Get rid of it

This week, media reports emerged that the state paid $30 million a year to stage the Australian Grand Prix. The government has so far refused to confirm the figures but said the reports would make future negotiations with Mr Ecclestone more difficult.

Victoria has a contract to host the event until 2015.

On Wednesday, Tourism Minister Louise Asher said the present $57 million subsidy was too high.
"We think the taxpayer subsidy is too high and there are two issues here, one is the fee given to Mr Ecclestone and the other one is the total taxpayer subsidy for the event and the fee is of course part of that," she said.
But Mr Ecclestone would not comment on the reported $30 million figure – "maybe it's not a true figure," he said during a cagey interview on radio station 3AW – or the contracts signed with the state government.

On the other hand...

The Alfred hospital will slash elective surgery for six weeks from Easter with only the most urgent patients to be treated in a struggle to achieve a $7.8 million budget cut this financial year.

In a memo to staff on Wednesday, Alfred Health chief executive Andrew Way said elective surgery would be reduced at The Alfred and Sandringham hospitals from March 29 (Good Friday) to May 10, causing a waiting list blow-out.

The federal government said in October that Victoria would receive $107 million less than expected in health funding for the 2011-12 and 2012-13 financial years because of revised population data. Victorian Health Minister David Davis said he had no choice but to pass on the cuts to hospitals.

Meanwhile back in January 2011, Bernie said he'd have to work til he drops because of his daughters' lavish spending as in:

TAMARA ECCLESTONE, 26
'Me and my wardrobe': 

Tamara Ecclestone has a prediliction for Christian Louboutin shoes

£45million House in Kensington Palace Gardens

£1.5million (approx) The Swag and Tails pub

£9,000 Rolex watch

£2,000 Gold Roberto Cavalli sequinned dress

£700 each Handbags

£3-4,000 Four pedigree dogs
 £500 Laboutins to add to her shoe collection

£30/hr Personal trainer 

PETRA ECCLESTONE, 22
Petra's landrover

£66.5million Grade II-listed house in Chelsea, with planning permission for an underground swimming pool and gym
£40,000 Range Rover
£4,000 Four pedigree dogs

£200/week Dog walker

£1,000 Flight to Valencia for Grand Prix

£200/ week Hairdressing

£30 Weekly manicure

Of course both girls have upgraded in 2013, Tamara lost her bloke after a sleazy sex tape of him hit the internet then there was Petra's intimate wedding costing 12 million pounds including the 80,000 pound Vera Wang wedding dress. This was after buying Aaron Spelling's mansion for 52 million pounds. That's English pounds.

Now scroll up again and look at our hospitals in trouble.

Do we really need a Grand Prix or surgery beds for Victoria?

Grow some Ted and ditch him and the Grand Prix he drove in on.

Nice views.

This was my son's favourite house and he never passed it without taking another photo.
Now it's being torn down after the architect Frank Dixon failed to have the house put on the state heritage list. The Dixon family sold the house in 2005.
The owners will build a new home on the concrete pole, keeping the walkway and the silhouette of the house. In the original home, none of the windows opened but the new design will have retractable floor-to-ceiling  windows, a perimeter walkway with a glassed balustrade and a floating fireplace in the living area.
Another two storey, three bedroom dwelling will be built on the cliff-top behind and that's the main objection I would have.
The Dixon pole house needs to stand alone to be appreciated.
It has survived 3 bushfires including the 1983 Ash Wednesday blaze. As long as that famous silhouette remains the same I'll be happy. 
Happier still if I had the $550 a night to rent it.

I wish I had a jacuzzi.

I really am fair f'knackered.  Lying back in a nice bubbling jacuzzi would feel good right about now.

I have been moving furniture, his furniture down the hallway and his clothes.  When I couldn't move another thing, I rang for him to call in on his way home.  Now the sewing machine is under the window and the sofa bed is along the wall.  Photos will be posted when I can be arsed looking for the camera.

All he took with him was his mozzie zapper, his expensive aftershave and a photo of the little mother. He left me the soldering iron with no solder, damn. I was looking forward to playing with that.

