Day Off

It's my birthday. 

I don't get the day off work, but I do get the day off blogging. 

But the post goes up regardless. 

Happy birthday to me.

Today's song:

Jump Start

Phone messages from this evening.

Slim 5.45 p.m.: Are you about later?

Pand 5.47 p.m: I can be.

Slim 5.48 p.m.: Would you be able to give me a jump start? My car hasn't moved for six weeks and the batteries dead.

Pand 5.51 p.m.: Serves you right for going to Europe. I'll give you a buzz when I'm getting off the tram. Just buying a cake. Give me 20 minutes and I'll be home. 

Slim 5.52 p.m.: You're a legend. 

Pand 5.53 p.m.: You'd do the same. 

Having grown up driving a 25-year-old EJ Holden named Edna, there's some things I can do and that I understand. I get what it is to check oil, water and tyres. I get what it is when your battery fails you. These days the art of minor car mechanics has gone by the wayside. Having somebody to give you a jump start is heaven sent. I'm not sure many Gen-Zedders would know how to jump start a car. 

I should also say, Slim drives an early 90s V8 Holden ute. Well retro. Slim lives downstairs. Slim is also a mechanic. He's a lovely bloke. A lovely bloke who has jumper cables, something many people had in the boot of their cars when I was a kid. 

As I said I would, I texted Slim as I was getting off the tram, Coles toffee and pecan roulade and some macarons in tow (in lieu of a birthday cake for the book group girls.) He was waiting at the end of the driveway for me. 

We edged up the cars, he set the jumper leads in place - joys of having a mechanic in the building - and he started his ute. 

Vrrrroooooommm

There is something about the roar of a V8 engine. I know they are crap for the environment, but it's a familiar roar from my childhood. 

Today's cars aren't the same. If you drive a hybrid or EV, they're even quieter.

Slim was happy. He took his beast out for a drive to properly charge up the battery. 

I went upstairs, fed the cat and went down the pub for book group - birthday cake and macarons ready for the bar staff to put in the fridge. 

The point of this post, other than it is very easy to be neighourly?

Nostalgia can be found in the strangest of places. 

And I got to blow out some birthday candles which the lovely staff at the National Hotel had arranged on top of the cake. 

Today's song:

p.s. I think I was at this performance in 1992... love this song.

Jazz or Classical

Uncommon dilemma. 

I've got two options for Saturday night. 

I rarely go out Saturday night, but here I am with two choices after what's going to be a busy week. 

Option One:

A friend's partner plays in a jazz trio. They are having an album release at a jazz bar in Brunswick on Saturday night. I don’t mind jazz. I’ve heard the trio play on a number of occasions. The only downside is it means going to Brunswick.

Options Two: 

A friend and his choir are singing at Hamer Hall on Saturday night. It’s something like choir in a day where everybody gets the music in the week before, they have one days rehearsal, And then they go on on the Saturday night. They’re not playing anything I’ve heard other than it’s classical, and it’s a one night only thing. I do know that my friend’s choir would be very good. He’s a bass.

Both events cost about the same. Both require some travel. Both are one night only events. Both would require me to put on proper clothes and some spakfilla on my face. 

It’s just not a dilemma I’m used to. Two events on the one night.who knew.

And I can’t go to both.

Maybe, I should sit on the couch and do some crochet instead.

Today's song:

A Difference of Opinion

I didn't want to talk to him, although after three years or so of no contact, I was half-interested in what he wanted to say. 

There's a strict no-contact caveat on him from my end. Not that he doesn't contact me - but I don't make any contact with him. He's not blocked, but his number is no longer in my phone. Years ago, when I made this choice, it was hard at first, but no-contact is like a muscle - it gets stronger the more you exercise it. Like my McDonalds ban this year. I've not gone to McDonalds this year. At all. not even for coffee - but the no longer do decaf, so no reason for me to go. I will keep this going, with an exception to be made if Christmas is at Blarney and Barney's place. We always go to McDonalds for coffee on Christmas morning - it's our happy little bogan tradition - that and it's one of the few places open for coffee Christmas morning. The bogans are lining up around the block in Altona. 

Regardless, not contacting him, like my McDonalds ban, makes me feel good. Less rubbish going in, the better I feel. 

He rang when I was in the gym first up. I was on the leg extension machine. 

"Fuck off," I yelled at my watch, before not accepting the call. 

"But you like leg extensions," Chuck countered.

I did a number of personal bests in the gym that night. 

He called again a minute later. 

"I'm at the gym, call later," I yelled into my Apple watch, before going back to exercising my quads.

Later we spoke. 

