Mother Who Works

Camping People - 2022

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 13 May 2022 23:37:00 +0000

I'm over camping. Geoff says it's because it rained and I got a shocking cold, and I should stop being such a Debbie Downer. That could be true but dealing with a wet tent and the rest of the crap when you get home does take the edge off the experience. When Geoff said he was taking all the gear back to the storage shed, I suggested he just whack it all on Facebook Marketplace as a job lot. He didn't laugh.

Here's a snippet of the rain. Turn up the volume for the full effect.

Anyway, there were some fabulous moments - check out the scenery!

Guaranteed too, that we'll meet some really 'interesting' people. This year's candidate for top place was Dick (not his real name, yet somehow so appropriate). Dick strolled over to our site, apron on and tongs in hand, to lean on a post and lecture those seated, on the benefits of investing in real estate, promising us at least a 40% return on a million dollar investment in the next five years. In fact, Dick announced that he himself had just purchased a property for some $1.4 million. Moving swiftly and seamlessly on to economy, Dick told us that for his mind, he prefers unemployment to be sitting at around 8-9% rather than the current 4% and falling. I couldn't help it - I had to interject and point out that a statistic is merely that, and unemployment is a very personal issue if it's you that can't get a job. Dick was having none of it, purporting than anyone could get a job if they were prepared to work.

'Um, Dick....' I ventured, 'I do a bit of work in the community services space and there are people with disabilities, or non-English speaking, Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander backgrounds, or caring for other people - who do struggle to find employment.'

Dick, unsurprisingly, wasn't interested and moved on to mental health. Back in the day, according to Dick, you could fire someone and tell them why. But not today. No, you might damage their "mental health". He charged on, ridiculing the very idea of mental health, pointing to himself and then each of us in turn.. "I've got mental health, you've got mental health, you've got mental health.... we've all got mental health!" I started to think Dick didn't really get mental health. I was itching to explain to him that we all have physical health too, but some of us are in much better shape than others. However, as Dick was an older guy with a rather large, protruding tummy, even I thought that might be a bit offensive, so I held off.

I didn't have time to rethink my approach. As is often the case in these situations, Geoff was palpably sensing my fury and likely to explode - so he changed the subject. I can't even recall what to I was so incensed. The other campers who we'd invited to sit around our fire and have a drink, hadn't uttered a word since Dick's arrival - and the kids, thankfully, were all in the tent.

In wrapping up, Dick assured us that he loves nothing more than camping and... wait for it... hearing other people's stories!! Hilarious.

Only 65 years to go!

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 03 May 2022 23:21:00 +0000

Back in one of the many 2020 lockdowns, (they're all a blur - I can't recall which) I had a bit of time on my hands so thought it was an ideal time to start learning a language.

It was one of those regular whims you have but with little intent to ever follow through - but faced with weeks trapped at home, it seemed like a case of now or never. Because I'd toyed with the idea for years, I'd already thought Spanish would be the best choice. Spoken by many countries and latin-based, a quick Google confirmed that it was (allegedly) the easiest language to learn for English speakers.

I've always assumed I didn't have a brain for language - and frankly, I'm yet to dispel that hypothesis! At school, I struggled through a couple of terms of Indonesian and was tortured with French for a couple more.

Having settled on Spanish, I signed up to the free version of Duolingo and got started.

It's quite fun, a bit like a game. You only need to do a minimum of about 15 minutes a day - but here's the catch; to keep your 'streak' you need to do it everyday. Like Christmas, your birthday, holidays - every day. I suspect it's my personality type but I now have an unbroken 677-day streak. Tragically, it did break on an interstate trip when I had patchy internet and it didn't capture my full effort, but thorough research revealed that if I contacted Duo via Twitter and pitched my case they might restore it. And they did. Phew!!

So obsessed am I, that I recruited a Spanish-speaking friend to cover for me while I was hiking on an island in Tasmania.

How's it going, I hear you ask? Here's the summary they sent me for 2021:

Now you may be familiar with the theory that it takes 10,000 hours to become truly proficient at pretty much anything. So let's do the maths:

9006 minutes is 150 hours a year.
10,000 hours divided by 150 is 66.66 years - let's call it 67.
I'm two years in - so a mere 65 to go....

And can I string a sentence together on demand? No I cannot.

Honestly, there are days I think I should give up but I feel too invested so I'm going to have to keep going.

Adios!!

The Doggies

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Mon, 22 Nov 2021 05:04:00 +0000

After M and I sold our business, we made good on our long-threatened outing to the greyhound races.

Why, I hear you all chorus and yes, good question. Always ones to get amongst it, we'd had some dealings with the sport's peak and felt we should expand our horizons.

