This morning my heart skipped a beat when I opened my letter box and found a letter addressed to my Mum, who died in Nopvember 2003.
To add to the insult it was addressed to her personally, using her christian name, as if the sender knew her!
I've had the phone to my ear for 40 minutes, searched and found nowhere on their web site to make a complaint to but have finally tracked down the section of Optus, an Australian telecommunications provider, responsible for sending this crap and just mailed the following.
Optus Customer Relations Group.
PO Box 306
Salisbury South. SA. 5106.
Attention:Michael Smith.
Consumer Group Marketing Director.
Michael,
I am writing to express my utter disgust and dismay at receiving the included brochure, signed by you, personally addressed to my Mother, Irene, who died in November 2003.
My Mother dealt with Telstra all her life, never had any dealings with Optus so wherever you are receiving this information – the source needs to be severely overhauled. Imagine the distress receiving this sort of mail out causes to others whose loved ones have recently died.
How you would feel if this happened to you?
To add to the frustration your branch of Optus is invisible. A phone call to the number in the brochure took me to the Philippines, another call took me to tech support where thankfully someone understood the sour taste this type of mail out causes and found the postal address for your department.
I trust you will deal with the removal of dead people from your mailing lists post haste!
Thankfully I am not and never will be Optus customer.
Next stop the Telecommunications Ombudsman.
Tuesday, 28 August 2007
Sunday, 26 August 2007
Redheads will be extinct in 100 years ...
The future doesn't look bright for people with red or ginger hair.
According to genetic scientists redheads are becoming rarer and could be extinct in 100 years.
The current National Geographic magazine reports that less than 2 per cent of the world's population has natural red hair - created by a mutation in northern Europe thousand of years ago. Global intermingling, which broadens the availability of possible partners, has reduced the chances of redheads meeting and so producing little redheads of their own. Although it takes only one red-haired parent to produce ginger babies, two redheads obviously creates a much stronger possibility.
Some experts warn redheads could be gone as early 2060, but others say the gene can be dormant in the reproductive system for generations before returning.
National Geographic says the gene at first had the beneficial effect of increasing the body's ability to make vitamin D from sunlight. However, today's carriers are more prone to skin cancer and have a higher sensitivity to heat and cold-related pain.
I always knew we were the chosen people but this is frightening so c'mon people, you've not lived till you've had a red head experience so get out there now and start populating.
If all else fails then there always Clairol Nice n Easy 109.
According to genetic scientists redheads are becoming rarer and could be extinct in 100 years.
The current National Geographic magazine reports that less than 2 per cent of the world's population has natural red hair - created by a mutation in northern Europe thousand of years ago. Global intermingling, which broadens the availability of possible partners, has reduced the chances of redheads meeting and so producing little redheads of their own. Although it takes only one red-haired parent to produce ginger babies, two redheads obviously creates a much stronger possibility.
Some experts warn redheads could be gone as early 2060, but others say the gene can be dormant in the reproductive system for generations before returning.
National Geographic says the gene at first had the beneficial effect of increasing the body's ability to make vitamin D from sunlight. However, today's carriers are more prone to skin cancer and have a higher sensitivity to heat and cold-related pain.
I always knew we were the chosen people but this is frightening so c'mon people, you've not lived till you've had a red head experience so get out there now and start populating.
If all else fails then there always Clairol Nice n Easy 109.
Mum & Dad married 65 years ago today ...
Mum and Dad were married at St Stephen's Church, Bellevue Hill on August 25, 1942. Here they are in 1951, with Dad's Mum!
What a dashing looking couple they were!
Saturday, 25 August 2007
#74 Sunday Scribblings "I get that sinking feeling ..."
I get that sinking feeling every time I think about the about the latest rort concerning the APEC conference being held in Sydney in September. The majority of the city will be in lockdown as world leaders congregate for this conference. But ... the final straw, that sinking feeling came when it was announced, the Prime Minister's wife will host partners of the twenty leaders to a lunch at the beautifully situated Bondi Icebergs Dining Room & Bar on Sunday September 9.
