New digs

I moved to my new lodgings. Shifting my stuff to my new place down the street hardly seemed like a chore at all, and my new landlord is a very obliging person. Happily I have landed on my feet.

S told me she is running out of money, and the credit card being full doesn’t help at all. The next few weeks are going to be a tight.

We are being badgered by the real estate agent to reduce the house price. That didn’t take long. It seems to me that the property has only just gone on the market and hasn’t really had an opportunity to be seen by the punters.

The end of a rough week

Poor S went outside to feed the possums that call by in the evening looking for a snack, and not wearing shoes or socks when she went outside inadvertently stood on a ‘killer ant’ and of course it bit her. Apparently, after walking on it with all her weight, the thing was still walking about and rearing up at her looking for a fight. We named these things after we were both bitten by them. They don’t really kill; though at the time it feels like you might die. In Tasmania, where we first encountered them they are called jack jumpers which seems rather an innocuous name for something so vicious. It’s not only the nasty pinchers but the venom that causes the pain.

There is a variety of these ants in Melbourne. I doubt their bites are as painful as the Tasmanian ants, or perhaps we just got used to them. If it’s at all possible to get used to such a sting. I don’t know, but I declared war on them. At every opportunity, whenever I encountered any of them rearing up at me on their hind legs, whenever I was out walking, I’d crush the little bastards. I had to build a retaining wall in Warrandyte several years ago, and there was a nest of them right in the middle of where my wall was going. There was only one solution. I killed as many as I could by crushing their little bodies with a pair of long nosed pliers. One by one. There were bodies everywhere. I think they packed up and went elsewhere to live. I thought of all the pain and suffering they have caused everyone on each crack of the pliers. It was immensely satisfying.

S went to pick up the fluoro tube that had been ordered at the local lighting shop. They had ordered the wrong size, which will probably mean another week without a light in the kitchen. The kitchen benches looked great with the down lights on them. Why do things like this go wrong when you least need troubles. I’ll have a look around in Canberra, and perhaps bring one down with me next time I go down. S is running out of money, which is awkward because she’s got her eye on a couple of cushions that I gather would look good in the lounge.

The washing machine finally gives up the ghost. It had been on its last legs for months, with slipping drive belts that I’d occasionally tighten, but I couldn’t do much about the leaking water pump. I guess some water must have got into the motor, and with sparks, smoke, and a blown fuse at last it died.

The last branch on the big tree out the front is dying. This property is telling us to move on.

The real estate agent wants to have a meeting, but S doesn’t seem interested. I can guess why and it can only be bad news.

Problems and solutions

The sore throat I was developing in Melbourne seemed to have changing into a cold. An early night for me. It seems that S caught it too, and feeling grouchy.

A couple of people who saw the house a few days ago had prepared a list of questions. Our real estate agent was able to deal with all but two of their questions. They were passed on.

• What’s the water in the hole at the side of the house? Oops! That was the drain at the side of the house; the problem I had been trying to fix with a suction plunger and length of wire. Unsuccessfully, it would seem. I can’t help wondering if the question was an attempt at sarcasm. Isn’t it obvious: a blocked drain.
• What’s the serial/model number of the solar hot water heater? Apparently they wanted to confirm the capacity with the manufacturer. (They’ve got to be joking.)

With my landlady selling her house, and her brother willing to offer me board in his house, this was just a wonderful situation that relieved the hassle and worry of finding another place to rent. I called by his place to have a look around, which turned out to be on the same street of all places, and we made arrangements to start moving in on the Saturday. My landlady wants to be out soon. She offered the use of some of the furniture I’d become accustomed to, which was really very nice. My new landlord is happy to maintain the same rent and bond. So everything worked out smoothly and without fuss.

On the road again

A short day at work at the end of last week, then I was off to Melbourne. I took some audio books borrowed from the local public library. This was great. I should have done this ages ago. I do enjoy the open road stretching in front of me, but sometimes you get fed up with the same stuff over and over again, and any delights there might have been while driving during the day are lost at night. I found the audio books filled the gap really well. You can get audio tapes as audio books as well as CDs. Some are read by the author, but I gather most aren’t. It sounds a bit weird with the reader trying to take on different accents and voices, and the gender difference can be just a bit too difficult for some readers and is kind of funny to listen to then trying to emulate another gender. But, for all that, I can thoroughly recommend you give audio books a try if you are involved in long distance driving. I was actually looking forward to the trip home when I could listen to the remainder of the book.

