Mental day at #work today. #Covid19 second wave panic setting in. Five times the orders one would expect for a Monday, work-supplied masks on offer (but not mandatory) for the first time, and a lot of in-store punters wearing masks. Meanwhile, I get an attack of gout half an hour into my shift, and am hobbling around in agony for five hours. Who needs a virus? My own body is out to get me. Plus there's the pain in all the diodes down my left side. Life…
Hard work and poverty. Some of it may be due to hair loss (which has been harrowingly considerable), but according to dodgy bathroom scales I was over 140kg at my worst, and around 90kg last time I weighed myself. Turns out you don't need to keep eating like a teenager once you're no longer a teenager.
New clothes?! On my income?! I've not got my money's worth out of the last lot! I'm wearing my old trousers, wrapped double at the waist, tied with a length of rope, Steptoe-style. I've a 4XL t-shirt I now wear as a knee-length nightshirt. One evening I sneezed and it slipped off my shoulders and ended up around my ankles. I really should have taken the rubbish out before changing.
Another meltdown at the #Aloha tonight. Donny Darkcircles, the walking advertisement for liver disease, has been raving into the rain-lashed carpark for hours. Surfin' Steptoe is currently trying to talk him down, which is no mean feat. It's hard to sound like the voice of reason with no teeth. #Sawtell #lifestyle
Did my tax return online. Took less time than ordering a pizza. The government's IT systems work spectacularly well, if you're not claiming some form of social security (or appealing the withdrawal thereof).
I didn't even go for a #cycle ride because I've snapped a bunch of spokes in my back wheel and the bicycle shop in Broken Hill was closed so I couldn't even fix it. I was contemplating using wire or 'borrowing' some spokes from another bicycle. However I ended up ordering some from the lovely Abbotsford Bike Shop in locked down Melbourne. Now that I have managed to buckle both my wheels and the front forks are at risk of snapping I may have to consider a stronger #bicycle Broken Hill, as it turns out, breaks bikes.
The intimidation and provocation continue at #Sawtell's lovely #Aloha apartments. F-bomb Freddy has been drinking since late morning. I got home from work expecting a smouldering hellscape, but all was quiet. However I'd barely got my shoes off before the stereo started. Van Morrison at first, but now some people call me Maurice (don't you worry), and other classics of the good ole boy genre.
The neighbours, bless them, know it's best to frustrate him by not taking the bait, thus denying him the fight he so desperately needs. However, since yesterday there is a family AirB&Bing the unit a couple of doors down from Freddy (it's school holidays in NSW). A stern "now look here, my man" from the father will result in a couple of permanently traumatised kids - albeit with a vocabulary newly expanded with a rich library of expletives to express their pain.
Went outside this evening. At the #Sawtell Bowling Club bar I was told "we're just changing the keg". What? I haven't told you what I wanted yet!
Of course the girl (now I suppose lady) behind the bar has been serving me for sixteen years, if only a few times a year of late.
I nearly cried.
I exist! I'm "a schooner of New, thanks", just as I have been to generations of bar staff since the late 80s.
Had to go home after one because two would be unjustifiably extravagant, and I've recently become quite averse to stocky, pot-bellied men who wear shorts and thongs in the middle of winter and use the word f*** as punctuation. Turns out there's a lot of them down the Bowlo.
So… F-bomb Freddy has discovered that he's got himself evicted. Which is to say that he's under the impression that the tenants of 20 other units quite unreasonably got him evicted. He was out on his balcony earlier - like the lead in a Shakespeare tragedy, albeit with a uniquely limited vocabulary - to declare that he didn't care, as he was planning to move out anyway. To alternative digs where apparently all his female neighbours will be queuing up to offer him oral sex.
Funny. I've been searching the local real estate listings, and I think I would have noticed that one. Sounds rather bothersome, to be honest. Before long I'd be hoping that the next knock on the door was the Jehovah's Witnesses.
He also swore to burn the place to the ground. So mixed messages there. A simple man moved by errant passions. Now feeling he has nothing to lose. #Aloha
Looking to be a long night at the #Aloha. Already had threats screamed from the carpark. Then he tried to provoke a fight with "Bland Reggae for Redneck Stoners Vol. 3" at top volume. Now moved on to Johnny Cash. I've nothing against responsible use of Johnny Cash, but it's well known that people with a testosterone problem can't handle it.