Saturday, February 11, 2017

Catching the 109 bus

R and myself were nattering away about how people who arrived on cruise liners to our Station Pier used to have to line up at the local shop to buy our stored value public transport card called Myki. Queues used to stretch well outside as people lined up. While no doubt the business did well from selling so many cards, the impact on the rest of the business would have been substantial.

We wondered what the current arrangements are? I have learnt that Public Transport Victoria has a ticket booth on Station Pier  to sell Myki cards for passengers to catch the tram to the city. No doubt they push the Visitor Myki at $15 when the basic one is $6 non refundable and it has has no travel credit. With at least a day's public transport included with the Visitor Myki, and other discounts, it it not bad value at all, extra good if you are staying for more than one day and want to see museums, galleries etc. While a ship might unload a couple of thousand people, many book coach tours and are picked up at the pier. Even so, the impact on Route 109 tram by those who want to visit the city when a ship arrives must be huge.

Each morning when a cruise liner arrives, Yarra Trams tweets Cruise Ship arrivals in Port Melbourne today. Route 109 passengers may consider Transdev buses. Catching an ordinary bus from Station Pier would probably take double the time the tram takes. Is it a matter that the trams simply cannot cope with the numbers?

Then I noticed this on the PTV website, a 109 route bus? What? It seems a dedicated bus numbered 109 runs express from Station Pier to the Arts Centre, just on the southern edge of the city and this is the principal way PTV suggest cruise passengers get to the city. It has something like a 15 minutes service interval off peak, somewhat more than the 109 tram. Me? I would rather catch the tram and mix it with the locals. This is not run by Transdev, but by Sita.

This is my absolutely bestest photo of 'The Spirit', taken recently. I wish I had a dollar for every time I have seen her arrive and depart. You simply must click on it to embiggen The Spirit. She travels from Melbourne to Australia's island state of Tasmania across often stormy seas, yet from my observations, keeps very close to her timetable.

Of course I should visit Station Pier for the arrival of a cruise ship and see what actually happens......but that would mean being out and about earlish on a day off, and I don't do that. If R is not home, it is dressing gown until 11am.

Friday, February 10, 2017


(Written Wednesday night) It is thirty five degrees outside, that is about 95 degrees in the old money and this is at 9.42pm when it should be cooling down. It is deliciously cool inside.

I was just out on the balcony and the air con is pumping huge amounts of heat into the atmosphere. Is it not curious that to cool ourselves inside, we have to pump heat outside, adding to the external heat. Multiply this by tens of thousands of air con units that are doing the same thing in our fair city. Probably our car air con units do the same. It is a night to leave the aircon on overnight, with a forecast minimum of 27 degrees.

We are fortunate in the State of Victoria that we huge amounts of filthy damp slow burning and mega polluting brown coal to burn to give us electricity at a relatively cheap price.

I think a massive bank of solar panels somewhere near Mildura might be an answer to the problems caused by coal burning, along with wind farms and states with common borders having connections in all directions to share power for the common good, rather than for overseas companies to make money. Of course that does not suit our Tory government who is about propping up big business and shareholder mates of dinosaur companies that invest in coal.

Look at this now decommissioned Yallourn power station belching its filth into the atmosphere.

Harmless steam you say? Please don't spoil my post with facts. The filth is there for all eyes to see. My younger memories of iced over puddles in Melbourne, will remain a memory, never to be seen again. What has in our name been done to our country?

Thursday, February 09, 2017

We have lost bigtime

The first death of a blog mate is a big one, especially as she was of such a young age. After her stroke, Jacqueline has been missed by so many, and while we lived in hope, there is now no chance of her returning. When I have  next day off work, the evening before I will pour a large glass of Scotch or two will reread our personal emails. Vale Jac.

There is a nice tribute to Jac at

Bye bye Jac.

Wednesday, February 08, 2017

The street where I live

(I knew this post would come in handy when I was so very time poor) I thought I had original photos of 450 St Kilda Road from about 2002, but it seems not. In about 2005 the quite dated building underwent a huge renovation and looked so much better. I can't get over the huge expenditure to renovate the building in 2005 and now it is being demolished.

It is now a concrete lined pit in the ground with I suppose high end apartments being built.
Oh yes, the new building will be called Opera. How good did we do, buying in the cheap seats in an expensive street. But still the media describes our building as being exclusive, mostly to do with having a government senator living here, the former bearded media person. Although there is a bit more to it than that. The apartments in our building are big, whether one, two or three bedroom and three bedrooms dominate by numbers. Foolishly some 3 bedders have only one car space. Each floor has a large public area and it is certainly not a rabbit warren of narrow passageways as many are. Trying to being unbiased, ours is a really good building of its time and relatively cheap to buy into compared to the new buildings in the street.

The nearby formerly Charsfield Hotel had is being redeveloped too, with what I think are early 20th century additions being demolished and more highrise apartments built. At least the original late Victorian building is being kept. The parallel Queens Road has apartments going up left right and centre, mostly replacing nasty 1960s buildings. Who will live in all these apartments? Think of it as ladder where people rise and fall on the ladder, and at the moment people are rising on the ladder because of our high immigration, but as anyone who lives in Sydney or Melbourne knows, that has come with huge problems and a reduction in our quality of life. 

