Mummy and the Dentist

I spent a lovely day with Bell yesterday...well some of it was lovely and some of it a bit shitful really.

When Belly was a child her father sent her off to the dentist on her own for what he said would just be a little check-up, but she came home with the terrifying news that she needed to have 4 teeth unceremoniously ripped out. This happened in hospital and was all quite traumatic, but the ultimate upshot is that she never went back to the dentist again.

Some weeks ago she let slip that a bit of tooth had sprung loose and that she had a bit of pain. She said that she had made an appointment at the free dentist place but she would have to wait for about 6 months for a date with the possie of practising dentists.

This wasn't good enough I didn't reckon so I sat on the phone til I made an appointment at a place nearby and said I would be there to hold her hand.

Well that offer might well have been the bravest most motherly thing I have ever made.

I too am terrified of going to the dentist. The explanation is a long turgid story of gore and incompetence that I wont go into, but suffice to say, I now go to my bloke who I have trained up nicely. I have a panic attack every time I go. I shake and my eyes leak and my fella knows that he just has to ignore me and carry on and if he is actually hurting me he will know cos I will elbow him hard in his bits. All other reactions are to be ignored.

So when I offered to go with Bell, I was concerned that I might be less than useful.

The first time was HUGE! There was a walloping needle and a lot of drilling and phaffing and I held her hand and counted her breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth and roused on her and told her to get a grip and that if she didn't get a grip, she'd pass out and fall of the chair. Honestly, it was like coaching a baby out of a reluctant mother.

I sounded like some crazy bitch banshee. I was pleased there was no one in the waiting room. I sucked it up and actually watched the whole procedure.

Yesterday we went back for round 2 and it was more of the same except that there were people in the waiting room. I can only imagine what the 2 old people were thinking as they sat there waiting to have their teeth whitened.

I think we only have to go back once more and that is just for a little look at gums. I hope Bell will go in on her own, cos she will have to manage it at some point and she will have to be able to hold Zig's hand too. That of course could be the making of her as mine of her could be for me.

I reckon my bloke might well be more than a little surprised next time I am unlucky enough to have to see him.

Apart from all this, I am left wondering, who the bloody hell would ever choose to be a dentist?

Private property - does it really need to be sign posted?

Last night the dog was going nuts and Steve said that there were a couple of Yobbos on our pontoon chucking out bait fish nets.

I'd had a migraine all day and was still feeling a bit off, so my manners and repartee were not up to my usual standard. Steve almost never says anything cos he rightly reckons a bloke saying something to these arses would only escalate to something awful.

By the time I was really irritated about it, the fellas had moved onto our neighbour's pontoon.

I went out and had a look and even in the dark I could see that they had left shit all over our deck area.

I called out, ' You're not gonna leave a mess there are you?' and then the exchange went like this.

Tweedle :  What mess?

Me:            There's a mess on my pontoon.

Tweedle:  What harm am I doing? What damage am I doing?

Me:            Do you realise you are on private property?

Tweddle: What damage am I doing?

Me:           Your sense of entitlement beggars belief!

One of them came off Bev's pontoon and started to walk up her stairs to her HOUSE!

She came out and he stopped and she said it was OK for them to be there. As she was there on her own she could have been intimidated into this or she might really think it ok for 2 fools to help themselves.

I stood out on my deck and called to Steve for a camera. I watched them and watched them.

Now instead of mooching off into the night because they had been caught, THEY WAVED at me!!

They waved and waved and finally left. I refused to be intimidated and stood there with Dog barking like a great big mean dog, and said nothing but watched them til they were gone!

What sort of a world have we sunk to?

It's not the use of the pontoon that bothers me. Sometimes people see me out  there and ask if it's ok.
During the day I can usually charm people into realising that perhaps it would be plane good manners to ask to use someone's property before just trekking on over and leaving shit all over the place.

A while ago some woman decided she wanted a swim so just wandered on down the canal to find an open pool and set up camp in the sunshine on someone else's deck chair. She obviously had been in for a swim and when the owner came home, she was amazed that he was less than amused.

What is going on here?

Can I next expect to come home and find some drop kick cooking up a storm in my kitchen?

Have we really returned to a time of communal Joe Public ownership?

