I am so tired. I so much want some time for myself. It may happen Sunday. My work days off are tomorrow Thursday, and Friday. I have to work Saturday, but then I have two more days off. I did have a day off for Step Father's funeral yesterday, but it was hardly a day for me to enjoy.
Mother played the grieving widow perfectly. She broke up at the right moments. I thought I would have to escort her from the chapel like I did when her mother died, but no, the funeral Bull's of Pakenham bloke did that. Sat her down and delivered a cup of tea. I would recommend Bulls.
Sister was a mess, but with her school teacher background, managed to speak beautifully. Her class room delivery was brill for the occasion.
Little Jo smashed up the Bone Doctor's nose on the morning of the funeral. That was a bit of a laugh.
Step Father's children on an individual basis contributed a total of $950 towards the funeral bill of $5,500. Mother is stumping up $2000, which is Step Father's pension bonus and an extra week's pension. We kiddies will make up the difference. The Bone Doctor will pay initially so that we get the $500 discount.
While I am sure this is plenty of family history and problems with Step Father and his Geelong way children, grand children and great grand children, I am not happy with any of them. I doubt that there will be any future connection.
None of the Geelong way folk came back to Langwarrin where the wake like thing was held. Some were going to, but someone talked them out of it. Get through the city before the traffic gets bad was the excuse. Valid at other times if it wasn't so quiet on the roads.
Normally quite time focused son melted when Mother said that she never gets to go out for social things of late. I did not point out that it was because her husband is dying. Instead I decided, ok Mum, this is your day and I won't hurry it to finish. As a result, we left for a funeral at 10.30 am and arrived home totally exhausted at 9.30 pm.
R has known all along how manipulative my mother can be, but he has now verbalised it. So now he knows what he is dealing with.
I said to R, before the funeral, I hope Mother gets her clothes right. She did, a pale blue two piece suit from Savers, with a lace blouse and a pink hat.
Mother has always had disappearing make up. She started off being well made up, but by the end of the funeral, it had started to disappear. By the wake, vestiges of make up had gone. Yet earlier she had been worried about a shiny face.
It was a crap day. I told R it would be and he could not see why. I said the service will be good, but it will be a shit day, there, I swore, and I was right too.
Poor R. While I was off earning a cent or two, today he went and picked up Step Mother from the swamps of Langwarrin to get her to the train station to go back home to a totally horrid place somewhere near Echuca or Rochester. They missed the train by one minute and Step Mother had to get a later train, actually a bus. R had to take her out for a bite to eat etc and entertain her until he could deliver her to the bus home.
Sister has called and asked if we could take Little Jo out for a few hours on Friday. We can do this. I am so poor, I cannot afford entrance to Zoo as Sister suggested. We will do something. Mordialloch Beach maybe?
I called computer man today about our new non working computer. He said licence problem. He knew what the reboot problem was already before I told him.
Our ex NT politican/NT friend came to Step Father's funeral. He is a bit of proffesional funeral goer. I am not going to his ninety year old's folk's funeral unless it is my day off. I will send flowers. He admired my mother's self control. He said nothing about me mopping up boddy fluids with my hanky.
Hey, we have a new car to drive around in and a new computer and had a great holiday in the UK, but in summary, it has all fallen apart, reinforced by Step Mother saying R looks fat, to his face after she had drunk too many Strongbows thingies.
Very much a case of publish and be dammed.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Marge, Lal and Moo
My two great aunts, Marge (Marjorie) and Lal (Charlotte), and my maternal grandmother, Moo (Muriel), gossiped terribly when they were together. But if two of them were present, then they gossiped about the one who wasn't.
Here are a couple of things I recall them saying when I was a kiddie. I always liked to listen to adult conversations and was admonished more than once for listening in.
Moo: I ran into your sister at the fishmongers in Portman Street last Friday. She was wearing slacks.
Marge: Slacks? Lal was wearing slacks?
Moo: She was. Made her looked skinnier than ever. Some cheap synthetic fabric. (I actually recall the slacks. They were crimpilene? with a horizontal bands down the length of them.)
