Saturday, October 29th …..

One of my strict rules is that I won’t watch any TV show with the word Grumpy in the title. I know there’ve been Grumpy Old Men and Grumpy Old Women and now, I believe, they’re showing The Grumpy Guide To ….

If the word, Grumpy, is not enough to turn me off, I gather that Germaine Greer is one of the Grumpy eminent persons. Another of my strict rules is never to watch a TV show with Germaine Greer in it.

One of the problems I have with these shows is that they are an excuse for old farts to whinge that ‘things aren’t what they used to be’. Of course, they’re not, but whinging about it won’t change anything. Most things change for very good reasons. And, of course, the programs are generally made by the BBC, so the whingers are Pommy Whingers, a subset of society which ought to be locked up, and kept silent.

If I were really honest, my problem with grumpy TV series is that I recognize myself too often in the characters. However, I only complain about changes which don’t make sense and result in objects which do not function as well as they used to before the design gurus got involved. Take the toothbrush, for example. When I was at school, toothbrushes were straight little pieces of plastic with a wodge of bristles at one end. Some bristles were softer than others and the plastic bits came in a range of pretty colours. Generally, they were about the same size so that school students could make toothbrush holders in woodwork lessons in the safe knowledge that the toothbrushes they had at home would fit.

Not any more: toothbrushes come in a variety of lengths and dynamic shapes contoured to fit your hand. Some have spaces to fit a battery, and there is no toothbrush holder in existence which can cater for the range you might find in a typical bathroom. What do woodwork students make now in their first semester?

Marilyn and I have a favourite toothbrush container which we take on our trips. It comfortably takes 2 circa-1975 brushes and a smallish tube of toothpaste. Our old brushes are starting to look a little tatty but do you think we can replace them? No, sir! Everything today is too long, or too fat, or is too bent.

And what about toothpaste? Once upon a time, toothpaste came in metal tubes (which were reputed to be made of lead, but I’m sure they weren’t), and when you rolled the tube up from the bottom, it stayed there so it was easy to, eventually, get the last squeeze out of the tube. The invention of plastic tubes which always returned to their original length was NOT an improvement. When you’re down to the last quarter, you have to push and squeeze every day to get the remaining toothpaste to the top so you can get a wee bit more out. It’s even worse if you have one of those maverick people in your house who squeeze the tube from the top, rather than up from the bottom. At that time in the morning when you need to be calming your mind for the travails of the day, you don’t need the hassle of fighting with a toothpaste tube. Who wants to be bothered with this sort of nonsense?

I suspect, though, that toothpaste tubes are becoming a thing of the past. Our latest paste dispenser looks like a mini-aerosol. It’s pressurized and impossible to predict how much paste will come out each time it’s used. I generally get too much so look like a rabid dog when I brush my teeth. And the residue left on the nozzle (which, by the way, is uncovered between uses) is disgusting. The air trapped in it makes a horrible froth which must attract the worst of bacteria. And, of course, they won’t fit in our travelling toothbrush container. Heaven knows what will happen if one of these modern monstrosities is packed in a suitcase and doesn’t cope with an un-pressurised aircraft hold. These new toothpaste dispensers are NOT an improvement.

And yet, we will be led blindly to use them, even though they will add to our stress and make no difference to the quality of our daily oral hygiene.

Thursday, October 27th …..

We’re still in Wollongong, even though I had planned to go back to Tasmania today. We’re staying at our friend, Robyn’s, place as she is in hospital having a knee operation. It seemed a nice plan for Marilyn and I to have a few days together while the opportunity is there. When we get back to Tassie, we’ll be straight into the madness of the Craft Fair so the relaxed time is a bonus.

We took Uncle Archie out for lunch yesterday at the Golf Club. We needed to arrange a disabled taxi and that meant long waits until one was available. People who don’t have disabilities wouldn’t tolerate having to wait up to 45 minutes for a cab, but it seems that people with disabilities don’t have the same rights. Of course, the drivers are apologetic but the reality is that there are not enough cabs available for the people who want to use them. The Golf Club is only 100m from the nursing home but our excursion for lunch took almost 5 hours, much of it waiting for a 2-minute taxi ride each way.

Very little else is happening. Every morning I check the freebook website as I always do. Most days, there are about 100 new books up-loaded every night by some magic process. Perhaps it’s caused by elves, or fairies but I’m just delighted that the supply seems to be endless. Most days I find a few of interest, but today there was nothing. Lots of romances, of course (it’s amazing how many romantic novels contain the words ‘highland’, ‘laird’, ‘glen’, or ‘chieftain’; as my friend Dianne tells me, romance is not dead in Scotland).

