Wednesday, May 31

Life's getting too complicated, isn't it.  Years ago, we signed up for FlyBuys, touted as a great way to gain points and it worked quite well for a while, Every now and again, we'd ring some number and have our points transferred to a voucher which we used for Christmas shopping.  All good!

We don't shop in the same way now.  All our major grocery shopping is done on-line and delivered to the door.  We're not buying clothes or appliances as much as we used to and we don't give Christmas presents to as many people.  So, Marilyn wants to use her accumulating points for our regular weekly shop from Coles but, do you think they make it easy to do?  Certainly not.  The procedure's not written down anywhere so you have to ring Flybuys to ask them what to do. Someone with a very strong accent answers and proceeds to gabble out the instructions in a high-pitched sing-song fashion.

Apparently, we have to open another account with something called Fly Pay and this takes another log-in name and a password not like any other we have ever used in the past four years.  If that works, we have to somehow transfer our points from Flybuys to Flypay and then from Flypay to Coles.  What a lot of rubbish!

It's not as if it's a lot of money.  It might be just a dollar or two off our weekly shop but a whole crew of employees must be tied up in managing the system and they all need to be paid.  I think the whole shemozzle is designed to frustrate the oldies in the hope they will throw their hands up and admit defeat.

Tuesday, May 30

I've had my few days break and am back on deck, fit and rearing to go.  I had planned a fortnight away from the gym but a week has proven to be enough and I was back there this morning. I had to wait for Jamie to come and pick me up so I had a chance to watch a couple of videos on YouTube.  I have a couple of favourites: a fellow called Scott from Paisley. and Steve from Montrose.  They're both in Scotland so I get a chance to see corners of the UK and Europe that I will never get to visit.

I decided I wanted to contact Steve to ask him whether be might do a video of the coastal walk through the fishing villages of his part of the world.  I've walked from Johnshaven to Gourdon, first in 1950 and then again the other way in 2012.  So I looked up his website and found, to my dismay, that he does this for money!  I noted that his videos all finish with a stream of names across the screen.  Nice, I thought, but, apparently they are the mugs who pay him a monthly charge to keep him travelling.

I did some sums: 338 subscribers at 6 pounds per month is 24312 pounds per year.  At today's exchange rate that is nearly 446000 Australian dollars.  Money for jam!

Scott is more generous. He self-funds all his trips so he gets my nod of approval.

I came across another Youtube traveller this morning. He carries a crocheted turtle with him and sets himself odd tasks: for example, how many countries can I visit in 24 hours using only public transport?  He's a bit hard to understand but I might get used to it.  I think his channel is called Travelling Turtle.

Wednesday, May 24

I felt a bit seedy on the weekend and, on Monday I wasn't any better.  Marilyn was also a bit under the weather so we put it down to advancing years.  I was booked to go to a Mens' Dinner on Monday evening and wondered whether I should cancel.  Jamie popped in to see how we were and was a bit concerned.  I said that I felt the same as the time I had a stroke.  He insisted we ring an ambulance.

They kept me in overnight, gave me a CT Scan and an MRI  and told me they couldn't rule it out.  I'm now home but, on the off-chance I did have a stroke, I am banned from driving for 4 weeks.  How can that be fair?

Sunday, May 21

 I haven't been able to get involved in a book lately so I've been looking for short stories.  They're not as satisfying as a full-length novel but I'm more likely to get to the end of them before losing interest.  I wondered whether I should try some magazines: I could read an article at one sitting and wouldn't have to worry about losing the plot.

Before heading off to the newsagent and opening my wallet, I thought I would download a selection to see what I might enjoy.  I found a file entitled 50 Assorted Magazines dated May 07, 2023 and thought that might do the trick.  It was no trouble to download and they were all ePub files so not difficult to open. I expected there would be a lot of rubbish but hadn't anticipated how much.

The first magazine was called Adobe Lightroom for Beginners ... not a lot of interest there, I thought.  There was one called African Pilot, and several whose titles began with the word American, all of which were very esoteric.  I scanned down to Australia and found a magazine devoted to cupcakes and one for Performance Horses.  Not looking good.

I skipped over 'Babies' and 'Business,' 'Money' and 'Motor Sports' anything to do with Photography or Seniors, and there wasn't much left.  Perhaps I'll find something of interest in Newsweek or The Peoples Friend, but I might be forced to delve into the Railway Magazine if all else fails.

One surprising bonus was the latest edition of the Beano comic.  I read this as a kid in Scotland and, apparently, it's still going strong.  Confidentially, it hasn't aged well.

Saturday, May 20

I'm generally at the gym by 7.30 in the morning; if I'm any later, there are more people competing for the machines.  But, with the winter coming on, Marilyn suggested I might leave it a bit later to miss any early-morning frost on the roads.  It was about 8.30 when I arrived this morning and there was only one other car in the carpark.  That's odd, I thought, I would expect there to be half a dozen at least.

