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.