The Ideal Homes Exhibition

As you have probably guessed from my posts, I get bored quite easily. I absolutely hate doing housework, so I will go to any exhibition in town to get away from it. When I saw that the Ideal Homes Exhibition was coming up, I  considered attending it. Unfortunately, Mother Superior would rather be lowered into a septic tank than endure something like the Ideal Homes Exhibition, so, for once, I was hoping that she would be working at least one shift that weekend so I could go on my own. Well, I was in luck. Not only was Mother Superior working on the Saturday afternoon, but I got a free ticket emailed to me. That made it a lot easier to get permission to go.  Normally Mother Superior does not like the idea of me paying to get into something that she would not enjoy. I also had to promise that, if I entered any competitions, I would put my mobile phone number down, and not our home number. She hates fielding the flood of calls that result.

On the day, I took the train and bus to the exhibition. The first thing I noticed was that there was not the huge crowd of the previous years.  Last year, every second stand had someone selling solar panels, but this time there were only a handful. There were the usual spas bubbling away, and two stands that displayed beds and bedding. I am not sure what they were there for, because the staff there were trying their best not to be seen. I was interested in some latex pillows, and I had to hunt someone down to help me. I found a group of them talking together, and they were not impressed when I interrupted their conversation. I was shocked to find that the pillows cost $264 each, but I could have them for $226 as a show special.

There was the usual fellow flogging paint pads, another selling slurpex cloths, and yet another selling rubber brooms.

At the exhibition stands, there were some very helpful people and some not so helpful. It never ceases to amaze me how people will go to the expense and effort to set up a stand and then sit at a desk and pretend to be engrossed in some reading. If you ask them about their product, they throw a pamphlet to you and continue with their reading. Why do they bother? On the other hand, you get the roller shutter brigade throwing themselves into your path asking you to enter their competition to win $10,000 worth of roller shutters. I have previously entered their competitions, but this time I waved them away. Maybe, I am extremely lucky or unlucky, but my experience has always been a phone call afterwards where they joyously tell you  with much congratulations that, while you have not won the $10,000 worth of roller shutters, you have won the second prize of $500 off our roller shutters, and sound amazed and hurt when you tell them that you would prefer to forgo the generous prize. I takes about ten minutes of them pleading to come over to give you a quote to get rid of them. I start off trying to be nice, saying yes, I am delighted to have won this wonderful prize, but I have not budgeted for roller shutters this year. Unfortunately, they have an answer for everything. They would be more than happy to extend credit and, no, I would not be wasting their time if I did not like the quote, because a representative happens to be in our area, and it is totally no obligation. The only way to get rid of them is to be rude, which leaves me feeling dirty. I did once make the mistake of agreeing to let someone from the Modern group come over to give me a ‘no-obligation’ quote.  The initially friendly salesman turned up and proceeded to measure up my windows. All along, he was saying that he could see why I wanted roller shutters. He then told Mother Superior that we lived in a high crime area, exacerbated by our house being on a rear strata block. It would only be a matter of time before some maniacidal psychopath wreaks total devastation on us. Putting up roller shutters could be the answer to our problems, but we must do it soon. That was a big mistake. Mother Superior absolutely loves the area that we live in, and the quietness of being off the street. She also hates any of her things being criticised. The salesman does not know how lucky he was that I was there, and managed to restrain her. He lost any chance of selling his roller shutters to us. He proceeded to go through the ritual and told us that he was giving us a special price if we put up an advertising sign. I pointed out that we lived off the road, and no one would see the sign, but that did not seem to be a problem. He deducted our $500 prize, with much congratulations on winning it, and presented us with a total that almost took my breath away. Do roller shutters really cost as much as our whole house cost to build? Not to worry, he  said, and pulled out his calculator. After some furious activity, he presented an amended figure, adding that he could get into trouble for being so generous. Mother Superior had lost complete interest, so it was left for me to do the negotiations. He then phoned his boss, who answered the phone remarkably promptly. Apparently, I was in luck. It was the end of the month, and the boss still had some promotion money left in his budget. He then presented me with the final figure, which, although still high, was about half the first figure. By this stage, Mother Superior had had enough, and asked him to leave. He angrily picked up his things and said that he was wasting his time on people like us. After he left, Mother Superior turned on me with fury. She said that no roller shutter salesman was ever to cross our threshold again, or else the retribution would be swift and painful. That night, she wore a track suit to bed to ‘punish’ me.