PS We just found a small bream now the breakfast of about a million ants, thrown onto the pool deck. So not only did they not like being told that they were on private property they thought they should make a statement by chucking an undersized fish over our wall!!

This retribution and the fear of it is why so many people say NOTHING.

While fear is ruling and editing normal reactions, the bullies win. It's time to speak out!!

This objectification of women gives me the screaming irrits!

2 Skinny women dressed in tight black plastic, carrying whips and wearing too much bloody lippy on trout pouts...well what could that possibly be about?

These women keep popping up in the middle of the Com Games sports, sometimes twice in a row!

Are they advertising their latest venture into S&M ?

Did they get caught out at a fancy dress when their dog went missing?

Are they hoping that women everywhere remember to wash their unmentionables so they don't have to resort to wearing their old Halloween costume?

I am not sure how I would explain any of this shite to Zig without going puce in the face and doing a bit of yelling, and god knows he already knows that Ma is a bit nuts, he doesn't need any more evidence.

The camera follows the girls and I am so pleased that we are given a close up of one girl's bum crack cos it is clear that she is not wearing any knicky-noos. All that sweaty plastic right next to her bits and no cottontails for protection! Ooooh yukky!


And then the women start licking tyres and fiddling very unconvincingly with their tiny whips while some gormless fella looks on through some sort of catatonic haze.

Bloody hell!! It's an ad for some tyre place which shall not be named and never frequented by me.

What the fuck is happening here. Have I just hopped into a time machine and returned to the 70s? - a time when very scantily clad women draped themselves all over car bonnets or guns or fishing poles or whatever else men were thought to routinely want to buy. I guess that was a simpler time, when men were thought to be dickheads without a brain, only a walking penis - a time when advertisers thought it good enough to get a bloke to buy the car with the red head girl and the size 36DD tits.

Ah the 70's, when Jimmy Savile was doing his dirty filthy despicable deeds and no one thought to question it.

I thought we had moved on.

Men are not fools driven by their cocks, so I do not understand this type of advertising, unless of course these idiots are now going for the truly niche market of crazy lesbian S&M folk who might need a tyre on a rope on which to swing.

This objectification of women gives me the screaming irrits!

Home Sweet Home

 

 

This is the hard to take view from our table at the Brewery yesterday.

We took a leisurely drive home today.

First we called in and grabbed a coffee and sultana scone at a place on the High Street. How very yummy and Dog enjoyed the vanilla cream by the finger full....Yeh I know she shouldn't ....don't send any letters. We called in for petrol and cash and then were offskie.

We went via Harry's place at The Summit,  cos he had a couple of tractor seats which Steve reckons he might be able to use, and I wanted to take some pics of the tractor thing that I would quite like to allow Zig to climb on in the garden. Country folk always seem to have time for a natter and a quick escape was neither wanted nor possible.

My THING was used for making long mound in the earth to grow strawberries or something. I am not gonna pretend to be all Farmer Joe. It has interesting metal disc things that I can see all painted up in different colours. It's about 3 metres long and maybe a bit more than a metre wide and weighs in at about half a ton or is that half a tonne.... Not sure why I am questioning that really cos it makes no difference to me. I don't know the difference. I will say that it is bloody heavy. If I / we can work out a way of hauling it over the fence without doing any damage then it is  a possibility, although, I am pretty sure that I like it far more than Steve...I can see it glammed up and all, and it is possible that I have not yet made a compelling argument for it. Watch this space. The price Harry wants for it includes delivery!! Well he's going to be coming to the Goldie to visit his son so he could just pop it onto his trailer. Country folk are unbelievably obliging!

Little towns passed in a blur and we stopped at Boonah for a look see. I hadn't been there for many years and I must admit that my memories were no what called for the stop... more likely it was time to pee and take Dog out for a walk. Well what a quaint place it is. Coffee shops aplenty and if you want to buy some walloping slabs of beef you are spoiled for choice, with 3 butchers in about 150 metres. No big Coles or Woolies buggering up local shopping here in Boonah. Yummo T Bone steaks for dinner!

Then we poodled along back to the Goldie.

