The autumn leaves

I love Melbourne in autumn.

The colours in the gardens and parks look glorious against the back drop of the grey skies.

The streets and paths are piled high with drifts of fallen leaves. It seems impossible that anymore could fall, but there are still more to come.

Drift leaves
© 2015 divacultura

The old Greek men in the neighbourhood spend their Saturday mornings with their plastic rakes and garden bins gathering the leaves together.

"Doing the council's work," one of them says to me as I pass.

On a windy day, the task is sisyphean.

The punt on whether the sheets will dry on the clothesline, often pays off, despite a sky that suggests otherwise.

I find a big pile of leaves irresistible when I'm out walking.

I hope the wind has blown them into a pile as I swish and swoosh through them.

Autumn colour
© 2015 divacultura

Green, yellow and brown
© 2015 divacultura

Gaggles of girls and group dynamics

The door opened and four people spilled into the pizza shop. The televisions weren't on as usual, so the restaurant part of the shop was quieter than usual. A burly man wearing the high-visibility shirt and sturdy boots which denotes "blue collar" followed in the tumble of girls and curls who spilled in before him. Their prissy and fussy starkly contrasted with the utilitarian functionality of the man.

He asked the girls where they wanted to sit. They noisily chose a booth and proceeded to pile onto the banquette, opposite their father who looked as if he was attending a job interview. Quickly the girls were silenced by the compelling content of their electronic device. He studied the menu. All interaction between the opposite sides ceased. The middle girl would occasionally elbow the older and the younger to stop them crowding her as their hypnosis deepened.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Where's mum?" they asked.

"She'll be here soon," he replied.

Is this a Friday night handover of children between divorced parents? I wondered.

"What do you want?"

"PIZZA!" they screamed.

Well, it's a pizza shop, so that's a pretty good pick.

I continued to wonder at the contrast between the man and his progeny. All these girls - so many of them! - with their giggles and glances and things - so many of them! - must be mysterious to such a man. How does he come to know and understand his daughters? Already they seem to wield power of the man.

A feeling of confused wonder surfaced. I'd had it before. I remember sitting on a train when a group of young women dressed for a night on the town all boarded the carriage together. The sounds, sights and smells were overwhelming. As a pack, they were intimidating. They had so many shoes and bags and nails; so much hair and earrings. They jangled and tinkled when they moved, providing the soundtrack to their overly loud voices and awful, false, self-conscious tittering. The wall of their perfume made them an impenetrable group.

I look at the father and think about how lonely it can be when you're on the outside of a group - even if it's one that you don't want to be part of.

*****
I'm doing some professional development next week as I embark on an Advanced Diploma of Group Dynamics. See you afterwards.

Boys on their bikes

Two boys on bikes fly around the corner, following the sound of their own voices. They are about twelve or thirteen years old. The first boy is graceful and elegant, almost like the bike is part of him. As he comes around the corner, his hands are stretched out at his sides, like aeroplane wings, and he looks so loose and free. The second boy is everything the first boy is not. He's awkward and wobbly. He takes his hands off the handlebars for a second and the bike's frame shudders and shakes from side to side.

"How do you take your hands off without the handlebars wobbling?" he calls to the first boy.

"Balance," is the only response and not very helpful for a boy who struggles just to ride the bike.

"Yeah, I know! But when I take my hands of the handlebars, they wobble. Yours don't. How come?"

"Balance!"

Groan.

It was a futile conversation. The first boy has it naturally and it seemed miraculous that the second boy was able to ride the bike at all.

It was nice to see a couple of kids out and about on their bikes in the neighbourhood. I suddenly realised it's a rare sight these days. I remember riding my bike all over town when I was their age. We'd ride to and from school and be away for hours at a time on the weekends. Only once, did I go quite a long way and underestimate how long it would take me to get home. In the days before mobile phones, my parents must have worried about me. I did get there in the end.

I hope the second boy is really good at something that the expert bike rider isn't. That would only be fair.

Man about town - who's his haberdasher?

In the bookstore, downstairs off Collins Street, I was in the science fiction area, looking for a book recommended by my friend J. We'd had lunch and wandered around a little section of Fitzroy, enjoying conversation and the glorious autumn weather. A vision in hot pink spandex and matching sneakers excused himself. I looked up. The sound of the voice did not fit the expectations set by my peripheral vision. I was expecting a woman and saw a man. He was resplendent, with plumage in his hair to rival any bird during the mating season. His eyebrows were strong black diagonal lines. I figured he had been at the Supanova Pop Culture Expo which had been on at the Melbourne showgrounds until I saw him on the train this evening.

Tonight he was wearing a tight red mini dress with a purple faux fur jacket. Again, he was topped with spectacular plumage - red and purple feathers, sprinkled with jewels, covered his entire head. I noticed the eyebrows again.

