Send in the clowns

This morning I went to Bulcock Street and had a coffee at the Chilli Jam Cafe. They didn’t have hazelnut syrup. I had to make do with vanilla. I don’t think I’ll revisit. I mean, really. Surely everyone has hazelnut syrup.

Meanwhile at mum’s place…each day the Activity Person, Sue, arranges things for the residents to do, to keep them occupied. Most days it’s some sort of quiz or bingo or the suchlike. And today the care home was invaded by clowns. Mum didn’t like that.

“We’re not children,” she insisted.

And, to be fair, before I hurriedly left the invaded space that is the main room of the home, I did think they sounded exactly like a group of clowns would at a kindergarten. As I told mum, she didn’t have to stay and be patronised. She agreed and thanked me for being there, giving her an excuse to leave.

This was the first time I’ve felt the place missed the mark. Of course, there are some people there who may have slipped a bit in the mental stakes but the majority (as far as I can tell) have adult brains and don’t really like being treated as if they’re stupid. I do think the clown event was misplaced.

Still, what do I know…except it pissed mum off a bit.

The weather was once more full of tropical uncertainty. Rain then sun then wind then humidity then rain and so on and so forth. All a bit uncertain. I did get a bit damp once but otherwise I managed to keep dry. Of course most of my day is spent at the home and there is an ingenious system of shelters throughout meaning it’s quite difficult to get wet unless you really, really want to.

I had an interesting chat with the bus driver this morning on the way to the home.

He pulled up at the stop I’ve been using for the last couple of days and prevented me leaving the bus. He said the stop shouldn’t exist because it didn’t have a ‘J Pole’ which, I assume, is the bus stop sign. The stop has a shelter and a bench and is right outside the home but, I guess, they’re waiting for the pole.

Given I was the only passenger I’d had a bit of a chat with the driver and I thought he was an okay kinda guy. This opinion was completely overturned when he started to claim I couldn’t get off the bus. He called his base in a very official sounding way and wanted to know if the bus stop existed or not.

The navigational system on the bus claimed the stop existed and, as I insisted, I’d used the stop for the last two days and it appeared on their app but he was having none of it because there was no ‘J Pole’. Eventually I just left the bus. Clearly this guy is a bit of a jobsworth. I’m thinking of complaining though I might wait until I’ve finished using the bus given I might come across him again.

The main problem is that the next bus stop is after a long stretch of road without footpath – it’s being built at the moment – and the other side of the road has a fence division in the centre. It would mean a major inconvenience if I couldn’t use the stop that I have been.

Maybe that’s why the Translink service in Caloundra isn’t used by more people. It’s not because it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable it’s because the drivers are intractable and don’t have a service mentality that even approaches the reasonable. The fact that it is convenient and comfortable is not enough.

Anyway, I managed to get off the bus and spent the day with mum, the clowns and various members of staff who now know me well enough to stop and chat.

Much later, Mitchie came and picked us up in order to take us around to see their new house. It’s in the same area as Denise’s place and is a brand new build. In fact, it’s so brand new that it isn’t quite finished yet. The drive only just went down a few days ago and the back decking is happening this Friday. And there’s a definite lack of furniture.

We had a lovely wander around the new house, admiring the general lack of furniture and drinking Mitchie’s beer before sitting down in front of the biggest TV in the world which was busy playing Muzak for Business (easy listening tunes to work by) which I assume was because Nathalia works from home most days.

Eventually we took mum back to the centre, just in time for dinner then they drove me back to the flat. Actually, when I dropped mum off (and signed her in) the residents were all sitting down for their food and they all said ‘Hi Gary!’ then ‘Bye Gary!’ as I left. I think everyone might miss me when I go home.

PS: Most of the tables have a Himalayan Pink Salt grinder on them and mum was very confused, asking me what it was. I tried to explain the concept of pink salt. Eventually she ground a bit into her hand and tasted it. She exclaimed that it was VERY salty.