Round 2 GCCC

 

Shadow boxing took on a whole new mean today when I met with Lester, the delightful author of the threatening letter issued on Council letter head. And what a charming 30 minutes it was!

I do not know, nor do I care to know if Lester has any tattoos hidden under his very fetching council uniform, but if he doesn't, I would suggest that he might consider getting, "I am not obliged to tell you that." tattooed across his forearm so he could just whip up his sleeve anytime some Joe Public asks him a question. This way he could save himself jaw action and spit.

Does the complainant work at the council? "I am not obliged to tell you that."

Do you know the Complainant? "I am not obliged to tell you that." 

What evidence did you gather before you sent the letter? "I am not obliged to tell you that."

How many similar letters did you send this week?   "I am not obliged to tell you that."

How can I address the complaint if I do not no the specifics of it? Ahh something different... A SHRUG!

Bless him!! Lester did take full responsibility for sending the letter. No not everyone about whom a complaint is raised is lucky enough to receive one.

He chooses!!

No explanation of how he arrives at his little pile of standard letters -"I am not obliged to tell you that."

He didn't want to discuss why he had actioned a single complaint, when Bob the field officer, had assured me that any further action would have required at least 2 complaints. "I am not obliged to tell you that."

Is the term Public Servant passé? Are these people, with their snouts buried deep in the public money trough, supposed to be there serving the public?  Is it possible that it is politically incorrect to assume that the public who part with the cash that fills the trough into which these snouts are buried, should no longer expect some service for their dollar? Could it be that those who used to be called Public Servants are now just bathing in our cash getting off by telling us,  "I am not obliged to tell you that."

Again I am left wondering who provides the training for these people. Seriously, if all you can teach someone to say is , "I am not obliged to tell you that." then either there is something terribly flawed with the training package or new recruits are urgently needed.

If a reasonably bright soul is doing an honourable thoughtful job then they should be able to answer questions with honesty and integrity without fear of getting themselves buried deep in doggie doo do.

And if a system doesn't allow people to behave in this manner, then the system is very seriously flawed and is in need of immediate change.

Round ONE at Gold Coast City Council

The big meeting about the Dog Threat Letter was planned for 11.30am today.

We rolled up early and were prepared to wait for Lester. Unfortunately Mr Lester Soloai Animal Management Inspector, believed that unless an appointment was confirmed TWICE, it meant that it was cancelled. Lester and I had a brief phone conversation during which he rather grudgingly agreed to meet me tomorrow morning at 11am.

While we were in the council building we thought it prudent to get all the documents needed to apply for information through the Information Privacy Act, ratified.

I had already carried out the detailed phone instructions, but they proved incorrect, so after email hoops had been placed, I decided that rather than just randomly hurdle them and wait for a delayed adjudication as to my style, I would get an immediate response, so I could make any adjustments necessary in a more timely manner.

I asked Karen, customer service officer,  if she was a JP and could witness our IDs, she said, 'Yes.' But instead of getting out her stamp and official stuff she started asking a lot of questions cos she had gone on to read my letter of request which of course was none of her business. I wondered why. She kept asking more questions. I asked why she wanted the information.

She asked again and again, 'Do you not think I am being helpful?' finally I said, 'No.' Karen disappeared. When she returned she witnessed our IDs and said the request was in order.

Seems there is some problem with the Council's own paper work.... Oh BOOOO HOOO I say. And it seems that Karen was rather hoping that I might have been inclined to help her sort it out while landing my dog in a pile of doo do. I don't think so! Seems that perhaps there might be some small problem with the bloody threat letter the council has sent out. I guess I will find out more on that tomorrow.

When did customer service become a euphemism for 'treat people like shit and throw as many jobs' worth clichés around as possible'? It seems that customer services staff are taught to use inflammatory phrases in the very real hope that the people making complaints lose their rag and go off like rockets so said staff then have the right to pull down the shutter and tell the customer to leave. I reckon they do it on purpose. It's all part of their training!

'Do you not think I am being helpful?' on a loop is not aimed at being helpful or calmative, in the least little bit.

I am more than a little curious about tomorrow's instalment. Steve has already said he will not be able to attend as he has no patience for fools, so I will breath deeply and know that the only way to get what I want from Lester is to be that last man standing. Yeh it's a game of SURVIVOR.

