March has been an interesting month for reading. Some good. Some great. Some I was a bit disappointed with. There’s the list.
Lost and Found by Brooke Davis - Paper - 3.5 stars
This book has been everywhere for the last few years. Finally, I found a copy on a trading table, curious about its longevity. And sure, it was okay – a book about grief in many ways, but I found this a bit all over the place, with some great ideas and writing thrown in. It’s hard to rate a book when you both like it and dislike it all at once. There ere some things, like the two older characters, who were great, but their quirks were off putting. Would I recommend it? Yeah… nah… maybe. It is well written, but…
Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir – Audiobook - 4 Stars
I decided to listen to the book before seeing the film. Hopefully, I’ll see the film over Easter.
Regardless, I really enjoyed the audiobook of this. It’s very science driven, whether this science is accurate, I do not know or care. And to be honest, if they're going on about the science stuff, it's explained in layman's terms - which is one of the great things about Grace's character - being a teacher. The book keeps you on your toes, as Ryland Grace firstly tries to work out what has happened, and then he tries to save earth, with his new friend, the alien, Rocky, who’s in exactly the same boat. I’m looking forward to the movie, but the book is excellent.
The Heir Apparent by Rebecca Armitage – Paper – 3 Stars
I feel a bit bad, as I bought this for my mother for Christmas. This book of revisionist history fictionalising the current royal family wasn’t my cup of tea. I was after something light and fluffy after the book before - but this was far too superficial for my liking.
What Rebecca Armitage has done is to take elements of the current Royal Family and mess with it. The main character, Lexi, has run away to Australia, become a doctor, only to return to England when her father and brother, first and second in line to the throne, are killed in an avalanche. She has to navigate family politics, her vile Uncle and his daughters (a bit too similar to Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor and his daughters) and her feelings for her housemate in Australia.
There were too many brand names mentioned for my liking. It just wasn't for me.
My Friends by Fredrik Backman – Audiobook – (4 Stars)
I think Fredrik Backman is a Swedish national treasure. And yes, I find him a little formulaic, and I have to be in the mood to read him, but he writes about humanity like no other writer.
My Friends stands up with his best. (My Grandmother Sends Her Regards and Apologises is my absolute favourite) We meet a young woman on the run from the foster system and an artist. Then we meet his friends through the road trip the girl and the artist's friend embark upon.
This is a book about friendship, and art, and finding your family and the transformative power of all three of these things.
I listened to it - and loved it. This is up there with Backman's best.
The Book of Guilt by Catherine Chidgey – Paper – 4 Stars
New Zealand writer, Catherine Chidgey whites a chilling novel about an England we barely know. The Book of Guilt revises the history of World War II, things are different. Some of the experiments the Nazis were doing in have continued in these homes as a part of the Sycamore Scheme. According to the Amazon blurb, "England, 1979. Vincent, Lawrence and William are the last remaining residents of a secluded New Forest home, part of the government's Sycamore Scheme. Every day, the triplets do their chores, play their games and take their medicine, under the watchful eyes of three mothers- Mother Morning, Mother Afternoon and Mother Night."
This is a very good read. My only qualm is that it reminded me of Kazuo Ishiguru's Never Let Me Go - one of my most favourite books. Chidgey creates this alternative world well - but she's not Ishiguro.
Definitely worth a look - especially if you're not aware of its Booker nominated relative. (Interestingly, both sets of people, when no longer required, end up at a seaside town...)
Rachel’s Holiday by Marian Keyes – Audiobook – 4 Stars
I read Rachel's Holiday when it first came out and I loved it. My battered copy sits behind me now. Listening to it as an audiobook was like having an old, and rather funny friend in the car.
I'm gently working my way through Marian Keyes' back catalogue. Although parts of this have dated a little bit, it's forgiven. You come out fighting for the badly mothered, strong willed, very funny Rachel - and you want to meet tight-pants Luke - still hot after all these years. I
And yes, I've read her second Rachel book, which is just as good.
Very enjoyable if you needs something light, but not stupidly so.
Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood – Paper – 4.5 Stars
This book has been sitting on the cat's throne at my place for 18 months. Finally, I picked it up and read it - and my mind was blown - but Margaret Atwood is incredible, and this is as amazing as her other works.
Hag-Seed is a reworking of Shakespeare's The Tempest. According to Booktopia, "Felix is at the top of his game as Artistic Director of the Makeshiweg Theatre Festival. His productions have amazed and confounded. Now he’s staging a Tempest like no other. It will boost his reputation. It will heal emotional wounds.Or that was the plan. Instead, after an act of unforeseen treachery, Felix is living in exile in a backwoods hovel, haunted by memories of his beloved lost daughter, Miranda. Also brewing revenge. After twelve years, revenge finally arrives in the shape of a theatre course at a nearby prison. Here, Felix and his inmate actors will put on his Tempest and snare the traitors who destroyed him. It’s magic! But will it remake Felix as his enemies fall?"
You don't need to be a Shakespeare boffin to like this, but it does help. It's a miraculous book, where the protagonist, like Prospero, exacts revenge on those who have done him wrong. It's also a book about grief and overcoming adversity.
I loved it - but of course I would. Shakespeare and Margaret Atwood are two of my most favourite things.
The Tempest by William Shakespeare - Paper – 3.5 Stars
Because I was reading Hag-Seed, I also had to get out my old copy of The Tempest to remind myself what was going on. One of his later plays, and stranger plays, reading it reminded me why I prefer seeing Shakespeare on the stage or screen.
Still, it was good to do as an exercise. I was reading it along as I was navigating Hag-Seed. I'm glad I did it.
I'm asking because I somehow ended up with nearly $50 worth of coin in my wallet. Yes, it's legal tender, and yes, it does fit in my oversized wallet, but it weighs a tonne. Along with this, at last count, there was over $100 in notes in there as well. Also, there is a cheque that needs to be banked.
