Friday, July 1

 I've already been to the gym and have to leave for my Poetry and Writing groups in 10 minutes so there's very little time to share my thoughts for the day.  Marilyn tells me our task this afternoon is to make an order with Coles/Woolies so that's something to look forward to.

We heard the sad news yesterday that Marilyn's brother-in-law, Alan, has now found a place in a nursing home.  He has been suffering with Parkinson's and Anne can't life him if he falls over.  They had already moved from their upstairs unit into a smaller on at ground level but it's now become impossible for Anne to continue to look after him.  Sadly, she will follow the fate of many women and have to get used to living alone.

It's a bugger, getting old!

Thursday, June 30

When I turned on the TV this morning, bleary-eyed, I was greeted by a children's choir singing 'I Am Australian'.  It was glorious!  The ABC is, apparently, turning 90 and is pushing all the buttons to remind d us that it is The Australian BC, not some commercial, money-making enterprise, determined to push some narrow point of view.

I've said before that we need to ditch our current national anthem and adopt I Am Australian.  The current dirge was written in the 19th century as a patriotic song celebrating our ties with the Mother Country and, despite all the tweaks that have occurred over the years it is still a tuneless dirge with no musical merit. Lines like 'we've boundless plains to share' are an embarrassment when refugees are more likely to be offered a bed in an 8-man hut on Manus Island than a view of the plains.

It's embarrassing, also, at events like the Olympic Games when the Australian National Anthem is played and the mournful Da da da da da, da-da-da, da da da da dada rings out across the stadium.  We deserve better. I'm not suggesting a military hymn like The Star Spangled Banner, Deutchland Uber Alles or La Marseillaise, nor a simpering paean of praise like God Save the Queen.  I believe we can do better and a song celebrating the unity of Australia, a community which has brought together the world's oldest civilisation and migrants from untold nations is what we need.

Wednesday, June 29

When writing my story for this week's Writing Group on the topic 'Bennelong Point' I wanted to find out about the tram depot which was on the site before the Opera House was built and I stumbled across an extraordinary story.

Back in the 1950s, various people studied traffic engineering in the US, some under a scholarship sponsored by the Myer family.  They brought back an evangelical commitment to urban freeways.  As one engineer from Los Angeles put it, "All large American cities that were beating traffic tangles were getting rid of trams."

In 1949, three representatives of the London Passenger Transport Board recommended to the NSW Government that they should cancel an order for 250 trams and replace the entire system with buses by 1960.  At the same time, the number of privately-owned motor vehicles was increasing rapidly.

The tram network was in need of serious investment to make up for the penny-pinching of the war years so it was decided by the government of the time to get rid of trams, and they set about the process with enthusiasm. Rails were tarred over, overhead wires pulled down and the trams themselves were burnt on a hill at Randwick.  Nearly 1000 trams - some only a few years old - were stripped of anything that could be sold, tipped unceremoniously on their sides, doused with sump oil and set ablaze.

And now, the trams are returning to Sydney - but at what cost?  The light rail line from Circular Quay to Randwick and Kingsford is costed at $2.7bn, not to mention the effect on shops and other businesses in its path.  I hope we let these new trams run for a few years before someone comes up with a better idea.

Tuesday, June 28

 I spent an hour on the phone yesterday - on hold!  I wanted to organise the Travel Insurance for our trip and, realising that most agencies won't touch those of us of advanced age, I rang Probus South Pacific.  They guarantee that they can provide cover for their members no matter how frail and decrepit they are.  In fact, they are simply agents for Allianz, one of the big players in the business.

I tried to work through the on-line application form first but it didn't want to accept where I was going (Mystery Island? Que?) and in the list of things covered 'Cruises' had a cross beside it.  There was nothing for it but to get on-line.

I wasn't lied to: a disembodied voice told me they were having 'bigger than expected' demand and 'significant delays' but I had nothing else to do so held on.  An hour, though, is a bit ridiculous. 

