In between all the rain this happened, and it was beautiful, so that was lovely, in amongst all the rain falling.

Rainy Old Saturday

(Plenty of time to write my journal, so I use that instead of writing something else)

6.15am. I woke up. I dreamed all night. But, if I wake up and think, What time is it? I forget the dreams instantly.

If I wake up and think, wow, what was that dream like, what was that about? I remember the dreams.

This morning, I woke up and thought, what time is it?

I head downstairs and I make coffee.

Milo comes and sits on the couch, undisturbed by two red monsters breath all over him if he's got the prime spot on the couch.

The rain starts to fall. In a break from it falling, I go clear out the gutter. It can block up and flood inside, if I don't clean it out intermittently and I couldn't remember the last time I cleaned it out? It wasn't blocked.

I read the Guardian

Rise of sovereign citizen movement a challenge to Australia’s world-leading gun control. Pseudo-legal conspiracy theories that deny the authority of the state are an increasing issue in firearm disputes.

It is mental illness, I think. Covid lockdowns made them all lose their minds, I'm not really sure why. It was a pandemic, the measures taken were perfectly logical.

Australia’s gun lobby says it’s ‘winning’ the fight against firearm control as numbers surge. There are now more than 4m guns in the community – almost double the number recorded in the years after the Port Arthur massacre that prompted a national crackdown.

More mental illness, I think. Little men making up for physical shortcomings. (I mentally wave my little finger in the air)

Do you all know that the gun lobby look as thought they are successfully getting the gun laws watered down in NSW as I type.

Civil rights groups alarmed over Quebec’s move to ban prayer in public. Announcement follows statements from Quebec premier, who expressed frustration over public prayers in Montreal.

Now that is just common sense, and a reflection on how society is really made up. Good on you Quebec.

Potassium-rich diet may cut risk of heart failure by 24%, study suggests. Eating foods such as avocados, bananas and spinach linked to lower risk of heart conditions, hospitalisation or death.

I should at least eat more avocados and bananas, I think.

7am. Sam was up.

I make avocado toast, coincidently, for breakfast.

Sam eats half of my avocado toast while we watch a TikTok clip on taking public transport around Port Phillip Bay in 8 hours. I'm not a good food sharer, especially when I have offered to make him some and he has turned it down.

I say to Sam that I want to do the 8 hour public transport trip around Port Phillip Bay. If we could take the bulldogs, I'd say let's go now. (rain withstanding)

I watch a car YouTuber and a 1965 Chevy Corsair Corsa convertible one of only 8535 built and a 1965 Buick sport wagon.

The rain is pouring down, I build a fire, as it looks like we’re going to be here all day. It's miserable outside.

I watched YouTubers iHip News and David Pakman on Trumps failing health.

The sun came out again, so I wondered if I should put any more wood on the fire? Perhaps the day was going to clear up afterall.

Sam cleans the kitchen light fitting. He cleans the lounge room light fitting. I don't know what has got into him.

Then the sun went away and the rain stared to fall again, so I put more wood on the fire.

It looked like we weren't going out after all.

I watched 25 Hollywood stars who died from smoking, which made no sense as they only did 22, and included Keith Richards, who is very much alive, and Charles Lane who lived until he was 102. Stupid YouTubers.

10.30am. I start watching another car YouTuber and his 1939 Buick.

The sun is shining again. There is blue sky. Sam is talking about going out for lunch.

Charlie was up.

iHip News says Donald Trump has bruises on his hand that same as the Queen had 3 days before she died. Jennifer crosses her fingers.

Midday. We ate noodles for lunch.

12.15pm. I’m watching 3 American women trying to cash a fake cheque at a drive through bank when the police arrive to question them about it, until I shut it off shaking my head at myself for watching such crap.

We’re going out.

The rain falls.

We’re not going out.

The sun comes out.

We’re going out.

The rain falls.

We’re not going out.

The sun comes out.

Early afternoon, we take the Bulldogs for a walk. It’s cold and wet outside. The wind is near on freezing. It’s likely to rain again any minute.

We walked down Smith Street to Aldi. The rain starts falling again, it’s not a day to leave the house, really it isn’t. Sam says he wants to go to 3 supermarkets. I tell him I don’t care how many supermarkets he goes to, if that’s what’s gonna floats his boat.

First up, I’m in Chemistwarehouse getting pills, eyedrops, and Band-Aids, whilst Sam in Woolies. Then Sam comes across from Woolies and adds soap to my shopping list.

Next, I go sniff around one of the upshops, looking for Herbie Rides Again, which I was sure I saw there last Thursday, (don't judge me, sometimes I like a bit of nonsense, especially with an old VW) and I come out with Mrs Henderson Presents, a movie about which I learned from my inadvertent Judi Dench research over the last few days, filling in my days off doing nothing. 

I’m hoping that Charlie will give me the laptop when he goes to work this evening. He's got my old MacBook, where my new MacBook doesn't have the compatible software.

The rain starts falling again. We chose the side of the street with continuous awnings to walk under.

Eventually, waiting for the rain to stop and dodging it when it didn't, Brun, Otto, and I are waiting inside the Aldi’s foyer/vestibule/vestibule, whatever it might be called, while Sam shops. A couple come in with a Golden Retriever, the girl of the couple waits with her dog. We don't speak, as she never looks in my direction, but I am writing my journal on my phone, so maybe I didn't notice.

The rain is falling and the wind is blowing outside. Otto wraps his lead around my legs as he has a habit of doing. I have to be careful he doesn't trip me up.

Sam reappears. And we start heading towards home. The rain had stopped falling by then.

We see a friend walking her dog up Smith Street on the other side of the street. She doesn't see us.

Sam goes to Coles. Brun, Otto, and I are sitting on the windowsill, ledge, of the Bonds shop opposite Coles. 

The sun is now shining. Everything is glistening with the rain water.  The air is still crisp and cold.

The bulldogs both lie down, Otto between my feet, Brun off to the left a bit. As soon as I’ve written that, a jogger comes along and Otto lips to his feet, as he is want to do with joggers who don’t always understand, understandably, with a 30 kg dog launching himself at you, what are they supposed to think?

Sam reappears in due time.

We head home. The rain starts to fall again, just as all the shop awnings run out, and home is in sight.

I got comfy on the couch, but every time that I do the bulldogs wanted a piece of it. Consequently, I lay on the floor in front of the open fire with my laptop.

We drink tea and eat doughnuts.

Charlie comes out with the laptop and hands it to me before he goes to work at his dishwashing job. He's finished uni, he has got his degree. I guess it is time for him to start looking for a real job, still the dishwashing job at the fancy restaurant in the city got him through uni.

I have put huge pieces of wood on the fire, I have to keep adding smaller pieces of wood to keep the large pieces burning.

We ate roast pork spinach and rice for dinner.

I watched another car YouTuber re-boding his 1965 Dodge Monaco, tuning out to the misery that is the news. Sam always wants to watch the news, or the misery hour as I call it.