As I made my way to the exit, he looked directly at me. We nodded at each other. Weirdly, it felt like we were recognising something kindred.

I took the plunge. "You look amazing," I said.

His face lit up. "So do you!"

This felt like high praise from someone who clearly spends A LOT of time on his appearance. I also work hard to maintain my artist's identity when I'm working in that capacity with corporate clients. I must have succeeded today.

"Same hair!" I laughed, referring to our matching red.

"Twins!" he responded with the appropriate amount of irony.

He held the door open for me and we both went out in the night. I found myself wondering where he'd spent his days and then decided he'd probably been earning a living, just like most of us travelling home at 6pm.

Crazy markdowns! Graves going cheap!

The Melbourne Cemetery has a banner hanging on the fence advertising new graves available. Low prices! Prestige positions!

I suppose in a world where everything is competing in a marketplace, it was only a matter of time. 

As I drove past, several questions sprang to mind. 

Where did they get the space?

Who moved out?

Did they go voluntarily?

Do they have an annual stock take?

Could I buy a plot and rent it out to take advantage of negative gearing?

What does "prime position" mean in the real estate of the after life?

Later I walked into the post office to collect my mail. A woman was sitting on the customer side of the counter on an office chair. She was resting her head on the counter and the staff were looking concerned. While I waited to collect a parcel, the woman complained that she couldn't breathe and urgently asked someone to undo her bra. I obliged and asked the staff to call an ambulance. She protested one minute -  "No ambulance!" - and then said she couldn't breathe. 

The manager looked uncertain. I nodded to say "keep going, get the ambulance". I imagined the headlines if she died in the post office and no one called an ambulance. 

"My partner is coming. He will be here soon. I don't need an ambulance, " the woman kept repeating. 

A man standing behind me in the queue protested, saying that we shouldn't call an ambulance if she didn't want one. I questioned whether someone who was having difficulty breathing and therefore had no oxygen to the brain was in the best position to make life and death decisions.

A man wearing a leopard onesie then arrived. He was her partner. It wasn't exactly the cavalry, but I felt relieved of responsibility.

I wonder if the woman knew about the sale at the cemetry?

Moral guardian riding the rails in Melbourne

After a month of holidays spent playing music, reading, knitting, playing Scrabble, playing with the dog and hanging out with family in the country, the return to city life yesterday was interesting.

My first stop was the hairdresser. This was well-planned after swimming and sunshine; I needed to get my city hair back!

The first challenge of the day was unexpected - I had to put on proper shoes! I have essentially been barefoot for a month. I took off the first pair I chose because they felt too restrictive and settled for a more worn pair. I hope I get back into the swing of things soon because I have a large selection of shoes.

I was relieved to discover I still had money on my myki and was able to catch a train without dealing with the machine. When I spent a weekend in Sydney during my break I noticed how clean their trains are compared to ours in Melbourne. I don't understand why our trains are so filthy. Most seats look like someone had a terrible accident and the floors are sticky. I wonder how Sydney keeps their trains so clean?

Travelling home in the afternoon was interesting. I'd had coffee with a friend and travelled just before the peak at about 3:45pm. There were plenty of seats and people were spread out. A few people were standing, absorbed in their phones and the carriage was pretty quiet. I was sitting in a single seat reserved for people with special needs. I was carrying a lot of bags after collecting all my mail which had been on hold for a month and I had space to put them without taking up another seat. I was ready to move if someone needed the seat. 

As we approached Yarraville station, a thin woman with a face permanently set to cranky disappointment stood up and hissed at a woman sitting nearby in the middle of three seats: "You didn't pay for three seats you know!" Her eyes were seething with anger and she had the self-satisfied look of a Guardian of Modern Morality.

I spontaneously guffawed. It just came out of me. I was gobsmacked at her exercise of perceived power. 

She turned on me.

"And you're not disabled are you?" she snapped, referring to my choice of seat. 

She stood near the door waiting for the train to stop. The woman who hadn't paid for enough seats and was quietly playing with her phone was looking bewildered. I laughed and shrugged. The Guardian didn't turn around as I called to her to make sure she touched off and paid for her trip.

Her face was well set, cranky disappointment was not new for her. How sad for her.

There is something to be said for "live and let live".

How would you respond?

The ritual of grief - remembering those who died at work

My last post was in early October. I've been pondering why I have not been feeling the compulsion to write. It wasn't that I was "blocked", I could still write easily and freely when required. Fellow writers and regular readers kept telling me how much they hoped I would start to write again. This was lovely feedback and support, but still the desire wasn't there.

A few weeks ago I realised what had happened. I had so much going on in my life that I just couldn't talk about publicly. The filtering was so much harder. After the filtering, the sifting through what was left to see if there was anything available to spin a story of interest to readers. There wasn't.

So much of my writing is based on observing the behaviour and interactions of others and thinking about the encounters that I have out in the world. When many of my interactions became confidential or deeply personal, I could not filter enough; or filtered so much that there was a mere speck of a detail left. I may as well write about the dust on top of the fridge!

