bogies and bike paths

What sort or person wipes bogies on the wall and door of the toilet stalls at their place of work? Dirty bastard person. People. Because at every "proper" job I have had there have been bogies on the walls and/or door of the toilet stalls. I mean for fucks sake there is a bog roll dispenser right next to you, blow or pick your fucking nose and put it in the pan. Eat it if you must, just don't fucking wipe it on the fucking walls you filthy fucker. Ahem.

And while in angry mode, if you are walking on a cycle path while either talking or texting on your mobile phone you might like to glance up every so often to see if any bikles are coming along the fucking bike path. Just fucking pay attention or get on the walking path.

Other than that it has not been a bad day. At lunch I picked up a bank cheque for a wad of cash that will tomorrow be exchanged for a Subaru Outback H6. The "pearlescent white" one. With all the toys. Yum yum. Work was work, but getting there is now a breeze; 20 minutes on the bike, door to door. On the way home I stopped off at Queens Park to do a few pull and push ups and so on, then I dropped the bike off at Mara's and ran down the hilll to the ocean and back up again. Quite a hill that. Mara was good enough to cook dinner, and after cleaning the already spotless bathroom (I said I would do it so I did; could not help but think I was being forced to be OCD because the bloody bathroom was spotless.) I knocked back dinner like you'd not believe.

Things I have learnt today about buying a car in Aus. you need a CTP (Compulsory Third Party) insurance, commonly known as the "green slip." I had assued that this was linked to the person, but no, it is with the car. So tomorrow, when I buy the car I get it registered and as it is registered it has a green slip and therefore so do I. Fair enough. I also get a REVs check, Register of Encumbered Vehicles. It is an online check to see if there is outstanding finance, or if the police want it or that sort of stuff. With a REVS certificate I cannot be held liable for outstanding finance - and more importantly my new car cannot be repossessed by whoever is owed cash. And finally, the kicker, I have to pay 3% stamp duty on the car. Stamp duty on a second hand car. Bloody cheek.





Picture for no good reasn

the eyes have it

A get together brunch in Willoughby, soon to be our new hangout, started Sunday. Sally and I borrowed Mara's car and we headed for Chiquita's where we met, in arrival order, Josia and Jason, JCJ, Derek and Jo (with small people Abigail and Wiliam) and last but not least Vince, AKA "The Chad". A general catchup ensued with the kids kinda taking centre stage as they inevitabley do. Vince, as usual, wanted to eat as much as possible with sides of smoked salmon and mushroom, Jason seems to have a death wish - sorry, new motor bike, Josie is still working her butt off, JCJ has not changed much since yesterday, and Derek and Jo continue to work towards the creation of their ocean side dream home down south.

Too much pancake and coffee later we made tracks; Vince to meet one of his few remaining single bloke mates, Justin, who was getting back from the US, DJ and Jo to a friends place that they invited us to, and the rest of us to look at the house. I really liked the look of the house today and that may be because on Friday Sal and I gave the current owner a lot of deposit for it. Whatever, I could see myself living there. From there Josie and Jason, and JCJ headed their seperate ways and Sal and I went to visit DJ and Jo's friends. A bit weird, but Willoughby is, it appears, very friendly like that and we'll love it. It was a high-and-goodbye; great for us as Wil managed to shit himself (he is only two and a half months) and Abigail was using her last remaining energy to scream the place down, presumably about how tired she was. We bade our new friends and old farewell and headed to Chatswood and some shopping.

I make no secret of my dislike of most types of shopping and grocery shopping in particular. Sal and I often end up having storm-in-teacup fights that assume the level of "most important thing in the universe" and so it was yesterday. It blew over, and with it my assertion that henceforth I shall do as much of the household grocery shopping as possible online. Huzzah! While at the register I spied an optomotrish with signs shouting "70% OFF". We trotted over and I tried on more average frames. Average that was until one pair, that look OK, went from $250 to $180 at 70% off so that will be $54 to you guv. Bargain, done. An indicative price for lenses was given as $80 so finacially, at least, I did not feel bad about getting my specs.

Fast forward to Monday morning and I went to OPSM, an optomtrist around the corner from my work and was charged $32 for a quick eye test (I wanted one before I ordered my lenses) and was then told that the lenses, complete with magic anti-glare coating for use in front of screens would cost $204. I didn't complain or walk away, but expectations shatered I thanked them and will pick my glasses up by the end of this week.

And rewind to Sunday where from Chatswood we headed to Collaroy on the Northern Beaches to take a look at a 2002 Subaru Outback H6 that took our fancy. Sydney almost requires you to own a car, not so much because of the distances you have to travel and the public transport limitations but more because you tend to do more. Diving gear, surf and body boards, bikes and all the other toys are not easy to take on a bus, and few buses and no trains get you right to the beach. So we may not need but we really, really want a car. And We like Sunarus. A quick spin around the block in a pretty solid feeling car and we had something to think about and chat about on our drive home. Conclusion so far, lets look at another because this one has a few scrathches. So I called another guy who is advertising his as immaculate whereas the afternoons one was merely excellent.

The day ended for the girls with margaritas and for me, surprise surpise, with a run around the park. Daylight saving is top notch in my southern hemisphere spring and I had daylight to help me spot tree roots, cracked pavers and the many and various obstacles I have luckily managed to avoid in the dark.

Before I forget..Aussie football - increasingly football and not soccer, at last - is absorbing ever more late career European players. Quality too; Zola might be on his way over here!

A triathlon of a day

Last time I swam in Clovelly pool the water was lovely and warm so to seems only right and proper that this morning it was cold. Damn cold. Still feeling a bit skanky after last nights overeating I lasted about 500m but enjoyed it. I got out and started to sun myself on the pool edge as the local kids put me to shame with widths of the pool and running around the edge. The wind was getting up and a bit of a swell was building so I was, all in all, glad to be on my way home. I made my way home to find the girls on a cleaning frenzy that I managed to avoid, but I did pick up the task of "clean the bathroom by wednesday" that came with an implied or else. So as they busied themselves and prepared for the voleyball game that I was not needed for (pah!) I had a Skype call with JCJ and we arranged to meet at the cafe in Centennial Park at midday and go for a bike ride.

And that is what we did. I grabbed Sal's bike from the garage as I did not fancy my single speed against JCJ's Scott SubTen. We met and started nattering and I drooled over his new bike and tried to hide mine. He looked very much the part and I looked like a junior laborour on his lunch break. We headed off...

More later, Austin Powers Goldmember calls...

We headed off to the City, avoiding Oxford Street and heading along Crown. I found a line drawn grafitti face that I was obliged to click a picture of. Hyde Park had a food and drink festival going on that we skipped. Plenty of people, plenty of stands, that sort of thing. Then via a camera store in Sussex Street JCJ lead a tour of Pyrmont waterside, over near where Sally works. We headed over the Pyrmont bridge and then took a right, away from Darling Harbour and snaked our way around the piers and bays and checking out the new developments of offices and residences (2 bed apartments starting from UA$1.795 apparently.) We found some weird sculptures that looked like those nodding bird heads that dip into bowls of water but where larger and made of ladders (you had to be there, I'd not know what I meant by that description) and a couple of circa. 1870 boat props that were found in landfill when the site was being renovated. JGJ went for a B&W shot of them that I am sure will be great in the week or so when he gets it back, old skool film hound that he is. The waterfront is very nice, open with green spaces and fish cleaning tables for the local fishermen who must be trying to work on their dioxin immunity. Not sure eating fish from the Harbour is such a good idea, but it is, I guess, nice that you are allowed to fish for them.

Coffee and more nattering later, plus half of one of those gluten free biscuits I mentioned earlier, that actually did not taste like crap, and we headed back to Circular Quay via Walsh Bay and more new development mxed in with the old. We bade each other fond farewells for we would not be seeing each other again for, oo, nearly 19 hours. JGJ headed for a ferry, me back to Randwick where Sal was waiting for me to return so we could go glasses shopping.

And that shopping trip came to not a lot. Seems that most glasses "look OK" on me but none turn me into fabio. A few make me look like a proper geek, but typically I can get away with anything. That and the pet shop opposite the optomotrist left us with a lack of focus on the job at hand and for me, with my euesight. Oh well, we'll try again on Sunday. Sal needed to have a sit down as she was suffereign abit from the volleyball I'd not been neede for and the girls team lost 2-1 in a very competitve match up. Not a total loss, we purchased a new beach volleyball, Mara's original one having gone missing, and then on our return to the flat we (OK, Sal) managed to knock it over the fence into the neighbours garden. The neighbours were not at home, no way to get into the garden, the ball gone for now.

