Life @ 60 - Minor Catastrophes and Major Victories!

I shared a laugh-out-loud post on Facebook the other day, regarding our entry into the "Wonder Years" of our lives (the "Twilight Zone" can wait). Wondering where we have left our keys, glasses, purse, phone, remotes, thongs. my bra, Michael's alkaline water...the list is endless. Becoming older is both entertaining and frustrating. However, the legendary Arlene Puddy, one of our artists, who is still a youthful 84 years old, reminded us that accepting and feeling old means we might become old. And that is not on my agenda.

So, I have decided to become like Arlene. Test my limits everyday. Get up, get dressed (which she always is beautifully) and get on. Keep exploring, thinking, learning. Laugh. Listen. Love. Accept what can't be changed and be happy. Embrace new experiences and new beliefs. And know that less-than-wonderful days are par for the course. Each day starts anew, without any mistakes.

Yesterday was an absolutely hilarious example of a Wonder Years moment. Michael's phone (like everybody else) was a tad hot under the collar after being fully charged. So he decided to put his phone in the fridge for a few minutes to cool off. We both saw him complete this action. And then we both promptly forgot...

Comes the time for Michael to retire for morning ablutions. With his phone. Which we couldn't find. So we both turned the house upside down in our quest to retrieve it. I rang his phone with no luck...Eventually we gave up and I set out to the post office to buy the Saturday papers. Michael texted me "I found it". I responded "Where?". HIs reply "Not saying". On my return, I threatened him with eternal persecution unless he confessed. "The fridge". Needless to say, we both roared with laughter. That is how we plan to treat our journey through our Wonder Years!

Slightly less amusing were my attempts to sign up to the Service WA app on my smartphone. Those of you who know me well will be quivering with mirth at my expense due to my technophobic tendencies. A Luddite at heart, my mantra involves suffering these devices as necessary evils but definitely making heavy weather of any new instalments I am required to undertake on my phone or laptop.

Loading the Service WA app filled me with terror. I knew the process had be touted as complicated and time consuming so I prepared to face the enemy with few expectations of success. Firstly, the My GovID app had to be tackled. At least I already had a MyGov account. Which sadly didn't help much. Not to mention, the boffins who created this ghastly process had no comprehension to attempting this task with unreliable mobile signal. And did they relish making some of the instructions as obscure as possible? I was determined to overcome all obstacles. After three hours of blood, sweat and tears, I managed to complete all requirements to launch the Service WA app except adding my vaccination certificate. However, I downloaded the vaccination certificate onto One Drive (that's a whole separate story!) in my phone, so I felt agreeably virtuous.

The following day, I decided that bravery was required and I would set up the Service WA app on Michael's phone. This is where the trouble began. His ancient original Birth Certificate was deemed invalid by the MyGovID app, so we had to resort to his passport for identification purposes. Michael's older smartphone is so unreliable in the house that we could not get the required verifiable selfie of him in the house. So we tried outside. Too much light. We must have attempted to upload this bloody photo a dozen times. Epic fail. We resolved to walk to the post office and see if we could achieve the impossible in their well lit passport booth. Still no luck. We were both becoming very shirty with each other at this point. Thankfully, a fellow resident came to our rescue and advised us we could just link his MyGov account to Medicare and I should be able to download his certificate onto his phone. And remove the irritating MyGovID app...

Another hour of perseverance and the job was complete. We can now venture to all of WA knowing we have evidence of our Covid vaccinations with us. And , basking in my glorious success, I decided to have one last try loading my Covid certificate onto the Service WA app on my phone. Which promptly happened with absolutely no fuss...

I am having a couple of days off prior to returning to my dalliance with the NDIS. Finally, a planning review meeting has been set for Tuesday. I am still unsure of whether Shannon, our Support Coordinator will be able to attend. If not, I shall just have to damn the torpedoes on my own. 

Then, back to the alternative universe that is Centrelink as we need to choose whether Michael stays on his Disability Support Pension or moves to the Age Pension. Which could have repercussions for my Carer Payment and Allowance. At present, any information I have found is proving to be predictably vague. Fortunately, we have another month to try and gather enough to make an informed decision.

Wish us luck and stay tuned.

Tally ho!

An exclusive club...

Not yet...

The fabulous Arlene Puddy...

Good to remember...

Meanwhile, my usual reactions to using technology...

Where's a Cone of Silence when I need one...

Yep!

I may have uttered similar words...

A couple of unhelpful alternatives -

Instead, I chose to do this...

Which finally and surprisingly, resulted in this!

And Now, A Word From Our Sponsor...

