Guttered

I can bake cakes, run a household and years ago an office almost singlehandedly. 

Gutters are another story.  I am like many (not all) women.  A gutter is a bit of metal which catches the rain water and stops it from leaking into the house.  When it rusts and the water comes through it's time to call in the tradies. 

To be honest some of my gutters rusted long ago and like both men and women I have been putting it off.  Today I have a fistful of cold cash, some phone numbers and a little time. 

I have rang four gutter companies.  Two of them said my times didn't suit them and that was that.  From the other two I had one written quote.  The other came and measured.  It was almost dark but he used his flashlight on his iPhone to see my rusty gutters and fascia.  They look so much worse by flashlight!

He was here for fifteen minutes.  Ten of those minutes he shared his life story.  I later found out his name but I already knew he lives with a woman who has a six year old boy.  They moved in together five years ago.  He then said with regret he had tried to be a father to the child but it didn't work and now he is just his friend.   I didn't know how to respond.  What does one say?

My mind was going crazy, all I expected was a gutter quote and I got Days of Our Lives in colour previews.  Alarm bells in my head rang loudly.   You should always listen to alarms.

Two weeks later I have yet to receive his quote.  He texted a message saying the last twenty quotes he had emailed had not been received and he would surely give me a good price.  I am still waiting.  I know the job will never begin or at best never be finished.  There would always be something else.

Time is always good for reflection.  Even if he gave me the cheapest quote I have already crossed him off my list.  I hope he sorts out his home life!


That leaves me with the company which emailed me a quote.  It wasn't a bad quote, but it only included the gutters and a small length of rusty fascia to be replaced.  He told me his brother in law is a painter and came to quote on painting the salvageable fascias and eaves.  His quote almost doubled the cost.  I must have looked like an easy target.

I had checked out the gutter companies online and today I checked out some more in the local paper.  I have circled five.  I have time to ring and collect further quotes.  I am not looking for the cheapest quote.  I am looking for someone who knows what they are talking about.  How they will tackle the job.   I already know about fascia covers, gutters with storm slits to prevent overflow, how many downpipes my house really should have.  I am getting quite savvy with gutters!  I had hoped for a good quote, a great job and gutter  satisfaction. 

Spa Talk

His name is Jack.  I met him in the spa at the local indoor pool.  Each time I use the spa at the local public swimming pool I check out the number of people lounging lazily.   I am checking to make sure there is room for me!  Today the spa was full of big bodied men, therefore I waited until most of them had left before I tip toed carefully into the warm swirling water and sat with plenty of room on both sides of me.

I was careful today, more careful than I was yesterday.  Yesterday a number of overweight adults chatted jovially as the bubbles swirled all around them.  I took little notice.   I carefully chose my space where I could see the huge clock on the wall 50 metres away.  I am running to a timetable and nothing was going to make me late!  Until everyone left the spa except Jack who started to chat!

Jack let it be known he is a senior and pays almost half of my monthly fee.  I am only a couple of years short of a senior card.  The thought of cutting my monthly payment in half cheers me slightly. I don't know if Jack is married or whether he has a family.  He tells me he did a stint in Vietnam.  I know he talking army not tourist.  His age is right.  I wonder how he felt when he returned from war without recognition or praise from the Australian government and it's people.  I don't want to ask difficult questions so I turn the conversation in a different direction. 

We discuss our travels, finding we have both visited Africa and Europe.  We share colourful traveller's tales before I realise I have no more time left and I need to leave in a hurry. 

I left thinking I knew nothing about Jack but in hindsight I knew a little.  Jack is one of those people who begin a conversation and in five minutes or less knows your whole life story.  It is easy to feel comfortable with him.  I could have invited him to dinner and called him a long lost friend; he would have kept all the guests entertained!

The world could do with more Jacks, someone to leave you with a smile and a little encouragement to keep you going throughout the day.

