Ok, I’ll cut to the chase. That’s only fair,  seeing as so many of you wrote and phoned to give love and support to Lee-Anne about the potential operation, and commiserating at the chance that she may end up losing all her hearing.

We visited the brain surgeon in Melbourne, Mr Briggs, (surgeons are known as “Mr” for some strange bloody reason.) We were under the impression from Professor Croxson that an operation would be inevitable. But Mr Briggs looked at the reports, tests,  and the MRI scan we had brought with us, and asked some pertinent questions. He then took us through the brain scan, and showed where the tumour is; “As you can see, it’s present in the ear canal, but as of yet isn’t pressing on the brain. I’d be loath to operate without further proof it is growing, and proof that it presents a threat to the brain structure.” Which was something good.

However he also told Lee-Anne that, even if the operation was needed, it was so delicate that she could end up losing the use of some of her facial muscles, and may never smile again. Also that it only has a 50:50 chance of success, with total hearing loss as a worst case scenario. (This would necessitate her having a cochlear implant.)

Which wasn’t so good.

His secretary then relieved us of $250.00 for a ten minute consult. I’m in the wrong line of work. I should be a brain surgeon. But seeing as I’m not even capable of fixing a runny tap without injuring myself or bystanders, let alone buggering about in someone’s brain, it’s probably for best that I’m not.

But his plan is now this; Lee-Anne will have more MRI scans, (more on this later,) and if the tumour is not growing, she will need repeated scans, every twelve months,  to keep an eye on it’s progress  over the coming years. If it’s growing and impinging on her brain, he’ll go into her head with a drill and pickaxe.

On a more serious note, yes we’re still bloody shitting ourselves that she may have to have the operation. Fingers crossed for her eh?

We’d had all of a week’s notice that Mr Briggs would be able to see us, which was to lead to a  bit of a blind panic. His receptionist got right up Lee-Anne’s nose. She told us Mr. Briggs would be able to see us smack in the middle of the week we had booked, (and paid for,) our whale watching holiday. Lee-Anne politely explained that we had a long standing holiday booked, and, due to recent traumas, ones like being told she needed a serious operation,  we were desperately in need of a holiday; “Well, you cannot pick and choose you know, he’s a very important man.” Yeah love, so am I, want to see how long my cock is?  (oh sorry, “important”.) But she booked us in later in any case.

Bloody Qantas, who we save “air miles” with, were charging DOUBLE what Beardy Airlines (Virgin,) were asking, which really snotted us off. But for a change we were sensible, bit the bullet, and booked Beardy Branson’s flight. The  week after we booked Branson, Beardy piled his space flight into the deck, not exactly confidence inspiring.  Also, we had hoped / planned to go up and back in a day, but there were no flights home with seats on, so we had to stay overnight and fly back the next day. A day we were both working on.

The flight up was pleasant enough, what with it only being an hour long. We got into Melbourne far too early. Lee-Anne wanted to do a “secret Santa presents” shopping trip. Having all of Melbourne city and it’s immense shopping area, at our disposal it seemed a good place to do it. Seeing as we don’t know Melbourne hardly at all, it soon turned out to be a very bad place to do it.

We gave up shopping after a while, and went for some fish and chips instead. Lee-Anne, being miles ahead of me as ever, and needing an inducement for me to shop, had looked up “Melbourne’s best chippy” online. Lee-Anne knows how to keep me onside, give me good fish and chips and a bottle of cider, and I’ll go shopping with any bugger.

Melbourne’s best,  by general consensus, turned out to be a place called;  “Tanks Fish and Chippery”

It turned out to be a brilliant place Great staff, great menu, and a very pleasant atmosphere. We sat outside to eat on the pavement, (ok, on a table on the pavement,)  as you do to eat in Melbourne. We were next to the road, which fortunately wasn’t too busy, and not to smelly. On the next table to us were some Greek or Italian “Melbourne gangsters”, who were amusingly dangerous. We both went for the battered flathead, which was sweet and succulent. The chips were well cooked and had a lovely seasoning, also some fried coriander leaves on, which were great, (I must try this myself.) The accompanying home made tartare sauce was very nice indeed. The addition of salad was pleasant, if odd.

