Saturday, December 15, 2018

The Wedding part 1

Well, I never expected to need tissues to mop up tears and snot at a wedding. I was unprepared. Mother did not shed not a tear and made the occasional snarky sotto voice comment and nor did Step Mother. But Sister's three brothers all blubbed their way through the ceremony and so did R. Bone Doctor's family are made of sterner stuff, and very little emotion from them, and not much from Bone Doctor either. Sister laughed, performed and cried.

But you aren't going to get away so easily as that with such a brief wedding report.

Picking up Step Mother the day before to stay with us was stressful. Only at the last minute did I realise I would not be home for dinner until 7.40, and thereby plans for taking her out for dinner were shot down. Travellers Aid was great, although a bit late, but transported her to the correct place for usual pickups, that we did not know about. Why did I not ask? R cooked an evening meal which we shopped for on our way to pick her up on my long meal break from at work. I roamed the station looking for her while R parked and waited for me to call. It did eventually come together, but it was all quite stressful. If there is a next time, we will know better.

Our timeline was to set off at 11 the next day, Tuesday. We left a bit earlier. We stopped for petrol, and then for lunch at a bakery in  Geelong recommended to us by Sister and Mother. Routleys has been baking since 1947. It is a very nice modern place to eat and Step Mother decided to just have an egg and lettuce sandwich. I'm afraid R and myself had something pastry based. We arrived just before noon and so many hot tradie types came and went.

We took the scenic route through Geelong, although Step Mother had been engrossed in her book for the whole journey and not interested in what was to be seen, I quickly gave up pointing anything out when I didn't receive a response. She did stop reading when I told her to look at the scenic views of Geelong esplanade and the Christmas tree out in the water.

As is the norm, check in time for our accommodation was 2pm. I wanted to drive a bit around Queenscliff to show Step Mother the sights, but I now knew she was not that interested. R and I squabbled. I said, we can't check in until 2pm. He said, we will try, at 1.30 pm. Fine, you do it then. It turned out to not be a problem. Carisbrook Cottage is old but very comfortable. I doubt you could build such accommodation now and this place must have been built in perhaps the 1940s. There seemed to be another cottage for accommodation and the owner's house was at the front of the property. Wow, it is opposite the hall for hire where we celebrated Bone Doctor's 40th birthday and opposite the Bellarine tourist train railway station. I have written about both. You can find them by searching if you are at all interested.

So, Carisbrook Cottage was not flash, but ever so well set up. Air con, ceiling fans, space heater, kitchen with all you need, towels, linen, shower pleasure score of 10 out of 10. Milk, bread, coffee and tea and cereal of infinite varieties was supplied.  There was a tray of ice cubes in the freezer, essential for when travellers buy a bottle of unchilled wine at the last minute. There was even a washing machine. Everything was labelled with clear instructions. There was a nice outdoor seating area at a table, barbeque, pleasant garden and a clothes line where you could hang your smalls.

R went for his nanna nap while Step Mother read on. Neither felt too comfortable about being in the pre wedding photo shoot, thinking they were neither group of family or friends. Having experienced it, they were probably right. I went to the photo shoot under a big tree right next to where Mother and ABI Brother were staying. The weather was warm, the sea was so blue...........and the wind was strong. It was close friends of theirs and immediate family. Everyone was in their wedding finery, two hours early. I came across one of Sister's close straight female friends who I know. I said to her, so who chose my sister's gorgeous dress? She confessed it was her, Sister's friend. Sister is not fat, but big and solid. Bone Doctor was in a black men's suit, stretching it at the hips and in the buttocks. Her father was busy trying to put her cufflinks on that he had presented to her.

It was a warm and sunny day, but at the beach there was a cold wind blowing in from Bass Strait.

Mother's caravan park cabin was ok, with terrific sea views and the sound of the sea, but I did not like the layout. Tradie Brother slept in the back of his tradie car the night before, with his dog Cobber. An early surfer in a wetsuit walking past the secluded location woke Cobber at 6am and he barked furiously. They went back to sleep. As I said to him when I saw where he slept in his car with all his tools next to him, no danger of anyone attacking you in your car then.

I returned to the cottage. Step Mother and R were dressed and ready to go. I touched up my lippy, put on a jacket, and we are all ready to go. It was a 5pm, start. We arrived at 4.45 but we should have been there earlier to get photos of Sister, Bone Doctor and Little Jo roaring around town in a 20's Chevy with a blaring Klaxton.

The caravan park whether Mother stayed surrounded the local football oval. I wonder if Margaret has seen such a thing? Strong prevailing winds through the Port Phillip Heads have taught this tree which way to grow.

This was a nice and welcoming sign at the church.

Sister and Bone Doctor both have some Scottish Heritage, so a bagpipe player seemed appropriate. Almost everyone involved in the wedding who provided a service were known to Sister and or Bone Doctor, and I expect they gave them a discounted rate.

Much use of this sign was made by both adults and children.

A fine jalopy for the bridal party to roar noisily around town in.

A bit about the rest of the day in another post.