We started watching the Thursday Murder Club, but turned it off. It seemed like a bad TV movie.

I cleaned the kitchen and put Chaka Khan on my headphones.

10pm. Sam is on the couch behind me with Brun, they are both snoring. I'd not kept the smaller pieces up in the open fire and by the time I realised it was too late and the fire went out. By this stage at the night, I'm cold.

The Wind Blew

I took the dogs for a walk early again today. The day was grey, the wind blew cold, but it was bearable enough for a walk.

I came home and took to my couch, with Brun and Otto on either side of me, cuddled up to me like two hotties. Every now and again, they played musical couches by jumping off and swapped sides.

The rain fell. The day looked bleak.

Sam made filled pasta with meatballs for lunch.

In the afternoon, the weather became way more unsettled with the wind blowing, followed by the rain falling.

I fell down the Facebook rabbit hole, which I don't do so much lately, but I did today.

And then somehow it was 3 hours later and I forced myself to log out of it.

Then there was a huge crash, as the wind blew and the rain fell, and I thought I should go and investigate that, but, you know, the wind was blowing and the rain was falling, and I was covered in my trusty pink blanket and inside seemed infinitely preferable to the outside.

But, pretty soon after that, Otto went to the back door and wanted to go out, so I took it as a sign to go and investigate the before mentioned crash.

The large pot of succulents blew off the top of the back yard stairs parapet - the stairs have two brick pillars at the top and bottom, with brick walls up the sides of the steps connecting them - and smashed on the stairs themselves. 

How the hell? That pot is a big, clay pot, that takes some effort to even pick up. How on earth did the wind do that? I would never have believed it, if I hadn't seen it. I looked around to see if a branch from one of the trees had fallen and knocked it, but no, there were no fallen branches.

I cut the end of my finger when I was cleaning it up broken pot, with Otto’s supervision. He's adorable, standing in the middle of it all watching everything I was doing closely.

The razor sharp edge of the pottery pot sliced my finger with surgical precision so easily. Just like that. Ffffft.

"Oh, damn!" I stuck it straight into my mouth. We do that, don't we.

The blood was bright red and plentiful oozing out the slice in the end of my righthand ring finger.

So, I came inside to attend to that. We only have these ridiculously large bandaids at the moment, not sure why we have them, but that’s what we have. So, my finger now has a huge bandage.

And now I'm back on the couch. Lovely.

Ah, Friday.

I might make some more coffee.

First Day Off

I took the dogs for a walk early. Sunshine, and a leisurely walk, not a care, we trotted along. Ah, the old suburb, it almost felt like, nice in the morning. Back to normal. How life should be, I couldn't help but feel that.

The Tattslotto shop I usually got to with the dogs on our walk was closed for renovations. The handsome Tattllotto guy gone, I presume. He was always so lovely. He was endlessly interested in Brun and Otto. I'll miss him, now that he has gone.

I came home, dropped the dogs off. Then I went straight out to the other Tattslotto shop down the street. It's closer to home, actually

After that, I went to a couple of shops, having a sniff about, with no real aim. Cash Converters, and a couple of Opshops. I love OpShops, they are my favourite places. The last place you can find something other than the mass-produced merchandise of shops that sell new stuff. Ah, the things you see, quite out of the ordinary so much of the stuff. I didn't go all the way down Smith Street to the Salvos, like I usually do. It's a nice walk down there in the sunshine, but I didn't go today.

I came home put my track pants on, got on the couch, with a pillow, pulled the big, pink blanket over myself with my laptop, and happily stayed there all day. Who cares about the outside world? What outside world? Are you telling me there is a world beyond these walls? Seriously? Who'd have thought. Who would even want that? I ask you?

Feet up. Not a care.

That was my first day off.

Free At Last

The day came to a close, and my full time hours were over. Finally. Yay! And my weekend effectively started like it is supposed to.

I feel free. Ah, to enjoy a day off.

I send a video of I Made it Through the Rain by Barry Manilow to Mark.

Me:

My full time hours are over

Mark Waterdale:

Does that mean she's back?

Me:

She's back. Today. She only flew in last night, so she couldn’t drag her sorry arse into the office today, where she would normally be in the office on a Wednesday.

Mark Waterdale:

Sweet release from the yoke of the oppressor.

Me:

Throwing off the shackles of the overlords and running and being free

"I’m free. I’m free."

Hands waving in the air, running down the street.

Mark Waterdale:

Congratulations… life is good.

Me:

The pesky cyst on my elbow burst too, and puss oozed out, so it’s no longer tight like a drum, and it feels much better now

Life’s good

Mark Waterdale:

Oh, that must be a relief

😁

Me:

No more leaning on a table and feeling like I have a bean bag under my elbow. And thanks to Dr Pimple Popper, I knew to try and pull the sack out too, which I think I may have managed. Maybe? Cross your fingers.

Tuesday

It had been a shit day, weatherise. And far too many conversations with The Ponytail in a short space of time. I signed out at 4pm. I put music on. Bowie. Hunky Dory.

Changes came on.

It's true, I've always Bowie a fan.

I had a friend who claimed he had every single record/cd that Bowie had ever released, singles, the lot. This was before the latest renewed interest in vinyl, not that that would make any difference I think.

Ah Russ, my mate Russ. I haven't seen him for years.

We'd been friends for years, he was one of my first group of friends. We were all friends for our late teens, early twenties. None of us are friends now.

I haven't thought about Russ for awhile. Only when I hear a Bowie song, do I think of him. I put on Hunky Dory today and immediately thought of Russ. He just came into my head, as Changes began to play.

Nice thoughts, I always think nice thoughts when I think of Russ.

I lit an open fire. It had been windy all day. I'd felt cold for most of it.  You know when the wind blows outside, it gets inside, no matter what you do.

Wake up you sleepy head, put another log on the fire for me.

We had a thing together, Russ and I. I thought about that. We really surprised ourselves with that one. Neither of us ever had any inclination. Nah. Never.

It was towards the end of our friendship, as it turned out. Not that that was the reason we stopped being friends. Not that we thought our friendship was ending.

He and I had been out at The Peel with a group of guys. It got late and we all started heading home. I walk home from the Peel. Russ wanted to catch a cab and there were none around, so he said he'd walk home to my place with me. He'd either hail a taxi in the street on the way, or he'd call one from my place.

And we just walked home like a couple of mates after a night out at the pub, which is what we were.

We got home. I rolled a joint. Russ started to call a taxi, had drink, or a piss, or wanted a coffee, or something. Anyway, after he'd kind of sorted out what he was doing, I'd rolled the joint and the two of us sat and smoked it.

Then I rolled a second one straight away. I was going to bed, and a couple of joints before sleep was what I did.

Now, as it turned out, the joints was really strong, or maybe we were a little drunk, or both, anyway it kind of knocked the both of us out.

Back then, I had a modular couch and Russ and I passed out pretty quickly from the pot, somehow ending up cuddled up in each other's arms, which we'd never done before, we'd never even remotely contemplated the idea. We were mates.

