My life in washing machines

So what is wrong with women today that they don't wear a twin set or a suit and heels when doing the washing? More likely to see them in jeans and a tee, or worse a track suit. Absolutely appalling. Look at the washing machine. It is an automatic. Think of the time she has saved that can be devoted to the comfort of her husband and family. She may not even have a headache when it comes time for rest in the marital bed.

Mother's first washing machine was a Pope and although it looked like it should have a wringer, it didn't and must have had a spin cycle. Why she did not take it to the farm, I don't know. It looked something like this only without the wringer.

It is rare for me to lose anything, but I cannot come across the manual for my grandmother's washing machine which I know I would have never thrown away and I have had to search on the internet long and hard to find a similar picture as is on the front of Grandma's washing machine manual. Nor can I find a photo of it online. Grandma bought herself a shining new automatic Frigidaire washing machine and Mother inherited her old Lightburn which was an excellent washer and who knows what speed the spinner went at, but the clothes were dryer than anything modern. We used to refer to it as the concrete mixer. You had to fill the tub with buckets of water and then Mother would put an immersion heater into the water for a time. I think the lever had three positions, Empty, Wash and Spin. It travelled from Oakleigh to the farm at the foot of Mount Baw Baw in 1961.

 

When Tradie Brother was born, Father bought Mother a shiny new automatic washing machine and had by then installed a hot water service. It was a Frigidaire too but so much more modern than Grandmother's. As a young gay boy, I made sure the machine always sparkled, with a liberal coating of Mr Sheen. I even cleaned its crevices with a toothbrush. Quite like this, but sparkling.

Mother did have options when it was bought though and considered a Hoover Keymatic. I recall the brochure.You selected your programmes for the washing machine by slides on a square object, like a floppy disk only bigger, and inserted it into the slot in a certain direction. I was rather sorry that model wasn't chosen.

Shortly after Grandma died, I moved into a flat on my own and took some of the furniture from her house, including her still working early 1960s washing machine. It then went with me to Elwood when R and I met. When when we moved from Elwood to East Malvern in 1982, we called on dyke friends who had a flat bed truck to move us. Grandma's washing machine fell off the truck gangplank, but was none the worse for wear. It went on to serve us for a few years. It was replaced by a sturdy Hoover washing machine, that left clothes quite wet after spinning.

We inherited a small washing machine when we moved to Glen Iris which was a lifesaver as until we renovated, there was no space for our larger one.

The Hoover came with us to our unit in Burwood and the laundry door architrave had to be removed to get into the laundry. When we sold, we sold the washing machine to the buyers.

We moved to Balaclava and bought ourselves a Fisher and Paykel, which were then a very popular New Zealand made machine. It moved to the Highrise and after about twelve years service since new, started playing up.

Our current machine is its replacement, another Fisher and Paykel.The day will come when either the washing machine or dryer needs to be replaced and the next machine will be a two in one front loader which will use far less water.

Out Bundoora Way Pt 1

Where on earth am I? I have been transported by the 86 tram to wilds I do not know.

Turning around I notice city views.

I strolled up a side street past this splendid old gum tree.

Ah, this looks nice

 And so does this. Might that be a driveway gravel of a grand house?

It is Bundoora Homestead, located in the evocatively named Snake Gully Drive.

Although in the the first photo below is what would have normally greeted visitors, in the second one to the left is the side that faces you as you approach from the street. The modern public entrance is on the side that cannot be seen in either photo.

I find bricked up openings quite fascinating, as my imagination wonders about why was it bricked up and what was there.

Back in Plenty Road, I noticed Flavours buffet restaurant has closed and vegetation is starting to creep in on it. It was once a Smorgys Restaurant, known for its smorgasbord, or buffet, food.

Some house interior shots and a little history in another post.

Leningrad Cowboys

The Leningrad Cowboys have been around since the mid eighties. I have never taken much notice of them. They are a Finish band which at times performed with the Russian military Alexandrov Ensemble. I had a bit of a laugh at their combined performance, I think in Helsinki. There seems to be a bit of bonus Piaf thrown in for no apparent reason. If you get through the first track, the second is a bit more traditional, vaguely familiar to me.



