Digital disenfrachisement and the elderly

 There's an article today on the ABC's website about how older people, especially those in rural and regional Australia, are having increasing difficulty in accessing services as they move online.

Some of the reasons are predictable, lack of a decent internet connection, not owning a laptop, etc.

It's what in the 2000's we used to call digital disenfranchisement, and we used to worry about how students from poorer backgrounds would cope with an increasing move to online learning, and without having decent access to online resources.

Well, I suspect it's still a problem for some students, but at least we can now be reasonably confident that they have the basic skills to carry out a web search, access wikipedia, fill in an online form, or create and share a Google Docs document.

For older people, that's not the case.

They never learned to use a computer or acquire the bag of cultural skills that means that they can find their way round a windows manager, add a new wifi connection (one thing I've learned from being involved with the Athenaeum is that a lot of family history people, while they can download and annotate docments and do lots of clever things, connecting to wifi is something that they don't know how to do - someone set it up for them at home, so they never learned), deal with a different text editor, do markup, or indeed deal with a different note taking application.

They simply never learned. And remember these are overwhelmingly motivated intelligent individuals, but I do have to say that a lot of them are around my age, which I regret to admit is seventy.

Now I am different from a lot of people in my age group.

In the 1980s I did IT support for botanists and wildlife scientists at a field research station, and then later on more general IT support for a large research orientated university.

This was at a time when desktop computing was beginning to become common and a lot of researchers needed a little bit of help, be it choosing a laptop to take out into the field (literally in the case of botanists, archaeologists and geologists), setting up a device, installing software, or indeed just some basic text processing skills.

At the time there a lot of different applications and different computer systems, so I learned pretty rapidly to find my way round various bits of software.

Basically I'm a hack.

Most people in my age group are not.

A lot of what they have learned is by means of magic spells - want to pay a bill online? Well you click here, add the payee's account details here, click confirm, type in the amount here, set the payment date with this calendar widget, click confirm for a second time, review the details, and click OK.

And we don't make it easy for them. My bank has two different calendar widgets in their online banking system, and which one you get depends on whether it's a person to person transfer or a bill payment.

I'm going to guess that a lot of people don't understand that to the bank, a person to person transfer is different from a bill payment, so it's processed by different software system written and maintained by a different team who decided to use a different calendar widget. And why should they know this?

And I could go on. Want to report a hazard to my local council? Well, you fill in an online form that asks you a lot of questions, name, street address, phone number, email address, before asking you to select a hazard type from a pick list (tree down, flooded street drain, etc) and submit a trouble ticket.

It does at least have an 'Other' category with a 128 character free form text entry field - useful when the hazard is a dead fox lying in the middle of a residential street.

I could go on and on. Medicare, Vehicle registration, the Tax office, they're all online, and they all want information presented in a different way, and if you've only learned magic spells, you're lost.

Likewise showing people how to do things doesn't really help them, it's just another magic spell, it doesn't build the skills to navigate online systems.

What we really need is a set of common design guidelines, like the early Mac user interface design manuals, that mean that everything looks the same, the menus have the same names and the options are the same - this was really they key to the early success of Apple computers - everything just worked, and worked the same way. (I once helped a visiting Korean researcher install a printer on her Korean language Mac, not because of any Korean language skills on my part, but simply because the menu options were in the same order as in the English language version of the operating system).

Sure, information literacy training would help. But most training available for seniors is task oriented, that brings us back to the world of magic spells.

And remember, quite often it's our older citizens that need to access the pensions office, Medicare, book a doctor's appointment, or lodge an escript with a pharmacy, or even borrow ebooks from the library, something that needs quite a bit of skill, and I can't help feeling that better interface design would help.

And of course, if you can't do these things, and always have to get one of the grandkids to help you, you end up in a state of learned helplessness.

And it's happened to me.

Some time round about 1986 a girlfriend and I decided to take a train to the Spanish border from London.

At that time you could only book an overseas train ticket in person was directly from British Rail at an office in Victoria station.

(Some travel agents could book tickets as well, but it took them days to do it.)

Now, British Rail could book you a ticket on French Railways, but not on Spanish trains, that you had to do yourself at the station in Irun, if you wanted to go further into Spain or Portugal.

The other thing British Rail could not do was sell us a seat reservation, our tickets only allowed us to get on the train, but they airily assured us that SNCF could reserve a seat for us at the Gare d'Austerlitz up to an hour before departure, subject to availability of course.

