Terry's Bon Bon On His Blog Blog

Compliments of the Season to you all and many thanks for your support in 2014.

 

Lament for the Lindt Cafe

It started out as a perfect day in Sydney. People were getting ready for the work day, Christmas shoppers were grabbing a coffee to have some energy for their day and tourists were on their way to or from the Opera House and Circular Quay, maybe planning out their day of sightseeing. Martin Place and the Lindt Café were a refuge in the ‘moment before’.

The moment came around 9.45 on a Monday and for three people there would be no more Mondays or any other days. They had seen their last birthday, they would never need buy another Christmas present, and there would be no more weddings to attend, no more holidays to enjoy. Their moment had come and now it was gone with them.

Just engaging in the mundane suddenly became deadly.

It’s hard to fathom what goes through a seemingly twisted mind. It’s hard to contain one’s rage, even our prejudices or fears and it’s impossible to filter our sadness.

It’s unimaginable what friends and family went through while watching the rolling TV coverage or standing near the scene. It’s even less imaginable to know the anxiety and terror of those inside. 

Is there moral equivalence anywhere here? We condemn someone for choosing a murderous terror to espouse his views but our condemnation requires us to espouse our own and promote them thus as superior. Odd at best.

I think it’s pointless to label what happened as terrorism; that almost legitimises,in its demonising, an act of murder and a hideous crime as something that has as much weight as September 11 and other terrorist acts. But I fear in my criticism I am also adding to the culture of making these acts a contest of tragedy.

Similarly to call what was done ‘evil’ lets him off too lightly.  It gives an excuse when none ought to be given. Labelling an act as 'evil' means they don't have to be responsible nor that their actions were a choice. He committed murder as I said, he chose and acted and exploited fear, and he committed an intentional, terrible, terrifying and ghastly cold act. That’s what he did.

And let’s be clear he did not do one single thing as a Muslim. He dishonours the peaceful, caring and beautiful faith that is Islam. He was a cleric sure but that did not inform his actions. Murderous and hateful intent did and that was informed by a mental imbalance and a warped view of his place in the world.

Martin Place is a peaceful and pleasant place to rest amidst the hubbub and fast pace of the Sydney CBD. Sadly it now has a place in the sadder history of that beautiful city.

Today is another day and we stop and reflect, mourn, and sip a coffee.  We wish Tori Johnson and Katrina Dawson could join us. RIP.

#illridewithyou

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.”    ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

A Need to Read

I like newspapers and magazines. I mean ‘real’ newspapers and mags, the physical type. I have problems with looking at text on screen and absorbing the information contained therein. It’s one of the reasons I like to turn pages of paper in a book rather than a collection of text on a device. I think a book is perfect for reading so I don’t ‘get’ why I would use a Kindull, a Hobo or whatever. I have tried but I don’t absorb the story or the content as well as I do when I ‘bury’ myself in a book. Odd perhaps but there you go.

I also like to leaf through a newspaper to have the stories laid out in front of me across a page, ordered and neat, ads placed out of the way or nicely breaking up the lay out of the page. I even like the occasional battle getting the pages to turn over without getting all messed up. My Saturday ritual has been for about 40 years to get up, shower, walk to the milk bar and buy The Age then read through it over a slow breakfast.

I don’t mind checking out headline stories on line but if I want to read a feature piece or a lot of stories I have to have a physical paper. I notice I am distracted far more easily reading something on line than if I read a paper which is interesting isn’t it?

It has been alarming to see how quickly newspapers and (to a lesser extent) newspaper have become diminished and are disappearing.   The Herald Sun seems to be doing better than the quality paper but it is a cut and paste paper in many ways with a few pages of local, freshly sourced content and the hideous sweeping generalisations of the adversarial Andrew Bolt plus some acidic Sydneysiders in their opinion pieces.  Fairfax on the other hand seems to have simply decided to let The Age wither away and the business model is to direct readers to online ‘services’ but hasn’t ensured advertising rates reflect the costs of providing content. Fairfax outsourced things like photo content, sub editors (well who knows if they even exist anymore), even printing. The Age is an amalgam of product from New Zealand, regional centres and probably Nauru. The wonderful Age printing works complex out on the Tullamarine airport only about a decade old will now lie empty. The historic Age building in Spencer Street has been demolished (I hear the old printing presses were still in the basement abandoned). The quality has gone, the content has reduced and they just sat back and let it happen and operated on the mantra ‘it’s a changing world’. Sales dropped but readership really didn’t. It wasn’t readers who have killed the Age, it’s the business model and letting advertising dollars slip away.  Duh.

Where does it leave journalists? There are a few, very few investigative journalists, McKenzie and Baker at the Age for instance, and they do a great job. The rest though have become reactive rather than going out and finding stories. Resources and numbers dictate that’s the way it will be from now on. There are reductions in bureaus so stories are sourced from other agencies and that can be fraught with inaccuracies or manipulations which once published become the ‘truth’. To fill pages the temptation is to grab a story from on line sources or ‘stories for sale’ banks. Sometimes they are badly written, sometimes they are simply dodgy but always they are depriving another journalist of an income and the readers from getting real news, stories that have been worked through, edited and are consistent with the values of a masthead. And of course if the tenor of content is a reflection of the newspaper’s owner or a particular political bias the credibility is surely affected. A paper isn’t necessarily playing the boss’s tune directly but if it’s taking its content from other paper’s in that boss’s stable then it will be arguably homogenous. It’s really a shame.

In London there are still about nine newspapers published daily and selling well, Hong Kong has three or four, New Zealand has a couple, the States are still strong and throughout Europe every country seems to be far better served than Australia and are still loyal to the ‘daily rags’. Interestingly media ownership is usually much more diverse in the countries where newspapers continue to do well. I doubt that sales are soaring anywhere but it seems they are maintaining levels. 

I suspect the Herald Sun will survive, the Australian will become a weekly and the Age will be published as a ‘digest’ one day through the week with a Weekend Age.

I shan’t abandon newspapers or my Saturday ritual. I will even occasionally read the Herald Sun and the Oz. I will continue to worry about journalists and their jobs.

But I just wonder if one day in the future a whole swag of people think to themselves ‘I think I’ll go back to buying a newspaper’ and there aren’t any there? Vinyl records are being sold again (and at a crazy expensive price), physical book sales increased last year (even a few new bookshops opened), there are several ‘phone only’ mobile phones available and ‘old fashioned’ sandwich shops are becoming popular.

Have to go now, the cryptic crossword awaits and then the cartoons.

