anyresemblance

On the road

More work avoidance strategies

Soggy

It has been raining for two days.  Not like the deluge poor old Queensland is dealing with but heavy just the same.  I go out and look at my non-overflowing gutters and rejoice in the happiness that home maintenance brings.  I know being a tenant means you don't have to do these things but mostly that means you have to nag landlords or letting agents to fix the damn thing and never feel good about putting up a picture hook.  (I know we had an excellent landlord the 5 years we rented when we first lived in Australia.  He was vice-chancellor at the university but would still come over to fix a broken tap or a leaky window frame.  Mind you, we were very low maintenance tenants).

Yesterday was the Australia Day holiday and a day of nothing-ness.  I walked the dog, took the oldest to work, painted some shelves, took the dog for another walk, made soup and took the dog for another walk.  Man, I was glad to go to bed the whole thing was so dull.  I think I am looking forward to going away.  My trip to the US got canned (boo hoo) and Paris was put on in its place.  My colleague said, "why are you sad, Paris, chocolate mousse at Braserie Lipp" and I said "NYC and cheap cosmetics and chance to meet elle".  Bah humbug.  So I have five days at the Orly Airport hotel and then an equal amount of time in Dubai.  I am still sulking about my aborted NYC trip.  Ah well, am sure the Dubai mall will have everything NYC had but with additional sequins.  Am thinking my wardrobe may be overly heavy on the dark neutrals for Dubai so have to research that.  Over and out.

 

 

Modern families

It's hard to believe it is only January as I feel like several months of work have been done.  The best thing about this month is I finally bit the bullet and bought a mac laptop.  After a few false starts, I got my email working on it and it has been a relief not to have excel and powerpoint crash all the time.  It is also pleasing to have a machine that is not clogged with the detritus of 17 years with the same employer.  I have no intention of copying over my files.  On with the new. Leave the old behind. And so on.

I've been applying the same principles to the household.  I cleaned out the linen cupboard (again).  This time I threw out pillows that no-one liked, an old lumpy duvet, sheets that looked a bit grey and were beyond bleaching and old towels.  It lowers my blood pressure to see piles of ironed duvet covers.  

In the spirit of home keeping I had the gutters replaced.  Although they did not have holes, they were so buckled that water spilled over the edge of them and hit the wooden window frames.  Of course one thing leads to another and now the parlous state of the exterior woodwork points to an outside paint job but it is all coming together.  We had a torrential downpour last night and I was crowing with delight that the water no longer splashes the windows or the back door.

Yesterday I painted a panel with the blackboard paint.  The kids did an excellent job of covering up the edges.  It was so hot that by the time I got to the third coat the paint was drying on the brush so I gave up and finished it off this morning.  I think it still needs to set harder before we apply chalk.

The kids and I went to Officework to buy chalk and various storage components.  I love stationery.  

We ended up in Howards Storage buying some little acrylic thingy that the younger miss can put all her make up.  She is obsessed with make up and watches youtube tutorials.  She has a make up blog (no links as she refuses to share with oldies like me) and is making little tutorials herself.  I had to get my passport renewed and got her to do my makeup for the photo with the guidance "dewy, youthful and won't embarass me in ten years".  I think she did an excellent job but I am pretty sure some tinting gets applied in the scanning of the photo as I am most definitely a strawberry blonde in my new passport.  The passport office people were beyond helpful.  I can not be bothered with this new system of going to the post office (loathe how complicated it now makes getting a UK passport) so just rocked up to the Dept of Foreign Affairs and went to the passport office there.  They processed it in 48 hours and were ultra friendly and helpful.  The worse thing is that the rules have changed for getting an apec card and I am no longer eligible and my current one was attached to the old passport number.  It's a bummer as it removed the need to get a visa for a ton of countries.

Last night I went to a swanky new cinema house with my friends to see Django Unchained.  The cinema is in a new building which is only half open and there were a few teething problems, not least of which was a huge thunderstorm interfering with the electrics.  It was all very civilised with wide seats and a glass of wine.  I hadn't read any of the reviews but I thought the movie was funny, like a violent Balzing Saddles.  Christopher Waltz acted everyone else of the screen.

Family life continues its usual haphazard course.  Nothing to complain of here.  Look at this happy thing enjoying water sports.

 

Denmark

My sister and I were sharing a bed.  It was a few days before my father died.  I was still jet lagged, exhausted, dislocated.  She was sad and in pain from a knee operation.  She must have sensed I was lying awake in the dark room.  She said "when I can't sleep, I make lists of all the countries of the world, by A to Z.  But I always get stuck at D. Surely there are other countries than Denmark?"

I go through them in my head.  A is easy, Angola, Austria, Australia, Andorra... but she is right that D is challenging.  I eventually go to sleep but when I wake up in the morning the first thing I say to her is "Dominican Republic!".  

I become obsessed.  A couple of weeks later at the beach house we rent, we find one wall in the kitchen is painted with blackboard paint.  I start the list.  The kids LOVE it.  We set ourselves a rule of no googling, no using drop down menus of shopping sites to check the options.  My stepson and his girlfriend drop by and join in too. 

