to complete, the sheer fact that we have a floorplan, a new freezer, stove and a few tradies sorted is encouraging. In another month or two we'll have our purpose built work area set up and rearing to go.

Currently my time is spent between design work, chilli sauce making, manning market stalls and general house duties. Poor Happy gets lumbered with the planting, picking, growing, packing, weeding and anything that involves lifting weights. So we decided it's high time we learn to work more efficiently. Easier said than done.

One of our biggest jobs is keeping up with demand for the chilli pastes and preserves. We can spend a pleasant few hours bottling one night, and then on then next market day find we have sold out of most of the range. This is why we are planning on a bigger more streamlined kitchen.

The new stove is 90cm wide with an oven twice the size of a conventional oven. This alone will allow us to make twice as many bottles in one go. Not all preserves though are made in the oven. Some require hours of simmering on the stove and an occasional stir to stop the dreaded pot sticking. One of my favourite pots has already been ruined so a new workaround had to be found.

Enter my next favourite piece of equipment - my Breville Banquet Meal Maker. Basically a very large crockpot, with a difference. The surface area allows for greater evaporation which in turn stops food from having that dreadful boiled stew taste. It's also great too if you have a hungry man to feed at the end of a long winter's day at the markets. The crockery insert is a breeze to clean too - an added bonus.

Today I'm testing out the crockpot on my sweet chilli sauce. All my internet research suggested a good 2 hours or so with the lid on, and then the lid is whipped off for the final 2 hours until the preserves look like preserves. These instructions may have been okay for a smaller crockpot. At this moment we're nearing 6 hours so far and we're not looking like preserves yet. Luckily I"m at home today and can let this bubble away until it's done. Fingers crossed this technique will be a winner! If it works I'll have made twice the usual amount with much less fuss. If it doesn't work, then I'll have one heck of an icky mess to clean up, and hopefully won't have ruined another favourite utensil.

Too many fingers in my pie...

There are two sets of people in the accounting world. Those that know what is going on, and those that don't. A few years ago I had the good fortune to be tutored in the use of MYOB for my business accounting system. Everything went really well for the first year, and I managed to keep up to date with the inputting of invoices and payments. BAS time was relatively painless.

My only problem was the bookkeeper doing the final tallies on my accounts. He was lovely, but also had no idea about sorting out taxes to my benefit.

My current accountant is amazing and has turned a nasty tax pileup into a neat little payable mound. The problem I do have though is there seems to be a difference in how I do my books and how she would like them, and a lack of ability on both our parts to understand what this gap is and make it work for us.

This morning I've spend the best part of two hours confusing myself further whilst trying to understand what she is missing, and then also helping her sort out what has been input wrong. Oh boy, do I hate trying to untangle nasty bookworking knots!

The solution is relatively simple. It's about time I wound up the design business side of things and get into a different type of work. Life is too short to lose hours sorting out accountancy messes. With so many fingers in the accounting pie it's just too hard to keep track.

Why I don't Tweet...

I think I'm getting old. This is another thought that constantly runs through my brain so it's better out than in. I don't do Facebook, nor do I do Twitter. Forget Flickr, or MySpace. I'm not interested in any of these sites. 

If I'm after instant gratification I pick up the phone. Over these past few years email has been enough to drive me to distraction. Why would I then subject myself to a social life based around banal social websites that allow me to speak and not communicate.

Here's a snapshot of a twitter page I fell upon tonight.

Now...I wasn't out looking for this page, it was presented to me on some website I was reading earlier. All up there in its glory for me to read. Doesn't this dialogue remind you of that bunch of girls at high school who thought they were cool and made your life hell?  The ones who spoke about nothing but somehow managed to be in charge of all the important things such as how your hair should look, the length of your skirt, the boys you should talk to? (I've obliterated any references I could find on the page so as not to offend)

Facebook is not much better. I would just like to say for the record, I don't want to know what you are doing right now. I don't care if you are looking out the window thinking about lunch, or pondering your navel while you wait for a program to download. I also don't wish to find out what colour love heart I am, which of the Sex in the City girls I am, nor any of the other quizzes that are designed to waste my time. Oh and let me just say, DAVID NASH, the man I went for coffee with once I JUST DO NOT WISH TO BE YOUR FRIEND! ever!

It's a sad and scary world when so many of our population are wasting so much of their time talking and typing on little bitty phonepads. Do any of these people actually listen to/read the messages that come back, or do they think 'need to make mac casserole or beans and franks to use up the rest' is a valuable use of their time. 

Please...talk to me when you have something good to say. Otherwise get a blog and don't tell anyone you have it. That way you can just burst your communication bubble all over the net, and not waste anyone's time. It works for me.