Stars

On a work daily basis I read my stars while on the train platform. Then I go into Facebook and catch up. It's become a bit of a morning ritual that I quiet like although I have turned into one of those commuters that is wired for sound and more interested in my mobile than those around me. What I'm not too happy about is that for the last week my stars have been forecasting doom and gloom;

Romance: Thunder
Finance: Rain
Work: Snow
Mental: Snow
Physical: Sun
Emotional: Snow
Spiitual: Thunder

Today, as with everyday, it goes on to detail each of these aspects of my life and it doesn't look good. Power struggles, toxic envirnments, not rushing into friendships and today it even told me I should call my Mum. On the plus side, I do have some sun in my physical today.

I console myself with the fact that Year of the Rat is nearly over and next year it should get better.

What a lot of old bollocks horoscopes are ;-)

Err...No!

Expectation and Annoyance

On Christmas Eve I surprised and delighted a customer at work by agreeing to have a coffee with him in the New Year. I even gave him my number to prove I was in earnest and explained I was away until the 7th Jan.

While I was on my abortive road trip (I really should write about that) he rang me twice. I was actually driving at the time, ignored the call once and picked up and explained I was on the road with no hands free. I asked him to call me upon or just after my return to Sydney on the 6th. He agreed.

He texted me on a couple of occasions and I chose to ignore these.

Yesterday, just as I was leaving for lunch he rang me. I asked when I would be available for that coffee today. I explained that I already had lunch plans and that I wasn't available until next week. I start swimming again tomorrow; I don't want to put it off anymore.

'Well, dinner then?'

'I'm sorry, but I have plans.' He didn't need to know I was rushing home for the first episode of Dexter Season 3.

He then ranted a bit about how he might be going to America next week for business.

At this point I was getting closer to my lunch rendezvous with a friend and wanted my caller gone.

'I only agreed to have coffee with you in the first instance. I very busy and have offered you a chance to meet next week if you are able. That is the best I can do at the moment.' I was calm.

'Well,' he said, 'in that case why don't you call me when you're free.'

'I sure will.' was my reply.

As the escalators took me to my lovely lunch company, I found Bonne Annee in my phone and pressed delete.

Morning Giggle

I seem to spend a lot of time on trains. Last night, on my way home a derailment caused my 45 minutes trip to be 70mins of unair-conditioned boredom (I forgot my book and my iPod) in 40 degree heat. I was glad to be home at twenty past seven so I could remove my sweat soaked trousers and jump a cool shower.

This morning, random stops outside Lidcombe and Newtown meant I had an extra ten minutes on the train, but a dramatic over night drop in temperature meant I got to work with a dry seat.

I had my iPod this morning (not making that mistake again) and I was happily listening to Cat Stevens and looking outside the window, watching the world whoosh by at 30kph. Our trains don’t move very fast.

I had noticed earlier in the ride that the Christmas reprieve was coming to an end and few people were having to stand. The people that did have seats had their noses buried in books, school work and newspapers, or just like me, had music soothing them towards another day at the office.

The three men sitting in the seat in front of me were a combination of newspaper, school-work and book. None of them had music. The guy next to me though, he pulled out an old Sony Discman that I remember having when I was 16, but I digress…

Back to the guys in front. The school-work guy was sat in the middle. Wedged in between the two larger guys like a party popper about to be pulled, he was looking at accountancy sheets. The print was large and bold, and very easy to read from my position. He was flipping the pages, reading about credit and debits and P&L before moving onto end of year. It was all so riveting just outside Stanmore he started to get the head bob.

You know the one, the I’m falling asleep and I have no control, one. I want to stay awake, but, I. Just. Can’t.

His black haired head was slowly swinging to the left, then jerking upward. Then back down again until his chin hit his chest, then back up again with a start. This went on for a few minutes and then his head came to a stop. Nestled against the shoulder of the man to his left.

