When I studied medicine I chose to do my elective in St Lucia. It was great, I mainly dealt with tourists and their minor injuries and I got to have cocktails on the beach after work. Being a doctor I now rarely get to travel with work and when I do it is never glamorous. So when our hospital offered the chance for physicians to take dry needling courses in New Zealand I jumped at the opportunity. Dry needling had interested me for a while as the demand for it is rising, it is always good to increase your skill base and stay up to date with medical practices. A few of us would be going to complete the level one introductory/intermediate course that lasted 3 days. We are staying for a week and it is all expenses paid! Dry needling has become a very popular technique in targeting and deactivating pain trigger points in muscles. The hospital is always looking for us to gain qualifications that keep us relevant in the medical industry. Dry needling is the flat white of the medicine world. I have had quite a few patients with chronic back pain ask me about dry needling as a treatment and as of yet I have not been able to offer it to them. We leave next week to begin the dry needling courses, Christchurch hotel will be overrun with doctors on vacation. When doctors get together things tend to get quite competitive. I once heard two surgeons bickering ferociously over the best way to correct a broken femur, it ended in one dousing the other in his whisky. Hopefully this trip would not see any major medical arguments. Dry needling is all about peace, love and relaxed muscles. If all goes well we may even be returning later in the year to complete the advanced courses.
When two worlds collide: Grandmothers and oven repairs
I love getting my two grandmothers together. It’s like watching two tornados collide. They get along with each other great, in a fiery sort of way, rivalling each other in all aspects of domesticity. Get them together for a cuppa and soon enough they’ll be behind the kitchen counter debating the best way to bake brownies and competitively showcasing last night’s leftovers.
One day, Nanna Bernadette and I went over to Nanna Holly’s house. When we got there, nanna Holly was looking rather sallow and dishevelled. She tried to disguise it by greeting us with that conspiratorial old smile, but by the time she got us into the kitchen, we were asking her what was wrong. She answered in a tremulous voice, ‘My oven and stovetop have carked it.” I looked at Nanna Bernadette, whose expression transformed into that smug expression I so often see before she’s about to sample Nanna Holly’s cooking. Then Nanna Bernadette began criticising Nanna Holly for her choice in appliances, specifically the Meile oven. ‘Repairs in Sydney are never going to be able to fix that old claptrap,’ Bernadette admonished, ‘That’s why I go with Bosch’. This really got Nanna Holly going. She insisted that she’s had a Miele cooktop and stove since the day she was wed and it’s never been a problem for her. But Nanna Bernadette wasn’t having a bar of it. Then she started attributing the inferiority of Nanna Holly’s cooking to the Miele. I interjected to say that I’ve had to get Bosch repairs myself so obviously the brand is not infallible… That’s when I got an earful from both parties.
Let’s just say that’s the last time I try to come between two ancient homemakers and their egos. While they were arguing, the oven repairs company arrived from Sydney, and the guy had to fix the darn thing while these two old women bickered over whose food was tastier and who makes the better choice in ovens! Oh grandmothers.
The world would be a better place if everyone wore badges
‘People are strange, when you’re a stranger.’- Nothing could be truer in my experience. You pass by someone on the street and you don’t give them a second thought. You may even be sceptical of them if you’re walking home late at night, or you might even push past them for a seat on the train. Point is, people don’t give a darn about anyone except for themselves and their own. What we need is more community, more cohesion, and I learned this from corporate badges in Australia.
When our boss introduced name tags to our company, everything changed. It went from being the place you go to everyday just to earn cash, the place you desperately want to retreat from at the end of the day to return to your suburban nest. The badges changed the atmosphere of the place almost instantly, because you’d refer to ‘that person’ by their first name making communications more personal, more considerate. Slowly, the culture of the place changed too. It went from being cold to being more familiar, and now we’re like a big family. The badges are unique because they’re like a palimpsest, you can wipe them clean and rewrite a new name, for example if someone leaves or if someone’s name has been misspelt (the most embarrassing error). I’m a huge advocate of badges now, in any workplace.
My husband is a nurse and they’ve always had nurse badges. And I think this is a prime example of the effect of knowing a person’s first name. It has a humanizing effect. That’s why everyone loves nurses. Now if the whole world wore name badges then things might be a better place. Hardly any of us even know our neighbours these days, and I think civilisation would go a long way if there was more focus on community not cash.
The best thing about Melbourne (hint: it’s not what you think)
Although Melbourne is among the best global cities to visit, that doesn’t mean it ought to be toured in the same way. You go to the very heart of cities like London to see the country’s icons and experience its, and it’s the same with other global cities – but not Melbourne. We have international students living in the CBD for years and not learning a thing about the culture of the place – why? Because the Melbourne experience is not about the city, it’s about the suburbs. And Melbourne tours that specialise in this experience are few and far between.
