I had this idea that I would stop going to my own hairdresser for my weekly blow-dries and start going to Mum’s hairdresser so we could go together. Mum gets at least one blow-dry a week, sometimes more. I actually used to go to her salon for a while — it’s a good old-fashioned hairdressing place in the local strip of shops, and Robin, Mum’s hairdresser, really looks after her. She used to do my hair too, but she didn’t straighten it the way the more modern salons do, so I eventually left and started going to my current one.
It’s now Friday, and on Tuesday Mum and I had an appointment at her salon. I was looked after by the owner’s son, Luigi, a 24-year-old apprentice. He was so lovely — such a gentle, beautiful soul. He was really chatty, and we talked about trade school and how he’s also training to be a professional soccer player. He’s the type of guy whose parents would be incredibly proud of simply because he grew up to be a good person.
As for my hair, he technically did everything right, but I’m sad to say it was a really bad blow-dry. He kept touching my hair to check if it was still wet, and it wasn’t straight — it was frizzy. I must have had thousands of blow-dries in my life, all with the same objective: make my hair straight. I had it chemically straightened earlier this year, so it’s easier to manage now, but I still like getting a blow-dry for that sharp, polished look.
Unfortunately, this was one of the worst blow-dries I’ve ever had. I quickly realised there was no chance I’d be giving up my super-sleek salon for Mum’s. That’s not to say they don’t look after her — they absolutely do. Her hair is much easier to manage than mine. Mum’s salon charges $70 for a blow-dry; mine charges $88. And let me tell you — this is one situation where you absolutely get what you pay for.
On Wednesday I dropped Mum in town for a lunch, and then I went into the mall myself to buy her an Apple Watch for Christmas. My auntie recently had a serious fall, and her Apple Watch automatically called an ambulance and notified a number of her loved ones that she was in trouble. I think this is an incredibly powerful tool, and as soon as I heard what the watch had done for my auntie, I knew I’d be buying one for Mum.
I parked in the old David Jones car park, which I absolutely hate. I genuinely believe car parks are breeding grounds for menace. I really do. I’ve seen so many dodgy characters in car parks, and I honestly think they should employ full-time security guards just to keep patrons safe. There were no spots on the lower levels, so I had to park on the roof, and that’s where I once came across a group of frankly very scary young men. So this time I got out of the car and walked quickly towards the lift to avoid any undesirable encounters, and from there I headed straight to the Apple Store.
One thing I know about Apple is that they really do employ with diversity in mind. I loved seeing staff of all different ages, sizes, nationalities — some tattooed, some not. It’s as if they hire to reflect the client base they serve: literally everyone. I was looked after by a young man who was incredibly helpful. I explained what I needed in an Apple Watch, especially the features that would benefit my older mother. We discussed the fall-detection function, and he didn’t need to give me any kind of hard sell; I was already sold. He made sure I got the top-of-the-range model, I bought it, and I cannot wait to give it to Mum on Christmas Day.
After the Apple Store, I wandered into Dymocks and was genuinely impressed by their romance section. I shop a lot at Dillons on The Parade, and they only have a tiny romance shelf, but Dymocks was celebrating the genre — floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with nothing but pure romance. I managed to walk out without buying anything.
I went down the escalators to the mall, and when I reached the bottom I looked to my right and saw the following man:
I made a beeline for him and he gave me a big bear hug. It was so nice. I’ve seen videos of people offering free hugs online, but I’ve never actually seen someone in the mall doing it. He was definitely the man for the job, because his hug was beautiful.
On Thursday — which was yesterday — I drove Mum and me down to Goodwood Road. Our first stop was Daw Park. I had previously left my book of parliamentary oaths for the Speaker of the Parliament at a professional scanning place, and they scanned each page of the book onto a USB drive so I’d have a proper copy. They are so lovely at this particular place; I’ve used them before and I intend to keep using them, especially for high-resolution scans at 1200 DPI.
I picked up the book and the USB with all the scans, and then Mum and I drove just a stone’s throw closer to town to Cumberland Park to visit the Christmas Shop.
