flashman181

Only seemed appropriate to compare reduntiring to pregnancy as in both diseases your stomach expands and your number of comfortable sexual positions decrease. So it has been three months since R day, do we have a report card if not a scan ?

The Good. Being old enough to access your Super but young enough to remember you had it enables one to clear debts which is a nice feeling. Debt free and income free dont quite match but its a start and allows one to sleep a solid 3 hours a night. After the debauchery that was the last few weeks of work leading into Xmas its good to report have actually lost some weight. This has not been due to nervous fretting but rather a concerted effort to reduce intake. It all comes down to portion size folks and if the CLP can put up with smaller meat portions these last 10 years then so can I for 3 months. Its not all that hard really although Easter loomed as a problem time. 6 weeks with no chocolate and then that bloody bunny rocks up with that smart ass grin on his face because he knows no one can resist chocolate when it comes in such small brightly wrapped innocent looking bundles. Plenty more time to spend with the grandkids too but that has had its “limitations”. Plenty of time to play golf but that has not been all smooth sailing either

The Bad. Budgets. When I want to go to Toowoomba to see Grandkids I have to factor in the cost of petrol. When I want to play golf more than once a week then that costs money too. You have to consider these things when there is no little rainbow pot of gold every 2 weeks. The day can be easily broken into two parts now – before 3pm and after 3pm. Somewhat frustratingly I still get up early and usually at gym by 0600 – for no reason whatsoever except my coffee place opens at 0630 and is few doors down from gym. I am a creature of habit and so still get up early go to gym most days, grab coffee on way home and then have leisurely breakfast whilst on computer. Then a few jobs around house etc while it is cool, some more puter time, a few shows, a cuppa and some lunch yada yada yada and before you know it is 3pm. Then you hit the wall. Too early for drinkies (apparently!) and most of the jobs are done. Maybe a bit of reading but that usually leads to headaches. Anyway eventually it gets to 430 pm and its time for some wine and crackers and a wind down on puter listening to some podcasts etc. You get through to 6 pm and then it is quite acceptable to have dinner given my advanced age. Then into the evening viewing and before you know it bedtime has rolled around. You probably know it better as 830 pm. Then it all starts again after a somewhat restless night

So, is it what was expected? No, not really. Golf has simply been disappointing for a number of reasons, not least being a body full of aches and pains. In a strange way though almost too relaxed at golf now to really try that hard anymore. A scoot around in a cart on a leisurely Wednesday afternoon is not quite the regimen I had envisaged and the handicap is heading in wrong direction. There are certainly times when it is hard to fill in the day. Most weekends are joyfully spent at The Ponderosa (Flashman Inc Sunshine Coast HQ) but the weekdays drag. Of late there has been a very strong wanderlust which is frustrating when coupled with a reduced income to enjoy such pleasures. So many shows I watch remind me of places I have been and want to return to – again and again. Maybe I should watch more reality TV! Nah, if it comes to that just shoot me.

At least Winter approaches (along with Game of Thrones, MM,BB….) and with it that long afternoon shortens a little. Of course it also dark now early in the morning. This eliminates that first look in the mirror which may be a blessing in disguise. There is a trip to Melboring in May to look forward too and even going to throw in a couple of days in Adelaide so that Maryhole seems exciting when we return. In the meantime , time rolls on.

Oh no. Its 3 pm

Crap.

When I was young man studying at QUT and still had a future I spent many happy lunch hours playing Pub Pong and Tank Battle in the Rec Room. It wasnt too long before we moved onto the Commodore 64 and thought Pitstop was something special and then the world of colour brought us Frogger and our prayers were answered. Gaming could not get any better. It did. First real gaming “PC” I had was the Atari ST and this had some brilliant games, not the least being Rick Dangerous. Then the problems started. RD 1 became RD 2 and it looked prettier but was less playable – a pattern to be repeated time and time again over the years to follow. Then it was onto an actual PC and remember friends coming over to my place because I had a 100 meg HDD! Then started playing 2 of the best games ever, in different genres, that have not been bettered for me to this day. The FPS entry was Duke Nukem and man it was fun. For your stategy/resource type game we had Command & Conquer. Simply spent hour after hour playing these games. There were acceptable upgrades to come like Red Alert etc and then we also had the AOE series which were great. And who could forget the original Warcraft! The FPS evolved into Quake which was equally simple golden fun. This was a golden era for PC gaming and more importantly they were suited for the single player – hell they even created bots so you could pretend you had friends! Sporting sims started to appear and the clear leader for me was the Links LS golf series.

