My Form 3 science teacher in country Victoria used to constantly regale us with his favourite life observation;
"There are two stinking cities in the world, and Melbourne is BOTH of them."
I vividly remember this little piece of trivia, whereas the finer details he taught of Archimedes experiments in bathtubs has suffered, well…….. displacement.
We were never provided with empirical evidence or statistical data in support of the "Melbourne Hypothesis".
Perhaps he was simply, during childhood, belted around the ears a lot in that city, or maybe, in love, he lost a Melbourne girl who went on to become Miss Australia 1958.
Over the years I have become a subscriber to his religion, whilst broadening the parameters somewhat to include every settlement in the world with a population over……oh, let's say 50.
They are not places I would ever by choice want to live.
The time has come however for me to adopt a more realistic view, for one day I may need the convenience of city services to comfortably live the final chapter of my life.
The reality is that living at GOF's Paradise requires a minimum level of physical fitness. Being responsible for your own housing, transport, water, and energy supplies brings with it a certain workload of continual maintenance.
There is no-one to call to "fix it". You have to do it yourself.
Refrigeration, for example, only happens after driving 100 km to buy some 60 kg gas cylinders, then manhandling and connecting them to the plumbing.
Our isolated location also means that there will be no volunteer organisations offering to help us out with life in our senior years.
Globet (our daughter…aka Inga…..for newcomers) has been charged with the responsibility of ensuring that GOF makes a timely and dignified transition into civilisation.
She will argue till the cows come home that "dignity" and "GOF" are two incompatible items, but nevertheless, if, one day she moves me in next door to you, wherever you are in the world, I plan to be a thoughtful and considerate neighbour.
Please let us be kind to each other, otherwise the old reprobate inside me might just decide to start learning to play the bagpipes.
At 4 am.
With my windows wide open.
Starting with this version of AC/DC's Thunderstruck;
(Vox is having a hissy fit and refuses to load Youtube link normally)