Scotland  © PJ Croft 2013

Ain’t that peaceful? © P.J.Croft 2012  That’s Stromeferry, Scotland. Nice and cool. It felt like Bali in wet season here yesterday  morning.

I had the leg vein ultrasound yesterday and it was easy – much easier than the one I had in September. I didn’t even have to lie down – it was done with me sitting on the bed and standing. The result was, yes, she could see a vein that would be causing the problem, letting blood pool low down making my left leg swell. I have another examination on Friday (why? I dunno) and see the surgeon next week, so I hope for a fix. They had to peel the remaining stocking off, so I’m blessedly free at this moment. I’ll investigate a “putter onner” to see if I could wear them again. There’s no way I can get them on now without assistance.

Best thing about yesterday? Parking right outside the door of the clinic! Easy for once. That SJOG area around McCourt St is a nightmare, but this was further west.

_____________________________________________________

Gloom – Barry has investigated the retirement village and it’s much more complicated than I thought. Freehold doesn’t mean freehold. There are hefty ongoing management fees. They are out to extract all they can from vulnerable aged people who may not be prepared or able to comprehend all the legalities. That’s me – it’s tempting to just say yes, but the fee structure has hidden traps. Thank goodness Barry is helping me.

It means I may have to rethink where I’m going, and with having to move out of this house in about a month, suddenly stress levels have risen again.

___________________________________________

I gave in. I awoke at about 4 o’clock this morning for a pee, but with shooting pains in my right foot from the tight stocking. The pain was so bad I couldn’t sleep and I had to take a couple of Panadiene Extra. I stuck with it most of the day but gave up about 4.30pm and peeled it off. Only the right leg – and that’s the good leg. The bad leg seems OK, so that’s still compressed. I have the deep vein ultrasound tomorrow so that’ll show something or other.

__________________________________________

I’ve been working out how to get to the Rugby Klub and home again when I live in Kallaroo. Getting there by bus is feasible – two changes of bus and a bit of walking, taking about 45 mins. But getting home again around 7.00 – 7.30pm would be very difficult. It would take an hour and a half and involve changing buses and waiting at train stations. On a Friday night? You’re kidding. No way. Looks like taxis if I wanted to go. Expensive.

_____________________________________

Why am I buying into a retirement village when I could buy a luxury apartment overlooking Geographe Bay? In yesterday’s West it showed a group of villas/apartments in the east end of Busselton that were originally marketed at over $1m each, but couldn’t be sold. They’re now selling for half price, about $500,000. That’s my price range. That’s a long way to drive to the Rugby Klub, but it would be fascinating to see what you get. It’s Westpac’s loss – they’ve put the group into receivership. My heart bleeds.

_______________________________

I found an inflation calculator on the Reserve Bank web site (I visit this web site all the time, don’t you?) My purchase of this house in 1986 for $68,000 is equivalent to $157,000 today, so I’ve more than quadrupled my investment in real terms. I’m happy with that. Surprisingly, the average inflation since 1986 has only been 3.4%. I’m surprised, but they’re the experts.

I’m always a sucker for a dog, and this is nice. It’s a web picture, in Seattle I think. Minnie’s behaviour has changed in the last month or two. She always wanted to be outside before, but now she wants to be inside most of the time, often under the table. She seems happy enough. I’m not sure why she’s become so clingy.

Keith has been here and we’ve been packing up the workshop. The lounge is now stacked with boxes ready to move. It’s not such a huge job – just hot work.

I mentioned my move at the Rugby Club on Friday night and one of the good guys said, “Just let us know when you’re ready and I’ll organise the guys with trailers and we’ll have you moved in no time flat.” That’s fantastic. I’ve been a member there for 12 years now – one of the long-timers. They don’t want to lose members, and this is one of the benefits. Nice.