The greyhounds, as I'm sure you know, get a pretty bad wrap - often referred to as the 'dish lickers', the races have been described as perfect for those with a very short attention span, because unlike horses, they run for seconds rather than minutes. They also had a highly explosive enquiry by the NSW government that led to the entire industry being momentarily banned - before it was realised how many people it employs - so was reinstated with some stricter controls.

So when M said she and the other ladies from the office were going for a Wednesday lunch, I was there in a shot! Actually, that's not true at all, as the venue is in an outer suburb so I was there in about an hour, fifteen.

The first thing that struck us was that although the venue was a scaled down version of the horse races, with manicured gardens, clean and tidy grounds, and newly refurbished interior, the people were a lot more casual in their attire. There was a table of people with special needs having a fabulous time and pretty much everyone else was in hi-viz. We, on the other hand, were in our usually 'creative corporate wear', with some extreme fashion, spiked heels and full make up. We didn't blend in.

This is the actual venue

The first challenge was drinks. Apparently wine isn't usually purchased by the bottle (there were five of us) and establishing a price to charge for the entire thing was a bit of a challenge. Once that had been established the next hurdle was the 'no glass' rule - yes, at lunchtime on a Wednesday. We were issued with plastic glasses while our bottle was held behind the bar - for the safety of everyone - and we had to trot over to get a refill as required. Luckily this was a mid-week lunch, so that wasn't often!

Lunch itself was a bain-marie affair of tandoori chicken, rice and veg. The ladies serving, who also ran the bar, were just delightful - and very generous, so we literally had to beg them to hold back on the man-sized portions of chicken and rice, and up the steamed veg which most people seemed to think was a garnish. The meal, we all agreed, was very tasty! And at less than $15, excellent value.

Back to the main event - the races. We thought to really experience the thrill, we needed a bet - and liked the sound of a 'quaddy'. Having studied the form guide one of our number, a single gal, insisted she couldn't go past 'Empty Box' as that had been her plight for quite a while. We all contributed our gold coins and M nominated one of the girls to place the bet. I don't know how, the selected one claimed in panic. None of us do, explained M, just ask at the betting desk. They'll explain it as they want our $14.

Off she went and minutes later, returned looking flustered. Well that was embarrassing, she reported. Apparently 'Empty Box' was not the name of a dog, but the status of the starting box - as in it's empty and there is no dog. Bet you didn't know that!!!

Back to the form guide to select another. I think we collected but if we did, we put it on another race and that was the end of our collective pool of funds.

So for the sum total of about $24.50 each, we had a great time before we waved goodbye to our hostesses and headed back to town.

The Gambler

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Sun, 07 Nov 2021 05:46:00 +0000

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?

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 19 Oct 2021 21:02:00 +0000

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!

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Sun, 27 Jun 2021 03:27:00 +0000

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!!

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Sun, 14 Mar 2021 06:03:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 29 Jan 2021 23:57:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Sun, 29 Nov 2020 00:58:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Sun, 08 Nov 2020 04:27:00 +0000

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

The Endurance Quest

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 18 Sep 2020 09:44:00 +0000

Have you ever toyed with the idea of an endurance quest? You know the type, walking from Brisbane to Sydney, riding your bike across the Nullabor, going it alone through Siberia? The type of undertaking that challenges your resilience and mental strength to just keep going?

Well, if you live in Melbourne, you can pretty much tick that box.

We have now officially had the longest, harshest lockdown in the world - and it's still going.

You may be wondering why I haven't used this time to post more. That's because NOTHING has been happening!! #isobored In fact, I have ventured out so infrequently, I've only refuelled my car once since March - ONCE!!!

Way back in March, when this shit-storm started, there was some novelty to being locked down. I ironed, cleaned windows, sorted out cupboards, did some jigsaws, cooked a lot - the things everyone was doing. This was followed by a little reprieve; we had dinner with friends, I went to the gym, had my nails done - there was hope in the air. Now, I can't even be entirely sure of the sequence of events but next thing, we were back in Stage Three, which then rapidly escalated to Stage Four for six weeks, which has now only slightly eased for yet an additional two weeks.

Friends who I've always thought of as stoic, resilient and community-minded are losing it. People who have shown no interest in politics are screaming at the TV when further announcements are made and posting things on social media that is sparking debate on how this has been handled. This is officially a hot mess - and we're all on the Coronacoaster.

Various recent comments implied that people not living here don't get it. They ask the right questions but don't really comprehend the depth of distress Melbournians are experiencing. It reminds me of unpaid family carers - that passion of mine. I once described caring - the 24/7 high-needs type - as a 'perpetual ordeal'. And, like lockdown, it's not to say it doesn't have its moments of joy, but you're always hypervigilant, awaiting the next inevitable catastrophe or bad news event.

