Chapter 246: Post Corona

Corona is changing our world. Post Corona our world, our country, our community will be different.

My grandkids will inherit this world post Corona. What will they inherit? What will a post Corona world look like?

To help me try and understand the future I need to try and understand one of my grandfathers. He survived a depression and two world wars. What would he be thinking about life post Corona? 

Post Corona I imagine more people will work from home. The need for multi-story central offices, morning coffee rituals and transport has shown to be unnecessary. My grandfather would have approved. For him his home and work where inseparable. He began the last day of his life by getting out of bed and turning on the linotype machines.

Post Corona the status of certain workers will change. The status of health care workers will go up. We have been reminded that what they do is important. My grandkids now know that the health of everybody in the community matters for everybody.

Post Corona the status of teachers will go up. Corona has shown that schools are an important part of our communities. Corona has told us that looking after children or a class of children is difficult. Let alone teaching them something. My grandfather always knew this. He always valued and respected both heath care workers and teachers.

Post Corona the attitude of us public to politicians will change. Corona has demonstrated that we like and respect politicians who lead. Politicians who consult with experts, make decisions, pass new laws and inspire people to embrace the new laws. My grandfather always liked politicians who led.

Post Corona my grandkids will inherit decisive politicians.  There will be less focus groups; less single-issue lobby groups; less political marketing; less expert media performers; less celebrity endorsements; less personal hobby horses; less publicity stunts. There will be less sport or arts people publicity endorsing a product they know nothing about.

Post Corona the status of science will increase. People will listen to real, true facts based on objective studies. There will be less vague, nebulous, spiritual feelings.

Post Corona the status of certain jobs will go up. This means the status of other jobs will be less. Jobs involved in marketing, managing and staffing of big sport, music or food events will have less status.  

During Corona Facebook has exploded full of small groups. Groups where people create and post for members of the group. A lot of funny posts. A deluge of local talent has been exposed and given air.

During Corona art has become more local. It has been reflecting what the community is actually thinking and doing.  Post Corona I hope art goes the same way.

Post Corona I imagine less big art events. Less vacuous celebrities famous for being seen.  More local people seeing what other local people can tell them about their community.  More people illuminating their local community to itself. My grandfather would have liked that trend. He was actively local. Local was his life.  After watching the posts my grandkids have uploaded, they like the trend.

Post Corona I imagine local community sport rebounding strongly. My grandfather was always involved with local sport.  After a hard, fair game of cricket, he loved washing the sweat away with a communal beer. 

My grandkids are exhibiting the same behaviour. They play different sports but they love physical activity; learning what their bodies can do; playing by rules and socialising afterwards.

Post Corona newspapers will not dominate the local media.

I speculate that my grandfather would not have seen Facebook as good or bad.  He didn’t see the postman is either good or bad even though the postman bought bad bills and good Christmas cards. He would have seen Facebook as the latest technology.  A way of communicating.

About 100 years ago my grandfather wrote newspaper editorials. He was passionate about a free media in a healthy democracy.

My grandkids never met my grandfather but they share his interest in language, expressing opinions, and a healthy community. The technology available to them is different but they have much in common.  

Post Corona it is the turn of the next link in the chain to continue the story.

Chapter 245 :My life in Hobart

I begin the day with a run down the bike track and across the Domain. Very few people. Most are willing to greet me, say hello, provided I keep my distance and keep on running. People are probably friendly than normal.

After breakfast we take our dog for a walk. The shops are sparsely populated. Unlike a ghost town. No eerie flimsy ghosts floating around. The buildings are big and solid like the background scenery for a film when all the characters have left the stage.  Now the only remaining characters are a few purposeful shoppers. No lingering or window shopping or loitering or chatting or enjoying themselves.

Today is the day we make a special trip to watch a film. I lie back in my seat and wait for the film to start. The toilet is easy to locate and it is easy to find my way back to my seat. Only my family is watching the film. We are in our home.

Watching the film is perfect. The sound, picture, popcorn and finding the toilet is all perfect.  Not quite perfect. Nobody else has seen the same film. When I eventually meet someone, we will not be able to talk about the latest film.

In the afternoon we have to look after some of our grandkids until their parents finish work. Time for another walk. Our dog leads us down the Cornellian Bay track. Kay loves our dog and every dog we approach. Her love of every dog we near frightens me.

The track is lined by dropping casuarinas and native hop bushes. And the track is littered with seed pods. I ask them to collect seed pods to take home. I challenge them to think of ways to use these seed pods. Think of a way to use them in a work of art or make something with them.