Yes. A FREAKING CHEQUE.
How did I come across nearly $50 of coins? Well, that would be a mason's thing. We take up a collection for charity at the end of each meeting. As the treasurer of my lodge, I need to take this collection and bank it.
As a human being of the modern world, I count up the funds, send the collection amount from my own bank account to the lodge account and then pocket the cash (and yes, I always have a second see me do this - honest like that)
Still, I end up with a wallet full of coin?
Then how do you get rid of it?
Some places don't take cash.
Often, I don't take my wallet with me - using the card function on my phone or watch instead, so the coins sit around doing nothing.
On the way home from the gym I went to the supermarket, getting rid of around $20 of the weighty buggers in the self-checkout (after waiting a few minutes to get a check out that took cash).
I remember when I was in England saving the 'old' fifty pence pieces to feed the meter to have a shower in this boarding house I was living in for a few weeks. Smaller 'new' coins didn't fit the meter. It was the 90's - what could you do?
I remember having correct change to buy and Evening Standard on the way home.
All the little rituals around coins.
Now, they're just an inconvenience.
Though not nearly as inconvenient as that bloody cheque, which has been sitting there waiting to get to a Bendigo Bank branch for over a month...
This is a little cracker of a film. I went in, not expecting too much and came out, heart-warmed, a little more knowledgeable, and happy to have seen a glorious British film based on a true story.
This one comes highly recommended.
At the start of the film, we meet John Davidson (Robert Aramayo) on the verge of receiving an MBE from the Queen. John's nervous. Of course he is. John has Tourette Syndrome - anything could happen. And some very funny moments occur in the film.
Yet this is not about making Tourette's the whipping boy of this film. This biopic gives in some pretty harrowing details John's journey, from his first symptoms to his family situation, to the unrelenting bullying that happened to him at school. The poor kid saw only one way out, which lead him to being drugged and institutionalised, and finally living back with his mother (Shirley Henderson) in the Scottish border town of Galashiels.
It's when, some ten years on, when he meets an old school friend, who takes him hope for dinner that things change. He meets Dottie (Maxine Peake), his mate's mum, who helps him turn his life around. A psychiatric nurse by training, allegedly, she has terminal cancer and sees John as a pet project - but it becomes so much more.
We see John's life slowly turn around. He finds first job, becomes a trusted member of staff, and becomes an activist, educating the country about Tourette over the back end of the film.
Kirk Jones' script and direction are on point in this. John is a smart, sensitive, intelligent kid who has a condition that keeps him back and puts him in danger. You quickly feel for him and his plight, championing his actions and watching what can happen when you're understood, rather than ostracised.
And sure, it's a bit twee in places, but it's a fabulous story. As John says at one point, "The problem is not Tourette's, the problem is that people don't know enough about Tourette's."
Robert Aramayo is excellent in this as the hapless, but seeking John.
I'm just back from the movies - and what a cracker that was - a little Scottish film called I Swear, about a fellow with Tourette Syndrome. A biopic it shows his struggles and how he came through to make the most of life. Great little film. Seek it out.
Anyway, on with the questions, brought to us by Sunday Stealing. There's a few more questions this week. Cool.
1. Is your phone Apple or Android? What about your laptop?
My phone is an Apple iPhone - I believe it's a 15 Pro. I love the camera on it. My laptop is a very old HP. I use Windows for most of my work and I've no idea how MacBooks work. It does the job.
2. Can you say "thank you" in more than one language?
Hell yeah.
I can say thank you in the following languages:
French (Merci)
Spanish (Gracias)
Italian (Grazie)
Bahasa Indonesian / Malaysian (Terima Kasih)
Balinese (Suksma)
Finnish (Kiitos)
Dutch (dank je)
German (Danke)
Greek (ευχαριστώ - Efharsito)
Japanese (Arigato)
Thai (Khopkun ka)
Arabic (Shukria)
Australian Standard Sign Language (two fingers to the lips then let the hand drop)
Australian Bogan - Beaut mate
Danish (Tak)
Not bad for a dumb Aussie.
3. What do you draw when you doodle?
Circles and five-pointed stars. And sometimes spiderwebs which I fill in. I've tried to break myself of the habit of doodling.
4. Which do you enjoy more, Scrabble or bowling?
Um, I think I would say barefoot lawn bowling is my favourite kind of bowling. I don't mind scrabble, nor bowling with a hard ball with pins and a lane, but it's been an age - and lawn bowls are great. Just don't tell my mother I like it on a social level.
5. Can you juggle?
I used to be able to juggle three balls - but it's not a skill that I've practiced.
6. Have you ever worn pajamas in public?
Yes! I have a very cool pair of silk pyjamas that I like to where when I dress up and go to the Rocky Horror Picture show. I go as Columbia. This is an allowable use of pyjamas in a public setting. I need to find another pair of Mickey Mouse ears.
7. Was your best subject in school the one you enjoyed the most?
Pretty much. I enjoyed English and French and did fairly well in them - but my Maths and Chemistry scores weren't too far behind them.
8. When you're offered the senior discount before you ask for it, are you offended or grateful?
I'm not there yet and I've never had it offered. If offered a seat on public transport, if it's a kid offering, I will take it. I still give up my seat to the elderly when required.
9. Do you agree that with age comes wisdom?
It often does, but not always.
10. Do you consider Sunday the first day of the week or the last day of the weekend?
Sunday, unfortunately, is the last day of the weekend. I wish there were more weekend days.
This will go down as one of the MTC's triumphs. A play about a bridge collapse. Who knew? West Gate is a feast for the senses working on a piece of never forgotten Melbourne history, when in 1970, a section of the unfinished West Gate Bridge collapsed, killing 35 and changing the lives of many forever.
