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No Heart is Free
Oct. 7th, 2017 04:58 pmThe man in the pink tie
Uncle B (my mother's older brother) died on Monday, and I went to his funeral on Thursday. There was a man in a black suit with a pink tie wandering around out the front of the funeral home, and my mother and I couldn't tell if he was an employee or a mourner. At the end of the service, when they called for the pallbearers, Pink Tie was one of them. Mourner, then. Later, at the finger food buffet, I saw him chatting to my mother's cousin. I said to her, "Who's the man in the pink tie you were just talking to?"
Cousin Sanny, who always uses her outside voice, said, "Oh, he once buried a dead horse for me when the meat works were closed for Christmas." So that clears that up.
How to watch football
The bathroom is nearly finished. Everything is functional. The builder will be back on Monday to do the finishing touches: a new screen in the bathroom window, new security doors for the front and back entrances (to the house, that is, not the bathroom), new door handles for the front and back doors, a new bench in the laundry. The electrician has been and done his bit, but he couldn't sign off his work as the house wiring is too old, so he's coming back next Wednesday to upgrade whatever it is he has to upgrade. The painter will also be in on Tuesday to do the final coat. And that will be it.
The painter decided ours was a little job he could do alone over the weekend. He spread out his drop sheets and got started. "Can I get you anything?" my mother asked.
"Oh, no, thanks," he said. "I'm all set. I'm laughing like a hairy spider."
He has just finished a job in Mortlake that involved wallpaper. "Horrible stuff to work with. Horrible stuff. And they wanted it on the ceiling!" He also had strong thoughts on the house behind ours, as featured in my photo a few weeks ago. "Look at that! They hadn't painted it when I was here a couple of years ago, and they still haven't. Tch."
The electrician, meanwhile, had the front door open while he worked at the meter box, so he had a good view of the houses across the street. "They're a couple of dodgy looking lads in the house behind the hedge," he said. "That car in their driveway hasn't got a number plate." Tradies: they are in other people's houses, judging you.
Last week was the AFL (Australian Rules football) grand final. The builder was very excited in the lead up to it, as his team, Richmond, made the final for the first time in thirty-seven years. And they won, so he was chuffed on Monday. "Yeah, I've got a TV in my workshop, so I sat and watched the game out there with my chicken sat on the chair next to me," he said. So there's an image.
You made the wrong decision, Colin
New people have moved in to the house across the road (next to the dodgy looking lads). They had a few friends help them. The last friends left about two o'clock in the morning, arguing. I woke up as they drove off, the woman shouting, "You made the wrong decision, Colin. The wrong fucking decision, Colin. The wrong decision!"
God, Colin. Get your act together.
A headline
This happened a while ago, but I haven't got round to mentioning it before. A state politician was accused of having a meal at a seafood restaurant with a man alleged to have ties to organised crime. How did one newspaper sum that up in a headline?
LOBSTER WITH A MOBSTER
That is genius.
Uncle B (my mother's older brother) died on Monday, and I went to his funeral on Thursday. There was a man in a black suit with a pink tie wandering around out the front of the funeral home, and my mother and I couldn't tell if he was an employee or a mourner. At the end of the service, when they called for the pallbearers, Pink Tie was one of them. Mourner, then. Later, at the finger food buffet, I saw him chatting to my mother's cousin. I said to her, "Who's the man in the pink tie you were just talking to?"
Cousin Sanny, who always uses her outside voice, said, "Oh, he once buried a dead horse for me when the meat works were closed for Christmas." So that clears that up.
How to watch football
The bathroom is nearly finished. Everything is functional. The builder will be back on Monday to do the finishing touches: a new screen in the bathroom window, new security doors for the front and back entrances (to the house, that is, not the bathroom), new door handles for the front and back doors, a new bench in the laundry. The electrician has been and done his bit, but he couldn't sign off his work as the house wiring is too old, so he's coming back next Wednesday to upgrade whatever it is he has to upgrade. The painter will also be in on Tuesday to do the final coat. And that will be it.
The painter decided ours was a little job he could do alone over the weekend. He spread out his drop sheets and got started. "Can I get you anything?" my mother asked.
"Oh, no, thanks," he said. "I'm all set. I'm laughing like a hairy spider."
He has just finished a job in Mortlake that involved wallpaper. "Horrible stuff to work with. Horrible stuff. And they wanted it on the ceiling!" He also had strong thoughts on the house behind ours, as featured in my photo a few weeks ago. "Look at that! They hadn't painted it when I was here a couple of years ago, and they still haven't. Tch."
The electrician, meanwhile, had the front door open while he worked at the meter box, so he had a good view of the houses across the street. "They're a couple of dodgy looking lads in the house behind the hedge," he said. "That car in their driveway hasn't got a number plate." Tradies: they are in other people's houses, judging you.
Last week was the AFL (Australian Rules football) grand final. The builder was very excited in the lead up to it, as his team, Richmond, made the final for the first time in thirty-seven years. And they won, so he was chuffed on Monday. "Yeah, I've got a TV in my workshop, so I sat and watched the game out there with my chicken sat on the chair next to me," he said. So there's an image.
You made the wrong decision, Colin
New people have moved in to the house across the road (next to the dodgy looking lads). They had a few friends help them. The last friends left about two o'clock in the morning, arguing. I woke up as they drove off, the woman shouting, "You made the wrong decision, Colin. The wrong fucking decision, Colin. The wrong decision!"
God, Colin. Get your act together.
A headline
This happened a while ago, but I haven't got round to mentioning it before. A state politician was accused of having a meal at a seafood restaurant with a man alleged to have ties to organised crime. How did one newspaper sum that up in a headline?
LOBSTER WITH A MOBSTER
That is genius.