Today’s the day (or perhaps not)

Working from home


Thursday marked cooler Autumn weather with the addition of a tee shirt layer beneath the customary short sleeved shirt, under a waffle-look long sleeved shirt to complete the commute to Brisbane.

All day I was self conscious of how less than a millimetres’ extra fabric all around made the shirt feel tight and gaped more than usual.

I inherited the fat genes from the maternal side of my family. They are a well built, big boned, stout, jolly, portly lot.

In my early twenties, I managed to work off ‘puppy fat’ through physical work and a relatively carb free diet. This successful combination was repeated in my thirties and forties supplemented by guilt induced gym membership. Dr Moseley’s fasting diet and GP prescribed slimming pills resolved the middle age spread yo-yo during my fifties.

A sedentary job, inherent laziness, and osteoarthritis have curbed my motivation for gym training and long walks as I enter the sixties.

During Thursday night’s interrupted sleep, I had a nightmare about my ever increasing girth and the need for dieting. I find it amusing, I can cradle my belly during slumber whilst realising the action during the dream.

Smaller portions was the revelation from the insight into my subconscious. Plates to be no larger than fit for a dessert. It makes sense, my mind doesn’t seem to recognise my appetite as sated until about ten minutes after finishing. I eat everything served to me as instilled in childhood.

Upon waking on Friday, I was inspired to start on the fifth of May.

As the Noom app has escaped clean-up deletions on my mobile phone, I duly entered a piccolo latte followed by tuna in water with mixed veggies for breakfast and another piccolo for mid morning snack.

Whilst working from home, I received an email from my boss about my performance thus far against KPIs for the financial year ending 30 June.

I experienced symptoms of tightness in my chest and throat just by looking at the subject line in the Outlook list. It prompted a Google search resulting in a potential panic attack turning out to be indigestion. It was resolved with a slug of Gaviscon.

Lunch consisted of left over curry sauce, tuna, mixed veggies, and a piccolo latte.

A cocktail, Kalamata olives, and roasted almonds on the terrace left me with 240 kcals for homemade pizza coleslaw and wine for dinner.

We took a rain check on the pizza until this evening substituting it with home delivery nachos and quesadias.

C’est la vie, I will see how I fare today.

May Day

May Day has become Labour Day in Queensland. This is perhaps appropriate given we are in the Southern Hemisphere and not entering Summer.

It is also International Workers’ Day in recognition of union led improvements to worker’s right’s including, the eight hour day.

As with most other public holidays we will spend the day in repose. Just like yesterday, we will spend the day with Stan, enjoying the clement weather of the Sunshine State in the Lucky Country.

Getting back

Having a subconscious tie tugging me to a phantom, idealised bucolic life led me to believe this was my destiny.

Because of their scale, towns and cities have the appeal of inclusivity and freedom. In reality, more residents are squashed into a smaller area.

The increasing cost of living is so high that a weekly night out on the tiles is beyond the grasp of those with modest means.

Around a decade ago, I looked into buying a block of land in the Sunshine Coast, Queensland hinterland. It was large enough to build our own home. Unfortunately, the distance from a large urban area and requisite workplace remained too far away.

We purchase the ‘swan’ chairs on a whim in 1999 from an over the top furniture shop on the fringe of Double Bay, Sydney. They have gold finished frames, Sensuede seats and Teflon coated French silk backs. Like most things in our life they have patina. Reminding us of happy gatherings of friends and family.

Instead we opted for somewhere within one hour public transport commuting distance of Brisbane. There is an added bonus of a huge nature conservation area literally across the road.

Within our humble dwelling, a long held grandiose idea of a French Empire themed dining room has miraculously manifested in a not too shabby area of the kitchen.

The table extends to seat eight to ten people. Prior to the move it stood on end sans legs for five years on the landing of the townhouse.

While searching, one of the requirements of the new house was space enough to accommodate the dining table.

