MOOMINS M.C.

After rooting around like and old moll at a christening the Alfred Hospital has finally come through with the goods!
All the telephonic harassment has paid dividends in the form of a call from the plastics department informing me I have an appointment on Monday with Dr. Cleland in her private rooms.
This is a darned good thang as it means I am no longer going through the public system and being dealt with privately, that should speed things up a little.
Hopefully after Monday's meeting it won't be too much of a wait to get back on the chopping board.
I've also made an appointment with my pelvis surgeon as my arse has been killing me for the last few days.
Before any wild assumptions are made about my sexual orientation and night time activities I would like to remind you of the real reason for the pain.
No idea what brought that on, maybe my new physio program, doesn't really matter as I have had just about enough.
The pain is intense enough to not only stop me concentrating at work, but also very draining physically.
I'm hoping the good surgeon can shed some light on the problem and maybe come up with some solution to alleviate it.
If it's nerve related, which I suspect it is, there probably isn't much that can be done, but I gotta try eh?



A few days back I walked across the road and didn't wait for the little red man to turn green.
As a result two coppers on the corner accosted me.

"Excuse me sir, are you a visitor to our country?"

"Umm, no. "

"Where are you from?"

"Melbourne."

"Where about's?"

"East Brunswick." ( I refrained from giving the Eastside hand signals at this point )

"Why were you crossing on a red light?"

"Umm, I'm running late for rehab and I saw no traffic so I crossed."

"Well what would have happened if a cyclist had come through and hit you?"

At this point I had to really resist the temptation to tell him that by my reckoning it would hurt a hell of a lot less than being hit by a semi trailer.
I instead opted for a more apologetic tone and massaged his ego by telling him that yes, he's right and no, I won't do it again, blah blah....

"If I see you crossing the road on a red light again I'll have to book you ok?"

"No worries mate."


I was walking through town the other day and ran into about a dozen or so police horses at the very same spot.
Geez, they're really serious about this J walking business eh?
It appeared they were involved in some sort of training exercise.
Being the kind of helpful person that I am, thoughts ran through my head as to how I could assist.
Ideas of putting a hoodie on and throwing cans and bottles were rejected due to the police having very long and painful looking sticks in holsters on the saddles.
Dressing up like a rodeo clown was out of the question because I look rather ludicrous dressed as a clown and it might result in the catchment team form the local psych. hospital rocking up to take me away, so soon after being cleared by my psychologist!
I wasn't about to give up my metal cutlery privileges that easily.
Walking down the street with a placard would have been rather futile as there's nothing sillier than a one man protest, except for maybe a bum full of Smarties.
In the end I resigned myself to taking a few photos and crossing the road when the little man turned green.