General lack of motivation to do anything much continued, so before the light went I completed my tri-athlon day with a run around the park, this time and for a change ant-clockwise. Without having had much to eat all day - guilt setting in re.Friday night - I managed neither a great time or an enormous sense of achievement. I have, however, onvinced myself that the odd run while "on empty" is a good idea as it will prepare me for the latter stages of a marathon. Is that correct? Buggered if I know. But to recover I allwed myself pizza from Q. P Pizza (Queens Park Pizza) and although what arrived was not the capricciosa I had ordered it was stonking all the same. Loads of fresh ingredients and chunks of steak. Satisfied that it was a healthy choice I had an ice cream too, figuring I was still in credit.

Goldmember watched, chats to Jon, friend a former collegue, Dad, father and current father, clocks sprung forwards as clocks in Blighty fall back I ended the day and prepared for whatever dreams may come tonight.

Dream On

I have been reading in Darren's blog about his weird dreams and that must have been in my mind at 02:30 when I awoke from a weird one of my own and scrawled a few notes about it on the back of an envelope. Surreal, it went like this. I think.

I was at some sort of a zoo that had large outside pools and one had an orca (killer whale) in it and the next one had some sort of seal thing that may have been a leopard seal, and some smaller seals. As I look at the seals I see the large one clamber out of the water, front flippers grasping the pillar between the two pools and then it flops into the orca pool. It was aide, or at least being watched, by two of it's pool-mates. I don't actually see it morph into a huge and hairy (I think) thing, but I assume that is what happens as now, as I look through the glass wall of the pool, I can see a huge, hairy, sort-of-seal-but-sort-of-not-a-seal-maybe-more-like-a-walrus thing occupying most of the space in the pool. No idea where the orca has gone. There is, however, a man in one of those triathlon wetsuits swimming in the pool and it is a tightish squeeze for him to get around the beast. He does not seem at all concerned about the thing.

And then I seem to be under the stands of some sort of sports stadium, that I assume is the zoo building, and an alarm goes off that someone in a suit tells me is a fire alarm as the compactor (go figure) has caught fire. Then there are a lot of people with guns running around. At no time did I seem particulalry concerned. The next thing I did is cross over the A24 at North Cheam and then I woke up.

I really think I had too much to eat last night.

TGIF

I heard but did not see Chris Isaak. They were setting the stage up as I got to Martin Place and a small crowd was gathering. I clicked a very poor pic, got a coffee and headed in to work - casually dressed as it was Friday, although several of my new colleagues are in permanent casuals - and about 30minutes later I could hear the muffled soudns of one or other of his songs that I can remember. Bad Bad Thing or I Don't Wanna Fall in Love or whatever. The rest of the work day passed off uneventfully with the highlight being my introduction to the secret tuck stash.

On floor 12, apprently, there are vending machines full of fat, sugar and additives and a very small percentage of the proceeds they take goes to charity. Probably the way they got the things in the door, the semi-myth that by purchasing from one of the machines you are helping kids with cancer or starving families in Africa or saving donkeys from being thrown off of roofs or similar. The painfully transparent truth is that you are also contributing to the bank balances of the owners of the machines and this has been noted and there is as an alternative the secret stash. Hidden in a sliding cupboard is a load of crisps, chocs, candies and drinks that someone gets at a good price and sells on with all profit going to charity. I like that.

Something I forgot from yesterday is that I managed to get lost, set of a door alarm and had a butt clenching moment when I thought I was kinda trapped in an alley. I had headed to the carpark to see where the bike racks are and on my way out followed a sign pointing me towards some stairs. Iwent up the stairs to a door marked "G" that I assumed meant ground floor. I opened it, alarm went off and I stepped through to an alley beside the building. The door closed. Said alley was a walkway with high fences enclosing it, and as I doscovered after an uncomfortable delay, an openable gate at one end. I headed for lunch and returned to find that, to my relief, there had been no evacuation of the building an hour earlier.

The other big news from yesterday was that we now look very, very likely to buy the house we handed over a 10% deposit for and exchanged contracts on. Forty two days - well, 41 now - we should be moving in. The solicotor we handed the cheque to was based in our old haunt, Neutral Bay. The suburb has not changed much; Maisy's is still there and still open 24 hours, and Kenta, our favourite bargain Japanese is still there. The Oaks hotel (read pub for hotel) is still there and the ATM is in kinda the same place although where it used to be they have crammed a few pokies, or one arm bandits, fruit machines, call them what you will. Sadly, the front bar has been renovated and now looks far nicer than it used to. A pity, I liked the front bars grottiness, but it now looks almost as nice as the rest of the pub. Opposite the pub the pie shop is still there, though now trading as Jesters ("serious about pies") and no longer Shakespeare's Pies ("the best pies on the planet" which they were not.) You have to admire a country where the national dish is either anything thrown on a BBQ or the meat pie. All is well in Neutral Bay.

The day ended with a Nepalese meal at Mandala in Randwick and a celbratory bottle of bubbly. I had the goat, and very nice it was too. Then we headed on for coffee and cheesecake and I ate so much I felt sick but refused to leave any. With my new exercise and training regime I have tried to pick out a plan of how not to bore myself to death with a "proper" diet and I choose the 24hrs eat what you like method and that starts on Friday night. Bad idea; I felt like crap, albeit well fed crap. Back to that drawing board.

Australian values

There has been a fair number of column inches dedicated to the idea that new migrants should be made to take some sort of a pledge to adhere to Australian values. Some politco went as far as saying visitors should sign an extra bit of paper on the way in, presumably saying they would love to have a barbie and a cold brew between innings of beach cricket and a surf. Or something. Anyway you can cut all that crap because today, as I was photographed fpr my work security pass I was asked the only question you need to be asked on the way in. So, do you like sport? I think that about sums it up. And yes, I do like sport. He follows Sunderland in the Premiership. Or out. Or back in. Or out...

The day started weirdly enough. I got to the bus stop to find a well spaced queue of about ten people that I joined at the seemingly socially acceptable distance from the person in front of me. All good until a bus comes into sight when fat ugly woman - really, she was, even though that adds little to the rant - comes shooting up the outside to get towards the head of the queue. Good for her, she got on the bus and stood, I waited about another minute - the buses are timetabled to come every three - and got a seat on the next one.

On the subject of buses...I decided to run home from work and then keep going for around an hour and ten minutes and that I did. But this is the good bit; office door to home door took me 32minutes and ten seconds, and that because I ran the bus route. I reckon I can cut straight across the park and beat the bus home. More on running. I have been picked out as a runner at work and today was told that every thursday there is a lunchtime run and there is a series of runs of varying degrees of toughness that go on throughout the year. Bloke whose name I cannot recall even gave me a route map. One is a lunchtime run across the bridge and back. All good. I might even be able to use it as a networking opportunity (bleugh, corporate whore talk) rather than the pintballing, that I les than graciously declined.

And tomorrow we start our descent into poverty by handing over a substantial chunk of deposit on the house that it looks more likely than ever that we are going to buy. Very exciting. And I may get to see Chris Issak play a couple of songs tomorrow morning out front of the Channel 7 studio that my office sits atop. Cool!

instant ugly

I am far too knackered to write much tonight and my eyes hurt. Damn these eyes! Time for the glasses. But one thing; people, especially attactive women (subjective, of course.) Just stop smoking. Smoking = instant ugly, whatever you look like. Your clothes smell. Your breath smells. And it just might kill you. The non-smoker has spoken.

damn near made myself puke

...and that is actually a good thing. Did some hilll work in Queen's Park including three sprints (well, kind of) up to the highest part of the park. Legs burning, stars before the eyes, head spinning. By design and I stopped before I actually hurled. So I went home happy.

Work was better than yesterday and I'll leave it at that in case my employer is reading and I'm in breach of something and get myself in the shit. So there. But I achieved a couple of things and that's good. I also discovered bike racks in the basement and showers in the building so I'll be able to ride or run into work. And I caught up with Sal, who walked to Martin Place after she finished, and we got the bus home too-ge-ver. Aaaaaggghhhhh.

Lunch was a weird affair. I wandered over to the Domain and was surprised at just how many people there were exercising. Boxercise, football and swarms of joggers. I finished my sarnie (gourmet vegetables from just down the road) and headed back to Martin Place. Sally called to say that the house was back on - maybe - having spoken to DJ at lunch so yet again let us see. I was put off of the conversation by a canoodling couple in a doorway. Lots of touching and tender, closeness. Nothing wrong there. In fact nothing wrong at all, just odd. One of the guys was you're typical city worker and the other guy looked to be in his 60s and was wearing short football shorts and a t-shirt, a baseball cap on top of his tanned neck that had the skin texture of that thing under a turkeys neck. Very odd. Don't see much of that in the City of London. I headed back to the office.

On the way I got a coffee and while I was waiting looked through the menu. One item grabbed my attention. "Gluten Free Biscuits". No indication of what they would taste like. None. So I assume they taste like shit and I'll never find out.