We’d been there recently looking for an artificial Christmas tree, and Mum didn’t see anything she liked at the time, but on Thursday she wanted to take another look. There’s no photography or video allowed inside the Christmas Shop — which is a shame, because there’s so much going on in there. Everything is lit up, animated, sparkling or moving.
But in the shopfront opposite, I noticed what were definitely LED lights designed in a neon-style display. I wish I’d been conscious of neon in the ’80s, because I’m certain that back then, if you saw a display like this, they would have been hand-blown tubes filled with real neon gas.
I sent Maria a message wishing her a Happy Birthday and explained what had happened. She told me not to resend them, as she was leaving for London on the Monday. It turned out my brother had gotten one digit wrong. I left the order alone, but then East End Flower Market contacted me earlier this week and asked if I wanted a refund. I told them they could send the flowers to me instead, and they were happy to do that.
East End Flower Market don’t employ florists trained at TAFE, which I find interesting. They always come up with the most beautiful arrangements, so whatever they’re doing — it’s working. You can see the flowers below.
There’s a uni offer round next Thursday, 11 December, and I should find out then whether I’ve been accepted into the Bachelor of Fine Arts at the new Adelaide University. I meet the prerequisites, so in that regard I feel confident, but there’s still a part of me that isn’t sure — simply because I think I’ve applied for every degree and TAFE course SATAC has to offer. All I can do now is wait and see.
I had considered going back to full-time work, but I really think I should be studying Fine Arts. Not painting or drawing, but raw conceptual artwork. I’ve always believed that if you place yourself in the right environment at the right time, good things can happen, and I feel like this degree would do exactly that — it would set me up for success. Still, I need an income, so I’ve been keeping an eye on the I Work For SA website, which advertises all the State Government roles.
Yesterday a position instantly caught my eye: Patient Assistant Officer in Brain Injury Rehabilitation with the Central Adelaide Local Health Network. Years ago, I did two temp jobs on reception at the old Julia Farr Centre — then known as Highgate Park — and they worked with people who had acquired brain injuries. I’ve been interested in that area ever since, so I put together an application and sent it through before applications closed.
But later, when I was reading through the position description more carefully, I saw that Patient Assistant Officers are required to assist with ADLs — activities of daily living. That includes showering, toileting and brushing teeth. Once I realised exactly what the role involved, I knew I couldn’t do it. I was so disappointed. But there is absolutely no way I could brush someone’s teeth — and for me, it’s a matter of their dignity. I would ruminate over it, and I think it would be a bad situation to put the client in.
I went to my hairdresser this morning with a newfound appreciation for the high standard of blow-dries they provide. They were really busy today, and the beautician I love — Deb — washed my hair. She’s around 60, and she always loves a chat about aliens. When she came to get me for the basin, she asked, “Are they coming?” and I said, “They’re already here,” and we had a good old laugh.
I knew Deb and her husband were going to Metallica, so I asked her how it was. She sounded a bit ambivalent. “It was okay,” she said. I was surprised — I thought she loved Metallica and would have had a great night. But she told me she felt she was getting too old for that kind of concert.
I found that ironic because all the members of Metallica are in their early 60s too — just like her.
When it came time for Mario to do my hair, I outright said to him, “Your blow-dries are top of the range — first class and five star.” I think he knew I’d been somewhere else for a blow-dry, but I didn’t tell him. I think he would have been offended. We didn’t chat much today, but my hair looked good — and still does.
When I got home from the hairdresser, I received a message from SA Health inviting me to an interview for the Patient Assistant Officer positions. I logged into the application portal on their website, and it gives you the option to withdraw — which is what I’m going to do.
This is the second job in the past couple of months that I’ve been offered an interview for, so it gives me hope that I might be able to pick something up someday. It’s just that the Red Cross role and this SA Health position weren’t right for me at the time.
It turns out that I might not need to work just at the moment anyway. I’ve mentioned before that I’ve given a lot of money to my best friend Maiki in Tanzania. I did it with absolutely no expectation that he would ever pay it back; I did it because I don’t have children and I wanted to contribute to making his life better. I think I’ve done that, and now that he’s about to finish his PhD, he may have a job lined up — and he’s told me that he would like to support me now.
I would be hesitant to allow him to do that, but it would help me enormously if I didn’t have to work for a while and could focus on my studies and life at home.