I know I shouldn't complain. People have died, others are suffering incomprehensible financial distress and front line health workers are exhausted. I often think of those shut up in tiny apartments with lots of small children, home-schooling and allowed out for only an hour a day (now two....). Many people are physically trapped in a crumbling relationship - the requests to lawyers for divorce is up 40% - and that doesn't even touch on the soaring domestic violence.

So there you have it. I am trying to focus on the positive this week and stop my endless complaining. So far, not good. I'm cracking on with another jigsaw, learning Spanish and completing a certificate in Governance and Risk Management - but what I'm really missing is people!! Coffee, meetings, drinks, strategy days, workshops, dinners - I can't wait until I again have places to be, and people to see.

The Kmart Kart Game

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 28 Jul 2020 08:39:00 +0000

Given here in Melbourne we're back in lockdown, you'd think I'd be churning out blog posts - but there's really so little going on there's not much to write about. Until now.

I've been after these black, glass-topped side tables from Kmart for months. They'll be perfect for your cuppa (yeah, okay - wine!) when watching the endless hours of Netflix/Stan/SBS/FTA... and they're $39. What's not to love?

They've been out of stock for months. When we weren't locked down, I even checked in-store, where empty shelves across many categories confirmed reports that the supply chain - mostly from China - has been affected by COVID.

Elle and I have been checking online from time to time to see if they're back and weren't we thrilled to see them - yay! I popped them in my cart and then realised I needed to get to $45 to qualify for free shipping. I needed to get something upwards of $6 - how hard could that be? And here's where the game started.

Underwear in our sizes was out of stock. We tried a hair clasp. The process is that you need to add the item to your cart and then attempt the checkout - that's when you discover the hair clasp is out of stock, Damn. Next was a cheap fashion necklace, then another - nope, both out of stock.

I know, I thought, a book! I Googled bestsellers, a couple of reviews - time was ticking and my tables were waiting. Elle was getting panicky. I threw one in the cart and proceeded to check out - the book was out of stock. I chose another - same deal. I selected a random title - also out of stock. Clearly, there are no books in stock.

What else, I pondered? I know! A new laundry basket! The handles on my tubs are broken - I could do with a new one - and, miracle, it was in stock!! I checked out and was beside myself with a deep sense of achievement - tables, free shipping and a random laundry basket.

My elation lasted until the next day when I received an email from Kmart to advise that my tables were out of stock and that they'd issued me a refund. Next was an email from Australia Post to say my parcel from Kmart was on its way. And here it is.

No tables but a $12 laundry basket (free shipping) I probably could have lived without. Never mind.

Powering Down

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Sun, 21 Jun 2020 06:17:00 +0000

Other than acquiring some new and whacky hobbies over iso, I've also used the opportunity to pay more attention to that fun, family activity - finances!!

Top of the list was the electricity bill.

I'm with a supplier that nattily tracks our expenditure and compares it to our average. Now I appreciate that we've all been home and winter is upon us, but dear god, how could we spend so much?? In March and April, it was $30-40 a week, but in June, it just kept going up until we cracked $100. Now there's a PB no-one should be proud of.

The real mystery was why were the weekends less painful than weekdays when given our routine, every day is pretty much the same. Here's an example.

The obvious culprits when the weather turns are heating, hot water and the dryer - but to add to the mystery, in our house, those three are gas.

I rang the energy company and discovered that the price of electricity during 'peak demand' costs more than DOUBLE off-peak. Added to the explanation is that 'peak' runs from 7am until 11pm. That's not PEAK - that's pretty much all of my waking hours!!

I believe some companies also have a 'shoulder' but I'm guessing when it's all said and done, it evens out to be the same; ridiculous!

And we might even pay higher rates in winter. I Googled that and couldn't find a clear answer.

Can I just point out this is only electricity and that our solar is currently putting almost zip back into the grid.

In an attempt to stem this hemorrhaging of money, I:

Reprogrammed the bathroom floor heating and pond filter to go hard between 5am and 6.50am
Ran the dishwasher from 11pm
Used the 'delay' button on the washing machine to run during the night (I'd wondered what that was for! Poor Gary the cat sleeps in the laundry and may not appreciate it - but as he's making no financial contribution to the household, tough luck!)

I have also attempted to get people to turn off lights as they leave a room - but that's still a work in progress.

Anyway, just with those changes, here's what happened! We've whittled $20 off it. And saved some carbon.

Not exactly a holiday but better in my pocket than theirs!

Painting by numbers

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 09 Jun 2020 23:21:00 +0000

If you're anything like me, you've always pooh-poohed this style of art. In fact, I still don't think it is art - it's really just a different read on a puzzle.

