So this is Terminal 4 Arrivals — where you greet passengers arriving in Melbourne on Tiger Airways:
You can’t go in, they can only come out. There’s no shelter to speak of — if it rains, you’d better wait in your car (if you brought one).
Inside there’s just luggage collection. No trolley until you get outside. Up the back there were some toilets and chip machines, and possibly a bench or two for waiting if there’s a luggage delay. It’s open to the wind, and there’d be no air-conditioning, but at least you’re undercover:
Wow. What a dump.
But anyway — welcome to my cousin Justin, new to Melbourne!
PS. Tuesday night — Matt from the Corporate and Public Affairs department at Melbourne Airport has been in touch to point me to plans for a new domestic terminal, and to note that the proposals for this redevelopment are now open for public comments. He also says Smartbus facilities will be “significantly improved” and that they’re talking with PTV about getting a Smartbus stop into the main forecourt.
In 2008 I started a project I wish I’d started earlier:
Every few months we get out the tripod, switch the camera to auto, and take a photo of ourselves in front of the house.
I got the idea from a newspaper article.
Some of them are taken just as we leave on a weekday morning, in school uniform/work clothes. Some of them are on a weekend. We try to stand in the same positions each time. Mostly just standing, smiling. Occasionally we’ll do an extra shot in a funny pose.
Over the years, it’s starting to show the kids growing up, all of us getting older, them getting taller, me getting greyer. And the house, now just on 80 years old, remains the same (though we’d keep doing it if we ever moved).
I think everybody, especially people with kids, should consider doing something like this.
It’s priceless memories in the making.
(Sorry no, I won’t be posting the photos publicly for the moment.)
Update: The Age’s Good Weekend magazine of 12/3/2011 had an example of this — pictures of a family every year since the 90s. It was a reprint from this Guardian article, where you can see all the pictures.
A bit late, but some things I plan to do this year:
Teach my kids chess
Try to declutter the house
Get Jeremy into his own bedroom
Get all of us more exercise
Write a computer game (even a simple one) to get more enthused again about programming
Replace the TV with something shiny, flat, and digital — DONE!
Have a more regular bedtime
Plan a Proper Holiday
Not let any gift vouchers expire
Have a birthday party to make up for my lack of a 40th
Quieter than usual due to my boys being away in Hawaii, but I chatted with them on Skype this evening.
Presents are easier now all the adults in the family have switched to (non-anonymous) Kris Kringle… and of course we stuffed ourselves full of heaps of food. The only downer was being locked-out of my sister’s house for a little while, and I managed to get the wrong thing for my niece’s dolls house. Whoops. (Yes, I have the receipt.)
But overall, a good day. Hope the rest of you had a good one.
Just had an interesting dream.
I dreamt that I woke up at 11:48am (according to the clock) today. (I’d intended to get up and out early, with a planned half-day at work followed by various errands before the shops shut for Christmas.) Somehow I’d slept through the alarm.
Despite it being late, I was very sleepy. I stumbled through the house and was surprised to find the washing machine running, yet I couldn’t recall having set it to run the previous night.
On the back porch I found my stepfather Peter, up a ladder looking at the drains (not unknown for him), but with suit trousers on (unusual). Nearby on a seat was a man who appeared at first glance to be my Uncle Frank.
Peter said he was urgently checking the drains, and that he’d also had to shut the water off. I replied that I’d need it on, as I was running really late and had to have a shower shortly. He said okay, he’d switch it back on.
Then I woke up in the real world. The clock was actually on 6:05am, about an hour before I usually get up. *Yawn*.