Eventually I had to go back to the on-line form.  When it asked for destination, I typed in Australia - not a lie, we're flying to Brisbane first - filled in other details and a box popped up 'Are you going on a cruise?' How did they know?  I ticked that box  and was asked 'Where are you going?"  I told them and a quote appeared.  Seemed reasonable so I ticked the box, paid the fee and sat back. satisfied.

I hope nothing goes wrong.

Monday, June 27

After my whinge about the bad news in the media, I'm delighted with the article in this morning's newspaper about the discovery of a 35 000 year old mummified woolly mammoth.  It was found by a gold miner.  The article thought it was important to say he was young which I find disappointing; I had imagined he would be grizzled old character, something like Walter Brennan, who chewed tobacco and rarely washed.

Anyway, the baby woolly mammoth had traces of grass in its stomach showing it was grazing when disaster struck.  

.  

Sunday, June 26

 I don't know why I bother to read the news each morning; it's usually so negative that it leaves me feeling glum all day.  I stopped buying newspapers years ago because they stopped being reporters of facts and were more and more full of advertisements and opinion pieces.  I don't mind the occasional. opinion piece per se but I do prefer it if the opinion matches up with mine.

There's always plenty of news on the internet and I can pick and choose what I read.  I've given up commercial outlets and get most of what I absorb from the ABC but, even then, there's too much doom and gloom around at the moment.

This morning, there's a warning that inflation is on the rise, covid is again on the march, China is flexing its muscles in the South Pacific and homelessness is becoming an even bigger problem in Australia.  That last one is a real worry: rents are rising because landlords can make more by turning their investment property into an Air B and B, and too little social housing has been built over the past decade.  I was reading an article about people in Moruya who have to live in a tent on the beach because rental properties now fetch $653 a week - in a town where the average income is $941.  Something has to give.

I was booking a hotel in Brisbane expecting to pay $120 or so but could find nothing under $199 and this is for a night 5 months in advance.  The reason for the increase in prices is that hotels can't find staff to make beds and clean showers, so they have to close off rooms and charge more for the ones that are still open, to maintain their profits.  I think I'll leave this conversation for another time.

Saturday, June 24

We've bitten the bullet and booked a cruise, in fact 2 cruises back to back. I spent several hours combing through the various offerings but there was nothing available which sparked my interest.  We thought 14 days was a reasonable length but it seems that 13 days is the new normal.  Fair enough but where to go?  We've done New Zealand to death and didn't want to head off to South-East Asia which would entail a long flight back from Singapore or wherever.

Anyway, we've found a cruise which leaves from Brisbane, incorporates several Pacific islands and then segues into a shorter cruise which includes a couple of days in Sydney.  It's not until later in the year but we decided we should get it booked in case there's a rush.  I'm counting the weeks.  The ship is the Quantum of the Seas, one of the bigger vessels in the business at the moment. There's a lot about it on Youtube and it should be quite an experience.

It's not like us to book so far in advance.  Circumstances change and we normally don't like to be locked in.  However, experts anticipate a rush as ships come back into service so it seemed sensible to secure what seems like a good deal.

I remember one winter Marilyn decided we needed a break. Checking back, it was 2012.  I rang the company we had dealt with in the past and said we wanted something immediate.  The only cruise on offer was sailing from Brisbane a couple of weeks hence.  We were lucky to get the last available cabin on the Pacific Dawn and it turned out to be in the bowels of the ship next to the Medical Centre.  It was tiny but had a porthole; there was a double bunk in the room, looking very rickety and I certainly didn't fancy sleeping up top.  Marilyn sweet-talked the steward and he agreed to bring in a folding bed each night and remove it during the day, so that we each  could sleep comfortably.  He received a generous tip for his trouble.

That was the cheapest cruise we ever did and also the only one from Brisbane.  I've never travelled with such an uncouth, loud and obnoxious group of party animals.  Clearly, most of the passengers were there to play up and get as drunk as possible.  I remember there was a large group celebrating a wedding which was held on a beach in Vanuatu, or somewhere.  Let's hope this cruise later in the year will be a bit more civilised.

Friday, June 24

Jamie and Nera leave in a a few days time for their trip to the Philippines but, not content with just looking forward to that, they are in the process of having their house painted.  It's a brick house but the previous owner had painted a lot of it black.  Apparently, he was a leader of the local bikies and wanted to cultivate a particular image.

