Well, went down to Melbourne today for my first day at school. Peter had graciously enrolled for me, so I travelled through offices to try to find my student number. The first person-behind-the-big-and-important-desk (PBBID) told me I was in the wrong building. So I walked across campus to “The Hub” which was a bee hive of large desks and endless queues. I asked the second PBBID about the account that I was meant to acquire, so the Fellowship could pay for the course, and she asked me for my account number. I told her I didn’t have one yet, so she took my drivers licence and typed into her computer my name, date of birth and address. She then looked at me and said,

You are not on our records. You do not exist.

Well, whaddayaknow. I thought I had been around for thirty odd years. I had been duped, and have successfully duped everyone else. I’m not actually here.

So now’s the time to set the history books straight. That ghost-in-the-machine you always hear about. That’s me. If you’ve ever met me, I suggest you talk to someone about getting tested for psychoses. If you’ve only known me through the Internet, beware: we are not real.

I have been told that I’d get soemthing in the post to confirm my enrolment, but since I’m not here, I can’t really say where that letter is going. If you find it, can you please contact my partner and tell her that the man of her dreams (literally) has mail.

Since I knew I will be away from my ordinary world for a while, I thought it would be high time to transfer all my downloads from PodBible from my computer to my MP3 player.

My original aim was to listen to these files so I might have something to say about how the podcast producers have structured the readings for a podcast format. As one who reads the Bible regularly for personal reflection I imagine I wouldn’t get much out of it personally.

But since I started listening I have found it an excellent tool for meditation. It’s amazing how the world looks differently - how catching a bus, walking along a beach or getting a take-away latte at a busport platform on a busy city street - when the story of Jacob and Joseph is being told to you.

Bev Fabb, a deacon now working in Perth but formerly from Port Hedland, just below the north coast of Western Australia, has produced a small collection of short stories titled Stories from behind the Razor Wire.

I’ve just read it, and my eyes are wet, from the witness of small flickers of light in one of the darkest places in Australia - Port Hedland’s Immigration Reception and Processing Centre.

If you’d like a copy, email Bev Fabb and ask for a copy sent to you.

If you’re like me and you believe there must be a better way to treat refugees who come to Australia, click here.

Okay, so I work in the Goulburn Valley, and I work in three posts in Seymour through Shepparton to Cobram. The distance between them is about 200km and about a two-hour drive. I live in Shepparton and often have to go to the capital, Melbourne, for meetings and training and study, which is a two-hour drive away. I used to think I work in a large section of the land.

But not any more.

I spoke with Judy today, who works for Frontier Services in Western Australia, in the Pilbara region. This region is about 150 000 square kilometres, or the size of Victoria. She spends most of her time in the car, and would drive 60, 000 kms in a month. It takes me two years to drive that long. She would arrange to visit people in need three days before arriving there. Many families have next-door neighbours a day-long drive away, which means their properties are larger than the State of New York.

John is luckier. He has a pilot licence and a small plane to travel in. He works in the centre of Western Australia, and he says his area is about three times the size of Victoria. He enjoys flying but it makes it harder to drop in and meet people, as he has too arrange for permission to land on air strips. He tells me that due to rising costs of farming/grazing many families cannot afford to hire workers, so a family of four will work on properties as large as Tasmania.

Both deacons also work closely with indigenous communities whose isolation involves lack of access to appropriate health and environmental services, and strive diligently to improve conditions for those who live too far away to get help for what we all need every day.

One evening I ran out of milk and my car battery was flat and I had to walk for forty minutes to the nearest open store.

To find out more about Frontier Services of the Uniting Church in Australia, click here.