We're unbalanced

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a passionate advocate for work-life balance. In fact some might say I’m tiresome about it. Well, my defence is that it is really something I believe in because I am concerned about the effect of imbalance on people’s psychology, general health and appreciation of the gift that life is, not to mention how fleeting our time on Earth is.

Yesterday was Go Home On Time Day and I guess it says something that we have to even think about having such a day. In fact, shame on all of us.

Australians continue to work large amounts of unpaid overtime and these ‘donated’ hours added up to 58.8 million hours, which based on the average income adds up to almost $110 billion. If these hours were paid and allocated to Australians looking for work the unemployment rate could be zero.

In 2010 Australians were on average working 2.5 hours more a week than they would have liked. Only one-in-five workers reported they were working the hours they would like to. Unsurprisingly, the desire for fewer hours was stronger amongst people working long hours, whereas part-time workers indicated they would like to work more hours.

The general desire for more work by some and less work by others highlights the need to balance the distribution of work hours across the labor force. Of course this means that women are often the ones who feel stress because they ‘have’ to get home to care for their kids, to avoid high after school care fees etc and men feel stress because they assume the ‘worker’ role and are more inclined to stay at work longer. This is a concern for continuing gender stereotyping as well as being at home with the family becomes an ok choice rather than a responsibility. How did we get to the point where our children became second in importance to our employer? Is that the sign of an evolved species? Seriously?

There is some research to suggest that working as little as two hours extra a week can be indicators for obesity, hypertension and heart disease as well as the obvious anxiety disorders and stress related illnesses such as depression. And of course just the fact of sitting in a chair for long periods has obvious ill effects, muscular skeletally at least.

The other concern is that it doesn’t take long for something such as ‘donated’ working hours becomes part of the culture of the workforce and indeed companies. ‘Working back’ quickly goes from a request or ‘chipping in’ to an expectation. Feelings of guilt start if you leave while the rest of your colleagues are working on (no matter you might have completed your day’s work or have great time management skills). It can be difficult for general staff but also hard for managers who don’t want to be ‘seen’ to be leaving on time while the worker bees are slaving away. Mind you hopefully it means they are fulfilling one of their key roles as a manager, being a role model.

Almost as a consequence of the above it has become ‘normal’ to check our work emails at home or almost addictively peeking at our work material on our phones or tablets on the train home or while eating dinner. I live by the maxim that when I walk out the door my work day is finished and doesn’t start again until I walk in the door the next day. My time is my time not my employer’s, why does this seem ‘odd’ or outrageous to even say that?

Let’s face it few of us work for a charity, so to be brutal why do we ‘donate’ hours to quite wealthy corporations? If we want to be so altruistic how about working those five or ten hours at an organization that could actually use us? Australians work three times more hours of unpaid overtime than they volunteer to community organisations. If we are doing long hours which could be done by two people within contracted hours then damn it employ another person and do something positive for the economy and the community. Sometimes I think we have a need to be martyrs and I ponder on what generates that in 2014.

Research also shows us that the more hours one works, especially if we don’t want to be doing it, the less productive we are, our instincts diminish proportionately and our critical thinking is affected. The key is to use the extra hours for tidying up, completing tasks, reading rather than reviewing, starting a new project or anything forensic.

We often blame the lack of time, indeed it’s almost a mantra these days that ‘I never have enough time to fit it all in’. I frankly and loudly scoff at this notion. It is a simple, scientific fact that you have as much time as there is time, no more no less. We have the same 24 hours we always had. What happens is we choose to cram more into those hours. Look time is in our control, it does not control us. Grab that control back and decide ‘I can only do what I can do and let the cards fall where they may’. Again if it means asking for help or more staff then take some responsibility for your own well-being and ask for it. If you aren’t listened to then why would you work for/with someone like that?

Finally, life is a precious gift and given to we lucky few. It is also very fleeting and tragically for many even more fleeting. MH17 have a few hundred people on it who have taught us that tomorrow is not a guarantee for anyone; so do we really want to spend precious hours of life working extra and unpaid hours? What lunacy is that? ‘If I put in the hard yards today it will all pay off in the years to come. The family will thank me when I have a better job and a bit of money in the bank’…such arrogance. Why wouldn’t you want to be grabbing every minute you can to experience life, look at the world around us, cherish, hold, listen to, talk to, love our children, family and friends?

So there it is.

In the end it’s all up to you to decide on the life you believe you ought to be living, the life you ‘deserve’. No one else writes our ‘rule book’, no one is ‘helpless’ and I hope no one gives up their work life balance willingly or unthinkingly.

Take care of yourselves and each other

“If you slave away every day at a job you hate and come home drained and frustrated, what is that teaching your kids?”  ― Alexander Kjerulf, Happy Hour is 9 to 5

A Towering Legend

“…there is every reason why Australia, wealthy and well-endowed, in many respects incomparably so, should be giving a lead to other nations in the equality of opportunities and the quality of the opportunities we make for our own citizens and in the help we can give to others. Twenty years ago, Australia was indeed a pioneer and a leader; now we lag behind. It is not for lack of resources; it has been for lack of resourcefulness on the part of a national leadership, bogged down in its own past, shackled by the dogmas of an outdated, doctrinaire philosophy.” – Gough Whitlam election speech 1969

 

November 11^th 1975 was a hot day and I awaited my father getting home from work so I could, somewhat gleefully, announce to him that ‘Kerr sacked Whitlam’. After a couple of weeks of posturing and stalemate the unelected Governor General had downed a few brandies and sacked the popularly elected Prime Minister. Dad was gutted and a little fearful ‘this could lead to a civil war’. I was not and continue to not be against the dismissal, I felt a circuit breaker was needed and, if the Government would not go to the electorate, this was seen as the ‘best’ option. Over the years I have come to doubt the motivations of the GG and am suspicious of the mechanics behind it. I sometimes think if not for the fact that the wrong man was given the job of Governor General or if our country was enlightened enough not to have a Governor General then things might have been quite different.

