'Fancy' can suck

I love my fancy European car. But I didn't love it when we were in regional South Australia for Mum's 80th and the keys got locked in it.

The small person responsible is very sad about the incident and doesn't like me to tell people. And fair enough, Sass - I won't mention it.

We rang the RAA and hours later, the guy showed up to demonstrate how many security features my car has that clearly no-one, including the RAA guy, knew about. The old wedge open the door and slip a wire in to open the handle doesn't work. Nor hitting the 'unlock' button. The car deadlocks. Which is great if some is trying to steal it - not so great if you're trying to get into it.

Plan B. The RAA tried to track down a locksmith. They couldn't make contact. And without casting aspersions on country-folk - after all, I'm one of them - I wasn't holding by breath that there'd be one within 300kms that would be able to get in.

At dinner, with Mum, Dad, their 93 year old friend Jess, my siblings, their partners and kids, we brainstormed options:

• Hire a plane, fly back to Melbourne, get spare key, fly back, drive home
• Drive Dad's car to Melbourne, get spare key, drive back and then drive home....
• Drive Dad's car back to Melbourne, post spare key to Mum and Dad and have them drive my car when coming down in about 10 days (I confess, I was NOT keen on this idea...)
• Have the car towed to the nearest town of size where by some miracle, they'd have someone who could get in
• Call the windscreen people, have the windscreen taken out, get keys, replace windscreen (I thought this was gold - until I called and they explained they can't remove a windscreen without getting into a car - damn)
• Smash a window

We decided to smash a window.

I called a relative who is a dealer of fancy cars to seek his advice. He said the back cargo window would be our cheapest option. We did a template to make sure the small person responsible could get in to retrieve the keys if necessary - all good. So we called the police (there are none in town but just so the nearest knew in case anyone thought we were stealing it), all drove into town and started taping the window.

A car pulled up behind. My brother who lives locally, gave a quick explanation. 'Yeah - I heard,' the guy said. Don't you love a small country town?

A crowd gathered, the hammer was swung - and about 50 strikes later it finally exploded. I put my arm through and discovered yet another new security feature - it alarms if locked and you reach in! Brilliant!

Thankfully, we could reach the keys from there - even if it was noisy.

That was 3 weeks ago. And I still have plastic taped over the window. Apparently that was NOT the window to break. It's expensive, there's none in the country and it needs to come from Germany - still waiting - but at least I know it's secure!

Oh Yeah Baby....

Seriously, the topic of lice goes on as long as... well, as long as we continue to be infested with lice. I hope you're not bored yet, but this is a ripper.

You might recall from earlier posts that I did some research and discovered heat is the enemy of the nit and its egg. It was subsequently discussed by all and sundry in the neighbourhood.

Next thing, Geoff is telling me he can buy a device on eBay that will kill all the lice in half an hour while Sass just watches TV (or I watch TV - depending who's infested I guess) - for just $50. What?

So after the usual back and forth of me saying we need more junk around here like a moose needs a hat rack and Geoff saying why don't we give it a go, I acquiesced and the devise was purchased.

And looked what turned up? I know retro is in and this is a very stylish carry case, but the hairdryer inside - hilarious!

My mum, who's not one to reveal her age (she's a couple of footy seasons off 80) had one of these when I was growing up in a small country town. People, this appliance personified sophistication, modern technology and city chic in a single, small(ish). white zip-up case. Wow. It was a sight to behold. I was actually quite proud when friends were over and mum was zipping around from power point to power point with her head stuck in that flowery cap and the blower slung casually over her shoulder, banging on her hip. Kind of like those cool bike couriers you see around the city with their Crumpler bags.... yeah, maybe not like that!

She stuck it on my head a couple of times, but it was hot and uncomfortable.

So - back from 1972  - and here we are in 2013. Geoff sent me this pic of Sass while I was in Thailand for work (that didn't happen in the 70s I can assure you - but neither were there 7 year-olds surfing the net on their laptops).

When I got back from 16-lice-free days in Thailand, I reckon it was barely hours before I was scratching again. Ahhhh! So desperate was I that I actually dragged out the Ronson and slapped it on my head for a good 45 minutes. (I used to laugh that my mother always said a good 45 minutes - surely 45 minutes is just 45 minutes? I am becoming my mother....) It was as hot and uncomfortable as I rememebered it way back in 1972. But guess what? It didn't work! That's right.... after all that discomfort, I was still scratching. I think the bugs probably just enjoyed the little steam room spa treament.