A collection of random thoughts and ramblings on all kinds of Very Important Subjects from climate change to windsurfing, diving to music, gadgets and other cool things I've picked up on my trek around the web.
Showing posts with label Living in Australia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Living in Australia. Show all posts
It's been a while since I bothered with a good random Geordie Down-Under post. Indeed I have sadly neglected my old mate for my younger babies, In Production and lindseybuckle.com. But this was worth sharing.
Brief intro: Tourism Australia have a new campaign. Someone's spoofed it.
This site contains photos, in the spirit of the Demotivational Posters, that basically take the piss out of Australia. Well, someone's got to do it. Some of them are a bit wrong, in my opinion, such as the photo of Lindy and Azaria Chamberlain with the caption "There's nothing like a dingo eating your baby". I mean, the poor love died for chris' sake. But there are lots of very funny ones, such as "There's nothing like an oversized boxing crocodile" or "There's nothing like birds that will eat your face."
Check it out. It's in blog format so there should be some new uploads now and then.
Frankly, I find it hard to believe I haven't written more angry posts about government forms, but looking back over recent entries I see it is about 15 months since my last whinge on the matter. Which isn't too long when you think about how inactive my blog has been in the last year.
However, I can think of at least one other incident in that time frame, which didn't make it into the blog world.
This was the vexation caused by the crazy decision to place the application for the Baby Bonus and a child's Medicare card on the same form, despite the fact that they are dealt with by different offices. I had no end of trouble with this. To start with, the very first question on the form told me that if I didn't already claim family assistance I must not proceed before either calling the Office of Family Assistance, or filling in a form online. The name of the form was not given and a direct link was not given either so I chose to call instead.
Well, this was back in February/March, just after the Victorian Bush Fire Tragedy and the lines were jammed with people who needed assistance, so after days and days of trying I put some effort into finding the form online. Then, I discovered that I needed to register for Online Services, only the part of the site where you register was down and, it turns out, I needed a Customer Reference Number, which I didn't have because I wasn't born here. So two problems there.
Days later, after having the phone on constant redial, I finally got through to the office only to have some woman try to fob me off by telling me to fill in the form I was trying to complete in the first place. Then she tried to get me to do it online and I told her the website was broken. She wouldn't have it and told me I just needed to get a CRN and to be honest I can't really remember the details but I insisted she help me and she spent 45 minutes getting my details three times. Apparently the system kept booting her out. Then she said that my details would have to be linked to Toby's details but he was in a different location and had to be transferred over and this was as much as she could do to help me today. What?
So, I asked her to send the form that I'd been trying to get online and when it arrived it asked the same bloody question as the first form, and again, told me to phone or get online. Grrr..... I gave up. So Phoebe had no Medicare card and we couldn't claim any of her medical expenses. But that was all sorted out for me when we went to get her jabs and couldn't without a Medicare card. The doctor's receptionist sent me to the Medicare office and the lovely lady there helped me with everything.
This got me my CRN but I'm pretty sure I then had to spend about a day online completing a form to see if we were eligible for some tax benefit thing (we weren't), answering questions about everywhere I've been in the last 3 years (because that's relevant).
And now, I'm going through it all again.
The latest issue is the Child Care Rebate. The lady at daycare told me to fill this form in before my payment was due on Christmas Eve so that I could find out how much I had to pay.
Well, I tried. I spent days doing it again. I had all manner of problems, including the website going down. I had to answer the same crazy questions about all the holidays I'd been on in the last 3 years, and then I had to answer the same for Phoebe and Toby. And this is the bit that really gets me. They asked me which document I travelled on so I gave my British passport because I'd travelled more times with that than with my Aussie one. On the next page it asked me what sort of visa I had, despite the fact I had already answered a question indicating I was an Australian citizen. I assumed this was because I'd given them a foreign passport number so went back and changed it to my Australian passport number. It still asked me the same question. Don't they realise that you don't need a visa if you're a citizen? Anyway, I told them what my last visa had been (it was a mandatory question) but missed out the number (which wasn't mandatory).
When I finally finished, I was told that my claim couldn't be processed before I took proof of my citizenship and my visa into the office. I don't really see how I can show them proof of something I don't have but I'm assuming that I'll be able to explain myself and point out the stupidity of the system to the no-doubt intelligent humanoid behind the counter.
This morning I received a text message saying,
"You made a Family Assistance Online Claim on 22/12/09. Please return the requested documents ASAP if you have not already done so. Do not reply by SMS."
A bit brusque, don't you think? Some might even say rude. And very impatient. Especially given there have been two working days since 22nd and we were only 2 minutes into the third one. Nevertheless, I strolled on down to the office today, thinking that if I went to Medicare instead of Centrelink, perhaps the lovely lady could help me again and maybe explain why Medicare made out my rebate cheques, for bills I'd paid in full, to the doctors, rather than me. Yet another example of federal government department nonsense. As if I haven't paid those rather expensive doctors enough (nearly $300 in one case).
Guess what? Medicare was shut. I hopped on my bike and rode down to Centrelink, which is apparently my local Family Assistance Office. Guess what?! Shut!
So there they are, sending me demanding text messages making ridiculous requests for documents that don't exist and then they aren't even bloody there to receive the damn things. So now I have to go back again. Do you know what? I'm bloody pissed off with the whole damn thing. I suppose I am asking for money but wouldn't it just be typical if they decide we're not eligible for a rebate. I tell you what, if that happens again, I'll be a tad annoyed.
...because I can go swimming in a 50 metre open-air pool on a sunny Sunday afternoon in Autumn, with a wide lane all to myself (and no one in the lane next to me) and watch birds flitting over the water catching insects as I breast-stroke my way along. Absolute bliss!
I checked my citizenship application this morning and it seems they have finally approved me. I have no idea why it took them so long: almost 6 weeks. How come they didn't just take one look at my application and say "oh she looks like a nice girl; we'll have her. Tick"? But at least they have finally come to their senses and realised they would be proud to call me an Aussie.
To be honest, the thought of dual citizenship is a wee bit strange. I could never give up my British citizenship because I feel British through and through. Even though there may be some elements of the British psyche that bug me, I just can't help it. It's who I am, it's how I was brought up, it's who many of my close friends and relations are and despite its faults (and in some cases because of them) I love it.
That said, I do feel increasingly Australian. You can't live here for five years, immerse yourself in the culture and not let it rub off on you. Obviously there are things that bug me about the Australian character too, but it's much easier to fob that off saying "oh but I'm British" ("and far superior" is the inference there, I suppose). When I return to England I remember my Britishness but my Australianness is also highlighted: that's the bit that makes me different to my fellow Brits. And my Britishness makes me different to my fellow Australians. So, I'm neither one nor the other and I guess that's the way I have felt for a while now.