I have a ginormous bruise on my right leg, various small ones on arms and a hole in the wall where I dropped the tv off the wheelie table.  It's around the corner so I'll whack some  polyfiller in it.  The tv probably isn't working anyway. He brought it here because his flat screen and her crt one didn't fit in the small space they have. Plausible deniability when he picks it up in about 5 years.

I did have one small moment of crisis.  I couldn't push the computer table, I had to pull it and yes, maybe I should have taken everything off it first but hey, I was moving as much as possible without lifting.  So moved table between two piles of books, I've already moved one pile around the corner, I wasn't about to do that again.  But I did it beautifully, great fit, no problem except one.  I couldn't get out. I couldn't push it forward because of the books.  So take the damn computer off and put it  behind me, take the flat screen, take the keyboard and all the cords then push it out.  Then go back in a re-load with all the crap and do the tango with the books again.

I tell you, it was primal scream time there for a few moments.

But the house feels like it's almost mine again.  I have a sewing room.  You lot have a chance of getting Christmas in July presents.  After I go through this Italian wedding book I spotted in the bookcase and couldn't resist a peek.  We're talking high class Italian wedding couture here, lace to die for.

Now to wash hair, shower and think about all of my stuff I now have to move. The boxes are on wheels, most of them and I'll stack the smaller ones on top. Memo to self, do not push it with your foot, it hurts.

Big hole.

This is Stickney Crater on the martian moon Phobos.  Stickney is over 9 kilometres across which is nearly half the diameter of Phobos itself.  Astronomers think that the impact that blasted out the crater probably came close to shattering the moon.
The crater is named after Chloe Angeline Stickney Hall, mathematician and wife of astromomer Asaph Hall who discovered both Martian moons in 1877.
The image is colour-enhanced and was recorded by the HiRISE camera onboard the Mars Reconnaisse Orbiter as it passed Phobos in March, 2008, at a distance of 6 thousand kilometres.
Phobos does have surface gravity but it's less than 1/1000th of Earth's gravity and it's thought that the streaks in the photo might have been loose material sliding down inside the crater walls over time. The light bluish regions near the crater's rim could indicate freshly exposed surface but the mysterious grooves along the surface may be related to the crater-forming impact.

So great photo of a hole on a moon about which we know not much.

I can't give you an amount of money spent on Mars exploration or the current wars on Earth but I wish it could all be given over to oceanography so we can find out about our own planet before it ends up looking like Mars.

I don't begrudge a cent spent on the Hubble Telescope though, the images it has sent back to Earth has increased our knowledge of Space more than we could gain by roaming the galaxies in tin cans.

Just a trinket.

It's about time we had a jewell on the blog and is this not a beauty.
Platinum mounted, 2.20 carats of diamond and an Imperial Topaz of 17.54 carats measuring 19.08x12.88x8.99mm.

This gem comes from Ouro Preto, Brazil.  It's unusual colour composed of gold, sherry and cherry hues is very much valued but since it only comes from a small area in Brazil, production is limited.
Platinum is very strong and I'm really a gold person although it's a one of a kind gem so I shouldn't be so picky.

Besides I forgot to buy a Tattslotto for tomorrow night.

Where to run to....

This is huge.  The red dust storm is seen on the horizon as it approaches ships in the area of north-western Australia

 The sand and dust had been picked up by strong winds in the Indian Ocean and looked like a tsunami as it approached ships which had been sitting on a calm sea

 Wind gusts reached 63mph in Onslow but a climate information office said dust storms were rare and may only happen once or twice a year, if at all.

Then the cyclone hit. 

Back at the old homestead.

I left in a cab about 3 after grabbing a sandwich to take with me but she didn't arrive back at the Home until 7.30 last night.  I put my feet up in the Lavender Room, with my sour dough bread salad sanger (delicious)(no cake, Annie) settled down with the almost mine cat.  Perfect hideout from Annie Joyce who was overjoyed her bestie was coming back and was shouting it into every room.  