Well that might well have been the case, but when we got to the Gare d'Austerlitz, after about four hours sleep on the overnight boat train from London, the booking office clerk told us 'C'est tout electronique, utilisez le minitel publique' and gestured at a row of terminals in the booking hall.

Well we tried. The terminals had AZERTY keyboards, and the system was only in French. After ten minutes swearing we gave up and decided to chance being able to get two unreserved seats together. We stood most of the way to Bordeaux...

Mary Beard: talking classics

 Recently, I finished Mary Beard's latest book, Talking Classics - the shock of the old.

I was disappointed.

Rather than a spirited anecdote laced defence of  'the classics' - the study of Greek and Roman culture - I found it read more as a defence of teaching classics.

Now the classics have a difficult history.

During the nineteenth century the study of the classics was the mark of an educated gentleman, and looking at Charles Dodgson's (aka Lewis Carroll) school timetable, one can see why. Apart from a bit of religion and a smattering of mathematics, they studied little but Latin and Greek, several hours a day, every day except Sunday.

And it was just Latin and Greek. No Roman history or archaeology, nothing quite so vulgar as a discussion of politics, corruption or what happens when some individuals become wealthy enough to buy control of the state, the res publica, the commonwealth, as one of Cromwell's men might have understood it.

And somehow a knowledge of Latin and Greek became required for getting into university, even to study sciences or medicine, and this of course meant that only those who had studied it at school could gain access to university, which of course produced a privileged elite.

By the time I went to university in the seventies, the specious requirement for competence in Latin and Greek, had gone, even though its ghost still howled in the darkness.

So why should one study classics? Or Russian? or anything else difficult and complex?

Let's take Russian, which I did study. Studying Russian was not simply to help you say 'я подчиняюсь' (I surrender) correctly, as the grim cold war joke went. Nor was it to read Dostoevsky or Tolstoy in the original - it was to try and gain some understanding of the opaque enigma of the Soviet Union and try and guess exactly what was happening, and this mean learning to assimilate a lot of complex and often obscure material and drawing sensible conclusions.

So with the classics, so with Egyptology, so with half a hundred other things.

The skills to learn, analyse and understand. If the history of the last fifty years teaches us anything it's that the future is unknowable,

And that's why the study of difficult things is important. To build understanding, not to be 'job ready'...

To ancient Rome via the Gertrude street tram

 

Earlier this year, J had a minor bit of surgery in one of the big city hospitals in Melbourne.

 Last week it was time for her post-surgical review, and that meant another trip to the city.

 The timing of her review was such that we would need to stay two nights in Melbourne, and since the hotel had a three nights midweek for the price of two deal, we decided to take the deal and have ourselves a day in the city.

 Doing so gave J an opportunity to visit a decent art store and pick up new paints and brushes, and let us do a bit of face to face rather than online shopping.

 We also did some fun things like a trip to a proper Japanese sushi restaurant where in true Tokyo style you picked your plates off a conveyor belt and stacked the colour coded plates on your table, and paid on the basis of the number of plates (two blue, one green, one yellow, etc)

As a fun twist the restaurant also had a range of specials, which you ordered via a touchscreen on your table and were delivered by a little delivery robot that ran along a track on top of the sushi conveyor belt.

 Silly, but fun.

 It also gave me an opportunity to visit the Ancient Rome exhibition at the Melbourne museum.

 This was a touring exhibition from Italy of mainly early imperial period sculpture, artefacts and frescos, and included something I had only read about – a removable marble hairpiece for a sculpture.

 

The Romans used these on statues of Imperial ladies so that they always had a fashionable hairstyle.

 There were other interesting items, a cute little pottery pig from a child’s grave, mass produced Samian ware and some Roman glassware.

 The exhibition is structured around various aspects of Roman life, such as the baths, formal dinners, death, religion and so on.

 The focus is on early Imperial artefacts, probably because that is the most materially rich period, but they do attempt to show the rise of Christian belief as the dominant religious belief in Rome and how it provided a degree of continuity with the period after the formal end of the empire in 476CE.

 Getting to the exhibition was fairly simple – we took the 96 tram from the city to the corner of Gertrude Street and walked past the exhibition building – which was hosting a graduation ceremony for the University of Melbourne that day – and into the museum.

