Bathurst: Sunday.

I took my scooter with me, so I used it on Sunday morning to buy the newspaper, some magnoplasm cream (which is like soft stick plastic putty and it draws foreign bodies out of wounds) and buy a train ticket, but I didn't see the machine at the station and it was all shut and empty. An aboriginal man was friendly, called me Sis and asked me for $20 to get to Dubbo.

I did some more crochet with Grandma, and we had an early lunch. The coach to Lithgow left at 12.10. The ticket machine broke and refunded all my money after it gave me my ticket, so instead of the cheap $7.80, I travelled free! (the station man couldn't be bothered taking my money, I did try and be honest). This is the station, waiting for the bus, note the new Ben Chifley's engine back there under the shed, and the man fixing the ticket machine. Grandma is minding my stuff near the bin.

The bus was packed and I chatted a bit to the lady I sat next to. It was misty and drizzly at Lithgow, so I got straight on the waiting train and kept crocheting even though there was a bit of a wait. I chatted to the couple behind me a bit. I seem to get pretty friendly when I've been travelling by myself too long. It was a very pleasant trip. Annoying kissing teenagers got on at the mountains and spoiled the serenity for a while. I made excellent progress on my giant granny square. 

When I got to Central, I was supposed to catch a bus to church. I was looking forward to socialising after all my solo travel. But I was tired of carrying my bag and scooter, and also I was busting for the toilet. Getting to church late and walking up the front to use the toilet was the deciding factor. I went home and then went for a little jog cos I felt cooped up. And tried to see if I could watch one TV show and tape another, so I could see both The Mentalist and Downton Abby. Garrh. No. So I just watched the Mentalist. It was OK. It's just that I need the routine of watching the same thing every Sunday to wind down. I'll probably see DA eventually.

Bathurst: Saturday.

It was pretty complicated to organise the trains. There was confusion between countrylink and cityrail about who had what train and bus, and on Friday I made the late discovery that on the Countrylink train I had booked, I DIDN'T GET OFF AT LITHGOW. Such a close shave there, I just happened to be checking for trackwork and realised my mistaken assumption. I think that put me in a worried frame of mind, because then I was worried on Friday night about the next morning, missing the train at Central, due to missing the 372 bus which only comes every 30 min on the weekend morning. Once I was in my train seat and organised, with 25 min to spare, I was still afraid of missing the train. Like some sort of mild anxiety attack. I went to the bathroom (at Central there is a mirror missing above the centrally dividing sink so you look up and instead of seeing your face, there is an empty identical bathroom and you think you've vanished, but then you see yourself small and far away in the furthest mirror.) and then walked along the platform and back to stretch my legs before the 4 hour sit, and I had to really force myself to walk all the way to the end, against the irrational fear. It took until the train was out of Sydney before I was back to normal.

 

 Then I really had fun. Countrylink trains are a little bit more comfy than Intercity trains. The seat is a bit adjustable, you have a drop down table, and a curtain. You can buy hot breakfasts and morning teas. I was especially lucky to have the double seat to myself. I was really comfortable, because if you want to spend the morning reading, a warm sunny train with country views is all you can ask for. If I was at home, I'd be cold, sunless and viewless. This is my lovely arrangement:

Jumped off the train in Bathurst and Grandma picked me up. We went to Aldi, and then home, and then to the hospital, because Dr Susan the Eat Street family doctor reckoned my hand was infected from the scooter fall 2 weeks ago. Had an hour and a half wait to see the doctor, but got the antibiotics and walked home, and it was lovely and cool and sunny and there were autumn leaves, but I didn't have my camera.

Had soup for late lunch, and then Grandma taught me to crochet. This was a genius idea of mine. It was a nice easy thing to do together and I finally know how to make granny squares. It took til Saturday morning to get comfortable holding the wool through my fingers. I hit the wall at 4pm, completely exhausted, and was a bit of a zombie watching TV and slept like a log.

Teeth are slow.

My bones are very strong, my ortho says, which is why I've never had a broken bone. Unfortunately, it means my teeth move at half the normal speed. The gap on the left should close at a millimetre a month, and in the last six weeks I'm noticed nowhere near one mm. There IS a tiny change, but not 1.5 mm. I took a photobooth shot in Feb, and one this week, and you can see the slight difference over several months, where it should have mostly closed. Aaaargh, frustrating. In the mean time, my back teeth knock together when I talk, my bite doesn't fit together so I can't bite off sticky tape, and if I eat too much sugar my mouth gets sore and the braces feel like a mouthful of pins.

Anyway, that's what's happening in my mouth these days. Waiting for the tortoise and the tortoise to waddle over the finish line and join their dirty mates (because after 18 months I've lost interest in flossing and cleaning in general). Aren't you glad you know all this now?

This little bag didn't fit the spoons in it, so it is for my fancy pens now. I used an old cardigan button as the toggle, it works brilliantly.

Shirt reincarnation.

This is the cutting out. The old shirt was cut on the bias, so that the print runs diagonally and the weave has more stretch. I had enough fabric to do that, but I didn't think the print would be improved and it's annoying figuring out diagonals. But the new shirt has lost a little stretch, so I should have made it a little looser to compensate.