West Gate is an emotional, eye-opening, startling play about the events leading up to the West Gate Bridge collapse and what happened after. Playwright, Dennis McIntosh researched this impeccably. After all, he remember the event. In the programme, he states, "At 11.50am on October 15 1970, I was an eleven-year-old boy standing on the netball court on top of the Sacred Heart Primary School in Newport. I was looking through the cyclone wire fence at the mighty West Gate Bridge that was being built across the horizon. It had just collapsed while under construction and the thud radiated out across the western suburbs of Melbourne."
The event left an indelible mark on Melbourne.
What McIntosh has done with his script, has created a number of exceptionally well-drawn characters who bring out the drama of the site, the times and sense of impending doom.
There's Vincent (Steve Bastoni) the "Wog" welder who loves taking the piss out of his young assistant, Young Scrapper (Darcy Kent). There's Pat (Rohan Nichol) the shop steward, trying to keep warring factions on the site together. There's Vinny (Simon Maiden) the union man who backs up Pat. And of course, there are the engineers, company men and bridge designers. Stevenson (Paul English) who'snd trying to keep the build on time and budget (Sound familiar?), Cooper (Ben Walter) who's working for the engineering company making the supports and concrete. And of course, there's McAlister (Peter Houghton) who's seeing the problems but is being stopped from speaking out at every turn.
Later in the play, we meet Francesca (Daniela Farinacci) , grieving wife to Vincent, who is just coming to terms with the disaster.
The cast are all excellent, but Steve Bastoni, playing the wise, sensible new Australian, and his okker counterpart Scrapper, played by Darcy Kent, truly stole the show.
The script, along with Iain Sinclair's careful and sensitive direction bring an incredibly emotional play to life. There is enough light and shade to keep things interesting without turning the play into an emotional mess. Knowing you're walking into a play about a bridge collapse in one thing. Walking out not feeling overwrought is another. Many left the auditorium visibly moved.
I cannot leave this review without mentioning the staging and the sound engineering. These elements made the play. It's quite a feat to have a large bridge collapse on stage but Christina Smith's set design made it happen. Making it even more real, Kelly Ryall's soundscape, from the ubiquitous seagulls' cries to the crackle of the welders to the final fall of the bridge. It's incredible.
At the end of the play, some of the cast stood in front of one of the supports, where the names of those killed were displayed. It was incredibly moving.
West Gate may not be the most uplifting of plays, but it is an important play, incredibly staged and acted. It is definitely worth a view, if not to see a bit of our city's history, but to see what modern theatre can actually do.
One night only, but playing small venues around country Victoria for the next week or so.
4 Stars.
We were supposed to see Grace Petrie tonight, but unfortunately, there was a loss her the family and she cancelled. By we, I mean my mate Alice and our friend Kat.
We were given the option of coming to see her replacement, Irish Mythen, or get our money back. After I did a bit of digging on your tube, I told Alice we should take the risk.
It was a risk that paid off.
For lovers of music in Melbourne, The Corner is known as the place to see the up-and-comers, the tribute bands, the 30 year regroup tours and everything in between. I saw The Whitlams there about 18 months ago. The thing about The Corner - if you're not up the front, you're behind a pillar. Most inconvenient. And there is the crowd surfing sign - love that.
This was not The Corner I have known. This was a seated event. There were about 50 people there.
And this is Melbourne's loss.
Irish Mythen is wonderful, as was their opening act Emily Ulman - who was as fragile as she was funny, human and just great.
We came in halfway through her set,and found a seat at a table at the back of 40 or so other people.
Irish came on at nine on the dot.
What can I tell you about Irish? They're Irish, but have been living in Canada for many years, and they've recently married a Dane and moved to Copenhagen. They are short and wear a Canadian Mounties hat. They're close to their parents and they have a huge social conscience. Oh, and they use they/them pronouns.
They also have a huge voice, some wonderful songs, such as Tullamore Blues (their mother is from County Offaly) Little Bones (about the Tuam Convent controversy) The Dancer and many more cracking folky, funny, observant songs.
When I said to Alice we should go, I said that they were a bit KD Laing-ish. I was wrong. Irish Mythen has the boldness of Melissa Etheridge with a lot more heart.
They are also very fond of telling a story. Maybe it's an Irish thing. I liked their story about how the Bishop of Stockholm, a fellow Liverpool supporter, asked them to play their song Jesus at the Cathedral. This request was reiterated a while later in Boston, where the Bishop of Boston asked the same of them. See the song of the day. It's a great song - even if it can be seen as a little subversive. Being raised an Irish Catholic, they know what they're doing.
After an hour, they were treated to a standing ovation. It was well deserved. Even if there were only around 50 people in the room, including security and the barman, it was well earned.
For a night of simple entertainment. A person, a pint of beer, merely sipped, a well-used guitar and some exceptional songs, it was one of the best on spec evenings I've been too.
And I will never see The Corner Hotel, with its sticky carpets, pillars and small stage in the same way again. It was a joy to be there on this quiet, contemplative evening.
If they're playing near you in a small hall in a small town, go. They're wonderful
Fuel shipments into Australia have dropped sharply
Some service stations are already running out of diesel
➡️ That creates upward pressure on prices in the short term
3. Prices have been rising extremely fast
Diesel jumped ~50% in early March at wholesale level
National diesel already hit ~300 cents ($3.00/L) in some areas
➡️ Rapid spikes like this usually don’t reverse within 2 weeks
4. Short-term outlook: volatility, not relief
Experts say fuel pain may last “a few more weeks” before easing
Supply fixes (like US shipments) are coming—but not instantly
Question Three: What should people who drive diesel vehicles do to minimise costs?
