A holiday note

Five days of solitude and my own company. I should be relaxed. I am not.

Feed cats morning and evening. Learn to lock them out of the kitchen while I prepare their meals. Ensure all water bowls are kept fresh. Call cats at 8.30pm, for some nibbles to entice them into garage to be locked in for the night.

Cats want to sleep on the bed I slept in, or on my clothes in my suitcase.  Close doors. 

Drag out hoses to water the gardens. Plenty of flowers on the tomato plants but I won't get to eat any of the tomatoes. I drained one rain water tank. I finished the back garden watering. The front garden can die for all I care.

Confusing instructions about which bins to put out. I take a stroll to check what neighbours have put out, then remembering one side of the street has different collections to the other side.

Phillys made me tuna croquettes to take away with me. Sister's new air fryer is nothing like mine. Nevertheless, I cooked them quite well. The mayonnaise in Sister's fridge is supposed to be kept upside-down and ready to squirt but it wasn't. I made vigorous downward arm thrusts with the plastic bottle to try to move the mayo to the opening. An incident occurred with the mayo, followed by some wiping up, down and across. 

Then there is all the stuffs that you walk inside, leaves, gravel, etc that I will have to clean up. The worst at home is sock lint.

No, my time of pets, gardens and putting out bins is my past, not my future. I wanna go home.

Monday Mural

I'm joining with travel returned Sami and others for Monday Mural. 

I showed you a big one last week in Werribee but this week it is small one, also in Werribee. Size doesn't matter when you have a muralist of the calibre of Mike Makatron.

I'm away for a bit to the seaside. 

Sunday Selections

I am joining Elephant's Child, River and others for Sunday Selections, and as usual just random photos.

What a mess. Note the white poster.

Still a mess but a tidier mess.

I was amused. 

A brand new train station, an extension to the Pakenham train line to East Pakenham. The convention nowadays is to put the place name first and then its direction, so it is surprising that it isn't Pakenham East. 

 

You can escape the approaching train with this button, but you are already safe and out of the way of the train. But what you can't do is open the emergency gate from the outside and cross in front of an approaching train. 

A few months ago, Hair Dresser Friend and I visited this bar very impromptu. The meal was good, and we finished our meal just in time to enter the trivia quiz. I was a bit tipsy by then and I couldn't immediately understand how it all worked. We didn't win, but we had a respectable score. Absolutely sober, I would have done better. 

Who is that society misfit in the white car?

The intentions of Phyllis and Kosov were good, but the court was already occupied. I had already explained to Phyllis how to book the court. 

Kosov has been doing some paper folding. Quite clever really. 

How often do I feel like writing something like this on a sign that warns of bleeding obvious. 

Agatha Down Under

I don't know why I didn't know Agatha Christie visited Australia. The State Library of Victoria informed me. 

Agatha's husband was appointed financial advisor to the British Empire Mission, so this involved travel to the colonies to promote the upcoming 1924 British Empire Exhibition.  As his wife, Agatha travelled with him with their expenses paid for as a couple, and I assume a wage for her husband. 

They disembarked their ship in Adelaide caught the train to Melbourne and travelled quite extensively around Victoria by train, as they attended various functions to promote the exhibition. 

They were based at the very impressive Menzies Hotel, since demolished.

One such trip they took in Victoria was to the lovely timber mill township known as Noojee, in the West Gippsland region, and I know Noojee well. 

Agatha wrote:

"It was lovely, all through the bush, very dense undergrowth, and great tall tree trunks. The engine flung out showers of sparks, but a kindly stoker was on duty to extinguish me if I was smouldering in more than two places at once! We got out at the Goodwood Saw mills, right in the heart of the forest. I shall never forget it."

Quite amusing about smouldering in two places. No doubt she passed over this marvellous train trestle bridge, well actually its very similar predecessor that was burnt in the 1939 fires. Photo from TripAdvisor. 

