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DIY date: ice skating edition

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To help all you poor, hopeless souls out there, I’ve put together a template for the perfect date. I know what you think you’ve heard it all when it comes to date ideas, and what I have isn’t new. It is, however, basically foolproof and while have your girl smiling away.

Step 1: Pick her up from her house and bring her flowers. I know, it sounds cheesy, but girls love that kind of stuff. Trust me. Note that the flowers should come out nonchalantly and be given to her when you open the door. That way she has time to put them in water inside and she doesn’t feel awkward carrying them around with her.

Step 2: Make sure where you’re taking her is a surprise. Tease her with a couple of well timed puns involving a variety of different activities. Make sure to keep conversation light and easy.

Step 3: Take her ice skating in Melbourne. This fun, romantic activity is sure to be totally unexpected. If neither of you have been before (which is preferable) then learning together can provide a bonding experience, as well as giving you something to base the conversation around.

Step 4: Do something to bend the rules. The best ice skating rink in town also offers birthday venue hire in Melbourne, so chances are there will be a party on while you’re there. For fun, encourage your girl to sneak into the party with you and try and steal some cake. This will show her your fun, cheeky side, as well as implying that you break the rules.

Step 5: Drive her home and ask her to have have a great time during the week performing literally any activity she told you about. This is important as it showed you listened and you care. At the same time, ask her when you can see her again. It is important to make the first move and be decisive, so she can tell you’re really interested in and committed to having a relationship with her.

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DIY Pool Fencing

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Fencing is an extremely important addition to your home if you’re thinking of building a pool. The laws regarding fencing surrounding your pool in Melbourne are some of the toughest around, and for good reason. The safety of people around a pool is paramount, especially if you have found children in your neighbourhood. It is the responsibility of the pool owner to keep others safe. Although DIY pool fencing is an option if you have the requisite skills, It might be best to get professionals in. They know about the various regulations surrounding pool fencing that must be adhered to.

However, if you’re going to tackle the project yourself, there are a few things to watch out for.

The fence of your property won’t need any alterations, provided that the pool itself is built against the fence, but you’ll need to make sure there aren’t any objects that can be climbed anywhere near. This includes trees on the other side of the property with overhanging branches. If it’s an option, place the pool in the middle of the space so there’s no danger of the fence being bypassed. The actual material is subject to regulations as well, specifically those that state that the fence must be see-through. Again, the reasons for this are obvious and it also lessens the cost of the fence itself.

Rows of aluminium bars are a popular option, as they are generally completely secure and more or less allow viewing of whatever is going on inside. However, glass pool fencing in Melbourne is also a popular option, since it adds to the decor and allows for complete vision. This isn’t an average DIY task, but take it on if you feel prepared.

Finally, every part of your fence has to be kept in working order from start to finish. That includes the gate latch, which comes with a set of regulations by itself. Once you’ve covered all the bases, you’ll need an inspection to have the work approved.

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Bouncy-Mice, and Also Trees

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Day 1 in Australia: My notes were incomplete, so it would seem. Nobody here refers to jumpers as ‘sweaters’. Also, I pointed out the fact that there was a bouncy-mouse outside, hoping to garner the approval of my host family. They seemed to think it extremely amusing, and pointed out that even in Australia, they are mostly known simply as ‘Kangaroos’. This is truly a confusing nation.

Day 7 in Australia: My opinion of the services has gone up considerably. My host family lives in Ormond. They need tree removal for an old gum that’s gotten a bit too big and is now a danger to the home. Now, I have been told that Australians take things slowly, that everything is halted by a simple lack of urgency…and yet, it was not to be. The tree removal agents came within the day, and removed the tree post-haste. They were quite efficient about it too. They DID seem quiet casual about the whole affair, but perhaps it’s too much to expect a trades-person to show up to a tree lopping job in a suit and tie. The tie might get caught in the equipment, for one thing. Perhaps there is a method to this Australian madness.