The carpets are red and both Jamie and Nera were impressed with the very dramatic image at the time.  However, time moves on and tastes change.  They've chosen a very attractive mid-grey colour with a darker trim and it's going to look terrific when it's finished.  Jamie has also demolished a heavy wall at the front of the house so they're making wholesale changes.  

I don't know whether everything will be finished before they go but we'll see what happens.

Thursday, June 23

My writing group starts up again tomorrow and the topic I've chosen to write about is Another World.  My mind started thinking about Outer Space and some of the more exotic location on this planet but nothing remotely like an interesting story started to gel in my brain.

Eventually, I decided to write about a fellow I follow on Youtube.  His name is Scott and he lives in Paisley in Scotland.  That, in itself, is not important; he could be called Mohammed and live in Tangiers perhaps because it is the world he inhabits which interests me rather than his nationality.  Scott's hobby is taking short trips usually only over 1 day, to various places using only public transport.  He calls his vlog Planes, Trains, Everything.

One day he might take a train to Oban on Scotland's west coast and a short plan trip to the island of Arran.  Another day, he will try out a new overnight bus trip to London, or compare the merits of travelling to London by train or plane. Recently, he flew  to Belfast to try Irish fish and chips.  This week, he found a special fare and flew to Billund in Denmark, home of Legoland, and returned via Tufrin in Italy. all for 21 pounds!

I realised that he and I live in very different worlds.  Tasmania is a great place to live but our public transport is a disgrace.  The lack of trains is a particular problem.  I'll post the story on 1000 Words or Less for anyone who is interested.

Wednesday, June 22

We've been watching a show on Acorn called Signora Volpe.  There are only three episodes to date and we normally wouldn't bother but it stars Emilia Fox who has been involved in Silent Witness for as long as I can remember.  This is a different part; she is a disillusioned MI6 spy who moves to Italy looking for a new start.

Immediately, the locals identify that she is something special and turn to her to sort out their problems, such as find the missing truffle-hunting pig.   

Acorn seems to like this format; there was another show on their site called Madame Blanc Mysteries with a similar theme.There's more than a touch of British exceptionalism about these shows and they must go down well in the British heartland struggling with the post-Brexit blues and Boris. 

It reminds me of a recurring theme of many American shows of the 60s and 70s where Americans would show up in poor communities in South America and South-East Asia and would almost be crowned King of the Village. I remember one where an ex-Marine found himself in some ill-begotten village and, was able to solve a long-term shortage of food by showing the farmers better ways to grow their crops.  As if!

Tuesday, June 21

We're up early because it's our Probus meeting today.  I've realised that I don't particularly enjoy it but we're committed now so have to make the effort.  Marilyn has been asked to be the chairman which she hates but will do a good job nevertheless.  

Later:  The meeting turned out very well.  There was a birthday cake to celebrate those members who are having a significant birthday this year (birthdays which end in a zero) and a number of people congratulated Marilyn on how she handled the meeting.  

The guest speaker didn't turn up so we asked some of the new members to tell us about their lives.

It's been a while since we've had such a pleasant gathering.

Monday, June 20

 Very quiet here today.  The weather is pretty ordinary so we'll have a day at home and have lunch at JJ's.

LATER: We came home just in time to receive a parcel. This was the second item that Marilyn wanted to buy with her recent earnings:  an electric blanket for Archie.  It will fit in his bed and keep him warm on these cold Tasmanian nights. Here's a picture of him trying it out.  Note also his favourite squeaky toy, Monsieur Aubergine.

Sunday, June 19

Covid still stalks our streets with over 1300 deaths in the past few weeks but people are deciding that we just have to learn to live with it.  Marilyn tentatively suggested yesterday that perhaps it's time for us to look at a proper holiday.  I think we were in Wollongong at the end of 2019 but I can't remember when we were last overseas.  It was certainly before 2019.  We had Christmas in the Philippines one year and our last cruise was to Papua New Guinea but I can't work out when that was.