I watched as Cat sang ‘The Boy with the Moons and Stars’ as the man slowly put his newspaper on his lap and with his index finger pushed the sleeping mans head into the upright position. The continued support meant he didn’t wake up. The finger was bent rapidly, taking it away from the man head, then the whole hand was slowly moved across its owners chest so as not to wake the sleeping neighbour. The sleeping man stayed like that for a moment, then despite his head already being upright, his head snapped back with such force his whole body spasmed, he stood up then sat back down again.

After resuming his set he looked around to make sure no one had seem him, then continued to read his school-work.

mobile

this is my first post written on my mobile (cell) phone. Uppercase is hard to get and functionality is limited, but otherwise it's all good. I can't figure out how to do paragraphs either. Maybe this should be an emergency only posting option:-)

Noise

Whilst enjoying my Nam Pho yesterday I witnessed an injustice. It didn't spoil my day (nothing could have done that yesterday, I was far too chilled out) but once again it made me wonder about the way society lets parents and children get away with almost anything.

I have often given thought to the way parents let their young ones wander and get underfoot of other shoppers. Or how a pram is a licence to run toes over with no apology. How a pregnant woman, no matter how big her 'bump' is, gets the seat over the injured or aging. I may or may not have voiced my concerns here in the past, but I feel I had to tell this tale. It left me in a mild guppy like state until I stepped onto the bus.

As I said, I was enjoying my Nam Pho (with thinly sliced beef brisket) when a group of six twenty something’s came in and sat at the table next to me. They were laughing and joking, and having fun as a group of people do when lunching together socially. Behind them was a couple with a pram, occupied by a baby. I have no idea how old it was or what sex, it looked like a wrinkled prune, and I was thankful when they took a seat as far away as possible from me.

The twenty something’s took a little while to order as they where having fun, chatting and laughing and continuing the fun they were having when they came in. Eventually they ordered. As they where ordering the baby started to cry. Actually cry was being kind, it was screaming. Mum tried bouncing it up and down on her knee before putting her boob in its mouth. That didn't work, so dad tried the knee bobbing up and down thing. That didn’t work either. Neither did the dummy or the rattling keys.

Meanwhile the twenty something’s had resumed having fun after the momentary quite of ordering.

After about five minutes of screaming baby and the boisterous group, I was feeling glad that I could see the bottom of my bowl. The screaming was starting to pierce my ear drums.

What happened next, astounded me. The waitress walked up to the group and said, loudly, so she could be heard over the baby.

'Could you keep it down please, you are disrupting our other diners.'

At no point in the proceeding or follow five minutes did anyone approach the family with the screaming baby.

Something to Do

The day of my freedom from work dawned a few hours before I actually got up, but I made an effort, because I needed to sleep well, ready for my return to bondage.

I had a few errands to run and popped into Parramatta on the bus. I went to the Post Office, Rebel Sport and couple of other places. Just Dorising really. I had lunch at my favourite Vietnamese eatery. Even though it was 35degrees I really fancied a pho. Chicken/beef broth with rice noodles, bean sprouts, beef brisket and mint, vey yummy and considered to be the national dish of Vietnam.

After lunch I wanted to do something. So I step on the next bus that pulled up. I asked the driver, ‘Do you end up in Merrylands?’

‘Oh, yes, but I take a while to get there. Why don’t you get the 802, it takes 5 minutes.’

‘Yeah, see I want to kill some time and see some stuff I haven’t seen before.’

A woman in the first seat laughed and said, ‘this bus goes to Greystanes.’

The old lady next to her, joined her with a hearty giggle.

‘I haven’t been to Greystanes,’ I said.

I paid a $1.90 and took a seat at the back.

My only mistake. I’d picked an unconditioned bus.

If I hadn’t have taken my random bus trip I would never have seen a streets named after me and a mate with the correct spellings (e for me, no h for him). I wouldn’t have seen the Sri Lankan temple with all its bells and whistles and icons. I wouldn’t have spotted the pet feed store and I wouldn’t have realised just how many lovely houses are in Greystanes.

