A horse of clay

A Horse of clay

It was maintenance day yesterday at the Campbelltown Radiation clinic. We had a day off. The equipment needed to be checked, oiled, greased or whatever. Most of the equipment has ‘Philips’ on the name tags. It makes me so proud. The radiation has to be focussed with pin point accuracy. I see patients with head shields going in, or neck screens.

Today was normal and all equipment in good order. After arriving I checked the bookshelves. Bingo! My book had been taken again. I had a replacement ready. I quickly flicked it on the shelf. At one stage the man with prostate cancer got up and perused the books. He did not take mine, even though I had put it in the most prominent position.  He was hovering his hand over my book. I nearly told him to take it, but desisted.  Can’t wait to see if that has been taken tomorrow. Its title is ‘Oosterman Treats.’ I am so excited.

On the drive home at about 3PM we visited the sushi take away at the big shopping centre at Mittagong. We both always go for the ‘Binto special’. They are most generous with the little soya and wasabi sachets. I love squirting the wasabi on the lid of the box that the rice, salmon and sea-weed wrapped food comes in. We watch the people go by. There is a weight problem in Mittagong and they seem to congregate at shopping malls. If only they could resist KFC and the 2 litre Coke and go for the Sushi and plain water.

Sometimes we get the urge to go and look at second hand stuff at the Salvos in Bowral. It is a giant Salvos. A good thing is they don’t insist on converting me. It would be a waste of time.  I like religions who leave people in peace. I had to tell the two ‘sisters’ who live at our complex that I am not going to the Mormon cottage meetings but that I do like the choc-chip cookies that they keep making. One of the girls is from US Texas, the other from NZ. They are so nice and even gave us a little impromptu guitar and singing concert on the pavement in front of their place.

At the Salvos, Helvi wanted to try and buy a narrow set of shelves to put our potatoes and other vegies in underneath the stairs. It has a third toilet. The builder must have had a thing about toilets. I can cope with two, but three? Perhaps he suffered bowel problems. We both noticed a clay horse outside the Salvo shop. It spoke to us. It was only $ 10.-. I took the horse under my arms and went inside to pay for it. What a find. It is beautiful even without its tail and ears.

Helvi went on to look for the shelving and shoes. She likes nothing better than to find a $ 500.- pair of Italian shoes for just $20.-. I went straight for a comfortable chair to sink in with the horse on my lap. I immediately fell asleep. I was tapped on my shoulder. A middle aged woman looked me in the face. ‘Would you like a glass of water?’ I am always pleased when somebody talks to me. There is not enough contact between people. I told her I wasn’t thirsty and explained my wife was looking at shoes. She smiled. I think she understood. Women sometimes have common grounds and shoes might be one of them.

Afterwards I wondered why she thought I might like a drink of water. Was she testing me? Did she think I had passed away with that horse in my lap? It does happen. The horse was a fantastic find. Isn’t it beautiful? Helvi last night made a tail from rope which she plucked out. I will try and get some clay to make ears and bake it into the oven after which they will be glued onto its head.  It is now standing proudly near our front door outside. Milo was a bit suspicious.

I think this horse is beautiful.

 

 

The annual obsession with School uniforms raises its ugly head.

 

“Students in NSW, Victoria and the ACT are not required to study maths at all in Years 11 and 12”.

“Australian schools continue to fall behind in maths and science – ABC .”

“Maths should be compulsory at school: our future jobs depend on it”

With those alarming headlines one would hope that educational information would be at the forefront of all schools that are touting for students.  Lofty statements would be made at all schools, that maths was already compulsory. (together with a language apart from English as well).

But what do we get?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-5355581/Hundreds-Brisbane-students-detention-shoes.html

Over a hundred students were send home because their shoes did not fit the regimented size thickness of sole or heel, perhaps both. The head-master was seen to take the tape out and measure students shoes. A few millimetres out, and the students was marched outside the gate. It is a surprise the head-master had the skill in measuring seeing he probably also went without the compulsory maths. I am gobsmacked.

Maths in Australian schools is not compulsory but uniforms are?

Where does all this originate from?

If education is meant to take a young person to its full potential, surely letting them dress freely ought to be the norm. Isn’t the expression of the individual not at the forefront of the unfolding of a growing person? Why do parents put up with that? It is so stifling.

And while we are at uniforms ,why do we show our love of such blatant inequality when we have high fee charging Posh private schools and Bog public schools.

All schools should be equal and no divisions. All schools have both boys and girls. All teachers have minimal Masters Degrees and be well-paid.

Here another link to a good article by Jane Caro.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-02-07/school-catchments-best-public-schools-best-private/9381942

No compulsory math?

The Hike back to Central Station from the State Library.

The sapping heat, a dreadful massacre in Melbourne plus the Inauguration of a new US President took its toll. Tweeting and Face Bookings took over. Some wondered if the US is now on the very precipice of a catastrophe. However, calm and serenity seems to have returned. . A sigh of relief washed over the entire US when Trump restrained himself enough not to grab anyone by the pussy during the inauguration. It was a moving performance!

We both also enjoyed a restorative sleep. It is odd how keen I used to be on sleeping in as a young man. Now that I can, it lost its appeal. Nothing worse than tossing around sleepless. They say, that the elderly often suffer from sleeplessness. Are we haunted by memories? Could we have done things differently? Many people, especially those that claim to be balanced, say that looking back is not for them. They bounce about and are forever jolly and welcoming what is yet to come. They never worry about events of the past and try and do things even better.