Some time later, we both came too, warm in each other's arms, comfortable, intimate, and apparently suddenly uninhibited and horny, and we just started kissing, and once we started kissing we just didn't stop to think, or take a breath, until we were both done, all over each other there on my modular couch.

Then we just lay there, kind of speechless.

Finally, Russ said he'd better call a taxi.

I remember saying to him, "Oh shut up." I took him by the hand and led him to my bed where we slept in each other other's arms all night, and most of the next morning.

He was awake before me. He was sitting up in my bed when I woke.

He looked at me and kind of smiled, I don't know, I couldn't read him, I remember.

"Morning," I said

"Morning," he said.

He rubbed the sleep out of his face, gazing out my bedroom window.

"What did we do last night?" he said.

"I don't know," I said. "But I think it was good."

I remember him laughing. "I don't regret it," he said. "But, why did we do it?"

"I don't know," I said. "Who'd have thought?

"Who'd have thought," he said.

I put on Never Let Me Down.

Russ said, "Are you trying to say something with this?"

I laughed.

We headed out to a cafe for breakfast.

I remember saying to him over eggs benny. "I'd do it again."

He shook his head. He held my gaze. "We're not supposed to."

"Oh fuck that, I've got no regrets."

"Me either," he said. He shrugged. "You know, when I think about it."

"Who are we going to tell?"

"No one."

"Oh, ashamed are we?"

"No, it would take too much explanation, to convince anyone."

"No one would believe us?'

"No, no one would believe it."

I remember we both laughed.

Life on Mars came on. I gazed at the wood in the fire place becoming red hot coals. It wasn't blowing outside any longer, but the rain was falling. Russ, I thought. I wonder what you've been up to these years.

It's on America's tortured brow

That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow

Ain't that the truth, I thought.

Then the news came on. Police gunned down by a conspiracy theorist. Oh, welcome back real world, I thought.

Monday Morning

It's cold this morning. I hug my cup of coffee in both hands to warm up my fingers.

What happened to the warmer weather? For a couple of mornings there last week, it felt like Spring, with even the slight sniff of Summer, just around the edges.

I'm back to my normal 3 day week this week, even if Boris doesn't, actually, return to work until Thursday. It is still my normal week. Yay!

Back to normal, they are the words I like to hear. It all went pretty quickly, I feel, now that we're at the other end of it.

Anyway, I've got stuff to do for The Ponytail this morning. She wanted stuff done late Friday arvo, and after a bit of to'ing, and fro'ing she called me and I found myself having a pleasant conversation with her. We were even joking about some work stuff. It was kind of weird. Really, unnatural. Shiver up the spine.

Anyway, I've got stuff to finish off for her. I'd better get on with it. God knows, I don't want to have another phone call with her. Er!

Sunday

(I used a journal entry because it was easier, because coming up with something every day is hard All the blog buddies that I once had have all stopped writing. I more, or less, just write for myself now a days)

1:30am. I get up and have a wee. (kind of early for a nightly wee, I thought)

I dreamt about liquid paper. I was in a house sitting at one of three desks belonging to, the implication was, three other people and I was using liquid paper.

I had a fully functioning bottle of liquid paper, which I was using.

I started to investigate the three desks and I found in different parts of each desk, on different shelves within the desks, bottles of liquid paper that had been left without the top screwed on properly and they had dried up. I was shaking my head in disbelief that someone couldn’t screw the top back on a liquid paper bottle properly.

At one point, I filled up a second bottle of liquid paper and somehow, I left it in the street. I could see it sitting there on the footpath. Sometime later, I went back to fetch this second bottle of liquid paper and then I couldn’t find it. I said to a woman who seemed to be the manager of the street, perhaps, that I’d left a bottle of liquid paper and now I couldn’t find it. She said, just keep looking for it, if you keep looking for it, you’ll find it.

5:15am. I wake up. Liquid paper, I think? Why? Weird. I can't remember the last time I saw a bottle of Liquid Paper, let along used one. I get up. I have a wee.

I get dressed in the dark. Being an early riser, I am practiced at that now. I head downstairs.

I log into my laptop. I check my TattsLotto with the hope I don’t have to continue to work. Nothing. Not a cent.

I give Milo food.

The air fryer has been dirty for a couple of days, from two days ago when I slept on the couch all night rather than clean the kitchen, so I loaded the air fryer bits into the dishwasher and switched it on. Done. No cleaning at 5.15am, no matter how overdue it is.

I made coffee.

Then, it was the sound of the swooshing of the dishwasher and the cracking of the cat food chow in Milo’s mouth.

I lie on the couch. I pull the pink blanket over me and read the news.

Silicon Valley is full of wealthy men who think they’re victims, says Nick Clegg. Former Lib Dem leader and Meta strategist writes in new book that power in tech capital is interlaced with ‘self pity’.

Ah, Silicon Valley, destroying the world in pursuit of billions, I think.

Auburn in bloom: Sydney Cherry Blossom festival 2025 – in pictures. Wet weather didn’t stop crowds gathering in Sydney’s west to admire the rows of fluffy pink cherry blossoms. Held annually, the festival is a main attraction of Auburn botanic gardens, where Japanese food, music and crafts mark the beginning of a new season.

I didn't know Sydney had a Cherry Blossom festival, I think. Finally a reason to go to Sydney.

‘It’s back to the future’: the 13th-century castle built by hand in France. A quarter of a century after our first visit, the Guardian returns to Guédelon to find old-fashioned toil has built a “thoroughly modern” architectural laboratory. Tourists throng Chateau Guédelon, which now gets 310,000 visitors a year, raising €7.5m.

How fascinating, I think. The woman running the show has been doing it for 25 years. Imagine staying in a job for 25 years.

I looked at YouTube. Donald Trump is a criminal. Donald Trump is a criminal. Donald Trump is a criminal. That's my algorithm. 

Milo comes and settles in the pink blanket with me. He needs to get all the love he can while the orange monsters aren't around.

I watched Nicholas Hoult & David Corenswet flirting for publicity. The new superman sure is good looking. I hadn’t exactly thought that seeing stills of him, but seeing him fully animated on YouTube it is a different story.

I write a couple more versus of my Donald Trump poem.

7am. I start watching Coldwarmotors. Ashley bought a kit car, a Jamaican 2 in blue. He has plans to chasis swap it and put a bigger engine in it.

7.30am. Sam was up. He starts watching TikTok.

7.45am. I make Vegemite Toast.

8.02am. “Where are they?” Sam says. Then he heads off presumably in search of bulldogs.

8.03am. Sam follows Otto into the lounge room. “They are both awake, and they are both on the floor.”

8.04am. Brun appears in the lounge room, in his snuffleupagus fashion.

Otto jumps up on the couch with me once he comes in from his morning wee.

9am. Brun and I head out the front gate. I get chatting to Jackson Wag standing in the morning sun, like we are chatting over the back fence. Jackson has given up booze and pot recently with no physical withdrawal symptoms at all. He said it was a doddle. Jackson is eating a banana he gives some of his banana to Brun. Eventually, Jackson remembers his coffee pot is cooking on the stove and he rushes off.

