A Dilemma

It's good to be retired sometimes, you don't have to deal with dilemmas such as this.

In the Courier Mail today was an article about a young lady who was called into the office of her boss, and was told she would be promoted, including in her promotion would also be a pay rise. However this offer was withdrawn when it came to finalising her promotion. Here then is the dilemma. If you'd received that offer, how would you react? Would you take the promotion, just so it would look good on your CV? Or would you strongly demand the promised pay increase, thus taking a chance of being seen as pushy, greedy, opstropolous? Perhaps even loose the offer of promotion? Of course refusing an offer of promotion, for whatever reason, could be seen as not being ambitious. It really is a dilemma.

The article goes on to say that the young lady in question, at the time agreed to the offer but now a few years older, stated that at her age now, she would decline the offer.

What would you have done?

Will I Ever Grow Up? I hope not.

Will I ever grow up? Probably not, but who cares. Ever since I was a young lad, I have been fascinated with railways, big and small. I have been fortunate to have traveled on some of the top railway journeys in Europe, the TGV from Berne to Paris, the Eurostar from Paris to London, the old TEE train from Basel to Hamburg and the Inter City from Paris to Dresden and in the Americas, the Rocky Mountaineer from Banff to Vancouver and my all-time favourite, the White Pass-Yukon Railroad in Skagway, Alaska.

So it is no surprise when I say I was excited when our local U3A camera club decided to have an outing to the Queensland Railway Workshop Museum in Ipswich this morning. It's a place I wanted to visit for years and I am very glad I did.

The Blogger took the opportunity to take some excellent shots

We tried out the seats of the Queensland Tilt Train

Inspected the old carriages

Then we toured through the still active workshop

The workshop is still used to service the steam engines which are used regularly, although only as tourist attractions these days.

This worker was showing off his welding skills on anchor bolts used in the construction of poles supporting the overhead wires for the trains.

A welder in action

There is also a large model railway set good enough to make the hearts of model train enthusiasts flutter with joy.

A fine QR model train display is on show

It was one of our best outings since we became tutors of the Logan U3A Camera Club.

Now, back to the real world.

Hands Off the Models

I saw a funny thing the other day at our shopping centre involving toddlers, which brought back memories when our older daughter was a toddler and the younger one still a baby.

Diane's parents came up from Sydney to stay with us in a holiday house we'd rented on the Gold Coast. I was commuting on weekdays to the office in Brisbane but stayed the weekend with them on the coast. It was in the 70's and shopping centres were closed on Sundays, in Queensland,  except on the tourist stip of the coast which was a bit of a novelty for us.

There was a brand new shopping centre, called Pacific Fair, which had just oppened and we decided to go and investigate it on Sunday. The main shop was Myer, and it was there in the ladies fashion section, that things started to go pear-shaped with our little family group. Carol, aged about three was fascinated with a display girl model on a stand and went up to it to shake her hand. The hand came off, Carol got a freight and dropped the hand crashing to the floor, breaking a couple of fingers. Diane saw this and raced over to Carol, picked up the hand, minus two fingers, and tried to stick the hand back onto the model. That's when the entire arm detached itself from the model.

Dad and I were ahead at that stage but had seen the whole thing and were laughing uncontrollably, which of course made Diane even more upset. She grabbed the arm and the hand, minus two fingers and tried to re-attach them both to the model and in the process knocked over a floor-standing ashtray, which went flying, emptying its filthy contents all over the new floor.

By this time, Dad and I were in hysterics, Diane was mad as hell, mostly with Dad and me for finding this funny.

Were we observed? Not at all. There wasn't a member of staff anywhere near.

Nothing has changed since then.

One of my Favourite Brisbane Restaurants

I make no secret of it, I love good food. The Blogger and I eat out a lot as no doubt you know from her blog. Like a lot of people, I have a favorite resturant. It's not close to where we live, in fact we travel some 27 km to get there but we do this at least twice a year. Most of our friends do as well. Well, let's face it, if you're happy with the food, the service, the ambiance you do just do that.

I am, of course, talking about the Des Alpes Swiss Restaurant in Blackwood Street Mitchelton or Enoggera, I'm never too sure about that.

The Des Alpes has great atmosphere

The Des Alpes is run by genuine Swiss chef Nick Herbert and his wife Monique, both learnt their trade in Switzerland but have worked in a number of countries, before settling down here in Brisbane to our delight.