Anyway, at home, I had a tour of inspection of the house. The house was looking great. It was strange to see it looking so tidy. And the lounge, with the settee in a new position simply looked weird. Still, if that’s what our stylist thinks is a good thing, who am I to argue.

I experienced a few open inspections while there on this visit, so had my share of cleaning up the house prior to the inspections. There seems to be a virus in the house that keeps blowing light bulbs. It was really weird; perhaps it was just a bad batch of globes, but what can you do. You wouldn’t be very successful going back to the retailer, even if you did have the receipt, saying it’s blown, give me another one. You’d be laughed at. One of the car head lights also went out on the drive down to Melbourne too. We took a trip to one of the local lighting specialists. You’d think it would be easy to buy a fluoro tube, but no lighting shop had any in stock. It was a slim line thing for the kitchen bench, under the cupboards.

Still, we got some stuff done as well as having some fun. Got some rubbish to the dump. The bastards at the dump wouldn’t take our unmarked chemicals or paint tins. They wanted the old paint tins opened before accepting them, but flatly refused the chemicals. What are people supposed to do? This was the Eltham Council. Is the council trying to encourage you to wrap them with the rest of the household rubbish? It seem like they are. I don’t know how a Council can become so short sighted. They have an obligation to accept everything and accept the cost of disposal. Stupid twits. I don’t know what to do with the stuff. Does the Eltham Council want me to dig a hole in my back yard and dump it there? That would be dumb, but this council is certainly encouraging that.

We got some more stuff into storage. Through the garage is still pretty full. I fixed the bathroom cupboard door that threatened to fall off before our first inspection. These modern bathroom fittings are made of crumby materials. It’s a wonder they last as long as they do made out of the stuff that gets used now a days. Longer screws in the door fixed the hinge.

We spent some time tidying up the place. We spread some cream pebbles around some of the plants in the garden to tizzy them up a bit. The ferns growing out of our driveway repair that I’d mentioned earlier were all doing very well and were looking really good, the lawn was looking surprisingly lush too, and despite S saying the vegie patch looked rough, seemed fine to me.

I gave the drain at the side of the house a couple of vigorous pumps with the plunger, and it seemed to drain slowly. There is something mysterious going on down there. If I had more time I could do something better than poke bits of wire down and attack it with a rubber suction plunger. Digging up the place is something you don’t do in the middle of an inspection period. On the positive side, the drain was only to take away a few drips from an overflow pipe.

We bought some new plants and put them around the place, and put some flowering pots around by the water tank. The water tank was not one of the properties best features. It has seen better days and is showing a few rust spots here and there. Interestingly, when the tank is full it doesn’t leak and in fact the rusting slows. However, when the water level is very low, the rust spots grow. I guess that’s because air is circulating.

S’s becoming friends with the wildlife. There always have been a lot of birds (lorikeets particularly), possums and lizards in Warrandyte. The two lorikeets here are being fed with a preparation that’s available in the supermarkets. It comes as a powder and when mixed with water into a watery paste and put out in a bowl they just go mad for it. They fight each other off and the pecking order is very evident in their behaviour. But besides their nasty temperament toward each other some of the more bold, like these two, can come so close you would think they were tame. They are so cute. They stick their little tongues in and out to suck up all this nice sweet tucker. Also while I was there, I watched her pick up one of the possums that come onto our block. It was a baby when she first started to pet it, when I saw her I was shocked by what she was doing. It was almost the size of its mother. It probably has some very sharp claws and teeth. Still, if you are kind to animals they may well be kind in return.

I had mentioned earlier that the car had kept smoking following the repair to the turbo. On the trip back to Melbourne this had gradually cleared until there was no smoke at all from the exhaust. All it needed was a good drive. And the extra power was great too.

