Monday, January 1

At the end of each month, I type out a list of activities we will be involved in during the next 30 days.  It's then stuck on the fridge as a quick guide to what we should be doing: meetings, doctors appointments, visitors, and so on.  We're usually quite busy so the list is often quite long.  The January list was pentad yesterday but, with the best will in the world, I can't make it any longer than five lines. There are no meetings, no appointments, no-one coming to visit.  The only significant thing is our wedding anniversary and I stretched that over two lines.  I suppose it's a good thing to have a quiet month, but I hope it's not the beginning of a trend.

I was watching a Youtube video this morning where one of my regulars was visiting Alicante in Spain. He was surprised to find that there are, I think, 23 Moreton Bay Figs in Alicante.  Scott lived in Sydney for many years so is familiar with the trees.  They're old so must have been planted many years ago and their exotic appearance looks out of place.  The town makes a feature of them and kids, of course, love to play among the huge buttress roots.  There was no mention of his they got there but Scott, the presenter, made a cryptic remark that they might have come via Argentina.  Why, I don't know.

Wednesday, December 27

 It's not the end of the month yet but at least I can celebrate the end of the Christmas season.  It's great fin, of course, but it's tiring: having to be a bit more careful of the clothes you put on in the morning, having to be cheerful in case people turn up unexpectedly, wondering whether it's still required to put out a Christmas gift for the garbage man or the postie.  I realised on Christmas morning that a couple of my prescriptions had expired.  The surgery was closed, of course, so I made a mental note to ring them this morning to have the renewals sent through to the pharmacy.  My phone wouldn't work.  Of course, I re-charge to annually and it expires on Boxing Day.  Every year I forget.

I have an app on the phone so it's no problem to renew it but the cost has gone up a bit.  I think I remember getting a cheap deal last year.  Still, it's cheaper than a monthly plan with Telstra.

Jamie and Nera came and had lunch with us yesterday and that was a good way to wrap up the Christmas season.  The next celebration is our anniversary on January 8th.  We hadn't planned to 'do' anything but the friends we had lunch with on Christmas Day announced that they would be celebrating their 50th on January 6th, so we've arranged to have a meal with them on that day at Stillwater, one of the posh restaurants in Launceston.  It will be our 58th anniversary so we have a couple of extra years on them.

Monday, December 25

We were invited to Jamie and Nera's last night for their Christmas Party which involves the local filipino community.  As usual, it followed the filipino tradition of Noche Buena which means an early start and the main feast to be enjoyed at midnight.  There is always a whole roast pig and whatever other delicacies the family can afford.  Nera had invited people to arrive from 3 o'clock but Marilyn and I dropped in about 4.30.

The feast was well under way and we joined the line to get our share.  Apart from the pig which had been severely hacked about by the time we arrived, there were huge prawns, crayfish, different salads and so on.  Nera had made a  beef brisket which I decided was my favourite.  Of course, there might have been forty people there so lots of food was needed.  

Luckily they have quite a big house and lots of places to sit, but some us had to spill out into the gazebo in the back yard to get a break from the constant noise.  Filipino parties are not normally quiet affairs.

Jamie had organised some games.  One was a lucky dip where you had to choose a prize from a left-hand container or one from the right, while blindfolded.  The prizes were Mars bars wrapped around with a banknote!  Marilyn and I got $30 between us.  One lucky person, I hear, won $50. Another game involved calling out a number between 0 and 100 and about 40 of them won prizes.  I cheated a little and won a box of Ferrero Roche but that was just a minor prize.  Apparently it's an honour to have your house chosen to be the venue for the party but it's certainly an expensive honour.

Today, we're going out for lunch with friends from Deloraine. They came to us last year when Marilyn served fairly traditional Christmas fare but Steen is Danish so has told us he is cooking salmon steaks.  Sounds good to me!

Sunday, December 24

Marilyn and I have just finished watching an outstanding show called The Long Shadow.  It's a UK production and is about the search for the fellow they dubbed The Yorkshire Ripper.  This fellow killed 13 women over a 5-year period and the enormous police investigation into the case took four years to find the culprit.  There were seven episodes in the program and we watched it over two nights.  Riveting!

I did my usual watering this morning and realised there was another outstanding job which was demanding attention: cleaning the bird bath!  I love my bird bath and make sure there is always fresh water in it but I hadn't realised how much work there would be in keeping it clean.  Are birds so dirty that they leave a residue behind?  I need a scrubbing brush and hot water to do the job properly.

As I rinsed off the last bit of grime this morning, I heard a noise, and looked up to see a Virgin A320 coming in for its landing at Launceston Airport.  And the penny dropped.  What I am cleaning off my birdbath is the burnt residue from the fuel of the regular planes which use the flight path directly over our heads.  It's no wonder the birds have to use the bath.

Saturday, December 23

It's been a bit of a wasted day today. We're in that waiting period when Christmas is still a couple of days away but everything has been done to prepare for it.  I wandered out to check the mailbox, even though it's Saturday, wondering whether Australia Post might surprise us with a late delivery, but no luck.  I received a parcel last Saturday and hoped lightning might strike twice, but no luck.

Marilyn had ordered some Christmas groceries from our local supermarket, and we spent half an hour or so picking those up.  I eyed off the prawns and mince pies but they've been stashed away safely out of my reach.  

I've read a few pages of my book and downloaded a couple of old Christmas Specials from The Two Ronnies and Dr Who, but Marilyn's not a great fan of watching TV when it's daylight so they'll have to wait for another time.