Ok, two minor quibbles;
1) Chips were much too thin, they were verging on the heresy that are called “fries.” Fat chips please!!
2) Salad is ok, but why no mushy peas? Fush and chups need mushy peas.

Otherwise, fantastic. Undoubtedly one of the best chippies I’ve eaten at in Aus, nice one.

We decided that we would go to a cinema as we had so much time to kill, and my feet were killing me. Just as the arguments started over which film to see, but fortunately before a fight broke out,  the surgeon’s receptionist rung and asked us politely if we would come in to the surgery two hours early. So that was that dilemma sorted.

Following the meeting with Mr Briggs we were both in need of a drink, seeing as our relief was palpable. So what else to do, but hit a pub.

We found an “English” pub in central Melbourne, it was called; “The Elephant and Wheelbarrow”, oh my aching sides. The Elephant and Wheelbarrow?!?! Seriously?

I wanted to go in just to take the piss. Though I was soon to be disappointed as I was not virtuously annoyed by it much, if at all. Why? Well it models itself on “English Pubs” and manages to do it well, without overdoing the tackiness and cliché shite, which is what most pretend Irish (“Plastic Paddy”) pubs here in Aus do. They had four good English beers on, all of which were well kept, but all of which were served too bloody cold! Aussies, you do not HAVE to serve bitter ice cold you know?

I found that by holding the pint in my hands until it had warmed sufficiently, (just before frostbite of my fingers set in, ) it was palatable. We didn’t eat there but the two fat birds on the next table had meals which looked very good sized portions.

Hell of a bloody price on the beers though! One pint and one large wine came in at $27.50 (£13.50 UK.)

After a couple of bevvies of “Old Speckled Hen”, I was mellow, but my wallet was a lot lighter. Lee-Anne still had to buy a $5.00 and a $15.00 “Secret Santa” present though. Bollocks. I moped along, a little bit pissed and a lot pissed off. After a while I started moaning and groaning and threatening to go on strike, or start making an exhibition of myself if we went any further, (I’m good at that.)  Eventually Lee-Anne relented, dived into the nearest department store and promised to buy something there.  (I’d got to the point of threatening to sing along with all the carols that were being played, that would certainly attract negative attention. And possibly the police.)

On the sixth floor of the store we had found they had, I kid you not,  a “Giftorium”.  Which made me  need a vomitorium. Oh god, I hate Xmas saccharine crap, and this was such high class pap it was nauseating. Store kids who were dressed as elves, reindeer,  and some twats in “onesise” costumes, abounded. They had singers and dancers and all kinds of Xmas knobrot. By threatening to throw myself off the sixth floor balcony, I got Lee-Anne to crack, to stop looking for things at the agreed price limits, and to buy a $6.50 and a $18.00 secret Santa present instead so we could run away.

Getting out of there sharpish, and even though it was only 6.00 pm, we decided to head back to our hotel, as we were both knackered and Melbourne is boring. Apart from their taxis, which are bright yellow, but carry the logo “Black Cabs”, which is amusing, but soon the hilarity wears off..

Yes, Melbourne, the city voted the best city to live in in the world, four years on the trot, is boring. That’s in my humble opinion of course, but as I’m wonderful and charming and you trust me implicitly, you’ll agree with me, ok?

So we went back to the hotel, but not before I had bought a half bottle of Scotch for me, and a bottle of wine for Lee-Anne, for the evening. Lee-Anne had booked the hotel on spec, the only criteria being “close to the airport,” a necessity as we had an early morning flight back to Canberra. We ended up at a “Best Western” chain motel place. This turned out to be a real find.

Rooms were clean, spacious, well presented, but most importantly for a flight path motel, quiet. The “Reflections”, restaurant was above and beyond what I would expect from a chain hotel.  I had salmon with cous-cous, Mediterranean veg, and, of all things, prunes. It was bloody lovely.

