Portholes

Saturday, 4 January 2014

I'm generally the one doing the booking of the Spirit of Tasmania and I booked the Christmas trip a long time ago so we could get the best prices. Since I was flying back I booked all four of us on the Spirit of Tasmania on the way to Melbourne, and just the three of them in a cabin on the way back to Devonport.  And whilst I don't remember it, I must have been feeling stingey when I booked their return fare as I apparently booked them in a non-porthole cabin (and thus saved about $30).. the reason I know I must have done this.. see below...

Followed shortly by this..

  

oh no...

 

Is that an 'I heart Tasmania' shirt Jett is holding? And a family pack of malteesers bought at gift shop prices??? and a glass of red wine (presumably not for Jett but who knows what goes on when I'm not around)..there goes the savings.. 

 

and yup.. that's them on the pay-massage chairs. The ones we don't normally let them go on.   They look extremely relaxed.   That reminds me of the last time Zali and Jett used those chairs at Sydney International Airport, their rapturous expressions caused the creation of a queue of people waiting to have a turn..

Anyway - hopefully by now Jon has run out of money and/or forgotten his atm number thus curbing his non-porthole compensatory expenditure.

I'm looking forward to seeing them all again tomorrow. And not just to be able to more closely supervise their spending..

Meerkat vs Panasonic

Thursday, 23 September 2010

Lately I've been inundated with email questions from my readers. And strangely, they've all been asking the same thing.. 'Cathy, what would happen if  I dropped some reasonably priced electrical equipment into a meerkat enclosure?'  Well dear readers, because I am the intrepid journalist that I am, today I have the answer. ..

The first thing that happens is that the owner of the camera (in this case me) gets angry with the camera dropper (in this case Jett) because it is exactly the thing that I told him not to do thirty seconds earlier.. (the actual training session may have been a little brief) however this is just for a moment as for journalistic reasons we really need to see what is going on in the enclosure.  The second thing that happens is the meerkats all rush, and I mean stampede, to the site of the exciting new yet slightly threatening addition to their environment.  As a group they then frantically inspect it with their teeth and claws.  Once it's confirmed to not be a threat, they all assist with carrying the bounty off to their burrow.  Once safely ensconsed they take a few photos of their own and then, using the projector that someone dropped a few weeks ago, they hold a wine, cheese and photography evening and award prizes for the most arty shots (collectively voted of course).

Ok - so maybe they don't have a photography evening but they sure do drag the camera off to their burrow in a hurry. In the meantime, although it was fairly clear that the camera had sustained serious damage in the fall, and the subsequent inspection, I went to get a zoo-keeper as I was concerned that they would eat the battery and all die and then the photos would be traced back to us and we'd be forced to compensate the zoo to the value of 30 meerkats and postage from Africa.  While I waited by myself (probably 10 minutes)  I was treated to the comments from a great many zoo goers as they came past, noticed the camera in the burrow and commented on the stupidity of the owners. sigh.

All's well that ends well though, the zoo-keeper came and got my camera without so much as a smirk, it was duly declared broken and I'll get to upgrade to a little Canon number I've had my eye on for a few weeks.


Supermarket Rage

Thursday, 16 September 2010

Long time readers may remember the time, shortly after Jett's birth, that I went to the supermarket and didn't realise until I tried to check out, that I had managed to swap my trolley of groceries with a supermarket packer's trolley full of soap.  Oh how I laughed (later).

 Anyways. I know this person, let's call him Yonno, who went to the supermarket today to get some feta cheese from the deli counter.  He took number 69 from the queue ticket dispenser then, as his number was so far off, went to get a few items. Upon returning to the counter it seemed like the queue had not moved very far.  But then suddenly the person behind the counter said (in a barely audible fashion so Yonno claims) " 69..70...".  Person number 70, who had a split second response time stuck up his hand and got served, leaving Yonno, who hadn't had a chance to get a word in, fuming. 

In a rage, Yonno threw down his number 69, took his trolley and stormed off.  After a few steps he heard 'excuse me?' behind him - clearly it was the counter people trying to make amends but he wasn't having it - and continued to storm off.  'Excuse me? Excuse Me!' he heard.. so, thinking that they were being rather persistent, he turned to see what sort of apology they were going to come up with.  Only of course it wasn't the counter people trying to call him back, it was the shopper whose trolley he stole when he stormed off!  hahhahahaha .  Poor Yonno.