Quake sadly introduced the online gamer asshole also. They may have been “campers” or simply cheats in one way or another but slowly and surely a lot of fun of online gaming started to disappear. Also life changed a bit at home with kiddies coming along and other priorities coming along. The years passed and as is the way you upgrade your computer every couple of years to keep up with the OS etc. Basically the cost of a new computer stayed much the same year after year but you got more bang for your buck. Game developers got lazy because the puters had much more grunt now so we were dazzled by the pretty colours and gee whizz sounds but the gameplay never improved. Of course we also had the gaming console explosion. Like the PC some of these original consoles had very simple but very playable games such as the Atari soccer game – many sore thumbs eventuated.

So as a reduntiree thought it would be good to get back into some game playing. Computer is suitably gruntworthy with I7 CPU and 16 meg memory etc and of course a PS 3. Bring on the fun? Noticed EA selling the C&C Ultimate collection with all 17 games – hook in! Ok the first 3 entries in the series are virtually unplayable on todays PC and the later entries lack the same degree of playability – if I want a wargame I want tanks , planes and soldiers. I dont want some sort of laser beam from space. WTF happened to Warcraft – who couldnt love Orcs and catapaults? Now we have wizards and spells. People told me Tiger Woods PGA 13 on the PS3 was great and it does indeed look great but I simply cannot master the control pad. EA also had a great online special for Battlefield 3 for only $39? Ok lets get current. Of course these days everything is a digital download and man this game took 3 days to download! Now it looks great and is certainly one of the better FPS series of recent years. Sadly it is majorly aimed towards the multiplayer arena – I understand this, I simply dont like it.

If we can dumb down our Politicians in 2013 why cant we dumb down our computers? Better still anyone got Dr Emmett Browns number?

Dont see too many fat and jolly people. There are some around and usually they have been FJ all their lives but is it genuine or simply a defense mechanism. I suspect the latter because it is hard to imagine why anyone would be fat and jolly because it is just so damn uncomfortable even when you throw on a couple of extra kgs. The guy in the Red Suit gets a a lot of press around now but is hard to imagine when he hits Australia on Xmas Eve and its 25 degrees at midnight that he has a smile on the dial wearing a full length flannel body suit with a full beard and lugging around a heavy bag of goodies. The poor old reindeers may get a few extra lashes around this latitude.

Of course this is the first festive season in 35 years where I dont have to consider whether I am working Xmas or NYE when the discussions about family gatherings start in October. Also coincides with now there are 3 x GSs to visit all at different ages with the eldest just starting to fall under the magic spell that is Xmas. So there was a trip out to Toowoomba to see GS 1-3 inclusive which included discovering a very nice B&B and then on to Brisvegas to spend a couple of days with the CLP side of the clan who are all wonderful hosts. Apart from the constant disappointment of the inaccurate weather forecasts giving one false hope it was a wonderful few days. It was also an opportunity to get back out on the old motorbike because I have been slack of late. A 2 hour ride though certainly brings home a few facts about getting old. My knee simply blew up the next day – is it just because I sat in the one position for 2 hrs? Hell I use to sit for 8 hrs in a row at work without moving with no problem?? Three days later it is still stiff and swollen and not in the good way we all dream of. Suddenly my plan to reduce my golf handicap quickly is being threatened. As if a complete lack of skill and ability was not enough of a hindrance!

