I am changing my internet service provider

because the present company has advised me that they cannot provide me with the service I require.
All I want is a plain vanilla sort of service. I want to be able to download documents, upload documents, write the blog, do a little searching, "talk" to some friends via social media - AND use my email.
Since I was required to move to the NBN (National Broadband Network) I have experienced frequent (many times a day) drop outs. I have had to "reconnect" constantly. No, there is nothing wrong with my devices. It is simply that too many people are trying to use too small a bandwidth. 
Apparently it is a common problem. Companies, in an attempt to make an acceptable level of profit, are simply "not buying enough to supply enough". It is likely that the system itself will eventually not be able to supply what people need - even if companies are prepared to pay for it.
I don't watch movies or play games on my computer so I shouldn't need the "super fast" speeds being promised. I just want something reliable that won't drop out.
So I spent some time on the phone yesterday. The new company assures me it can provide me with something that "should be better than that" of my old service. I certainly hope so.
But, it leaves me with a major problem. I still need an email server. I would also - for about 600 plus reasons - like to retain my old email address. Today I have to tackle the old company about that. I am not looking forward to doing it. Our relationship is a little tense. I am leaving them - that it is at their suggestion not mine makes no difference.
I really don't have the time to email so many people, organisations, websites and more and tell them "Please change my address in your records". I know some people won't do that anyway and that when they want me they won't be able to find me. For most people that might be irritating and disappointing but in this case it could be life-threatening. Doctors in particular are busy people. They don't need to be bothered by that sort of thing. I can do the "BCC" trick for some people and send out group emails but I can't do it for everyone. 
But, if they don't let me keep the old address, then please bear with me as I work out a way to get a new one and tell everyone. Lives may depend on it.
  

I nearly entered parliament

and am very glad it did not happen.
A long time ago now - or so it seems - I was at a meeting about a forthcoming election. I was there to listen to the "disability" policies of the major parties and provide some communication assistance for people who wanted to ask questions.
The usual things were said, "We'll do this...." and "We'll do better than that..." and "Our policy is...." "Inclusiveness..." Housing, employment, transport, support services all came out as ongoing issues. They are still issues.
On that occasion people banded together again and then they did something different. They put their own candidate up. He was a good man and might well have done a good job. 
     "Come on Cat," people told me, "We need another person on the ticket. You won't have to do it. We just need another name."
I told them no. Yes, perhaps I could have done it but I didn't want to do it. It wasn't that I felt I had done my bit - you have never done your bit. There is always something else that needs to be done. 
I just didn't feel comfortable about the idea about my name being there.
And there was, despite all the discussion, a surprise second candidate. She was very young and rather shy. I sensed a certain determination in her. "Good on you," I thought - and then told her so. 
Election time neared and - suddenly and shockingly - the first candidate on the ticket died. His name had to remain on the ballot paper by then. People voted for a dead man - and his votes passed to the very young and rather shy girl. She was in! It was a totally unexpected result.
Since then she has proved herself to be a good representative, very good. She has achieved more than many of those who have been elected, re-elected and then elected again. She has listened to advice and spoken up. Yes, she has had a good team behind her too. 
There will be an election in March next year. The parties are already working on it.  This time the party she represents will have other candidates too, candidates in the lower house as well as the upper house. 
Will they get in? I doubt it. It's a huge ask to get past the two major parties and an emerging party with an attention seeking clown as their leader. What they are working for is admirable but not always realistic. 
There's no lower house candidate for the group in my electorate. They cannot afford to run candidates in all electorates. 
But the once young and rather shy girl has grown up a lot and she will be looking for re-election in the upper house. It will be interesting to see if she succeeds. 
I will watch with interest and wonder whether it was some sort of premonition which made me avoid the responsibility all that time back.
It was a good thing I did. She has done a better job than I could have done. 
 