Marge: You don't think she is trying to look modern to get another bloke do you Moo? Think she would have had enough of men after the no good rotter of hers Jimmy drank himself to death.
Moo: I wouldn't put it past her. Slacks at her age indeed.
Marge: Here she is. A taxi! She is just around the corner and there she riding around in taxi cabs. Where does she get the money?
So it sounds like they were aligned against Auntie Lal. Not so. They were aligned against whoever wasn't there.
Moo: Marge's Studebaker is looking old.
Lal: Expect they will buy a Fairlane next. Moo, those people who pick you up and take you church in their Mercedes, is that a nice car?
Moo: Too small. It is hard to get in and out of. Your sister is such a skite. Lucky she married Bobby with all that money.
Lal: And a show off. Have you seen her fancy old reproduction telephone? The handpiece must weigh a ton.
Moo: Bobby P has let her get away with everything. She was spoilt as a child and has been ever since.
Lal: Your Bertie did ok. You have a nice house. Not like me on a War Widows pension.
Enter Auntie Marge from the Studebaker just pulled up in the driveway.
Marge: Moo, your blinds (Roman festoons) are rotting away. I can see it from the outside. And your stove Moo, does it actually work? (it did, but barely) For goodness sake Moo, spend some money on yourself. Fix things up.
Moo: Bertie says we have to be careful with our money.
Marge: You two are impossible. We are in the nineteen sixties. You need to be more modern.
Lal: I know what it like to lose a husband. Your Bobby is looking very thin. You spending money like a woman with no arms must worry him.
Moo makes supportive noises.
Marge: Moo, this is such a lovely cup, but it needs a good scrub. And Moo, can't you see all the runs down your kitchen cupboards? Honestly Moo, you have always been hopeless. Ah well, your magnolia looks very nice. Do you get a man in to mow?
Lal: So how is Beverly (Marge's daughter) going now she is divorced?
This is a kind of a compilation of various conversations I overheard. My grandmother, Moo, is long dead. Lal died a couple of years ago, after a period of dementia. Marge is still going and in her nineties in her own place in Berwick. I am not sure if anyone would have told Auntie Marge about my step father dying, but she, like many of her age, reads the death notices in the newspaper meticulously and so it won't surprise me to see her at the funeral later today.
Here are a couple of things I recall them saying when I was a kiddie. I always liked to listen to adult conversations and was admonished more than once for listening in.
Moo: I ran into your sister at the fishmongers in Portman Street last Friday. She was wearing slacks.
Marge: Slacks? Lal was wearing slacks?
Moo: She was. Made her looked skinnier than ever. Some cheap synthetic fabric. (I actually recall the slacks. They were crimpilene? with a horizontal bands down the length of them.)
Marge: You don't think she is trying to look modern to get another bloke do you Moo? Think she would have had enough of men after the no good rotter of hers Jimmy drank himself to death.
Moo: I wouldn't put it past her. Slacks at her age indeed.
Marge: Here she is. A taxi! She is just around the corner and there she riding around in taxi cabs. Where does she get the money?
So it sounds like they were aligned against Auntie Lal. Not so. They were aligned against whoever wasn't there.
Moo: Marge's Studebaker is looking old.
Lal: Expect they will buy a Fairlane next. Moo, those people who pick you up and take you church in their Mercedes, is that a nice car?
Moo: Too small. It is hard to get in and out of. Your sister is such a skite. Lucky she married Bobby with all that money.
Lal: And a show off. Have you seen her fancy old reproduction telephone? The handpiece must weigh a ton.
Moo: Bobby P has let her get away with everything. She was spoilt as a child and has been ever since.
Lal: Your Bertie did ok. You have a nice house. Not like me on a War Widows pension.
Enter Auntie Marge from the Studebaker just pulled up in the driveway.
Marge: Moo, your blinds (Roman festoons) are rotting away. I can see it from the outside. And your stove Moo, does it actually work? (it did, but barely) For goodness sake Moo, spend some money on yourself. Fix things up.
Moo: Bertie says we have to be careful with our money.