Or perhaps you would like some a little brighter? Try the first track in this one. It is rather camp with some sailor boys.



Or just to smile, the second track on this one at 4m.



Never ever again shall I google 'funny song', but I was feeling a bit flat and I grinned the whole time I was looking at these vids.

Sexism in the 21st century

Maybe I was thirteen, perhaps a year older or younger. We were on a family holiday. Mother was there but Father was at home tending the farm. Mother had rented a holiday house somewhere on the Mornington Peninsular.

He had long blond wavy hair and was gorgeous looking, the complete surfer look of the seventies. He was using a skiffle board. What is a skiffle board? I think he stood up on the board and rode small waves. I should google skiffle board, but I can't be bothered. The teenage me was just overcome with something. I was too young to feel lust, or maybe I wasn't. I so wanted him, but I had not a clue how or in what way.

Are gay male teens and straight teen girls preoccupied with dicks? I think at that age we already knew what powerful things they are. We just didn't realise that they aren't connected to the reasoning area of the male brain in any way, and only have a very rudimentary brain of their own.

That is the colour for this post, digressing, as usual.  What were those paddle board things called that we held out in front of us while we swam? Perhaps paddle boards? Got it, Jiffy Boards. Google does not seem to know what they are.

A mini kind of surfboard sits at the window of the neighbour's below and at the front of us in one of the kid's bedrooms. While I know it is in the girl's bedroom, I keep thinking of it as the boy's bedroom, because surfing is boys' thing hey. No, the surf board is in the girl's bedroom.

I am sexist.

Let me give you another example. One family on our floor have two children, a boy and girl. She is almost a sour teenage lass, he a little younger and is more bright and outgoing. At times when we step out onto the landing, we hear the tinkle of piano playing, at times scales but other times proper music, sometimes classical, sometimes popular.

In the lift, already thinking I knew that it was the girl, I asked which of you plays the piano so well? Gotta encourage the kiddies in the y'arts. You guessed it, the boy. She plays a little, but he is the pianist.

Enough sexism? One more, but not really. In the phone shop, we dealt with a young Asian female. I so wanted a bloke to deal with who knew about phones. 

Now this is the salient point. What we actually wanted was someone with some power and ability to deal. The owner is an older Asian male and he can strike deals. His young Asian female staff don't have that power, and nor do the young Asian males in the shop for that matter. It is not always sexism at the fore.

The Tunnels

The proposed, nay, going ahead, east west link road tunnel will be marvellous for quite a number of commuters. It could remove quite a bit of traffic from Melbourne's inner northern suburbs, depending on how much it costs to use. Great care needs to be taken with the pricing. With the exception of Melbourne's City Link tunnels, with its Kennett government given extremely generous terms, road tunnels have not been commercially successful in Australia for private business. Personally, I don't like the idea of privately owned and operated roads that exclude poor people from using the facility.

Sydney's Cross City Tunnel failed to make a profit, effectively went broke, and share holders lost around half a billion dollars.

Sydney's Lane Cove Tunnel sent its owner broke and was sold for half of what it cost to build.

Brisbane's Clem 7 Tunnel is in receivership, and Brisbane's Airport Link shares are worth one cent each, of what has surely been the most corrupt construction processes in Australia this century.

Now Melbourne is building a private road tunnel, according to our state government, which will not in its present design assist with the massive traffic congestion in Melbourne's prime north south arterial, Hoddle Street/Punt Road. So who will really benefit greatly from this proposed tunnel? I suggest it should be called Fox Tunnel as surely one of the prime beneficiaries will be Australia's largest freight company.

Trouble is that the Federal Government has made an allowance of $3 billion for a Metro Tunnel in Melbourne and nothing for the Fox Tunnel but the State Government has committed funding to the Fox Tunnel and has put the Metro Tunnel on hold.

Which should be built?  The Metro Tunnel of course. It will benefit far more people, like me, than the road tunnel. It is as simple as that.

Give 'em muck

Mother: "My friend Margaret tells me how wonderful the tv show Mrs Browns Boys is. I've watched  it and I find it a bit rude and I can't understand half of what she says."