Crikey isn't it enough that she resides in Admiralty House, (take a sneak peak). Idyllically situated on the shores of Sydney Harbour, where magnificent dining facilities, a five star chef with impeccable staff are employed to provide them with more than any being could wish for. Yet the PM's little woman, wants to snub her nose to all that pretentiousness, add more chaos and expense by big noting at Bondi with nary a care for the people her husband, not she was elected to represent. What on earth would be wrong with throwing a shrimp on the very expensive barbie and putting her tootsie's up at home! Not good enough Janette?
Bugger The Bondi Icebergs the four hundred odd winter swimmers, who rock up to the Bondi Baths every winter Sunday morning to pluge into the briny, a catch up with their mates and probably a sink a couple of cold beers after a few laps. Bugger the the ten thousand people who venture to Bondi every year to enjoy the annual Festival of the Winds . Bugger the local residents as roads are either turned into clearways or closed. Bugger the people who work in Bondi. Bugger the people who flock to the Bondi Markets every Sunday. Bugger the extra expense for security extravaganza looking out for these hanger's on. Bugger the cost!
Let's not even contemplate the cost ... gadzooks ... Sunday rates ... is it any wonder I get that sinking feeling? Could it be 'cos I'm a born and bred Bondi girl? Maybe it's not only the expense and all the BS but the thought of this human polution ... look out here comes that sinking feeling again!
Crikey isn't it enough that she resides in Admiralty House, (take a sneak peak). Idyllically situated on the shores of Sydney Harbour, where magnificent dining facilities, a five star chef with impeccable staff are employed to provide them with more than any being could wish for. Yet the PM's little woman, wants to snub her nose to all that pretentiousness, add more chaos and expense by big noting at Bondi with nary a care for the people her husband, not she was elected to represent. What on earth would be wrong with throwing a shrimp on the very expensive barbie and putting her tootsie's up at home! Not good enough Janette?
Bugger The Bondi Icebergs the four hundred odd winter swimmers, who rock up to the Bondi Baths every winter Sunday morning to pluge into the briny, a catch up with their mates and probably a sink a couple of cold beers after a few laps. Bugger the the ten thousand people who venture to Bondi every year to enjoy the annual Festival of the Winds . Bugger the local residents as roads are either turned into clearways or closed. Bugger the people who work in Bondi. Bugger the people who flock to the Bondi Markets every Sunday. Bugger the extra expense for security extravaganza looking out for these hanger's on. Bugger the cost!
Let's not even contemplate the cost ... gadzooks ... Sunday rates ... is it any wonder I get that sinking feeling? Could it be 'cos I'm a born and bred Bondi girl? Maybe it's not only the expense and all the BS but the thought of this human polution ... look out here comes that sinking feeling again!
Monday, 20 August 2007
#73 Sunday Scribblings "Dear Diary" ...
Dear Diary,
How fitting this prompt is at this time. There’s no ‘dear diary’ round here – it’s more ‘darn diaries’! There’s thirty years of my diaries along with another drawer full of diaries kept by my Mother. What to do with the drawers of forests?
Most of the one’s kept by me haven’t been read for a number of years. Why? Because when I last skimmed through them I detested what I read. Who was that person? What a sad and sorry piece of work the writer was at that time. I pondered my reaction. Was it sadness, shame or a combination? Probably the time of that reading wasn’t the right time, I wonder is it now?
Mum’s diaries are easy to read, desperately sad too! Most of her writing was about what she ate. At the top of most pages there’s a red tick denoting whether she went to the toilet that day and worse still as her health declined how many times. Isn’t that sad? Why do old people become obsessed with their bowels?
One question for me is what to do with these historical ramblings now? What about that person I used to be, what was happening family wise, about where I socialised and with whom, the jobs I had, the dates I moved house, the amount of cool refreshing glasses of happiness that were consumed, the hearts I broke, how many times I thought my heart was broken, that life wasn’t worth living? Can I part with all that history?
Nah … they’re staying where they are.
Yay, I’ve answered my own question!
The pages are cathartic, invaluable, outrageous! The pages contain the stuff memoirs are made of. These diaries contain inspiration. Showing how not to make the same mistakes. Descriptions of flight versus fight. Reminders of survival. Demonstrations of how floundering motivation will lead you to rise above adversity. There's the wildness, the partying, the sadness, the depression, the laughter, all climaxing in how I turned my life around, how I saved my soul, how I did it alone, and more importantly how the metamorphosis eventuated … all the meat for the bones of another chapter in the book!