9:30am. Otto I walk down Smith Street. The sun is shining. It’s quite a nice morning. Everyone in Smith Street seems to have a dog.

Mark:

Check out this video. How I’d love to hear you play this.

Medici TV.

Members of 'Die 12' brilliant cellists from one of the world's most prestigious orchestras, the Berliner Philharmoniker playing the Theme from The Pink Panther.

Me:

Except they’re all cellos, I didn’t play the cello.

And I think I played that, the Pink Panther Theme, at some point somewhere I was playing, somewhere along the way.

I seem to remember it being inserted into another piece of music as a humorous highlight

In something, I was playing with some Orchestra, his dogs are

Oh, ‘his dogs are’ comment was because I was dictating the messages and I’m walking Otto down the street and I started talking to another dog owner and I didn’t realise my dictation picked up that bit of my conversation, so that doesn’t mean anything

Mark:

Haha.....what did you play....oh...the viola....of course, of course...

9:36am. Otto and I are in chemist warehouse getting some pills.

I go and sit on the seats provided while my script is being filled. A woman comes and stands next to the seats, looking down at Otto telling me how gorgeous he is. I think Otto looks like he is about to jump up on her at any moment. As I am wondering what kind of collision her head and Otto’s head might make, the pharmacist calls me up.

"Christian Fletcher?"

I ask the pharmacist if any of the medication I am on would give me the sniffles. Lately I have had the constant sniffles. Oh, it is nothing really, not really, but enough to make me wonder? He says none of the medications I have mentioned would give me the sniffles.

“I’ll have to investigate it further then,” I say.

“Perhaps an allergy to something,” he says.

Otto gets into going home mode, as soon as he senses we are done. He just wants to charge right out of the shop as soon as we are near the front doors, damn paying.

Sam has been cleaning when we get home. He’d vacuumed the lounge room. “Clean up all the debris on the floors in the rest of the house," he says. His tone is like an order. The hair on the back of my neck bristles, as they say. Just do it, I tell myself.

10am. I put Queen on in my headphones and I vacuum. I’m still on a Queen kick. I was surprised when I read Queen has sold 300 million records, when The Rolling Stones have only sold 250 million records. Queen's record selling period was kind of 20 years. The Rolling Stones selling period is 60 years.

11.11am. I was listening to Queen. I still have two queen CDs to buy. Oh yes, I know, subscribe to a streaming service, apart from anything else, it is probably cheaper. Yeah, I know, call me stupid. Old fashioned, even. Go on. But, I find unlimited choice kind of overwhelming. (I find the same thing with Netflix, unlimited choice makes choosing anything much harder) Is that a thing with other people? I can’t be the only person who feels that way? Yeah, sure, streaming services are really handy when you want to listen to something specific, sure they are, but at other times I find it mind boggling. 

I like having a music collection, and when I give up my monthly subscription, which I did when Sam stopped paying for it, I still have a music collection.

On eBay, I buy Queen The Works, a non-deluxe, 2008 remastered CD because it was cheap only $11. And besides, I’m not really interested in the extra tracks on the 2011 deluxe issue.

I buy Queen’s 2011 remastered, but non deluxe Innuendo album because I realise I don’t care about the deluxe tracks and it was cheap @ $15.

We change the bed sheet because of Otto’s dirty mouth causing dirty marks on the sheets. He is the type of bulldog whose tongue hangs out and that causes him to leave dirty marks on our sheets. Yes, I know, lovely. Still, it isn’t so much to deal with, we just have to wash the sheets more often. Neither Buddy, or Brun have had the same issue.

11:39am. Brun, Otto, and I are waiting on the footpath out the front of the house in the glorious sunshine for Sam to come out so we can get going to our lunch destination wherever that may be.

11:41am. We get going to our lunch date, with ourselves that is, a lunch date with ourselves.

I write another verse to the Donald Trump poem I am working on while we wait for Sam.

A man who constantly pedals in alternative facts, 

and that’s the nicest thing I can say about that,

who only ever has his own welfare in mind?

Never mind the country has been elected to run.

12.25pm. We’re in Franklin Street eating Indonesian Fusion, YOI.

It’s a bit cold sitting here. That’s the trouble with too many high-rise apartment buildings, you never get enough sun on the ground, and it’s always cold. 

Sam eats ribs. I eat a coconut curry.

Me:

My well rounded education, and now it's years later and my parents are dead, and it’s all behind me, everything has been said

Mark:

It’s like that isn't it, but, everything changes when you do shit.....in the last 3 days I washed and vacuumed both cars, cleared out a big section of the shed so Jane could store all her stuff, loaded up the trailer with a shit load of stuff to take to the scrap metal yard.

Got up on the shed roof and cleaned out the gutters, scrubbed and rinsed 24 solar panels, sanded the rust off my hand trolley and painted it with rust paint, fixed the wiring on my water pump and its pumping up lovely cool water from the crick....life feels good, mower is coming back next week, so I,m going to be VERY busy for the next few weeks, bringing the property back to gorgeousness......😁

Me:

Goodo

I’ve been working full-time while Boris swans around fucking Bulgaria yet again. I should just say no, I don’t wanna do it, but my big poo bah boss gives me a $5000 bonus every year for doing it, so what the fuck?

Mark:

WTF indeed....

Me:

next Mwarch

when pay wises and bonus are doled out

A guy comes out of one of the apartments, I assume, walking his cream Akita. We pull the bulldogs close so they don’t meet up with the likes of him.

Two, clearly wealthy, Indonesian girls, with fancy golf bags of golf clubs are next to me. They become entranced by the bulldogs, one of them in particular. She comes over and pats the bulldogs. She coos how lovely they are, as they act like lovely dogs for her.

Sam says he thought they were young lesbians, when I say that they have been joined by a very handsome guy.

“If they are lesbians, then he is certainly going to waste.”

“Maybe he is gay, too,” says Sam.

“Welcome to the team,” I say. “He’d be a worthwhile addition.”

12.52pm. We’re done. The two girls and the handsome guy leave when we do. They stop at the footpath out the front, each of them carrying golf bags.

We walk up Franklin Street, and very quickly we are in sunlight and I feel like it is warming me up, after eating lunch in the shadows.

The Vic Market is bathed in sunshine.

We go to the large pet shop to buy fish food for the gold fish in our pond. Inside the pet shop is a couple with a dachshund, which starts to bark as soon as it sees the bulldogs. Its owner picks it up straight away. 

“Look at these gorgeous bulldogs,” its owner says.

“They won’t react to your dog,” I say. They wouldn’t.

“Oh, but he will,” says the guy. He's referring to his dog.

Sam heads downstairs to the downstairs aquarium section to buy fish food. Brun, Otto and I stand on the street in the sun and wait for Sam.

It doesn’t take long, and we are heading off. 