Luckily, the weather is great so we take the chance to sit outside.  When it's warm, it's better to sit out the back in the morning and the front in the afternoon, so we have a table and chairs in both spots. Marilyn is collecting chips and other goodies as I'm typing this so I think a move to the front seats is imminent.

Friday, December 22

Marilyn had to see the doctor yesterday but she had a bit of a sniffle and Covid is still a threat.  She did a RAT test which was clear but the nurse said, 'Come to the back door and the doctor will come out to see you in the car'.  Brilliant.  While we were there, we both had our covid booster shots; that's six each, we've had, I think.

We spent yesterday binge-watching Strictly Come Dancing, the UK TV show.  We had saved it up to watch when Anne was here but she wasn't interested so we had several hours to get through.  The Poms certainly know how to put on a show.  We've also watched the US version, Dancing with the Stars, which is second-rate, and there used to be an Australian version which was just embarrassing.  The UK show is slick, professional and highly-entertaining.  

Now that it's finished, it's my turn to chose the next show and I'll probably look for a murder mystery.

Wednesday, December 20

It's nice to have the house back to normal.  Anne went home yesterday and, although, it was nice to have a visitor, it's great to pick up our old routines again.  I like to watch podcasts in the morning before Marilyn gets up but Anne was an early-riser and I didn't want to inflict my esoteric taste on her.  One of our 'family sayings' is. I'm going to live in a cave and become a helmet.  It's a quote from a 1959 TV show called The Loves of Dobie Gillis.  Dobie was a typical US teenager of the time but his off-sider was a beatnik-type called Maynard G. Krebs who often said outlandish things like the one about being a helmet.  Shows our age, doesn't it?

While we were urging Anne to finish her packing so we could head for the airport, there was knock at the door.  Surprisingly, it was a friend we haven't seen for, maybe 20 years.  She worked with us at the Friends School boarding house in the late 1970s but Marilyn thinks we last met her at Salamanca Place in Hobart more recently.  She lives in Hobart but was in the north visiting a friend.  Obviously, we had to chat and run but, now that we've made contact again, we'll make a point of seeing her next time we're down south.

Tuesday, December 19

It's rained overnight but the sun is shining now so we expect a nice day. I'm always happy when we have an overnight shower because that means I don't have to do my morning chore of watering.  We have Archie with us at the moment as Jamie has flown off on the early flight to Melbourne.  A committee he is on is visiting a health facility in Victoria to get some ideas for one proposed for Launceston.  Nera, of course, is working so we're the back-up as carers for Archie.

One of Nera's nephews has applied to study in Australia.  He has finished his schooling in the Philippines and has enrolled to study Nursing in Launceston.  His ultimate ambition is to be a doctor and he is very bright, so they all expect great things.  Jamie and Nera already have a lodger: a young Filipina woman, sister of a friend, so they've had to set up another bedroom for Brendan.  They're both very social so will enjoy having a full house.

Anne flies home this afternoon and I think she's looking forward to being back in her own place.  While she has been away, her family has made arrangements with her retirement village management to provide her with more care: evening meals, better support services and so on, so the hope is that she will live independently for longer.  There's no fun in being older and having to live on your own.

Monday, December 18

I thought I would try to get the blog back on track: it's difficult to keep it up when we have a visitor and Marilyn's sister, Anne, has been here for about three weeks. However, she is going home tomorrow and I'll have time again in the morning to focus on dribbling down my thoughts.

I was delighted on Saturday when a parcel arrived that I had been waiting for,  Extended delivery times is a great initiative.  The parcel was from Temu, my new best friend.  I have to confess I've gone a bit overboard since I discovered this wonderful site: the range of stuff they have is extraordinary and the prices a joke.  This time I had ordered a new cushion for my desk char: 40cm square, 8cm thick, covered in an off-white fabric, $20.90, free postage.  The alternative was to drive  in to Spotlight, pay for parking, fight with the Christmas crowds, and pay too much.

However, when I opened the parcel, it was not what I expected.  There was a hammock, some kids' clothes, gardening stuff, hand towels, and so on.  I checked the label on the outside and it was certainly mine so there had obviously been some mistake by one off the minions in the huge warehouse in rural China.  And, somewhere, some family was excitedly unwrapping an off-white cushion and scratching their heads.

I checked the Temu website, found the form to report a 'Wrong Parcel' and one to claim back my money.  Within 10 minutes, I had my credit and, apparently, I can keep the treasures I received by mistake.  Jamie and Nera called in, raked through the stuff and were delighted to take some off our hands.  The rest will end up in the charity bin over the road.

Thursday, December 7

Summer has certainly come to Tasmania this week; we've taken to sleeping with the back door open so that we can get a breath of air.  The only saving grace is that we know it won't last.

I had an email last night from a friend in Western Australia.  We've known each other since we were both students at Sydney University in the 1960's. but we don't keep in regular contact.  His first teaching job was in Goulburn and he met a girl there and they married in 1974.  Marilyn was the Matron-of-Honour and I drove the wedding car.  There is a notorious photograph taken on the day which shows Jamie, 5 years old, dressed in flared trousers and floral shirt.  I also have a very-1970's suit and Jamie says I look like a pimp.

Anyway Mungo and Jan have been married 49 years today.  The last time we saw them was years ago when we were on a cruise which ended up in Perth after sailing around the Northern part of Australia, probably about 2005 or 6.  It's hard to keep up a friendship when you're on opposite sides of a continent.

Tuesday, December 6

Jamie was telling us about something they watched on Netflix: a show called The Professor and the Madman, and it sounded quite interesting but we seem to be out of the habit of watching TV so I was pleased to hear that the show was based on a book of the same name by Simon Winchester.  I've read his stuff before. He's the bloke who believes that Chinese sailors sailed around the world centuries before Europeans 'discovered' places like Australia and South America.

