Life

I was out for dinner last night with a couple of friends. My message to my dead in bed neighbour HH.

Later edit: HH is not dead. She refers to my morning text message as her 'dead in bed' message. There is an appropriate plan in place if she doesn't respond to my message. I set this up soon after Ray died and before Phyllis moved in, so it was mutually beneficial. HH's mother wasn't found dead for over a day, so HH is concerned that she could slowly die at home alone without being found. I apologise for the confusion caused by your inability to understand  my very poor wording. 

Good morning.

I have four appointments for the paint repair after the flood damage. I didn't have a clue why fire services were involved, but they are here this morning to block off sprinklers before the next date where the painting prep will be done in November, then the actual painting, and the fire services return to unplug the sprinklers. Talk about loading up the cost of a paint repair job. We wonder why our insurance premiums are so high. I had a nice enough meal last night with R and N at the Malvern Vale Hotel, with a free bottle of wine on Monday nights.

Funny thing, B H's daughter was in the lift as I left. She asked where I was off too and I told her dinner with friends. She was going out and mentioned she hated going out after work. Duh, for most of my life we went out after either or both of us had finished work. The young are so weak. I walked to catch the 72 to Malvern, and she went the other direction. There was a free seat behind the driver cabin, where I sat. It felt cramped there, so once a seat further back became free, I moved, facing the back of the tram, and there was aforesaid neighbour at the other end of the tram. We pretended we hadn't seen each other but we did. She was still on the tram when I left at the stop before Tooronga Road.

I'm meeting with S at the Swiss Club Wednesday night and then myself and P&K are away on Thursday.

Jass will look forward to your visits. I'll leave $20 for you to put on the the building's barbeque evening cup sweep as we obviously won't be here.

An evening out

It seemed curious to have a dinner party on a Monday night. I say dinner party, but it was five of us who were invited, and I was the only guy. The invitation came from our Tasmanian friend's ex partner, our friend who is here for her annual check on her heart transplant, now 20 years ago. How traumatic the time was, but she had the best care possible at St Vincent's public hospital in Sydney where the transplant was performed. The heart of a young man killed in a car accident saved our friend's life.

My Hairdresser Friend came too. I was going to catch a tram and then walk, and she had made a desert, so thought about driving herself. I asked Phyllis if he would be free between 6 and 7 to drive us and he was, so that worked out well.

The mother of the ex of our friend lived in what was then the tallest building in Australia, I think called Q1 on Queensland's Gold Coast. When her husband died, she moved back to Melbourne into her daughter's home, our friend's ex. The mother was becoming very old and began to behave strangely. She saw a gerontologist, who discovered the huge number of pain killers for arthritis she had been prescribed were affecting her brain. She improved after the pain killers were reduced, without a noticeable increase in levels of pain. But eventually her care became too much for her daughter and she went to live in a care home almost across the road.

The home of the ex is a thirty year old three bedroom unit, and very nice it is too. She has such good taste and has renovated what she didn't like, and had a pergola built at the space at the side. The slat angles and lighting are all controlled by remote.

 

Before a traditional home is built, women should have the say about where power points are located and how many there are. Maybe some men could plan well enough.

In the side garden and the front garden were heaps of clivia in full bloom. 

We had nibbles and drinks and chatted away. The dinner was snapper fish fillets, doused in an overpowering tamarind sauce that killed any taste of the fish, with rice and a dressed tossed salad. 

Over the dining table hung a single pendant light bulb in some kind of rattan cage. It looked nice enough, until I noticed the actual light bulb was filthy. My eyes kept going back to the filthy light bulb. Maybe you know the feeling of when you want to straighten someone's wall picture frames. I wanted to get some chemical or hot soapy water onto the light bulb and make it crystal clear. 

The ex made a cheesecake from scratch, nice enough, and my Hairdresser Friend made a rather curious dessert from scratch that was quite stodgy. We did have a nice night, in spite of talking about periods and 'putting in the rags'. I was very complimentary to the ex for her nice home, for dinner and her very cute dog. If only that light bulb could be cleaned... 

Phyllis had messaged me to ask how we getting home. I replied, 'By cab or Uber, unless you are free to pick us up'. He did come and take us home.

I knew I was not in a good state once home. I felt very hot before I got into bed, and sure enough, something I had eaten had not agreed with me. I slept for ten minutes and woke up, boiling hot. Repeat the same until about 5.00am and I then fell into a proper sleep. I experienced the same years ago when we used to dine at cheap Chinse restaurants. I have no idea what triggers what is clearly food related.

Melbourne Excitement

It was hard not to get excited this Friday as in front of 100,000 spectators the Los Angeles Rams lost to the San Francisco 49ers, and without knowing the scoring system, it sounds like a score 7 to 27 is a decisive win to the 49ers. A trouncing perhaps.

This made Melburnians very happy. The US football team, the 49ers had been in Melbourne for several days before the match, acclimatising to the weather, around a cool but ok daytime average of 15/59 this week, and of course the time change. The team made itself popular by being out and about around town, spotted my many. Melbourne chalked up great respect for the team.

This contrasts with the LA Rams, who arrived the day before the game, and we never got to know them. All about hearts and minds, and don't forget that.

I suppose it was a coincidence that the match was played on 9/11, or 11/09 here, probably 8/11 in the US. Now that vile creature #47 is claiming he was carried from the site by firefighters, without any trace of evidence that anyone can find. But he is not spoiling my post. 

The match was a great spectacle for our city, although there are only guesses about what it cost our State of Victoria, AU$15 million to AU$45 million. It is, psst, commercial in confidence. I have the view that taxpayers are entitled to know. 

Sister and Bone Doctor arrived at 3pm the evening before to stay the night. They went into town to soak up the atmosphere, and returned at 5.15 for drinks and nibbles and I had invited HH up to meet them for the first time. They were super impressed to learn about her son who was an international Australian Rugby Union champion player, and her daughter's son being a worker at Hobbiton in New Zealand.