Just to digress, Dianne forwarded to me some lonely hearts ads from a Scottish newspaper. Here are a couple of samples:

Chartered Accountant, 42, seeks
female for marriage. Duties will
include cooking, light cleaning
and accompanying me to office
social functions. References
required. No timewasters.


Bitter, disillusioned Dundee man,
lately rejected by long-time fiancée,
seeks decent, honest reliable
woman if such a thing still exists
in this cruel world of hatchet-faced
bitches.

…and many more.

I tend to look at authors rather than titles although, from time to time, a title will catch my eye and I wonder whether I should take a look. Today, I noticed:

‘The Female Man’ (I’m not game to even open this one)
‘Sad Monsters, Growling on the Outside, Crying on the Inside’ (the mind boggles)
‘The Morbidly Obese Ninja ’ (Hmmm!)

I might stick to my crime novels; you can’t go wrong if the title contains the word ‘death’.

Thursday, October 20th …..

I apologise that this post is out of order but I don't know of any easy way to get it into the right place. I could, of course, delete the three which should follow it, post this one where it should be, and re-build the ones which should follow. What a bore! I'm sure you can work it out.

I’ve been waiting for this weekend for a long time, worrying whether my leg would be OK or whether I would have to cancel at the last minutes. But, no problem, and here I am at the airport waiting for the big grey bird to fly me to Sydney on the first leg of the journey to Canberra for the Nepal Reunion. It is shaping up to be a most enjoyable get-together.

Because I have about an hour to waste, I buy a coffee and bun and look for a seat in the arrival area, near the luggage carousels. It’s quiet here because no planes are due for a while. A young woman comes in, walking briskly and pulling a large purple suitcase. She heads straight for the Budget Rent-a-Car desk and hands over her documentation. Clearly she thinks she is at the check-in area for flights so she has to be gently put straight and directed to the other end of the terminal. As Effy would say, How embarrassment!

I watch her as she heads through the terminal and pauses at the security check-in. I breathe a sigh of relief as she moves on in the right general direction. Hopefully, she finds the right desk and gets clearance to board the ‘plane. It’s easy to get blasé about flying and the routine at the airport but, if you’re a novice, it can be quite daunting. Launceston airport has been refurbished lately and the rent-a-car booths have been situated where the Virgin check-in used to be. It would be an easy mistake to make if you haven’t travelled recently.

Anyway, the flight is uncomplicated and arrives in Sydney just a few minutes late. As arranged, Marilyn is waiting for me in the Arrival area and we collect my suitcase and head for the trains to make our way to Oak Flats where Robyn will pick us up.

Sunday, October 23rd …..

More food is arranged for today – we’re booked on a luncheon cruise on Lake Burley-Griffin. Dianne and Bob walk every morning but, with the best will in the world, Marilyn and I fail to wake in time to join them. It turned out to be a very lazy time and we were at the dock just in time to catch the boat.

What a great afternoon. There were a dozen of us and we had a table on the upper deck. The weather was stunning and the company was delightful. I haven’t mentioned that the Queen has been in residence in Canberra and we sailed past Government House where she is staying. She was at church this morning (with 105 invited members of the congregation) but was expected back at Gov. House by the time we sailed past. There was a bus full of media, all hoping to nail that exclusive story which would make their reputation.

The Queen is an extraordinary woman, by any measure. She came to the throne when I was in primary school and she is still going strong, while I walk around with a walking stick and soft cushion. And at her side is the Duke, 90 years old and still keeping up.

Canberra is a beautiful city and there is clearly a plan in place to maintain and improve its image. The new National Museum is fantastic, apparently not to everyone’s taste but a signature building with a memorable façade. Martin commented that it’s had a checkered history but perhaps the new director is giving it a better focus and direction.

At 2 o’clock we arrive near the water spout which, right on time, shot high into the air. Two groups of kids in pedal boats steered under the fountain so they would be wet with he spray but our captain kept us dry.

The three-course meal was great and, all in all, it was another terrific day.

Over the past few posts, I've shown photogaphs of the Nepal Party. On Friday, there was Marilyn and Dianne, and Rhonda in a pensive mood; on Saturday, there was Steve and Ann, and Beth and Trish; and today, Sue and Martin and the whole group with a couple of spouses and Dianne's sister.