 OUTWIT  OUTPLAY  OUTLAST

Abused becomes the abuser

What sort of a man drops his 9 year old kid off at a school dance without the requisite glow sticks or any money and disappears into the dark to sit at the local pub until pick up time?

What kind of person leaves a kid in hysterical tears of utter sadness time after time, after bullying hateful phone calls?

What kind of arse teaches a kid to lie, by sitting them down and saying, 'Now we are going to tell a lie.' and showing them how to deliver it with body language which might be most convincing?

What sort of spiteful turd uses lies and manipulations and bullying against a kid's mother to get what they want?

Well of course it's the same sort of dead beat shit for brains who quits his forever easey peasey council job with all the perks so he doesn't have to pay any child support for said kid.

There are all sorts of trite definitions for what constitutes parental love, and god knows I am no expert. I reckon I have got it wrong almost as many times as I have got it right, but there are some things I know.

• put the kid first - protect 'em, feed 'em, clothe 'em, school 'em, love 'em.
• do without so your kid doesn't have to.
• love 'em even when they give you the shits.
• talk to 'em, with 'em and when necessary at 'em.
• play with 'em
• listen to 'em
• learn with 'em
• show 'em they are loved.

There is probably a very long list, but I reckon this would be a good start.

I know all 'the books' say 2 parents are better than 1 but I just don't reckon that is always the case.

It must give this fella a great deal of pleasure watching how he upsets his boy. He used to lament his own sad childhood and carry on about his hateful and hated father. How fucking pathetic! I wonder if he sees his father when he looks in the mirror.

When is winter gonna come a marching along?

When I was a girl we had electric blankets and flannelette sheets. Even then I hated those bloody sheets - all wrinkly and bally and yukky, but they were snuggly warm in the winter. I remember tucking my school uniform into the bottom of my bed so that I would have warm clothes to jump into in the morning and I would stop in bed until the very last minute cos I just didn't want to face the chilly elements.

Winter now is just a brief respite from the heat of the summer. Oh I might pop on a light jumper at night and Steve has bought me a couple of rugs to use as we sit like the old people we are watching the tellie, and Dog certainly enjoys tucking under these too, but there is no desperate need for heaters and slippers and coats and gloves.

As a newly-weds, we had no money and a little house and an inherited kero heater. It should surprise no-one to learn that I was no more patient at 20 than  I am at 55 and on one particularly chilly evening I decided it would be wise to give the thing a bit of a tickle along to hurry up the heat. Well hurry it up it did. Flames took off and reached the ceiling and I am pretty sure that serious damage was averted only by Ray's quick action of picking up the whole thing and throwing it out onto the front lawn. I am not sure and I could be making it up, but I seem to remember a big explosion that caused the old lady next door to be even further pissed off with her youngster neighbours. We were not her favourite people.

I reckon the elf and safety police might have banned these heaters and perhaps for good reason.

So now as an old girl I must be running permanently hot and definitely not in a good way. I look forward to my crisp clean cotton sheets and just a little coverlet. I would love to cuddled up under a great big doona but the very idea makes me break out into a sweat.

It is no wonder that the only cool place in the summer is in the pool.

Verve Restaurant at Broadie still my favourite!

This wonderful restaurant is our 'go to' place when we want guaranteed great interesting food for an occasion or we just want to spoil ourselves rotten.

As it was birthday evening, it was predictable that this is where we would go.

When we arrived we noticed immediately that Shelley wasn't there, we are old but not completely stupid after all. Lisa greeted us warmly and seated us and told us that she was the new Shelley and we were pleased to be able to be a part of her very new venture.

Lisa had wisely kept all that, in our humble opinions, had made Verve so successful. The chef, the varied menu, the relaxed atmosphere and the knowledgeable Michael.

We decided to push the boat out and  went the whole hog with the Degustation menu - ooooh so many courses of absolute deliciousness and empty plates some of which I had managed to scrape finger clean before Michael took 'em away.... Soo Yum!!

Here's some pics. The photos are not even close to as fab as the food! The full menu is on Verve's web site.

 

Beetroot many tasty ways with an unusual egg ( Lisa Called it something else)

 

Empty Plate - nothing tucked into a serviette, all down the cake hole!

 

 

No 2  Scallops and stuff - not sure if it was prettier than it was tasty cos it was bloody fantastic.