This week, all of that has been shaken out of the way with two experiences. The first experience I can't write about just now, the second one happened today.



Today I sang as a member of vocal group Mood Swing at a service to remember and celebrate the lives of those who have died from work-related causes. The annual remembrance service is conducted by the Uniting Church's Creative Ministries Network, GriefWork and I knew that it would be a sombre, sad occasion. I also know that sometimes my empathetic nature makes it hard for me to be in this kind of situation without being emotionally moved.

Families, workmates and other members of the community came to share a ritual of grief with their community. As I listened to the reflections, prayers and personal experiences I was moved by the courage on display. Death is part of what it is to be human, but it is so much worse when that death was preventable and far too early. I was struck by the open way in which tears and grief were discussed in the coolness of the church. The summer sun illuminated gloriously the stained glass windows, their stories reminding us about death and sacrifice. These workers who died because of something at their workplace were not martyrs for a cause or a better world. They were innocent people, going about their daily lives and earning a living to support themselves and their families. To work is one of the most revered activities in our contemporary world and it has so many casualties.

I was shocked to hear so many of the deaths were suicides caused by workplace bullying. How can this happen? How can it be so severe as to go unnoticed, with the victim left unsupported with only one, terrible solution available to them? I could feel my anger stirring.

Woven stories - the commemorative quilt.
© 2014 divacultura

Candles were lit, illuminating the photographs and mementos bringing lost loved ones into our hearts. A memorial quilt was unfurled and hung beneath the big window. Names of those lost were read. Each new gesture renewed my tears as grief and anger swelled inside me.


One woman, Olive, spoke about the loss of her husband 10 years ago. He was shot at work. Their son was 6 months old at the time. Olive is an amazing woman. She showed courage as she spoke about the deeply personal relationship she has with her grief and her struggle. She spoke about thoughts being the language of the mind and feelings being the language of the body. On the subject of forgiveness, she spoke about the challenge and how she has recently realised that forgiveness isn't for the person who pulled the trigger and it can't change the past; it's for her. Through forgiveness she acknowledges she can become a bigger, stronger person. We all can. I examined who in my life I need to forgive.

After the service, I thanked her for sharing and acknowledged her courage in speaking the way she did. She looked uncertain and asked me if it was "all right". I responded: "You are extraordinary and what you did today was an amazing privilege to witness." Tears filled her eyes. Tears filled my eyes. She hugged me.

The inclusion of music in such a service is a beautiful and inspired choice. The songs we sang today were all part of our repertoire and I can regularly sing them without tears flowing. Today, a new poignancy was discovered in the words. The program promised songs of "justice, sorrow and hope". We sang:

He's Sweet I Know
Waiting on an Angel
Don't feel no ways tired
Come and stand in that river
Lean on me
Irish Blessing.

At the end of the service we stood in a circle and were invited to say something about our experience of the service. (Such an inclusive act, not just the  priest or designated authority allowed to speak!) A woman standing next to me patted my arm and asked me if I was all right. Unlike me, she had lost someone and was enquiring into my well being!

Thoughtful, simple rituals, can be so powerful in helping us express and come together to share our feelings, whether they be sad or joyful. How I miss them in daily life.

I left the church thinking about the death of cricketer Phil Hughes who suffered death in his workplace. The simple act of the community at large placing cricket bats outside, bears out the power and importance of ritual to help us heal.

© 2014 divacultura

Stop calling me a "squealing pig" - community rallies against paid parking

There's a good thing that happens when governments and councils do things the communities they represent don't like - the community bonds and you meet your neighbours.

We don't need #nopaidparking.
© 2014 divacultura

This morning Melbourne's inner west villages of Yarraville and Seddon rallied and marched against plans by the Maribyrnong Council to introduce paid parking. On my way to the village, I joined with Caroline and her dog Kaiser and we chatted and walked together to the rally point. At the rally I spied Erin from my dance class and we walked together with Dave and Holden the dog (he has the world's softest ears). We talked about our community - the place where we live - and discovered we share many views.



Melbourne presented us with perfect rally weather - around 20 degrees Celsius, slightly cloudy with a light breeze - and I was told by one of the local councillors that 400 people had been counted in the march from Yarraville to Seddon.

The council claims that paid parking will increase turn over and therefore provide more parking. There are currently time restrictions on parking but I don't see them being well enforced.  I've seen no evidence that supports the idea that paid parking will improve turn over. It may free up parking as people choose to go down the road and shop at the Coles supermarket or Highpoint Shopping Centre where parking is free and plentiful.