Gough Whitlam was a visionary and a man with a strong enough sense of self and his country to deliver his vision. It is remarkable that he was Prime Minister for less than three years and yet did so much. Suddenly a country that had been a bit worn out and maybe under dim lights suddenly found an extra light switch and a good strong cuppa and woke up in the light. We’d seen off Menzies (a bit like having had grandpa staying at your place for years and suddenly moved off to a nursing home in another state), then Harold Holt went for a swim after sin and along came Gorton who offered a spark but voted himself out to give us Billy McMahon and the writing was on the urinal wall…

Gough gave us so much. Universal health care (Medibank/Medicare) and suddenly anyone who was sick no longer had to juggle their bills to afford lifesaving care, no longer died of cancer because they simply didn’t have the money for surgery and ‘minor’ viruses spread far less because you could go to a GP and get treatment relatively cheaply (in those days you were out of pocket about $2). ‘Free’ university education meant that, regardless of income, regardless of ‘class’, regardless of where you lived and if you had the desire and ability you could go to University. GPs, lawyers, psychiatrists and even politicians we have today are all thanks to their privilege of free university education. The Family Law Act was introduced giving ‘no blame’ divorce and many people stifled and subsumed in loveless relationships could now get on with their lives. I have philosophical problems with easy divorce (although truthfully I’d be happier if it was much harder to get married) but no one should be entrapped in sadness by any law. Land rights gave our first Australians hope. The Trade Practices Act brought shonky businesses and misleading advertising to account. He even brought many of us in from outdoor toilets with sewerage being introduced to many (most) places. We threw away the British Imperial Honour system (memo Mr Abbott that was 40 years ago!!!) and gained a new National Anthem but not quite a republic but FM radio grew out of Whitlam legislation. And Legal Aid opened the doors for many more to at least get a look in to our Legal mysteries and miseries. All this while ending conscription, giving the vote to 18 year olds, being the first Western leader to go to China and shaking hands with Mao and accelerating the withdrawal of troops in Vietnam. And all this (plus more) in less than three years.

These were things that mattered and I don’t know why they don’t matter as much anymore.

There were dumb, stupid, dangerous mistakes also. Borrowing money from shady regimes, obscenely high inflation, a blowout in the public service numbers and the married Treasurer having a ‘close’ relationship with his PA were not the mark of a government that had a solid hold on the reins.  And ultimately it burnt out and had to go.

Gough and his government changed the way we saw politics and parliament.  His mantra was ‘equality of opportunity’; now why isn’t that on our coat of arms, why isn’t that our abiding philosophy, our (God help me) vision statement?  

He was a great man, a one off; he had an incredible wit, god he was funny, and a huge brain. I saw him in person twice and he was a huge bloke who taught me what charisma is, I’ve only experienced that a handful of times and it is rare but palpable when you experience it.

He was a good man and he did good things. This country is all the better for his being Prime Minister. He wasn’t the best, he was too human for that but he did what he could, it was probably his best and what more can we ask of anyone, especially our leaders.

98 years is indeed a lifetime but it seems it was time for him to go.

My sympathies to his family, his admirers, friends and colleagues.

Thanks comrades

The Hard Goodbye

I’m not great at grieving, I’m actually not sure if anyone is. In an ideal world we’d be shocked then sad then maybe reflective and finally move on. Of course that would be to eliminate loss, emptiness, bewilderment, regret and the whole package of other things which everybody deals with differently when someone we love or have simply known passes away. Death and grieving is something, at least in the West, we have no manual or handbook to fall back on. We only have our hearts and our emotions and they are never great teachers although are our first responders.

On Wednesday I heard of the death of an old friend, a former work colleague from over 20 years ago; a funny, warm, sweet man who I have nothing but fond memories of. He was getting ready for work, stepped out of his shower and just died. Gone.

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain goes on and on…”  

Only a few hours later 293 people were on a plane from Amsterdam, some returning from holidays, some planning to head home or onto further adventures and some coming to Melbourne for the AIDS conference. As they thought about what inflight movie they’d watch, popped to the loo, flicked through the airline flight magazine, chatted to a neighbour or their family a couple of missiles hit their plane and they plunged to their death. Gone.

I was moved by the words of The Netherland’s Foreign Minister Frans Timmermans at the UN Security Council:

“Since Thursday, I’ve been thinking how horrible the final moments of their lives must have been, when they knew the plane was going down. Did they lock hands with their loved ones? Did they hold their children close to their hearts? Did they look each other in the eyes, one final time, in a wordless goodbye? We will never know.

The demise of almost 200 of my compatriots has left a hole in the heart of the Dutch nation. It has caused grief, anger and despair. Grief for the loss of loved ones, anger for the outrage of the downing of a civilian airplane and despair after witnessing the excruciatingly slow process of securing the crash site and recovering the remains of the victims.

Images of children’s toys being tossed around, luggage being opened or passports, including passports of children being shown, are turning our grief and mourning into anger… We demand dignity for the victims and the multitudes who mourn their loss.”

I am not at all interested in the angst people are expressing over the contamination of the crash scene, it’s just too bad and too ghastly but it is what it is. We can’t expect people who are going about the pointless business of armed conflict to have a sudden rush of morality and decency when they shoot down a passenger plane ‘by mistake’.

My concern is for the return of the citizens who were murdered to their families and friends and in to the warmth and sad welcome of their nations. From Amsterdam to Adelaide, from Kuala Lumpur to Quebec and all other cities that have lost someone just give them one last act of respect. I’m pretty sure we know who did it and how they did it. We know Putin is  being loose with the truth about who's responsible and while Russia has the gas that supplies a fair whack of Europe and much of Kensington in London is ‘owned’ by Russian millionaires there’ll lots of fancy words and furrowed brows from some leaders but not a lot more.

And so today strangers are bound together, some look across a room expecting to see someone who will never be there again, some will call to a child who will never respond, some will wonder what their parent would think about…only to never know. The why will never be answered, the how maybe. There will be anger, sometimes at a God that ironically many won’t really have believed in, even at the dead themselves but most certainly and appropriately at the murderers. Does time heal or does it just move it to that place where memories reside, waiting to return when we least expect it? It is fascinating where the reminders reside and when the sadness surfaces. It might be a song, it might be an expression, it might be a passage in a book, it might be the briefest glance at someone who you think is the one you lost. Grief is breathtaking in its sinister ability to just not let go.

I hadn’t seen my friend for many years and yes I regret that today. But I also had enough memories of him and reminders of the laughs, the lunches and a weekend in Launceston to make my heart sag a little and to flatten my spirits when I heard he’d died.

 
When someone dies it hurts as much as it matters, as much as it is worth; it is never futile because it just wouldn’t be if it didn’t matter. There is pain in grief but pain shows you have not forgotten and is proof of love – it matters.

Those who lost someone on MH17 and those of us who are confounded, maddened and sad by the crash will always remember what happened on Thursday over the skies of the Ukraine. Our history has been changed in a moment, our world has gasped and we will never know in what ways the world would have benefited from those we have lost. As our tears are shed or as we stop to think about them, and us, we grieve in the way that gets us to tomorrow and beyond.

“Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.”

Take care and be kind to each other.

(The two lyrics used are from ‘Empty Chairs at Empty Tables’ from ‘Les Miserables’ -Herbert Kretzmer, Claude Michel Schonberg, Alain Albert Boublil)

We Just Want a 'Fair Go'

I studied economics at school and did quite well but to be honest my understanding of the subject today is about as strong as my understanding of the mating habits of the Andalusian Kwok kwok bird ie zero.

However it doesn’t so much require strong economics knowledge but a sense of equity and the Australian concept of a ‘fair go’ to know that there is something wrong with the Federal Budget and the philosophy behind some of it.

Firstly, it is clear there is a need to tighten spending by the Government and, I think, increase revenue. I think (as do most economists)we are far from in the middle of a ‘budget emergency’ and I am not an advocate for surpluses as a necessity for a healthy, caring and courageous society. My concern is always, and above all else, what sort of country do we want this to be. I believe the social economy, the spiritual health and the community quotient is what ought to be the goal of our citizens and politicians. With care, forward thinking and an acceptance of nothing less than compassion for all I believe this will be a wonderful country for everyone, not the least those who currently find it tough and are likely to find it even tougher if the budget goes through as presented.

I think the Government has actually misread the electorate badly and that is what has fired the discontent and negativity around the measures being planned. Australians by and large can cop a bit of a kick occasionally if they feel they can afford it. What they won’t cop is a kick being given to someone already doing it too hard, the already disadvantaged, our older citizens or those in genuine need on benefits. It goes against our values and the fabric of the country; it is what defines the concept of a ’fair go’. Also we have matured as nation from the days when the ‘dole bludger’ mentality/myth was a popular war cry or dog whistle. Most of us know or have had personal experience of Centrelink and the dole so we know how hard it is to ‘live’ on an allowance that is in fact below the poverty line. I certainly know that fear of going to the letterbox fearing what bill might be in there and deciding if I’ll have my noodles for tea that night or go without just to keep the gas on for another month.

I have a scenario in my head about extending the pension age to 70. Old Bob has worked all his life in manual labor. He is proud of living the way he was raised as the principal breadwinner, feeding his family all his working life and taking sustenance from the fact that the house he lives in, the car he drives, the holidays they go on, the education the kids had, enabling his wife to study and do volunteer work and the lifestyle they could afford all were due to his working for many decades. At 62 his factory goes out of business and he is suddenly unemployed. No redundancy because it turns out his bosses weren’t all that flash at accounting. Bob’s back is pretty buggered and no one wants to really employ a bloke who will only give them 8 years and might have a fair bit of sick leave. So here we have a bloke on benefits for 8 years until he can get the aged pension, slowly deteriorating physically and his self-esteem slipping because he no longer feels of worth or able to do what he thinks is important to the way he sees himself – work and bring in a proper income. Multiply this story by many and we have new burdens on the health system, the welfare system and the psyche of communities. PLUS we add the burden of GP co-payments, higher prescription fees plus benefits not being indexed appropriately.

This is a country where 660,000 people are registered as unemployed, many people working just a few hours a week and others who don’t register at all or just give up don’t figure in that number. It is said that 12½ % of the population currently live below the poverty line. This is what I call an emergency.

I fear the reality of life does not match the concept of the policies of this government; I don’t believe they understand that not all children have parents or family at all, let alone those for whom it is not safe to live with. To then mandate that a person under 30 ‘should’ live with their families while they look for a job or learn something for six months without payment is frankly callous. If you’ve just finished a four or six year Uni course why the heck would you want to then go and ‘learn’ something else? If you have been knocked around a bit because you had problems learning or studying for whatever reason what would that do to your esteem to then be turned away from getting a benefit and penalised for not undertaking some learning? These are the realities not the Pollyanna-esque version of life these Parliamentarians seem to have. And heaven forbid they should get sick from anxiety or stress and have to find the means to pay the $7 Joe-payment.

All of us are also painfully aware that any costs that increase as a result of the budget are not the only increases we have to contend with. In the last few months there has been increases in car registration, public transport fares, utilities, private health insurance, petrol and (disastrously for Melburnians) coffee – and have you seen the cost of lamb recently! Again a reality that the government doesn’t seem to understand when they talk about small imposts and inconvenience and hard to swallow when they trot out a line like ‘we know this will be hard for some people’ not to mention the tiresome, macho (remind me how many women are in cabinet again?)sloganeering of ‘share the load… doing the heavy lifting’ etc. I think we all know about toting the bales already.

Life and lives are complex, nuanced and varied and sensitive legislators and caring administrators need to adapt to that not the other way around.

So here’s the thing. The government has lost the ‘we are not breaking promises’ line so give it up and cop it sweet, you lied, we were fooled and you should be ashamed so please stop treating us like fools. You have now diminished the image of politicians even further than you and the now Opposition did during the minority term. That, Mr Abbot, Mr Pyne, Ms Gillard and Mr Rudd is a shame on you and I don’t know how the mistrust we now have can ever be overcome but on your own heads be it. 

It is hard too to imagine how the pollies can argue the concept of hard times in the economy, pushing the disadvantaged further down, charging a co-payment at the doctors, making tertiary education a product rather than a right (something that is to be available to those who are capable of paying  rather than to all who are capable of studying), raising the pension age etc while paying billions for second rate and unnecessary fighter jets (where’s the threat to the country coming from exactly?)and reducing funds to our world recognised research body, the CSIRO (well suited to undertake the much heralded and guilt driven medical research). On the co-payment I’m a bit confused by the way; we were told it was necessary because, well everyone should pay for medical care and we simply couldn’t afford to go on with Medicare as it was unless there was the co-payment. THEN out comes the budget and we find the bloody money isn’t going to Medicare at all but mostly to this amorphous ‘medical research’ fund…what the? The rebate to doctors will drop apparently and there will be extra administration costs to them for the tax so I suspect it will only be a matter of time before ALL doctors charges rise. I did a calculation that if my GP puts up fees by $7 and combined with the rise in prescriptions I would be out of pocket about $1200 a year.

Now we sit back and rake in the billions from the poor and the middle classes, a few pennies (temporarily) from the well off and the rich while abolishing the carbon charge and the mining tax – does that make sense. Of course if Labour had got the mining tax right we would have been reaping a fortune from the Billion dollars A WEEK the mining companies are procuring from OUR (as in all of us) resources.  Imagine if we’d got (or they’d had the community spirit to offer)ten or twenty billion in revenue from the mining boom each year, and we should have.

