New Year's Eve

It is a gorgeous day. Sam was keen to take Charlie to the country. He suggested we take a drive down The Great Ocean Road.

"On New Years Eve?" I question. I think back to the years I spent down the beach down the Great Ocean Road as a teenager, as a twenty something year old.

"Yes, sure, why not."

"Seriously?" I say. "If you really want to do that, it would be better to do that tomorrow."

Then Sam discovers dogs day on Puffying Billy, but that turns out to be April, May & June.

"We should book and go one day, it might be fun," I say. At the same time I am mulling over in my mind if it would, in fact, be fun. Um? would it? Stuck in a small compartment with the general public and their dogs, which may, or may not, be ... when Sam tells me they are all already booked out for all of next year.

"Well, there you go," I say. I don't have to decide if it would be nice, or not.

Sam reads out the hight lights of Ballarat and Bendigo, I question most of them.

"Perhaps, we could drive to Sassafras and have lunch?"

"Yeah, sure," says Sam.

Anyway, it is now midday and Charlie is still asleep, so where we are going is a moot point, as they say. 

I breath in the fresh air of the day, as I repot my baby Chinese money plants, it is their first repotting from separating from the main plant. I water and fertilise my indoor plants. I have let my plants down in that department since winter. The corgis are around my feel like giant slugs.

Sam lies on the couch and reads about his latest obsession, Andrew Tate. Last week it was Elon Musk. Read, I say? He is TikToking it. Sam is addicted to TikTok. I keep telling him the Chinese Communist Party will be collecting his data. He keeps saying he doesn't care.

Sam reads that one of the best vantage points to see the new years' eve fire works is from the Fitzroy Gardens. We decide to walk the dogs to the Fitzroy Gardens tonight. Then we wonder how we will comfort them while the fire works are exploding over their heads? We don't have enough hands to cover 3 sets of ears.

It is a gorgeous day. I should go and wash the other car.

My ear still hurts. It has been filled with oil and is now plugged up with cottonwool, as per the ear oil instructions. It makes me slightly deaf, and I suspect slightly off balance.

I push on the scab on my shin, where the pedals of my bike caught me the other day after I'd done some exercise, which hurt like fucken hell, and puss shoots out.

So, as you can see, I'm feeling great. 👍

Doctor

My sore ear is still giving me pain, and there is a long weekend coming up. It is never good to have a medical problem on the back burner when a long weekend is imminent.

9am. I call the clinic right on opening time of 9am, (usually 8.30am but they are starting late with its holiday hours. I wonder what half an hour does for them?) to try and get one of the cancelled appointments, which I get at 9.30am. 

"Is that too soon?" asks the receptionist.

"I'll take it," I say.

It is the best way to get an appointment with my doctors, now a days, otherwise you are looking at weeks before you can see a doctor if you book in the normal way. And at least some of the time I even get to see my own doctor.

I have a shower and leave the house.

9.30am. I am at the doctor. My sore ear is feeling kind of better, I think, as I sit in the waiting room. (That turns out to be psychosomatic) I see a doctor I haven't seen before. He seems nice enough. A fat queen with a big arse, but no judgement. (seriously, what am I like?)

He says he would only really recommend antibiotics for people who are really sick, or children. "It should just get better by itself."

"Yeah, okay, sure.” I think, nervously, I get it, I understand we over prescribe antibiotics, but that doesn’t really help with the ache.

I get a script for antibiotics, in case my ear gets worse, with the long weekend coming up and all. 

"Just if it gets worse," says Doctor M.

"Sure," I say. I am board with that. It is kind of a safety blanket. Yeah. Yeah.

I get my indigestion and cholesterol scripts too, while I am there. I try not to go to the doctor as little as I can.

I get blood test paper work for my annual blood test. (He looked it up and told me it was due. It was my very next question) Cholesterol and prostate, inherited from my father. I'd already had breakfast so I’ll have to come back and get it done next week, you know, under a starvation situation.

I get him to look at lump in the corner of my eye. Oh yes, I have another one in the same spot as the one I just had cut out, on the other eye. He says it looks benign. He suggests, perhaps, its okay as it has been there for some time and hasn't changed in any way.

"If it grows, we can cut it out."

Ah, yeah, that is what I am hoping to avoid, I think. When did I last put on the two applications per day of cream, I think?

$85. Ah, what happened to universal health care, I think. Thank you 10 years of Australian conservative govts, is my next thought.

Their machine isn't working when I go to pay.

"I was going to pay with cash," I say.

"Oh," says the receptionist. "Do you have the exact amount because we don't have change."

"Oh, um, no, not the exact amount."

