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It was outing day today for our Day Care people but instead of the usual picnic, barbecue or club outing, management decided to take them on a mystery trip. This turned out to be a day at the St Ives Shopping Village.

I was somewhat doubtful about this choice thinking it would not be interesting but it seems they mostly enjoyed it. On reflection, I realised some rarely get out of their homes apart from the weekly Day Care activities, so that in fact the shopping centre visit was an entertaining diversion. A number of them took the opportunity to shop for bargains and went home with shopping bags groaning with their purchases.

It was harder to keep track of them all and I felt odd trawling the centre to locate them for lunch.

The one downside of these outings for me is that the other volunteer, Da, generally gets a lift with me.



I have previously posted about Da and her constant chatter. She was in her usual form today, panicking about nothing and chatting incessantly about the minutiae of her life.

It was a great relief to finally drop her back at her car at the end of the outing.

My old rugby 'daze'

thOroughly mOdern cOlin is one of my favourite blogs. Colin's recent posting Drowning in Bikram is typical of his witty writing. As well as enjoying this posting, I was reminded of my own schoolboy rugby career.



Actually to call it a 'career' is a gross overstatement. I attended a Greater Public School (GPS) where, like Colin's Catholic school, rugby was this obligatory religion to be pursued by every boy willingly or otherwise. I always hoped there was some dispensation for being a sissy, cowardly and totally uncoordinated but these characteristics were deemed insufficient to avoid involvement in 'the game they play in heaven'.

For eight schoolboy seasons in succession I endured my own private hell on all manner of cold, wet, muddy, cement-like football fields. I spent all my time avoiding football action at all costs. Wherever the ball was, I made sure I wasn't. In eight seasons I believe I never once handled or kicked the ball. I certainly don't recall ever tackling a player.

Unfortunately I couldn't avoid being tackled as there was always an opposing player who thought it would be fun to tackle the sissy regardless of whether or not I was near the play or the ball. This only caused me to be even more fervent in my attempts to avoid any involvement in actual play.

I would have thought the logical position for a coach to place me in (apart from the old joke position of Left Right Out) would be on the wing where I would mostly be legitimately out of the play. Unfortunately, I matched in height the only prop forward we had who knew how to play so coach made me the other prop forward. I had to play in the scrums!

How I hated those scrums, pushing and shoving and having my hair pulled by monstrous opponents. I was a naive boy but I was shrewd enough not to complain or let on to the others how I felt as it would only have encouraged ridicule and attention. I tried to be invisible.

The one skill I developed, spending all that time running away from the play, was that I became a fast runner and actually did well at school athletics as a result.

I did learn one lesson from those unhappy seasons of football. I used to fancy the dreamier looking of my schoolmates and tended not to take notice of those who in my judgement did not have perfect features and faces. That was until one day in the showers I noticed that one of the plainer looking and slightly chubby boys, as it turns out more developed than the rest of us, possessed the most astonishing manhood package I had seen to that time. I never ignored the plainer boys again.



Eventually, the school admitted defeat and 'retired' me as player, turning me into the school touch judge. (Boundary umpire, for those Southern states' readers who cannot imagine any football code played on a rectangular field.) Unfortunately I was no more successful as a touch judge as I couldn't remember nor understand the rules of the game.

This year I attended a lunch with some old boys I hadn't seen since we left school 43 years ago and I was mortified when one of them remarked that he still remembered me as a touch judge with my long skinny legs and small white shorts. I must have been the gayest touch judge in the GPS competition.



I was no more successful at schoolboy cricket. I couldn't hit the ball with my bat, nor hold a catch, nor throw a ball accurately. My captains could hide me in the field most times but inevitably the ball would eventually come my way. I did actually take a catch once, to my astonishment and to the utter amazement of my teammates who had become accustomed to my total lack of ability.

They all groaned when under schoolboy rules I eventually had to be given an over to bowl. My bowling was peppered with wides, no balls and long hops. Wise umpires soon learnt to wait a decent time before declaring I had bowled the eight legitimate deliveries needed in those days to complete an over. I became convinced I was the reason why Australia changed later to six ball overs.

Surprisingly after such an inglorious and disinterested schoolboy sports 'career', in adulthood I have become a knowledgeable and keen sports follower. As a child I could never have imagined such a transition in my life.

