He is nothing but a man with a vital call button.

Yesterday was the first day that people could take household rubbish out for collection by our shire. It did not take long for residents to dump their unwanted goods on the street. I followed suit but while taking a large chair off my trolley I fell forward prostrated myself over the edge of a discarded TV set. This is now the fourth time that I have fallen this year. I have prided me on the fact that I have not had any broken bones and that I could straighten myself upwards with not much difficulty. The fall over the TV did result in a bleeding arm. So, should there be alarm?

During my coffee morning with my Cricket Bradman colleagues it was suggested with some enthusiasm by all my caring friends that I ought to consider getting myself a ‘Red Button Vital Monitoring’ system in place. It is a system whereby at the press of this button care is immediately available. It sounds very wise and seeing I have been unable so far to find some loving and caring female to share some of my domesticity, I am most times on my own. It is not that I have completely lost hope in finding a fascinating divorcée or single woman of the softer opposite sex, but so far this hasn’t happened. In the past I put myself up in my profile as a man of a middle age appearance, a kind of tall RM Williams suave sort of man, certainly not of the flamboyant open necked golden chained Apollo that many women drool about. I am not going to wear a golden chain around my neck now.

However, does my middle age profile still holds? I seem to have reached a new stage of falling over. I have to also consider too that in my eighties a middle age is now not an honest way of portrayal in my quest for a soft and caring kind female. Should I update my profile? Should this include now that I am a carrier of vital call devices in case of a fall? I am sure there are females around with similar red buttons. A good opening line could well be; Show me your red button and I will show you mine!

At the same time it takes an admittance that I have to chew over before taking action. Do I really want to be known as a man with an alarm button? What about if this medical titbit goes around town? This is a very small community. I can already see the pointing of a finger, whispering ‘ oh, he is nothing but an alarm vital button man, well past it. Forget about him!’

It is all so complicated. The good thing is, the one around the wrist looks quite smart, almost like a smart watch.

Land ahoy, or the end of Lockdown.

The figures are dazzling

The figures on new infections,  number of deaths, those in hospital and those in Intensive Care  Units with a finale of those under ventilators followed by a dazzling display of high tech visuals giving stretched-out a moving image of green lines across a blackboard backdrop of both single and double vaccinations are given in daily front line news. There is no escape and we are locked-downed into this while wearing masks and staying the distance between humans that still move on legs.  

There was a moment whereby the news would shift away from all those numbers and graphs when the Taliban (Afghan people) took control of Taliban Country ( Afghanistan). Alas it did not take long for the news to revert again to the previous diet of pandemics presented by sweaty newsreaders and beady eyed politicians. Not a sliver of positivity was allowed to enter the news and even the Paralympics did not really cut through the thickness of Covid and stretched out patients with blaring ambulance’s sirens. Still, the Afghanistan and Paralympic diversion was nice while it lasted

In the meantime the parks are full of people walking their dogs and children. The proliferation of tricycles and mopeds a noticeable addition to the usual tangle of dog leads and poop filled garbage containers which the councils had the foresight to enhance the public parks with. Our way of dealing with dog droppings would have to be the best in the world as well as our civic obedience in accepting lockdowns week in-week out, months in – months out. A remarkable example of the normally anti-authoritarian Aussi. Almost overnight dogshit has left our footpaths and public areas and no one bats an eyelid watching the melancholic task of a dog owner carefully wetting his fingers and opening the plastic bag, turning it inside out and then stoop down to deftly pick up the shit and reverse the procedure under the curious and watchful eye of the dog, and carry the filled bag to home or the nearest garbage bin. The dog must really be pleased how he managed to train the owner so well

Anyway, the end of lockdowns will now happen when between 70 and 80 % of people including children above 12 years have been fully vaccinated, which is projected to be around the middle of November. In the meantime my strategy is to continue walking and walking, talking with my friends at the local Bradman Cricket oval. A world famous oval as shown by the busloads of Pakistanis , Indians Afghanis and many other cricket loving tourists that came here by the thousands during the pre Covid era.

I wonder if there will be any sort of  post Lockdown effect or hangover. Will some people need counselling to get used being close to others again, able to converse and use speech and gestures needed to renew social intercourse. Have some of us become addicted to ‘keeping space and away from each other’? We are told that masks will probably stay. Oceans already are awash with plastic and no doubt those blue mouth masks being discarded in our sewage and on the streets will find themselves being entangled in turtles and fish, mammals and wash up on our shores. How long does it take for those masks to disintegrate?