When diesel is pushing ~$3.00/L, the goal isn’t just “use less fuel”—it’s buy smarter, drive smarter, and plan smarter. Here’s what actually makes a noticeable difference:
⛽ 1. Be strategic about where you fill up
Use apps like PetrolSpy or Fuel Map Australia
Price differences between nearby stations can be 20–50 cents per litre right now
Independent stations are often cheaper than big brands during spikes
👉 This alone can save $10–$30 per tank
⏰ 2. Time your fill-ups (less obvious, but important)
Diesel doesn’t follow petrol cycles exactly, but:
Prices often jump after supply news or shortages
Prices can dip slightly mid-week or after deliveries
👉 If prices are rising fast, fill sooner rather than later
🚗 3. Adjust how you drive (big impact over time)
Small changes = real savings:
Smooth acceleration (avoid heavy throttle)
Keep speed steady (especially on highways)
Use cruise control where possible
Avoid excessive idling
👉 Aggressive driving can increase fuel use by 10–30%
🛠️ 4. Keep your vehicle efficient
Correct tyre pressure = up to 3% fuel savings
Clean air filter improves combustion
Regular servicing keeps injectors efficient (critical for diesel engines)
⚖️ 5. Reduce weight and drag
Remove unused roof racks or heavy gear
Don’t carry tools/equipment you don’t need daily
👉 Extra weight = more fuel burned, especially in city driving
🧭 6. Combine trips and plan routes
Avoid short, cold-start trips (diesels are less efficient when cold)
Combine errands into one run
Use navigation to avoid stop-start traffic
💳 7. Use discounts and loyalty programs
Supermarket fuel dockets (4–10 cents off)
Some cards and apps offer cashback on fuel
Fleet or business drivers: check for bulk or commercial rates
🔄 8. Consider short-term alternatives
If prices stay extreme:
Carpool where possible
Use public transport for commute days
Work from home (even 1–2 days/week helps)
⚠️ What NOT to do
Don’t “panic fill” constantly—just be strategic
Don’t run your tank extremely low during shortages
Avoid cheap, poor-quality fuel from unknown sources (can cost more in repairs)
Yet everybody is panic buying and acting like a complete tool.
And lastly: Why hasn't Australia implemented a work from home if youn can rule at the moment?
It’s a fair question—and on the surface, it does seem logical. If fuel is expensive, why not just have everyone who can work from home?
The reality is a mix of economics, politics, and workplace culture.
🏛️ 1. Governments don’t typically mandate WFH for fuel prices
In Australia (including Victoria), work-from-home policies are generally left to:
Individual businesses
Public service departments
During events like COVID-19, WFH was mandated because it was a public health emergency.
High fuel prices, by contrast, are seen as an economic issue, not a crisis that justifies emergency powers.
👉 So the government is reluctant to step in and dictate how businesses operate.
💼 2. Businesses have been pulling people back to the office
Since 2023–2025, many employers have:
Signed long-term office leases
Invested in CBD workplaces (e.g. in Melbourne)
Pushed for hybrid or in-office work to justify those costs
There’s also a belief (rightly or wrongly) that:
Collaboration
Productivity
Company culture
…are better in person.
👉 So even with high fuel prices, many companies are resisting a full return to WFH.
🏙️ 3. The broader economy depends on commuters
This is the part people don’t always see.
City economies rely heavily on office workers:
Cafés, retail, transport, services
Commercial property values
If everyone stayed home again:
CBD businesses would take a hit
Public transport revenue would drop
Flow-on effects could impact jobs
👉 Governments balance fuel pain vs. wider economic impact.
⚖️ 4. Not all jobs can be done from home
A large portion of the workforce:
Trades
Healthcare
Retail
Logistics
…still need to travel regardless.
👉 A blanket “WFH rule” would only apply to part of the population, which makes it harder to justify as national policy.
🧠 5. It’s politically tricky
Mandating WFH could be seen as:
Government overreach into business decisions
Unequal (white-collar vs blue-collar divide)
Disruptive after businesses just stabilised post-pandemic
So politically, it’s a harder sell than it seems.
🔄 What is happening instead
Rather than mandates, you’re seeing:
Encouragement of flexible work
Some companies quietly allowing more WFH days
Pressure on fuel taxes or supply (longer-term fixes)
✅ Bottom line
Australia hasn’t introduced a “work from home if you can” rule because:
So, we have a group chat for our building complex. We're a chatty mob - nice people who keep an on each other. This morning, the call came up to send a photo of your cat. The ABC were doing something about cat photos.
There are lots of cats in our block. From Dill and Pickle, the Devon Rexes who terrorise the car park, to Irene, who loves her dad, to Kay's four, Fitzgerald, Marcel, Breda and Fish. There's Saroo - who escaped a few weeks ago, and Oslo and Helsinki, the Russian Blues.
And my boy.
Seems the neighbour had a friend in production at the ABC. And this is what happened...
All rights held by the ABC for the video.
Lucifer was on the telly.
Yes, it's a terrible photo of him, but he was on the telly.
I'm a proud Mum.
Also, this is on the day, where horror of all horrors, he was taken to the vet for his annual check up. After running around the room for a bit, having a needle and some horrible flea and tick stuff put on his neck (better the vet do it than me - let him hate the vet) and being told that he would like him at 5.5 kgs, where he's sits at six kilos, and he's weighed the same for the six years I've had him, I said there was nothing I could do. He doesn't overeat, he's not food driven unless you're chopping up raw chicken and at 6 kilos, he's six kilos of muscle. Lucifer walked away with a clean bill of health, and I was $150 poorer.
The vet said that I was a very good cat mum.
And yes, I did show the vet the video. You can't be a good cat mum if you're not proud of your children.
I am so over this. The ear infection, which travelled down to the sinuses, is abating, but as it's leaving, I'm left with a pain in my nose and jaw that's hideous. It feels like somebody's stuck a marble up my right nostril.