Unhappy rate payers.
© 2014 divacultura

I've lived in Yarraville since 2007 and love the village feel. I often tell people that it's like living in a country town with all the convenience of being in a big city.  I generally walk to the village, but on occasion I'm in my car - usually when I'm on my way to or from somewhere else. I drove over on Thursday because I had a wine delivery to collect from the post office. I parked for 5 minutes and was gone. It would take me twice as long to find coins and walk to the machine, pay and put the ticket back in my car if I had to pay.



Retailers are naturally concerned that forcing people to pay to park will drive their customers away. A community-led study has been conducted and shows they have reason to be concerned.

It was great to see two of the local Councillors representing the Yarraville ward at the rally. Martin Zakharov and Michael Clarke were vocal in their concern, while clarifying that the law prevents them from stating which way they will vote when the proposal is brought to Council. Armed with the mobile numbers of all Councillors I contacted each of them by text message. Councillors Zakharov and Clarke received a thank you to acknowledge their presence. Each of the others received this message (including my full name):

"I'm disappointed that you're not here to talk to Yarraville and Seddon community about why you think paid parking in our villages is a good idea. Where are you?"

So far, one councillor, Sarah Carter has responded. She had just landed from an overseas flight. I will follow up with an email.

Hear! Hear!
© 2014 divacultura

There's one aspect of the community organising that I don't understand. Councillor Catherine Cummings has been quoted and reported to have commented about local residents "squealing like pigs". The parking study revealed a highly educated population, so why we would be asked to buy into this and squeal like pigs at the rally is beyond me. I'm not a squealing pig; I'm a concerned resident who is engaged with my community and has heard no good reasons for the introduction of paid parking. I'm worried about the damage this will do. This does not make me, or any of us, squealing pigs.

Walking back home after the march, I discovered a new shop and ran into Councillor Zakharov (you can see him on saxophone in the first photo above). We walked together for a while and talked about the events of the morning. It was great to have the opportunity to acknowledge him in person.

Council meets this Tuesday. We need to continue to be visible and vocal.

UPDATE:

I received a response to my text message from Councillor Cummings after publication of this post. She tells me that she decided not speak so Councillors from the Yarraville ward could speak. She writes that she was there to listen and help her decision making process.

Don't know how she could vote "yes" then!

Sunday Slide Show

My vocal group rehearses in the hall attached to a Russian church.
While one of the other parts was rehearsing, I noticed the shadows thrown by the chandeliers.
© 2014 divacultura

Ghostly shadow.
© 2014 divacultura

From my "view from the office" series.
This is in the old part of the Royal Melbourne Hospital's Royal Park Campus.
© 2014 divacultura

Southgate sculpture.
I took this at about 6pm while I was waiting for my dinner date.
© 2014 divacultura

Taken the same night from Southgate looking across the Yarra River to Melbourne's CBD.
© 2014 divacultura

Early spring afternoon - Swanston Street, Melbourne
© 2014 divacultura

How was your week? Are you on Instagram? Why not pop over and say hello - I'd love to see your pictures.

The thronging crowd - a test of mettle

If you've ever been at Flinders Street Station during the evening peak then you know the experience of being in a crowd where people are so focused on their own objective that they lose - or disregard - the people around them.

A growing crowd of eager commuters stands at the traffic lights, waiting to cross the road and enter the Station. The green man appears on the lights and we surge forward. Like the release of a dam gate, we flow in the one direction until we hit the next barrier - the turnstiles we need to navigate to enter the station. There is a narrowing of focus. This is where the jostling starts. People suddenly change direction; they cut off another's trajectory. Their heads are down, their eyes trained straight ahead. We're through the turnstiles and then there are some stairs (about 10?) to negotiate. The arrivals and departures board is right above these stairs. People stop suddenly to look up and confirm the platform from which their train is leaving. People suddenly change direction to get around the people who have turned to pillars of stone. Down the stairs and we're in an even narrower space. Most people are going into the station and so have swelled to take up the whole space. Pity the people moving against this tide. They resort to bags and elbows. Some try to keep left, but then find themselves trapped behind a SMP (slow moving person). They change direction suddenly to cut in front, usually without regard to anyone who might be behind or beside them.

I run this gauntlet regularly. I try to remain aware of those around me, but find myself becoming more bullish as I'm whacked by urban weaponry - backpacks, shopping bags, umbrellas swinging wildly, even jauntily.

Today was particularly challenging even before I reached the station. It made me think about a drama warm up exercise which is about building physical awareness of the space and the people within it. Everyone moves slowly at first in any direction, dodging and weaving through the throng. The speed builds. People rarely collide. I believe it is because participants in such an exercise are absolutely present and acutely aware of their bodies in relation to others. I've done this in a group where half the group is blindfolded. Again, people rarely, collide.

Thinking about this today, I wondered about how this kind of awareness in everyday life and activities could improve crowd behaviour, making everything easier and happier. I was reminded about my first visit to India a few years ago. I visited the southern city of Chennai. My hotel was on the opposite side of the road to the location of the nearest bank. I needed to get cash and thought nothing of stepping out to engage in the ordinary activity of visiting an ATM.