Marge: You two are impossible. We are in the nineteen sixties. You need to be more modern.
Lal: I know what it like to lose a husband. Your Bobby is looking very thin. You spending money like a woman with no arms must worry him.
Moo makes supportive noises.
Marge: Moo, this is such a lovely cup, but it needs a good scrub. And Moo, can't you see all the runs down your kitchen cupboards? Honestly Moo, you have always been hopeless. Ah well, your magnolia looks very nice. Do you get a man in to mow?
Lal: So how is Beverly (Marge's daughter) going now she is divorced?
This is a kind of a compilation of various conversations I overheard. My grandmother, Moo, is long dead. Lal died a couple of years ago, after a period of dementia. Marge is still going and in her nineties in her own place in Berwick. I am not sure if anyone would have told Auntie Marge about my step father dying, but she, like many of her age, reads the death notices in the newspaper meticulously and so it won't surprise me to see her at the funeral later today.
Mystery Object
I am astonished that no one knows what this item does. As Ann discovered with her diligent research, the address is that of a well known restaurant in Hue, Viet Nam. There were ten of us in a group there dining and when we were leaving, the owner presented each couple with one of these. What great publicity and so cheap.
While Aussie beer bottles, the little ones, or stubbies if you like, can be opened by hand, I needed to open a bottle of Stella (Artois) and so had to search out a tool to remove the cap and at the bottom of a drawer I found the mystery object, a tool just to remove caps from bottles and it does the job very well.
While Aussie beer bottles, the little ones, or stubbies if you like, can be opened by hand, I needed to open a bottle of Stella (Artois) and so had to search out a tool to remove the cap and at the bottom of a drawer I found the mystery object, a tool just to remove caps from bottles and it does the job very well.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Mystery Object
Since Jayne seems to have run out of rusty old bits of junk at her place, here is a mystery object from me for you to have a guess at what it does.
Jayne is too kind and gives hints. I don't.
Apart from this object and some curious oddities to be found in my bedside cupboard, I don't have any other mystery objects, so give this one time your all.
S'pose I better tell you the size. It is about 8 inches or 20 centimetres long. The reverse side is just a screw head and and the rest of an address, Hue, Viet Nam.
Answer Tuesday morning if no one has guessed by then.
Jayne is too kind and gives hints. I don't.
Apart from this object and some curious oddities to be found in my bedside cupboard, I don't have any other mystery objects, so give this one time your all.
S'pose I better tell you the size. It is about 8 inches or 20 centimetres long. The reverse side is just a screw head and and the rest of an address, Hue, Viet Nam.
Answer Tuesday morning if no one has guessed by then.
Japanese Hug
Our friend from Japan who is staying with us has bashed off to someone else's place to stay for a couple of nights. While Dame M used to say, 'fish and visitors go off after two days', Vik is a very easy house guest. She has now realised that she may well become this little old Aussie lady hobbling around the streets of a northern Japanese town. She clearly likes living there and has fitted into local society well. But she has family and friends here, and seems to be falling into a pattern of returning for a visit every second year.
I asked her to write a guest post for my blog. While she is free to suggest subjects to me, I have something in mind, that is, how Australia has changed in her five year absence and what she likes about Australia and what she likes about Japan, and how they compare.
She never includes the original text in an email reply, and me being such a shallow queen, I often forget what I asked. The email conversation I recall started with some talk about her teenage niece at school who has a girlfriend and there was some bother. I can't recall how we got to talking about Japanese hugs, but we did, and I think you would agree that she writes well enough.
Japanese couples don't usually hug in public. These days you do see some, especially young ones, holding hands but that's about it - definitely no kissing in public either. A friend explained that even in their own home, a couple won't kiss or hug in front of a visitor. However, school age people are often physically demonstrative with same-sex friends. Even highschool boys will walk with an arm across their male friend's shoulders. I've even seen junior highschool boys giving each other massages in the classroom. There's very little touching between the sexes though, even non-sexual contact is avoided. Among adults, even in families there's not much touching. I once had an adult student explain to me that even when their mother was in hospital to have a serious operation, her brother came to see her the night before and simply shook her hand. I explained that in Australia we would think that was too formal and that parents and adult children do hug each other but she said it was very unusual in Japan. Once kids become teenagers, parents usually stop hugging their children. It's interesting how different cultures work, hey?
