June begins

June 2nd
June has started well. My cat, S, is still living and I still have a job. My performance was to be reviewed at the end of May. Nobody has said anything to me. I thought it was in my interest not to bring the topic up.

As the final week of May progressed I did felt on edge. When you expect a meeting about work performance it is difficult be detached.

Yesterday, the first day into June, I went to the gym to work off the job stress. One of the people who care in my life wondered if I had lost my job and that was why I wasn’t answering my phone. I felt loved and supported.

I worked today. The coldest day of the year so far. On Saturday we open rental properties for inspection that are empty. They were freezing today. Some of the people I meet at Opens are lovely and of course later become charming tenants. There were people like that today wrapped up in their coats and scarves.

I have made a chicken pie with chicken that I bought for S - healthy and easily digested, ‘ideal to get her back on her feet’. She’s not eating chicken! The Shoulder Muse kept on at me about not wasting food. I had bought cooked chicken so I had bought a lot. The Muse suggested a chicken pie from the Penguin Cook Book. As I stripped chicken from the bones I listen to ‘Singers or Renown” with John Cargher on Radio National..

Nostalgic. It brought back memories of my first winter in Melbourne. I worked 5 ½ days a week out in Blackburn and on my way home on Saturday afternoon I’d call into the huge Safeway at Ashburton and fill my trolley with a week’s fuel and a large amount of food for Saturday evening’s dinner for my son and myself. Then, I’d push my bulging trolley into the liquor section and buy the evening’s wine. I got home in time for John Cargher’s programme. I listened while I unpacked the produce and began preparation for dinner.

I loved those evenings. John’s choice of music filled the old terraced house. The door to the courtyard let in soft early evening air and pigeons were outlined on the dead tree three houses down. My son twisted the doorbell at 5.00pm. There was the pleasure of knowing he’d be on time and we’d spend several hours chatting. He was a heavy smoker in those days. The table was by the back door and I sat inside with my coat on and the gas-heating heater hissing behind me and he sat outside rocking back on his chair with a glowing cigarette between his fingers.

Today as I listened to John I cooked for tomorrow’s guest and myself. I still cherish the memory of those Saturday evenings. They were the highlight of my week. We usually drank and ate too much but I still managed to get up on Sunday morning and take the week’s washing to the local laundry-matt by 8.30 to ensure two machines were available.
Life has changed for both of us. I work only every 4th Saturday now, I live somewhere else and I have a washing machine, my son doesn’t smoke and his Saturday’s have a different pattern.
The beginning of June has brought some rain. A relaxing and joyous sound in this rain-starved country.