But on the way back the car began jumping out of overdrive. If I lent on the gear leaver I could keep it in gear. The teeth on the synchro must be wearing round edges. I got fed up with it after a while and stopped using overdrive and left it in fourth gear. It its not one thing it’s another.

Kind people

The buyer of my landlady’s house signed the contract, and wanted the 31st March as the settlement date. I was to be homeless in a few weeks.

There must have been a family discussion; a celebration I dare say, of finalising the sale. Well, you can imagine, when the contract is signed it’s a done deal. A commitment date set, money in the bank, and plans to be made for the future. It seems that my landlady’s mother considered offering me board at her house, realising I’d be homeless. That was thoughtful. Though, there wasn’t much room in her house, as she would also be boarding her daughter. She hasn’t been looking for another property and wasn’t fussed about the settlement date, leaving that at the buyer’s discretion. And until she finds another place, she would be living with her mother.

When the excitement eased, conversation may have fallen to the subject of my situation. As a boarder in her house I would be lost for a place to live. Of course, you can always come up with some arrangement even if I had to rent an onsite caravan until I found something. My landlady’s brother lived nearby, as it happened. I wasn’t aware of that. I had met him on the occasional visit to his sister’s place. He seemed pleasant enough, and I must have made the same impression on him. Unbeknown to me, he had suggested that if I wished I could move my things into his place and board with him for as long as I wished.

I was very touched by the kindness and consideration of people.

A humdrum weekend

Eight people came through the house on Saturday, and one came back for a second look. It’s good to see the interest in the place.

I had a look through a few rental properties, now that my days in my current digs are numbered. It was just the room I wanted to rent. One was an okay place but had no furniture. A second place seemed fine but there was no storage space available and they wanted a long term client. Perhaps I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. The next place I visited was owned by an old man in a large house, which could have been okay, but he said he’d promised the place already. Pitty. I have to keep looking. It was all a bit depresssing as none of the properties, nor the people renting them, particularly inspired me.

It was hot. Both S and I went to the movies. We checked the web to find something that was showing at about the same time. She went to the flicks in Melbourne at the local Hoyts, and I was at the cinema here in Canberra.

S is concerned about me renting, and suggested I not rent in Canberra, but buy a house. Any house. We can get something else later. I wondered if that might be difficult; raising a deposit if nothing else. Perhaps rent a property with a view to purchase when we sell our own.

Minor frustrations

The first Thursday open inspection happened. Five couples visited. The property hadn't been on the market a week, and the real estate agent is talking about reducing the price. Could this be a method of trying to soften us up; conditioning us for an argument to lower the price?

The for-sale sign finally went up out the front. I couldn’t help thinking that this was a bit late. Something that should have been done weeks ago, or at least on the first day the property was listed. Despite the fact that the house was meant to be listed as Sale by Tender the sign read Private Sale, whatever that meant. We were considering selling privately, but in the end opted for an agent. So how can this be a private sale? The agent suggested listing the property as a sale by tender. Presumably, any punters interested in the property would lodge an offer prior to the deadline. After the deadline the highest offer, that is acceptable to us, wins. So what’s this about a private sale?

I got the car back from the garage today. I took it for a drive with its good-as-new turbo, and was disappointed that it put out almost the same amount of smoke as before. The smoke wasn’t nearly as bad as before, but it was still polluting the air in a bad way. The mechanic had been talking about the drain holes in the lower (oil) rings. He was talking about a major engine overhaul, but didn’t actually say that. He explained that sometimes the piston rings can get their drain holes blocked preventing excess oil from escaping, and when that happens the engine produces a lot of smoke. I wondered if it was because the exhaust pipe was full of oil. He conceded that that could be the problem. I took the car for a good long drive. The smoke began to ease somewhat after about 40 minutes on the road. At the end of the run, it was just like a smoky old car, rather than the attention getting smog making machine it was a few weeks ago. This was an improvement, but not an impressive improvement. I expected it to be smoke free. But in fairness to the people who repaired the turbo, it was now quiet and the car had a lot more guts.