I asked her to write a guest post for my blog. While she is free to suggest subjects to me, I have something in mind, that is, how Australia has changed in her five year absence and what she likes about Australia and what she likes about Japan, and how they compare.
She never includes the original text in an email reply, and me being such a shallow queen, I often forget what I asked. The email conversation I recall started with some talk about her teenage niece at school who has a girlfriend and there was some bother. I can't recall how we got to talking about Japanese hugs, but we did, and I think you would agree that she writes well enough.
Japanese couples don't usually hug in public. These days you do see some, especially young ones, holding hands but that's about it - definitely no kissing in public either. A friend explained that even in their own home, a couple won't kiss or hug in front of a visitor. However, school age people are often physically demonstrative with same-sex friends. Even highschool boys will walk with an arm across their male friend's shoulders. I've even seen junior highschool boys giving each other massages in the classroom. There's very little touching between the sexes though, even non-sexual contact is avoided. Among adults, even in families there's not much touching. I once had an adult student explain to me that even when their mother was in hospital to have a serious operation, her brother came to see her the night before and simply shook her hand. I explained that in Australia we would think that was too formal and that parents and adult children do hug each other but she said it was very unusual in Japan. Once kids become teenagers, parents usually stop hugging their children. It's interesting how different cultures work, hey?
Friday, January 02, 2009
Changing suburbs
These two houses will be demolished. Up until perhaps the 1980s, two storey houses in Australia were mostly found in the very inner areas of capital cities and were the preserve of the rich. These two below are in Glenferrie Road, Malvern and the area certainly fits the bill so far as rich people go, although it is a bit further from town than inner burbs are considered to be. They will probably be replaced by a number of very expensive two storey apartment buildings.
As an aside, this is prime area for Jewish people to move to, and they have. While Jews started very modestly when they arrived post World War 2 from Europe by settling in St Kilda, they spread directly east to Balaclava, now their traditional Jewish shopping area, further east to Caulfield and south to Elsternwick, and more recently even further east into Murrumbeena, having skipped Carnegie, and the very well to do extended north from Caulfield into Malvern. Less than ten years ago, a new synagogue was built and also a child care centre nearby.
Along the footpaths of the shopping area of Malvern, well spoken but very Australian voices of the older multiple generation Australians are giving way to folk saying, Shalom Miriam. Matters not to me. I hate the area as how it used to be and hate the new version too. It stands for so many things I dislike. I am forced to be in the area for work purposes.
Ok, focus. These houses are side by side and a very lesser house in even worse condition next to one side has already been demolished. Never let ivy get out of your control is a saying in Australia, a pun on the the female name of Ivy. Ivy is certainly taking over this house. No one could call it an attractive house, with or without ivy, but it would have been the house of someone who had money. Perhaps it was a predecessor of brutalist architecture.
This one is a bit better, although only single storey. Melbourne in Australia during the summer can be very hot, hence the wide return verandah. I have only just noticed how abrupt the verandah looks since I uploaded the photo here. You could take away the verandah and perhaps have a better proportioned house. Maybe the verandah was added later. I recall seeing similar housing near Blackpool in England from a tram. The houses were sans verandahs though.
There are many houses like this in inner to mid Melbourne suburbs and just because they are very expensive to buy, it does not make them nice.
As an aside, this is prime area for Jewish people to move to, and they have. While Jews started very modestly when they arrived post World War 2 from Europe by settling in St Kilda, they spread directly east to Balaclava, now their traditional Jewish shopping area, further east to Caulfield and south to Elsternwick, and more recently even further east into Murrumbeena, having skipped Carnegie, and the very well to do extended north from Caulfield into Malvern. Less than ten years ago, a new synagogue was built and also a child care centre nearby.
