Herr Otto Hug

 Enquiring minds wish to know: 

What is a medical clairvoyant?

Instead of "Dr, what is wrong with me?" you ask "what is GOING to be wrong with me?"

I wonder how he would be with cataracts? Or Fuchs? Or health insurance claims?

How handy would he BE to have around - although would the forward warnings about ladders and mushroom meals be enough to avert any medicinal maelstrom - or would the harbingers of demise cloud his judgement?

Good thing he is going to Rocky next week...

Earliest Trove sighting 23 September 1878

He is advertising that he is going to be "removed" - I wonder if he saw that coming?

5 May 1880

( can't seem to share the photo of the above, but the above link is worth a look - he does appear to be more than your average medical clairvoyant!)

Below the guy one column over is offering Allan's AntiFat so it puts it into context - and the ad above Herr Otto's is for the principal and vice-principal position of the brother school to my high school - even though they have long Meghan Markled us.

June 25 1880

Qld Health, we may have found the solution to the regional medical crisis!

Mayday - and other maritime adventures

 Happy May day.

Over here it is the first day of Winter.

I greeted the day with tshirt and three Sun salutations at my yoga class. We ended it with parent teacher interviews.

However my evening got hijacked by a chance encounter with an article in the personal section of a northern newspaper in 1920.

this article

I was actually looking for his wife to check on when she was meant to have arrived and found an article that took James Augustus Edwards from "veteran of the Crimean War" (from an article about his son) and "bad author (from unkind - but probably true - reviews) to "orphan at 10, at sea at 13, cabin boy to a newspaper artist on Crimean warship at 14, ran away to Australia at 15" & more & more in a happy 79th birthday greeting.

Odds are, he might even be in this picture - Sunday morning divine service on board the "Caesar" in the Baltic fleet.

I Can't Drive 55

Remember when pen-pals were a thing?  

At boarding school a fad went around in 1983-ish whereby a certain magazine in the library had an advertisement towards the back of a completely legit international company that specialised in connecting young people to like-minded penpals for a very reasonable rate - and young ladies at the establishment flocked at the chance.

Of course, we all wanted a cute 16 year-old boy (added bonus enough brains to be engaging).

There was one girl  in our class who did receive such a penpal - I still remember her name,(but alas his is lost to the annals of time).

But apparently the odds were not in my favour - as the majority of applicants were 14 year-old girls looking for cute 16 year-old boys.

Nearly everyone was slightly disappointed.

But I ended up with 2 decent girls - one French who shared my name, and one US girl who shared tapes and introduced me to US music.

Unfortunately my follow-through with long-term projects could be dated from that point. I am to blame. I kept meaning to send a reply... I am not sure who sent the final missive but I should have still made an effort.

Anyhoo. That wasn't what I was going to write.

I had a fully developed concept of how THAT title was to smoothly segue into giving you an adventure of cake.

I had an RDO yesterday and went to my happy place, playing in the kitchen.

• I made cupcakes. 
• Gluten-free Carrot and Pineapple Cupcakes
•  Pecan Carrot and Chocolate Cupcakes

The icing is cream cheese, butter, pure icing sugar, vanilla, lemon juice and lime juice.

Not a redeeming feature in sight. (And oh look -jeanieVision TM)

But alas twas not to be.

We  had one each at work today. (We = my corridor and the next over - including payroll. You gotta include payroll!) - we did!

Enjoy one with your cuppa.

Cheers.

The Lounge of the Ladies at Legs Eleven

 

Many, many, many moons ago (when I was a sophisticated young lady of 24) I lived a lovely life in a cute little cottage in the middle of Sydney town.

My flatmate (2 years my senior and in each other's friendship - and indeed flatmate - circle for most of our adult years) and I spent about $100 (do you know I cannot accurately remember) each a week to live there.

Parking was difficult (although not as bad as another place I lived in not long after with her) and it was surrounded by industry - although there were other dwellings too.

The front wall fronted the footpath and was a dark green, The door red and every portal barred but plain.

(This is the house 13 years later than this tale is set - the stripes were not there when I lived there)

Inside some renovation had occurred. The floors were board and upstairs had two tiny bedrooms, one with a Shoji door and a secret balcony.

But not all.

The bathroom and kitchen were original, with exposed (but not in a cool, steampunk way) pipes.

The back "veranda" the sink where the back yard drained and slugs gathered - and that you had to traverse in torrential Sydney downpours to get to the loo.

This was 1993.

A lot happened that year. A lot happened in the world that I was unaware of - for this was pre-internet and we didn't have a television.

We were young. We went to movies and coffee shops and poetry readings and markets and worked and sewed clothes and saw bands and went to parties. 

We wrote letters and played records and cooked feasts and drank wine and played cards and backgammon and talked on telephone (but this was also pre-mobile phones so if you were out you were out and you maybe had an answering machine and you did you had to remember to turn it on) :(

And I wrote and friends would gather for feasts and wine and board games and music and talking - and I would read them the next instalment of the fairy tale that I was writing. Some of them even appreciated me doing so.

Ah.

But then I got a boyfriend and - well, and some other stuff happened and we moved on.

But there was a time...

Another 13 years between the first pic and this - in its most recent Google Maps portrait - 2000

Part of the Team

 As you may know, I am loathe to talk about my work. 

For many, many, many years, I was a temp, which was a fun career adventure trek until it was no longer fun. Mind you, it was the "it was no longer fun being a temp" was mildly better than the sheer dissolution (desolation) of hope that was "my first real full-time job in decades" lobbed hand-grenade. Shudder.

But this job. Chef's kiss in so many ways. I get to help people on several levels who can't rely on help elsewise. I get to use the mathematical and problem solving skills that excite my brain. And I get to work surrounded by a  bunch of wonderful people.

If only there were 2 of me. Or even 1.5.

And we were both paid more.