It was my birthday. I became the age where I should receive an old age pension, except I won't. I missed out by a number of months and I have to wait until I am 67. Won't I be dead by then? That is the government's cunning plan.
It was a nice enough birthday. R had an early medical appointment and was home by 9.30. We shopped for my favourite John West small tins of chilli tuna, but people are bulk buying at half price and two supermarkets had none. We bought some Steelo steel wool pads, increasingly hard to get.
I was quite overwhelmed by all the niceness from friends and family on FB for my birthday.
We ate salad rolls in Prahran Square with take away coffee. Smoked cod was also bought to make kedgeree next week, along with a loaf of bakery freshly sliced bread.
I visited Caulfield for coffee, travelling on our very nice new trains. Note folks, the door open buttons are touch buttons, not hard press buttons.
A new building on the southern side of the train line at Caulfield has a Coles supermarket.
R took me out, well across the road, for a nice dinner. We will see Mother tomorrow for a birthday lunch, and listen to the endless details of her medical problems while trying to divert her to other subjects, like her children, grand children and great grand children.
Sister and Bone Doctor are seeing a performance this Saturday night in town and we will have the company of Jo, who we will take out for dinner.
Sunday an evening pub meal with Brighton Antique Dealer and her toyboy, along with our Hairdresser Friend.
Way too busy.
I'll leave you with a Dad Joke I saw on tv today. R did not find it amusing but I did. What did the fish say when it swam into a concrete wall? Dam.