His book is also called The Professor and the Madman and is about the compilation of the first edition f The Oxford English Dictionary.  Yes, I know that it sounds boring and the only copy I could find was in PDF format so difficult to manage on a small tablet but I read it from cover to cover and found it fascinating.  We might even try to watch the Netflix version as well

Thursday, November 30

People might complain that I'm starting to write this at 5.49 in the afternoon, but that's life as Frankie might have said.  My day has not been without incident: I had to drop Jamie off to a meeting this meeting at the Hospital.  Parking is always a problem there (and expensive!) so it was more convenient for me to drop him off and pick him up later. He is a member of The Premier's Committee on Mental Health (or something like that) and they were interviewing candidates for an Executive Officer position.  Before he needed to be picked up, I had to take Marilyn and Anne to the podiatrist and sit in the car waiting for them, pick up Jamie, drop him home, then start putting together the fruit platter I'm taking to the last session of my Writing group for the year.  I should be able to insert a photograph of the finished work of art but I'm not sure how to go about it.  Perhaps I'll speak to Jamie next time he's here.

Tuesday, November 28

Since I've started watering in the morning, I can have my regular chores completed by morning tea.  It's. not a long list but it's surprisingly constant, not changing much from one day to the next: watering, of course, cut up fruit for a fruit salad, hang out a load of washing, make the bed, do a ten minute walk on the treadmill.  I'm glad the evening watering routine has gone; I took no pleasure in it.  At least, in the morning the sun is shining and there are always a few birds around, going about their business.  Marilyn tells me the plants are looking better too, which is a bonus.

Anne is still with us and we've had to modify our routine to accommodate another person in the house.  She's not keen on television and makes no sense of the stuff we watch, like UK Mastermind, and Strictly Come Dancing.  That's OK, Marilyn loves having someone to chat to and I'm just as happy with a book.

Sunday, November 26

The rain has come in overnight so I can forego my watering chore this morning.  I was up by 6.45 but Anne was already sitting in the lounge room waiting for a cup of tea.  Marilyn is 'having a lie-in'; she's been busy getting organised for Anne's visit and is now coping with the fall-out.  Even though we have a lot planned for while Anne is here today is a quiet day.  I have a story to write for next week's class and, because it is the last session for the year the topic is 'A Christmas Story': a bit trite so I'll have to shake it up a bit.

The Black Friday sales have hit Tasmania like the rest of the world. I thought it was a Chinese invention but I'm told it started in the US as a follow-up to Thanksgiving.  No matter, I'm told you couldn't move in the Launceston Mall on the weekend.  Even Temu, my favourite site, is in on the act.  We succumbed to the hype and ordered a tower fan from Dick Smith on-line.  If the figures are correct it was less than half-price.  We won't know how good it is until it gets here.  

Saturday, November 25

 It's a miserable day in Northern Tasmania and we're expecting a guest this afternoon. Marilyn's sister, Anne, will fly in for another visit and it's a shame the weather is not more welcoming. Still, we don't have plans for excessive tripping around; Anne will be happy to sit around chatting as it's company she misses. We do have several functions to attend so she'll have to put up with at least three Probus Christmas functions.

I had written a story for my writing group yesterday called The Pearl Necklace.  I based it on a time when we bought a black pearl necklace from a small shop on the island of Mindoro in the Philippines.  I had to build in the fiction that it was later stolen by the wife of the Rotary President.  Not a great story but the other members of the group were much more enthusiastic about it than other stories I've written and I think are better.  Anyway, I'll post it on 1000 words or Less if anyone is interested.

The real story of the trip to Mindoro is that we bought the pearls from a young bloke on the beach and, at the same time, I bought an Omega watch from him.  He took a couple of links out of the band so I could wear it and I paraded back along the beach to show it off to our fellow-travellers.  We were harassed by every shyster and beggar as we walked back, jostling us and demanding to show us what they were selling. When we arrived at the restaurant we were heading for, my watch had disappeared - from off my wrist! - and I had no recollection of how it happened.

Friday, November 24

 It's 7.41 am and I'm well into my morning routine. Marilyn is still in bed, reading and I've already had my cereal and anticipating toast and marmalade later.  There's been a recent change to my morning duties and I'm still getting used to it.  For years, I've been in the habit of watering my meagre garden in the evenings. It's worked pretty well but has caused some friction between Marilyn and me.  I want to wait until the sun goes down before I start the process but Marilyn wants everything finished before she starts cooking dinner.

I don't know anything about gardening but take my lead from how Marilyn's father did it and I remember him standing in the dark holding a hose.  Somewhere in the back of my mind is a thought that it is wrong to water in the bright sunlight.  Of course, when there a difference of opinion we turn to Google to find the right answer.  'When is the best time to water in Tasmania?' I ask and the surprising answer comes back.

'The very worst time to water is in the evening.  Water droplets lie on the leaves too long and can cause fungal infection!!' or something like that.  What?  How could I be wrong for so long?  So, I've had to change my whole daily routine.  Now, instead of watching YouTube videos of Scott or Steve catching trains, I'm holding a hose (unlike a previous PM).

Thursday, November 23

 It's a beautiful day and we have nothing planned.  We started out by sitting outside the front of the house with our coffee but the sun moved over so we retreated to the back where we have a table and chairs set up on a square of concrete.  We spend a lot of time there in the summer. Jamie came around yesterday to talk about putting up some shade to make it a more useful space.  We first thought of a pergola but we would have to have council permission and that's a bit of a pain so it will have to be a shadecloth sail mounted in some way.