 Unlike some visiting exhibitions this one was not particularly busy, giving you plenty of time to look at the artefacts. Obviously, your mileage may vary on this – when we visited, it was a typical cold damp Melbourne winter day, and the tram system was warning of disruption to trams running past Parliament House, as it was the day of the anti One Nation/Pauline Hanson school strike.

 As  it was, we didn’t see anything of the demo, and by the time we rode the tram back to Parliament station to change to a Metro train back to our hotel, the manifestation was most definitely over, and the greatest risk was crowds of newly minted graduates and their proud parents making their way home.

Agatha Christie, and more Agatha Christie

 I seem to be going through a bit of an Agatha Christie period of my life.

Not only have I read two or three of her mystery novels as my bedtime reading - and I certainly did not expect the ending in the Murder of Roger Ackroyd, today I catalogued the Christie novels in the Athenaeum's historic book collection.

Apart from an early edition of the Seven Dials Mystery, most of them were post world war two crime club editions, and not particularly remarkable.

As I've written elsewhere, I'm fascinated by the fact that she simply took the train to Iraq in the nineteen thirties when when she accompanied her husband, Max Mallowan, on his archaeological excavations in north eastern Syria, and in Come, tell me how you live she describes catching the Taurus Express - the Orient Express's eastern cousin at a remote railway station just across the border in Turkey, and how this train of blue Compagnie des Wagon Lits carriages appeared out of the desert, and train conductors wearing smart uniforms loaded her luggage and helped her onto the train before continuing its journey across the wilds of eastern Turkey.

But that wasn't the most adventurous journey. 

The bus from Damascus to Iraq in the 1930's must have been quite something - no roads, just a hard packed desert track across the emptiness.

I havn't been able to find an image of the track from the 1930's, but I did find one dating from 1970, when it was still a wild unpredictable track across the desert...

However, it wasn't all Agatha Christie today, a couple of golden age crime novels, 

including a copy of John Dickson Carr's Death watch, evidently just about read to death, given how scuffed the cover is, a few romances and an 1874 edition of Wiiliam Carleton's The Black Baronet

Twenty three years...

 

Way back in 2003, when we moved to Canberra from York in England, we needed a car - so after driving a rental Pulsar for two or three weeks we bought ourselves a second hand Subaru Impreza - three years old and a hundred thousand kilometres on the clock.

Arguably the number of kilometres it had done were a bit high for its age but it drove well and had a full service history.

For a time it was our only car, and I caught the bus or rode my bike to work most days.

When we moved further out in Canberra, we ended up with a car each and the old Impreza became my daily commute.

It lasted well without major problems, and by the time we moved to Victoria ten years ago, it had done 275,000 kilometres and still drove well. 

We did talk about selling it then, but decided to keep it as a backup, and I used to use it to transport all my cataloguing equipment between Chiltern and Beechworth when I was cataloguing the contents of Dow's pharmacy and Lakeview.

By the time I'd finished with the National Trust it had done over 300,000km and was beginning to show its age, even though it still rattled along at a decent speed.

Latterly, we found it was basically just sitting there, so today we sold it to a recycler.

We'd had hopes of selling it to someone who wanted to buy it to restore, but the fuel crisis and cost of living squeeze put paid to that, so the recycler it was.

Kind of sad to see it go, it's probably been one of our better buys car wise, but life moves on.

We're going to try having just one car for the time being despite living in a rural community with distinctly sketchy public transport. We can walk to the local shops, library and post office and consequently we don't drive the distances we used to, and we reckon we should be able to manage our calendars to share our car effectively ...

Weird weather we're having...

 A couple of weeks ago I blogged about what a mild winter we've been having.

Since then we've had a week of cold freezing sleety rain followed by a week of even colder overnight temperatures and cold clear blue skies during the day - but cold though it is overnight, it climbs to the low to mid teens during the afternoon, warm enough to work outside in the garden for an hour or two.

The jonquils and daffodils are blooming, and the snowdrops are out, and the grass is beginning to look like its needs cutting again.

On the other hand our bower bird has abandoned his bower and gone wherever bower birds go to escape the cold. Despite the cold overnight temperatures it actually feels like early, very early, spring. with trees starting to bud and the broad beans poke their heads up.

I guess we can only wait and see...

A chilly day's cataloguing

 Up at the Athenaeum this morning for another cataloguing session.

Absolutely freezing with sleety rain making me wish I'd had the sense to wear a pair of my Swedish army surplus wool socks - light enough to wear with ordinary shoes yet infinitely warmer than regular socks.

