Brisbane and Mooloolaba

The only trouble with semi-retirement is that occasionally you actually have to do some work and unfortunately it has come down to this. My first week in Brisbane was spent in and out of various Weather Bureau buildings desperately seeking old cyclone data that no one really knew where it was or if it still existed. I found the archive on Day 2 and then I set Maurs loose on it. Now that she knows what she’s looking for she’s absolutely relentless and she hung on like a truffle hound under an oak tree in finding some obscure gems in the data that I would have surely by-passed. Since then I have been slaving away up at my brother Thomas’ apartment in Mooloolaba (north of Brisbane on the Sunshine when it’s not raining Coast) trying to process the data and write the report. It really hits on play-time. Gee I’ll be glad when I’m retired!

               (Family snap - Mal and Roy; Marg and Tom; Me - Maurs behind the camera)

While in Brisbane we stayed at our favourite Kirribilly Apartments on the river and made full use of the ferry service to get around. We even got ourselves a Senior’s Go Card for cheap travel. That was a bonus but I must admit that I was a bit disconsolate when the travel inspectors got on one afternoon to check for fare evaders. A guy in front had a student concession ticket and the inspector asked him for ID to prove he was a student. I got my ID out - handed him my ticket – he took one look at me and just walked away. Would it have killed him to just politely ask to see my proof of age? Thanks a lot!

And I can't resist providing a snap of Cocky Foley. The old bird is just shy of 57 by our reckoning and doesn't look a day over 20! (I was never good at guessing the ages of birds). He has terrorised our family as much as we terrorised him in our younger days. He now lives with Mal and Roy. Maurs loves him and wants to bring him back to Perth. As long as he flies there (unassisted) I'm happy. He talks a little and has a screech that drowns out jumbo jets. He can call "Gary" at 120 decibels. He is in good shape though. Must be all the sunflower seeds he nibbles on, but I'm convinced he still has the taste for Gary's fingers...

                                        " Cocky wants a fingernail, Cocky wants a fingernail.."

Staying at Pete and Dianne’s when we first hit town coincided with their daughter Carley’s wedding plans which included a high tea on the Sunday afternoon. With twenty or so demanding females to cater for I was press-ganged into a waitering job and Petar and I spent the afternoon frocked up asking “Mo’ Tea?”- “Another Scone?” – and assuring “Of course the cream isn’t fattening!” But we managed to get a few cakes into us plus a beer so it wasn’t all bad, and the food was fabulous, and we always have fun because we are both such idiots.

                                           "Mo' Tea?" Petar and I waiting, waiting, waiting.

Moreover this last weekend was the wedding and it was coincidentally on the north coast and we were proud to be able to attend. The ceremony and reception was at Spirit House in Yandina. Lovely ceremony in a beautiful rainforest setting complete with teeming rain (for which I got the blame and the kudos when it ceased briefly for the ceremony – neither of which I deserved). The food was unbelievably good and a splendid time was ‘ad by all.

                     (Blake, bro; Adrian, groom; Carley, bride; Dianne and Petar, parents o' the bride)

The only downer has been keys. Thomas and Margaret left last Friday to go back to Brisbane and habitually took both sets of their apartment keys, so when it was our turn to leave we were a set down (as they say in tennis). Fortunately a neighbour keeps a spare set so we eventually grabbed those so we could lock the place up when we left. I said to Maurs “Let’s put these in a safe place, namely the deep recesses of her handbag. The next day Thomas asked if we could do him a favour and return a rental car for him. He had left the car-keys in the apartment. I took Pete with me. We talked and talked as we drove back to Mooloolaba from Coolum Beach. Halfway there it hit me. Keys are in the deep recesses of Maureen’s handbag. Back we go, through the teeming rain to get the plurry keys. Then back we go again to Mooloolaba. Book me in to the old folk’s home. Now I realise what the ticket inspector on the ferry was looking at.

I’m getting back to work...

On the Road with Donna

Donna had a window where she could do the road trip with us and much to my surprise she took it. Our daughter is well-known to be exclusively a “five star” traveller so roughing it with Maurs and me in the camper suggested a stretch in her comfort zone parameters. We made for Jerilderie the first night – lovely little town – makes you wonder why Ned Kelly was so intent on shooting the place up.