I already have a sail which I used to put up at Dilston but, at 5m x 5m, it's a bit too big so a trip to Bunnings is in order.  Jamie has a handy mate who is always looking for little jobs to give him a bit of an income.  He's a full-time carer for his wife so can't go to regular work.  He's done a few jobs for Jamie over the years and has worked on both our cars so we know how cluey he is.

Marilyn's sister arrives tomorrow for another visit and it's a shame we won't have the shade up before that. 

Thursday, November 16

Marilyn's having a day off from Exam Supervision but the skies are grey and it's not a great outlook for us to do anything special.  There are a couple of young blackbirds playing outside our window which is always a nice sight.  Jamie tells us that the young swallows who hatch out this year are fluttering around his place as well so all is right with the world.

I've had to visit the optometrist this week for my regular check-up.  It took two visits because she ended to put in some drops which would mean I couldn't drive myself home so I had to go back another time with Marilyn in tow to drive me around.  However, after all the effort there is nothing to worry about.  The system set up to look after us oldies seems to be working very well.

Thursday, November 9

 I had to drop Marilyn off early this morning for her shift at the exams and then headed for the shops to collect some bits and pieces. I didn't have a list and was relying on my memory which is always a danger.  However, I don't think I've forgotten anything.  One of the items was a jar of Moccona coffee.

It's not our preferred choice of drink; Marilyn prefers Robert Timms sachets and I'm a fan of Hazelnut Latte in pouches but the Moccona powder is a good standby, and a lot cheaper.  The problem is the jar.  It's big, bulky and, obviously, a significant part of the cost of the purchase.  The jar looks like it must have some use after the coffee is gone so I used to rinse the empty jar out and store it in the shed for future use. After a while I had so many that I just chucked them in the recycling, knowing that I was being lazy.  There's a big chunk of plastic on the lid so, to be properly recycled, somebody will need to manually remove that plastic.

I've been saying for a while that Moccona ought to provide a refill for that jar: perhaps in a foil bag.  I'm sure it would be cheaper for them, and for the customer, and do a little bit for the sorry state the world is in.

Wednesday, November 8

 I've been to my Probus meeting this morning.  Marilyn was working again and I was pleased to have something interesting to do.  Today's guest speaker was not a great orator but had an interesting story to tell.  He was saying that, as he is now 79, he's planning to retire.  He came from a farming background and found himself getting into the business of supplying grain and feed.  The growth area, he was saying, is in fish farms and distilleries, both of which consume huge amounts of grain. 

The increase in the number of fish farms is not surprising but he told us that there are now 57 distilleries in Tasmania.  I can remember when there was just one.  Bill Lark distilled his first single malt in 1992 when he was the only known distiller so, in 30 years, the industry has exploded.  And all those distillers need grain.  The best Tasmanian-grown grain goes to the whisky industry and lower quality stuff is brought in for the feed lots and for the making of fish pellets.

Who would have thought that farming, which was once about growing wheat or herding sheep. would have become so complicated..

Tuesday, November 7

It's Spring, and a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of the birds and the bees.  As an old man, I find myself enjoying the sight of bees buzzing around the lavender plants we have out the front  and, this morning, there were three young sparrows playing among our pot plants as they learned to fly.  I don't want to get too poetic about it but it is a not a surprise that so many poems have been written about this time of the year.

Marilyn has her first supervision duty at the exams which start this week.  I will drop her off and spend an hour or two at Jamie's before picking her up again.  He has birds, too, with a couple of swallows nesting in his back porch.  They were there last year and have re-built their nest this year in the same spot.  Three nestlings sit there with their beaks agape waiting to be fed.  A bit like me, really!

Monday, November 6

 It's a beautiful day and it's a public holiday so we're taking the chance to do nothing.  The holiday is called Recreation Day and draws a bit of criticism in Tassie.  It has no meaning; it's not a religions day nor a day of remembrance nor a celebratory day for a royal birthday.  It's just a day off because somewhere else in Tasmania is having a day off and we deserve one too.

Hobart has always celebrated Regatta Day in February so Northern Tasmania stamped its foot and demanded a day off too: not in the winter, mind, but in a nice warm part of the year.   And so was born Recreation Day.

Marilyn has put her hand up to work at the exams again this year, supervising students at Launceston College but I've decided that I've done my bit.  I'll act as Support Person, driving her to and from and keeping the home fires burning.  That starts this week and runs for a fortnight.  I expect I'll be watching a bit more television to fill in the lonely hours when she's off earning a quid.

Sunday, November 5

Years ago when Mum was moving into a unit in Wollongong, I acquired a ladder that had once belonged to my Dad.  It was a typical 6 foot, wooden stepladder with a hinge at the top and paint spatters on the rungs.  It came with us when we moved to Tasmania and was very useful on many occasions.   We still had it when we moved into a unit in Deloraine, perhaps twenty years later.

I decided it would be nice if I turned it into an easel and display a favourite painting on it. I had already tried to hang the painting on the wall but it was a bit heavy and pulled out the hook.  I cut several inches off the bottom of the ladder, painted it white and it fulfilled its role until we moved back to Dilston.

Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of it and assumed it had been left somewhere in one of our moves.  The other day, I caught sight of a wooden ladder outside a second-hand shop in Longford: about the right height, painted white.  Could it be the same ladder?  I made a mental note to call in one day to check it out.

However, it all came to naught.  Jamie is cleaning out his garage today and rang to tell me that Dad's ladder is there; it had been hidden behind some more junk.  Good news, indeed.