WILL THIS GO AWAY ALREADY.
Anyway, it's a big week.
Tomorrow, before book group, I'm taking Lucifer to the vet for his annual check up. I've got his flea and worm treatment, which the vet can put on him. May as well have him put it on him - he can hate Chris the vet, and not me.
The book group book is Catherine Chidgey's The Book of Guilt, which was very good. Not disimilar to Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go (although I rate the latter far higher - it's one of my most favourite books). Thankfully book group is online well after we will have returned from the vet appointment.
Wednesday, it's off to a PT session with Chuck.
Thursday, it's another PT session, making up for the one I cried off tonight, thanks to the face ache. (My eyes were streaming, couldn't see where I was going.)
After that, I'm supposed to be going to a gig at The Corner to see somebody called Irish Mythen. They won't be coming on until later, so there's plenty of time. No idea what they're like, but they looked good on spec.
And Friday - off to a play at the MTC. We're seeing something called West Gate - about the West Gate Bridge disaster in the 70s. Cheerful.
The face ache will subside, if other colds are anything to go by. At least most of the snot has abated.
Still, I wish this would all go away already so I can get on with enjoying life.
No. Was too much of a swat for that. Skipping classes at university was a different matter.
2) Lettered in a school sport?
I'm sure this is an American term - but was I good at sport? Absolutely not. I never played team, sports. Did the bare minimum to get through P.E in years 8 and 9. We could give it up after that.
3) Made a prank phone call?
No. Never saw the point in that.
4) Paid for a meal with coins?
Unless it was something like a pasty or sausage roll, when you could get then for a dollar, then no.
5) Laughed until some sort of beverage came out of your nose?
Okay, something I have done - and done too many times.
It was six years ago that I saw your Tinder profile.
It was love at first sight, for me anyway.
I mean, other than your daggy name, how could I not love you? I mean, how could I love you? Look at those eyes, that nose. I called up the secondhand cat shop (also known as the Animal Aid shelter in Coldstream) and put a hold on you.
The first photo of you says a lot. Ears up. Curious. Not stressed. You didn't seem to mind me. After spending a bit of time with you, I took you home for a trial adoption. If you hated me, you could find somebody else.
Needless to say, that first night you slept behind my knees - and you never went back to Coldstream.
First, we changed your name. My grandfather was named Reg. You couldn't be a Reg. You were about to become a witch's familiar, a fitting name was required. Lucifer seemed fitting. Lucifer Reginald Morningstar. Though at home you're referred to as Boy-Boy, Goose, Goose-Boy, Hay You and Get-Your-Arse-Out-Of-The-Camera!-I'm-Talking-to-My-Boss,"
I'm looking at you now, six years on, lying on your back on the yoga mat. If the belly is out, it will get rubbed.
You do the best derp faces. You're a bit of a dick head. And an arsehole. And a pain in the neck.
You're very aloof at times, but a bit friendlier to strangers when I'm about.
You're a good boy in that you don't jump on the kitchen benches, nor tear up the furniture. You're pretty clean and you make use of your scratching post. Your only antisocial behaviour is when you take yourself off for a wank, but hey, you're a boy. That's what boys do.
You're also very good in the car on long car trips (even if you insist on making your presence felt when I'm talking to people on the phone. You're also great at eating other people's pot plants. Nanny has lots of great pot plants. Nanny also has that ginger tyrant - but it's mutual dislike.
I love you very much, my Darling Boy.
You've been my constant companion for six years - which makes you eight-years-old now. You still love playing with Manky Mouse. You haven't yet caught with the red laser dot. And you know that if you lie with your belly on display (common), your belly will be rubbed.
Everything will be reset on Monday, because Monday is a good day to start.
On Monday, I have six weeks left at mu current job. As the system is live in three weeks, then there's three weeks of hypercare, after that, I'm out of a job.
So, Monday, I start the job hunt in earnest. I've got my list of needs. I've got the course I'm taking about keeping yourself relevant. I know how to get a job - just have to go and get one. \
This is on top of my already crazy job. But it must be done.
On Monday, I got back on 'The Regime."
After a fortnight of being sick - ear infections, antibiotics, sinus infections, coughing and general misery, I need to do a complete body reset. So, it's out with the gluten, dairy, sugar and caffeine. I don't drink enough to count cutting that out. The Regime works for me, but as I'm away this weekend, there is no point starting until Monday.
Oh, and part of the regime is getting a half an hour walk in before work. I'm not moving enough. This job has me strapped to my desk from 8.30 until around 6 - I need to move. It will loosen more of the phlegm.
It all changes on Monday.
Can't wait (other than giving up caffeine again - I've grown dependent on Coke Zero and I don't want to give it up. )
I also wish the neighbour wouldn't smoke weed outside my window. I'm two floors up. Bah.
The message came just after lunch. My friend's mother had passed after a long illness. She was sitting beside her. Her passing was peaceful. It wasn't unexpected, in many ways, it can be seen as a relief.
I'm not going to go into details, as the story of my friend and her mother is not mine to tell.
We've been messaging over the last few days. Nothing big, just the odd, "How are you doing?' and "Yeah, okay. This is hard, but an honour," type notes. Little niblets every few days. Nothing intrusive, just gentle offers of support, providing her with the offer that there is a person on the other end of whichever platform there with an ear, if she so wished. She is away from her family, as she lives interstate from where her parents reside.
We haven't seen each other in years - but keep in touch over the web. Our parents also live in the same town, and I've been chancing a meet up for a few years, but it wasn't meant to be.
Today, a little after the news, I gently asked if she'd like me to pass the news to a few mutual friends. One less job to do for her - and more gentle support, albeit online. "Yes, please." Came the reply. The mutual friends were messaged.
