Saturday, February 24, 2018

Saturday Supplement

Oh, I like this display option. A proper clock. Not this one where it is 7:20.

It's nearly half past eight.

Sad Saturday 1&2/10

I came across these on Tumblr and I will publish them for however long it takes over a number of weeks. They are animated gifs, so you need to wait for them to load. Places fall into disuse and decay, rather like us really.

Later edit: This is not so interesting to string out over 10 Saturdays, so here is number two as well. 

Friday, February 23, 2018

The new phone

So, my new phone is a Samsung Galaxy S8 or . It is not so different opeationaly from my old S6, thanks to frequent system updates, or R's S7 for that matter. This feature I really like, which is also on R's phone. I don't wear a watch and I always had to press a button to see the time. I no longer have to.

The phone I bought from the same company for R defaulted to Chinese and there is still bit of Chinese writing to be found on his phone, but nothing that causes a problem. Mine came with the default of German, but I had no need to call German speaking Gattina in the middle of her night, as it was easily switched to Australian English. Perhaps even River might have been able to help. Or even the very fluent Friko.

I had already done a little research, and downloaded a transfer app to my old phone. I placed the phones side by side and followed the app instructions and my contacts, phone history, my text messages, my photos and my apps all transferred to the new phone in about five minutes. The apps were disordered and in a mess, but all there. Then they all needed updating.

It connected easily to our home wifi, and the next day to the work wifi. I inserted the SIM card, and it connected to my phone network without another thing to do. I meant to do it today, but I am sure the connection to the car Blue Tooth system will be just as painless.

My old phone had a glass back and I dropped it a couple of times and the glass cracked. I would have had it repaired, but Samsung was the only company that I could find who would do it, and I would have paid, but I would have been without my phone for two weeks! Then I dropped it again and resulting in a small crack on the screen glass.

I've never used cases for my phones, but I did buy one in advance to use this time, which will hopefully stop my phone looking 'knocked around', but I really don't like phone cases.

While I am not sorry I bought it, it is rather underwhelming as it is just not so different from my old phone.

Oh, there is one really significant difference. The charging plug and socket is different. The correct lead came with it, and also an adaptor plug to transit from the old socket and plug to the new. This had required some rearrangements with the charging points in the bedroom of the west wing of The Highrise. The beauty of the new plug is that it does not matter which way you plug it in. There is no right or wrong way up.

I am not sure if was the new phone wot dun it, but even though I did not have to start work yesterday until nearly 10.00am, and I did not go to bed the night before until after 11:00pm, I was wide awake by 5am and could not go back to sleep. I used the time to sort out the apps to my convenience, log in to various apps with usernames and passwords, somewhat of a trial, but my record keeping is not too bad. So many apps asked, have you logged in using a new device.

Yeah, so all good, and I am not so time poor as I thought I would be. I bought my first mobile phone in the mid 1990s, and the stress and battle to change to a new phone was unbelievable. Mind, the only thing to transfer back in the 90s was the contact list and my first phone had a limit of 30 contacts. My first couple of phones could not text and I would not have even known what texting meant. It is not so now. The kiddies are so spoilt by the ease of the transfer from an old phone to a new one, and I feel I am a bit too, the truth being that getting a new phone was once such a special thing and a good bit of hard work. It wasn't this time.

It's new. It's good. It's a bit better. That is all.

Thursday, February 22, 2018

No Joy from Joyce

Who our deputy prime minister roots is his business, be it a staff member or whomever. PM Malcolm had now forbidden sexual relations between government ministers and their staff. Good luck with that one Mal. Have you heard that the forbidden fruit is the sweetest? And now Mal has grubbied himself by speaking to the lowest common denominator, as Victor most eloquently writes here

A few or my thoughts.

Joyce spoke during the same sex marriage debate about the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman. I call that hypocrisy, and so that leads to me write this. He was also against the genital herpes inoculation for young people, arguing it would lead to promiscuity. Your private life as a pollie is that, unless you are a hypocrite, and perhaps not surprisingly, so many hard conservative politicians are. Joyce has managed to be a hypocrite.

How did he imagine his affair would pan out? I am waiting for the accusation that she seduced him and deliberately became pregnant to him. Or, perhaps they both made mistakes in a moments of extreme passion. But I do reiterate, I am not here do judge what people get up to in their private lives, unless it affects their job or is hypocritical.

But something in the media I glanced at gave me thoughts about the bigger picture.

While I am not terribly sympathetic to female partners of male politicians or the wives of other highflyers, as they are not struggling low income single mums, I reckon the female partners of such high flying people do some pretty hard yards. Absent husband, absent father, bring up the children mostly on their own. They pay bills. They manage the household. They shop. They cook, clean and wash. At times they have present themselves in public and be presentable. They enable their husbands, and this could apply apply in reverse sex wise, to have a very successful career as their husbands can totally focus on the job, never having to worry about there being no milk in the fridge or transporting kiddies to play in a netball match.

So how is the little woman at home repaid for her dedication to duty, to husband and children? Their husbands screws their secretaries, excited by a bit of young vag. (I could have said worse). I reckon Mrs Joyce kicked her husband out after she discovered his shenanigans, and good on her. I expect she foolishly believed in the sanctity of marriage, as espoused by her husband.

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

New Toy Arrived

Bit busy playing with my new toy, so I maybe erratically absent for a bit.

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

A Snow Slamming

I've seen people splashed by water where it has dammed up on tram tracks. I once received a good splashing by a passing car just down below The Highrise. Fortunately in Australia we don't really have snow in the areas where the vast population lives.

This looks quite nasty, in Rhinecliff, New York State.