Anyway, back to the Ideal Homes Exhibition. A young German fellow cleaning windows, caught my attention. He was selling this window cleaner that appeared to be absolutely amazing. He sprayed a piece of glass with hair spray and let it dry. Then, with a few waves of his hand and this window cleaner, it was absolutely spotless. I hate cleaning windows, even more so because we live in a double-story house. The cleaner cost $50, which apparently was bargain, because he produced a price list where it was shown to be double the price. I knew that there was no way that Mother Superior would have bought it, preferring the tried and tested newspaper method. I was also in danger of incurring her wrath for buying it, but I thought I would risk it. Of course, when I got home and tried it, it did not work nearly as well as the young German fellow had demonstrated.  I had fallen into usual trap. If there was a window cleaning act in the Cirque du Soleil, he would have been the star performer. It would be the same if I had bought a set of juggling balls from a juggler, and expected to be able to juggle.  Surprisingly, Mother Superior did not appear to be too cross with me for buying it. I suspect it is because I will have clean the windows from now on to justify the purchase.

I left the exhibition with my usual bag full of pamplets, which will remain on the coffee table until Mother Superior asks if she can throw them out.  I feel quite proud of myself that I did not enter any competition for roller shutters.

The wedding

This is one of three posts, covering our trip in Sydney to attend our niece’s wedding.

The eldest of my three sisters, Mona Lisa, and her husband, Hyperactive, have three gorgeous daughters, Betty, Macrolense and Didactic. They also have a son, Pedro, who is their youngest child. Didactic, the youngest of the three daughters, met the man of her life, Mr Chips, and the wedding was planned.

To be quite honest, I was reluctant to go to the wedding because it involved travelling from Perth to Sydney, and we had already gone to Sydney this year for our cruise. I didn’t feel that we could justify the expense, and I really don’t enjoy the long flight. Fortunately, Mother Superior would not have a bar of it, and promised Didactic that we would be there. We had missed Macrolense’s wedding, and she certainly did not want to miss this one. Of course she is correct. Holidays can be organised any time, but family celebrations, like weddings, are unique. If you miss one, there is no second chance.

And so it was last Friday that we eased ourselves into the unbelievably small and uncomfortable seat of a Virgin Blue aircraft bound for Sydney. I will talk about the trip in a separate blog.

On the day of the wedding, Mother Superior and I went to Muti Man’s and Gifted One’s hotel to share a taxi to the church. Mother Superior is quite a game old bird, because we took the monorail. I couldn’t help feeling a strong love for her as she stood in the crowded monorail dressed in her wedding finery.

When we arrived at the church there were already two limousines parked outside. For a moment I thought I had got my times wrong, but when I looked at the kitchy limos, I knew it could not be our wedding. Hyperactive and Mona Lisa have always displayed impeccable taste in everything they do, and this wedding was no exception.

There was a lot of excitement as we were reunited with my family outside the church. They were all there, including Mculubaas, my father and Mother Provincial, my darling mother. I will also write a separate blog about my wonderful family.

We had to wait a while for the bride to arrive at the church because they were held up in the notorious Sydney traffic. I also believe that Didactic had an urgent call of nature when she arrived at the church. At least they had an excuse. We were very late for Muppet’s wedding, and we live close to our church.

The wedding service was magnificent. Because the happy couple are both teachers, they had a boys’ choir that sang the old traditional songs that I really enjoy. It was the best music I had ever heard at a wedding service. I suppose it is a matter of taste, but I absolutely love traditional sacred music and the pipe organ. So many weddings these days have contemporary modern music, which many people enjoy. Give me a pipe organ and a well trained choir any day. I also have my doubts about outside weddings. It certainly looks strange to see a group of people all dressed in their finery on a wind-swept beach, with a celebrant trying to make him or herself heard.

One of the songs at the wedding was Panis Angelicus, which I sang at Muppet and Biggles’s wedding. There was no comparison. I looked at Mother Superior and whispered “That’s not fair”.

After the service, we had the obligatory group photo and then headed off to the reception. We were fortunate to get a ride from my cousin, Carruthers. His lovely wife, Muriel, sat in the kiddies’ seat at the back of their Kluger to make room for us.