________________________________

Uuurggggh, I’m having to wear compression stockings now. Deb, the Silver Chain nurse, put them on for me on her last visit (and I mean final visit) on Thursday and she really struggled. They are tight! I hate it. It feels like wearing tourniquets just below the knee. They are meant to stay on, but I don’t think I can bear it. They are so tight I can’t get them off myself unless I took the scissors to them and cut them off. But at $69.95 for the pair … I have to be very careful not to break the skin with fingernails, too.

I’m having a deep vein ultrasound on Monday so I’ll try to bear them until then, but I don’t want them back on if they remove them. I can imagine the feeling – the blood is going to rush to refill the tissues and it will itch and hurt, I reckon.

At last, at last, at last. Another hurdle was jumped today, the termite inspection. No problems were found, as I expected. That means, barring finance failure, I’ve sold my house at last.

Better than that, I know where I’ll be going and it’s vacant now. I have pictures, I’ve seen through the house before, I know what to expect, so unless there’s some last minute hurdle, I can start planning my move straight away. In fact, I start packing tomorrow.

This has been an ordeal! I never thought it would be so hard and so complicated. At the beginning of 2011, WA house prices were at their peak, but no-one had any confidence then, so no buyers. I’ve had to drop my price, but I’m satisfied. It’s OK.

Now, at last, I can buy a new fridge and live in a properly furnished house that I don’t feel I have to apologise for. Walk 100m to a pool that I don’t have to maintain, and a free, use anytime gym that might do me some good. I’ll be 1Km from Mullaloo beach, same as I am from the beach now. The goal will be to walk that. We’ll see. It’s a goal.

One thing on my mind is how to accustom Minnie to a new back yard with no dirt to poo on. I’ll have to immediately arrange a sand pit and I’ll take a couple of bucketloads of dirt from here with her smell in it. We’ll see.

______________________________

I think I mentioned buying a laser printer for $29.95? It’s a Fuji_Xerox, made in Japan, so it should have been good.

Well, slight problem. DOA, dead on arrival. It wouldn’t power up. Amazing. I’ve never had this happen before. I tried everything, but I had to return it for exchange today. Office Works tried it too, with no more success than I had. No problem exchanging it, except that mine was white, which I like, but the only exchange one they had is black. Booger, but for $29.95, that’s it.

___________________________________________

What a relief to be cool again. I was actually a bit too cool early this morning, but sleep is better that way. A web site I respect is discussing the obesity epidemic today, and sleep was mentioned as a possible cause – that we’re not getting as much or as good quality as we did 30 – 40 years ago. I dunno. My weight increased badly during my sleep apnea years ~1995 to 2000, and I gained another 10Kg when I finished full time work at the end of 1999, so it’s a bit hard to separate it out. One thing mentioned was that Weight Watchers is the most reliable weight loss program (USA web site). Never tried it.

Sitting at my table under the cool air of the air conditioner this morning, I felt something brush my side as it fell down beside me. I looked down and a tail was wriggling on the floor. I looked up and this little bloke was still in the grille of the aircon, struggling. This shot was a minute or two later. Poor little blighter. He was trying to get out and had dropped his tail.

Sorry if you’re squeamish. He was still moving, hanging on for grim death. I took pity on him.

The trouble was, he was cold and being cold blooded, he had little energy to move. He gave a little wriggle once or twice but didn’t try to escape. I took him outside and put him in the garden under a plant to warm up. I’ll check to see what’s happened soon, but he’ll either have died of shock or skedaddled.

________________________________________________________

I watched The King’s Speech last night. Not a bad movie – interesting to see all the royal digs, and it certainly gave a human side to King George VI as he had to take the throne at the start of WWII.

I’m not sure how accurate it was, but to see all the praise and congratulations heaped on him at the end of his radio speech, I almost choked. Holey moley, it’s not as if he was in any danger! He hadn’t done anything heroic. He wasn’t laying down his life. There he was in a gold braided uniform covered in medals – what had he done to deserve them?! The ordinary men and women were doing far more for the war effort than he was. Bloody royals – she’s not my queen. I don’t pledge allegiance to a Pommy lot of wasters.