Rest easy Dear Diaries. I feel another journey another entry in another diary, coming up!
How fitting this prompt is at this time. There’s no ‘dear diary’ round here – it’s more ‘darn diaries’! There’s thirty years of my diaries along with another drawer full of diaries kept by my Mother. What to do with the drawers of forests?
Most of the one’s kept by me haven’t been read for a number of years. Why? Because when I last skimmed through them I detested what I read. Who was that person? What a sad and sorry piece of work the writer was at that time. I pondered my reaction. Was it sadness, shame or a combination? Probably the time of that reading wasn’t the right time, I wonder is it now?
Mum’s diaries are easy to read, desperately sad too! Most of her writing was about what she ate. At the top of most pages there’s a red tick denoting whether she went to the toilet that day and worse still as her health declined how many times. Isn’t that sad? Why do old people become obsessed with their bowels?
One question for me is what to do with these historical ramblings now? What about that person I used to be, what was happening family wise, about where I socialised and with whom, the jobs I had, the dates I moved house, the amount of cool refreshing glasses of happiness that were consumed, the hearts I broke, how many times I thought my heart was broken, that life wasn’t worth living? Can I part with all that history?
Nah … they’re staying where they are.
Yay, I’ve answered my own question!
The pages are cathartic, invaluable, outrageous! The pages contain the stuff memoirs are made of. These diaries contain inspiration. Showing how not to make the same mistakes. Descriptions of flight versus fight. Reminders of survival. Demonstrations of how floundering motivation will lead you to rise above adversity. There's the wildness, the partying, the sadness, the depression, the laughter, all climaxing in how I turned my life around, how I saved my soul, how I did it alone, and more importantly how the metamorphosis eventuated … all the meat for the bones of another chapter in the book!
Rest easy Dear Diaries. I feel another journey another entry in another diary, coming up!
Sunday, 19 August 2007
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Tuesday, 14 August 2007
A knowing look or a secret conversation ...
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Been here before ... sure looks like it!
An amazing moment with a 14 day old angel!
FIELD OF WOMEN Live - Proud Aussie Women ...
On Saturday 11 August 2007, at Telstra Stadium before the Sydney Swans Game against St Kilda an amazing event took place.
The Sydney Swans, the AFL and Telstra Stadium in partnership with Breast Cancer Network Australia (BCNA) staged the first ever Sydney, Field of Women Live prior to the game.
Over 13,000 women and approximately 100 men - representing the number of Australians diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007 - stood together to create the first ever Sydney Field of Women LIVE.
What a fabulous sight - makes me proud to be an Aussie!
For more information & photo's - even information about hosting your own Field ...
http://www.fieldofwomen.org.au/
The Sydney Swans, the AFL and Telstra Stadium in partnership with Breast Cancer Network Australia (BCNA) staged the first ever Sydney, Field of Women Live prior to the game.
Over 13,000 women and approximately 100 men - representing the number of Australians diagnosed with breast cancer in 2007 - stood together to create the first ever Sydney Field of Women LIVE.
What a fabulous sight - makes me proud to be an Aussie!
For more information & photo's - even information about hosting your own Field ...
http://www.fieldofwomen.org.au/
Sunday, 12 August 2007
Sunday Scribblings #72 Goosebumps.
Mmmmm here's some things that give me Goosebumps ?
Old photo's.
MJ.
Inspiration.
Satisfaction.
Babies.
Dee.
Old songs.
Fingernails on a chalkboard.
Tales of personal achievement.
Collecting.
Beating the odds.
Blossom.
Stories people tell of loved ones.
Surprises.
Oversingers
When I feel someone watching.
Survivors.
Sensing someone or something nearby.
Winning.
A slight breeze.
The unexpected.
Feeling I've been there before.
Vibrant colour.
Metal on metal.
Good news.
The screech of brakes.
A surprise.
When Australia wins - anything.
Happiness.
A parade.
Memories.
... I've got goosebumps right now!
Old photo's.
MJ.
Inspiration.
Satisfaction.
Babies.
Dee.
Old songs.
Fingernails on a chalkboard.