A late contender for moment of the day came this evening. Mara has to study a mental illness for her college work so I looked through the phobia list and found coulrophobia, the fear of clowns and that look me to http://www.ihateclowns.com/ where you can get coffee cups, shirts, a bag, stickers and other stuff that will display your hatred of clowns. Fantastic! Apart from maybe the customer pic of the lass with the rifle. A bit worrying.

prodigal rat returns

So today I join the other rats back in the race.Up early, shave, queue for bus, coffee and into the office. I started the coffee outside and had a 10minute people watch before I went in. Sydney city is not crowded, comparatively. A very slow day it turned out to be, fairly typical for a first. I was dumped upon Steve who gave me titbits of stuff to do, but did feel a bit dumped as there was no sense of direction. Ne'ermind. There are another couple of guys starting this week, so there is not a lot happening straight away that would need the guys already there to explain everythign to me, then again, then again. So it was sit there, read that, have a chat, get frustrated with no internet access or external email. And why the hell does Lotus Notes still exist? ffs give it up, it's shit. First day blues. But the guys seem nice and the view from my 19th floor window seat is of the harbour. I can see Fort Denison, Garden Island, North Head. Lovely. The work, I think, is going to be very dull indeed and for that I am glad I have taken it on contract. But again, first day blues and it could turn out to be OK. But it could be all over in 6months regardless as the project does seem to have a fairly carved in stone drop dead date. Dull stuff, but would you look at that view.

The bus ride there and back was fine if you ignore my eyes struggling to read my book. My longsightedness is still shorter than my arms so I'm OK for now. No shower in the office is a pisser because it means taking out gym membership just to get a shower if I choose to run or ride into the office. Hmm. Need to think about that one.

I was home first - Mara at college on a Monday and Sal on her way - so I donned the trainers and did an outside-the-fence lap of Centennial Park and when I got home Sal was on the phone to Nige (brother in law and builder) and discovering that the extension on the house we are now less likely to buy could cost 360 grand. Discussions had and we're undecided but veering more towards "run away, run away!" Back to the drawing board.

sunday lazy sunday

The forecast was for chilly stiff southerly winds so a swim was always going to be a maybe maybe not and it was a not. I rolled down the hill on the single speed bike to see a lumpy deep end and a shallow end being set up for a kids life-saving comp of something similar so I thought better of it and headed back home. Mistake number 1. Clovelly pool is at the bottom of a big hill that really, REALLY needs a few gears to change down through. So I got home with legs burning to Sally telling me to shake a leg so we could head over to Willoughby to get a feel for the area.

A couple of buses and we're there and on the hunt for a cafe - and it really does read like a dull start to a slow day - and we found Chiquita that opens at 07:00 every day of the week and that is a big tick in a box. So we wandered around a bit and then called JCJ and Susan and arranged to meet up with them for a spot of lunch. Sundays are for eating. This whole weekend has been. JCJ is a good man and he and Susan came and collected us from Naremburn where we had wandered to and drove us all to Wharfy's at Mosman Wharf.

It was the first time since our return to Aus that Sally and I had caught up with Susan so we had plenty to chat about, though JCJ and I, as ever, just gently took the piss out of each other. The ladies had a glass of wine and we decided to walk of lunch with a stroll around Cremorne Point. Still very nice; we saw plenty of lorikeets, cormorants sunning themselves, a kookaburra and a few small pufferfish in the shallows. There is a lovely "secret garden" I did not know existed and we gawped at the stupid expensive houses and boats. But there are a lot of dead trees now and I am putting that down to the drought taking it's toll. A shame, but nature is nature, so there.

Most amusing part of the afternoon came when we saw a "wild" (escaped) rabbit down by the car park at Mosman Wharf. You'll not get naywhere near him says JCJ who is usually very knowledgable with all things nature. He knows latin names for shit 'n all. So first Sally and then I approached and damn near picked the bloody thing up. JCJ, not to be outdone and, by his standards very slightly indignant, approached said bunny. Damn thing shot away from him double quick. Dr. Doolittle he is not.

JCJ and Susan dropped us back home at about 5 and I took the opportunity to do my outer lap of the park and a few stretches before the light faded and that is about it for a lazy sunday.

all athletic ability gone

Before I document the embarassment that was today's beach volleyball I have a muse. If I get up early I have a decision to make; do I wake Sally and risk her wrath for waking her, or do I get up, head out to get coffee and read my paper and risk Sally's wrath for abandong her? The decision is between two options with the best outcome being me being in the least trouble I can be in...but in trouble irregardless (hah! I love that non-word.)

So I did not wake Sal, I got up and a little while later I got in trouble for asking what Sal - bleary eyed and still in her PJs - wanted to do. We got over that marital hurdle (same time, same place next Saturday we'll do the same) and went up the road for a coffee and an argument about when and how we would extend the house we haven't bought. Mara - god love her - popped out to the RTA to register her car and on her return bought half a cheesecake. So I forgave her choice of movie - Spaceballs, a movie proof that Mel Brooks had lost or abandoned his talent by the time in his career that he made it.

Our beach volleyball games today - hold on, "our"? I'm a ring-in, so Mara and Sal's beach games were 14:00 and 14:45. The weather was, by local standards, bloody awful. We'd had showers, it was overcast and around 17 degrees and there was a gusty SSE wind. So a bad summer day in London. To match the weather we were also awful and lost both games 2-0, went on to play the third in each so ended the day 3-0 and 3-0. Oh dear. To be fair we were not that bad (well, in one game we were and got thumped 21-2, to the ammusement of the girls and my frustration) but our oposition were practicers and we're not. Yet. Still no real game plan, no idea of how each other is going to move; basic stuff. Once Mara get some stability in her team (Serves Up, geddit?) there is potential, but I think that is for next season, which is only January away.

After the slaughter - sorry, games - I had and took the opportunity to confuse and be confused by our Canadian ring-in player 4, Amber. After the game we typically go fo a swim but today, what with the weather being piss poor we were not keen. One lass went and tested the water and reckoned it was pretty warm. No takers. So amber went to the water as well and came back agreeing it was warm. But she's Canadian. So I wanted to know if it was warm by local or by Vancouver standards. Clearly a sarcastic gag, a gentle dig at her expense. But oh no, a swing and a miss. I went into reverse as the confused Canadian explained that the water around Vancouver was always cold because of an ocean current and...reverse...beep, beep, beep.

So to the evening and it was up to The Spot in Randwick and the Ritz cinema to see The Children of Men, a quite relentlessly depressing but good movie. Suitably depressed we left the cinema and looked for a coffee shop in which to shelter from the rain. What we found was Sugarplum Cafe and Ice Cream Bar where we had a stab at eating ourselves to death. None of that green shit, no vitamins or minerals but a damn fine plate of fat and sugar that should sit real well on the stomach overnight. Mmmmm...

cocky cocky

Up early and out early to head over to the house so I was there as the building inspector went through. Turns out he had inspected the place around 3months ago so knew what to expect. I'm glad I was there because reading the report, which will use words like 'subside' and 'damp' may otherwise have gotten alarm bells ringing a little too loudly. The place is 60 years old and on a slope, it needs a few things doing now and will need a few more later but overall it is unlikely to slip into the back garden and therefore we should still buy it. As for approval for an extension, unlikely to be an issue. Apart from the price, of course.

I'd got to Willoughby early and had breakfast (capuccino, muesli-friut-yoghurt) in the small independant One Earth Cafe on Willoughby Road.. The name conjours up images of the organic goodness they sell. I like the cafes in Sydney and it's suburbs. They open early, a fair few open late and the odd one is 24hours and they do not appear to be homogonised chain efforts. There are, of course, Starbucks and local rival Gloria Jeans, but the high streets are not - yet - all looking exactly the same. You can still grab some munch and a decent (usually very good) coffee from someone who has put something of themself into their place. It is good to have an option other than a pub if you want a late night snack and a coffee and don't feel like witnessing hordes of pissed lads.

Anyway I left the inspector, jumped on a bus to North Sydney (the 273) and from there wandered down to and across the bridge. As I approached the first tower I heard a loud squwaking that sounded like and was a cockatoo. It was sitting on metal beam over the road deck and seemed to be having a whinge at the traffic as it passed underneath. I stopped to take a few pics, in doinf so attracting the attention of one of the security guards whose job it was to ensure I was not a you-know-what hell-bent on bringing down western society blah blah blah. Satisfied that my intentions were good he told me that this bird, and possibly another, so possibly a pair lived in the NE tower of the bridge, seemingly not caring much about the traffic noise. Apparently some rozellas live in there too.

The rest of the walk was quite uneventful and ended with me taking a few pics of painted advertisements on the sides of buildings, an idea stolen from JCJ who is snapping similar at the moment and had mentioned it to me at the weekend.

Via a couple of phone calls - to Sal and her Dad Mike to tell them about the house - I made my way home and prepared for an afternoon run. And it started to get dark. Very dark. And a cloud, like one of those you see in disaster movies, all black and swirling up into the air was building outside and there were a couple of cracks of thunder and it started to absolutely piss down. In London I will run in the rain and get wet; out here I could drown. So I looked at the Bureau of Meteorolgy website radar scan and saw what I already knew - it's raining here - and what I had hopd for - it should pass quickly. And it did. And I'm now off for a run.