On stepping out of the hotel's calm, I was immediately confronted with the practical problem of how to cross the road. The voluminous traffic never stopped. There were no designated crossings or traffic lights. Observing the traffic - reading it as a surfer might read the surf - the chaos soon revealed an order of cooperation and awareness. Vehicle horns were tooted, but the sound was a happy beep that said "Just letting you know I'm over here".

As I stood marooned on the wrong side of the road, I watched some locals cross the road. I was horrified when I saw them launch from the safety of the kerb. As they made their way across the road, the traffic happily moved around them. It was like throwing a pebble in a pond. I was astonished to see them arrive safely on the other side. I took a deep breath but my courage failed me. I waited for some more people to come along so I could follow in their wake. They did and I did. It resulted in terrified exhilaration. I suppose that living with so many people teaches you awareness.

If I applied the same principles to the evening rush at Flinders Street Station, I fear you would find my body, trampled and bruised at the end of the rush. Generally Melburnians are great to be in a crowd with. My theory is that practice makes the difference: attendance at AFL football games in huge crowds from an early age teaches people how to get from A to B when B isn't even visible and there are 10,000 people in the way. The personal electronic device is one of the problems. Headphones are plugged in. Heads are down, rather than being up and engaged with the world.

All of this thinking leaves me pondering a further question - will we evolve to have another set of eyes in the top of our heads so we can look at the device AND see where we're going and will we gain hearing sensors all over our bodies so we can be plugged in but still hear the rest of the world?

5:14pm to Laverton

The 5:14pm Laverton train was entertaining. The driver engaged with his cargo. As we pulled out of Flinders Street Station he greeted us and then said he wanted to acknowledge three very special groups of people travelling with us today.

"Firstly, I'd like to acknowledge all those people who gave up their seat to someone who really needed it. The second very special group I want to acknowledge is those who can actually hear what I'm saying. It means you haven't got your headphones on and turned up to eleven, which also means you're not driving everyone else nuts with [insert beat box sounds here] bleeding out of your headphones. And the third group I really want to acknowledge is those who are speaking on their mobile phone very softly. You're all outstanding people.

"I also wanted to let you know we are running a bit late, due to the tardy arrival of this train to Flinders Street. I'll do my best to make up time and get you home, as long as you're going anywhere on the Laverton Line, except South Kensington, where we're not stopping. If you're not going to any of these places, you're on the wrong train and I can't really help you! You should get off at the earliest opportunity."

As we pulled out of North Melbourne station, the train slowed right down. The driver was back.

"Good afternoon again, ladies and gentlemen. Very sorry to bother you again. I think the scenery we're now passing through is really worth having a look at - you know, under the freeway - lovely, the dirty old creek - it's so picturesque I decided to slow right down to give you a chance to take it in."

Some of us laughed.

He explained the train ahead of him was travelling very slowly, so he had no choice but to also drive slowly.

At various points, he also advertised a new bus service (the 901) running from Broadmeadows Station to the airport every 15 minutes and apologised for interrupting our reading.

I like this driver and hope he brings me home again soon.

Sunday slide show

Some of my favourite shots I've taken lately. Lots of cityscapes as part of my "view from the office today" series on Instagram.

Looking east up Bourke Street, Melbourne, 20 floors up.
© 2014 divacultura

Looking west down Bourke Street, Melbourne, 10 floors up.
© 2014 divacultura

Stormy view of the Melbourne CBD from the backseat of a cab
on the Tullamarine Freeway
© 2014 divacultura

Same taxi ride a few moments later - the Melbourne wheel.
© 2014 divacultura

The clouds gathering above the Melbourne city - view from Southbank
© 2014 divacultura

Hope you like them! @divacultura is over on Instagram too.

What have you been photographing? 

Out in the rain, out on the tracks

Sorry about my absence. Funny how the days sneak up and bleed into the nights and suddenly lots of them have slipped by.

Metro Trains have changed the time table. I haven't quite worked out what it all means, but their great smart phone app, called "Notify" lets me know each morning when my train is due to run.  For example, the 7:20am now departs at 7:18 because of the changed timetable. Great service. Unfortunately, there's been a few occasions where the next communication is to advise that the train has been delayed. Ironically, it's later than it would have been if the timetable hadn't changed. 

Still on the subject of public transport, Melbournians lose their usually excellent capacity to play well with others when it involves rain, peak hour and public transport. As I watched the sky turn from a sunny blue to a terrifying black, I made my plans to exit the building. I finished a phone call from a friend and was just about to take his advice and leave (the temperature had dropped to about 8 degrees with wind and rain thrown in for extra excitement) when my boss stopped me to check in on a few things. By the time I left, it was even colder and much wetter. Huddling at the tram stop, with only a tiny foldable umbrella - rendered impotent by the wind - I found a new definition of misery. This new definition was replaced a moment later as I huddled, damply, on the tram. I tried to wrangle my umbrella so I didn't wet anyone anymore than they already were. Meanwhile, I felt a wet patch growing on my back. The woman behind me was pressing her soaking, dripping umbrella into my back. We adjusted. The tram stopped a the next stop. No one alighted. A few determined people squeezed into non-existent space, pleading for us to move in. We were so squashed that the only way I could create more space was to inhale, so I did. 