"It will have to be card then," she says.

"But, you just said your machine was offline."

"Yes, yes it is."

Ah, the modern world.

I looked at her for further instructions. None seemed to be forthcoming. I wondered if momentarily I'd missed something. You know, deliberately soft tones so as not to trigger the lowest common denomination amongst us, where most of us find ourselves saying, "I'm sorry," more often than nearly every other thing we say in our day.

Then I wondered if I had crossed over into another dimension where all concerned were telepathic and I could no longer communicate? And I just didn't realise.

I wanted to giggle at the thought.

Soon enough she pushed the machine towards me, and my day went back online accordingly.

Ear Ache

I've had an ear ache for 3 days, I don't feel like writing anything.

Sam has been putting oil in it, ear oil. Then plugging it up with a cotton wool ball. Then I can't hear that well, it is weird being kind of deaf. And I'm not sure if my balance is completely normal, just through not being able to hear as normal.

It has really been giving me the shits. It seems kind of relentless, you know, like it is never going to get better. You know when it continues to hurt and you are just over it.

The side of my head, and the top of my head, are sore to touch. It's kind of weird.

High Pressure Hose

Sam bought us a high pressure hose/washer thingy for Xmas. I want to call it a karcher, but it is actually Bosch. We don't do Xmas presents, or birthday presents for that matter, usually, not sure what that says, but, so it wasn't exactly for Xmas, you know, Sam likes to buy stuff.

So we washed the car. Fill the hose dispenser, point the thing like a gun - do you think they are sponsored by the gun lobby - and fire.

It was going to be a hot day, you know, so hot that some of us were going to die, according to the nightly news. Still what goes together like cheese and crackers, olive and tomato, greek yogurt and honey? The sun and water.

All we need was a couple of pairs of undies and a sprinkler. Ha ha.

At the time I didn’t think it was really doing much, the high pressure washer, not the temperature, but I have to admit after we’d finished and it had dried, I have never seen the Peugeot look so clean.

No really, I think everyone should get one. They use less water, after all, its claim to fame, water efficiency. (All the right wing voters can just tune that last remark out)

We'll get to the Honda in due course. Oh, I am so lazy, I should have done both while I had it set up, but fuck it, another day sounded grand.

And nobody died of heat stroke.

Holidays

Ah, Boxing Day, the first of the really useful public holidays at end of year. It is the day where you really get the opportunity to do fuck all, and there is no judgement from anyone.

Mission pretty much accomplished.

It was hot, so we didn't take the beasts for a walk until late. It was really nice later as the sun began to set and the temperature began to drop.

Sam declared the Boxing Day Sales to be a disappointment, early on (suffering from enochlophobia, Boxing Day sales are only to be entertained online, chuckle, although I'd consider JB HiFi to add to my movie collection, of course) translation, no real purchases were made.

We watched Travel Man with Richard Ayoade, and laughed a lot. He visited European cities with celebrity friends. (I think it was like a greatest hits of the Travel Man series) It is amazing the things you can do that I had never heard of in European cities, many of which I have visited more than once. Fabulous things. Grand things. It makes me want to travel again.

The days between Xmas and New Year are quiet days, actually, really lovely quiet. That is what defines holidays, after all, a lovely relaxing time with things to do of your choosing.

The sun shone.

We watched The Witcher prequel Blood Origin. I guess I liked it? All those fantasy shows are a bit alike to me. The Witcher, The House of Dragon and so on. (I'm guessing that is why they are painted blue in Avatar, so we can differentiate) Sam, who loves those shows, asked me several times, when I asked questions, "Don't you remember blah blah happened?" (at the end of The Witcher)

 

Get yourself a copy of The Man Who Came To Dinner (1942), my very favourite Xmas movie.

Gift-Giving and Saturnalia

Humans as a species love to take inspiration from different cultures, customs, and traditions, and believe it or not, Christmas is no different. If you thought those cosy traditions you knew and loved were just about celebrating Christmas, think again! Things like kissing under a mistletoe, carolling, wreaths, and even gift-giving were all aspects of pagan holidays that were adapted into Christmas celebrations in the early years.

The Christians appropriated it to gain market share way back when... so the birth probably had nothing to do with 25th December and the death probably had nothing to do with easter.

Xmas was a pagan holiday in honour of the agricultural god, Saturn. Romans would spend the week of Saturnalia much like how we spend Christmas holidays today – feasting, drinking, giving gifts, and being joyful.

Decorating trees, feasting with loved ones, hanging up socks by the fireplace, and drinking yourself silly are no different – they’re all a part of pagan history and sacred holidays. In fact, most of the cultural aspects we associate with Christmas are steeped in pagan roots.

