Tag Archives: muse

clearing the decks

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I’ve started on the slow process of clearing the decks a bit. Cleaning the flat out. Setting up systems long overdue since PB moved in. Slow steps. Giving away a capsican plant that was languashing on the balcony to a friend with a renewed interested in gardening. Throwing out handbags or putting them on ebay. Overall reducing the wheelprint.

And after long last updating the blog!

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Service models – an early night.

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PB and I are just back from grabbing a single nightcap after dinner at the pub next door. I would have had another and perhaps even had a nibble to eat. However, as soon as we rolled in they started to shut down.

For the sake of clarity, let me give you a quick run done of the layout of this once inaccessible pub.Two entry points: one now flat with heavy double doors leading to two doors, one to the gaming lounge and the main bar which is also accessible via steps onto the street. The other door leads down a carpeted and tactiled ramp to the bistro and a second bar. from the bistro you can go up two stairs direct to the main bar or outside via stairs only to smoking areas. So, the only accessible seating with the accessible toilet is in the bistro.

So with that background; the closing litany. Kitchen first after a cursory, offer to order now soon after banging of pots and pans as if we weren’t there.  Then the bar essentially as soon as the bargirl (whom we know, of sorts)  have poured our first drink. This  without the obligatory  last drinks call. Then the music went off, the televisions while people were still watching which made the guy watching nervous enough to swallow down the food and leave, looking sheepish. PB sculled the half glass of his first red down and we went to leave. After PB pulled himself up the carpeted ramp I discovered they had locked us in. Not by a sign but by butting the chair against the door. Mr Sad Manager let us out and seemed to want thanking for doing so.

Leaving aside the treatment, the key thing to know with this story is this. We didn’t turn up at 2am on a Tuesday morning in the middle of a sleepy country town. We were in the pub at 8:45 pm on a Sunday night in an supposedly bustling metropolis.

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Sum of the Parts

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I have a confession.

Owing to a bad head cold and resulting loss of voice I’ve been house bound for four days. At great disappointment to myself, I haven’t engaged in anything more intellectually stimulating than watching arguably way too many episodes of Sex and the City. Continue reading →

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Deja vu

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It’s late. It was a case of too much coffee for once having the effect on me that everyone complains of. I am as “they” say … wired.

PB and I went down to Melbourne on Wednesday for a little R and R. It was a little surreal for me on a few fronts. Firstly It was the scene of some unfortunate events during a previous relationship. In fact the anticipation of ghosts around every corner was far worse than the actual experience this week on that front. I’ve been there once since that fateful trip (see below), so perhaps that mitigated those poor ghosts some. They were there to be sure but there was a calm forgiveness about them.

The other element of surrealness comes from the fact that PB and I were visiting Melbourne last year attending a set of work meetings together, purely as supposedly dis-interested but friendly colleagues. At that point in time certainly we were both (I’m pretty sure) determined to keep it that way. It concerned us both how we would be percieved regarding our worklives. Credibility and independance and all that sort of thing. In the end I think we did the right thing both in delaying the relationship till I was well established and also “coming out” slowly when it did blossom, only a month or so after the trip last year.

However, I digress.

I remember with trepidation the nervousness that enveloped me when I suggested we could get a single hotel room as long as we made sure there was a fold out bed available as well. I was amazed when he without too much hesitation accepted. Thus we slept for 2 nights and behaved – a nervous little peck on his check with a blush as I left alone for the airport.

It was the trip that saw the origin of the now common routine of him holding on to the side of my chair so that we might roll in unison.

It was different yet similar as his girlfriend this time. This in itself was lovely.Biggest differences? No meetings and going into a menswear shop with him

Like last time: he went bush for a few days. Like last time I came back to Sydney.

Like last time I miss him.

This time though — he might understand why.

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Reflections

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I’ve been watching DVDs lately of Sex and the City in preparation for the movie that opens here on the 5th of June. It started out by being a pastime – a thing of lightness and fluff to compensate for a heaviness and intensity that is part of my life at the moment. Continue reading →

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Australia 2020

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Ok, so I am a bit late commenting on this I know but last weekend the Rudd government hosted the Australia 2020 summit. An exercise in listening to a handpicked collection of 1000 Australians for new ideas or re-hashed old ideas. In the words of Russell Skelton:

For one weekend a national conversation took place about the future of the country without a bunch of once-influential marsupials shouting down discussion of significant policy issues.

Ideas include major “root and branch” reform of the tax system, a republic, a review and reform of the federation as well as a disability Insurance scheme for those who acquire a disability through their life, among others. These are big overhauls and big risks for a government that is just over its 90 days after over 10 years in Opposition.

