I'm Charged

I don't buy a lot in Aldi supermarkets, especially as I buy very little food now, just fruit for myself, and I don't find Aldi's fresh fruit, vegetable and meat as good as our other large supermarkets, although it is generally cheaper.

Where I find Aldi excels is its cleaning products, and quite a lot of its packaged food. 

I remember when Ray was with me, we decided a pack of 50 AA batteries in the centre aisle was a bargain, and bought them. I haven't finishing using them yet and annoyingly some have begun to leak acid. Ok, they are probably nearly three years old now. Is this to be expected? Perhaps.

Time for a forensic examination and my magnifying glass will be required.

Well, well, expiry 05-27. I am surprised that they are now leaking nearly a year before their expiry date.

I removed six and earlier I'd removed three, with the rest looking ok, for now.

  

I could complain to Aldi and perhaps get a refund, but I've no idea what we paid for them and backtracking through bank records is tedious. Although Aldi would see that they are their batteries, that they have failed before their expiry date, and work out a refund itself. Some battles just aren't worth fighting.

To save money, rather than allow the evaporation tray to use its boiling element to steam off water that drips from the aircon, I use a cheap battery powered stirrup pump to drain the water into a bucket. Even though the two Aldi D batteries that power the pump were only a couple of weeks old, they had seen not much more than half an hour of non continuous use. Yet, a couple of days ago, they would not give out enough power to lift the water from the tray. South Melbourne Aldi had run out of batteries last week, but as mine were quite new, I thought no matter that I don't have spare batteries. 

Then came Monday, and it was wet, very wet. Quite unusual for here nowadays. I had no way of pumping out the water from the tray so the steam off element did its job, all day. I've never known the aircon to drip so much water. Today I bought new batteries, this time from a major supermarket and I paid twice the price as I would pay at Aldi, and they immediately pumped water. I've been pumping out the tray for years to save the money, sitting next to the unit, being blasted with cold air in the winter, hot air in summer. It hasn't really made much water since June, and yesterday was an exception. 

The spike in electricity use was worse than I thought. 

Personal Bits

The zed/zee battle with Phyllis and Kesav is ongoing.

It has become a bit of a joke about Kosov visiting the rest room. I now wish him well with his visit to the rest room, which can be half an hour, and later ask him if he enjoyed his rest. Their is a bucket and scoop in the toilet, so I guess some washing happens. Both of the lads only shower about every third or fourth day, and that is when they wash their hair. They are always perfectly clean and wash their hand appropriately. 

Is it not enough that we seem intent on destroying our own planet, now we are starting to destroy the moon too, with one of Musk Rat's space craft crashing into the lovely Mr Moon, with a huge ground explosion. Scumbag. His daughter hates him so much, she changed her surname, and effectively called him a racist Boer. 

Friday, neighbour HH is taking us out for dinner, and Phyllis has chosen an Italian place in Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. We will catch two trams to travel to the popular, rather grungy and alternative area. I said to HH, "Eighty year old Nonna will be able to brag to her children and grandchildren that she has been for dinner on the 'wild side'". 

I thought the twin boys would be last in my life time to be born in my immediate family, but no. Hippie Niece is pregnant with a boy. The mother of the now nine year old 'Cafe Latte' twins had a terrible pregnancy and horrible post natal depression, which became ongoing psychiatric issues. She was hospitalised for a time in a mental health unit, she wasn't to be alone with her daughters and was provided with a daily carer for some hours each day. She is now in a stable relationship, with two step daughters of a similar age to hers, and manages well enough. The whole family were dreading this happening, yet we've all decided to be very positive about the impending arrival of her son. At the age of 34, she is older and more mature, and I think she will be ok. So, I will have five great nieces and four great nephews, my youngest brother being their paternal grandfather, and Ex Sis in Law being their maternal grandmother.

I put it to Phyllis and Kosov, what should I do next at home in the way of renewal and improving my home. I gave alternatives, new modern overhead lighting? Replace the 20 year old plus lounge room furniture? Have new floor tiles put over the top of the old ones in the kitchen, toilet and bathrooms?  The vote went for the new tiles. 