Covid has a lot to answer for but the end is nigh.

The words just keep on moving.

French sardines and my birthday cards

There has been a spell between the last time I wrote down some words in a certain order. The times just keep on going and for every intention to get back to write, something came between the intention and the words. The birthday was a main event but reaching 80 has now passed and it feels the same. I keep a keen alert on moments of forgetfulness or lack of instant recall on names.  Many people of my age I noticed now are doing crosswords and even cryptograms to remain sharp and alert. In my Bradman Cricket café group called Stumps, we help each other out onto remaining alert by recalling movies we might have watched with details of actors’ names, or special events that were shared in times gone by.

We all nod in pleasurable contentment we still know the details of war battles or the Queen’s birthday, the capital of former Rhodesia or what it means to have fallen down a ha ha. When I go through my garden I try remember the names of the different plants that were put in, and at times I do struggle with the instant re-call, but when I let it go, through the sheer magic of my brain, the name will suddenly pop up. So, all is good and still in order.

However, a serious slip-up came to the fore this morning. My usual wake up routine, (as if this is of any importance to you, my dearest and most faithful followers), is to go downstairs and ignite the heating systems, before hopping back into bed to wait for the comfort of a warm and pre-heated wave of air to greet my face. This usually takes about half an hour which is spend, while still in-situ under the blankets, by checking any dire messages or the latest Covid-19 fatalities on my iPhone. It’s not exactly reassuring knowing that those of advanced years are by and large most likely to be locked within the latest fatalities.

So, to keep this short and reverting to the slip-up. As I finally got up, had a shower and got dressed, I noticed after carefully ambling downstairs, that I had left the milk outside the fridge. Can you believe this? I might have told you that instead of sipping Shiraz I now have taken to drinking warm milk with honey. I take one in the morning and one before going to bed. I hope it is not a sign of slipping. Perhaps giving up the Shiraz was not such a good thing. Mind you, I buy the top label of milk named A2, and is twice as expensive as normal milk. It is the best milk money can buy but of course it is not Shiraz. I don’t get a buzz out of this top-milk no matter how much honey is in it. (12%)

Was it a mistake and should I go back to Shiraz?

The importance of Grape Hyacinths.

Grape hyacinth.

Even though many of the restrictions on the Corona virus have been lifted I noticed still a kind of hesitance amongst people. There hangs a fear to getting close, and all those tape and red crosses on floors and grounds isn’t conducive to closeness. Park seats even have crosses on them. I still am afraid to stand or sit anywhere. A few times at the supermarket I noticed people backing away when I walk past them. There are sign still asking people to respect and consider each other and that we are all in the same position. Patience and consideration are being tested.

I took my daughter last night to the railway station and there too were sign to stay clear of each other. The public toilets were locked and so was the waiting room. There were solid padlocks on everything that had a door. It was freezing cold and we could not be further away from other people because she was the only person on the whole rail station. She told me she was also the only passenger in the rail wagon she had jumped in.

Isn’t it sad how the US is now tearing itself apart? China now does not have to do anything to show that democracies can fail miserably. This is why in order to keep sane we might have to move away from both political and human made failures. I can think of no better way than to concentrate on the good and honest earth;  The joy of making soils with cow, chicken, turkey, and mushroom compost, all of which I have been investing in. I wrote previously that I had planted a whole lot of grape hyacinths bulbs some weeks ago. And, even though we are just at the beginning of winter, the advice on planting bulbs was during late autumn, and they now have started, albeit very gingerly, rearing their little heads poking the soil. I risked pneumonia darting outside in my shirt and socks to take these pictures. It was freezing with a strong wind and just 8C.

The irises have also reared up.

I had to add gas heating to my town house as the reverse cycle ducted aircon just wasn’t doing its job. I am not of such a stoical disposition to enjoy cold. Some do, though. It always surprises me that during these wintry gales and frosty morning I see some walking about in shorts, t-shirts and thongs. What’s wrong with them? Perhaps it is my old age which doesn’t really matter unless you are a cheese.