First task of the day wasn't really cataloguing related, but I went round and removed all the old moth traps, and disposed of them. I'd planned to replace them with new ones - we are supposed to have them in stock, but they seem to have been hidden somewhere.

Given how cold it is at the moment I don't see any self respecting moth or other insect pest doing any damage just now but they obviously need to be replaced before spring.

Other than that it was simply more of the same cataloguing the collection.

No real finds this week, other than what would have been a nice example of early Australian book publishing from 1888 - a copy of This Wicked World by Caroline Emily Cameron (who usually published as either Mrs H Lovett Cameron, or simply Mrs Lovett Cameron).

Unfortunately it has been professionally rebound, meaning that the original cover and binding is missing, which is a pity, as intact it would have been an almost unique example of early Australian publishing.

Other early books catalogued today were an 1867 copy of A Lady's Confession by Pamela, Lady Campbell, and an 1888 reprint of Wilkie Collins' After Dark, otherwise it was a fairly predictable mixture of post world war two and early 1900's fiction ...

Is this climate change?

 Well, I don't know if it's climate change. El Nino, or just some random event, but we seem to have had a relatively warm winter so far.

Not only have I just cut my grass (bear in mind that this is in Beechworth in the foothills of the Victorian Alps) but our resident bower bird has rebuilt his bower and had been busy collecting bottle tops, clothes pegs and anything else blue he can lay his beak on in preparation for the mating season...

Phillip Island

 It was J's birthday this week, so we decided on a few days away on Phillip Island to celebrate.

This of course meant no cataloguing at the Athenaeum this week, but, as they say, all work and no play makes Doug a dull boy.

We drove down on the Monday. The weather over the weekend had not been the best and Monday wasn't much better, meaning it took most of the day to get there.

We avoided the city by driving down the back way via Yarra Glen and Cockatoo to Pakenham where we picked up the main road to the south and south east of Gippsland. 

We'd taken a chicken stew a bottle of wine with us, which was a good thing as we arrived in the dark at our AirBnB and it was pouring with rain, but our host had left the heating on, so we hunkered down with a bowl of stew and a glass of wine or two.

The next day the cloud and rain cleared to a windy, sunny, day. 

We'd planned to do a coastal walk, but actually didn't, driving round the island, and then picking up fish and chips from the San Remo Fish Co-op, beautiful fresh fish , and a glass of wine for dinner.

We'll go for our planned coastal walk tomorrow we told ourselves.

We didn't. The local Nordic myth re-enactment society had decided to stage Ragnorok.

We drove over to Wonthaggi to look at the new art space, all the while hoping for the weather to clear.

It didn't.

We drove on to the dinosaur beach at Inverloch in the hope of the weather clearing. The weather got worse and was now doing a decent imitation of the west coast of Scotland with incessant grey cold smirr.

We decided games were off.

However that night we treated ourselves dinner at Anerie in Cowes, and damned good it was too. 

(For some reason a lot of places on Phillip Island are named after places on the Isle of Wight in England, 

there's Cowes, Ventnor and Newhaven, and while there's no Ryde, there's a Rhyl - I've often wondered if someone got mixed up and meant to name what is now Rhyl, Ryde).

On our last day the weather again cleared and we had a bracing walk at the Nobbies, where there were hordes of Cape Barren geese, nesting, sitting on eggs, escorting gaggles of goslings, and occasionally walking out in front of cars with an arrogance that suggested a direct line to God

That, and a second windy beach walk, and we were done.

We ate at the Phillip Island brewery that evening, and the next day we were up early to drive home, almost retracing our route, save that after Cockatoo and Woori Yallock, we headed north through Healesville and up the Black Spur through the fern forests to Alexandra.

We'd bought some sandwiches and a bag of designer chips, somewhat bizarrely illustrated with a photoshopped picture of Nicholas II and George V clutching potatoes and a vinegar bottle,  from a 7-eleven we'd stopped at for petrol outside of Pakenham and had planned to sit in the park and share our picnic with Princess Alexandra, but it was foggy, chilly, and barely 7 degrees, so we ended up huddling in car,

By the time we reached the freeway at Benalla the sun was out and it was a balmy fifteen degrees, giving us a straight run home in time to pick up our mail from the post office and some things for dinner from the local supermarket.

While the weather was against us, we had fun. We might not have done everything we planned to do, but as always with winter trips it's a matter of taking pleasure in small things...

