Friday, February 24

I get very tired of people trying to improve me.  Every time I open the internet I'm faced with advice about how I should think and advertisements for 'stuff' which will be to my advantage.  I have a Facebook 'friend' who sends me videos headed "every Australian should read this".  Why?  So that we poor benighted ignoramuses will start to believe what he does.

His latest campaign is to get me to watch a video about the proposed Voice to Parliament.  I refuse to open it.  I am quite capable of making up my own mind without  the rantings of some know-it-all.  I've no idea whether it emphasises one side or the other; the point is I want to be left alone to decide what I need to know.

This morning there was a knock on the door: a middle-aged woman wanting to talk to me about God.  I thanked her but 'not interested'.  She offered me some pamphlets which I refused ... politely.  Later, I found them in my letter box.  The arrogance of it!  She knows best what's good for me!  I won't be so polite next time.

Thursday, February 23

I'm reading a book called Rising Tide, a run-of-the-mill British crime novel set in Hastings in SE England.   It won't win the Mann-Booker prize but it's alright.  DCI Boyd , in the book, receives a cryptic note which contains the words 'Detective' 'Goodnight' and 'Chosen'.  One of his cluey offsiders suggest it's a location, based on the What3Words system.

I've never heard of it but it seems to be a coordinate system that pinpoints any 3m x 3m position on the earth's surface by giving it 3 English words.  My address, Unit 2, 40 Burghley St Longford, Tasmania is succeeding.tisues.march. If I walk across the road to the big house with a flagpole, I have reached album.flits.mixed.

Jamie and Nera's house in Hadspen is reiterated.toolbar.superstars and a particular house in Bulli, NSW is charms.itchy.manure.

I don't know what use it is but it amuses me.

Tuesday, February 21

 I had a trip to the hairdresser this morning which is usually a dull and boring part of my routine. Yesterday though, I had a little skin cancer spot frozen on my scalp so I had to alert the hairdresser not to scratch around too much in that area.

Also, while I was waiting to be summoned I was chatted up by another customer. That was so unusual it's worth reporting.  Usually, people note my sour expression and ignore me.  I noticed her car pull up outside: nice car but she parked it abut two feet from the kerb, slammed the door shut and came into the salon and sat down beside me.

"Are you here for a haircut, too?" she asked.  Pretty obvious, I would have thought but I answered politely.

"Do you have your beard trimmed too?" was the next question.  Again, I responded courteously.

"I haven't parked very well," she said, "But I don't care."

"People tell me I wear my clothes too loose," she said next, "But I don't care."

Where is this going, I thought?

"Nice watch band," she commented.  I was wearing my new watch which Jame and Nera gave me for my birthday.  I was staring to feel a little uncomfortable but, happily, I was saved by the hairdresser calling me up to be attended to.

Sunday, February 19

Jamie and Nera are leaving today after their short break back in Tassie.  In fact, Marilyn's phone has just dinged with a message that they are boarding their plane in Melbourne for their flight to Newcastle.  It's been good to have them around for the few days and, particularly, that they were able to come to my birthday party last weekend.  They expect to be in Tuncurry for another couple of months at least.

We don't know what their long-term plans are; Nera says that there are lots of opportunities with the company she is working for, with attractive financial packages.  We just have to wait and see.

Of course, the bonus for us is that we have Archie back.  He must be a very confused dog, not knowing who he really belongs to.

Wednesday, February 15

It's around 10am, I've been to the gym, showered and dressed in anticipation of going out to carry out some chores while Marilyn is at the hairdresser.  But, we can't go yet; we have to wait for the cleaning lady to arrive so Marilyn can give her some new instructions.  There's still evidence of my recent party around, especially a huge bunch of helium-filled balloons attached to a weight and hovering ominously near the front door.  Jamie was told they would last a day or so and, on Day 4, some have gone down but the very large one, about 80cm in diameter is still going strong.  When will it ever end?

I've had a few emails about my birthday including one interesting one from OS which included a string of previous emails associated with the one to me.  The first was from Facebook, alerting my friend's wife that John was having a birthday, the next was from her to my friend, telling him what was happening, and the third was the actual email to me.  It's good to know that Facebook is fulfilling such an important role, making sure that no important date is overlooked.  The interesting thing is that the wife emailed her husband to alert him.  What is that about?  Aren't they talking?  Do they live in different houses?  Is it a new communication trend that I've missed. Maybe I should ask him ... but, no, maybe not.