Below the track is the bank of the river. We detour down to one of the beaches. Our dog loves to paddle. Run and skip and waddle. We skip stones, count the number of bounces and laugh at our dog.  

We see some piles of native oyster shells.  We talk about the aboriginal people who lived here in the past. The aboriginal people who encountered illnesses and diseases foreign to them. They must have been terrified of these new diseases.

My grandchildren are not stressed about new diseases or anything else. A few more days of school and then school holidays.  Holidays with no camping or any visits anywhere. Holidays where they are stuck with us. They will have to try and think of ways of keeping us amused. Stopping us from getting bored.  

When we return from our walk the grandkids begin drawing. Bruce draws a monster. He tells me it’s obvious what it is. It’s a T-Rex. He is attracted to our coffee making machine. He doesn’t drink coffee and he wants to use our machine. I come to his aid and say: I’d love a cup of coffee. Do I have to make it myself?

I don’t seem to have anyone to talk to. If it happened, I would have to pretend I had never been on a cruise ship. Cruise ship passengers have become the incarnation of evil. Sailing around the world indulging in hedonistic eating and drinking while giving passage to nasty viruses.

It is true that my last cruise gave me intimate knowledge of the medical quarters. But I did not bring any viruses back to Hobart. My only souvenirs were fridge magnets and key rings.

Chapter 244: Hobart during Covid 19

Today we take our dog for a walk. We head towards a busy highway. We manage to dodge the indolent car drivers on the Brooker Highway and get to the Domain. An oasis of remnant native bash in the center of Hobart.  The hazardous journey across the highway makes me appreciate the quiet paths winding through the native bush.

First sighting for our dog is some plovers. At this time of year, the plovers are not protecting their nest. They flutter away.  We keep our dog on his lead beside us and bird watch.  Amongst the grasses I see some eastern rosellas scratching around looking for food.  I glimpse a yellow wattlebird hiding in the trees.

All this walking may make us fitter and healthier. The future may mean more walking. The future may involve no social interaction.  Maybe we will have no friends but get fitter.    

Our walk continues with a detour to the local shops. The shopping center is quiet. Nobody lingering or chatting. No gazing in windows. People striding direct and with purpose.

Today is the day we normally go to the State Cinema. We enjoy watching films. But today we return home. I find a chair and wait for the film to start. While waiting I go to the toilet. The toilet is easy to find and it is easy to find my way back to my seat. We can’t be at the State Cinema.

I smell popcorn cooking. This confirms we are not at the State cinema.

Apart from our family nobody else is watching the film. Watching the film was perfect. The sound, picture, popcorn and access to the toilet was all perfect. Apart from my family there was no one else to enjoy it with. Nobody to discuss the film with. I could go online but do I want to talk to people who spend their lives up in the clouds.

After the film we visit one of our daughters.

She is up in the clouds obeying her I-phone while my grandson sees us and becomes very active. He knows something I don’t.  And he loves showing me his new skill. He knows how to use his gleaming coffee machine. 

We sit outside around a table and wait for our proudly presented coffee. My daughter puts down her I-phone and joins us for morning tea. Which is lattes and espressos.

We discuss growing vegetables. We discuss where, what and seeds or seedlings.

The future may involve more days like today. No cafes with luscious cakes and slices. More eating at home. We might eat less with non-family. Have less visitors. Socialise less. We might have less friends but eat better. Maybe we will become healthier.

In the evening we watch the news. It is more horrific and terrifying than the film we watched. The news has a plot that keeps changing with no guaranteed happy ending.

Normally I lie back and doze through the politicians jostling for coverage and spinning the usual politically safe phrases. Waiting for the sport and weather. Today I dozed through a film with goodies, badies and a happy ending waiting for the evening news. Now the news is different every day. What is our score at the moment? What is our total?  Where did these people catch it? Reality is more terrifying than escapist films.

Every day, as we watch the news, we blame somebody or something. Every day we say what should be done.  The experts don’t know what is going to happen.  This vacuum is filled by Facebook and us people with no training or experience. We are the new experts.   They should…

I love Hobart and normally describe it as the best city in the world.  I still feel like this but I can’t say it. Others who live elsewhere around the world are suffering. Others are getting a worse view of the virus than us. Others don’t have a health system as good as the Tasmanian Health Department. Others can’t amble in native bush and the fresh air.  Others don’t have back gardens with a veggie plot. 

 Others don’t have internet access.