I actually quite enjoyed my little trip. I think I might get on a random bus again.

Eggs Benedict

Rivers Restaurant, Mylestom NSW
Eggs Benedict $16.00
Juice $6.00

A slight detour off the Pacific Highway and it was time for breakfast. I’d already been to the Mylestom beach and seen a diamond back python disappearing into the brush. On my way out of town I saw a sign, ‘Big Brekkie $18.50’, that made me stop at Rivers Restaurant.

I walked up the stairs and was shown to a seat on the balcony. I was then presented with a menu, a glass and a bottle of water. As I am a creature of habit I had my heart set on the advertised Big Brekkie, but ended up ordering the Eggs Benedict. I always end up ordering the Eggs Benedict. The menu promised leg ham on focaccia with poached locally grain fed eggs, and it was too much to resist.

Shortly after ordering my eggs in the form of Benedict, the waitress informed me that they were out of hollandaise sauce. Did I wan t anything else? She asked. I said, I’d still have the EB, sans the sauce. Next, my juice arrived. Carrot, orange, apple and ginger combined in perfect proportions to make a refreshing morning beverage, sweet, but not acidic.

The waitress came back and informed that the chef was making the sauce and it would be a few more minutes.

I was content to wait. I had an uninterrupted view of the Bellengen River, the fishermen, the water-skiers, and inappropriately dressed holiday makers, considering the foul weather. Ben Johnson was serenading me from the stereo and I felt relaxed, for the first time in a while.

When my breakfast was finally placed before me I was supremely chilled out.


I cut into the egg and the saffon yellow yolk poured out, covering the ham and toast, mingling with the pale yellow hollandaise. A half grilled tomato avoided being touched, but that could wait til later.

The flavours blended together perfectly. The sauce, which can lean towards lemony, was delicate and smooth. The eggs, the ham, the sauce and toast combined together into a month watering dish. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because I was starvin’ marvin, but purely the skill of a chef in a sleepy holiday town six kilometres of the Pacific Highway (between Nambucca Heads and Coff Harbour).

Are You Joking?

Christmas Eve arrived, I got up, dressed in all black and went to work. The reason for all black? I had to do a three hour stint on the shop floor, from 2 – 5pm.

The store that I work has a credo. Surprise and Delight the customer

I think I may of actually have achieved that today during my shift.

I surprised the complete stranger who asked me for a coffee date by saying yes. I further delighted him by giving him my phone number.

Well, it's Christmas and I felt like giving.

Button Meltdown

This is getting out of hand now. Today I went to see a choir sing a few Christmas dittys on the ground floor of the building I work in. I was standing there while they sang 'The Holly and The Ivy' thinking I really love this song and feeling quite uplifted and happy. Then they sang I didn't know or recognise. Then they started to sing 'Hark the Herald Angels'.

My mind went straight back to when I was about 7, I was in the school choir and we were performing at a summer concert at Guildford Civic Hall (UK). I was sat in the back of the car singing 'Scarborough Fair' to myself and playing with my little ice creamed shaped metal and enamel buttons on my blue and white gingham school dress when Muv leaned back and said, 'You're supposed to be wearing your winter uniform.' I ended up, standing at the back of the choir singing my little heart out, still playing with my ice cream buttons.

Muv had a button jar. When she was sewing I would tip it out on the floor and sort through the buttons. The ice-cream buttons had been in the jar and I was always asking her to put them on something for me. She never did until that summer when she made me a couple of new summer school dresses. I didn't know she had put them on until one morning when I put my uniform on.

I had to stop watching this morning and leave. I have no idea why 'Hark the Herald Angels' should set me off by triggering that memory, but it did and now my eyes won't stop leaking.

Mannequin Smut

I was getting myself a cup of tea this afternoon when I noticed some off duty mannequins getting more action than me.