I've had a few friends lose a parent in the last few months. Geetangeli's beloved father died a few weeks ago. At 91 and after a stroke, he went quietly, peacefully after a long and well-loved life. I've always admired the relationship Geetangeli had with her father. He was a lovely man.
And as many of my friends are in their 50s, this is the time that our parents start to ail and fail. Some quickly and with grace, others fight all the way. Some don't know what's happening at all. It's something we all have to face.
On my end, I'm not one to ignore friends whose parents are ailing. I'm not in their face, but I do try to drop the odd message. Or some friends get a cat or dog video to give a smile. (I did this for my sister when my niece was dying - it's like "Here's 10 seconds of joy - nothing will make this better, but this is a small reprieve.")
It's letting them know they're being thought about, while not going over the top.
It's a kind thing to do.
There's also a reason I do this.
My father died 29 years ago. I was in London, I couldn't go back for the funeral due to the circumstances I was in at the time.
My mother called once to let me know what had happened (again, not an unexpected death). A couple of friends called by once. I took a week off from work and painted out the lounge room because I couldn't be at work, but I needed something to do - and for me, keeping busy was the best thing. I'm not religious. I'm not cold. I was also single. My flatmate, bless him, was an absolute muppet.
The kindest thing a friend did for me was to come over with a couple of joints. She said, "Smoke them, don't smoke them. I'll come back in a week." She did. She got about half her stash back. I have never forgotten that kindness, the odd puff of weed took away some of the pain, if only for a little while.
It was the loneliest time in my life.
I don't want anybody to ever feel like that. Even if it is the odd virtual message. They are told they are not alone.
The grief will come. The ifs and whats and whens. The considerations. The reminiscences. The plans. The re-considerations. Once the shock passes, there's the processing. The feelings that will come lapping at your feet one minute, and with the force of a tsunami the next.
Regular unleaded petrol costs around $2.29 a litre where I live. If you shop around, you might find it a little cheaper. In the last few weeks I bought it in at $1.59 a litre, but that's what a war in the Middle East gets you. Deisel ins around $2.79 a litre. Hmm.
An interest rate rise came into effect yesterday.
I'm not sure how people are supposed to pay for all that.
Donald Trump is still alive. Take that how you wish.
I have about six more weeks in my current contract and have started looking for work.
I've been battling an ear infection for about two weeks. The stuff from the naturopath works far better than antibiotics. Still, I feel horrid. My temperature is 99.2 degrees fahrenheit - or 37.2 in the new scale - a touch warm but not badly so. The nurofen will kick in soon.
After a fortnight of snot, ear pain, tinnitus and generally feeling crap, I went back to the naturopath.
Naturopath, you ask? Yes.
Here is my rationale.
I went to the doctor ten days ago about this ear infection. After a round of antibiotics and I'm still not right. I'm popping nurofen daily to help reduce the face ache, the earache and the sinus pain. My eyes are weeping. There's a pain in my throat and jaw - and I'm over it. What's a doctor going to do?
My naturopath has other ideas. Rather than blitzing me with antibiotics, he's gone another route. Herbs. Which have done the trick in the past.
First up, there's the green horse pills. Something called Armaforce, which will hopefully start getting my immune system where it needs to be.
There's a herbal mix, which needs to be taken twice a day. This one doesn't taste like arse as much as other ones I've had. It's called snot-blaster. Here's hoping it works quickly.
To drink, to help soothe the throat, I'm on ginger and cinnamon tea - made by putting a cinnamon stick and some sliced ginger root in boiling water, This one I like.
Not so much fun is bathing my eyes, which are weeping and bloodshot thanks the stuck sinuses, in weak chamomile tea. I hate the stuff, but after two weeks of all of this, I'll give anything a go.
I also like that my naturopath calls me comrade. I've been seeing him for years... he's allowed.
Anyway, another early night for me. Need to go and take my horse pill and snot blaster before I go down.
I shut my work computer off at 9 p.m. This doesn't happen very often and I don't resent this - I now have a clear runway for tomorrow,
Regardless, I need to have a whinge. I try not to do this very often, and I'll keep it short. I'll put it in bullet points so I don't overcomplicate things.
<whinge>
I'm sick of snot.
I'm sick of being deaf in my left ear - it is showing signs of improving, but still.
I woke up with a sore throat and my left eye soldered shut with muck. Bloody snot.
I'm waiting for the naturopath to come back to me.
I just want to feel healthy enough to really get exercising (though I did do a good workout tonight when I took a break).
I have to start looking for another job. I've got plenty of time, but I don't feel enthused. A lot of this is due to the snot.
I need to cook, but I don't feel like cooking.
I wish my cat was cuddlier. He is thawing, but it's only taken 6 years.
I'm a bit miffed one of my book group told me about the twist in our current book group book, even though I said I was only halfway through. Ten pages later, the twist came. Oh well, no drama - this is a small miff.
I'm travelling again next weekend. Another case of I want to, but I don't want to. Two weeks in a row is a lot.
I wish the cat would eat the treats which are scattered around the lounge room.
MAFS is really shite this year. It's always shite, but it's extra shite. Like where do they find these people.
I would love a roast lamb dinner cooked for me - with lots of mint sauce.
I don't want to give up coke zero. I know I shouldn't drink caffeine, but I'm addicted again.
/<whinge>
Thanks for listening. All is well. I'm just over feeling under the weather.
Fun fact. Hoyts is currently doing $12 tickets for sessions that are on before midday on a Sunday. Result!
Especially as there are films I don't want to pay full whack for, especially if they're a bit of an unknown quantity. How to Make a Killing looked a touch dodgy, but paying to lower amount made it feel fine.
And yeah, it was fine. More than fine. As a bit of time out at an eleven 'o' clock session on a Sunday, it was great. I'd go on to say this would be a great date night movie. it's fun. It's also got Glen Powell in it - he's everywhere - and there's a reason for this - he's fun. Oh, it\s dark humour tickled my funny bone.