And now I'm back and showered and Mara arrived and we drove over to Adam and Munchkin's place in Putney. Putney. One of those semi-obscure place names from Blighty that crop up all over the place in Sydney. Got there and everyone was on good form. Munchkin is pregnant again, Adam looked like he had stepped off a yacht but assured us he had been on the golf course and Maddie - damn cute - was busily distributing and redistributing things. She would pick something up, hand it to me and then get something else ofr Sally, something for Mara, come back to me and take what I had then hand it to Sally, taking the original thing from Sally and...that sort of thing. It must be great being 2. By ten everyone was fading fast, stuffed on surpsingly top-notch chinese food from the unassuming local takeaway (not sure how a takeaway can be unassuming though) and we trundled home in a howling gale. Oh you've gotta love Sydney's weather.

a confusion of Kevins

This morning I called the physio to confirm my appointment time that I did not remeber. Either 4 or 4:30. Five I was told and therefore it was a good job that I called. Fast forward to 4:45 and I get a call asking where am I? Seems they have two Kevins on their books and today we were to see Liz one after the other, me at 4:30 (I knew it!) and Kevin II at 5. So from 3:50 till 4:40 I was sitting in Centennial Park reading a book and it was when I was making my way to the physio that I got the chasing call. Other health news while I am at it..if I want some glasses they will cost under $400. My morning run was a lap of the park at a picked up pace and I finished it with an average heart rate of somewhat higher than I'd like (probably around 180) in a shade under 33mins. So I have a baseline. I get the map out and measured the distance - albeit roughly - to a little over 9km.

The rest of the day, between my run and my physio no-show was rather a dull affair, though I did find a small native plants regeneration gully just down the road named the Fred Hollows Reserve, which the ABC start a description of thus:

The Fred Hollows Reserve was named in 1993 in memory of Doctor Fred Hollows, who was a local resident of Randwick and was a very active member of the local community group who helped to preserve the gully and save it from future development. It is situated in the Coogee Basin between Alison Road & Bligh Place in the eastern suburbs of Sydney. The reserve is surrounded by large sandstone ridges, and amongst these are a series of gullies. This is the only one to have survived with its original vegetation virtually in tact, with the others having been completely covered with urban development.

Very nice too.

Panoramatastic K750i shot!
...of Queens Park





It was upon my return from the wandering that took me through the reserve that I discovered I had locked myself out. On my morning run I had taken just the front door key and upon my return from that run I had not put it back on my keyring with the other keys that I later took with me. So instead of returning home from not-the-physio it was more reading in the park and then a wander, take a few pics, arrange to see our prospective new place with a building inspector in the morning and generally scratch my arse until Sally called to say she was home and I could get in.

my eyes! my eyes!

Today started with a visit to the optometrist in Randwick who told me that my eyesite is generally very good apar from the long-sightedness and astigmatism. I am, so it says here, R+0.75/-0.50 x 150. That puts me on the borderline of needing glasses or not and my general good health is what is probably keeping me on that borderline. Basically my eye will not focus correctly on near work. Light hits at two places and the lens tries to sort it out but can't. The mistiness is probably a slight allergy thing and my eyes are better than most he sees. So there. I'll see how I go for a while and probably have glasses by Christmas because when he demoed me with some equivalent lenses my vision was once again all it has been. Until a couple of weeks ago. Ah well, the eyes have had a good innings on their own.

From the optometrist it was over to the bank to see a mortgage advisor who, in about 30minutes gave me and Sally laon approval that means we have a firm offer on a house and are about to launch ourselves even further into (managable) debt. I was grinning like a jackass as "approved" popped up on screen. St. George Bank, who we both worked for and who we have two existing mortgages with need 5 days to assess us but pop into a branck of Westpac and bish, bash, bosh here is a load of cash, enjoy! To be fair to St. George the experience with them may have been the same if we'd wandered into a branch, but hey, they should really be bending over backwards to keep our custom. We shall see, but the iportant news is that our offer has been accepted, we have the cash and are all systems go.

Sally was, understandably chuffed and has been, in between stints of proper work, on the phone to banks, solicitors, the real estate agent and I dare say the Pope if she thought a need existed. She likes to take charge and that is good because I like to do as little as I can get away with. That is whay I get in so much trouble so often. We had lunch and discussed things and I called Derek (DJ/ Mr DJ) to tell him about our house and let him know we'd not be able to make it to their place down south on Sunday - no car to hand. I felt really quite shitty about that because DJ and wife Jo lived in Willoughby, where fingers-crossed we will be living and it is a shame we can't live in the same suburb. Nevermind, these things happen. Plan now is to meet them and the two kids a week Sunday for breakfast when they are in Sydney for a christening.

We parted and Sally went for a physio appointment and I went for a swim. Bonkers weather of the day...yesterday it was 20 and today 34. Go figure. With a NW wind and a rising tide the pool was flat and the sun was warm so conditions were perfect. I did about 850m non stop. Well mostly non stop, I slowed to watch pipe fish, a cuttlefish, blue groupers, blackfish (actually silver with black stripes) morwong, various other little stripey things. It was glorious. I am sure it is my good mood that lead to what was my furthest ocean-if-only-the-protected-pool swim to date, and I still had plenty in the tank. A 1km swim in the pool is not far off.

Geek news....is....that we have....a....SkypeIn.....number....that Dad can use.....to call Australia from London....on. I've not tested it yet, but Sally assures me it is laughably 1970s satellite link delay ridden and she gave up on it. I'll do another test as soon as possible but the delay news does not surprise me as the PC is an old laptop, the internet connection is wireless and the phone that it rings through to is cordless. A new, high powered, wired PC should sort that. If it doesn't, then...well, we're buggered.

Oh yes, and Munchkin, Sally's brother's wife is pregnant again.

the chamelon

At last I get to have a fun ride on my bike. The scuba yellow Santa Crus that I bought from eBay in England while Sally was ou of the country. I was never going to get away with her not noticing because our bikes were kept in the bedroom and the appearance of a 3rd, bright yellow bike in the bedroom is not easy to miss. Anyway, today I took her for a spin around the park and she is a beaut. Heavy, single speed and equipped with big tyres and a big fork meant for jumping she does not go up hill that well. But she is bad boy styled and I love her.

Aside. Ricky, who is still in Australian Idol, did not play an instrument on "play an instrument" night and has now not sung a song of his own on "sing your own song" night. Same goes for Jessica. Bunch of arse. And her vibratto gets right on my tits. The world does not even need one Mariah Carey. Bobby Flynn should be spewing. But hey, these phone in things are a popularity and not a talent contest, so ho-hum.

Back off the bike and straight out for a run - the bike was my warm up - and using the heart rate monitor properly I made 65minutes with little to no ill effect but lets see what happens in the morning. I have got a little ahead of myself. The day started with a visit to the doctor who gazed in my eyes, had me read the chart from 6m and took my blood pressure. Nothing apparently wrong so maybe my eyes are simply wearing out a little and tomorrow an optomotrist gets a go at them. Possibly long sighted, might need glasses. Sight is good enough to avoid the bins, of which there are bloody hundreds out on the pavements on bin day. Green for garden waste, yellow for recyclables - and you can recycle most stuff now - and red for other crud. Then it was coffee o clock, then the bike and the run and then...

On the way home I popped into TS Bookshop in Randwick. I love secondhand book shops. They have a fantastic small and encourage me to look non-specifically for, well, anything. Today I got The End of the Line, a low on laughs book about overfishing and the other is Cockroach. About cockroaches. Had a word about another book that is on my list, Let My People Go Surfing, but alas.

I get grief for not cooking so I went to Terry Wright's Gourmet Meats to get some chicken breasts, for I was going to cook dinner. And what a dinner it was! Well, it was OK. Chicken and mushroom in a garlic cream sauce with cheesy potato topping and some veg. Tasty shit, if a bit heart-attack on a plate, but plates cleaned all round and - don't tell anyone - I enjoyed making it. Back to Terry for a while - support your local, independent traders. The shopping experience is so much better than in supermarkets. You can have a yarn with the guys and girls. Human interactrion, try it, it's great.

nightsafe not safe

State Rail in Sydney advise night train passengers to travel in the carriage marked with the blue light, the carriage that the guard travels in. As well as the blue light you have "Nightsafe Area" stencilled on the platform. I am not sure this makes me feel safer. To indicate that an area is safer kinda suggests that other areas are not as safe. I don't want to hear that. I don't like these self fulfilling prophecy signs. What if I sit right at one end of the safe area, butted up against the badlands, am I less safe there than if I travel right up next to the guard?