Saturday, November 4

 Dancing Season has come to our house.  I try to ignore it but Marilyn has some sixth sense that tells her when the sequins come out and it's time for the annual TV dancing competitions. Her favourite is Strictly Come Dancing on the BBC and I've had to seek that out.  I have to say that it's a first-rate production but the twee way the poms present this sort of thing can be a bit wearing.

Happily, the Australian version seems to have disappeared after too many years of being second-rate and it won't be missed.  Last night, Marilyn wondered aloud whether the US were going to have one this year and it seems it runs in parallel with the UK one.  I find it a bit loud and over-the-top but that's just me.  There are eight episodes to date so that's covered our TV watching for the next week or so.

Thursday, November 2

 I've often wondered whether hair grows faster in the winter.  It would make sense, from an evolutionary point of view: those with longer, thicker hair would have an advantage in colder weather.  I must look it up some time.

I thought about it this week when my own hair started to bother me.  It's too long, too thick and too unruly.  We have a regular hair appointment every few weeks and that normally suits me quite well.  Whatever the interval is, my hair seems to be just about ready for a trim when the appointment comes around.  But, nit this time.  I asked Marilyn when the appointment is due and she said it was today.  'Just about time,' I thought.  My hair is longer than it has been for years and it's a bit of a bother.  I have been blaming it on the cold weather we have been having and my body's reaction to that by growing the hair a little bit faster.

There was a time in the past when I cultivated the long-haired, academic look but, nowadays, I prefer the tidier, managerial, style.  There's nothing worse than these old hippies who try to pretend they're still the vibrant, young stirrers who want to change the world, by cultivating the look which was all the rage in the 60s.  I'd rather that people who meet me now think that I was a dignified member of society, rather than a rebellious, self-destructive misfit.

Marilyn's 'phone rang this morning and it was the hairdresser.  Apparently three of her staff have rung in sick and she can't get our hair done today.  Instead, she's opening up on Saturday afternoon to take up the slack.  What kind of hairdresser has three staff off sick on the same day?  Is it a pandemic or are they all off together on a jaunt?

It doesn't suit me but I'll just have to out up with it.

Monday, October 30

Marilyn found my old camera the other day.  It was a surprise because we thought we had given it to Nera's nephew when he visited.  Clearly not.  I was interested to see whether there were any pictures still on the card and there were.  The ten photos showed a man standing in water holding up a black crayfish and I had no idea what that was all about.

The date noted was September 17, 2015 so I checked back on the blog to see what we were doing at that time.  It seemed that it was a slack time for me and the best I could come up with was that we had planned a cruise for that time, leaving Perth and travelling to New Zealand.  Later we would fly to the Philippines.

Most of that didn't eventuate. but I did have a hazy memory of visiting a fish market in the Philippines and buying their equivalent of Balmain Bugs.  Maybe it was something to do with that.  Marilyn, of course, knew what it was about immediately.  The black crayfish were freshwater creatures which live only in a couple of streams in Northern Tasmania.  They are quite rare and protected.  Our Probus Club visited a sanctuary near Burnie where they can be viewed.  Nothing to do with our exotic travels at all.

 

Sunday, October 29

Sunday is supposed to be the day of rest but that rule seems not to apply in our house.  When Marilyn opened her eyes this morning, her first words were, "The sun's shining so I'll change the sheets."  It's strange the things which give some people satisfaction.  Her involvement in this process seems limited to dragging the hardly-soiled sheets off the bed, removing the pillowcases and bundling the whole lot into the washing machine.

At the appropriate time, I remove the sheets and pillow cases from the machine, and wrestle with them when pegging them on the line.  Some time during the morning I re-make the bed with new linen; it's always a struggle with the heavy mattress.

Mid-afternoon, the washed ones are ready for bringing in and I recruit Marilyn to help me fold them, before putting them back in the cupboard until next time.  They say that practice makes perfect but I've never thought of myself as wanting to be perfect in this particular job.

Saturday, October 28

Opening the blog this morning, I was surprised to see that I haven't written anything since Tuesday.  It's not as if I have been too busy; in fact, busyness might be a good reason for not writing.  Perhaps I'm just slack. Of course, I could also claim that I'm getting old and my memory is failing.

I have noticed another deterioration in my faculties.  I have always been a great reader, preferring complex books with a strong plot.  With the invention of ebooks, I had access to literally millions of the best books ever written. Most of the time I would have a couple of books on the go, and they were often detailed crime novels.  But no longer.  Nowadays, I find my mind wandering while I am reading and, if I put the book down, I can't pick up the story as readily as I used to.  To cope, I turned to short stories, but it's not the same.

Yesterday, I decided to broaden my choice of subject matter and turned to A Man Called Ove, a translation from Swedish and it's been made into a film starring Tom Hanks.  Of course, the Americans had to change the name to A Man Called Olaf, to carer for the narrow-minded yanks who can't see beyond their own narrow prejudices.

The book is a delight.  I started it yesterday, read a bit more in bed last night, and picked it up again this morning with no problem.  Maybe my memory has not held on to all of the plot details but it doesn't matter; I'm enjoying it for the descriptions of the great characters and I don't have to hold on to small details to help me solve a murder.

I also have a copy of the movie and am tossing up whether I should watch it or not.  Seeing how the Americans have hacked it about might spoil it for me entirely.  Who knows?