Anyway, the seed has been planted in my mind and I've turned to the internet for ideas.  Cruising is always an option and the operators have reassured us they have cleaned up their act and it is just as safe as being at home.  There's any number of cruises leaving Sydney in December and one of them could be an option. And, our grand-daughter who lives in Brisbane now has three children and we haven't seen two of them so a trip up north might be a possibility.

I would love to get back to Japan or New Zealand but they might call for a bit more fitness than I can muster at the moment.  Senior citizens clearly see cruising as the best fit for the less fit, but we'll see what comes of all of this.

My preference, of course, is for people to come and visit us but nobody has yet bitten the bullet.

Saturday, June 18

I'm falling into a routine in the morning: I'm generally out of bed by 7, breakfast while watching a Youtube video of somebody traveling around, and then off to the gym for my regular workout. I like to get to the gym by 8.30, if I can, because it starts getting busy after that when the local ladies turn up for their exercise classes.

It only takes me about 30 minutes to complete my routine but that will be extended, I suspect, when the fitness instructor checks my progress on Monday.  We'll see.

Later:  there were just three people in the gym this morning: me and another bloke and a young woman.  Nobody bothered to speak, just a nod to acknowledge each other's existence and we got about our business. One wall of the gym is glass and looks out over the local football field where, clearly,  a match is to be held this morning.  The electronic scoreboard has been switched on and there are various flags set out.  The weather is a little damp and there are obvious wet spots on the ground.  The local team is called the Longford Tigers and I hope they are good in the mud.

Friday, June 17

There was quite a good crowd at Peter's Memorial Service yesterday: many from Probus and Rotary and various of their local friends plus quite a number of Marie's family from New Zealand.  It was held in the Westbury Catholic Church with very generous refreshments in the Church Hall afterwards.

I really have trouble with Catholic funerals. The last Church funeral I went to was another one of our members, that time in the Deloraine Catholic Church.  I left with a sense of disquiet that he wasn't properly sent off and I felt the same today.

To me, the deceased was not the centre of attention, as he should be.  The service took over an hour; Peter was mentioned at the beginning as the reason we were all there but then he was hardly referred to by the priest as he went through his procedure and the only other time Peter was was talked about was in the 5 minutes homily by his wife and a similar 5 minute talk from Rebecca, his daughter.

And the church was so cold!  Happily, the refreshments included soup and it was very welcome.

Thursday, June 16

There's a Memorial Service being held this afternoon for our friend, Peter who died almost two weeks ago.  He had a private, family burial soon after that but today will be a celebration of his life.  It was delayed to give time for family members to come from New Zealand.

I had thought the weather might be appropriate - wet and windy - but it's really quite pleasant.

Otherwise very little is happening here.  Jamie and Nera are in Ulverstone so we're looking after Archie but he'll have the house to himself while, late morning, we head off to the service. 

Wednesday, June 15

Marilyn's job seems to have come to an end and she is home today, enjoying a sleep-in.  It's been an interesting exercise and, although she found it very tiring, she thoroughly enjoyed it.  I say that the job has ended but the group of ladies who have been working together have decided that they won't lose touch and are organising a get-together for lunch in a couple of weeks.

That's the difference between men and women: men work together and move on but women see the job as an opportunity to make new friends.  Interesting!

Tuesday, June 14

It's -2 degrees this morning and Marilyn has just headed off to work.  I know she will take care on the roads but I can't help feeling concerned about her driving on her own.  Luckily, I still have Nera's Jeep here so, if there's a problem, I will be able to drive there to help out.  

I looked out the back door to see how the garden is coping and it's not good.  On one hand, we have the beauty of a spider web:

And then there's the damage to my rhubarb patch.  Now I know why my grandfather in Scotland used to plant his rhubarb under a wheelbarrow.

Monday, June 13

Marilyn is off to work again this morning. It's a Public Holiday so she will be paid double-time and, of course, she is delighted about that. It's been a long time since she received penalty rates. Working, as she did, in boarding schools meant that she was on-call seven days a week no matter whether it was Easter Sunday or the Queens Birthday.