Having literally just completed the second of two massive jigsaws - 1000 and 1500 pieces - the kids gave me an Aldi paint by numbers kit for Mother's Day. I also scored the Jacinda Ardern book, "A New Kind of Leader" and a plate of home-made jelly slice. Winner!!!

Mother's Day was back in early May, and I finished the painting yesterday. Here it is.

That, my friends, was a bloody marathon! Here are a couple of progress pictures, to prove I didn't snip the image off the front of the packet.

Yep - Gary walking over my 'masterpiece' and

having a little drink from the brush water...

And for reference, here is the packet. I'd describe the outcome as more of a facsimile or a likeness, rather than an accurate depiction. And once you get into one of these, you quickly discover why.

Before embarking on this project, I näively assumed paint by numbers was as simple as working your way through the provided colours and fill in the spaces with that colour. How wrong I was! Yes, some colours are straight out of the pot, but others require mixing - and not just two, sometimes there are three.

The instructions said that if two numbers were indicated, mix in equal parts. So I was surprised to see areas requiring 10/6 abutted next to areas of 6/10. More confusing was that some of these complex colours mentioned numbers - like 26 and 19 - that weren't supplied 😳.

To add to my frustration, being the rule follower that I am, on more than one occasion, the colour I mixed looked pretty bloody identical to a previous combination of different colours! At that point, I confess, there may have been some rouge, 'off-piste' and ad-lib painting.

Other issues included incredibly teensy-weensy areas and numbers. I don't normally wear reading glasses, but was forced to commandeer a pair of Geoff's x2 magnifying glasses to see what the heck was going on. What this also revealed was that once into the very detailed areas, some spaces were absent of numbers. (No - they weren't meant to be white as they were all numbered 1.) Couple that with the single 'one size does NOT fit all' brush that comes with the kit and the degree of difficulty is ramped up several notches. Here's an example, which I have blown up so much it's actually gone fuzzy - to make my point.

So - would I recommend it as an iso-hobby? It's no better for your neck and back than a puzzle, it takes at least as long and ruined my thumb-nail opening those silly little pots, but a least with a jigsaw, once it's done, you can pop it back in the box and pass it along. What on earth do you do with a dodgy piece of 'art'??? I'm thinking about the recycling bin.

Product reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 26 May 2020 04:37:00 +0000

Many years ago, I was having one of those days at the office. You know the type - when you reflect and ask yourself; is this really what I want to do for the rest of my working life? And the answer was a resounding I don't think so!

I can't recall what prompted it. Probably one of those motivational staff training sessions that's meant to fire you up for your current job, but instead, has you questioning what the heck you're doing with your life. Pretty sure that's never what management had in mind when they forked out the big bucks for one of those fancy consultants.

Having thought hard about what I'd like to do - regardless of qualifications, experience, opportunity and feeding my kids - and I came up with day-time TV infomercial presenter. Yep - you know the ones - asking the inane questions and looking enthusiastic about a blender that slices and chops. I thought it'd be fairly glamourous, albeit potentially vacuous, but hey, it would play to my key strength - talking!! I figured the hours and stress would also be a fraction of my current role.

Later that day, I was chatting to my esteemed colleague, Annie, head of media and just a sensible, smart, amazing woman.
Annie, I pondered, do you think those people who present infomercials on daytime TV get paid much?
No, she said, without hesitating or even asking why I was asking. I think they just get ex-models who are too old to keep modelling.

Yep - that's me out on all fronts!

Annie was definitely the right person to ask. When she moved overseas, she also had a career re-evaluation. I recall prima donna ballerina and judge were two options she was toying with - she neither studied dance nor had a law degree. We all thought she should throw spy into the mix - she would have been great at that!

Anyway, about three years ago, I was bombarded with ads for magnetic eyelashes on Facebook. So much so that I caved and bought some. Having confessed to this purchase, I was asked by several people to let them know what they were like. I should have done a blog post - but anyway, here's that review:

After talking about such products over many drinks one night (before iso) and my confession re the eyelashes, my friend, Anna, bought a hairdryer/styler she'd seen on FB - and let me know it was coming my way for a review.

And here's it is - in two videos (I can't edit....)

After that, she sent me a text saying she's secured yet another questionable product for me to try. And here's that review.

So I dunno - maybe there is still time for that career change!

Winner, winner...

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Thu, 30 Apr 2020 00:03:00 +0000

So - here we are in week whatever of iso. I first lost track of the days, now I've lost track of the weeks - months will be next.

Like many people, we've used the time to get around to jobs that have been on the backburner for goodness-knows how long. One such task was taking a random collection of lotto tickets to the newsagency to see if we'd won a pile of money. You may ask why we hadn't gotten to that sooner - and frankly, it's because we felt quite comfortable delaying the disappointment and living with the remote possibility that we'd won.