If you want to go sightseeing in Melbourne, hit up the CBD for sure, but don’t make it your focus. Once you’ve seen the art in the National Gallery of Victoria, had your coffees in the cobblestoned Degraves lane way, and gaped at the architectural monstrosity that is Federation Square, hit up Melbourne’s suburban areas where the culture truly thrives. It’s not just tourists that miss out on the true Melbourne experience by making the mistake of treating Melbourne like other global cities, but as I mentioned earlier, international students who never cross the threshold of the city centre. They meet few Aussie friends because they’re surrounded by internationals and never see the real face of Melbourne.
Any good Melbourne sightseeing tour takes visitors to the inner city suburbs where you’ll find all the hotspots. Discover where all the bohemian vibes come from in suburbs like Fitzroy and Carlton, and cultural melting pots like Lygon Street. The south side of Melbourne is where you’ll experience some of the upmarket areas of Melbourne like St Kilda where beautiful apartments overlook the sea and Toorak where you get elite private schools. Just outside the CBD, you also get Melbourne’s famous sporting arenas like the MCG.
Melbourne the city of love
They say that Venice is the city of love, but I think I’ve found our equivalent down under. Melbourne city is not only beautiful and cultural, it’s also got this romantic atmosphere floating in the air. It’s hard to put such a mystical concept into prosaic language, you really have to experience it for yourself to understand.
I’m from Perth originally and came down to Melbourne while I was touring the east coast, including Sydney, Brisbane and some of the smaller cities in New South Wales. Melbourne was the last stop and none of them even came close to producing the feelings of awe and sentimentality that Melbourne did. Even before I went on one of the Melbourne city tours, my jaw fell open at the view of the city skyline from the Bolte Bridge.
When I finally did get a proper sightseeing tour of Melbourne, with a professional tour guide, that’s when the magic really began. Among the group of curious touros, one person really stood out. I don’t know if it was the reflection of the nightlights coming from the Lygon Street restaurants or if it was the ember glow of the sunset over the stadium, but she was beautiful. It was love at first sight.
I have to say, falling in love was not something I expected from a tour of Melbourne city. I expected to learn a bit about the city and to take a few good shots on my SLR camera, but I certainly wasn’t expecting to fall head over heels.
It took me a while to shake off the shock, but once I did I braced myself to talk to her. She nodded politely and smiled, but I felt like there was something holding back a connection between us. And I couldn’t figure out what it was. When the sightseeing came to a wrap up, I finally discovered what it was that was causing this disconnect between us. I overheard her chatting to her friend – she didn’t speak a word of English. Ah well, there’s always time for more love. Especially next time I visit Melbourne.
Leaving your roof repairs till the last minute
Are you the type of person that leaves things until the last minute to deal with? I am. All throughout school, I’d complete my assignments hours before they were due, usually after having been up all night procrastinating. These days, anything that I’m not pressured to do by my boss, I leave til the last minute. At the moment I’m struggling with my home repairs. I’ve got a leaky roof problem that I’ve left for way too long. It all started when I didn’t trim the vines. Then the vines grew rampantly into the roof and when it rained they got soggy and now the roof is leaking. This is what happens when you live in grey, rainy Melbourne. Roof repairs wouldn’t be necessary if it wasn’t for the terrible weather.
Other things I’ve left way too long include getting the led light windows fixed, getting the leaky tap fixed, getting the broken glass in the shower fixed. I just can’t seem to get off my butt and do it. I mean, the bedroom’s getting drafty where the window’s fallen out, the leaking tap is probably costing me hundreds in water bills and the broken glass in the shower – well, enough said. Perhaps after getting the leaking roof repair, Melbourne won’t seem like such a big bad place after all, and I’ll finally get around to doing the things I’ve put off. Who knows, maybe the experience will be transformative. I’ll suddenly become proactive and start doing things that don’t even need to be done! Wow, can you image that? Doing something that hasn’t reached critical mass, just because it could be done. I have to admit, this roof repair situation has given me a new perspective on how things could be. There’d be no more rushing for deadlines, there’d be no more hassle and stress, my life would be organised and carefree. Who’d have through roof maintenance could give me such a new lease on life?
Getting Folks to Collingwood
Collingwood doesn’t have the best reputation, it’s true. If people actually visited, they might realise that it’s actually kind of a nice place, quiet in a way that most inner-city places aren’t and in possession of a few nice little cafes here and there. A Melbourne suburb without a nice café is like a suburb without running water, after all. So that’s why I wish more businesses would invest here, instead of buying into the whole ‘no teeth’ stereotype. Thank you very little, AFL.