I had invited HH to join us for dinner in town but she had tickets to see the stage show musical Pretty Women with a friend. We three dined at the Swiss Club in town and soaked up the atmosphere in the city.

Next morning was an early start as they needed to be at the football venue by 9.00 and we went out for breakfast first, at around 7.30. That totally turned my normal morning upside down, and my arthritis kicked in with a vengeance. I try not to take painkillers, but I did Friday morning.

Eventually by midday I felt ready to go out again, where I visited Hosier Lane to check out the NFL murals. I'll post them Monday.

A woman boarded the tram as I did, with two young boys. She looked familiar. Here is an edited text of what I sent to HH. The woman on the tram was our neighbour for a couple of years.

I boarded the tram below to travel to the city today and a woman got on at the same stop with two young boys. She looked familiar. I thought is it or isn't it? I was guessing the age of the boys and it added up. I was going to get off at Flinders Street to take photos of the NFL murals in Hosier Lane, but they left at the Arts Centre. I made a last minute decision and jumped off too. I still wasn't 100% sure, so with her back to me I called out S. No harm if it wasn't her. She spun around and sure enough, and funny that we mentioned her the other day, it was S and her boys R and D. She has lost weight and looked pretty good. I had a chat to her for a few minutes and then the boys began to get restless, so they went off to visit the Gallery and I caught the next tram to Flinders Street. She and T are living in Mount Martha, and he is working in Emergency at I assume, F Hospital. He was at the NFL match, having caught a bus from F at 7.00 this morning and they were all staying a couple of nights in the city, perhaps nearby. Of course she didn't know about Ray's death so I filled her in but there wasn't much time to chat.  

Anyway, it was a nice little catch up.   

After the match Bone Doctor went back to Geelong Station by train, to take Jo's car home. Sister arrived back here around 5.00 and Jo is in town with friends as I type and she will come here and then Sister and Jo will drive home.

Phyllis has cooked butter chicken, rice and Kosov is heating some roti for dinner and there is enough to share with Sister. 

I suppose we all know a bit more about NFL now, and what we used to call Gridiron, has been a great success. Probably just a one off though, although we will remain 49ers supporters if we ever hear any news about them.

Photos from the evening before:

Flinders Street Station.

               

Personal Bits

The zed/zee battle with Phyllis and Kesav is ongoing.

It has become a bit of a joke about Kosov visiting the rest room. I now wish him well with his visit to the rest room, which can be half an hour, and later ask him if he enjoyed his rest. Their is a bucket and scoop in the toilet, so I guess some washing happens. Both of the lads only shower about every third or fourth day, and that is when they wash their hair. They are always perfectly clean and wash their hand appropriately. 

Is it not enough that we seem intent on destroying our own planet, now we are starting to destroy the moon too, with one of Musk Rat's space craft crashing into the lovely Mr Moon, with a huge ground explosion. Scumbag. His daughter hates him so much, she changed her surname, and effectively called him a racist Boer. 

Friday, neighbour HH is taking us out for dinner, and Phyllis has chosen an Italian place in Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. We will catch two trams to travel to the popular, rather grungy and alternative area. I said to HH, "Eighty year old Nonna will be able to brag to her children and grandchildren that she has been for dinner on the 'wild side'". 

I thought the twin boys would be last in my life time to be born in my immediate family, but no. Hippie Niece is pregnant with a boy. The mother of the now nine year old 'Cafe Latte' twins had a terrible pregnancy and horrible post natal depression, which became ongoing psychiatric issues. She was hospitalised for a time in a mental health unit, she wasn't to be alone with her daughters and was provided with a daily carer for some hours each day. She is now in a stable relationship, with two step daughters of a similar age to hers, and manages well enough. The whole family were dreading this happening, yet we've all decided to be very positive about the impending arrival of her son. At the age of 34, she is older and more mature, and I think she will be ok. So, I will have five great nieces and four great nephews, my youngest brother being their paternal grandfather, and Ex Sis in Law being their maternal grandmother.

I put it to Phyllis and Kosov, what should I do next at home in the way of renewal and improving my home. I gave alternatives, new modern overhead lighting? Replace the 20 year old plus lounge room furniture? Have new floor tiles put over the top of the old ones in the kitchen, toilet and bathrooms?  The vote went for the new tiles. 

I saw an ad on tv featuring a gay male couple with a baby. Kosov, I asked him, if you and Phyllis adopted a baby or child, which sex would you prefer? He said, either, but Phyllis would like a girl. I replied, 'So he and your daughter could share make up and nail polish?' The discussion went on about child adoption and I asked him if he would consider adopting a child in India. He emphatically said no, which seemed odd. Why so? 'If it was a he, he might turn out to look one of the three guys who raped me at school. Every time I see someone who looks like one of them, I just hate Indian men so much.' Well, that rather sent me sideways. 

We had a gay Anglo Indian friend from about 1980 to 1995, and he was raped at one of Calcutta's most prestigious boys' school, but in his case, he said he quite enjoyed it, and really fancied one of the guys.

I don't know any detail. There could have been violence or not involved. Warren already knew he liked guys and Kosov identified as straight then. Oh what damage men do.

Life happens

A couple of Sundays ago I caught a tram and then a train to Moonee Ponds Station to meet my friend Wombat in Puckle Street. We had a very pleasant lunch and then walked to the the local Court House Museum, where we saw an exhibition about the history of public transport in the locality. Naturally I found this very interesting. 

I can't believe I didn't take photos. I must have really been enjoying myself and my company. Well, I did find a mural to snap. 

I needed milk, so I caught the 59 tram to the city, alighting close to an Elizabeth Street supermarket. 

While I have no photos, it is worth noting this outing. 

In other news, HH's grandson is off to New Zealand to work in some kind of Hobbits amusement attraction. HH's daughter is going with him to help him establish himself, and asked HH to go too. But HH's son's daughter was coming to stay. It was a hard decision for HH, but she said yes. Her granddaughter can stay in her apartment alone, and I will let her into the building and give her keys.