Wet, wet , wet

 

Let's just say it's been wet, very wet. 

We've had mizzle, we've had drizzle, we've had great pounding belts of rain, stuff that might have been hail, and just plain ordinary rain.

And to add to the fun, the leak in the roof we had a few years ago, came back. Not dramatically but definitely a drip.

We first noticed it a couple of days before we were due to go back to Melbourne for phase ii of Judi's medical procedure. (basically in phase i they implanted the stimulator but left it outside her body taping it in place with what looked like medical grade gaffer tape. In phase ii they confirmed it was working as it should, slipped it inside her body and sewed up the insertion site.)

As there was no way we could postpone phase ii, all I could do was file a claim with our house insurance people and leave a bucket in place to catch the drips.

Fortunately it didn't rain while we were away, and the insurers organised to get a roof repairer to come and make some temporary repairs, which so far, cross fingers, seem to be holding.

Well Judi's phase ii went well, and she only needed a night in hospital.

The only real drama was that I stupidly put my car keys on the roof of the car while I put her overnight bag in the back, and then drove off out of the hospital underground car park with the keys still on the roof, only for them to slide off when I made a sharpish left turn in traffic on the way out of the city. Fortunately Judi had her keys in her bag so everything kept working, and we could start and stop the car.

Solving the problem was a case of going back to the Hyundai dealer, telling them I'd been an idiot, and them checking I was the registered owner of the vehicle, and organising to have a new key fob reprogrammed, which meant taking the car back to them on a day when they could do it.

That was earlier this week, Wednesday in fact. It had rained in the night and I set off in what was either fog or low cloud to drive back to the Hyundai workshop.

They offered me a ride into the city centre, so I got them to drop me close to Albury Library, where I spent the morning researching Agatha Christie's trip to Iraq in 1930.

It was during this quite adventurous trip that she met her second husband, Max Mallowan, who was excavating at Ur, and quite remarkably she went overland, first by train to Damascus via Istanbul, a journey which in our adventurous days I always thought would be worth making, but now, sadly, is a journey that's probably never going to happen.

From Damascus she travelled on to Baghdad via an express bus - more adventurous that it sounds as there were no roads, let alone sealed roads, across the desert, and the bus was more akin to one of these rufty tufty all wheel drive people movers you sometimes see in the outback than your ordinary intercity express bus.

Anyway, they did the reprogramming in the morning and I got the car back in time to drive home before the rain started in earnest again. 

And it rained all day yesterday, and was still raining when I went up to the Athenaeum for my usual Friday morning cataloguing session.

It had turned cold, and apparently there was snow on the mountains, but in Stanley all there was was soaking sleety rain.

Unlike last week, where I had the pleasure of handling some early editions of Wilkie Collins lesser known novels, it was a fairly standard mix of late nineteenth and early twentieth century fiction - popular in its time, but now largely forgotten.

However, it did include an 1870's edition of Henry Cockton's the Adventures of Valentine Vox, Ventriloquist, which must be in the running for the 'most ludicrous novel title' award, as well as an 1870's edition of the History of Margaret Catchpole, which might suggest an early taste for Australiana among the good folk of Stanley ...

Increasing legibility

 About a month ago I blogged that I had started keeping a diary.

Now my handwriting has always been an illegible scrawl, but as things progressively moved online it became progressively worse and worse, probably simply due to lack of practice.

After all we don't write letters or postcards any more, and any dealings with officialdom require completing an online form. Even notes, which might once have been scrawled in a spiral bound notebook are usually typed on a phone using an app like Google Keep.

Now strangely, in the last month or so, since starting my diary, I've noticed my handwriting has improved. 

About a month ago it looked like this, scrawly and wavy.

But now...

Definitely neater and possibly a tad more legible. I still wouldn't win a prize for penmanship, but it's clearly better. While practice hasn't made perfect, it's clearly improved matters...

First Jonquil!

 Not even midwinter's day - that's tomorrow - and our jonquils have begun to flower despite the last few days' incessant rain

They usually begin to flower around the first week in July here in Beechworth, but they are earlier this year, perhaps because of the mild wet start to winter we're having this year ...

A Regula Sprint

I've always liked playing about with photography, and during the pandemic I had a flirtation with retro photography, where you start taking pictures with film cameras for a retro experience - no instant gratification, and you have to think more about your shot, about light, exposure, and the rest.