This is the iron-on interfacing to stiffen the collar and the strip where the buttons and holes. I avoid bothering with this wherever possible, but I went with it.

No sewing happens without unpicking. I had sewn all the buttonholes in white thread, but then I discovered I had a perfect mustard thred which would make the button holes less obvious. When unpicking buttonholes, I stuck the unpicker through the fabric and ripped a hole, can just see it to the left of that button.

A glamour shot of the collar

The whole shirt.  Minus the bottom button, which I couldn't find. I'll sew that on soon.

I have to say, although I'm not a yellow-wearer, I love this print. It's really mustard so not a pastel yellow, and wearing it under my brown cardigan it just provides a touch of brightness. Spotlight retro rocks!

I have leftover fabric, I'm tossing up either remaking this shirt to improve the fit a little and giving this one away, or making an apron.

Falling apart hand and shirt

First, sorry about this, but it's my blog. This is my 'zombie flesh' from the fall on the weekend. The other 2 wounds are just light grazing and gravel rash, but this is the best skin-loss. This photo is from Sunday, and it's not looking as pretty and fresh as this now, hence, zombie flesh.

This is my most frail and beloved shirt:

 

It was a bargain from DFO Colorado, and it has served me well for almost 7 years, but now it is disintegrating in the washing machine and is being held together by the decorative binding tape. I took some photos for posterity, and then hacked into to it with the unpicker and scissors. A front shirt, a half-back shirt, a collar, a bit underneath the collar, and a sleeve, cut 2 of everything. Looks like a pretty simple shirt pattern. I'm adding an inch or so to the length. I made most of it last night, tonight I'll finish the buttons and button holes.

Kindness of strangers and God.

It was a rough weekend, but God was watching out for me. On Saturday morning I fell off my scooter in Centennial Park, and skinned myself a bit. My jeans aren't too damaged. It's amazing how you can lose skin through a layer of almost unbroken denim, and also amazing how one fall leaves bruises on both sides of the body. Anyway, when I got to the gate of the park, I checked my phone and it was gone, with my keys. Horror. I decided to keep going to oxford st and meet my friends, rather than double back to search. They met me with "where are your phone and keys? haha!" and had apparently just called me up cos I was 5 min late, and spoken with a lady who picked up my phone and keys, and she was going to leave them at Randwick Police station. Couldn't have worked out better! All resolved before I even had a chance to worry, thanks to friends and a kind lady. Tricia and Pete even had a first aid kit in their boot, so I got patched up before we found a cafe.

After brunch I scooted to Bondi Jct slowly, cos my knee was getting sorer. I rolled up my jeans so that I wouldn't trip over them again, and it was a strange look with my brown woolly socks, but who cares about that in Paddington? True fashion goes out the other side and is still acceptable. Anyway, I went to Spotlight to find some black stretch cotton to make leggings, some for me and some for George, cos we're tired of not being able to find them the right length. The stuff I found is called Seaspray, it was thicker and nicer than I was looking for and about $14 a meter. Oh well. Super warm legs. This was offset by some floral cotton I found, for $7 a meter or so. Spotlight has an awesome new range of retro prints for under $15. Gorgeous, and an affordable alternative to the trendy fabric shops. It is so hard to get grown-up dress prints. Everything is either quilting, or children, or $25 a meter. So I was VERY pleased with this find. I bought 2 meters of a sort of brown with mustard flowers, and I'm going to make a shirt out of it. Photos will follow.

Feeling fragile.

So I've closed my office door and put my radio on 2MBS. Life is less overwhelming if you close the door and avoid the human voice. Do one thing at a time, and stay warm, quiet and calm.

The French House #2.

Picked up scans and took time to do some photos of bibles and e-readers in a less officey environment, which was a good excuse for afternoon tea at The French House again.

 Our food was less pretty, but the full tea set was impressive,

and this is how you get a drink of water.

The main thing about this place isn't actually the food, it's that you just want to sit there all day feeling fancy. It's lovely. Not many cafes do seating well.

Sewing Sunday.

Yes, I bought a camera. It's nicer than the old one. I did some vacuuming on Sunday and found my lost camera under the bed (of course, the day AFTER I buy the new one), so now I have 2.

To celebrate, I sewed bags for my good cutlery. The big box in the top of the wardrobe is silly; it takes up space and I can never be bothered to get it down when I want to have matching knives and forks for anyone. But I also don't want a 12 piece set in my drawer for every day use: they'll be too many, and get lost and bent. So I thought: bags. Little drawstring linen bags to fit them all in, and then keep it all in one of the middle kitchen drawers—handy, but not for everyday.

I can't post anything other than headings today. Blogger is malfunctioning. So I shall be brief. i Love swiss cheese. Tasmanian heritage. On a vitaweat biscuit for morning tea. It doesn't go with olives at all, so I keep a nice sharp crumbly cheddar at home for eating with olives/olive bread on the weekends and sometimes for dinner.