I want a future where other people don’t need to suffer in order for me to feel incredibly lucky to live in Hobart.

A future where everybody everywhere beats this virus. And post-corona everybody chooses to get fitter and healthier. By eating better and walking more.  

Chapter 243 : making bread (part two)

Whole grain flour

Mill grains of whole wheat and you get whole grain flour. Sieve the flour.  You now have plain white flour. You have removed the germ, bran and many nutrients. The plain white flour has a lighten colour and increased shelf life than whole grain flour.

Whole grain flour is high in complex carbohydrates, high in fibre, high in vitamins and minerals. Low in omega-3 saturated fat and low in refined carbohydrates.

For a small loaf I use 300ml of water and 3 cups of flour. For a big loaf I use 400 ml and 4 cups of flour.  The critical thing is the ratio of water to flour.  100ml of water to one cup (250ml) of flour.

Gluten flour

The gluten holds the dough together as the bubbles form. The dough rises.

Two proteins in the flour (glutenin and gliadin) use water to form an elastic mass of molecules that we call gluten.

Gluten holds the dough together. It holds the gases in. The bread rises. Gluten gives the dough elasticity. Stops the dough becoming crumbly.

Kneading of the dough causes more gluten to form. Causes more proteins and water find each other and link together.

Yeast

Yeast is a single cell micro-organism. A type of fungus. Reproduces asexually. Yeast cells grow bigger then divide. The yeast used in baking eats carbohydrates (simple sugars). Producing carbon dioxide, ethanol and water. The carbon dioxide gas forms pockets or bubbles.

Dried yeast does not require refrigeration and has a long shelf life.

Yeast when mixed with a weak solution of water and sugar will foam and bubble as it ferments the sugar into ethanol and carbon dioxide.

Yeast breaks down the starch molecules in flour to simple sugars which it then eats.

Yeast ferments dough. Fermentation breaks down large molecules into smaller, flavorful ones. Proteins into amino acids, starches into sugars, amylose and maltose into glucose, fats into free fatty acids. Smaller molecules have more flavour.  

Salt

Salt provides flavour. Without it bread tastes insipid and flat.

Gives strength to the gluten.

Retards the fermentation of the yeast. Yeast needs water. Salt absorbs water which slows yeast.

Salt gives the bread a better colour.

Sugar

Sugar provides “food” for yeast, which converts it to carbon dioxide and alcohol.

Sugar enhances bread flavor. Sugar gives the crust a golden colour.

Sugar improves the crumb texture.

Sugar helps retain moisture in bread

Sugar can be in the form of white sugar, brown sugar, honey, molasses, corn syrup or in a liquid (fruit juice, beer, wine or soft drink). The type of sugar alters the flavour and colour of the bread.

Artificial sweeteners cannot be used. They provide no food for the yeast.

Too little or too much sugar will slow down yeast activity.

Bread improver

It is claimed breads improvers help the bread rise, aids gluten and makes commercial bread making more predictable and reliable.

I can make bread without a bread improver. With a bread improver the resultant bread will slightly more predictable.

Every bread or baked product you buy has a bread improver or a flour enhancer in it. The ingredients appear safe. They are chemicals and have long names but everything I eat is a chemical with a long name.

Bread improvers normally contain:

Amylose comes from ground wheat. Normally found in flour. It helps reduce starch to maltose upon which yeast feeds.

Emulsifiers (monoglyceride, calcium stearoyl lactylate) ensure bubbles are retained in the flour.

Emulsifiers help condition and strengthen the dough, improve crumb whiteness, retain moisture, soften crumb texture and control fat crystallisation. The improved water retention improves the keeping qualities of a loaf.

Reducing agents that alter gluten

Oxidants that strengthen gluten

Olive oil

Mono-unsaturated fatty acids.  A healthy oil. Can’t make bread without some oil from somewhere.  

Variations

herbs; fresh or dried

olives, sun-dried tomato, grilled capsicum

nuts, dried fruit, soya grits, sunflower seeds, pumpkin kernels 

Coat with poppy seeds, sesame seeds, polenta

wheat hearts or semolina

Vegetables: If you add mashed vegetables to the dough you need to decrease the amount of water. The alternative way is to grate the vegetable; place in a tea towel, squeeze the liquid from the vegetable and then add the dried vegetable to the flour and the juice to the liquid. This method works really well for unwanted zucchini.  Add the squeezed grated zucchini to the flour and decrease the total amount of liquid slightly. The resultant bread will be moister than normal and last longer.

