A fine birfdy

It was not a significant birthday, but one people might make jokes about. I was told not to plan anything for the day by Phyllis and Kosov, so I didn't. I did go out earlyish for coffee and to collect some medications before they arose, and for the rest of the day I relaxed.

HH had left me a gift on the doorstep, a terrific little guide book about the laneways of Melbourne.

The lads went into town and returned with gifts for me aplenty.

An Italian sauvignon blanc from Calabria, with a French accent over its name. I was so excited! Alas, I noticed the name Marlborough. It is from New Zealand, but that is ok.    

My preferred brand of scotch. 

Chocolate cake. We took a large slice down to HH, and stayed half an hour chatting. 

And flowers.

Be ready to go out at 6.15, they told me. We caught a tram to town, and then another to Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. Phyllis made us wait on the street as he had confused a twenty four hour clock with a twelve hour clock and booked us for 17.00 (5pm) rather than 7pm. Up we travelled in the lift. 

Oh wow, a rooftop bar.

It was cool, so the overhead heating was welcome. 

I featured this mural in the past, but I didn't notice the ghost sign above. I need to decipher the sign.

Looking down on another rooftop bar at what may have once been called The Bullring.

Slightly challenging but what a cool venue name, Naked for Satan. 

The rest are just photos I took from the rooftop. Naked for Satan is a great venue and I highly recommend it. 

You did well, my lads.

The weekend visit to Daylesford 2

Mount Franklin is a popular brand of bottled water in Australia, well Victoria at least. Apparently the real Mount Franklin does supply some spring water to the bottlers, probably owned by the giant Coca Cola Amatil. 

"Andrew, do we have the time to visit Mount Franklin?" "If you don't muck around, yes. We do have a train to catch." I had ordered the motel breakfast for $10, consisting of cereal, inadequate light milk and toast with butter and spreads, with me toasting the bread to make the toast. I had brought some chopped fruit and psyllium husks to add to the cereal. 

It was a lovely twenty minute drive to Mount Franklin, with such pretty scenery. There was nothing to see there that I know of but it is a popular camping ground. Camping?? Quell Horreur. 

We descended down to the carpark shared by those travelling on the vintage train and those attending the adjacent Sunday market. It took a little time to find a parking space but I thought we were there in plenty of time, fifteen minutes before departure. This three wheeler was parked as we walked to the station.

How did the station staff know my name? Now I surmise because I was the last person who had booked and arrived. The train was almost full and the seats weren't reserved.

 

Oh, what a beauty. A Walker Rail Motor, mostly used on country branch lines, since closed after the Beeching Report rationalisation of Victorian railways in the sixties and seventies. The Walker is two passenger carriages, in this case one first class and one second class, with another centre non passenger carriage where the two diesel motors and associated workings are located. There was little intrusion into the passenger carriages by engine noise as we climbed from an elevation of 616 metres to Bullarto at 735 metres, a quite steep rise of 1 in 50. Bullarto is the highest operating railway station in the state. 

A travel poster at the Bullarto Station. 

With a ten minute turn around at Bullarto, it was back to Daylesford, making it a perfect one hour trip. We only had two seats for three people, so Phyllis sat on Kosov's legs for the whole trip. 

We found some food at the Sunday market to fortify ourselves for the journey home, with Kosov driving to the motorway and then Phyllis for the rest to home. Some more luscious scenery along the way.

The weekend visit to Daylesford 1

Phyllis had nails on for his weekend away. I knew he had painted himself with some brush on gold. It isn't showing in the original photo but seems to be here.  For the 90 minute trip Kesav with his L plates displayed drove to our first stop, for lunch at a service centre Hungry Jacks, Burger King in other countries I think.

 

An Indian family was leaving their car next to where we parked. Phyllis got back into the car and drove to the petrol pumps to pump some liquid gold into Perl, while Kosov and I went in and ordered food. Kosov ordered by touch screen, I went to the counter and ordered. Haha, my food was ready first.

There was a side area to sit, and I could hear some loudish children there. I noticed the aforementioned Indian family sat in the other space near the front. Look, I would have sat in that area regardless but I did engineer things a little for my own amusement by deliberately sitting at the table next to the Indian family. Phyliss returned from topping up Perl's tank and none of the family took any notice of Phyllis at his girliest best except for one, the granny. She stared at Phyllis with malevolent eyes. My mission achieved.

I drove up the big hills to see how my new car performed. With cruise control set, it kept perfect speed at 110/70 and she used the gears sparingly. I turned on the self steering for a brief time, and while it does work well, I really don't like it. Once off the motorway, I let Phyllis drive the potholed country road to Daylesford.

Looking down on the township.

King of the castle, who looks so much better with short hair.

No idea what the car brand is, but it is rather cute. 

We ascended this lookout tower, only to stare into tree branches and leaves. Phyllis and Kosov at the base looking for the fingernail Phyllis dropped from the top of the tower.

The lads suggested this place for dinner and it was fine. 

There are many gay people living in Daylesford, and perhaps this place is owned by gay women. 

Time for the loo, but which door? I guessed wrongly of course. Eventually I did find the very secretive gender sign. 

This cistern is a bit flash, with clear writing on which button to use, instead of symbols that often can't be instantly worked out. But isn't half normally on the left?

