The Second Rummage

It happened again last Wednesday night. I'd been to the supermarket and was unloading groceries over a few trips, talking to kids and forgot to lock my car.

Goddamit!!

I came out on Thursday morning to pack for Oaks Day (Day 3 of the Spring Racing Carnival) and some of the contents of my glove box were over the seat. They'd been back.

Another pair of cheap sunglasses, stolen, plus all my parking meter money, my first aid kit and my manuals and service book! WTF??

There is a brand of car that apparently once you have the service book, you can organise a replacement key. A quick call to the service centre and I discovered my car isn't one of those.

Fortuitously, I had actually read my car manual last summer but still very annoying. I rang the local police in case they thief realised the books were useless and dumped them somewhere.
If you'd like to make an official record, we'll need to send out the crime squad to take finger prints on your car, the sergeant informed me.
Bit late for that I'm afraid, I confessed. I've already touched everything and anyway, I'm off to the races.
If it's got your rego in them, we'll find you, she added helpfully.

If you see someone around town wearing a tortoise shell pair of these - but TopShop, not Mui Mui - good chance they're mine!!!

On Sunday, as I headed off to Avalon (charity for the homeless) I remembered I'd grabbed a client-branded backpack from the office to donate. Now where was that? Oh that's right - it was in the car...

It would most likely have gone to some poor homeless drug addict and now, I supposed, it was the property of some poor homeless drug addict - so I guess on this occasion, we'd just cut out the middle man!

The weekend of contrast

Talk about extremes.

Saturday was Derby Day of the Spring Racing Carnival (horse races). Some friends and we hosted a car park On The Rails - an enclosure right on the track available only to members and their guests. It was a perfect day in every sense. The weather was magnificent, mid 20s, sunny and only a cool, light breeze late in the afternoon at the day's warmest. The roses were blooming and the French champagne following. 

The chicken sandwiches, pea and feta tartlets, eye fillet, salads (including edible flowers), brownie, slices, fruit platter and chocolates were all exquisite (if we're allowed to say that about our own catering!). We had a long table set up under shade, with a white cloth adorned with fresh flowers.

Geoff and I invited friends we've known for more than 30 years and the friends of our co-hosts were fabulous and engaging company as well. Other friends popped by to say hello, have a drink and ask if anyone was winning on the horses. It was, as always, an extremely convivial event.

We got home and raised a glass with our friends (and some neighbours who we lured in to join us!) to a hugely successful day.

It's the kind of carnival that attracts millions of dollars in sponsorship, corporate and private entertainment, gambling, horses and fashion, with people coming and going in cars, trains, boats, limousines and helicopter.

In stark contrast, on Sunday night, Sass and I headed out with Avalon Centre - the organisation that distributes clothing, bedding and toiletries to the homeless. The afternoon, when we'd sorted and packed the buses, was warm and windy but a cool change had come through and it was cold and raining intermittently. 

We usually see people who are hard up - of course - but Sunday was worse than usual. There was a 9-year old girl with her mum, getting a meal from the organisation that puts on a dinner in the park and a pink coat from Avalon to protect her from the cold wind.

I chatted to a gorgeous girl with an apparent ice addiction who was quite happy and gregarious only to slink over later and apologise for being 'sloppy' in front of Sass, who she hadn't realised had been within ear shot when she'd been mouthing off about something. She was so down on herself it hurt to hear her grovel for forgiveness. Sass and I assured her no offence had been taken and all was fine. She seemed to spring back a little.

There were a couple of softly spoken indigenous women, one with bare feet on the cold pavement. That was a problem we could fix. There was a polite young guy with nothing but the few clothes he was wearing and an impolite woman from Europe who was demanding, insistent and trying to take things that weren't on offer.

One of the Avalon buses outside Flinders Street Station

I don't know why, but there seemed to be more people than usual, drunker, dirtier and more drug affected. The smell of stale urine was more apparent and the language less tempered. There was a bit of agro and a few police. It was cold and we ran out of blankets early.

A woman was looking for some feminine clothes and we couldn't find anything to fit the bill. We checked the shoes - nothing there either. As I repacked the tub, I spotted a pair of almost new orange sandals - bang! I walked up and down the street but couldn't find her - it ruined my night.

I thought back to the apologising young woman at the first stop. She explained she'd been drinking all day. In truth, I'd been drinking for much of the day before. Same, same but so very, very different.

Mother/Daughter Bonding

Looking for a bonding activity?

Elle and I did two on the weekend, both extremely successful - until we had yet another big fight! But never the less, here are some ideas to get closer to your kids.

1. Scrubbing the bathroom floor.
Side by side we scrubbed, half and half and with pretty spectacular results I might say.
Yes there were mutterings of 'child labour' and 'peasant's work' but she did persist.

