Dunnies are my currency

At Betka Beach just after first light. Stunning.

Sitting here in front of a roaring fire, kitten on my lap, Emma Kirkby singing Hildegard of Bingen’s greatest hits on the cd player, it’s hard to remember that times are a bit tough. I'm having far too much fun.

My meditation on money the other day was a little unsettling, but I live in Paradise, and I guess that’s the trade-off. Traffic jams/stress/no time to think vs bliss/no money. A no-brainer really. So, to stop myself thinking in dollars and getting all agitated, I think in dunnies now, and that is far more fun and less scary. Here in the Republic of Betty, dunnies have become my currency, and of course that makes me giggle. 

***For non-Aussies, ‘dunny’ is a slang term for toilet, specifically the long-drop or can-type affair that stands in a vine-covered shed in old-style Aussie back yards, and hosts redback spiders beneath its seat. That’s not the sort of dunny I’m referring to here. My dunnies are more modern and less spiderous. Made of gleaming porcelain or ceramic goodness, my dunnies half-flush or full-flush. This is quite a relief, as I clean several of them each week.

A load of firewood is a 5 dunny expense, but will last almost half the winter if I’m careful. So really, a winter of glowing warmth is about a dozen dunnies’ worth. Not bad. A bottle of gas for cooking that will probably last a year? 5 dunnies.

A bottle of wine is around half a dunny, unless I go for the expensive full-dunny quality stuff (which I don’t). It’s still a kind of expensive purchase though.

A trip to the doctor is about 2 ½  dunnies, and Medicare refunds one of them. A kilo of chicken breast fillets will set me back about two-thirds of a dunny (i.e., I have to clean for about 40 minutes). 5-6 weeks worth of cat bickies for Basil is a 2 ½ dunny purchase. (Perhaps I could save on that if I let him catch his own dinner….. *slapping self*) A tank of petrol? Two dunnies, but it’ll last me for weeks around Mallacoota.

A not-too-flash entry-level DSLR camera with a couple of lenses is roughly a three dozen dunny purchase, and won’t be happening in the foreseeable future.  Why would I bother, though, when my humble phone (bought in the old currency when I was still a half-mad fulltime teacher) takes photos like these:

*sigh* I LOVE this place so so much!

My friend Deb was here over the Anzac weekend, and we went to Betka Beach for some beautiful free sunrise viewing. We arrived a little after first light and stayed a couple of hours, and played photographers with our phones. What fabulous dunny-free chicken soup for the soul it was!

Of course, with the amount of free time I have complementing my cleaning gigs, I probably have time to write a best-seller that will earn me mega-dunnies – in which case I’ll get one of those snazzy cameras to capture some really good pics of the birds around here.

Life is good.

Flying High with Fluffy the Comfort Cat

Australia's flag-carrier, Qantas, is currently caught between a rock (aviation legislation) and a hard place (anti-discrimination legislation).

The problem is the lack of an adequate definition, in the Disability Discrimination Act, of what can be classed as an 'assistance animal'. Guidelines for guide dogs are quite clear, but it seems there is a bit of legislative leeway for hamster/gerbil/python/sheep fans to state a case for taking their own particular pet on board. And that's what Qantas is a bit worried about.

Here's the story. Apparently there's been a huge increase in the number of people who need to have a 'comfort animal' with them, to get them through the horrors of a flight. Qantas is worried that if someone says that Hortense the Chook is their assistance animal, and Qantas refuses to let Hortense board, then Hortense's owner could sue Qantas for discrimination under the Disability Discrimination Act.

Aviation legislation, on the other hand, is quite clear about carrying assistance animals onto a plane. Hortense the Chook probably wouldn't make the grade, but you can see Qantas' problem, right?

I'm finding it all quite amusing. Can't you just imagine the Brave New World in which animals and aeroplanes fly united? Planes would need to separate canine & feline passengers in much the same way that smokers and non-smokers used to be segregated. Pax with rodents might feel a little nervous, and would have to avoid the depressive with the python in seat 28B. The twitching fellow with the potbelly pig could sit wherever he wanted, but preferably nowhere near the galley or any Jewish or Muslim passengers, and all fish would have to be carried in an approved container, in less than 100mls of water, to satisfy LAGs (liquids, aerosols and gels) regulations. Don't want any terrorist types smuggling liquid explosives on board, cunningly disguised as the home of Bubbles the goldfish!

And another thing. With an on-board menagerie, would airlines need to provide comfort stations for animal companions? Aeroplane toilets aren't the most spacious places as it is, and there's really nowhere to put a litter tray. In any case, what might happen to the contents of a litter tray if the plane hit turbulence just doesn't bear thinking about! Maybe airlines could slip a couple of pet poo-bags into the seat pockets along with the sick-bag and the emergency instructions?