Unofficial Gossip

I saw her sitting chatting to another.  I walked up confidently and re-introduced myself.  I hadn't seen Julie for years, maybe five.  It was a long time.  I kept her amused asking about her job, her travels her family and personal memories of the last time we shared time together.  She had no qualms in answering me honestly.  She kept her inquisitive thoughts to herself.
We spoke for only a few minutes.  I reminded her of the last time, which was also the first time we met!
A few weeks later I spoke with Pat, a good friend of mine.  She laughed and said she had met with Julie a few days after I chatted with her.  Julie had been flabbergasted I had remembered so clearly about Julie's life in detail after only meeting her once.
I sat slowly still grinning.  I hadn't realised I recounted Julie's life in detail in only a few short minutes.
I didn't need to tell Pat, for she already knew!  All these years Pat has kept me up to date with Julie's life.  Pat has told me in minute detail all of Julie's travels, her job interviews and the positions she had been successful in.  I knew about her relationships and her friendships.  I felt like a good friend of hers, even though we had met only once.

Maybe Julie thinks I just have a fantastic memory but Pat and I know I've had a relationship with Julie all these years without her even knowing!
Pat rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, did I tell you about my cousin Ron and what he's up to now?"
My eyes sparkled with mischief, "Is there more news?" I queried....

iPhone 5s Debacle

Once again the caller hangs up on me.  I am frustrated.  My iPhone 4 is having a meltdown.  I can hear the person on the other end but they can't hear me.  I have unwillingly become a nuisance caller!

I start texting friends and family and Mel starts ringing me on my home phone.  Merv's community service provider rings me but there is no point in answering I hope they leave a message but they just try again later. 

Dustin has a damaged iPhone 5s.  It works well but he dropped it and the screen is smashed.  It is no longer used as he has a super new iPhone 6.
I weigh up the cost of replacing the screen or buying a new phone.   I am grateful when Dustin hands me the phone.

Then the fun begins. He has all his information and apps still on the phone.  When I bought his iPad from him a couple of years ago it was the same.  I changed his information to mine but iTunes still thinks he owns it.  One day I will wipe it and start again, one day.

Back to the iPhone 5s.  I plug it in with the charger to my home computer and tell iTunes I want to wipe it and restore the factory settings.  It at first appears helpful and I download the data to achieve this.  Half way through the download it times out.  I try it again and again.  This happens four or five times. That was five hours ago.  I try a different tack.  I check Google and find I need to disable my firewall.  I de-friend Norton for the rest of the day!  Three hours later I am the proud owner of a download.

The download then spits out the data and Dustin’s data is erased.  It is only then I realise iTunes is no longer partying with me. It doesn't want to download my data from my iPhone 4 to the iPhone 5s. Back to my friend Google.  It suggests the latest iTunes download.  Ok, another coffee break and a download later and the apple icon appears as by magic on my screen-shattered phone.  After thirteen hours I am finally ecstatic!

Then the fun begins.  It asks me to put in the sim card.  Easy I think and I take out the sim from my no voice iPhone 4.  I then take out the sim tray from the iPhone 5s and I squeal in disbelief. It is tiny, so much smaller than my sim card, which is micro.  Now I know what a nano looks like! 

It's after 8pm and there aren't any service providers open.  I resort to my own devices and hopeful good luck.  My trusty iPad finds a You Tube video on how to cut my sim card to size with the aid of a printed template.  I find the template on my home computer but I know my Brother printer is a perfectionist.  It doesn't like to print unless the colour cartridges are full.  I am empty of cyan and magenta but I am full of black and yellow.  I tease the printer and it balks at me.  It doesn't want to work with me.  Finally I trick it into a greyscale copy and it spits it out. 

The moment of truth comes and I arm myself with pencil, ruler and sharp scissors.  I execute surgery on my sim card and realise I don't have a corner.  Back to the template and the corner is created.  I forget to read the bit about filing the edges and shove it into the sim card tray and then bung it inside the iPhone.  I need a drink but I have nothing to drink but herbal tea and water.  The five year old brandy is for life and death situations only.

Shattered Screen but it works!

I wait in anticipation.  Firstly it says no service, then the circle in the top left hand corner goes faster and faster and presto I have service!  No one is more surprised than me!

I follow the commands of the phone and eventually I have all my apps, photos and phone contacts on the shattered phone.  I even have a recognised thumbprint to access my phone.

