Readers cramp I'm sure

Dear Readers,

Yesterday was ANZAC day and what a disappointment it must have been for all of those braced for a melancholy remembrance of Grandpa’s stake in The Some, Gallipoli, Kakoda or any other of the reverent battle grounds. In place of traditional wet overcast conditions eminently suited to marching remembering and two-up we were treated to a bright sun filled dawn with a pleasant northerly breeze that turned our brown horizons into a brillante blue that had artists and interior designers rushing to their pallets for a name. A cracker day, along with today its equal, for outdoor entertainments like camping had it been a holiday weekend as usual. Alas the powers saw fit to decline the traditional Monday holiday, at great expense to the RTA, but at least they continued with the one PM opening for business. At least for business of scale like Bunnings that is, Enmore at mid day was once more a thrive with Pharisees not one in slouch hat or rising sun/bayonet badge. I was greeted one PM at Bunnings by a throng that would have served Ticket-Tek proud for a Rolling Stones tour. All amateurs looking for ‘commando’ hooks, (3M Commander adhesive hooks) impossible to imagine a commando use unless they would wish to hang their commando certificate in the tent. One however, who was looking for a ‘tapoleon’, obviously had a problem with his water loo.

My favourite customer was the young woman, heavily pregnant and wearing the tight white jersey top. Her breasts were two large spheres with perfectly centred protuberant points, her belly their mother and spitting image on much grander scale. Helped to make up for a day spent waiting from six AM to go to work at one. “O poor pitiful me”

Enough of this though for I know that all you are interested in is an upgrade prognosis on my health condition and here at the risk of further antagonising Auntie it is. Dr. Gokulan ‘Gok’ Pavendranan Than who never has to worry about mistaken identity in this country is a vital, handsome, urbane professional who speaks English much better than I though with a similar accent and I would not hesitate to invite his contribution into our already admirable gene pool.

When I saw him on Tuesday he was well aware of who I was and remembered my movie, describing with quick sketches the condition of my ulcerated colon and naming the affliction to within a 99% reliability subject only to some, this time well organised, stool sample tests as ‘ulcerative colitis’. Yes it was truly only I who cared about the previous sample and my only hope is that some other did not suffer the consequences of its diagnosis. I don’t mind sharing my vital organs with those in need but draw the line at sharing biopsies.

Gok explained that this affliction ‘common’ he said in ‘western’ cultures (I wish I’d asked him to extrapolate on this statement) was mysteriously caused by an attack from the anti immune system. It seems likely that in my case it was attacking lumbar arthritis and ricochet into the colon. Normally this would be treated orally by pills that attack the anti immune system but these have bad side affects on blood pressure, bone density and other things I stopped listening to. He preferred to treat me with another drug, an enema but it was quite ,well very expensive and unable it seems to voice the number he turned his computer screen my way to reveal a figure of $530 odd and said that that was just for a week. He then started to mumble, unlike the professional I have been endorsing as a potential donor into our own gene pool, about the possibility he could ‘fill a blue script which might entail a saving, nothing certain you understand’ and I didn’t. I left him with the blue script, a handful of specimen jars and requests for lumbar X-rays and blood tests. Back next morning after checking the letter box and on line bank for signs of Kevin’s still absent stimulus I presented stool samples at the hospital for biopsy and the scary blue script to the pharmacist. I thought I should ask how much but was inhibited by the starched white of the pharmacy girl and resolved that at the crunch I could just say ‘gulp’ as they do in the commix. She took my medicare card, (brand new from only the day before, a good sign I thought) and returned with the largest stack of script I’ve ever witnessed. Four boxes big and glossy enough to contain very expensive equipment as indeed they did. (see photos attached) “Just take them to the girl at the till and she’ll fix you up” The girl did her cash register stuff and unlike Dr. Gok announced quite brazenly, “that’ll be thirty two dollars”. My mind could not comprehend, I’d won the Jackpot, $32 for $530 worth, no hold on, the pharmacist said four weeks, that’s $2120, It’s really a lotto. O god bless Dr. Gok, Medicare, and all you benevolent tax payers.