We walk along the main market road. A handsome blond with buzz-cut hair, with a gorgeous Frenchie comes along behind us.

“You dog is gorgeous,” I say to him.

He smiles and says, “Thanks.” He is big, and buff, and blond. He has on tight, white, track pants, showing off his muscular legs and beefy butt. It is a bloody sexy look. I can see him walking ahead of us in amongst the crowds of people up ahead for some time.

The streets are busy with people, all coming out, no doubt, because of the gorgeous sunny day. The tables outside the cafes are full of people.

There are many people walking their dogs in the sunshine.

1:20pm. We buy black tea frappe in the top end of Swanson Street opposite the City Baths. We cross Swanston Street sit on a seat and drink outside the City Baths in the glorious sun. 

A guy in white shorts and a beefy arse, with thick hairy thigh stands next to us talking on his phone. 

A woman with huge breasts clearly with no bra in a skin tight pale pink knit walks past the other way.

A young gym guy, clearly going into the gym at the baths, walks past from the other direction in shorts the legs of which are so wide he actually looks like he is wearing a skirt.

Once we have finished our mediocre drink we head to Victoria Parade and cross at the lights. There is a huge crowd of people crossing from the other direction, and Brun walks on the wrong side of a guy walking towards us wrapping his lead around the guy’s legs, stopping him in his tracks. I apologise. The guy laughs, he is taken with Brun, as so many people are.

Brun is being difficult walking up Victoria Parade. He is getting his bulldoggie stubbornness going.

1.39pm. cnr Exhibition Street and Victoria Parade where the sun is shining so beautifully. A woman has picked up her small Oodle when she saw the bulldogs.

We walk through the Carlton Gardens with Brun stopping continually in his annoying bulldog way. I coax him along. It takes continual coaxing. It takes me standing him back up on his paw numerous times.

We walk up Gertrude Street.

2.07pm. We’re home.

It is screens on the couch after that.

I watched DD Speed Shop and the continuation of the build of his 1969 Chevy Nova.

I watched DD Speed Shop and an old video of converting a 4 door 1956 Chey to a 2 door.

I watched Merlin Johnson and his multi coloured 1957 chevy 2 door Belair.

I watched David Nebern and his 2 door 1957 Chevy, that I watched years ago him getting it out of a 1957 grave yard with Mike Finnegan.

I think about doing a blog post. I initially think about using yesterday’s post walking to Victoria Street, but the weather was different yesterday, and, besides, I'd already written a post yesterday, so I get to and re-write today’s journal entry about walking to the Vic Market.

We ate Hainanese chicken rice for dinner.

7.30pm. I’m scrolling Facebook, something I haven’t done for months.

Tea in the Afternoon

We went shopping in the morning. After the early morning rain cleared, the sun shone. We walked the dogs down Victoria Parade and did the weekly shopping.

We walked the groceries home with green bags over both our shoulders, like pack horses. Ha, ha. It's a bit of a slog walking back up that hill loaded up with shopping bags, and recalcitrant dogs that just want to do their own thing a lot of the time.

We bought pork rolls for lunch. We ate them as soon as we got home. I pick the Willis out of mine before I hoe into them, as I like a little chilli but not usually the amount the nice bánh mì maker tends to put in.

Then it was screens on the couch. Sam cleaned the fish pond filter. I didn't get off the couch. Oh, to be so lazy, is a glorious feeling.

3pm. I made a cup of tea. I try to make it as strong as I can with the tea bags I have.

Funny. I think of my old English born aunties, often, when I make tea. Now, they used to make tea, with a pot and loose leaf tea, tea strong enough you could stand your spoon up in it, as they used to say. It would be the colour of mahogany.

I remember when I was a young lad, I'd make them tea, and if ever I'd say, "I hope that isn't too strong."

My sweet old aunts, with their set hair and matching jumpers and cardigans, would always answer, "tea can never be too strong." 

They would always have a biscuit to go with their tea, in fact, they would have a selection, taken from various biscuit tins they would have handy.

I miss all those lovely old aunts, who have all been dead now for many years.

Get Down Make Work

I've been so laid back with everything these last few days, I have been doing everything but work, lovely, really, so much so that now I have quite a lot to do today, before next week. 

Oh well, off I go. Best I get started. Head down, bum up, said the football coach to the star player.

I started at 6am with a coffee and stupid questions from HR. (But, aren't all questions from HR stupid, I hear you ask? Well, yes, they tend to be, queens of the stupid questions is HR)

Just the way to start the day. With a coffee. Not stupid questions from HR.

Anyway, I should have it all done by lunch time. I can't waste the whole day on work. Who can waste the day that way? Time you never get back. Good thing I am good at what I do. (Don’t ask HR the same question though, now will you. Chuckle)

Early afternoon, I open my novel, I put my feet up on my great aunt's foot stool that I inherited, ended up with, whatever you want to call it, nobody else wanted it, and with Otto snoring gently behind me on the black leather couch, I started to read The In Between.

Pesky Work Got In The Way Of A Good Read

I was going to read all day, and somehow the idiots got the better of me and I got no reading done.

Questions, questions, always questions. So many questions.

Something the religious amongst us hates, pesky questions, you know, like, um, er, God created the world in 6 days, or was it 7? How does the myth go? That calculates out to 4.5 billion years ago. Then we have dinosaurs on the planet for 165 million years. And then we get to man, 300 thousand years ago. Why did it take 4.2 billion odd years to create man? And, what is it, who did he love? Who did he loved so much that he made in his own image? Explain the dinosaurs 165 million year reign? Can you prove god isn't a dinosaur? Can you prove god isn't an Incisivosaurus?

I did find time to walk Otto to do my lotto, though. You know. Ho, ho. There you go.

And I wrote a poem. I was inspired by a poem called 13 Ways To Drink Chocolate Milk, inspired in style rather than content. I'll have to re-write it, it's a bit shit at the moment. But, I'll also have to let a little time elapse before I try the re-write. Inspiration tends to come with a little distance.

And then, suddenly the day was over and I hadn't opened my book at all. I used to read so much, and now I read so little.

Hump day

Boris is back next week. Her time away went pretty quickly thinking about it now, looking at it from this point. I guess that is easy to say now that I have done all of her work.

But today, I had nothing to do. I think I had 2 emails all day. I so don't have to work tomorrow, or the next day, not really, if today is anything to go by, but I've been paid for the days now, so whatever.

Eventually, I got bored with YouTube, and I just didn’t feel like writing myself, no matter how much I thought about it. I tried AI image creator but the images just didn’t appeal, so, in the end, I listened to Richard Dawkins talking about evolution and the delusion that is religion and the world.

Late in the afternoon, when Richard Dawkins talked about the book he is presently reading, I thought to myself, of course, read something. 🤦

I got out Christos Tsiolkas, The In Between and started reading.

I'd read every Christos Tsiolkas novel until Barracuda, and suddenly that book just didn't appeal. I don't know why? I loved all his writing up until that point. So, I haven't read his novels since Barracuda either. The In Between is me getting back into his writing.