I saw an ad on tv featuring a gay male couple with a baby. Kosov, I asked him, if you and Phyllis adopted a baby or child, which sex would you prefer? He said, either, but Phyllis would like a girl. I replied, 'So he and your daughter could share make up and nail polish?' The discussion went on about child adoption and I asked him if he would consider adopting a child in India. He emphatically said no, which seemed odd. Why so? 'If it was a he, he might turn out to look one of the three guys who raped me at school. Every time I see someone who looks like one of them, I just hate Indian men so much.' Well, that rather sent me sideways. 

We had a gay Anglo Indian friend from about 1980 to 1995, and he was raped at one of Calcutta's most prestigious boys' school, but in his case, he said he quite enjoyed it, and really fancied one of the guys.

I don't know any detail. There could have been violence or not involved. Warren already knew he liked guys and Kosov identified as straight then. Oh what damage men do.

Monday Mural

As Sami and others post a Monday Mural, this is mine, taken Saturday before last in Portarlington. The fast ferry in the mural travels to either Geelong or Melbourne. We caught the ferry rom Melbourne several years ago with Jo and it is is fast, comfortable and the interior is air conditioned. 

Also, the pier is divided by beautifully decorated panels along its centre, making a very good wind break, with bench seating along the way. I have seen people in summertime swimming and kids playing in the shallow waters of the beach. 

The Bellarine Pt 1

Sister said I could stay at her place, and they have a room and a nice double bed, but I like my own space, so I booked a flat for two nights at a reasonable price for a one bedroom flat the Friday and Saturday nights. Since then, I've taken a wee blog break, but I've read all of you wrote.

The occasion was to attend a party for Bone Doctor's 50th birthday, sensibly timed for 4pm to 9pm for seniors. The venue was the same boathouse where Jo's 18th birthday was held in July last year, when I had the company of Phyllis and Kosov.

I didn't do much upon my arrival on Friday afternoon, aside from walking the few minutes to the beach. The Rip is the narrow entrance to Port Phillip, and ships must have pilots to enter and depart.

 

I offered to take the trio out for dinner on the Friday night as a gift for Bone Doctor's birthday and Sister chose a rather nice Italian restaurant. Funnily, it was in a Victorian era building where Ray and I stayed when we attended Bone Doctor's 40th birthday. I understand the whole building has been renovated, and that's just as well as where we stayed was rather shabby.

Four people, the cost will be about $80, with my mind firmly back in the 1990s. A bottle of decent wine bumped up the price, as did Jo's cocktail and my Frangelico affogato. We ate well, with me having a serve of bruschetta and my main being mussels in a rich tomato sauce, with bread of course. $270 later... I just thought of all the money I've saved by not going out for dinner with Ray once a week. Whatever, it was a lovely meal and such a nice evening. 

We drove to a carpark to see the moon. It didn't disappoint.

I can't remember why, but Sister and Jo dropped me and Bone Doctor back at my flat, and we sampled Bone Doctor's Japanese whisky she'd brought along, which was nice enough, but we then drank some of my Scotch. We talked about everything and nothing, and as the English expression goes, we sorted out the world. She set off for home on foot.

Next morning we all met up for brunch in Point Lonsdale village, with me driving the short distance in my car. I had some rather nice fruit toast with Vegemite, much to the surprise of the foreign born lass when I ordered. She said Vegemite was ok, but she'd never heard of it on fruit toast. I can assure you, it works well, if you like Vegemite. This was the view from across the road from where we brunched.

We went our separate ways and I drove to St Leonards, where I stopped off to watch boats being launched from the boat ramp. It was a very good four boat ramp launching place, but sadly I did not see any boat ramp disasters to film and make me go viral. Some old dude with a heavy foreign accent in a motorised wheel chair engaged me in unwanted conversation. One must be kind to the elderly who want to chat. 

I clung to the coastal road as I passed through Indented Heads and stopped in Portarlington. There were so many nice houses along the way, mostly two storey to take advantage of sea views, with huge balconies. This was a slam on the brakes moment to get out and take this photo, I think at Indented Heads. 

I parked in Portarlington, happily right near a great mural. The old hotel looks wonderful.

I returned to my flat in the afternoon, with this lush and perhaps a little overgrown garden outside my door. The temperature was low, but with sunshine, it felt warmer.