So today I took a train to see the house in Willoughby that Sally saw on Saturday and really likes. I like it too and would live there very happily so we need to get a mortgage agreed. Spoke to the bank and they will need convincing that my income is kosher because I am a contractor and therefore, as with self-employed folks, not to be trusted. Potential bunch of arse, and we will find out tomorrow whether this is an issue or not.

The day started rather predicatbly with a run and I noticed that the mistiness I have in my vision at the moment seems to get worse when I exercise. I think. Off to see the doctor in the morning to see what they have to say.

Time for a little vent. Australia is in it's 5th year of drought conditions and some resevoirs are as low as 16% full. That is bad. It's bad for everyone and if you're a farmer it is pretty near fucking disastrous. So with water selling at three times the price of unleaded and the government spending 2 BILLION dollars on drought relief is it too much to ask that people stop hosing down driveways and the grass outside their houses and next to the road. For fucks sake, how selfishly, pig-ignorantly stupid can a person get. People get. Wastefullness bad. Wasting water very bad. Stop it.

And another vent. Australian Idol. I admit to be fished-in and watch it religously but I don't vote and now I feel guilty. Well not really, but I should because this vent is a tad hypocritical. People of Australia, why the fuck didn't you vote for Bobby Flynn? How the hell does he get voted off? He is head and shoulders above at least three of the remaining contestants both artistically and physically in the white-man afro. A genuinely talented individual loses out to those who, I assume, have more mates calling . Ah well.

easy like a sunday morning

JCJ called at the arranged 08:30 and we decided that Camp Cove of Keyhole, inside the harbour were our best options as the wind had come up from the south overnight and most other shore spots would be too lumpy. He came over to pick me up - still no car - and after Sally gave him the obligatory hugs we headed out in the 21 degrees, spitting with rain and overcast morning. I prefer keyhole (Camp Coves western/southern end) to Camp Cove itself and we had a look there fist. Three dive flags and one boat (UNSW) confirmed that pretty well all other dive sites would be blown out, but three flags? The other end looked diver-free so we got back in the car and found all of the divers getting ready in the car park so did a loop back to keyhole.

We got geared up, JCJ in his camo-pants wetsuit looking especially sexy. Slight reg free flow on his backup, but nothing too bad and we headed in. The facts and figures are

Keyhole, inner Sydney Harbour shore dive. 60mins, max depth 8.2m. Low tide ish, in at approx 11:15. Swam out around the rocks and back over them. Single tank, 3mm full wetsuit.

It was great to be back in the water. We had a gentle bimble and I saw plenty of the usual suspects. A small octopus under a rock and very protective of his (her?) shell collection, a decent sized blue grouper, a group of one spot puller each protecting their own small patch of algae, I saw one kingfish zap past, JGJ saw a school, plenty of mado, leatherjacket, small wrasse, rock-cod and so on. No seahorses, though we did look. The yellow, orange and purple sponges, though sparse, are still there, as is the kelp. JGJ also pointed out strange worm like thing buried in the sand with what looked like a horror-movie circular tooth filled mouth projecting. It disapeared into the sand very quickly when we stopped to look at it and did not emerge again.

Being inside the harbour we also saw a broken cup, plastic forks and spoons, bottles, cans, broken glass and so on. Being close to a rocky outcrop we saw and cut through loads of fishing line and JCJ collected probably as much lead as he was wearing. He should open a store selling reclaimed weights to fishermen.

It is over three years since I have dived with JCJ - or dived in Sydney - and it was great to be back doign what is, by local standards, a very tame dive. Many more to follow. Post dive tea and chat done it was wash the gear time and I am now waiting for the ladies to return and to see how they react to the bathromm being fulll of wet dive gear. Ho hum.

phew wot a scorcher

Friday's 33 degrees had felt pretty damn hot to me and it was not comforting to hear that Saturday was going to be 37 degrees on the coast. The same coast where I would be subbing for Sal (a cold) on Mara's beach volleyball team, Serves Up ("geddit"?) But it was going to be fine because we were playing at 12:30 and 13:15.

There was a bit of breeze on the coast but it was damn hot. Luckily the sand was bearable and there were umbrellas to shelter under between games. We took water. Lots of water. Mara had another no-show (Keegan) but Ed was there, an indoor volleybal player, and we had a team of three. First match was against a team I had seen Mara and Sally play a couple of weeks ago and who had been practising and it showed. We were kinda competitive but went down 2-0. As the season's scores are overall points for/against (or something) we played and won a 3rd game to leve it at 2-1.

Our second match up - like the first agaist 4 people, you do not need evenly manned sides in beach - was again 2-1. We took the first, lost the second and in a time shortened 3rd we lost 18-16 or something like that. Overall for the second match up we lost 59-54. It was my first time so I thought we did OK, and there were definite signs that with practise we could make a good side. There were other signs that I was about to pass out in the heat, but less about that. A shame that I won't commit as the timing is not so hot for me and the diving I hope to get back into.

It's a frustrating game, with odd moments where it all seems to click and others where you move and you shouldn't have, you stay put when you should have moved or you try to move and the sand kinda makes you move somewhere else. Every team seems to be at or around the same level and commitment and that makes it nice and competitve. The leap into the Maroubra beach ocean to remove the sand that has you looking like a schnitzel it very refreshing.

Something that Australia has - maybe - thought about and come up with a great solution/invention. The money is plastic; not the coins but the notes. So they are pretty well sea and beer proof, handy when major pastimes are being in the water or the pub.

You can read about Aussie currency here.

Australia was the first country in the world to have a complete system of bank notes based on plastic (polymer). These notes provide much greater security against counterfeiting. They also last four times as long as conventional paper (fibrous) notes.

The innovative technology by which the notes are produced, developed entirely in Australia, offers artists brilliant scope for the creation of images that reflect the histories and natural environments of their countries. At the same time the polymer notes are cleaner than paper notes and easily recyclable. Australia’s currency consists of coins of five, 10, 20 and 50 cent and one and two dollar denomination; and notes of five, 10, 20, 50 and 100 dollar denomination.

All very well, but water and hence beer proof is all I need to hear.

Sadly some car manufacturers are going the other way and loading ever more electic bits into the key fobs that are part of the key. Bloody useless if you want to jump in the water and don't feel like tucking the key under a rear wheel arch or a rock.

So while Mara and I sweated our arses off Sal and her folks, Mike and Maureen, went house hunting. They viewed two properties in the East, one in Clovelly close the Green Mango Cafe (very nice but no land for a dog and 850k), another on Darley Road (potentila but with ceilings falling down and on a busy road you can stick your 795k) and a dark horse in Willoughby on the north side that I need to take a look at on Monday and Sal is already picking curtains for. It does look very nice though, with a big dog-friendly yard and plenty of underhose storage for the toys. I thought the ad should have had more bikinis though.

The other exciting in a geeky way news of the day was the re-visit of cable guy to set up our cable modem. A shame that the construction of the building means we can only have the wall port in Mara's bedroom and therefore we are unlikely to get cable tele (Foxtel) but at least we now have our superfast internet running wirelessly through the unit. I, of course, did my best to screw it up straight away. The key we were given was a string of zeros and there was no firewall. But! I am an IT professional! Firewall is easy, click a button. Limit wireless access to just known MAC addresess, also easy. Change the WEP key, also easy. Of course when I generated the keys, while wirelessly connected, the admin app timed out and I therefore did not have the new keys. Kiss goodbye to the internet. Some semi frantic scrambling around and I had an install CD (left under Mara's bed, would have been nice if cable guy had handed it to me) and a USB cable and we were back in business.

The day ended gently for Sal, me and the folks. We sat around and chatted and once the folks left Sal and I organised (meaning threw out) a load of our 3yr old paperwork of bills etc. I spoke to Dad and then to JCJ to arrange a morning dive. The day may not have ended so peacefully for Mara, last seen heading to a party with 2 bottles of vodka.

familair rocks and a flooded head

And today I started with something nice and dropped Mara's car - a Hyundai Excel, or "the hundy" off at the local garage for it's pink slip inspection. Kinda like the UK MOT where they make sure it brakes and indicates and turns and bounces like it should. Car dropped off it was once again off to the pool, this time on the incoming tide.

I got there at around 09:15 and in anticipation of the 33 degrees to come and as it is school holidays it was already getting crowded. Meaning there were a few people there. Not crowded like Brighton on a hot summer day. So I decided against plan A which was to enter the pool from the beach, swim out and back, get out and jog to the back of the beach and then back to the water and repeat until knackered. Next week I'll try go early and do that. Instead I went to the ocean end, slipped in and started swimming. The swim was odd but enjoyable. With the incoming tide I was variously pushed into the pool and stopped; when stopped I could see the rocks beneath me and knew I was getting nowhere. So I'd relax, keep swimming nowhere and wait un til the ocean decided I could proceed. Weird. Water seemed a bit warmer though; maybe it is warmer on a rising than a dropping tide? Dunno.