Monday, February 19, 2018

A New Toy for Highriser

I am more annoyed with myself than anyone or anything. Something new is coming in the post. I ordered it about a week ago and it has an Australia Post tracking number. Unlike other couriers, Aus Post don't leave parcels in the mail room. If we are not home, it goes to the post office across the road, or on one recent stressful occasion, to the post office down the road.

Had I just been waiting for the delivery, I would have been more patient. At 6.30am today it was well and truly within Aus Post's system. By 9am I received notification that it was on its way with a delivery for today. Attempted delivery at 11:18am. We arrived home at 11.50am. There wasn't a card in the letter box for collection late at the post office across the road, but the way things now work, I think the card comes in the mail the next day. Tracking had reverted to delivery next day, not today.

We both worked out that the parcel should be there. I went to the Post Office, not there. The Post Office is a curious beast. It was once run by a father and son and was in Domain Road, but that closed and the same father and son opened the post office in a new building across the road. The father disappeared from the post office after a bit, but the son remained. He then seems to have sold the business to a new chap. The new chap suggested perhaps the parcel had been left at another St Kilda Road post office, so I hopped on the tram to the post office further down the road. No, not there. The experienced post office worker looked up, drilling down deeper into Aus Post's internet system than I could. It is at the post office across the road from you, he declared. Maybe they haven't fully unpacked their deliveries for the day.

I went back to the post office across the road. The new owner searched high and low, but no parcel for me. He looked on the internet and he seemed unable to bring up the site the professional post office worker could, which clearly said the parcel was at the post office across the road. To be fair, the chap across the road did all he could, including printing out what I can see on my desktop and phone. The chap across the road then asked me if I saw what the delivery person was wearing, to determine if Aus Post worker or a contractor. Apparently, from what he said, one takes the parcel back to the depot and the other leaves it at the post office for collection. Have you picked up what I just said? Did I see the delivery person? I mostly likely did not as I was not home to accept delivery, so how would have seen him? Yes, always a him, never a her.

I wish I had never bothered with the unreliable Aus Post tracking and just waited for the card in the letter box. Australia Post is now officially rubbish, which I expect is what our current conservative government wants. We will find private courier companies do things so much more efficiently than the emasculated Australia Post. We won't march on the streets to save Australia Post from privatisation, because we now hate it. You must admit, it is a pretty good tactic by our government. It was used back in the 1950s and 1960s as electric tram systems the world over were run into the ground by lack of money and the slack taken by wonderful shiny new buses, which in time proved to be a failure and now cities are going back to street rail transport.

I could say I am fucking well furious at such incompetence, but as I don't generally swear, I will just say I am very cross with Australia Post.

Emulsified high fat offal tube, chips and eggs on the side

Doesn't chlorinated chicken and hormone reared beef sound delightful? We probably eat both in Australia. I don't know about chlorinated chicken, but our livestock are given hormones. I won't go down the road of the joke about hormones. 'Tis enough to write whore moans. (Note to self, add sexism label so at least people who are offended understand the irony, or maybe just poor humour)

From The Guardian.

According to a document outlining the project, mistakenly published online by the IFT, the groups will “hash out an ‘ideal’ US-UK free trade agreement (FTA)” that includes Britain recognising US standards which are widely seen as weaker than those adopted by the EU. Such a move would allow imports of chlorinated chicken and hormone-reared beef to be sold in the UK for the first time.

It also advocates tearing up the EU’s “precautionary principle”, under which traders have to prove something is safe before it is sold, rather than waiting for it to be proved unsafe.

Yes, the British do complain about European standards being forced on them by the European Union, but Britain needs to be very careful about what it wishes for.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Sunday Selections - The goings on down below

Settle down. I mean below The Highrise. Joining in with River for Sunday Selections.

Not too long after we moved here, roads flooded. I remember seeing Melbourne Grammar boys wading and skylarking through the water.

Many years on, last year the same area flooded. I think the drainage has now been properly fixed. Time will tell.

It is reassuring to have the army protecting us and the synagogue, but truth be told, they were on their way to an Australia Day event and felt a hunger for McDonalds.

Cars blocking route 58 trams from turning into Toorak Road is an ongoing problem, or route 50late as I have heard, is an ongoing problem. There is often much furious gonging of the tram bell at such stupid people.

No, the traffic light post did not need holding up. It was the lad who needed holding up. He was very drunk and staggering around.

This one took the cake. The two car lanes to the left go in one direction. Somehow this idiot ended up in the middle of the tram lines in the wrong direction. A tram turned the corner and the van reversed back to let the tram pass and then made a U turn and went off in the correct direction for the road. How the van go there cannot be imagined.

The green domes of Prahran Central feature, formerly known as Moore's Corner Store and Charles Read's Emporium. My maternal great grandparents used to visit the store in the 1920s and 1930s. She in a pony trap with some of her thirteen children on board. He on his own in his motor car. Did they meet up and lunch? I don't know.

We have lift off.

Crepe Myrtles at The Royce. I am not fond of the bright pink variety, but I love the white ones. 

Taxi grief. Evidence of an terrible crash. Ok, I am being melodramatic. Maybe the bumper bar just fell off.

I heard a crunching of gears and a loud noise. I spun around to see a very old car crossing the intersection. R told me I just missed a show. She tried to climb over the fence at the tram stop and fell and the contents of her bag spilled all over the ground. She was so out of it and you may not be able to see it in the photo, but she had a lot of flesh showing. We waited for seven minutes for the tram and she spent the whole time trying to sort out her bag and its spilled contents. I've seen two other people jump this fence, one a bloke who did it successfully, the other, a young lass but not drugged or drunk, and the same thing happened to her, she crashed to the ground and spilled the contents of her bag. I'm not one for jumping the fence.