One annoying thing about the buses over here is the artwork. We have the same thing on some of our buses. They dress the sides and windows of the bus in all sorts of ads. From the inside, the windows are covered in a sort of dotty back image which you can see through, sort of. It makes it impossible to take photographs.
This morning, however, I was lucky enough to get a window without the dots and on the correct side of the bus to snap the white lions I mentioned yesterday.
The dotty windows also make my brain go a bit weird if I stare out of them for too long. I guess it’s a way of getting revenue but, as usual, it’s not taking into account the people who are using the service. Other than the dots, the buses are lovely and comfortable. And clean! Though that could be because people are too car obsessed to catch them.
Anyway, today was about seeing Lorna and Bob so, after sitting with mum, Trace and Kevin over morning tea, mum and I hopped into Lorna’s incredibly red car for the longer than necessary trip to the bowling club, where we always go for lunch when I’m here. As Lorna suggested, as we parked, we could easily have gone to the tavern near mum’s place instead of coming all the way back to Caloundra. Next time I’m thinking that might be an idea.
The bowling club is still very nice if you ignore the crappy technology which means you have to stand in a queue waiting till breakfast time to order your lunch. Still, that was eventually achieved and we sat and chatted.
As usual, Bob told me a story about his days on the trawler.
Way back then, he would charter the boat for English tourists to experience a bit of sea fishing. He’d have a minimal crew to help get the boat out and back and, naturally they were all brown as brown could be, given they’d all spent their lives aboard some boat or other and generally under the Queensland sun. One particular Englishman decided it was a look for him.
Bob was coming out of the wheelhouse and suddenly stopped as he was presented with a massive, lily white bulk of flesh blocking his way. The Englishman had stripped off his shirt and, wearing just shorts (and I can only imagine he had socks and sandals on as well), was trying to fit in with the crew.
“I want to be like the boys,” He declared joyously.
Bob tried to explain the differences between living in the sun and visiting it rarely but the advice fell on deaf ears and stupidity won the day…by the end of which the Englishman realised he’d actually lost.
According to Bob, the man was covered, front and back, in massive blisters, the largest two inches across, the smallest just shy of two inches across. He ended up being taken directly to hospital when they docked. I’m sure Bob and his crew just stood on the boat and shook their heads ruefully, preparing for the next load of inexperience.
For my lunch I had a very nice crunchy chicken and avocado salad accompanied by a few Iron Jack beers, very cold and refreshing and recommended not only by Trace yesterday but also by Max the barman. Lorna and mum had their usual lemon, lime and bitters (it took some convincing that this is what mum likes rather than the shandy she asked for) but Bob had, what he called, a double sars.
I figured it was a sarsaparilla but had no idea what the double bit was or if it was some sort of pensioner cocktail. I went to the bar and asked if they had something called a ‘double sars’ and the young barmaid surprised me by producing a bottle from the fridge and pouring some into a glass full of ice.
I had a smell. It had the unmistakable aroma of sarsaparilla. Bob loves it. Odd chap.
Eventually, lunch was done and we decided we’d had enough of the school holiday kids and their bowls antics (who knew it was a primary school sport these days?) and returned to the cherry red Lorna-mobile. She then took us on a wonderful, mystery tour of the surrounding suburbs, ignoring the satnav which kept telling us about dead ends.
I told her she could be a bus driver given the extended journey. She said she’s trying to work out a better way to get from Caloundra to mum. I told her she couldn’t get a worse one so she’d sort of achieved it really.
It was lovely seeing Lorna and Bob (it’s a once a year pleasant ritual) but all good things, etc and so they dropped us at the residential care home and we went inside to wait for Trace (she didn’t come for lunch because she was feeling a bit yurk) who eventually dropped me back at the house.