Just a day

Yesterday was a busy day. More electronic paperwork this morning which meant I didn't finish blog reading.

At 10.30 we set off for Phyllis' second driving lesson. He had improved, so much so that we left the quiet environs of Albert Park Lake, after he successfully made a three point turn and ventured down Kerferd Road to Richardson Street where he negotiated a large roundabout and two smaller ones, one with a tram travelling through. He knew that he had to give way to trams at all times, including at roundabouts and I pointed out that he has to look left as well as right at a roundabout if there is a tram line. 

If this map link works, you can see there are curves around the lake where he increased his turning skills, and he took to driving in heavier traffic quite well. 

We stopped at Armstrong Street to buy coffee, he angled parked perfectly and I then drove home. 

It was then into to town on the 58 tram for lunch where I really wanted thali at Villas. It was busy and the food was nice, although perhaps a little overpriced. The beef was a bit tough and the spiciest dish was the vegetable one. Lovely gulab jamun. Phyllis drank the left over syrup. There was a little uneaten, which they put into a plastic container provided by the restaurant. This is interesting because some places won't do this, citing health regulations. I remember researching and I could never find such regulations. My tight arse ABI Brother takes containers with him when he eats out.

Phyllis and Kosov paid for my thali and a glass of wine. 

After lunch we walked down to Swanston Street and they headed up the hill to Melbourne Central shopping centre and I caught a tram home.

It was my aunt's birthday and Ex Sis in Law's husband's birthday. I wished them happy birthday on FB. 

Wombat, formerly Our Friend in Japan, asked if I was interested in a gay Christmas in July public lunch event. I probably would have gone, but I will be away on cat care duties.  

After a large lunch, home alone, I had soup and a sandwich for dinner.     

Spicing up

Along with my most excellent fried rice, I can also make a very mature and delicious pea and ham soup. Hungarian paprika could be sprinkled atop, but I would like some advice at how to make the soup more tasty and spicy. While I think my soup is perfect, it won't be to the taste of Phyllis and Kosov without some fiery spice. What should I use?

Friday Funnies

He's a nice looking guy and his uniform fits him very well. I believe he is working on an Indonesian carrier. Have a look the passenger's eyes after he brushes past the flight attendant. I may have done the same.

That was rather a surprise, and a laugh. I think this really was a surprise to the 'victim'. Or maybe not. 

For some reason my FB account went back to an earlier account that I thought I had closed. There I found this photo at Kath Lockett's FB page. This sculpture is in the centre of Melbourne's CBD, and although I've showed the whole sculpture before, it was a long time ago. I will take photos again. But this statue smoking doesn't happen now as often as it used to, with fewer people smoking. 

To wrap, j'adore these guys. 

The personal and the social

During my brunch with Neighbour HH yesterday, she talked about money and matters where rich people like her will be left penniless by government policies. She is compelled by the government to take an income from her personal superannuation fund each year of $192,000, and she worries that the balance of her superannuation will reduce and she will run out of money. 

She hasn't seen her husband for many months, who is in dementia care in the South Gippsland area. The last time she saw him, he didn't recognise her. Their daughter lives not so far away and checks in on him. That's the huge achieving daughter who HH is scared of. 

I don't know if it comes from her superannuation or other money, but her husband's care costs $150,000 a year. This will reduce soon to a public old age care level level of $3,700. It is a very nice care home and he is cared for very well. In a a way, her husband died before Ray died. It was hard for her at the time to put him into care, but essential. She is effectively a widow, just technically not. She battles bureaucracy to get power over institutions to recognise her as the contact person and decision maker.

While she is rich, she lives as modestly as I do and unlike me, she is reluctant to turn on heating and cooling because of the cost. I lecture her about it, and so does her son.     

My latest is my Etag, placed in the car on the dashboard to pay for road tolls, ceased to beep to pay tolls when I visited Ex Sis in Law and Tradie Brother last Sunday. I tried to sort it online, that is to get a replacement, but at the final step where the 'Proceed' was lit, the website did nothing. Normally they would send you new device with a self addressed prepaid envelope to return the old one. It was half an hour before I was to meet HH, so I called on the telephone. The account was still in Ray's name although I had changed the payment details to my credit card. The old account had to be closed and a new account opened. The credit on the old card will be refunded to my bank account, once the old Etag is received by free post by the company. The account had just auto topped up, so a balance of $109. That took twenty five minutes on the telephone and I came close to being late meeting HH. Of course the response came when I said Ray was dead was the standard, I am so sorry for your loss (Like 14 months ago). I wish I had just pretended to be Ray and kept his account going. I was already paying anyway. 

Photos came from Fire Fighting Nephew of his twin sons. They have their cards and the $20 note I sent each of them. 

When the greats turn 6, they receive $50 and for subsequent birthdays. I've worked this out after years of arguing with Ray about how much to give the kiddies. This applies to all of the greats. Jo turns 18 in July and there is afternoon party at a yacht club. I'll give her $100. She is my niece, not a great. 

The photos came with a note. "The boys were very excited to receive their letters. And my how your hand writing has improved. 😉"

It hasn't. "Phyllis my scribe, write for me. They are three year old boys. Be as florid and fancy as you like", and he did. Kosov can do the same, but he wrote the address to return my Etag on the envelope, and he wrote straight, as I told him.  

Dinner last night was chicken bites, a fried egg, broccoli, beans with a nicely flavoured rice. Thanks Phyllis.

Much excitement for me today. Thursday is shopping day.  