Some pagan traditions that have become associated with Christmas:

Gift-giving,

The image of Santa Claus,

Christmas stockings,

Christmas carolling,

Decking the halls with holly, and

Decorating trees.

Happy (essentially Pagan) Xmas everyone. xo

We glue down the four mixing tiles in the shower, you know, the ones that have been missing for some time. We had showers last night. We told Charlie to do the same. (We do have a second shower on the 3rd floor, but nobody wanted to do that) Well, doesn’t everyone wash it, and powder it, and shine it up for Xmas day?

Hunting for the grout for those newly stuck down tiles, showed me how disturbingly our hoarder habits are out of control with cupboards and the attic stuffed full of crap. 

I can’t tell you how long the tiles have been off, so that was a good job done.

When I was done with the tiles, I repotted my succulents.

The Day Before Xmas

 

This is where the Xmas drama kicks up to the next level. This is where panicked present buying starts up in earnest for all those people who have bought every single person in their contact list something, for the people who buy something for everyone in their contact list.

This where plans get finalised, for those plans that haven't already been finalised, and where lists get ticked off, after being checked twice.

This is where the whole Xmas madness comes to the next level crescendo, a climax to all the twirling and spinning. When we can all stop? Maybe?

Not us, say the cooks.

Xmas Dinner

We had Xmas dinner in the country with my sister and brother inlaw and nieces and their long time boyfriends.

We took champagne and $50 worth of cakes from the Italian cake shop in Fitzroy. I think it is nice to take local produce when you go visiting people, family and friends. I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say you shouldn't turn up empty handed, but it is nice to take something to share.

We had cheese and biscuits and champagne on the veranda. Then we ate prawns. After that, we headed inside and ate Xmas dinner, your traditional variety, with wine. We had pavlova and plum pudding for dessert. Then coffee and Italian biscuits. 

After we'd eaten, we took the 10 dogs down to the damn where they chased a ball in and out of the water. All the dogs get along well. 

The corgis observed.

Brun kept getting the ball away from the more athletic kelpies and cattle dogs. He kept getting cheered along, especially when he swam probably for the first time. Bulldogs should have life jackets on around water. I don't think he has ever been called 'a little nugget' more.

It was a lovely day. The fresh air of the country. The rolling paddocks, sweeping up and down.

I'm On Holidays

I'm on Xmas holidays. I watched She Done Him Wrong, Mae West, 1932, "Why don't you come up and see me sometime."

After that we watched Purple Noon, The Talented Mr Ripley, my favourite novel. Purple Noon is an early film version, 1960. Alan Delon.

Sam has to work until Friday.

It rained for most of the day and when it wasn't raining, it threatened to rain. I love that sort of weather, balmy and unpredictable.

I lay on the couch until I felt like I was wasting my life, at which point I told myself I was on holidays. I wanted to go to the bakery and get us sweet pastries but Sam said no.

"Some thing sweet?" I said.

"No."

"It's Xmas," I said. We don't really do Xmas. Sam was bought up a buddhist. (Surely, it is time we all stopped celebrating Xmas. I think we should celebrate new year instead. Then it really could be a holiday for everyone)

"There is chocolate in the kitchen," said Sam.

Not quite the same thing, I thought, however, I broke out the giant Toblerone and we drank coffee, as the sky rumbled, the yappy Corgis barking every time there was a clap of thunder.

I've got 8 days off, I'm guessing it will go fast. It will be the night before I go back to work, the holidays over, just like that, any minute, I know that.

WTF Says Milo

The corgis came to stay, Bear & Billie. Jill has gone on a cruise for 10 days around the Pacific. Sam and I were thinking of going to Bali, and I called Jill to see if she would look after Brun and some how by the end of the conversation we were looking after her dogs.

Brun, Bear & Billie all get on really well.

Milo had been sleeping upstairs all day. Some time around misery news hour time, Milo was suddenly standing in the lounge room door way with huge WTF eyes. His fur was standing up along his spine like a mohawk and his tail was all puffed up. There is nothing quite like a cat's outrage. He's not normally so perturbed by such things but this time he was.

Twice there has been screeching from Billie when she has got too close to Milo. Billie is a princess, it has to be said, a product of her spoilt, lazy, fat girl's life. Jill would say that herself.

What do I mean by that? Well, to put it bluntly, Jill mostly sits at home feeding her face, with Bear and Billie sitting at her feet like ornamental slippers. I don't think the two of them are ever challenged by much.

Iced Water

My favourite drink is iced water. Ice changes water to something exciting. I fill the glass full of ice and then keep topping up the water when it runs out.