Along the footpaths of the shopping area of Malvern, well spoken but very Australian voices of the older multiple generation Australians are giving way to folk saying, Shalom Miriam. Matters not to me. I hate the area as how it used to be and hate the new version too. It stands for so many things I dislike. I am forced to be in the area for work purposes.
Ok, focus. These houses are side by side and a very lesser house in even worse condition next to one side has already been demolished. Never let ivy get out of your control is a saying in Australia, a pun on the the female name of Ivy. Ivy is certainly taking over this house. No one could call it an attractive house, with or without ivy, but it would have been the house of someone who had money. Perhaps it was a predecessor of brutalist architecture.
This one is a bit better, although only single storey. Melbourne in Australia during the summer can be very hot, hence the wide return verandah. I have only just noticed how abrupt the verandah looks since I uploaded the photo here. You could take away the verandah and perhaps have a better proportioned house. Maybe the verandah was added later. I recall seeing similar housing near Blackpool in England from a tram. The houses were sans verandahs though.
There are many houses like this in inner to mid Melbourne suburbs and just because they are very expensive to buy, it does not make them nice.
Hot Pics of Ben
No, stop being so paranoid Ben. I didn't save the web cam pictures.
I am talking about Ben Cousins again. I think he worthy of a gig in Highriser Celebs, so I collected some photos of him and gave him his own folder. See him here or go to link via my blog sidebar and check out some other hot guys.
(ok, I am doing a bit of back clearing of posts)
I am talking about Ben Cousins again. I think he worthy of a gig in Highriser Celebs, so I collected some photos of him and gave him his own folder. See him here or go to link via my blog sidebar and check out some other hot guys.
(ok, I am doing a bit of back clearing of posts)
Suzman
As we who were around in the 1980s sat helplessly around the tv watching the outrages of South Africa apartheid system, one white woman in South African stood out like a beacon. She was probably the sole politician who was against apartheid at one time and she later used any opportunity to get her message across, from within Parliament to later the world media.
She was often called upon by the Australian media for her views. She came across as both pragmatic and idealistic, a rare combination. She was certainly courageous, even going so far as called the appalling Pik Botha a vicious little cat. It is a wonder she survived.
I just found this quote in The Age, An apartheid minister once told her in parliament: "You put these questions just to embarrass South Africa overseas", to which she replied: "It is not my questions that embarrass South Africa, it is your answers."
Recently she was quoted as saying that she is not terribly pleased with what replaced apartheid. Who could disagree, but then it is at least not Zimbabwe. She would be high on my very short list of public figures who I admire.
Helen Suzman died yesterday, aged 91.
Pic courtesy BBC.
She was often called upon by the Australian media for her views. She came across as both pragmatic and idealistic, a rare combination. She was certainly courageous, even going so far as called the appalling Pik Botha a vicious little cat. It is a wonder she survived.
I just found this quote in The Age, An apartheid minister once told her in parliament: "You put these questions just to embarrass South Africa overseas", to which she replied: "It is not my questions that embarrass South Africa, it is your answers."
Recently she was quoted as saying that she is not terribly pleased with what replaced apartheid. Who could disagree, but then it is at least not Zimbabwe. She would be high on my very short list of public figures who I admire.
Helen Suzman died yesterday, aged 91.
Pic courtesy BBC.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Little Jo on NYE and a fire in a very outer eastern suburb
Little Jo did not make it to midnight NYE. Even so, her grandmother reported to me that Little Jo's mother (hurricane) had descended upon her and that Little Jo looked tired and was grizzly. Last night she was the life of the party. Here she is offering offering Uncle R some semi consumed food.Mother was not looking forward to NYE on her own, but would not go out. She was entertained by the house across the road from her place catching fire at 2am, many fire engines and police and this morning, detectives.
Now, who might have done something like that? What criminal type do I know who may have been in the area?
R's Old Motor
What I am now driving. No street cred, true, but I have better things to spend money on.
NYE 2009
The morning of the New Year of 2009. Wishing you all a happy one.
We had a party last night. We don't normally have parties any more and I don't like parties either, so I will just call it a gathering.
