ajft

I know, normally only said by small children with respect to arrival at a holiday destination — I'm sure it applies to the mental preparation necessary to pack up and move house! Most things are packed, but a frighteningly large amount of belongings still remain lurking around the flat.

Part two of memories and feeling melancholic — there was an article in this morning's newspaper about smells triggering memories, then as I rode to work the air was still and humid and the ground soaking wet, at some point there was a strong smell of newly sawn pine, together with eucalypt from nearby trees — took me right back to riding in Portugal almost six years ago!

There seems to be some part of the house-buying process that I wasn't made aware of when we started: apparently all the “professionals” involved — e.g., bank, real-estate agent, legal fraternity — are allowed to stuff around, get things wrong, introduce week-long delays, etc. We, the poor amateur at the business, are expected, nay, are required, to be perfect and to do everything instantly — if not sooner!

The "Certificate of Title" for my flat must be present in the hot sweaty hands of the bank's solictors in Brisbane. Who cares that the solicitors took a fortnight to send us their paperwork, we have to send them our stuff immediately!

Packing, still packing. Boxes, boxes, boxes. A cold grey morning. A cool grey afternoon. Finally the sun came out late in the afternoon to a bright, clear, still spring sky.

Time for a break and to get out of the house, walk around the streets perhaps seeing some of them for the last time as a resident. Strong smells of jasmine in the air, everyones' gardens are flowering. There's no wind, warm sun, it was all very melancholy-inducing, knowing that we're leaving Richmond, not knowing what we'll find in Oakleigh...

Up through Richmond and around the river to Abbotsford, then meander back through the suburb. The Westons biscuit factory is scheduled to be demolished, so we took the opportunity to admire the industrial architecture at its finest. Finally took a photo of the National Trust listed [/2004/09/26/208-0838_img][Grosvenor school]] too, I've admired it for ages.

...

Last day of pretending I worked in the city. It still felt strange being in the train and heading into the CBD in the morning, looking around at all the power-suits sitting around studiously ignoring each other.

I'd completely forgotten that there was the Grand Final parade at lunch time, heading out to walk around the block I ran smack into ten thousand people — two-thirds of them from interstate, since the players in the grand final are Port Adelaide and Brisbane Lions. Its amazing that I can manage to not realise that something this big is going on!

Hurrying down to Exibition street in the evening for a tram home, the sunlight came streaming in under dark thunderclouds. A fantastic effect as it highlighted the construction cranes busy rebuilding the Great Southern Stand at the MCG. Turning around there were yet more cranes looming overhead, that entire end of the city seems to be being rebuilt

Surprise, surprise. The documents that we should have had a week or so ago, the documents that we were assured were being sent Express Post last thursday, the documents that failed to show up on Friday? Well those documents didn't actually get sent! They are being sent express post today (Monday) — honest, they really truly are! If we don't get them tomorrow, we are to call straight away...

Maybe I should make them walk the plank? Mindless entertainment on behalf of “International Talk Like a Pirate Day” and fidius.org:

Your pirate name is:

Mad William Vane

Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You tend to blend into the background occaisionally, but that's okay, because it's much easier to sneak up on people and disembowel them that way. Arr!

Hmm, not such a bad idea for a weblog title. As it is, its more a description of a day spent, seemingly endlessly, putting books, books and more books into a myriad of cardboard boxes.

Finally escaped in the afternoon, only to change hats and pretend I was a computer repair-man. Where's that No I will not fix your computer tee-shirt when I need it? Seems that Kath's PC has suffered at the hands of the local electricity supplier, in the immortal words of Catweazle, “noothing works. Swapping and testing... CPU works, RAM works, power-supply works, hard-disk works, all-together though — nowt, not a sausage. Only solution at the time was to perform a disk-transplant, now they can use one of the dodgy old celeron boxes destined for the skip until I have time and workspace to beat the P-III back into life.

A brief chance to test some minimal Spanish this evening — dinner at Taco Bell for Dennis' birthday. As always, any photo of Dennis must also include Jo! Apparently I'm meant to get suspicious at some point... Refs. [1], [2], [3], [4]

OK, it's probably not going to be our last supper there, but there's a sense of loss in the air as I realise that after almost six years living in Richmond, I won't be eating there quite so often! Good tasty food as (nearly) always, friendly staff, decent coffee — there had better be somewhere equally good when we move!

Then up the street for a drink at Bar Humbag, joking that we'd better do a round of the suburb and catch up on all those places that we were going to get to “one of these days.” Discovered that its almost too late for Bar Humbag, they're closing next Friday. So we sat with a whiskey and listened to Andy Gaunt, acoustic guitar and tales of his travels.