Back in 1956, in Australia, a revolution changed our lives forever. Television arrived in Melbourne, then Sydney and gradually across the country. Although the technology had been available for some time, the Melbourne Olympic Games provided the impetus to actually get broadcasting off the ground. Initially out of the average family's means, electrical stores would leave their televisions on in the front windows so passers-by could watch.  Michael clearly remembers trotting over to the neighbour's house in North Innaloo to watch the early shows, such as Doctor Who, in fascinated wonder.

Very successful television shows included "In Melbourne Tonight" and "Bob and Dolly Dyer's Pick-a-Box". Graham Kennedy and Bert Newton launched this variety mish mash of guests, music and unscripted banter between the two hosts in 1957. The show ran until 1970 and was wildly popular in Melbourne.

Similarly, "Pick-a-Box" was also a crowd favourite, orchestrated by Bob and Dolly Dyer, two Americans who came to Sydney and never left. The famous saying -"the money or the box" was used to tempt successful contestants with the choice of cash or a small box, which may or may not contain anything of value. Tested on general knowledge, Barry Jones, former teacher, lawyer, social activist and politician was probably the most recognisable contestant and remained a stalwart of the program for an astonishing seven years. Now a Living Treasure, Mister Jones must have been a bit of a scallywag during his earlier years, as he is still hanging in there at the age of eighty-nine.

Early television did not have advertising commercials as we know know them. Instead, the main content would be interrupted by "a word from our sponsors". A significant nod to those enterprises putting up the cash for the shows was required. So, the hosts would read a prepared script, or demonstrate a product or play a short film, such as the infamous Lucas Heights Nuclear Reactor clip on "Pick-a-Box". Whilst very informative, the idea was actually to promote British Petroleum/BP as providing the fuel for the employees cars, BP being the major sponsor of "Pick-a-Box"

Graham Kennedy became legendary for his treatment of these sponsored segments. A spot for Pal dog food went horribly awry when his dog Rover ignored the dog food and piddled on one of the cameras. Shoe retailer Raoul Merton was not popular with Mister Kennedy and he and his sidekick Bert ended up throwing the shoes at each other in one instance. Graham played the offended consumer with a packet of Colvan potato chips, complaining about the lack of potatoes used to produce the chips. Later, during the Graham Kennedy Show, he imitated a crow-call during a live read by Rosemary Margan advertising hairspray. His utterance of "faaaaaaark"was not well received and this signaled the end of his ability to perform live.

My introduction to Graham Kennedy was through the game show Blankety Blanks. By 1977, the use of commercial blocks during programs was well entrenched. Most viewers used these few minutes for a toilet break or to grab a cup of tea. Thus, sponsors would no longer have to wonder what a chap like Graham Kennedy might do with an in-program segment. A pity perhaps.

Humour is often utterly individual. What some find funny causes others to cringe. Politically incorrect jokes are often no longer acceptable. When does innuendo become smut? And is using smut in  humour actually a hanging offence or okay depending on the context?

All I think is that we need to laugh more. Loudly and often. Snorting and giggling ought to be encouraged. A decent belly laugh is good for the soul. Even smiling is a start. The world has changed so much in the last two years that we need to find the absurd and the amusing  at every opportunity. Visual gags are to be embraced with gusto. Unplanned disasters, as long as nobody is hurt, often provide the funniest of insights into somebody else's thought processes or lack of them.

Life is short and we are focusing on our mortality more, courtesy of COVID 19. The whole world is really a train wreck so joy is essential to survive these circumstances. Seek out happiness an an antidote to this new reality.

That is all from this sponsor. Stay tuned for the next instalment.

An Australian institution...

Mister Barry Jones...

The money or the box...

Washing powder advertising...

The innocent hosts (!) of "In Melbourne Tonight"...

Pet food segment...

Ye Gods. No wonder they threw them around the set!

Pancake flipping...

The end of Graham's naughtiness...

Horrified capsicums reacting to the possibility of a spider's suicide!

Yahoo!

.

Our Little Ray Of Sunshine...

Back in the time of the dinosaurs, an Australian pop group by the name of Axiom recorded "A Little Ray Of Sunshine", which celebrated the arrival of a baby girl. There is some conjecture whether the song was about a band member's daughter or another band member's niece. Really, that detail matters not. This boppy little number can lift jaded spirits and has done so for about the last fifty years.

Today, we enjoyed a rare opportunity to play tourist in the Swan Valley on the eastern edge of Perth, eat some marvellous food in fabulous settings, enjoy a mead tasting and spend precious time with Callum, Bronwyn and Miss Immy, our Wonder Grandchild and our own little ray of sunshine..

She is growing up so fast. Two years old in December, she is on a marvellous journey of self discovery. She is bright and curious, developing expressive language after a bit of a rocky start due to repeated ear infections, has excellent comprehension, very distinct likes and dislikes and is beginning to flex her independence muscles. Unafraid to show her displeasure, she has certainly changed from the earlier docile and malleable baby. She knows what she wants and she lets the world know in no uncertain terms.