It was interesting to see who got an invite. that said a lot in itself of where the Government was pinning its hopes.

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Anzac thoughts

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I watched a lot of television yesterday: the ANZAC day coverage. Moved and annoyed.

My grandfather was an engineer during WWI – on the Western Front. He came back and married my grandmother sometime later. He lived to 91. It might be hard to argue that his life was shortened, but as I sat there watching the ceremonies I was curious about what he would say to me now that I’m an adult.

I watched as arthritic men and women braved cold and wet conditions and the wobbles of age to process down George St — showing a different kind of courage. There was pride in the ability to do that, the freedom not just of State, but of limb.

The inevitable aging of the participants was evident. There was an increased number of taxis carrying those too frail to walk. There were also more troop carriers scattered throughout. The commentators struggled with how to accommodate these folks while still lauding those that marched. There was generally a lot of confusion about who was marching because the groups were too small to read the banners. Mind you the lead commentator, a John Moore, even got the year wrong, refering to this as the 2009 march!

PB and I talked about the potential future of the march. That part of history lost. Perhaps some mark of respect; a medal or token needs to be given to the families of Diggers in addition to medals (many of which would be at the War Memorial).

Then we switched to the commercial stations who did much more professional commercial-free coverage of the services at Gallipoli and Villers-Bretonneux. Both were moving with the commentators knowing when to be quiet. It was beautiful and fitting to hear the lapping of the water against the shores of Gallipoli during the two-minute silence and have that left as is by the producers. Seeing the silhouettes of the strong crowd amid not only the sandstone monument wall but the gravestones was stiring and chillesd me to know my mother was among them those attending the service.

I am inspired now to make better use of the freedom won. Thank you. I can’t take that for granted because it is not a once for all promise. Freedom like all vibrant and living gifts request our blessing and vigilant tendering. May I be up to the task before me.

Lest we forget.

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just as an aside

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I seem to be keen on this writing thing today so

I have had until recently it seems a rather swanky diary — a day timer which i was slowly starting to rely on as my solution to organisation and generally getting things sorted. Yet somehow rather stupidly I have misplaced it. Quite seriously perhaps as it has been gone for over 2 weeks that I know of.

Bugger. I need to get some systems sorted.

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Quote

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Found this interesting from Hugh Mackay an Australian thinker:

“morality (because they) relate to our willingness- as individuals and as a society- to accept some responsibility for each other’s wellbeing.”

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Cork Notes — backdated

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Well I’m sitting here in Cork airport that is – in my ways reminiscent of T3 at Heathrow. Noisy, loud crowded, and understaffed by staff; who, with the exception of the guy who spotted my usual “carry coffee” dilemma and carried it; look as if the would rather be at a funeral than here.

Cork itself is certainly not my favourite place, although I will say that the people are practically friendly – despite their expressions collectively not enforcing this. However when I have come to one of the many corners with no kerb ramp (or a poor excuse for one); if I made an attempt to get up/down invariably a gruff very aged man with food stains on his shirt– who looks too weak or derelict to lift anything, will skilfully pull/push me accordingly, all the while muttering something in Gaelic. Then with a rough but kindly meant pat on the shoulder and an “Aye Sir, Good luck to ya” they once again meld into the colourless stonework.

Yes I did say sir. Thanks to my number 2 haircut I seem to be getting called Sir at least in old Ireland. People have mistaken me for a male – despite a pink shirt and earrings ?. However to “the continent’s” credit – as a rule – once they work out my gender out – I am generally Ma’am. That’s a bit ironic given the extent to which I had stealed myself in anticapationn of the inslaught of “Lovey” et al. Oh well no complaints!

I met a bloke on Washington Street Cork after a particularly trying series of non ramps and raised side kerbing. Somewhere in his 40’s complete with nose ring, enlarged earring, denim jacket and bright purple sports chair with – I was to discover and jealously admire – REAL shock absorbers. He was an import from London and a para, after a work related accident 5 years ago as a result of which he retired with a compo payout. I admire anyone who can be as bold and forthcoming.

He told me that he had moved to Cork because; at least in his experience better than London. This is a bit of worry but no doubt time will tell. In fact upon learning that I am indeed an Aussie, he proceeded to tell me that when he was recovering from his accident the staff in the English hospital sat him down in all seriousness and told him to pull out all stops in order to move as quickly as possible to one of four countries; these being, Australia, New Zealand, Germany or Florida I think it was. Anywhere but England it seems.

Just my luck! Well we’ll see.

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