In fact, I even know of a few nooks and crannies where some interesting businesses might thrive. I’ve been in touch with Collingwood conveyancing people, and they’ve all told me that they’d love to help new residents and businesses move in! And yes, that’s sort of their job to make that happen, but still…I think it’ll be lovely to see, this place thriving again. There’s a special subsidy scheme going on that will help business owners with their conveyancing needs, setting up a business and dealing with finances. The council actually spent a great deal on advertising, so you might have seen the billboard: the nice girl steaming some milk behind a café counter while some very happy customers chat in the background. We made sure that there was another, pre-made coffee siting there that looked amazing, so people got the message even clearer: this girl set up a café in Collingwood, and it’s going great. Her café is full and the customers are happy! Some said it was too saccharine, but I disagree. In fact, we used muted yet gentle colours to bring out her expression of contentment. Oh, and then we got a local copywriting company to give us some text about conveyancing solicitors and how they can help with the conveyancing process, as is their job, but that’s also the part that scares a lot of people. Just you all wait. Collingwood will be great again. I’ll do my best to make that happen. Because I work for the council and that’s my job, but also sentimental reasons!
-Kaylee
Don’t try this at home: Tree stump removal
Did your parents ever lie to you as a kid to prevent you from getting into trouble? Maybe they said that the boogie man will get you if you misbehave or Santa won’t give you gifts unless you’re good. Well, my parents took this to the next level with their tales of intrigue and horror, designed specifically to keep us out of harm’s way… and probably to scare the bejesus out of us too. I remember one tall tale that made a particularly big impression on me. Mum told it to me the day I was mucking around with Dad’s work tools in the shed, sawing bits of rubbish with a handsaw.
The story starts, innocently enough, with tree stump removal services. Melbourne, or the part of Melbourne where mum lived near Clayton, was newly developing at the time and a lot of people were lopping down old trees on their properties. According to this story, Mum reckons she knew a boy whose family were having trees and stumps removed. The boy looked on at the workers, fascinated by their tools, in particular the chainsaw they used to demolish the tree stump. When the company were done with removing the tree, the little boy snuck into the shed, thinking he’d have a crack at his dad’s chainsaw. As you can imagine, it didn’t end well. The poor kid sawed his hand off at the wrist!
I was mortified by this story the first time I heard it. Now I can see that it was likely a fabrication. Thinking about it now though, I could use some arborist services myself if I can find tree removal in Clayton or surrounding suburbs. Some lessons you never forget – and while I’m no longer experimenting with my dad’s work tools, I’m not going to try my hand at tree removal myself. That I’ll leave to the professionals.
Grandpa’s shed
U
gh. We’ve just sold my grandfather’s house in Tamworth and the buyers are being ridiculously annoying. It’s like they’re bought the property, were completely with how it is, and then decided they could get us to change a whole heap of things. Aside from not being happy with us leaving most of the furniture in the house (I mean, who wouldn’t want free furniture?) they’ve asked us to get rid rid of all the gravel in the driveway, fix a hole in the ceiling, remove all the spare tiles and, worst of all, to get rid of the carports. In Tamworth, as in most other places around the world, a house is what it is. If you buy it and you’re not entirely happy with it, then you should go in and fix it under your own steam, not just expect that the previous owners would be happy to finance major changes. I mean, it just defies all belief. The audacity of these people.
The thing is, they know they can get away with it because, after talking to my sister for just a few moments, they realised just how desperate we are to get rid of it. They saw an opportunity and they went for it. They realised that, by applying enough pressure and by being persuasive enough, getting us to demolish the shed at our own cost was not outside the realm of possibility. Of all the custom sheds in Tamworth, ours was the most customised, so that during his working life, grandad never had to want for anything and everything had it’s own place. By demolishing it, as we plan to do, we’re essentially getting rid of a major asset on the property, one that would be useful for the buyers if they ever wanted to sell. At the very least, it could be used as storage in the meantime.
Rear Window
I began the summer of 2016 sanguine, with expectations of spending carefree afternoons in the sun, and enjoying as much watersports as I could fit into my schedule. These hopes were shattered on the day I had my cycling accident. I came out of hospital with a head wrapped in comical bandages and my right leg in a great big cast. Alas, the days shone beautifully but they were not mine to enjoy.
It was during these sad weeks that I directed my wheelchair to the timber windows and cowered bitterly by the glass. I tortured myself with the vicarious pleasures of those outside; the warm kiss of sunlight on their skin, the scents of blossoms in the air and the song of the icecream truck tinkling down the street. These joys, forbidden to my broken-legged self, only increased my neurotic and increasingly paranoid vigil.
Thus the day came when my attention was diverted to a neighbouring tenement where a labourer was carrying out window repairs. Melbourne apartment buildings are not too closely knit so I called my maid for the binoculars. Then, I watched as the worker removed the old window frames, preparing to install the new, when suddenly I noticed the horror that was transpiring behind… It all happened so fast – a strange man creeping up behind the woman, inching closer with menace in his eyes. All this occurred just meters behind the unwitting labourer who was repairing the couple’s timber windows. Melbourne police arrived as soon as I dialled triple-0, but by the time they got there it was too late – the woman has been surprised.
At the time the most disconcerting thing was that the man doing the window repairs didn’t hear a thing, continuing his task with a placid grin on his face. I later learned that he was deaf. Both he and I were powerless to save the woman. And I’ve been haunted by that scene ever since.