This is dark, but in a good, funny way, with limited sex and violence, it's really just a big shaggy dog story.
We meet Beckett Redfellow (Glen Powell) at the start of the film as he awaits his fate on death row. A priest has come to visit him to offer solace. Beckett tells him his story. See Beckett is the illegitimate son of a Redfellow daughter who was kicked out of the family for getting pregnant. Raised by his single mother, he's always told that he has a large inheritance coming his way if he lucks out. Otherwise, he should live a good life and do his best.
What's explained is that his grandfather Whitelaw Redfellow (Ed Harris) has set up an irrevocable trust, and on his death, the 28-billion-dollar fortune will go to his oldest living relative. Beckett is a way down the list, and even with his mother being excommunicated from the family, the trust has not been altered.
A young Beckett also meets Julia (Margaret Qualley) a precocious young girl who can't work out why Beckett doesn't have any money. They talk and bond, then Beckett's mother dies and he has to fend for himself.
Fast forward around 15 years, Beckett is working in a suit shop, still living in New Jersey, and the mysterious Julia, recently married and Chanel clad gets in contact - and drops a hint that his life would pick up if he started knocking off his family members to get the inheritance.
This is where the fun starts.
As much as I don't condone murdering your relatives, Beckett did this with style. They were odious cretins anyway. Raf Law (Jude Law's son - he's the spitting image), Zach Woods, Bianca Amato and Topher Grace are all dispatched with a lot of grace and humour. He was merciful towards his uncle, who gave him a job in Finance and did look after him. See, he's not all bad.
Oh, and he took up with hid dead cousin's girlfriend, Ruth (Jessica Henwick), which seemed to be working out until the mysterious Julia gets rather demanding.
I'm not going to tell you how Beckett ended up on death row. Nor am I going to say what else happens. But this is a good laugh. It's not going to win any best film awards, but it's very entertaining. Glen Powell is the most benign of leading men - good to look at, a bit goofy and he doesn't take himself too seriously.
John Patton Ford's script and direction are fine as well. As I said before, it's one big shaggy dog story told in a fun way.
I'm glad I saw this. I wouldn't begrudge paying for a full price ticket. It's fun. If your sense of humour is a bit bent and dark, even better.
I have come home from Sydney to a recalcitrant cat. Oh well. The business in Sydney went well, and I got back to the airport early enough to get an earlier flight home. The ungrateful critter is now using me for a scratching post. It seems that ensuring he's been fed is not enough for him.Oh no. I went away for a night and I am to be punished.
Blooming cats - who would have them?
Regardless, today's questions have been brought by Sunday Stealing. I'll be quick. It's been a long day.
1. It's the middle of the night. There isn't another car in sight. You're stuck at a red light that just won't change. How long do wait until you run it?
Umm, it depends on a few things:
It there a known red light camera at the intersection?
Can I back up and try run over the sensors again - I've done this in the past.
It the last point fails and there is nothing around, I'd say about two minutes. There are some intersections in East Melbourne which do my head in - backing up and running up the intersections seem to get them working again.
2. What's your favorite recipe?
My grandmother's yoyo biscuits, and I do a really cool roast pumpkin, mange tout (snow peas) lime and chilli stir fry.
3. When did you last ask yourself, "What the hell was I thinking?"
I ask myself this all the time. Normally when I find myself in one of these situations:
Stuck in a mosh pit (don't do it after you turn 30 - daft move)
Going into anywhere really noisy.
Getting on a too crowded tram instead of waiting for the next one.
Taking Punt Road at any time of day or night. (If you're in Adelaide, think of the Dequetteville Terrace roundabout, in England, the Swindon Roundabout or the North Circular)
Trying to clip my cat's toenails - that is just asking for trouble.
4. Have you ever had a mole removed? If yes, where on your body was it?
I've not had a mole removed per se, but I get cysts cut out regularly thanks to a genetic trait passed down through my mother's line where I grow sebaceous cysts in my scalp, They feel like little horns. I've got a couple that need to go. I also had a small skin cancer taken off my temple a few years back. Other than a fine scar, it's been dealt with.
5. What website do you faithfully check (other than email)?
Most mornings I go to the New York Times website just to answer the questions, "Is he dead yet?' and 'What's he done now?'
Other daily searches include:
www.reg.bom.gov.au (the old Bureau of Meteorology website)
I have so many feelings about Sydney. I shouldn’t, but I do.
Sydney to me, is a bit of a lawless place. The people are hard. The streets are difficult to navigate. It has a rundown field of it once you get out of the CBD, which only recently had some money injected into it to make it look a little bit better. Like many other big cities you can turn a corner in the atmosphere changes.
I could never live here. It’s far too humid.
Regardless, I am in Sydney. My plane was late. Not too late but late enough. My friend was waiting for me at the gate, she had just arrived from Adelaide. We’re going to the same meeting tomorrow.
She’s staying down the hall. I reckon she’s doing the same thing as me ironing a white shirt for tomorrow. Yes, we are going to look like hospitality workers. It’s okay it’s all part of the plan.
She was a bit worried about getting her masonic apron through the scanners at the airport. It wasn’t a problem. Mine didn’t set off the alarms either. It might be a bit drifting if you’re trying to get through a ceremonial sword. I wonder what the airlines think about getting those through. You definitely have to put them into the hold, if they let you take it at all.
We’ll get up in the morning, get some breakfast meet the third of our contingent and make our way to the Sydney Temple, which is set in an industrial estate in deepest , darkest Yagoona (It’s alright, I don’t know where it is either).We will do what we have to do then head back to the airport and get a plane home.