Exotic flours: you can easily replace some of the wheat flour with flour made from rice, rye, barley, oats, maize, sorghum, millet, buckwheat, legumes, and potato. I’m sure I’ve missed something but you get the point. Replace a cup of wholegrain wheat flour with any other flour and you will not have to alter the basic recipe. If you start taking out more wheaten flour you made need to add extra gluten. If the loaf is crumbly; like a muffin or a scone then it is lacking gluten. A crumbly loaf is not a complete disaster, you can still eat it but the loaf will not keep well and the trail of crumbs will not please everybody. Personally, I prefer gluten.

If you cannot acquire or make some of the more exotic flours another option is to add rolled grains to the flour. Substitute a cup of rolled oats (or barley, rye, triticale) for a cup of flour and proceed as normal.

Chapter 242 : making bread

We live in interesting times. In these interesting times I sometimes find myself with routine and commonplace responsibilities.  Like looking after grandchildren.

My goals today are to try and educate my grandchildren and avoid other people. I want them to learn something useful. I will be a fake, copy of a real teacher.

I wait for a brief pause in their chattering and say: Today’s lesson will be making bread.

They are ecstatic. We measure out five cups of flour. Mainly whole grain flour with a smidgen of gluten flour. I place 500 ml of water in the microwave for about 40 seconds. I guide them as they add a tablespoon of dry yeast, a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt to the tepid water.  

They can now do something they love. Mixing ingredients. They continue whisking as I add a couple of teaspoons of olive oil.  They then pour the liquid into the flour and stir it with a knife. We have to get the right consistency.  We want a ball of dough that we can knead.  If it’s too wet then we will have to dip the ball of dough into flour. If the dough is too dry then we will have to add water.

We finally get the dough at what I think is the right consistency.  It is now time to knead. The kids love kneading. Well so do I. We help each other to knead the dough.  We roll and roll the dough until it starts to develop some elasticity.  So that it hangs together. I ask them to imagine bubble gum bread. After about ten minutes we place the dough in a bowl. On top we place some glad wrap and a tea towel.

I ask them were should we put the bowl. They suggest in the sunlight where I normally put it. Time for a quick science lesson. I talk about the yeast. An organism that lives and grows in the dough. Yeast lives in water. It grows bigger and bigger then divides. The temperature of the water affects the speed at which this occurs. Yeast eats sugar and gives off gas as a by-product. The gas forms bubbles causing the dough to become bigger. They think the idea of eating food followed by gas hilarious.  

A few hours later I say: Time to attack the dough.  

We punch it, assault it and knock all the gas out of it. They find the idea of removing gas by punching is very funny. I now divide and separate the dough.

Kay says: Her piece is bigger than mine.

I immediately give her a bit of flour from my lump.  We all knead our lumps of dough. None of their finished lumps look perfectly symmetrical and neat. They all look better. Homemade and unique.

The lesson continues with art.  I ask them to make their roll look beautiful. Decorate your roll. They all put their initials on their roll.  One adds sesame seeds. The other adds poppy seeds and an almond.

Kay says to me: Why don’t you put your initials on your loaf?

Gertrude says: He doesn’t know how to. He’s brain damaged.

I ask them to, without playing, find a tray and a tin. They put their rolls on the tray and I put my loaf in the tin. We now wait for the dough to rise for a second time. When it doubles in size, we can cook it. I open the hot oven and carefully watch as they place the tray in the oven. I ask them to look at the clock and tell me where the big hand will be in twenty minutes.

The lesson continues with a new topic: Why does a loaf of bread take longer to cook than a smaller roll? We discuss this and after twenty minutes I ask them to stand back as I take out the rolls.  

The lesson continues with plating up of food.

I ask them: What do you want on your bread?

Gertrude knows that she always has margarine on her roll. Kay knows that she always has honey and jam on her roll. They both know how to prepare their roll correctly. The lesson finishes when they eat their freshly cooked and buttered roll. They pass with honours.

Chapter 241 : let's go for a drive

We tell our grandkids we are going for a drive. One immediately opens the car door and sits by the window. I then explain one of the rules. If you want the window seat you must let others enter before you.

Two other grandkids need to have other rules explained to them. They have both decided it’s their turn to sit in the front.

I then say, “Okay I’ll decide who sits in the front and you will change around on the way back.”

One shows lack of understanding of the basic rules and says, “Then it will be your turn to go in the back.”