An interesting development many years ago was the introduction of the elasticised waist for “maternity” clothes so that the actual genuinely fat and jolly ladies could still feel comfortable and look good and removed the need to buy potato sacks for those last 3 months. When did this creep into menswear? Now I hate shopping with a passion which is only matched by my aversion to spending more than about$30-40 on any one item of clothing. These 2 facts coincide with short quick visits to Lowes for work clothes and shorts. I normally would look at the “stout” range of pants in the 102/107 region because this gives extra room for the bedflute and is also much easier than actual dieting. Generally the cut and style were fine. Last pair I bought a few months ago suddenly had an elasticised waist in them? Then my golf shorts had the same deal?? The problem with this of course is that all sense of style and cut are gone and you simply have a larger waist but the other areas are that of a smaller size and dare I say somewhat restrictive in delicate areas. You quickly realise out on the golf course in 34 degree heat that they really do ride up with wear and no one is free let alone my boys.

Now Xmas should not be all doom and gloom – otherwise it would just be like the rest of the year. But as I sit here on the computer and look down at that one present I didn’t want from Santa – an extra roll around the old waistal area – it can be depressing. Then you realise that the Oscars will be on in a few months which can only mean one thing. Its SCREENER SEASON.

Another Festivus miracle.

As a reduntiree I dont have as much time in the day to check online news etc so much like the world my day is bookended by the South and North Poles, or in my case the 0600 and 1800 News bulletins. A quick fix of news is fine just in case the world is going to end tomorrow or something. The morning newsreaders tend to be more annoying than evening version and for God’s sake don’t hang around for any of the sparkling repartee between the hosts or you may never be able to leave. In any given period of news though we invariably have several weather updates. Have you noticed over the years how the weather presenters have become celebrities themselves though? Why one may ask when they are simply regurgitating Bureau information. Its to stop us burning their effigy in the street actually. If these clowns were only associated with presenting incorrect information, with amazing confidence given the track record, then they would be run out of town for misleading the public. In these enlightened times we cant have the busty blond weather forecaster anymore but at least in those days there was no pretense she actually knew anything about weather. The current bunch of clowns give the clear impression that not only are they graduates with honours of Weather Forecasting 101 but that they actually drop into the bureau to assist them interpret their isobars. Its the galling confidence with which they will state tonight that on Xmas day it will reach a peak of 31 degrees at 13:01 and there will be 12 mm of rain at Latitude 101 at 14:56 precisely. Fuck me – they cant even get the next 12 hours right and then they sprout forth this nonsense. Then the brain dead host joins in and says “Well I guess I better be home from the beach then at 14:55”. Every weather forecast should start with “I am sorry I totally fucked up yesterday’s forecast but I am very confident to tell you what will happen over the next 10 days”. Load up your mobile device of choice with 3 different weather apps and then just sit back and laugh as you get 3 different predictions every hour. They should invent a new game like a pokie machine where if all 3 apps line up with exact same forecast you win an umbrella. The one evolution of course has been the “flexible weather icon” that has been developed to suit the growing number of weather apps now produced. Try going to an online store and buying the emoticon of the cloud/sun/rain – you cant, because they are all sold out because that is what every single forecast is these days. A chance of this, a chance of that. The only thing not left to chance is that the forecast will be wrong. Today’s world has moved towards self service whether at the petrol bowser or the grocery store. I say give everyone free access to Weather Radar images and let us work it out for ourselves. I mean you cant even rely on ants anymore – the place has been swarming with them for weeks now and not a drop of rain. When even the insect world can be fooled by these purveyors of misinformation I say it is time to stand up and be counted.

I would suggest a walk on Parliament house tomorrow but they are predicting rain.

Everyone knows what we are referring to when the good old “F”word is rolled out – and if they don’t they effing well should. But the “R” word is less distinct – is it Retrenchment, Redundancy or Retirement and does it really matter? Yes it does to one’s mindset. The doors closed for good yesterday on Maryborough Pathology and it was a mere 35 yrs and 2 days ago that a meek young man first approached the isolated little Pathology building located randomly within the hospital grounds. I told the snivelling clod to piss off though as I wanted this job and so began the journey! That little Tasmanian Terror Ricky Ponting retired from Test cricket last week. He may have been tapped on the shoulder or maybe he finally realised a summer batting average of 3 was a tad ordinary and did the right thing. We were not tapped on the shoulder and allowed to leave with dignity – we were clipped around the ear and shoved in the back.