So, now that I am settled in my new place, I can look forward to a nice garden, good friends, (including the softer ones) and my Café meetings at the Bradman Cricket grounds called ‘Stumps’, world famous cricket grounds. Life is good.

I’ll leave you with this picture of my cyclamen.

 

 

 

The corona virus victims will get priority over the Cataract.

Our late son, Nicholas and Helvi.

Today there are 900 cases of confirmed corona infections in Australia, which are said to double every three days. This means that by the time my cataract operation is due on the 9th of April there will be 57.600 cases with a possible 1340 people having died. These are grim figures.

Of course, we all know that life has mainly zero survival and most of us will sooner or later have to accept the icy embrace of the hundreds of millions who went astral travelling before us. Now, the good news is that the survival rate of the corona virus is 96 %, which I suppose is better that the rate of survival by rock fishing or sky diving aficionados, let alone drinkers, smokers etc.

I do my best to stay isolated but will cancel my private cataract operation which might be cancelled anyway by doctors having more urgent work to perform than non essential operations such as mine. By the end of April, unless the peak infections are halted by a complete lock-down, Australia will have over 3.500.000 million victims.!

I went shopping this morning and had a coffee at the Bradman cricket café. There was a nice breeze blowing and Milo got his usual share of treats as well as Tess, a female Jack Russell, hopelessly in love with Milo.

I went to Aldi afterwards, and bought eggs, truss tomatoes, a loaf of Multi-grain bread, two bananas, a bunch of fresh broccolini, and a bag of nice looking mandarins. A woman who had bought four huge cartons of vile looking dried Pizza crackers jabbered on how she read in the Telegraph how the Chinese are emptying the Australian supermarkets and posting it back to China to sell for profits. I told her off and so did another lady in front of me. Of course , the Murdoch paper is only good for toilet paper as a last resort or perhaps it should be first

Stay well, dear readers.

 

Moving to better pastures.

The lopped top of our birch-tree which threatened the gutters.

If people thought things have been a bit quiet on the Oosterman Treats blog, they are right. After more than ten years of ‘putting up’ with a strange inexplicable  toxic atmosphere, I am moving. Helvi and I both tried to make things work, but with some people that just doesn’t work. Perhaps it makes them happy when unhinging others. The chairperson of this community likes nothing better than to hack away with secateurs and cut down anything that blocks his view of fences and gutters. You will get the picture I am sure!

I am moving a few kilometres up the road where I bought my new abode. It is brand new and so far only a few town-houses are occupied. I met one couple who immediately were helpful and welcoming. Another couple opposite also friendly and jovial. It renewed my confidence in people. I also met very nice welcoming people at the local Bradman Cricket café. A joy to behold and we meet two or thee times weekly for a coffee and exchange of the latest. Nothing serious and oddly enough, no cricket talk, not that I would mind, I just don’t understand the game.

I was so happy with the decision to move away from the present noxious body corporate and so overwhelmed with my friendly new abode, that I bought another town-house, which I will let out to get a bit of income. Good karma so far. Helvi wanted to move earlier but with her cancer and endless hospital visits it did not eventuate. She would be happy to see me move away from this present address.

I am now packing endless boxes and sorting out all the paraphernalia we collected through the years. My goodness, 19 egg-cups, and so many sets of knives, far out. Father Riley’s charity shop is groaning with the superfluous household items of our previous life’s sojourn.

I am so happy to have made this move. I am on cloud nine and no secateurs in sight at my new address.

The incorrigible Jack.

Milo.

You can tell that the above Jack Russell dog is one of the most intelligent breeds of mammals around. This particular one is our dog Milo, so that explains my prejudice, but just have a good look at him. He exudes wisdom and a certain clear-sightedness of the world that he, together with billons of other creatures, shares with lesser mammals, the human variety. It has been known for a long time by some scientists the truth that the humans are now belonging to an inferior placenta mammal whose lack of intelligence made them introduce bows and arrows, nuclear bombs and endless wars with an innate desire to kill their own species. Some of those mammals belong to a special sub-species named poli-tic-ions, some of whom eat lumps of coal, are now busy resisting climate change of which most normal intelligent mammals are now acutely aware of and indeed have been trying to point the verity of climate change to the less intelligence endowed mammals for years…

