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Friday, August 17, 2018

August 17. Day 230. Happiness is ....



If I'm honest I never thought I'd see what I saw today. I was sitting in the foyer of a nursing home when in came Margaret beaming from ear to ear. She was sitting on a gurney being wheeled by paramedics. She looked a cross between Queen Cleopatra being hoisted on a litter by slaves and the occupant of The Pope Mobile.  "Welcome Margaret," the staff on parade said. She beamed even louder. The she saw me and the dogs and cooed louder.  The grinning didn't fade as we walked through the centre until we reached the room which will be hers for respite for the next two weeks. I'd arrived early and brought in a few of her things so it felt like a home away from home. The dogs did their bit. As soon as the door was closed and they were off their leash they were on her lap and then on the bed, on the tartan rug from home.  It was a beautiful thing, especially considering how adamant she had been that she was never going into care, even for respite.  I really hope she loves it. Who knows, she may never want to leave.

Thursday, August 16, 2018

August 16. Day 229. Let sleeping dogs ...

It's doubtless creepy and slightly stalker behaviour but I'd love to install a spy camera in my home to see what the dogs get up to when we are out.
I suppose it could be all Toy Story and the second we leave the room they come to life and perform tricks or speak in tongues or something. Anything is possible but my guess is they just lie around a lot. There's little evidence of much action when we are out. But when I drive in there's a flurry of activity and a pattern of behaviour. First they scratch at the garage door desperate to make contact. Then there's a quick attempt to knock me from my feet  after which they charge down the hall and out the back door into the garden. The doggy door allows them access to the yard day and night but they seem to like to hold the wee in until we get home. Another quick charge at the humans is followed by a wrestle session. For some reason, the appearance of humans seems to trigger a need in Winkle to jump all over Rumple and wrestle him to the ground. There might be a quick game of chase and a beg for food and after that they find a spot close by me and sleep. I'd love to know what they are thinking but until technology improves just knowing what they are doing when I'm not around to see might be enough. Or perhaps just knowing they are pleased to see me is all I need and I should just let sleeping dogs lie.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

August 15. Day 228. Passing inspection



Exhibition Wednesday. This is the most random of public holidays devoted to eating Dagwood dogs and strawberry sundaes.
But I've already been there, done that this year.
Plus I had other things on the agenda.
Today, I had to process some paperwork at a new nursing home to allow Margaret to have a couple of weeks respite.
She was, unsurprisingly, a reluctant starter.
But there were things to sweeten the deal. One of the big selling points was that dogs can visit.
Today Rumple an Winkle became the first canine visitors at the centre. I presented their vaccination certificates at the desk and we were granted admission. After the forms were signed, we went and met the first three residents. They were so pleased. The dogs were their usual charming selves. We promised to return and we will.






Tuesday, August 14, 2018

August 14. Day 227. Winners are grinners


 I love My Fair Lady. Bizarrely, I also consider it horribly flawed in many ways for exactly the same reasons. Henry Higgins in an emotionally stunted, ego centric arse of a man. Eliza is far too good for him and yet we applaud when she returns. In the Golden Age of musicals it had to be and there's a great nostalgia in that. But the source text, George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion may pre-date MFL by 51 years but it is much more modern in its thinking. In any case, in the #metoo world accepting that kind of emotional bastard is not a thing. So I greatly enjoyed Pygmalion by the final year QUT acting students tonight. With the help with some technical wizardry in the light, sound and AV department, this version showed just how contemporary this story is in its own way. I loved it immensely. This is not just a story about Eliza and Henry. In fact, I have always loved Mrs Higgins, Alfred P Doolittle and Col Pickering.  These are the big characters in a tale of really big characters. I couldn't help but smile when after the performance our Mrs Higgins Maeve Hook  took out the Jennifer Blocksridge memorial award for a final year student. She was great. And as they say in the classics - winners are grinners... that may not have been George Bernard Shaw.

























Monday, August 13, 2018

August 13. Day 226. Sweet as


I'm a second generation chocolate criminal. My mother took to it at a young age stealing a Cherry Ripe from her family shop and smuggling it out in her undies. What devious criminality. Perhaps I'm worse. No, I did not steal candy from a baby. I took it from an aged pensioner. Shame. Last week, I was at a new aged care facility checking things out on Margaret's behalf. The info bag included a box of four chocolates. I handed over the info and told her about the goodies. After a chat, I gathered up my stuff and left. Naturally, when I found the chocolates later I ate them. Today, that came back to bite me. We were discussing respite with an Aged Care Assessment Team member. The controversial matter of the chocolates resurfaced. I'd seen the respite centre, Margaret said. Been there, done that, eaten the chocolates. "She ate them all," Margaret said. "She's supposed to be on a diet. No wonder she can't lose any weight." Sick burn. I guess I deserved it ... and the chocolates made it all worthwhile.

Sunday, August 12, 2018

August 12. Day 225. Show Time!




 I'm old. Yes, I do have to state the bleedingly obvious as it happens because I work in an industry where every assessment requires a criteria. So here is the official criteria for what an old person would do at the Ekka as opposed to someone not aged-challenged. A young person spends a good part of the day and the equivalent of the deposit on a house on rides in sideshow alley. An old person stops in sideshow alley only long enough to talk to the beefed up firemen selling calendars. Young people don't use calendars. That's why god invented phones. Old people give up after one dagwood dog. Old people spend more time looking at cakes than they do in the Cattlemen's Bar. Old people watch cooking demonstrations and eat free food samples in the Woolworths pavilion. They are home before the young people arrive for the night time activities. Young people buy silly wigs and glasses and hats. The only accessories bought for old people are for their dogs.  Yep, I'm old. So old I ate a strawberry and not a sundae. So old I had to head home for a nap mid afternoon. But the Ekka is full of characters and we can enjoy it any way we like, right?



Saturday, August 11, 2018

August 11. Day 224. Something to crow about



 Why do we hate crows? A crow has never swooped on me, or threatened to knock me off my bike or poke my eyes out. A magpie has. Both sea gulls and ibis have committed even worse crimes against Susan - stolen my hot chips. That's war people. Crows have never dug up my garden like scrub turkeys or laughed at me like kookaburras. Yet crows get the bad rap. Actually, the crow it the black sheep of the avian world. Discrimination on the basis of colour in the animal kingdom is rife too perhaps. After all, it's the black dog that haunts those with depression and black cats that bring bad luck. So perhaps, the crow is hated by association. But I like their spirit. I like the way they will eat just about anything. I like the sheen of their plumage. Yeah, they have a singing voice about as attractive as mine but people still love me ... laughs at own joke. We can't all be colourful, well not all the time. Sometimes the world really is black and white.