So, although I can never be constantly 100% Australian, or constantly 100% British, I can now be sometimes 100% either, or always 50% of both. See what I mean about it being a bit strange? I think I will still have to barrack for England in international tournaments, and the "friendly rivalry" between the two sporting nations could very well tear me apart, but I do think I have the best of both worlds.
Now I just have to see if they can squeeze me into the last citizenship ceremony of the year in 2 weeks. I'll practice my national anthem in the meantime.
Australians all let us rejoice For we are young and free We've wealth for toil and earth to soil.... no , that's not right We've wealth and toil and earth and soil... nope We've wealth and soil and Mrs Doyle Preparing buns for tea... no hang on, that's Ireland.
Silly me! Of course I have something to report... well not exactly yet but the thing is about two weeks ago I did the Australian Citizenship test and then, after getting 100% (I'm such a girly swot), I applied for citizenship. As part of my preparation for the test Toby kept teaching me the Australian national anthem. It's surprisingly catchy. That's about as exciting and interesting as that story goes.
The website that I applied on is typical of all goverment (or at least Department of Immigration) forms; that is, bloody awful. You have to visit the site a few times in order to know where to find things and even then, when I want to check on the progress of my application I have to go through about 12 screens of the application process to find it.
UPDATE 19/09/08:Richard showed me today that there is actually a link directly to the login section to check my application about one click into the site. It's just the pages are so damn long, and it was right at the bottom, that I missed it. So, still not an entirely user-friendly site but not as bad as I thought. I take some responsibility for that particular problem.
The form itself asks for a Citizenship test reference number. The paper given to me after the test had two references numbers on it but neither of them were called Citizenship test reference numbers so it was anybody's guess as to which was the right one to use. Thankfully, my British colleague, Richard had recently applied so he helped me out a bit, although really he was just guessing too and I don't know why I listened to him anyway as his application was delayed whilst they conducted an "internal investigation".
After I'd applied I was directed to a form which detailed what I had to do next. This involved filling in a proof of identity form and getting someone important to witness it. (I immediately thought of my friend Libbette as she's a teacher and apparently none of my other friends have important enough jobs.) The form indicated I would also have to get a passport-sized photo witnessed. Passport photos are difficult things to obtain here on the Sunshine Coast, lord only knows why. No such thing as passport booths you see. You end up having to go to photograph processing places. I could only locate one place that did them in the surrounding area and it wasn't en route to anywhere for me that day. Richard told me I didn't need a photo because they took one when I went for the test so I phoned them to make sure. The lady who answered said I didn't need to send anything else in, not even the proof of identity form. She did follow this, however, with the comment, "if we do need anything else, we'll contact you," which probably means she didn't really know. Rich had been given contradictory information from people he'd spoken to on the phone so he suggested I send the form in anyway. I got a colleague who's a Commissioner for Declarations (whatever one of those is) to witness it (because I forgot to ask Libbette) but so far I haven't managed to remember to post it.
So that's that. Rich and his wife, Sue have their citizenship ceremony on October 31st. It only seems to be us Brits who are humoured by the fact that they will become Australian citizens on Halloween. I guess it's not really an acknowledged celebration here. It's summer here at that time of year and Australians don't feel the need to break the depression of increasingly shorter, darker days with random holidays such as Halloween and Guy Fawkes. That, and they have no pagan history. Not that Fawkes was a pagan but to say Australia has no history would have caused an uproar and wouldn't have been strictly true. The Halloween ceremony is the last of the year, the next one being the biggie on Australia Day on January 26th. I'm really hoping I can squeeze into the same one, or one before that as I don't fancy making my pledge in front of all those people whilst 8 and a half months pregnant. Suppose I'd better get that form sent off then.
Australians all let us rejoice for we are young and free...
Ever just fancy eating something from your past? By that I don't mean a 10 year old beef and tomato Pot Noodle, rather something that you used to eat and perhaps don't anymore? I caught a whiff of something in the office today and it reminded me of mulligatawny soup and I thought, "well there's a thing I haven't eaten for a while. I wouldn't mind a bit of that."
So off I trundled down to the supermarket and I found myself the soup aisle but no mulligatawny soup! There was beef and potato curry, even beef massaman soup and Malaysian laksa soup and lots of other fancy foreign ones but no straight-forward mulligatawny, nor, whilst we're on the subject, was there any good old traditional oxtail soup. There were all these "chunky", "hearty" soups but I didn't want an entire meal, I just wanted a nice can of Heinz mulligatawny soup.
Maybe it just never made it to Australia.
I'm happy to say that tomato soup did still seem to be available. That was my mainstay as a kid especially when I was sick (or poorly as we say in the north of England) and I tell you something, it made me feel better every time. Perhaps I should have got some to make me feel better about not having mulligatawny.
So you think you're frozen back in the Old Dart* what with your snow and that? That's nothing! Check out this cool clip where 200 people froze themselves in time at exactly the same moment for five minutes in New York's Grand Central Station.
* The Old Dart: An Aussie reference to Britain (I'd never heard of it either), the origin of which is a corruption of "dirt", as in the old dirt, meaning the old country.
This morning I endured one of the most excruciating one and a half hours of my life in the form of an immensely boring department meeting, during which I was trying my very best to "listen generously".
During the meeting a young colleague, whose wife has recently had a baby, commented that the start of semester had gone very smoothly for IT Services. Eventually, after a lengthy soliloquy, the IT Director replied that she was pleased that this young chap had made such a comment, upon which she mentioned his name. I do not think that her comment warranted a response, yet when he failed to do so she brought it to everyone's attention, asked if he was off in "babyland" and told us all that we must be aware of the difference between "generous listening" and "stingy listening".
An hour and a half later I had decided that those who wish others to "listen generously" should also speak generously, which in fact means the opposite of how it sounds, that is to speak succinctly. Such speakers should remain aware of the time that these generous listeners are investing in their listening, place the appropriate value on that time and respect it accordingly. As such, I have combined my own guide to public speaking, or speaking during meetings.
Do not use more words than is necessary to convey your point. Most writers understand this one. However, it is a little more difficult to put into practise during speech as you can't really edit your words after you've said them. Perhaps just put a little more thought into what you wish to say before you've said it.
Do not give your listeners more information than they need. Be aware of who your listeners are and what their viewpoints and roles are. Keep this in mind when deciding which information to impart to them. Time is precious and they have important jobs to do, and if you happen to be their manager then you really want them to do those jobs. So don't waste their time by telling them little side stories about the politics of your last board meeting. Don't tell them about all the effort you've put in to get a particular result; they expect this from you anyway. They only need to know the facts.