Weekend

I had a very relaxing but productive weekend. Washing was done, the groceries were purchased, the ironing was done. I had dinner guests on both Saturday and Sunday. I had several telephone conversations with mates that lastest up to and beyond twenty minutes. I even did some cleaning.

It was the busiest weekend I've had in quite sometime.

Last night I went to bed straight after the 8.30 movie (The Heartbreak Kid), read about four pages of my book then passed out. I slept so heavily I managed to completely ignor my alarm until ten past seven. I was late for work and I don't care because I felt healthy for the first time in weeks, nope scratch that, months!

Taxi!

It took me two hours to get a taxi on Friday night. I left the club on Oxford Street at twenty past one in the morning. I was tierd after a great night and jusy really wanted to go home. Actually, thinking about I didn't really want to go home I wanted to stay, but I had pre-christmas appointments starting at 10.30 on Saturday. So my need for sleep compelled me to leave. I was escorted by a friend out of Hellfire. He very kindly offered to wait with me.

Picture if you will to two people in fetish wear, surrounded by pissed bogans on the Friday before Christmas. He was dressed in head to toe black latex. I was dressed as a naughty schoolgirl right down to the really short skirt and ribbons on the back of my socks. Couple that with wanting to go 20kilometres from the city centre. It wasn't looking good.

I eventually walked to a hotel and asked them to book me one. May attempts to get a taxi to come to me, standing on the street had ended in spectaular failure. I finally climbed into the back of taxi at 0320, I was cold, cranky and very tired. I crawled into bed and wrapped myself around Puss for warmth at 0355.

I am never not driving again.

Another Moment

I had to do my Give Time yesterday. Three hours of standing on a shop floor being an information point for customers who don't know where they are going. I was dressed in the obligatory all black, comfortable shoes, armed with my name badge and big 'i' and a booklet full of hints and tips about which product lives where.

The first demand.

'Where's the Sorbolene?'

The second question, this time with a polite end.

'Where are the toilets, please?'

For three hours this went on. I was asked for brand name after brand name, where Santa was, the toilets and mens sunglasses. I was even asked where the competition (as in main rival) was. The time passed quite quickly, but I had a few minutes where I had to control my emotions and suck the tears back.

A woman walked past me as I was talking to someone about an hour into my shift. She had her red striped back to me and was walking with another woman. But the smell was unmistakable. Chanel No. 5 and cigarettes. The prick of tears stung the back of my eyeballs.

Then as I stood there, I saw her again. She was standing next to the Chanel counter. The other woman was younger and they were laughing about something. I looked at what she was wearing. A red and white striped t-shirt with jeans and dockside slip on shoes. I looked at her hair, it was just above her shoulders, blond and highlighted. She was slim and not that tall. The other woman was wearing a shirt and jeans and sandals. A thought came to me.

I will never go shopping with my Muv, ever again. Ever.

The tear sprung forward and I tried to fight them back. But I couldn't prevent them from spilling over just a little. I was saved by a lady taking a tumble as she stepped off the escalator.

A little later, I saw this pair again. They were standing and talking on the desending escalator. Once again my eyes burned, water welled but I managed to breath through it. I was really thankful they seemed to know where there were going and didn't feel the need to talk to me.

2008 - A year in review

I've had one of those years that everyone has at some point in their life. My parent would say to me, 'if it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger.' when I had bad moments as a kid. You know the moments I'm talking about. Falling off your bike and flaying the right side of your face, your knee and knuckles. Falling out of a tree. Having the stick you're pretending is a cigerette jam into the back of your throut and giving you a nose bleed. Cutting your head open on the sight of an air rifle. At the time all of these things where the worst thing that could ever happen to me. And then this year happened. Every month has offered up a dossey and only a couple of months have given me something to counteract it (I highlighted those).

In early January a good friend took me along to her family's fortune teller. He was Vietnamese and didn't speak any other english apart from 'Hello' and 'Goodbye', but he managed to tell me (throught the translations of my friend) that as 2008 was 'Year of the Rat' and I was born in the year of the rat, I was either going to have a really great year, or a really bad year. He also told me I would travel, meet my soul mate, have bad health and if I had children I would have two.