All the staff were superb, from reception to the guy who drove the minibus, all were courteous and charming. I had a large Ardberg with my meal. Lee-Anne had a glass of wine. We headed back to our room to watch TV and have a snifter before bed.

We were that fucked that Lee-Anne didn’t even get to open her wine, and I only had a mouthful of Scotch, before we fell into the arms of Morpheus. The next day we decided to give the wine and Scotch as presents to the room cleaner. (Ok, we  had to leave them behind as they would not be allowed on the plane. There’s another $40 down the sink.)

We flew into Canberra by 9.00 am, the mother in law picked us up and drove Lee-Anne straight to work. I was on an evening shift so got driven home, had my first decent cuppa in two days, and walked the mutts.

And that was our Melbourne adventure.

 

Remember I was telling you about the weird fault the car had, how the lights stayed on, and we had to disconnect the battery every time we stopped? Eventually, after having the battery leads on and off like a whores knickers for a week and a half, we took it to the electrical bods. We explained the problem to the lad behind the counter, he asked; “What car is it?” We told him, “Subaru Liberty station wagon”, he grinned. He came out to the car, which had its lights on as we hadn’t done the battery trick. He leaned inside, called me over and pointed to a switch on the steering column, he hit it, and the lights went out. “Parking lights mate, no charge for that service.” I was laughing at myself  so much I had to sit on the kerb for five minutes. (I’d always thought it was the switch for the hazards.)

 

My mate Matt Abbott gets famous at last! Most of us expected he would get (in)famous, probably for  grand larceny or breaking a bank, but no;

Olympic Park Orbit tower abseil

Thrill seekers will be able to abseil down the Orbit Tower at the Olympic Park from next year. Standing at 375ft (114m) tall, the experience will cost £85. Mark Camley, the executive director of park operations and Ian Loom and Mat Abbott, both from Eight Point Two events, have been speaking about the activity.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-29764339

If you watch the video on that page, sorry I cannot link it here, Matt appears briefly at 40s in, but then is interviewed at 1.30 in. “Sounds like he’s auditioning for “Eastenders”” as someone said. Abbo’s role model?

I was walking the mutts in the local nature reserve the other day, when I came across this amazing sight;

Anyone want some honey? It’s free, help yourself.

Karma is a bitch, isn’t it?

One Saturday, while I was at work, Mary was down by the lake with Lee-Anne walking our dogs. After the walk they went off in their separate cars. Mary takes up the tale;

“I was driving along, and I noticed I had a flat, so I pulled over. I got out of the car and went to ring you (Lee-Anne,) to give me a hand changing it. But I had no credit on the phone, so I could only ring 000 (equivalent of 999 in the UK.) So I rang the police. The girl was ever so nice, she took my details and sent the out NRMA (Aus equivalent of AA / RAC,) to me. The man was ever so good, he changed my spare and gave me a voucher for 15% off repairs.”

She called the cops! For a flat tyre! That’s our Mary!

But this goes on, (and on, and on.)

Mary then got into a right flap, as her spare is one of those temporary spares that you can only drive so far on, and only at 80 kmph, and “Bethy is borrowing it tomorrow, so it has to be fixed now!” (Everything has to be done NOW with Mary.) Seeing as I was supposed to be dropping Bethy off at a job interview, (more later,) I got rather cross with her demands for immediate action. It was only a 10 minute job after all, and could have been done any time that day. But I agreed to try and fit it all in. I went round to be presented with a wheel that looked like Pac Man, Jesus Christ she must have banged that off something! “I noticed I had a flat”!?!? The wheel rim had a quarter taken out of it, the car must have sounded like a metal bath being thrown down a tarmaced hill

I took to the place she had a voucher for, and, after the guy had had a good laugh about the state of the rim, and I had convinced him it was off the mother-in-law’s car not mine,  he agreed to look me out a second-hand rim. Oh, and it needed a new tyre as she’d torn the bead off the original one.