The recent bushfires in Australia are responsible that over a billion animals have now perished. The cause of those fires are now well known to have been part of ignoring what the world of the more advanced mammals (phylum chordata) have been pointing out to the lower human mammals for years. Thus on a worldview, human mammals are just shown to be much lower on the evolutionary scale than the much more evolved mammals such as the koala, the kangaroo and of course the Jack Russell. Humans are not fundamentally different from mammals according to an evolutionary worldview, but certainly less evolved…

“The world’s species and habitats are under more severe pressure than at any time in human history. Over 10,000 tree species are threatened with extinction, as are almost 8,000 species of bird, mammal, reptile, amphibian and fish. The number one contributor to this alarming state of affairs is habitat loss, all of it driven by human activities, but the problem is compounded by unsustainable exploitation in all its forms. This collective mismanagement of our planet’s resources is leading to widespread declines in biodiversity and driving increasing numbers of species to the brink.”

https://www.fauna-flora.org/approaches/species-and-habitats

 

This is what the  human mammal is thriving for unless it changes course!

This morning while having a coffee with friends I took this photo of Milo and his girlfriend. You can tell they are a good couple. Milo is now almost sixteen years and Helvi and I used to wager who would go first. Sadly, Helvi did, and my morning coffees at the Bradman cricket Café named suitably ‘The Stumps’ are a real treat with good friends and they help to get used to the new situation of my quiet house, silent mornings and single plate at the sink.

 

Milo and girlfriend. They are both great companions.

Getting on with it.

We are often told that getting over bereavement one has to try and refrain from sitting down and instead keep on moving about. Generally that is good advice even without being struck with bereavement. Of course, our houses have furniture, especially chairs, stools, and for the horizontal position lovers, beds. They are all instrumental in beckoning us to sit or lie down.

In my case of coping with a loss of my friend and partner, lots of friends have given advise on how to move forward and warned me of the dangers on sitting down. I like sitting down, and hardly ever get bored while seated. In fact, moving about I often felt an ennui creeping in more than when seated. The reason might well be that when seated one does not get distracted by moving pictorial images passing by while ‘on the move.’

In any case I thought of combining both the sitting down and the moving about way of overcoming a mind numbing grief. It is still so recent. I have applied to do some courses in U3A. Here it give a summary;

“The University of the Third Age is an international movement whose aims are the education and stimulation of mainly retired members of the community—those in their third ‘age’ of life. It is commonly referred to as U3A. There is no universally accepted model for the U3A. Wikipedia

Founder: Pierre Vellas

Founded: 1973″

I have applied in doing 4 courses. Here they are.

1. Creative writing.

2. Thinking sociologically.

3. News in Review.

4. Global economy.

Already last year on the advice of Helvi, I managed to do a course in Dutch language also run by U3A. Unfortunately the person who ran the Dutch course passed away. Of course this 3 age includes the undeniable fact that with ageing one also approaches the finality of life much surer than when starting going to kindergarten.

I also have now decided, in the spirit of ‘keep on moving,’ to have a daily coffee at the local Bradman Cricket park café. It includes a good walk and with Milo in tow I hope to attract people. Even though Milo is the main attraction. An opportunity might present itself to engage in conversation with the friendly dog patters.

This morning’s coffee, a couple with a dog  were seated at a table outside in the sun. The dog had a plastic device around its head and must have had an operation in which it had to prevent gnawing the part of its body it was operated on. Poor dog.

Another woman was doing a cross-word puzzle but without a dog in tow.

This afternoon at 1pm I am going next door across the fence for a barbeque and a bottle of wine is being chilled in the fridge.

I am getting on with it.

True blue Australian Values; What are they?

It used to be a thorough understanding of cricket together with compulsory viewing by all migrants of Phar Lap’s ( a famous race horse) pickled heart in a glass jar and Bradman’s cricket paraphernalia. Together with a clear understanding and pronunciation of ‘My Bloody oath.’

This has now changed! These are our new Australian Values!