I kept non-committal. He said we hadn't caught up for a while (three years). His first question was "So, are you married yet?"

My response. "What the fuck would I want to do that for?"

There was more idle chit chat. For somebody who's known me for around 30 years, he asked whether both my sisters are gay. He conveniently forgot that I had a cat. He somehow forgot that my niece passed away from leukaemia ten years ago. 

The conversation turned. He lives in the north of England in a small seaside village near the Scottish border. The comment was made, "England's full of immigrants."

My response. "Shite, you're one of them."

The anti-immigration diatribe going on around here, the rise of Trump, Nigel Farage and Pauline Fucking Hypocrite Hanson gets right up my nose.

He was a somewhat shocked. 

I walked my comment back a little. I told him that I realised that the situation in Britain, and America was different to the situation in Australia, however, I come from a country of immigrants. Unless you're of First Nations blood, you're an immigrant. And if you don't like immigration, then give up on your bahn mi, curries, Chinese food, pizza, festivals and the like. I also confessed that I live in a left-wing enclave, and that I like the diversity immigration provides. 

His next question. "What's left-wing?"

This used to be a very smart person. He was accepted into Oxbridge in his youth. He ran for parliament back in the day for a left-wing party. 

Maybe he's in the first stages of neurological decline. 

Regardless, when we got off the phone, I was overwhelmingly aware of the nuclear missile sized bullet that I'd dodged, and realised that the no-contact status, on my part, has been very good for my psyche. 

A wise friend once told me, "As we age, women expand, men contract."

He's so right. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing Does Favourites

 I've had a very social day. First of I got to meet my friends' puppy - which was an utter delight (along with seeing my friends) Then it was out to a party, where I was overjoyed to find that there was a shed where all the neurodivergents met up, away from the noise and crowds in the main house. We sat by the fire and discussed what it is to be a late diagnosed neurodivergent. I found my people. Then their kids came and found us, it got noisy, so I drove home. 

I now know why I smoked socially - it got me away from the rabble. Who knew?

Anyway, here are this week's questions, brought by Sunday Stealing.

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ...? 

1. Flavor?

Probably vanilla. If not, lemon. But vanilla is strangely complex when done well

2. Movie?

I have many favourite movies, but these three spring to mind. So, I outsourced this to AI - and this is what it came up with. 

"Yes. I found a post on Princess Pandora – Queen of Denial specifically titled “Ten films that get me”, published September 23, 2020. She describes these as films that “get me at a cellular level” and says they are films she loves and cherishes.

Pandora’s top ten films

Garden State (2004) — Zach Braff

Bull Durham (1988) — Ron Shelton

Donnie Darko (2001) — Richard Kelly

Pride (2014) — Matthew Warchus

Closer (2004) — Mike Nichols

The Boys Are Back (2009) — Scott Hicks

Henry V (1989) — Kenneth Branagh

Three Colours: Blue (1993) — Krzysztof Kieślowski

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017) — Martin McDonagh

The Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016) — Taika Waititi

A couple of interesting qualifications: Three Colours: Blue is described as one of her “most cherished films ever,” while Bull Durham is her go-to film when she needs cheering up. She also says she saw Branagh's Henry V eight times in the cinema.

She subsequently listed a somewhat different set of films she “never get[s] tired of watching” in September 2020, including The Princess Bride, Logan Lucky, V for Vendetta, Deadpool and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.

My two favourite Australian films are Rabbit Proof Fence and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. (Muriel's Wedding is a bit to close to my own family.)

3. Piece of jewelry?

I don't wear much jewelry, and when I do it's silver - but I have a number of Pandora bracelets. I should wear them more often. But they're heavy.

4. Place to be?

Pick one of the following:

• My bed
• Paris
• In a cinema or theatre
• London
• Any cathedral or castle in Britain
• In a room filled with puppies and kittens (or any baby animal)

5. Boy's name?

Moot point as I'll never be having children, but I rather like Matthew.

6. Girl's name?

As above, but I alway said that if I had a daughter I'd call her Freya. 

7. Candy?

Do you mean lolly - small, sweet things. Australia used to have a culture where 20 cents would get you a bag of pick and mix lollies. In my bag I would have:

• A Freckle
• A jaffa 
• A caramel swirl
• A spearmint leaf or two
• A red frog
• A jelly snake
• A Freddo
• And maybe a candy banana, as that's the only way I'll eat bananas willingly. 

8. Sports team?

The Adelaide Crows. It's the Australian Rules Football team from my hometown. I don't get other football. It's Aussie Rules or nothing. 

9. Color?

Pillarbox red.