Fun in Melbourne

Melburnians and tourists have fun in Melbourne at a major horse racing event, the Melbourne Cup.

The majority of attendees arrive by train, for many the only train trip they take for the year. Trains only run on this branch line for special events and it is such an easy way to get there and home.

Ready for fun with a river cruise.

Massed and ready to board, with diners across the river stuffing their faces at Afloat, formerly Arbory Afloat.

Arbory above Afloat is where Platform 11 at Melbourne Flinders Street once saw trains from St Kilda and Port Melbourne. The lines were converted for light rail trams. With hindsight, it wasn't a great idea as these lines now require quite intensive trams services, whereas less frequent trains could better deal with the number of passengers.

Banana Alley vaults under the railway viaduct have various businesses, and this one is where men go to meet up with men. In these times of internet hook ups, as I sat on a seat outside, I was surprised how many men were coming and going. I suppose if you connect with someone using a hook up site, it is a cheap place to meet up if a home isn't available. 

Phyllis' driving lesson went ok, with only one alarming moment when I reached for the steering wheel. While he rode a motor bike in India, he really is starting from absolute scratch for car driving. But he is smart and quick to pick things up. Next weekend he is not working for four days and I will take him for a lesson each day. 

Next Monday is a public holiday to celebrate the King's Birthday, which actually isn't next Monday. It's the 14th of November. I have promised myself that every time I say Queen's Birthday, I will donate $10 to a charity. I am $10 down already. 

The African white farmers

#47 made ridiculous claims when he met the South African president. The idiot showed photos and footage from The Congo, nothing to do with South Africa. The president of South Africa, who I know nothing about, conducted himself with grace and dignity against the absurd verbal and inaccurate assault by #47. 

I suppose I could look it up but the location of the small town in South Africa where our coach left us to amuse ourselves for a couple hours, was quite interesting. There was a cafe with indoor and outdoor seating, which included a pub with large tv screens. There were a few local people there, all black. The staff were all black. Apparently white farmers and other whites visit the pub to watch sporting events and have a drink together. No black mates though. It is still a very divided country. 

Yet the owner of the business was one very old white woman, who was in charge of the till, surrounded by black staff, we being the only other white people in sight. 

In the middle of nowhere, she seemed to feel quite safe surrounded by black people. 

I know in Zimbabwe, once Rhodesia, there have been serious issues for white farmers and murders of farmers, but #47 has exaggerated, as usual, and goodness knows what his motive is about that, aside from discrediting black people.

Daily #47 comes up with new nonsense, but keep the faith. He has three more years of damage to make,  but it can be repaired. He will back off close to elections.  I wonder why he does not care about the world thinks of him.

If I've missed your posts or not commented when I should have, this is the reason why. I rely on The Old Reader to read blogs. It is normally good but is on its third breakdown in two weeks. While I pay only a $1 or so a month, it is very annoying.

Media Monday

With our media dominated by the commercial Murdoch press and Fairfax media, aka tv Channel 9 Media, our ABC is to be treasured, being government funded and free of commercial and notionally free of government influence.

Both private media companies are very involved in daily newspapers too, and also country daily and weekly newspapers.

I pay a bit over $30 a month for access to my local paper, The Age. The gives me access to Sydney's equivalent local paper and other digital only interstate papers. 

But some twelve years ago an electronic media disrupter arrived in Australia, The Guardian, with its English origins being the Manchester Guardian, a very old and very well respected newspaper, based in Manchester, England. 

When politicians talk the talk, it will cut them down.

When commercial avarice is apparent, it will tell you.

It investigates. I pay $100 a year as a donation and it is worth every cent but generally the online paper is free to read.

The paper's chief editor for the last ten years, Katherine Viner, sent out an email to note whatever occasion and there were some links to terrific reads. I took the time to read them. 

Former New Zealand Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, post office. 

A female Somali refugee who has made a good life for herself with English citizenship, but it wasn't easy.

This one is heartbreaking, and if you read neither of the above, read this heartbreaking one about what how arguably the best public health system in the world failed. Sorry, it won't cheer you up at all. How Martha died. There are lessons to be learnt.

Sunday Selections

Along with Elephant's Child and River, here are my Sunday Selections, so let's look at weather. Clouds, sunrises and balloons, the latter being very dependant on weather. 

The last balloon slowly sinks into Fawkner Park. 

A rather interesting cloud formation. 

I've certainly taken worse moon photos.

Sun arise in the morning.

The world is divided, just like la lune.

A rather special sunrise. 

Regarding yesterday's post, it was clearly a reaction to extreme mental stress. Today I went down to the lane and the carpark door I was trying to get into and it was the one next door. The lane is dark is my excuse, but I then walked past my own carpark door without noticing it to get to our main entrance. Within a short time at home, my mind was back to normal. The experience was like being very

drunk and not being able to work things out. It was an ever so interesting experience, and to note how I reacted. I will ensure I am not in such a similar situation again. I've always been the dependable one, who knows which train or tram to catch, generally just knowing how things work and not making mistakes. It is amazing how extreme stress and anger can effect your brain. 

I don't think I had a panic attack, just a mental overload. Ray once had a panic attack, and it worried him so much that he saw his doctor. She said that it could have just been a one off, but if it happened again, he should return for another appointment. It didn't happen again. 

He was in the QV shopping centre in the city, a place he was very familiar with, and couldn't work out where he was, and how to get home. In his case, there wasn't stress of any kind to cause, but he was in a state of panic for whatever unknown reason.

I didn't really understand, but I do now.