The reception was held at an up-market golf club, and it went flawlessly. The food was superb and the music was excellent. I really do think a band makes a huge difference. I do not like to have a discotheque, where some guy tries to justify being there by making stupid remarks and performing silly antics. The speeches were all of an extremely high standard. They were witty without being smutty – and they were interesting. I really hate going to a wedding where the best man tries his best to scrape up all the muck he can about the groom. Why anyone would be interested in knowing that a groom has a penchant for getting really drunk and running around naked is completely beyond me.

I was also impressed with the timing. A few weddings I have been to recently seemed to have speeches that went on and on, and there is very little time for dancing. I have a very short attention span, and can honestly say I was not bored for a second during this wedding.

The evening ended with a happy gathering of people outside waiting for taxis.

The following day, we had a great family gathering at Mona Lisa and Hyperactive’s house. This will be described in my next blog.

I know that we are not having a competition to see who can host the best wedding in the family. If we were, this one would win hands down. I am only glad that our weddings are over, so I don’t have to compete.

Well done Didactic, Mr Chips, Mona Lisa, Hyperactive and Mr Chips’ parents, Snow Queen and Fred Block.

The new arrival

I appologise for being a little late with this post. I have been a bit lazy of late.

Last Monday, Spiderman and Petal produced a new granddaughter for us. She is such a tiny, precious little bundle that I will call her Dewdrop. They now have two daughters, Blossom and Dewdrop.

Well, in the grandfather stakes, the score is me 2, my siblings 0. It does make me feel a bit smug, even though it was nothing of my doing.

On the evening after the birth, Mother Superior and I, along with Muppet and Biggles, went to the hospital to see our new granddaughter and niece. Blossom was not around, so it gave us a chance to admire Dewdrop. As I held this day old baby in my arms, I felt an immediate bond with this tiny person. I am sure I will love her as much as I do Blossom, her sister.

Anyway, Mother Superior and I volunteered to look after Blossom overnight and the following day. We are both really fond of her, so we did not consider it to be an onerous task.

Blossom is a lovely child. She has a vibrant personality and a sharp sense of humour. She relates well to everyone and is obviously very intelligent. This is not surprising, because she has a large extended family that includes two sets of doting grandparents. She spends a lot of time with us, and we all stimulate her in our own way.

Like her father, Blossom is very inquisitive, and must always be closely watched so that she does not come to grief.

Anyway, back to our story. We were rather looking forward to a lie-in the follwing morning, but Blossom had other plans. She woke up at 5:30, and then demanded to know why Doglet, our dog, was still sleeping.  This was the pattern for the rest of the day. Mother Superior went to work that afternoon, leaving me with Blossom. When I dropped her off that afternoon, I was exhausted.

Interestingly enough, all of us were concerned how Blossom would react to the new sibling, so we bought presents for her – and she did really well. When I dropped Blossom off at the hospital that night, friends were visiting. It was quite strange to see everyone fussing around Blossom, and generally ignoring Dewdrop, who should have been the centre of attraction.

Being a second child myself, I felt a remarkable affinity to Dewdrop. I think we will get on well.

The Good Food and Wine Festival

Every year, the Perth Convention Centre has the Good Food and Wine Festival. Muti Man and Gifted One have been going with their friends for some years. After their first visit, Muti Man could not stop extolling the virtues of this festival. It was as if he had discovered the promised land. He loves the event so much that he looks forward to it for months before the time. I suspect that he would rather miss his own child’s baptism rather than miss the Good Food and Wine Festival.

Anyway, after hearing how life changing this event is, I decided to see for myself, and I persuaded the Mother Superior to come with me. Muti Man was overjoyed.

Well, the great day arrived. On Muti Man’s advice, we decided to take the bus to the station rather than go by car. I wasn’t sure that I would be in a fit state to drive after this wonderful day. Muti Man and Gifted One drove to their friend, Getafix’s, house so that they, with others, could prepare themselves adequately for the treasures of the day. They were prepared to spend the night there.

Muppet and Biggles had also decided to experience the wonders of the festival with us, and had gone ahead on an earlier train.

As the train approached Perth, we got an SMS from Muti Man, asking where we were. It turned out that we were all on the same train. The excitement grew as we pulled into the Esplanade Station.

