Good news: Our zucchini plant has calmed down. We are no longer living on an all-zucchini diet.

Bad news: Our long, green vegetable nightmare isn't over. My mother picked eighteen cucumbers off the single cucumber plant in the last two days.

Friday was my half-day at work and I came home about at about one to find my mother on the phone. On the landline, which I want to get rid of, but which she insists on keeping for some of her elderly relatives. Apart from the elderly relatives, most of the calls to the landline are junk: surveys, charities, scams.

So she was on the phone, and as I came in she said, "Oh, here's my daughter, you can talk to her," and handed me the phone, saying, "There's a problem with the modem."

Now, our telco is Telstra, and we have had a letter from them recently about them doing work in the area this week, with a number to call if we have problems, and, indeed, the Telstra van was parked round the corner on my way home. So this was plausible; but if I'd had time to think, I would have realised that my mother would rather be waterboarded than call Telstra voluntarily. She would have waited until I came home and made me call. But I didn't have time to think, so I just took the phone to find out what the problem was.

The problem was a very angry man called Sean, who claimed that our modem was sending too much data and was going to overload the network. He thought our wi-fi had been hacked. He wanted me to tell him what colour the lights on the modem were and if they were flashing or not, and when I told him, thinking this was a stupid question, he repeated the answer back to me incorrectly. So I concluded this was some sort of scam and ended the call.

"No, it's urgent, he'll call back!" said my mother, and sure enough, the phone rang immediately with the same number. I let it ring out and blocked the number. It turned out Sean had called (not my mother), saying he was from "Telstra Technical Services" and started his nonsense about the modem, and my mother, sensing a scam, had hung up. He'd then called back twice more and was really aggressive, convincing my mother that he was legit and the problem was urgent, largely because he knew our phone number and address. I think he'd have run into a problem if he'd tried to get her to download something or give her credit card details, or whatever the plan was, but she was quite upset that that he'd got as far as he had.

Anyway, she's promised that she'll hang up on any more Telstra Technical Services calls.

(I've just checked the call list, and we had three more blocked calls from Sean's number Friday afternoon.)


February

( Not very exciting questions )

Lunar New Year, and it's now the Year of the Tiger. That's me! It's my year. Look out, world.

We couldn't keep up with eating our zucchinis and declared defeat with eighteen in the fridge. They've been grated and frozen in two-cup lots, ready for use in times of less zucchini plenty.

Brian Next Door cut three perfect circles into his perfect front lawn a few days ago. Today I came home from work to find he's planted pumpkin seedlings in them. So that's an unexpected piece of whimsy.

February

1. Do you think your country would change if everyone, regardless of age or any other current restriction, could vote? If yes, in what ways?
I suppose that would mean younger people would be able to vote, and that might mean people less willing to vote for policies that entrench existing structures that don't serve them. So that might be good.

If the very, very young were able to vote, we might end up with the Wiggles and Bluey in parliament. And, honestly, that couldn't be worse than who we've got now.

2. Is there a movie or TV show you can watch over and over again without tiring of it?
As a child, I watched Little Shop of Horrors many, many times, and would happily watch it again if I stumbled across it. Actually, a lot of classical musicals.

For some reason, I have seen the 1980s Joan Hickson Miss Marple version of A Murder is Announced multiple times, and, again, I would watch that again if I stumbled across it. The universe obviously wants me to watch it.

3. If an actor who is really well known for one role turns up in another film or TV show playing a different character, do you have trouble not seeing them as their more famous character?
No, that's fine. I have trouble the other way, when a different actor plays the same character. I will never believe the chap playing Endeavour is going to grow up to be Morse.

Today's haul:



I have plans for a curried zucchini slice and zucchini brownies, and my mother is thinking of zucchini soup. And by then, the next ones will be ready to harvest.

