Sunday, April 30

We had a call yesterday afternoon from friends in Deloraine inviting us to a picnic.  They're trying to. make it a regular Sunday event and it's nice to be included.  However, their plan was to head out towards Port Sorrel and pick up some pumpkins from roadside stalls so that they could make some soup for the winter.  It sounds like a good plan but we said No.  Deloraine is 50Km from here and Port Sorrell is another 50 Km on from there and the idea of a 200 Km round trip with the only benefit being a bowl of pumpkin soup at some time in the future didn't sound attractive.

Anyway, Marilyn had come home from a trip to Bunnings a couple of days ago with a tray of pansies and wanted to tidy up our hanging gardens.  The current pots have been spectacular but there are a few dead spots and some straggly ones so Marilyn wanted to bring them back to their usual glory.

I avoided putting a damper on proceedings by suggesting that the beginning of winter was not necessarily a great time for planting but kept my mouth shut.  We spent a couple of hours doing that in the afternoon and that was more productive than driving to Port Sorell.  I'm sure our supermarket sells pumpkins anyway.

Saturday, April 29

I thought I was being more diligent with these posts and I'm surprised that I've missed three days.  I suppose it reflects the reality that life has settled into something of a routine and there's nothing worse than   a diary which says the same things day after day.  The original intention of this blog was to record details of our travels but, now that our lives are less busy it's not as interesting.

Today's highlight was a visit from Jamie and Nera (and Archie) to drop off some cronuts which Nera had acquired somewhere.  I'd heard of cronuts but I don't think I'd ever eaten one.  They're supposedly a cross between a croissant and a doughnut and they're delicious.  One of ours was flavoured with lemon curd, the other with strawberries.  Not great for my diabetes!

I remember we first came across these things in the Philippines, probably ten years ago. when Kit's grandson, Rex, was clamouring for her to buy him some.  There was a shop in one of the malls where they sold them.  They came with a tub of chocolate sauce which you wore on a belt around your waist.  Unbelievable!  Dip the cronut in the sauce, shove it in the mouth and live with the consequences of the chocolate sauce which spatters everywhere: on the ground, on your clothes, on your face ...

No thanks.

Tuesday, April 25

We had planed to spend the day at home but Jamie rang to say he was taking Nera to the Anzac Day ceremony in Deloraine and would we like to go.  Of course, we said yes. There is something comforting about an Anzac Day get-together in a country town which shouldn't be missed.

We arrived as the march down the Main Street was arriving at the cenotaph.  Nera hurried over to where the elderly people from the nursing homes were seated and we found spots to stand where we could see and hear what was happening.  Again, we were pleased to note that we knew the MC well, we recognised the tall fellow who plays the bagpipes every year, and every second face in the crowd was someone we could name.  It's a good feeling to feel that we belong somewhere.

We enjoyed the Anzac Day address from a young, local woman who has just finished her initial army training, and the singing of the familiar hymns so it was a bit disappointing when the last post was played, even if it was by the same bugler who has played it for years.  We finished with the National Anthem and the singer didn't forget to sing God Save the King, rather than what she has been singing for seventy years.  A nice touch was that we finished with two or three verses of I Am, You Are, We Are Australian, accompanied by a didgeridoo.  It was riveting.  I've said it before, it ought to be the National Anthem.

After the crowd dispersed, Jamie drove us out to Devonport where we had lunch at a favourite restaurant and we called in to the Van Dieman's Land Creamery for an ice cream on the way home.  Archie refused to try the fruity choices of the others and was only interested in my double scoop of Salted Caramel.  He's a dog with taste.

Monday, 24 April

We have a couple  of rogue plants at the front of our unit.  I think they are flax plants and they are getting too big.  I suspect the developer put them in because they grow quickly and give a positive appearance for prospective buyers but they're now enormous and are putting out suckers everywhere.  Jamie says his gardener loves killing plants so he'll send him down to us and he can  do his thing and take away the rubbish.  