I check their seat belts. They enjoy being in the car but feel that being in a car they have to copy us adults. To behave like an adult in Hobart you have to complain about the traffic. They immediately start abusing other drivers.     

My thought bubble sees traffic problems as not unique to Hobart. A glance around the world tells me there are other cities with worse traffic problems. There are cities where more people spend more time in cars.  Cities with worse air pollution. Cities with more accidents and where driving is more dangerous.

In a world where there may be worse traffic than in Hobart the traffic in Hobart is getting worse.  The number of cars on the roads is increasing faster than the population is increasing.

Kay’s mind is focused elsewhere. She says, “Who did that?” and winds the window down. 

My thoughts are still on the traffic.

If we continue as at present the number of cars will continue to increase greater than the population.  The future will mean more people, more cars, more traffic and more people spending more time in cars.

I want a future where my grandkids enjoy travelling around Hobart. I want a future where they enjoy travelling to work or play. I don’t want them to spend hours every day cursing other drivers.

My thought bubble contains an idea. Increase the density of the CBD and inner suburbs. More people living in the inner areas. More people living above shops in the CBD, more multistory buildings, more people per house, more flats and more units sharing a single block.

My thought bubble contains less people living in the fast growing, scenic, outer areas.  Less people travelling from these outer areas by car. More people car sharing. More use of public transport (bus, light rail or ferry).

I want my grandkids to grow up in a society with less cars. A society where status and wealth are not associated with cars. A society where cars are not fashionable or desired. A society where high status is associated with small electric cars and low status with massive, spotlessly clean four-wheel drives.

My grandkids will inevitably grow up in a future with more electric cars. The electric cars will pay no petrol tax.  Tolls will be needed to pay for roads. In the future I imagine a toll to enter the CBD. A toll using g.p.s. and on-line payment.

I dream of my grandkids growing up in a society with a different political system. At present we have three levels of government and multiple councils having an input into Hobart traffic.  

Bruce has different dreams. He says, “Change the radio station.”

We have inherited a three-tier system where every election means politicians promising new bridges or new highways. Nobody ever promises less cars. All politicians seem to think that cars vote.  

Our present system has Hobart governed by multiple councils. Councils make rules for area. Their rules affect neighboring areas.  A state government flounders around looking for someone to dance with.

I imagine my grandkids growing up in a society with two tiers of government. Both tiers seeing transport as a vital part of the economy and environment and health of community. One tier responsible for all transport and paying for all transport infrastructure.

Back in the real world my grandkids know what they want. The radio station changed.  I smile. I dream of the future. They live in the present. Their only concern is turning the station to their favorite channel.  They can argue about what the best station is. I will dream.

Chapter 240: The Queens Domain

With my grandchildren I walk on a hill on the Domain. This is an opportunity for me to pretend I know more than them. I say, “This hill is the place were radio masts were erected in 1911 in order to communicate with the Antarctic.”

I ask them, “Imagine you are at the other end of this radio in the Antarctic. What are you going to say?”

Gertrude says, “I would upload a picture of the penguins.”

I say, “Well you have a good point there. Because Mawson went there largely for scientific reasons. They did go there to look at the penguins.”

My grandchildren know the name Mawson because of the huts on the docks. After much talking, we agree Mawson went to the Antarctic in 1912 and erected huts in the Antarctic (which are now on our docks in Hobart) and spoke to Australia via the Domain.

Moving on we head towards some concrete slabs on the east side of the hill.  I say, “Do you have any idea what was built here.”

They are mute so I inform them, “A number of defense force installations were built on the Domain.”

Bruce says, “Where’s the big gun?”

“Bruce you’re thinking of a different place.  That big gun (Bellerive) was built a long time before the buildings over here. The concrete placed here was for a war against the Japanese between 1939 and 1945.”

Bruce hears the word war which excites him.

“Wow I can use my light sword.” says Bruce.

Bruce swings a branch around as a light sword. His favourite films include light swords, goodies and baddies. To think this could have happened up here on the Domain.

I pretend I am a responsible adult and tell him, “We would prefer to be friends with Japan. To eat sushi and drive Toyota cars. We both win if we work together.”

Bruce continues hitting plants and de-heading grass with his stick. He says, “We will defeat them.”

I say to Bruce, “Imagine you are in class and the teacher ask you to draw a picture. You can fight with the person on the next table. Break his pencils and rip up his paper. To stop him drawing a better picture than you.  Another option is that you can work together. Help each other. Which way are you going to go?”