The general feeling is that we should have another reunion in a year’s time, possibly in Tasmania. Some are keen to come to the Craft Fair in November so Marilyn and I have promised to think about a plan and spread the word.

Saturday, October 22nd …..

Australians certainly like to eat and we’re no exception. Today’s program has been arranged around two shared meals: we’ll meet at Old Parliament House for lunch and the Himalaya Restaurant in Manuka for dinner. In between, each host will show us visitors the sights according to what we would like to do. The National Gallery has always been a favourite attraction so we negotiated with Dianne that we would check that out in the morning and make a decision for the afternoon later.

The featured exhibit at the Gallery at the moment is Fred Williams. I’m aware of his work but would only be able to identify his early landscapes and, if I was pressed, I would have to admit that I don’t like them much. What a revelation! In my ignorance I might have avoided the exhibition but I’m glad we didn’t. His earlier work is as I remembered but his later work is subtly different and I loved many of the pieces on display. Certainly, there was any number I would have enjoyed in my home. Unfortunately, the best I can hope to have is a fridge magnet.

Lunch at Old Parliament House was delicious (at least, my Eggs Benedict was) but marred by a less than efficient waitress. However, we must overlook the deficiencies of people in training and enjoy the moment. Steve and Ann had arrived by this stage and we were all delighted to see them. They’ve been busy since we saw them last, having moved house but they are as full of enthusiasm as ever and planning future trip to exotic places. I am particularly impressed that they made the effort to come to the reunion; we’re only one of a number of parties they have led to far-flung places and attending reunions would certainly not be in their job descriptions.

After lunch, we all went our separate ways and we ended up again at the Gallery; to look at a Sidney Nolan exhibit and, especially, the revamped Aboriginal Galleries, which were wonderful. I was delighted to see two examples of bead necklaces made by Lola Greeno, a Tasmanian Aboriginal woman who regularly exhibits at our Craft Fair. It’s good to see that these lesser-known crafts are treated with the respect they deserve.

One of the highlights of the trip was certainly the dinner at Himalaya Restaurant. The chef, Surya Maharjan, has great credentials and he and his wife, Girlie (a filipina he met in Dubai) made us very welcome. The food was outstanding and not at all like the stuff we encountered at various dodgy establishments in Nepal. We all wore hats we had bought in Kathmandu and we reminisced and looked at photographs of our time on the roof of the world.

Friday, 21st October …..

Jamie rang early to see how we were getting on and reminded me that it was my brother’s birthday so I rang him immediately. By the background noise, he was at the gym. I said my congratulations and let him get back to whatever he was doing.

Our plans for today were to visit my mum and uncle at the nursing home and then catch a bus from Wollongong Station which would take us to Moss Vale to catch the Canberra train. Mum was still asleep so we went down the corridor to see Uncle Archie who was still in his pyjamas and dozing, as he usually is when we visit. He was pleased to see us; it’s been about 4 months since I was able to get to Wollongong. Marilyn has seen him several times over the last couple of weeks but I know he looks forward to my visits. He seems pretty well but doesn’t get out of bed much.

Marilyn went back to see Mum and found her waking up. She was delighted to see Marilyn, who came back to find me. Sadly, by the time I got there, she was no longer alert and didn’t recognize me. We’ll try again when we get back from Canberra.

The bus and train trip was very pleasant. The seats are comfortable and there’s a buffet car which even serves full meals. Dianne was waiting for us in Canberra and it was great to see her. We’ve exchanged emails since we said goodbye in Nepal and it was very easy to pick up our friendship where we left off. That evening we were invited to dinner at Rhonda’s. Her husband, John, made a goat korma curry and another curry with kangaroo; very exotic but delicious. Other Nepal travelers, Sue and Martin brought dessert so we had a wonderful meal. Beth and Trish were also there and we only need Steve and Ann to round-out our party.

I suppose I’m bemused by the strength of the connection we made on those few days in Nepal. We all got on very well and, when a reunion was suggested, there was general enthusiasm for the idea. From my point of view, I was very much looking forward to seeing everyone. I don’t know of any other group of travelers who meet again as a group after their trip is over. I’m sure we’re not unique but I suspect we’re unusual.

Saturday, October 15th …..

When I get bored I often fall back on a tried and true method of keeping myself amused. I research and plan detailed trips to exotic places, not really believing that we will ever do them, but I really enjoy the challenge of putting the pieces together into a workable whole.