2. Handing out clothes to the homeless on a Sunday night.
Elle and I spent four and a half hours in a mini bus with some socially incompetent fellow volunteers. We did our best to find suitable clothes for those for whom life has not been kind. Elle was hugged - several times - by a woman with enormous, bra-less breasts (she pointed them out to us a few times) and wearing a filth-covered foam neck brace - and still she smiled and remained super friendly. Go Elle!
If you're ever interested, they can always do with a hand....avaloncentre.org.au

I like this photo - I'm just that bit out of focus... perfect!

What matters?

We were recently fortunate enough to work on a brand strategy that landed us in a space of 'what matters'. It recognised that we often get so caught up in the everyday 'doing', of being busy, that we don't know if it is achieving the things that actually matter. The brand encourages people to take a moment to reflect on what does matter to them and just check that it is where your energy is directed.

For me, knowing that I have been fortunate in life means giving back matters.

I'm currently part of a small group, The MJs, (please do LIKE us on Facebook) who undertake various grassroots events to support different causes. Our key aims are to have minimal expenses so the maximum amount of funds raised end up with the cause, to try and get people closer to the cause (perhaps through a personal connection, the type of event or an activity) and to put the FUN back into FUNdraising.

Our current project has been providing physical help to an amazing organisation called Avalon, which collects, sorts and distributes clothes and bedding for the homeless. It has some other very worthy activities as well - check them out at avaloncentre.org.au 

Before we started mobilising the small army of helpers, Elle and I went out with Avalon on their Sunday night run, following the St Vinnie's food trucks and helping pack and unpack the vans at the various city locations.

At one stop, the well-signed bus was rushed by an exuberant woman who clearly had business on her mind. She'd spoken to the key organiser and had rendezvoused here, as planned, to make her donations. We climbed out of the van as she handed over a couple of black plastic garbage bags - one at a time with explanation:
'Now this bag has sheets and doona covers and pillow cases..'
The second bag came our way.
'...and this one has everything matching - the doona cover and pillow cases and the thing ... the frilly thing for the mattress...'
'The valance?' I offered.
'That's it!' she exclaimed, clearly relieved someone was speaking her language.
'It's got the doona cover, pillow cases AND valance - all matching - and I would REALLY like them to stay together.'

I managed not to laugh out loud. Was she insane? What homeless person is going to be concerned about having a matching valance? In fact, what person anywhere is lying awake because they don't have a matching valance? And what does a person sleeping rough even do with a valance? So many questions....

But, as she pranced back to her black BMW,  high on the goodness of her charitable deed, I realised... a matching valance mattered to her. And that is absolutely her prerogative.

Karma - not.

I was approached by a homeless guy last Friday afternoon. Sitting outside a city bar with a colleague, we were having a glass of wine and discussing work (really, we were!) when the guy apologised for interrupting and asked if we could spare a dollar.

He said he was staying a a hostel, they were looking after him but he needed a meal. I gave him twenty bucks. He thanked me and then pushed on. Can't really blame him, can you? And I suspect he'd already seen the fiver in my wallet. Could I spare another $5 or $6? He'd be right by Monday but needed to pay the hostel. I suggested he pop down to the City Mission, around the corner from where we were or even the St Kilda Mission, where I've previously volunteered, as either of those would feed him for free.

He assured me he knew all the places. He then apologised for allowing the smoke of his cigarette to drift into our faces. How much are cigarettes? $26? Anyway.... even if he spent my money on fags, good luck to him. He was a friendly guy and we all know it's a short trip from secure to destitute.

But I stood firm, told him I was done, wished him well and he moved on to the next table.

On Monday, I got up and went for a run. A rare occurance that won't be repeated too often. It was dark when I set off so I stuck to the main drag. Well into it,  I noticed a homeless lady on the other side of road. I've seen here around before carrying her four green supermarket bags with her belongings neatly folded into them. She was yelling and with great purpose, crossed straight over without looking, forcing a car to brake and angrily honk the horn. I was was watching but still running. What had got her attention? As I passed where she'd paused, she placed her bags behind a parked car, still cursing and swearing and very agitated - and then I realised!! - she was yelling at me! Not only that, once she'd lightened her load, she started chasing me, screaming 'F@#K OFF!!! JUST F@#K OFF OUT OF HERE! GET OUT OF HERE!' Gee, did I pick up speed. She had quite a pace going and although appearing much older than me, she could run!

I tried to remain calm, contemplate what she might do if she caught me (a slap, a punch?) and kept running - fast. After some time, I mustered up the courage to glance behind to see her abandon the chase with a two fingered salute and head back to claim her things. Phew.

So there you have it, just because you do something you think is nice, don't expect it to come back. You're just setting yourself up for disappointment.