The Gambler

Are you a gambler? It seems for a lot of people - perhaps more blokes - it's a pretty popular pass time. I wouldn't call myself a punter. Yes, I like the Spring Racing Carnival and if I'm at the track, I'll have a flutter, but I confess, if I have three straight looses I totally loose interest and stop betting. 

And it's not like we're talking sheep stations - five or ten bucks either way (win or place) is my modus operandi. And if someone far more informed than me wants to 'chuck on a quaddie', I'm in! 

Oh - and there was the time the girls from the office and I went to the greyhounds - which I cannot believe I didn't blog about so stand by for a post on that outing.

Anyway, having never thought of myself as a gambler, I surprised myself with the bets I've been prepared to make during lockdown; notably travel. 

Back in May, I decided to book a holiday for January 2022 - hiking in New Zealand. I asked the kids - one was keen, one was reluctant so I pretty much bullied the reluctant starter into committing. Now, I'm not sure if you're a hiker but these organised walks aren't inexpensive so I was pretty annoyed when, at the end of lock down, the enthusiastic one had lost interest claiming we'd all spent waaaay too much time together this year. Not wrong, but still.

Then one of the two hikes I booked was cancelled. This left us in a bit of pickle - do we hope the whole thing gets cancelled and get all our money back? Book something else to fill in those extra days? Cut our losses and cop cancellation fees? In the end, I managed to change Geoff and my hikes to a longer one and cancel the girls with no penalty - yay! Elle has a friend with a house at Queenstown so they're using the girls' non-refundable flights and Sass didn't ever want to go anyway - winners. Although let's wait and see what's next with COVID...

In addition to travel, we had dinner at a friend's recently and I offered to bring dessert. Living on the edge, I chose a chocolate tart with orange ice-cream and orange jam from Gourmet Traveller that I'd never made before, and against the odds - thanks to my Aldi ice-cream maker, it worked out pretty well!

So there you go.  As someone who proclaims not to be much of a gambler, I'm taking some pretty big bets!!

How's work?

I have come to the end of a job that was meant to last two or three months and in fact, lasted a year. The job itself has been been fabulous and I've really enjoyed it but I won't lie - I'm tired - very tired. My analogy would be expecting to run a sprint and then said sprint unexpectedly evolved into a marathon - and not really adjusting my pace.

It's been such a totally crazy time in Melbourne - now officially the most locked down city in the entire universe - and we've finally been told we're being let out on Friday. Yippee! 

During the long lockdowns of last year, I didn't have a lot of work on so I did a course on Governance and Risk (yes, please don't judge - and worse, I really enjoyed it), started learning Spanish (hola!) and my house was very clean and tidy.

There's a lot to be said for keeping busy in a lockdown and for many, work - or a lack of it - has had a defining impact on their experience. That's because our world's have shrunk - to our houses and a 5km radius. The novelty of House Party and Zoom catch ups wore off long, long ago and even mustering up the bother to organise a walk with one other person has deteriorated. 

Other than COVID numbers, complaining about the government and what you've been streaming, there's really not much to say even when you do catch up. No-one has been anywhere or done anything - so there's no FOMO I guess.

For some, work has been a saving grace - a reason to get up in the morning and get going. I can only imagine how difficult that has been for single people who live alone. But I also spare a thought for those who have been locked down with small kids and a big job - home-schooling and zooming - just not sure that's anyone's idea of living their best life. I'm also slightly concerned about the impact of a generation of kids who've been homeschooled for almost two years by parent/s who are struggling to remember what an improper fraction is. 

At the other extreme, there are people who lost their job and had nothing to do. I can only imagine that motivation in that camp, especially for those living alone, was a daily struggle. And while the internet has been full of self-care and awareness of mental health issues, if you've lost the will to get up or shower, a meme with a sunburst and some snappy words is unlikely to provide it.

As someone who's had too little work in lock down and too much, I'm seeing the Goldielocks analysis here and am now hoping for 'just right'!!

I'm living with reptile!

Before I get started on this cracking tale of incompetence, let me give a brief explanation of my patchy posting. I took on a fairly senior full-time job that was meant to be 'filling in' for two or three months. I thought this would be fine, as although I still had quite a few other commitments with other organisations, I could juggle - for a while!

As it transpired, said job has turned out to be quite a lot more than keeping the seat warm, and along with the other roles, it hasn't really allowed the brain-space to blog regularly and for that, I am sorry.

If I have any readers left - at all - hello!! And a special shout out to Ruth for the nudge on FB.

Back to the story....

