My Week

Faced with the options of going to the Enfield computer mart to buy the components of a new computer and staying in to entertain the family with a blog I have of course taken the moral high less expensive ground. “Oh! How sweet is he?” I hear you say and I’m tempted to delete less expensive to gain even more of your indulgence though I’ll probably leave it as a self indulgence. That makes sense doesn’t it and “oh! Stop it Robert” you spend far too much time in your mind with the lights turned out and lord knows it’s confusing in there even when you can see where your going. “Just get on with it man”. Trouble is, as you’ve probably guessed, I don’t really have anything to say.

I’ve been writing scripts for Grumpy old men this week and I’ve already got enough material for fifty odd episodes. Trouble is I’m not at all confident of a market. You know I really think these guys are ad-libbing. Harley has been staying with me until today providing me with plenty of inspiration. In light of the chance of his Parkinson’s disease body falling, Alice like, down a burrow on his spread or some such likely demise he has been undertaking the legal maneuvers to empower his children with power of attorney. He feels that this option is marginally less dangerous than the current situation which places his wellbeing in the hands of his probably not ex wife. In order to achieve this it was necessary to schedule a meeting at which his 24 year old reasonably compliant daughter Carmina, who has, home, work and mobile phone numbers, appear in company with her 26 year old (oh the adjectives are too many and varied) brother Will, who lacks any contact number or address it seems, with Harley who’s medication imposes severe limits on his mobility or lack thereof, and an officer of the court. Sounds easy enough I know but it did entail three trips to Bondi Junction, the first merely to convey to the un-contactable Will that that meeting was cancelled owing to Harleys neglect in making an appointment with the court. Signing was achieved at the eleventh hour on the second day when Will turned up as we were leaving. The third visit was to enable a social meeting between father and son which was successfully and amicably achieved after a three and a half hour delay. That evening Carmina’s Muslim boyfriend somehow magically collected us all together (should have had him organising from the start) in his WRX for an unnecessary (at least as far as Harley and I were concerned) farewell meal in Newtown. At 9AM this morning after a restless night, when he was due at the airport at 10AM, Harley discovered that the vital documents which Carmina had photocopied for everyone were not in the envelope returned the previous night but were instead in Carmina’s bedroom in Balmain where her house mate should be but was not answering the phone. Rush hour Robert rose to the occasion and after an anxious ruckus at Balmain we were able to raise the sleeping house mate, retrieve the documents and defy all logic by arriving at the air terminal via Sydney’s fabulous tunnels with three minutes to spare.

All this nervous activity accompanied by copious eating and drinking has spared me any time to agonize over recent, lost a daughter gained a son, type events though I have very much enjoyed the blogs, comments and copious photos thanks to Cat and Gab. Gabs snaps especially provide for us a narrative for the afternoon and evening, particularly from her own personal standpoint if that’s the correct word. Cat’s cleverly provided evidence of the celebrity of the occasion which until I saw them I must frankly admit I was unaware of. I would like to propose a toast to Gab and Cat. Hear! Hear!

I should probably close now. What’s that? Oh really, well it didn’t sound like an echo of the previous toast to me, Gabby. Anyway before I go I must ask you Kell, is your shoulder firmly behind your firms endeavors to have restrictions placed on the licensing of Scruffy Murphy’s and does this fit comfortably with your attitude to purveyors of alcohol in a more general sense?

Prestipino’s! Wadd’ya think of your new member (of parliament of course). If you must be consoled then that charming smile must go a long way, certainly does it for me. Much better than that big lower lip that was only one stroke away from a drool.

John, you missed a great gig and all because of falling off your bike I’m led to believe. I fell off mine three times before I really began to curse whoever it was said “You never forget it’s like riding a bike”. Admittedly the first time I was a little inebriated and I concede that my previous experience had not prepared me for that. The second time I was driven off the road by a woman who was so certain that it was her road. I have no recollection of the third fall, I guess the brain damage was quite serious. It’s a wonder that I remember there was a third..…. Or was there? Anyway you should make up your own mind about cursing that guy.

Chris and Sue, were are you? Its been two or more long weeks. For god’s sake call home. What with all those ferals, Murdocks and SOKs out there we worry. I tell people there in Kalgoolie and then I wonder “where’s Kalgoolie” and how do you spell it anyway.

SOK well you’re not reading this anyway. In a way that’s comforting, I don’t know if anyone else is reading but I know your not. Thanks SOK.

Nite all,
ROK