Blogging

Yorkshire Pudding recently pondered on the world of blog. I will do the same. 

I can be described as a well brought up, self educated working class person. That I could retire at the age of 61 as a self funded retiree is down to me working a crap job for 40 years. At times I would arise at 3am and at times go to bed at 3am. To put it frankly, like a garbage collector, it was a very important job, as people discover when garbage isn't collected. 

So, back to my point. Blogging is classless, with some bloggers who are financially very comfortable, some wo are not but they all contribute to world of the blog and the world wide connections are truly amazing. Blogging as we know it might disappear in the future as our generation dies out, and that will be loss, but the electrics are still there. Your blog will probably be around for eternity. It is more than possible that our youngest relatives will see the year 3000 2100. Googling relatives will be a thing of the past. It will be one click, or you will put on a helmet and the information will be transferred to your brain. Who knows?

But let me assure you, over the last thirty years bloggers will go on to become an invaluable resource and will continue to be so for eons, and become a great historical resource, yet a doubtful historical source as mostly what they write about relies on memories, short and long term. Historians will hate what we have written but there will be many clues to the truth for them. 

What social bloggers will really contribute is a snapshot of society in the period we have blogged and continue to blog, pretty well much of the early 21st century. Our pleasure, our pain, our thoughts, our social attitudes, our politics...well a long list, and it will all shine through. Your blog is not Facebook aka Bragbook. Don't underestimate what you are contributing to history and you will be admired for your honest writing. 

In the light of that, at a hospital today I heard the words 'I will cut here'. What was a small lump in an  incision wound after last year's kidney surgery, became larger and needs to be repaired. It's known as a surgical hernia. Last year's surgery was with a private surgeon. It cost me a few thousand dollars and my health insurance company around $12,000. I can't afford to use private health in spite of having private health insurance. The highly esteemed kidney surgeon told me during a three minute $180 phone consultation, that he could recommend a surgeon to repair his perhaps negligent work, given I'd had hernia repair surgery before. I am sure he could give me a mate's name, who would also charge thousands of dollars. 

The free public health system is doing quite well for me, but $10 for parking! Barley Charlie. Otherwise it costs nothing. 

Monday Mural

I am joining with Sami and others for Monday Mural. 

I believe I took this mural photo in Geelong a few years ago. 

While I thought the face, head and body trunk were quite well done, it seems limbs are quite difficult. Still, I quite like it. 

Sunday Evening

The sky is clear and the moon is almost full.

Only three stars are visible in the light polluted sky.

How good are humans at polluting!

Night time will be 6 with a shiver. Daytime a glorious 23. Where's my hat to stop the harmful rays.

Autumn is here with her glorious tree colours. But she is a harbinger of the cold and winds of winter. 

Still on roads and pavements below on a Sunday night, cars and people move on as everyone has a place to be, to get to.

Where are they all going? Maybe like us who drove to an Indian restaurant for some decent English food. 

Such safe and dependable food. Indian by name but English by taste, one of Australia's best imports. 

I missed a little tv sound, Vera, because of a very noisy motor bike, the sound of which penetrates. Can citizens buy road spikes to throw in front of noisy vehicles? 

Trams are rumbling past, so the world is still functioning. I imagine in Ukraine, the nearly forgotten war, how reassuring it must be for citizens to hear trams rumbling past. 

 

Sunday Selections

I'm joining with Elephant's Child and River for Sunday Selections. 

It's been a while since I've produced a Sunday Selection. Normally my photos are quite random. 

The past week was busy with spending some time to book a holiday, later this year to escape our winter for a couple of weeks. Train, flights, hotels, coordinating. It all takes time to do yourself but back in the days when we used to use a travel agent, that too took a lot of time. . 

This dude looks like a smooth operator who might make up our beds. Our first overnight train journey is looking promising. Will he return to tuck me in?

This Sunday not so random but photos I took last winter as I wandered around the Queen Victoria 
Gardens.

Well, by the time I had read and commented on so many blogs, then replied to comments on my own previous post, I don't have time to finish this post. Publish and be damned. 

The 1800s foreign types

At my age I generally find actually doing the sex too much of a bother. Oh, how I've changed. But I still find the theory of sex and how it is done in various manners very interesting. 

I was recently reminded of the Afghan cameleers in Australia in the 1800s who delivered goods packed on camels throughout outback Australia, outback meaning desert.

My sixty second research devotion did tell me some things. 

They as foreign types were up for racist media criticism. The Afghans, who were actually a conglomeration of Moslems from various countries were soundly vilified for no reason I could see. They were just so important in the the 19th century to building railways and telephone cabling to connect our large continent.

I am not sure if it was formal or not but some stayed for three years before returning to their homeland. Others stayed for their life, and some being relatively young and unattached, they would have liked a bit of the jiggy jig, or rumpy pumpy if you prefer.