Some people got serious about it, others mucked about and then didn't do that much. I'd put myself in the latter category.

But even though I didn't do much I kept following some retro photography sites and blogs, and then a few weeks ago I came across this little beauty on ebay

A Regula Sprint, just like my first 35mm camera.

I couldn't resist, and bought it. With shipping from the UK it came to a tad over eighty bucks, but it looks to be clean and in working order - it still has a sticker inside advertising the use of Gevapan film.

It came without a warranty, but I reckoned that if it turned out to be a dud I could put it on display with some of the other old cameras I've picked up here and there over the years

It's a bit heavier than I remembered it but its strange how the muscle memory comes back as how to open it and load film it.

All I can do is have a play. You never know, it might be the thing that turns me in to a semi serious retro photographer....

And I caught a bus !

 After my session in Albury Library this morning, I caught a bus back from MaMa to the dealership to collect my car after being serviced.

That may not seem like much, but as public transport around Beechworth is almost non-existent, this was the first time I've caught an ordinary bus, as opposed to the V/line coach service that connects with the Melbourne train, in the ten years I've lived here.

I'm not against catching the bus, it's just we don't have any with schedules that work for me.

Albury, and its twin city Wodonga, straddle the New South Wales/Victoria border.

In theory they function as one urban centre, but thats a theory, not the reality.

The AW city centre to city centre service is operated on behalf of Transport Victoria by Dyson's. The bus leaves from QE II square just outside of MaMa, in the centre of Albury, which is of course in New South Wales. QE II is where most of the buses in Albury end up, and it functions as a bus interchange for the city - and for Wodonga and surrounding parts of Victoria.

If you looked at the timetable and route information displayed you wouldn't know that there were buses to places in Victoria - it's all for Transport NSW buses to Laverton Thurgoona and other Albury suburbs - not a Victorian bus timetable or sign in sight (There's also a direct bus to Beechworth a few times a day, and you wouldn't guess that either- absolutely no information - you just need to trust the online timetables on both the Transport NSW and Transport Victoria sites).

Anyway, being a trusting soul, I stood in the freezing cold and lo and behold, an ordinary green and white Dyson's service bus arrived. 

I stuck my arm out and it stopped, and the doors opened, allowing me to get on.

How to pay for it was the next problem - there's absolutely no information online as to ticket costs, and it was only by using Google's AI search that I found you could pay with money - as in these funny bits of metal you find in the pockets of jackets and coats you havn't worn for years.

And Google was absolutely right.

No contactless, no Myki, no Opal, just cash, and what's more they gave you change.

and you even get a paper ticket!

Fortunately, I'd had a rummage the evening before and found around five bucks worth of change, so it was pretty straightforward.

There's a bus stop just outside the car service centre so the whole process was fairly painless, even if an act of blind faith was required that the bus really left from where they said ....

Back to Albury Library ...

 Over the last few years I've written about the role public libraries play in the life of an independent researcher, providing tables, desk and free wifi, as places to work, or simply as a place to read your email and upload data at the end of the day.

So, today I was having our car serviced. 

As it's a reasonably new car with all the electronic geegaws that come with that, it had to go back to the dealer to be serviced. 

The dealership's workshop is in Wodonga and they offered to drop me in Albury city centre.

Well, I'd intended to do some more work on Louisa Crow.

I could have decided to work in Wodonga Library, which is excellent as regards facilities, but doesn't open until 10.00, and it was 0845 on a cold damp morning after a night of biblical quantities of rain.

Wodonga doesn't have that much in the way of coffee shops with wifi where you can work, so I took up the dealership's offer of a ride to Albury city centre.

By the time they dropped me off, Canvas, the cafe attached to MaMa was open for coffee, so I treated myself to an early morning tea and sat at one of the tables using MaMa's free wifi doing the preliminary research on Trove.

Like Wodonga Library, Albury Library doesn't open until 10.00, but by the time I'd had a coffee and walked around checking where the bus stops were - there's a direct bus from outside of MaMa to Wodonga centre that goes past the dealership, the library was open.

The open plan work area was much as I remember it from when I last used the Library extensively in 2017 - the public access computers have changed, and are arranged differently, and there's now a couple of bookable quiet rooms, which can be used for conference calls, but there's still a number of large work tables, some of which are located conveniently close to power sockets, incluidng USB sockets if you need to charge a phone or tablet.