I heard the music as soon as I opened the front door.  It was louder than I've ever heard it.  There were just three people on the machines: two burly fellows with tattoos and surly expressions, and a teenage boy, all skinny arms and legs and a too-long ginger mop of hair.  They'd set up camp in one corner which included two of the machines I normally use and they were taking turns on them.

I wasn't comfortable but I completed my routine on the machines which were available and left quietly.  I hope they're not going to become regulars.

Thursday, May 18

 It's cold this morning.  I was up at my usual time and got ready for the gym.  I normally exercise in a t-shirt but I needed an extra layer as well.  The car informed it was 2 degrees and to take care on the icy roads.  

Marilyn and Archie were up when I got back and the house was quite warm.  After breakfast we settled down with a cup of coffee.  Archie is on the back of the lounge, wearing a dog coat, lying on a heated pad and covered with one of Marilyn's lambswool shawls.  Marilyn is complaining about the cold and is talking about an electric rug to put over her knees.  Kmart, apparently, sells one which you can plug into a USB port and, as it happens, her chair has a USB port on the side. 

I checked eBay to see what's available and you can buy a whole range of heated clothing.  Marilyn told me that she met a girl from one off the farms recently and she had a heated jacket for when she drives the tractor on these icy morning.  I fancied a nice jacket, made in China, with elements to keep me warm, powered by a rechargeable battery but I'm only dreaming.  I couldn't be bothered with all the fuss.

Wednesday, May 17

Yesterday was our day for Deloraine Probus.  We're still involved even though I resent the 100 Km round trip.   Marilyn, to my surprise, announced she wasn't going.  I had a couple of things to take to the meeting to set off on my own.  I always arrive early and found myself involved in the setting up: putting out little tables and chairs to give the impression of a Parisian cafe.  We always used to set up in rows but some bright spark, who always comes late, decided it would be nicer if we went cafe-style.

I also found myself collecting the money at the door which is OK.  Mid-way through the meeting we haven morning tea and the Chairman sidled up to me and whispered in my ear that we were running early and could I fill in some time by telling some stories about my early life.  That's OK: I'm always happy to tell my life story but I'm not good at impromptu situations and get tongue-tied if I don't have notes.

I started with the story of being born during an air raid and our early life in a tenement in Blantyre.  Then, how my very conservative father announced he had been offered a job in Port Kembla and we were moving to Australia.  It seemed to be pretty well-received and there were a few questions.  I put down the microphone and some clown said, "No, we want more."  So, I talked about living in Russell Vale and then moving to Drummoyne where we lived with the people who ran the Olympic Pool.

"More!" was the cry, so I told about starting my working life counting the takings from the orange buses which travelled around Wollongong and then deciding to become a teacher.  I was struggling by this stage and was delighted when the real guest speaker turned up.  He was the Sports Editor for the local paper and had a great lot of storied to tell about his travels to Olympic Games and other events.

Monday, May 15

Today looks like being just another day in paradise.  It's not particularly warm but the sun is shining and there's not a breath of wind.  I've been to the gym and am now enjoying my second cup of coffee.  There's a message on my 'phone from Australia Post telling me that my parcel will arrive e this morning between 10.45 and 11.45.  What parcel is that?  I can't remember ordering anything so it will be a surprise.  Terrific.

Later, probably after lunch, I'll have to start thinking about my story for Friday's Writing Group.  I was very pleased with last week's effort but it only received a luke-warm reception.  I'll have to do better this week.  It's difficult, of course.  It's important not to be too positive about other people's stories; it might make your own look second-rate in comparison, but a little bit of enthusiasm goes a long way.

Sunday, May 14

Mothers' Day!  It won't be the big production that we've seen in previous years.  Jamie and Nera will come around in an hour or so and they will have visited the local cafe on the way to collect some interesting things to have with our coffee.  We decided against heading for the Casino which is what we've done in previous years but the consensus is that 'there will be too many nanas there'.

Jamie has already been in to see us this morning.  I was just getting organised to head for the gym so he decided to come with me.  He's already had his first assessment earlier this week and will start going regularly when his program has been set up.  I've strongly suggested he go at a different time to me: I don't want there to be any comparison between what he does and the gentle activities I enjoy while listening to podcasts.

Thursday, May 11

 We took Jamie out for lunch yesterday to celebrate his birthday and, when we came home, we found that somebody had re-surfaced half of our street.  We had no warning that this was scheduled nor did we think it was particularly in need of attention, but it didn't matter.  The completed work stopped a couple of doors from us so we anticipate more trucks will appear some time soon to carry on.  Or maybe not ... perhaps the people up the street are getting special treatment.  Still, they're welcome to the rocks that fly up every time you drive over it.