Tales of personal achievement.
Collecting.
Beating the odds.
Blossom.
Stories people tell of loved ones.
Surprises.
Oversingers
When I feel someone watching.
Survivors.
Sensing someone or something nearby.
Winning.
A slight breeze.
The unexpected.
Feeling I've been there before.
Vibrant colour.
Metal on metal.
Good news.
The screech of brakes.
A surprise.
When Australia wins - anything.
Happiness.
A parade.
Memories.
... I've got goosebumps right now!
Saturday, 11 August 2007
Sunday, 5 August 2007
A Gorgeous Gift - Vintage Sewing ...
Someone watches over me - I've always known!
Good things happen to me and today was no exception. Look at the gorgeous gift of very old sewing notions that Pet brought to me! Every piece a keeper. I am tickled pink!
Good things happen to me and today was no exception. Look at the gorgeous gift of very old sewing notions that Pet brought to me! Every piece a keeper. I am tickled pink!
Lustrous silk threads on wooden reels with labels from Paris, San Fancisco and England. Beautiful buttons, three from the Queen Victoria era, maybe off the uniform of a young Englishman. Mother of pearl buttons, so cold to touch you could almost feel the sea. Five gorgeous green ones with tortoiseshell centres that will be sewn onto a favourite black jacket, tiny marcasite with diamante centres, blue glass and stunning oval striped glass as well!
Tortoiseshell stays - probably broken from firmly holding in a young ladies corseted waist. Boot buttons, still with the dirt from where they were salvaged. Silk embroidery thread with the wrapper paper label displaying "made in England" and a huge wooden spool of linen thread from Knox's in Scotland. What a huge surprise to find a small ebony cotton reel - what a gorgeous addition to a necklace that will become. A beaded tassell will cascade from the centre - only to be worn on special occasions ...
Oh My ... I am so blessed!!
Saturday, 4 August 2007
Sunday Scribbling #71 DECISION.
Decision, love the word, easy for me, difficult for some.
Making the decision has always been easy. Should I shouldn’t I, will I won’t I, can I can’t I, these questions have flavoured my life, caused many to reel, to gasp with shock/horror as they asked “she’s not going to is she”? Some decisions were extremely bad, some ridiculous, some embarrassing, many on a whim, many on an impulse, most without a thought of the consequences or the effect on the people involved. Each time I prepared myself to either suffer or relish the consequences well I thought I did, invariably I left debris, yet lessons were learnt.
The decisions made for me, supposedly in my best interest, caused great personal sadness – too much to mention here! Learned behaviour was my advisor – yeah, make that decision a little voice would say – go on I dare you. Making a decision became a form of approval seeking. That was until I woke up, found the formula, came out of the fog and made the best decision; to grow up – now that was a decision!
For me the ability to make a decision is admirable. However making the decision without careful consideration can often be dangerous. Hearts broken, lives in turmoil, the outcome frequently not what was initially expected. So when I consider the decision makers who blunder along in their positions of power oft making a decision frequently with a hidden agenda I realise my decision making episodes weren’t that bad after all.
Decision making now, I'm Over it!
Making the decision has always been easy. Should I shouldn’t I, will I won’t I, can I can’t I, these questions have flavoured my life, caused many to reel, to gasp with shock/horror as they asked “she’s not going to is she”? Some decisions were extremely bad, some ridiculous, some embarrassing, many on a whim, many on an impulse, most without a thought of the consequences or the effect on the people involved. Each time I prepared myself to either suffer or relish the consequences well I thought I did, invariably I left debris, yet lessons were learnt.
The decisions made for me, supposedly in my best interest, caused great personal sadness – too much to mention here! Learned behaviour was my advisor – yeah, make that decision a little voice would say – go on I dare you. Making a decision became a form of approval seeking. That was until I woke up, found the formula, came out of the fog and made the best decision; to grow up – now that was a decision!
For me the ability to make a decision is admirable. However making the decision without careful consideration can often be dangerous. Hearts broken, lives in turmoil, the outcome frequently not what was initially expected. So when I consider the decision makers who blunder along in their positions of power oft making a decision frequently with a hidden agenda I realise my decision making episodes weren’t that bad after all.
Decision making now, I'm Over it!
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