I'm now thinking what we should put in their place.  I have always wanted a birdbath so that takes care of the left hand side but the other side is more difficult.  I can't help thinking of a TV show from the eighties called Kingswood Country.  We still quote from it, 'Leave the money on the fridge', and so on.  Ted Bullpit,  the main character, often referred to Neville, the 'concrete aboriginal', in his front yard.  It was named for Neville Bonner, the first Aboriginal Senator.  But, not appropriate today.

The death of Barry Humphries is making we think of the funny men that Australia has produced over the years and I've realised I don't like modern humour at all.  I blame it on the yanks!

Sunday, April 23

We're in a bit of a rush today.  For most of the morning, we've been strolling around in a leisurely fashion and, all of a sudden, we're late.  We're heading down to Westbury for a picnic with friends and, even though we think we're late, we'll probably be the first there.

I had to be at the deli first thing to collect a roast chicken and have assembled my now-famous fruit platter.  Today's platter has green grapes, strawberries and licorice allsorts.  It's a bright sunny day so a good time will, no doubt, be had by all. It's a shame Archie won't be with us; he loves a picnic.

Friday, April 21

I've mentioned before that there's a group of men who gather at our local shopping centre, outside Banjos, where they drink coffee and talk.  I had thought they might be from the local Probus club but none of them were at the meeting last week.  It's a mystery.

They were there again yesterday when Marilyn had to pick up a couple of things so she interrupted them. "Excuse me, gentlemen!  My husband has noticed you sitting here and he wondered what sort of group you were.  He thought you might be Probus or Rotary, or something like that."

"Oh, no," said a spokesman.  "We're members of a fly-fishing club and we meet regularly to have a coffee and talk about fishing.  Your husband would be welcome to join us."

Marilyn thanked them and made a quick retreat and, when she told me that they liked to talk about the fish they caught, and the ones that got away, I decided not to follow it up.

Thursday, April 20

 I've said before that most of the people who live in our little set of units are young, but there is a woman in one of the units who is probably more Marilyn's age.  She hasn't become a problem but she called me over one time to look at her garden and has invited Marilyn for coffee.  We see her at the post boxes or bringing in the bins and we always pass the time of day.

Marilyn met her yesterday and she was saying she was worried about a smell of oil around her house and the noise of a motor running all night.  Marilyn suggested it was probably the shed over the back fence.  Maybe the people there were using it to repair cars.  She also said that she thought she had a mouse.

She caught up with Marilyn again today to report that she had got a box and looked over the back fence to see what was going on.  Breathlessly, she reported that they had a crop of marijuana growing there and she suspected that it was being processed in the shed.

So that explains the smell but we still haven't solved the mystery of the mouse.

Monday, April 17

It's a big day today.  I didn't realise it when I woke up but, when I looked at the dull weather outside and felt the chill when I went out to the bin, I made the decision that today would be special.  Today would be the day that I would make the first porridge of the season.

The 'doings' have been sitting patiently in the pantry since the day last year that, filled with the joys of spring, I decided to put in my bowl a serving of commercial cereal flakes rather than the hearty, home-cooked porridge which has sustained me for many years.

I became lazy over the warmer months, going through boxes of Just Right, but today is the day that I revert to the customs of my ancestors and start the day with a bowl of porridge.  Unlike my ancestors, I won't be expected to put up with deep Highland snow and cold Highland winds around my bare legs but there's something fulfilling about a bowl of home-cooked porridge anyway.  Maybe I'm getting sentimental in my old age.

Sunday, April 16

It's Mum's birthday today and it's great grand-daughter, Juniper's as well.  It was Nera's yesterday so we took her out for brunch.  Her friends were throwing a grand party for her last night; we were invited but we decided to leave it to the younger ones to let down their hair without having to put up with the oldies sitting in the corner with glum faces.

Brunch was good, though, at one of our favourite places: the Silos Hotel.  I always order Eggs Benedict with Smoked Salmon which is about $18 but I was encouraged to go for something a little more exotic: Potato Gnocchi with tomato, stracciatella, pangratto and basil for $33.  I had no idea what some of the ingredients were and it was almost twice the price and might have been awful but it was a social occasion,.

