I didn't get my act together and make a Tasmanian holiday post. Manana. I feel like I am living in a surreal world. We dared to visit Prahran today for shopping and I had a doctor's appointment. My blood pressure was through the roof and even worse by 5pm when I checked it at home. By 7pm, it was normal. This is exactly what happens with my mother's blood pressure. We dared to have a sandwich and coffee. Toilet paper is starting to reappear on shelves, but it was gone by the time we visited. We can survive for a week or so without more and we have a good stock of tissues.
Mother's friend's husband has been stockpiling. They have 400 rolls of toilet paper, and five sides of lamb in freezers. God knows what else. I hope a water pipe bursts and the toilet paper becomes sodden and unusable and the flood of water knocks out their power and so the meat will go off in their freezers. Despicable behaviour. Meanwhile, we have two half full bottles of hand sanitiser. It was time to buy a one new bottle, and we did from behind the counter at a supermarket. There were two packets of three lamb chops in each, we scooped them both up until we looked at the price and put one back. We bought some last remaining spuds, but there weren't brown onions. We eat a lot of broccoli but it was $10 a kilo. We bought a small amount.
R spoke to his former workmate today with whom he often lunches. Her son is closing down his food business in a week's time in spite of rent being halved. Casual staff have been put off.
Brighton Antique Dealer met a bloke on her cruise late last year and we have met him and he seems like a nice guy. The classy BAD seems to like rough trade and this one was once a fireman and so should have good superannuation and not be after her money. He still works, as an interstate coach driver. All social gatherings at BAD's posh retirement place have been stopped and she is fearful. Consequently she has moved it to her new beau's townhouse and if you know Melbourne suburbs, a move from one hundred metres from North Brighton Station to Mitcham is quite a step.
I just spoke to ABI Brother whose toilet was flooding and unusable. Both he and mother were 'going' in the back yard. The plumber eventually came and put some sealant on the rubber ring on the P or S trap. After the third attempt at explaining finally ABI Brother understood that we gave our key to Mother's house to the real estate agent and we needed another key cut to keep in our car glovebox for when Mother forgets to bring her house key. He sounded sober but I was ready to tear my hair out. Mother was prattling on in the background, tell Andrew this or that. I hung up quickly.
I am not sure how I can help people in this difficult time. R's volunteer job goes on but with severe restrictions. I don't do so bad at writing. I sent this this evening to a what I see is a really nice ship, owned by Viking Cruises, and perhaps I would even like to travel on it, in spite of some of my sea cruising experiences not being to my liking. The crew probably have no voice that will be heard by anyone who will do something. Maybe an email from a rich old white Australian faggot might help.
Viking Orion has been sitting in Port Phillip for days after passengers were unloaded. I feel for the crew who are probably not paid well by Australian standards. While they are safe, they are probably bored to tears. They are used to being busy and I expect in these troubled times, they would like to be at home with family, as it clear that the cruise ships won't recover business for some time. I hope at least the crew have free internet, and the ship should return to its home port and then pay staff to go home, if that is possible at this late stage.
Andrew, who sees the VO at anchor from various angles as currents and tides change, day after day.