Perfect view of the latest resident escapee.  She'd been past me 3 times to test the door and got very pissed every time I told her it was locked.  I don't know which door she eventually found open but she was off like the roadrunner past the window followed by two carers. Boy she was fast, by the time they caught her she had one leg halfway up the fence.  While they were checking the doors, she bolted again.

Mum said it was good to be back but she was absolutely exhausted.  She was still exhausted today but at least she'd had a complete wash and her own pillow and several slaves attending.

They didn't wash her at the hospital, not even face and hands nor were there any wipes for her to use.  She's supposed to go back and attend a clinic for a check-up but she's not leaving her bed for any reason, full stop, end of story.

And Doc Marvin, he was at her bedside 15 minutes after she arrived back.  Checked all her medications, gave her loads of confidence which she needed. I don't care how much he charges, he's worth more.

I might have mentioned before how our family doesn't do kissing.  My father had TB and was always conscious of how easily it's passed on even though he hadn't had it for 40 years.  I made the mistake of kissing mum goodbye at the hospital so she spent all night waiting to die.  Memo to self, keep calling her old bat and no kissing.

It'll take a few weeks but The Terminator will be baaack.

But I'm no Sarah Connor, I'm spending the weekend in bed.

Told you not to write her off.

Yesterday, breathing laboured, oxygen, potassium, antibiotics and saline.

Worst food I've ever seen and I may never diss the cook at the Home again.

Today, breathing much better, no blood germs, lung germs on the run and the Doctor is prepared to let her back to the Home with a outside nursing plan for continued antibiotics. 

That means a team comes in to administer antibiotics/drugs by injection and checks if she still needs oxygen. 

She will be in bed for some time while she gets strength back and further on down the track she might need more treatment from the team.

And this could all happen on Friday which means I have only one more day to go to the hospital and believe me, I'm celebrating by hitting the coffee bar they have there and eating the best of the 50 or so yum cakes on display.  I've held off this long but I'm weakening fast.

Today's lunch was just an egg sandwich on the run so I have to make something that's fast. Soup and toast sounds good to me.

Actually I have to open the soup can, toast will do.

Three days down

Three days at the Alfred hospital and again tomorrow unless she goes quietly into that dark night.

I never write the old girl off, she's a fighter but this time she might just be too tired to get off the ropes.

First morning phone call from the hospital was to ask about a NRO as she had gone down hill during the night. Any further down and she would be transferred to ICU and palliative care.

Call Doc Marvin who was upset that the hospital had not informed him of her condition and he had no idea she was at the Alfred.

Call Director of Nursing at the Home and tell her while mentally telling her to suck it up bitch, hope this fucks your day.

Call sister who simply cannot face coming with me, fair enough.

Call nurse who drove me there yesterday who dissolved in tears.

Call taxi and don't ever expect me to diss Sikh drivers. I've had two today who were the most gracious and kind men.

Get to hospital and mother is looking pale and interesting but breathing still and ask if I could brush her false teeth. I told her she was a pain in the butt and I would brush them but I wouldn't put my hand in her mouth for quids.

This family never has a drama with humour.  We are weird.

In the last three days, I have dived out of an ambulance, left the house with my reading glasses on and no knickers, next might be TMI for Andrew, stupid fluid tablets means putting in a panty liner in case I can't find a toilet in a hurry.  In a hurry I put it in sticky side up and that's a painful way to give yourself a Brazillian.

I photographed the BOH with mum, lovely image for him to remember. She was good since I had just given her some lunch and she wasn't labouring to breathe.

Infectious Disease Control arrived to tell me not to worry about blood germs or urine germs and they think they have the cellulitis germs under control. 

Oh Yeah, nothing to worry about, Yippee but bug control only concentrates on bugs not on lungs, heart, kidneys and whatever else is disintegrating.

So after an ultra sound on bladder and kidneys, she was exhausted, ready to sleep and I left.

She was fantastic holding on to a full bladder for two hours until the scan and I kept her company.  The minute she went round the corner I was at the ladies and taking a weight off my mind. I just couldn't sit there comfortable while she wasn't.

Thank you Bwica for the phone call while I was on my way in.