Friday, December 14, 2018

Hot Talent

A wet morning has kept me indoors.

Well, whether you find him hot or not, and I do, there is no denying his talent.

Joe at Melbourne Snaps posted a photo of a busker at Victoria Market and I remembered him as a keyboard player who busked in the Bourke Street Mall, so I searched for more photos of him online, and surprise surprise, I have taken his photo in the past and posted it. I don't mind that mine is a bit out of focus.

Have a look at him rattle those ivories. He has performed in other cities in Australia such as Cairns and Fremantle. Maybe Grace or Sami have seen him around.

Name: Gareth Wiecko

Age: Unknown, meaning I can't find out.

Place of birth: Wales

Lives: Melbourne

Sexual orientation: Gay

Relationship Status: Unknown

Shoe size: Unknown, but I would like to know.

Photo from his social media sites.

And one from a DNA magazine photo shoot.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Real heroes

This may become a regular post, or maybe not. A hero is not a great sportsperson, or someone who raises a huge amount of money for a charity. Nor is someone who survived some terrible situation, with or without injury. No, they may have been very brave but that is not heroism.

Let me tell you of a real hero, and history has many of them. I really like shows like Air Crash Investigations and Train Crash Investigations.

In the 1980s there was a terrible train crash in Paris, with 56 people killed. In the face of a runaway incoming train, train driver Andre Tanguy stayed in his train cabin facing the rapidly approaching train and making public announcements over the trains speaker system for passengers to flee the train. Many did and his action saved many lives. He remained at his position urging people to leave his train as the incoming train slammed into his facing driver's cabin and he was killed instantly.

So, the next time you hear of a hero, compare the person to Parisian train driver Andre Tanguy.

Monday, December 10, 2018


All being well we will have picked Step Mother up from the front of So Cross Station on Monday early afternoon. She has troubles with her ankles and so via Travelers Aid I have booked her a buggy ride from the platform she arrives on to the front of the station for us to pick her up (it was not as simple as it sounds). I realised that 3 hours on a coach/train and then 1.30 hours in the car might be a bit too much for her in one day and so invited her to come down the night before. We will have gone out for dinner (we didn't. I didn't realise I wouldn't get home until 7.35. R cooked), probably to The Dick Whittington Tavern and the next day we will check into our cottage in Queenscliff to attend Sister's and Bone Doctor's wedding.

Tradie Brother will take her home in his car and stay a couple of nights.

While Mother is 84, Step Mother is only 80. Step Mother said, don't worry about the time. I can find a seat and read my book until you are ready. The contrast between the two is great.

Sister is paying for Mother and ABI brother to stay in caravan park cabin, with sea views, right at the edge of the beach. 

Although Sister and Bone Doctor constantly bicker, they love each other dearly and are well suited. It will be five years to the day that they as same sex couple were allowed to and did marry in Canberra, legal for a week or so before the nasty then Prime Minister John Howard closed the loophole and annulled such marriages.

I am really excited about the wedding. Sister has insisted that Mother makes a brief speech and Mother will give away Sister, I hope without her walking frame. It is a church wedding, and while neither brides are religious, they are involved with the church as the minister is a really good bloke. He clearly has no problem with same sex marriage, supported the same sex marriage vote and flies the rainbow flag . He accepts pet animals into his church, so Tradie Brother's beloved dog Cobber can attend the wedding. Until you cross a certain road to a new housing estate built on drained wetlands, which were ugly to the human eye but good for animals and birds, Sister lives in a very civilised place.

Our cottage is within walking distance of the venue, maybe that will be staggering distance, and it's downhill back to the cottage.

This Monday night I sent a quite soppy text message to Sister. I became a bit teary. She probably won't answer and will only skim read it, but that is ok. She will understand.

Sunday, December 09, 2018

Sunday Selections

It has been a while. This Sunday I am joining in with River and EC for Sunday Selections, which I now describe as photos not good enough to make it for a post of their own.

This figure must have been in a most horrible accident. No bulge between the legs, so as well as the horrendous injuries, he may have lost his genitalia too.

How pretentious, Upper West Side indeed. But it is kind of upper west in Melbourne City.

Melbourne Cup Day was celebrated in our building with drinkies and nibbles, but I am not sure which night. We did not attend.

Many trams pass The Highrise, and these pointer signs are great to direct people unfamiliar with the tram system.

The balloon was quite close by.

The developer of this historic building in the inner eastern suburb of Collingwood was considerably reigned in from the company's first proposal to demolish the lot. Not a bad outcome.

Playing a piano is not like riding a bicycle. I have lost any vague competence I may have had. I can still handle an organ pretty well. Smith Street, Collingwood.

The water starts up here at the National Gallery of Victoria. 

Flows down here.

To become a huge moat outside the quite brutalist design Gallery.

But peering into the water is not really a great thing to do. The thrown coins go to a charity, well, no, the Gallery itself, I think. Yes, people have become wet while trying to take the money, but the moat is well covered now by CCTV. A guard will be out to bop on the head such thieves very quickly.