At the age of 80, opportunities to travel overseas don't come too often but HH is doing it, although quite stressed.

Today, a month after buying Perl, she had to return to the dealership to have her nuts and bolts tightened, and any loose hanging wires tied up. I think Perl was washed too. On the way home I briefly gave her maximum acceleration, and boy does she go.

A couple of random photos. Kosov with Jass, and Jass peaking out from a shelf. Jass adores Kosov.

Catch Up

My neighbour HH's foot is healing much slower than she expected. She never asks until I offer, which I do almost daily, if she wants anything at the shops, as she can't drive and can't really walk, only hobble around. Last Thursday she asked for a loaf of Abbott's wholemeal bread when I went out shopping.

Yesterday she asked if I could get her a prescription medication, plus painkillers. 

Late that afternoon Phyllis cooked her a meal of spicy air fried chicken, a dressed salad and a fried egg, and served it to her hot at her dining table. She said it was the first proper sit down meal she'd had for two weeks.

Gratuitous photo of Jass as she waited for an answer to her question, did we think she is pretty.

Andrew, said Sister's wife, while I know you don't wear tee shirts, I couldn't resist buying this for you. Bone Doctor was right about me wearing tee shirts but I do like this one featuring different Melbourne tram models. Kosov wears it well. I've told him he must hand wash it.

Saturday morning I met up with my Sydney friend Victor for brunch before he went to see a local performance. He was only in Melbourne for the day, and jetted home later that day. 

Once home, we three went off to the big green shed to buy cat grass, grass for cats to eat. It was absurdly expensive for a tray of a bit of grass, but we bought a tray. So far, Jass has shown interest but not eaten any.  

Saturday night we three met up with a couple of my friends, the Fijian Indian heritage guy and his Hong Kong born partner at a Pakistani restaurant in St Kilda. It was very popular with South Asian community and locals. It was quite good, and I wanted to take the very handsome waiter home with me. Noooo, Ondrrrrewww. You cannot, I was told. This catch up was to celebrate Phyllis' 23rd birthday. 

Come the day, Sunday, gifts were unwrapped, one wrapped by about 20 metres of cling wrap, and gifts spread all over the place.

I had said ok to visitors Sunday afternoon to help Phyllis celebrate his birthday. I think five people came. I left them alone, taking with me half a meals on wheels sandwich, a strange Asian small cake and a couple of chocolates. At Albert Park Beach I sat on the bench where Ray and I so often sat during Covid lockdown and consumed my food with a takeaway coffee.

Sitting on my own on a bench, eating and and drinking my coffee as I stared out to sea and a stormy sky, just as old people do.

I went on to Port Melbourne shops to buy something, then to the Mazda car dealer to look at a a new car, but it was closed. I did walk around looking at cars. I found my way to Westgate Park to look at the salt water lake and lean back my car seat to untenion my body. 

I returned home while the afternoon party was in full swing with all guests sitting at the dining table consuming a feast. I went to my bedroom to play on my tablet while fun went on until I was called out for the birthday cake. Last year Phyllis bought Kosov a sword online. So much for our strict weapons laws. 

The cake was cut with the sword, but later divided by a proper knife, and at my suggestion, served by a cake slide, on side plates, with a dessert forks and serviettes.  

My boring life

Hairdresser Friend's birthday was last Friday. We had tried to make an arrangement to catch up and kind of settled on the following Monday, but Friday morning she called me and asked if she could come for a drink and maybe have a meal across the road that night. So we did at Gentleman George, and I invited neighbour HH to join us. It was a really nice night together. Phyllis and Kosov were at work.

Phyllis had asked a week earlier if he could use my car on the Sunday to visit Healesville Sanctuary and I said yes. They packed up an Esky with food at 8 o'clock and set off. Instead they drove on to Marysville where we stayed a couple of nights last year, so they could see the avenue of honour of poplar trees in autumn colours. Nice. 

Tuesday, with Phyllis having the car for work, I decided we desperately needed a can of gas to fill stove lighters, used here to light large deep candles. Don't ask. Carless, I decided to go to the big green shed in West Footscray, a quick trip thanks to the new Metro rail. However, I stopped off at Footscray first for coffee at Maples Cafe. As I walked along the street I passed a cigarette shop, paused and backtracked to the shop, and sure enough, it had cans of butane. No need to visit the big green shed. 

I was just finishing my coffee in Footscray when neighbour HH called. On her way to Morning Melodies at Hamer Hall, she had fallen over and hurt herself. She limped in and sat through the performance, then afterwards a first aid person on duty strapped up her foot and she made her way home. She asked if I could take her to emergency at The Alfred, and I replied I would be home in half an hour and would do so. Thanks to a bit of luck with the Metro train and a tram, I was home within 25 minutes. Phyllis had my car at work, so I drove her in her car to The Alfred and dropped her off. Some detail has been left out, but no matter.

We messaged back and forth and she had to stay in overnight for a full round of scans and tests, as they would do with an 80 year old. 

Kosov and I were just heading out the next morning to shop for girlie pants for Phyllis for his birthday when HH called to ask if I could pick her up. Sorry Kosov, and I drove my car to pick up HH. She had a chipped bone in her foot and a hairline fracture of one rib. She should be pretty well ok and out of any pain by the weekend. I offered her food and shopping, but she had all she needed in stock at home.

Today Kosov and I did go to the city, to a shop called Valley Girl to buy pants for Phyllis. Kosov knew exactly what he wanted. I assume the name Valley is a reference to the valley in California and not our industrial Latrobe Valley or Brisbane's 'interesting' Fortitude Valley. Valley of the Dolls was quite enlightening book to read for a rather young Andrew.

Oh, it is hard to write for an international audience and keep track of today and tomorrow, when as I write is today and tomorrow is my tomorrow but could be your today. 

Tomorrow I am meeting up with Ex Sis in Law for lunch in Elwood, after I shop for Vim and topping up the cellar supply. 