At our digs this camellia was blooming. We had missed the best of the flowering spring trees by a week or so. 

I think this is a Prunus Elvins across the road. What is its normal name? Flowering plum, I think.

Almost next to the house where the tree is, was a house up for sale. It looked nice. I investigated later.

Very nice indeed. I'll do a bit of a Bob here, but without his style. I looked up the house and here is a link. Remember I mentioned a lot of gay people live in the area? When the gays move in and make an area lively, it becomes a desirable place to live and property prices rise, as does accommodation I might add. Daylesford had an annual gay pride festival called Chill Out although the website says it is much more than that. The price of this three bedroom home with only one bathroom is AU$1,125 million, US$790,000, UK£600,000, €693.000. That's a lot for a country property, over 90 minutes from Melbourne and doesn't have a train service.

If you click on the earlier link and then the first photo you see, it will take you to full sized photos plus a video and a floor plan. It just an old man's ten minute walk to the shops, but the road is quite busy, used by some trucks.  

Some original features have been retained but it is all very white and looks rather 'done up' for sale. Nowadays, the lack of an ensuite for the master bedroom is big drawback, so it wouldn't be for me, but still, it's quite a nice house with lots of street appeal. 

Friday Funny, not funny

Women might be good at multi tasking, but unlike men, they are lousy at anything practical. 

Yes, I've done the head spin but always managed to stay on my feet...so far. 

Andrew gets laid, single X post

If you don't want to read about non explicit gay sex, you know what to do.

After a couple of decades or more of staring at each with desire but never speaking, the guy who worked for the same company as I did, although in a different area, around ten years ago I found him on social media, and e-communication began, but we both had partners and it was never going to be easy to hook up. 

We connected online again a few years later, and then a few more years later. 

Two plus years after Ray died, I suggestively messaged him again after a long time of not doing so. Great to hear from you, he replied. I am in England, Channel Islands actually and I won't be home for about five weeks. Every few days we would keep the candle burning by messaging each other. I must say, I waxed and waned about meeting him. At my age I am no longer driven by hormones, a blessed relief but he was very convincing and I guess I was too. A week and a half after he returned we met for coffee near his home, and then adjourned to his place for some fun. I had no confidence that after all this time, it would work but hey, it did and went really well, with both hunger and passion. 

We may just see each in a friendship way and/or maybe a repeat session. I don't know and don't care too much. He is a nice guy and I would be happy to see him again socially, and as I left his place and walked down High Street, Northcote, I was chockablock full of endorphins and in such a relaxed and dreamy state. I caught the tram back to town and I needed something at QV (shopping centre).

Oh my god. I could hardly move to trudge up the hill to QV. I was absolutely exhausted, and all of my joints were aching. 

For those in the know, I did take PrEP before I met him and I will for the next two days, as I was told to by my doctor.

As I am writing at nearly 9pm, I still feel exhausted, although more relaxed. 

I think doing the biz with passion and energy is best left to the young, but I have no regrets about today. I am just too old and lazy to make it a habit.

A grave cosmetic error

Josh Cavallo is a nice looking guy. He is a champion soccer/football player, once for our national youth football team.

He has played for many different leagues as a champion player and it seems he is now playing for England's National League North side, Peterborough Sports. 

He identified as being gay in 2021, and it is said he was the first top rated professional player to do so. It probably goes without saying he subsequently suffered a lot of homophobia.

As I mentioned, I think he is nice looking, ok a hot guy, that is until...

he opens his mouth. His teeth are an absolute disaster. What possessed him?

With his to be husband, Leighton.

My eyes deceive me

Some posts are fun to construct, and this is one of them.

I've known Ingrid/Gattina via her blog Nonna's Castle for what must be 15 plus years, maybe longer. Ingrid is 80+ and lives in a retirement home, a former castle in Waterloo, Belgium. Yes, that Waterloo of battle fame.

While her age has now restricted her adventures, she looks outwards to life, and has become somewhat of spokesperson to management for residents in her home. 

That almost sounds like an obituary, but she is alive and well and has been playing with AI, especially with old and newer photos. 

I hoped to get permission from Ingrid to use her photos to show what can be done, and she was quite happy with that, so here are some of her efforts. I am just imagining the commands she gave to fix and alter the photos. This is the original with her late husband Rick.

With their baby son.

Boring background?

 

Just whack in a back drop of the Rocky Mountains. When I saw this it made me rather afraid for the future, let alone family history.

Show my cat Rosie biting my nose.

Shorten my son's hair, and add a red shirt and a nice background.

Show my grandson smoking and drinking beer. Note the librarian dog going about its work.

Ingrid was wearing black pants and her cat Arthur was not sitting at her feet.

Son and grandson on holidays.

Put my son and grandson in diving wet suits.

This was funny, when she pointed out it was raining cats and dogs.

Me, me, me. Let me have a turn.

Raining cats and dogs made me think of the Weather Girls' song It's Raining Men. Nah. Too many boring older men, along with a number of Mary Poppins wannabees. 

Rain me some hot looking men. There, much better.

This photo of Ingrid and her bodyguards, her son and grandson, amused me. Her son and grandson are 2 metres tall, 6'6", and Ingrid is not tall, but I don't think this photo is quite right.