The next ordeal was negotiating the stupidly skinny tram platform that was packed with too many people, plus their backpacks in the rain with umbrellas and rain hoods making it impossible to see each other. We stood on our refuge, wedged between the tram line and two lanes of traffic. Opposite, a man squatted down with his camera and leaped to action when we started to cross.

My outfit served me well today, drawing comments from many quarters: 

"That's a very eclectic outfit". I chose to respond with "thank you".

"Your dress is hitched up at the back, let me just...oh...how does it work?" I explained the complex rigging involved and thanked her for being concerned.  She revealed her plan to protect my modesty.

"What a fantastic outfit!" was the best comment of the day, as I interacted with people who are more from "my" world.

Hail, rain and wind are on the cards for tomorrow. I must prepare for the travel odyssey ahead. I shall think of it as character building.

We certainly saw Lorraine today: http://youtu.be/Lw6zjxH9aAk

Sunday slideshow...on Monday

Walking in the cold winter weather was a good way to clear my head on the weekend. I was blessed with some gorgeous light too. Knitting happy socks is another great way to wile away the winter hours.

Collins and Russell Streets in Melbourne city.
© 2014 divacultura

Could not resist the way the afternoon sun was lighting up this facade.
© 2014 divacultura

Love the way the leaves on the trees catch the afternoon light and look like flecks of gold.
© 2014 divacultura

Knitting some happy socks is a perfect way to keep the winter blues at bay.
© 2014 divacultura

These are made in a yarn called "Allegria". Apt
© 2014 divacultura

Clear out your unwanted winter clothes for a good cause.

I received an email this week about the need for warm clothes for visitors coming to Melbourne for the International AIDS Conference at the end of July. Many of the delegates are from warm, low income countries.

Details of how to donate clothes are at the end. Thanks for your help.

Spread the word!

Last year's World AIDS Day sign over the Yarra River.
© 2013 divacultura

The International AIDS Conference (AIDS 2014) is the largest ever health or development meeting 

to be held in Australia.  

 

AIDS 2014 will be held here in Melbourne from 20 – 25 July, 2014 and we need your help! 

 

Approximately 14, 000 participants are expected to attend the Conference and various associated events.  Many  of  our  delegates  are  coming  from warmer climates  and  some  from  low  income countries. As we know, the temperatures don’t get to high here in the month of July and the MPG is 

partnering with Red Cross to provide low cost warm clothing.  

 

This is where you come in – we are asking you to dig deep and donate some winter woollies for delegates to purchase during AIDS 2014. Donated clothing will be sold (at very low costs) within the Global Village at the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre (MCEC) where the conference will 

be  held.  Proceeds  raised  from  your  donation  will  be  donated  to  Red Cross  to  assist  their humanitarian work, supporting vulnerable people within our community. 

 

We are looking for donations of women's and men's winter clothing & accessories such as: 

 

•  Tops, T.shirts, Shirts, Long Sleeve Blouses  

•  Knitwear, Cardigans, Jumpers, Pullovers  

•  Jeans, Pants, Skirts, Tights 

•  Coats, Jackets 

•  Shoes, Scarves, Beanies, Gloves 

 

AIDS 2014 is only 3 weeks away! Your urgency in donating goods is greatly appreciated.  

 

Red Cross Shops can collect the merchandise or alternatively, it can be dropped at our head office location, 23-47 Villiers Street, North Melbourne, VIC. 

 

To make a donation please call Bianca Wendt, Red Cross Shops Merchandise Manager, directly on (03) 8327 7867 or 0408 300 470. 

Sunday slide show

Now that I have a new phone, I've got space on my phone to take photos again. And I've been enjoying the new tools in Instagram. Hours of creative fun!

This photo was taken on the walkway between Melbourne Central and the new Emporium. I love the word "emporium"!

Walkway, Melbourne
© 2014 divacultura

The old Myer sign and clock are still attached to the new Emporium building. I enjoyed playing with contrast and shadows to create a silver gelatin look. I took this photo from the same walkway, looking west down Lonsdale Street.

Time passes.
© 2014 divacultura

Perfect afternoon light to take this photo of the arts centre spire. It was just after 3:30pm in Melbourne. By playing with contrast, shadows and saturation, the sky looks like a wall of water that is about to wash over the spire!