Sadly, I was at a funeral today.  It was a young man who had been one of my pupils at Giant Steps.  He was just 34 when he died.  At a funeral you catch up with people from your past and this one was no different.  There were a number of the parents who were there in the beginning years at Giant Steps and for all of my ten years; there were also a couple of members of staff I had employed plus my secretary from that time, and the fellow who took over from me as Principal.

I suppose it was like a school reunion and we stood around for a long time after the event, reminiscing. 

Nobody was sad for Chris.  His mother made the point that, even though he was dealt a difficult hand, he benefitted from things like Giant Steps and the NDIS, and the fact that he was able to live independently.  Every day for him was a joy.  

Tuesday, May 9

We did our patriotic duty last night and watched the so-called Coronation Concert ... but we wished we hadn't.  What an appalling mish-mash of second-rate, untalented nobodies!  And to have to suffer the frequent ad-breaks so that Channel 7 could pay their executive salaries just added to the misery.

I read that most of the UK's best performers had refused the invitation to take part so the organisers had to bring in has-beens from the US, like Lionel Richie and Katy Perry to make up the numbers.  They both should have retired years ago, especially Lionel.  He never had much talent but he has even less now.

So, is that all there is?  Is the coronation officially over?  Can we go back to our mundane little lives without thinking we need to put our patriotism on display for all to see?  I certainly hope so.

Sunday, May 7

Like millions of others, we ended up tuning in to the coronation last night and, like millions of others, we experienced that feeling of disquiet that there was essentially something wrong with putting on such an over-the-top, ludicrous spectacular when there is so much wrong with the world today.   The commentators kept saying that the benefits of the event far-outweighed the costs but never explained just how that worked.  I couldn't help thinking of an anecdote that someone shared before the start of the procession.

She mentioned there was a bloke from somewhere like Huddersfield, ex-serviceman, pensioner, living alone in a small flat.  His pension barely covers his rent and food and only stretches to providing heating for four hours a week.  Four hours in one hundred and sixty-eight!  I hope seeing the good and the great lining up for the exclusive seats in Westminster Abbey gave him a nice warm glow inside.

Still, the poms excelled themselves as usual.  The marching was superb, the horses magnificent and the crowd were suitably happy.  Charles, though, looked like a sad, old man and it appeared he couldn't wait until it was over.  He's been waiting a long time and I hope he feels it was worth it.

Saturday, May 6

 Like lots of Australians, we're faced today with the question of whether we watch the  coronation tonight or not.  My preference is 'not' but I'm yet to hear what Marilyn would like.  I know she will be keen on the so-called 'Coronation Concert', but that's tomorrow. I note in the news our local royalty-lover, Eric Abetz, will be at a $120 a head cocktail party to watch a live screening of the ceremony.  No doubt that will come under Parliamentary Business and he will claim the cost on expenses.

I notice also that a fair number of poms are preferring to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail and that's fair enough. Apparently, there's a scene where King Arthur declares to peasants that he is their king, to which they reply that they didn't vote for him.  King Arthur tells them that he became king when the Lady of the Lake handed him a sword.  

Dennis the peasant replies, "Listen.  Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government.  Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony."

Hmm!  Maybe there are some parallels here.

Tuesday, May 2

It's always exciting when a delivery van drives in; it might be another parcel from Amazon or eBay.  The fellow who  drove in this morning, though, was delivering to Jen next door which was bit disappointing but she probably orders more than we do.  After he'd gone, I wandered out to check the mail box and, where he had parked his truck I noticed a pile of cigarette butts.  Bloody cheek!  He had tipped out his ashtray in our driveway.  And, of course, I have no way of knowing who he works for because he was in a van hired from Budget.

Luckily, Jamie drove in and offered to clean them up for me.

Monday, May 1

 It's a miserable day; the clouds opened this morning and we've had a constant drizzle since then.  

'Good for the garden,' says Marilyn, after her efforts yesterday to repot the tray of pansies.

I had an appointment this morning at the Plastics Clinic at the hospital to check up on a little sunspot I had on my head.  I've been going every four or five weeks and the staff take it in turns to squirt liquid nitrogen on my skull.  I don't mind the visit but it's always a pain to find a parking spot, so I was pleased when Jamie offered to drive me. I warned him that he might have a bit of a wait because my last visit stretched out over a few hours, but he said he would head for McDonalds and fill in time there.

I was only sitting for a couple of minutes when I was called in.  It was a young female doctor I hadn't seen before and she scratched around without finding anything.  'I'll go and find the doctor who saw you last,' she said, and came back with another young woman.

'It's here,' she said, "In a direct line from his eyebrow.'  Now, how did she remember that?  She didn't refer to any notes or diagrams; maybe I'm unforgettable.  Anyway, the two doctors conversed for a minute, agreed the cancer had disappeared and told me not to bother coming back.

I left with a spring in my step.  Jamie didn't even have time to finish his coffee.