Bruce keeps waving his stick around wishing it was a light saver. He pauses slightly.  He is torn. He loves drawing with his classmates.  And he loves films involving fighting between goodies and badies.  

I tell Bruce, “There was no war on the Domain. The Japanese never came anywhere near Hobart.”

The politically correct angel is sitting on my shoulder telling me to tell them the full story. 

“Bruce and Gertrude. The Japanese did not fight a war here. Can you tell me of any war fought anywhere near here?”

That is a rhetorical question because I know they will not answer it.

My answer to them is that in 1803 Britain decided to come here and start another colony of the British Empire. When they arrived, there were already people living here. People had been living here for thousands of years.  There were many differences and clashes between the two groups of people. Many of these clashes involved violence. The original people living on the Domain fought to protect themselves and their way of life.

Gertrude says, “So that’s why we have the Cenotaph.”

“No, you are not quite correct. The Cenotaph is a memorial to other brave and courageous Tasmanians.”   

Bruce throws his stick away and says, “Everybody should have drawn pictures together. They should have worked together.”

They both find the idea of people living on the Domain for thousands of years difficult to comprehend.  

Gertrude says “Where did they live? There are no houses up here.”

I have to agree. There are no houses on the Domain.  If we don’t count Government House.

My walk on the Domain tells me and my grandkids the name should be changed.  The original inhabitants who lived there for thousands of years are ignored.  The Queen mentioned in the Queens Domain was titular head of the British Empire from 1837. In 1860 she handed the Queens Domain back to the people of Hobart.

The Queens Domain. The present Queen doesn’t own it. She rarely visits. She has no direct interest in managing the Domain. Let’s change all the signs and call it what everybody calls it. The Domain.

Chapter 239 : Shopping (part two)

We gradually fill up our trolley and wander from aisle to aisle. 

We round the display of canned fruit into the next aisle. A strong powerful uniformed man stands with arms crossed loitering.  He's trolleyless and he's not buying anything.  On his lapel are the words 'loss prevention officer.' 

He frightens me and I pretend he doesn’t exist.

A young female lady ex-patient suddenly appears at the end of the aisle with her partner.  He struts protectively.  I don't know him but I can see enough to know that she is not going to acknowledge me.  Suits me.  I don't want him to say to her, "Who's that?"

 

Round the toilet paper pyramid from cereals into the aisle selling cleaners, laundry needs and prewash.

Kay stands by herself between walls of groceries. Looking very forlorn. She raises her arms and says: I want to hug you.

I bend down and we hug each other between the walls of laundry detergents.

A lady walks past us with her precious child. She says to her daughter: Don’t you ever do that. You know what men are like.

I am grateful that Kay has not heard a thing and that she has given me something precious. A priceless hug.

In the fruit and veggie section I grab a piece of glad wrap from the rolls of gladwrap.  I try and open the gladwrap to make a bag to put some apples in.  I’m sure there must be trick to this.  Perhaps I've got the wrong end.  Nobody else seems to be having my trouble. In the end I put the gladwrap in my pocket and buy a pre-packaged bag of apples.

We head towards the ‘12 items or less’ queue.  My wife is worried.  She sees someone who has more than 12 items in her trolley. I think please don’t say anything. It is not our job to count how many items are in each trolley.

In the meantime, my wife sees a better lane.  A lane we should be in.  She goes for it.  Grabs the trolley and shifts lanes.  A dangerous move. 

In the new lane I see an another ex-patient in the queue ahead of us.  I know I know her. She looks at me and smiles.

Me: “Hello Sophie."

Her face reddens.  Embarrassed and stunned.

Me: “Ah sorry, sorry.”

I stumble and mumble and try to think of her correct name. She helps me, “It's Sarah."

I apologise again: “I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry I do that all the time," she says as she takes her groceries from her trolley.

I stand and wonder.  How could I be so stupid? I can’t keep on apologising. Perhaps once is enough.

My wife isn't interested.  She is scanning her eyes over the magazines and picks one with a picture of distant Royals and the headline “We want a normal life.” She discards the magazine and unhappily makes a fatal mistake. She looks back at the lane we were in and sees that it is moving much quicker than our present stationary queue.

We finally unload our produce.  The checkout-chick stares at a vegetable and says, “My mind has gone blank.”

I bite my lip and manage to answer without a trace of sarcasms.

Me: “It’s a cabbage.”

Checkout-chick.: “Thank you.”