Ugly hack. Quick bit of script and thumbnails of the day's photos get tacked on the end of each journal entry. A cousin had remarked that although she read the journally bits, she missed some of the photos. Well here you are then, take a look at last Saturday and Sunday for example.

Johnny Ramone dies at 55, joining Joey and Dee Dee. Nearly the end of an era. [http://www.ramones.com/]

With serendipitous timing, The Spazzys launch Aloha! Go Bananas tomorrow, I'm sure there'll be dedications galore.

“Where are our loan documents?” we ask the bank. “Oh,” says the bank, “Don't you have them yet?” “NO.” “Ah, we're sending them right away,” Express Post, in fact.

Do not trust the bank. Do not trust the bank. Do not trust any bank. Jump up and down and stay on top of the bank or they will not do things that they should do. Remember this.

Then after ten minutes filling out an online quote form with Grace removals, I finally get to the end and hit submit, only to be confronted by:

Microsoft Excel error '800a03ec'
Unable to read file.
/message.asp, line 40

Magnificent advertising for both Grace removals and Microsoft — so much for one online quote! Next removalist please...

Following on from yesterday's fun'n'games with Bicycle Victoria, I tried again to login to their website, this time using the password that we found at home on a letter from BV. Still no success. This time when I tried to ring them up I finally managed to get through to a human being. On asking why I seem to be unable to login to their website:

Oh yes, we changed all the passwords a year or so ago when we moved to a new database. No, we didn't tell anyone and we've had quite a few calls about it.

Absolutely mind-boggling! There's also no record of me as a member because Jo and I don't have the same surname and because there is a later membership — #14386 — for me that has expired. Supposedly, when they “upgraded” the database, my expired membership overwrote Jo's current family membership, somehow removing my details... I've been assured that this is now fixed and that we're both now listed.

A new password, and lordy me, when I log in I can actually choose which one of the two of us to enter in the event! It seems that after almost eighteen months, I'm finally back in their records.

It seems that since my Bicycle Victoria membership expired before Jo's and we rejoined as a “family membership”, I have ceased to exist from their records.

They just can't seem to get their heads around the family membership thing. Everytime I call them or mail them I get asked to become a member, then when I tell them that I am a member they politely tell me that this is not the case.

Apparently it is Jo's membership number and Jo's online password. It isn't really a family membership at all! I can't login or enter any events!

Trying to phone them results in a recorded message asking for me to leave my details, including — my membership number — and that they'll get back to me! Trying to email them results in bounced messages stating that the enquiries email address is invalid!

...

Amazing! I've had my Canon Ixus 300 for nearly three years, its all but falling apart after falling on it from a bike stack, and in all that time I've never tried to use the movie function! Getting all nostalgic this morning about leaving Westbank terrace, I stood in the middle of the lounge room and spun round, taking my first ever video. Soon as I get it recompressed to slightly less than 3M for 17 seconds, then I'll consider putting it here.

All day sitting around fidgeting and waiting, then all of a sudden the mail arives at half past two and everything happens at once. The documents we gathered last night aren't quite what are wanted now, so more mad rummaging about ensues. A phone call to the 1300 number to find out whether to post them or visit a branch — fax them in is the answer, an option not mentioned anywhere! Another call to Jo, cross my fingers and leap on the bike, a cover sheet, a frenzy of photocopying, then the nail-biting delay as the fax machine chews through the fourteen pages. Finally its all on its way, time is short, but they'll do their best.

Four thirty comes around and there's another phone call, a different part of St George wants the details on my flat — details that I've already provided, but not to her. No point pointing that out, I give the details again and we politely bid each other good afternoon. One step closer...

So why couldn't they have asked in the original email for the copies of the payslips to be faxed to them last Wednesday? No idea, it seems that they'll happily use email to tell you that a letter is on its way, but that use of the Internet is an after-thought to their normal business operation.

Sunday, Father's day. Jack and Will were terribly excited about John's present of a surfboard rug. The two of them seemed to spend half the morning leaping around on it pretending to surf and to swim.

Then out for a walk to make the most of the warm sunny weather, wonderful after yesterday's greyness. Half of Lorne beach seems to be washed away, the old timber groynes are fully exposed, covered in weed, and with planks missing. Previously I don't think I've even seen half of them, they've been completely covered by sand. Plenty of people on the beach, some even braving the chill of the water.