First cab off the rank was my sleep clinic appointment, followed by the X-ray of Michael's foot. The sleep apnoea device has been most successful and I have now had the machine I have been given programmed to my requirements. Tonight will be its first outing so I hope all will continue smoothly. Michael's foot is agreeably knitting, so he has one less injury to carry. 

We enjoyed a delicious lunch at Poste in Guildford, a curio, antique, gift and garden centre and café. Michael knew the owners, another Michael and Kim, from his younger days and we shared old times and new. I also bought a beautiful little wooden giraffe puppet, who I promptly named Gina. We introduced Gina to Imogen when we met them at the House of Honey for a splendid afternoon tea, browse and mead tasting. She was quite taken with her latest plaything, although Gina will live in Beverley with us for Immy to enjoy when she visits with Mummy and Daddy. My uber cool and ever generous lad Callum shouted me a bottle of honey liqueur and we earned enough "bees" for me to choose a free honey. Immy and I resumed our habit of saying "cheers" and clinking drinking vessels - my tea cup and her babycino in her bottle. Naturally she was taught this by her ultra laidback Dad.

We bid adieu just before five as they set out for home and we headed eastwards. We stopped for some shopping and I was most relieved to discover the supermarket shelves were not entirely bare. We stocked up on essentials and then pointed the car in the direction of Heavenly Beverley. Arriving home just before seven-thirty, we haven unpacked, eaten dinner, drunk a couple of glasses of vino. I am now contemplating bed after a surprisingly relaxing and enjoyable day.

Till next time.

Lunch!

Imogen with Gina the Giraffe -

Cal and Bron at the House of Honey -

Miss Curiosity - 

Nanny...

Cheers!

With Mummy -

Our little ray of sunshine -

Dodgem Cars and Demolition Derby...In Heavenly Beverley?

Beverley is currently undergoing a innovative beautification project, aimed at providing an upgraded main street, with shade trees, gardens, seating and slow zones for pedestrians. Needless to say, the entire initiative began late, in October 2021. Not that much progress could have occurred over winter anyway, as we all endured cold and rainy conditions. Even the farmers complained about sodden paddocks and drowned crops. In spite of the less than clement weather, Western Australia's wheatbelt has just recorded a bumper harvest. And many of the shire's farming families are taking a much-deserved holiday.

Back to the Vincent Street redevelopment. The process began with drainage works, which involved digging very large holes under the bitumen, the installation of better drains, followed by preparing for the removal of overhead powerlines and poles by installing the electrical cables. More carnage on the remaining bitumen. Then, one power pole at a time, they all disappeared from the streetscape. We photographed the first and the last poles to be taken down. Rather like watching concrete being poured or roofing sheets being secured, we realised that power pole removal was yet another excellent spectator sport.

Summer has seen the ongoing gouging of Vincent Street and the adjacent footpaths. The workers are labouring through twelve hour days, in often intense heat. Today, more lines were cut in the road, where garden beds will be an integral part of Vincent Street's centre zone. Heat and dust are our constant companions, with strong winds, mostly at night and during the morning whipping up the debris. Temporary street lights have been set up, but navigating the prolific potholes is no easy task after dark. 

Both horrifying and hilarious has been the traffic detours. Our local tyre service complained that their driveway was being used as a short cut, at rally speeds with no regard for safety. Anzac Lane, where we live, (even though Google maps has difficulty finding our location) is hazardous at speed. Although two-way, motorists treat the lane as one way, regardless of the way they are travelling. A ninety degree blind corner, situated at the edge of our carport, has recently become the scene of so many near misses that I no longer hold my breath as we watch two vehicles hurtling towards the other with no visibility. Think Bali in reverse. A two-way narrow lane being treated as one-way. 

And the other day, the inevitable occurred, thankfully without destruction of our carport. More good luck than good management. The detour signs were up and traffic was being directed down Anzac Lane. The arrival of a double trailer truck heading north was a disaster waiting to happen. As the driver attempted to navigate the corner, he thought he would be able to complete the manoeuvre . He was wrong. The truck became wedged between Station House and Richard Jas' workshop. There was much scratching of heads whilst a solution was being formulated. A very muscular excavator was required to pull the back trailer into a line behind the front one, so the driver could complete his exit out of Anzac Lane without taking the roof of our carport with him.

Did these shenanigans cause any thought for caution by the remainder of our hooning motorists? Not bloody likely. All we hope is that Station House remains unscathed. The Detour sign next to Richard's workshop has not been so lucky. It is currently severely dented through an altercation with a vehicle of some weight...

Wish us (and our house!) good karma.

Power pole removal next to our lemon tree...

The last pole being taken down on Vincent Street...

The current state of our main drag - 

The depot of dust...

Vincent Street outside the Gallery -

Whoops!