Oh, Australia. Remember we had the fires, then yes, the plague thing, yeah, Melbourne has been through six lockdowns. I think Singapore is the only place that has lived through the same.
We struggled to get our hands on toilet paper and the term Karen was born. Did I mention, that was when I started a liver cleanse? Yeah, that’s right, ME, I made a one-off purchase of the dreaded home brand of Toilet Paper I can guarantee I’ll never revisit. The packaging claimed it was embossed. Um, it was Single Ply, I would have traded that little extra for another ply. Then, we’ve had floods, right.
Everyone caught up.
Now, we have the horrid prices and reboot of boring conversations about which lettuce is best and how much you need to pay to get one.
Seriously, it’s probably easier to get hard drugs. I was faced about a month ago with paying $13 for an iceberg lettuce. That’s my go-to. I had sent a new carer to grab me a lettuce while I got something else. She saw the price and called it out to me. I said “I’m sorry, what!” She repeated and another shopper came over to discuss this ridiculous notion. I recalled a newsworthy story I had seen and I told this other shopper. “Apparently KFC have started substituting cabbage for lettuce” He looked surprised. I told him… “I have to tell you I don’t eat their burgers for the lettuce!” I eat salad for my lettuce and I do like lettuce to be a staple in my crisper.
So, now I’m posting and bragging on social media I managed to get a lettuce the size off my head for $8.00. My last lettuce was down to a tiny heart and I wanted to list it on marketplace for $50 like when some smarty pants posted a Toilet Paper roll with its last two squares.
Lastly, I’ve been having plenty of nonsense old people conversations. But again, more of that later. Yes, it’s worthy of its own post and I haven’t written it yet. Next.
This is about my fifth blog post I’ve written in a sitting, over ninety minutes, so it might give you an idea of how the old filing cabinet that is my brain works and I haven’t had a day to sit and write for maybe a month, so I’m way behind.
But I just wanted to circle back briefly to my adventures to the Preston Markets on the Saturday mornings with the then boyfriend.
While I was working in the area, I would prefer to go after work on a Thursday or Friday night to get “just a few things” and carry them home on the train. Early evenings were really quiet and it was a nice way to finish the day after work.
However, as you might recall, going on a Saturday, I had a strict time schedule that I wanted/needed to go because and this is the main reason. I think the boyfriend did not like going and that is because he hated the ‘wogs’.
What? Shock horror! That sounds racist. However, he was not from Australia, he was from the States and he didn’t understand “wogs”.
Preston and other areas around Melbourne have a long history of wogs (Italian/Greeks etc) and while the ex was tall, he didn’t cope with the masses of Nona’s pushing their way in and around him and their shopping carts into him.
He would often let out a noise of displeasure in a fruit and veg stall and I would look over at him. A Nona had pushed her trolley into him as if he wasn’t there. He was just in their way and they didn’t much care.
He obviously just needed to give them the European stare. Yes!