So - COVID vaccinations. Where do you stand? I am pro-vax, but for some reason (probably the stats) my partner was very insistent - in fact, adamant - that he wanted Pfizer. Both being over fifty (yes, please act surprised!) we weren't eligible. Other than the remote chance of clotting (I do know you've got more chance of winning division one with the Powerball in the lottery, and that's not a strong argument), it was more around the level of protection. 

He said he was going to wait. I said I'd give it a few weeks and if I couldn't find the Pfizer, I'd be stepping up for the AZ. I rang a few places with no luck. And, as mentioned, I've been a tad busy...

And then, lo and behold, the government changed the rules to allow Pfizer for under 60s! I certainly didn't see that coming. To Geoff's credit, he got straight onto it, called some hotline and got us a booking - apparently on a cancellation. It was for Wednesday last week at precisely 8.41am. 

We got there a bit before 8am and while we waited, Geoff took a screengrab of the booking with the booking number. When we filed in, it was like an airport procedure! Hand sanitiser and mask instead of security, then driver's licence and Medicare card instead of passport control. We separated for this last bit and I confessed to the check-in person that I didn't have the booking number. The lady said fine, she could find my name. Hmmm, she said, they've spelt it wrong. Quite wrong as it turned out and my email was also incorrect.

Geoff seemed to be taking much longer.

After the jab, we met in the 'wait 15 minutes' bay and I asked why he'd been so long. He said he'd nearly been turned away as they couldn't find him in the system. Luckily he had his booking number where they discovered the person making the booking, instead of Geoff Clifford, had recorded his name as Geoff Lizard!! 

Needless to say, his email was also incorrect. I was reminded of the Starbuck's video, where employees deliberately spell your name wrong - just because they can! It's pretty funny... enjoy!

I'm a weakling!!

The other week I had a business trip to Canberra for a couple of days. It's probably been more than a year since I had to get up early, drive to the airport and catch a plane - and I was a bit concerned I'd forgotten how. For the record, it's like riding a bike.

What didn't help was that Qantas cancelled my civilized 8am flight and put me on the very uncivilized 6am. That meant getting up at 3.45am instead of 5.45am and people, that's just rude.  In my book, that's not the morning; it's still the middle of the night.

But what I had forgotten, was the need to queue and get onto the plane quickly, rather than loitering and getting on last. Yes, your seat is reserved and yes, we all get there at the same time - but getting space in an overhead locker is cause for the rush.

Unlike the way back, I found a space not too far from my seat on the way up. It's probably why I was complacent and spent the return journey with my legs jammed over my bag to hide it from the flight attendant who would have taken it away and made me wait at the other end. I'd be having none of that!

Anyway, I was probably last on, found a space and went to toss my cabin bag into the locker. Admittedly it had two computers, a pile of cords, my make-up bag, hair straightener, change of clothes and books, so was quite heavy, but for the first time in my life, I had the horrific realisation that I might not be able to get it over my head. Sheer panic.

Naturally, I mustered up everything I had and got it in - whilst trying to make it look casual and effortless. But it gave me a fright. I am not that woman (yet) who needs to ask for assistance to get her bag into the locker.

During the lockdown, I did a lot of running and walking and a bit of strengthening. Now back at the gym, I have been tossing some weights around but with very little commitment - until 'the incident'! Now, as I'm lifting weights above my head, I'm picturing an overhead locker. I've lunged, I've squatted, I've sat up and curled - I will NOT be that person!!! Give me until July and I'll be offering to fling everyone's luggage up!

The sample

 If you're like me, the word 'sample' conjures up images of tiny bottles of shampoo, perfume and body lotion, or tasty morsels stabbed through with toothpicks and proffered by middle-aged women in branded aprons at the supermarket.

But no - in this instance, I'm referring to urine.

Now that I'm of a certain age, I'm obliged to go to the GP for an annual check-up. That happened a few weeks back, but apparently, my urine sample was 'contaminated' (that doesn't bear dwelling on) and needed to be repeated.

I was back at work so getting away from my desk to get it done took a few weeks, so I rang first to make sure the local clinic was still expecting me - but really to save the embarrassment of having to announce my purpose at the none-too-private reception. They said sure, come on up.

Turns out the call was a wasted effort. When I got there, I still had to tell them - loudly due to both face masks and a barrier to force social distancing - why I was there. I was handed a specimen jar and told to bring it back to reception.  What?? Normally you drop it in a hutch at pathology and job done. 

I did question it, but she insisted she needed pathology to organise labels, so I needed to bring it back.