When Steve came back from a month in London, he commented that the house seemed empty, and I wondered if that was a complaint, but coming home today I could see what he meant. There is so much lovely space and whilst there have been no almighty arguments resulting from the confined quarters, I am pretty sure there is a limit to how long we could both be sardined in together. We do enjoy some space!!

Dog was straight in and onto her couch on the deck. I think that all the excitement has completely worn her out. Me too it must be said.

Reckon it is time to be horizontal on my couch.



A couple of Doggie Touristy Days

There is plenty to do in and around Stanthorpe and it might surprise people to know that it is not only all about the wineries and identifying the front back upside-down notes of autumnal fruits or the stinky bouquets.

Yeh we went to a Cellar Door and I discovered that the reason I am not a fan, is cos I feel like such a fucking idiot. I had no clue what the woman was on about. She might as well have been talking Chinese. I do very much hate feeling like a fool. We only went in to get another bottle of the wine we had bought and enjoyed from a local bottleo. We tried all the whites and still left with the bottle we went in for. I breathed a sigh of relief when we left. We didn't go to any others, one was more than enough.

We did however call in to The Granite Belt Brewery, and this place was a different kettle of fish altogether. The beer came on a tasting paddle and the woman/girl was just lovely. It was in a big old boozer and they were more than happy for us to spend a leisurely afternoon in their garden with the dog frolicking and sometimes chasing the ducks. The boutique beers were all different and some tasted good and some were a bit shit, but Steve came away with some stubbies of IRA - Irish Red Ale. It's dark and tasty.

I drove the monster truck home.

We have met some great country folk. Harry runs a wrecking sort of yard. I might be doing him a disservice with that description. He has some machines in bits and I am still trying to work out how I could use various bits and pieces. Steve and Harry chattered for a while about the pumps and pulleys and the 'stuff' and I wondered what the bits would look like upside down painted various colours. I have Harry's card and will keep in touch.

The people in the Cheese factory were friendly and again more than happy to accommodate Dog. We had a light snack here and took away some yummy cheese and sour cherry jam.

It should be noted that I reckon Dog has become very well behaved while we've been away. Perhaps she is just so bloody pleased to be included. She sits calmly with us wherever we are and people have been stopping and ignoring us but saying hello to her, complimenting her on her good manners and pretty face.

We stopped at the arse end of buggery and climbed along a bit of a shit path to find Thunderbolt's Hideout, which turned out to be less than salubrious. It will surprise few to learn that my great great great grandfather was indeed Thunderbolt the bushranger, and when as I guess was inevitable, he had to run to hide, he found comfort in the granite boulders and caves. More about Mr Ward at a later time.

So we are heading home tomorrow, perhaps via Harry's place and maybe Warwick.

Whilst I have enjoyed our little foray into the Doggie holiday, I must admit that I will be happy to be back home to my bathroom and a little more space.

Dog Holidays from Mummy's perpsective.

Just very quickly, I thought it appropriate to give a more rounded view of holidaying with Dog.

Whilst she has been very well behaved, even if a little skittish and sometimes a little more odd than usual, I can now reveal that there are some things that are definitely more for the dogs than for people.

There is a restaurant up here in Stanthorpe, called Anna's and I had read a lot about it before we came away. We stumbled upon it on our first drive through the town. But can we go there? NO! Steve and I brought a change of decent clothes with us to wear, but the closest we are gonna get is to wave to it on our way somewhere else.

I had this idea that we could leave dog in the cabin and go, but I don't think I can do that. And there is a dog enclosure outside we could use. It's some chicken wire spanned between star pickets. I reckon Dog is far too spoiled for that, even if she wore her little coat, I reckon the indignity of it all might about kill her.

I am still toying with the idea that we could leave her in the car while we eat, but that would mean no drinks and I am still not sure about all that time in the car.

It is just as well that I cooked up some lovely dinners and popped 'em in the freezer before we came away, so that at least at the end of day we can settle back with a glass of something and eat well. Not as well as if we went to Anna's, but well enough.

It would be easier to take a child on holidays, cos people have no choice about whether or not to allow a sprog entry. But kids answer back and whinge and get tired and spew up in the car want to be entertain every minute of every day. Dog has not once said, 'I'm Bored, are we there yet?' So whilst it might be easier in terms of planning and eating and sometimes looking at stuff, to take a kid, I reckon Dog has been easier on my nerves. She mostly does what she is told and has only barked ONCE and that was at the traffic lights in  Warwick!