I give Merv the home phone and go to the other end of the house to see if after all this the damn thing will work.  My phone rings and I talk to Merv.  Yes he can hear me and vice versa! I am happy.

Tomorrow I am going to the repair shop and have the screen replaced.

I wonder if it would have been easier just to buy a new phone and save the frustration.  It has been a long day of techno stuff but I am delighted I have a working phone!

Australia Day

Australia Day is celebrated on 26 January; it marks the anniversary of the 1788 arrival of the First Fleet of British Ships at Port Jackson, New South Wales.  The British flag was raised by Governor Arthur Phillip.

Today we celebrate Australia Day with a sausage sizzle in our local community followed by community and family events.  It has been fashionable in the last twenty years to hold citizenship ceremonies in most local councils on this day of recognition.  In Perth we finish the day with the most amazing Skyworks, a firework display over the Swan River.  Usually 300,000 people congregate to view the amazing spectacle. It began in 1985 when our children were still at primary school.  We would pack a picnic tea and head for either Kings Park or the Esplanade.  Both have great views of the Swan River where the fireworks explode in colour synchronised to the tunes from a local radio station.

After a few years the City of Perth began closing roads early in the day to make it safe for pedestrians. For a few years we caught the train up, which was the sensible way to get there and back.  The train was bearable getting there but the return journey home we were jam packed like sardines and it became downright annoying. 

One year while the kids were teenagers we parked our old Toyota Station Wagon outside Kings Park as parking inside the park was prohibited.  We walked all the way to the train station and spent most of the day in the historic port of Fremantle before returning to the park late afternoon.  We set up our rug and picnic on a bit of grass which boasted a great view of the river.  We gloated about our getaway not realising we were unable to pull out as the cars whizzed past us and it took us thirty minutes before we lurched out quickly narrowly missing a bump!

There were years when Merv was working.  He worked thirty years in a local bakery and worked nothing but shift work.  I returned home one year stating I had seen the fireworks but further down the river without the amazing view we were used to.  Merv said he had seen them when he got home from work.  He had jumped up on the roof and admired the bright colours in the distant sky!

The kids left home and made their own way to the Sky Show with their own friends.  We continued to park and walk either to Kings Park or the foreshore arriving minutes before the fireworks.  The whole family togetherness and entertainment no longer mattered.

In 2011 after a year of Merv being unwell I did my research, I drove to the Esplanade and parked in the disability area.  It was a short walk to a decent vantage space.  Mel came with us but once again we arrived shortly before the fireworks.  It was rather cool that evening and after the amazing fireworks and laser show of thirty minutes we headed back to the car.  It took us an hour to drive home, most of it bumper to bumper.

We haven't been since.  It just got too difficult with wheelchairs, portable toilets which aren't disability friendly and the trauma of driving in the maddening congestion.

Ever since I  have imagined we book a hotel room which overlooks the river and watch the fireworks from our balcony.  I even imagined we hired a boat (or a small plane) to get up close and be wowed.  I recheck my thinking.  Merv would probably fall out of the boat.  I return to my fantasy of the hotel room.

This year as we did last year we pretended it didn't matter.  We watched the Australian Open discussing which player would win and why.  The next day we watched the Sky Show on TV.  It was amazing, but we weren’t there.  Maybe next year we will go!  Maybe I will book that hotel.

 

Buying THE Dress

I have a permanent smile on my face.  My boy is getting married in less than three weeks!  They have been busy fine tuning their wedding.  This is Dustin's second wedding and Grace's first.  Unfortunately her parents don't live in Australia and no one has offered to help pay for their wedding.  They have both saved $5,000 each and just about everything is done.  I offered to make the wedding cupcakes and paid for their honeymoon flights.  I have now sourced the cupcake materials and spent over three months perfecting swirls with the 1M and 2D piping tips. I was a magician with colour twirls until Merv ate the blue buttercream. He smiled and his mouth resembled Papa Smurf! We settled for no colour in the buttercream.

