Yesterday the Commonwealth Games Queen’s Baton Relay went past my mum’s house. So we decided to go and have a look.

My mum got some chairs out and we sat waiting on the nature strip.

After a few minutes, some police motorcycles and a support vehicle arrived to drop runners at the appropriate spots, clear one side of the road of traffic, and block intersections, a bit like when I saw the Turkish Prime Minister escorted through the city.

Then came lots and lots more police motorcycles and support vehicles. Our tax dollars hard at work.

One of the police stopped his bike right next to Isaac and Jeremy, put his visor up and said hello and shook their hands. They seemed quite pleased.

Eventually the baton itself appeared, carried by (according to Google) a trauma co-ordinator from the Alfred Hospital. So, a deserving community member, rather than a bigwig from a sponsoring company. Good.

A few more motorcycle police and support vehicles (including an ambulance) followed.

And then the massive traffic snarl behind them all, from people apparently oblivious to the reasonably well-publicised fact that the baton relay would be travelling along there that day.

So, all in all… well, it injected a little Games excitement into the good people of Hampton. Though I suspect the motorcycle police escort was more exciting to most (especially the kids) than the baton itself.

PS. I wouldn’t be travelling by road (bike, car, tram or bus) on Wednesday evening in the inner-city if I were you…

I’m finally getting caught up in the spirit. Despite a general attitude of Bah! Humbug! towards organised sport (with the exception of footy tipping, kick-to-kick, watching the cricket and street cricket), I decided to get some Commonwealth Games tickets. I was spurred on by the kids getting bombarded with Commonwealth Games propaganda and it being used for their assignment topics, and thought it would be good to get them along to an event or two. Plus I recall quite enjoying the Olympic soccer in 2000.

Moseying around the Games web site, to my surprise I found I could get fairly decent tickets at the MCG (eg not high up in the rafters, where you need an oxygen mask to breathe properly, and a telescope to see anything) for the only slightly-exhorbitant price of $30 each. Not exactly a bargain, but given it’s for a full 9 hour session (or however long you have the stamina for), hopefully it’ll be a good day out.

Obviously if you want to book for a session when any Aussie has even a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a medal, there are no seats left. As it is, the day we’ve chosen will include the marathon (two actually, for men and for women), the women’s javelin final, as well as heats/qualification for the 100 metres, hammer, shotput and steeplechase.

So, a nice mix of events, all the atmos of the ‘G, and we should get to hear a few countries’ national anthems too.

Socceroos qualified for the World Cup Finals, first time in 32 years… woo hoo!

Since Rob, not I, won Tony’s footy tipping competition this year, yesterday it was my melancholy duty to give Rob the World’s Ugliest Trophy. You can tell from the look on my face how disappointed I was to give it over. (Pic by Tony)

In happier news yesterday, my friends Josh and Cathy’s baby arrived. Young Owen arrived in the world just before midnight, and all three of them are doing well.

I note that of the two sets of friends I’ve helped move house in the last couple of years, both have gone and had babies, thus reducing their capacity to reciprocate when I move next month. Not that I think it’s a conspiracy or anything.

I’ve written a guest piece over on Tony’s blog, about the footy tipping trophy.

It’s September, it’s finals time, and that means the footy-tipping has ended for the year.

I got 7/8 in the final round, but I’m well behind the leaders. So unlike last year, no prize money in the work competition, and in Tony’s competition it’ll be lucky, lucky Rob who will get the perpetual trophy at the ceremony on Grand Final day.

Which means I’ll be shot of it before moving day. Hooray!

PS. For anybody who used to watch Grange Hill, vale Mr Bronson. (He also had a number of roles in Doctor Who).

8 out of 8. 8 out of 8. 8 out of 8. 8 out of 8. 8 out of 8. 8 out of 8. 8 out of 8.

So there. (Hey, I’m doing appallingly badly at the footy tipping this year; I’ve got to celebrate when I can.)

While at Southland yesterday I found a certain early purchase of an ristmaschay resentpay for the idskay. They were with me, but I went back later to get it. Discounted, but still expensive — they’ll have to share it. It’s now hidden, and I’ll say no more until December.

Having done that, I found myself with a quandry: I had to do my grocery shopping, but I had forgotten my reusable bags. Is it more evil to drive home to get my bags (thus burning more petrol) or just go ahead and shop, but have to use those ecoBastard kill-the-seals plastic bags?

I went ahead and shopped. The checkout chick ended up giving me about 10 plastic bags. Coles seem to have switched to using very small flimsy ones, perhaps to encourage people to get sick of them and get reusable ones.

The usual brand of recycled tissues I’ve been trying to find weren’t available there. I wonder if they’ve fallen foul of the wheeling and dealing that goes on between suppliers and supermarkets (according to an article in the Good Weekend on Saturday). But cause for celebration: another brand of recycled tissues was available, so I got them instead.

I triumphantly returned to my car in the carpark, to find I’d left the window open for the hourish I was in there. Big whoops. I’m glad no passing people noticed that…

Work footy tipping prize? $390. I rule!

Six Feet Under returns to TV next Monday night. Woo hoo!

Taped John Safran vs God, just watched it. Bloody funny.

Media Watch. Click on it and turn the volume up nice and loud. What a classic. (If you’re at work or within earshot of the kids, check the transcript instead.)