On around the rocks to the pier, a mass-migration of visitors all walking the same way from the beach to the rocks to the pier, then back around on the track above the beach. One of the two remaining fishing boats is gone, only the red one remains. I took a few photos of it and the crane, hopefully they'll turn out as well as my picture of the blue fishing boat — one of my all-time favourite pictures. (What a coincidence, it was taken almost exactly two years ago.)

Up to the Lorne pub for a beer on the balcony, surely one of the best placed beer gardens in Victoria. The sun was shining, people everywhere. I chuckled overhearing the conversation between some motorcyclists, one of whom had just paid $170 into the state's coffers for speeding. He was busy bragging to his mates how he'd really been doing about 170km/hr and on the wrong side of the road when he first saw the coppers, so hauling the bike down to the speed he was booked at made him some kind of hero. I'm sure the Lorne police would think so...

The events of the week caught up with me last night, alternating panic and exhiliration has been keeping me awake to all hours, then waking me up at ridiculous times through the night. Last night I could barely keep my eyes open on the drive down to Lorne, only stayed awake because I hate sleeping in the car, especially when I think Jo's probably as tired as I am.

I think I finally got a good night's sleep, and being away from home, away from thoughts of house-buying helped to keep it off my mind for a while. Then Ann pointed out that Mill road is still being advertised in the paper, its still open for inspection today, even though Ray White has told us that they've accepted our offer and banked our cheque! They wouldn't sell it out from under us... would they? Could they?

Only another week of this and the bank will be organised, everything will be sourted out for a while and we can relax for a time.

I had to get out of the house, burn off some energy, try and distract my thoughts. Down the hill to the beach, all the wattle's are flowering, different types at different stages in the spring. I took a few photos, then walked along the beach and up to the bookstore — a well-known source of distraction. Duende, by Jason Webster caught my eye, on sale in a tray outside, escape into southern Spain? What a good idea. Then to find somewhere to sit and read and forget!

I've got a soft spot for the Blue Room café, up on the roof on a side street. It just seems out of the way and more secluded than the sea-front places. The only problem is that it seems to find a reason to be shut every time I try and visit! Today they were closing for the afternoon for a private function, so I could only sit for a short time while the grey clouds formed overhead and rain fell as soon as I got comfortable. Long enough to sip my coffee, long enough to know that I'd made the right decision with the book.

Heading back to the house through the drizzle, ducking from awning to awning, my head all fuzzy and out of focus. I stopped for another coffee in Kafe Kaos, listening to the buzz around me, trying to read and trying to concentrate.

Later in the afternoon I headed out again, this time Jo chose to come too and we decided to walk up along the Erskine river through the forest — despite the amount of water in the river, the clouds in the sky, and the lack of footwear! Wonderfully green and wet, ferns and trees everywhere, there are plenty of branches down blocking the paths and waiting for the spring cleanup prior to peak tourist season.

As we were leaving the house a strange bird call from the trees made us look up, a peregrine falcon was being harrassed by some currawongs. The falcon waiting to swoop on the neighbour's pigeons. Silhouted against the sky, not a chance of photographing a distant bird with my camera!

At the first river crossing we heard an owl again, possibly the same one Jo heard last night. Amazingly, I glanced around and there it was, sitting in a tree about four metres above us. Two birds of prey that I've hardly ever seen, the falcons aren't common, the owls just aren't visible!

We continued on up the river, slipping and sliding in the mud, tip-toeing over the more treacherous sections until we reached the first river crossing. Not keen on falling in, and knowing that there were plenty more of the crossings further up, we turned around and headed back. A trio of walkers from higher up the river had scrambled and splashed across behind us, then trooped on past, two of them talking incessantly. Its amazing how noisy some people are when walking in the bush, and how quiet some others are — probably reflected in the amount of wildlife that they both see!

The good news or the bad news? The good news is that we've got our weekends back — the offer on the house was accepted... Bad news is we now have to rummage behind the couch and find a huge wad of money to pay for it! Not yet sure if I'm excited or scared, or if the whole thing hasn't sunk in yet.

Go out to celebrate or stay home and watch a video? Better stay home and get used to having no money to go out with!

We came to smash everything and ruin your life. God sent us.

A memorable quote. Quite a movie. It's been years since I saw Romper Stomper at the cinema, probably some time back in 1992 when it came out. I remember the roars of laughter in the Canberra cinema at the line “We're the good-looking Canberra boys....” Jo had never seen it, so for a little light-hearted entertainment we picked this up when we went looking for the Bourne Identity last Saturday.