Tuesday, February 07, 2017

The Age fails again

Journalism at its best from The Age.

Which is to say that Trump is spewing about his two most controversial orders. 

Spewing? A great word used in context, 'I spewed my guts out',  but appropriate in a newspaper piece written by a journalist about the president of the United States? 

Don't come here

A man and his son were both bitten by a tiger snake after it invaded their suburban home. It is one of the most poisonous snakes in the world and very aggressive. The snake positioned itself to prevent the man getting medical help. Believe some of that, but all survived, including the snake.

A driver had a snake pop up in front of her windscreen as she was driving.

A woman was bitten multiple times by a lethal funnel web spider that had crawled into her bed. She survived, just.

All we hear on the evening tv news is our local beaches polluted by fecal matter after heavy rain, and this attracts sharks cruising closely along the coastline, ready to bite off your leg if you want a cool down swim in our killer heat waves. Old people in colder countries die from the cold. Our oldies die from the heat.

I haven't even mentioned crocodiles, box jellyfish, man of war jellyfish, irukandji jellyfish, blue ringed octopus and spitfire caterpillars. Mind your little doggie and pussy, lest a wedge tailed eagle swoops down, grasps your favourite pet with its talons, lifts it into the air and then tears it apart. They could probably take a new born baby for that matter, babies being a favourite food for dingoes too.

Don't come here unless your want your bum bitten by the lethal Redback Spider when you sit on a toilet seat.

Just this week a woman in an outer suburb was attacked by a kangaroo. It is quite true. Imagine jogging through Hyde Park or Central Park and being attacked by a 2 metre tall testosterone fuelled beast with claws that can expose your innards at the drop of a hat.

It is a dangerous country. No, don't come here. I don't know how I have survived to be able to write this.

Well, I have to try to limit our extreme population explosion somehow.

Monday, February 06, 2017

The Sunday that was

Nothing ready to publish for this Monday, so a quickie written when I am doubting whether I will see the denouement in the new series of Midsomer Murders. I expect I will collapse into bed very soon.

Sunday was Little Em's 1st birthday party, hosted by her father's father, as was Little M's first birthday, she now being almost three.  Apart from Nephew and his partner, all the immediate family were there and it was a lovely, although rather hot afternoon.

There is a swimming pool at the large spread out home. Little Jo and Sister swam to cool off. When we left, many people had resorted to the pool, including the birthday girl. Little Jo was sullen. I took a great photo of Little Jo as she threw her head back after breaching the water. Later in my friendliest voice, I said to Little Jo, I took a great photo of you and I'll put it on to Facebook with other photos from today. I was actually talking to the back of her head. She spun around and said very formally, you need to ask my parents permission to put my photo on Face Book. R urged me to speak to Sister about it, who was nearby. Little Jo's parents are worried about her digital footprint, which will be of concern when she older, but not now, at nine years old.

Of course your photo can be taken by anyone in a public space, but I suppose this was a private space.

That was my sole conversation with her for the day, although I tried to engage her a few times. R received a bit better response, but after she left the pool and he went to pull her curly hair back into a ponytail, he realised she had  a large hair knot lump, like an ungroomed cat or dog can get. The only way to be rid of it is for it to be cut out.

I was so shocked by Little Jo's response. What I really wish I had replied to her, Jo, this is not a stranger danger situation and there is no need for such a response. You are speaking to family. Yes, ok, I know most abuse of children comes from family members.

I am so tired.

Sunday, February 05, 2017

Not Sunday Selections Single X rated

The Mysterious Orient conjures up many images. For me the Mysterious Subcontinent, India, is where Sikh men live.  While Indian underneath, they do have characteristics of often being tall and hawkish. Their turbans hide their hair, and truthfully, if their turban was removed, they would be probably be as balding as the next man.

For the unlearned kiddies and stupid old people, they are not Moslems.

I swooned a couple of  years ago when a new Sikh chappie arrived at my workplace. He is very handsome, not too slim, not too big. He wears a different coloured turban every day. I wonder if that is significant? Maybe it is like the variety of coloured underwear I wear, dictated by bought packs of five I buy. Sadly, I can't tell you the colour of his underwear and I don't know if turbans come in five packs.

He quickly integrated into the workplace and its social activities. As is my wont, I looked him up on Facebook. Hmm, a member of his local volunteer Victorian State Emergency Service and while he lives in an outer suburb, it is an expensive north eastern area, not normally an area chosen by those from the sub continent.

You know what is the best thing about him is, he is really nice and friendly guy and I am not the only gay in our workplace village who fancies him. A gay workmate, who I don't really know but has a Japanese partner, seems to always to be always hanging around the Sikh bloke, chatting away.

But who wants to have fun with a nice guy? Well, just not in my mind. I want a bad ass Sikh dude.

Sir Singh, may I suck your nipples?

NB, there is always a danger of adding me to your blogroll because at times posts like this will turn up where I will exhibit memories of actually having sex