Tuesday, October 24

 My habit each morning is to get up at about 7 o'clock, give Marilyn a coffee in bed, then spend an hour or so watching YouTube videos.  Mindless, I know but there's a big world out there and Youtube is probably my best option to experience it.  This morning I found myself watching a video of a bus trip from Sichuan province in north-west China up to Tibet.  I don't know why I opened this particular video but I'm glad I did.  It was on a modern double-decker bus, it had no commentary, but the pictures of the unfolding environment was breathtaking.  For most of it, the bus travelled along a river and the water was the most extraordinary green colour.  I gather this is because the water is melted snow.  Everywhere looked very prosperous and my long-held beliefs that China was a land of poor peasants living on a bowl of rice a day was severely shattered.

The Chinese infrastructure is remarkable.  In this relatively remote area of the country, thousands of kilometres from the capital, the roads, bridges, tunnels and so on were all world class.  We didn't see any trains but I know they are the envy of the world.  If I can take just one message from these videos it is that there is an awful lot of concrete in China.

In our travels, we only spent two days and one night in China but we hired a car and driver so were able to see the Great Wall and the Forbidden Palace and quite a bit more but I regret now that we didn't go back: 'so much to do, so little time'.  I wonder who said that!

Monday, October 23

 When I'm doing my exercises, I distract myself by listening to stuff on my phone.  I'm not very keen on music but audiobooks, podcasts and so on are fine.  When she was tidying up the other day, Marilyn came across my old iPod and suggested it might be better than using my phone.  I hadn't seen it for years and wondered whether it might still work, and it did.  I charged it up and scrolled through the menus to see what was on it.  The music was a bit dodgy but there were some pieces of old, classic British comedy: Dad's Army, Monty Python, even Tony Hancock, and a couple of audiobooks.

I decided that I should update the date and time and found that it was still set on Jan 19, 2000.  Yes, I last used it 23 years ago when we first arrived back in Tasmania.  However, its seems I have expected too much.  Telling it that it is now 2023 and it is expected to continue working as if nothing has changed has made it curl up ts toes and refuse to work.  Shame, really!

Saturday, October 21

It's a bleak day here in Longford: grey skies and the threat of rain.  Marilyn has just been outside knocking down some cobwebs from the windows and I'm turning to the daily chore of adding to the blog. When I switched on the computer, it opened to an exercise we did at yesterday's Writing group.  I've taken to using the laptop there because my handwriting is so appalling I can't read it.

We were asked to open a book, take note of the first word which caught our eye and write about it.  My word was 'scratched' and this is how my paragraph started:

Scratched?  How could it be scratched?  This was the first horse I had ever drawn in a sweep which might have had a chance of winning and now the ‘connections’ have decided to scratch it.  It oughta be illegal!

Hmmm!  Not exactly great literature but, if I gave it a bit more thought, it might have some potential.  

It's disappointing about today's weather. Yesterday, the sun shone and the air was warm.  When I came back from my classes, Marilyn and I sat outside at the little table near the front door.  The next door neighbour, Jen, drove in, gave us a wave and, a few minutes later, walked over with a parcel which had been delivered to her by mistake.  It was from Temu.  Great excitement!  This time it was for Marilyn but I think I hid my disappointment quite well.  I'm keeping track and I think there are still three orders on the way.  We much be mad.

Thursday, October 19

 I'm a great fan of new technology and spend too much time browsing through Temu to see what new delights have been developed for my enjoyment.  The other day, I realised I could solve an issue which has been bothering me while acquiring something flash to play with.  Every morning I'm expected to stick a needle in my finger, catch a drop or two of the blood and take a measurement of the blood glucose it contains.  I've been doing it for years and it doesn't become any easier.

Temu has a range of highly complex men's watches which will measure it for me without assaulting me in the process.  Apparently, it can read my blood sugar through the skin.  Magic!  And the price didn't cause me to re-think.  The parcel arrived yesterday and I am delighted.  The only problem is that, when I get a phone call on my mobile, it rings on my wrist and I don't know how to deal with it.  Do I talk to the 'phone or to my wrist?  I remember the old Get Smart show where Maxwell would talk to his shoe and I didn't think it was very attractive.  Luckily, I don't get many 'phone calls so it's not a problem I can't live with.

Tuesday, October 17

Robertson in NSW can claim to have the largest 'Big Potato' but, unfortunately it has recently been awarded the prize for Australia's Worst Big Thing as well.  In Tasmania, for forty years, we too have had a big potato.  It is modelled on the Kennebec potato which grows well in the red soil of Tasmania's North-West coast.  Locals call the model spud Kenny.

The potato was built by farmer Rick Rockcliff as an advertising gimmick in the 1980s.  It stood, mounted on a pole, near the gate of his farm.  This week, in the high winds we are having, it blew down.  Normally, the media would have ignored the story but Mr Rockliff's son happens to be Tasmania's premier and there is a photograph of young Jeremy standing at the farm gate selling the family's produce in the shadow of the big tuber.

With all the bad news clamouring for air time it's great to see that local reporters still understand what 'local news' means.  You'll be pleased, also, to hear that Mr Rockcliff has promised that Kenny will be re-erected and take his place among Tasmania's more quirky attractions.

Monday, October 16

 With Marilyn being out all day yesterday at the referendum, I idly browsed through Youtube for something to watch with my lunch.  I am a bit tired of Scott and Steve rabbiting on about day trips around the UK or Europe and finally settled on a few episodes of the UK version of Border Security.

It must be the easiest job in the world, manning the security desk at the airport, looking out for potential smugglers.  In almost every case, the crook was a young man of Eastern European appearance, coming back from a weekend on the Costa del Sol or Grand Canaria, with three suitcases.  Three suitcases?  Why would you need 3 suitcases for a weekend on the beach?  It's a dead giveaway.