I am not much into the blame game because at the end of the day it means little. I did not hold management responsible for this closure – they will have their hands busy explaining the debacle that is about to unfold over coming months in Maryhole. Sadly though management still feel the need to try and say the right words when no words are needed nor sought – no doubt the first lesson in Ladder Climbing 101. Intentions were fine, execution poor. I did not even blame the local political twat but then she had to go and open her mouth. She had had many discussions with the important people she said – not including the actual Pathology workers- and because of her an appropriate service would now be maintained. Hello? No change to proposed level of service in Brave New World (hereafter BNW) has occurred for last 6 months ya clown. She says some people cant handle change. I like change actually which is why I am going to stay around in Maryhole at least until next election to help it happen!

But there are a couple of “R” words I am rather fond of – Rejoice and Recognition. The last few weeks have been difficult and yesterday was going to be one of the hardest. But this is a tough team of hombres my friend so we chose to rejoice in what we had achieved over the years and our many friends in the hospital chose to recognise that with a very moving show of support and caring. Kicked of with a BBQ at 0600 attended by many fellow staff and complemented by a humourous and touching Acapella rendition by the Travelling Truscott Trio. All senses sated it was time to do some work and as the collecting staff walked into AE the medical and nursing staff formed a guard of honour. These are special people. These are special memories. You are well served people of Maryhole even with Pathology gone

And to the patients of Maryhole – your support has been amazing when really you had more pressing issues and concerns to deal with. Please direct any of your well deserved anger at the people Responsible and not at the overworked underpaid lone staff member left holding the bucket. As I drove through the boom gate one last time and glanced to my left at the proposed sight of the “Healing Garden” it was a sad time. They say you never know what you had until it is gone but we always knew. The sad part is we can never have it again because it takes years to form these types of Relationships. I dont see another 35 year career ahead of me

Unless that fucking Healing Garden has a Fountain of Youth front and centre! Yeah Right

Pass the Rumbo thanks Maxine, Maree, Jeanette, Mickey, Babs, Freddy, Stelly, Cal and Dazza.

When last we left it was full steam ahead, iceberg on the starboard Sir, unleash the band and line those bloody deck chairs up. Some mongrel thought one iceberg may not be enough though. Ring Ring. Just been informed that even though doors close on the 7th of December your separation date along with fellow mouseketeers is Dec 16th. Say what? So what are we expected to do that last week you may ask? – be “meaningfully employed”. Could probably take up to the Wednesday to clean up form the party on Dec 7th but struggling after that. It has of course been a very busy 10 days back at work since European Tour mainly trying to address issues arising from decisions taken in my absence and without my input. Naturally people around the hospital assume I am much more important and all powerful than I actually am as confirmed by my fortnightly payslip. Interesting times people, interesting times.

Now to the real mid life crisis occurring. When people ask what I will be doing in the future I jokingly say “improving my golf handicap” because saying lying on the bathroom floor in the foetal position could lessen me in their adoring eyes. The reality of course is that is very unlikely to happen. Why you may ask. 3 answers quickly come to mind

Stuffed ankle
Stuffed back
Stuffed fingers

Now the ankle has been an issue for years with the right ankle basically being twice the size of left ankle in normal resting state. Walking 18 holes is nigh on impossible so it is cart golf where possible. Sadly one looks around the golf course these days and just about every group of 4 has at least one cart and often 3 in it. They are not all cripples – they just find it easier to carry their eskies around mostly. Good luck to them – unfortunately now there are no cart sheds left to use and live too far away from the course to house it at home. A problem to be addressed in the future. The back is pretty much an issue the day after. There is a Pro golf tour coming up next year which is a much sought after long weekend of golfing, drinking and no sleep apparently. Sounds great but the reality, as clearly demonstrated again this Sunday morning , is on the second day I would need a stretcher to get to the tee at 0830 in the morning. 3rd day? – just drive by ICU thanks. The fingers is a new one that only causes problems at golf but no other shaft related activities and there must be some arthritis in fingers 2 and 3 because by about 12-13 holes it hurts like hell with every full shot especially if not out of the screws, a regular occurrence way back when young and supple let alone now.