Day 18 in Australia: The chocolate here is odd, and I’ve yet to ascertain a reason. The same goes for the milk, although the water from the tap is relatively drinkable. No more tree removal has been necessary, though I did get a chance to watch some Australian workmen working on a road. One of them was operating a pneumatic drill whilst wearing shorts. He didn’t seem too concerned. What a strange place indeed.

Day 96 in Australia: Still I have not seen any more tree removal agents within Ashwood or anywhere else, for that matter. I am forced to assume that none of them wear suits and tied, and all are garbed in the traditional work gear. Propriety is not dead in Australia, to be sure, although still further research is needed on the subject of flip-flops. Can you run in them? More research required.

-Alan

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Improved Lighting = Improved Mood

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As somebody who works in aged care and loves their job, I can’t believe how much of a difference the renovation to our nursing home recreational room has made – to everyone who uses it. Over the years that I’ve worked in the home, I’ve observed that the residents are very responsive to their environment. I now see, easily, that the right commercial lighting for a nursing home can have a direct effect on the resident’s mood.

The rec room isn’t a terrible place to be- there’s been a big effort made to ensure it is comfortable. It has soft furnishings and comfortable chairs, a piano that some of the residents play, a television and not-too-soft sofa. We had gone to great efforts to make it feel like a communal lounge, but there were still problems with what we offered. So we looked into designer LED lighting for Melbourne homes

The problem with the recreational room was that it was brightly lit and resembled more of a clinical space than anything else. While I guess the thinking was that the lighting should serve a purpose and work with the likely disabilities many of our residents have, it really didn’t consider how valuable a homely, comforting vibe would be.  Don’t get me wrong, the look wasn’t bad, and to anyone walking in, you’d think the fluorescent lighting was important- however, when the lighting was reconsidered, the mood totally changed. It just felt more…relaxed.

Once the renovations were complete it was immediately obvious that we had made a difference that truly counted. My good friend April, who has been a resident for five years this year, is very houseproud and has been very vocal about her approval of the recreational area.

Now, we’re seeing an increase in preference for the recreational room. We’re even having some piano performances this month, when a musician comes in and plays some of the pieces the residents request. And it is clear, the lighting has made the recreational room a nicer place to sit. It’s been one of the best choices management has made.

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Be a Pest Controller, Be Unique

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No aim, and no brain. I’m a Wilson main.

It’s true, I play one of the…least-picked characters in Over-Botch. I think because it’s such a vivid experience, so people like to choose some glamorous job in-game. So you’ve got construction workers, and rocket engineers, and lifeguards. Things that are EASY to screw-up, hence why people choose those roles. Also, I’ve chosen a career path to do with insects, and a lot of people don’t even like those things in virtual form. Don’t mind them myself.

That’s why I’ve taken on the role of a Rosebud pest control agent, since it’s close to home for me. Now, as everyone knows because Over-Botch is an international phenomenon, the point of the game is to do a BAD job. It was created by a bunch of psychology majors who thought they could train people to do jobs AND make it fun, but employing reverse psychology and teaching people in reverse, as it were. So basically, my time in the game has been spent leveling up by accidentally using the wrong chemicals, tearing down walls only to find that there are no insects inside at all and giving people horrible advice when it comes to keeping their home pest-free. In my last session I told a family that ants are actually attracted to wooden work surfaces, and that covering them in bread crumbs actually kept them away.

And then, I said that termites are actually not as dangerous as people think, and they should just be left to chew away at someone’s home as much as they like because they’ll get full eventually. Yes, there’s a strong ‘DO NOT USE THIS GAMEPLAY IN REAL PROFESSIONS, EXCEPT IN REVERSE’ message. Fortunately, the pest control people in Berwick and around the place actually know what they should be doing. But I do think it’s a fun way of learning. Plus is just got Wilson to level 62, ‘Master Screw-Up’.