After the swim I made my way home via a cafe (surprise surprise) where I had a go at Herald's quick crossword that on ocassion I can complete. Not today as my knowledge of defeated Trojan's failed me. Embarrasing moment of the day came as I paid and the part of the pacific that I had been keeping in my sinuses and whatever other cranial cavities I flood when swimming decided to run out. Like a bloody tap. It always happens when I swim in the ocean or sea. I flood my head, though with no ill effect, and then later when I glance down or sideways or someways the taps come on and the water runs out. Medical curiosity or not? I have not heard of anyone else "suffering" that but I know some freedivers flood their sinuses on purpose. Again, weird.

More physio at Align had me grimacing through left ITB and calf manipulation and the discovery of another tight bit in a deep calf muscle. More exercises to do but after that it was coffee and moving as little as possible as the early afternoon heat was cranked. Following the lamington of Thursday the lunch of choice today was chicken roll. Very Australian says Sal, who was working from home and came out to buy lunch. Basically a big bread roll, chicken from a BBQ chicken and gravy. Bloody tasty. Sal went all out for Aus and washed it down with 45g of sugar delivered in a Bundaberg Ginger beer. Mmmmm.

The later part of the afternoon was spent looking through real estate ads and deciding which houses we liked most but just can't afford. Ah well. But what is it with "lifestyle shot"? If I want to buy a house in Clovelly, which I do, I'd like to see a picture of the kitchen maybe and not the pool which is 200yds away. The picture was off 4 lasses in bikinis though. Which was nice enough.

charity, eels and a good deed

I am sure you are not supposed to be amused by the discomfort of others and that goes double for your wife but sometimes I just can't help myself. Mara had asked Sal, and later me, if we would like to help out with a charity auction that was being held somewhere in Sydney's Eastern suburbs and by the time I was asked I knew about the Australia vs. Bahrain match and had a better excuse than the one I would otherwise of gone with; I don't serve canapays to stuck up folks. So I started a gentle wind up that got less gentle when I heard the ladies were to wer black skirts/pants and white shirts/blouses. Sounds a bit like waiting unifroms to me, but the task at hand was to usher folks in, deal with name tags and sell raffle tickets. Easy. Anyway, Sally, Mara and Kate got back to the flat a while after the football - disappointing performance, but 2-0 with one great goal, another disallowed and the bar being hit. Sally was giving it the death eyes and spent the next hour venting about being treated like a servant by Eastern suburbs stuck up folks, having to model a real ugly scarf and something about a wand and general stuff about being treated like crap while volunteering to help with the night. I decided not to say I told you so. I was amused though, even if opinion was divided on just how bad it was. I think Sally's charitable days are over.

The morning run that followed was fairly standard up until I stopped to look at the carp in a lake and saw not only carp but eels. Lots of eels. Free swimming bloody great eels. I mean thick as your arm and twice as long horror movie big eels. Very impressive. Wonder what they taste like? I do like unagi. Hmmmmm.

The afternoon passed with the signing of my contract with Westapac and news that I am starting not on next Wednesday but the following Monday so I have one more full week of unemployment. Quietly chuffed I celebrated my return to the Australian workforce with a coffee and lamington. Contract signed and with loads of reading material collected - likely be surmised as "do the following in order to get paid" and "just don't be a twat and it will all be fine" - I got back on the bus and headed straight for the ocean. Damn I'm going to miss unemployment.

A word on buses. Specifically the 339 Clovelly Beach to Millers Point bus. They are actually quite good. I have never really liked buses, but when you live 4mins from the stop and have a timetable they seem to stick to magnetted to your fridge they become tolerable. Never thought I'd say that. Anyway, back to the ocean. For a change I decided to head 200m south across the car park at Clovelly Pool and go to Gordon's Bay. It looked flat and lovely and there were a couple of people swimming and a couple of freediver looking kids getting out. I think I overheard one say he thought it was rather cold and I maybe should have listened more because he had a wetsuit on and I had boardshorts and I decided to go in anyway. Regardless of what he said the water was quite a way from warm. The surface was chilly and when I duck dived I came to realise that the surface was the warm bit. Not wanting to admit defeat so early I snorkel swam for a while across rocks and sand, dived down to get a decent look at a blue grouper and then headed back to dry off in the nice warm sun. On my way from the water I'd nearly swam into a couple of rotund ladies in for a snorkle of their own. They later provided me with an opportunity to be a knight in shining order and a gentleman (their words!) On their way out of the bay they seemed to be in some difficulty so I popped down to see if I could help out. They'd been knocked over into the rocks a couple of times but seemed OK with that. Seems they'd lost a fin. What is it with people attaching value to little bits of plastic when their safety may be compromised? Sheesh, get out of the bloody water, hand me a mask and I'll go search for the fin. Of you stand there and get a bit more battered, up to you. So I went back in, got the fin and no, the water had gotten no warmer. I can now be a bastard for a while cos I have done something nice.

jobs like buses

Today I have mostly been answering the phone. In fact there it goes again and this time I accepted the job, a six month contract with Westpac bank doing the SQL Server DBA stuff I've been doing for years and I hope I remember. To be confirmed but I should be starting next Wednesday. Hold on, need to make another call to let another mob know I am off of the market. Just like I did earlier when, according to yet another agent, EDS were ready to take-you-for-a-coffee-first-intervew-second-interview-and-offer-on great-money. Wow. It's amazing how popular I am with people who stand to make money out of me and I dare say now unpopular I am with those who will not be doing just that.

Oh, I have decided to selectively start putting commas back into sentances instead of sticking to the long unpunctuated ones I have been experimenting with for the past week or so for no reason that springs to mind. I will, naturally, keep the typos and evidence of my inate inability to spell.

So next week I should be back in the workforce but not back in a collar and tie and small things like that carry a lot of weight. Probably could have used a comma in that last sentance. Does it bother me that the role is more tec than career? Not really; money is good and if a career springs from it, which can happen in big companies, then great and if it doesn't...did I say the money is good? Sally has already said that this weekend we go look at houses. The money is not, however, that good.

The rest of today has been another lesson in the mundane. Walk to Bondi Junction to renew my driving licence that was about to run out. This one, a gold one, will do me for 5 years and has an absolutely fantastic picture of me upon it looking every inch the not-yet-retired criminal.

Then it was off to Align physio to see if we could get to the bottom of my kneesd and ITBs and we sort of did but added the possibility of an athritic ankle. Joy. I must be getting old. The ITB (left) had a bit of deep tissue massage and my feet and ankles had a working over and I have a couple of new exercises, the clam and another the name of which I do not recall but is to strengthen hamstrings and is a right bastard to do. So it must be good. What with the physio and the driving licence I had managed to get through $200 so figured the afternoon's entertainment needed to be free and I made my way to Clovelly Pool to see what it is like at lowish tide.

And the answer is bloody fantastic. Flat apart from the odd wave crashing over the bar and clear as a not crystal clear but still can see the bottom all over thing. Blue Grouper and sundry other fish were there to keep me and the other swimmers company although all of the other swimmers were more there for the fun than the exercise and I kicked myself for not taking fins mask and snorkel but just goggles. Still had a great time and did a few shortened lengths before hopping out to drip dry in the sun and get back to answering the bloody phone.

Which reminds me. On tuesday I called the physio to confirm that my appointment was on Wednesday as I thought and not Tuesday as Sally thought. Yes, it was Wednesday and they were going to call me anyway as they did not have a conatct number. I kid you not. Sadly I was off of the phone before I became stunned and missed a golden opportunity to be a right smart arse. Shame.

On the social scene - which for me reads diving - I have made attempts to get back into "it". This Sunday I should be going for a dip with JCJ, maybe via Balmoral where we may see an injured and now I hope recovered seahorse returned to the wild. I think I heard that right. And then next Sunday DJ should have an opportunity to tell Vince (aka The Chad) and me all about how he is going to buy a rebreather. Of course he will have to sell it again to fund the settlement in the divorce that will follow his buying it, but dive chats are like pub chats and we will plan in meticulous detail precisely what will never happen. And we'll love it. And with these dives being on Sundays I get to play beach volleyball on the Saturdays with the ladies.

To finish on a nerdy note we are no nearer having a real home phone so a Skype In number ahoy in both the UK and here in Aus. And tonight I will be watching Australia vs Bahrain on this PC via a USB TV tuner as I get fantastic recpetion on SBS unlike the television which is bloody awful on that channel, dropping out and all sorts of nonesense. Sometimes technology rules.

mad weather and general dullness

So at 11:30am on Sunday it was 30 degrees and at 12:15 it was 25 and then by 5pm it was 17.8. And blowing a gale. Madness. My watch, that I don't trust to give me accurate temperatures but I kinda trust to be consistent with itself said the water temp on Saturday was 20.4 and today it read 16.4 degrees. I made 7mins down the shallow, flatter end before heading to the usual cafe for the usual breakfast in an attempt to steer clear of Sally who was working from home. Seven minutes is quite pathetic and out of guilt I ran a lap of Centennial Park.