So the real crisis has been defined – no work and an inability to do a lot of physical exercise let alone enjoy time out on the golf course regularly does not bode well for me maintaining my general optimistic carefree approach to daily life

Damn these bathroom floor tiles are cold.

December 7th – “a date which will live in infamy.” So FDR stated. Many thought he was referring to the attack on Pearl Harbour. In reality he had foreshadowed the closing of the Maryborough Pathology laboratory which was accompanied by the famous warcry of “Bora Bora Bora” highlighting the degree of white anting that has occurred to this department in recent years.

When I left for lands far far away 5 weeks ago we knew the laboratory was slated to close before end of year but no set date and in reality a certain lack of consultation seemed to be occurring. On second last day of holidays while relaxing in Dubai I received the official notification of the date. Subsequently attended meeting yesterday in Maryhole – while still on leave – to get the update. So the reality is after 35 years (almost to the day having started on Dec 5th 1977) of working in Pathology in Maryhole it all comes to an end after 3 more weeks work.

Its an odd feeling and will no doubt fluctuate over coming weeks and months. After said 35 years of living in the rarified world where you thought your job was always safe and this could never happen – it has.In a perfect world you always leave at a date of your own choosing and that is the same whether it is your work life or you are Captain of the Australian Cricket team. Most people who give loyal service are provided this opportunity especially in my case when my average is Bradmanesque. But we dont live in a perfect world – we live in Campbell Newman’s Queensland. There was always a certain inevitability about the closing of this department – if you were planning a new service in this district you would not have 2 hospitals 20 minutes apart to service this meagre population. Personally I blame the influx of too many bloody Victorians into Hervey Bay and with their 2 heads each skewing the population stats. One thing is for certain though – there are no winners in this brave new world. The current staff in Hervey Bay may still have jobs but man are they going to be busy. Being a loyal Maryboryian until the day I die – or CLP finally allows me to become a kept man – I feel for the locals and the reduced service they now face. The reality of course is that many communities across Qld are being affected as are many lives of health workers – its just that when you actually close a service it resonates throughout the community. I will be ok but some of my staff will struggle. Life will never be the same for at least 6 people in Maryhole.

Now to better news. Spent a couple of days in Toowoomba with kids 1-2 inclusive along with the 3 Amigos. There is a 4th amigo on the way as well so when all else fails lose yourself in your children and grandchildren. Who can be down when you pick up a cute as a button 6 month old who is perfect in every way or your 3 year old says “I missed you Grand dad”. I think he said that – maybe he said “Were you pissed all the time Grand Dad?” Dropping Child 3 at airport tomorrow as she flies to Cairns to meet boyfriend who is working hard and studying hard to better himself. Daughter 1 is a wonderful Mum who is raising her son almost single handedly as hubby( a great guy in every way) has to work in the bush 3 weeks out of 4 to provide for his family -very hard for him not seeing his son 3 out of 4 weeks. They will have to move next year to address this situation – lets hope it is closer than Toowoomba. Daughter 2 has to cope by herself about 9 weeks out of 10 and is doing well but in reality they both live in far from perfect worlds.

As a parent I choose perfect worlds for my children – I can deal with this little blip for me standing on my head. If only I could sleep more than about 3 hours a night. Maybe its the standing on my head that is the problem??

Ok so a few things as expected have happened since initial post.

Harrison Jack (GS3) was born about 10 days early and so was a little fella – he was always going to be a little fella with his parents but this was bordering on concerningly small. However maternal instinct is a wonderful thing as are the staff at Toowoomba General hospital so he was able to come home a week later and will be fine and dandy. Went out to Toowoomba last weekend to spend time with The Three Amigos and this has an amazing settling effect and enables oneself to focus on the important things in life.