Jerilderie coughed up a freezing cold night. Did I mention that our daughter is also a well-known frog who feels the cold like few other warm-blooded mammals? She wore every scrap of clothing she had, wrapped herself up on top of her air mattress and shivered through the night. A pathetic sight greeted us in the morning – just a pair of eyes in a sea of clothes and blankets. The next night in Dubbo was a little milder and with the aid of Maurs’ thermals she made it through the night.

                              Rock on Global Warming! (Donna freezing in Jerilderie NSW

We drove past the famous Western Plains Zoo on our way in to Dubbo but all I could see was a bunch of cattle in a field. Some zoo. I mean would it kill them to place an elephant in the distance as an incentive to see more? After we settled in we went for a walk and bought a local paper. The Dubbo Daily Liberal is a mighty fine little paper that seems to do a lot of street reporting of local opinion. We were particularly impressed with Keira who was 16, unemployed, likes eating chicken and watching Jersey Shore on TV. The future of Australia is assured. There was also an article about how four of the white Rhinos at the Zoo had died of a mystery disease. It occurred to me that they could get a bunch of those cows and strap their heads sideways so that it would appear to have a horn in the front – might be very effective at dawn and dusk at least.

I’m still adjusting to Caravan Park living. Guys ablution blocks are something else (apparently it’s not near as traumatic in the female blocks – it’s just guys and their...habits). I’ll blog an entry one day on the subject. I’m still compiling evidence.

We’re driving to Glen Innes today. The girls have thrown me in the back seat to write the blog while they take turns in driving. Please excuse the shaky typing. It’s really not easy to do this in a moving vehicle.

We made Glen Innes – had a meal at the local steakhouse that couldn’t be beat and spent our last night on the road for a while. The next day was rainy as we made our way through the mountains and down the Cunningham Highway to Bris. A nice friendly truckie on the Motorway nearly caused me to miss the critical turn-off to Pete’s place but somehow we made the leftie and got to Pete’s at one minute to two in the afternoon. I had phoned him from Glen Innes saying we’d be there at two. “Sorry I’m early” I said. “Don’t let it happen again” he said. Brisbane is warm and humid. It’s nice to be home again.

Leaving Melbourne

We are once again cruisin’ the Returd Highway after a month “off it” in Melbourne . Next big stop is Brisbane and it will be a quick trip north as I have to do some work in Bris. This semi-retirement sucks a bit at times – like when you have to work!

                                                    Catching up with Skaf at the Cafe Sana

We managed to catch up with quite a few people in Melbourne and spent some quality time with Donna and Craig and Renee and Justin (and Dexter the dog).  It was a bit disconcerting being greeted by a garden gnome called Ben Sherman at the front door of Craig and Donna’s place but once we negotiated the boundaries(he stayed on the doorstep – I edged around him on the way out) we were fine. We did try to oust him when we cleaned out their garage but Ben dragged his sorry ceramic arse back to the doorstep before the garbage truck arrived.

                                                              Ben Sherman - almost toast!

We would have seen more friends and done more in Melbourne if it wasn’t for Maurs’ back problem. She’s fine now and the upside was that we were able to fund some Osteopath’s kids through a year of private schools and a European holiday in the process.

We stayed at Justin and Ren’s house over Easter and just as well we did. Easter Monday night we all turned in early as some of us had to go to work the next day. At about 3.30 am Maurs woke to hear her phone ringing, then she heard Ren mumbling something about a phone. “It’s ok,” said Maurs “it’s my phone!” “I know” said Ren, “I’m calling you!” From the next bedroom?!

It took a while for the fuzz to clear but it turns out when Justin closed the bedroom door upon retiring it locked and when he tried to open it for a call of nature it refused to open.It was good and locked and no amount of tickling from either side would open it. So the Foley Demolition Team set to in the early hours of Tuesday morning to get that door open at all costs. After all there were somewhat anxious people waiting on the other side. We tried to be nice; we tried to be subtle; but in the end it was hammers and screwdrivers to remove the stubborn lock cylinder. We can’t imagine what the neighbours thought of the loud hammering sounds at that hour but still, we prevailed and they were released from their prison. Conversation then centred around what they would have done had we not been in the house – and then as to whether they should be left alone at all! However Brisbane was calling and we set off on the Wednesday with a special guest in tow! Who is it? Stay tuned...

                                                           Should we leave these people  alone?