Tuesday, July 8

 Marilyn is getting ready for her regular Tuesday activity - meeting up with her usual group for Craft and, perhaps, a game of Bingo.  I'm staying home, hoping my new chair will arrive.  It's not that I'm desperately in need of it but, when I buy something, I like to have it. It's goes against my idea of how thig should be to have to wait until some impersonal company tries to get its act together.

Looking out the window, I can see that it's a typical winter's day here; the sky is grey and there's a bit of a breeze.  I'm glad it's Marilyn going out and not me.

I've just been instructed to make some coffee so I shall move on.

Monday, July 7

 The meal that we spent yesterday morning cooking was delicious, Tender meat falling off the bone, crisp vegetables and a superb gravy.  However, at the end of the repast, Marilyn calmly accepted the warm congratulations and solemnly announced that she was hanging up her apron.  After more than 60 years of cooking, cleaning and washing up she was calling it a day.  If I wanted a home-cooked meal, I was told, I could ring Stickybeaks Cafe and one would be delivered to me.

Fair enough!  The world moves on and we all have to move with it.

I'm waiting for a delivery.  I ordered the lift chair I had my eye on and it was coming from Melbourne.  Apparently, something went wrong and the local carrier asked for another one.  His website suggests that it might be delivered today but somebody is not keeping it up-to-date and I am somewhat in the dark.

The arrival of the new chair will upset the careful arrangement of our loungeroom.  It's not a large space and already has a two-seater and three other chairs.  the arrival of a rather large easy-chair will upset the equilibrium.  Of course, I will expect it will take the position directly in front of the TV and the lesser chairs will take subordinate places.  Maybe one will have to go and will then end up in Jamie's garage.  We shall see.

In today's story I was playing with cliches

IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE                                                                                MARCH 21, 2024

It’s not every day you get a chance to work in your dream job but Gerard was one of those lucky people who always landed on his feet. “If he fell in a cowpat, he’d come up smelling of roses,” his mother would say.  Alma, that was her name, prided herself on being well-read.  She had devoured every Danielle Steel ever written and was on the list at the library to be notified each time a new Nora Roberts was released. She also belonged to the local Reading Circle and enjoyed sharing her knowledge of the world with her group of similarly well-read friends.  She was very proud of Gerard who had worked hard at school and had even won the Founder’s Cup for most promising student in Year 6.

When Gerard heard he had landed the job at Automotive Industries, he was on the ‘phone in a flash to tell his mother.  She could not have been more pleased and, without pausing for breath, she rang around her friends to let them know. 

Gerard started his new position on the following Monday.  He was shown the desk he would use and it was suggested he might take the first morning to acclimatise himself to his new surroundings.  It all seemed too good to be true and Gerard rubbed his hands together with delight.  However, precipitously, everything changed.  As he was being introduced to his fellow-workers, one of them seemed familiar.  Where had he met her before?  And, like a shot, it came to him.  It was Beatrice Brown, his nemesis from primary school.

In a flash, those long-repressed memories came flooding back.  He squirmed as he recalled how she had teased him, told tales about him to his class-mates and dobbed him in to the teacher.  They had been together in the same class for the whole six years of primary school and had only been separated when his parents had made the sacrifice to send him to the local grammar school.  Now, it seemed, he and she would be working closely together.  His heart sank as he thought of all the things that would go wrong if they had to work together.  What could he do?  But, as ever, when put on the spot, his brain didn’t let him down.  Like greased lightning, the words tumbled from his mouth.

“Beatrice and I are old friends.  I don’t think it’s appropriate that people who know each other well should work closely together so I suggest that a job be found for her in another department.”

Not wanting to upset their new star employee on his first day, management agreed in a trice.  Beatrice looked quite down in the mouth but it couldn’t be helped.  Presto, the problem seemed to be solved.

I’d like to think that everybody lived happily ever after but life’s not like that. Beatrice was no fool and, instantaneously, she reacted with her usual savoir-faire.  “I have a better idea,” she said.  “Why don’t I become Mr Brown’s secretary.  I know him better than anyone and can anticipate how he might want things to be done.  And, because I’ll be working so closely with him, he can make sure that nothing goes wrong.”

In a wink, it was done.  The Managing Director, who, if truth be told, rather fancied Beatrice, agreed to the proposition and Gerard was forced to smile and accept it.  In the blink of an eye, all his hopes and dreams were shattered and he could do no more than look forward to a bleak future with Beatrice involved in every aspect of his life.  What would his mother say?