Do give them the opportunity to find out more information if they are interested. This might be in the form of questions following your presentation or speech. In a large group, however, this might only interest a small number of your audience. Be respectful of the others, particularly if they are the majority. This is especially pertinent if the meeting is a mandatory one and the attendants are not necessarily there by choice. If you are presenting a document, don't read it to your listeners. Give them the gist (a verbal executive summary) and make the document available to them to read in their own time.
Don't talk about all the things that could have or would have happened; just talk about what has or will happen. Whilst I'm aware of the potential irony here, this is really just another way of saying points 1 and 2 above but with a specific example.
Don't use a long word if a short one says the same thing. Long words and flowery language do not make you sound clever, just really boring. This makes it much harder for people to listen generously.
Do not interrupt the main speaker, even if you are his superior. Interruptions and interjections make the speaker's speech longer, which in turn makes it more difficult for people to listen to. If the speaker makes a mistake with a relevant detail, then correct him in a non-condescending tone. Do not interject just because you like the sound of your own voice and think the listeners might too, and do not continuously argue an irrelevant point with him just because you hate to be wrong and think he should respect his superiors.
Assign approximate portions of time to each of your points before you start speaking. Before the meeting decide what it is that you wish to talk about. Then prioritise each item. Take the length of time that you will have to talk, being mindful of possible interruptions and divide it proportionately amongst your items, allowing more time for the higher priority items.
For example, let's say you have four items you wish to discuss during a one hour meeting, one of uber-importance and three of lesser but equal importance. You know the Director will also want to speak for a short while, and each team leader will give an update. Let's assume this leaves you with approximately 35 minutes. Take away between 5 and 10 for interruptions and corrections from the Director, and questions from those of your listeners who are actually listening generously. You have 25-30 minutes. You could speak for 10-15 minutes on your uber-important item and approximately 5 minutes each on of your remaining items.
Do not present your listeners with a document consisting of approximately 18 items (although the exact number is unknown to them) and then proceed to spend 6 minutes on the first item, no matter how uninteresting or irrelevant. This will only serve to fill them with despair and they will stop listening generously in order to plan their escape from the room.
Spreadsheets and Word Documents are not interesting material for display on a projector. This applies even if the spreadsheet has coloured lines.
If anyone has any further suggestions, please leave a comment.
This morning Kevin Rudd, Prime Minister of Australia, formally apologised to the indigenous people of Australia for a policy referred to as the "stolen generations". In an emotive and carefully worded speech Rudd apologised on behalf of the government for past policies that resulted in generations of aboriginal children being taken from their families, homes and communities and forced to integrate into Western culture.
The policies started in the 1860s and continued until 1969 and involved primarily mixed-race children. They were based upon the belief that aboriginal society was dying out and that integrating the children into western society would be for their benefit. Later on it was thought that mixed race children were at risk of abuse and neglect within their communities and they were removed for their own saftey. It is clear from personal accounts that this wasn't always the case. One such account was published as a book called The Rabbit Proof Fence and a film of the same name was released in 2002. Some children never saw their parents again.
After ten years of the previous Liberal government, led by John Howard, refusing to formerly apologise, this is a momentous day in Australian history. The apology was broadcast outside Parliament House and watched by thousands. I felt quite emotional watching it as Rudd told a story of a woman remembering her childhood before the age of four, sitting around campfires and dancing, before being taken from her mother whom she never saw again. I imagined being taken from my parents as a child and how losing them was the subject of a recurring nightmare I had when I was young. I'd worry about being abandoned and I'd dream that I'd come downstairs for comfort after waking from a bad dream. I'd see my parents sitting on the settee watching television. When I walked around the front of the settee though, I'd realise they weren't my parents. They looked like them but they had different faces. It was terrifying. Then I'd realise they were wearing masks and rip them off but they'd still have different faces underneath. Then I'd realise that the new faces were also masks and so it went on until I woke up.
Imagine living that nightmare. Okay, so maybe the authorities didn't dress up as aboriginal parents and start ripping off their own faces but the feeling that I felt, of not knowing where my parents were and wanting nothing more than to find them, would have been very much how those children would have felt. I can still remember the way that dream made me feel and it makes me want to cry when I think of the 100,000 children being taken from their homes to a completely different culture.
I think it's great that the Prime Minister has apologised. I'm amazed at how many people are against it; 30% I read on one website. It means so much to the indigenous communities to have it said; does it really mean that much to the white Australians? Why do they so passionately believe that the government shouldn't be sorry. I'm sorry. I'm not saying I'm responsible but I'm sorry that it happened. The apology was more about understanding and acknowledgement of the hurt caused than about admitting responsibility. How can anyone not want to say to someone who was taken from their parents, "I understand that this must have hurt you and I'm so sorry this happened"? We say sorry to people who are bereaved but that doesn't mean we are admitting responsibility for the death of their loved one.
The opposition leader Brendan Nelson, possibly the most uncharismatic party leader in the world, also stood up and formally acknowledged and backed the apology and made a speech that I lost interest in. He went on about the problems in aboriginal communities today, problems of alcoholism, violence and drug abuse. Granted, these are problems that are rife and need to be dealt with but did they really need raking up on this day of celebration and reconciliation? Talk about killing the party. The crowd outside Parliament House turned their back on him, clearly unimpressed with the leader of a party that has had the opportunity for ten years to say sorry and yet pointedly refused. Nevertheless boring Brendan kept droning on. Seriously, the Liberals are never going to win an election with him as their leader.
I don't think I've ever actually threatened the cats with a trip back to the shelter but Zadie has been behaving a tad strangely since her visit there on Friday.
I was taking both of them down for various things. Monty ceased his days as the full monty and had his balls taken care of. Zadie had the injection the shelter should have given her back in November before we took her home. They were both microchipped.
Having experienced the joys of taking Zades to the shelter previously, when she went to have her stitches taken out a few days after she came to live with us, I insisted that Toby stick around to help me get them in the car. Monty was no bother. We only have one pet carrier so we stuck him in a cardboard box. He seemed quite happy. Then we tried to get Zadie into the carrier. We couldn't put her in a box as she's incredibly vicious in her attempts to escape. I tried to coax her into the carrier head-first. Her legs went the other way. We both tried. She refused to cooperate. She's surprisingly strong. We took the top off the carrier and Toby placed her in (still with stiff-you-can't-make-me-go-there-legs) whilst I struggled to try and clip the top back down and re-attach the front, her pushing her head through the side, front, top, trying to make a bolt for it, whinging at us. It took so long that Monty started trying to escape from his box so we had to parcel-tape him in. Then he tried to escape through the view-port I had kindly cut out for him so we had to parcel-tape some cardboard over that.
Eventually, with both cats securely in their respective carriers, I began the 20 minute journey to the shelter. Monty's head and one paw were permanently squished as far as he could get them through the now-mini viewport (more like a breathe hole really). Zadie yowled and scratched and bit at the bars of her box and attempted to dig her way out.