Wifi is provided as part of Albury Wodonga's joint free public wifi service, as at MaMa and Wodonga public library - it's not the fastest wifi service on the planet, but testing using Ookla's web client gave me something like 25Mbps for both upload and download, which is not unreasonable and more than adequate for an hour or two's web based research (and good enough to let me re-install Evernote, after I found that the version installed on my computer was hopelessly behind the current release).

Basically it provides all that you need, and on a cold wet Tuesday provided a useful haven for an hour or two while I researched Louisa Crow...

I've started keeping a diary...

 I've started keeping a diary, an almost daily record of what I've done and when, bike rides, interesting things I saw online that I might follow up on, that sort of thing.

I've never really kept a personal diary before. Travel journals, yes, and work and project diaries, yes, but personal day to day diaries, no.

Which in retrospect is a pity, there's been a lot of interesting little snippets along the way that I should have noted down.

I'm structuring the diary like one of my work or project diaries - essentially a journal rather than a diary.

I've always found work and project diaries useful to keep a record of what was done when and indeed where we are up to, as well as in the days when I had to do such things, compile the dread annual activity statement.

Strangely I didn't keep a work diary for either of my projects with the National Trust, instead just relying on my utterly illegible work books, and the spreadsheets I created along the way.

My reasoning for not keeping a work diary were that they were both 'start at the beginning and keep on going until you reach the end' type projects.

In retrospect that was a mistake, especially in the case of Dow's, where there was a hiatus of nearly fifteen months  due to the various Covid lockdowns and closures. While I did document my decisions along the way in various blog posts, they don't give the level of detail a proper project diary gives.

In the absence of any real project plan or an external project manager, I found I had to make decisions along the way about how to do things, which I documented in various blog posts.

However, keeping a project diary would have been useful to record the various useful out of scope things that happened along the way and supplementary information and documentation that I generated.

At Lake View, that was less of an issue, as the project was more tightly defined, but again a project diary might have been worth keeping.

I did start keeping one towards the end of the project, simply because I was also spending time up at the Athenaeum, and I needed to keep a record of what I did for which project.

I've carried on keeping a project diary for my work at the Athenaeum, into which I add other bits and  pieces, like blogs posted and odd little ad hoc bits of research, like my work on the Friends of Russian Freedom.

Likewise I've been keeping a travel diary for years, at first just for our longer trips, but now for most trips, I find it useful to be able to put us in a place at a particular time.

So, now a personal diary. Today's the first day of it, so it's pretty boring so far but I'm hoping a written record of things, books I mean to buy, and other useful snippets might prove useful.

The other thing about the diary is that I'm keeping it in a hardback notebook -  a cheap Amazon basics notebook and writing it with my trusty Lamy nib pen.

The paper quality of the cheap Amazon notebook is not too bad - not quite as nice as ClaireFontaine or Moleskine, but smooth enough to write on with a nib pen without any blotches.

I do find writing in a notebook with a nib pen helps fix things in my memory more that simply just using Evernote or OneDrive to manage documents, or indeed to use jrnl on one of my computers to make a day by day record.

We'll see how this goes...

A curious lemon

 A few days ago, we took the last few of last year's big old lemons off the tree in the yard to make way for this year's crop.

Some were still good enough to juice, or slice up to garnish chicken roasted in the oven or indeed a pre-dinner tipple.

We sliced into one of them 

and found a lemon seedling growing inside the lemon.

Havn't seen that before ...

A return to some sort of normality

 After the disruption caused by Lucy's passing, after which neither of us was good for much while we grieved, not to mention helping our remaining cat adapt to being the only cat in the house - he has been calling for Lucy, and sometimes, when he goes out on the deck still looks behind him to see if she's following him.

Still, cuddles, love and attention seems to be soothing him and I'm sure he'll come to terms with her not being around.

We have soothed ourselves by putting a little cat sculpture in the garden to remind us of her and I must admit I caught myself talking to it while working in the garden in the same way I would chat to our cats

The weather has been quite wonderful, warm afternoons but distinctly chilly mornings and evenings. I've been able to press on with tidying the garden before winter, and have been continuing my probably vain attempt to get all the couch grass out of the garden bed.

It will probably soon be time to start planting our winter vegetables, and I've had a bit of a cock up there.

Earlier this week Ausnet turned off the power to the street to do some maintenance to the power poles and as it was going to take them several hours we went out, first to the big Bunnings hardware store in Albury, and then on to Talangatta for lunch at the bakery.

