Entitlement

The Big Missy and I were discussing Singapore the other day.  Although that kind of goes without saying, as it’s pretty much the sole topic of discussion around here!

Anyway, I was telling her that despite having FOUR bathrooms (or SIX if we don’t get our first condo choice) we would all use the shower in my bathroom.  There’s only 4 of us, and we only use the one shower now, so no need to create more work unnecessarily.

Miss 8: “Well, it’s not like it’d be our responsibility to clean it! We’ll have a maid!”

Gobsmacked.

She has been set straight.

A Season of Lasts

It’s a season of lasts here.

On Easter Saturday we had our last meal at our favourite restaurant.  My husband had his last fishing trip (and caught nothing).  I am having my last lie-in in my most favourite place in the world. Last night was our last night in our holiday house.  Of course it wasn’t our last night here forever, or at least I hope it isn’t, but it was our last night here before we move to Singapore.  Today we will pack and tidy and tomorrow the most stressful few weeks of our lives will begin.

Yesterday was our last trip to the beach at the end of our street.  We’d forgotten to bring swimmers, but the Big Missy scrounged around and found an old pair of bikini bottoms whilst the Little Missy launched herself into the water bare as the day she was born (minus the blood & muck).

We will do these things again, just not for a while.

But it really was the last beach visit for our almost-14 year old Cavalier King Charles, Pebbles.  She almost died 10 days ago from a bout of gastro, and it’s highly doubtful that when we return to Australia for a visit next year she’ll be here to greet us.

Pebbles spends most of her days sleeping like most 98-year-old women (which is the human equivalent of her dog

Pebbsy Dog

years).  She is incontinent (although it’s controlled by medicine),  she dislikes being patted, is scared of pretty much everyone, she is deaf as a post (maybe even deafer), she has mitral valve heart disease, her rear right leg no longer bends after she had a knee reconstruction after snapping her cruciate, her other legs struggle to hold her weight on smooth surfaces and send her crashing to the ground where she adopts an air of “What? I totally meant to lay down here!”.

When I put her collar and lead on her yesterday and headed up the street to the beach all of her woes were cast off.  Her tail started wagging and her usual arthritic walk became the galloping of a puppy.  She strained on the lead all the way there and even broke into a jog at times.  It was as if the puppy she had once been, the one who would spend hours charging up the beach terrorising seagulls, had re-emerged.

She spent an hour at the beach rolling in the sand, dipping in and out of the water (although the long swims she used to love were beyond her), she fetched sticks and trotted after strangers up the beach.  Like she has done her whole life she refused to leave the beach like a recalcitrant toddler.  We headed for the exit whilst she stood her ground at the high tide mark, staring us down.  I’m not coming home! You can’t make me! I’m staying here where I can be young and carefree FOREVER!

Eventually we carolled her and snapped her lead back on. With that simple click the old lady returned to her body and my husband had to carry her home.

She’s moving a bit gingerly this morning but I like to imagine her heaven as a beach, where she will spend her days on a beach – chasing seagulls, fetching sticks, swimming, rolling in the sand and being a puppy for eternity.

I’m so glad we gave her this last.

Unusual Singapore Things #2

Many kitchens do not have HOT WATER connected.

(Yes, you read that correctly)

Dear Mark Seymour….

I’m a reader. A big reader. Despite moving overseas in just over a month ann trying to downsize our possessions my To Be Read pile is uninspiring. There’s books that I SHOULD read, but none I WANTED to read. So, last week I took myself off to a few local Op Shops in the hope of reinvigorating my TBR pile.

Fate was on my side as in my very first shop I picked up a copy of Mark Seymour’s account of his time as lead singer of Australian rock band Hunters & Collectors, Thirteen Tonne Theory.  This book had been at the very top of my To Buy list, so I was completely and utterly thrilled to find it!

It was an interesting read.  I learnt quite a lot, mainly that Mark Seymour is a bit of a grumpy shit.

And also that he doesn’t care a great deal for facts, which as this was a memoir and not fiction bothered me a great deal.

Whilst anyone’s memoirs are just the writer’s version of the truth and not, necessarily, the real truth, I do think that the writer has a certain responsibility to stick to certain hard facts.

The chapter that rattled me is entitled “Focus on the Money”. It recounts the band’s daytime performance as the  pre-match entertainment for the Winfield Cup (which is the AFL pre-season competition) at the MCG in 1994.  The game was between Carlton and the Western Bulldogs, and afterwards Seymour did a radio interview with Eddie McGuire and Sam Newman during MMM’s football broadcast.

Hmmm….

There’s a few problems here.

1. The AFL pre-season competition has NEVER been sponsored by Winfield (although the NRL competition was). In 1994 it was sponsored by the now-defunct Australian domestic airline Ansett.
2. It has always been a NIGHT competition.
3. The final game has always been played at Waverley Park (up until that ground was demolished for housing), not at the MCG.
4. In 1994 the night Grand Final was played between Essendon and Adelaide.
5. MMM did not start broadcasting football until 1997.

How do such blatant inaccuracies get through the editing process? Does it matter?  Should we really not let the truth get in the way of a good story?

I’d say yes, it does matter as it interferes with my enjoyment of the book. I start to doubt the authority of the author and begin to question how true the rest of it is. Did Mark Seymour really not talk to certain bandmates for over a year, despite touring around Australia with them?  Did their UK record deal in the early-80′s really go to hell after an off-the-cuff remark in a London curry house?

Your thoughts?