Monday, February 13

Well, my eightieth birthday party was not as stressful as I thought, except I feel that  Marilyn worked too hard to make sure everything went well.  We wanted to have it at home so that limited the number we could invite and I think there were about 30 in all.  Jamie had set up the garage as a second sitting area and  people moved around and joined in different groups.

It was interesting because, as well as our Australian friends, there were lots of filipinos including the ones I had sponsored to work at Giant Steps, and other friends we have made through Nera's contacts.  The food was wonderful; what Marilyn had prepared and the traditional filipino dishes brought to share.  I hadn't expected gifts but I did acquire some good whisky and a bottle of a better-than-average port among other interesting items.

I was, of course, expected to make a speech and there were audible groans when I took my sheet of notes out of my pocket; clearly people, were expecting that I would ramble on too long.  It really doesn't matter how well I prepare for making a speech, it never comes out quite as I expect.  Apparently, Nera recorded it on her 'phone so I don't know what will happen to it.  It might even end up on Facebook.

I noticed this morning that a photograph of my cake has been posted on Facebook for all to see.  I might investigate whether I can re-post it so that more people can see it.

So, I'm now, officially, an old codger.  I will need to work at filling that role: expressing strong opinions on everything, complaining about the younger generation, demanding attention, and so on.  I might even enjoy it.

Saturday, February 11

Jamie and Nera arrived back last night; they're only staying for a week and it's so they can be at my birthday party on Sunday.  They're picking us up in an hour to take us out for lunch, then it's off to JB HiFi so that Robyn can buy a new 'phone. 

A birthday is a bit of a non-event: on Thursday, I was 79 and today I am 80.  What's changed?  I'm just as forgetful, just as clumsy, just as cantankerous.  Still, I'm delighted to have reached this milestone. When I tell my doctors that my father only lived to 68, my grandfathers died at 51 and 54, my great grandfather Christie at 61, they look alarmed.  But Mum lived to 92 so that's a good sign.

I have a couple of chores to do before the horde arrives tomorrow, including mowing the lawn but I can safely leave that until this afternoon.

Friday, February 10

I've been to the letter box this morning but there are no birthday cards.  I know Australia Post is struggling to be relevant in this modern world but it's a shame that even special birthday cards can be held up.  No matter!

I met a man in the library who had about twelve books lined up to borrow.  I commented he would be busy and he said, "When you read 15 books a week, you need to keep up the supply."

15!  He said he visits three libraries each week: Longford, Westbury and Deloraine.  He has a day bed on his front verandah and lies there with a dog on each side and reads.  "I don't watch TV," he said. "It's all rubbish.  The Farmer Wants a Wife?  Who cares?"

Wednesday, February 8

Our friend, Robyn, arrived yesterday and will stay for a week. I took her to the local Berry Farm this morning and put her to work picking blackberries, and this afternoon Marilyn had arranged a fellow to come and wash our windows.  We're starting to put things in place for my birthday party on Sunday and I have to confess that I'm looking forward to it.

Tomorrow we're driving to Ulverstone and, before Robyn leaves, we'll try to get to Cradle Mountain.  You can't come to Tasmania and miss out on sone of the sights.

Thursday, February 2

I received my first birthday card this morning,  from Senator Wendy Askew, one of our local politicians. I suppose I should be impressed but I'm cynical enough to think that this is just an exercise in building up Senator Askew's name recognition.  I looked her up and found that her father, Max Bushby, was a senator before her.  When he retired, his son, David took over the mantle and became senator.  It wasn't long before David found himself appointed as Consul-General for Australia in Chicago and his sister, Wendy, became Senator in his place.

They accuse the royal family of nepotism but they're amateurs in comparison with the political families of Tasmania.

Back to the card: it seems there's a database of all the old buggers in Tasmania and, at the appropriate time, a computer spits out the names of those reaching a milestone birthday, Wendy signs the pile of pre-printed cards placed in front of her (although I wouldn't recognise her signature so any office junior could have done this) and a lackey whose salary is paid by the Federal Government sticks them in envelopes.  

I can't wait until my ninetieth birthday to see which member of the Bushby family signs the card then.