As for those human passengers who might be perfectly ok with flying, but who suffer from allergies to pet hair – would they have a case against airlines if sitting next to Fluffy the Persian cat had them wheezing and sneezing their way from Paris to Perth? Likewise, the doggyphobic traveller who finds him or herself shut inside a flying sardine can full of assistance dogs...

My anxiety and I will be boarding a plane in a few weeks, with my friend Thelma the Hat Lady. We will not be asking Qantas if we can take Oscar Bin Laden (my cat) on board. Oscar hates travelling anyway.

More random thoughts on crutches

Forearm crutches are more comfortable than underarm crutches. The technique required to drive them is a little different, though, and very unsettling at first.

Uphill on crutches with a full backpack is harder than downhill with an empty one.

My local shops are over 500 (I lost count) crutch hops from my gate.

Walking to the shops and back is a better workout than you'd get at any gym. Especially in 33-degree heat (that's 33 degrees Celsius...) which adds a sauna dimension to your workout.

Such a workout should only be attempted once, just to prove something to yourself (to prove what? That you're an idiot?)

Going to the loo on crutches at night is very difficult. Cats tend to sprawl on the floor and in doorways in the dark.

Cats make a very loud noise when you poke them with a crutch in the dead of night.

Cats are a death trap.

No matter how difficult it is to get around on crutches, crawling on hands and knees is worse for anybody over about 12 months of age. Baby knees crawl, grown up knees creak and bruise.

Stairs are a death trap.

If you're on crutches it probably means you aren't riding a motorbike around. Have that glass of wine with lunch! (just one – wine and crutches don't mix very well.)

Using crutches develops your brain. You find new and interesting ways to do things that have suddenly become impossible.

Bathrooms are a death-trap.

Gardening, far from being the therapeutic activity it once was, becomes an exercise in frustration. Multiple kinks in a 30 metre hose can induce apoplexy in a very short time. Weeds will always be just out of reach.

Everything – everything – takes ten times longer on crutches. The exception to this is the rate at which your bladder fills.

When you only wear one shoe and one sock you discover that a pair of socks lasts twice as long, but the same doesn't go for shoes.

If crutches can fall over and land in hard-to-reach places, they will.

The toilet is a death-trap.

Getting ice-cube trays full of water from the sink to the freezer gives new meaning to the expression aaaaaaargh!

Oh, one more – crutches aren't just for walking. They're also for opening/closing doors and gates, lifting dropped things, switching on lights that are several feet away, pulling things towards you, tripping people up, pushing things away from you, poking cats... the list goes on.

Amazing things, crutches.

Random thoughts on crutches

Things that do not "go" with crutches:
Clutter
Power-cords
Cats
Stairs
Narrow hallways
Baskets full of laundry that need to go on the line
Bags full of shopping that need to be carried
ME

Things you need to be if you are on crutches:
Early - start heading to the loo long before you feel the need!
Organised - do NOT under any circumstances leave your mobile phone anywhere but in your pocket.
Patient
Well-balanced
Coordinated (uh-oh...)

Things you need to have if you are going to be on crutches for any length of time:
A whopping great sense of humour
The patience of a saint
Armpits of steel
A chair by the stove/fridge, where you can sit and eat/drink. You're not carrying that plate of dinner/cup of coffee/glass of wine anywhere!
A bag you can hang around your neck, for carrying non-spill stuff around the house
An extra pair of hands

Things that might take you by surprise on crutches:
Slopes and hills and uneven paths that really didn't seem all that steep or uneven when you were on two legs
How far away everything is - the corner shop, the bus stop, the toilet...
Cats
When you reach down to ground level to pick something up, and then can't get up again with one leg.
How relieved you are that you live alone and noone can see you rolling around on the floor like a deranged beetle, trying to find a way to get up again with one leg.

OK, it's only been 4 hours. I'm new to this. I'm sure a resourceful person like me will find a way around just about everything. My "cast" isn't even really a proper cast, for goodness' sake - I can take it off to have a shower (YAY! That had been worrying me, I confess.) As it's so easily removed (as simple as unwinding a bandage)the temptation to take it off so I can hang out the washing/hobble to and from the shops etc is going to be a biggie, I can tell.

My willy willy incident on Monday caused an avulsion fracture, when one of the tendons in my foot started to tear away away from the bone, and took a piece of bone with it. It needs compression and immobilisation, to try and encourage that bit of bone to "glue" itself back on again. Hence the back slab cast and the crutches.

Here's something I hadn't thought about. I no longer have a "good" leg. I have a bad leg and a worse leg. The bad leg is now having to do the work that the worse leg used to do when it was the good leg. This is bad. Very bad.

I have a week off work to learn how to drive these crutches, before I have to sprint to the bus stop every day. And get on and off the bus and get my ticket and put it in the ticket machine and find a seat without falling over. All before 7am every day.

Oh goody.