The bottle is wine and is not to be used as an ennema. Its there for scale

Nice expensive packaging what

Now if you’re eating or of a sensitive nature be warned as I find the topic of enemas and their application and results far too interesting to ignore. The first and still most interesting thing is the unerring accuracy which with they can be placed, in a place I’ve never seen, flying blind you could say. Next the machinations of applications which are so prettily illustrated in the enclosed pamphlet (see photo). In keeping with the glossy presentation of this expensive product the model is of the same type that BMW and Mercedes Benz like to drape their expensive wares at motor shows. A nice touch don’t you think. I award five stars for the industrial design as I’m sure you would also now that you have studied the photos. It seems a shame to throw out the used sachets for which I continue to grope for further applications. The closest Alice and I shall pass to the third world on our Grande Tour will be Bangkok, perhaps there are still some there who would relish and treasure them. Yes I agree that’s enough but before I leave it, allow me the defence, that rarely in my life have I acquired goods to a value over two thousand dollars in one transaction so to me this has a sort of landmark feel.
Who wouldn't be upbeat about this

Now best of all to the results which have been positive from the very first application. Visits have reduced to an average three a day, I can confidently stand to take a leak and though my stool had not returned to a solid floater it is beginning to take the appearance of something that might be the result of a heavy night on the boose and isn’t that normal. Hallelujah a name and a cure all in one week.

I could continue but I see that reading paralysis has set in for most of you so I shall just wish you still reading, well.

R

Everybody needs good neighbours

Dred Poets Scociety

Slumped on the throne around midnight last night, with only my affliction for company, I began to reflect as one does in such quiet times, on the entertainments of the preceding day. Was it the brusqueness of my query into the relativity of Danes baldness to his project management position, which caused the shocked intake of breath amongst the company? Was it impropriety on my behalf to introduce the topic of the baldness of one so young who I had just met? Did my subsequent attempt to show concern as to how the name Dane went down in provincial Brisbane schools seem condescending? These are the types of thought that often beset me when roused from slumber for such a contemplative task.

Along with Alice, Jack, Dane and Paddy, I was present as Hugh’s guest for lunch, refreshments and The Poetry Game on Easter Monday. Spag Boll and assorted alcohols including some genuine Champaign adequately covers lunch and refreshments, what’s The Poetry Game I hear you all ask. Well apparently something like Balderdash, though my memory of this game is faint if not fiction. The first two lines of a poem are read by the um ‘playmaster’ and transcribed by the players. The players must then write what could possibly be the next two lines while the playmaster writes the real ones. That completed the playmaster reads all the possible poems in full and the players must guess which is the real poem. Simple enough you say and so it is till it comes to scoring. One point if you guess the real one, two points for you for each player who guesses yours as the real one which I believe goes up to three if all players guess yours. Like back yard cricket ancillary scoring opportunities were developed. One of those, that which got the best laugh, was my best scoring opportunity but unfortunately my type of humour produces only stifled snickers as apposed to those for Alice’s, I think, bawdy bellows.

Alice pipped Jack for top score though I would have liked to see an independent audit of Hugh’s scoring which I thought lacked confidence. That said, scorings a hard job and we were Hugh’s guests eating and drinking his food wine, without having to wash up, so there was little but token dissent. You can see can’t you that in an environment like this with the bonhomie flowing it was inevitable that the topic of baldness would float to the surface. Lets face it if it hadn’t been me some other would have brought it up. In any social gathering there will be those sudden ‘breath in’ moments which I like to see as, well, icebreakers and I salute those with the aplomb to execute them with such finesse. Yes I think that worked very well.

Easter worked much as planned though I need not have panicked on Thursday night and bought those half dozen eggs which will probably go off in my fridge before next Christmas panic. When I went to my laundryman on Friday (the fact he was open should have ticked me off) at about midday Enmore road was thick with smoke and cooking smells from every well patronised café, restaurant, take away and pub. So many happy hedonists I would not have been at all surprised had a marching band turned the corner and led a mardi gras parade down the high street. As for the rest of it I was, as in the lyrics of Johnnie Mercer, able to Accentuate the Positive, Eliminate the Negative, Latch on to the Affirmative and not mix with Mister In-between (why couldn’t Hugh’s poems have been these). Leah’s (Alice’s artist school friend) exhibition on Thursday night gave me my fill of the arty end of GenY, not much different from any other arty end I’ve noted. Saturday I worked ‘ho hum’ Sunday evening I spent in Erskinville listening to music I love and greeting old friends at the cost of only a beer (though this cost can be only a down payment to be paid in full the next morning)

Hope yours was so good,

Catch you later, when your legs are straighter. (Oh Poetry)

R

Happy ghosts only a platform away

Bringing it all back home at MacDonalds Sunday AM

Poetic, Arty?