On my trip I ran into - almost lierally - a well-hard cockatoo. I was running on a path between a fence and a steep slope that was no more than two feet wide. Cocky is ahead of me on the path. I slow and it looks at me. I slow some more it keeps looking at me. I walk right up to it and it looks at me and raises the crest on it's head but show little to no interest in flying away. Fair enough. I walked past and it went about it's business and that was that. The park is full of bird life from ibis to pelicans to kookaburras (largest of the kingfishers) and all sorts of other cool stuff. I could end up as a twitcher. Bill Oddie watch out.

I've had two interviews in two days both for SQL Server DBA contracts and both went well as far as I am concerned. Yesterday I was - later - surprised to recall that the interview had consisted of very few technical questions. 80minutes with the MIS Manager and CIO but mostly big picture stuff and nothing to really see if I was technically any good. Weird. Maybe they just knew I was not full of BS or maybe after 4mins they'd decided I was a no and just wanted a chat. We shall see. Today was somewhat different as two tecs turned up with a list of questions that I pretty well nailed and walked away with a spring in my step somewhat reassured that I do know as much as I think I do. Or maybe I was lucky with the questions.

Daily fitness news. Went for a quick run yesterday as the light was fading. Not a problem for some folks who take their own bloody portable floodlights out so they exercise in the park after dark. Seven year olds who know and call for knock-ons when playing on the beach and now this. Is it any wonder the natives are a bit good at sport.

General observations of the day. Number one. Aussie Stadium has some of the strictest no-smoking regulations I have seen.

"Smoking is prohibited in all smoking areas, bars and restaurants in Aussie Stadium."

Number two. Aren't tits used to sell lots of stuff? Kitkat has some new chocs. How do well sell them? I know, tits. I have a new mission and that is to look for the most unlikely and disconnected use of tits to sell something. Man gotta have a hobby.

that's not a wave, THAT'S a wave

Trotted off to the pool this morning and knew I was on a loser when I could hear it before I could see it. Yesterday's wind had not picked up and the pool was like a washing machine on spin-you-bastard-spin cycle and there was all sorts of brown scum on the surface and I, along with everyone else, thought better of it. Well almost everybody else. From the sothern side and with waves lashing up around 8ft over the sides (not 8ft waves, but a walkway at 8ft-ish was getting aproper soaking) I watched as two lads on the norther side threw themselves into one wave and let themselves get washed back out again on the next. Such a reckless disregard for personal safety makes good viewing so I watched as they threw themselves in a couple of times more and on one ocassion missed the second wave and were left clinging to the wall until the 3rd of 4th wave would eventually throw them back onto Australia. Bored or tired with this they went on to laying on the ground and getting washed back across the pool side (flat concrete over rocks) and then sitting on the pool side between waves so that when one came in they were washed off of the rocks and into the pool and then back onto the rocks again. A small audience had formed and the opinion was that they were suicidal but, and I have not seen any news yet, they seemed to survive and be enjoying their failed euthansia antics. The body boarder out front of Gordon's Bay, alone, did not have an audience once I left him - it must have been a bloke, women are nowhere near that stupid. He made a coupe,of very nasrty looking waves and then instead of paddling back to shore like his life depended upon it which it probably did he kept going back for more. Bonkers.

While I remember; Australian Idol. One of those lets make a pop star shows. A couple of observations. Unlike the UK where the singers in the later rounds are all pretty good there are a couple over here that are shocking. Contest should be pretty well over now with around 8 weeks left as Bobby Flynn is head, shoulders and impressive white-man afro above all the others. Especially the ones that re real shit. The judging is formula annoyance, apart from Marsha Hines who loves everyone and adds nothing whatsoever. I cannot believe this shit has me hooked. Yes I can.

Dead flower follow up. If you don't like dusting and sweeping and I cannot believe anyone does why buy dead flowers and mohair blankets that shed eh? I dunno. Rant narrowly avoided.

dead flowers are not pretty

I have for ever not understood fully the attraction of dead flowers. Flowers are or can be beautiful and are a wonder of nature and therefore do not in my opinion lend themselves to being cut and stuffed in a vase to make your place look prettier. They are the floral equivalent of a stuffed bird only with the added detriment of shedding browning leaves and petals over your home and starting to smell after a day or two. By all means have a living plant but don't have a dead one or the rapidly uglying pretty part. And yes I did start today by sweeping bits of dead flower and wondering what the strange smell in the lounge was before heading out for breakfast at Bondi en route throwing a hissy fit for no good reason but if I did have to pick a reason it would be a broken toilet seat in a rented flat. Wars have started over less. Maybe my previous bog seat post cursed me? We shall see.

Breakfast was had at Bondi Social overlooking the south end of the beach and the view was somewhat like the one on their website though not quite because their picture is not taken from their place but rather from the end of the beach itself. A bit like mine. Still a nice view where you can look out on surfers of various skill levels and watch the variously beautiful people walk past. It is also a great place to watch a beach exodus as the promised SSE wind arrrived. The ocean went from a lovely rolling picture postcard to white caps as far as the eye could see and waves chooped to pieces. On the beach the bathers and bakers were getting sand blasted - we know because we walked along the beach back towards the car and managed to get a decent natural exfoliation.

As we wanded past Bondi Icebergs we watched as a guy and a lady wearing a seethrough swiming costume that there was no need to get excited about swam through choppy waves to a rock platform where the exited the ocean and headed up to the pool. Quite impressive and the woman in particular looked as though she had done the maneavour many times before. Far more exciting that the shopping that followed and I feel no need to write about.

In other news Martyn of the Irish Water Spaniels got back to us with more details of local breeders who we should contact once we are ready for a dog of our own and he decided to crank the heartache all the way to eleven with a shot of Molly at 4months making her 3.5months older than when sally met her and the hound looked a bit like a turd (sorry.) Of course if we had a spare 900k knocking around we'd be in a position to get a "nice" house like the one we viewed yesterday down near Clovelly but we haven't so aren't and that is that. For now.

bog seats bad knees and rolling seas

Something that has been playing on my mind for a while and I once again was victim to today is the aut-flushing public lav. I stand up to wipe and I'm not sure if that is strange or not as my only reference is in the movies where on the odd ocasion you see somewone they are for ovbious reasons sitting. I am sure others stand as I do. The problem is with auto flushing bogs as you stand and they fluch and you are left holding your crapped bog roll and you have to make an environmentally unsound though socially esentail second flush. Today I was flushed twice while still sitting as I sat leant forwards with elbows on knees. More R&D please.

Now that is off my chest back to my knees which are still bad because some other mysterious bit is out of whack and therefore I feel the denial fuelled need to crank up the exercise and do four laps of Quens Park including the hill to prove to myself that no, actually everything is fine. Physio is booked for wednesday and I'd not want to turn up with nothing wrong so a few more laps of the park will be made in order to tell her - Liz - exactly where it hurts and why. Dumbass.

And so to this morning and another dip in Clovelly Pool this time on the high tide. The water was washing over the pool sides and a bit no actually a lot lumpier than my previous low tide visit. But other folks were swimming so I pulled on the goggles , slipped in, took a mouthful of south pacific and more limped than swam to the shallow end where the water ends and Australia starts. Somewhat more relaxed as I approached the shallows I decided to go acros the pool and head back towards the ocean end that was as lumpy as before and I took another swallow of sea water on the way headed back for the shaloows and got out to gather myself. Actually I'd quit at that point.

Sal was nerding it on a bench, laptop on lap and I stood looking back at my fellow swimmers (!!) and dripping dry. Some of those fellow swimmers look like those elite athletes you see on TV and in the papers and who only really exist there. No, they live here. Wearing just speedos and trainers they hurl themselves head first into the lumpy end regardless of wave height or lumpines, swim across the pool and climb out the other side, run up the hill and back around the shallow to where they started and do it all over again. One particular lad was going at a count of four and I just got fed up watching his skinny arse going round and around and decided to have another go at swimming only this time with a strategy.

The strategy was really rather simple and was look at the waves before opening your gob and that seemed to work quite well, as did slipping in and the lumpy end and wandering out at the flat end and repeating rather than turning back and swimming through the lumpiness which I did once but got knackered and figured that if I wanted a good amount of time in the water I'd best avoid stressing myself to much. And anyway I'm a shit swimmer. By local standards I'm a completely shit swimmer.

Back to the Green Mango for breakfast and I had the usual and Sally stayed true to form and had around three bites of her sarnie before handing it over to me. Other locals were discussing their morning swims and opined that it was a bit lumpy today and that made me feel somewhat better about my performance.

Since then the day has for me taken a turn for the overly mundane as we moved to Bondi Junction Westfiled shopping centre which is a great shopping centre if you like that sort of thing and I don't. Having takena couple of hours or torment Sal has been cut loose and I sit her reading emails and blogging and we are now bang up to date so that is it for now.

moral dilema du jour

I've been asked -well, Sally and I have been asked - to be godparents to our neweat nephew Jessie. This is an honour and a privilige and all that good stuff and Sally said yes without asking me and that's fine because she does stuff like that and sometime does not think to ask me but assumes I'll just say yes.