I'll be able to start early on it tomorrow. No wasting time on YouTube.

What Day?

Was it Monday? Or Tuesday? Which one? Tuesday. It was Tuesday. Ever since I tied all of our work, everything, together neatly with a metaphoric bow last Friday, I have had very little to do. Not much these last two days.

My big boss has been heaping praise on me for filling in for Boris, but it's all been pretty easy, really. No praise required, this has been dead easy. It’s a little embarrassing when I think I’m not doing much at all, you know, if embarrassment is even a thing in the corporate world, which it isn't, of course. You get away with what you can get away with, everyone knows that.

Anyway...

I'm obsessed currently with Queen, the group, not the recently deceased monarch, and Jonathan Groff, who is just so adorable.

So, I entertained myself with both of those.

And I watched my favourite YouTube boys on Daily Driven Death Traps, Sean and Alex. (Just the way those two boys fill out their jeans is enough to watch their channel)

And the first two days of the week passed by relatively quickly. Whoosh. Gone.

Three to go. Oh my, 3 to go. What a joy. Here is to them passing quickly too. Oh yes, be gone pesky work days, be gone with you!

Fairy Godmother

This is a story of a gay English guy I read in the Guardian today.

I just thought it made an interesting contrast to what I wrote about yesterday. How people react to the most vulnerable.

I grew up in the English countryside, watching Queer as Folk on TV and dreaming about the day I’d move to the city and get to be part of the gay world. At age 18, in the mid-noughties, I packed up and left for Manchester, moving into the university halls of residence. I was thrilled.

On my first night out, I went to a popular gay club night and got stupendously drunk. The university halls were only a five-minute walk away, but I was alone. Around 2am, I found myself propped against a wall outside a takeaway, unable to remember how to get back to my bed.

Spotting me in trouble, Nana, who was lovingly known as the oldest drag queen in Manchester, came up to me and asked: “‘Are you OK, chicken?”

Nana was a Manchester institution. She had campaigned a lot during the HIV/Aids crisis in the 1980s and 90s. In the 2000s she’d often show up late at night to hand ice blocks out to drunk young partiers to help sober them up. She’d say: “Here’s something to suck on, boys,” which made everyone laugh.

I told Nana I lived at the university, but that I’d just moved here and didn’t know where I was going. Without hesitation, she replied: “Come on love, let’s get you home.”

Nana escorted me back, got me safely into my room, tucked me into bed and saw herself out. All of this, dressed in drag. Her parting words were: “Nana loves you – now be careful.”

Looking back now, I can see how much of a vulnerable situation I had put myself in, as an 18-year-old in an unfamiliar environment. But Nana, who was probably in her early 60s at that point, took me under her wing. She got me home safely then just disappeared, like a gay fairy godmother.

I love this story.

I so hate conservatives, vile fucken human beings, who would use such things as drag story hour and transexuals to build their pathetic fucken empires. 

Woman's Group

Women Will Speak rally held at Victoria's state parliament as counter-protestor's clash with Police, yesterday in the city.

The women's rally, organised by Women's Voices Australia a group of Christian fundamentalists, and far-right political activists protesting trans rights.

This is a group that does not have women's interests and wellbeing at heart, in fact, the opposite could be argued to be true, as evidenced in their advocacy and embrace of Christian fundamentalism, and far-right politics. 

Their "concern" for women resides almost exclusively in opposing abortion and trans-rights. Scant attention is given to domestic violence and prostitution, which they hold to be an issue, noted as campaigns in passing, with little detail provided or 'public' support relative to those other positions.

There is some talk that this group has acted on conspiratorial beliefs around WiFi and its obviously unproven impact on health.

Ah, the 'ole support women claim, as long as they stay in the kitchen, while pregnant with baby number 11, that is the type of woman's support group that they are.

All this about people who make up 0.02% of society. Do you think christians/conservatives protest too much?

What do you get by picking on arguably the smallest minority group in society, who are probably least like to be able to defend themselves? It certainly couldn't be a sense of pride.

Generosity

My big boss, The Big Poo, called me yesterday and wanted some extraordinary figures done. 

“I’m so sorry to add to your already increased workload.”

“Oh, that’s okay.”

“But, I need these figures done.”

"Yeah, sure," I said.

"Boris is going to owe you big time when she gets back." He joked.

"Oh, well, at least she is having a good time."

"Oh, I see." He laughed. "She's even rubbing it in."

"Ha ha," I said. "No, I asked her."

"Well, I guess that is the main thing," he said. His voice dripped with sarcasm. He laughed afterwards.

“I guess,” I said. Thinking did I care if Boris had a good holiday, or not? I asked her. She said she was having a good time meeting up with friends and family every day. Did I really care? Do any of us really care? Do we? In this increasingly self-focused world. I’m happy for her that she is having a nice time being with her family, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not effecting my life, let’s face it.

“Anyway, mate, let me know if there is anything I can do to help with anything,” said the Big Poo.

“Yeah, sure I will.”

“I’m always here,” he said.

“Thanks.”

If anyone wants a blueprint for a great CFO, ours is the one to adopt. He is a joy. And I don’t think I have ever been able to say that about any other CEO/COO/CFO types. He is a great guy and a wonderful boss.

(Boris is a great boss too, have I said that before?)

So, I had a whole lot of things to get done yesterday. And when I had them all done by mid afternoon, I realised that was pretty much all of Boris’ work done for the rest of the month, until she is back. Not so hard, despite my complaining. Done.

Other stuff will probably come up, but it may not too.

So, Boris, I hope you are having a good time, I thought, as it doesn’t really concern me so much any longer. So, why not, be generous. 

When you think about the world today, it is kind of one of those things that is in short supply, generosity. Which, I guess, is doing something for someone else for nothing, there’s not so much of that going on today.

I am doing this for Boris for nothing. I am. And I am happy to, despite my whinging.

 

Sunrise this morning when I went to the bakery to get bread. 

Lovely, isn’t it. Such gorgeous colours. 

You know, it does make a part of me sad when I stand there and look at this, that we’re not looking after it. This planet of ours is the most wonderous and bountiful thing, and we are truly lucky to have it, and yet our selfishness and our greed is allowing the planet to be fucked up. There are spectacular and truly amazing places on the Earth, breathtaking in their beauty, and mind boggling in their uniqueness, and yet, somehow, we’re just shitting all over them.

And let’s not be under any allusions, planet earth will more than likely survive, once we have poisoned the atmosphere to such an extent that it won’t be able to sustain life as we know it and the human race is wiped out.

After that, a few – I don’t know how many years, some scientist can correct me if I am wrong – thousand years later, just a millisecond in the earth’s life, it will have regenerated, wiping nearly all evidence of us having ever been here, and it will go on.

We are only killing ourselves.

Full Time Sucks

Day 4 in the week? Ugh! I'm exhausted. Chuckle. When will this full time nonsense finally finishing?

Oh? 😧 I just looked it up, there is still a few weeks to go. Grrrr!