In the end, it is indeed the end of the age of entitlement, sadly many of foolishly thought we were entitled to feel safe and cared for or about.

I remember the mantra before the election – the Coalition would stop the boats, scrap the carbon tax and bring the budget back under control.

I never expected they also meant ‘we’ll kill the fair go’.

Pity…at least the economy will be strong.

Got to run, off to Aldi to stock up on instant noodles.

Tara Moss on QandA 26th May 2014

This is an edited version of very thoughtful and coherent comments made by Canadian born Australian novelist Tara Moss. I commend them to you without further comment.

Copyright held by ABC Australia

Oh Brunei - You Beauty

Brunei is a bit like when you try a new cake for the first time but aren’t quite sure if it’s going to be a terrible mistake. The delight of course comes when it turns out to be delicious and well delightful. This fortunately was how it came out for me on my visit to Bandar Seri Begawan, the capital city of the Sovereign Sultanate of Brunei Darussalam – there’s an impressive mouthful for you.

I mentioned before that the airport is a bit underwhelming at  the moment due to the renovations but the departure area wasn’t quite so dreer. I had a bit of a hiccup as I hadn’t organised a transit visa but was able to pay $5 and all was good. I was through all the bureaucracy pretty quickly and out into the hall. I couldn’t see anyone obvious looking to pick me up. For the longest time I’ve always dreamt of being one of those people who step out into an airport and someone is standing with a sign saying ‘Mr T Nalder’, oh VIP. It took a bit of squinting for me to see a small sign that said ‘Mr TieryN Jubilee Hotel’. Close enough.  

The driver greeted me and we walked out onto the concourse and boy did I quickly realise what I’d been missing for 19 days in the cold – the heat was intense and the humidity overwhelming.

A bit of amusement when he wandered off to get his exit slip for the car park, came back and wandered away with the wrong person. I hadn’t taken a lot of notice of what he looked liked but I did think ‘he looks like my driver’. Of course realisation hit him when the other guy went off in another direction as my driver reached our mini bus. From the distance I watched in and the confusion on my driver’s face. We waved at each other and I walked down, we both had a bit of a laugh. A good start.

A couple of stops before we got to the hotel. A couple he was to pick up at the shopping mall failed to appear but a young lady was waiting for him at the Mosque. All this made it seem that the hotel

was quite a distance and we drove through some pretty rough looking areas so I held some anxiety as we drove into the driveway of the rather dreer looking façade of the hotel – quite unlike the internet photo. Oh dear, breathe A very efficient check in and up to the fourth floor to what turned out to be a fairly decent room with a somewhat less than decent view but oh well. A large bathroom with  BATH was probably the only area that needed some extra attention - grubby grouting mainly. The aircon needed turning down and eventually all was comfortable. The handy mini  mart down in the lobby was reasonably priced although not overly well stocked variety wise. There is a café/breakfast room which I used on the second night.

The breakfast was pretty scant, no orange juice available and toast not available separately, no cereals on offer just a cooked meal and tea or coffee really but adequate. I didn't sleep very well on the first night and was a bit groggy for the half day tour. It was just Jimmy the affable guide and driver and me so very relaxed as we drove around seeing the magnificent mosques, the incredible
Royal Regalia Museum, the fishing village and even a shopping centre. The mosques were closed as the preparations for Brunei National Day 30th anniversary celebrations were underway. One of the Mosques is considered the largest in the world in terms of capacity. Similarly the Royal Palace is the

largest residential palace in the world (with a dome of gold made of Aussie gold - I did ask if we could have it back).


The people of this sovereign state are friendly, fun and warm. I sense there is a lot going on under the surface and they don't take it all too seriously. It is a strict Muslim nation and their 'loving leader' Sultan His Majesty Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkian Mu'izzaddin Waddaulah rules the country and Parliament very strictly. Some of the laws are repressive and antiquated and not befitting of a generous, caring nation no matter it's philosophical or faith base. I knew to be wary of commenting on this or querying too much but it is a shame there has to be the negative side to such a lovely place.

This is an oil rich nation, it's what feeds the country. The Sultan 'owns' the oil fields (on behalf of his people of course)and is amongst the richest people in the world. Petrol is 53cents a litre (no, not a misprint), there are no income taxes although a few levies/fees here and there. There is no debt as such, a seriously low crime rate (some sharia law infringements)and a manageable population growth rate - 450,000 as of 2013. It sits as a sovereign state with the Borneo mass (similar to Malaysia)and acts independently in the region but a strong partner in ASEAN.

It turned out the hotel was only a five minute humid, hot walk from the centre of things so I walked around a bit on Friday (interrupted by the two hour close down of everything for Friday prayers) and took a bus out to the fabulous Gadong Mall. This bus (Central route) was a great way to see the sights too and would be a good way to get on and off and visit different 'sights'. The main things are all in a fairly small area but one or two are just a bit beyond a comfortable walk in the heat.

I'd certainly recommend Brunei as a good stopover point or somewhere to visit if you're in Kuala Lumpur or even Singapore. It's not exactly geared for tourism on a big scale (maybe hesitation about opening themselves up for 'commentary' from foreigners?) but they are a welcoming people. And not every destination has to five star does it? I think as long as it gives me something unique I'm satisfied. You might like to have a look at the website: www.Makputeradelima.wix.com/brunei-tourism  One of the partners in this site chatted to me on my wander and I appreciated her generosity and candour and I know she'd eagerly welcome any visitors who contacted her.

Back to the hotel and an interesting 'encounter' with one of the locals (ask me when you see me). Caught the hotel bus back out to the airport and bid Bandar and Brunei farewell and headed home.

It was good to get home and a day or so later as I walked the wide streets of Melbourne and observed the big sky of this fair land I realised I'd had a good trip, weather aside, seen fabulous, amazing places (oh those Houses of Parliament, Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, Lovely Lincoln), amazing theatre with 'The Weir', a couple of lonely moments but more terrific moments to add to my privileged life.

I feel travel weary and who knows if there'll be any more trips. All I know for certain is the gratitude and sense of awe that I even went. I don't know why I broke my foot and was stopped from travelling last year, I'm sure it 'meant' something. Whatever, the recovery has been good and given me this reward, what could be better?   

Farewell London

The time came to say goodbye to London, the City I love, and it comes only second to Melbourne in my favorite cities list. It’s the ‘other’ place I feel most at home and it both enthralls me and frustrates me. So there is always a pang of sadness when I leave London but all holidays come to an end.

