Sometimes I see quite the oddest things, but forget to tell anybody about them. Last Friday, for example, in the middle of the morning rush hour, my tram passed a guy from Triple M radio doing a publicity stunt. At least, I presume it was a publicity stunt - either that or he was doing an experiment to see how many people crash their cars when they see a guy standing on top of a four wheel drive in his underwear.

It’s probably the kind of thing that only disc-jockeys, with their permanent cheerfulness and embarassment-bypass, can do. Certainly by waving and saying "good morning" through his PA to all the people on the tram he seemed like he was the type of person who is ever so slightly insane and enjoys that kind of thing, or is earning a large sum of money for doing so. Lucky it was a warm day.

Today was the Australia Day holiday. At least, in every state except this one, where it was "Jeff doesn’t want us to have a holiday, but go on, take a day off if you and your boss both feel like it" Day.

So anyway, not only did I work today, but we all worked late on getting a demonstration system ready for tomorrow. Murphy never mentioned that everything that goes wrong will go wrong at the last minute. So I got home too late to see whether the Pot Spot stopped or not.

STOP PRESS! I’ve just been informed: February 6th. More news as it happens.

In an informal interview carried out by my wife this afternoon, the proprietors of the Pot Spot spoke out about their impending closing today.

"So is this really the last day?"

"… Maybe …"

It’s going to be an interesting weekend. Because on Sunday the 26th of January, Australia Day, according to the notices in the window, the Pot Spot will finally close down.

The Pot Spot is a shop down on the corner of our street. They sell plant pots and other assorted garden objects. Gnomes, dragons, frogs, that kind of thing. But last July they announced they were going out of business. A closing down sale, to get rid of all their stock and close up shop.

Apparently the closing down sale was incredibly successful, because the date for closing moved from August to November, into December… and just after Christmas, a new sign appeared painted on the window proclaiming: "This is it! Closing January 6th!"

When January 6th arrived, so, miraculously, had a number 1 in front of the 6. And when the 16th arrived, the 1 had changed into a 2. So now we wait with bated breath to see if the Pot Spot will indeed close on the 26th, or if it will live on into February. Stay tuned…

Today I would have loved to arrive at work soaking wet. In fact, given all of the 41.2 degrees of heat we got (more coming up tomorrow), I’d have appreciated a sprinkler system in the office (though lighting a fire probably isn’t such a good idea). Quite frankly, I don’t think the air-conditioning was up to the job.

You’ll know you’re really a parent when you start appraising your offspring’s excrement. Okay, so it’s important to make sure his movements are regular and healthy, but sometimes it goes a little too far. It starts to sound like a couple of art critics…

"Mmmm…. beautiful consistency, wouldn’t you say?"

"Absolutely. A prime example of the genre."

"One could almost say the finest work of his nappy period."

"Would you say cloth, or disposable?"

"Oh cloth, most certainly. There’s always a slightly different texture to be found…"

"Ah yes, ah yes. And has the artist signed it?"

"Mmm… unlikely."

Today I arrived at work soaking wet. Well okay, not soaking, but certainly, undeniably wet. "Was it raining?", I can hear the Sydneysiders snidely asking, "’cos it always rains in Melbourne". No, actually it’s hardly rained a drop all week.

It’s the sprinklers in Fawkner Park. I walk across the park to work, and once again, whichever brilliant set of contractors Melbourne City Council is using this week have managed to achieve the amazing engineering feat of positioning the sprinklers so they, in the most thorough way possible, soak the footpath completely.

And it’s not any old footpath. It’s the one along the western side of the park, which means the only detour is to go many metres east around the range of the sprinkler. So naturally people try calculate when the sprinkler cycle will give them a dry path through. It’s like playing Mario Brothers!

Actually, maybe my whole commute could be turned into a video game. It would be a dash of realism amongst all the Street Fighter/Mortal Kombat/Kill The Baddies And Rescue The Girl With Big Boobs video games.

Stage 1: Try to leave the house on time. If you run into the neighbours, don’t talk for too long, but long enough to stay on good terms. Minus 100 points for each second too long that you speak. Minus 1000 points for each neighbour you offend.

Stage 2: Walk to the station, avoiding that unintentionally homicidal Volvo driver who never indicates when you cross the street. If you’re hit, Game Over.

Stage 3: If the railway crossing bells are going and your train is imminent, decide whether or not to save yourself a ten minute wait for the next one or risk crossing, knowing full well you might get hit by a train (definitely Game Over) or booked by that sneaky cop who is sometimes waiting up on the station ramp selfishly trying to discourage people from killing themselves (Minus 5000 points).

Stage 4: Brainwork required… is it cheapest to buy a daily, weekly or monthly ticket, if you use it five days a week and maybe on the weekend but you’re going away next week but then if you buy monthly you have to queue less often but what’s the risk of losing it? Bonus 20 points per dollar per month you save.

Stage 5: Plan ahead and get into the train carriage that will be adjacent to the exit at your destination. (My stations’ entrance and exits are at opposite ends meaning an extra 150ish metres’ walk each trip; someone once suggested to me that this was good grounds to move house!)

Stage 6: Find the optimum seat on the train.

• Six to four seats to yourself = 10000 points (fat chance during peak hour)
• Three or two seats = 5000 points (ditto)
• One seat but sitting next to only one person = 1000 points
• Seat but surrounded = 200 points
• Seat but next to one or more smelly people = minus 100 points
• Standing in the doorway = 100 points
• Standing elsewhere but something to hang onto = 50 points
• Standing but nothing to hang onto = 20 points. (Tip: if you’re tall enough you can always grip the ceiling. And if you manage to balance without holding onto anything, an extra 3000 points.)

Stage 7: 2000 bonus points if it’s an express. Minus 2000 points if it’s an express that doesn’t stop at your station.

Stage 8: Walk past the shops from the station, trying to resist the temptation to buy anything. Minus 20 points per dollar you spend.

Stage 9: Dodge the sprinklers in the park. Minus 100 points per time you get wet. If you get brave and take a shortcut away from the paths, minus 50 points each time you step in a wet patch of grass.

Stage 10: Walk into the office, ensuring you greet everybody you like (1000 points per person), but not anybody you find intimidating and aloof (minus 200 points).