So here is the dilema. The family are Catholic and I'm not and actually I have no fixed religion and am quite against organised religion. I went to a christening last year and sat in the crowd or should that be congregation as the parents, godparents and crowd or congregation were asked all sorts of questions about welcoming the child into the church and other stuff we agreed with about god. I sat silently as I did not want to be a hypocrite and you can probably see where this is going.

In all good faith if you'll pardon the pun I cannot stand up and agree to all this god stuff that the guy in the frock will ask. I can commit to look after and oversee Jessie and step in should the need arise and do my best to make sure he grows up into a decent sort which he will anyway cos he's got great parents.

Now the fact that I consider this I think is honourable and means that I have given it all the proper consideration and that I take it seriously so I would make a great god parent. Apart from the god bit. Of course if there is a god I am sure he is not the nasty vengeful bastard some think he is and as long as I live my life decently I've still got a shot at eternal paradise as long as I tread lightly upon the planet and avoid being a twat. And he should give me credit for not parrot fashion standing up and sprouting a bunch of stuff I don't believe.

So do I become the god parent? If I do then all the good stuff is out of th window as I...er...stand up and say what a good person I am.

And that is the dilema.

But I'll do it and risk eternal damnation for being a hypocrite because that will be nothig compared to the shitstorm I'll get in this life if I don't. Funny old world.

another day of leisure passes

Trying to pass myself off as an Australian means living as close to the edge of the continent as possible and spending as much time as I can splashing around just off the edge so I got up earlyish again and headed for another ball shrinking swim at Clovelly Pool. Only this time it seemed nowhere near as cold the water was clear and had plenty of fish in evidence and it was a lovely way to start the day doing a few laps from the flat beach end to the very gently rolling but rolling none the less ocean end. Apetite built I headed up to the hill for breakfast and newspaper and upon entering The Green Mango cafe that I'd been in only twice before I was recognised and my order already known. They have me down as a predictable breakfaster and that's fine.

The rest of the morning passes with trawling through job ads and playing with this blog until I decide to send out a couple of CVs and promptly get a call from an agent in North Sydney who wants to see me as soon as possible because they have a good suitable role and can I get there soon as. So I do and we chat and then call JCJ to catch up for a cup of tea and a chat before heading home. Another couple of agents call and they all love my CV so will one of you please just get me a job? Sheesh.

Actually I have missed something and that is an email from Martyn Ford telling us that their champion Irish Water Spaniel Woods has sired a litter and do we want one. The tempation is huge and I do look into importation of dogs from the UK but the truth is we are not yet ready to get our whip-tail bog-dog and we will have to say no thanks. Bugger. Woods is a handsome beast and it pains me to pass this opportunity but we'll not be cruel (with a very, very small c) to a dog and if we're not ready we're not ready.

Back to Jonathan and he is on good form and we gossip about our mates and talk bikes, diving and photography all subject that JGJ can whip my arse on but would never admit that. Plans are made and I get a train and he a bike back to our respective homes.

More plans are made back at home for a trip to see Derek, Jo, Abigail and William at their place on the south coast this weekend. Slow trains and track repairs and our lack of a car push what can be a 90minute drive to a 4hour public transport hell so it looks like we'll not be seeing them this weekend. School holidays are on and the south coast is massively popular. What better time to rip the tracks up eh? So Derek and I decide this weekend is no good and the Sal speaks to Jo and it becomes a maybe and we may hire a car or something and do you know what I think I will just do as I am told.

I read my brother Darren's blog and feel obliged to write here on Mexican food pronunciation. Nachos. According to dictionary-dot-com n. pl. na·chos and that is not "nachoes" as Darren says and writes in his blog. I therefore claim victory and say to Darren back it up bro, back it the hell up. I think this one may run a bit and forsee two old men arguining over tequilas in years to come. Especially when he finds this. I hate a score draw. So I found this. Sod it, you decide.

Another day of unemployment

I like to get up early when unemployed as it makes me feel less bad about my daily afternoon nap. So I got up and went for a run around Centennial Park to see if my left leg is still dodgy and it is. Not really bad about to break down and cry dodgy but just not right and won't make a marathon dodgy. Bugger. Despite that it is a lovely way to start the day and prepares me for looking through job ads and finding nothing that inspires an application. I make a couple of calls and find that one job has been pulled and another agent is out of the office and it's all rather depressing so I pick up the shopping list and head off to Randwick to get get odds sods and ingredients for dinner. Are all blogs like this? Shit that's dull.

While passing through the subject of exercise it is worth mentioning that Sydney's East or at least the part I live in has a population that seems to always be exercising. Queen's Park has school kids doing games from dawn till dusk, joggers and cyclists heading past en route to Centennial Park and personal trainers working with all shape and size of trainee. One was advertising "Group Personal Training" that had and still has me confused. This lot share the park with dog walkers outnumberd five to one by dogs, lads doing football training and young mums watching over kids at play. Head down to Clovelly Pool and find a number of old farts freezing their tits off in the cool spring waters - I made 3minutes on my fist dip - triathletes in traing and if you are either lucky or unlucky joggers in trainers and speedos only. I count myself unlucky to see that. By 9 o clock the beach is filling up and I can't help but think lots of people need not or choose to not work over in this part of the city although it may always be like this and the difference is not them but me. Cannot say I blame them despite starting to wish I was at work.

The afternoon passes away with the aforementioned nap and a Carl Barron DVD that is funny in an updated Tommy Cooper meets Billy Connolly observational in an Australian way way. If you see what I mean. Worth a watch. Then it's pasta for dinner - note to Sally, please read and remember that rarely (very bloody rarely I'll grant) I do cook dinner. So there.

...in the beginning...

It has taken three weeks of unemployment and the constant nagging of one brother for me to start a blog but start I have and with an atypical day of unemployment in Sydney. Until 5:30pm yesterday the highlight of my day was re-arranging my t-shirt draw into colour order after taking what I considered too long to find the one shirt I wanted to wear - my black The Nightmare Before Christmas one - I wanted to wear to the Foo Fighters accoustic gig at the Sydney Opera House. So I'll ignore the whole morning, afternoon nap, having a shave...zzzzzzz.

Jumped the bus at the top of the road and spent the thirty minute journey reading the Randwick and surrounds local free rag and discovering that installation of parking meters seeems to be the single biggest news item and there is even an independant politico going to stand on that single issue in the local elections. Shame I can't vote. Other stuff about a home invasion and an Irish bloke being beaten and now laying in a medical induced coma and roads in La Perouse being - potentially - gated and shut at night to stop rev-heads doing burnouts and other rev-head stuff. Whatever that is. I borrow Mara's Hyundai Excel and tend to avoid such gatherings.

So anyway...met Sally at the Opera House Steps, collected the tickets and headed to the open-all-hours-right-at-the-key-predicatability of City Extra for a quick dinner and to wait for Mara.
Spinach and cheese crepes later and now all arrived we headed over to the opera house and watched the support acts Timmy Curran and another bloke whose name I cannot recall and does not make it to the promo poster so will forever be, to me, the other bloke. They were both decent enough but everyone was there for the Foos so they passed uneventfully as support actys typically do.

Accoustic Foo Fighters

Dave Grohl strolls on stage to a hero's welcome and from our cheap seats behind the band we get a great view of the adoring fans out front as they whoop, whistle, applaud and cheer for or at their hero. A couple of tracks from the new album's accoustic side and the rest of the band appear, now 8 Foos with the addition of a violinist, precussionist, keyboards cos this is, after all, accoustic in case the carpets had not given that away. Dave Grohl's voice is top notch, as his guitar playing. Each song starts off slowly and tends to build to a crescendo and it is a miracle that his arse stays in contact with the chair as long as it does, finally breaking free with My Hero from one of their older albums. Please do not expact set lists and nerdy detail like this track from that album. The internet, and my CD collection is full of that info so I tend not to duplicate it in my memory.

The show lasts around two and half hours and there is plenty of the new and the old, the obligatory solos from all the band, Cool Day in the Sun sung by Taylor on drums and the violinist (among other instruments) sings a number as well after being made to to a tamborine solo cos everyone gets a solo. All good stuff. The chatting to the audience was good to with explaniations of where songs came from and comic monologues on Mentos and Eric Estrada. You had to be there. The only out of place number was Best of Me, which after explaining how he liked not having to bust his nuts at these accoustic gigs he screamed his way through. The girls were not too keen on that but I thought it was kinda cool.

When I find a review I'll add a link but enough to say that it was a fantastic show and as front men go he rates as one of my favourites probably because he seems as far from up himself as you can get. Nuff said.

And as promised, this from The Sydney Morning Herald.