In fact, this is appropriate:

There is such animosity towards the commissioner that some Tories – 
though not members of the Mitchell circle – have taken to referring 
to him as "Bernard Hogan hyphen Howe". Aristocrats traditionally 
look down on members of the middle classes who hyphenate 
double-barrelled names.

Oh rahlly? “Aristocrats”. Some “Tories”… look down on members of the middle classes who hyphenate.

This is not early 20th Century talk, this was last week! Britain is still class ridden. Pray tell, how does one become an aristocrat? TAFE classes, perhaps?

_______________________________________________

Saturday 29 December 2012: the day the sticker went up. Before, during and after. What’s that you say? The middle one looks a bit funny? Listen, I’m in charge here. If I say I’m slim, I’m slim!

It could still fall over – it’s subject to a termite inspection on Wednesday, and I do know the little blighters have been in the fence and workshop, but the contract only refers to the “residence”, i.e. the house, and I’m pretty certain that’s OK.

So now I have to start the packing process all over again. It won’t be nearly as hard this time. Most of the junk went last year. It’ll be good when it’s over, though. Poor old Barry. I think this is probably the hardest, longest drawn out sale he’s ever done, but he’s made a friend and so have I, so I think he’s satisfied. I’ll see him right.

This was my place in September 1986, the month I bought it.

This was the back yard in those days. It was a nightmare of BIG trees. That’s Peter Partridge looking ruefully at the job.

This was the decor at the time. In other words, when I took it on, I knew I had a big job ahead of me, but I was pretty slim and fit in those days and I looked forward to it. I got a fair way into the job, stripping all the wallpaper out, repainting, installing architraves – yes, there were no architraves around the doorways!

All this is a long way of saying, I signed on the dotted line to accept an offer a couple of hours ago and although the buyers know they’ve got work ahead of them, it’s a lot less than I took on. The guy is 39, the same age I was in 1986. Good luck to him.

He’s being presented with the papers right now, and subject to finance, it looks like I have a sale at last. It’s been a long road. I must admit, I’m a bit nervous, but …

It also looks as if there’s a villa available in the St Ives complex right where I want to be, of the right type, facing the right way (for sun aspect), so barring accidents, I might be in there by mid February, Barry says.

Phew! It’s both exciting and stressful at the same time, but it has to be done. There are too many problems here and I need a change of scene.

At this moment, I have a signed offer on the table in front of me. It’s a bit less than I hoped for, but not too much, and I’m inclined to accept.

Better than that, it appears that there’s a unit available right now at the other end which fits my requirements.

Sorry if this sounds cryptic, but I’ll be able to explain all very soon. I’m selling and moving, and I am tired! Tired of the stress, tired of the uncertainty, tired of disappointments, tired of living in a disshevelled mess, tired of being unable to make any plans. Bloody hell! These last two years have been hellacious. It’s supposed to get easier, but it’s been the opposite.

I hope that within a few weeks, if not sooner, I’ll be able to make progress to moving to my final residence. I’ll be able to sleep on my comfortable bed again. I’ll be able to repopulate my bookcases, bring out my DVD collections, have sensible clothing storage, make a nice outdoor area, possibly update my car (low priority), buy a new fridge, start building a model railway … Start to enjoy life again.

Still some stressful things to come, I guess, but at least I’ve got the offer. Phew! This is hard! Minnie doesn’t know yet. I’ll break it to her gently. I think she might find it hard to take too. This is her world, and I’m about to disrupt it completely.

A win at last. I saw the ad in Saturday’s West for 31 December being the cutoff date for getting Alinta to check and if necessary replace pre-1980 gas appliances ready for the coming change to natural gas.

Now, I’d phoned them about 18 months ago about this, as I have a gas heater in the lounge room. The heater doesn’t actually work. It used to, but I couldn’t be bothered getting it fixed. (Which raises the issue – I reckon it’s not as cold in winter as it was even 15 years ago.)

I knew they wanted the make and serial number, so I gave them (this is 2010) all the information I could find on the label plate. A friend checked with me – we searched all over the front (all you can get at) and could only find one set of letters and numbers.