Some formed relationships with Australian aboriginal women and quelle horreur, some married white women, who have may or not be called harlots for their love of a foreign type. White women certainly lost respect for marrying a Moslem but desire knows no bounds. 

Some people's DNA tests must be turning up some rather interesting results as they discover they have some Arab or Indian genes. 

All so interesting and I'm sure someone has written a book about the Afghan cameleers and their connections to Australian society as it was back then.  

D'lingo

A very busy brain melting afternoon booking our next holiday. Why can't you just sms a selfie to prove you are old enough to receive a senior discount? The holiday is months away but will be a nice break from our winter cold for a week or two. Oh for the days when booking holidays I had to look at work holiday leave, rather than fitting holidays in between medical appointments. 

I lament the loss of Australian English to US English. I've come to realise it is a battle not worth fighting. Australian children will say elevator and not lift. They must be confused that their teachers teach them z is zed but hear it in media as zee.

Much Australian slang has been lost but not because of US influence. Such slang just died out. Some words and phases came from the UK, but we also invented our own. 

I am not a young and modern person so I am somewhat out of touch with young people, but I do pick some things up.

Where we buy fuel for our car the facility could be called a petrol station, in older times a garage, to copy the US a gas station, but I haven't really heard that. Mostly nowadays we call it a service station, where you don't receive service but do it all yourself.

Australians love to shorten long phrases to shorter words and to extend shorter words to longer. Thus the name Jo will become Joey, or Joey Girl. 

Back to the car service station, in slang it has become a servo, now no longer a place to just buy petrol and half a pint of oil to pour into your engine, but a place to also buy stale sandwiches, machine made coffee and a many times heated Mrs McGregor meat pie (I do exaggerate for dramatic effect).  

Servo such a great addition to Aussie slang. Use it frequently and often. 

Sydney Day 7, the end

Having had dishwashers for most of my life, I hand washed dishes while we on holiday and it was revelation. Each morning after R's shower water was turned off, I washed a bowl, glasses and cups. I just left them sitting on the draining board and by the time we returned to our studio, they were dry and ready to put away, but I didn't, and it was a case of repeat the next day. 

Unlike our modern deep back breaking sink, this one was shallow. Unlike our severely restricted water saving sink tap, this tap could fill the sink in thirty seconds and with water hotter than we get at home.

We have some kind of draining board to put next to our sink. I've no idea where it is and its never been used. This smart old sink had an inbuilt draining board. 

Good morning kookaburra. 

Ibis are still around but don't seem to be as much of a pest as they were.

Signage on Sydney buses is frequently updated, such as this travel advice for January 26th, I'm sure advising well in advance for 2025.

A nice frangerpanni, sorry frangipani. Generally I get public transport right but not always. It has been years since we have visited The Rocks. Trains were disrupted so we would need to travel the wrong way and then the right way to get to Circular Quay. We could have walked to George Street and caught the L2/3 but no. There must be a bus to get us to The Rocks and there was. The distance didn't look far but that took no account of topography. We walked a good distance, and then up we went, steep road, stairs, ramps and then descended to The Rocks. R was not very happy. I really screwed up.  

Still, it was quite a photogenic walk and each time R collapsed onto the pavements, I found opportunities to take photos.

 

So much of Sydney City is cut out from rock.

There. We arrived. This looks expensive but quite good. The waiter wanted to shove us to back and out of sight to keep the front tables for the young and beautiful but I insisted we sit at the front.

 

Keeping in mind we are in a prime tourist place, our finger sandwiches, and Devonshire tea cost a bomb. The passing parade of people was amazingly constant. I couldn't believe the number of people. 

We wandered a bit. through a crowded market area. 

Then headed to the Quay to go back to our hotel. I think the trains were ok in that direction to get back.

The numbers of people at The Rocks were amazing, and we discovered why.

Yep, a very large cruise ship moored nearby.

I think I've looked up the Commissioners Steps in the past, but I can't remember. 

I am not game to name this building. I will get it wrong. 

For our last night we returned to Kinselas for dinner. We saw this guy cavorting in Oxford Street and then he came up to where we were seated. He was rather attractive. Two foot patrol police passed him by and so they should. Sydney's Taylor Square is the gayest place you can possibly be in Australia. The recently opened museum Qtopia Sydney - The home of Queer History and Culture, is across the road. I had planned to visit but didn't. Next time.  

No one took much notice of him, aside from me. I expect he is regular in some kind of manner.

Well, that's pretty well a wrap for our Sydney visit. The next day we caught the train to the airport and flew home, to collect our car from the long term carpark Value Car Park. We flew with Virgin Australia and it was fine, punctual and it just worked. We did have issues with boarding passes on our phones when going and when returning home. Staff advised it will just all work better for you if you print them out. I am only a stupid old man who doesn't understand mobile phones, ever though I've used computers, the internet and mobile phones since the mid 1990s. I stupidly thought boarding passes on our phones would just work. 

Here is a short clip of the fountain, as you can see the guy above over outside Kinselas.