It was alright.  Lumps of gnocchi in a watery tomato base, and some cheese spread on top.  I googled pangratto and discovered it meant bread crumbs but I didn't notice them; they must have been around the gnocchi.  It might have been nicer if it came with a serving of garlic bread and I was still hungry when I had finished.   I'll have to remember it for next time: stick to what you know.

Saturday, April 15

 Oh, how the mighty are fallen!

15 readers on Thursday, 1 on Friday!  Oh, well!

It's Nera's birthday today and we're heading off to the Silos for brunch.  We had thought we might take Archie with us but it's a bit cool to sit outside so he's being left to look after the house while we enjoy ourselves.  We've already had a busy start to the day; I've been to the gym and Marilyn and I have had our 'flu injections.  When you get to our age you see more of the doctor than any of your friends.

I've just had a call from a friend cancelling a barbecue we had planned for tomorrow, owing to bad weather.  It will be another day with our books.

Friday, April 14

It's too early to go to the gym so I'm taking the chance to scribble a few words on the blog.  Typically, I have nothing to say so I might come back later if inspiration strikes.  When I open the blog each morning, I am immediately faced with the bleak information which tells me how many people have bothered to read my message.  It's generally 4 or 5.  It has been better, though I have never reached the heights that some bloggers claim: 20000? 30000? even 50000!

Yesterday, though, my message about visiting Longford Probus Club attracted 14 hits.  What's going on?  Is that a 350% increase in my readership, overnight?  Or are my regular readers going back for a second or third perusal?

Who knows and, anyway, 14 is noting to write home about.

Thursday, April 13

 I arrived early for the Probus meeting yesterday and found jut a couple of members there.  One fellow sat at a desk with a cashbox in front of him and another was perched on a chair holding firmly to his walking stick.  They clearly weren't expecting a crowd as there were only 15 chairs lined up.  I introduced myself to the treasurer and he wrote down my name and took my money - $10, and Deloraine only asks for $5! However, I sat down about the middle.  Men arrived in dribs and drabs and I was generally ignored.

I had met the chairman before but he didn't acknowledge me, until the treasurer handed him a note.

"Oh, I'm told we have a guest ... John Christie from Deloraine."  Focusing his eye on a bloke at the end of the row, he said, "We hope you enjoy our meeting, Chris."  Not an auspicious start.

Anyway, the meeting was soon concluded, the guest speaker was interesting enough and the morning tea was outstanding.  I'll go back next month to give it another go,  

Wednesday, April 12

I'm off to the local Mens Probus Club this morning and I thought I should dress for the occasion.  I've chosen the Tasmanian Country Squire look which is guaranteed to impress the locals.  I have a blue and white checked shirt, beige moleskin trousers held up by a pair of denim-coloured braces and mid-tan boots.  To complete the ensemble I will wear my brown leather jacket.  When they see me walking up to the front door in my aviator glasses I think they'll be impressed.

In reality, I'm a bit anxious about the whole idea. I'm not a fan of blokey men-only clubs but Marilyn thinks that it might lead to more locally-based social occasions for both of us so I have to bite the bullet.  Of course, one part of me is looking forward to meeting some more people and hearing a guest speaker so it's all good.

Friday, April 7

Good Friday and we decided to have a day to ourselves.  None of our friends had suggested meeting up and we didn't initiate any contact either.  Jamie and Nera were happy to enjoy being home without visitors so we only dropped in for a few minutes  to say hello.  Nera has already started her new job and it has been a bit overwhelming for her.  We'll probably get together with them on Sunday for a meal.

I had to pop in to the local supermarket for a couple of things this morning and it was a mad house.  Once upon a time, shops didn't open on public holidays but now they are the busiest days. I suppose the staff are all getting penalty rates and the shop owners will be happy to see crowds of customers to make it worthwhile.    While I was out I stopped at the bottle shop to get some supplies.  No problem but when I got home, I noticed an article in the online newspapers that Tasmania is almost the only state where bottle shops are open on Good Friday.  It's not often that Tassie leads the nation but here's one situation where we can hold our heads high.