I checked out of the hotel but left my bags so that I could hop on the Tube into Embankment Station and do the short walk up the alleyway that is Villiers Street (where Rudyard Kipling lived no less) onto Charing Cross, over the road and onto Trafalgar Square to pop into the National Gallery. There is a knack to working out whether there is a point to jumping the lines on the Underground to get to a station or stay on one line and walk the often short distances to your destination. The illusion of the

geography of the streets being aligned with the layout of the Tube as depicted on Beck’s map is a great deception. You can spend ten or fifteen minutes getting off a train and changing lines, traversing the labyrinthine passageways and tunnels only to find when you emerge from the other train that your destination was exactly halfway between the station you changed at and the station you ascended from. Leicester Square Station on the Piccadilly Line for instance is about five minutes’ walk from Charing Cross which is a changeover to the Northern Line (and one of the least regular of the Tube lines). Doing this changeover would take about six minutes plus a three minute ride and then a couple of minutes to get out of the station.

Anyway just a tip for you.

Did a quick round of the Gallery checking out the range of Constables then the Monet’s, a Van Gogh or two before hopping on the bus to St Paul’s to grab a little knick knack I’d spotted on my visit earlier. I was surprised by how quickly time was getting on so did a quick wander to the Millennium Bridge for some photos and back to grab the bus back to Paddington.

Tip number 2: If baffles me how many people fork out a minor fortune (or at least the price of a reasonable meal) to hop on the ‘Big Bus’ in London (currently about $60AUD)and whisk around all the tourist traps, sorry interesting spots. OK there is the ferry cruise and a couple of other ‘gems’ thrown in but really it’s a waste of money frankly. My tip is on your first morning get yourself down to St Paul’s and have a squiz around the area (the Cathedral – sorry ridiculously priced admittance but worth it just once. Come out and take the little stroll up to Postman’s Park and be touched, amused and enchanted by the plaques to unsung everyday heroes. You can walk about six minutes to the Tower and/or the Monument from here but I’d save those up for a day of their own and include the Museum of London and the Roman Wall. From Postman’s Park walk back through St Paul’s garden and have a look at the Millennium Bridge, walk over it if you like and see the Tate Modern and Shakespeare’s Globe). After completing your squizzing there is a bus stop across from the Cathedral where I recommend hopping on the Number 23 bus. This bus takes you along Fleet Street, past the Inns of the Court and the former newspaper headquarters, onto the Strand, passing Aldwych, Kings College, Australia House, Somerset House, the Savoy eventually getting to Charing Cross. We move on from there passing Trafalgar Square around the Haymarket up to Piccadilly Circus and onto Regent Street turning into Oxford Street, out past Marble Arch and onto Paddington Station. It’s a great trip and for forty minutes you’ll see just about all you need to see to orientate yourself…and all for about three pounds! There’s even a chance of getting a front seat upstairs which is a bonus for photos and thrills (oh those dumb pedestrians playing chicken with the traffic).

Anyway I was back at the hotel around 12.45 and collected my bags for the Heathrow Connect to the airport. Another tip for you: Both the Heathrow Express and Heathrow Connect run to Paddington. The Express runs direct and takes about 15 minutes and costs around 20 pound; the Connect stops at four or five stops on the way in , takes forty minutes and costs 9 pound 50p. You can also take a Tube District Line which is about an hour trip stopping at all stops and you have a selection of stations to get off at which might take you close to hotels or friend's/family BUT it's also likely this option will mean a change at Earl's Court where you'll need to negotiate stairs to get to the line you want. If you're changing to Piccadilly Line I'd suggest Hammersmith to changeover as it's the same platform, no stairs.

Check in all went ok and eventually I was on the fairly full Dreamliner and off to Brunei. Again good fortune gave me a seat in a three seat row and the middle one empty. The way to go, trust me. The Dubai stopover gave us a bit more time to explore this round but I was most surprised by how expensive the Duty Free shops were.

I was just on the point of being royally frustrated by the flight when we touched down at 5.00 local time in Bandar Seri Begawan, the capital of Brunei Darussalam.

Home Stretch

The Banqueting House is somewhere I had never been to until my previous trip to London; it always seemed

to be closed on previous trips with repairs or functions. So I thought I'd go again this time and glad I am. It is a beautiful place with the lovely Reuben's murals on the ceiling and the history relating to Charles 1 etc. Only one other person in there this visit so had a good look around. They have rather stooped a bit with a few colorful bean bags on the floor for those who want to lie down and take in the beauty of the ceilings. Think something a bit more in keeping with the 17th Century might be worth seeking.

From one Westminster icon to another with a tour of the Houses of Parliament on Saturday. Oh my such splendor and magnificence. Quite a thrill to start off in Westminster Hall, the only remaining part of the original Palace and a place I'd always wanted to go into. Beautiful vaulted ceiling and the perfect entree into the Parliament building. The gold, the frescoes, the lush furnishings, the tiled and carpeted floorings, such splendor I have not seen before. I thought Versailles was probably the grandest place I'd ever seen but I do think this gobsmackingly awesome building tops it. A really good and informative hour and a half. It is interesting to note the differences between the British system and the Australian and yet we derive ours from the Westminster system.

A walk through lovely St James' Park up to Buckingham Palace and into the shop. I'd have liked to go into the Mews but the financially struggling monarch charges quite a lot to see her sights (and the shop was pretty heavily priced as well..a pretty tacky mug was ₤25 for instance) so I gave it a miss.

Changed over from the apartment back to the hotel in Paddington and was welcomed back like a regular which was nice. Also nice was the sun shining and I took myself for a walk in Hyde Park. A few more at Speakers Corner this time but still only about half a dozen speakers so not like previous times.

So it's the home stretch, only one full day and then it's airport time.

I did think at one point today while I was walking that this might be my last long trip to London. If I do come back it might be just fora few days on the way to somewhere else. Of course one shouldn't take for granted that one will ever come back. Not really sure how I'd feel if I never came back but I do feel mighty privileged to have ever been here in the first place let alone about ten times. Many people never get here at all for one reason or another so I am very thankful as this city has shown me many happy times and I've always felt at home here.

Wild Wednesday and On the BBC

So they didn't call it Wild Wednesday or Super Storm Wednesday for nothing. The wind was fearsome and the rain torrential as I spent the day in Birmingham.

A really lovely Chiltern train from Marylebone got me there in just under two hours arriving at Moor Street which is only a quick walk to the city centre. Drenching rain as I scramble into the Visitors booth...needless to say the city map I had grabbed struggled through the few hours I was in that pretty interesting city getting soggier by the minute.