Once we got there they were a bit better behaved. The lady that looked after Zadie for a while before she was our cat was pleased to see her and fussed over her, and they got to sit in a cage together. When I went back later that day to pick them up Zadie was sitting in the litter tray and had been all day, the vet told me (weird cat). Monty was drowsy after his operation but Zadie perked up as soon as the vet and I tried to get her in the carrier again. And again, it took two struggling adults quite a while to get one small (but strong) cat fastened in. Yowling and biting ensued for another 20 minutes on the way home.
Zadie didn't eat for two days after that. Monty didn't eat much either but that was expected after his anaesthetic. She has also been more affectionate than usual. I'm sure she thinks we took her there to show her what would happen if she was naughty. Monty slept most of Friday but had almost fully recovered by early Saturday morning, which he celebrated by jumping on my feet with his claws out at 5am! Nice! I think he's forgotten the whole thing ever happened now and in a week or so, when his wound is healed, he'll be able to come and go as he pleases during the day rather than being stuck in the house all the time.
One sad thing about the trip to the shelter was the discovery that two of Zadie's kittens were still there. I wouldn't change my cats for the world but it did feel a bit strange, given that we'd originally been going to take her and one of her kittens (but Monty insisted we take him instead). One of them, Morgan, was being desexed at the same time as Monty. He seemed so much younger than Monty although there are only a couple of weeks between them. He was incredibly cute, with Zadie's beautiful face and Monty's colouring, and over a kilogram lighter than Monty. I only wish I could have taken him home and fattened him up but two cats is enough.
It's been a while since I last checked in here, over a month in fact. I don't know about you but that surprised me. January has flown over and here we are, a little over a twelfth of the way through 2008 already. I must be getting old because time is speeding up. It's been a very social month, what with 30th birthdays, our house-warming party, a baby shower.
Toby and I realised yesterday that it was our "demiversary"*. Six months since our wedding day and we still haven't been on honeymoon or got our wedding album. But let's not speak of the have nots; at least the 'moon is now booked and the album is with the photographer so it's out of our hands. We celebrated by drinking beer with the neighbours.
We now have our top wedding cake tier back in our own freezer; it had been staying with Lucie since the period of homelessness. The fridge situation is still a little odd in our house, in that our fridge sits in the garage not doing anything, not even plugged in (and I'm a little concerned this is bad for a fridge) and some big, huge, old oddly-shaped thing that lived in our house before we did is in the kitchen keeping our food cold. It's deep and wide until you open the doors because the fridge and freezer are side-by-side. It has an ice and cold water dispenser which we never use (and which doesn't work when you do want to use it, such as at a party) and which merely serves to take up room in the freezer which seems to be missing a basket anyway and consequently is a bit of a rubbish freezer. It's good for parties though because you can load bags of ice into it. The point I'm trying to make is that the cake is now residing on a jaunty angle because it doesn't actually fit into the freezer.
I'm not sure how we're going to get along with decorating and choosing furniture if we can't even sort out our fridges. I spent yesterday cutting the nasty colours off green paint colour charts. White and pale green is about all I've narrowed it down to for our living area. I can't decide between mint and lime but I don't want a yellowy-tone. I'm not sure how pale to go and I've no idea whether to paint the dado green and the wall white or the wall green and the dado white. I attempted to calculate how much paint I'd need but that was too hard. I think I'll just paint the whole thing white and take it from there.
Interesting DIY note: polyfiller is called spakfiller over here.
* I'm not convinced this is a real word. I thought I'd made it up but a quick search on Google uncovers plenty of other people who believe the same thing. Dammit!
Warning: if you're scared of spiders don't scroll down
I had to go back to work today. I happen to think that January 2nd is far too early in the year to be going to work. The year needs to settle a bit first. Like a fine wine it should be allowed time to breathe, it is not the sort of thing that should be rushed. But anyway, I digress, as usual.
New year's eve was quiet but fun. We went round to Scott and Lucie's house for a few drinks and some nibbles, plus a game of that entertaining Peruvian dice game, Perudo. Toby didn't drink much so at 11.45pm, with a slight break in the fairly consistent rain we'd been having most of the day, he suggested we drive up to Point Cartwright and see the new year in there. Which we did and which was rather nice, it having been the location of our wedding back in August. We took a bottle of nice sparkling wine, popped the cork and got merry on the bubbles. The wind was howling over the headland at a rate of about 30 knots and then the rain started again. As you can probably imagine it was nigh on horizontal. We sought shelter behind the big water tower. Eventually the rain subsided and we strolled down the hill to get out of the wind. Then the rain started again, really heavily and we ran back to the car through the forest track: partly because it was a short-cut and partly because it provided some shelter from the rain. We were soaked by the time we got back to Scott and Lucie's. And that was our new year's eve.
I realised that I forgot to share some Christmas highlight photos the other day. We went for a walk (another wet one) with Scott and Lucie through Mooloolah National Park and most of the tracks were spanned by massive bright yellow tough and sticky spider webs. Often we had to duck our heads (particularly Scott who is 6'7) to avoid getting tangled in them. In the centre of the webs were huge golden orb spiders. Here is a series of photographs I took:
A golden orb spider and its yellow web
A golden orb spider which has caught a cicada and wrapped it in webbing so there is no escape and is now devouring it.
Huge puddles (not shaped like Australia)
Hairy shoes: our shoes became covered in thick sticky mud and hairy twigs which proved to be incredibly difficult to remove and rather awkward to walk upon.
The biggest big spider we saw, and Scott's hand for perspective.
In which I discuss the joys of summer ('cause I forgot last time), the stresses of Christmas shopping over the internet, and the cultural mashup that is the Aboriginal Zorba!
Christmas seems to have come way too soon after my dear husband and I ventured into the world of joint finances. Toby keeps telling me he's "not a presents person" which is his way of saying "I think you should do all the Christmas shopping". But I have not yet come to grips with the fact that my money is no longer my money and that I can't just spend what I damn well like on what I damn well want to. I don't know what to buy for half of his family, and I don't know what is a reasonable amount to spend, coupled with the fact that I'm still not sure how much we have to play with once our mortgage and credit card has been paid, having only had one such set of payments which, in the case of the credit card, wasn't a full month anyway. The good things about summer include Christmas and Australia Day
Nonetheless, I am, as usual getting into the Christmas spirit, although I missed the IT Christmas party when I went to Cudge's 90th birthday party last week, and then I missed the IT ladies' lunch yesterday because of my splattered brain. Clean forgot, went home instead, will explain why in due course. See, I realised that after whinging about summer I forgot to tell you what is so good about it. Well, Christmas is one thing. Another thing is that we get all the non-public holiday days between Christmas and New Year off work for free which is a real chance to wind down. Christmas doesn't seem as mental here as it is in the UK which I didn't like at first but am now beginning to appreciate. The other great things about summer are Australia Day where everyone gets together to listen to the best tunes of the previous year, drink beer, have barbies and generally celebrate becoming a federation. Crikey, what will they be like if they ever get to be a republic? And also being able to swim in the ocean at any time of day and the water is warm. Lovely.