I have not heard back for the second quote for my car repair, but I have almost decided to buy a new car. I have not heard back if I will receive cash to compensate me for the extra electricity used to dry my apartment out after the flood, and today I submitted a painter's quote for paintwork damage for consideration by the Owners' Corp manager to forward to the insurance company. 

Cooking can happen anytime in my kitchen, just not by me, and it is utter chaos. This evening the rice cooker was bubbling away, the range hood roaring, the microwave singing its tune regularly. Voices were loud as the pair bitched at each other, and a lovely meal was prepared for them to eat immediately and for me to eat later. Jass sat watching them and then after eating they both went to work. Jass looked quite desolate at the end of entertainment and the disappearance of her two fave men, with silence reigning over the apartment and just boring old me at home. She sat near the door, hoping they would soon return, but they won't until after midnight.

Wednesday on Friday

Phyllis and Kosov were supposed to take Jass for a fur trim. Phyllis had to work so it was me and Kosov who took Jass into town for her clip. Kosov, you are correct by calling her coat fur, but not correct to call the excess on her feet, hair.

Kosov tried to coax Jass into the box but she wasn't having a bar of that. I would have just picked her up and forced her into the box, but instead Kosov traumatised her by chasing her around and trying to pull her out from under beds.   

The strong cardboard box that Jass was originally used to bring the stranger Jass to her new home, and then used for two subsequent visits seemed less strong, and in spite of my complaint that a proper cat cage would take up too much space to store, perhaps we will have to buy a proper cat cage. I could see the box was not looking as secure as it once did. The repercussions of Jass escaping on a tram or on the street aren't imaginable. 

Jass took her first tram trip. Kosov was paranoid that people were looking at him while carrying the box. He was correct, they were, as they guessed a pet was inside the box.

From the tram stop, Kosov carried her to the grooming shop. Kosov said something mentioning the letter z, pronouncing it as zee. 

'Kosov, your former colonial masters would be appalled at you using the zee pronunciation.'

'Which is correct, Onndrew?' 

'Both, but in Britain and Australia it is zed. In the US it is zee. You are showing disrespect to your former colonial masters by pronouncing it zee.' 

The grooming was interesting. Our plan was to leave Jass there and find somewhere to eat. No, the groomer said in fractured English after she eventually understood what I was asking. One or you must stay. I went off and I was dying for something to eat and I had half an hour. I confess to visiting Hungry Jacks, Burger King elsewhere. I ordered a cheeseburger and I knew staff misheard me and repeated back to me a double cheeseburger. I did not correct her. Bad things happen.

Kosov had asked me to get some treats to reward Jass, so I found a supermarket and Kosov called me to tell me Jass was done.

While he waited for me to return, he had been looking at cat cages but the white one he found was marked but staff would not discount the price, so we left with Jass in her cardboard box. 

Kosov, are you sure you don't want the proper box, paint damaged or not? Ondreeww, this cardboard is sagging badly underneath. There was a grey one in perfect condition. Ondreew did roll his eyes at this point. We returned. I saw a cat cage for $110, and it had battery powered air conditioning, perfect for a hot pussy. But we bought the $42 model that is a a backpack that sits in front of your body, so I suppose you call it a front pack. Staff suggested we collapse the cardboard box and leave it next to a bin on the street, and someone would take it, so we did.

Onndreew, even more people are looking at me now. No Kosov, they are looking at Jass in the backpack through the diver glass porthole. 

I had intended taking the car out for weekly shopping but I was exhausted by the time we reached home. Jass doesn't seem too upset by her outing. 

It was not my idea to have her clipped and Jass looks awful. Ray and I never clipped a cat in the past. Ah well, they paid, the cat care and cage costing them $125.

I rallied and caught a tram to Malvern Vale Hotel for dinner with my long time Indian friend and his Asian partner of about three years. They seem to get along so well. The craic was good, although those thieving gambling machines took $20 from me and $50 from my friend.

Jass doesn't look so bad in this photo, but it is a very rough cut. We could have done the same at home with body hair clippers.

  

Bits

I visited the car repair shop today. Photos were taken and I will be called with a quote for repair. The business was personally recommended to me by two different people. Because I live in the inner city, I know the price will be higher than if I was in outer suburb. 

An electric notice went up in the lift, wishing all a Happy Labor Day, or is Labour Day? I didn't see how the lift lighting killed the photo, but I can assure you, the top says Labor and the bottom says Labour. Australia has a bob each way with this. Our Labor Party represents the labour movement, for workers rights and care for the less fortunate in society. Most good public policies such as our public health system, decent conditions for workers and social security has come from the Labor Party.

Our misnamed Liberal Party is socially very conservative, anti worker, anti union, anti gay, anti trans pro big business profits and eff the less the fortunate in society. Historically it is pro immigration of labourers to work for peanuts and break down Australian workers' rights. 

Ah well, off on a tangent I went. The Labor Party  has used the spelling since the early 20th century, in a time when both spellings were acceptable. There was some influence from American unions at the time, but I put the alternative spelling down to be wanting to seem progressive with the new world of the Americas, rather than old Mother Britain.

I've just checked and the public holiday is spelt Labour Day. 

Bone Doctor, sister's wife, will arrive here at 11.30 tonight from Queensland where she attended the funeral of her 101 year old grandmother. I will be asleep and I meant to leave a dram of scotch in the bottle to help her sleep after such a big day. Alas, I finished the bottle. There's some port on the drinks trolley, and one medium strength beer in the fridge. We'll probably have breakfast out in the morning. 

Phyllis is working a cleaning job. The job is not bad, but a long way away and the dust is affecting him. He is wearing a mask now. Today the first job was to clean a massive modern two storey house in the outer northern suburbs and the team called the boss. It was in such a disgusting and cluttered state, they could not do the job, and it wasn't.

Sunday was lovely, with a birthday party for Oldest Great Niece who has turned twelve. So Fun60, your granddaughter must be 12 too. Or do I have the terribly wrong. 

Much sympathy to River whose cat Lola has died.

