Life between coffees.
I’m not sure what’s going on, I’ve just caught myself singing along to Withcita Lineman (lyrics) on the audio program at work. And it wasn’t the groovy R.E.M version either.
Bing Crosby, Glen Campbell – this is becoming very very embarrassing.
Continue reading “Something Has Gone Wrong”
It’s Christmas. Know how I can tell? It’s getting hot? Phee won’t stop talking about Santa? Nope. I know ’cause Bing Crosby is singing to me.
When I was but a lad Dad always seemed to be playing Merry Christmas, a collection of Chrissy songs crooned by the one and only Bing Crosby. Whenever I hear Bing singing any of these songs, but especially Christmas In Killarny, Mele Kalkimaki and It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas I’m taken back to Blamey St with the old 33rpm spinning and memories of wondering what Lego Santa was going to bring me.
Today I heard Mele Kalikimaka on the audio at work and thought ‘I have to have a copy of that CD’. A quick trip to the shops and I now have it playing on my PC. Dad probably won’t believe it when he reads this but it’s true. Christmas ain’t Christmas without Bing, and it’s all thanks to you Dad.
I’m sitting in my office at work listening to a corridor conversation between Mary the Cleaner and Nameless Guy The Security Guard discussing the relative merits of getting in to prostitution as opposed to cleaning toilets. Mary is most adamant that prostitution is a very dirty job.
I turn up my music and shake my head.
As far as I know I have never hurt, killed, maimed or even looked crossly at anyone at Australia Post so I’m at a loss to explain what’s going on.
There was an incident earlier this year where they refused to deliver my mail to the PO Box because I hadn’t paid. This is despite the fact I had a receipt, signed by them, to show that I had. That incident took two visits and a phone call to sort out and now they are playing silly buggers again.
Two weeks ago I put a redirect on the PO Box to here to save me some travel(it’s an hour round trip to collect). Last Friday I realised that I hadn’t received any mail at all. I called them today and despite the fact there is a sticker on the sorter’s side saying ‘redirect’ they were continuing to put my mail in the box.
Why sorters? Why? Just let me know what it is I have done and shall attempt to make amends. Anyway, your game is up now – ‘they’ are going to seal up the box and surely you wouldn’t stoop so low as to just throw it away.
Surely….
Which idiot at Nestle Australia decided to make the Musk Lifesaver packet the exact same colour as the Fizzy Soda Lifesaver packet?
Whoever you are, thankyou for ruining my afternoon.
Two of my favourite authors, Ian Rankin and
Iain Banks set most of their stories in and around Edinburgh. I’ve always wanted to travel there and do a Banks and Rankin tour of the streets mentioned in their books – now it seems that Inspector Rebus’ patch of town will be no more and my itinerary has been cut a good deal.
No doubt Rebus will have something to say about in the next novel, just one more reason to read it.
I officially rock.
I went to order a beer yesterday at Vinegar Strokes, a new caf? just around the corner. It must have been a slow day ’cause when I ordered Gary said “You rock!”.
And he should know, he’s in a band.
A week in to summer. Sydney is ablaze with bush-fires and in Victoria it’s snowing.
It’s a funny old country.
I’ve stopped reading. Don’t know how or why but for the past few months I’ve read nothing but computer magazines and reference books. I still have the pile of books by the bed, and they come in mighty handy for blocking out the search light that doubles as my bed side clock. I half heartedly started Ressurection Men again but can feel that is going to have to wait a little longer.
Today I marched on down to Books In Print (who still don’t have a web site) determined to buy Stupid White Men when another book caught my eye.
Banvard’s Folly: Thirteen Tales of Renowned Obscurity, Famous Anonymity, and Rotten Luck.
I’ve always loved reading about the past but the history that intrigues me most is the past that never was. I’ve always wanted to write a book about the grand projects and ideas for Melbourne that never made it; the airport that would have sat where Port Melbourne now is, the history of proposals for the Federation Square site, Grollo’s plan for the world’s largest building at Docklands. The how, why and who of what lead to their demise fascinates me, as does pondering what shape this city may have taken had they gone ahead.
So let’s see how we go with this book. It may inspire me to read again and then start some research. Maybe.
Oh dear no. Mr Cunnigham (aka Tom Bosley) is spruiking a get rich quick scheme.
How the mighty have fallen.