What isn't so wonderful is Christmas shopping over the internet and I'm never doing it again if I can avoid it. Usually I shop a couple of months before Christmas for some lightweight items which I then lovingly wrap, stick in a huge box and send to my Mam and Dad's house, posting by the end of November or beginning of December. I used to think about Christmas only once my birthday was done with so it took me a couple of years to get into this new routine but now I quite enjoy it as it helps me get into the Christmas spirit. Plus, once you hit thirty, birthdays are less significant. This year has been so crazily busy though, and what with being homeless and moving house all around the time I would usually be doing my Christmas shopping, plus having a new niece and a friend's wedding to shop for, well it just didn't happen.
Online shopping craziness...
"No worries," I thought, in the manner of a seasoned pommie-living-in-Australia, "I'll just buy everything on that wonderful super-information-highway known as the internet. I shall enter the web 2.0 world of easy, interactive online shopping from the comfort of your own armchair," which may well have been the case had I settled for buying everything on Amazon. And I might well have been able to do this if I'd spent a little more time in the gift section - what doesn't Amazon do these days? But I had it in my head that I had to go to Boots or Marks and Spencer for my grandmothers. So I set about visiting a number of online stores, browsing for ideas, and constructing a list of potential gifts for every member of my family, of which there are ten that I buy regular gifts for.
No Boots for Buckle
Boots was a write-off right away. I didn't even really bother such was the effort required to merely navigate my way around the site. But eventually I managed to compile a list of prezzies from a handful of other sites.
Early last Monday morning I set about purchasing them, thinking it would take about half an hour. After five minutes I decided I was tired and had a headache and would call in sick. I planned to finish my shopping, then go back to bed before having a nice relaxing day, getting myself better and finishing some of my jobs around the house. No such luck.
Firstly, thinkGeek wouldn't take me to the payment section but I called Toby and he managed to do it from work (which is about all he can do with his work internet connection). Then to Prezzy Box where I had a few problems getting my voucher code accepted. No big deal really as it as a free £5 off.
Marks and sparks of frustration
I then trudged along to Marks and Spencer and keyed in the URL for the present I'd chosen to my sister; added that to my basket. Then I keyed in the URL for my Nana's gift. Added that to my basket. Discovered my sister's present had disappeared from my basket. Then looked into the basket and Nana's present was gone too. Strange. Added them again. Same thing happened. It was like someone was following me around the shop taking everything from my basket as soon as I put it in there. Tried a number of different ways around this; made sure scripts were enabled; used IE instead of Firefox; only went to one URL at a time. I think eventually it was this latter one that worked. I had to key in the product ID instead of the entire URL but you know... it's so long since I started writing this post that I can't be certain. Either way, Nana's gift then wasn't available in her size so I had to look for something else; the site (or the internet; or perhaps both) was excruciatingly slow; I kept adding things that turned out to have lead times of 4-6 weeks or be out of stock.
Back to the front
By far the most annoying thing about the M&S site was the fact that when I added something to my basket, it threw me into my basket too, with no obvious way of getting back to where I was. When I clicked on Continue Shopping I ended up back on the home page. It's the web equivalent of picking up a pack of M&S knickers, and being forced on placing them into your basket to look at everything else in there (just in case you wanted to throw anything out or get more of something; I don't care what else is in there, thanks, I'm just thinking about the knickers right now!) before being frog-marched to the front of the shop. What the? -But I was in lingerie, take me back to lingerie. -Sorry, you'll have to find your own way back. -Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!!
EVENTUALLY, after many hours, I made my purchases, only to discover that I would have to pay £3 per item for wrapping! There were eight items for three people!! I didn't even calculate it because it would have been painful before converting to Aussie dollars. So I sent them to my Mam for wrapping. Thanks Mam.
I felt a bit bad about that so I decided her gift would be wonderful. I'd already picked out a beautiful blouse from Debenhams so I got on with purchasing that. Or at least I would have done had Debenhams not refused to authorise my AmEx card when using Firefox. And my Mastercard. And both when using IE too. Aaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh.
Next! Don't bother.
Over the road to Next to find an alternative blouse. Found a nice one, went to buy it, not ready for 2-3 weeks. Found another one; nice piece of jewellery to complement it; through to check-out. I asked if they could gift-wrap it for me but they pretended not to hear. It doesn't seem to be a service they offer. So I decided to send it to my sister to be wrapped. But then something in the terms and conditions suggested that I had to be a UK resident. I thought about trying it anyway, with Clare's address but then thought of the heartache I'd feel when it rejected my credit card because the delivery address didn't match the card address. By this point I was unbelievably stressed and tired and had spent about seven hours at the computer doing what I thought would be a thirty minute job. I gave up. I was so distressed.
Eventually Mam's present came from Amazon because I have absolutely no complaints about their service whatsoever. I've used them for years and, unlike the other shops, this is what their niche is and what they set out to do and boy do they do it well. If ever I have to do my Christmas shopping online again it's all coming from Amazon. It's just so disappointing that I couldn't get what I wanted.
To top it all off, Debenhams made two $2.35 transactions on my credit card which led to it being blocked. Still trying to sort that one out. Internet shopping is like drugs (but far less fun): just don't do it.
Well, it's been a crazy week and I don't know where my head's at. I'm really looking forward to a bit of a break... the 2007 reflection post will come soon I'm sure but this isn't it. I'm going to leave you all with merry Christmas wishes for your festive season. I hope you all have a great time and that Santa is very kind to you.
To close, I'd like to share with you this YouTube movie that's very popular over here at the moment. It's an Aboriginal dance group performing traditional dance moves (traditionally used to communicate and tell stories), with a few updated steps thrown in, to modern music, often incorporating music from other cultures. Here, they dance to the Zorba! Brilliant. Enjoy and Merry Christmas.
The gist is back as I discuss summer and its various merits and downfalls, plus, of course, an update on my lovable pussies. Once more, I am enduring the season of mosquito bites and sleepless nights as I get used to another hot Aussie summer.... read on for a classic Buckle update, the likes of which you haven't seen for a while.
Ah summer! That glorious time of year when the pool covers come off, the bbq heats up and Queenslanders sit back and take life easy; when the humidity and mercury rise to almost unbearable heights, the sun beats down when it isn't obscured by rain clouds and storms, men start wearing shots and sandals for work and I get covered from head to toe in red, swollen, sore and itchy welts from the man-eating mozzies. Just as my immune system was getting used to those few and far between beach-side mozzies, I am now introducing my poor pommie skin to a new breed of mozzie; the silty-forest mozzy (or something). So far the skin appears not to like it much, but then I was subjected to a few mauls.