A snip of an exchange between me and neighbour HH.

Hi H. Is it just me? Two consecutive weeks of aggressive looking white football players in the lift display, and this week a very aggressive photo display of Jimmy Barnes who is performing in Melbourne. Do residents want to see photos of aggressive looking men in the lift? Maybe it is just me.

She replied and had not really noticed what I observed, but she understood my point. I remember this from the time many years ago.

Your thoughts remind me of some years ago when I had to make an official complaint about men travelling in the lift from the pool without tops on, I didn’t want to see that either.

I replied, 

I appreciate your point about topless men in the lift, but I rather liked seeing them 😛

She replied with hands over eyes emoji. 

It's raining, a nice soft steady rain, not like the floods in northern Australia. As we southern Australians always say, 'we need the rain'.        

Relief and rant

Ray's relatives left yesterday morning. As lovely as the couple are, it is a bit of a relief, but also very sad as it is unlikely I will ever see them again. I had three dinners out with them and took them out on two long day trips, and they were very appreciative, and I heard about all the people I know in Ray's northern English city. They have flown to Bali, and four days later supposed to fly via Bahrain to England. Their flight has been cancelled, and alternative arrangements will be made.

A huge security guard company recently collapsed and the owner has fled overseas. We are told they underpaid security immigrant and student workers, insisting the students work more hours than they are allowed. There were many who were not paid. Superannuation was not paid, the responsibility of our tax department, and a huge amount was owed in unpaid taxes. There was sexual harassment of staff and eyes turned blind by the companies that used the security company. 

"Has collapsed owing tens of thousands/hundreds of thousands/millions in tax payments to the government", is a phrase we almost hear daily, well maybe weekly. This is an absolute disgrace. It is money lost that will have to made up by all taxpayers. There is really something seriously wrong in our tax department when it lets go unpaid tax and unpaid workers' superannuation for long periods. Never mind that the owner of the company should have had his passport blocked. He won't return to face the music.

I will shop on Thursday before a dental appointment in the afternoon. Otherwise, nothing more this week until Sunday when it will be a great niece's 12th birthday celebration. Ray's and Mother's used to be celebrated at the same time. 

A friend is just about to clear from a Covid infection. It is ages since I've heard of anyone having Covid, but the beast is still with us. She was well vaccinated and so her symptoms were mild.

Why does one Yarra Trams tram driver ring the gong seven different times when passing by (to warn flying bats I guess) and the next driver does not ring the gong at all? Yarra Trams provided an excellent service for attendees at the Grand Prix, but bugger the locals. It was awful to try to get anywhere by tram. Thank goodness for the new Metro tunnel train. 

The Chinese cult 'religion' Falun Gong has a performance called Shen Yun happening around Australia, in Melbourne at a place I didn't know, but what we call Jeff's Shed. I am bombarded by advertising for the show on YouTube. But let me tell you the organisers, if you want to advertise in Australia, at the very least use Australian voices to promote the show, and not American. I can wear American car advertisements with the steering wheel on the wrong side as the cars travel along beautiful coastal roads, because there is an Australian voice over, and I know the the ads cost a lot to make.  It may be an urban myth, but I remember a remark from Germany. 'If you want to buy something from us, we speak perfect English. If you want to sell us something, sorry, we don't understand English'. Not using an Australian voice over for Shen Yun really pisses me off.                                                                               

Hopefully something less whiny tomorrow.

Remembering Agnes

Agnes emigrated to Australia from Scotland in the 1970s. She was single but she had been in a relationship with someone called Bob. She knocked several years off her age and obtained work as a chambermaid at the Windsor Hotel, yes a posh Melbourne hotel and it still is. 

Mid 1970s she joined the tramways as a conductor at South Melbourne tram depot where she and Ray met and they became life long friends.

She spoke with what I now know as a posh Scottish accent, and it was magical to hear her speak. 

She lived in a rented flat in a block called Cremorne Court on the extremely busy Punt Road, Richmond.

She and Ray eventually became assistant conductors, boarding busy trams to assist with collecting fares, but they managed to sneak time off for coffee and shopping, never being discovered missing by their supervisors Misters Jekyll and Hyde, as they called them. In the afternoon they would be stationed in Russell Street to sell tickets to the queues waiting to board tramway buses towards Doncaster and Templestowe.  They carried a machine that dispensed tickets with the wind of a handle. This meant the buses could quickly load as the driver did not have to take fares, and the bus would be smartly away. Rinse and repeat for the a couple of hours.

She retired at government pension age, then perhaps 63 for women and at the urging of the union, received compensation for her chest and breathing issues caused by inhaling diesel fumes from the the buses, never mind that she smoked forty cigarettes a day. Along with the then retirement gratuity scheme, she had enough money to buy a modest flat in Murrumbeena. 

We helped Agnes move, and she was a hoarder and a voracious reader. There were even books stacked in her toilet. We got rid of so much of her hoardings, but I can't remember how. 

She was very happy in her Murrumbeena flat, and unless someone invited her out, she was content at home with her cigarettes and books. She did stop hoarding once she moved. She had less opportunity to do so where she now lived as there weren't all the Richmond shops nearby. 

At our home in Prosper Parade, Glen Iris, we were hosting a family barbeque, with us all sitting out on the timber decking under the shade of the massive jacaranda tree, growing in our neighbour's back yard.

We had to come together to celebrate my birthday. Simultaneously, the fat in the barbeque caught fire with flames a metre high and the telephone rang. Ray answered the phone while I and my step father dealt with the fire. 

The phone call was from a neighbour of Agnes, who remarked that he hadn't seen her around for a couple of days and she wasn't answering her phone. Ray called the police, who forced an entry and Agnes was found dead in a lounge chair with a book on her knee. 

Ray had met Agnes' sister, who lived on Bribie Island off the Queensland coast.  The sister immediately cranked up when informed and said, Agnes has a will and her money and property are left to me. I know Agnes had a sister still in Scotland, so I am not sure why she wasn't due something. But isn't that just so sad that it was the first thing the sister said, and she was very aggressive towards Ray, as if he was going to steal from Agnes.