While I'm doing photos, last year, while people were doing sourdough in lockdown, I had a crack at croissants. ( How did that go? )


January

22. How often do you check your phone?
Rarely. In the Beforetimes I hardly ever turned it on. These days, it's on most of the time because my work phone diverts to it when I work from home, and because of checking in everywhere, but I try to ignore it as much as possible. I really do resent its constant demands for attention.

Late-breaking news on Friday, as all of Victoria went into a snap Stage 4 lockdown for five days, Saturday to Wednesday. I had to go to the supermarket on Friday afternoon and there were already signs up about limited purchases of certain items: toilet paper, pasta, hand sanitiser. The usual suspects. But there wasn't panic buying. Everyone probably has enough toilet paper in storage from last time.

Before that it was an odd sort of week, as I'd had to go into the office a few times. I'd been thinking that everyone was getting slightly blasé about it all - there used to be bottles of hand sanitiser on every desk and spare surface, for example, which have all disappeared now. Perhaps this snap lockdown will kick everything back into action. I'm supposed to be back there on Tuesday for a two hour meeting about fringe benefits tax, but I don't think that will come under the definition of "essential work" to meet in person. I hope not, at any rate.

At home, there was (extremely) minor excitement on two fronts. First, I bought a label maker and made tiny labels for the top of all my spice jars, so now when I open the spice drawer I can read the top of the lid without having to lift them up. What a time saver. While at the stationery shop, I found mailing labels, just regular sheets of Avery labels, but on clear frosted paper instead of white. So I bought some of that too, and made slightly fancy labels for all the plain jars in the pantry.

Second excitement: the first of my Christmas subscription cheese boxes arrived. Camembert, chèvre rolled in ash, a semi-hard cow's milk cheese with wildflowers pressed into it, and manchego-style cheese aged in wine. I've tried the first two so far, and they've both been good.



Last year, for a New Year's resolution, I did two of the challenges from The Conqueror (it was a New Year two-for-the-price-of-one special), where you log your exercise as a distance and get virtual postcards of your trip and an actual medal at the end. Last year I did the New Zealand Alps to Ocean and the US Grand Canyon distances. I signed up again this year, same deal. I'm currently halfway up Mount Fuji. Not sure what the second one will be yet. Maybe the set your own distance one and make it long enough for the rest of the year. I suspect that will be the only way I travel anywhere for the foreseeable future.

No new bright flowers this week. Instead, a photo of the dangers that lurk when picking vegetables: someone playing Tiger in the Grass among the bean plants.

December crept up so suddenly I forgot about my Body Shop Advent calendar for the first two days. I've caught up now. Not that there's any rush. I still haven't finished all the hand lotion from last year's.

More restrictions easing here: masks are still compulsory in supermarkets/shopping centres and in taxis/trains/buses, but the rest of the time we only need to carry masks and wear them when we can't social distance.

There hasn't been a special senior hour at the supermarket for months now, but my mother has decided she likes going super-early and, as it's before work, I can go too. Friday, we went early as usual, and as usual there was only a handful of cars in the car park. One of them was packed with camping gear, obviously belonging to a family on the way for a holiday. I assume there was an adult in the supermarket doing the shopping; waiting outside, a man entertained three small children by blasting The Weeknd's Blinding Lights and making them dance around the car.

Finally, a couple of updates from things mentioned in my daily November posts:

1. ( The completed garlic braid )

2. ( The completed 2020 cross-stitch mini-sampler )

One of my colleagues at work was telling me about her young daughter, who has learnt at school to open doors with her elbows and does it at home now too. She was also worried after seeing bare supermarket shelves. "She kept asking me, 'What will we do when the food runs out?' and I kept explaining that the food won't run out, we have plenty in the pantry to last until the trucks come to fill the supermarkets again. But she kept asking, 'What if the trucks don't come? What will we eat?" and I finally said, 'Well, I suppose we'd eat Dad first.' And I thought, I shouldn't have said that, that will upset her, but she just nodded and said, 'Oh yeah, that makes sense.'" So at least one local family is prepared for the worst.