I left it with them, and rushed Bethy off to the interview.

I got It back. The voucher Mary had wasn’t worth shit, seeing as it only entitled her to 15% off a puncture repair. I fitted the new tyre and new second hand rim back on her car. Mary was most aggrieved; “It wasn’t that bad, why did it need a new tyre? And I had that voucher!” I bit blood from my tongue.

Bethy wanted the car the next day as her and her mate Sowon were driving up and back to Sydney in a day. They had  studio audience tickets to see a live recording of the Aussie comedy TV show “The Chaser’s Media Circus”. Front row tickets, the jammy sods. It was more than a bit bloody scary watching her drive off, what with 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 hours driving ahead, each way. The pair of them were sharing the driving, but it’s a sod of a trip. (I’ve done Sydney and back in a day more than once, and it’s knackering.) Luckily it all went well.

Oh, the interview? Bethy started this week on a trial as a dentists receptionist. I just hope the guy isn’t an old dental perve with an eye for the young’uns, like my mate Ratty is.

Oh, but as I say, Karma is a bitch. After having a good old rant to Lee-Anne about her lunatic old bat of a mother, and her driving “skills”, what did I do? Taking Lee-Anne for that MRI scan she needed, I threw a Uey, and clipped the kerb, cutting a slice out of my tyre, (I didn’t mangle the rim though!)

 

I went to my first match of the cricket season the other day, Australia against South Africa. I was lucky to get a great seat in the Bradman stand, so I was in shade all day, it was a scorcher of a day. For a long time I’ve wanted to see Hashim Amla, the South African star batsman, play, and he was on song, getting just short of a century. But our boys pulled it off, and we beat them on that day, and 4:1 over the series.

Of course I took my camera, and I think I got some good shots, these being the best of the bunch.

 

 

I’ve got tickets for loads more matches this season, a full range of them in fact. But, as you can imagine, the whole cricket scene over here is in mourning at present, over the death of Phil Hughes. Poor sod was only 25 had a great future ahead, (was due to play for Aus in the forthcoming India series,) and was at the peak of his career. Killed stone dead by an unlucky hit off a bouncer. RIP Mate.

 

But how about this for a piece of “Nanny State” thinking?

Oh dear god! Tom, who for his sins is my godson, as you may know, write to me last month informing me that him and his girlfriend Danny, were coming to Aus, and could they stay with us? I was over the moon of course. I’m not a great, or even a good, godfather, but I hold Tom and his family in the highest affection. I am partially responsible for Tom’s existing, as I introduced his parents to each other some 30 years ago, (Jo, Tom’s mother, has never forgiven me for that.) I could show you the very spot they first met.

So I’ve been happy as a pig in shit. I’ve taken the week he’s with us off, and I’ve been emailing Tom every other day with instructions for bringing duty free Scotch over, (I paid for it ok, I paid, trust me.)

Then get an email from him;

Hi Taff,

Cant believe Its nearly this time next week and I’ll on a plane!
I’ll keep this short and sweet…Danny and I have split (long story, but I’m infinitely happier now :D) and I’m ‘flying solo’ as it were. All plans will remain the same, I’m going to honour all internal flights/buses but there’ll be one less mouth to feed fortunately/unfortunately!

Cheers,

Tommo.

When I read; “Danny and I have split” I was devastated, I thought it would be followed by “so the trip is off”. Thank fuck though, he’s still coming! (I’ll get my duty-free Scotch. )

 

 

I’m going to be working through Xmas this year, the money will be useful, especially if the medical bills keep coming in. I just put my timesheet in for Xmas, and it’s a cracker;

December
18 Evening shift  (but actually on A/L, as Tom is here)
19 Evening shift  (but actually on A/L, as Tom is here)
20 Day Off
21 Day Off
22 Evening shift
23 Evening shift
24 Evening shift
25 Morning shift (public holiday)
26 Morning shift (public holiday)
27 Day Off
28 Day  Off
29 Evening shift
30 Evening shift
31 Evening shift

Evening shift = 12.30 pm to 9.00 pm, 5.00-9.00 is paid at time and a half.