Thursday, April 6

 It's quieter around our household, now that Archie has left us.  Jamie and Nera arrived home on Tuesday and came straight here to pick him up.  It was not our choice to have a dog, of course, but he wheedled his way into our lives and now has left a yawning gap.  There's still evidence of his presence: a folded rug on the lounge, a bowl of water on the floor of the kitchen but, eventually, all that will disappear.  I suppose I'll be digging scraps of biscuit out of various corners for a while yet but  no more madly affectionate little beast trying to sit on my shoulder or jumping around excitedly when he thinks we are going out in the car.

Do I miss  him?  Guess!

Wednesday, April 5

One of my great delights is ordering 'stuff' online.  I enjoy browsing websites like eBay and Wish, poring over bargains, wondering whether I can live without them.  I'm not always looking for something in particular but, occasionally I have an item in mind.  Marilyn likes to carry a couple of coffee sachets in her handbag; we normally pinch the from motels but we haven't been to a motel in ages so she's run out.  There's a site on eBay which will sell me 50 Moccona sachets for peanuts.  If I need a new cable for my phone, I can save myself a trip into town just with the click of a button.  And it helps to pass the time.  eBay is good but Amazon is a treasure trove.

It's so easy to order: just press BUY NOW, a message pops up WE'VE RECOGNISED YOU ON THIS DEVICE, SO YOUR PAYPAL ACCOUNT WILL BE CHARGED and then there's the pleasure of waiting for the parcel to arrive.

Of course sometimes the item doesn't fit the bill but I'm OK with chucking it in the bin and putting it down to experience.  I can always look for something more suitable.

Maybe I need to re-evaluate my hobby, though.  I had three parcels delivered yesterday and two today.  Too many?  Probably.

Tuesday, April 4

My birthday last month must have triggered an alarm in the office of some public servant in Hobart because I received a letter telling me that I needed to have my doctor fill in a form to say that I am safe to drive.  The receptionist at the surgery must have seen it all before and said I would need to see the nurse first and the doctor afterwards.  I suspected it would be like all the oldie tests I have had before: who is the Prime Minister, say the alphabet backwards, and so on, so I practised my answers to be sure  I wouldn't look like a dill.

But it wasn't like that.  The nurse was one of those cheerful, talkative country girls who like to chat.  She noted that Dr Flanagan had once been my doctor so was agog to tell me that he had once been the doctor  at the practice in charge of vasectomies.  They called him Dr Snip and said he could always identify his patients in the waiting room because they were the ones who were sweating.  Interesting information, perhaps, but not what I was there for.

She took my blood pressure, checked my hearing and eyesight, and gave me a colour-blindness test, using an ancient tattered book. Google tells me that Dr Ishihara published his first test-booklet in 1911 and I reckon the book I was given was an original copy.  No matter, I apparently passed and am now licensed to drive for another twelve months.

Good news is that Jamie and Nera arrived back in Tasmania this morning.

Sunday, April 2

We had a call from the panel beaters on Thursday afternoon that our car was ready so we headed off to pick it up.  One of the apprentices was sent to bring it out and it wouldn't start so a magic box was found to give it aa bit of extra lift.

"It'll be fine when you get it home; it just needs a bit of extra charge in the battery," we were told.  I still have Jamie's car so I took that to my Writing Group on Friday and when Marilyn tried to take ours out on Friday afternoon, there was no flicker of life.  I rang the RACT on Saturday morning, a fellow arrived to help and we decided that, after eight years, it deserved a new battery. Now, all is well.

It's Put the Clocks Back Day in Tasmania and I hate it.  Our phones look after themselves but I still have to deal with my bedside clock, the one on the wall (which is a particular pain as it has to be disassembled into several pieces and then re-built before it goes back on the wall) and no less than six wristwatches.  I've always liked watches and, over the years, have gathered a little collection.  Most of them lie in my Watch Display Watch without batteries but there are still too many which are operational, including the nice Jag watch which Jamie and Nera gave me for my birthday.

Once upon a time I would always have to re-program the VCR on this day but that particular piece of equipment seems to have been consigned to history.