Tidal spire
© 2014 divacultura

Seconds later, a different angle and some different effects and the scene is different. I love the bright green saturation of the little patch of grass in the lower left hand corner. In the foreground is part of the scultpure by Inge King, "Forward Surge".

Surge
© 2014 divacultura

Lastly, I thought I'd show you this photo.

Eyes on the tracks
© 2014 divacultura

Here's the original shot that shows how the photo above started its life:

Self portrait
© 2014 divacultura

It was the reflection of the train tracks in my sunglasses that originally caught my attention and I decided to take a closer look. I love the finished product. I could imagine it as a movie poster, album cover or on the cover of a novel.

Without all the digital tools available today, this probably would have taken hours in a dark room. That's a satisfying process too, but much more expensive. I love just playing with various tools knowing that I can't destroy the original - it will always be there for me to play with until I reach a result that I'm happy with.

What are you photographing at the moment? Do you use Instagram?  (I'm divacultura over there too. Come and say hello!)

Rehearsal is for wimps - Sunday night impro!

Last night I did dinner and a show with a friend. The dinner was delicious Asian dumplings (difficult to eat elegantly...do wait until they've cooled before placing them in your mouth) and the show was made up on the spot. It was Maestro, produced by Impro Melbourne.

Maestro is a gladiatorial format. Last night 10 players/actors competed for the audience approval, 9 of them working in vain to avoid elimination in the quest to be crowned the Maestro and win a very special prize.

Two directors randomly draw ping pong balls with numbers which correspond to the numbers on the netball-style bibs worn by players. Sometimes scenes just start; at other times the directors will give a very loose offer and the players take it from there. At the end of each scene the audience clapometer determines the number of points to be allocated to each person in the scene. The audience doesn't lie, but occasionally is happy to play. For example, one actor repeatedly said that he had declared his love "five" times, over "five" days. The subliminal messaging continued until eventually many in the audience awarded the full five points. I did. He deserved the points for having gall and charm simultaneously. At one point in the show, I was the ONLY person who awarded two points and it felt very lonely. I clapped twice, very softly. The power of the human need to conform got me!

Like all great shows based on improvisation, not everything works. I actually love this too. It's great when a scene really comes together and the audience feels the thrill and joy of spontaneity. But when a scene doesn't quite work we see something we don't often see these days - unpolished and raw creative work.

The audience is not immune from the creative impulse. Last night one of the directors told the two players on stage that they were on holiday in a tiny caravan. I was sitting five seats away, so she heard me when I said, "Oh god" in response to the idea of the tiny caravan. She asked me if I'd been in one and asked me to describe it. Off I went: "Everything is close together - too close together. The bed is in the kitchen, the stove is on the bed, the TV is on the stove..." I could have added that you can flush the toilet and do the dishes from the comfort of your bed too.

The scene that resulted, was silly and funny with more and more people being invited to come into the caravan (of course it was raining outside) and doing the simplest thing like getting the milk out of the fridge required the skill of a contortionist to climb under and over the other people in the caravan.

Another highlight was the discussion between the two yokels about what exactly an "air strip" is. (It's a strip of specially imported air!)

Permission to be silly and play is one of the things that drew me to improvisation years ago. I use it daily in all kinds of situations. (Last week I wrote a new song inspired by the rats I had discovered in my roof...it's all done, but it could be a country song or a shoo-wop song and I can't decide. I might keep playing and turn it into a rap!)

I was reading something today (I can't remember what) but it was a statement that spontaneity is an essential ingredient for us to perceive other people as authentic. It makes sense; if you're in a spontaneous mindset, then you're present, open, listening and ready to dive in. If you're in a spontaneous mindset, you're not worried about what anyone else is thinking of you or busily planning your next comment when you should be listening closely to someone else.

Impro Melbourne runs classes if you want to tap into your spontaneity. Or you could go along on a Sunday night and have a lot of fun for $10!

I left feeling inspired, even though it was dark at 4:30pm on the first day of winter.

Do you improvise? Have you seen Maestro? What did you think? What's your favourite impro format?

Design flaws and "common sense"

Sometimes I wonder how things end up the way they are. It's usually little, simple things. Well they seem simple to me, but evidently they are complex. News of France's blunder with their TFT's (too fat trains) set me thinking again this week.

You'd think you'd check something like the width of trains before you spend lots of money. They've got to fit! Some might even say that doing so is common sense.

This term "common sense" is one that I wrestle with. I actually think it must be a myth. If it was common we wouldn't end up with these kinds of errors. Would we?

On my regular travels through Flinders Street Station in Melbourne I am regularly struck by a piece of poor design. Here's a picture:

Display screens for platform 12 and 13 at Flinders Street Station
© 2014 divacultura

This screen is at the entry end of platforms 12 and 13 at Flinders Street Station. Everytime I see it it sets my teeth on edge.

The first thing you might notice is that it doesn't read in numerical order from left to right. Then you might think that's because platform 13 is on the left and platform 12 is on the right.