The main issue for customs officials in the UK is stopping people from bringing in cigarettes.  The usual modus operandi for the hapless crook is to go to on a weekend jaunt to a resort, buy the fags duty-free, fill three large suitcases and hope that nobody notices.  Does it ever work?  And think of the lack of job satisfaction for the Customs officials.  What's the joy in looking forward to finding just one more collection of contraband cigarettes when your heart is set on hard drugs or smuggled weapons?

Saturday, October 14

I've done my duty and have been to the local school to cast my vote in the Referendum.  I would normally have put up my hand to work at one of the polling stations but I decided this was the year to retire.  I've also ignored the invitation to supervise the end-of-year exams which I have done for ages.  The money was handy but all good things must come to an end.  Marilyn, on the other hand, is still willing and able, and I found her acting as Ballot Box Guard at the local school.  It will be a long day for her and I hope they find her a sitting-down job after a while.

Yesterday was my turn to lead the Poetry group and I had prepared a selection of interesting poems for us all to read.  I look for new poets or ones from other countries, but other members of the group stick to their old favourites, and that's OK.  My selection finished off with The Ballad of Freda and Barry by Victoria Wood.  It's not so much a poem as alternative lyrics to a 1928 Cole Porter song called Let's Do It.  It's a bit risqué and I wondered how it would be received but all went well.  

Freda and Barry sat one night

The sky was clear, the stars were bright

The wind was soft, the moon was up

Freda drained her cocoa cup

She licked her lips, she felt sublime

She switched off Gardeners' Question Time

Barry cringed in fear and dread

As Freda grabbed his tie and said,

Let's do it, ......       (the rest of it is on the internet:  Google it!)

Thursday, October 12

We've been watching Inspector Morse for the past few weeks.  There are seven series and the one we're watching at the moment seems to date back to 1989 or 1990.  Certainly it is showing its age but is still much better than some of the rubbish which we're being fed today.

Last night's episode was set in Australia.  Most of the scenes were shot around Cowra and Canowindra but the opening scene of Morse and his offsider driving their Holden station wagon along a scenic stretch of Australia countryside was shot in Kangaroo Valley.  We rewound it to have a second look but couldn't pinpoint any particular location.  Of course, nothing of the village was shown; it would have been hard to overlook the pub or the bridge.

I can hear a plane passing over us as it descends to land at Launceston airport.  They've recently changed the flight paths so that more planes are coming in from this area. I suppose the fall-out from their exhausts might affect our washing but we haven't noticed anything untoward yet.  When we lived at Dilston, most of the plane arrivals crossed us and, after several years, there was a noticeable impact on the walls of the cottage.  That's somebody else's problem now.

Tuesday, October 10

I'm putting together another collection of poems for my Friday Poetry group.  We take it in turns to organise each week's program and I like to be ready for my turn.  I found a poem by John Masefield called The Lemmings.   It's about how these creatures throw themselves off a cliff and die in the sea.  I've heard this before and thought it was to do with over-population.  The poem, though, says these creatures are responding to a race memory of a land which was once where the sea is now and the creatures are seeking this land which will provide them with food in difficult times.

Which story is true?  Only Google will know.  The reality is they are both myths.  Lemmings rarely suffer from over-population and are kept under control by predators like stoats and birds.  The myth about throwing themselves into the sea came from a 1958 Disney movie called White Wilderness in which the producers, for dramatic effect, threw hordes of lemmings off the cliff.  Wonderful, Walt, your mother would have been so proud.

Monday, October 9

Marilyn and I have pretty well given up our membership of Deloraine Probus Club but haven't officially resigned and there's still one job I have to do from time to tine.  Whenever a new member joins, it's my job to order his/her badge from the badge maker in Launceston.  The rationale is that I live closer to Launceston than anyone else and that's fine.

I had to order one the other day, for a new member whose name is John Smith.  The badge maker thought this was unusual enough to comment.  I think John Smith is the sort of name a screenwriter might choose for a well-meaning drifter who gets involved in a battle between sheep farmers and cattle ranchers in the old west, but if my surname were Smith, I might choose a more sparky name than John.

I wondered whether John Smith might be the most common male name in Australia, but it's not. Neither John nor Smith is the most common name.  In the USA, though, both John and Smith top the polls.  Clearly, my understanding of the commonality of names is coloured by  the ubiquity of American culture.

Saturday, October 7

 On the way to my Writing Group yesterday, I turned on the car radio; it was awful so I pressed the button to change to the next channel.  I found myself listening to something called City Park Radio. I assumed it was one of those community radio stations and I know there is a City Park in Launceston so not was local.  I relaxed back to be entertained.

It was news time and there was an announcement that the news had been prepared by the students of the Riverina-Murray Institute of Higher Education.  What fun!  Clearly, this is part of the curiculum and community radio stations around Australia help them out.

After the news, a fellow came on and announced that someone would now read aloud the local newspaper for the benefit of those who had loss of sight or issues with reading.  Good stuff, so I waited to hear what I had missed.  I think their names were Doreen and Dot and they took it in turns to read particular articles.  You have to applaud them but, in truth, it was awful: stumbling over words, mispronunciations, no rise and fall in their speech.  I suppose I should volunteer to show them how its done but that's for another day.

I was back in the car this morning and the same channel came on. This time the female presenter couldn't get the CD player to work and was desperately trying to keep talking while she became more and more frustrated.  I was waiting for the expected swear word but, unfortunately, I arrived home before she lost control.