I suppose I got a clue that it was it was going to be on the bad side of the coin when my Muv was finally diagnosed (after months of faffing) with lung cancer at the end of Jan. It pretty much went down hill for there.

Late Feb - evicted from my house when I asked for the leaking roof to be fixed.
Mid March - told my Muv was getting bad and moving back to the UK so she could be in a UK hospital
Late March - Moved house and depleted spare funds
Late March - Muv worse, get your arse back to the UK
Early April - First international travel, and a week in the UK, Muv sick, but seemed OK to return to Aus
Early May - Muv worse, get your arse back here ASAP
Mid May - Flat broke, trying to figure out how I was going to get back to the UK. Handed in notice for end of contract
Early June - House sold, booked flights
Mid June - Second International travel, flew to UK via a two day stop over in Seoul, Korea
Mid June - Spent 9 days with Muv, really bad, no hair and in hospice. Told her I wasn't going to the States, she told me and everyone who would listen I had to get on with my life and she wanted to see photos of New York and Washington DC.
Late June - Third international travel, went to America for two weeks
4th July - Muv Died, missed seeing photos by two days.
August - Failed to get job in UK due to economic downturn, despite 16 agent interviews
Early September - Flew back to Aus, missing Goyte in his London concert by four days
Mid September - Signed on at Centrelink
29th September - Graduated from Uni with a Masters Degree in Writing
September and October - Applied for over 150 jobs and attended more than 40 agent interviews, 6 job interviews
3rd November - Started new job that pays 30% less than previous job (only job on offer)
12th November - Fell on train and hurt hip, had to start using one crutch for support
28th November - Signed off work sick with Whooping cough (the plus side of bed rest meant that I could put the crutch away)
15th December - Laptop (Bigglesworth) died

I haven't got to the end of the year yet, but with an ophans Christmas dinner and a solo roadtrip (sleeping in the car on a futon matrtess, reading on the beaches of teh East coast:-) to the Gold Coast planned from 26th Dec - 7th Jan, It should end on a up note. After all, I really don't think it can get much worse.

I may or may not write another entry this year, depends on time and computer access (currently only have it during office hours due to Dead Biggles) so I'll say adieu until next year.

May you all Have a very Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy and joyous New Year.

On the 18th November I purchased a train pass to cover me for the full month until my next pay day. It cost me one hundred and forty five dollars. I thought I was being most efficent, then I got sick. I took my sick notes to the railway station and filled in a form. I'd worked out that I should get about $60 back by the time they had deducted the $11 handling fee. How wrong I was. Despite having proof that I had not travelled on the trains for 14 of the 30 days on my ticket, I was eligible for nothing.

So, to today. The train police, also known as Transit Officers (TO) were checking tickets on the way into work this morning. A girl went to her bag and couldn't find her ticket. She was in a panic, the TO stood over her and watched. He huffed and puffed before saying to her, 'Give me your ID!'

She looked up at him ashen, Ireally think she had lost her ticket. Her lack of compossure and colour would be very hard to fake.

She looked down at her bag, then back at him before saying, 'If I had my ID, I'd have my train pass. My wallet isn't in my bag, I think it's been stolen.' there was a distinst glisten in her eyes. I have that feeling before, my heart went out to her. ' I don't have any money.'

The TO then took his notepad from his utility belt and flipped it open.

'Name?'

I didn't hear her response, but I could feel the heat from her blush three rows back.

'Address?'

Again, a quiet response.

'You will be recieving a $60 fine in the mail, you will have two weeks to pay it. Have a good day.' he walked away.

So in short, they are quite happy to slug you for more cash, but make it impossible to get any sort of refund. To top this off, train fares are going up. Let's hope a raise in fares mean I don't have to stand on every trip.