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-04-20/australian-politician-property-ownership-details/8453782

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-04-20/housing-affordability-decisions-made-by-big-property-investors/8454978

GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	commercial/investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Randwick, NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie, NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie (unit), NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie (unit), NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie (unit), NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie (unit), NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Port Macquarie (unit), NSW	investment
GILLESPIE, David	Nationals	Wauchope, NSW	residential

DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Townsville, QLD	investment	Owned by family trust
DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Kingston, ACT	investment
DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Moreton Island, QLD	investment
DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Palm Beach (unit), QLD	investment
DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Spring Hill, QLD	investment
DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Spring Hill, QLD	investment
DUTTON, Peter	Liberal	Camp Mountain, QLD	residential

BILYK, Catryna	Labor	South Hobart (unit), TAS	investment
BILYK, Catryna	Labor	South Hobart (unit), TAS	investment
BILYK, Catryna	Labor	Kingston, TAS	investment
BILYK, Catryna	Labor	Griffith, ACT	residential
BILYK, Catryna	Labor	Kingston, TAS	residential

BANKS, Julia	Liberal	Malvern, VIC	investment
BANKS, Julia	Liberal	Braeside, VIC	investment
BANKS, Julia	Liberal	Bealiba, VIC	investment
BANKS, Julia	Liberal	Malvern, VIC	residential
BANKS, Julia	Liberal	Mornington Pensinsula, VIC	residential

ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Mudgeeraba, QLD	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Palm Beach (unit), QLD	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Ayr, QLD	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Deniliquin (unit), NSW	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Deniliquin (unit), NSW	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Deniliquin (unit), NSW	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Forbes (unit), NSW	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Forbes (unit), NSW	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Kalgoorlie (unit), WA	investment
ANDREWS, Karen	Liberal	Clear Island Waters, QLD	residential

The mysterious disappearance of Flies.

!

Are the flies being courteous? Just when many of us decided to bunker down underground to avoid flies, they have now just as suddenly gone. Not a fly to be seen. I looked underneath the budding Hydrangeas. Apart from lounging around our worm-farm, this used to be their most favourite spot to congregate, plan their next course of action. Only this morning I still noticed a large black one, head down, still spinning around maniacally on the tiled sitting-room floor. He was obviously in their species well known and peculiar death-rite so common in the Australian fly.

There is only so much flies can put up with, not least getting doused with the much feared ‘knock-down’ spray. Forgive me giving the masculine version. I wonder if flies too have multi genders? I would not be surprised. They certainly are heading towards euthanasia. That is for sure. One can tell by the way they line up around my hand held ‘knock down’ weapon. Mortein Fly Spray, the fast loading Adler shotgun of the fly spray. Flies get depressed in Australia. Is it the Turnbull factor?

The real reason for their sudden disappearance goes deeper than love of fly spray or fly-lust for Mrs Euthanasia. We had a great change of weather last night. A Southerly Change. It is the Australia’s version of manna from heaven during relentless heat waves. Just when all hope is gone, despair seeped in, and all energy sapped by heat, that salvation is at hand; The Southerly Change. People regain the spring in their steps, tentative shopping at Aldi gets renewed, some even walk around at random, fly-sprays put back in the cupboard. Can you believe it?

There was Carol singing at our local Bradman Cricket Park. At the end of the singing they promised to let off fire-works. What fireworks have to do with Christmas escapes me. Perhaps a lure for people to turn up! In any case, it was very loud, and Milo, our Jack Russell went berserk. I don’t know what he thought of it all. On one hand he wanted to protect us but on the other hand he was so scared. He ran inside cowering near our feet. Poor thing, so brave. The last thing any Jack Russell needs, is to be thought of as being afraid.

An hour later while I was listlessly watching some incomprehensible movie on TV, named ‘Doctor Foster,’ it was thankfully interrupted by ‘no signal.’ The Southerly Change came about. Within minutes the remaining flies went underground. What is the secret of the flies withdrawal? Can someone give an explanation?

After waking this morning, watching the spinning of the last of the flies, we ventured to go outside again. A miracle, a miracle. Not a single fly! Where and why have they now gone? Perhaps it is wise not to contemplate on those sort of minor issues. Surely, the Christmas spirit should exclude ruminating endlessly about the plight of flies. They have a right to live and I am sure fulfil some kind of need the same as other creatures. Theirs must be of some benefit to mankind, even if just to clean up the mess of others. Many years ago, I heard that for Australia to get rid of flies we should all be eagerly breeding dung beetles. Apparently, they consume dung like no one else. Does anyone know where one can buy dung beetles?
They might make a good Christmas present