Postage.

wives waiting for their fishermen husbands at Scheveningen

Can someone explain why internal and overseas postage is so exorbitantly expensive in Australia?

I get charged between US$4.60 and US$3.20 per book sent by Air from the US to here in Australia, depending on numbers. Yet, to post a book within our own State of NSW cost A$7.40! But, it gets worse, a single book sent to Holland from Australia cost me A$33.40!

What’s up with Australian Post? No wonder local retailers are complaining that on-line shopping by people from overseas is too expensive due to the charges by Aus. post.

There is nothing more purgative than a good whinge. I just came back from the local post office with our Jack Russell ‘Milo’ sitting in his usual spot on the console with his cadaver smell just inches away from my nostrils. I looked at him crankily. He just returned the look by nuzzling my ear. A calmative action he knows will work. Now that he is getting older we suspect he likes the drive much more than the walk. We prefer the walk as many stop to pat and say sweet words to Milo.

Of late, it provides most of our social intercourse. It is amazing how many people know about the Jack Russell. It seems a never-ending subject for discussions. With some clever manoeuvring however; mainly by Helvi, the conversation can go off at a tangent and we get into the more interesting aspects of a pavement discourse. Last week the subject of the writer Albert Camus came up. I think (but am not sure) the man mentioned France, and how the terriers are used to catch rats there. This was a propos his own Jack Russell having caught a rat around his shed here in Bowral. I followed this up by mentioning a type of terrier used to kill rats in the Spanish wine cellars. He returned by mentioning that rats caused the big plague in bygone centuries. I then threw in my bit about a book being titled ‘The Plague.’.He seemed to remember having read the book also. His wife helped him out by mentioning Albert Camus.

We are now at 2pm and the temperature in my car sits steadily at 10C. It is a bitter wind that comes straight from the snowy mountains, where the first of the skiers will soon be arriving. On a Friday afternoon one notices the cars with skis strapped on the rooftop. Of course, now-a-days most hire the skis and all that goes with it, on arrival at the resort. For many the carting of skis and boots is a thing of the past. In any case, with the climate warming up, the skiing has not been all that crass hot and snow is now made by huge machines that try and fill up with snow where nature has been scant. They make snow and spew it on the side of the mountains. I have skied in the past but not lately, or to be more precise, not over the last fifty years. I am not sure I would enjoy it on man-made snow. A bit like looking at artificial flowers. No matter how realistic they are now. It just doesn’t cut the butter.

Tags: Albert Camus, Friday, Jack Russell, PostOffice, Scheveningen, The Plague