The appetizers are just to die for. My personal favourite is the Swiss style cheese bread which is called "Chässchnittli" in Switzerland or the Amouse Bouche "Chäschüechli". Don't try to pronounce that unless you want to dislodge your upper set, just order them in English, you won't be disappointed.

There are lots of main courses to choose from, but I just love the Swiss national dish, sliced veal in a creamy mushroom sauce with potato rösti and accompanying vegetables. But you can't go wrong with the other main dishes, prime eye fillet steak, pork fillets, fish of the day and many more.

Finishing off with the restaurant's signature dessert, Crepe Monique. Ooh la la.

The Blogger's and my favourite restaurant, even on Christmas Day

The Des Alpes is fully licensed and carries a decent range of wines and beers, both local and imported.

To sum up. If you enjoy food and a good night out with friends, then give the Des Alpes a try. You need to book, though, especially Friday and Saturday nights, to get a reservation. But you'll love it.

Of course if you're into a Bowls Club's roast of the day type of meal, or fish and chips, don't bother.

A busy Morning

Today is the day, the Blogger gets up early to walk with her U3A Walking Group. After that, she joins her friends for a tennis morning, all this, while I am bored at home. Of course, she leaves long before I get up at the crack of dawn. When I climbed out of bed, had a shower and ventured into the kitchen, I found her note.

She left a list of things for me to do while she was gone:

1.     Take out the trash bins.

2.     Wash the breakfast dishes and wipe the kitchen benches. 

Being well trained, I didn’t see a problem with that.  So, I made myself some breakfast, which I enjoyed while playing ‘Bookworm’ on the iPad, (we’re up to 6 million at the moment) then I went to boil the jug for a cuppa, when I saw that my iPhone had a flat battery. I thought I’d better charge it. While I was looking for the charger in the drawer, in which we also keep pens and pencils, notepaper and stuff, I noticed that the paper holder which normally carries 6”X6” precut notepaper was empty. I thought, I’d better cut some up to fill the container. So I went down to my office and headed tor the scrap paper and the guillotine to cut some square notepaper, I saw on the computer screen, that there were 6 email messages.

I sat down and started to read the messages, most of them were jokes from friends, which I immediately forwarded to other friends. But the last message was from one of our U3A students, wanting me to contact him. It sounded urgent, so I picked up the phone when I heard intermittent beeping, which means we had phone messages.

I dialed 101 to retrieve the messages.  Nothing really important. Now, where was I? Ah yes, I was making a cup of tea. So once again, I went upstairs to boil the jug. At the top of the stairs, I saw the projector we use for our Blogging Class. I remembered that there was a cable in the bag that actually belonged to me. So I opened the bag, took the cable out and went downstairs to my office where the cable is normally kept on a hook in the cupboard door. To my amazement I noticed the hook was loose, so I went to fetch a screwdriver from the workbench in the garage. My favorite screwdriver was not where it usually is in the toolbox, in fact, the toolbox looked in a bit of a mess. I took it from the shelf and emptied the tools onto the garage floor, where I started to methodically wipe them with a cloth and proceeded to replace them back into the toolbox. I normally keep a torch in the toolbox as well and discovered the batteries were flat. I know we keep batteries upstairs in a special draw of the bureau. So I went upstairs again to fetch new batteries.

The bureau door was locked and I couldn’t open the drawers. That was strange, as the key is normally kept in the lock. Oh well, someone must have put it on the keyboard in the broom cupboard. I went looking. In the broom cupboard I saw that for some reason, the broom handle hat separated from the broom head. Easily fixed. I took both parts and went downstairs into the garage and found the hammer in the half-cleaned open toolbox.

To join both the broom head to the handle I needed some strong wood glue. I keep some really strong glue under the stairs, but it needs to be heated in a gluepot to melt it down. I grabbed a stick and went upstairs into the kitchen again, and not having a gluepot, I grabbed a saucepan  (OK, she isn’t here, so she can’t see it) and started to melt the stuff on the cook top. It took a while to melt, but melt, it did. So, back down into the garage with the glue pot. Going down the stairs, I spilled some of the hot glue onto the stairs. Oops, she’ll go bonkers if she sees that, I’d better clean that up. So I went back upstairs to fetch a cloth. The evidence removed, I proceeded back upstairs to wash the cloth and return it under the sink. Ok, now let’s fix that broom.