I think that would have been about 1991.

Along with her friend, Pat O'Haire, who lived in a lovely flat overlooking Hedgeley Dene Gardens in Malvern, Ray and I scattered Agnes' ashes in the rose garden at Springvale Crematorium. Pat was a very funny woman and there was much hilarity as Agnes' ashes were thrown into the wind, rather than downwind.

So here's to Agnes, and wouldn't you like someone to compose almost an OB about 35 years after you died. I found all these when sorting through Ray's stuff after he died. 

With George Harvey, a Mormon and not gay as the church would have disapproved, but he was as camp as a edit: row of tents.  

The dollars and the pence

No one wants their house to burn, and I do feel sorry for the family, but...,

the fire was started in the two storey house by an electric go-cart. Now I am making assumptions but if you can afford a two storey house in Eltham, to breed five children and afford an electric go-kart, you can probably afford home insurance in case of fire, yet they did not have such cover. Naturally a gofundme has been set up.

At my great niece's birthday weekend before last, there were quite a few families who came along and bought their lunches and for their children. From my observations, it would have cost a couple with three children north of $150, drinks included, say a jug of Coke. My two gin and tonics cost $26, and my meal $32. It is a nice venue and the service was good, but it wasn't cheap. 

With a friend whose birthday it was, we had coffee and cake and the total cost was nigh on $40, just in a cafe. 

I'm not crying poor but as people moan on about the cost of living, there doesn't seem much of a sign of it affecting their spending. 

While I'm on about money, just over 60 years ago Australia switched from pounds, shillings and pence to dollars and cents. This clip to educate us about dollars and cents was released by the Reserve Bank of Australia.

The personal

I had new venetian blinds installed in the lounge room last Friday. The old ones had a couple of bent slats at the door, one when Mother went out to smoke on the balcony and closed the door on the blinds, and on the other side of the blinds, where I stood up from the lounge chair and fainted and fell against the blinds. I had them cleaned about 18 months ago, and the man said they would not stand up to another sonic clean. They are 28 years old, so they've done ok. An internal part on one important blind broke, which pushed me to get them replaced.

Sadly for the money spent, no one will notice the new blinds, six of them, but I see them and I did it for myself, and for Ray, who would also be pleased. 

I had a nice afternoon tea with my friend Bunyip to celebrate her birthday, the afternoon after the blinds were fitted in the morning.

Phyliss and Kosov were out both days at the weekend, socialising with female friends. Sunday I wanted to visit the shops at Port Melbourne, so I took the car, and stopped off at the big green shed hammer shop for a charity barbeque sausage in a slice of bread with fried onions. I did't even go inside the shed. Then for coffee at the Port Melbourne shops and I bought a couple of things.

Car parking at the South Melbourne Central Aldi car park has become difficult on Thursdays, often being full by 10am. It never used to be but it is now. I needed a plan B to reduce my parking stress. Let me try Tuesday. South Melbourne Market is not open either day, so I thought Tuesday would be quieter. It wasn't. Phyllis and Kosov came, well Phyllis drove and we were just lucky and found a space quickly. Soon after the red car park full sign illuminated, instead of showing in green the number of spaces available. I need a plan C. 

The barista where I have been buying coffee for quite some time, the one who winked at me a while ago, has left after seven years, wanting to get out of hospitality. I'll miss him and his attractive Italian accent.   

I blame Ballarat because about ten days after visiting, my car displayed a map of all four wheels with tyre pressures and one was low on air, 27 whatever. It should be 34. Phyllis and Kosov were with me and I showed them how to pump up a tyre at a service station, a servo as it is called here. Two weeks later it had lost air again and Phyllis pumped it up this time at the servo. Yesterday I took it for repair and I waited an hour for the repair in a nice air conditioned waiting room while it was 34/93 outside, with free coffee and cold drinks. A small piece of steel was pulled from the tyre and I guess the hole was then plugged. How much did this cost? No charge. When I need new tyres, that is where I will go. Nice work Bob Jane T-Marts in Port Melbourne.

How do my old lounge chairs look? Ok for a struggling person? They are a bit saggy in the seats, but still look reasonable. There are swing out footrests and the backs recline. Phyllis put them on FB Market Place, for free. I called a charity shop and they weren't interested, even though they welcome furniture. I put them on my FB for free. No one wants them. Phyllis and Kosov said they could carry them, and picked them up to check.

So they will go in the hard rubbish collection when the next happens. This Friday, the new lounge chairs will be delivered. There is space for the old ones to stay until the rubbish collection. I've spent so much on my home over the last year or so, and much of it not really visible, but the new chair assembly will be noticeable, I hope in a good way. 

I haven't checked this post, so it is just raw.

On my own

I expect no sympathy from people who have lived on their own for a long time. But, you know, it is a bit hard when you've been with someone for forty five years and suddenly they have gone. 

There are the very practical things, like feeding yourself, cleaning your home on your own, shopping on your own, and spoilt as I was, having your ironing done for you. Lunching on your own is different. It all takes so much time and visiting places you used to visit together can make you feel very alone. 

I know many of you will at some point lose your beloved life partner. You don't know when. It could be instantaneously, as it was for me, or it could be long and lingering. 

I don't have advice about how to deal with grief. I am not sure that I have really dealt with it yet.The hardest thing is that everything you do is down to you. You have no one discuss decisions with. It is all totally up to you. The quite wonderful expression in America is 'Shooting the breeze'. Or more crudely 'Shooting the shit'. Yes, family and friends will step up to help, but there is nothing quite like talking about nonsense with your partner, along with the incidentals that happen each day. 'Ah, that shop has closed down.' 'Did you see how old Mrs Kafoops is looking'. No one but your late partner will be interested.    