Little black cat ruins fly screen
Thing is, I shouldn't really have any bites because generally I'm quite careful. I went for a walk after work last night and covered my exposed skin in Mosi-guard. However, I did then go for a dip in the ocean which probably would have washed it all off. But I already had some of the bites, and I suspect I got them whilst sitting in our supposedly mozzie-proof covered-in outdoor patio. Actually I know I did because I killed one, and felt another one biting me. When we moved in I did notice a few gaps in the insect screen. I think these have got much worse as Monty (the little black one) likes to climb the screens in an attempt to chase moths and geckos on the other side. Stupid cat - doesn't he realise they're on the other side of the screen and he can't get them anyway? I now have approximately 8 bites on the left-hand side of my body, mainly my arm, including one incredibly sore one right on the tip of my elbow. My right side is better off, with only one or two. Somehow I managed to get one on the tip of my right elbow too. I am fueling my sleep with antihistamines as I know I'd be awake itching all night otherwise. Plus, when I have this many bites my immune system starts to struggle and I feel unwell. God knows my immune system has enough to worry about at the moment with all the stress I've put it through lately. (Oh poor immune system! What about ME?)
Itchy bites aside, summer often brings sleepless nights anyway thanks to the heat and humidity. We finally took our duvet out of the cover and stuck it in the top of the wardrobe (walk-in, yah!) the other day after a particularly hot and stuffy night during which I barely slept and woke up like a bear with a sore head. I think we have our room sorted now but also thankfully a cool south-easterly weather system has come through bringing rain and cool breezes. Ah! Bliss!!
Large grey one leaves hair on floor
The other unfortunate side effect of summer is sinusitus, thanks to the humidity, and probably some dust and pollen in the air too. I had the worst headache thanks to my sinuses the other day. Even Toby has suffered from it this year. I vaccuumed all the tufts of grey fur the cats lovingly leave all over the floor whilst we're at work, just in case that had anything to do with it. Yes, Zadie's a moulter. Although they chase each other all over the house like wild fire they do have a preferred spot for their play fights, which is very considerate of them as this is where the majority of Zadie's hair ends up. However, as soon as I vaccuum the little grey tufts I discover that there's an almost imperceptible film of fine grey hair covering the rest of the carpet.
IT men are slobs
I would like to digress on the subject of my domestic life and adaption to summer for a short while to tell you of the downside of working in IT amongst a load of men. Some of the men in my office, and by no means all of them, I assure you, but some of them are actual slobs. They really are. You know when you cook something in the microwave and you don't cover it up and it goes SPLAT and when you open the door there's sauce or whatever over the inside? You know how if you're quick enough it's still uncooked and comes off really easily when you wipe it over with a cloth? Well, the majority of the men in my office appear to be unaware of this. Every time I have to clean sauce off the inside of the microwave I find myself spending 5 or 10 minutes scrubbing really hard to remove somebody's well-cooked stubborn muck from god knows when. And they leave dishes in the sink, coffee granuals and water all over the bench. They obviously are very lucky men with lovely wives who do absolutely everything for them but it annoys the crap out of me. I just had to get that off my chest. Thanks for indulging me. If you're still reading, that is. (Well done if you are!)
The secret to a long life is....
There may have been more I wanted to talk about. For example, I probably wanted to tell you how I was late for work this morning because Monty insisted that I give him a cuddle by climbing up my back (whilst I was kneeling on the floor) and sitting on my shoulder purring into my ear; or maybe I wanted to tell you about how he climbed into the bathroom cupboard today and wouldn't come out so I shut the door thinking "ha! that'll teach him, I'm going to go and feed the other one whilst he's in there and he'll soon learn not to climb into cupboards then refuse to leave" only to see him bounding down the hallway towards his feeding place. He's a regular Houdini; the other night Toby got very cross with him for roaming around on the bench so he locked him in the laundry (which is where they sleep). As there is a cat-flap from the laundry to the patio where we were eating dinner, he got the heavy doormat and laid it against the cat-flap. First Monty tried to pull the cat-flap open (clever!) but eventually through sheer persistence he managed to move the mat slightly by repeatedly pushing the flap with his nose, until there was less pressure and he was able to pull himself through.
But anyway, I wanted to end by telling you I think I may have discovered the secret of a long life. On Saturday night we went to Cudge's 90th birthday party, Cudge being Toby's paternal great aunt. Although she had a health scare about three years ago (in which the doctors gave her about 3 months to live; pah! what do they know?) which has left her somewhat frail, she still lives alone (with some hired help, friends and family popping in now and then) and is totally switched on. The family gave her a digital photo frame which we stuck a load of photos onto and she wanted to know where the photos where stored and how, what digital meant, and what would a USB stick look like if she cut it in half? She has an amazing interest in a diverse range of subjects and has friends within many age groups, including my own. So, obviously that is a large part of it: keep up interests, occupy the mind and, for as long as possible, the body; but be gentle with the body and don't push it too much. She also has a faith in God, and whilst I'm not religious myself I think looking after your spiritual health and having some kind of faith definitely contributes to a long and happy life. However, I think the key is the fact that she never married and had children. That's the real secret to a long life. (She seems really happy too, by the way!)
I was looking back through some really old (well, four years) photos and found these ones that Toby and I took down in Sydney when we saw a rainbow over the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It was a really solid intensely coloured rainbow. I figure it's not often you see something as spectacular as that. This was before the days of my supa-dupa Olympus camera though, so the pictures aren't of a great quality.
The jolly Sydney Ferries man
We could see the other side of the rainbow too but we couldn't find a pot of gold unfortunately.
Ever see something that makes you think "that's the stupidest thing I've seen all week"?
Yesterday whilst driving through Mooloolaba to meet a friend I noticed a lady trying to cross a road next to a roundabout. She was on a traffic island and between her and the roundabout were two cars. The third car had very kindly held back to allow her to cross the road. This lady had a white stick which she was waving around in the vacant patch of road ahead of her. This led me to assume that perhaps she was blind, or had some visual impairment. Fair enough assumption I think. Not according to the driver of the third car who was sitting behind the wheel frantically motioning for the lady to cross the road. Hello!!! Which part of waving a white stick vaguely into the air in front of you did you think was done just for the fun of it? I only hope he didn't go onto to beep at her; how confusing a situation might that have been?