-Grey

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It’s Me, Still Doing Everything

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I guess I’m the only one doing anything around here? So business as usual, that’s what they say. Doesn’t help that it’s been MONTHS since the Golfing Expo website went down, and that was where I vented all my stress. I have to make use of…places like this, I guess. Now the actual property we’re using for the Expo is up for debate, since someone forgot to file the paperwork. And by someone, I’m talking about Justine, obviously. What’s your title, Justine? Oh, you’re in charge of all the important documents?

Seriously, this is what I have to work with. All my other jobs, and I have to pick up the rest of the mess. Of course! I’ll be the one to go to the office of the conveyancer in Caulfield, not even close to where I live, so I can hunt for some old housing paperwork that proves we definitely own this place we’re using for the expo. The one good thing is that the conveyancers around here actually know their stuff; didn’t take long once I was in the office. Probably could have done it on the phone, to be honest. I dashed back to school, picked up the kids, fed the family and make sure the whole place was clean before heading out again. Then I went to the meeting that night to present the fact that I’d talked to the conveyancers and everything was fine, only to discover that Justine had cleaned her desk for once and found the documents anyway.

Nice one, Justine. And where was Janine, our so-called head of admin? On her holiday. And Nadine, the morale officer? Having a nervous breakdown. I swear, between Justine, Janine, Nadine, Lorleen, Janene, Carleen, Shirleen, Harleen, Praline, Cystine, Antihistamine and Chlorine…wait. Hang on. I just noticed something about ALL my friends.

…they’re all useless! Next time, YOU can drive to the conveyancer in Cheltenham or wherever. At least they’re actually efficient once you get there.

-Shamique

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My Imaginary Will

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I’m far from approaching death – if you must know, I’m under the age of 30. But even so, I found myself getting to thinking recently about what I’d be leaving, and to whom. I know it seems a bit macabre to be sitting on the tram idly musing on the contents of one’s last will and testament. Melbourne winter days will make you do strange things, but hear me out. It’s not as bleak a line of thought as you might be expecting.

The will that I’m internally drafting is that of the flamboyant elder that I intend, in the distant future, to become. The first beneficiary I’d like to nominate is my as-yet unconceived nephew, Wilbur. He’s the son of my sister, Charlene. To Wilbur, I hereby bequeath my extensive library of rare magazines pressed upon me by friends of friends. These will be very rare when it comes time to divvy up my estate. Sure, most of them are missing vital pages and are littered with stains, but come on… it’s vintage!

To my friend Margo’s granddaughter (who has even longer to go before she’s conceived), Arwen, I’ll be leaving a patch-covered waistcoat. I’ve had it since I was 18 and could never bring myself to part with it, even though it’s falling apart. This wouldn’t sound like much of an inheritance for Arwen, were it not for the fact that the artists who screen-printed the patches all developed an intense cult following somewhere around 2045.

Finally, to my robotic companion, Mitchell, I grant all my possessions as yet unbequeathed. Why not? By all accounts, at this point in time robots will have human rights, and probably be considerably more intelligent and compassionate than bio humans. Heck, the robot can even have power of attorney. Melbourne will be among the first cities in the world to adopt a policy of allowing this.

Then again, everything has been valued for probate, perhaps I’ll decide that I want to go on living beyond my organic limit and shell out for some kind of life-extension technology.

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Oxygen Technology is Coming

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I’ve always thought it would be handy to have a comprehensive list of things that I hate, right here on my phone, so that when the conversation turns to pet hates and that sort of thing I can just whip it out. It’ll all be here!

At the moment, what I’ve got is…beetroot. People who press the button a thousand times when they want to cross the road. People who think selfies are going to destroy society. Our postman, who seems not to understand that knocking and running away at the speed of an olympic sprinter is not the right way to deliver a parcel.