Internet Censorship

Did you know the Government is proposing an internet censorship scheme that goes further than any other democracy in the world?
I've just signed a petition to prevent the scheme that will make the internet up to 87% slower, more expensive, accidentally block up to one in 12 legitimate sites, will miss the vast majority of inappropriate content and is very easily sidestepped. The government of the day may add any ‘unwanted’ site to a secret blacklist under the scheme.
Our Government should be doing all in its power to take Australia into the 21st century economy, and to protect our children. This proposed internet censorship does neither. Can you join me and take action on the net today to save the net?

http://www.getup.org.au/campaign/SaveTheNet/442
Thanks!

Old Git

I’m not quite sure how I manage to do it, but I have a habit of picking hobbies that are the domain of old people.

First it was the alpacas. An industry almost entirely made up of 50+ people. That was OK, I coped and even got passed comments about being too young to have alpacas.

So, about a year ago I got a phonecall. It was a wrong number, but it turned out that the male voice on the other end was looking for a version of me of the male gender. Turned out he was for the Book Collectors Society of Australia. I joined and for the next year I received the journal.

On Sunday I went to a meeting. I swear to god the average age there was 70. A lot of raised voices where required and yet somehow I ended up on the committee. I think they just wanted to bring the average age group down to 60.

That’s Entertainment

Went to the doctor again today. He signed me off until next Thursday because he still isn’t happy with sounds coming from my chest. Quite frankly I don’t like them either and every time I cough I feel like I’m drowning in my own fluids.

After getting my breath from the 10 minute outing to the doctors and back, plus another $40 on prescriptions. I took my new medication and turned on the telly. I’ve watched just about everything I’ve recorded, called me silly, but I’m not in the mood for Alien right now. I don’t need to see anything with mucus.

So I flicked on TCM (Turner Classic Movies). Two Weeks in Another Town was showing. Filmed a couple of years after Spartacus, Kirk Douglas was in fine dimple chinned form as a washed up actor in Italy discovering the way out of his troubles. I rather enjoyed the innocence of the plot. So I carried on watching when the next movie started. Meet Me in Las Vegas.

This is when I notice a theme. Turns out TSM is having a Cyd Charisse month. So this evening’s tele-visual entertainment is being provided by Cyd Cherisse and friends. Her friends being Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor and Debbie Reynolds.

Currently watching The Band Wagon which gave us the song That’s Entertainment, later I get to watch the classic Singin’ in the Rain.

I’d forgotten how much I love a musical!

Let's all singa song and dance! :-)

Triple Zero

I got into bed last night and I heard a pop, experienced eye watering pain and rapidly curled into a ball clutching my right knee. After a few seconds I managed to straighten out and found myself lying on the bed, starkers with my knee fixed and bent. Trying to move my knee resulted in searing pain down to my ankle and up to my hip. When I tried to move myself up the bed, any pressure on my right side caused pain in my knee.

I was well and truly stuck.

For over an hour I tried various things to straighten out. It was not to bad when I folded it up ore, but attempts to straighten resulted in pain like I haven’t experienced since first had my hip rebuilt 18 years ago. It hurt…A LOT

After an hour, I decided I only had one choice left. I’d texted a couple of mates to see if they were still awake (did I mention this started at about half past midnight) and received no response. So I called the Police Assistance line. After explaining the situation to the lady she asked to me,

‘Ma’am, if you are alone, and can’t move, it is an emergency. Hang up and call triple zero.’

I hung up.

Less than eleven minutes later an ambo officer was climbing through my kitchen window to my rescue.

A little massage later and another crunching pop sound and I was able to move my knee freely with a little residual pain.

I explained about having whooping cough and being mostly immobile for a week and before that having been on one crutch to support my right hip. The ambo guy hypostasised that this little incident may have been caused by my muscles and ligaments twisting suddenly due to the excess work of over compensating for my hip followed by mega rest.

If it happens again, I have to seek medical assistance.

They left by the front door having given me pain killers, propped my knee up and giggled at my embarrassment about having no clothes on.