While researching, it was no surprise that a post by Hels popped up, where I discovered Agatha and her husband separated in 1926. Read Hels concise post to see how Agatha handled the break up. 

That will do for this post. It's become hard to concentrate with foam bullets flying past my head. 

A long lunch and relative weatlh

I met my neighbour HH at 11.00 and walked a short distance to a cafe we've decided we like, after trying a couple of others. We left at 1.00, so what did we talk about for two hours? Maybe one hour was on varied topics. 

She has a friend of a similar age to her who has been her friend since her early teenage years. The two families all know each other very well, including their respective children. Her friend and her friend's husband are rich, in my opinion. They own a house in an expensive beach side suburb, which has been named the skin cancer capital of Australia, or was it just Victoria. No matter, and they also own a holiday house in Portsea. Without elaborating, it is clear the wife, HH's life long friend is being mentally abused by her husband. She is never right. She hasn't dressed properly. Her hair is not done nicely. Her cooking skills are no longer up to scratch. She needs to be grateful that she has him to look after things for her. And, does she need to talk to HH almost every day on the phone. 

You've got the picture? If she challenges him, he throws his hands up in the air and then says, it is her fault for not getting things right. What is the modern term? I am thinking whiteanting, which kind of describes it. Is it ghosting? I'll remember it later (I did, gaslighting). But HH's friend puts up with it, for the sake of her grown up children and, I am sure, her own material comfort. 

Not thinking my own anecdotes would be of any help, I recounted some personal experiences of similar behaviour and HH suddenly became enlightened. I did not say so directly, but it is some kind of raw jealousy. There you go. You may be very rich, but that doesn't make you immune from spousal abuse, and mental abuse can really wear partners down over a long period. I expect EC is quite conversant with hearing this kind of stuff in her volunteer role. The best that can be said is that at least he is not physically violent. No reminder bruising for him to see the next day. 

That all sounds quite grim, but it was only a small part of what we talked about. About one hour was of exchanging tales of bureaucracy. HH's husband has severe dementia, is in care and no longer remembers her. So while not literally, she too has lost her life partner. Many things are in his name, and she constantly has to battle for her own identity. She had me shrieking with laughter heartily laughing at her attempt to get an appointment at her bank, with phones not being answered but promising a call return, that never happens. Her son who lives interstate generally manages her investments, shares and self managed super fund monies, but there are some things she has to do in person. "Son, I've found where the bank CEO is based. I am going to go there and demand to see him." "Mother, that is not a good idea". It is the duty of parents to embarrass their children, hey Debby. 

Her son asked HH if she used her landline anymore. She replied no. He told her to unplug it then cancel it. Over Facetime he told her what to turn off and what to unplug. Then he told her to cancel the phone service. She tried hard, with a number of calls, but it was the same story, the account was in her husband's name. At least I can produce Ray's death certificate. Her husband is still alive. She wondered why she was going to all this trouble for what was costing her $5 a month. Eventually, after being asked to send a selfie from her phone, she handed authority over to her son to deal with the matter. 

I know most of you are financially comfortable, and although I receive a part old age pension, I too consider myself financially comfortable. However, I am quite aware that is not all of you and I keep that in mind when writing blog posts. 

HH's friend who I earlier wrote about is very wealthy. When HH mentioned it cost $400,000 to get her husband into care, which I think is a bond, plus a daily cost, and if she needs to go into care, it will cost her $800,000, I realised she is very wealthy and beyond my league. 

"I want to leave money to my children". "HH, they are successful in their own right, they don't need the money. It is far better you turn on your heating and cooling when needed." 

I do understand her thinking as being a person who is cautious with money, as I have been. But one thing Ray and I never stinted on was heating and cooling in our homes. There is no need to heat or cool the spare bedroom, so I close the door in extreme temperatures, and I don't have settings turned to high levels, but I am going to continue to ensure my home is at a comfortable temperature. 

