Pub work 4/5

I think my start time was 10am. The hotel manager Frank was a good enough bloke. When  I arrived at work Frank called me and and a nice uni student Keith aside. He said, sorry but last night in the saloon bar tills (cash registers) were down and Don, the licensee of the hotel, told me to sack whoever was working. 

So that was that. Keith and I were sacked. I was fairly experienced by then and I did not make mistakes with money. Keith seemed like a decent bloke with some experience and didn't seem the type to take money from the till, but when very busy it could be difficult to keep track of monies. Really, I am at a loss to know why the tills were down.

I went in to collect my final pay and the lovely young bar attendant whose name I think was Keiren told me that I had the support of all the staff if I wanted to challenge my sacking. I thanked her but said no.

After a couple of idle days, I thought I need to work or I won't have money. A new discotheque called Babes had opened at the Chevron Hotel. I worked there for one night. The music volume was horrendous and ordered drinks so complicated. Not for me. 

I lasted two nights at a hotel in the posh suburb of Brighton, my own family's original landholding area. I had no idea how horribly private school boys treated hotel staff. Their ages were about 16 to 22, while the legal age for alcohol was 18. Age was not policed. I can't remember the details now, but the handsome, fair haired, nicely dressed and groomed, so well spoken were just horrible nasty young men to those who served them.

Don't ever believe Australia is classless society, although I do believe it is less class based now than than the time I describe. Hotel bar staff would simply not tolerate such treatment as I received back then. 

A few years ago we dined at the same hotel with Brighton Antique Dealer. It wasn't great, very noisy, but the staff were nice. 

I was very sad to leave my grandmother alone, but I moved back home to Gippsland region to be with my father and stepmother. I had grown up rather a lot, with a better understanding of the people and life.

I've just changed the headline to 4/5 because I've not mentioned Olwyn, a big part of my pub working time. I reckon I could make it 8, if you want me to write about what else I did during the eighteen months or two years when I worked in a pub. I'll try to treat your sensibilities well but there are matters that cannot be ignored. 

Covid Update

Little Em has minimal effects from Covid after her projectile vomiting. Her older sister Little M who initially tested negative is now also positive, as has their baby brother Little L. Their father must be as well. 

We don't have symptoms after our negative test but we will retest tomorrow, Saturday. 

Hippie Niece is now out of quarantine and again Ex Sis in Law tested negative. Contained to one family it seems, mother, father and three children.

Wednesday Disaster 2

What is a symptom of Covid in children? Yep, vomiting.

Friday looks like being very wet, so we decided to shop this Thursday. Halfway through shopping Ex Sis in Law called. Little Em had tested positive for Covid, and her asymptomatic mother Oldest Niece had too. Little M was negative and their brother 30 month old Little L refused to have anything shoved up his nose so his mother was taking him for professional testing. I don't know about Oldest Niece's husband.

No wonder Little Em was unwell last night. The twins Mother tested positive nearly a week ago and has been isolating, but that would not be related. They all had so much contact with each other last night. It would be amazing if the twins and Little M don't end up positive. Before the outing Ex Sis in Law tested herself and her twin granddaughters.

We completed our shopping with the buying of a couple of extra things in case we caught Covid last night. We can do a seven day isolation with enough food and drink. With the thought of isolating, I took down the recycling to the basement. We posted Little Em's birthday card early and we are as prepared as we can be. It is the poor kid's birthday next week but she will be in isolation, and she is supposed to return to school on Monday as the summer holidays end.

The latest regulations indicated we did not have to self test after such contact, but it was recommended. 

The first test kits I ordered online took a couple of weeks to arrive and they are only saliva tests. I mucked mine up, not being able to follow the directions. R mucked his up not able to follow the directions. R has a low tolerance of anything that isn't straight forward. He was in a grump. The kits were truly shocking  complicated. Earlier this week he picked up his 5 free pensioner RAT kits, that is 5 free for 3 months. These were the normal tests we have seen used and they were quite simple to use. We tested negative. Unless we develop symptoms, there is nothing else to do. 

So finally Covid has hit family but at least our family is as vaccinated appropriate to their age as they can be. Given that side of the family rather laissez faire social behaviour and their various different employments, it is amazing that none had become infected before. 

Wednesday Disaster

It was the last performance this Wednesday night for the musical Frozen. After two cancellations because of you know what, Ex Sis in Law, her oldest daughter with two of her three, Little Em and Little M, and the Hippie Niece's twins wanted an early dinner before the 6.30 showtime and asked if we would like to join them. No cooking tonight for Household Management! He leapt at the offer.

They called when they were well on their way and we caught the tram to town just after four and met them at about 4.30 at Betty's Burgers and Concrete Co. It was stinking hot, around 35 degrees and the air con at the cafe was not working. Had it just been R and myself, we would have walked out straight away. We sweated as everyone around us fanned themselves with a menu. At one point all the lighting went off for twenty seconds as I guess an attempt was made to reset the aircon.  Little Em was not her usual cheerful self and started to become unwell. She visited the toilet to no avail. Poor kid. She looked so sad and on the verge of tears.

After we ate we went outside where it felt a little better because there was a breeze. Humidity levels were high too. We hung about for a bit and the theatre doors opened. Although we weren't seeing the show, we went inside as well to cool off. Another toilet visit by Little Em but she was still unwell.

Little M's mother told her to not play with a barrier rope and Little M burst into tears. Amazingly the twins behaved impeccably. Maybe their hot tropical country genes make them more tolerant of heat.

Then in the quite grand foyer of Her Majesty's Little Em projectile vomited. Just two seconds afterwards before any of us could react a woman walked straight through the vomit, slipped and down on her bum she went. She wasn't so old and got up, seemingly unharmed but there will have to be a bruise.