"You women are all the same,"

the irate male was yelling, "You shouldn't be allowed to drive. The Saudis have it right there."
I don't know what had happened. All I could see was two small cars in very close proximity to one another. Neither had any visible damage. 
The woman wasn't even trying to defend herself. She was just standing there looking visibly shaken. 
People were appearing and watching the male continue his tirade. He frightened me. My "fight or flight" response was definitely "flight".  There were, I thought, plenty of other people around to help.
Nobody did as I put my things in the basket on the back of my transport. He went on...and then he went too far.
     "Okay mate, that's enough."
I heard someone say this.
     "Nobody's hurt."
     "She didn't even touch your car."
That didn't seem to do much good either.
From where I was parked I can see down into the car parking area in question. There are arrows painted on the surface to direct the traffic flow. One of the cars was clearly going in the wrong direction. 
      "Someone wasn't looking at the arrow," I said to the male next to me. I know him by sight. I know his dog quite well. As dogs are not allowed inside the shopping centre both of them were waiting outside for his partner.
       "You're right," he said, "Here, hold her leash for a moment will you?"
He passed it over and went down. I couldn't hear what he was saying. He just said it quietly and without a fuss. He pointed to the arrow.
And yes, next minute the male was in his car. He reversed and then went fast forward. He went out of the car park faster than was safe. My last sight of him was a battered side door where he must, at some point, have failed to give way.
I just hope he didn't have an accident on the way to his next destination and hurt someone.
When I looked back the woman was on her way too - much more carefully.
The dog owner came back as his partner hurried out looking at her watch and saying the chemist had been busy.
All he said was, "Plenty of time dear. We won't be late for the service."
All I know about this man is that he was an officer of some sort in the army. He obviously still has a natural air of authority and a capacity to calm things down.

I have been making more poppies

and, so far, I have managed to remain on my daily target of four a day.
    "How many more of those things are going to make?" the Senior Cat asked me as I added more to the "to be finished" pile.
I don't know how many more. I am aiming on one hundred  of these. If I tell you that perhaps I will achieve it.
I only made 64 of the poppy bookmarks. I hope that was enough for the group last Saturday. Although I asked for any left overs to be returned to me I didn't get any. I just need to hope everyone got one. I didn't want a fuss made about those. It isn't the sort of thing people need to know. It is much more important to reflect on what the poppies represent.
This time the poppies are slightly different from those I made before. They are, like the poppies I made for the local library to use, made from acrylic yarn. They will, along with thousands of others, be sent for the War Memorial in our national capital to use.
One hundred seems an important goal to aim for because it will mark an important centenary next year...the end of World War I.
It isn't something to celebrate though. It too is something to reflect on - just as the various events around the country will provide the same opportunity today.
Later in the day someone else remarked to me of my craft side, "Making those means you're not getting much else done doesn't it?"
My unspoken thought was, "No, I'm not but the people who went to fight weren't getting much else done either. They were farmers, clerks, butchers, grocers, teachers, carpenters, builders, and more. They gave up all that - and some of them gave up everything. 
So I will go on making poppies. I will endeavour to reach my goal. It seems the right thing to do. It's a very, very small contribution.
 

"There are roadworks"

the Senior Cat warned me before I left.
   "I know," I told him gloomily.
I have to plan my journeys carefully. There are places you cannot take a trike. Getting out of the way of roadworks safely can be a major undertaking.
They are "extending the tram line" and "extending the O-bahn" and "resurfacing" all in various places within the same small area of the city. It's chaotic.
Most people drive to work here. It's a very car oriented place. Public transport isn't popular. It is seen as slow and unreliable. People would simply prefer to "hop in the car and drive". There's a degree of laziness in that which is also acknowledged by many. Walk to the bus stop? Jog to the train? No. It's too hot. It's too cold. It's raining. It's windy. I'm going to the gym after work. I've got to go to the supermarket when I finish my shift. 
I  suppose I would do the same if I could drive a car. It would be nice to be able to walk out the door, get in the car and just go anywhere. I don't blame people in the slightest, especially when the trains only run once an hour at weekends. 
This time I thought I had the route planned. No. Because of the road works they have blocked something else off as well. I  know why. It is to stop drivers using it as a short cut. That's perfectly understandable but what about cyclists and pedestrians? We have to go the long way around too - and there is no reason to block that lane off to us too. Couldn't you put in a couple of concrete bollards just for now? 
As if that wasn't enough I discovered I couldn't get through the other obvious route either. It was temporarily blocked by a long low loader vehicle. I back pedalled again.
When I did get to my destination I discovered the office no longer existed. Despite what the website said it had closed. The receptionist for the associated business told me helpfully, "Try this - and gave me the phone number for an office in another state."
I didn't bother to tell her that the number was no use to me. I needed a person who could see, certify, and stamp documents. The  bank couldn't help either but suggested trying the courts - just down the road.
I went into the Magistrate's court and went through "security",
"We're worried about the dangerous...."
Yes of course. 
But they were nice and helpful. They found me a Justice of the Peace. I told him what I needed and why. He read it all through carefully. He stamped and signed and told me he hoped the only solution I had come up with would suffice. 
I posted the Tax Residency statements off and, avoiding more road works, went home - the long way around.
I have been invited out with our lovely over-the-road neighbour this afternoon. The only problem is that, to get to  the destination she wants to go to, there are - more roadworks.
 