When we get home, I decide that I am going to paint one of the cupboards with blackboard paint to start our own list.  The today on instagram, I discover the whole list making is a thing.  I have found my calling.  My current favourite list I have going is "places I've been in transit but never left the airport" 

Crumpled

The old car needs a bit of cosmetic surgery and I called the guy who has been looking after it for some years.  He could never be described as speedy but he is meticulous and thoughtful.  In addition, he had a nice crew of young indigenous men working for him and always seemed a good employer.  When I had the double disaster on the other car back in July (see above), occasioned by youthful poor decision making coupled with supreme self-belief in teenage omnipotence, he calmed me down and reminded me that cars could be fixed and as long as bodies were safe, it was ok (not that that episode did not cost me many $$$).

Anyway, I called him this week to see what he could do for the old girl but the number was disconnected.  I texted his mobile to see what the story was and he told me he had sold the business as he had motor neurone disease.  I can't stop thinking about him.

Into the mystic

When I first starting running (plodding) I used to listen obsessively to Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.  I must have listened to that album a hundred times as I took step by step on the streets near my home.  I also listened to it as I painted the fence and dropped my expensive headphones into the paint.  Once I got bored with that I listened to various playlists my daughter had put together - an odd mixture of hip hop, the Go Betweens, Warren Zevon and Van Morrison.

This time around in getting to the 5k I'd been listening to audio books via audible.  It's also been good and I've listened to a heap of things.

This past week or so I've been listening to the BBC courtesy of TuneIn radio which I adore.  I reckon I am more informed on the changes which have just come in on child benefit and the state of the railways and British Gas than I am on Australian political news right now but it is bliss to listen to the quality of debate on BBC radio.  BBC television news is just as rubbish as anywhere else and I had to shout at the telly a few times when I was in England last month around the breathless Kate Middleton pregnancy news but radio remains high quality.  Last night I listened to Start the Week, the serialised book and Women's Hour as I walked the dog (of course, with time differences I am hearing their morning programs in the evening and hear the midnight shows when I get up in the morning)  This afternoon unable to stomach any more debate on benefit payments (especially as I have been disenfranchised in the UK despite my attempt to vote at the last election and my shouting at the tory government is pointless) I listened to some radio 6. And so it came that in advance of anyone else in Australia I heard David Bowie's new single. 

Sticky buns

It is unspeakably hot.  Dinner round here consists of anything that does not require an oven to be turned on and any cooking needs to be done before noon so residual heat can be dissipated.  I invested in a new baby Weber which is most excellent.

Daughter is working in a fancy schmany supermarket and frankly appalled that people buy bottled salad dressing.  What is so hard about mixing oil and vinegar, she opines.

Before the mercury rose we amused ourselves with making danish pastry from Nigella's recipe.  Frankly the endless risings wore us out and we took shortcuts but they were pretty fine.  I think next time I would make them half size as they were extremely rich.

 

 

Freight train

It's been a while.  My father died.

I'm still processing it all.  The hurried flight.  The familiar drive across the chalky downs past Stonehenge.  Breathing wintery air.  Sitting at his bedside for days holding his hand as he drifted away.  Being in close proximity with siblings for longer than I can remember since being a small child - my older sisters were all gone from home by the time I was 11 so being a teenager was like being an only child. Hearing different versions of the truth you think you've always known.

People were so desperately kind.  You suddenly realise those people who have gone through a similar experience - a senior person at work who has always been quite distant sending me encouraging text messages, a friend who writes stuff on her blog which makes you weep with the loss you are about to face, a worker at the care home who hugs you as you go out to get a coffee and brings you sandwiches to order like you were staying in a 5 star hotel rather than a modest aged care facility, the local GP who comes and answers all our questions with consideration and care.

The dynamics between us were shifting.  My sister, who I have always been slightly exasperated by, turns out to be the one who is gentlest and least upset by his daily decline.  One sibling is not there.  I don't know the reasons but know that for me, it is a privilege to have this time, that I would be bereft if he had died before I got there.

He finally let go.  I realised I had been holding my breath for a week.  It was a Sunday so there was not a lot that could be done so I went to Tesco's.  I thought, my father died two hours ago and I am in Tesco's.

A funeral is a lesson in compromise.  I'd thought it should be at the cathedral but it turned out the first week of advent was too difficult and we had the funeral in the church were I was married and where my daughter was christened.  It turned out to be exactly the right thing, as it was small and familiar.  I went to the cathedral the afternoon before the funeral and listened to some children practising for a concert and lit a candle for my father.  The service was led by the priest vicar from the cathedral who turned out to know my father quite well.  "He was an incorrigble flirt" I said as we met in the Bishops Palace cafe to discuss the service, "oh, I am so glad you noticed" he said "he even called my wife, darling".

I wrote the eulogy.  The first one was mawkish.  I threw it away.  The second one was better.  We sang uplifting hymns.  We had beautiful flowers.  We went to the local pub and ate our body weight in sandwiches, sausage rolls and mince pies. 

I can't believe he has gone.  I was talking to a friend in Chile.  She said when her mother died she expected to feel relief since her mother had a terrible disease but she said "it hit me like a fucking freight train".  She was so right.  I'm still lying on the tracks. I'll get up soon but right now I feel terribly winded.

Hello 2013.  Let's make good things happen this year, ok?