But what you can do NOW, hopefully long before the event, is ensure you know everything about your joint lives so far as documents go. Titles to property, where are they? Passwords, pins for devices and bank accounts, logins for various sites. There is really nothing quite like having these in printed forms. Whether you are proactive and do so yourself or your partner does it, no matter. 

Harsh reality is around the corner one day. Sort it. 

I'll try to post something more cheerful tomorrow. 

The Australian problem with Jewish

I lunched with my neighbour HH yesterday. She has a close friend who she has known for over sixty years, and this friend is Jewish.

I broached the subject of the recent racially based massacre of innocent Jewish Australians, and a couple of people from overseas. HH, gave me the Jewish perspective as described by her friend. She said she felt fear, she felt isolated and threatened, with nowhere to turn aside from her own Jewish friends. She felt threat from Australia, which of course was never there.

As the week subsequent to the massacre went on, she was overwhelmed by the public support and love from Australia and Australians themselves.

I further questioned HH. Have you ever heard any multi generational white Australians like us be anti Jewish? No. We concluded we were just not really that interested in who among us are Jewish. Ray and I lived in the suburb of Balaclava for about nine years, surrounded by Jewish people. No one ever told us they were Jewish, but we know many were. There were the funny men a train station along in Ripponlea who walked around on Friday nights in tall black hats and strange clothing, but so? 

While the attack may have been by radical Muslim men targeting Jews, in my view, Australians have reacted with the appropriate sympathy and support; seeing the massacre more as an attack on Australians by radical and fanatical religious terrorists.

Our quite strong gun laws have been found to be wanting. The laws are old and have not been updated for a long time. Guns have moved on to be faster and smarter. New South Wales, where the event happened is going to reduce the number of guns owned from six to four. What a laugh. Two guns, maximum. A single shot rifle and a shotgun is quite enough. There is a polling result with 80% of Australians wanting stronger gun laws. Bite the bullet PM Albanese and take advantage of the situation to restrict guns a lot further. 

Joining a gun club or sporting shooters club seems to be a way around restrictive gun ownership. This needs to be strongly addressed.

The tv broadcast of a memorial one week later was brilliant. I had no intention of watching it, yet I was mesmerised. How this first class memorial, broadcast by tv, was put together in a few days was truly amazing.  Well done, that girl and boy. 

We now need to move on and allow consequences take their course. 

Bits

I leave the home for five minutes, and chaos ensues. Well, I was away for a few hours.

With my able assistant Jass, we have been fighting against the Mynah birds nesting on the balcony below. I shoot at them with a great atomiser bottle, and Jass makes her low growl bird noises at them. While they are a terrible bird, attacking other birds twice their size to defend their territories, and while keep their distance from humans, they have no issue at all with attacking Jass with flying near her as if to attack. She crouches down lower. 

Given one bird is now bringing food for the other bird who must be sitting on eggs, I have ceased my failed deterrence. I wrote a note to the apartment dwellers but I sat on it for a couple of days. Then I saw a bagel sitting near their nest, far too big for the birds to bring up, so I guess the birds are welcome to rear their young on their balcony. 

Friday night I went to a pub for dinner with two friends, a couple, another couple of friends who are partners who I haven't seen for a few years, and three people who I didn't know. I suspect one in his fifties had been clued up that I was 'rich' old widower and was quite forcefully and overtly friendly towards me. He was nice enough, but no. I don't want any kind of personal and proper relationship. 

Not long after I devoured my delicious pork chop with vegetables, I felt social overload and made my apologies and left, to tram home. I'd been there for two hours.

"Annedrew," said Phyllis, once I was home, "we had the balcony door open and a Mynah bird came inside to attack Jass". "Jass cowered while we chased the bird around and eventually it flew outside."

JFC, can't I leave home without a disaster happening. Jass has developed post traumatic stress disorder, not eating properly and will have nothing to do with Phyllis and is spending most of her time in the linen press. She'll get over it. I noticed when she transports a toy around, she has her front legs wide apart, space for a kitten dangling from her mouth. She may be desexed, but I am sure her hormones are still partly working. 

I have ten great nieces and nephews and for Christmas I am giving them a miserly $20 each. Ray's ghost was in my ear telling me to not be so mean, but hey, that is $200. When I was but a lad, I would be grateful for a sixpence.

Today I will have lunch with my neighbour HH, except many cafes around here have closed for Christmas. I will be adventurous and suggest Republic Econmica.  We will need to catch a 58 tram to South Yarra Station.

By the time this is published, Sister, Bone Doctor and Jo will be in York, after spending time in Germany and London. They had one day in London where they all felt unwell, but rallied themselves to see Starlight Express. What they have seen in London in a short time amazes me. My sister is a busy go go person. Fom York they will travel to Newcastle to spend Christmas with Ray's family, visit Glasgow and then Edinburgh for Hogmanay, New Year's Eve. At the age of 18, Jo has already seen so much of the world. I was about 25 before I first went overseas, to New Zealand. 

It is hard to believe that in 2023, we were in England, catching up with Fun60 in York, seeing Ray's family and thinking this will a be final overseas journey. But never say no. My mother died later that year, Ray in 2024 and my stepmother in 2025. By age, Step Mother's 97 year old partner will be next, then my surviving uncle, and next will be me. Cheery thoughts. 

But as I recently remarked on a post by Wise Web Woman, which I did partly hear elsewhere, I am a lucky person to be born white in Australia, had a long and loving relationship with Ray, I'm financially secure and live in a great city, I have a great and large family and some really good friends. And I'm now with the company of Phyllis and Kosov. I really am one of the luckiest people in the world, but why don't I feel like that at times?

The quiet life of a retired gentleman

Friday:

My fifth visit to the new Melbourne State Library station saw me finally work out how to get out and in without accidently going into the god awful Melbourne Central Station shopping centre. 

I bought a couple of things in the much more civilised QV shopping centre, and then walked down to Bourke Street, caught a tram one stop to Elizabeth Street and made my way up the steep hill to Corner and Bench for a chicken and coleslaw slider, and coffee of course. Gosh, I was a bit whacked, with the temperature at about 30/90.

