Nearly 60, going on 16

As I  begin this post at fifteen minutes before midnight I'm 59 years old, about to turn 60 at 12.00pm. No big deal hey. But I bumped into Elise at the local supermarket this afternoon, she's a part time casual worker there as she studies phsycology at university, I think second year. She has worked there for a few years and I recall clearly her telling me about her her VCE final year so time flies. She's drop dead gorgeous and however tired and worn down I am by life in general I feel this huge spark whenever I meet her and a tinge of jealousy when she mentions her boyfriend. Weird hey, but I'm thinking it is not peculiar to me and is common amongst silly old blokes of my vintage.

Truth is I've had my turn and I am what I am. The youth has gone. I  hope I enter into old age with dignity and not become too attracted to young women and become an old 'perv', and that I can still be useful and productive for some time yet. I'm surprised at my increased awareness of peoples' virtues, particularly women of all ages, as I climb or descend the ladder, depending on your perspective.

I had an amazing week. Monday I was videotaped for posterity at the museum as part of the dismantling of the Gus Ryberg display, then attended Grace De la Rue's funeral in the afternoon. Grace's daughter rang me the next day asking me could I do an article on Grace for 'Signpost', to which I replied I'd have to clear it with the the editor, and also on Tuesday there was a Park Advisory Group meeting which of course I had to follow up with a report to attendees, Wednesday I started a job pruning Hughesy's camellia hedge and Thursday I was interviewed  live on the telephone on the local radio station about NHP and bee colony collapse, after learning of it only the previous evening, then more at Hughesy's. All this on top of my normal work and chores and for someone who really only wants to be left alone to a simple life.

After I came home from having a drink with Steve and Anne across the road on Thursday evening Lib told me there was a water leak in the bathroom. I went out to shut the water off at the meter only to find the valve was buggered and the water could not be turned off completely, meaning we had a leak all night, which went from under the wash basin down the pipes and through the floor to under the house. I had been so much looking forward to a quiet time of recouperation at Easter and this was exactly the the complication I didn't want. I rang a plumber I knew and left a message on his answering machine explaining my predicament. I went to bed on Easter Eve wondering why the water couldn't be turned off and planning my strategy for the next day. Sleep came after not long, I was exhausted.

Lib worked on Good Friday and after she left I rang Yarra Valley Water on the Emergency fault number reporting that I couldn't get the water turned off completely. They sent a man out and within 2 hours a new valve was fitted and at least the flow was stopped. I then rang more plumbers, no one could come till next day Saturday. No big deal, I could now turn the water on and off if someone wanted a shower and the leak was not flooding the house when it was turned on.

The phone rang, it was Grace's daughter Margaret, returning my call of the previous evening, who said she was available over Easter for an interview. I said how about today at 2.00 pm and that was fine so off I went expecting an hour would do the trick. Three hours later Margaret and her husband Trevor were still telling me Grace stories and the history of Cockatoo. Trevor, I learned, is a 'Jack of all trades' and an inventor. After explaining my water problem at home he insisted coming home with me with his tool box and many fittings in the expectation that he could fix it. With the end of daylight saving there was not much day left and there was not much light under the basin to see anything but Trevor had a torch light that fitted on his head like a miner's. It turned out quite a complicated job too difficult for me descibe in detail. Trevor, in his late seventies, on his knees and working under the basin for about an hour and a half, said to me that everytime he leaned to left he got dizzy for some reason. "Wonder why is that?" he said. The previous day he'd had a massage for a very painful shoulder which he'd damaged lifting a fuel drum up onto a vehicle. He also said that two years ago he'd had major heart surgery in 13 hour operation to replace arteries from his heart to his neck and shoulders with some sort of synthetic pipes. As he told me all this I was formulating my next plan to ring 000 should he keel over. It had been a big day and I was dying for a drink, alcohol that is, but I dared not till the coast was clear.

With some amazing improvisation by an amazing man, the leak was fixed, enabling me to ring the the plumber and tell him he was not needed the next day. There were wrong fittings that had been used on installation 25 years ago and Trevor said it was lucky the house hadn't been flooded long ago. Trevor went home at nearly 7.00pm with some honey and plants for Margaret to sell at her gate stall at which she sells plants to raise money for poor people in Malaysia. Since she started she has raised $8,500, all of which goes right to the people, the on costs being covered by the charity she works with, the name of which escapes me.

And so ended Good Friday. Exhausted as I was I could not go to bed till late and needed several glasses of red wine and some time to recover my equilibrium. I only hope I can do Grace and her family justice with my article. Grace had 9 children, 8 surviving to adulthood and still seven alive, an alcoholic husband who was not there much of the time, and Margaret is an ex school teacher. My dead line is next Wednesday and I can't possibly start on it till I've refreshed. I think because of the circumstances and the expectations of the family it will be my biggest test since commencing the 'Signpost' articles.

I bought myslf a bag of M and M's as a treat for tomorrow for my birthday. Well it's today now, but after a sleep the celebrations can begin and I can open my pressies, a number of which are sitting there waiting. I'll wait till after Lib comes home from work. We're having a loin of pork roasted in the Webber. Happy Birthday Carey!