Letting the cat out of the bag

Friday, 11 January 2008

I have this sister. To preserve her anominity, lets call her Lenny.  Lenny recently became pregnant.  This story is set during the period when Lenny and her husband Lobin  were trying to keep the pregnancy to themselves until the results of all the scary tests were through.

 Anyway - Lenny has at least one son. Let's call him Smiley. Smiley got some fish in a fishtank for his birthday last year.  Smiley was very happy about his present but generally it was Lenny who had to do all the fish-related dirty work such as cleaning the tank and dealing with all the usual fish ailments (i.e. sudden and premature death).  It had been a year since the first batch of fish arrived and Lenny was getting a bit tired of it all. She began to wonder if maybe it was time to rest the fishtank for a while. At this point there were still two fish living in the fish tank. Lets call them Fish 1 and Fish 2.  When Fish 1  succumbed to the rigours of fishtank life Lenny thought that the least she could do for Fish 2 (given she wasn't going to replace Fish1)  was to clean the tank for him to live out the rest of his days in cleanliness. Then the tank could be retired until Smiley could do fish tank maintenance himself.

Lenny carefully put Fish 2 in a bucket. Then she began to clean the tank. Lenny was pregnant though, so tasks like this wore her out quite quickly and she needed to have quick lie down on the couch. Whilst Lenny was resting her aching legs and nursing her headache, Zug-Zug the cat came along and ate Fish 2.  Thus ending the fish dynasty.  Whilst it was an unfortunate and deeply regrettable outcome for Fish 2, it did mean the tank didn't need to be refilled for a while.

Smiley of course, wasn't completely satisfied with the situation and asked for replacement fish. Lenny (looking for any excuse to avoid it) suggested that this wasn't a good idea as the poor fish might be eaten by Zug Zug who had most likely developed a taste for fish straight from the tank.  Smiley said 'well then maybe he could get a puppy instead'.  Lenny (still scrabbling around for reasons to avoid aquiring any new pets and most likely still suffering from a headache) said 'no because then the puppy might grow up and eat Zug-Zug' (She was pregnant too don't forget).  Smiley, getting upset said desperately 'Well what can I get?'. Lenny,  obviously suffering from some sort of  brain-fade as well as pregnancy and probably a headache said 'well how about we try and get a baby instead'.  Smiley, (not thinking things through - he's only 5) said 'yes that sounds like a good idea' and went off to do something else.

And of course the very first thing Smiley said to his Grandmother when he saw her the next day was:

'Zug-Zug ate the fish so we are getting a baby'.   Thus the cat was out of the bag.


 


 

Supermarket Surrealism

Monday, 9 July 2007

So anyway - I'm at the supermarket. It's 6:15pm  and I'm waiting in the checkout queue leaning on my trolley  and checking out the covers of the trashy mags.  There is only one person in front of me, and a few people behind me.  Suddenly I snap out of my magazine induced daydream and notice it's my turn to unload all my stuff onto the conveyer belt, in fact the conveyer belt is almost empty so I should have probably started 30 seconds ago.   I look down at my trolley and realise that it is filled with nothing but  soap.  And I mean filled.  TO THE BRIM  . With nothing but SOAP.  Weird. Cos soap wasn't even on my list. Even if it had been, I wouldn't have needed the thousand or so bars that had magically appeared in my trolley.   It was SO weird.  So anyway - knowing that I could never afford  all that soap I backed my heavily laden trolley out of the queue (what on earth had the other customers thought as they queued up behind  me?)  and went back to where I had last seen my own items.   I think the chain of  circumstances that resulted  in my surreal experience started when I parked my trolley in the shampoo aisle and wandered up the aisle trying to find some detol.  When I returned, instead of grabbing my own trolley  I must have then siezed the trolley filled with soap belonging to an unpacker. I hadn't managed to find the detol so I had nothing to add to my trolley and thus I didn't notice the new contents.  I'm glad the trolley parked in that position didn't contain any small children or I really would have been in trouble if I'd made it as far as I did.  I'm also really amazed I didn't once glance into the trolley right up until it was time to unpack.  And did the unpacker just watch me take their trolley ? I saw no signs of the unpacker where I found my original trolley - perhaps they had gone to report a woman clearly planning some large scale bubble related  terrorist act that required a VERY large number of  soap bars.   More likely they were lying on the floor laughing their pants off.

 

Hanging around

Wednesday, 14 February 2007

Let this be a lesson to all teddies who are contemplating letting their three-year-old owners be alone and unsupervised with nappy rash cream.