Still, most of Boris’ work is done by the 15th of the month, so nearly done.

Oh yeah, I guess I’m lucky to have such luxury. But then, I have always been lucky. Complaints of the spineless, well, I could say no to Boris, find someone else to fill in for you, but I’m just trying to be generous. And I am only complaining here, which is kind of my space. I’m not complaining anywhere else. Not to Sam, as Sam doesn’t want to hear such things. 

I’m just trying to make sense of what I feel. And possibly where I let myself down, kind, if I even did, even if that sounds too serious. I’m just exploring what I do, in the margins, if you like, in the shadowy realm of my own mind. Does that make sense?

Oh, I don’t know. Wah, wah, wah, is what I read back. And really, it’s all been really easy, I can do it with my eyes closed, everyone should have such difficulty. I used to do Boris’ job way back when, until I realised the manager’s job was a thankless position, with everyone at you, above, below and sideways.

18.08.2025

AI

Big Tech guys weren't content on ruining all our lives with social media, now, apparently, AI is coming for all our jobs, and sooner, than later.

The one glimmer of hope for us all is that with any kind of Industrial Revolution more jobs were created by the revolution than were lost by it.

But, is AI your normal kind of revolution? That is a question nobody, apparently, can answer. And the AI revolution is going to be so absolute that nobody really knows.

I have to say at this point, I am a sucker for AI image creator. I really am.

Don't You Hate HR? I Know I Do.

I've been having trouble with The Ponytail from HR the last day, or so, again. She has been drama'ing on, wanting me to do something for her which is really beyond the scope of her authority over me.

I'd already answered one of her minions about the issue. So The Ponytail, essentially, then sent an email of demand, demanding me to do what she wanted. And in the process, she cc'ed in my big boss, The Big Poo, you who is finance director of the Southern Hemisphere, or whatever he is. I don't know exactly.

So, I clapped back at her, essentially, asking why she thought I should do what she demanded, put nicely of course.

She sent back, essentially, the same email of demand, throwing her pathetic weight around.

My big boss cc'ed in every time, of course.

Anyway, I did the barest minimum of what she wanted, just to shut her up. And then ignored the rest of her nonsense.

"Whatever, Pony, whatever."

My big boss, The Big Poo, called me this afternoon, saying he was just about to run home when the rain came down, (yes, run home, and he lives in the middle eastern suburbs, some people are just high achievers and more) and he was just considering his options, so he thought he'd call me to see if everything was okay with me with Boris being away.

"Yes, fine."

"Oh good," he said.

He told me a few things that were coming up. We chatted about our dogs. Then just before we finished, he asked.

"Did you sort out that thing with HR?"

"Yes, all sorted."

"So, drama over?"

"Yes, drama over."

"You notice that I keep out of it."

I laughed. "They are drama queens."

He laughed. "Oh Christian, I don't think we are allowed to refer to HR that way any longer."

And then we both cackled.

The HR hags cc'ing my big boss to their pathetic attempts, usually, to slither out of something, or pass the blame to someone else, always makes me chuckle because I know how the Big Poo thinks about them.

"Too much drama," he would say. Privately, of course.

Fuck 'em.

The Ex and the Grandkid

My ex, Mark's, grandson is now 20 years old. He is now wanting to move back down to Melbourne from Queensland.

So Mark asked me if Jay could come and stay. We have a spare room, Charlie is already here, and they are the same age, why not, I thought.

Mark can be bossy and think about himself, I know that about him and, quite frankly, I just see that as a part of him, a part of his charm.

But for someone who hasn't had a relationship with him, and to whom he doesn't mean the world, the appeal may not be the same.

When Mark was a kid he had a deviated septum, it was quite bad from all accounts. He continually had nose problems, which I think led to some bullying as a kid, and as a teenager. In his very early twenties he had it fixed. But sniffing, nasal sounds, still trigger him.

So when he has come to stay he has been, shall we say, difficult about our bulldogs, as bulldogs snore, and sniff and wheeze.

He has asked for the bulldogs to be put outside and has generally complained about them when he has been here, which for me, I just deal with it, I tell him to shut up, not that that stops the complaining, but for Sam it is upsetting.

So, at the suggestion of Jay coming to stay with us, Sam was triggered and he was as unhappy about the idea as I have seen him unhappy about anything. So, it looks like it's a no to Jay.

Well, Mark, I guess you should have been more gracious and acted more like a guest when you came to stay. Sure, it's me, and you can say anything and act in any matter with me, as we have a long and deep history, and you are my favourite person in the world, but it's not just me.

I write this sitting on the floor at my coffee table with the open fire at my back, with a bulldog sitting in my lap using my right arm as a chin rest.

Sunday

(I'm using an extract from my journal, as nothing else is coming into my head)

5.50am. I wake up. I have no idea what time it is. Usually, I have a sense of it, but not this morning. I head to the toilet. There is a clock in the bathroom associated with Sam’s electric toothbrush, I’ll see what time it is then. I feel like I stagger just a little in the dark stepping over the dog beds, the dog beds they don’t use any more. 

The bathroom clock says 5.50am. That is on the late side for my normal rising time. I piss.

I get back into bed, but I know even as I get back in that I am not going back to sleep. I lie there for moments really, then I get up again.

I sit on the bedroom floor and pull my clothes on.

I head downstairs.

I made coffee.

I open up the Guardian and read the headlines, with the thought, I wonder if anyone has died. That is my usual thought when I start to read the news.

Australia joins UK, Germany, Italy and New Zealand in condemning Israel’s planned Gaza City takeover. Australian foreign affairs minister Penny Wong and her counterparts have signed a joint statement saying the Israeli government and Hamas must work with the international community to end the war in Gaza. Photograph: Dominic Giannini/AAP. Joint statement warns Netanyahu’s new ground offensive will worsen ‘catastrophic humanitarian situation’ as international outrage grows.

Three people injured in shooting at New York City’s Times Square. NYPD say shooting took place after verbal dispute and one person is being held in custody.

The Victorian premier, Jacinta Allan, has condemned “goons” who took part in a neo-Nazi march through the streets of Melbourne in the early hours of Saturday morning. ‘Nazis don’t belong in this country’: Victorian premier scathing over masked march by ‘goons’ in Melbourne CBD. Man allegedly assaulted after confronting group of about 100 people on march to Flagstaff Gardens early on Saturday.

Trump reportedly considers reclassifying marijuana as less dangerous drug. President told people at a fundraiser last month he was considering changing marijuana’s Schedule I classification.

Peter Carey on Ned Kelly: ‘Did no one see what I saw, that our famous bushranger was a raging poet?’ Twenty-five years after his award-winning book was published, the Australian author revisits True History of the Kelly Gang.

6.37am. I started watching Coldwarmotors. 1978 Cougar engine removal. 1960 Chev Impala 2 dr, 1963 Pontiac.

I wrap myself up in the pink blanket. It’s cold.