So the woman on the phone back then looked at her computer and pronounced that my heater didn’t exist, wasn’t on her list, and that the gas was only connected to my house after 1980. In other words, the heater must be post 1980 and OK and I’m not eligible. She can’t see my house but she knew.

I thought this was wrong as I knew the house was built around 1971 or so. I’ve recently got the original drawings from the Stirling Council and found it was built in 1970.  How could the gas only have been connected 10 or 15 years later? It’s built into a purpose-made recess with a flue. It wasn’t a converted fireplace and hearth.

But she’d refused my protest so that was that.

I’d forgotten about it, but when I mentioned it to Barry last Saturday, he said, Uh oh, Health and Safety. We need to be able to say the heater is safe when selling the house.

So he phoned this time and they sent a guy around this morning to look at it, which is what I wanted in 2010 but was refused.

As soon as he saw it, he said “That’s 1967 or ’68.” He had a quick look behind the front panel and down the bottom where I couldn’t see it was the date 1968 stamped into the metal.

He said, if it had been left, in about two months when the new gas is introduced, it would have started leaking gas!

Bloody hell. I had been given wrong information by someone in Alinta on the end of the phone in 2010 who wouldn’t send someone to check. I could have died or been in a serious situation as a result. Or have sold an unsafe house.

So this friendly gas guy said I’ll get a replacement heater and new flue at no cost, no trouble. A clear-cut case.

________________________________________________

I’m tempted to start kicking up about this but I can’t take on more stress. I’ve deliberately thrown in the towel about the police visit I mentioned yesterday. This is a source of stress I can control, so I’m dumping it. Therefore I have been successfully silenced by a politician using the power of the State. It’s hard to believe it can happen, let alone accept, but I have to.

I had a little bit of kindness that made a big difference a couple of hours ago.

A few days ago my Venice books arrived from the printers, but they’d been delivered to the wrong house a few doors up. (DHL again. I don’t like ’em.)

So my neighbour brought the books to me, introduced himself as Mark and we had a bit of a chat. Just about house values in the street and how my sale’s going and stuff like that, a few minutes. I’ve never met him before.

Then a couple of hours ago, I heard a woman’s voice at the front, went out and there was a woman with a Glad wrapped green plastic plate in her hand.

“Hi, I’m Lorilee, I’m from number xxx, My husband Mark was here the other day with your book. I’ve just cooked an early Christmas dinner and thought you might like some”, and she passed me the plate.

Boy, I was chuffed! Isn’t that nice? I thanked her profusely, I can tell you.

It’s a full plate of chicken and all kinds of salads. It’ll do me nicely for two meals. That’s neighbourly. I know how I’m going to return the favour – all planned.

__________________________________________

____________________________________________________

To cap it all, my back fence neighbour is doing it again right now. They’ve got a wood fired pizza oven and the smoke blows (from the west) all over me. I’m breathing it now.

I’ve spoken to him about it and put it in writing and told him I won’t tolerate it, but he ignores me. There is a council ban on burning rubbish, but I doubt he’d abide by it.

I am getting a constant barrage of annoyances over the back fence – screaming kids, loud parties, drunken shouting and swearing, strong lights in my eyes, the smoke, a yapping dog, loud lawn mowing and edging,  and now, this summer, the sun reflecting in my eyes for about 2 hours every afternoon from their new solar panels. I’m sick of it!

I have a good idea for a way to stop it, but it requires digging holes and putting up poles in my back yard for a screen. I just don’t have the strength any more. But I may have to do it. Even if the house sells next weekend, it’ll be 8 weeks more before I move.

___________________________________________________

I’m using my Circulation Booster at this moment. It’s two footpads with contacts for different areas of your feet, and low voltage electrical stimulation of the muscles. It doesn’t hurt, but it can be pretty strong. It’s a bit masochistic but I quite like it. It seems to do good – my legs really feel good after the half hour sessions. A bit like a massage.