We're not avid lotto people. We're not 'registered' or anything fancy like that. It's just that when there's a particularly big draw, Geoff might grab a ticket. We are well aware that the odds are more in your favour to be struck by lightning than they are of winning first division, but hey - people get struck by lightning.

Geoff and Sass were in charge of the project, arriving back to say one of the tickets was a winner, but as it was older than six months, the newsagent could neither tell us how much or pay it out. We need to contact the State Revenue Office. The excitement was palpable. Before long, the winning ticket was in an envelope, jettisoning it's way to the revealers of our fortune.

You did take a photo of the ticket before you posted it, I ask?
A couple of sheepish looks and it was clear they hadn't.
Dear god, there could be thousands of dollars riding on this and we have no idea of what the ticket number even is!!

Time passed.

Elle emailed an enquiry from Geoff's email, masquerading as his EA (she likes to do that!). No response. More recriminations regarding the lack of record that the ticket ever existed.

On Monday, I decided to open a book. $2 to guess how much we'd won (assuming it wasn't 'stolen'). Closest to the pin wins. You can tell from the picks that our initial euphoria had waned somewhat.

And finally, a letter arrived yesterday. Geoff and Sass scurried into the study to have the first peek, emerging with tears in their eyes and an edge of hysteria - I was hoping because we were now loaded.

Sadly, it wasn't to be. The sum total, which we will be receiving in the next few days is (drum roll please) - $10.65. A hair more than the $8 sweep Geoff picked up!

Iso

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 17 Apr 2020 02:04:00 +0000

How's iso going for you?

As someone who has worked at home for a few years, to begin with, it was pretty much business as usual - but it is rapidly becoming a bit like Ground Hog Day. Is it Monday; is it Friday? Who would know. And does it even matter?

However, there has been some unexpected tolls - namely my nails. Pre-iso, I had them done every 2-3 weeks for that 'polished professional' look, but look at them now! Chipped, peeling, uneven - and nude!!

Today :(

Early in iso

That, my friends, is not only the result of scraping off your own shellac but also:

Excessive hand washing
Cleaning windows - inside and out
Gardening - mowing, weeding, whipper-snippering
Ironing (an activity I've not partaken in for literally years - I'd forgotten how perversely satisfying it is to have ironed tea towels in the drawer - although when I noticed I was ironing a running T-shirt, I knew it was time to unplug...)
Cleaning out and rearranging cupboards
Bathroom scrubbing (I even RainX-ed the shower screen)
Hand-washing dishes - including many that could legitimately go in the dishwasher
Peeling, chopping, cooking
Laundry of all and every description
Vacuuming and mopping (these are perpetual now the girls are home)
Wiping down everything, using my nail to scrape off every little mark

I suspect I'm not alone.

Cleaning aside, we've also played UNO, Cat Bingo and Cluedo and I've completed a 1000 piece jigsaw.

My outings have pretty much been for a run, a walk or a coffee - but, when the girls and I decided a trip to the supermarket was required, I seized the occasion. I had been concerned that I might forget how to put makeup on and walk in heels - so 'dressed' for the occasion.

I'm pretty sure the guy at the Aldi checkout appreciated the effort; he said 'Have a nice day' and normally all he says is 'Would you like a catalogue?'

Stocking up?

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 06 Mar 2020 22:10:00 +0000

The world has gone completely mad! I cannot understand why people are emptying supermarket shelves of toilet paper because of the threat of a respiratory virus. If someone can explain the phenomenon, I'd appreciate that. Currently, I can only put it down to herd mentality.

I believe the run on toilet paper has spread to other countries. This pandemic could end up being worse than coronavirus!

I won't lie; it took me a while to cotton on to what was happening. I was at Aldi late last Saturday afternoon and was surprised there was so little pasta, canned lentils and tomatoes - very not like Aldi. I wasn't after those things so didn't give it much thought. The woman in front of me at the checkout did a dash back to the bean aisle before starting to check out, arms laden with tinned chickpeas. "The beans have been restocked', she gasped, clearly relieved. I had no idea why she was saying this to me, so just smiled vacantly (as I sometimes do).

On to Woolworths where bays had been cleared of god-knows-what because there was nothing there to identify the normal inhabitants and I had no interest in investigating.

Now, of course, social media is awash with memes and comments on the doomsdayers, like 'Haven't they heard of wine??'

In the last day, a man in Tamworth was tasered for grabbing a fellow shopper by the throat in an altercation involving toilet paper. Seriously - I am not making this up - here's the news link

Even in the unlikely event that supermarket supplies run low, I'll reckon we'll be okay. We live within walking distance of seven cafes, a pub, a wine bar, a few restaurants (Indian, Thai, Vietnamese and Italian) and a couple of bottle shops - we're so fine!!!