 

Sunday, July 6

 I found myself involved in cooking this morning, a very rare occurrence these days. Our normal fare is pre-packaged meals and, more recently, brought-in meals from Toosey, the local Nursing Home.  However, Marilyn was determined this morning to prepare a large pot of Osso Bucco.  Because there was a certain amount of chopping, stirring and moving of heavy pots, I became involved as well.

It was actually a pleasant exercise and I'll enjoy eating my share of the result.

We have Archie staying with us at the moment.  He seems to have a couple of nights each week here and he must see us as his second home. 

With our coffee, I turned on Youtube to see what is happening and found a video made by Steve, one of our regulars.  He was in Nova Scotia and was clearly in love with the place.  His video was nearly 50 minutes long and would certainly encourage anyone to visit.

It's a beautiful day; the sun is shining but the air is cold, typical winter weather in this part of the world.  Some people think that Tasmania at this time of the year is bleak, cold and wet, but nothing could be further from the truth.  Yes, we will have rainy days which are not much fun but the normal weather is crisp and sunny ... bracing, I think they call it. 

Saturday, July 5

 We seem to have got out of the habit of watching what I call 'traditional' television.  What I mean by that is getting involved in a regular tele-drama and looking forward to each episode as it appeared: shows like Country Practice, Blue Heelers, Silent Witness, and so on.  After a diet of crime shows we're a bit tired of the format and are looking for something a bit less challenging.  So, currently, we're absorbing ourselves in 'lifestyle' shows like A Place in the Sun and, most recently, Cruising with Susan.

Susan Calman is a short, tubby, Scottish comedienne.  The premise  of her show is simple: she goes on a cruise, solo, and meets up with other passengers, encouraging them to get involved in some of her exploits. Clearly, companies like P&O are delighted to have the great publicity the show offers but, from our point of view, it's a particularly interesting travelogue with some poignant moments.

We have a state election coming up in a fortnight and it's hard to avoid the plethora of advertising bumpf which fills our letterbox.  There's not a great deal of money sloshing around Tasmanian politics but some of the material is pretty unpleasant.  Marilyn has worked at the past few elections and has received pleas from the Electoral Commission to put up her hand again but I'm glad she's continuing to refuse.  Let the younger ones do it!

Friday, July 4

 We have Archie staying with us at the moment.  Jamie and Nera had a big party to attend last night and dropped Archie off with us so he wouldn't be home alone.  Normally, we leave the back door slightly ajar for him in case he needs to go to the yard overnight but the weather is too cold so Marilyn closed the door and put down mats for him to use if he was desperate.  He wasn't happy about that so woke her up early this morning to tell her to get up, he was desperate.

The weather is very cold and we'll certainly be staying home today.

I note that it is July 4 and that is usually a day of celebration in the US.  However, I wonder whether their celebrations today will have a touch of desperation about them.  The holiday, supposedly, is to celebrate their independence and yet twice now they have voluntarily handed over the rule of their country to a would-be dictator.  Makes you wonder whether they might have been better sticking with Britain; then they might have turned out more like Canada or Australia, and that would have been no bad thing.

Today's story is a more recent one. The first lines are from a song by Judy Collins.

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME                                                              MARCH 14, 2024

My father always promised us that we would live in France.  We’d go boating on the Seine and I would learn to dance.  To a young girl, growing up in the shadow of the Port Kembla steelworks, it was a gloriously romantic notion.  We didn’t have TV in those days but I haunted the library looking for picture books about France and its capital.  Madeleine was my hero. As well, I demanded to be taken to the pictures if a film remotely connected with France was being shown.  I must have seen An American in Paris five or six times, and I loved The Red Balloon and Mon Oncle with Jacques Tati.

Somehow, I convinced myself that, on my seventh birthday, my father would, with a flourish, produce the long-awaited tickets which would magically transport my family to the enchanted city of my dreams.  Imagine my disappointment when my father sat me down and said in a soft voice,

“Happy birthday, sweetheart and we hope you have a wonderful day.  Sadly, there is no birthday present this year.  You know that I’ve been on strike for weeks and there just isn’t the money available for extras.  But, when we’re back at work, I’ll make it up to you.”

