The night Pam passed away I had my first nightmare, I was travelling through the darkness but unable to move forward, these hands were holding me back and no matter how hard I tried I was unable to break free of them. As the nightmares continued the hands became less aggressive and more a gentle restraint, eventually I could feel a warm embrace on my face and head, I was no longer hurdling forward but rather guided slowly.

I remember waking up some nights and remeber trying to stretch my arms forward clawing at an invisible barrier, never able to extend or straighten my arms. I laid there silently with severe carpal tunnel in my hands forcing me to relive the dream over and over until the pins and needles faded away.

Pam had to travel to Melbourne once a month for a doctor’s review and treatment at the Peter Macallum Cancer Centre, my wife (Carla) talked about the taxi ride from the airport to the hospital was more nerve racking than the hospital visit. My suggestion to her was Pam the Bird, once I explain what and how to find Pam the Bird they both would keep spot and keep count of how many they found. The game kept their minds off the approaching news and (because the Pams shared the same name) it became a personal message of hope spread around the city just for her.

A month after Pam died, I felt life was starting to move forward once again one step after another. After complications from surgery my father (Otto Bischoff) passed away. When I was growing up my father raced homing pigeons, he is represented here as a blue bar pigeon. Blue Bars (distinguished by the two blue bars on the wings), these birds are often seen the classic and powerful racing pigeon.

I have a birthmark on my foot

Deux cafés latte, deux croissants et un jus d'orange. Oui, c'est bon.


Its stange how insignificant things implant as clear memories during times of stress. Carla and I were in Bordeaux, France. Heading out the hotel to have breakfast before a winery tour, we were interrupted by a phone call from Carla’s sister. Pam was in hospital; her kidneys weren’t working correctly but don’t rush home as the doctors said she would be home in a week. After the call we enter a local café, Le Dijeaux, the older French waiter took one look at our shell-shocked faces and without missing a beat he ordered for us. With tears running down our faces we sat and ate our very simple French breakfast of coffee and croissants.

dos tartas de queso vascas quemadas y una botella de Pedro Ximénez dulce It was our last night in San Sebastian and after a big night of Pintos and Txakoli we finished at a bar called Karrika Taberna. In very poor Spanish we asked for 2 burnt basque cheesecakes and a bottle of Ximénez and sat on the steps of the Basílica de Santa María del Coro to watch the night pass. It was 2am when the phone rang. Pam’s condition had suddenly worsened so we booked the quickest way home.