The bits of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and outrageous fortune.		  
 
 
 
October
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James the PC Doctor		 Dell boy back on track and other trivia
21.10.06 - I'd noticed some time ago that my principal PC, other than the music computer of course, was getting slower and slower, and while I don't know much about the technical side of computers, I'd diagnosed that I was wildly short on RAM. What to do? Get in touch with James of course, the Shepparton PC Doctor. Well, I tried, but for weeks I was unable to elicit a response, and it turned out that not only had he been ill with some flu bug, but his mobile had gone down in sympathy. Last Wednesday however, James finally made it over to Camberwell and fixed the problem, and now my time glaring impotently at the PC has effectively halved, allowing me to consider other possibilities. To this end I spontaneously texted Dick yesterday arvo, with the end result that he, Mary and I went to see the Altman movie A Prairie Home Companion last night at Eastlands. I remember catching only a few of the radio shows at the time, (as long ago as the '70s?), but I was thoroughly seduced by its languorous hokum humour
and equally relaxed music-making - all held together by the mellifluous and unflappable Garrison Keillor, with his five thousand stories on how he got into the radio business. I enjoyed the movie too - that's after I'd allowed myself to stop being annoyed by stupid, act-your-pants-off Meryl Streep - and it's one I'd recommend, particularly if you've never heard the radio show.
 

Another day in the life..

1) Train coming or going 2) Melbourne Central shot tower 3) The Town of Bedrock, or Fed' Square

4) Smokers socialise in Flinders St 5) Dick reaches into his wallet and smells the camphor

6) The lethal bullbar in situ on the Mitzi - let this be a warning to recalcitrant 'roos
Bad news for 'roos
16.10.06 - As predicted I took the Mitzi into the service department at Chadstone Mitsubishi today to have bullbars installed to tenderise any random 'roos that cross our path in future. That accomplished I trotted over to Chaddy and popped into the bank to make a deposit, and thence to one of Chaddy's semi-automated toilets (as featured in my public toilet review some months back) to make a deposit of another sort, leaving with a cold, shrivelled and thrice-christened member (again!), but otherwise much relieved.
I armed myself with a Senior's all-day travel pass and took the 700 bus to Oakleigh and the train into town to meet Dick for lunch, only to be informed by text message as I was about to alight my carriage, (the one that had been used as a de facto bog the night before), that he couldn't do lunch today as he was too busy. Texting furiously I persuaded him that a coffee break with me was the least he could do, so as to not entirely waste my trip into the city, but in any case I arrived in town far too early and decided to check out an exhibition at the Harry Potter Gallery. It was a pleasant enough day for it, so I ambled fetchingly from Melbourne Central, holding my breath as I passed the knots of nicotine addicts littering the footpaths, until I reached the fantasyland that is Federation Square. Of course, the Potter gallery is closed on Mondays, ('How very European', murmured Richard), so I made do with a jumbo carrot, celery and ginger juice and sent off a couple of crucial text messages to justify being alive and owning a mobile phone.
When I arrived at the Argus building, Richard was plainly suffering as much from a sore throat as the afore-mentioned bout of conscientiousness, but managed to sit through my rambling and slobbering for a good thirty minutes, and even paid for my coffees and roll! He's a good lad.
Rejoining the public transport system at Melbourne Central, I managed to find my way back to Chadstone and picked up my now almost lethal-looking Mitzi. (Watch out 'roos!) I think I feel safer. I'm certainly not going to deliberately mow any fauna down, native or domesticated, now that we're appropriately equipped, but hopefully it will ensure Bill and I aren't reduced to shambling midgets in the unfortunate event of just such a collision.
 

Alan Howe, 'im and Richard Clapton get cosy		 Tell me who this is then..
12.10.06 - I got a call from Alan Howe on Monday asking if I'd like to pop over to visit him and Carmel in Port Melbourne on Tuesday night over a paella. Richard Clapton was also on the menu, with Mike Brady being a possible after dinner mint - and the Beans might make also an appearance if the wind was in the right direction. Sounded good to me, so I duly turned up, fashionably late at 7.45. I'd missed the Beans, (four years old already - what happened?) but with another tasty WA shiraz in hand (that's two decent WA wines now - what's going on?) I spent a very pleasant evening with the listed personages. Alan was in teasing form, with a gaggle of songs that became well-known hits to which we had to ascribe the
name of the original artist. My ambition to appear naked on Spicks & Specks or RocKwiz evaporated as the night wore on - I knew nothing and no-one. Mike Brady arrived after an appearance at a right-wing political fundraiser, telling stories of his trip to Nashville where he recorded an album, which, combined with Ralph's busy Melbourne agenda and his featuring on a soon-to-be-released surfing album, made me feel as if I was idly fiddling on the planet Zilch.
 
 
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