Just not quite enough

Debby and Tim have finished laying their timber floor at the new home to be, with only just enough flooring timber. It was a long time ago but I'll repeat the tale about when we tiled the kitchen floor at our cute little Victorian (period) cottage in Balaclava.

The gas stove had fixed piping and I think we disconnected the gas pipe to tile under the stove, but we ran out of tiles and so left it untiled aside from around the edges.

You may be able to see, but if not the fridge was to the left down a single step to a carpeted area where the small dining table sat along with a computer desk with a tower, keyboard, printer and CRT screen. 

Goodness knows why, but the buyer of the house had our carefully selected two tones of green trim, not really visible, and cream painted over with all white. We were horrified. The paintwork was in a fine condition. Mr Zeal next door made our mail box and fitted it for us. 

The lounge suite which fitted the area perfectly was ridiculously small when we moved here. Above the fire place is my grandparents' clock on the mantle and we had a cozy gas fire installed, along with a hearth. The chimney was raw brick and had significant lean. My second brother, the tradie, made it look straight just with plaster board. The chimney baffle for the fire place had to be kept open, otherwise the rising heat was immense. Once, unnoticed by us, the baffle fell forward and the mantle was scorched. To the left is an Ikea Billy shelving unit, now at my sister's, and held the small tv. One of two mounted speakers is in the corner. The mirror above the mantle came from my grandmother's dressing table. 

I don't take pride in much of what I've done in life, but I do of our rear courtyard. The basics were there. This is a winter photo, so allow for that. In the foreground were two pots of New Zealand Christmas bushes. From the distant left was an ivy covered fence, leading to a bougainvillea, dormant in winter, then a weeping birch tree with a terracotta bird bath and a stag fern on the tree, then along the back fence, propped up with metal stakes in the lane way behind, and the gate to the lane, more ivy with an overhanging of a wisteria vine. Out of sight to the right was next doors garage wall, covered by creeping ficus. I had to trim some of the ficus from the roof of next door's garage. I had an electric hedge cutter by then. There were garden beds too, but I can only remember the one to the far right, with winter roses, or Christmas roses, if you like. I think the pot to right contained a nandina.

My goodness, did our courtyard see some great gatherings over the years we were there. Out of sight was a gas barbeque, used frequently. Ray and I used to sit out at the table on warm summer nights, with a glass of Scotch and play backgammon. There were outside speakers that the cd player could be switched to. I've only just remembered the speaker switching box inside. 

Weeds and baby tears would grow in the brick paving, and I began with using weed killer, but ended up using boiling water, and that worked. 

My bedroom at the very front of the house. Out of sight was a bookcase in front of a boarded up fireplace and behind that was my exercise bike sitting in the fireplace which has been or will be a surprise for someone one day. 

The glass coffee table came with us to our apartment, along with the glass hall table to the left. One day Ray slammed down his glass  on the coffee table in anger, and the table shattered. I can't remember what happened to the glass hall table, but it was here for a while. Under the air con unit is a cheap print of something, covering over a rough part of the wall where an old style cooling only air con was installed by us. I remember we sold the aircon unit for a decent amount. To the left was a gas wall heating unit, that stopped working. We called a gasfitter and he said it was old and unsafe, and disconnected the gas supply to it. That was when we bought the reverse cycle air con unit, for heating and cooling. 

It is amazing how I have waffled on, inspired by the post by Debby about just having enough flooring timber to complete a job. 

Monday Mural

With Sami and others, here is my Monday Mural.

I wonder what the crosses are about?

Never mind, this sentiment on Jacka Boulevard in St Kilda was nice.

What an exhausting social weekend, but good that I'm alive to 'enjoy' them.

Sunday Selections

Along with River and others, my usual random Sunday Selections.

Brother 1 has grown fine crops of tomatoes and has given away many many, just none to me because I haven't seen him for a while. 

In the age of digital photography and selfies, the popularity of this photo booth outside Flinders Street Station is amazing. I believe many a first kiss happened in this photo booth, behind the half length privacy curtain. No doubt half length is for good reasons. 

A bargain, I thought. Phyllis had asked me to buy them. 12 sausages for $4! No, the 12 is minutes of cooking time, and the latter written sideways. I'd call that deceptive. 

Phyllis, what have you done to my view! Fix it!

Thank you.

I broke a tumbler, with two of the set six already broken, then Phyllis broke another one. There was also three of a set of four left. I like full sets. Other odd glasses were removed from the cupboard and all will go to the charity shop.

Aww, thank you Phyllis. They are so colourful.

And something for Phyllis himself. The one on the left is metal and heavy.

Hmmm, I have seen worse sculptures. Who knows what it is about. 

I believe this is Princess Cruises' Royal Princess. Mid photo is the attractively named MSAC, Melbourne Sports and Aquatic Centre, and miniature yacht storage sheds on the edge of Albert Park Lake in the foreground. I chopped out the equipment laden building rooves, just for you Hels. It does make a better photo.

Dear ABC TV

I am tired of seeing Kevin McCloud documenting rich ***** ever so special home buildings.