Another colleague reported that her daughter, who has just started secondary school (the school year starts in February here), came home obviously worried about something. She eventually revealed that word in the school yard was that if a child caught coronavirus but their parents didn't, the child would be taken into foster care; if the parents got sick but the child didn't, the parents were taken away and the child left home alone. I am so glad I am no longer a child who has to listen to playground nonsense.

Weekly shop today. We found everything on the list except for caster sugar. Fortunately, pasta and toilet paper were not on the list, as those shelves are still empty. I noticed the tea bag shelves were depleted for the first time too, although only the standard Lipton and Bushells ones; expensive flavoured tea bags were still plentiful.

Some local supermarkets have introduced ID checks on entry, so customers can prove they're locals and not raiders from Melbourne. So that's still happening.

My mother had to go into the chemist to get some gel for her sore foot. I waited outside with the shopping bags, opposite the exit to Aldi. Every single person coming out of Aldi had a packet of toilet paper. Every single person. Some of them, that was all they were carrying.

After that, we had to go to Bunnings (a hardware chain store). You know things are serious when Bunnings cancels its weekly charity sausage sizzle, as they have done for the next few months. Apparently they donated five hundred dollars to each charity whose event they cancelled. We were there to get some lettuce seeds, which my mother plants on a staggered schedule, a few each week, to ensure a continuous supply. However: no lettuce seeds. No spinach, mesclun or bean seeds either. Plenty of kale seeds, I noticed. Outside in the plant section: no lettuce seedlings. No vegetable seedlings at all. All sold out.

Back home, I did a bit of weeding in the garden. I found an old packet of aster seeds a couple of months ago and sprinkled them in a tray. They grew, all of them, white and pink and purple, and they had butterflies on them today. There were honeyeaters on the fluffy dwarf teddy bear sunflowers. Whenever I moved, I heard rustling the undergrowth as skinks skittered about in the sun. I didn't expect the end of days to be quite so idyllic.

(Watching Mastermind just now, a contestant answered a question with "anteater" and the host said he was "close". The actual answer was "sloth". That is not at all close to anteater, is it?)

Yesterday was Australia's hottest day on record. It was officially 43°C in the City by the Sea, far from the epicentre of heat, but hot enough for all that. It reached 53°C in my back garden. (That's 127°F for Fahrenheit-minded readers. Or: too hot, on any scale.)

A storm rolled in overnight and today is only 17°C/62°F. Our weather is something of a rollercoaster at the moment.

This morning we toured the garden to see what survived the heat. Quite a lot, given the circs. My sunflower seedlings, in a tray under the verandah, were shrivelled last night, but revived by the morning. Not so the poppies in the front garden, whose petals flaked off. The fuchsia flowers survived, but all the leaves are brown and crispy. My yacon appears to have doubled in size, which is surprising. Despite being in the shade and covered with damp towels, many of the worms in the worm farm didn't make it. Neither did the kale, but that's no great loss.

Last Friday, 13 December, was the deadline for that job I applied for at the City by the Sea's council. They interviewed me on Monday afternoon. On Thursday morning, they offered me the job. I start on 13 January. That was all very quick and efficient. (I knew I had the job on Wednesday evening, when Old Boss called me and said, "If you don't get that job after all the lies I just told about how good you are..." I warned him it was only a maternity leave position, so he'll be called on to tell more lies about me for another job some time next year.)

( More details )

In non-work news: my gingerbread house is done. It won't pass any building safety inspections, but it tastes all right. I will say that chocolate is more forgiving as a construction medium than royal icing, but royal icing covers a lot of sins. Next year: I think I'll try a bûche de Noël.

Spring, and this week the lawn is littered with tiny, empty eggshells. Incy ones, white with speckles: sparrows. Thumbnail-sized pale blue ones: starlings. Slightly larger, green with brown speckles: blackbirds.