Beyond the city.

Nice article today about country towns. It's an ode, not a rant. I know cities are wonderful, and heaven is a city, and living in a city keeps you out of your comfort zone and rubbing elbows with reality, but I'm sorry that the country doesn't benefit from those things, and that at this point the country seemingly has no future. I'm tired of being only able to have one and not the other, and for the foreseeable future the city is my best option. I wish city and country weren't so far away from each other.

Pastry review.

I like pretty food, so I'm going to blog some nice outings, just so that I can relive them. Unfortunately my camera is still lost. I hate blogging without a camera.

To celebrate delivering all my illustrations at the scan lab, a co-worker and I spent lunchtime at the patisserie over the road from it. Danks St Waterloo is a hotbed of all things arty and organic. The French House is on the corner opposite Hillsong, and it has a lovely verandah and inside it is dark wood and huge windows and well-lit displays of tarts and stuff and french music.

My hot chocolate was nice, and the froth lasted well, although it cooled down very fast - only just hot enough. It came in a fancy glass. It cost about $4. I also chose an almond tart with pretty red fruit and glaze and almond slivers all over the outside. It didn't taste as pretty as it looked, but it was nice. Maybe add a drizzle of berry compote to sweeten the dense almond meal filling, or some ice-cream on the side. Em chose a sort of 3 layer custard/cream (not sure) filled slice, which was nicer than it looked, although the pastry was hard to get onto your fork because it was hard. We shared halves, and all the tarts and pastries are about $7-$8 each. Pretty expensive. But they were bigger and nicer than the cakes and stuff from The Sweet Spot in Randwick (which I'm not much of a fan of, although the hot chocolates have superb froth) and they are almost big enough if you want to share one between 2.

It's a really nice place to sit and chat. Which is why it is so popular with women. We are going back (to collect the illustrations).

WORLD FIRST!!

I am going to be a bridesmaid!! I thought I would never be asked. My first best friend (ie the girl I was best friends with from kindy to early teens) is engaged, it's lovely to be asked cos despite the strong bond of our childhood friendship and living in the same city now we don't catch up much. It's the east west distance.

Anyway, it's one of those rites of passage. I'm quite pleased.

EDIT: I really really want my braces off by October.

House of dreams.

 
Haha. The first place I lived in when I moved out of home is for sale. $300,000 is a bargain on the Sydney scale, but to me it seems a lot for an East Maitland 2.5 bedroom weatherboard cottage with an outside toilet. And the outside toilet wasn't the worst of it. The whole place was small and old and always smelled like the stuff we fought cockroaches with, and it's located close to a street called Skilton Avenue, which should tell you what kind of street. Charles Dickens must have named that street. Living near Skilton Avenue we had our toilet paper stolen and after we moved out the wheelie bin was set fire to and scorched the outside of the house pretty dangerously. We paid $215 per week (not each) to rent it, and we were grateful, because the rental market in Maitland was tight and we were the bottom of the pile. Now I know how expensive renting can be, but I don't think I would go back to this one to save money.

The best place I have ever rented was in Bowral. Modern 2 bedroom unit with views for $180 p/w. When I shared it, I paid $90 a week, which is stunningly cheap. Because in Bowral nobody who is anybody rents, especially a place with no garden. When one next door went for sale it was for $250,000, which shows you the demand for buying verses renting. Renters are treated like kings and queens. Literally, when I enquired about a place I was offered a viewing time of my choice, and a lift in the agent's car. That is what I call service.

The Sydney experience is different again. It's about speed and strategy and only getting an offer because the agent randomly picks your application off the top of the pile and you can't even remember the inside of the house because you were in such a hurry to get to the next place and maximize your chances. Once you are in, you hold on and hope your landlady likes you. She must, because after 15 months no inspections and no rent increase. Thank you, God! I really love where I live now. If rent is twice as expensive as Maitland, it's worth it. City convenience and inside toilet. I'm so blessed.

TV recap.

I didn't ONLY watch TV on the weekend. I did a lot of scootering, a lot of church, a lot of eating, and I read I shall wear midnight. I was fully tired by bedtime Sunday, mostly because of the scootering.

Royal Wedding.

• The bible was read well. Like the dude had never seen the bible read in public before so he didn't realise he wasn't supposed to know the passage or speak clearly or give eye-contact or generally communicate the bible clearly. He treated it like a very important piece of oration. Extra points for memorising it.
• I regret the loss of uniforms in modern society. Casual dress does not compare to a uniform with gold buttons and fancy hats.
• I didn't know the royal family don't have last names. How special they are.

Doctor Who. ***spoiler***
Rather strange first episode. The big event (complete death and cremation of the Doctor) happened so early that there was no emotional investment in the shock, just confusion. Has set up some nice intrigue and tension for rest of series though, and the aliens are scary.

The Logies.
I'm the sort of person who doesn't watch this rubbish, but since it replaced the Mentalist and there was nothing else on… I tolerated it for an hour. The prize announcers were of a higher calibre than the prize receivers, generally. I don't understand why Katy Perry is a singer.