 

When McCloud was in Australia, his management laid down the law to then Melbourne ABC morning broadcaster. Jon Faine was not a broadcaster who avoided asking hard questions, so when Faine asked McCloud about where he lived, McCloud was very pissed orf, and replied that it was not an appropriate question for interview.. McCloud could have joked the question away but chose to go hard back at Faine for asking the question. That was the beginning of my dislike of McCluod. Should describe him as a pompous git? I am not sure, but I am moving on.

Moving on to another wankery tv show about gorgeous Spanish gardens. Sorry Monty Don,  but you bore me and while the gardens are lovely, how many lovely gardens do you expect Boomers to admire.

How about a tv show about renovating a two up and two down? Maybe a show about greening England and some environmentalists?

I am in a foul mood after my procedure this morning, being up at 4am. I just need a good night's sleep. I am ignoring official advice to not write or sign anything for twenty four hours. 

Lamenting the loss of the past

More so Ray than myself, but we both pined for the smaller and quieter Melbourne, with one third of its 5,000,000 plus present population. Covid lockdowns gave us a taste of a very quiet Melbourne, and we decided perhaps we didn't want to turn back the clocks to a quieter Melbourne. But was it so quiet in our younger years? In my memory, traffic was so free flowing but was it? Generally yes, but clearly there were congested areas. 

Perhaps Marine Parade, St Kilda in the early 70s was worse than it now is, with its current two lanes and bike lanes in both directions. It's an interesting photo. The single storey building to the left has gone, and I believe every building to the right has gone. No loss at all.

And perhaps Nepean Highway in Rosebud was not always so quiet. But nowadays a freeway connecting to a major road to the east of Rosebud is in place, which has fixed the traffic problem on the beach road which has not fixed the problem on the beach road and it is worse than ever. 

Pleasant

Pleasant was my Tuesday as I drove with the company of my neighbour HH to the wonderful Acorn Nursery. We chatted away, never lost for conversation. A remark from Wise Web Woman made me think about the loss of family and friends with whom/who you have great memories. New people may come into your life, but you don't have the shared memories. 

But I do have shared memories of living here for twenty plus years and knowing HH for all that time, even if we only became proper friends since Ray's death. Time over, I would have invited her to Ray's memorial gathering. I did send her photos and videos etc. HH really liked Ray, but he once put her in the freezer and was quite perfunctory with her when they came across each other in the lift, or wherever. She mentioned it and I do remember why but not in great detail. For all Ray's wonderful qualities, he could take offence quite easily.

Anyway, in a confluence of matters, Hels recently posted about Edna Walling, and I read something too about Edna Walling. She was a well known mid 20th English style local garden designer. To have an Edna Walling garden was very desirable. 

She built a house in what was then countryside beyond the city limits of Melbourne, in Mooroolbark and lived there with her close female friend. She designed houses and gardens in the same unpaved road, I believe still unpaved to today, for other female friends and their own close female friends who lived with them.

Have you got the picture? 

What amused me, and HH as I told her, was that the locals in the 1950s referred to the Bickleigh Vale street populated by women as Trouser Lane. 

Oh yes, a couple of you might be interested to know Edna was Yorkshire born. I wonder how many married suburban wives and mothers might have pleasured themselves with thoughts of what went on in the Bickleigh Vale village. 

My scribe assists me

If you remember League of Gentlemen, you might remember the shopkeeper calling out to his wife to help in the shop. Margaret............with a very long pregnant pause, and she would answer.

I issue orders from the comfort of my desk chair. "Kosov". Quite a few tens of seconds passes until the reply comes from his bedroom. "Coming Andreeew". 

"Would you like to help me sort out my pens, Kosov?" "Yes, Andreeew."

We had some fun, and made two piles of pens, one to put in the bin and the other to keep. I had three fountain pens tied together by a rubber band. One was an ink carriage, the one my grandparents gave me no longer had the squeezable rubber bladder to fill it with ink, it had perished, and the last still had its bladder intact. I remember chucking out the ink bottle a few years ago, after finding the ink had dried up. 

It is still strange to keep so many pens as I only use the same pen whenever I have to write.

Which brings me to my scribe, now plural. The few Christmas cards I sent were written by Kosov, in beautiful handwriting. I admire my lads' Indian English education so much. 

Phyllis got into act for a great niece's birthday, and wrote a card for me with some significant flourishes. She turned nine, and probably liked them.

It will be safer if Kosov writes the birthday card to my 38 year old Fire Fighting Nephew, but no. He camped up the writing too.

I must get back control of how my scribes write.

Crayons and dried up markers, and pens that did not immediately write were discarded.

 

The kept pens. The fountain pens are at the bottom right. There are some propelling pencils among the stash, because before I die, I am sure I will need a propelling pencil. 

What is this pen marked Yarra Trams? I think it must have been a giveaway many years ago. I can't remember it at all.

What is this curious pull out piece on the side of the pen.

Well, this really dates the pen, to a year I cannot remember. I remember the brand name Metlink.