Milo works his way around me when I am sitting up and then lying down, when my mysteriously sore neck starts to bother me more sitting up. My neck started to hurt yesterday, seemingly just out of the blue.

7.43am. Sam was up. Milo curls up in Sam’s lap.

8am. I make vegemite toast.

Otto is up.

8.25am. Brun is up.

8.30am. I start watching Tasty Classics and his blue 1978 Lotus Eclat. Cool car.

Sam makes coffee.

9.30am. Sam feeds the dogs.

10am. Sam starts cleaning. It is Sunday, so we have to clean. Every Sunday is cleaning day. Sam is ridged about it. Me, nyr, whatever, so, I guess, it is good Sam is a stickler.

I vacuum, after Sam has finished dusting and wiping and upon his instruction. You know, get to it, as I'm still on the couch with YouTube.

11.21am. The sun is shining, as I empty the vacuum into the bin outside. I stop for a moment and feel the sun on my face. The morning sun on your face is glorious.

I go and have a shower.

12:13pm. We walked the Bulldogs to lunch. The sun is shining. The sky is blue. It’s really a glorious day.

We walk through the gardens. We walk across the museum forecourt. Brun wants to charge ahead, so I let him off his lead. No harm can come to him in the museum plaza. I put him back on his lead when we get to Rathdowne Street.

Pelham Street > Lygon Street > Grattan Street.

12.37pm. We’re at Nasi Lemak House, 115 Grattan Street 

It’s actually hot sitting in the sun. There is an outside heater on which I ask the cute guy already eating if he wants it on, when Sam goes inside to order. The handsome guy doesn’t respond when I ask him. I ask him again, he still doesn’t respond. I ask louder. I ask louder again. I practically yell at him, but he still doesn’t respond. Then he just happens to look in my direction, and he sees that I am trying to gain his attention. He pulls his earbuds out of his ears. He doesn’t care about the heater. I turn it off.

1pm. A chatty couple with a dog come and sit next to us, which is annoying.

We both have chicken Nasi lemak. Sam has spicy. I have non-spicy.

There was a photo, a memory produced by the system of my photograph of a Carlton super tram stop with people standing on it from 2016 on Messenger.

Mark Waterdale:

why do you have a basketball in your hand?

You:

That's not me

Just Carlton

Mark Waterdale:

A rather perfunctory photo methinks...unless it was you...

You:

I think it looks better bigger. It’s just a linear taste of suburban life. I remember I liked the lines when I took it.

Mark Waterdale:

Doesn't make me want to move there...lol

You:

It can just be a taste of life, you don’t have to swallow

Mark Waterdale:

It will certainly be an interesting snapshot in 100 years....

You:

Actually, eating lunch in Carlton now. Sitting in the sun. Some chatty people came and sat right next to us which is annoying. They should be put out of my misery.

Mark Waterdale:

Or at least Tazed, there should be much more Tazing

You:

Or pepper sprayed

Mark Waterdale:

Yes yes...

You:

With every unapproved uttering

Mark Waterdale:

Indubitably

You:

Oh Jasus! Some even chattier people have come and sat on the other side. It’s like you can’t get any damn privacy in public any more

Mark Waterdale:

That's why I don't venture into it...but it can be griss for your Literary endeavours....

You:

It’s a fucken cacophony

Mark Waterdale:

Oh how I hate a caukaphone

The peeeepull the peeeeeepull

You:

I just want to say to them, none of you are as interesting as you think you are, so shut up!

Mark Waterdale:

Hehe

You:

Chuckle. Could you imagine?

Mark Waterdale:

And you'd be right

Taping their responses would be a great new reality TV show...

You:

Time to leave, some Americans have turned up

Mark Waterdale:

It could be called....The town crier....hear ye hear ye, all you people...blah blah blah....then press record

Eeeeeuughh ...run for your lives

You:

Oh, and really loud, exit stage left

Mark Waterdale:

Haha.....zactlie

You:

Decamping to the gelato shop

Mark Waterdale:

They're all loud

Ooooh yum

You:

This sun is really gorgeous though I have to say

Mark Waterdale:

Enjoy it....

A number of Americans order at Nasi Lemak House, but go and sit on the tables for the sandwich shop next door, where they proceed to speak like loud Americans.

We gather ourselves up and leave.

1.34pm. We walk down Lygon Street and get an ice each. I get pistachio. Sam gets Durian.

We walk up Pelham Street to Rathdowne Street.

As we begin to walk through the gardens, two Bulldogs supporters walk towards us, one of them hugged Brun for good luck.

1:49pm. We’re walking through the Carlton Gardens down by Carlton Street. The park is full of people. The Sun is shining. The sky is blue. 

Moor Street > home.

2.17pm. We’re home.

We get comfy on the couches and do screens. I share the big couch with the two dogs.

I watch YouTube. I don’t feel like writing.

Meryl Streep’s 6 favourite movies

Persona 1966

Umberto 1952

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Commerce Quay, 1080 Brussels 1975

The Rules of the Game 1939

Tokyo Story 1953

The Bicycle Thief 1948

Oh, so many American political reports until I really begin to wonder why the hell I care about it. You know, it’s the old car crash analogy, it is hard to look away.

3.27pm. I watched Meryl Streep’s most iconic moments. Ah, some well articulated sanity after the chaos of the bloated, orange, lying, bag of shit.

I watched one of the music YouTubers showing his Rolling Stones collection. Nyr. He’s talking about vinyl. I don’t know, I think the vinyl phase is kind of a weird backward step. But, you know, whatever floats your boat.

I watched Miley Cyrus Flowers Grammy performance. John Legend and Chrissy Teigen dancing in the audience. Taylor Swift with perfectly applied lipstick. Kylie looking gorgeous in red. Even Oprah dancing to her singing.

4.30pm. I watched Bette Midler Kenedy Centre Awards. Ah, Billy Porter. What a star!

I watched Steven Tyler honour Paul McCartney. What a star!

I watched Aretha Franklin sing Natural Woman in honour of Carol King.

I watched Adam Lambert sing Believe in honour of Cher. That performance is perfection. I return to it often.

5pm. We drink coffee and eat donuts, that Charlie bought home from work.

I watched Patti LaBelle sing I just Can’t Stop Loving You.

I watched Tina Turner sing, You Don't Bring Me Flowers and Sometimes When We Touch, Warner Theatre, 1978.

I watched Queen We Are The Champions, Live Wembley 1986, Live Rock Montreal, Live Aid 1985, Live in Budapest 1986, looking for a specific performance. I don’t find it. I am on a Queen kick at the moment, does it show.

I even watched Rami Malek win Best Actor @ 91st Oscars (2019) and his acceptance speech.

5.30pm. Sam goes to the supermarket.

Then it was time for the misery hour, Sam was back from the shops just in time.

Sam cooks soup for dinner.

End of the weekend. I have to work 5 days in the week coming up. And the week after that, thinking about it. I hope Boris is enjoying herself… I don’t think. Ha ha. No, I hope she is having a good time, no use the two of us not enjoying life.