The aftermath

 

“Today is election day and I hope that, like me, you find it a bit of a thrill. Not too thrilling – we are not Americans after all. But, once you have exercised your democratic right to grumble about over-long queues, over-cooked sausages and over-zealous volunteers, I hope you can take a little pride in participating in Australian democracy.” This from Misha Ketchell, editor of that excellent on-line source The Conversation.

Yes, what a day and night that was. Our voting queue at the local public school was very, very slow but it gave you time to vet your queue mates for prospective friendship and admire their dogs and children. And, of course, to scoff down a democracy sausage liberally covered with onions. This took me back to helping out at a sausage stall at Bondi Public School to benefit WAYS, the wonderful youth service in the Eastern Suburbs. My job was to chop up 20 kilos of onions! I’ve told my offspring I want this achievement on my tombstone.

Our electorate, Mackellar. was being contested by one of the so-called “teal” independents, Dr Sophie Scamps, who won relatively easily against an incumbent Liberal; my previous Eastern Suburbs electorate, Wentworth, also fell to a “teal” independent, Allegra Spender. These wins and those like them around the country may have brought talented women into the governing mix but oddly removed sitting Liberal members who can be said to be centrist. So the Liberal party must inevitably reflect a more right wing position.

This tectonic shift in voting patterns which brought a slew of talented women into parliament has also taken me back towards my earlier news obsession. For all the years I edited the Australian Jewish News I read inter alia each day two broadsheet newspapers and weekly news magazines like The Bulletin, Time and Newsweek as well as the Jerusalem Post and others. I also watched ABC news obsessively along with whatever commentary programs were on at the time like This Day Tonight and Four Corners for example. Even when I worked at the Great Synagogue, I kept up much of my news obsession. But in recent years for no good reason I’ve turned into a news hermit. I don’t even buy a newspaper.

Election night has stimulated me to change back a little. I’ve found myself watching The Drum and ABC news in the evenings this past week. The big difference from my earlier life as a news junkie is that now I watch on my computer and knit or embroider while I do it.

I wonder if this huge shift in voting patterns has anything to do with the huge shift in working patterns. Never since the introduction of the eight-hour working day, or the insertion or women into the workforce during the War, has there been such a change with so many people now, men and women, working from home. I can’t yet see the link but the coincidence is curious.

And a last offering in our phrases department. My dear friend Janet in London told me that her father used the saying “better than a slap in the face with a wet herring” rather than just  “wet fish”. Very Monty Python!

 

Quote of the week from Chambers Dictionary of Modern Quotations:

Italian novelist Italo Svevo: “There are three things I always forget. Names, faces and – the third I can’t remember.”

 Elections and other matters

 

I’m an election tragic. I take up my place on the lounge opposite the TV at 6pm on election night, turn to the ABC and don’t leave till the broadcast ends hours later. Interruptions are dealt with harshly. I have lots of nibbles and continuous cups of de-caf coffee or Dandelion Tea and will probably spend the hours knitting while I watch and listen.

I love the way Antony Green parses the results, the way the best ABC journalists and commentators handle the cut and thrust of the voting all around the country. I love listening to serving and former politicians waxing lyrical or looking worried depending on the vote as the coverage moves from electorate to electorate. I love the graphics which show the makeup of the lower house as the votes are counted and individuals can be linked to a parliamentary seat. This election is going to be particularly fascinating as the population’s apparent fondness for the so-called “teal” independents plays out, especially as I live in an electorate with a particularly well supported independent. It will also be interesting to see how the lower house voting paper is arranged and whether it might lead to so-called donkey votes favouring the less savoury small parties. With Clive Palmer’s United Australia Party having an innocuous or even encouraging name, is it possible that many Australians will vote UAP accidentally, so to speak?

Incidentally, how do you think people get up the telegraph poles to nail in the advertising for various candidates. Do people slink around in the dark of night carrying extremely long ladders? Or is it possible that the political establishment hires people who know how to shimmy up coconut trees to cut down the fruit?

Australia is a shining light electorally because in this country voting is compulsory. I have no idea why some countries – and the USA is the most prominent of these – permit their citizens not to choose a candidate but to choose whether or not to vote. It’s very odd. Surely the parliament should be made up of women and men chosen by all the people. I think so, but then again I didn’t study politics at university. There’s possible some fiendishly subtle argument for the US system; do let me know if there is.

I thought I’d come to the end of my extended coverage of fancy phrases, but I’ve found some more.

How about “it doesn’t cut the mustard”? There’s a vague suggestion of something extremely easy but when I’ve tried to argue this to the ground I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Then there’s “bright eyed and bushy tailed”, presumable a reference to some animal like a squirrel. But why a reference to a small evidently alert animal should lead to a generalisation about someone being ready with the right answers escapes me. I’m also unsure why I often berate myself by saying I’m a goose. Why a goose? Why not a two headed tiger or a tree frog? I’m also given to self-apostrophising myself as a “dipstick”. Hmmm!

Quite recently I heard someone referred to as a person who “really knows his onions”. Just where onions come into it is a mystery.

And another with a food reference: So and so “saved his bacon”. Why bacon? Why not chocolate cake or meat pie?

