Free-form emails

I used to just be able to call our work caretakers to come and move furniture, transport boxes, arrange rooms and do all the manual labour that I'm quite capable of, but don't want to because it's manual labour and someone else can do it.

Then they stopped us from just ringing them up, because apparently it got a little confusing. We had to start sending them emails.
 

This is my first one:

Dear Caretakers, 

Could you please deliver 2 boxes of handbooks from the [redacted] front office to SSS Rm 340 (the faculty office). 

Kind regards, 
Franzy


Ps. This email just isn’t the same …


Then I decided that it was time to get creative: 

Hello Supermen and Superwomen of Campus Services, 

There is a flickering fluoro tube in the [redacted]. Could someone replace it with their super strength and x-ray light-replacing vision, please? 

Kind regards, 
Franzy

I settled into that routine for a while, leaving out the fancy stuff, but attempting to woo them with flattering names:

Hello Campus Heroes, 

Dear Kings and Queens of Flinders Hill, 

Dear Mighty Flinders Rangers, 

Dear Takers of Care, 

O Mighty Knights of North Ridge, 

And so on.

However, on a slightly slow day, I think I finally tipped over into playful insanity:

Hail, ye Shamans of Mount Flinders! 

Verily, I have some large boxes full of bags, some signs and a printer which require spiriting away from the store room in the [redacted]. (Our guild down here is now called [redacted] for ye further information.) All items for removal have been marked ‘Move to Room 107’. 

Although the filing cabinets have been marked for removal, yay, do not move them or great spirits shall be released! Plus they need to emptied and their contents archived. 

May the Demons of Hrothgar smite thine enemies, 

Franzy

After that, suddenly cheerful, muscular men in blue overalls pushing sack-trucks were popping up and telling me how much they enjoyed my emails. I had been under the impression that the email went to one person, who would call the relevant muscular man with a trolley and tell him what to do. 

Nope.

They go to everyone involved in any kind of 'service' activity. Everyone.

I've got an audience now. The pressure's on. What next?

O yay o yay 

This morn’ cracked a rainy day 

With 16 boxes to carry away 

Full o’ books for North 1, without delay, 

On this finest, wettest, windiest firstling of May 

Where the boxes are located, 

In Chamber 110 they are situated, 

And shan’t be saturated, 

The students shall be placated 

By their books o’erflooding with fresh knowledge and the promise of a drier day. 

'How's the old English study coming along?' asks a muscular man in blue. 'I got a real kick out of that last one.'

It's a truism I just made up that most writers figure out, but never really master, that the more you fiddle with the font of what you're writing, the less you have to write. So I go:

Starship North Ridge - COME IN, Starship North Ridge! This is Galactic Hopper [redacted], Planet [redacted], Quadrant Level 1, requesting transfer of valuable academic cargo from Holding Bay Room 110 via Caretaker Hyperdrive to the distant reaches of North 1. There are 11 boxes of handbooks and all have received appropriate quarantine clearance. If North 1 is still occupied by the armies of Space Students, then they can be left in orbit in the foyer, same as yesterday. 

Then, it happens. I need something urgently and I don't have time to come up with anything amusing. I can feel the collective disappointment before it even begins.

Recycling is full. 

Level one needs a new bin. 

Life begins anew. 

And, just as quietly as the poem left the screen. So too did the bin in question. The feedback was minimal. I'm actually disappointed that I went with a whimper. 

In my last email, I resolved to rectify this and salvage whatever reputation I might still have left as 'that weirdo who send the weird emails'

And they’re off and racing! 

Printing is delivering 7 boxes of books past Room 110 before 3pm, The Caretakers of Camelot are coming up the inside to pick up the lead, dragging The Dodgy Handtruck in second place, Boxes of Books are looking for a swift finish as they come around the bend, North One is in sight, but The Caretakers of Camelot are looking strong, Foundation Studies students are milling about in the background, but a late run is all but impossible, as they close into the finish it’s Caretakers, North One, Boxes of Books neck and neck there’s nothing in it, Boxes of Books pushes, Caretakers stretches and its Caretakers! Caretakers has taken the Boxes of Books over North One and Dodgy Handtruck comes limping in followed by Foundation Studies Students and that rabbit thing they use for the doggies on Tuesday nights ….

Somehow, those campus heroes interpreted that and did whatever it was.
They're a top bunch over there. But I try to move a lot of my own books these days.

Nb. While everyone mostly knows where I work, I redacted the most identifying information, even if just to make the stalkers work a bit harder.

Not a book in sight

Bonus fun tip  to try at your home or someone else's: Get a whole heap of dry tree stumps and a log splitter (a log splitter is an axe with a thicker wedge). Put one of the tree stumps on top of the other and hit it dead centre with the splitter. Pretend to be Thor and shout 'I am your KING' as the entire thing miraculously falls in half. Repeat until all tree stumps are gone. Bring split tree stumps inside and burn for family.