Lunch at House of Fraser and a drop in at the terrific Art Gallery and Museum of Birmingham plus a few arcades and various streets passed the time nicely. I'd certainly like to see the city in finer weather as it looks like it has the best of a city and a decent history to learn about. The train was packed on return as I think many were making their escape to dryer ground before this area was cut off too.

Thankfully Thursday turned out to be not so dire although their had been a hell of a wind storm through the night. Headed in to Green Park for my second London Walks tour, this time around Mayfair. Great guide Richard told us about the Duchess of Devonshire, the Prince Regent, Beau Brummel, Primrose, Mary Robinson, Ian Fleming, the American Embassy and even the Beatles. Loved it. Even went to Shephard Market which is a gem of a spot and the square that Jeffrey Archer came unstuck.  

On the way to the walk I was a bit saddened to go past St James Church in Piccadilly and notice an old tree which used to stand in the courtyard had been removed. This tree had stood there for many years and was on the Heritage Register. It used to be known for inviting people to give it a hug and enjoy the tranquility one felt for that moment. Gone. Sad. 

The walk finished at Marble Arch so I dropped into M&S for lunch before heading up to the BBC (as you do) for a tour of Broadcasting House. Very entertaining and interesting to see, especially the incredible news centre  which has hundreds of people in it. If you've ever seen a BBC News Service with the shot of people at desks behind the readers that's where I was. Did you know the BBC News is seen by about 245 million people? Got to do a fake Radio drama in one studio and a real buzz to go into the theatre where the Goons broadcast from.

It was only about 3.30 when that finished so I hopped on a bus to Covent Garden for a wander, quite busy despite the chill returning. At last after all these years I finally got to see inside St Paul's Covent Garden, known as the actor's church. Gorgeous little church and nicely done up as it had been the funeral of  Roger Lloyd-Pack and a memorial for Simon McCorkindale. Seeing the plaques for so many actors on the walls was very touching.


I'm pretty weary and my feet give me a lot of grief by the end of the day which is concerning, maybe I'm just overdoing it. Sometimes I feel like I'm 67 not 57 and sometimes I would like to stop and go home. The weather is wearing and unpleasant and depressing and I don't even live in a flood prone area (yet).

Oh well...onwards

A View of the Floods

Some BBC coverage and shots from the train near Banbury

Going Up

So a little bit of a sleep in this morning and rather pleased the Tube Strike is not going ahead this week.

The flat is only a short walk to Cromwell Road so I set off in the damned, bloody nuisance of rain to the V&A, my absolute favorite museum. Just had a quick look through including the mesmerizing Cast Courts and I just had to have a refreshment in the gorgeous cafe.

Then onto the Tube for a short ride over to the British Museum and an hour or so in there looking at the Rosetta Stone, the King's Library, the various 'Hoards' and the Parthenon Sculptures (Elgin Marbles). I am on the side of either returning these to the Greeks or at least having a

sharing arrangement (ie permanent loan) but they are lovely to see and are displayed very well. Even George Clooney bought into the argument at his press conference here for the 'Monuments Men'. He did rather diminish his argument somewhat though referring to them as the 'Pantheon marbles'...oops. Lots of school groups around which was both great to see and very tiresome.

Next out to what is called 'Emirates Greenwich' for a ride on the cable car. It was a bit blowy and so the car had stopped temporarily but was up and running ten minutes later when I could see absolutely no change to the weather. Only £3.50 to go up and off I went in a cabin very similar to the one in Hong Kong without the glass floor. The view is pretty uninspiring but it does show off another part of London I guess. I can admit that about half way it got very blowy and the cabin was swaying a bit more than I felt confident in. I was debating if this was the way I

wanted to die but thought if it were to plummet I had no control over it so just managed my anxiety level as much as I could. Even the batteries in my camera carked it just as the ride ended - a bit ominous don't you think.

I had thought we'd probably end up somewhere near the Greenwich Park but we weren't so I sussed out the Docklands Light Rail Station a few minutes walk away and took it into Tower Hill and walked over to the Tube into Embankment. It was only about 3.00 so I dropped into the Cafe in the Crypt at St Martins in the Fields for a warming cuppa and rhubarb crumble with custard - oh yes.

Thusly revivified (bit of Dickens for you) I grabbed a bus around to Victoria and home. A couple hours rest and then frocked up to pop into the Wyndham's Theatre to see what was one of the best bits of theatre I've EVER seen, 'The Weir'. This Irish play with five actors was funny and moving and had great direction as well as very fine acting. It was a delight and a joy to see and a privilege. I had a great seat in the front row middle of the upper circle so perfect for viewing. I also appreciated it ran through without an interval (although a few audience members found it a challenge and were coming and going). So I was back in the flat around 9.40.

Watching the late news the flooding continues and spreading, even closing in on London although the Thames Barriers should help. It must be absolutely desperate for the people who have had weeks and weeks of rain without a break and are having to evacuate or endure. There isn't expected to be any respite either for a few weeks yet.

I must confess I am over the rain, the drizzle and the frigging wind that cuts into you no matter if you've got a hood or a cap or a scarf or gloves on. In those few moments when the sun comes out it is like a moments blessing and I just lap it up - I'd hate  to have my Vitamin D levels tested at the moment.I'm sure those of you who have been living through heat waves are probably thinking you wouldn't mind some of this weather but trust me, apart from the lovely low temps the rest of it is appalling.

In-Spires

Really I could have done with a day in the flat vegging but with so many places flooded the options are limited and I thought why not. I do like Oxford and if I return to the UK it would be a shame not too visit the lovely city again.

Amazingly all connections connected and I arrived at the Oxford tube bus stop (don't ask) just as the bus arrived and on I hopped. We passed through lovely countryside and a bit of water lying around. An hour and a half later, after seeing how high the Cherwell (or maybe the Thames) was, I alighted in Oxford to a bit of a windy cold day and proceeded to explore. I found time for a coffee and scone in Debenhams, a looksee through the wondrous Blackwell's bookstore and see a few sights. What excited me most was that Balliol College had its gardens, chapel and hall open, the first time any of the colleges have been open on any of my visits. Very beautiful although the Hall was smaller than I imagined. it was in post lunch mode so the smell of the meal was still wafting and one of the tables was still set up. Great portraits of a few pollies (and Prime Ministers) who had been alumni of Balliol.

Time passed quickly and I went the wrong way to the bus stop but eventually found it but it took forever to get on as people were asking questions, fumbling for money and just faffing about. It was nearly time for the next bus by the time I got on but eventually in and comfortable and back in London at 6.00. A very lovely day.