And then there’s the asthma. Honestly, with Melbourne’s hyperbaric chambers making medical headlines right now, I’d really like to see if they can put that one to bed for good. I know, oxygen therapy isn’t really, properly FOR asthma, but it’s been getting me down a lot recently. Just…like, I had to drop playing lacrosse because I couldn’t even make it through a game. Breathing just gets really difficult, and then I can’t really go on even though I might want to. Not a good feeling. Makes me wish I was born about ten years earlier, because then oxygen therapy would be way more advanced. It’s all oxygen chambers right now, and they’re a bit clunky. Not everyone can just have a whole oxygen chamber in their bedroom, you know? My room isn’t that big. But then in the future, oxygen technology will probably be a little bit better. You can carry it around with you, all sports clubs will have some oxygen services like they’re as normal as having a fridge, and asthma maybe won’t be so much of a problem. So instead of the oxygen chambers in Melbourne right now- which are fine, for what they do- it’ll be way more portable. Like an epipen, but for oxygen. An oxy…pen. So that’s another thing I hate. Not living in the future, where oxy-pens are commonplace.

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Steps: A Platform Story

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I might be pretty new to this game but…I’m not sure the publishers here don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t want to seem like I’m stuck up or anything, but I’ve been writing this story about a man stuck up a ladder for seven years now, and it’s been ruthlessly edited many a time. Rewritten, you might say. This man has gone from an ordinary person stuck up a ladder to a full-fleshed out person with a mind of his own, a family, a backstory and a cat. The cat isn’t actually in the story, but this man thinks about it often, since he’s up there for several years and Mrs Klein next door only promised to look after it for a couple of days.

What I really want this story to be is an expose on the dangers of improper mobile scaffolding usage. So many folks around Melbourne setting up platforms and ladders, and they just don’t know how to do it properly. This is what happened to the guy in the story. He set up his folding platform steps, climbed to the top and realised that he’d done it totally wrong. See, he’d lied on his resume, stating that yes, of course he knew how to set up platforms! But as soon as he ascended, he knew that he couldn’t get down again. Instead of pointing blame, he was suddenly forced to face the house of lies and deceit he’d built up throughout his entire life. He elects to stay at the top of the ladder and think upon his sins, which forms the main bulk of the book: him sitting there, having flashbacks to all of is past mistakes. There’s also a section where he describes what’s going on below in vivid detail, but it’s a quiet street so there’s not too much of it. Maybe, like, a cat and some cars going past. Personally, I think it’s a postmodern critique on the nature of aluminium ladders across Australia, but that could just be me.

-Troy

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I Am a Living Instruction Manual

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If it weren’t for me, nothing would get done in this place. In fact, they probably wouldn’t even get nothing done; they’d find a way to dip into the negatives and actually create work, if they did anything at all. It’s not that I go totally unappreciated- the boss often says he’d be lost without me, and people seem to respect what I do- but it’s not proportionate. I should probably be running this place officially, instead of just doing it behind the scenes.

It would help if they could actually do the job without having to call me back in the office. No, really. We got a new shipment of aluminium work platforms, and I expected that everyone would read the infographic in the email I sent them. Actually, that’s a lie: I didn’t think they’d actually read it, but I lived in hope and thought they’d work out how to set them up. It wasn’t the same as the old platforms we had, but not rocket science either. But never mind! Ten minutes into the job I get a call: “Kerry, we…uh, forgot the instruction manual. Would you happen to have a copy of it over there?”

So now I’m tech support. Thing is, I didn’t even need the manual, because I glanced once over them and setting up those platforms should be child’s play. In fact, I’d give that to my four-year-old nephew, and provided he had someone to pick up the heavy pieces, he could do it in fifteen minutes. They’re not stupid; they just don’t try, because they’ve got me here. I need to stop acting like I’m their mum, packing their lunches and organising all their activities.

I’m taking leave. Maybe I’ll come back to find everything on fire, everyone’s quit, all our clients have cancelled and precisely zero mobile scaffolding has been set up. But I can’t do this forever. They NEED to learn how to stand on their own…twelve feet.

-Kerry

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