Staff came from all directions and efficiently covered over the mess with some kind of absorbent powder and then started to use a hand brush and pan to clean up. No more than three minutes later, two St John's Ambulance staff were there. St John's is a terrific volunteer organisation who are often at large public events. I suppose it is predictable that there could be vomiting when there are hundreds of kids at an event. Later we heard they suggested Little Em the excitement and the heat had done her in. 

Well done Her Majesty's and St John's. 

As we trudged to the Bourke Street tram stop, R said 'pub, rest, cool down', so in we went. R had a beer and I had a gin and tonic. There were pokie machines. I won $10 and R's winning streak went on with a win of $50. The wins covered the cost of dinner. I can only continue to point out the benefits of gaming machines, especially for poor people who need to make some money. Fortunately for the benefit of the community, gaming companies make sure there is an abundance of gambling venues in poorer areas. 

A little refreshed we slowly walked down to Swanston Street to catch a tram home, walking because the Bourke Street tram service is hopelessly infrequent.

R collapsed on to the sofa and I fell into an arm chair, with our delicious cooling easing our discomfort.

As I thought, once Little Em threw up, she would feel better and photos posted on FB still pre show saw her looking much happier. 

We felt very English, having tea? at 5 o'clock and then later R made a supper of cheese and tomatoes on dry biscuits.

A little trim

Ok, a severe trim. In the past once petunias are past their prime I've tried cutting them back, to hopefully send forth new shoots and flowers. It's always been a fail. 

This pot of some miniature variety of petunias was all I could find at the big green shed. They behaved really well but two and a half weeks ago when they were still looking good, I thought I would try the cut back, fertilise and heavy water. Maybe my former efforts failed because I left it too late.

So there is lots of new growth but I thought it would happen more quickly. No sign of flowers yet. I may have once again made a grave error.

Oh yeah, happy Australia/Invasion Day and happy Indian Republic Day.

Pub Work 3/4. Possibly R rated

Repeats of Call the Midwife rekindles memories.

I was quite naïve  when I worked in the pub. I can't remember her name but her husband's name was Tom and she was about forty years old, double my age. We were at an after closing staff drinkies at the Forrester's Arms pub where I was working.

She was telling us that she loved her husband Tom so much, she had to think of him sitting on the toilet to bring herself to the fact he was human. Sorry, a bit gross. I think she liked to drink Brandy Alexanders. 

Somehow my shoe fell off and my foot went to her ankle and began rubbing it. My foot went higher and higher. I don't  remember being invited in any way but she made no effort to dissuade me. Why did I do it and how did I know she would welcome it? Not to brag, but I've always had a good instinct about sex but I can't remember it all now. Her legs parted wider and wider. Her chatter box speech became a little distracted. She made a quick and very audible gasping sound. It was all of five minutes of  me doing something I had never thought about or ever desired, and hey my sock was still on my foot. 

One of our staff gang asked her if she was ok. She said yes, just a bit of asthma she replied, and we all went off on our merry way home. Nothing was said by either of us at work the following day.

PS I think her name was Bev, and Andrew was now a little more educated about the ways of the world, including women.

PPS This post has been edited many times as I have remembered details and tried to keep it nice. 

Jobs going at Tennis Australia

After the farce of the Djokovic saga, Tennis Australia has learnt nothing about media management. Does it even have a media team?

Chinese tennis player Peng Shuai accused a government person of sexual assault. She kind of then went missing, but presented by the Chinese government at times as being out and about. No doubt the Chinese government doesn't want her to speak about such matters.

A couple of people turned up at the Australian Open tennis wearing tee shirts with the slogan "Where is Peng Shuai?", including a political candidate Max Mok.

Tennis Australia deemed their tee shirt slogans political and not acceptable and eventually called the police to have them evicted and they were. 

Australia's leading talk back and current affairs radio broadcaster Virginia Trioli picked up the leader Max Mok for an interview the next morning.

He readily admitted he was hoping his tee shirt was not acceptable and he would be kicked out and so be able to get publicity for the missing Peng Shuai. I would not say Trioli was played, she is too smart for that, but the media generally certainly has spoken. He and the concern about Peng Shuai is in overdrive. 

All media subsequently reported the matter. Funds have been raised for the production of 1,000 tee shirts with the same slogan, to be worn by tennis spectators I think on Friday. 

I ask you, why didn't Tennis Australia just 'not see' the two 'offensive' tee shirts. It played right into the hands of Max Mok and now there is public uproar and controversy. Ultimately I think the Australian Open is beholden to China. 

And did I mention that a one third sponsor of the Australian Open is the Chinese government owned Luzhou Laojiao distillery company? 

I am being deafened by the noise of quacking ducks.

Monday Mural

Other Monday Murals will be linked to Sami's Monday Murals. 

Somewhere in St Kilda as I recall. Beware the tiger death ray blast.

Patross Knitting Mills

A couple of you were a little curious about the history of Patross Knitting Mills and I was too. 

Cro at Magnon's Meanderings was quite correct in that the name is a combination of two names. The daughter of one of the owners explains in this just over one minute video clip. Bear in mind the clip is twelve years old now, so don't expect to have some good nosh at the Near East restaurant. So we have Patnik and Rosenfield to make Patross. Both men went on to found the still published Australian Jewish News.

The building dates back to 1885 and was built as a (very large) drapery store named Harcourt and Parry Emporium. I like one snippet I found, "The tower was lit up by electric light which made the establishment the centre of public attention". I expect it was battery generation if it was 1885. The shop went on to become the knitting mill.

The building is now occupied by the world famous Australian Tapestry Workshop that has created hand woven tapestries for private clients, businesses, public buildings and galleries all over the world.