I have yet to buy myself a new dress for the wedding.  I am hoping for something, 'summery,.' not black.  Off I go. January is clearance month in Australia as fashion shops prepare for their winter range. I thought it should be easy. My thoughts: walk into an amazing store, choose an expensive dress at 50% off and out I go.   

I have since spent four hours trudging the stores without success.   Myer is our Harrods and I hit the fashion floor.  There are great dresses there at half price.  I beam.  They have roomy change rooms and a mirror in front of me, one behind me and one to the side.  It is a horror show.  I remove my battered three quarter jeans and my tired top and all I see in front of me is my flabby legs, my bulging stomach and flabby arms.  Surely this isn't me?  I peer into the mirror.  Yes unfortunately it is.  My mirror at home is much more discerning. 

I am glad I have brought various sizes of the same dress into the change room.  The designer dresses are delightful but they have been cut to fit tall girls (yes girls) with tiny waists.  I am neither girl or small waisted.  I am disappointed and stalk out of the change room returning them to any rack I see before I disappear into the crowd.

I next tried Noni B who advise me they have 10% off ! How disappointing!  The only dress I like is $250.  I don't bother to try it on. The shopping centre is full of boutiques for young slim girls; I don't bother no need to be humiliated!

I head off to Millars; a store known for its cheap fashions for oldies.  There's not much there except for a lacy powder blue dress.  Yes it has shoulders and my size is hanging on the rack.  It is quiet in the store and I head to the change rooms with a variety of other possible outfits.

I try on the larger size and realize the smaller size is never going to fit.  I preen myself in front of the mirror.  There are only two mirrors in this change room but my bulges are just as appalling.  I wonder if I can get away with the colour and remind myself, all eyes will be on the bride, the way it should be.   I fumble in my handbag and find my iPhone.  I will take a photo or two and post to my sisters.  They are honest and will tell me I look hideous in the dress.  The store is quiet and I can't hear anyone else around.  I peek out of the door and see a little old lady shuffling slowly wheeling her frame.  I contemplate asking her to take my photo but sigh and know there is no point in asking.  I fiddle with my mobile and take a few selfies.  I sigh; I dress and return the powder blue dress to the rack.  

I need a fashion dress action plan. I have made a list of possible stores to visit next Thursday, back I will go on the assault trail!  Wish me luck!

Selfie in the change room!

                                       

Neighbours

I wince.  BANG, BANG, THUMP, THUMP!  It goes on and on, day after day after day.  I wince again.  My once rather quiet neighbours are having a granny flat installed.  To save a few dollars the man of the household is compacting the soil after moving his soak wells.  I think to myself a machine could surely compact the small area of ground in a matter of hours?  I am not sure if I am wrong. 

His wife said his shoulder is hurting from the thumping.  I told her I was not happy with the thumping he was planning for Christmas day.  They were holding their family get together the following day but they listened to my request and Christmas day was 'thump-free.'

Alas over a week later and the thumping continues.  It is hot and the pleasant breeze in the afternoon helps cool the house.  There is no escaping the thumping throughout the house.

On New Year's Eve I had planned on a quiet drink of wine and some nibbles under the back patio with the tinkling sound of our pleasant fountain to entertain us.  Instead I grabbed our old Ghetto Blaster and CD of the late Joe Cocker.  Until then I had no idea how loud that 90’s blaster could get; but I know now!

I expected lines of people knocking on our front door complaining about the noise, but no one bothered.  They were probably relieved not to hear the thumping!  We enjoyed our traditional celebration drink with a little help from Joe.  It was definitely a little different from our regular tradition.

I began to think about Dustin's kindy teacher who once told me she could never live in the suburbs.  She shared this a long time ago but she lived on a large property with horses and no near neighbours.  It was bliss to her. From her point of view I am one of the strange ones.  I like living in a little square box on a small patch of land surrounded by people I am neither related to nor overly friendly with.  It provides me with a sense of comfort knowing others are close by.  I would rather be in a crowd than a large open space by myself.

Today I am hoping the neighbour's granny flat will soon be delivered (yes more noise but not forever) and the thumping will become a distant memory.  This time next year I may even be able to chuckle about it.