We start packing the produce.  It is our fashion to buy non-disposable reusable bags and then leave them at home.  Once again this is what we do, so we buy bags.  The checkout chicks always seem to have braces.  I could ask her about her braces. I might be able to help her.  I don’t. I get the feeling she might want to talk about her braces but not to me.

We are almost finished.  Just need to walk past the statue of a guide dog with the slot in his head and the sign saying, ‘please support guide dogs,’ through the automatically opening doors, ride the trolley down the ramp, pack the groceries in the car, ram the trolley into the rear of the other trolleys, drive home, listen to my wife say, “You can’t find anything you want nowadays,” and then unpack the groceries.

Chapter 238: Shopping (part one)

We drive to the supermarket. First decision is: Where should we park?   We drive down a one-way road past a perfectly good spot. If we keep going and come up the next road we might get a better spot.  A spot near the bay to put our trolley in.  I am reminded of a lady, who never wants the closest spot.  She always parks in the furthermost, darkest corner of the parking area; so that her car will not be damaged by other cars. 

  

We enter the supermarket.  We now arrive at decision number two: Which trolley should we take?  I give a couple of trolleys a test drive and take one that seems to obey orders. 

We begin shopping. I push the trolley and Bruce—you know what young kids are like— is really irritating me running up and down the aisles and jumping on the front of the trolley waiting for me to push it. 

He keeps asking all the time: Can I have some chewing gum?  Can I have some chewing gum?

All the time.

He is trying to wear me down and I just ignore him and we kept going up and down the aisles putting in the usual stuff. Past the barn-fed, organic and free range eggs inviting decision number three.  He hangs onto the side of the trolley and drags it skew whiff narrowly avoiding a very purposeful special’s hunter.

And then I have a brain wave. My wife and I can gather all the stuff. Bruce can push the trolley. We will all the items to Bruce who will put them in the trolley.

I tell Bruce you are in charge of the trolley. When we give you something put it in the trolley. That will keep him occupied. Now I can leisurely stroll around reading food labels.

So we do this for a while and I settle down wandering around in a daze; then I look up and see he’s put a cereal pack in another trolley which is standing alone and abandoned between the cereals and the soya milks.

So I say to Bruce: Bruce which trolley did you put the cereal in? Even though I know the answer.

It’s obvious he’s put our cereal in someone else’s trolley. He doesn’t answer he just stands there, sheepishly hoping I’ll forget what I’ve just said. Fat chance. 

I repeat myself: Did you put the cereal in that trolley over there?

This time he nods. If I was thinking I would have just gone and got another packet but I wasn’t thinking.

I lean over and grab the packet from someone else’s trolley; then I stop; I slowly look up and see a lady staring at me. With my hands in her trolley. She silently stares at me — with eyes like Rottweilers—and I turn and gesticulate at Bruce, “Look he did it.”

She silently moves closer. She keeps on staring at me and keeps coming closer.

I say to the lady: He put this packet in your trolley. Look Bruce tell her what you did.

Bruce made these exaggerated chewing movements and pretends he can’t hear me. 

I then say: Okay you can have some chewing gum. Tell this lady how you put the cereal in her trolley.

Bruce says: What flavour?

I then say: You can have any flavour you like. Now tell the lady.

Bruce says nothing.

I say: You are not going to get in trouble. Just say it was an accident. It’s alright.

He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s to say who cares and turns around. The lady has reattached herself to her trolley and gone. I can see her back—which is full of withering contempt for men shopping—disappearing behind the temporary display of canned tomatoes:

Right that’s it Bruce. No chewing gum for you mate.

Meanwhile my wife has been adding chocolates and biscuits to our trolley.  They don’t break her diet restrictions because they are never on the shopping list.

I rearrange the food to hide the embarrassing junk. I place a packet of Rolled Oats on top of the chocolates and we head on.

Chapter 237: Can I tell you about Hobart

My recent travels have involved seeing and meeting people.

One man asked me about Hobart.
This is what me memory tells me I said to him.

Hobart is on the edge of the world. It is a melange of suburbs. The suburbs merge gradually into surrounding native bush and farms. Everybody lives in and loves their own house with a small front garden. All are unique. Different colour, style and gardens. Views of either the river or mountain mean high status.

The streets around the houses coalesce and become bigger and bigger and become major arteries draining and feeding the CBD. In the CBD the roads clog and traffic slows. All around the world people complain about traffic and Hobart joins them and contains people sitting in their cars complaining about the traffic.

