Shock as magazine "apps" turn out to be complete bullshit and only Apple makes money. WELL GOSH WHO'DA THUNK etc.
Perth '80s indie scenesters: Errol H. Tout is still recording.
We survived Freda's fifth birthday party. Three hours of ten five-year-olds, with both teenagers and a few parents on hand. Only a couple of meltdowns, and the terrible mistakes of (a) putting the parting gift goodie bags in plain view (b) including a whistle in each bag. The parent of every child present will hate us forever. The cake was a tyrannosaur, the birthday cards were dinosaurs, Freda got a pile of dinosaur picture books and one present was a tub of a hundred small plastic dinosaurs. Freda has also declared she wants to become a "dinosaur scientist" and we are teaching her to say "palaeontologist." This is entirely Paul's fault.
I have new glasses! I look forty-five going on fifty with them on, as I in fact am. And did before, really. (I'm adopted, and I still turned into my father.) I'm wearing them everywhere and delighting in being able to see stuff. Presbyopia is kicking in and I really should have got bifocals this time — I'm already holding my phone at arm's length. Also, my left knee is playing up. I promise I will be a very cranky old man.
We have yet another dishwasher! Turns out Hotpoint make shit so worthless it failed within the six-month warranty period. (Gosh, etc.) Fortunately, the British Heart Foundation store were not only willing to replace or refund it with no fuss whatsoever, the delivery for the replacement (a Zanussi, so it might last to month seven) was free. I am most impressed and can heartily recommend the BHF electrical stores.