I can’t sell my car, it smells like fish

“Have you got one of the new company cars?” I said.

“No.” she said

“Why not?” I said

“I can’t sell my car, it smells like fish.” She said.

My Grammar and helping Uncle Jack

My grandmother was the eldest of three children, the other two being a boy (Jack) and a girl (Mary). So we have one of those rare cases where my blog contains a kernel of truth. For clarity, I'll say that a colonel of truth is quite a different matter and involves an especially honest military officer and if my blog contained one he would be called Colonel Bailey, but I digress.

Writing at the Pub

In recent times I have been slightly nomadic in my circumstances. My employment has not required a fixed abode and I have had no special desire to settle down while I am still so young, so I have taken to living in various AirBNB accommodations over the last year. That is when I am not employing the strategy of staying-with-friends-until-they-aren’t-friends-anymore. An economical strategy, but one that tends to quickly reduce the number of persons that can reasonably be considered friends.

Exploring the Universe for Diversity

In March 1972, the space probe Pioneer 10 was launched from Cape Canaveral in Florida with the objective of exploring the solar system past the orbit of Mars and into the asteroid belt. Later, a further objective of making a pass-by of Jupiter was added.

Peak Hour Terror: Surviving the Bus Crash

Yesterday started as any normal day. An early start, coffee, toast and I made my way to the bus stop for my usual ride to work. In a few short minutes though, my delusions of peace and calm were shattered by the terrifying sound of a collision between my bus and a 4WD.

The Child of the Father

I am not one for maudlin introspection on this blog (I save it for drunken evenings) and felt a little uneasy about posting the eulogy to my father last week. Nonetheless I am going to beg your indulgence one more time. I promise to get back to buses, faeces, Belgians or politics in my next post.

Eulogy for my Father

Eulogy for DW “Bill” Curran
Delivered 08 July 2017
John Cooper Methodist Hall, Benalla

North Sydney! This bus is North Sydney!

I have, on occasion, commented in the past about my adventures on buses and have ruminated on the process of catching a bus and buying tickets for a bus in Sydney.

I am, once again, able to interact daily with the Sydney bus service and I must say that I have noticed that the bus drivers seem more willing to converse with their passengers. I suspect they have had some sort of civility training or perhaps they have been sued. Who can tell.

Fabulous Faecal Facts

Some time ago I worked with a chap that was in the habit of advising me of the details of his bowel movements. He spoke with a rather posh British accent that I was reliably informed was a ‘Sandhurst accent’ and indeed he had been an officer in the British military. He sounded quite a lot like Trevor Bailey, the former English cricketer and sometime commentator.

On occasion, in this very proper accent, he would stand upright and loudly announce; “It’s time for my 2 o’clock poo!” He would then pivot  in a military fashion and depart in the direction of the men’s room. On his return he would usually make some further comment, usually along the lines of everything having “come out splendidly” but occasionally a more graphic description of the process along the lines of “I’ve just passed a bowel movement the exact size and shape of a coconut. Extraordinary!”

I Lost my Phone in Japan

LERK [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0) or CC BY-SA 2.1 jp (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.1/jp/deed.en)], via Wikimedia Commons

So I was back in Japan again last week and I am pleased to report that it is still quite Japanese. I live in mortal fear of Japan becoming westernised in some way and my first check is to see how westernised it has become while I was away. I can report that the westernisation continues to encroach but it’s having a hard time of it.