Horizon

Walking home from my day at the Art Gallery and the Apple Store on a magnificent Sydney winter's day, I captured this photograph of the old and new in East Sydney.

The Horizon apartments towering over old inner city housing.

An apple a day

After my morning visit to the Art Gallery I succumbed to the marketing and walked across the city to have a look at the new Apple Store.

I recently purchased a MacBook but have only used it several times and am not yet comfortable with this technology so admired by others.

Although it was not yet midday on a Sunday the store was packed with 'customers'; probably sightseers like myself. Most were trying out the merchandise although there were plenty receiving tuition too.

The staff seemingly were chosen on their youth and leanness. There wasn't an older or 'fuller figured' staff member in sight. There was a lot of male eye candy amongst the customers, gorgeous young dads with their families as well the younger Mac-addicted brigade.

I'd be happy to go back simply to watch the passing male traffic.

Photos

After a breakfast at Bill and Toni's in East Sydney, I walked across to the Art Gallery to see the Harold Cazneau photographic exhibition.

I love seeing photographs, imagining the subjects and what their lives were like. This exhibition contained an interesting range from landscapes to cityscapes to portraits of society maidens to depictions of people at leisure.

My Brother Is An Only Child

This Italian language movie is set in the 1960s and 1970s and tells of the relationship between the brothers Accio, a fascist, and Manrico, a communist.

Two thirds of the film is taken up with the chaotic and corrupt politics of Italy but the underlying theme of sibling love emerges in time. The slyly sexy Accio and gorgeously blue-eyed Manrico kept my interest despite an irritating amount of shouting and arm waving.

There is humour amongst the violence and noise and an interesting soundtrack of 1960's hits and Beethoven classics as a bonus.

New balls please...

(Photo - Reuters/T Melville)

After leaving Africa I settled down for the first time this year to watch some tennis from Wimbledon. Roger Federer was playing Marc Gicquel.

The players look gorgeous in their all white playing gear. That gear provides unexpected bonuses. The slow motion front on replays of the players reveal enticing images. The bouncing packages evident in the players shorts were infinitely more interesting to me than the bounce of the ball the commentators were focusing on. I was impressed by the impressions Federer's nipples made against his shirt and his shorts seem to be closely tailored to the undulations of his body.

On the evidence of last night's coverage I really must watch more of the men's draw.

Out of Africa

I watched Out of Africa tonight on Foxtel.

I think it is the first time I have seen this movie since its initial cinema screening. The Foxtel electronic guide stated the movie was released in 1994 but I was sure that it was older than that. Indeed the end credits show that the movie dates from 1985.

It is still a fine movie with magnificent photography. Meryl Streep looks so young in the movie, whilst Robert Redford's face shows the early ravages of ageing.

The African performers have superb bearing and great dignity; especially the actor who portrays the head servant.

It was an unexpected pleasure viewing this movie again.

Get Smart

Steve Carell is Agent 86 and Anne Hathaway is Agent 99. All the rest is......kaos.

I'm warming to Carell who has a warmth and decency present in his performances and Hathaway gives a stronger performance than I was expecting of her.

The storyline is negligible but the audience and I had quite a few chuckles through this movie, so I imagine it will be a commercial success. It's much like what you'd expect from a movie that has Mel Brooks as a consultant.

OK...this is getting annoying...

What's with the Weather Pixie?

Its gone missing again.

At least the actual weather is brilliantly sunny, if a tad windy.

But if Pixie doesn't return soon, it may not be Just One Look but rather Bye Bye Pixie.

Big is here

Chris Noth ("Big" from Sex and the City) is currently in Sydney sporting the short haircut seen in the photo above which was taken on a visit to Portugal.

I've never quite understood the attraction of "Big" who to my mind was amongst the least attractive of the endless parade of men featured in SATC. His acting in that series always made him seem dull to me and I couldn't imagine what a character like Carrie Bradshaw as portrayed by Sarah Jessica Parker would see in him. Of course, in real life there is no accounting for taste so maybe his casting was in fact a brilliant piece of realism.