Once one grows up and buys one's own home, one must also assume the responsibilities of an adult and do such things as gardening, DIY and home-baking. One must also start considering the very serious subjects of procreation and, more importantly, pets. Usually what one does in these circumstances is get a dog. You see, dogs require quite a grown-up and responsible attitude. They need lots of love and attention, and many breeds need to be walked twice a day. A dog is a big commitment and to be seen walking one's dog is to be seen as a committed and responsible grown up (who likes the outdoors). I am a committed and responsible grown-up (you don't get much more committed than a marriage and a mortgage) and I do quite like the outdoors but I don't think I could give a dog the attention it needs. I always feel a bit sorry for dogs whose owners are out at work all day, then do things in the evenings, and then pop off to a friend's place for the weekends. And, if truth be told, I am a cat person.
Most of my old buddies from the UK will be well aware of this but it may be news to some of my antipodean friends. In fact, I surprised some very good friends last week by announcing that I intended to have a cat. James responded with, "I didn't know you were a cat person" and for a split second I was prepared to defend myself and humour his love of dogs until, to my delight, I discovered that both James, and his wife Melissa are also cat people. This is a marvellous thing to discover about two people you already love. See, most people in Australia are dog people, and not only are they dog people but they actively hate cats. They see cats as evil, arrogant creatures (the point being...?) that pose a threat to their wildlife. As if white man clearing the land so his hungry cows can graze, digging big holes in the ground and pulling out coal and gold, concreting beach forests so they can build ocean-view high-rises, and flooding rivers to make dams isn't any sort of a threat to the wildlife or the environment that supports it. Evil? Arrogant? Threatening wildlife? Pot? Kettle? Black?
Anyway, to cut a long rant short (too late, Buckle), I received an early birthday present this year in the form of a cat. Well, actually two! Toby and I visited the local animal shelter at the weekend. I had decided I'd like two cats (even cats get lonely if their family leaves them alone all day), and that I'd like a male and a female. Toby wanted one kitten. We had to walk past two enclosures of adult cats before we got to the kittens so of course I stopped by for a chat.
Because all of the kittens were boys I chose to take a beautiful Russian Blue (cross, I think but I know nothing about pedigree cats) 15 month old Queen home too. We have named her Zadie (because her name at the shelter was Mercedes, which is terrible, but shortening it to Cedes (or Sadie) didn't work because I have a good friend called Sadie (hi, Sades) but then Lucie misheard me and thought it was Zadie and it kind of stuck). She's a little chatterbox who loves attention but isn't particularly cuddly. She's still quite playful and is a lovely addition to the household.
The kitten is 3 months old and his name is Monty. He's a mentalist and gets himself into all kinds of scrapes. He's a bit greedy and probably should have been called Wolf because he wolfs his food down and then starts on Zadie's. He goes nuts when the food is being prepared and tries to climb up on the bench. He'll find the highest thing he can sit on to get as close to the food as he can and today he suffered for it when his tail got caught in the drawer his food is kept in. He loves cuddles and will sit on any part of you that is available.
They get along very well together and chase each other round the house like Tasmanian Devils. Zadie frequently reminds Monty who's boss by pouncing on him and pinning him down. They both rush to the front door to greet us, purring, when we come home.
There are more photos here: CrazyCats , although not too many because they're both hopeless at staying still for the camera and are far too interested in whatever it is I'm doing resulting in lots of black and gray blurry photos. I'm sure you'll be hearing many more stories of their craziness in weeks to come.
I have so much to tell you all (like, we moved into our new house - yay!) but things are so hectic at the moment. However, I read something on the web today that tickled me so much I just had to share it.
The "Ernies" are annual sexism awards, now in their 15th year, voted by women for the most sexist remarks uttered within the public arena. Some of them are downright insulting and unfunny (such as Australian senator Bill Heffernan's comment that opposition deputy leader Julia Gillard was unfit to lead because she was "deliberately barren" which, incidentally won the Gold Ernie of 2007) ; I won't mention them here.
Others however, are so unbelievably stupid that one can't quite believe that the men (as it is mainly men who win these awards, strangely) who uttered them were in the slightest bit serious when they did so (hopefully many of them weren't). It is these comments that I wish to share. Don't worry too much about who these people are - I haven't a clue about some of them - just bear in mind that they are all men who are, to some degree, in the public eye.
Industrial Relations minister, Joe Hockey, on his wife's pregnancy: "It's exhausting for me, her being pregnant. I don't know why, during the birth process, they only focus on the women."
Warwick Capper: "Expectant father Darren Jolly needs to get his priorities in order. The birth of your first child is special, but if you're a machine like me, there's more children to be had than premierships."
An advertisement by Ingham's for chicken: "Breast awareness week" (Love it!)
Mufti, Sheikh Taj Aldin Alhilali accused Australian women of being "uncovered meat".
P&O advertisement: "Seamen wanted" (Come on, girls, get a grip; these are FUNNY!)
Totally unfunny and inexplicably wrong, I almost daren't publish this one but I'm embarrassed to say it made me giggle, until I considered the context and then I was horrified, of course. Rene Rivkin's driver, Gordon Wood made an unusual request to a morgue attendant whilst identifying his girlfriend's body: "Do you mind if I look at her tits?" (Maybe it's fair enough that he wanted to sneak one last peek?!)
To see more (and see the photo of Warwick Capper that has me suspect he could have been serious) check out the Nine News' photo gallery.
After the excitement of the last two weeks, and the stress of the few months before that, I am now unwell. There's never a good time to be poorly but it's a particular shame right now as it was my last few days with Cherie and my parents and we have just had a party for Toby's extended family to celebrate our wedding. I did a lot better than I thought I would but getting ready for it was a bit of a struggle. Who wants to tart themselves up, make their hair look posh and squeeze into a wedding dress when all you really feel like doing is getting into your slippers, comfy tracksuit pants and snuggling under a blanket with a cup of hot honey and lemon?
But I digress. I really just wanted to share with you this photo I took of a very cute kookaburra who came to sit with us whilst I, Toby and my parents lounged on the grass of Ravensbourne National Park putting off the inevitable goodbyes which soon followed and have left me feeling very sad and far from home.
And here is Mr Burra showing us his best side, with a bush fire in the background.
One last thing worthy of note: this is the 101st post I have made to this blog!!!
The view from the surf club where our wedding reception will be, across the bay towards Point Cartwright, the headland where we will exchange our vows.
Okay, so I've been a wee bit quiet of late. That's because I've been stressed with a capital S-T-R-E and double S!!! Most of you will have heard the incredibly unfortunate news that not only are our landlords a bit dubious about us sharing our home with some beautiful pussies (cats for the filthy minded of you) but they're also not too sure about actually keeping the house and have put it on the market. Our lease ends two weeks before the wedding. They only need to give us two week's notice to move out on that date. This is not good news.
