Apparently Hippie Niece's cervix is wide open, ready to give birth to premature twins. Depending on tests, early next week she may be moved to a hospital near her home area. (That has happened) Not so good for us to visit her, but there will be less need for us to visit her as she will be close to family and friends. She is past 32 weeks, whatever that means, but it was a critical point. We saw her on Wednesday and had cupcake with a candle for R's birthday. She was becoming sleepless because of the woman brought into her room to share who snored far louder than her own partner, and that is saying something. She was moved to most wonderful room on her own to ensure she gets good sleep.
I called Mother today to wish her happy 83rd birthday. For so long she wanted to have her birthday lunch at Waves in Frankston, but she is too afraid to venture so far from home in case she becomes unwell, so it will be somewhere more local. We have found somewhere and it is booked. 12.30 was booked out, so we have a 12.15 lunch booked. Such minutia over a simple lunch.
Tradie Brother and Ex Sis in Law's neighbour died a week ago and they both went to her funeral. I will call her Joyce, because that is a nice old fashioned name, and it was her name. Joyce was a salt of the earth type, and had a gong to ring if she wanted attention from TB or Ex SIL. Later TB cut a hole in the fence between with a flap so they could talk face to face. It was recounted at her funeral how she rang one of her sons after a storm to tell him there was a boat in her backyard. Nonsense Mum, he replied. You are losing your marbles. It wasn't nonsense. TB had a canoe on the roof of his outside bungalow and it blew off the roof and landed in Joyce's back yard. Life in Langwarrin, hey.
Later: Dinner with friends at the Elsternwick Hotel went well on Saturday night, but the group is much diminished and will soon expire. Details in a later post. Sunday lunch with family went well too. I will separately post about that.
It was the weekend of the Grand Pricks in Melbourne, an event that loses a huge amount of taxpayers money and god knows why it still happens. Because of the nice weather, attendances were up. The month long setting up causes massive disruptions to traffic and makes my trip home from work a very miserable experience. It almost makes catching the tram home as viable. Yes, the Grand Prix was here before we moved here, but that does not stop me complaining about it. Car racing around an inner urban park with a lake in its centre is quite absurd. I went one year when it was free on a Thursday. The most interesting thing about it was watching the ducks and swans, and oddly they seemed to be quite unperturbed.
I expect you as an Australian taxpayer are paying for all these RAAF planes to do Grand Pricks flyovers. Good on you. They are quite photogenic. (note, if your pronounce Grand as you would in English, then you must also pronounce Prix in English. You can't have a bob each way)
The noise from this F18 Super Hornet bomber has to heard to be believed. Every year when I hear it, I think of what it might be like to live in an area of a war torn country and feel the panic as the bomber plane roars in the sky, dropping its load who knows where.
This is a new one for me. It seems it is a Boeing Globemaster, a troop transporter. It seemed to take a long time to turn around and looked to be quite a heavy beast. It flew past low, and slowly.