She has demanded that I am up at dawn to let her out, and now she can go by herself for a little wander and a shit (which we do collect if we see it but otherwise given the huge piles of the stuff all around the complex, we imagine that it is just seen as useful fertiliser). I let her out, put the kettle on read the newspaper online, stoke the fire up for the day, and enjoy the time to myself.

I am pleased that we bought some DVDs which are keeping us entertained in the evenings. We could go out into the yard with some banjo playing locals who throw all manner of stuff onto the outside burners and play ball games in the dark, but I am happy inside.

So it has been probably the strangest holiday because it has been so much about Dog and not so much about lovely food and drinks and shopping and galleries, but I haven't had to wonder if some crazy arse is tying Dog to a fence, or if Dog has had enough exercise or cuddles so there are some big advantages to taking her along.

Of course the rather rural nature of the week is conducive to Dog. I rather doubt I could / would want to take her to Sydney or Melbourne. I can't imagine tram commuters being too thrilled with her on the trams. Ho hum.

For our next adventure to Yeppoon we are staying at a holiday house with a fully fenced yard so I reckon I will be happy to leave her outside when we head off for some 'people time' Dog won't be too thrilled with that, but no doubt will be happier than if we left her tied up to a fence somewhere.

So far so good for Dog holidays, and it must be said that I would far rather take her than stop at home wondering what we are missing.

It's a Dog's life. Woof.

What a lovely couple of days, woof! After I got over my possible abandonment issues and my upset tummy from maybe nerves or all those corners, I have really settled in.

Mummy and Daddy have found all sorts of places which embrace THE DOG. Yesterday we went to the Bramble Patch where I had a little run around and licked some cream and ice cream and coulis from Mummy's spoon, yum yum woof, Don't look too closely at my photo if that sort of thing makes you squeamish, woof woof.

We travelled along old roads to old places and sometimes Mummy and Daddy left me in the monster for a sleep and sometimes I was out and about with them. We went to Wallangarra and Tenterfield and had a little mooch around some of the shops and Mummy found a big field full of old machine parts... who would think you could farm them?? There was a sign there that said all the stuff was being auctioned in October, but I don't know if Mummy is that patient. Woof ha ha!

She wants to give me a new peeing post in the garden, and if she gets one of these things then I will be the talk of the park. A brand new pissing post, really I can hardly wait, WOOF!

Today we went along a very very bumpy road which had a flash name, Mt Lindsey Road, but the bitumen man missed long stretches of it and the monster truck is now pretty dirty. I think my tummy might have gotten a little mixed up along the way, but the grass I chewed up at the pub this afternoon, seems to have sorted that.

Along the way we came across a big old load of COWS woof woof woof. I really wanted to get out and do a bit of herding cos the silly things were wandering all over the road. I reckon Daddy was a bit nervous in case they stampeded at the car, but Mummy went mad with the camera and giggled like a girl.

When we got to Kilarney I stayed in the car while they went into a little gallery and they came out with some stuff which didn't look like a new pissing post to me, but which seemed to make them happy, and then we drove on through the rain to Warwick.

As ever I went spastic at the traffic lights. I don't know what you all hear at these things but the noise does drive me completely nuts. When we got passed 'em, I settled into the High Street experience. Warwick is holding its, 'Jumpers and Jazz' festival. All the trees and the usual pissing posts were dressed up with very funny looking stuff. Mummy went mad with her camera AGAIN woof. Daddy got some shoes and we had a very good poke around the Warwick town centre. I liked Warwick very much, woof. People kept on stopping us and saying what a pretty girl I am. It is a very friendly place.

Mummy and Daddy have decided that I am grown up enough to go for a little wander around our cabin, all on my own. It seems odd to me that they insist on coming with me most of the time
just to collect up my shit. There is so much other doggie doos around here I do wonder what difference my little offerings would make but there are obsessed with it. Maybe they just really enjoy it. woof woof ha ha ha.

They have let me off my lead at friendly places and I have been very good coming back when I am called, even when Mummy forgets to give a treatie.

I am having a lovely time on my holiday. woof woof woof.