Debtor-mine

As a child and early teen, the vocabulary and pronunciation of my native tongue were expanding. We lived in a relatively posh neighbourhood. The influence of the maternal side of the family, hailing from the Black Country was limited. Sadly the memory of my grandfather speaking has faded.

According to Wikipedia the ‘Black Country dialect preserves many archaic traits of Early Modern English and even Middle English and can be very confusing for outsiders.’

A typical informal greeting would be ‘Owamya aer kid?’ (How are you?). A suitable response could be, ‘Ar ah’m owkay tar’ (Yes, I’m okay, thank you).

My accent has softened; it is frequently incorrectly identified as Scouse or northern English. This would fit with the influence of the paternal family coming from Wales.

Being a shy introvert, I relied on myself to interpret and solve the idiosyncrasies of the English language aided with a dictionary, although I did not understand phoentic spelling.

A notable example of silently self learning was the word ‘determine’. For years I read it as ‘debtor-mine’. I somehow interpreted sentences without understanding the meaning of the word.

What a revelation it was when the realisation dawned.

Hot water tank/immersion heater

The new abode’s utility/laundry room/corrider runs perpendicular to the outside area.

My architect/interior designer husband believes the plumber installed the hot water tank/immersion heater adjacent to this space for their own convenience rather than for the aesthetic of the outside area; I agree, the taupe coloured hulk is a blot.

Tomorrow, our dear friend A. judges an equestrian events in Caboolture, a town north of the new home. As A. will be dropping in after said judging, they will be the first official visitor; everything needs to be tip top Bristol fashion.

Over the last week, we have assembled racking in one of two sheds, to facilitate my husband’s clearing the area of removal boxes. Also, I have sewn pencil pleat heading tape onto outdoor curtains whilst hubby is in the process of creating a coffee table.

We are toying with moving the daybed in front of the eyesore instead of facing it. An amusing alternative would be to stand a mirror in front of it to elude the viewer.

The tin galah views the whole suggestion with the vacillation it deserves.

Blue sky, Autumnal breezes

A shower drenched Friday has given way to Autumn sunshine filled days, low humidity, and comfortable mid to high 20s oC temperatures.

We are enjoying a post al fresco breakfast coffee whilst watching gusts bend and fiercely fan and flutter the golden cane palm fronds.

Occasionally, the melodious song of a solo bird heralds the roaring crescendo of leaves rustling in the surrounding trees.

Autumn is here!

Bizarre dream

Flowers in the front garden

On Monday morning, I awoke remembering a conversation I was having with a girl, the top of whose skull had been removed leaving the exposed brain covered with a layer of soil. There were flowers growing out of the soil.

I had been chatting with her about my physical limitations, coming to the conclusion my reduced capacity rendered me next to useless. I wonder what if anything the dream means.

During a trip to Bunnings at lunchtime on the same day, I realised my incapacity.

I had forgotten all about being able to take a midday dose of paracetamol for osteoarthritis.

The walk from the car park to the entrance, right to the garden section, left to the trade desk and centre to pay rendered my right leg stiff and barely at a shuffling pace. It had been so long since visiting this hardware superstore, I had not even considered the distances involved.

After knocking over a small display of liquid fertiliser bottles with the trolley, I was attempting to steer, I avoided looking at peoples faces.

Thankfully my husband managed logistics by moving a lawnmower, two 65 Lt. bags of potting compost, and a 4m length of cable ducting onto two trolleys and in and out of the car.

Stan and the flamingo’s new habitat

For the last week, my husband has been rabidly unpacking boxes. He says it’s like Christmas because of my eccentric packing method and my failure in detailing all contents, resulting in oddities appearing amongst the expected.

Since moving in day, we have mostly had unseasonably warm days and blue skies. Australia’s March temperature records has been broken amidst reports of a delayed end to Summer.

Stan, our almost thirteen year old, fur baby, foodle is thoroughly enjoying being able to play fetch in the backyard as this blurry snapshot shows.

The commute to work takes about 60 minutes door to door. As I’m able to work half the time from home, only two days this week.

April is a great month because we have three public holidays. More time to enjoy our new home.!