While we were in Bunnings we bought some plants in pots and trays, plus some seeds. I don't know what happened, but when I put the plants in a cardboard box to protect them I seem to have forgotten to pick up the seeds, or else I dropped them.

Whatever happened, they weren't there when we got home, obviously my bad, so I reordered them online and hopefully they'll be here next week.

For obvious reasons, I've not been for a bike ride for almost two weeks, despite it still being (just) warm enough to ride in the mornings before breakfast, and it's now getting too late in the year for riding in the mornings - the sun's not up till after seven, and even if I set off a little before sunrise I'm having to contend with the start of the morning commuter traffic, which kind of spoils the pleasure of it, so I guess the answer is some afternoon rides, like my ride to Baarmutha a few years ago, before winter proper sets in.

Up at the Athenaeum it's been cataloguing and more cataloguing. Again no real finds this week, just the usual mix of Victorian novels lightened with some 1930s crime and romance novels, the escapist literature of the time ...

Lucy, 2017 - 2026

 

Our cat Lucy died today.

She had been sick for some time, not really eating, losing weight, and generally fading away. 

A few times she seemed to rally, and we thought there might be hope of a recovery, but it was not to be.

We of course took her to the vet, where they ran the standard tests, and couldn’t find anything obviously wrong, she was simply ill.

A second trip to the vet was a little more hopeful and she seemed to be picking up, but again, it was not to be.

We had discussed treatment options with the vet, but given that she was already weak and ill, and it could well be cancer or lymphoma, there really wasn’t anything further to be done.

We decided that since she was not obviously in pain the kindest thing would be to let her enjoy her last few days at home sitting in the sun on the back deck, something she always loved to do.

After a few days when you could see glimpses of her old playful self, she started to fade away again.

Even so, as late autumn turned colder and wetter she still wanted to be outside in the sun for an hour or two in the early afternoon watching the birds rootling around in the leaf litter and thinking cat thoughts about who knows what.

And then, as she became weaker, and really couldn’t do much more than sit on her favourite cushion, we realised it was time to let her go in as dignified way as possible.

Her last day was a cold, chilly but sunny day with snow on the mountains.

As if she knew this was the end, she insisted on sitting outside for one final time, before it was time for us to take her to the vet to be put to sleep.

Utterly heartbreaking.

She had come to us a few years ago as a former breeding queen who was in need of a home and some love, which she returned ten fold, always wanting to snuggle on a cold morning, or simply sit quietly with you while you were reading or working on your laptop.

A lovely sweet cat, she will be missed.

 

 

A little more like normal

I'd expected this week to be a bit scrappy like the previous two but life at Moncur towers has settled down again, with a couple of afternoons working in the garden in the unseasonably warm weather. (Not only have I been wearing shorts, the strawberries have started fruiting for the third time this year!)

The only trouble is that while it's been warm and sunny, it's also been dry - the soil in the garden is really really dry, which is going to be a problem in a week or two when gets time to start planting our winter veg. 

Mornings are still cold and chilly though as I discovered when I went for a bike ride just after dawn earlier this week

and while it's nothing amazing, I'm quite pleased with my performance.

Up at the Athenaeum, I'm done with prayerbooks for the moment and am back working on the historic book collection. Nothing remarkable this week, mostly crime and romance novels from either the interwar period or the 1950s.

Other than a couple of bodice rippers with bookplates from the Victorian Railways Institute Library, all the books this week seem to have been purchased direct from booksellers, which perhaps reflects the declining popularity of circulating libraries.

And I've been spending my money again on old nineteenth century postcards.

This weeks purchase is an 1896 postcard from Durban, in what was then the British colony of Natal, and is now the largest city in KwaZuluNatal in South Africa

very much a standard colonial pattern postcard of the time designed for international use - hence the 'Union postale universelle' strapline above the name of the colony.

It's addressed to a Mr R Stanton, 22 Royal Arcade Sydney.

Now vanished - it was demolished in 1969 - the Royal Arcade ran between George Street and Pitt Street near the former School of Arts

I havn't transcribed the message yet, that will be a task for a wet afternoon, but I can share that the card was sent from 80 Alice Street in Durban.

Alice Street has been renamed Johannes Nkosi Street and has been through some changes over the years and is now the site of a major transport interchange. A very quick search has not revealed any photographs of what it looked like in the colonial period, but it was already the site of a major tram interchange around the postcard was mailed...