Tuesday, October 3

 We're waiting for the phone to ring to tell us what we're doing today.  Madeleine and the kids only have a couple more days here so Jamie is keen to keep them as busy as possible.  Today was supposed to be a picnic at the local park and Marilyn and I were invited.  But, today it is raining and it's about 10 degrees outside.

Plan B might be an indoor playground but we haven't been there for years and we're not sure if it still exists.  Launceston has such a small population that enterprises like that often don't survive.  My memory of this one is that it has a nice coffee shop attached and that makes it attractive for Marilyn and me.  We're putting off our regular morning coffee in anticipation of getting a call to scramble.

If it all falls through, I have my story to write for Friday's group so my afternoon will not be wasted.

Sunday, October 1

 Often, on a Saturday evening, Marilyn will ask me to check the weather forecast for the next day and I know she has ideas of washing the sheets.  For today, the forecast was for cloud in the morning with clear skies in the afternoon.  Sounded reasonable, so the decision was made.

I woke at the usual time and the skies were clear.  Marilyn set about stripping the bed while I dealt with the issue of putting the clocks forward.  The phones and other technology look after themselves, of course, but there's still an old analogue clock on the wall which has to be adjusted by hand.  It was given to Marilyn when she left Cathedral School in Townsville; it's not particularly attractive but it has some sentimental value.  The problem is that it has a frame on it and is a bit fiddly to deal with, especially as I am becoming very clumsy in my old age.  But, I persevered and it was soon done.

Over the years, I have collected a number of watches and I keep them in a nice display box.  Some work with batteries, others need winding but I haven't been very good at keeping them up-to-date.  However, there are still three or four which I need to deal with and, when that is done, I think my work is complete, at least until the end of summer, when it all has to be done again.

But, as I'm making the bed I notice the bedside clock is wrong.  I've changed 7 clocks or watches this morning and I think that's a bit over the top.

 

Saturday, September 30

It was great to get back to the Poetry and Writing groups yesterday.  The Poetry group is a collection of very odd individuals ranging from a very toffee-voiced English woman to others more like me.  A new fellow joined us yesterday but two or three others dropped out.  That seems to be the pattern: people come and test the water, find it's not what they expect and cut their losses.  I don't know how we stop the rot; perhaps Poetry is just not a 'thing' in this modern world.

The Writing group is another thing entirely.  We have a core of about 10 long-term stalwarts and others join from time to time.  Two more newbies turned up yesterday.  One will stay, I expect, but I'm not sure about the other.  It will be hard if the group gets too big because we could easily run out of time to listen to our stories, and that's really what it's all about.

My story about Prince Charming and Cinderella's marriage was well-received.  I called it 'In Search of a Happy Ending', and I'll post it on my other blog, '1000 Words or Less' so I don't lose sight of it.

Thursday, September 28

We're having a quiet day today.  Jamie has taken his gang up to Beauty Point to visit Sea Horse World which is quite spectacular.  Since we were there last (years ago) they've brought in platypuses (platypi?) as well, which will be great for the kids.  We have Archie who is enjoying the break from being on duty looking after three energetic kids.  He's been sleeping since he arrived, gathering his strength for when they come back to collect him.

I'm getting prepared for the start of next term at the School for Seniors which is tomorrow.  My first story is about what happened when Prince Charming and Cinderella realise they were married too quickly.  I'm limited to 800 words which I find suits me well as I don't have the patience to develop a story into a longer format.  I've also prepared my next collection of poems for the day I take my turn at leading the group.  There are many, many poems out there so there is no hardship in selecting 8 or 10 for sharing. I included one by the well-known UK comedienne, Victoria Wood.  It's called 'The Ballad of Freda and Barry' and is a bit risqué, but I think they'll enjoy reading it out loud.  We'll see!

Wednesday, September 27

Jamie had a couple of busy days organised and Madi wanted the kids to have some time at home.  We had picked up some books from the library for them and  Made thought a quiet day with little excitement would be good.  So Marilyn offered to take in lunch for them.  What would they like?  On Tuesday, after discussion, they decided they would like party pies so we called in to Banjo's, bought party pies, sausage rolls and various sweet things and everything was very well-received.

Today, the same question was asked.  What would you like for lunch? I reckoned they would ask for party pies again, but, in fact, they asked for sushi.  Sushi?  What kids ask for sushi for lunch?  Luckily, our local supermarket sells nori rolls so we were able to satisfy the request. I suspected that only Macie would be interested but the three of them seemed to enjoy their sushi and there was nothing left.

Kids of today are not not like they were when I was young!

Monday, September 25

 Jamie was taking the kids to Riverbend Park today and invited us to join them.  This park is relatively new and was developed on a piece of spare industrial land by the Council soon after the Silos Hotel was opened.  It's fantastic. The centrepiece is a large construction called the Skywalk.  It's essentially a rope bridge, accessed in various ways and several ways to get back to the ground.  It's free-standing and well-protected so even timid kids can attempt it.  Macie, 7 years old, was up it like a shot and Juniper (4) was not far behind.  I was astounded.  I almost expected Silas, who is turning 3, might have joined them, but he was intent on a particular slide and wouldn't leave it.  

There were hundreds of people there, of all ages, all having a great time.  There was a cold wind but Launceston residents have become used to that and don't feel it any more.

Marilyn wanted to buy the kids some clothes so we headed off to Kmart.  I have to say there's not much fun in taking three kids shopping.  I left them to it and wandered off to look at something more interesting.    They all got something useful and Marilyn allowed them to choose something they really wanted as well.  I think we might be wise to take them shopping one at a time in future; when three little kids are demanding and pulling at your clothes all at once, it's not much fun.