This is not the case. Platform 12 is on the left of this screen and platform is on the right of the screen.

If you're not familiar with the layout of the platforms it would be easy to go to the right hand platform to catch the Williamstown train and go left for Sandringham.

The only thing I can think is that they put them in alphabetical order. That's a valid order, but not usually how train stations are laid out.

Would common sense say they should be the other way around?

That's before we even look at the gap between services during peak time.

Off to have my water tested!

Sitting opposite me on the train to Flinders Street this morning was an old man. Beside him sat an old woman wearing rose tinted sunglasses, gazing out the window and clutching her handbag on her lap. The man turned his head fully towards her as he spoke very loudly.


"I'VE GOT TO GO BACK TO THE DOC. BUT BEFORE I DO HE SAYS THEY'VE GOT TO TEST MY BLOOD AND MY WATER!"

The woman continued to gaze out the window, but nodded, barely.

"SO I'M ON MY WAY TO HAVE MY WATER TESTED."

...

"I DRANK THREE BIG GLASSES OF WATER BEFORE I LEFT HOME. DO YOU THINK THAT'LL BE ENOUGH? THEY SAID THAT I'LL HAVE TO DO MY WATER ON THE SPOT. I THOUGHT I'D BETTER DRINK ENOUGH SO I'LL BE ABLE TO GO. DO YOU THINK I'LL BE ABLE TO?"

Quietly, the woman said: "Yes. That should be fine."

"I SUPPOSE YOU'RE RIGHT. I SHOULD BE READY TO GO TO THE TOILET WHEN I GET THERE...LUCKY I DON'T NEED TO GO YET. THAT WOULD BE A WASTE."

The train passed the big Melbourne viewing wheel and the woman said, sotto voce: "Adrian took his new girlfriend up there on a date."

"WHAT?"

"I said Adrian - you know Adrian - took his girlfriend up on the wheel last week. They were on a date, you know," she repeated. I wondered what the relationship between the two of them was. Was she planting a seed, secretly hoping she would be taken on a wheel date? Was she secretly in love with the enigmatic Adrian and ready to push the other woman off the wheel at the first opportunity?

'WHAT DO YOU DO UP THERE? ISN'T IT CRACKED? WHAT KIND OF A DATE IS THAT?"

"What?"

"THE WHEEL! IT'S CRACKED YOU KNOW!"

"Not anymore. It's not cracked anymore."

The woman stood up to leave the train at Southern Cross Station, leaving the man to travel solo on his way to deposit his water for testing.

7 steps to inspire customer loyalty - effortlessly!

My shoe shop called last week. When I tell people, they look at me as though I'm the only person on earth who has a shoe shop. I look back as though I can't believe that they don't have a shoe shop.

My shoe shop is a peek into the relationships I have with businesses with which I deal regularly. These are successful and mutually beneficial relationships. I've been reflecting on what makes them tick. I think the elements are transferable to other situations. It doesn't matter if it's shoes, clothes, electronics, stationery or personal services.

divacultura's 7 principles of customer service to inspire loyalty

1. My first experience was great. I still remember that Alice served me and I bought a pair of long black boots and a pair of red heels. To put this into perspective, my first visit was at least seven years ago.

2. My first experience was so good, I went back. Alice remembered me. She didn't remember my name without a prompt, but she remembered our interaction.

3. Third time through the doors and the staff recognised me and greeted me like a friend.

4. Sometimes I wander in, not necessarily with a view to buying, but with a view to looking. The staff are happy to play if it's not busy and are happy to bring me shoes just to try. Quite often they surprise me with something that I had overlooked on the shelf, but loved on my feet.

5. Even if it is busy when I go in, I never feel rushed and feel like I am being paid full attention.

6. We trust each other. Last year there was a mix up and an extra pair of boots I already owned was put aside under my name and marked as "paid". Rebecca called to find out when I was collecting them. I already had my boots and told her there had been some error. In that split second I realised that I could have just said that I would be in to collect them "tomorrow" and scored another pair of boots. That's not how I roll and I know my honesty was really appreciated.

7. Rebecca knows what I like and keeps an eye out for things that might appeal to me and then gives me a call. There's no pressure. It's a friendly call and I find it helpful.

They followed me home.
© 2014 divacultura

When I look over this list, it's not rocket science! These are easy things to do and they have an impact. I only buy shoes there now. Actually, I'm a very loyal customer. Once I find somewhere I like the people, they like me and I like the product, I will stick with them forever. Notice how the product is the third thing in the list.


I've even considered whether these principles apply in the online retail environment. They absolutely do. (I'm thinking about my favourite online clothing store, Birdsnest.)

Where do you like to shop? What keeps you coming back? If you're in business, does your customer service inspire loyalty?

"My" shoe shop is called Sole Devotion. I was not asked or provided any incentive to write this post (other than being inspired by great service!).