Arty Spooky

Whew! Turned the corner and thought I'd Been teleported into sixties Mississippy

Ancient History

Well no Kell,

The family day was the previous week and held by Dot and Strobe at the Terry Hills Tavern which is a lot like The Coogee Bay Hotel but quieter, with less ruffians, fewer security thugs and no real sense of danger. You can also be comfortably accommodated and remain dry in the rain but otherwise a lot like The Coogee Bay. Oh did I mention no beach. Along with Dot and Strobe, Ross Anne and Alan, John Hugh and I it was delightful to have Gabby and Adrian onboard and Christopher just back from Austria. Hugh and I were shuttled to and from Pymble Station by John. Ross, Strobe, Adrian and Chris played pool but Chris could not tell any Austrian jokes. We et well and drank copiously and I almost bought a seventy eight dollar bottle of wine. Ann called Catt and probably Matt, Your Mum and Dad called us to announce their arrival in NSW but when it came to calling you well mine and Hugh’s phones will no longer preform this task even though we now have copious credit. We can’t even text you. Why others did not take up the slack I shall have to leave them to explain.

Checking through the photo evidence, it would appear that no one else had a phone.

Love R

Do you sometimes find yourself here

Check this sleasy wool head with the pretty girl

Hugh had a phone

Anne had a phone

Ross had a phone

Do you want to steer? he he

My Dear lovlies

Well I finally feel confident handing over the controls to the next generation. Kelly’s engaged and marching up the corporate ladder setting a standard which I saw unfurling as soon as I read her title at Ernst and Young. Of course it must be inspiring to work for those boys who started so long ago as Easybeats with Friday on Their Mind. Go Kell and if you bump into Harry ask him if it would be OK if I sent him a couple of my compositions.

Alice is back from NY where she visited the ground zero stock exchange crash site on Wall Street. I haven’t caught up with her plans to pave over that yet. When last I saw her she was still too wobbly with jet lag to properly discuss her presentation for President Budd O’Bama. Bad luck to miss the G20 but she should make the G21st which, in the tradition of that coming of age event, will surely be an ripper. Those anarchists locked into their time warp muck up day revel are such a hoot don’t you think?

Back on the home front I think we could do far worse (indeed I think we have done far worse) than to place Gabby in charge of education and Adrian, infrastructure. Maybe we could persuade Alice to persuade Jack to persuade his Dad to place a few subliminal messages along these lines into Nathan’s speeches. Sure it’s illegal but don’t you think the end justifies the means? NSW Government certainly does.

If that’s not enough to hatch a egg of confidence under you, how about Catherine Smash Repair’s move on BBC 2 (or was that on to funky Algate, short term memory seems always shorter) None the less she seems destined like Robert Stigwood and Little Nell before her to continue the traditional Australian take over of the entertainment industry of the British Isles. In the unlikely event that she needs muscle I’m sure it will be forthcoming from her ever more educated siblings who would need do little more than lay a brow on a competitor to gain compliance.

Along with all this, Luke and Jamie’s lunge into home ownership and producing the next generation, makes all seems well in the world. Well enough for the Nomads to quit their rambling ways for a while and set to growing crops at their newly acquired Goulburn spread if they can just find some water. Congratulations Nomads! Well enough for Ross and Ann who whilst not yet free of the gruelling task of feeding and educating their brood have at least had the burden eased enough to concentrate on renovations. Well enough for the rest of us to get on with repairs to leaky ponds, our many and various medical conditions and how to spend, er how we’ve spent Kevin’s largesse.

My only concern is for Roberts’s health, not the physical that he insists on documenting in such lurid detail in these pages, but the mental that as anyone can see is characterised by a needy desire to be recognised and acknowledged. Not at all unlike a child constantly demanding attention and upon getting it repeating over and over the behaviour that produced that result. I’m no expert in this field but if any of you could put a name to it more academic than writer in the dark we may, together with the right drugs, be able to start the process of redemption, er cure.

On a more immediate front, I trekked yesterday along with Ross, Anne, Dot and Strobe, ten point five kilometres through the harsh harbour side bushland between Seaforth/Spit Bridge and Manly. Little has changed here since Captain Phillip landed the first fleet except of course for the sign posted path with helpful boardwalks over the slushy bits and of course the lack of spear toting blacks. Much like a walk through Stanmore and Marrickville with bush in place of houses and cars, lizards in place of dogs, and lots more ups and downs I was well prepared. Yes the views were much better but we had to go much father to get to the pub so I’m not planning to move there any time soon.

Well that’s all, some would say more than enough, for now dears. Those of you abroad stay on the lookout for anything you can claim in the name of your Queen just as you would have two to three hundred years ago, my how time flies or should that be blow. That reminds me of a product I noticed at Bunnings this weekend called ’20 second outdoor cleaner’. I’ll be holding out for the 20 third which should be better.

Love you all,
Aunty

Correction: My editor has brought to my attention that Ernst and Young are not synonymous with Vander and Young. Can’t be helped now the type is set and anyway why let fact get in the way of a good yarn.

Man eating cutie

Ross explains Newton’s theory of up and down to Strobe


Whose a pretty boy

Confident that Strobe will protect them

From this dinosaur

A common outlook

A rare shot