R and myself, Sis, the Bone Doctor and Little Jo, the Brother Friends, the ex NT Politician, Dame M's Boarder and the straight Hairdresser chick, our visitor from Japan, and two dyke friends, one with her two Tassie nieces. That is 15, enough.
We trammed/walked to see the early fire works on the south bank of the Yarra River, back home, heaps to eat and drink and then watched the Albert Park Lake fireworks. Who puts these on? Anyone know? I used to think it was The Point restaurant, but I am not so sure.
Little Jo was not frightened by the bangs from the fireworks, just curious and she certainly took notice of the pretty colours in the sky.
By one o'clock, I was in bed and minimal hangover this morning.
But a nice and slightly trippy (is that word passe now?) thing happened to me at work yesterday.
I was not keen on this Anglo Indian guy who started at my workplace a few years ago. There was an arrogant air about him and a 'I am hot' swagger to him. He spoke perfect Australian I learnt later. Having never spoken to him, out of the blue when I was presented an award for my years of service, he came up to me and congratulated me warmly and we talked. I have not talked to him since except to greet him when passing.
Yesterday he had his back to me as I approached and as I passed, I just patted him on the shoulder and he called out hi as I continued on.
Now if you have been diligently reading my blog for a while, you will have worked a couple of things out already. Yes, I fancy him. I am totally in lust with him and also, he is one of those straight guys who I have suspicions about.
Just a few minutes after I patted his back, I was in a walkway alone and he came up and wished my happy New Year. His hand came out, I grasped it to shake and he pulled me to a hug. I felt his cheek on mine and if I continued, it would be along the lines of a draft copy for a Mills and Boon novel. I kind of broke away from him. We were in a public place and anyone could have opened a door. I don't care for myself, but he is a straight married guy with a wife and children, and more impotantly, some very conservative workmates.
As is the way, next time we see each other, we will pretend nothing happened and be nice and friendly to each other. But I won't forget how a pretty average year for me finished on a high note, well my ego certainly won't.
We had a party last night. We don't normally have parties any more and I don't like parties either, so I will just call it a gathering.
R and myself, Sis, the Bone Doctor and Little Jo, the Brother Friends, the ex NT Politician, Dame M's Boarder and the straight Hairdresser chick, our visitor from Japan, and two dyke friends, one with her two Tassie nieces. That is 15, enough.
We trammed/walked to see the early fire works on the south bank of the Yarra River, back home, heaps to eat and drink and then watched the Albert Park Lake fireworks. Who puts these on? Anyone know? I used to think it was The Point restaurant, but I am not so sure.
Little Jo was not frightened by the bangs from the fireworks, just curious and she certainly took notice of the pretty colours in the sky.
By one o'clock, I was in bed and minimal hangover this morning.
But a nice and slightly trippy (is that word passe now?) thing happened to me at work yesterday.
I was not keen on this Anglo Indian guy who started at my workplace a few years ago. There was an arrogant air about him and a 'I am hot' swagger to him. He spoke perfect Australian I learnt later. Having never spoken to him, out of the blue when I was presented an award for my years of service, he came up to me and congratulated me warmly and we talked. I have not talked to him since except to greet him when passing.
Yesterday he had his back to me as I approached and as I passed, I just patted him on the shoulder and he called out hi as I continued on.
Now if you have been diligently reading my blog for a while, you will have worked a couple of things out already. Yes, I fancy him. I am totally in lust with him and also, he is one of those straight guys who I have suspicions about.
Just a few minutes after I patted his back, I was in a walkway alone and he came up and wished my happy New Year. His hand came out, I grasped it to shake and he pulled me to a hug. I felt his cheek on mine and if I continued, it would be along the lines of a draft copy for a Mills and Boon novel. I kind of broke away from him. We were in a public place and anyone could have opened a door. I don't care for myself, but he is a straight married guy with a wife and children, and more impotantly, some very conservative workmates.
As is the way, next time we see each other, we will pretend nothing happened and be nice and friendly to each other. But I won't forget how a pretty average year for me finished on a high note, well my ego certainly won't.
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