The docks are the centre of Hobart. They are a delightful mix of working boats, pleasure boats, wandering tourists and socialising locals. And sea kayaks and seals. And a tempting view of the mountain. All tourists look at the mountain and want to go up it. Unfortunately the road up is becoming busier and struggling to cope.

Hobart is both united and divided by a river and a bridge.
The river widens and becomes beautiful looking beaches containing cold water.
There is a memorial to those who lost their lives when the bridge was destroyed by a boat in 1975. No memorial to the designers, builders and renovators of the bridge.

In Hobart we always want teams in national leagues. We don’t need to win or prove we are better. Just that we can play the game with them. That we are just as good. Not dumb, stupid, inferior or inbred.
Many of us support a Melbourne based team in the AFL. We don’t support those interstate based teams.

Mona: A new modern art gallery arising due to one man.
Full of modern art from around the world which is all the personal preference of one man who rapaciously took money from gambling addicts, around the world, who were not as clever as him. Very little modern local art displayed.

Mona also runs some festivals during the year. They have not arisen organically from the local community. They have been bestowed upon us.

We love Mona because it brings tourists, tells the world that we are sophisticated, not two headed bogans, and sells good coffee. We love Mona so long as we don’t have to explain what the exhibits mean.

Us Hobartians are notorious for being Nimbies. Whatever is proposed will attract protest.

A healthy democracy smells of feedback. I personally love people complaining about me and telling me Hobartians don’t complain about everything.

My experience is that if something is good and worthwhile it will eventually get up. It may have more boxes to tick than elsewhere but who cares.

I remember reaching the end of our conversation. His reply was memorable. He ignored everything I said and asked me if the bushfires are anywhere near Hobart.

Chapter 236: the centre of Hobart

I find myself in the centre of Hobart, down at the docks, looking for a big, vacant table. Big enough for my family. My wife and I want to show them some photos of our recent trip.
I can’t access a suitable table. We should cap the number of tourists. Limit their number. We can’t cope. We don’t have the infrastructure and I can’t find a table.

It’s depressing watching the lanyarded tourists wander around, with their selfie sticks, not going anywhere, crowding the docks and jamming the road up the mountain. I sure they don’t respect our unique natural environment the way we do.

Eventually we find a seat and look at the photos.
Every photo reminds me of a place, a sight or people.

This guy had seen the bushfires on TV and wanted to know what he could do. I said give money and told him how.  Actually when I said I was from Australia everybody said the same two things.

I can’t understand what you are saying and those bushfires are terrible. Are they close to you?

And this guy had been to Tassie and loved it. He even remembered a place called Bicheno.

Here’s a photo of us riding in what I call a cable car. They don’t but it looks the same. We had a choice. Wander around the docks aimlessly and look at fridge magnets, T-shirts and the mountain or jump in and go up the peak in the cable car. We choose the cable car. 

I said to one guy: It would be really good for the environment if you got rid of this cable car. His reply increased the number of languages I can swear in.

And a photo of this old couple with their grandchildren. We had to take photos of the kids.  As soon as they saw the camera they swarmed around. Like flies at a picnic.

Everybody we meet loved Australia. They had either been and loved it or would love to come.  I always said don’t forget Tasmania. One guy on the other side of the world proved he knew about Tassie. When I said I was from Tassie he said, “Show me your scar.”

I was too stunned to reply.

And this photo of a park ranger who explained how they do things and I told her how we do things. There are definitely differences which we discussed. For instance: their national park was full of people walking their dogs or riding a horse and they have a lottery to decide who gets the privilege of shooting a wild native animal.

Thinking like a Tasmanian I immediately thought we do things better. But their native parks were full of people enjoying themselves. They were not all meditating and communing deeply with nature in a spiritual way but they are all happy and enjoying themselves and I know the future will be different.  In what way I do not know. All I know is learning how to shoot native animals is not something I want to learn.

And here is a photo of our saving angel. We were lost. He knew we needed help and helped us find the best place to get decent coffee. It was probably run by his brother but who cares. Families looking after themselves is good and the coffee was good.

We have now come to the end of our photos.

Gretna is distracted. She has seen some tourists swinging a camera. I don’t know what she says but Gretna never misses an opportunity to get her photo taken. I notice she initially takes their photo and then manages to be in a photo.
She then talks to them for ages. I get the feeling she is showing this retired old man how to behave. Sometimes us old men can learn from primary school females.

Gretna is showing me what to do. Welcome tourists. Thank them for coming. Help them find their way around. Learn from them. Teach them. And treat them the way you want to be treated when roles are reversed.

Chapter 235: Norway : Oslo