To me, it is irritating how some have this ability to for always show this abject positivity. They often lay claims and accept a non questioning and passive vision of a rosy world. The positivity is at times hard to swallow and it alarms me. Is it my age? According to Helvi it is not. “You have always been a complainer and an incurable Jeremiah. A prophet of doom. You have to cheer up and make the best of it.”

It is food for thought!

As was mentioned previously, after noticing a prostrate sleeping man in front of the State Library, I went inside to present my ten books. The man behind the desk wore a uniform with a cap on which ‘State Library’ was written. He was surprised and I informed him of the two Literary awards. He accepted my books and assured me they would be presented to the right people. The State Library is a huge institution and is about far more than lending books. A photographic exhibition was on show. I noticed a huge portrait of our PM, Malcolm Turnbull which made me feel a bit uneasy. He had just managed to cut our pension and those of thousands of others, thousands had their whole pension cut. So much for those that saved up for ‘a rainy day.’

We both strolled around this lovely building. A man with a Coke in one hand and some food in the other, mumbled something while pointing somewhere. He looked normal but wasn’t. A security guard came and took him  gently by the hand ushering him outside. The man tried to come back inside but the guard prevented him. The man was clearly disturbed  mumbling while looking sane. But I wondered what would happen to this man next?

We both were having pangs of hunger and after the walk decided to slowly make our way to a very nice and air-conditioned shop ‘Myers’. Helvi felt her shoes were pinching her feet. Myers  has a very good shoe section. “It’s on the second floor.” Helvi stated firmly yet also optimistically.

We glided up the escalator and I soon found myself seated watching hordes of women trying on shoes. It was a wonderful and uplifting experience. I watched women looking at themselves while trying on new shoes. It was as if the shoe would transform them into stars again. They turned this way and that way. There is something very endearing about women enjoying themselves. Is it something that I could perhaps learn from?

But, the hunger only grew keener.

To be continued!

Post-shopping- detoxing at Oosterman Treats rehab. (PSD)

Yes, I understand. It is not your fault. Have you thought of handing it over to your higher power? There were a group of pale looking people huddled up at the basement of the Woollies car park. This car park is particularly cheerless. It has cold-blue neon lighting and looks so grim. Hard concrete columns with paint scrapings left by cars whose drivers took too sharp a turn around those columns. It is deliberate though, we know that. The only way out of the bunker-like environment of this soul-less car park is to walk the gauntlet of ramps and escape inside the warm welcoming, and cash yearning bosom of Woollies ‘the real food people’ shop. The lighting there is warm, inviting, and at the entrance are large pictures of moist apples, and bunches of rosy-cheeked kids showing real food eating with real healthy foods.

The people at the basement car park were part of a group doing a meeting. They were self admitted shopping-addicts. Each time they met it was to try and stop the disease of uncontrolled shopping. A careful observer would notice few men, but women formed the majority. Many had twitching and jerky hand movements. A result of handing over credit-cards, often involuntary. They had no control. But, as it was often pointed out by their leader, a bearded guru-like man of a somewhat elderly appearance; It was not their fault. It is a disease, he kept reminding the group. One woman told the meeting while standing, she had been clean for over seven weeks. A loud clapping followed. When she sat down she had tears in her eyes.

Of course, the shopping addiction does not include normal everyday household items such as apples, salt or oat-meal. No, the goods that are so addictive are generally grouped under this terrible but very addictive and pernicious name; ACCESSORIES. If ever it was possible to become addicted, it was to that word and all that it entails. It hints at something that is terribly needed. We all need accessories to living, don’t we? We can’t live by air alone. We need an accessory. Anything and everything actually falls under accessories. The shopper buys something, comes home, and casually mention they bought an accessory. The husband (or wife), dutifully bound, looks up from the newspaper, often The Daily Telegraph, and mumbles ‘oh that’s nice dear.’ The Daily Telegraphs of this world are of course totally in tandem with the world of accessories. Page after page they feature adds for handbags, lettuce spinners, sound-bars, 3d printers, rocket-like juice makers, vacuum-cleaners. You name it. It is all full on party-time for the shopping addict. The lure of handing over the credit card and walk out with something wrapped up, anything really. The zing-tone of the scanner is enough to set some off on a shopping binge.

One wonders if this desire to shop for ‘accessories’ is associated to the much heralded ‘life-style? Everything is now linked to life-style. From a Norwegian chair to a drill from Bunnings, all is part of a much needed life-style. At many social events it is now perfectly acceptable and normal to ask about someone’s life-style.

One man at the group was sobbing quietly in a corner. When asked, why?, he confessed to having busted a few days before. ‘I don’t know what happened,’ he said. ‘I found myself at Bunnings and bought a hammer-drill. It all went so quickly, it was done in no-time.’ The man was heaving with remorse. It was heart rending to watch. ‘My wife found out. She had enough. She is leaving me. She told me I have six hammer-drills already.’ Some still in their boxes. The floor is littered with Alan keys.’

The group leader sagely and ever so gently, told the man that busting is fairly normal and not his fault. It is a disease, he said. ‘Just hand it over to your higher power.’ We all get stronger after each bust and pick ourselves up and try again. One lady shared she has over 50 handbags. ‘Oh, that’s nothing, another said. I have over 70 pairs of shoes.’ They all clapped again after this revelation and sharing.

The group shared cups of tea afterwards with an Aldi biscuit, and each went their own way.

It is not easy.