I’m not as bad as a person we know who organises to the extent of programming in toilet stops. We talked recently about a trip he is planning to Europe. He has developed a spreadsheet with all the details of places to visit, driving times to get there, daily budgets for food and other expenses, etc. If the distance between two towns is more than a couple of hours he identifies where toilets might be found en route.

I’m not interested in that level of detail, although I can understand the satisfaction of seeing how intricate plans can fall into place. The time we took Madi to Japan was more carefully planned than usual; I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Even so, we got lost in Tokyo and I was forced to use my very limited Japanese on an unsuspecting passer-by.

Sumi masen, Tokyo eki, kudasai? (Excuse me, Tokyo railway station?) I don’t think he spoke the same kind of Japanese as I did because it took an English-speaking stranger to intervene and get us out of a difficult situation.

The trip I’ve been looking at is built around a wonderful cruise which sails from Japan in April next year, visiting ports in South Korea, Russia, Alaska, and finishing in Vancouver. There’s a considerable amount of flying, of course: getting to Japan, of course and flying home from Canada, but also a short hop to visit friends in Calgary, around 26000 Km, in fact. Out of interest, I priced the flights and they totalled about $2600. Hmmm, that’s interesting. Flying internationally only costs about 10c per Km! That has to be a bargain!

Jamie has been watching this awful show on Channel 62, called Bargain Hunt. The host is very camp, often wearing red trousers and with a penchant for pink socks. Two teams, with the assistance of a so-called expert, try to buy bargains from local antique markets and sell them at a profit at auction. It’s rare, in fact, for them to make a profit and the éxperts’ lead them astray at every turn, and the stuff they choose is just rubbish. However, what I wanted to say was that the contestants last night turned out to be members of the cast of Állo, Állo. Rene and Colonel Gruber and the short waitress, etc. They trotted out the old catchphrases, Listen carefully, I shall say this only once, and so on. It brought back memories of a very funny show.

Here is a link to youtube where there are some excerpts from the show.

http://youtu.be/UUgaSZFY9vs

Friday, October 14th …..

I drove the car last night, for the first time in more than 6 weeks. The doctor suggested I should hold off for another couple of weeks, but our car allows me to adjust the seat so that it is nicely set up for someone who has just had a hip replacement – much higher than normal with a flat pitch so my knees are lower than my hips.

Jamie rang to say his car had broken down on the way home and he was stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was going to ring the RACT but I decided I would drive out to sit with him to make sure he wasn’t stranded. I was quite looking forward to getting behind the wheel again but, when I had adjusted the seat and turned the ignition key – nothing! Several more turns produced no more than a few clicks. So I rang the RACT as well. Very busy, they said, but we’ll be there as soon as we can.

Two hours later …. the van arrived, nice young man but a bit stressed, clearly feeling the pressure of many irritated clients who had been waiting just a bit too long. Your battery’s dead, he says, and you’ll need a new one. $155 later, he has it fitted and I’m on my way.

By this time, Jamie has been waiting for more than two hours on a lonely stretch of road in the dark so I suggested we abort the call to the RACT and try again in the morning.

This morning we waited over an hour until the van arrived. You need a new battery, said the serviceman. Only $137 this time but it did fix the problem.

I’m surprised at the number of people who state that they don’t believe in coincidences. I think believing in coincidences is the only position a rational person can have. If it’s not a coincidence that Jamie and I each needed a new battery within 15 minutes of each other, it must be the work of aliens or a plot by the RACT to drive up the sale of batteries, neither of which I can accept. So, it was a coincidence although I still have a nagging feeling that we’ve been conned.

Wednesday, October 12th …..

I read a book years ago which listed some comments which the writer had overheard. Of course, I can’t remember any of them but today I overheard a comment which would deserve a place in the book. I turned on the TV and heard the extraordinary words: you don’t expect to wake up and find your nipples up near your shoulder blades, do you? Whew, what a relief to find it was a story about dodgy plastic surgeons.

There is a program on the ABC just before noon on some days, called Big Ideas, or something. Last week, they broadcast a debate, pitting Christians against Atheists. Great stuff! Today, somebody was attempting to interview an archaeologist who had the most boring voice but the most wonderful stories. (I think he was an archaeologist but he spoke a lot about botany).