However, I've been getting pains in my digestive tract. 

I just googled it and, yes, ice water does that. 

So, I can't even drink iced water any more. Sad face.

So, it's back to coffee and tepid water.

I Don't Care

It's funny, you know, in this age of 24 hour news, disaster after disaster, scandal after scandal after supposed scandal, I find I just care less about things. I read the news articles and I find more often than not half way through an article my thoughts are, Nyr. Whatever. 

Is it the relentless assault on our senses with sensationalism being the main motivation? I guess it is. (What is that song, Overload)

I head back to YouTube and watch the Youtube channels that I like.

(note to self, get off YouTube and start writing)

Argentina wins the World Cup. Is that anything like Eurovision?

Parents forced to... um? Monitor screen time? (Dear God, parents made to supervise their children? What next?)

Jeremy Clarkson writes stuff about Meaghan Markle to which many people object. Shame. Shame. Shame.  Nyr? Whatever. 

Shooting in Canadian apartment building. I have no words.

Some problem on an airplane between Phoenix and Tokyo. I have less words.

Charges recommended against Trump. Oh, shucks.

Elon Musk... Oh what now?

Harry and Meghan... they have one story, when will people get tired of hearing it?

Reading about Johnny Depp and Amber Heard, you begin to lose the will to live. Seriously.

We seem to be encouraged to be interested in far more things than we really need to be. There is so much of the news that if it wasn't reported to us, it wouldn't affect our lives and we wouldn't really care. I think the 24 hour news cycle attempts to make news junkies out of all of us just for its own ratings.

Do you notice that with petrol prices they only report on the price going up, they never report on the prices falling.

Staying Home From Xmas On A Cold Winter’s Day

It is winter in Melbourne today. Really, it is cold. And while I really prefer a mild summer to scorching 40 degrees, it is seriously winter today, half way through December. I am resisting putting on the central heating just because it is December and it is unheard off for this time of year, but I probably should.

And to all the people who are complaining, oh don’t worry, even if it isn’t until next summer, the scotching 40 degree days will soon be back and we’ll all be frying, and we’ll all be wishing for a cool change.

It is my work team's xmas party today. It is also my day off. So, I’m not going.

Boris has made several attempts to talk me into going. I’m not really sure if it is because she genuinely wants me there, or if it is because it looks better for her that I am there. You know, be a part of the team, be a team player. (I know which I suspect?)

I just don’t want to go and hang out with my work colleagues on my day off. I know, that isn’t the spirit, but what can you do?  And, you know, I like them all well enough, and I have an enjoyable time when I am with them, but on company time, not on my day off. Unless you want to pay me for the day but, maybe that would be different, I’m guessing, that isn’t in the spirit of the occasion either. What do you think? 

We have one of the big expensive venues in which to party. But, I just know, if I was there on my day off, I’d would really not want to be there and I’d, well, resent – maybe resent is over stating it somewhat – them for making me do it.

Anyway, no guilt for not enjoying a team building exercise when I could be doing other things, like nothing. 😊

The Shooting In Queensland

Guns and God, you know, that was about as far as I needed to read. Guns and God, they seem to go hand in hand in America, so why not here?

Isn't the big one, amongst those with Christianity, thou shall not kill? I've never really understood how Christians seem to let that one go so easily.

The most concerning thing about this story, I mean other than the shootings, was these people were all teachers, in charge of teaching children.

What Do I Believe?

What do I believe? I believe we are just one of the thousands of species on this plant. 

Yeah, sure, we are the dominant species, sure we are. We put the A in Apex predator, you bet we did.

We're not the smartest, and yet we are the smartest at the same time. But are we? You know, the smartest? We have poisoned the planet we rely on, to live, we don't, actually, have anywhere else to live, so that is probably going to spell the end of us. Where every other species has lived in a way to preserve the planet they rely on.

And even when we see first hand evidence of climate change, in wild weather all over the world, we seem to wonder collectively, for the most part, Where is this weather coming from? It is mind boggling.

So, which is the smartest species? Really?

All species are born to reproduce, that is the point of us. And yet so many of us waste our lives trying to find greater meaning, when there is none. No greater meaning. 

The endless search for meaning is not a substitute for living better.

We live. We reproduce. We die. That is it. That's all there is. Any thing else is at most hopeful, at worst delusional. That is the simple truth. So many of us are delusional.

Oh, but what about those of us who don't reproduce? Seriously? (That is just the mean, pernickety types coming out, probably said with some kind of agenda in mind) It is generally true of all species, as a whole. That is the purpose of us as a group, the collective. Stop trying to be clever, because by that statement you just proved that you are not.