The festival comprised rows and rows of stalls representing wineries and breweries, with a small number of food providers. We picked up our complimentary wine glasses and made our way to the first aisle. For the moment, I felt I was in  the land of plenty. It was still reasonably early, so we could get to each stall and sample their lovely wines.  It was all very genteel – we could rinse out our glasses before each tasting, and the providers were quite generous. I could also try out my sophisticated wine tasting language, where I could discuss the nose, length and notes associated with each wine. The wines were fantastic, but there was no way that I was going to remember them. The idea was that you were meant to order cases of them, but there was so much to choose from, it would be very difficult to decide. The other problem was that there did not appear to be any spitting bowls, so we were obliged to swallow every taste. I did not mind that at all, but I did realise that if I continued as I was, I would be paralytic by the time I got to the end of the first aisle. It truly did appear to be the promised land.

Mother Superior wisely suggested that we have something to eat before we carried on with the wine and beer tastings. “No problem”, I thought. We will go to the stalls offering food tastings, and have our fill with the samples on offer. I soon discovered that the food providers were not nearly as generous as their wine and beer counterparts. Those that offered samples were quite mean, and there were huge crowds of people desperately trying to get items like infinitesimally small meatballs on sticks. For the moment, I thought I was in a third world refugee camp, with all those arms stretched out trying to grab a small morsel of free food. I found myself in a crowd of people hungrily watching a woman cooking tiny sausages in an electric frying pan. Nobody was going to give up their spot for the promised reward. We anxiously watched and waited, all hoping to partake when it was ready. As soon as the sausages were cooked and spiked with tooth-picks, hands reached from the starving masses to grab them. In two seconds, the bounty was gone. The unlucky ones had to wait for the next lot to be cooked some time later.

We realised that we would have to buy food if we were going to eat properly. There were two stalls selling food. The one that offered Brattwurst sausages had a queue that stretched the length of the exhibition hall. The other one offered gourmet meals – at a gourmet price. We opted for the latter, because we could not see us surviving the queue. The meal was tasty, but tiny. I could see why people decided to brave the queue for the Brattwurst sausages.

The exhibition hall was rapidly filling up with people, and the genteel wine tasting was no more. If you wanted to taste something you had to join the throng of people around a stall, and desparately stick your glass out in the hope that the person who was frantically pouring might give you a drop. No one bothered to rinse out their glasses, so you ended up with a smorgasbord of tastes. I felt like a beggar. Muti Man was in his element. He had taken on the primeval hunting urge. He had a gleam in his eyes as he thrust his glass through a crowd and emerged triumphantly with some precious liquid in it.

Our tickets included a celebrity chef presentation, so we joined about another 1,000 people in the auditorium to watch the event. The celebrities were some surly woman who owned a local restaurant, and a jovial Irish man from Brisbane whose claim to fame was that he had appeared on the television show, Ready steady cook. The surly woman grabbed some flour and began to knead into a dough while muttering something into her microphone. The Irishman obviously felt his job was to be a comedian, because he bravely tried to crack some rather old jokes. The woman did not appear to be amused. After kneading her dough she put it away somewhere and pulled out a cooked tart from one of the ovens. Everybody clapped politely. Now, it was the man’s turn. I think he took piece of salmon and fried it. To give him his due, he did try to educate us on  how to cook salmon. The camera man valiantly tried to show it to us by almost sticking the camera into the fish. The chef then shelved his work and also produced a beautifully cooked version. That was the end of the demonstration, and all 1,000 of us shuffled out wondering if we had learned anything.

Once more, we were back into the melee. Muti Man resumed his enthusiastic hunting. By this stage, I was getting really hungry, and we were grateful to find a stall handing out free samples without a huge crowd around it. We soon found out why. The samples were goat yogurt, and it tasted disgusting. The woman at the stall was delighted to have people actually tasting the stuff, so she proceeded to expound its virtues in great detail, while trying to offer more tastes. We all started looking at our watches and beat a hasty retreat.

I then decided to brave the queue for a Brattwurst sausage. It was a long wait, and we devoured our sausages hungrily.

The Mother Superior and I were getting tired of having to fight through the crowds, so we decided to head home. We left Muti Man and his friends dashing off to try some exotic beer. They still had a lot of fight left in them.

The festival could have been quite enjoyable if they had limited the crowds to about half that was there. All up, including train fare, it cost us about $60.00. Next year, I will use the money to buy a few bottles of nice wine and some fish and chips, and enjoy my festival at home – without the crowds. For my celebrity chef presentation, I can always watch Gordon Ramsey, who is a lot more entertaining.