vobiblog

Today, I was lucky enough to go into a time warp. I can’t exactly work out how far I went back, but sure was scary. I had to visit a certain RSL club in northern NSW today for work. From the moment I pulled up outside the complex, I knew this was a very strange place

Through the grand entrance and I found myself surrounded wood panelling and aluminium bordered by gold, marble and neon. Chandeliers made from white, brown, and chrome plastic illuminate the way forward. I am greeted by a man with big white hair, white shirt and gold teeth (do dentists still do that to people?). To the left of me there is a bottle shop that looked like it hadn’t changed its promotional material since the club was constructed. Then again, maybe beer labels haven’t changed all that much in the last 20 years. Next to the bottle shop is a row of gold Telecom Payphones with the brown acrylic noise shield around them.

Drawn by the neon I head up the escalators . The floor on the second level is covered in a wonderfull bright blue, marine print carpet. A staff member, sporting a shirt with a similar marine motif is casually smoking a cigarette. I continue to the administration area that was themed in a blue that is somewhere between teal and aqua. It would have been the perfect office in its day, with a place for everything and plenty of cupboards and draws. If only its designers could have forseen the need for a computer on every desk. The place was a mess with computers and cables running everywhere.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a chance to explore the rest of the building as I was too busy working. I suspect that parts of it have been modernised since it was built. It’s a pity. I haven’t seen such an untouched example of 80’s kitsch for a long time.

I spent most of the weekend cleaning up the house. It is almost at the stage where I feel that I could ask someone to live here. It’s amazing how much crap you accumulate when you live in a place for four years. I reckon that It is quite possible that I kept all the parts left over from servicing my car over the last four years in boxes under the house. What possessed me to do something so stupid? I wasn’t trying to cause an ecological disaster. Now all that I have to tackle is what was the home office and is now just the junk room.

I also went to Ikea on Saturday. After spending an hour in a traffic jam on the pacific motorway, I finally get there and it was packed. As usual, they didn’t have the particular pieces of Ivar that I wanted. The 87cm cabnet that I was after had been discontinued :~(. Why is it that no matter how much money you spend at Ikea, the rooms in your home never look as good as the rooms in their catalogue?

Finally, my mum told me a little story tonight that proves that George Bush’s issues are genetic. George’s brother Jeb was recently in Spain where, in a public speech, he referred to Prime Minister Aznar as the President of the Republic of Spain. A quick check of the CIA world fact book would have alerted poor old Jeb to the fact that Spain is actually a parliamentary monarchy and hence, referred to as the Kingdom of Spain. A quick check of the dictionary would have alerted poor old Jeb to the fact that by definition, heads of state are only referred to as presidents in republics. In this case, Prime Minister Aznar is not even the head of state, the king is.

Thats fine. Honest mistakes happen. I can quote Colin Powell as saying “Prime Minister Downer” not so long ago. However, a few days later, the King of Spain met Jeb, and told him to say hello to his brother “the King of the United Sates”. Apparently the joke went right over the top of poor old Jeb.

Toodles