Ray Bear

This is known as a Memory Bear and it's made up by clothing of Ray's I sent to one his sisters in England, mostly jeans and track suit pants, with the tie being made from one of shirts he wore at times and I thought really suited him. The bear arrived in the post yesterday. The clothes will make more bears for others to remember him by. He came with a key, to open our hearts to the bear.

It cost me about $70 to send the clothes and about £35 for his sister to send the bear, so about the same.

The bear sits with the cushion at about 35cm tall, nearly 14 inches. Isn't he just lovely and of  course I've named him Ray Bear.

Window Wankers

Some of you may remember me complaining about the apartment occupants to my immediate front having their windows open, well mostly the one a metre from our balcony. This went on from the student tenants, to the last owner occupiers and now to my disappointment the newest owner occupiers. I just don't believe it! 

Of course what they do with their windows is their business and if a neighbour opening a bedroom window is the worst of my neighbourly worries, I am lucky but I just feel so unlucky. 

'Ere you lot, look up the building, all windows closed. 

Look down, all windows closed, as one would expect when it is freezing cold. 

But not my neighbours, windows open, albeit not much. 

Meanwhile, the painting is progressing nicely. The only sanctuary is my bedroom and ensuite, but that will soon change. Some undercoat oil paint has been used and it pongs and I can taste it. As the nun said to the bishop, 'It left a nasty taste in my mouth'.

The grumpy coffee roaster

We lived for about ten years in a Victorian workers cottage in the suburb Balaclava. One of my favourite memories is sitting in our lovely brick paved courtyard some warm evenings, safely ensconced by ivy, ficus, wisteria, bougainvillea and a large birch tree. We would play backgammon while having a sip or two of Scotch. Once the internet arrived, things changed. Nevertheless, I remember the time so well and so fondly. 

When we moved to Balaclava, there was a men's clothing store, a hardware store and many other useful businesses. There were only two places to buy a cup of coffee. Now there are a myriad of cafes but no men's clothing or hardware store. 

We would make coffee at home, using freshly ground beans from the local coffee shop where coffee beans were roasted on site. At a guess, I think it was owned by Russian Jews, Balaclava being within the Bagel Belt. It took years of buying freshly ground coffee for the usual server, who was an older woman who I guess was Russian, to get a smile from her. Maybe you know the coffee roasters Hels? 

It literally took years but eventually I could get a half smile from her by putting on my brightest face and a big wide smile with effusive thanks, she with a slight upturning of her lips.

As JB mentioned in a blog post, smiling is not a natural thing for some cultures. 

Lordy, the place has modernised into Coffee Company, with a very slick website. Russian o rperhaps Polish woman would be long gone I guess. 

I didn't expect this

I can't say we've ever sanded before we painted. It probably showed under close scrutiny. By golly did the painter pair sand today. Consequently everywhere except my bedroom is covered in white dust, including me (lucky lead in paint was banned a long time ago). I've wiped down the screen here, the keyboard, mouse and mat, along with my lounge chair and the kitchen benches. It is pointless to do more as only half the sanding is done. By golly, the two guys really know their stuff.

A couple of you expressed concerns about the security of my belongings. The painter has redecorated many apartments in the building and has a list of apartments waiting for his services. As I said to someone, the building is getting older and apartments are needing renovations and redecorating. The organiser lives in the building. They have very high reputations which I am quite sure they would never risk by petty pilfering. This is our fifth large renovation in our lifetimes, well my lifetime, plus many other tradespeople in our homes and we've never had an issue with any tradesperson so far as theft goes. The only thing that was ever stolen was in our East Malvern house when it was open for inspection for prospective buyers before sale, and someone nicked our wash basin plug. Although the plug was a bit special at the time, in retrospect it was gauche. It was probably the real estate agent. 

These painters know I can't do much due to arthritis and at the moment, temporary back pain. They are just getting on with it. Aside from a little clean up dusting, I've done nothing all day, except from going out twice and loading the car with op shop donations.

They are thorough. 

The living area.

Spare room. 

Linen press.

Ray's bedroom. 

The dining table. 

 Totally off topic, I just saw a news story about a woman whose car was stolen as it was sitting in front of her house warming the interior for her children before she drove them school. It may have been 5-10/40-50 degrees. I don't think I need to say any more. 

I don't like surprises

It is a surprise that the painters are arriving at 8.30 in the (Tuesday) morning. I am both ill prepared and I don't know how to be prepared. I have paid extra so that I don't have to do much, I think. I only found out about that they are coming yesterday. I spent about four hours today going through Ray's papers and shredding what I don't want to keep. I've thrown things out, I've boxed up things for the charity shop, I've recycled things. My car boot is full of boxes for the charity shop, and a bag of e-waste to drop off elsewhere. There is still more to go. I will get to it all.

It is a bitter sweet project. Ray and I chose the paint colours and the carpet in early April. I cannot blame him if it is awful. I had my say. 

So, blog posts may not happen for a bit, or be erratic. Ditto comments on blogs. Forgive me. 

Monday Mural

I'm joining with Sami and others for Monday Mural.

I'd be surprised if I haven't posted these before, perhaps on my old blog, but they do look fresh so perhaps they are quite new. Maybe in Little Bourke Street.

Sunday Selections

I am joining with Elephant's Child, River and others for Sunday Selections, with I hope photos of a random nature I haven't used before.

The gang above Priceline (pronounced Prickaleenie) where once was a hair salon.

D&G temporarily decorated a tram stop shelter.

Looking down on the slum across the road from my balcony. 

This was the strangest little exhibition in the Melbourne Town Hall Gallery. I really did not understand what it was about. The gallery is free, on the street and small, so it is easy just pop into when passing when a new exhibition opens. This is not the 'I love a sunburnt country', that I learnt. Rather sad making.

Now the exhibition is coming together.

I am understanding what it is all about.

No, I am lying. 

Life imitating art?

These springy rubbery things I guess are to prevent people walking along train tracks. 

Gorgeous feature wall of a nicely uplit old bluestone wall at the Oriental Teahouse.

In the recycling room. I wondered if it worked, but I have no need.

I expect this area near Dandenong Station is called Little India.

I think every shop was Indian related. Sadly Luckily for me the Indian sweet shops were closed on that public holiday.

 

Lonsdale Street, Dandenong is the main street of Dandenong, once the Princes Highway, the main road to the east of the state. I can't imagine the traffic through there if it still was route east. A freeway carries most of the traffic now. It's a long way to go for a sausage.

Scotch sausage! If that is the spicy sausage meat I am thinking of, it is delicious. I will have to return when the shop is open.

The area is very nicely done now and the impact of the busy Lonsdale Street car traffic is diminished. 

Dandenong is a very old market town on an important and only practical route to the Gippsland region, and although an hour plus by train from the city, its age does show in its grand town hall.