It's B Day

Yesterday was The Boy's birthday. To celebrate the fact that we have survived a year (and what a year) we'd planned a nice BBQ picnic in our local park, what with this being Australia and mid summer and all we thought we'd be safe. But the rain gods had other plans for the day with torrential rain and gale force winds forecast. It was set to be a day like our wedding.

So we started looking at alternative plans and scoped out our two nearest RSLs and a local indoor play-zone called Play Planet. Harbord Diggers has a covered play area but with open sides so we thought - nah. If the weather is going to be anything like our wedding day, the rain would be coming across the horizontal rather than the vertical.

 Then we tried another local RSL in Balgowlah, plenty of space, but the Bistro shuts at 2.30 - exactly when we were planning our do.

So our last hope was Play Planet. We trooped in and were shown around by a clueless young lass, who couldn't say if we could book one of the sofa areas because, 'I don't know how that stuff all works.' She suggested we ring the next day in the early morning to try and book but that we'd still be able to fit in even if someone had booked the two sofa areas.

Dutifully The Norwegian sends out emails and texts to let everyone know. The next day, B day, dawns and we try to ring Play Planet. No answer. We try five times over the course of the morning, until The Norwegian ventures into the storm to drive up there and see what is what. He comes back at 1.0 with the news that it is closed today. A fact the staff failed to mention. Arggh! We have an hour and a half to find another location for seven children under 4 and fourteen adults.

Another ring around unearths The Steyne, a local pub that used to have a reputation for bar brawls but now a family friendly venue. Apparently. At 1.30 The Norwegian send out another email. One friend cancels as controlling her two children in a pub would be a nightmare. So the Norwegian rings everyone and tells them not to worry and that we will try and reschedule.

So in the end it was only two families that joined us in our flat for bubbles and cake and a lovely time was had by all.

Day Six

I have almost finished writing my book, Day Six. It is about the crazy things that have happened to me since having a baby and developing post partum psychosis, from thinking I was Cameron Diaz to experiencing what felt like regression back through time to become a chimpanzee. I have a publisher interested, they just need to wait and see the final draft before they give it the thumbs up/ thumbs down.

In the meantime I whiled away a few minutes finding out if there was a website already using the name Day Six. Google told me....

Day Six - a Dutch progressive symphonic rock/metal band. (day-six.com)
Day Six Bicycles - in Milford Michigan asking me to ‘Join The Comfort Bike Movement!(www.day6bicycles.com)
Day Six Creative - a branding firm specialising in toys and gaming in McKinney Texas (daysixcreative.com) On Day Six - the Christian dating site ‘with Integrity and Style.’ (www.ondaysix.com)

Aint the inner net wonderful.

If the shoe fits

It is my first day back at work today. Last night I polished my shoes for the first time in 12 months. I know. Sorry Mum.

I wondered how many people use shoe polish now, or even know of its existence. And how many shoes are chucked away when they are just scuffed. I imagined pair after pair of unloved shoes filling up landfill, (although a few would find their way to charity shops.)

Shoe polish has a nostalgic feel; the smell, the cunning opening mechanism on the side of the tin and the dark fingermarks on the polishing cloth. The need for newspapers, brushes and time doesn’t fit with the way things work today. You can’t get a shoe polishing app.

It reminded me of my old trombone teacher, Mr Sharman. He used to polish his shoes every night (ex-military). He was a marvellous bellow of a man with a barrel chest, a blue blazer with brass buttons, large flat feet and neatly brushed silver hair. Though his shoes were many years old, they were bright, shiny and seemingly indestructible.

Maybe I should start up a campaign for the resurgence of shoe polish as a way to reduce waste? Saving the world one pair of brogues at a time.

Wailing Car Park

The other week I went to our local mall, Stocklands Balgowlah. They have a barrier at the entrance and a little machine that gives you a ticket if you ask nicely (and press the button). The machine has a mini digital screen that usually asks you to 'PRESS THE BUTTON' or 'PLEASE WAIT.'

But yesterday the car park gods had struck and the display was malfunctioning. It said 'PLEASE WAIL.'

I was having one of those days and imagined letting my head fall back, my mouth swing open and a allowing huge despairing wail to come out of me. But I didn't do it. There was someone behind me queue to get in. There was someone to my left at the other barrier. There was the part of me that worries and flicks nervous glances to see what other people think.

Next time I thought. Next time.