The hotel room is fine. The iron is very good even if the ironing board is tiny. I have ironed my crisp white shirt, noting that I have not worn a button down shirt for a very long time. You can thank Covid for that. My only gripe is that I cannot connect to the streaming services. Nevermind. The hotel room is spotlessly clean and the sheets are fresh, white cotton.
But, it’s 1130, and really it’s going to be a big day tomorrow so I have to have a shower and go to bed.
I can sleep away by differing feelings about Sydney.
I'm packing once again. Just an overnight trip, but I've got to make sure I've got everything I need for Saturday.
The list isn't too bad.
Travel computer and accouterments
Mason's apron
Mason's dress code wear (think waiter)
White gloves
Undies
Light change of clothes so I don't have to look like a hospo going back to the airport
Sponge bag
Charging cables
Meds
Book
Glasses / sunglasses
There will be a few other things that will get tossed in the bag before I go.
But my big habit. Packing and repacking the toiletries bag. With the travelling I do, why is it that small pocketknife always gets in there? How is it I always take two lots of eyeliner and mascara, but never a hairbrush? Why does it always take three goes to get it right?
I think I need to go to bed - I'm not feeling anything tonight.
I forgot to take my afternoon meds and I felt it. I think I should be setting myself up a reminder on the phone - I really felt not having it in me - and I craved sugar. And felt a bit all over the place.
I'm sick of my left ear ringing - I'm a bit deaf in my left ear - but it's showing some improvement.
Zadie Smith's first novel, White Teeth was first published 25 years ago. Argh.
Part if me can measure my life by Zadie Smith and her writing.
I remember reading it on a beach in Greece around the time wondering what the fuss was all about. Smith, born to one Jamaican parent and one white parent, the first person from her North London family to go to a university, and that university being Cambridge, she's inciteful, funny, deep thinking, up-to-date and culturally aware. She's great. I remember reading White Teeth and recognising a lot of the areas - having lived around NW3 and NW6 while I was there. She was relatable.
My other memory of Zadie Smith involves Andrew O'Hagan, a Scottish writer cut from a similar cloth. I was doing some driving for the Writer's Festival and we were stuck in traffic. He was texting somebody while we were chatting. The next thing he tells me is, "I'm having a chat with Zadie Smith. Told her I'm stuck in traffic with a woman called Panda who is also a writer who's driving me about."
That's my six degrees of separation story with her.
Tonight, she was in conversation with Benjamin Law at the Melbourne Town Hall. The stalls were sold out, the gods were half full. For an hour and a half, I got to be blown away by two people having a deep, fun, exploring conversation about writing, life, the joys of change, process and the extraordinary luck she's had (which you can clearly see has been set of with an extreme amount of hard work).
Both Smith, and by extension, Benjamin Law are very generous in their conversation. I get the feeling Law was a little star struck, just as Smith is down to earth.
Part of this talk was looked at her writing process, the ever-encroaching role of AI, what it was like growing up as a literary darling... the chat was as fascinating as it was fun.
A large span of the chat was spent talking about her new book of essays, Dead and Alive. Part of Smith's greatness is her ability to write fantastic non-fiction alongside of her fiction. And I agree with her, the great thing about writing essays is that you can finish them easily.
And then it was back onto the tram and home to the cat.
I do have one question, though. In the audience of around 2000 people, about 85% of the crowd were woman. I wouldn't call Zadie Smith a woman's writer. She's a literary writer. She doesn't write romance or chick lit. Nor does she write commercial crime novels. I was just a little floored at the lack of men in the crowd. Don't they read any more? Where are the men and why aren't they showing up to listen to ideas and engage in discourse about the world. Is this why there's a male loneliness crisis? Just an observation.
I've downloaded her book of essays onto my kindle. Looking forward to that.
If I'm honest, it's something I believe in and participate in as much as possible. I've got a large bag of aluminium coffee pods waiting to go back to Nescafe. My rubbish is sorted and put in the correct bins.
And today, for shits and giggles, I took two bags of cans to the recycling station just to see what it was like. The interwebs had been telling me of these new-fangled machines where you could recycle your cans and bottles. All they need is a recognisable bar code. Simples.
In the scheme of things, returning around 40 cans to a machine which will give me a voucher for returning them seems like a fool's errand, but I was curious. I drink a bit of fluids which come out of cans. My nightly Sodaly. A bit of coke Zero... why shouldn't I return my cans and get 10 cents back on each.
I also wanted to try the experience.
A public holiday is a good day to do this, making my way to the recycling station in Camberwell.
Things I found out.
Lots of people do this. When I left, there were five people waiting patiently to use the machines - most, like me, had two or three shoppers with them. There was no average demographic - a young couple, a woman my age, a dad and his two kids were in the line.
Well, there was a queue. I was first in the queue behind a family group who seemed to have five barbeques worth of bottles and cans in front of me. Also, there were two machines - one wasn't working. One was.
It was a nice day, and a ten-minute wait with my audio book and some good pokemonning make the time go quickly.
Finally, it was my time. I scanned the app. I put my cans and bottles in once at a time sending them down the scanning conveyor. Took all of about 5 minutes, a couple of cans came back - most went through on a second round - and at the end of it, I got a voucher that can be redeemed at Coles for about $4.00.
Is this a worthwhile activity, collecting cans so that every few weeks I can go run them through the machine for a few buck - possibly not, but I like that I get my money back on the cans and save the funds, after a while, I could put the pin money towards something.
I just think it's a worthwhile thing to do. The cans can live in my car boot until I send them on their way - and if I'm honest, coming from a state which has always had a 10 cent refund on cans, I never could work out why more places haven't done this to try to get more glass, aluminium and plastic back into the recycling arena. But as much as we've had this scheme, finding places to recycle has always been difficult and time consuming.
I think I'll keep doing this, even if it's a just for me thing.