When we die, it's dust. For all of us. There is nothing else. Nothing.

I don't have any problem with this belief, it is just logical to me. I don't need to have any belief there is anything after this.

Do you think the focus on self detracts from the focus on the collective and therefore the care of the planet?

David tries to convince me otherwise, because he believes the opposite to me. He always says, "I know you believe there is something after this life, I know you do deep down."

"No, I don't," I reply.

We have this bet, for want of a better name, that if he dies before me, at some point after his death, someone, a person, has to see me across a big square, like Fed Square, or some such place, and somehow I have to notice them, and that person has to walk across the square directly towards me, walking right up to me and they have to say, "You are wrong." And then walk off.

That is the only way I will change my belief.

We both laugh at that idea, quite possible for different reasons.

Kenny's Bakery Cafe Price Hike

I buy a buttered coffee scroll from Kenny’s Bakery Cafe, Collins Street Melbourne, some mornings when I am in the office. I bought one this morning. I was ready to hand over my $2.90 when the woman behind the counter said $4.10.

“$4.10,” I repeated. “They are normally $2.90.”

“Oh yes, but the prices are all going up.”

“But that is a substantial price rise?”

“Oh yes, but we are a franchise.” The inference was, I presumed, that it was beyond their control.

I calculate that to be a 41.25% price rise.

I was surprised, that's what I felt. It's probably good, though, I don't need to eat fatty treats anyway, you know.

People Are Awful

We were walking down Brunswick Street, it was a sunny afternoon, the day was lovely, we were looking for some where to have lunch.

We walked past some type of Oodle, probably more Poodle than Oodle, tied to a street post. Brun proceeded to piss on the post to which the dog was tied. This nasty piece-of-work dog attacked Brun, for no reason. Sam took Brun's lead from me and pulled him away. I pulled the Oodle off Brun.

Actually, no big deal really, these things happen. Some dogs are just like that, probably due to its owner's training/upbringing.

The next thing the oodles thug of an owner came charging out of the shop. "You have no right to throw my dog!"

"Your dog attacked my dog, I was just pulling it off," I said.

"You have no fucken right to throw my dog."

"Your dog attacked mine..."

Then the guy stepped toward Brun and kicked him in the stomach.

"You really are a first class fuckwit," I said.

I took out my phone and started filming. The guy bent over pulled down his shorts and showed me his arse. Yep, that was the calibre of this idiot.

People are really awful.

Nobody needs to guess why his dog is aggressive.

I am going to immediately stop recycling. I'm going to buy a diesel car. I'm going to use as much plastic as I can. As far as I am concerned, the sooner the human race is wiped out the better.

Of course, kind and generous people are more common than we think. It is hard to remember that when horrible people come into your life, even briefly.

 It will be nice when it grows

Pissing Around With My plants and Plant Pots

I second coat my garden bench in merbau brown, in the dappled sunlight on this gorgeous Friday morning. The sun sparkles.

I picked up a large black porcelain plant pot along with a slightly smaller dark red one the other day, again out on the footpath. I had a pot of red geraniums that I planted from cuttings, I think, last year, so I repotted them up into the black pot.

I read recently that spider plants are very efficient at filtering the air inside your house, and I haven't had a spider plant inside since Mark transplanted the one I did have out into a corner of my back yard where it has turned into an absolute monster, taking over several metres square. I rip it out by the handful occasionally.

I have always thought spider plants were happy plants, with their variegated leaves, and I have a spot in my atrium that gets a lot of full sun and the plants I have put there have never really enjoyed the position, so I decided it was high time for another spider plant indoors. And I had that dark red porcelain pot just crying out to be filled... as the actress said to the bishop. It can take a certain amount of full sun, but if it doesn't like the position in which I have put it, no big deal, I have a whole paddock of them outside from which to choose another one. I also just happened to have a red porcelain saucer that matches.

I picked up 3 terracotta pots in the street recently, that had been painted white. I took to them with a scourer hoping to get that stressed look by the time I am finished, and by the time I was finished I did. Not quite as good as I had imagined, but pretty good none the less. Nothing another couple of sessions in the sink with a scourer won't fix.

I picked up a 4th pot with the other 3, which looked pretty awful and nondescript, but it came up the best. I think it just had a mix of dirt and flaking terracotta. It will probably come up really well with some terracotta sealer. Again, people don't seem to understand that terracotta pots need to be sealed.

I drank my 4th coffee, so Sam tells me by text from a meeting he was in in the other room, and surveyed my handy work when I was done.

I have always love playing with plants in pots ever since I was a kid.