Andrew: "What? I don't watch such shows".

Only R knows that I laugh at many lines in Mrs Browns Boys.  It is not my choice to watch it, but you do have to laugh when you hear of being rowed down one of Venice's canals by a gonorrhoea.

Humour

This sounds a bit like free advertising, but I found it amusing. Click on 'the boss is coming, look busy' button, top right. I can think of a few sites I would like to see have a similar button. Too much information, perhaps.

http://www.lastminute.com.au/

Romance of Rail

Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad. Isn't that just a marvellous name? I wish I could hear it pronounced with a lazy southern drawl. The name conjures up so many early television memories. Sadly the company is no more and the railway mainline never made it to Sante Fe in New Mexico. The company's history spanned from 1859 to 1996 when it was absorbed my another company.

Anything blue on the map was part of the company's network.

There was even a song, and having heard it, I now remember it. Mancini is not a favourite of mine but this is the only music that had seemed to have some appropriate footage.

The call that turned out to be not the one you don't want to get

The English are the nicest of people, but give them a drink and they lose concept of time on the other side of the world, hence when the phone rang at six o'clock this morning, I assumed it was one of them. R answered the phone, as he has a cordless phone in his bedroom. While I have a phone plug in my room, I refuse to have a phone there.

"Andrew, wake up and concentrate. It is a hospital. They want to speak to you".

I was asked to collect Mother from a large Dandenong, or is that Mulgrave, private hospital. There seemed to be some haste to get rid of her. I was assured she was ok, just a blood pressure problem. She had throbbing in her neck and around midnight called an ambulance. The paramedics checked her blood pressure and it was well over 200, so they insisted she go to hospital. Do you have private cover, they asked? Yes, she replied. Ok, we will take you to the private hospital where they will attend to you straight away and you won't have to wait like you will at the nearby public hospital. Mistake. She loved the paras who were full of concern.

Upon admitting her to Emergency, the hospital wanted $200 up front. Overnight they did tests and slowly her blood pressure came down.

I arrived at about 7.30 and she still had ecg pads attached and a stent in her wrist. I don't know what the urgency about her leaving was about, but there had been a shift changeover. Mother disliked the evening staff very much. She wanted something to eat and asked if I could see if the canteen was open. I asked staff and they said they would bring her something and myself some coffee which duly arrived with a packet of sandwiches each, tea and coffee. Mother queried me about why the staff were so nice now and had been so horrid last night. I did not have an answer. I went outside to make some calls while Mother dressed and I took her home and stayed with her for a couple of hours. I rang ABI Brother at work and he said he would stay the night.

She is fine now, but upon leaving she was given a bill of $280 for the doctor, who had already deducted his Medicare reimbursement. I am not sure if that figure includes the original $200 or not. Nevertheless, it will be we children who pay and because she wasn't admitted to hospital, the health fund gets off scot free. I have urged her to go to the public hospital next time. If she needs admitting, she can switch to private later.

She was very apologetic to me about the early hour inconvenience but she knew I was not working and I was the best person for the job. Fair enough.

"You know Andrew, I don't actually know what the word surreal means. Do you?"

"Mother, you had no sleep last night. I expect it felt like a surreal experience and this morning has been a surreal experience for me".

I was home a bit after 11 and felt quite distracted. How could I centre myself? I caught the tram to St Kilda Library and renewed my library card that won't work for ebook borrowing from the library and the contact phone number for the library on my card was only seven digits, not eight. Yes, it would have been issued about 1992. A long black at a cafe and a flick through The Hun, and I felt a lot better.

PS If you drive in towards Melbourne on the Monash freeway, in the morning peak, I feel very sorry for you. Kilometre after kilometre of crawling traffic. What is wrong with this damn country that people are forced to endure such things, along with an absurd private medical system that you insure yourself for, but it doesn't pay.

Wobbly Bits

The weather was cool but that never stops belly dancers giving lessons to a crowd of what I guess to be mostly Turkish women.

Yes, she had them all up, in their coats, gyrating away.