10. Month? 

I love April, even if TS Eliot says it's the cruelest month. It's not to hot or cold, the leaves are turning (remember, I'm in Australia, things are backward here) and it's no longer daylight savings. 

Today's song:

Theatre Review: Break of Day

 The Play: Break of Day by Steve Rodgers

The Space: The Merlyn Theatre at The Malthouse

Runtime: 1 hour 45 minutes

Until 29 August

Stars: 5

This evening had the potential to go awry, considering a large school group turned up just before the lights went down. I was here on spec. I saw Kat Stewart was in the play - she's always fabulous. And with Sarah Goodes directing the show, it was bound to be good.

Thankfully, the students, a group of year eleven theatre studies students from the Middle Eastern suburbs behaved beautifully. I also found out from the teacher who was sitting in front of me, that this is a part of the syllabus. 

Lucky kids. 

This is exemplary theatre. An engrossing, thought provoking, part tragic, part hopeful drama about life on the fringes. 

Pam (Kat Stewart) is a grafter. A single mum from Burra Creek, a place the NBN forget. She had dreams. She has dreams, especially for her daughter Rae (Sherry-Lee Watson), a smart kid who deserves better. Rae's aware that her mum takes three buses each way to do her 12-hour shift at the local retail warehouse where she packs goods for the rest of the country's whims. 

At work, Pam has a friend in her supervisor, Sanjeeva (Chum Ehelepola) who looks after her, sometimes taking a blind eye to her small slips. Jedediah (Theo Clarke), a local kid who's in care, and a friend of Rae, works at the warehouse as well, hoping to fund his way into college, and out of the town. 

Adding to the action, Pam's father, Rae's Pop (Richard Piper) is busy getting thrown out of his hostel and hell bent on alienating the family. As Rae tries to finish an important assignment on her failing laptop without internet, things start to fall apart. 

I will say no more about the plot. The play is testament to a mother's love, what you do for family and the ultimate choices you make when your life on the fringes at the gaps between the haves and have nots explodes. 

All of the cast put in extraordinary performances. Kat Stewart nails Pam's fight and fragility. Richard Piper's performance as Pop rivals his turn at playing King Lear a few years ago, where he was also exceptional. Sherry-Lee Watson and Theo Clarke are their perfect foil as the young, bright kids with their futures in their hands. 

Anna Cordingley's set, based on the warehouse and Pam's one-bedroom flat on the outskirts of the outskirts is wonderful, and is supported with Paul Jackson's lighting, which brings this all to life. 

Check TodayTix for seats - you can pick them up for a steal. This is definitely worth seeing. If it can keep 25 Year Elevens entranced, they're doing their job. Of the school group, the young girl next to me had to leave - it was too much for her - far too much like real life. The number of blowing noses and sniffles at the end was gratifying. 

Break of Day is bound to become an Australian classic. 

I can't recommend this play enough. 

Today's song:

Muscle Memory

 The text came through early this morning.

Mike: Do you have boxing gloves?

Me: I can get some boxing gloves. Pop into Kmart on the way home.

Mike: Excellent. See you at 7.30.

Me: I warn you. I used to train under one of Lennox Lewis's trainers.

Mike: Should I be worried?

Me: I'm pretty unfit. You'll be fine. 

I used to box. I used to love boxing. I got very fit boxing in the 90s. But other than BodyCombat and a few boxing sessions over the years, I don't think I've done any boxing in five years. 

I got a bit excited. 

After work, I made my way to Rebel Sport and got myself a cheap pair of cardio gloves, went home, fed the cats, got changed and made my way to the middle gym to see Mike the trainer for half an hour of boxing. 

Mike had a student shadowing him. Nice fellow. He introduced himself. 

"Hi, I'm Scary," I told him with a big smile on my face. 

Please remember. I do train regularly. I've strong - last night's string of personal bests last night with Chuck - Deadbugs, straight legs with a 10 kg plate anybody? 

It turns out muscle memory is a great thing. 

My body instinctively knows how to jab, punch, duck, uppercut, hook. I know how to use my knees, breathe, protect my face and keep going. 

I did my 30 minutes without complaint. It was a brilliant session. 

There is something very satisfying about the sound of a glove hitting a focus pad.

I am going to really hurt tomorrow. The magnesium drink has been drunk, a hot shower, 10 minutes longer than I usually take, is complete, and I'm going to go to bed soon.

But I'm officially in my late 50s next week. I've been going to the gym for a very long time. I've trained myself to be able to do this sort of thing without injuring myself. 

I feel intensely proud that I have had a man tell me, "You punch. You punch hard. I really wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of you."

The gym work has paid off. 

Today's song: