Every so often, some junk mail will sneak past the No Junk Mail sticker, often in a kind of junk mail Trojan horse, such as a copy of the Bayside Weekly. Last week a Barbecues Galore catalogue snuck in. Now, I know that they stock a wide range of barbecues, including the modest type of small unit that I’m considering, costing perhaps a couple of hundred dollars. But the catalogue highlights the high-end.

Holy crap. $17,990 for a barbie? Do people really buy this stuff? Are they out of their freaking minds?

Even the “cheaper” (and I use the word loosely) models on that page are $6990 and $7990.

Seriously folks, if you’re pondering spending this kind of money on a barbecue, take a good long look at yourself, go and buy one for 5-10% of the price, and give the rest of the money to charity. That kind of dosh would set up whole villages with supplies of water and food for years — if not forever.

(If I’ve missed something fundamental and there really is an actual reason for spending the price of a small car on something to cook sausages on, please enlighten me.)

Bill Bryson: Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid — I’ve finally read it now it’s out in paperback. I know I was never going to be disappointed, but it was a great book. Hilarious in parts, poignant in others. Mostly hilarious though. The description of the Dick and Jane books and the characters’ robotic dialogue had me laughing out loud. Likewise the high school gym classes, where all the white kids found themselves thoroughly outclassed — even by “a three-hundred-pound spheroid named Tubby Brown” — not only had me guffawing, but re-reading it to Marita one night while waiting for a train had us in gales of uncontrollable laughter.

While Bryson grew up around 20 years before and a hemisphere away from me, I can almost see more similarities between 50’s America and 70’s Australia than 70’s Australia and 2000’s Australia. I could probably write a similar book about my childhood… if only I had the research, the writing skills, the keen eye for humour and the time.

It’s not a big backyard, but I was never going to be able to afford a big property in the suburbs I wanted. Oh well, there’s a large park quite nearby.

The fence isn’t really that crooked. It’s a trick of the photo stitching software.

Likewise, this picture makes the backyard look pretty microscopic. It isn’t really: by my calculations it’s about 13 metres across by about 7 metres deep. Like I say, not big. But usable.

If you’re watching TV tonight, you might see Metlink’s new advert, with the slogan “A better way”.

One of the shots is filmed not far from my house, on Jasper Road in Bentleigh, as a lady in a hairdresser’s chair floats past Camille Shoes.

I quite like the ad. But as with a lot of public transport promotion, it’s not the ad that’s the problem — it’s the product which is substandard for many people.

Link: Metlink press release and TV advert download.

PS. Apparently the people and chairs in the advert were actually there in real life; the trolley wheels underneath them have been digitally removed.

The first blowfly of the summer hasn’t appeared yet, but there are other signs from BugWorld that the weather is warming up.

After some time without them (pretty much) since setting off the bug bomb in February, cockroaches are starting to re-appear around the house. A couple this week, a couple last week. Mostly dead, or very sick, so I guess the bug bomb is still doing its work.

But I think the next step is to call in the pros to work out where they’re coming from, and destroy them at the source.

‘Cos I really don’t want to get back to the situation where they’re turning up everywhere and I’m terrified of roaming the house in bare feet.

I got the car serviced the other day. Perhaps unusually, when I went to pick it up, there was no multi-gazillion dollar bill waiting for me; just $197.

But the guy warned me about various symptoms that were evident but not critical yet that may lead to a higher bill the next time. (He sounded like the dentist, actually.) As per usual I just nodded my head and tried to pretend I knew what he was talking about. Front and rear roll stoppers cracked. Yup. Timing case seal leaking. Oooh. Front suspension bushes cracked. Yeah, they can be nasty.

So it sounds like it’ll be ka-ching next time.

Whenever next time is. I know services are meant to be about every six months or 10,000Ks, whichever comes first. But with my small amount of driving, it takes about a year and a half to rack up 10,000 kilometres, and it’s pretty hard trying to convince myself to go to the trouble and expense of a service more frequently. Maybe I should at least learn how to change the oil.

I’ll always need to drive sometimes (if only for my own sanity… PT and a bike just isn’t going to cut it for some trips, not from where I live). Is there a car out there that is reasonably cheap, clean and safe, and is better suited to occasional driving, and thus very occasional servicing? Something that doesn’t mind if it sits in the driveway six days a week?

Ideally the answer would be a shared car, but so far none of the companies (Flexicar and GoGet seem to be the most prominent in Melbourne; are there any others) have put cars into downtown Bentleigh. It’s probably a bit too suburban. (Unlike, say, Richmond — Beth has one parked virtually outside her house.) Indeed, there are car rental outlets that are closer than any of the car sharing locations, which could potentially work, but alas none within walking distance.

No, I guess I’ll just have to put up with the occasional ka-ching huge repair bill.

compliment — an expression of praise, commendation or admiration.

complement — something that goes well with, or completes.

I’m always getting those two mixed-up.

Yes, I’m jumping on the bandwagon. I’ve been a Geelong Cats fan for a long time, though it’s years since I’ve been to a game.

From what I can see, most years they do well in the first few rounds, then descend into a plumetting spiral of defeats. But not this year. They haven’t won every game, but they’ve finished on top of the ladder, and thumped North Melbourne in the first week of the finals. (Oh, do we not call them “North Melbourne” anymore?)

It would appear that the Cats have a fighting chance of winning the Premiership for the first time since 1963. (Hey, when did they stop calling the home ground “Kardinia Park“?)

So enthused am I by the prospect of a Cats Premiership that I’ve gone and bought myself a scarf. Okay, so I didn’t splurge for an official AFL scarf. No, I got a $5.50 “unauthorised” scarf (it has a sticker saying so) that I found at a discount shop down the street.

Marita asked me to get her a Bombers one. It looks like they’ve got away without having to subtly alter the colours or spelling, on condition of the disclaimer sticker. No doubt if they’d lost a trademark challenge, they would have had me supporting the Catts, and her the Bumbers. Or something like that.

Tell you what — if the Cats win the next final, I’ll buy a beanie too. Maybe even a (gasp) jersey. Like a real, authorised one, so the club gets some money from it.

Just don’t ask me who all the players are… (Hey, why do we have a coach with the nickname “bomber”?)

Anyway, Go Cats!!

PS. Trish won the Footy Tipping this year, and consequently will take home the Ugly Trophy for the year. Lucky Trish.