 

I walked to the cemetery across the road. Real estate agents would call it 'sea views' from the top of the cemetery hill. I would call them 'sea glimpses'. The wrought iron gates are wonderful. The supporting pillars, rather plain. 

Cemeteries are always interesting, and this was not an exception. A nice rotunda is a great facility to hold celebrations of deaths.

 

An eighteen year old who died, maybe a lifesaver with the statue indicating a connection. 

 

This grave for a nineteen year old with an engraved motorcycle might indicate Gavin died in a motorcycle accident. 

One month old, and what a lovely site to remember her.

Ruben, one week old, with an eye catching grave.

This 1800s grave was really sad. Three children died at a young age and are interred with their mother, then later with their father. Plagues or wars?

A war memorial at the top of the hill in the most prestigious location within the cemetery, at the top of the hill with the aforesaid sea glimpses.

There was a bush area sprinkled with memorial plaques.

Men are capable of great love, for their dogs at least, and Frank loved his Missy.

With a grave holding multiple people my mind drifted to would I ever see as gay couple buried together? Burials are rare now, so it is most unlikely. But look what I came across! Phillipa who died thirty years ago, with mention of her partner Diana.

 Land has been cleared at the back of cemetery, I guess to add more room for plaques. 

Finally, this is where I am staying, in a three storey building, with a weird layout. There is a modern two storey house behind where I was staying on ground level of this three storey building. Somewhere within what all that seems modern, perhaps 1960s chimneys, poke upward.

Limericks and words

The first limerick I think I heard was by my father, 'The boy stood on the burning deck, his pocket full of crackers...", you know how it goes.

The next I can remember was in a book I was reading, "Doctor Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain. He stepped into a puddle, right up to his muddle, and never went there again". This puzzled the very young me for two reasons. I must have known by the then how limericks should be constructed, and Foster could not possibly rhyme with Gloucester, which of course it does. The second issue being muddle, clearly meaning middle. Was muddle ever an alternative word for middle? Now online, I see the word middle is used, which makes it wrong as a limerick. I suppose you could say, 'He stepped into cow piddle, right up to his middle'. 

I had to look this one up as I had forgotten the main verse. This is also my father's quoted version.

"Not last night but the night before,

Three little monkeys came knocking at my door.

One had a fiddle, one had a drum,

And one had a pancake stuck to it's ???

Don't be mistaken, don't be misled,

One had a pancake stuck on it's head.".

I assume everyone who knows this verse also knows this version? Maybe that was my first introduction to word play.

I'm sure I could do much better than this off the cuff limerick, but;

There is a cat we know as Jass,

who could behave like a bit of an ass.

While she seems rather gruff,

she is not really that tough,

in fact she is just a bit sass.

 

Repost from 2017 (I forgot about this even after this post)

 

I know nothing

When you have been with your partner for 38 years, you would think there wasn't too much you didn't know about them.

We were watching the English tv show Vera last night. The show is set in and around Newcastle in the north of England, where R hailed from. The scene was set in a pub.

R: I worked in that hotel. It was at the base of the High Level Bridge.

Me: Fascinating dearest. You've worked in so many places, it is a wonder you can remember.

R: Yes, my brother in law to be and me both worked there as we were saving to go to Butlins (a holiday camp of the most ghastly variety, but this is with hindsight) and of course that was where I met Cat Stevens. The hotel has changed........

Me: Stop! Now! What did you just say?

R: About meeting Cat Stevens?

Me: Yes, you've never told me that before?

R: Thought I had. Cat Stevens was Irish (I didn't know that) The pub was owned by an Irishman and he was a friend of Cat and he came to visit him once at the hotel and we were introduced.

Me: How come you have never told me this?

R: I thought I had. He was only semi famous then.

I used to find Cat Stevens so sexy before he became a weird religious Moslem nutter who agreed with murder of those critical of the prophet Mohammed. I am quite perplexed as to why I did not know R had met Cat Stevens.

Friday Funny

The waiter was deadpan. It was funny to me, but what I think is AI at the end of the guy almost spitting out his coffee, just made it.

I'm away for a few days, and I'm staying next to a cemetery. I doubt my sleep will be disturbed by noisy neighbours across the road, and I'm sure there will be an interesting walk among the dead.  

Catch ya soon, me maties.