It’ll be interesting to see what it’s like on the next Melbourne trip. At least it’s no longer a target for the police. So, after spending $960 for the turbo repair and $445 for removal and replacement I have to consider whether it was worth the $1400. Anyway, I like the car.

The car's ready

The car is ready to pick up. That took a while. Cooma Diesel described it as a ‘new’ turbo. I just have to keep the rest of the car together. S has used up her $200. I’ve set up my salary to deposit a regular amount in her account. I hope it works.

Mind you, being car-less for a few weeks gave me the opportunity to see a few of the attractions in Canberra. I visited the Old Parliament house. It gave me an eerie feeling walking up the steps at the front of the building. Everyone remembers or has heard of Whitlam’s sacking with him standing on the steps and the media huddle around him. I was outraged by what had been done. Though, it was more than just anger I felt. It was shock. Disbelieve that this could happen in Australia. Didn’t this country have a Constitution to prevent this sort of thing?

In the weeks that followed the incident in 1975 I conducted a pop poll. I was a taxi driver at the time, and there were often conversations in the cab, and with this news and the impending election on almost everyone’s lips I was curious to know what other people were thinking. I asked everyone who got into the cab how they would vote. A bit cheeky, perhaps. Most people didn’t mind. In fact, some people would volunteer their information before asked. It was my impression, wrongly as it happened, that Australia would return the Whitlam government to power. I thought this would have been done to protest the manner in which Whitlam was removed, if for nothing else. Oh, how wrong I was. My taxi poll clearly indicated the Liberal landslide that eventually took place, and placed Malcolm Fraser in power. I was so disappointed in the Australian public. I felt so let down. I was disgusted with Australians, and my disgust surfaced each time I saw an image of Fraser or Kerr. There is a suburb here in Canberra called Fraser. I would find it difficult to live there. So strongly did those events affect me. Though, I must say that I very recently heard Fraser speaking on ABC radio on Phillip Adams show. He actually sounded quite reasonable, and I was surprised at myself for sharing his point of view. If he tried a bit harder he might stop being a Liberal.

Anyway, here I was standing on the same steps where all this took place in 1975.

The Old Parliament House has been preserved and a tour of the building is very enlightening. The building houses the National Portrait Gallery which is a must see when in Canberra. I was surprised how small the various offices and rooms were. Apart from the PM’s offices, which were surrounded by a variety of cramped, horrible offices some of which were little more than alcoves, and many without windows. The people who worked there must have done so for the love and passion of politics than for the job. The working conditions that staff had to put up with in that building must have been horrible.

I gather there were discussions along the lines of demolishing the building when the new Parliament House was built. I’m so glad this did not happen, as the building offers an excellent snapshot in time. And, if you do happen to get there, have a look at the ABC section. When I was there they had a wire recorder on display, which was the forerunner to the tape recorder.

The inspections continue

There was a special open inspection for one couple. And for all the effort of sprucing the place up they said the block was too steep, because they had children. The previous owners had kids. I wonder why they are looking in Warrandyte; almost every block is steep.

There were only two groups through the house on Sunday. I subsequently got in touch with the builder who has inspected it the day before. Ran through a few details and he seemed content. S is running out of money.

I tried to get the credit limit on my Source Card (credit card) increased. I hate these automated phone systems. After you enter your account number on the phone keypad and someone speaks to you they ask for the same information again. I’m going to stop providing it, in protest, until I speak to a human. They said they’d send a form out.

Open for inspection

I had trouble getting to sleep and had a restless night. Was I suffering sympathy insomnia for S who was at home and stayed up all night cleaning the house in preparation for our first open inspection? It was all very a nerve-racking, and I’m not even located in the same State. Perhaps it was guilt for not being there to help out.

It seemed that one of the hinges on a cupboard door in the ensuite gave up the ghost. Why would the door decide to fall off its hinges now, after all these years, on the day of the first inspection? We were hoping no one would want to open it and look inside. I think most people are too polite to go looking in cupboards, unless they are really serious; perhaps during a second visit. It wouldn’t set much of an impression of the house in that condition. Apparently, light bulbs are going out all around the house too.

