Tram undulations

I've tried a few times to capture this but either the tram driver was driving slowly or a passenger stood up and blocked the view. 

I got it this time, route 58, in Kingsway to West Coburg via the Zoo.

It is an E class tram, built in Melbourne by local and imported ingredients and built in the suburb Dandenong at the Bombardier factory, formerly COMENG, the government owned Commonwealth Engineering. E class trams are quite long, at over 33 metres/108 feet, have three articulated sections and sit on four swivelling bogies. They are quite a good tram in my opinion, even if the creak and groan. And some of the seats with their fibreglass backs, can pop forward and back depending on acceleration and braking. 

Our next new tram will be shorter and hopefully even better. They will be known as G class. I wonder why F class was skipped?

While I am talking about trams, with Melbourne having the largest tram system in the world, the private operator, not owner, is Yarra Trams, a consortium between the French company Keolis and a large local rail engineering company Downer Rail. In my forty one year career in public transport, my final employer was Keolis Downer. 

Come December a new consortium will take over the operation of Yarra Trams made up of the French company Transdev and the Chinese company, John Holland. Transdev did have a contract to operate part of Melbourne's bus system, and were run out of town by the state government for dreadful performance. That does not bode well. 

I hope the clip doesn't make you sea sick. 

Monday Mural

Sami always has a Monday Mural and others do too.

To save you the bother of neck craning, the words say, "Legacies meld here. Crowns with stolen jewels wash away. Growth remembers loss". Well, that is deep!

Ok, the mural is a bit boring. I found the photo of Kosov that I could not yesterday, as he sat and floor and ground away with a mortar and pestle. 

I had a lovely lunch yesterday with Bone Doctor, Sister's wife, at a plant nursery, and yes, I bought a flowering plant for the balcony. Their daughter was nearby rehearsing for a performance. 

The Personal

I could say it is quiet here without Phyllis but he is often out and about. He is staying with a friend for two nights.

The Swedish Death Cleaning goes on. While it didn't all go in bags, I think I would have taken the equivalent of about twenty of the bags full of stuffs to the local charity shop. Just because you have space, there is no need to fill it. As you well know, I am not a person who exaggerates or is theatrical with detail, but I estimate that one tonne of oven trays and metal baking dishes went into recycling, and another half a tonne of ceramic baking dishes to the charity shop. Phyllis must have found the muller and put it in the bag. In a moment of disingenuousness, I can't remember what we used the muller for. The green thing is a Tupperware celery container. Next to the bags sits a draining board that came with our sink. I was reluctant to throw that out, until I thought about it and acknowledged to myself in nearly ten years since the kitchen was given its makeover, it has never been used. 

Aside from one jumbled bookcase in the spare room and bedding in the linen press, oh, and the filing cabinet, oh and photos, there is not much more cleaning required. 

What is this, asked Phyllis. I don't have a clue, I replied. I just picked it up, gave it glance, never used, get rid of it. It is car phone cradle, Phyllis proclaimed as he examined it. 

Ah, I thought, I will keep that, even though my car and phone connect for calls,  the sat nav is pretty awful to use and the voice controls can never understand what I am saying, usually an address. I still use Google Maps and while I can connect the maps to the car screen, I forget how and I can't be bothered checking, given how rarely I need maps in the car. YouTube helps again, with a short clip about where to place the cradle. At the moment I sit my phone upright in a coffee cup holder in the console, close to where this phone cradle appears to clip.

Swedish Death Cleaning can bring sadness at times.

I had promised R to see one of his sisters 'right' if he died first, and last week I received the balance of Ray's superannuation to my bank account. It wasn't six figures, but close. Today I sent the minimum five figure sum I could via my bank by electronic transfer. I followed every instruction so carefully and triple checked the account details Ray's sister had sent to me via the encrypted Whatsapp. It worked as far as I can see. I tried to check if the amount had left my account to be greeted with a message that I had been locked out of my account. I tried the banking app on my phone and I was locked out of that too.

I called my bank and eventually spoke to someone after twenty minutes in a phone queue, who then transferred me to another department with a short wait. This was the first time I had tried to transfer money overseas and the bank was concerned about the legitimately of the transfer. I was asked umpteen questions, and SNAP, the assumption was made that my late partner was female. Since Ray died I have become fed up with this assumption and I will later lodge a complaint. In spite of all my answers, the questioner kept coming up with more concerns, the killer being, if your sister in law's Whatsapp has been hacked, how do you know they haven't just looked at her style of writing and copied it? I could not argue against that. While I was on the phone I had missed call and a voice message from my bank's fraud department. 

What we need you to do is contact her and just verify the bank account details you have match hers. Please, it is 5am in England. She won't wake until at least 9am. I tried but WhatsApp doesn't allow you to hold a call and call another number using WhatsApp. I tried to call her normal phone number and received a recorded message that I wasn't allowed to do that. After checking later, when I cheapened my phone plan, it doesn't include international calls. Bank person was patient. She gave me the direct number for the banking fraud department and said as soon as you can get through to your sister in law, call us back and we can unlock your bank account and approve the transfer. I have called and called Ray's sister, and no answer. With a moment of exquisite timing, I realised this Saturday she was flying to Spain today for a short holiday. Just call me lucky. 

I do understand the bank's caution as they have come under heavy criticism after some people have been defrauded of hundreds of thousands of dollars by scammers and fraudsters.

Since Ray died, I think I've eaten two takeaway pizzas, and tonight after such stress decided to have my third takeaway hamburger. I ordered online, or tried to. I nearly completed the order and then it occurred to me that my bank account was locked, so I have to pay cash. This is why I do keep cash in my wallet but not much. I will message Phyllis tomorrow to ensure he gives me the rent money. 