Thank you Antikva for you offer to catch a bus from Bendigo to help me but I can fall out of an ambulance all on my own.

Thanks Elephant's child for the email.

Aunt Patty has been calm but sad.  

Aunt Selma, there is a special place in Hell for you, bitch.

Okay, everything off my mind, I will now go and self medicate with a large orange and poppyseed muffin, followed by a coffee muffin followed by ice-cream or a combination of all three in a bowl.

About to self-medicate...

As soon as I finish this I'm heading for a tub of coffee and vanilla swirl low - fat ice-cream.

8.45a.m. call from the Home.

Mother very ill and ambulance is on the way.

I made it just in time to go with her.

We head for the Alfred instead of Monash, bless.

I misjudge the height of the steps of the ambulance and the four point landing almost broke a leg.

All day with mother.

BoH arrived just after she was admitted. Funny how watching a child born can remove hospital type phobias. Dear kid gave me money since I hadn't been to the bank, in case I needed a taxi home.

All day tomorrow with mother but nurse from the Home is taking me in. She is very very upset at what's happened, loves my mother and calls me 'Sis'. There is niceness where you think none.

The rest of the story will involve me ripping the neck out of two PCAs who should have done something last night after her condition was reported in the afternoon.

These two have been skating on thin ice with me for quite a while and now they've fallen through.

So I'll be missing for a few days.

Ice-cream should be just right now.

I'm so tired I might eat it straight from the tub and not wash a dish.  

I knew 2013 was a bust.

New Year?

Three days in and it just feels like 2012 without the Doomsday prophecy.

So many fell off the twig at the Home that the twig nearly went too.

They managed to keep it together for the Christmas party.

The residents cat is supposed to be coming to live with me while he still has a chance of keeping all four legs and tail. But there seems to be a bureaucratic snafu as in, who has responsibility for the beast.  The nurse who first dropped him in it, she's left.  The activities director who's been cleaning up the mess or the Director of Nursing who is in charge of residents.  They should have asked the residents who have been running over him with wheelchairs and enjoying it a bit too much.

I can announce that I have reached the door to the kitchen which has been hidden for two years. As soon as I start moving the BOH's belongings down the hall, it will disappear again.  So I'm in between mess and more mess and I've learned to go slow with the lifting and dragging.  But it's worth it for the unearthing of treasures, long forgotten.  Who knew I had so many pillow cases cut out and ready to sew? I will, in the  fullness of time, have enough nightdresses to last 20 years.  And being a good recycler, I never throw out an old pillow without removing the centre of the filling so I have enough in bags to make cushions for some time.  I have only one box to pull out and it contains all the pictures from Mum's house and I can't remember what they are.

But I found the gold wire Christmas trees, yeah, for next year.

There will be photos when I find the camera.  

And when I find the camera there'll be photos of my six tomatoes and one banana chilli.  The chilli isn't doing so well, I think there's something inside eating its way out but you will note that I have fulfilled two of last year's resolutions, tomatoes and chilli.  There was a glitch with the other 8 plants, they're not pot tomatoes so I have to haul them across the road to a friendly neighbour's veggie bed and re-plant them.  Neither of us have green thumbs so a prayer and a votive candle lighting would be appreciated.

Current new year health situation is the same as the old year.  Bloody awful.  If my body fat could meltdown as  brilliantly as my mind does, I wouldn't have a health problem.  I have barred myself from the scales until February.  I was thinking of blacking out the mirrors but then I couldn't find the hairs on my chin.  Another of life's mysteries, head hair is thinning, chin hair is thriving.   And now I have a heat wave to look forward too.  At least the moronic government is not putting me back on Newstart allowance which is their way to problem solve the obesity crisis by starving mothers and children.  Stuff you Jenny Macklin, you couldn't live on that daily allowance and if you really want to try it, give up your house, car, clothes and steal a shopping trolley and live on what that would hold if you can keep someone with less from thieving it while you're bedding down under a bridge somewhere.

See 2013 is just like 2012, only January and the bullshit is rising to knee level already.

And I didn't win Tattslotto.