not mellower

Oh no I still have my angry young punk attitude. For instance my fury at not one but two dumb grammar errors (oops, nearly typed 'grammar areas') in this piece of advertising email guff.

And this time I'm going to do something about it!

going home last week

Sometimes going home I take the 542 bus from Glenroy to Jacana. Particularly if I have walked to Glenroy in the morning in which case I only buy a zone 1. So then I have to get off somewhere and buy a zone two to progress, and so I may as well switch to the bus which gets me closer to home anyway.
This is a delightful piece of history, which must date from the 1980s, probably the early 1980s, perhaps even the late 1970s. No-one talks about Meadow Fair anymore, and the bus actually goes to Roxburgh Park.

One of the things that confuses all and sundry at the busstop at G'roy is that whichever way the buses are ultimately going - Oak Park in the south or Roxy Park in the north - the buses line up at the bus stop facing the same direction. The fact that the busdrivers often forget to put the appropriate destination on the front just adds to the fun. This is the arse of an Oak Park bus, advertising a film I suspect I will never willingly see.

Self-portrait

My bus. And...

The 'meadow fair' just near home, at which point the sun came out, and a fairy asked to be my friend on a rainbow.

wisdom of the ages

Today it struck me that people are looking more and more like other people. For instance, a couple of days ago on the train I saw a man who looked exactly like Adam Sandler. Of course he was playing up to it by having the same haircut. But other people are looking more like other people, other than themselves. I think it is part of God's Great Plan to have us all eventually looking like one person, though I am not sure who.

I have been listening to a few BBC programs the last few months, and I think they know because they keep talking about the people round the world who listen. I listen to The News Quiz, Just a Minute (an old favourite from my early teenage years, Clement Freud is still a beaut) and Thinking Allowed occasionally and In our time. I love the peremptory way Melvyn Bragg begins In our Time, don't you.

I mean none of the serious stuff is a match for Late night live etc, by the same token if we're talking Radio National, it beats that spurious NPR bullshit to death with its own stupidity (those people are so frigging smug). Honestly, I was listening to an NPR chat last week on RN and the woman talking was explaining how she explained conciliation of some sort to her granddaughter it was so vomitous I literally was annoyed. Who are these fuckwits.

Meanwhile, the drawn-out departure of Janae from Neighbours continues. Despite her absurd taylorcottered name, Eliza Taylor-Cotter is one of the best actors Neighbours has seen, and Janae's twists and turns have been fun from the beginning (now she has generally forgotten she isn't supposed to pronounce the g in 'frigging', 'listening', 'talking' etc, that fakish workin' class speakin', she's even better). To compensate, the producers of Neighbours are giving us triple-dose Carmella, one of the least appealin' characters in Neighbours evah, and her freakin' baby Ecoli. Puke!