I find it interesting that there was no work yesterday.  Marilyn was told the AEC doesn't work on Sundays but has no trouble with public holidays.  Why, I wonder, is there still this feeling that Sunday is somehow special?  With church attendance at its lowest lever ever, it's odd that the Christian day of worship receives special attention.  Many businesses still have to pay penalty rates for a day which has lessening relevance.  And, is Christianity still the most-practised religion?  It would be interesting to look at the figures to see whether we are holding on to a tradition that no longer makes sense in our increasingly Godless society.

Sunday, June 12

Life in Australia seems, slowly, to be returning to something like normal.  Tourists are starting to come back and there are huge crowds at Melbourne and Sydney airports as people try desperately to get to somewhere else.  Somebody must be thinking that Covid is not the problem it was because Nera's contract with the medical company finishes at the end of June, even though government officials are calling out for Aged Care facilities to get on with vaccinating their clients.  Who will do that, I wonder.  Clearly, there's not the same urgency to roll out the vaccination as there was earlier.  Nera is quite happy about moving on and is going to take some time to consider her options before deciding what to do next.  She might continue with the same company in another capacity, probably with overseas projects, or go back to general surgery work in Launceston.

In the meantime, she and Jamie are taking a break and going back to the Philippines for a month.  They fly out in early July and we have been delegated to look after Archie for the time they're away.  

Saturday, June 11

Marilyn has gone off to work this morning; the fact that it's Saturday doesn't stop the AEC from carrying out its duty.  I expect to have another quiet day but there is one unusual challenge that I have to fulfil.  Someone has given Jamie and Nera a lump of venison.  Unsure what to do, they have brought it to me with the expectation that I will turn it into a meal fit for a king.  That's the trouble with spending years building up a reputation that I am knowledgeable and wise; whenever anyone is faced with a difficult problem, they come to me to sort it out.

I've checked the internet for recipes: most of them call for things like rutabagas so I'll have to look that up.  Others want red wine or ale, neither of which I have in the house and I'm not keen to spend $20 on a bottle of Cab Sav just for a stew, and where can you buy just one can of ale?  There's a bottle of sherry in the pantry and I wonder if that might be a reasonable substitute.  I've stopped drinking and Marilyn only has champagne now so our liquor cabinet is sorely depleted.

I need to be methodical!  Choose a recipe, make a list of ingredients and hop in the car for a quick trip to the supermarket.  I'll use the slow cooker so it's a simple matter of chucking everything in and letting it look after itself.

Even though there are a number of farmers around here with flocks of deer, I've only eaten venison once before.  It was Christmas Day and we were enjoying Christmas Dinner at a hotel in Georgetown, north of here.  On the menu was Roast Venison which I thought was a strange choice for Christmas Dinner.  Surely there's something a bit suspect about eating reindeer on Christmas Day!  Nevertheless, I took the plunge and enjoyed it even though it was a bit dry and gamey.  I hope my stew will be as palatable.

PS I've found a recipe which also works with Elk, Antelope or Moose so I'll be able to use it often.

Friday, June 10

Every now and again I get an email from a crowd called Medium Daily Digest wanting me to subscibe to their regular newsletter.  I resist, of course; I'm too mean to pay for people's opinions and the internet is chock-a-block with opinions which I can read for nothing.

However, Medium is something else again. One of their authors is a man called Umair Haque who would probably describe himself as 'a brown person'.  He writes challenging articles in a very breezy, interesting style.  His latest article, this morning, is entitled 'How America Collapsed and Became a Fourth World Country'. 

He explains that, in his thinking, a Fourth World Country is one that is going backwards so fast that it is now a failed state and puts America, and Britain, in that category.  He goes on to explain: 'rich countries which have made themselves poor ones, liberal democracies who've given up on the project, and are reverting backwards to bombastic nationalism, theocracy (and) authoritarianism'.

I've been saying for years that America is a failed state and it's nice to have an author with an international audience agreeing with me.  I hadn't heard this but, since the shooting at Robb Elementary School last week, there were ten more shootings just at the weekend.  And what on earth is going on in the UK?  How can Boris still be the Prime Minister?  Have they no standards, or pride?