Now on to the less important inevitable occurrences. Microbiology did finally relocate and so we have now been in The Brave New World for a month. It is a mixed bag. The tunnel may be long but there is definitely something flashing in my eye off in the distance. The removal of “On Call” has been pleasant as expected but the drop in funds also as expected – when one is use to more disposable income it can be difficult to adjust – so late in life – even if one should just enjoy the more free time one has. Easier said than done. This boy likes to work hard and play hard – or at least spend big. Constraint has never been my strength – I can resist everything but temptation. As I write this getting towards the bottom of the second glass of wine nothing has ever been more obvious. Since Girl Child 2 moved on it has been very easy to have a couple of drinks each afternoon – and associated dangerous munchies – and so as the weeks pass the waistline may be expanding at an unhealthy rate. This is the challenge ahead but at present it has not been met. It is approaching winter in QLD which is a wonderful time often with clear blue skies and brisk mornings but generally booteeful days. The sun goes down early which makes afternoon drinkies that much more appealing. It is cool in the morning which makes gym visits less appealing. This is a dangerous combination. A smart boy may say well go to the gym in the afternoon instead of drinks and kill 2 Birds with one stone. I may be clever but I aint smart.

In days of yore ( ie before Facebook) the preferred confidante of the male populace was the local neighbourhood barman in your local Pub. Many sorrows drowned under the watchful eye of your most trusted friend. Of course in those days there was only one type of beer and the only choice you had was Pot or Schooner – if you ordered a 7 oz shandy then the barman politely moved away to a more testosterone infested area – like the ladies toilets. Thus he was not very stressed with choice and had plenty of time to listen to your woes.

Drink Driving. This is a bad thing – always was, always will be. With the increased recognition of this (ok heavy fines associated with) less time is spent holding up the bar and lets face it the barman is usually some pimply youth with less life experience than you that would prefer that you sent your order in as a text message so as to avoid all possible human contact. Where to then?

Step up to the plate Mr Barista. I have altered my starting time at work to reflect when it most suits to grab my early morning caffeine fix. Nothing else matters – sick people will eventually get better or die – it’s a known medical fact. Sadly this is 0630 which starts to pinch as winter approaches. It is dark when I get up. It is cold even in Queensland. Is it all worth it? Of course. Much like when you walk into the clubhouse after a game of golf for your one beer you are allowed to have it is nice to have the barperson acknowledge your presence with a slight imperceptible nod followed by the swift delivery of your preferred poison in front of your favourite seat. We have got to the stage of no chat at all and it works fine for me but there is still that void of the confidential relationship.

So the car rumbles to life at 0625 for the short trip to Coffeeland – a quick phone call and with any luck Mr B even tips my name before I speak and states my order. Sadly this morning I get one of the lassies and have to give my order along with a name! This is worrying. Can I just state here that when you request Equal it is Equal you want – not bloody sugarine or anything else. Mr B knows this – does Lassie 1? I pull up apprehensively outside Coffeeland and lo and behold there is Mr B having a gasper around the side of the building. He smiles and waves – “its ok Dave I made your coffee before I came out here” All is right with the world

God is a funny bugger at times. As you get older and your appreciation of wine, fine food  and even more wine increases as your metabolism decreases. This disparity is not good for the waistline. The brain cells can take care of themselves as apparently males have plenty to spare. We all know output must outweigh intake in all endeavours ,except sex, if we are to maintain a healthy mind and body. Then we have exercise. God having a laugh again. As we get older our abilty to exercise diminishes in a logarithmic scale which is rather appropriate as we at times resemble such logs. They say cardio-vascular exercise is the most important. If you run up a flight of 1000 stairs you can have a Mars Bar when you get there. Who is the sadistic bastard that hides chocolates at the top of long staircases? I hate CV exercise. Give me the pump of a good weights session anyday. Of course having lifted a lot of weights as a younger lad – who needs to warm up I am young and fit Ha! – has no doubt contributed to my current list of previously mentioned ills specifically back and shoulders. In one of those cruel yet ironic twists of fate these injuries now prevent me from doing CV exercise even if I wanted to. Luckily I don’t. I will keep going to the gym. I think my basic problem though is that I rush through the gym session so I can get home in time for a couple of glasses of wine before dinner. Even God would get a laugh out of that.