I was going to say, chocolate with a toy inside: Kinder Surprise, but they wouldn't be on the lawn, would they?

This morning, driving home from my Sunday beach walk, I passed the Tourist Information Centre, which had a sign out the front showing its long weekend opening hours. That gave me an idea, so I went back a bit later and found what I was after: a card by a local artist, suitable to send to my accounts officer, the one whose contract isn't being renewed. He is in another state; he's French; and although he's lived in Australia for twenty years, he's never ventured south of the border. Well, maybe to Melbourne, but never to the City by the Sea. So for his leaving card, he's getting this view. (For interest, during the day, I park my car about halfway down the right-hand edge of the card; the office I work in is one block back from that, just out of the picture; the aforementioned Tourist Information Centre (and Maritime Museum) is the triangular patch of buildings at the bottom right; and the beach I walk on is, well, it's that beach.)

Later, I planted a couple of geraniums. There is a garden bed running along the side of the garage, and the only thing that has ever successfully grown there is a geranium. So I bought two more and put them next to the existing one, and watered them in. My watering can is a green metal one, and I usually leave it sitting outside the back door. Sometimes sparrows come and sit on it in the sun. It's very rustic and picturesque.

So I took my watering can and filled it up and started watering the new geraniums. Imagine me, standing there, mindlessly watching the water rain down on my new plants, when I see a twig floating in the watering can. That will get stuck in the spout, I think, and lean down to pluck it out. But it's not a twig. It's a skink! I can see its little legs paddling, and then the wave of the water flips it over so I can see its shiny white belly.

Anyway, I put the watering can on the ground and tipped it on its side so the water flooded out. There was no skink left in the watering can after that, and I couldn't see it on the ground, so I can only assume it scarpered to safety. It must have been having a nap in the watering can when I picked it up. Sorry, little skink.

Hello, f-list. I hope you can hear me OVER THE RAIN. It is fairly bucketing down at the moment. I've just dragged our potted Christmas tree from under the patio where it lives all year to get a bit of rain before we bring it in and decorate it. I hope it doesn't get too wet.

This week: I ran into a friend who is a chef. He had just catered for the Christmas party of one of the City by the Sea's largest employers. "Fifty-two bottles of Pimms on the hottest day of the year," he said. "It was like taking a bath in sugar."

This morning: My mother and I went for our regular weekend walk along the beach front. "They're putting the summer carnival up early this year," my mother said as we approached the green. But it wasn't the summer carnival. It was some sort of emergency services fair. Fire brigade. Ambulance. Police. Coast Guard. SES (they do natural disaster assistance, including tsunamis, according to their website, which may be true if one ever happened here, but I don't think they get a lot of them). Rapid Relief Team, whom I have never heard of (they do mass emergency catering, it turns out). It was the safest place in the City by the Sea, although if you had an emergency anywhere else this morning, you were presumably out of luck.

Also this morning: Further along our walk, part of the Lake Pertobe Adventure Playground was fenced off. They were putting up a summer holiday attraction: thirty life-size dinosaurs. Replicas, I assume. I don't think they're building Jurassic Park next to the mini-golf. (Although if you hear news of a T-Rex running amok in southern Australia, that'll be us.) Anyway, we could see some sort of velociraptor-thing peeping out from the trees, so that was a different sort of wildlife spotting.

Later: A visit to Bunnings revealed knee-high cement garden ornaments in the shape of Star Wars characters: Darth Vader, a storm trooper, Han Solo, R2-D2. All the same size. I mean, one of those things is not the same size as the others, is it? But in cement garden ornament Star Wars, it is. In fact, R2-D2 is the biggest of them all, because once you bring him up to the same height as the others, he is proportionally wider. He could have crushed them all. What a different film that would have been.

Here is a thing: Melbourne has set up email address for its public trees, so people can email if they see a problem. Instead, people are emailing the trees. Just for a chat. Here is an article showing pictures of the trees with some of the emails they have received.