Ironically, with the kids both temporarily out of town, I did think this might be an opportune time to eat our way through the freezer. It's overflowing. There are vegan burgers, prawns, gozleme, pizza bases, pasta sauce, jars of rocket pesto, chicken stock, turkey gravy, boa buns and goodness knows what's underneath those things. It'll require a reconnaissance.

And if we end up in lockdown, we'll be the ones living off the stash of Man Shakes (protein powder) and wine! I could afford to lose a few kg and that seems like a fairly appealing way to do it!!

Big Brother

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 21 Feb 2020 03:19:00 +0000

I will admit that I'm not that particular when it comes to matters of privacy. Unlike kids of today, my social media is an open book. I do, however, subscribe to the notion that whatever you post is the same as wearing it down the street on a T-shirt, forever, so that does give me pause for thought.

I've only recently popped a bit of tape over my laptop camera. That was recommended by my kids, although really, who wants to watch me type?? And I have to remember to peel it off for Zoom meetings.

Sass did point out that she was NOT happy that my name and mobile number popped up in Google Maps, connected to our address. It seemed that it had somehow hooked into my business and thought it was doing me a favour - but that was quickly and simply unhooked and deleted!!

Retargeting also doesn't bother me. That's when you look at a website or do a Google search on say, trips to Bali and then every site you go to for the next few days serves up ads for holidays to Bali. My work gives me cause to search for all kinds of sites - from incontinence products to aged care facilities - none of which I'm actually in the market for, but Google doesn't know that. Loser.

Some people I know are cautious about shopping online. Not me. I cheerfully hand over my details to any old eCommerce site as the convenience is just too... well... convenient! I did once have the misfortune of clicking a link to track a parcel from China that contained a 'browser hijack'. That's when your usual search engine page is unwittingly taken over and filled with ads and other crap that doesn't look familiar. Most annoying. That one required a call to the IT peeps.

But there are some things that I wouldn't share for the sake of privacy - and one is my DNA. I know this has become very popular to find out about your ancestry, but I don't like the concept. Maybe because we have a family history of dodgy genes - which could be held against someone at some point in time. You also don't know what it might reveal - like a close friend of mine who, just via the standard letter, discovered a previously unknown fourth sibling!!

The other one that my intuition rejects is Google Home and other 'listening' tech. I've heard this joke several times over the last few months:
I was talking to my wife in bed the other night and she said, Why are you whispering?
I said I didn't want anyone to hear.
She laughed, then Siri laughed, then Alexa laughed.

I thought it was kind of lame - until one evening last week...

As we were getting into bed, Geoff commented that he liked the new coconut flavoured toothpaste I'd bought (WhiteGlo - just FYI) - and we had a brief conversation about the other varieties there are and where I'd bought it. I settled into bed and picked up my phone for a bit of 'Words With Friends' - and look what popped up.

Eeek!

I think I'd best put a bit more focus on that privacy thing!

Kidless

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 11 Feb 2020 05:42:00 +0000

After 26 years and seven months, we are (temporarily) kidless. But who's counting??

And just quietly, it's pretty bloody fantastic! Just don't tell the kids...

Sass headed off to boarding school (just for the year) and Elle's moved back to Canberra for uni.

Praise be the day!!!

Before she left, Elle was insisting I'd be lonely and miss nagging them. True, it's only been five days, but they have been very peaceful days and I haven't missed asking eight times across a 12-hour period for her to PLEASE empty the dishwasher, pick up after herself, wipe the bench after she's eaten and turn the lights off if she's not in the bedroom/bathroom/kitchen. (Is it possible to get the kids to pay the odd power bill? You know, just for the life-experience...)

Sass left - with nine huge bags of stuff - about 10 days ago. We'd been gathering, shopping, naming and checking that list a hundred times. As one mum said, every time you check, something else appears that you swear wasn't there before. When I say 'list', it went on for pages - more of a booklet really. Everything from sheets and towels, toiletries and textbooks, to hiking gear and stationery. There was stuff all over the place - and now it's all gone!!! Yay.

Elle was next. She had an absolute car-load of clothes, homewares, bedding, cushions, books, a large jute rug, a NutriBullet, leftover beer and wine from her 21st party and a few jars of pickled red cabbage she'd made. And that too is now all outta the house!!

Order has been restored.

Gary seems a little confused, but appears to be embracing the serenity.

On her day of departure, Elle headed off before 6am and I had a summit to attend at 7am. But when I returned, the first thing I did wasn't to check my email - but to vacuum. I was so happy!!

Since then, I've mopped the floors, washed, polished and vacuumed my car (including the footprints on the passenger side window - I kid you not), rearranged the fridge, tidied the laundry - and everything is as I left it!! It's a miracle.