Mid Way

At the half way point of the journey and something I've been looking forward to, my day trip to Ghent and Brugges.

Picked up at the hotel around 8.45 and out into incredibly strong, cold wind and onto the bus. After several more pick ups the bus is practically full although I do have a seat to myself (wearing the same socks three days running paid off). Our guide is a Ghent local so he knows his stuff.

Ghent is a very compact pretty place about an hour and a bit from Brussels in the direction of Ostende and formerly a coastal town (the coast line disappeared over time but many of the industries still deliver and use Ghent to export from. This town was famous for Flemish cloth and tapestries and is fairy tale beautiful. Cobbled streets and cute buildings contrasted with the enormous cathedral and towers.  Van Eyck's altar

piece the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb is kept at the Cathedral although it is one of the most stolen art works of Europe. In fact one panel is still missing after the whole thing was nicked by the Nazis and recovered in a salt mine in Austria (see 'The Monuments Men' movie). Stunning cathedral in a town about a thousand years old...ah yes.

Just a short ride onto Brugges and whereas Ghent is quite compact, Brugges is spread out takes a bit of getting around although mostly walkable. Well walk around the convent (monastery) area where the nuns started the Belgian lace tradition. Sadly this tradition has all but died off now and is mostly mass produced although there are one or two artisans still around and in the Brugges. area.

The magnificent old two square was worth seeing, albeit in the rain and cold wind. Even that passed at times and the light was beautiful on the stunning buildings and cobbles.Quite touristy which is a shame but we soldier on. What i think makes this town very amenable and attractive is the preponderance of chocolate shops and a fair few of them handmade. There are the chains (Godiva, Leonidas to name a couple) but I guess it's about what is unique rather than what is popular - of course they aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. They are rather fond of dark chocolate and it is of course the elite of chocolate but I'm afraid I'm a fan of the lighter creamier varieties. We had a nice stop at a shop and given a bit of a history of chocolate making in the area and then 'invited' to purchase. I am fond of popping into chocolatiers here because you are invariably offered a 'sample', very civilized greeting if you ask me.

I'd had lunch in a little cafe near where the horse drawn carriages set off (as delightful a tourist rip off as the venetian gondoliers apparently but by gee they were reeling those gullible tourists in this day)A very tasty ham and cheese omelet warmed me up and sustained me through the much walking we did for the rest of the stay. 

We also enjoyed a boat rip around the canals which was a good way of seeing large parts of Brugges in a short time and a good vantage point. The sun was out so not as cold as it might have been.

In the old square is the church tower that featured in the film 'In Brugges' and on the boat trip we saw the hotel also in the film (where he jumps out of the window if you saw it). The BBC series 'The White Queen' was also filmed in Brugges.

Time was getting on and so we set off back to Brussels. I wanted to see the Grand Markt at night and so I was dropped off not far. Beautiful sight to see, it really is a 'Grand Place'.

Walked back to the hotel, nearly being blown away by the incredible wind.

The next morning I didn't have to check out until midday so had a sleep in, a late breakfast and then went for a final walk around this most wonderful, intelligent and welcoming city. It has some dark and dodgy spots, rather too many beggars and it is a bit expensive. the people seem reserved but warm and I suspect they are

self deprecating in their humour which may or may not serve them well.

After checking out it's really only a five minute walk (even shorter if the incredible wind had been a tail wind) to Gare du Noord. Although a rather grand facade I have to say the interior was very dodgy. Anyway the Eurolines bus terminal is downstairs and the check in was pretty smooth. about a 45 minute wait for departure and a somewhat shambolic bus boarding, luggage storing, finding a seat etc. Nevertheless we set off heading for Calais.

All went well until we arrived at Calais to find the eurotunnel was delayed with boardings by up to two hours. We would apparently normally just have a half hour delay while boarding but we ended up there for an hour and a half and even allowed to get off the bus and partake in the high quality, well priced goods and food items in the building attached.

Earlier we had been through the rather comical procedure of French passport control...off the bus, queue up, back on the bus then drive ten metres and get off the bus for British passport control. I always have a tiresome moment with the Brits which I NEVER have with any other country. Anyway after answering banal questions it was through there and back on the bus.

The driver added to the humour at one point. After being parked for an hour or so he drives off and then just basically does a circuit to get back to the same spot we drove away from...odd.

Reminds me of something that happened when I checked into the Hotel Siru in Brussels. I mentioned there were three hotels in one with one reception desk BUT a separate queue for each. When I arrived there was a guy at the Hotel Colonies desk and he acknowledged me but said he couldn't check me in, that I had to wait for the Siru receptionist. So I waited for her to check the guy in front of me in and stepped forward...only for her to move away and,yep you guessed it, the guy from the Colonies desk steps across and serves me. Hilarious.

A warm welcome back to London with the bus stopping at what currently passes for the coach station...it's all under reconstruction so you walk out of a garage into a back street. If this was your first arrival in London I'm not sure it would thrill you.

Underground to Gloucester Road and I found my way easily to the apartment office for my next seven night stay. Seeing as I last stayed at these apartments about 20 years ago I was quite impressed with finding them. The check in was easy and the apartment is lovely. I was supposed to be in a studio apartment but, as luck would have it, they are all being painted and I am 'upgraded' to a double room. Nice and most acceptable. I could have  been quite satisfied if it hadn't been up four flights of stairs but hey my heart and lungs needed a work out. Isn't sweating on a cold night an interesting phenomena?

Tomorrow Oxford.

 

Where's The Sprouts Brussels?

If you like wind and rain you really should have been with me the last couple of days. Bloody cold wind and relentless drizzle and rain were the order of day one but I was not to be deterred by the turd of weather (see what I did there? Gold) and walked into the centre of Brussels via cobbled and quaint streets, diverting

through glorious arcades and occasional wrong turns (who'd've thought).

Such a gorgeous place with surprisingly lots to church, interesting churches, a range of museums and history along the streets. The Royal Palace is one of the most beautiful I've seen and I enjoyed seeing the remains of the original palace underneath.

After quite a bit of territory covered I finished the day at the Parlimentarium an exhibition at the Brussels location of the European Parliament.What I particularly liked about this informative place was that it was free entry! Looking at the price of 'souvenirs' though I suspect I know where they make up for it.

Making the mistake of having what was allegedly a burger at 'Quick' (probably alludes  more to the rapid onset of nausea rather than the speed of the meal) I retreated to my dry, warm hotel room for a nice night in watching the opening of the Sochi 'being gay is not OK' Games, spectacular, even at times ironically camp.