 

Pork and apple and stuff Yummo!! 

 

Lamb 3 ways - abso-bloody-lutely delicious! I did worry that the orange stuff was pumpkin, but just to make my evening perfect, it was carrot puree!

 

 

Dessert, too many drinks by now for a well focused shot, but I had to be restrained from picking the plate up and licking it clean. I was in polite company after all!

 

 

Cheese. I have never ordered a cheese board at the end of a meal. I can't imagine a time when I would want cheese over sugar at this time in the evening, but the menu caters for all tastes..

 

 

 

Steve decided to try all the wines that went with the meals and I just drank bubbles. The wines that were served did indeed smell very fine and the parade of different glasses was most impressive.. He reckoned that they went well with the food.

 

The pace of our evening was leisurely and calm and there was never any hint that we needed to hurry along. When we booked there were none of those fashionable threats that you can only stay for an hour and a half and then be kicked  unceremoniously to the kerb, whether or not you have finished chewing up your last mouthful.

 

Verve is a place designed to allow you to enjoy truly delicious food prepared with care and attention to detail and served with skill and pride.

 

We wish Lisa and her Staff great success and look forward to our next night out at Verve.

 

NO CASH OR FOOD HAS EXCHANGED HANDS FOR THIS REVIEW

 

Sydney's Public Transport - Oh Yeah!

I am not a fan of waiting and other people's stink and slobber and sweat and leaning, so in the abstract I am never interested in using public transport, but in Sydney, they seem to have got it just RIGHT.

For 5 days I travelled on trains and ferries all courtesy of my mate's Opal Card - the Sydney 'Tap and Go' equivalent of the London Oyster or the Brisbane Go cards. The card is not yet use able on all the buses, but I believe this is the next thing on the list and some routes are being trialled already.

Anyway, over 5 days I reckon I waited in TOTAL about 15 minutes for a ferry or a train to come along and, No I did not have a timetable in my pocket that I ran to religiously. This was just serendipitous timing. How bloody fantastic is that?

Admittedly we didn't want to go anywhere during rush hour so that made life a lot less crowded I suppose. But the ease of getting around was excellent. If at anytime we were not sure, there was a staff member more than happy to help out and we were never given a bum steer.

We hopped on and off the inner city trains using different lines and one day I went as far afield as Parramatta. All very easy, clean, fast, safe, pleasant and cheap, and the ferries have always been a favourite. Really, the locals are just so bloody lucky!

I know there must be a point from the city centre beyond which a car would be necessary, but I certainly did not ever mourn the lack of one.

Sydney is such a fantastic city, so much to do, so much to see. I hope that Sydneysiders take time to smell the roses.

Before I head back next time I will have my own little bit of OPAL and I just can hardly wait to use it!.

Old Friends

Old Friends
Old Friends
Sat on their park bench like bookends
Newspaper blowin' through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old Friends
Winter companions the old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy...

Old Friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear

(Musical Interlude)

A time it was
It was a time
A time of innocence
A time of confidences

Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you

I rolled back the clock some 34 years yesterday and caught up with a woman from almost my childhood.

Maree and I were essentially girls / women together in 1980. We laughed til we dropped and drank and argued and swapped stories and laughed some more.

We recently reconnected on Facebook.

She lives in the Blue Mountains now and as I am in Sydney for Vivid I thought it a perfect time for a get-together, and perfect it was.

The train gods conspired against us so instead of me venturing into the chilly hills, we met up at Parramatta.

Drinks and food and a jolly sit down and we were by far the noisiest guests in the pub. We made short work of the last 30 years.

Sure we are both older and there are etches on our faces and we sadly both limp along a little more than we did as spritely youngsters, but we are essentially the same. She might be a little more leftie and I might a little more rightie, but we both still enjoy a lively debate and we are both still quite militant about the 'establishment' and neither of us are able to suffer fools.

It was just bloody wonderful!

Today's youngies with the advantages of social media should never have to wonder where and why and when and with whom, all their friends are getting on. They should not ever have to meet up one overcast Saturday afternoon in Parramatta High Street to catch up on 30 years.

But oh how they will miss out if they don't. What a lovely way to roll back the time and feel like a girl again.

Paul Simon's song is more than a little haunting and melancholy, but yesterday was neither.

The more we age the more we stay the same.