Having collected said sample, I slunk back to reception, trying desperately to be nonchalant about the entire ordeal. A man was talking with my receptionist so I was forced to loiter, sample in the jar in a clear zip-lock bag at my side - for what felt like an hour. The man suddenly turned to me to point out the other receptionist was off the phone and now free. I sidled over. Of course, then I had to explain, loudly, the whole thing again. 'And what's your name?' she asked. There went any possible anonymity that my mask may have provided in the now almost full waiting room. She called pathology - I waited - and was finally instructed to go and drop it in the hutch.

As I returned to reception, she flagged me over to ask me to write my name on a Post-it note. When I turned around, I heard 'MWW! Hi! How are you?'  and there was a mum from school, who I'm very fond of, right behind me in the waiting room with her three kids, including one of Sass's friends.  O..M..G. They MUST have witnessed this entire event! I chatted briefly (not mentioning the wee situation) and when another mum arrived who she knew and I didn't, made my escape.

I know I shouldn't be embarrassed - but I was!!!

Use Of Force

Some great things came out of the long, seven-month winter lock-down here in Melbourne and one of those highlights was this podcast.

                                           

Written and narrated by my brilliantly creative friend Sarah, and produced with our old friend David, it's no wonder it shot up the Australian Apple podcast popularity list with a bullet.

Here's the blurb:

Female ex-cop reveals a world of violence, intimidation and lawlessness - and that was just in the office. 
Never intended for release, 18 months of intimate phone conversations with a woman who was nearly destroyed by the police brotherhood. A toxic mix of corruption, misogyny and high-risk offenders. 

Just six episodes - most around 30 minutes - it'll leave you stunned at how naive we've all been about what actually happens inside these bastions of patriarchy. 

I know many of my friends from adland got onto this early, but if you missed it, click on your preferred platform below to start listening.

Apple Podcasts

Spotify

Google

And a particular shout out to readers outside Australia, please share!! It'd be great for this to get the global recognition it deserves!

Vale my beautiful Frelative

Are you lucky enough to have a 'frelative'? That's the term I've coined in honour of this amazing woman, Theresa or to me, simply T.

I first met T in 1988 when I started in advertising. We weren't particularly close but she was friendly and smart, and kind to the trainee (that was me).

T married Peter, who was also in advertising. The industry in Melbourne is a fairly small circle so perhaps it wasn't that surprising that a few years later, Peter was my boss. He was charismatic, ambitious and very good looking! Because we lived in adjoining suburbs, he'd regularly offer me a lift home as an alternative to taking the train, which I readily accepted. Tragically, Peter died in a car accident before he was 40. T never re-partnered - he was, literally, the love of her life.

It was after that terrible event that we became close. Not just T and me, but our families, including her and Peter's three beautiful children, Frankie, Gabi and Gianni.

We quickly became the 'relatives who aren't related', sharing family dinners, birthday celebrations, Christmas get-togethers, brunches and more.

Frankie would have sleepovers, babysit the kids, play dress ups, do craft, come on fun runs  with Elle and me - I often refer to her as my fifth or 'acquired' child. She spoke at both Jaz and Georges' funerals. Gabi also babysat and recently, our work paths collided with colleagues saying 'oh, right - so you're Gabi's aunt!' - yeah - pretty much! Geoff and Gianni share a love of music and have gone to many a concert together.

T used to collect George and take him to watch Gianni play basketball every week for a season or two. At that stage of George's life, he was wheelchair-bound and spent most of his weekends hanging out with us - so he absolutely loved these outings.

T was so thoughtful. We'd come home from holidays and find bread, milk and other essentials at the front door. Anniversaries, birthdays and life events were always acknowledged - for example, a tub of ice-cream dropped over for George's birthday after he'd died - because we all knew how much he'd loved ice-cream!! She'd often text to say she's dropped off a nut butter or new vegan chocolate or some other amazing product she's discovered because she wanted to share her find.

My friends loved T. She had the most incredible ability to recall the details of people's lives - because she was genuinely interested. She'd see someone a year later and ask how their son's uni course was going or how they'd enjoyed their holiday to the States. It was incredible.

We went to the same gym so before lockdown, I'd see her a couple of times a week - often in the same Spin class.

I don't have a sister, but T was as close as I think you'd get. The conversation was always unedited, she was always there if I needed anything - a kid picked up, dropped off, looked after - but there was never any obligation; which is what made it feel like family.

T was taken way too soon. Her loss of Peter so early in their life only consolidates the unfairness. But as we all know, life isn't fair and bad luck doesn't make you immune from more bad luck. 

So vale my beautiful frelative and I so hope you've been reunited with Peter. xx