He had done a lot of research on George Mallory who died while attempting to climb Everest in 1924. Apparently, there was another climber at the time called George Finch, an Australian, who should have been Mallory’s partner on the fatal climb to the summit. However, the Royal Geographical Society made it clear that it would not be appropriate for an Australian to be the first to stand on the top of the world and Mallory, instead, took Sandy Irvine an inexperienced climber with good connections. Very British! It's even more British if you consider that Mallory probably had homosexual feelings towards Irvine. This picture of Mallory is certainly soulful!


Finch, in the second photograph looks to be all business. He is wearing the oxygen equipment he invented and wore on a trip to Everest in 1922 when he climbed higher than Mallory.

The implication, of course, is that, if Mallory had taken Finch, the best ice-climber of his generation, as his partner, they would have most likely reached the top, and returned to tell the tale.

This fellow being interviewed today claimed there is more to the story of George Finch (who, by the way, was the father of Peter Finch, the Australian actor). Apparently, he wanted to divorce his wife, Gladys. The only way this could be done was if he or his wife was found to be involved in public adultery. On the day that Finch was to have his medical test for the Everest expedition, he was also to meet the prostitute who was to provide the evidence needed to secure his divorce. The medical report stated that he looked tired, sallow and unwell. Is it any wonder?

The other element to this story is that Jeffrey Archer‘s new book, Paths of Glory (already remaindered) is about George Mallory and, in Archer’s research for the book, he came across this extraordinary story about George Finch. I haven’t seen the book yet but will look out for it.

Monday, October 10th …..

If our plans had not been changed, we would have sailed out of Sydney yesterday on our Pacific Islands cruise. It would have been nice but that’s life.

Instead, I was able to watch three very exciting games of Rugby on the TV. Normally, my preferred team gets the kiss of death if I watch them but, for some reason, the three teams I had hoped would win, did so. Fantastic! Now it’s the anxious wait until next weekend to see who wins the semi-finals.

Marilyn is still absent. She arrived yesterday in Mudgee and will be seeing her father in the nursing home this morning. She tells me that she had a wonderful few days with her nieces and nephew, enjoying a birthday party with them and hearing all that they have been doing. She certainly misses seeing them regularly and it’s good that she had the opportunity this time.

She has also been able to visit Mum and Uncle Archie, Sadly, they are fading. Uncle Archie is generally bed-ridden and Mum sleeps most of the time. It’s a very difficult stage of life when what we regard as basic elements of life are taken away. In many ways, we hope they go soon; as the old song goes, Life gets tedious, don’t it!

Since I’ve been anchored to the house, I’m finding that the days are long without much to look forward to. I had always said I would have no trouble with keeping myself busy but the reality is that you can only watch so much TV, and books become a bore after a half-hour or so. I can’t even get involved in the computer. It’s easy to see how people who are isolated eat too much. It helps to pass the time.

Anyway, my isolation is only temporary and as soon as I get back behind the wheel of the car, I’ll be off. Goodness knows where, but it will be wonderful to have my freedom back.

Friday, October 7th …..

Jamie made us a roast lamb dinner last night; we’re certainly not going without decent meals just because Marilyn is away. He tells me he will turn the rest of the leg into a sweet curry with apples and sultanas. I haven’t had a curry like that for years and can’t wait.

We went out to Bunnings yesterday to pick up some timber to make a box around the water heater on the back verandah. The plan is to put Marilyn’s clothes dryer on top to get it out of the way but still make it useful in bad weather. Because of the light frame of our metal cottage, I’m uncomfortable about hanging the dryer in the normal way. Just another little job among the many we have on our endless list. We got our eye on a tool cupboard at Bunnings which we’ve realised we can’t live without so Jamie will go in to buy that today. The one we looked at is cheap and pretty basic but the top of the range, at $2400, has a CD player and a fridge. You’d have to live in your shed to justify that cost.

It’s fabulous to have a good shed but it’s important to have the right organisation; otherwise it becomes just another place to store rubbish.

I’ve discovered a very interesting TV program which is on the ABC at 10 oçlock each morning. It’s called How the Earth Was Made and looks at volcanoes and glaciers and tectonic plates and so on. Yesterday’s episode was set at Loch Ness in Scotland (of all places!). I was astounded to hear that Scotland has not always been physically attached to England. In fact, it used to be part of North America but during the break-up of the supercontinent, Pangaea, it was rammed together with England and drifted to its present position. I’ve always said that Scots are fundamentally different from the English, but now it is clear that the differences are more than skin-deep – they are seated in the bedrock.