It was like I had been slapped in the face.  “But what about moving to Paris?” I burst out.  “You promised we would move there and I would have dancing lessons.”

His voice hardened.  “Those dreams will have to be put on hold and, anyway, you’re a big girl now and you know that sometimes promises aren’t real.  Living in Paris is a dream and dreams don’t always come true.”

I went to the room I shared with my big sister and threw myself on my bed, crying in disappointment.  I would show them. I would run away and then they’d be sorry.  I scrabbled around under my sister’s bed until I found the backpack she had taken to the last school camp.  I would fill that with all the things I would need to look after myself and I’d move away.  Then they’d be sorry.

I quickly found my spare pyjamas and a jumper in case it got cold, a few socks and handkerchiefs, and my slippers.  I dragged the backpack into the kitchen and thought about what else I would need.  Opening the fridge, looking at what was there. 

“Mum, can I take this leftover jelly”.

“Yes, dear.  What are you going to put it in?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Do you have a plastic bag?”  Then I noticed some leftover cooked sausages.  They would be handy as I hadn’t thought about how I would cook things.

In the pantry I found a few small bags of chips and some crunchy bars.  I thought a bit more and realised I would need something to drink.  Mum wouldn’t ever buy me soft drinks but there was a carton of milk in the pantry.  That would be handy although the thought of drinking warm milk made me feel sick.

My big brother came in about then, rubbing his hair.  “It’s starting to rain out there.  I think we’re in for a stormy night.  What’s this backpack doing in the middle of the kitchen floor?”

 

“Oh, Cheryl is running away and we’re helping her gather the stuff she will need if she’s going to survive on her own.”

Oh, good” my brother replied. “It will be good to have one fewer person in the house.  That will make a little bit more room for the rest of us … and, one less mouth to feed.  But you’ll need something to protect you if you are attacked during the night.  I can lend you my folding army knife.  It’s very sharp, so be careful.  And I have a compass and a pair of binoculars you can borrow.  It’s a shame I won’t have time to show you how to use them but I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

He walked over to the window, pulled the curtain aside and looked out.  “That rain has really set in.  I wouldn’t let a dog out in that. That reminds me.”  He turned to me and asked, “Have you organised some shelter for bad weather?”

“Don’t worry about me,”  I said.  “I’ll be OK.”

”I’ll sure you will be, dear,” said my mother. “But I can’t stand here talking.  I have to start making tonight’s dessert: French crepes with warm caramel sauce and ice-cream.”

“Crepes?” I thought, and rain. Maybe this is not such a good idea.

“I think I’ll stay one more night,” I said, “And see how I feel in the morning.”

“That’s nice, dear,” said my mother.

Thursday, July 3

 I woke at my usual time, made Marilyn a cup of coffee and turned on the TV to see what has happened overnight.  It wasn't the news which interested me; it was what was happening on Youtube which catches my attention.  Scott and Steve were quiet but there was a video from a fellow called Josh which attracted me.  His site is called 'Josh Goes Slow' and that's enough to spark my interest.

His plan was to travel to each of the six Australian capital cities and the two territories in 24 hours.  He started from Darwin, dealt with the inevitable delays and ended up in Perth with about 15 minutes to spare.  It's the whole pointlessness of the exercise which interests me, and the fact that there are enough sad individuals out there with too much time on their hands who will watch the show, which will, magically, generate the funds to pay for it.  I don't claim to understand how Youtube finances work but I know there are hordes of people making a living at it.

If only I had heard about this years ago! 

Wednesday, July 2

 I was slow in getting organised this morning and, before I could gather my thoughts to write something, Marilyn dragged me out the door. I'd forgotten a podiatrist appointment and you mustn't be late for those.  The current podiatrist is an Irish fellow; he tells me he's enjoyed his time in Tassie but he and his girlfriend are heading back to the Emerald Isle at the end of this year.  The owner of the business will be unhappy as she can't replace them.  There's a real shortage of medical professionals in the Apple Isle.

There was a thick package in the letterbox when we arrived home from the appointment. It was the report of my recent visit from My Aged Care, page after page of comments about my weakness and failings, and suggestions about how they could be ameliorated.  I didn't realise I was so disabled although I assume the young woman anticipated I would have deteriorated a bit more before the right support could be allocated.

Nowhere did it mention that I have difficulty making sense of government reports, and that is certainly an issue.