Morning shift 8.30 am  to 6.30 pm (Public holidays paid at 2 x rate.)

Should be a noice little earner, sweet!!

They tried to sell us being “on call” rather than at the desk, as it would mean “we could be at home with our families”. It would also mean that we would have to stay sober, and would spend the whole time dreading the phone going off. They also only wanted to pay us for any time  we spent be out on the call!

We told them to stuff it, double time at the desk or no cover.

Ok, now the other big news!!

Kids, bloody kids.

Let’s start off with some good news shall we? Here’s Bethy’s results from her first year of University;

Chemistry: Pass  ~ 59% ( a point under a credit)

Earth science:  Credit ~ 64%

Human Biology:  High Distinction~ 83%

Molecular Biology:  Distinction ~ 74%

Chemistry was her weakest subject, but one that she had to do in order to continue her course. Next year she is able to drop Earth Science, (whatever the fuck that is,) and will be concentrating on Biology. Next year she will also try the exams to see if she can get onto the course  to study medicine. “Dr Bethy,” indeed.

As I told you, Bethy’s having a trial for a dental receptionist job. This was supposed to be a way to fill he long summer break with something productive, and to earn a few bob. Ok, that’s all good.

A month back she approached her mother with this idea; “Me and Brandon, and another couple we’re friendly with, are going to look for a shared apartment together. We’d like to live independently. Maybe sometime next March or so we’ll move out.”

Hmmm… Lee-Anne was saddened, tears flowed,  but she was resigned to it as it is the inevitable next big step for our kid. Me? Well, knowing Beth’s big plans and how they tend to lack a certain energy and action behind them, I wasn’t too worried.

The next thing you know it’s; “We’ve seen an apartment we like.” This one
Yesterday it was; “We’re going to put in an application for it.”
Today it was; “We got it. We’re moving out before Xmas.”

Lee-Anne, (and me truth be told,) are devastated. Our little baby girl moving out? It was bad enough when she started shagging, then her bloody boyfriend moves in with her, now she’s moving out. Talk about timing too, l right before bloody Xmas!!

This means that me and Lee-Anne will also be need to move into a new house, as Henry Street will be far too big for just us as a couple, (plus various mutts.) Lee-Anne’s got a great plan. If we move into a new place, we’ll make it a one bedroom house, so if things go to rags in their shared apartment, they cannot move back in with us.

But just think of the upheaval?!?! No more tons of clothes that need daily washing. No more having to go around switching every light in the house off after her. No more dirty cups and plates accumulating in every corner. No more “Can you drive me/lend me the car/ take me to?” No more strops and tantrums. No more; ”Mum, Taff’s singing again!! Tell him to stop!!”

I’ll miss her.

 

Weather fans! We’ve had a week of thunderstorms, most have not hit the city, just skirted the suburbs. Here’s some footage one hitting the city, and how the storm water can rise quickly. This  was filmed from my office window, as I was bored shitless on last Saturday’s shift.

 

The true extent  of how heavy it can rain here though comes in this sad tale;

The 1971 Canberra flood was a flash flood that occurred on Australia Day, 26 January 1971, in the Woden Valley, (Woden is where my office is,) of Canberra. The flood killed seven people including four children, injured 15 and affected 500 people. The insurance damage was estimated at A$ 9 million. It was estimated that around 95 mm (4 inches,) of rain fell in one hour during this event. The force of the water was strong enough to move a bus 180 degrees on Melrose Drive. The storm hit at peak hour while many people were on their way home. Traffic on the freeway halted when culverts at one end of the valley were blocked with debris. The backup of water sent a flash flood onto the freeway. This wall of water surged over more than a dozen cars, sweeping them away in the torrent.

More rain is forecast, and the place will be green when Tom’s here, which will give him the wrong impression somewhat!