Not a Mother visit

I spoke to Mother on the telephone this Monday evening, suggesting we will visit her tomorrow, but that was only after she explained her most recent bowel issues in explicit detail. She said, ok, if you just visit. I said c'mon, it does you good to go out for lunch.

An hour later her carer ABI Brother rang and said Mother has bowel issues, as if I didn't know, and is not up to visits. That is fine with me, postponing another hated motorway drive. 

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It was pretty warm when we visited the Seaford RSL for Sunday lunch, meeting up with Ex Sis in Law, her husband and cafe latte coloured twins, who were actually quite delightful as there mother wasn't there. Gosh they are pretty. I cannot say the venue is classy but for good meals and drinks at cheap prices, it was fine. The staff were excellent. The price for desserts seemed high though, so we thought we would find somewhere for an ice cream. The Seaford area and the Frankston area were swamped by visitors and not a parking space to be found, never mind the queues at the ice cream and gelati places we did see. It ended up being McDonalds ice creams in Frankston where we did just find parking. Frankston McDonalds on Nepean Highway is the scummiest and dirtiest similar place I've ever been into. I won't return.

It too was so busy and as I stood waiting, I tried not to look at the bare topped young men standing in front of me who ended up sitting at the table next us. Gee, I once had skin smoother and as blemish free as they had. Once had. Being so close to the beach bare topped men kept coming and going from of McDonalds. I didn't know where to look, which is a lie. After a  lifetime of time of experience, I know how to look without being caught. 

I see a young male bare torso as a straight man might see young female bare torso. It is way weird that I can see something so sexually exciting but straight men can't see bare young female torsos including breasts. Well, in most countries. Mind from what I saw at McDonalds, some young women's bikini tops left so little to the imagination, it is a rather moot point to make.

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A bloke at the RSL club explained to us that the lorikeet pole had fallen down and they had just put it back up and the lorikeets have returned.  Pretty cool to see. The twins were entranced. If we weren't in harsh and hot sunlight, I might have been too.

With a little knowledge, I found the way home and my good driving manner, travelling at speed limits without harsh acceleration and braking had my fuel consumption down to a record of 6 litres per 100 kilometres, around 40 mpg. There is a strange turn to do get over the Frankston train line and we passed by the Frankston Arts Centre, where for many nights in the 1990s, bored out of our brains we watched the young nieces and nephew perform for their schools on stage.

If I wasn't driving, I would have taken a snap of 40 km/h Outdoor Dining area signs placed on the main Frankston street. A speed limit needs to be explained?  Right or wrong, it was set at that for some reason. Do we need to know why by the sign?  It is a very busy place.