No one is using my debit card for things they 'feel like' at the supermarket, I've watched MAFS uninterrupted and can even go to the loo without someone insisting I look at something 'amazing' they've just found on the internet.

Perhaps I will get bored and lonely - but then again, maybe I won't!

Remotely Weird

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Fri, 31 Jan 2020 22:38:00 +0000

Although we headed away for Christmas, we did have the traditional Christmas lunch of relatives and relatives-who-aren't-related (RWAR) before we left.

There were people in this household who were campaigning strongly for a live Christmas tree for the occasion - and I was resisting - hard! There's nothing worse than coming home from a beach holiday, dealing with a laundry full of sand AND a crispy dead Christmas tree that the local rubbish collectors will NOT pick up.

There were mutterings that the house didn't feel very Christmassy, so I threw a few decorations around, including a lovely red bauble on our resident fake palm tree and dared them to disagree that it didn't scream 'Christmas!!"

Recognising that part of the illusion is the smell of pine, I hatched what I thought was a very cunning plan: I ordered fake candles online for the summer-empty fireplace and got Elle to duck up to Central Park where the Scouts sell Christmas trees and fling them a few bucks for some offcuts. The effect was as I'd hoped - a lush green bed, emitting the smell of Christmas with flickering candles - but sadly, I failed to take a photo - so you'll have to take my word for it.

Anyway, like so many things online these days, the wax candles with 'life-like flames' arrived with a dodgy remote. Seriously - not that hard to turn the on/off switch on the base - and I've recently discovered if you don't actually switch them off, they chew through batteries like there's no tomorrow.

The novelty of the remote wasn't lost on me, so I gave it go - and the strangest thing happened (no, it didn't just 'work'!! - in fact, as suspected, it was a bit hit and miss). When I turned the candles on - it kinda worked, but I had to hit the 'on' button a few times and get close enough that I might as well have just use the bloody switch! However, when I turned them off, watch the video to see what Shanequa (the robot vac) did....

Riddle me that!!!

Are sea lions dangerous?

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Mon, 13 Jan 2020 02:09:00 +0000

Yeah – like me, you’d probably need to Google that.

And even, like why?

Because Sass and I had had a close encounter with this one when we were at Robe over Christmas.

We were in the surf – without boards (I don’t recall why) – just leaping around in the waves when I thought I spotted someone on a board ‘out the back’. Then they disappeared.

A moment later ‘they’ reappeared and I realised it was an animal.

“Look Sass!’ I said, pointing. “It’s a seal!”

At a safe distance, the concept of being in the waves with a seal was kind of appealing.

And then it caught a wave, body surfing towards us like a torpedo. And I realised it was a heck of a lot bigger than a seal.

Sass and I were both wearing black wetsuits and the thought occurred to me that perhaps this brute thought we were a couple of females of the same species that he should check out.

At that point, I wondered if sea lions were dangerous. Having not Googled that before, I wasn’t sure, so decided panic was the best course of action.

“Sass! Run! Get out of the water!!” We waded as fast as we could through waist-deep water, eventually making it to the beach before our new friend.

This is a stock shot but you get the idea

This is the actual sea lion in question - Sass got a shot from the cliff

He did come onto the beach where we later noticed he had a flesh wound near his tail - maybe from a boat propeller, fishing line - or even a shark. He didn't say.

But back to the question; I did Google and it said sea lions aren't usually dangerous, but they are very large, have sharp teeth and are wild animals.

Panic vindicated!

The Kitchen Table

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 31 Dec 2019 03:07:00 +0000

We're still getting rid of things post the renovation. Some of the delay has been caused by a lack of access. In packing up to commence demolition, large items were placed, Tetris-style, into the shed. with smaller crates packed into the gaps. It's taken months to get our two large mirrors back on the wall as they were trapped behind an enormous mahogany writing desk and blocked from the side by an antique blackwood pew.

The desk has since found a happy home in Canberra, the pew has been reinstated inside and the mirrors, finally, have been hung. At last, I could get to the kitchen table so I could take a few snaps and get it on eBay. (You might recall the win I had with our new dining table).

We've had the table for over 25 years. We had it made from recycled Oregon and over the years, changed the colour of the stain, had it widened, a drawer added, as well as changed the legs from turned to tapered. It had served us well, but it was time to go.

Pricing on eBay is tricky and you need to take care not to confuse emotional connection with commercial reality. The table was solid timber and we'd had many happy times around it - kids' birthdays, dinner parties, Christmases - but no-one on eBay cares about that - they want a bargain! Nor is there a short supply - so it had to be priced to sell.

