Saturday, December 10

Browsing the headlines this morning tells me that the most important thing happening in the world today is the Football World Cup, and that's as it should be.  The news from Ukraine is depressing, Victoria celebrates another 'Danslide', and there's an oversupply of mangoes (or is it mangos?). 

Should I be bothered that Harry and Meghan are 'hitting back at criticism' or that Elon Musk's net worth has halved?  I'm afraid I can't get raise any enthusiasm for either issue.  I suspect the world would be a better place if Harry and Meghan, and Elon Musk moved to a desert island and became hermits.

I sent out our Christmas letter yesterday and already have received several replies.  Perhaps the most interesting one is from our friend Mary who is spending Christmas in Kyoto.  She has rented a small townhouse (machiya) on the Tasegawa Canal and she tells us the weather is sunny and crisp.  It sounds fantastic and we can visualise exactly where she is.  Yes, I suppose I am a bit envious.

Friday, December 9

I've just caught up with the news that the Quantum of the Seas, the ship we had booked for our cruise, arrived in Brisbane from Honolulu on November 27th with about 200 passengers on board with Covid.  If we had decided to go ahead with our holiday, we would have been joining the ship on that same day it arrived.  We seemed to have had a lucky escape.  

And it's not the only one. The cruise lines, of course, are playing down the issue saying that the protocols they have in place will protect the passengers but we have experience of what really happens in these situations.  They've always had a requirement that passengers have to use a hand sanitiser before going into the dining rooms but there's always a handful of people who absolutely refuse to comply, and they get away with it.  I like to think they are Americans claiming their constitutional right to free-dumb, but they might just be Australian bogans who don't know any better.

Over the years, and a number of cruises, we learnt to avoid the buffets and have our meals served to us on a plate straight from the kitchen.  At least we had a chance, then, that they would be unsullied by careless passers-by.

Looking back, we were pretty optimistic that everything would be fine and the cruise would be a delight but it was not to be.

Thursday, December 8

I have a routine each morning: I check the headlines, check my emails and check Facebook.  Of course, Facebook is more and more about advertising.  I usually have to wade through dozens of exciting offers before I see the reports from friends or pictures of birthday parties I wasn't invited to.

Yesterday, among all the ads for things I don't need or want,  there was an ad for a shirt with a message on the front.  Surprisingly,  it said: 

It's a Christie thing: you wouldn't understand.

I know that direct marketing is very focused nowadays but this seems ridiculous.  

This morning the same ad appeared, with the name Christie replaced by John.  Spooky!

This is a link to the original ad (if it works).

https://www.facebook.com/100087120409990/posts/pfbid02S91uBSwMCzeErGKxboa9hS12qnCg29cSvogB5yvFf1m1eci9JNrAm7sTXSMpQyJsl/?mibextid=Nif5oz

Tuesday, December 6

It's our Probus Christmas lunch today and we're heading down to the little town of Chudleigh where the ladies of the town have promised to give us a lunch to remember.  There's not much at Chudleigh but they've nominated themselves as the Town of Roses and encouraged everyone in the main street to plant a few in their garden.  I don't know if it attracts any tourists but every little bit helps.

They also have an old-fashioned Show in the Spring and the town seems to be thriving.  We'll have our lunch in the local hall and there's sure to be plenty of food.  

Monday, December 5

I've often heard terms like Baby Boomers and Millenials bandied around and idly wondered what descriptive term they use for people like me: born during the war years and lived through the most productive period in the world's history to date.  This morning, I discovered I am part of the 'Silent Generation'.

Wow!  Could they have been more right?  It fits me to a T. I never complain, I never whinge, I just get on with life dealing with whatever fate hands me.  

According to Google, we of the Silent Generation handle adversity well (tick), we dealt with the COVID issue with 'stoic optimism', (tick) we value the stability of peacetime (tick), believe in 'waste not, want not' (tick), embrace traditional family values (tick) and take little for granted (tick).

It's nice to hear something positive about the group I belong to even though that group is rapidly disappearing.  The Silent Generation was born before 1946 so there can't be that many of us left.  

Sunday, December 4

I must sleep very soundly.  Marilyn asked me this morning whether I had heard Archie barking in the middle of the night and I had to confess that I hadn't.  She said it was probably loud enough to wake the neighbours and she wondered what had set him off.  Her first thought was that there was somebody in the yard, but I think it was probably next door's cat wandering where she shouldn't.

In fact, we had been shopping yesterday and bought some new towels. Marilyn had washed them and I had hung then out late in the afternoon.  It's rare for us to leave washing on the line overnight but an alert 'snowdropper' could have had a good haul if he had come by at the right time.

The yard, of course, is surrounded by 5 foot high walls and the gate is always locked so a passing burglar is an unlikely scenario.  The real issue is why didn't Archie's barking wake me up?  What if it had been a real emergency and I had slept through it?

Saturday, December 3

I had always thought that I would find it difficult to fill my time when I was no longer working and trying to take advantage of any spare moments by being involved in various other activities.  I'm lucky that I have always enjoyed reading and have never had trouble switching off from society for a a few hours to immerse myself in a book.  But there needs to be more to life than concentrating on a book while the world passes by.

But now that I've reached that time of life where paid work is a rarity rather than an imperative, where going to a social occasion hardly ever happens and the highlight of a particular day might be to visit the podiatrist, the days seem to be passing faster than ever.  For example, it's 69 days to my birthday: a milestone birthday, in fact, after which I can't pretend that I'm middle-aged any more.  How long is 69 days?  Let's think: 69 days ago was September 26. and, checking back on this blog I find I was writing about what I was doing to fill my days.  'What's it all about?' I was asking.  Was that nearly 10 weeks ago?  And, what's happened in the interim?

I feel I'm in a speeding car, hurtling along to an unknown destination with me holding on trying to make sense of it all.