Milo contemplating biting a bit.

After emptying the contents of the shopping trolley into the boot I noticed the car’s outside temperature was 39C. We decided against walking Milo around. He was keen, but we were not. Instead took him with us in the car. We took his water dish and water bottle. Both are kept in his own little bag. We always tie him up in the shade with his water dish. Within minutes he gets surrounded by admirers who queue up to pet him.

Isle Nr 5 at Aldi in Bowral is the one that has the liquor license. That’s right, one can buy butter and Whisky all at the same counter, and at the same time, and from the same cash register and no questions asked. How we have progressed. I reckon, eventually all the registers will be so bold and allow the sale of alcohol. It just takes time. Easy does it, especially in Australia where you can sit in a train, have a nap and on awakening still see the same cows outside your window.

Since Milo’s limping with a possible tendon problem we have to lift him in the car. He now also doesn’t jump on his chair anymore. He is wise to his problem and knows his limits.  Soon after Milo’s trouble, I developed an excruciatingly painful back. We are now in a kind of symbiosis where before, one were the strong and large with the other being small and agile. I barely am capable of lifting Milo in the car. He is small but surprisingly heavy. I know how to lift him and even go through a preliminary exercise where I ,ever so gently tell him, ” wait a moment, just wait a moment”, before gently lifting him in the car’s back-seat. I bend my knees as advised by hospital’s doctor. He gave me very strong tablets and they do help but are addictive, so I only take them sparingly or not at all.  I don’t want to end up mugging old ladies while wearing a hoody, kicking them in the groin, and stealing their Panadol Forte.

Milo allows me to lift him in the car. He does look a bit embarrassed but what can you do? He refuses to let Helvi lift him and bites her instead. Not seriously, but he is letting her know he is not happy with her doing it. We find it hilarious. The reason is that Helvi is action woman. She grabs and just does it. A no nonsense woman. Milo always refuses to do anything he is asked. In fact, often does the opposite. That’s why he is so lovable. He doesn’t like being grabbed suddenly and from above,  probably thinks another dog is biting him.

I told Helvi to calmly approach Milo and stroke him a bit first, gently lift him whilst whispering soothing words in his small ears. “Get f*&cked,” she told both of us. I am rather chuffed Milo doesn’t bite me and prefers Helvi. And yet, it is Helvi who makes sure he gets everything he might possibly want and much  more. He gets his wants far in excess of his needs. No wonder the world is in disarray.

This post seems to lack cohesion. The binder of what makes things stick together has gone watery. It must be the heat. 41C now.

But apart from that the day is turning out ‘normal’.

Grandsons

The week-end was exceptionally good. We met up with our daughter her friend and our grandsons. Of course, much of it was also spent in reflections on the horrors of Paris and Beirut. Both Lebanon and France subject to so many people getting killed. It seems the media’s attention was focussed on France and much less so on Lebanon where over forty five people were also massacred. No national Lebanese colours draped over our harbour bridge or Parliament house. Hardly a word!

Our daughter’s boy friend is a well known chef who used to run the kitchen at Berowra Waters restaurant near Sydney. He now runs his own restaurant. He was going to cook lunch at our daughter’s place in Allawah. To give them both a free go, we took one of our grandsons to Miranda  Shopping Mall, a Mecca for shoppers and eating. We parked just outside the parking station on the street because in the parking station itself there are just too many trying to park and nerves get frayed and agitation is so often just below the surface. A kind of mini-terrorism classes seem to be growing at large Shopping Mall parking stations. Has anyone else noticed that too?

I decided to follow a terrific act of generosity and benevolence . Some days ago as we were getting out of the car at Aldi, a woman offered me her trolley. She was getting in the car and had finished her shopping. I quickly flashed her my two dollar coin. She refused with kindness. “No,” she said; “I want you to enjoy this as a small deed, a small gift,”, she added. I was so pleased that I returned the favour after we had done our shopping. The woman I gave our trolley to, looked somewhat perplexed. I quickly walked back to our car. I did not want to be seen as some Samaritan which I am not at all. I do hope she appreciated it. I remember many years ago when the Harbour Bridge toll still had to be paid in cash. The driver before me paid my toll.  I have never forgotten. There are kind people about.

While at the large Miranda Mall I managed to get a hard-cover linen bound cooking book on fish dishes. It was discounted to $ 5.99. I noticed a brilliant recipe for sardines. I told Helvi that we should now also try to get fresh sardines to practise the recipe. I bought a kilo of them!

Back to my daughter’s place, daughter and friend were almost ready with a lovely lunch of grilled lamb cutlets,  grilled Dutch  carrots and Dutch Kipfler potatoes. All that downed with a very fine bottle of Leeuwens Estate  wine. It was a great day.

After driving back home I decided to fillet the small sardines, take the back-bone out. Dust them with some flour and pepper and fill them with pine-nuts and spinach. We are going to have them tonight.

I will keep you informed.

It used to be simple matter to see the doctor. As a child you stuck your tongue out, said aahh, and that was it. All doctors looked senile and had a foul breath. Now it has become far more complex and doctors look like teenagers. You more likely to have your bum looked and poked at than your tongue.

I received a serious letter, that, since I had turned seventy-five the Government would like to make sure I would still have some years left without needing to be looked after. Could I make an appointment for a thorough investigation of my levels of health. It would take about one- and- a- half hour. I like their optimism and clear despair of having to look after another grand-pa. It hints at a chair in ‘blue Haven retirement village’ with a bus trip to the Tulip Festival, nurse wiping my chin if not something else as well.

The letter gave details of what the health assessment would comprise off;

. Measurement of Blood pressure, pulse rate and rhythm.

( I do have good rhythm and keep it up till the end with happy ending.)

. assessment of medication, continence, immunisation status, physical function, activities of daily living, fall status.

Oh no, not continence again? Not another nervously strained stool sample with gloves, wooden stick and screw-top container? Look doc, I hover between deep seated constipation and voluminous bouts of diarrhoea, give me a break. I’ll invite you for a prawn barbeque, mow your lawn, but no more stool samples. Concentrate on my tinnitus and my wobbly feet. I do still remember the good times when I slept all night without leeks and straining the potatoes three times a night. My physical functions do include being able to still take  two steps on the stairs at the time and to run to Aldi’s when the Shiraz is on special. My fall rate is perfect and I generally put my hands out to brake the fall. I remember my pin numbers and have a fairly good idea of passwords and know how to put photos on the internet.

. assessment of mood and memory.

It’s been no picnic. I do enjoy the good times and relish the friends I still have. I do get down but know that it passes almost unnoticed.  I know you mean well, doc, but no anti-depressants. I love my depression. Look where it go me? I am on my 757th article of folly and nonsense and still able to put down words in certain order with the help of a keen despair, but also with some sun and hope for a still liveable world for all Grand-kids.

. social setting and whether you are caring for another person.

I care for my partner of many years and she does for me. We still do a little dance.   I don’t have many ailments or suffer from gout, insomnia, or nervous ticks, nor sit in the park forgotten how to get home. Sure, moments of finding the impetus to keep going are joined with acute feelings of having done it already. Putting socks on is a drag on the day, but relish the first coffee. At times I feel even food resisting and I have to fight the urge to a regurgitation in having tasted it all too often before. But, what can one do?  A fresh herring or smoked eel is still the answer.

A walk along the creek helps.