The program also showed that Loch Ness is only 10000 years old; not much chance of a pre-historic monster living there!

Our flock of galahs has been steadily growing since the first pair arrived a few days ago. There were a dozen this morning and there are still five scratching around in the grass just outside the window. The cat ignores the other birds but watches the galahs intently, making that particular sound that cats make when they see birds. (that’s when she’s not sleeping, of course. She’s a very strange cat with particular routines. In the morning, she won’t rest until she’s had a little bowl of milk and a drink from the kitchen tap. But, that’s only in the morning; during the rest of the day, she drinks normally and eats her biscuits from a bowl. In the evening, she insists on finishing off Marilyn’s dessert, especially if it’s a little tub of chocolate mousse. She licks what she can and uses her paw to get the last scraps from the corner of the tub. Who knows what things go on in the mind of a cat! As Marilyn says, we always seem to get the oddest pets.

Sunday, October 2nd (again) …..

It’s a big weekend for football: AFL on Saturday, Australia v Russia and England v Scotland in the Rugby, and the NRL Grand Final this evening. Jamie and I decided we should watch as much as we could. We also decided that we would not indulge in beer but pies were certainly on the menu.

I’ll make some, said Marilyn. Bought ones are full of fat and we have to watch our weight.

That’s OK, we agreed, and waited to see what we would get.

Well, I think we were the best-fed football watchers in Australia. Our afternoon snack consisted of Chicken Satay, and Lamb in Red Wine pies, hand-made with love. Perhaps it missed the cultural point just a bit but they were delicious.

On a nostalgic note, I remember when we attended Corrimal Public School, the pie van used to come to the back gate of the school each lunchtime. The pies were kept hot in an oven fuelled by kerosene and had a particular flavour I’ll never forget. The pieman was Mr Seppelt and we used to say, Seppelt’s pies are full of flies, with maggots in the middle. Didn’t stop us eating them, though.

Anyway, back to the football: an easy win for Australia in the rugby but more injuries to cope with; good effort by Scotland but pipped at the post (Johnny Wilkinson should have been sent home with the two England coaches accused of cheating. Don’t tell me he didn’t know what was going on!), and a good win by Geelong in the AFL. It’s a scrappy sport and the players seem to spend most of their time scratching around on the ground trying to grab the ball, but there are moments of complete magic – the occasional high mark, or outstanding kick, make it all worthwhile..

Planning now for the NRL, hoping the Warriors will win. The pies are finished and Marilyn has shot through so I don’t know what we’ll get for snacks.

Sunday, October 2nd …..

Marilyn’s just left for the airport, planning to spend a few days in Wollongong, Sydney and Mudgee. Right up until last night she was in two minds whether to go or not; she was worried that I might not cope and believed I would fret or starve or drop my bundle. Whatever happened overnight, she was up before 7 oçlock, resolved to go.

On Friday, she asked me to ring Jetstar to cancel the flight. I couldn’t do it on-line because she had been checked in automatically. After about half an hour on-hold, I was told that the booking could not be cancelled. If Marilyn didn’t turn up she would forfeit the fare. How dopey! Wouldn’t you think they would like the chance to sell the seat to someone else.

So, on to the internet, download the travel insurance claim form and work through that. Happily, we hadn’t got around to posting it, so the seat was still available. I don’t know when she’ll be back but no doubt we will cope.

We don’t usually watch the so-called current affairs programs but we noticed in passing that Today Tonight had a story last week on faulty hip replacement prostheses. It was about a batch of prostheses from Dupont, I think, which is part of Johnson and Johnson. Apparently, there could be as many as 50000 Australian patients fitted with these joints which are causing real problems. People are complaining of having them pop out (sounds familiar!), squeaking, blood conditions caused by metal dust coming from the action of the ball in the joint, and so on. A group of unhappy customers are putting together a class action.

However, I won’t be in with a chance of a payout. My prosthesis is a ceramic one and not prone to the problems of the metal-on-metal ones in the class action. I remember when we were kids, my father lost his little finger in an industrial accident at the steelworks where he was employed. He got a few quid as a payout and it was enough for him to put a deposit on our first car. For a minute I thought I would get a small windfall like him, but it’s not to be. Bugger!

It’s another beautiful day in paradise. The birds are still coming down in their droves to feed on the seeds that Jamie spreads around each day. The latest addition to the flock is a couple of galahs. Fantastic birds!