Thursday, June 9

I've been struggling to get immersed in a book over the last few weeks.  My normal fare of UK crime thrillers no longer satisfies me and I find myself losing the thread from one day to the next.  There's nothing worse than picking up a book and finding that you have no idea what has gone on before. 

In desperation, I decided to try a non-fiction book, on the assumption that it wouldn't have the same complicated threads as a book of fiction.  It might have worked.  I downloaded a book from the library entitled The Luck of Politics by Andrew Leigh who is one of the more impressive of the younger bunch of pollies who are starting to replace the Old Guard.  In real life he has been a lawyer and a Professor of Economics at ANU.

In the book, he makes the point that luck plays a very big role in the success or otherwise of politicians.  He says, for example, that John Howard missed out on being elected to the state seat of Drummoyne in 1968 by 420 votes, which left him available to take up a safe Federal seat.  Gough Whitlam had similar luck.

He also talked about the importance of being born to the right parents, having the right first name, being reasonably handsome, being in the right place at the right time, and so on.  All of these strokes of luck are much more important than intelligence, integrity or ability to work hard.

An interesting book and I managed to read it to the end without feeling that I had missed the plot.  I can't resist including this image of his family, taken for their Christmas card:

Wednesday, June 8

Well, I find myself home alone!  Marilyn received a call yesterday afternoon from the Electoral Commission offering her a couple of days work in completing the allocation of preferences.  There was no hesitation and she has been walking around with a wide grin ever since.  That's great, and I'm delighted for her.  I'll just have to occupy myself while she's off having fun.

The real worry is that, more and more, I am noticing signs that the world is coming to an end.  Oh, the signs are subtle but, little by little, our confidence in how things ought to be is being challenged.  Just this morning there was another little chink announced, chipping away at the facade of civilisation as we know it.

It seems there is a shortage of lettuce so KFC is using cabbage as a substitute on their burgers.  Cabbage!! The development of the KLFC burger has taken years to develop and it's dangerous to fiddle with a winning formula.

Of course, it was first announced on Sky so it could be fake news.  And maybe Rupert has cornered the cabbage market and this is his way of maximising his profits.

Tuesday, June 7

 

Bicycles came up twice in the news today.  The first is the extraordinary sight of two national leaders riding bicycles through the grounds of a palace in Djakarta.  What I liked was the fact that the bicycles were made of bamboo. Why haven't I heard of this before?  Bamboo bicycles sound fabulous.  I remember my first bicycle and a lasting memory is that it was so heavy; made of good Australian steel and made to outlive its rider. A bamboo bicycle would be so easy to heave onto a train, or a ferry out even throw over your shoulder to carry it up a flight of steps.  Maybe it's a good thing that we now have a reasonably slim and fit Prime Minister.  Somehow, I don't see it as Scomo's thing; riding efficiently on an Indonesian bamboo bike.

The other mention of bicycles came in a breathless article in my online newspaper.  For those of us tied to our desks, we can now get a desk chair with built in pedals so we can do our exercise while working.  How did I ever live without it?

We have two appointments today and that's unusual.  Normally, we try to keep our diaries tidy by not trying to do too much in one day but, for some reason, we have two things happening at the same time.  We are supposed to be at a Morning Tea in Deloraine but find that we're also booked in to see the podiatrist.  

One of our rules is don't book anything on Tuesdays or Friday mornings because they're the usual days when we have regular activities but something went wrong.  Of course, our feet take priority so we'll be heading off to the surgery soon.

Monday, June 6

As soon as I see this date, my mind thinks: 'D-Day, 6th June'.  It's mad, it's been 67 years since the end of World War 2, yet my consciousness is still driven by tropes from that time.  Is 'trope' the right word to use in that situation?  I hope it is.

Marilyn and I had to go into Launceston this morning to meet up with Nancy Corbett, the poet who has been organising the Poetry group I have been attending.  She is moving to Victoria but I wanted to buy two copies of her latest collection of poems so we met up at the library for a coffee to make the deal.

Launceston is never busy but it was good to see that there were reasonable numbers of people wandering around the shops.  I suppose we're unusual in not having suburban shopping centres like many larger cities. These attract customers away from the traditional High Streets which become like ghost towns.