The inspection time was changed by the real estate agent before settling on 1.00pm to 1.30pm (which cut into S’s cleaning time by a couple of hours). I’m surprised the agent did that so late; messing the punters around. Also, the agent was late for his own open day. S passed him on the road as she was driving away. It’s unprofessional.

There were two groups of people waiting for the agent before he arrived. There were eight groups all up. One guy came very late. Perhaps he’d seen the original times before the agent changed them. A builder seemed interested in an investment property and was asking various enquiries the agent couldn’t answer.

So that was how it started. A bit of a shaky start, but start it did.

D-day minus one

S and I were editing the text that was to appear in the ad. The convenience of email, with S in Melbourne and me in Canberra. Though, with the first open insepction tomorrow I can't help but wonder if the real estate agent has left all this stuff a bit late. We got the term ‘rustic’ out of the text quickly. Why do people use that word so often? I think everyone puts a different meaning to it. So it doesn’t really mean anything anyway. S was relieved when they hadn’t used the “first home buyer” phrase. Curiously, we had both chosen the same photos to be used in campaign. Poor S is finding it a hard slog, and is considering an all night session of cleaning.

• The bedroom needs a tidy up
• The shower and sinks need to be cleaned
• The laundry needs a tidy
• There are piles of boxes stored in the end bathroom that have to go
• The study is neat but has a few boxes remaining, and
• Everything needs to be vacuumed

The widows need to be washed, perhaps tomorrow, but with that line up there may not be time nor the energy left in her body.

My landlady has seen her solicitor, and is signing papers for the sale of her house – the contract. They will then contact the buyer’s solicitor. As far as I know, there is no firm date set for settlement, other than a possible end of the month.

I rang the mechanic. No car until possibly Wednesday. There was no gasket provided, hence the delay.

The photographer

I had a look at the photos the photographer took of our house. There were eight that we could select from. A wide angle lens was used with most pictures, and the rooms looked much too large because of that. It’s fake. The dead or dying tree out the front almost looked alive in the photos. The picture taken under the pergola at the rear of the house looked insignificant. Though, I have to admit that the interior shots, fake as they were, made the place sparkle and everything looked good. The first open day was set for the coming Saturday. Presumably the pictures and the write up will be completed tomorrow. There is only a small sign on the street at the moment. For S, the remaining time will be a frenzy of cleaning and tidying.

The magic of plastic

The car has been out of action for a few weeks. Fortunately my landlady has been giving me a ride to and from work, which has been really good. We both work at the same company. So it’s convenient. S thinks house share arrangements are destined for failure, and after about six months things start to fall apart. I’ve been in this arrangement for approaching that amount of time. Anyway, if all goes to plan my landlady expects to sell her house and my accommodation from under me within a few weeks. Anyway, Cooma Diesel rang to say the turbo had been repaired and was ready to pick up. So that meant another early morning bus ride to Fyshwick for me. And, oh wonderful credit card, the magic plastic saved the day; I could actually pay for the repair. A significant experience with this second trip, besides the turbo being nice and clean, was that when I got off the bus with it, I had to lug it from the bus stop to the workshop. It was only a little more than a 1 km walk, but by the time I got there, my arms felt as though they were about to fall off, and I felt as though I’d walked ten times that distance.

Our real estate agent was trying to talk S down in price, but she stood her ground. Setting the price to suit ourselves would allow us the opportunity to test the waters. To see how many bites we get from the punters. But the agent, no doubt, just wants a quick turn-a-round. Sell it within a fortnight, then move on to the next property, and the only way you can do that is to have a reduced selling price. It’s understandable from a real estate agent’s perspective; they only have eyes for their commission.

There is now a 2 metre wide pathway through the garage. That’s the best that can be done. There is a smell coming from the garage side board. Opps! That’s where the rats had taken up residence. I thought I had cleaned it.

The property gets listed

The house gets listed. It was also the day the hippy photographer from Daylesford came (S’s description of him) to take some snaps of the place for the real estate agent. Though, it wasn’t a trouble free day. The photographer was due at 3.00pm but that was changed to 2.00pm which meant there was less cleaning up time. Then one of the fluoro tubes in the kitchen went out. One of the bedroom lamps stopped working. It turned out that the photos were taken with the blinds twisted and untidy, S noticed after he’d gone. He also wanted to take a photo of the back of the house, under the pergola. That was unexpected, and of course that area needed to be cleaned up first.