Long hair, tattoos and

ripped jeans which were anything but clean. He looked a dirty mess too. He jogged up the station platform and asked me when the next train went. I said,
    "In about three minutes."
I pointed to the electronic sign he had missed. It's overhead and people do miss seeing it if they aren't aware of them.
    "Thanks."
He stood there staring in the direction the train would come from and said nothing else.
The train arrived. An elderly woman was having difficulty alighting. He sprang to her side. Took her shopping trolley and put it on the platform and held out his arm for her to take. She looked startled but let him help and then muttered her thanks.
    "Now you get on," he told me, "I'll get this on."
And next minute I was on, the trusty trike was on.  I thanked him rather more effusively. It is really nice when other people help with that!
He actually validated his ticket and went to sit a little distance away. The person next to him looked uncomfortable but he didn't appear to notice. 
And, when we reached the city, he approached me again and asked, "You okay getting off?" 
It's easy in the city as the train is level with the platform. He went off.
    "You can never tell can you?" someone said to me watching him go.
No, you can't. 
Later in the morning I had to go into the Magistrate's Court in the city to get some documents certified. On the way in someone who looked much the same but had, if possible,  even more tattoos held a door open for me.
     "Paying me f-ing fine, need to get me a bike like yours," he said.
I thought again, "You can never tell."
  

I bought another book yesterday

but it wasn't for me. 
I like to buy books for other people and this is one I have bought more than once. It is a book every child should have. It makes a lovely gift for a newborn baby.
I have given the book to both the newborns currently living in our little street. I have given it to many others too.
The book is old and yet new. Timeless? Yes, almost certainly.
It is AA Milne's "When we were very young". 
I am even happier I bought it now because, in this morning's paper, there was a tiny article many people will miss. It was about the importance of nursery rhymes in helping to develop language and literacy in children. It was about the way in which these are being eroded by the use of electronic devices and the failure of parents to repeat them, over and over, to their  children.
Some years ago now I was waiting at the railway station. It had been raining and a small boy was jumping in the puddles. He was splashing and laughing and enjoying himself immensely. Happily his mother had the good sense to allow him to continue doing it while we talked. When he tired of it for a moment and came back to his mother I told  him,
       "John had great big waterproof boots on...."
I recited it all to him. He wanted it again...and again.
His mother didn't know it. She didn't know AA Milne as an author. Her knowledge of Winnie the Pooh was simply as a cartoon. I told her about the poetry and suggested she look in the library. 
Now it seems that children don't even get the basic nursery rhymes, that Humpty Dumpty has fallen permanently off the wall and the cow no longer jumps over the moon and nobody falls down anymore.
That was apparently of concern to researchers. 
It worries me. Some of those things are hundreds of years old but they still matter. They teach rhyme and rhythm and repetition and, when they become familiar,  they are a comfort to a child who can recite them to himself or herself.
Ms W has to do a school project and she was asking me for ideas. I think I might suggest she look at the background to some nursery rhymes and why they were important from the very beginning.