Olive

Samuel is away for the weekend, working on a story. Olive is staying over to keep me company. Funny how we have become friends in such a short space of time. She left home recently, and I don't think she is getting along very well with the girls from her sharehouse. (She keeps calling someone called Kim a boyfriend stealing slut.) She also doesn't seem to have a lot of money for food - she's looking very thin and she hasn't stopped eating since she got here.

Oh well. We're about to start watching a DVD - Confessions of a Shopaholic. I'd better get the popcorn and hot chocolate ready.

Samuel thinks I should get a life and stop posting about Mrs Moore's Christmas display.

Coke Can

Someone tossed an empty coke can on our driveway. And stomped on a geranium. I just knew the people coming to see Mrs Moore's light display would cause trouble.

Mrs Moore

Aaarrrggghhh!

My neighbour is driving me crazy!

No, I am not talking about Bazza and Cheryl, the very nice but slightly boganesque couple that live to our left. I mean Mrs Moore, who lives on the right. I don't think that I have ever mentioned Mrs Moore on this blog before, possibly because she is so annoying. A retired school teacher, she is forever making the somewhat unlikely claim that she can remember back when there were only fields in the spot on Moseley Square where the heritage-listed Post Office building now sits. In fact, I'm kind of surprised that she cannot remember back to the days of Cobb & Co's mail coaches, but I am fast getting off the subject here.

The problem with Mrs Moore is that she loves the countdown to Christmas. She absolutely loves it. Far more than her other two favourite passtimes, which are staring at Samuel and I from her back patio and knocking on our door to offer advice on how Samuel and I should run our lives. (Like I don't already have a mother-in-law who meddles in my affairs.) Anyway, as usual, Mrs Moore has the Christmas spirit, and has spent the past four evenings (ever since the Glenelg Pageant) on her front veranda, giving her son instructions on how to set up her special Christmas light display. Her front lawn now boasts a fine selection of light-up candy canes, a snowman, Christmas Tree and Santa's sleigh, which is being towed by Rudolph the Reindeer, who has a big blinking red nose. A selection of fairy lights cover her front veranda.

It all looks very pretty. Annoying, but very pretty. I'll give Mrs Moore credit for that.

Pity that from now until Christmas, Samuel and I are going to be subjected to strangers stopping their cars outside of our house, trampling our lawn and possibly even leaving litter in our yard, while they come to look at the display. Or that all throughout last April, Mrs Moore was so into the idea of earth hour (where you're supposed to turn the lights off for an hour, to think about all the ways you can save electricity and reduce carbon emissions) that she gave both Samuel and I repeated lectures on how we should participate in this event and all the things we could do to save electricity. She even knocked on our door at eight, when earth hour was supposed to commence, to remind us to turn out the lights.

A major Christmas light display seems like a huge waste of electricity to me.

Oh well. Better go and enjoy the few surviving hours of daylight before Rudolph makes his grand debut tonight. Would it be mean of me to put a brochure about reducing carbon emissions in Mrs Moore's mailbox?

Auntie Julie

Spoke to Auntie Julie's lawyer this morning.

Even though my aunt does not want to see or speak to me at the moment, I still think that it is important to follow her progress. She is, after all, still my aunt. And I'm not going to abandon her because she has some silly idea in her head.

Anyway, the good news is that Auntie Julie is doing well. She has been transferred to the Living Skills Unit, which is the lowest security part of the Women's Prison. Apparently, she has finally expressed some regret over shooting Uncle Cliff - a big step forward.

Her lawyer seems to think that parole is a possibility, though she may be in the LSU for a while. "It's a huge step Abigail," she explained. "Even little things, like cooking for herself, cleaning and washing her own clothes might seem difficult at first. She's been in high and then the medium parts of the prison for a very long time."

Oh well. I hope she does all right.

Volkswagon

Picked up Volkswagon from the mechanic very early this morning. Drove slowly past bus stop. Gave Bus Nazi the finger.

Samuel rather embarrassed and cross about the whole thing.

The Bus Nazi

Well.

It certainly has been warm in Adelaide these past few days. My little Volkswagon has been playing up again, so I have taken it in to the mechanic and have been catching the bus to and from uni. What an experience! Who would have thought that each Torrens Transit bus now comes equipped with its very own cop?

Of course, I am not talking about a real police officer. I am talking about ... well, as some Adelaide readers of this blog may already be aware, all senior citizens are allowed to travel on public transport free between 9am-3pm during the week and all day on weekends. And don't get me wrong, I think this is great. Many senior citizens do struggle financially and bus travel is one less expense to think about. It also encourages more people to get out and about and enjoy our beautiful city and metro area.

Unfortunately, this has also opened the doors wide open for a new type of passenger.

The bus cop. Or perhaps Bus Nazi would be a better term.

The role of a Bus Nazi, it would appear, is to clammer on board the bus at exactly 9 o'clock each morning and travel on a random series of buses until 3pm, overseeing the behaviour of all other passengers. Carrying a bag? The Bus Nazi is there to helpfully remind you to place the bag on your lap and not on the seats beside you - regardless of whether or not there are ample seats available. Forget to validate your ticket? The Bus Nazi will remind you, by accusing you of being a thief? Sipping on a bottle of water? Not allowed either, according to the Bus Nazi. All eating and drinking on board public transportation is strictly prohibited.

Of course, you can imagine who committed all three public transport related crimes by 9.02am on Monday. And again this morning. (Of course, it was pointed out to me that this was the second day I had committed these terrible, terrible deeds.)

Quite sad really. These people could spend their free time volunteering for Meals on Wheels or the Salvation Army and do something useful with their time. Instead they choose to harass other people.