The T7 Project keeps on keeping on.

The T7 Project.


The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project


The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project


The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project The T7 Project


Never ever ends.


Botro Janin – The Last of the Robot Ninja


His name is Botro and he’s a ninja
His suits not red not even ginger

Kapow!! is the sound of his triple ninja flip
with moves so fast he causes the space/time continuum to rip


You give me that funny feeling in my tummy.

I have been working on The T7 Project for 13 years. 13 years! It may be safe to say that this is one project settled in for the long haul.  For those of you who have been following my attempt to document the first few weeks of the project, I apologize that there has not been much action on that front of late.

There are several drafts of the next couple of chapters waiting in the wings, but I am finding it difficult to finish them. It seems so important to get it right.

So in lieu of another chapter I thought that you may enjoy this image. Terry is in the cluster of trolleys in the foreground, the one zooming(love that word) off in front.

Terry The Terrible Troublesome Trolley Training Tramp aka The T7 Project. Chapter 4

The wind and nothing else.

It blew as I sat carrying away all those parts of me that were not chained down. Bringing with it new ideas that built up like snow drifts against the walls in my mind. I struggled against their weight but it was of no use. They did not collapse, they were smothered, buried, gone. Not a clean slate but a fresh one, funnily enough as pure as the driven snow.

I felt a presence beside me and turned to see Terry standing there.

“Come, the journey continues.”

“Wait! Hold up there Mr Mystery Man. How about a little less ‘Ah grasshopper, there is no try only do’ and allot more ‘what the fuck is going on?'”

“OK, I if pleases you, let us explain what is happening”

“Let us?”

“Yes, think my young friend, you do like to think don’t you? I’m calling bullshit on your thinking until you start using your brain.”

Before I could protest and/or punch him on the nose he continued.

“Where were you coming from before we met? What were you doing?”

“I was walking home from uni.”

“Good keep going”

“We had had group reviews that day. Yeah and I remember sitting there trying to contribute something to the discussion but was being distracted by a really strong smell in the air.”
“Good, what was the smell”

“Bullshit! That’s right I remember now. There was a strong smell of bullshit in the air that I had never noticed before but once I did I couldn’t get my mind off it. Once the review finished I left and headed home not to my studio as I normally would. I just wanted to go home and take Saddy for a walk. Then I found you, no, met you. I didn’t find you by chance did I?


“What, are you some psycho stalker or something?”

“Do you want me to be? Where did you work after you left school?”


“And what did you do”

“Fruit and Veg boy”


“Collect trolleys”

“From where?”

“The car park”

“Nowhere else?”

“Yeah I used to go out and hunt for them sometimes, up the pines over in the Don and in the creek”

“The creek? Think about that”

“Um, I pulled one out that had been in there for a long time. It was rooted.”

“Then what did you do”

“Took it out the back and cleaned it up, or at least tried too. It was pretty rooted though.”

“Yes you said that”

“I get it! That was you wasn’t it?”



“It was my brother”

“Yeah that makes sense he wasn’t that heavy”



Terry The Terrible Troublesome Trolley Training Tramp aka The T7 Project. Chapter 3

I sat there, upon that rocky outcrop, rearranged. Time wasn’t standing still, it was hoping from leg to leg as though it desperately need to pee. I could see Terry standing there, in what had become ground zero, gleaming, alone. He looked up to me a wry smile upon his face. That cheeky bastard was smirking at me as if to say “You didn’t expect that did you?”

No I didn’t. I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t expecting anything. This smugness he was displaying was pure arrogance and it pissed me off. What was I doing blinding following this strange man on a ‘journey’? It was right out of a B-Grade Kung-fu movie. Since I first found him near death in that car-park our time together couldn’t have been more vague. It was meta-vague.

He had said nothing but a few of words, seemed to communicate almost entirely with significant glances. Who the hell was this man? Where had he come from? Why had our paths crossed? More importantly, what the fuck was I doing here?

Questions rattled about in my mind like a coin in a clothes dryer.  I didn’t seem to be able to make heads or tails of anything. I had nothing with which to gain purchase, scrambling like a man chasing a shore footed mountain goat across a cliff face, and feeling just as pathetic. Panic began to take hold. My heart pounded, hands trembled. I had my eyes open and yet could see nothing. The only sound was white noise, but I could feel the wind. The wind.

The wind and nothing else.


Stay tuned for the next installment.

PS no references today

Terry The Terrible Troublesome Trolley Training Tramp aka The T7 Project. Chapter 2.

After we finished breakfast, Terry asked if I had access to the internet, and could he use it. I did and showed him to the computer. He struck down with great vengeance upon the keyboard and furious anger upon the mouse until he found the information he was seeking.

As he surfed, I hovered about trying to see what he was up to. Without turning he said to me “Go and prepare”.

“For what” I replied

“The journey”

Sensing I wasn’t going to get any more information, I went upstairs and packed a bag with some clothes, a toothbrush and some food. When he saw the bag he said.

“Bag, where we’re going we don’t need bags”

I put the bag down and followed him out the front door. We walked and I tried to make conversation. He wasn’t rude about it, but silenced me with a look. We were walking not talking.  He led me through town and we headed into the hills. After a couple of hours climbing up into the hills we came to a heavily wooded plateau whereupon he stopped.

“We will rest here”

Happily I sat down, leaning my back against a tree, listening to the breeze working its way through the trees.

“Can you see the rocky outcrop upon the next ridge?” he asked

“Yes” I replied

“Go there”

“What about..” I started but he again silenced me with a look.  It took about an hour to reach the ridge and when I sat and looked down I could make out a glint of metal through the trees where Terry was. He was not moving but I could hear a kind of droning noise, kind of like throat singing.  It became louder, well louder isn’t quite the right word, more intense is a better fit. It built and built until I felt, not heard, an explosion. It went right into the core of my body, scrambling my cells and leaving me stunned.

I saw Terry there upon the plateau where I left him, not I single tree left standing.

Stay tuned for the next installment.

PS Again prize to the first person who picks the two references, movies this time.

Terry The Terrible Troublesome Trolley Training Tramp aka The T7 Project. Chapter 1

Terry The Terrible Troublesome Trolley Training Tramp aka The T7 Project

This is the story of where The T7 Project comes from.  It may sound fanciful and more than a little nutty, but bear with me and read on.

The exact dates are somewhat unclear but sometime in the autumn of 1999 I found Terry alone in a car park of the east residencies of Monash University’s Gippsland campus.

I could see that he was nearly dead, I knelt down beside him and I listened, just to hear the words the dying fella said.  He said “They let me out of the trolley bay up at Tuckerbag, where for ten long years I payed for what I done.”

He trailed off, repeating the words are mutt, are mutt, are mutt, are mutt over and over again.  Why I didn’t just ring Tuckerbag to come and get him I will never know.  It would turn out to be a decision that would change my life forever. Slowly I started to push him home. Slowly, because even though he was near death, his right front wheel had a mind of its own.  And so we walked, me cursing that bloody dicky wheel under my breath.

When we arrived at my house I carefully dragged him up the steps and into a bed in the spare room. Where he collapsed and slept for two days straight. One morning as I was walking downstairs I heard noises coming from the kitchen and found Terry bright as a button fixing breakfast for us both. I started to ask him questions, eager to know his story but he silenced me with a look and said but one word “Follow”.  So I did.

What happened next was one hell of an adventure.  Stay tuned for the next chapter.

PS A prize for the first person who names the song and artwork referenced.