Tomorrow Jo has a performance rehearsal in Melbourne and Sister's wife, Bone Doctor will drive her to Melbourne and wait while the rehearsal happens. She suggested we could lunch if I was free and I am. We will lunch at Ray's favourite plant nursery, with its quality plants and I will buy a new potted annual for the balcony, as the cyclamen sent to me by Ray's former workmate and friend when Ray died is on its last legs.

That is all. It would be nice to always be bright and cheerful when writing, but it would be false for me. I no longer have the energy to check this for typos or other errors. Publish and be damned.  

Later edit: Ray's sister called at 1.30am and we compared details and all was well. I quickly returned to sleep and at 7am I called the bank and soon my bank account access was restored. 

Phyllis fun

Ok, I don't want to make it hard for young lovers or maybe they are truly just great friends who sleep in the same bed and natter away constantly. I will call the friend of Phyllis, Kosov because it is close to his name but sounds a bit old Eastern European, thus disguising his south Indian identity. Putting my firm foot down with a hard hand and before my goat gets up my nose, did not work. Kosov is beguiling and it was difficult to say no to him when he asked if he could stay a third night this weekend past. I am quite happy for him to stay, but that wasn't the agreement I entered into with Phyllis. It is all about fairness.

I have decided if Kosov stays the night, the cost each night will be $20. I've also told him he can stay one night a week. The cost to me is minimal, a little extra hot water when he showers, (actually rather a lot of hot water when he showers. He must be a very dirty boi). I have a suspicion that some of his clothes have been washed here too. But just his presence here has an impact, as they are both in the kitchen cooking away and chatting to each other while I am a couple of metres away here at my desk and trying to concentrate.

Kosov spent over half an hour sitting on the floor grinding spices with a mortar and pestle. Why? There are shops to buy such things already ground. But he was clearly enjoying himself as he ground away with great enthusiasm. I asked him if I could take this photo. The photo is 'not available', sorry.

Phyllis has asked me if I could take him to Point Ormond. The car park was just over our five kilometre Covid lockdown exercise limit, and so we did breach the limit about once a week. Post lock down, Ray and I visited and walked up to the trig point or whatever it is. Phyllis wants Instagrammable sunset photos at Point Ormond. Sunset is now 18.09. That means driving in evening peak traffic. Maybe he will forget about it. I've travelled there by public transport. Perhaps I should steer him in that direction. 

A friend of Phyllis is returning to Nepal. He has been invited to stay with her for two nights and party, so he is away. I will guess he will only stay one night. He hasn't paid this fortnight's board money. I hope I don't have to remind him. 

In some ways, 21 year old Phyllis is very clever, but without puffing myself up, he doesn't have life experience and I have to tell him and show him things.

"Andrew, can you stop saying, thank you"

"Phyllis, it is my culture".

I had to learn hugs in my older years. I still struggle with hugging. I wasn't brung up to be a hugging person.

"Aw, thanks, Andrew". And then Phyllis gives me a big hug in thanks.  

Now he is away and not 0.1 metres away, it is my opportunity to change my Grindr profile to something innocuous and see if he is on Grindr when he returns and is 0.1 metres away.

A hexabition

Tolarno Gallery sounds a bit posh, but I can pretend to be posh and visit. I put on my best singlet (English word, vest). shorts and flip-flops and walked a distance to get there. But there was no need to dress up as I was the only person there to visit these bright sculptures. 

I quote Tolarno, 'The gallery spotlights cutting edge contemporary art in a variety of media'. 

Well, the works were bright and pretty and not a total waste of my time. But is it art?

The kiddies are upset and behaving badly

There is some kind of arms exhibition in Melbourne this week. Ok, I looked here. We were not told of this in advance, though the planning would have begun at least two years ago, which is the timeline of booking the Exhibition Centre. Weapons of war, including tanks, were brought in with the cover of darkness.

The kiddies against war and the killings were somewhat upset and protested as the event opened yesterday. Hey, even old gay men can be against war and killings. I thoroughly approve of their protests, trying to block entrances for attendees, making lots of noise, moving around the large venue, splitting up into groups and reassembling. Screaming the words 'child killers' at visitors to the exhibition is fine with me. That's what weapons do.

Things became tense between the protestors and the police. Tram routes were shut down, a major road or two was closed down as the crowd of protestors grew. The kiddies got a bit antsy as the police pushed them back and began throwing things. Among the rotten tomatoes, some quite more heavy things were thrown. That is bad form, kiddies. The cops are doing their job as ordered. 

The police responded with force. Tear gas, rubber bullets and what I had to Google, flashbangs.  What on earth are they? It is a classic case of naming something quite serious into something sounding more mild. You may have heard of them as stun grenades, with a big flash of light that upsets your vision and a loud bang that upsets the fluid in your ears and, consequently your hearing and balance. The effect is temporary in theory. I wonder. But the protestors went well beyond the pale too.

I am sure our very respected Bushmasters, of which we have sent many to Ukraine, were featured. They are fighting off Putin's invasion. While I hate war and killings, countries need weapons to defend themselves. But if there were fewer arms and less war technology, might we not be a bit better off? I dunno. I think a phrase has already been invented, the arms race. 

Protests will continue tomorrow and probably the next day.

The old and the new

Remember this photo not so long ago, showing Heartbreak Hill in Sydney, which is New South Head Road. The photo would have been taken in the late 1950s. I used the photo before a friend who made the City2Surf run. 

I thought I would take a look on Street View. And having travelled on the road by bus during our last Sydney visit in March, I correctly guessed the location.

 

So this is the best I could do with how the road looks now, sans trams. You can see the steps up to a house on the left are still much the same. The wrought iron railings look to be the same. 

P

PS, this should be posted tomorrow, Australian time. The US date system got me again.