Just once...

Will there be a future when I won't wake up to listen to the ABC ten minute 7.00am radio news bulletin without it beginning with "US President Donald Trump...".

Sunday Selections

River and others participate in Sunday Selections. 

Did I mention I visited Barkly Square in Brunswick to see a Gillie and Marc statue? I think so, and its theft was a heinous crime.

This bicycle outside Barkly Square grabbed my attention for obvious reasons.

It is sad, and as far as I know, nothing has been done to Sydney Road to protect cyclists since, while much has been done in other Melbourne inner suburbs.  

I've definitely used this photo before but the restaurant name amuses me greatly.

I think this was once Victoria's treasury building, now the Hellenic (Greek) Museum.

 

Some but not all, as there has been great losses of beautiful historical buildings, have been nicely kept and restored at the western end of Collins Street within the city. 

Err, not this one, that unsympathetically does not blend with the historic streetscape.

And now for something completely different. With the backdrop of a tall building in Footscray, this flower clock in the inner suburb with a huge number of Vietnamese immigrants, is a larger version of what might be found on a wall at their homes. Yes, stereotyping. 

Dinner for Jass

Jass likes her dry food and not wet foreign muck (Who gets the Alf Garnett reference). She took a small taste and decided to not eat that night. 

I don't blame her really. 

Brand name Cachet. Mousse with lamb, spinach and feta. It sounds ghastly.

Jass went without dinner, and while I know a cat won't starve to death when any food is available (my mantra to Phyllis and Kosov), why do I feel criminally responsible for almost starving a cat to death? 

Friday Funny

It's not really funny, but a bit amusing. It has just been added to our national sound archive. 

April the first somewhere

In my former blog, I think about three times I wrote an April Fools joke post.

The first was a bit cruel, as people believed it. I had fallen on hard times and will have to move out of The Highrise into a shabby one bedroom flat. I remember being hopeful that there might be an internet plug at my new shabby flat.

The sympathy comments flooded in but no one seemed concerned about what would happen to Ray.  

Now I forget the order between these two. This one, Melbourne's Shrine of Remembrance is a stunning war memorial. But it is on a purpose built mound, with steep sides.  I reported that the beautiful grassed area around the shrine would be flattened out and paved as parking for the convenience of very aged veterans who wanted to visit the shrine. Commenters were generally horrified, but some were sympathetic towards making it easier for veterans to visit the shrine. 

I think my best one was about the Maltby Bypass, which is a sign you see along the motorway between Melbourne and Geelong. Obviously the bypass avoided the town of Maltby, about which I described the lovely town in some detail, and to enforce the point of it being an April Fool's joke, I concluded with, "For some reason, the town has the highest rate of incest recorded in Australia". 

In spite of that, still people fell for it. There isn't a town called Maltby. Maltby was a road engineer and part of the road, a bypass, is named after him.

Just a day

 Yesterday morning up and down from the computer chair, doing bits, back to blog reading and commenting, rinse and repeat. I had ordered medications via the app to collect from the chemist, so by about midday I caught a tram to Prahran, bought a cup of coffee and sat in Prahran Square eating the sandwich I'd bought from and drinking my coffee. 

I picked up a packet psyllium husks at the chemist used to sprinkle on my breakfast cereal, my medications and I disposed of a gazillion medication blister packs into the recycling bin.

Damn, I just missed a tram. 11 minutes until the next one but there is the 604 bus approaching that will get me to short walk or a one stop tram trip in St Kilda Road. 

I left the bus at the stop before home but as I approached the building site I can view from my home, concrete for a footpath crossover had just been poured. I was hot and bothered, and weary and I had no intention of crossing five lanes of traffic, two bike lanes, and two tram lines, walk further then do the same again. I pulled my cap lower over my eyes, shortened my steps, slumped my body and head down and started heavy breathing, and began my slumped walk along the bike lane. 

Verboten! I cannot do this. "I am exhausted and I simply can't walk across the road and back again", I pleaded to the road monitor, slumping further forward and grabbing hold of a pole. She patiently escorted me along the bike lane with my small old man steps and opened a barrier at the end. I continued my pretence until I was home in case she was watching. Yes, it was a pretence, but I was exhausted and feeling extremely hot and bothered. 

After recovering I cleaned the balcony aside from the glass, which is now beyond me, and then rested.

Not long after the 6pm tv news began, I head a faint knock at the door, which I wish I hadn't heard. It was my neighbour's daughter who had locked herself out of the apartment again. I invited her in and she asked if she could use my Instagram to get in touch with a friend, which she did but to no avail. I am very nervous about anyone using my computer. She called her mother on my phone, who got in touch with her friend who lives not far away to bring her spare keys. Forty minutes later of making small talk with a young Australian born person of Asian heritage who is upcoming high flyer at Ernest Young did me in. 

I did not feel like a full meal and while the daughter was still here, Phyllis came out to prepare my dinner. He made me scrambled eggs on toast, perfect, and took over the chat with neighbour, they being of a similar age.

I've dried out

The dampness camera and the moisture probe showed my apartment had dried out, so the nine fans and two dehumidifiers were removed and I have so much space, and I won't he kicking furniture that's sitting in the wrong place. I could get away without repainting anything but given the building's insurance will pay, I will get it done, after a bit of luxury of having no tradespeople visiting. 

Someone mentioned my new lounge chairs, and the damage was repaired with a very satisfactory job.

They are nothing special, just black leather but I am excited by what they can do, sadly though not pouring a drink and serving it to me.

The controls, with the centre button to put all back to normal, and a USB A and USB C charging ports. Buttons are each side. 

This a a phone charging pad. I can't work out the purpose of the recess at its edge. Note the little button on the lower edge.

Which electrically opens and retracts the drinks holder. 

Inside this storage area are another USB A and USB C socket. 

The reading lamps, with the flap of leather concealing where the screws failed. 

Not quite completely flat, but very comfortable. I haven't fallen asleep on it yet at night time and woken up at 2.30am, but give it time.