Back in the garage, I was halfway through fixing the broom when the garage door opened and the Blogger drove in. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was midday.

I realized, I didn’t have a cup of tea, I didn’t cut any notepaper, I didn’t put away the projector cable, I didn’t fix the hook in the cupboard, I hadn’t replaced the torch batteries, I hadn’t fixed the broom. Neither had I put out the garbage or wiped the kitchen benches. Oh and I hadn’t cleaned the saucepan.

‘Hello, dear!” how was your morning, I asked.

Things Can and Do Change

Friends used to tell me until a couple of years ago, "Yes! You will!" To which I replied, "Never in a million years!"

What am I talking about? I'll tell you.

For many years, we used to go out with friends, to the theatre, to restaurants, on holidays in Australia and abroad, having a great time, enjoying the plays, the food, the sceneries and usually discussing and solving the world's problems. Then gradually it started to change. We'd phone friends, "Hi, we're going to see Phantom of the Opera, want to come?" "Sorry, we're babysitting our grandchildren on that day.?" or "Can we do lunch?" "No, sorry, my daughter is dropping her kids off." We're going on another wine trip. I asked the Blogger, "Are so an so coming?" "Don't think so, you know they have Katie and Damien every Tuesday and Thursday."

On the odd occasion when we did manage to go out ot for a quick lunch or dinner, world events would no longer be discussed, instead we learnt, that Katie, aged 10 has just finished her masters degree in microbiology and little Damien, aged 12, has been chosen to join the Olympic team in road cycling.

On the way home, I'd say to the Blogger, "I would NEVER let any grandchildren of mine dominate the conversation when we go out with friends. and why do they think their grandchildren are so fantastic?"

Well, it happened. It did. We became grandparents in May 2010 with the arrival of Fox, our first grandson, then again last May when his little brother Banjo arrived, luckily on both occasions we were there to meet them, (well, not literally, but we were in the same cities, Sydney and Los Angeles.)

Now I think, they are the most wonderful, cute and clever little boys in the world.

If you don't believe me,  let's go out for dinner soon and I'll tell you about them.

Fox

Banjo

Our Neighbourhood Watchdog

 We went out with my daughter Carol-Ann and S-I-L David and a group of old friends for my birthday the other night. Friends we've known for just a few years and friend's we've known for a very long time. Sitting there around the table in a very conjenial athmosphere, we started the 'do you remember, when..'  topic. Joe and Norma, who used to live opposite us in Springwood, when all our kids were little reminded us of how we met them.

 Diane and I had taken our kids away for a long weekend in the campervan. On Sunday, we drove back just a the tail end of a severe thunderstorm. When we unpacked, we realised our dog, Ricky, was not in the yard. In those days, Ricky, a German Shepherd, was the neighbourhood watch dog, loved by all the neighbours. He kept the 'hood safe from undesirables and thus was never locked up. Like a guardsman, he used to patrol the street and the large bush behind our houses. So! Ricky was not at home. We assumed he was out on patrol somewhere and didn't worry too much, when there was a knock on the door. This bloke said, "Hi, I'm Joe, we just moved in across the street, do you own a german shepherd?" "Yes," I answered, "what's he done?" "Oh nothing, just as we were moving in, there was this storm and he just bolted into our house and he is hiding under the TV and won't come out."

Ricky, our German Shepherd

 On his nightly patrol of the street, Ricky always visited Peter and Lucy another couple of neighbours up the road. Lucy always left a bowl of surplus milk out for him and for another neighbour's cat, at her back door.

 This particular night, Ricky and the cat arrived at their back door at the same time. Well, it was on! Ricky barking and the cat hissing there was a typical mexican standoff. That's when Peter opened the door to investigate the commotion. The cat saw the opportunity and bolted into the house, very closely followed by Ricky, chasing the cat down their hallway, just as Lucy came out of the shower, as they were getting ready to go out. By now, the cat is in their bedroom climbing up their curtains and Ricky is on top of their bed bellowing up at the cat. 

 Peter and Lucy, just standing there flabbergasted at these two pets. Pets owned by other neighbours. Sadly, Peter passed away but we're still good friends with Lucy as well as Joe and Norma.

 I guess, people were much more tolerant then.