One of those things where they just don't care ...

... as long as the dollars keep coming.

Seriously? We have no other revenue streams? Oh well. Run it. We did all we could.

Now and then

I don't really sort my photos. I just take them, download them and keep them. I've got a big hard drive, so what?

Each blurry, ill-thought-out shot makes a little mind picture of what the day was like. I've now got around 150Gb of photos and videos. All of which I find a little bit precious. Especially when they stretch back to before I was born.

Here is me today. I am studying my PhD.

Here is me twelve years ago. I am dancing to music.

 Here is me seventeen years ago. I am learnding.

Here is me twenty-eight years ago. I am SAVING THE WORLD.

Photobloggery

I miss this blog.

It's time to start posting content.

Starting with photos because they're low-maintenance. And because Looki inspires me. Go look at her superior photos.

I should stop using this filter. But I can't.

I see ... trees.

Okay, I lapsed.

I call this "Loneliness in chrome No. 47"

Concubine

It's been months in coming, but we have not forgotten.

Divine Concubine! 

Behold! The secret door!

I’ve got to say that this side of Rundle Street saved the best for last – Concubine is mostly worth the hype (although most people seemed to come because they liked the idea of the secret room). It wasn’t that secret, but it did give off the private party vibe and was good fun. 

Pictured: party vibe.

The tofu is the best I have ever eaten- it was al dente, golden and crunchy on the outside, and full of silky puffs on the inside-amazing stuff. T-O-F-U has always translated to S-H-I-T for me, a poor alternative to meat, but this one beat the meat hands down. ..ahem. 

I saw what you did there.

The restaurant’s banquet caters quite impressively for vegetarians, or at least those that eat fish. This is an impressive move that leaves the standard veggo dishes of steamed greens and broad beans for dead (yes I am referring to the dishes that Café Kowloon, Ying Chow and the like have been banging out for years). 

Tofu Daiquiri. A triumph!

The fish presentation is impressive –until you realise it’s just crazy. Honestly, who wants to eat a fish that looks like a taxidermist had first dibs? Why the hell was the fish MOUNTED? And how the frick were we to eat it? Most of the table stared at it for a good while before someone stabbed at it with a fork, only to peel half the flesh away. It was like ripping a dress off a clothed person. It had EYES, goddamit! 

Pucker up, buttercup.

As loyal readers would know, any praise is good praise under my critical eye. I wasn’t crazy about the prawns in lime but Concubine take risks and they are generally worth taking. The menu is slightly risky and I was impressed with its versatility. 

Served on a bed of awesome. And lettuce.

The dessert was actually S-H-I-T, two scoops of watery gelati in a bowl isn’t even trying. But hey, no one cared by then, and besides, Chinese restaurants and dessert are not exactly synonymous. 

I call this creation "The Frowning Chef On Ice"

The company I must rate-special mention to Triton, who won the award for ‘best and fairest’ on the Gouger Street Epicure gang. 

The award is a traditional Tibetan bar towel.

Special mention goes to Dougie, who definitely was the most adventurous eater and dared to eat the very worst (link to Congee, the Meatball-Seafood-Chicken sub way roll, Stanley’s bizarre bacon and barramundi bonanza and the Chicken and Jellyfish). 

Don't bet she won't eat it. That wasn't her cash at the beginning of the night.

A shout out to those who came on the adventure: Tess, Trent, Em, Hazel, Tallora, Rosey, Shaun, Krista, Marc, Dan, Shippy, Michael and Olivia. Thanks to all the readers that read it along the way: Rosie the photographer, Kath Lockett, Neil, Suzanne, River, and those who remain anonymous. We will be back next year in a big way. 

You're all winners. Except for Triton.

So here’s the Tally: 

WORST RESTAURANT FOOD IN GENERAL: 

1. STANLEY’S FISH CAFÉ 

 2. SUBWAY 

3. YING CHOW (controversial decision to put after subway, but the food was so bad that everyone of the Cirkidz who have been going there for years vowed to NEVER go again) 

4. THE TALBOT HOTEL (who get food from Chinese restaurant next door, so that alone is a good reason) 

 BEST RESTAURANT FOOD: 

1. CONCUBINE 

2. BBQ CITY 

3. DING HAO 

WORST DISH 

1. CONGEE (RICE GRUEL) WITH KIDNEYS AND LIVER- BBQ CITY 

2. CHICKEN AND JELLYFISH (RAW AND COLD) 

3. SUBWAY MEAT AND SEAFOOD AND CHICKEN SUB