I saw a brief interview he conducted in Sydney on television tonight and have to admit that not only did he look quite attractive with the short haircut but he also displayed a more sparkling personality than was ever evident to me in SATC.

Ear.....ear.....

I've been suffering a balance problem for the past week or so. This is not an entirely new sensation since I totally lost all hearing in my right ear a few years back. However the severity and frequency of this disturbing feeling increased noticeably in the past few days.

I started to imagine all types of serious causes including possible brain tumour, so it was with some reluctance that I dragged myself off to the doctor today. As usual he was running late and so imagination had time to run wild. I wasn't sure that I wanted to tell the doctor what I was experiencing out of fear for what he might diagnose as potential causes.

Eventually, I saw the doctor who asked me some questions then poked around to determine the problem. His conclusion? A blockage caused by a build up of ear wax in my right ear. What a let down...and relief!

The doctor seemed surprised that I hadn't noticed something awry simply through hearing difficulties until I reminded him that I am now totally deaf in that ear. "Ah, that will explain it" was his learned response.

The Great

Tony McNamara's play takes a few facts from the life of Catherine the Great to create a play that aims to capture the spirit of the great reformer of Russia.

Act 1 presents the young Catherine plotting a coup against her idiot Emperor husband Peter the Great whilst Act 2 moves on to the older Catherine herself now the target of coup plots.

This summation suggests a grim and serious work whereas McNamara's play is funny and bawdy. It is history as it might be viewed by a cross between The Goons and the Carry On team.

A simple set hints at the grandeur of the Russian court and the acting is generally of a high standard although I thought the young 'pretty boy' actor who plays a love interest of both Catherine and her daughter delivered his lines less effectively than the rest.

Some in the audience did not return for Act 2, perhaps offended by the language and bawdiness. Mk and I, however, loved the play.

The Orphanage

In this Spanish film a married woman, her husband and seven years old son take up residence in an old Orphanage where she was raised as a child. The son has a set of imaginary friends. Or are they imaginary?

I love Spanish films. The female characters are always strong and the images are usually striking.

This is a classy thriller. Music and sound are used effectively to create a sense of doom and the settings are appropriately mysterious.

This is the best fun I have had feeling eerie and uneasy in a long time.

Check list....

As I have passed each of my 50-something birthdays it has been good to check off certain aspects of my life continue to be in place. There is satisfaction in knowing that some things remain.

Today I have been 59 for all of three days and I am mentally checking off that list again.

Since turning 59 I have;

Had erections.....check.

Dreamt about having sex.....check.

Had actual sex.....no, not yet. Mmmmm....better get to work on that.

Another birthday boy

Peter Paige played Emmett in Queer as Folk has the same birthday as me; but is twenty years younger.

Gemini

As the last hour of my birthday approaches I would be remiss not to wish fellow bloggers Firehorse and Steven many best wishes for their birthdays today and tomorrow respectively.

That's another one...

...(birthday) nearly gone.

The hospital generously had cake, chocolates and jelly beans at the ready for my birthday as well as a jar of carrot marmalade which is not a combination I had ever imagined previously. I wonder how they knew about my sweet tooth? Maybe my bulging waistline was the clue?

At lunch, Hn, Ae and I went to the nearby Cruising Yacht Club for lunch. Although it was a cool afternoon, it was pleasant sitting on the back deck overlooking the sailing boats.

I'm back home this evening and doing the week's laundry. Life goes on.

The One Day Of The Year

It's my birthday today. I am now fifty-nine. Only one more year now to officially becoming a senior and enjoying cheaper travel and movies. The body doesn't work as well as in the past but in my head I feel little different from when I was in my twenties.

I'll be working at StV Hospital as usual this morning but won't stay on for the afternoon. I'm having lunch with Hn and Ae.

Have a nice day everyone.

Last day lunch

Here I am today at my last lunch as a 58 year old.

Jl invited a couple of the StV volunteers to her Waverley apartment for lunch. Our former boss Ai was there as well as Cs and Da. (Not the same Da as the nursing home volunteer who is chasing me, although coincidentally they have the same name.)

It was very enjoyable. Jl prepared a delightful lunch and we shared four hours of gossip and laughs around the dining table.

Cs is talking about following up with a lunch at his place. He is a keen cook so that would be something to look forward to as well.