After two or three intense weeks of house-hunting, for a house to purchase nonetheless, and vacating our own home every Saturday morning between 11 and 11.30pm so that the real estate agents can let randoms into our home to do what they will without any protection for us from the law or insurance because technically it's not breaking and entering and we have given our permission (yeh! right!!), followed by an angst-ridden loooong weekend (bank holiday, sweetie, 'cept they call it a public holiday here... don't know why. Ask anyone who works in a shop and they'll tell you it's the banks, not the public that get the holiday) wherein we put in an offer on a house we loved but which was massively over-priced and entered negotiations only to be told, after more than 24 hours of waiting for a response to our final offer, that the seller wouldn't budge from his first, rather ungenerous counter-offer, after all that we've come to the conclusion that there is nothing on the market that we want to buy. We were about to reconsider what we might want to buy, reluctantly as one does not enter into debt of almost half a million dollars simply because they wish to move before their wedding because their landlords have the sensitivity and good-timing of a nuclear war, when we heard the rather good news that we MAY be permitted to stay here until a few weeks after the wedding. It's not in writing yet so nothing is guaranteed but purleease everyone cross their fingers, toes, arms, legs and roads for us.
So, other than getting completely distracted by Facebook and getting back to organising the wedding (we now have suits for the boys, shoes for the bride and are well on the way to a veil), I have decided to create a few albums of some of my favourite photos to share with you all.
Firstly, I created an album of shots taken in my garden. I love getting out there and taking photos of birds, flowers and insects. Usually I'm out there doing something else, like gathering fruit from the veggie garden, or hanging the washing out, and I'll see something that will make me run indoors and grab the camera. I then generally spend about half an hour to an hour wandering around taking photographs of things, entirely distracted from the task at hand. You can see this album at http://picasaweb.google.com/lindseybuckle/MyGarden.
The second album I created consists of photographs of Buddina Beach where we have lived for the past four years. I have always loved, and been inspired by this beach but I'm feeling particularly nostalgic about it now that I know we may be leaving to live elsewhere in a few weeks. This album is at http://picasaweb.google.com/lindseybuckle/OurBeach.
Lastly, I created an album of Point Cartwright, the headland 3 kilometres north of our home and where we will be getting married in 7 weeks. Obviously this is a very special place for both Toby and I. We have had some great times up there, it is a beautiful spot with a positive energy. Anyone who ever visits me on the Sunshine Coast will be treated to a tour of Point Cartwright and I'm confident you'll all fall in love with the place. Check out the album at http://picasaweb.google.com/lindseybuckle/PointCartwright.
I have commented on most of the photographs so if you have the time, click on each one and read about its background. Each of these albums will be constantly updated when I take relevant photographs that I'm particularly pleased with, either because they're good pictures or because they hold special memories for me. Save these links as favourites and check back on occasion or subscribe to the RSS feed on the bottom right of the album page.
Often I wonder if I'll ever get around to doing anything that will make a difference to the world, no matter how small. For a while there I dreamed of becoming a climate change educator and even used this blog to reach the few people I felt I could. I don't know if I made any sort of impact - I didn't get many comments indicating as such - but anyway, matters seem to have been taken out of my hands on that one, which is a good thing as the world couldn't wait for me to become an expert. A few years back I considered voluntary work, and eventually settled on reef research, but I didn't get myself organised in time and wasn't willing enough to change my plans to fit it in.
More recently I have taken it upon myself to write irate emails to the local bus company, complaining of a deterioration in the service I catch to work. I am very happy to report that a positive, albeit small, change has occurred as a result of those emails and I can only hope that the long-term outcome is a general improvement in public transport services on the Sunshine Coast, leading to greater use and thus fewer cars on the roads, ironic when you remember that I'm considering the purchase of the car in the next 6-12 months. And I was so proud to be belong to a one car "family". Unfortunately, experience tells me that people only start using public transport when the traffic or parking gets so bad it is no longer viable to use the car, and by then the Sunshine Coast will be just like any other noisy, dirty city. So maybe I should go back to the climate change education and encourage people to stop using their cars for reasons of environmental pollution, rather than personal pain. At least in the short term, a few more students will arrive in time for their 9am lectures, although they're probably so used to the buses being late that they have by now arranged alternative transport and settled themselves into a routine.
I've wondered whether I could use my enjoyment of writing to change the world. To be honest, I don't think I do enough with it, I don't practice it or make efforts to improve in any way. This blog gets an update every now and then but I'm always a bit too concerned with boring or offending people to completely let go. I wonder whether in years to come people will read it and get an idea of what it was like to live in the new millennium, the information age, the dawn of social networking and web 2.0. (Have you noticed how everything seems to be 2.0 these days? What is that all about?) Yes, I quite fancy myself as a bit of a latter day Pepys. But there are so many people "blogging" these days, what's to make Random Thoughts stand out beyond any other? Perhaps I should be harnessing my unique perspective on life as a Geordie down-under. That would surely narrow the competition down a bit although it does leave me with Ross Noble who has the edge on me with both wit and randomness.
Will chocolate cake change the world? I like to think so.
Perhaps for now I should just settle on making a small difference every day. Today I am going to make a difference for 10 people I work with. Every Friday we have a meeting and "morning tea" together. I never really heard or used that expression in England and I was trying to think of a translation. All I could think of was "coffee" or "tea-break" or maybe "cake" but that doesn't quite convey it. Morning tea is a drink plus snacks. It can be used in a range of contexts. For example, our team has it with a meeting. The university is really big on morning teas and every fortnight one building hosts a social morning tea for the rest of the uni. It's a chance to meet and greet folk from other areas who one may not normally work with, an opportunity to put names to faces. We also have celebratory morning teas for birthdays and events, such as International Women's Day a couple of months ago. When people leave we'll throw a morning tea or afternoon tea to see them off and every Christmas HR throws a morning tea on the last day. This is my favourite morning tea because we're usually allowed to go home straight afterwards so effectively we don't have to do any work.
So anyway, today is my turn for the weekly Corporate Information Systems morning tea. Some folk go to the supermarket and buy a load of stuff, usually really naughty stuff full of preservatives, with some grapes thrown in for those who want to be healthy. Others go all out and make their own dips and cakes, and some guys even have wives who bake for us every 10 weeks. It's always an exciting moment, approaching the table and discovering what delights have been brought unto you. Well, I was baking all night last night so I think the boys (and girls - there are three of us again, yay!) are in for a treat this morning. Whilst simultaneously making the tea, I managed to bake Delia's very naughty Chocolate Beer Cake. This is such a yummy cake and lots of fun to make but I grew increasingly horrified at how naughty it was - so much sugar - that I decided I would also bake some healthy, low fat fruity muffins. I then made tzatzikidip. Hopefully these delights, and the effort I put in will make a difference to the kind of day the rest of the team are having.
Tomorrow I will make another small difference by passing on a life-changing book to a friend. But I'll tell you about that another time... maybe.