It's always good to talk to Nancy.  I had never thought of 'poet' as an occupation but she seems to have made a living at it. I know she sells books of her poetry but she also runs seminars, attends festivals and so  on. She was pleased to hear that the books I bought are going to Kangaroo Valley which she knows well; at least one of the poems in the book was written about one of the creeks in the Valley. 

Sunday, June 5

We were both woken at 6.20 this morning by a huge flurry of wind and rain on our roof.  Clearly, winter is settling in and we're getting a taste of what we can expect for the next few months.  Nothing is planned for today; Marilyn has acquired the latest Vera Stanhope book and is quite happy to settle down in her comfortable chair and let the rest of the world go by.  I've had enough of sitting and reading, and would quite like to be doing something else but the weather is pretty awful.

I'll go to the gym later this morning and spend the rest of the day browsing the internet, checking out possible places for holidays in case we ever feel the urge to travel again.  Maybe we'll find a movie to watch this afternoon.  Life gets tedious, don't it?

I remember that song, by Walter Brennan, and can even recite the first verse:

The sun comes up and the sun goes down
The hands on the clock keep a-goin' 'round
I just get up and it's time to lay down
Life gets tee-jus, don't it, hmm

Saturday, June 4

Sadly, our friend Peter has died.  He had been in hospital, waiting for an Aged Care bed and passed away yesterday morning.  His daughter had arrived from Sydney just before he went.  He was a few years older than me and was certainly becoming more frail each time we saw him recently.

As I wrote that last paragraph, I was very reluctant to use the phrase 'passed away' but I had already said he 'had died' and couldn't repeat that phrase without it sounding stilted.  But I hate these mealy-mouthed modern phrases which are supposed to soften the blow of hearing that someone has died.

I particularly hate the American usage of saying that someone has 'passed'.  Passed what?  Passed the salt passed the ball, passed wind?  Do you think the widow or the bereaved children feel any better when your use of language suggests that their loved one hasn't really died; he has just passed through a doorway to somewhere else?

When I go, I want someone to recite the famous lines from the Monty Python sketch:  'E's passed on! He is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'E rests in peace! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's fallen off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'E's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!!'

Friday, June 3

It seems our employment with the AEC has come to an end.  I had just two shifts but Marilyn had considerably more. I asked her what she planned to do with her earnings and she had no hesitation in identifying three items she had in mind.  

The first was a new clothes dryer.  We'd had our Fisher and Paykel for years and it was becoming more and more reluctant to do its job so we headed in to JB HiFi to look for a replacement.  The shop assistant had no hesitation in recommending one branded BIKO, apparently made in Turkey.  I'd never heard of it and had never thought of Turkey as a powerhouse of home appliances but we bought it anyway.

The second item on her wish-list has been ordered on-line and the third will need some research, so watch this space for updates.

Thursday, June 2

I think I read too much!  They say that ignorance is bliss but, if you read, you inevitably discover things which you would rather not know.  One of my guilty pleasures is ordering stuff online, enjoying the anticipation of waiting for it to arrive, and then having the pleasure of opening the parcel.  But that simple pleasure has been taken away from me, all because I was browsing an article about some of the best new book releases in Australia this year.

One recommended book is a graphic novel (comic) written (?) by a Melbourne man who worked for a time at the Amazon warehouse.  He was a 'picker', the bloke who goes around collecting the items which Mr Christie from Longford in Tasmania has ordered  and delivers them to dispatch for packing.  It seems to be an horrendous job, with persistent harassment from the supervisors to work faster and a constantly pinging timer to hurry him along.  He claims he walked 30 km in a day and had no time to even go to the toilet.  The pressure to keep working was so bad, he bought a urine bottle (from Amazon) to strap to his leg so he didn't have to make toilet breaks.  

Every time I order from Amazon now I will think of the poor pickers with their persistently-pinging timers, stumbling along in their steel-capped boots, bursting to go to the toilet but scared of losing their jobs.  I know, I know, I should buy local: it's not like that in Kmart!