To continue the food theme, how about describing something as “spilled milk”. It could have been spilled porridge or whiskey or orange cordial.

I also came across an oldie I hadn’t heard for a while: He is “happy as Larry”. Why Larry? Is Larry that much happier than Jim or Bert, or for that matter Hermione or Myrtle?

I have a favourite phrase I use from time to time when commenting on some setback or another: “Well it’s better than a slap in the face with a wet fish”.

And my final offering: the oddest bad wish to someone you aren’t pleased with. “Up your nose with a rubber hose!”

 

Quote of the week from Chambers “Dictionary of Modern Quotations”:

US writer Laurence Stallings: “Hollywood – a place where the inmates are in charge of the asylum.”

 The upside of ageing

There are many things about ageing which range from the annoying to the inescapably awful. And let’s not forget expensive. Doctors’ and dentist’s bills proliferate, only marginally offset by the government throwing money at you when you turn 75 to keep you out of a nursing home.

In the arena of appearance there’s a cascade of age-related changes which take a lot of getting used to. Take the face, for instance. Mine is now papered with age-spots and gouged out with wrinkles. I’ve got interesting, corrugated wrinkles on one cheek as if I’d fallen asleep on a rucked-up sheet. I’ve got a positive forest of wrinkles on my top lip and of course there’s the upside-down Tigris and Euphrates of lines running from my nose to either side of my mouth. (Those who warned me about the perils of smoking stressed its damaging effect on my lungs but failed to point to the certain appearance of witch-faced wrinkles on my face.) There is also the problem I’ve mentioned before – hair on the chin. I’ll quote again the words of Germaine Greer: “You know you’re getting old when your hair migrates from your legs to your chin.

My arms are also covered with age-spots, extremely blue and prominent veins and thin skin which often shows nasty bruises where the bird has bitten me. (At least this bird’s nips are moderate in size where the cockatoo bites were enormous.)

My legs are covered with spider veins and the even uglier varicose veins. Living on the Northern Beaches means a lot of unwrapped skin but I no longer do that – I wear trousers instead. My upcoming need to wear a skirt for Nicholas’s barmitzvah means the purchase of black stockings is on the shopping horizon.

Thinning hair is an ageing problem requiring attention. Some time ago I bought a gorgeous wig of white hair – you can see it in the picture which accompanies this blog – which I suspect I may have to wear regularly down the track. I bought it because I really wanted white hair and my hair was spending too long being pepper-and-salt. Now I fear I may have to deploy it for other reasons.

Ageing plays havoc with your joints and other bits of you. I’ve already had back surgery, but I suspect my knees and hips might have to play catch-up. Mind you, much of the ominous creaking and hurting of knees and hips has probably a lot to do with my overweight torso bearing down on my joints. And about that “overweight” state. Some elderly people like my mother become very thin as they age. Others become seriously plump; in my case that’s fat, really. Plump is far too coy.

But this blog is going to talk about the upside, not the downside, of ageing. And there is definitely an upside.

Let’s start with the upside of forgetting things. I’m sure you think that forgetting is, generally speaking, a bad thing but I don’t see it that way. For example, I’ll never run out of books to read as it’s fairly certain I’ll forget books I’ve already read and happily read them again. This is particularly useful with non-fiction.

I never again have to worry that I’ve forgotten someone’s name. I just call everyone darling, or occasionally dear. You have no idea how this de-stresses social interaction. I bounce around in slightly larger-than-life style and really don’t worry about what I’m forgetting because I can parlay my ignorance into amusement shared by all parties.

Empowered ageing – and I know not everyone is empowered – usually means you can charm people in authority and smooth over any rough edges in your dealing with Centrelink or Service NSW or your insurance company or your bank …

I do recognise that I am empowered by virtue of my middle-class upbringing, education, work experiences and positions serving numerous boards and committees. And I do know that many older people find they have become invisible or talked down to. I suppose I’m just suggesting that there’s an upside to ageing to match its downsides.

There are even good things about ageing when it comes to one’s appearance. The migration of hair from leg to chin means, obviously, that the old chore of shaving one’s legs is no longer necessary. Neither is the waxing of other parts of one’s anatomy.

You could, like the amazing Iris Apfel, go completely over the top in layering jewellery of multi colours round neck and wrists and probably make people smile instead of mock.

You can offer your services to your grandchildren’s schools and be delightedly welcomed whether it’s to the canteen or the library. In fact you can volunteer anywhere without being viewed suspiciously.

Generally speaking, people one deals with are kindly and help out where they can. They also take your goo-ing over their babies or toddlers pleasantly.

Every now and again you can put your foot down with your family without creating a war, even though occasionally you get the harmony wrong with the grandchildren. I think they all still like me although grandma is really boring when it comes to their manners. (In fact, grandma is quite generally boring as she can’t – or won’t -- engage physically with the brood.)

I’m sure there are many more examples of the upside of ageing but grandma is tired now and has to stop. You, my dear readers, have to do your part and let me know what you think are examples.

 

Quote of the week from Chambers Dictionary of Modern Quotations:

British novelist Howard Spring: “The author of this novel and all the characters mentioned in it are completely fictitious. There is no such city as Manchester.”