A Saturday

It's a strange time to publish for me, I know. I blame the change to daylight saving time overnight.

I tuned in and out of Saturday's tv broadcast of the Aussie Rules football grand final match. It was quite exciting I suppose as the scores remained close to the end, with Collingwood triumphant over Brisbane Lions by a small margin. 

The pre match entertainment was the pop group Kiss, who performed very well but don't tell me they weren't lip syncing. Never mind. It was really good entertainment, enhanced by an army of prepubescent dancers. It was good to see real men performing on stage and not the heavily made up and styled nancy boys we see now. 

I noted during the performance that the lead singer shaves under his arms. Yes, I expect I am the only person in the world to notice such trivia. As long as not prickly cut, nicer to lick. 

I don't know anything about Kate Miller-Heidke but she is a well respected musician and singer, who sang our national anthem before the match began in the presence of both football teams. The camera panned along the line up of players as the anthem was sung with players looking solemn during the performance, except for one who chomped away on his chewing gum faster and with more vigour than a masticating cow. It was just so ugly and disrespectful. I won't name the boof head. 

Nor will I name the the bloke who may come out as the first gay AFL player. As soon as I saw him my gaydar dinged. The more I looked, the more I found to support my thought. We shall see.

In a shop on Thursday the checkout chap was chatty about the forthcoming grand final match. Like I care. R told him I was a Collingwood supporter. Did I hear that right? R, what did you say? I fervently denied being a Collingwood supporter. If I am asked, I say I support St Kilda but really I don't have much interest. I wonder why R said that.

"There you go again, correcting what I say in public", said R as we left the shop. No, it is a serious matter to accuse someone being a Collingwood supporter, when I thought you would know I am not. I don't qualify as a Collingwood supporter. I don't have missing front teeth. I am not a kiddie fiddler. I tend to pronounce the ing ending of words as such and not just in. My shirts always meet the waist band of my pants and don't expose my fat stomach. I don't walk around with a packet of Winfield smokes tucked in my tee shirt sleeve. I am not balding at the front and have long thin straggly home bleach dyed blond hair at the back. I don't have a baby to tell 'shut the fuck up' when they are crying. 

Mind, when I was younger I did tend to correct R on detail as he was speaking. I stopped doing that quite some years ago. He is chatty and gets things wrong, but mostly it doesn't matter. I only correct him now if it is important and being accused of being a Collingwood supporter was. 

A blogger or two have recently mentioned how their partners are not talkative when they themselves are. I am not the talkative one about important things, partly because the more I say, the more trouble I get into. I also like to think about things before responding. I would like to chat easily but I've learnt that it is unwise. 

We were sitting in Prahran Square this morning, enjoying the sharing of a roast pork sandwich with crackling and nice coffee with lovely warm weather. Toddlers were running through the fountain getting soaking wet.  I checked tram app to go home. 9 minutes, we still had a shop to visit, 21 minutes, perfect for us.

We finished shopping, tram in 1 minute. We could not make that. 10 minutes for the next one. I realised something was wrong as we walked to the tram stop. The tram was still 10 minutes away. It remained so. The app indicated there was a problem but no detail. I swapped between the app and Twitter to find out what was happening. There was a stationary tram in the opposite direction nearby. A tree had fallen over the tram overhead electric wires. No trams anytime soon. In fact the line is still closed at 9.00 pm. We caught a bus to the Alfred Hospital and walked to St Kilda Road and caught a tram from there. It was 27 degrees and R became quite distressed and vowed to never catch a a tram again.