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.