Panto Fun

The panto was fun, Jo had a lot of lines to deliver as Cinderella and she was flawless. All the kiddies sat up the front on cushions and became quite involved in the performance, which is how panto is, along with dragging in older audience who seemed quite uncomfortable. True panto traditions upheld. I had a very nice lunch with Sister before hand at Zoo Cafe

It was a long drive there and back and I had time to ponder. 

I like when I find out a blogger's address, and using Street View, I can see where they live. In the infancy of Street View, I saw one blogger in her driveway, captured by the camera. 

So yes, I have stalking tendencies. But once I look at where they live, I am satisfied and quickly forget what I saw. 

Any amateur sleuth can find out a lot about me online, but I do try to protect my real name. I don't use my real name in social media, but as I said, any persistence can find out about me. Nevertheless, I respect other's privacy and I hope they do the same for me. 

What's on tomorrow? Brunch with my 'Dead in Bed' call mate neighbour. HH can really talk and I enjoy her company. I will continue to try to convince her that she is not poor and if her apartment feels hot, turn on her air conditioning. Her son does the same, advising her that she has plenty of money. I am trying to change from being a frugal person to a spending person, but it all seems too late, and I am trying to change HH's view of spending too.  

HH took this balloon photo one morning last week. There must be money in balloon flights. 

My Day

After taking Phyllis and Kosov to the beach on Sunday, and then accompanying them to the Victoria Gardens shopping centre on Monday, I wanted a quiet day to myself.

Kosov was up early to meet a friend who works in the evenings, so Kosov was making the extreme sacrifice by getting up early to meet his friend. So Phyllis was up early too. I had hoped for a peaceful morning. Maybe it is better when they stay in bed until mid afternoon. 

I caught a tram to Prahran where I had my hair cut. I caught a tram to Toorak Road and another to South Yarra Station. On the Chapel Street tram were a neighbour couple, who greeted me. They left the tram at Toorak Road too but I don't know where they then went. 

At South Yarra displays indicated the next City Loop train would be in 15 minutes, odd when it is a 10 minute service, but I knew copper thieves had been at work and disrupted the train line. The City Loop train changed to one direct to Flinders Street, that did not suit me at all. I caught the next train to Flinders Street and then a tram up Elizabeth Street to Victoria Market. It was a minor issue for me, but truly awful for so many train passengers who were suffering a bus replacement service.

I walked back to Franklin Street to visit the marvellous Jaycar store. What a revelation. Staff helped with what I needed to repair tv plug tenant damage in their bedroom. 

I was feeling quite weary as I wandered in the direction of the William Street tram, and I spied a stationary bus displaying route 605, which will get me near home. It was eight minutes to departure and the driver was sitting in a passenger seat attending to matters of his phone. It was cool enough in the bus but every few minutes the bus engine started up, I guess to keep the air con working. While we now have all electric buses, this one was older that used battery storage to start off before switching over to the normal engine. I checked my phone and there was a message from Ex Sis in Law. We are at Armadale Station. Are you free to meet at Flinders Street Station for coffee? She had a client with her, who had changed a lot since I first met him. He barely speaks now, but listens, and then forgets.  He likes travelling on trains. 

That will be nice, although I was looking forward to going home. I pressed the next stop button on the bus for the Flinders Street stop, but I must have pressed it on an angle or something and it didn't work, and the bus didn't stop. I was carried to the other side of the river. Bugger! I could have walked back to Flinders Street and caught a tram to the station, but instead I just plodded along foot after foot, seeking shade where I could. It was good see Ex Sis in Law and catch up on family news. 

Once home, much later than I thought, it was peaceful as the lads were out. 

Meals on Wheels, Korean fried chicken for dinner wasn't too bad. 

Tomorrow, a 90 minute drive to lunch with Sister and then see Jo in panto as Cinderella. It sounds high camp to me, as panto should be. Jo made it into the local Murdoch rag in a puff piece. I don't think I have any bloggers now who were around in 2007 when Jo was born and the involvement we had with her as a baby, a toddler, and under 10 and then as happens when teenage years are reached, less contact with her.