I popped it on for a seven-day auction starting at $100, which on expiring, I was offered $50 from a woman in a nearby suburb who could collect it - immediately - SOLD! And here's where the hilarity began...

The buyer arrived with roof racks to which was attached a bike fitting. She had some vague idea that the table could just sit next to bike rack.... yeah, no. This is a very large, heavy, solid timber table - that hasn't got removable legs.

She eventually managed to get the bike attachment off and it took her, the girls and me to get it onto the rack. I asked if she had ropes and she assured me she did, pulling out three occy straps!! (Occy straps, short for octopus straps, are those lengths of cloth-covered of elastic with a hook on each end - notorious for flinging off or snapping at inopportune moments.) She wrapped one around a leg and hooked it to the roof rack, after which we left her to do the other two. She did assure me she was going to drive slowly, but I could just picture her braking at a red light and the table sliding forward, down her windscreen and onto her bonnet. The whole thing seemed highly precarious and frankly, dangerous!

Anyway, I had my $50 and the table was out of the shed, so frankly, not my problem!!! (Although of course, I do hope no-one was hurt!)

An inconvenient call

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Thu, 14 Nov 2019 03:54:00 +0000

I don't know why it popped into my head, but this morning I recalled one of the most bizarre phone calls I've ever had.

It was late on the morning of Monday, January 4th, 1999.

How do I recall that so specifically? Because I was in the birthing suite at the hospital!!!

I would have taken the call on my very corporate Nokia - remember these??

I'd arrived at the hospital earlier that morning for what Geoff would later describe as 'the most boring day of my life'. My contractions, like the action in the cricket on the TV, were intermittent and separated by long periods of tedium. It's probably why I took the call.

For many workers, it was the first day back after the Christmas/New Year break - luckier ones had an additional week. I'd finished up work when the office had closed - about two weeks prior - and was planning to return in April, so I assumed it was family or a friend. In those days, your phone didn't tell you who was calling - you either recognised the number or took your chances by picking up.

It turned out to be the Executive Assistant to the Managing Director of a financial services client I looked after, and I was, needless to say, surprised she was calling. She'd previously struck me as a bit vague, but this time she excelled herself. Here's how the conversation went:

MMW: MWW speaking...
EA: Hi MWW and happy new year. Did you have a nice Christmas?
(Bit of small talk)
EA: The MD has asked me to ring you as he's hoping you'll be able to attend a workshop he's having on Thursday
MWW: Yeah, probably not - I actually started maternity leave before Christmas...
EA: Oh, really? I didn't realise it was so soon... I thought you still had a while to go (Said in a way that suggested maybe I'd got that wrong and she was, in fact, correct...)
MMW: Yes. I'm actually at the hospital now.
EA: Oh... right. So.... you won't be able to do the workshop on Thursday? (In a tone that suggested perhaps I could and should)

Seriously.

And when I did clearly state that no, I wasn't available, she sounded rather put out.

Oh, well.

Generational time keeping

noreply@blogger.com (Mother Who Works) — Tue, 12 Nov 2019 23:03:00 +0000

When I was a kid, getting your first watch in late primary school was a rite of passage. I got mine in grade 4 or 5 when my parents had been somewhere in Asia and bought me a pale pink and white one. I was so proud.

Later, in high school, Mum gave me a watch with a slim black leather strap, a gold rim, and a white face with the numbers written in French in a black script font. It's really quite classic and I still have that one somewhere. I don't wear it as it needs to be wound and ain't no one got brain-space to remember to do that!!

These days, fewer kids wear a watch at all. George had quite the collection but in truth, they were more of an 'accessory' to a look than serving a function. I don't recall the girls ever wearing a watch. I could be wrong, but if they did, it was brief.

Even today, they just use their phone or laptop and insist there's no need for one.

Gone too, is the thrill of changing your analogue clock or watch for the start or end daylight saving, trying to remember if it's forwards or backwards and the inevitable colleagues who fronted up to work at the wrong time because they forgot or got it wrong. Now it just happens automatically - even if you move time zones.

Cleaning out a drawer the other day, I stumbled across the watch my grandmother left me. Probably from around the 1920s, it's sweet but so impractical. There'd be no 'quick glance' to see the time on this! It's elegant but tiny!! Maybe people were smaller back then?

Compare that to my watch! I've had two of these. The first for probably five years before the gold wore off and some of the 'diamonds' had fallen out. I also took a big chip out of the glass when I fell off my bike. So I waited for the January sales and just bought another one.

Other than being about 10 times bigger than my grandmother's watch, it also has a much shorter life span. I know some people invest in a proper, 'for life' watch, but I tend to just go with fashion. I can't even guess at how many I've owned.

Anyway, the next generation will be making up for my disposable extravagance by owning no watch at all!