The agent posted a preliminary ad of our property. The ad listed the wrong price, wrong number of bed rooms, wrong inspection times, and I think the wrong number of bathrooms. After contacting them, they fixed most but not all of the incorrect information.

I rang the credit card company from work and got the credit limit raised to $2000. No application required. All done by phone. I had no idea it would be so simple. This was Virgin Credit card. So, this makes it easier to get over this tight spot.

Telstra's lousy service

I stayed at home on Sunday to tidy up some of the stuff I had in my landlady’s shed. To make sure I knew where everything was prior to my moving out. That didn’t take long. While I was busy I was thinking about the car.

The quote I got from Cooma Diesel had been playing on my mind. I’ve been worried about how I was going to cover the cost of the repair to the turbo. There’s only one real solution and that’s to increase my credit card limit. So, I thought I’d give the finance company a call and see what they say. I’d do it straight away rather than waiting until Monday.

I have a prepaid mobile phone. Being well aware of the time you can spend hanging on the telephone line in a queue before someone half way across the world eventually gets to you, and as I did not wish to use up all the credit on my phone on this type of exercise, I thought to myself, find a public telephone. The local shops were only a 20minute walk from where I lived. So off I went to find a public telephone at the shopping centre. It was a nice day for a short jaunt.

Canberra has catered for foot traffic like I have seen no where else. There is a myriad of footpaths crisscrossing Canberra suburbs. As well as the concrete pavement at the side of the street, which in some suburbs in some states, doesn’t actually exist, these pathways can be found at the back of properties linking one suburb to the next, meandering through parks, and with street underpasses to keep you safe from vehicles. The state of some of the concrete paving is showing its age, but I have to give praise to the idea. It’s a simply wonderful planning feature of Canberra.

Anyway, off I trot strolling under the shady trees to the local shops. I found the public telephone without trouble, but was disappointed to find it out of order. These things happen from time to time. Fortunately, I had my trusty street directory in hand and could see another public telephone marked on the map about 3km away. Anyway, it gave me a chance to explore more meandering footpaths, and see a few more suburbs at a rather more sedate pace.

With a drink in hand I set off. After about half an hour of up hill climb I got to the location marked on the map where the telephone box should have been, but strangely could not find the telephone box. At times like these you begin to doubt your own map reading skills. It’s so easy by car to drive up and down the street. Perhaps it was hidden behind a tree. Walking around the block takes a bit longer. I was wondering if the street directory was wrong and the telephone booth might have been in a slightly different place from where it was supposed to be. And then I spotted something.

Exactly at the place on the map where the telephone was indicated, and a little further away from the roadway than where I was standing I spotted a flat square of concrete on the ground. It was partially hidden by long grass. A closer look at this concrete slab revealed it to be, in my estimation, about the dimensions of a public telephone booth, having what looked like bolt holes on each corner. The only problem was that there was no telephone booth on top of the slab. I was wondering if this was the fault of the map maker or whether Telstra has just come along and removed it without telling anyone. I was getting annoyed.

I knew I was relatively close to the neighbouring suburb's shops, but getting further and further from home. Well, shopping centres do have public telephones located at them. So, ignoring the sweat that was beginning to pool in spots under my shirt, I once again set off toward the shops. I rested at the top of the hill and took in the view. The rest of the walk to the shops was downhill, and in half an hour I located the shops and public telephone, only to find it too was out of order. I flopped in a nearby park bench staring at the shuttered windows and boarded up doors of the closed shops, and wondering what sort of lousy dung heap of a city I’m living in, and about the lousy service Telstra is providing. The phone wasn’t vandalised it was just making noises other than having a dial tone and it wouldn’t accept my coins. That was it. Give up. Go home.

My sour mood lightened, when crossing a road near a bus stop but what should happen but a bus comes along, and the very bus that would take me home. I’m beginning to hate Telstra.