I walked on to William Street to catch a 58 tram home, with a big gap between trams, and a friend from the country called. He was at Anzac Station and would I care to meet for coffee. He was outside my building when I arrived home, met Phyllis and Kosov and then assisted as P & K dragged and carried the old dishwasher down to the car and got it into the back of the car. Don't accelerate quickly Phyllis, or it will smash the back window. 

I took my friend across the road for coffee, which extended to an hour. Kosov messaged me to say the job was done. He called to ask if they could take the car to a shop, then Phyllis called to ask the same. Where, I asked where. Somewhere on the route 57 tram line. My friend found these messages and calls all highly amusing. They returned home after making the car back to normal, with a 12kg/26lb watermelon, plus a quarter of a watermelon, maybe 3kg. 

I heard a noise something like a key turning in the door lock. It happens when someone gets the wrong apartment number, or is trying to rob us. It was Jass, out on the landing scratching at the door. A neighbour had put a bowl of water and a bowl of food for her next to the door. She had slipped through someone's legs, not mine, and gotten out for what must have no longer than twenty minutes. I left a thank you note and quickly after, the bowls were gone when I went out again at 6.30 for dinner, with a note explaining that the person was concerned because of the heat, and their cat had once done the same. I think it was our neighbour to the front. 

I had to miss the building's Christmas barbeque because I had been invited out by my former workmate for dinner at Victoria's Swiss Club restaurant, Edelweiss. (Insert Mary Schneider yodelling clip) The meal was fine and the staff great. My friend had dined there before and was remembered by the delicious German waiter Michel. He was very sweet indeed and a right charmer. 

I could not believe how busy the city was, busier than daytime, I think,  heaving with people out on the warm night. All dining venues seemed packed and no doubt the hidden laneway bars were booming too. 

So, it is rather nice to be a retired gentleman with time to read Proust and Dostoevsky... maybe I'll make a start tomorrow. 

Did Jass think the old dishwasher should stay? 

Your favourite accent

I am still working on my next Sydney post.

Ray arrived in Australia in 1970, just at an age when he would not be called up for war service in Australia. He made the acquaintance of one Jock McGregor, whose Scottish accent was so broad and thick, he was unintelligible to me, and almost everyone else.

Ray also met Agnes Peaston when he arrived Melbourne, and Agnes went on to be our friend. She lived in Punt Road, Richmond and when we helped her move to her first Australian property she owned in Anzac Street, Murrumbeena, we realised she was a terrible hoarder, with trees of books stacked next to her toilet. Agnes, older than us, had certainly lived an interesting life, which I might expand on in the future, but Agnes was very well educated and spoke with what I describe as a posh Scottish accent. Her diction and voice were perfect, in spite of being a heavy smoker. Yet she still had strong Scottish accent. Is there such a thing as a posh Scottish accent? A genuine question.

That would be my favourite accent in the world. What is yours? 

Last Tuesday

It was the day of Kosov's birthday. Coincidently Hairdresser Friend had asked if I was free for a dinner catch up. She said to bring the lads if they were free. Kosov's night off work is Tuesday, so here we go. This looks like a plan.

Hairdresser Friend suggested an Indian restaurant in Fitzroy Street, St Kilda called Mukka. Sounded fine, so she booked. There were nine of us, including my neighbour HH, with who we three caught a tram with her to the restaurant. 

The service wasn't fast but no one was in a rush and there was nice intermingling and chat. It was a very pleasant evening. 

Now dear readers, I have a question. Neighbour HH turns 80 mid November. She told her son she would be away, presumably to avoid any birthday celebrations. Isn't that so silly 🤨. I am not sure that she will be. She has a decent sized family and quite a few friends, so I expect she will receive plenty of flowers. What can I do that is special? Flowers or chocolates, ho hum.

I did have a thought though. What about arriving at her door with the three of us with a couple of dozen helium balloons to set free to float up to her apartment ceiling? They will have ribbon tails, and if good quality will remain suspended for a few days.

It's Friday, so a little humour. No, its Saturday here but it is Friday somewhere. 

Yes, I did. 

I remember the late Sue doing this once.

I know one blogger, I forget who, posted this deck one before. Deck is best pronounced with a New Zealand accent. 

The 90th birthday of Brighton Antique Dealer

She has lived an extraordinarily interestingly life, from being the daughter of an Sicilian immigrant green grocer in the western suburbs, to mixing it with the best of the ever so posh suburb of Brighton. Her wheeling and dealing with antiques was very successful. She had a long behemien period. Her English is fluent with clear diction, and she is well spoken. She also speaks Italian and can get by with Arabic and Greek. She is interested in theatre, films, opera, ballet and especially jazz music. She is world travelled, with about seven years ago taking an around the world three month ship cruise. Funnily, on the cruise she met the mother of my gay former workmate. We did subsequently all catch up for a meal. 

She wasn't averse to taking a puff of the weed, yet she being Catholic, went and still does go to church every Sunday. Her first husband was an Arab with the biggest... When she saw it, she thought it wouldn't possibly fit. She had two children by him, so apparently it did fit. Her second husband was a well to do, cross dressing yacht club commodore. She loved him dearly and he died just before we met her, late 1990s.

Her eightieth birthday party was fantastic, with Jazzie making her last performance before she died a few months later. 

As her dyke daughter organised her 80th, so too did she organise her 90th. The birthday celebration was great,with an open bar (I made sure I got my fill) and a two course sit down meal. There was a DJ, and the birthday girl was certainly on the floor, as were rather a lot of older people. The evening went flawlessly, and given the age of most of the guests, the party began at 6.00 and was pretty well over by 9.30. 

She is a very kind person but not one who takes rubbish from anyone. I am privileged to have known her for twenty five plus years. Her signature greeting at any gathering is, 'I only come to kiss the boys'.

Jazzie at BAD's 80th.

BAD at her 90th as we sang happy birthday, with fifty guests. Aside from family, I'd be lucky to rustle up ten for my funeral.