24 May 2013 - Advent Park, Maida Vale, Perth, Western Australia

The weather has held out yet another day; bright, sunny and cold in the morning, perfect autumn weather. I had no plans for the day.

Over breakfast I checked my emails and the bank accounts, as one does, and found an extra $100 in our bank account. Now this is a story that must be told, especially since the only other is of a more negative kind.

After the business with Batavia Coast Caravans, the grizzle about the price and the subsequent breakdown caused by shoddy workmanship, we emailed them with photos to prove our story and suggested they refund us the equivalent of their hourly rate for the two of us spending half an hour rectifying the problem. And guess what? They have. What a brilliant goodwill gesture! Good on you, Batavia Coast Caravan Land of Geraldton.

More than I can say about the National Warranty Company who still have not got back to us. We emailed the Financial Ombudsman again, and they came back to us asking for a case number and attaching a dozen official forms which we have to complete.We had understood the Ombudsman had this all in hand given the chap from NWC had been in touch with us prompted by a call from them. So we have to go back to square one, the forms demanding that the whole story be told from woe to go, hand written, when we had already sent copies of every email. It would appear that the Ombudsman made initial contact with NWC in the hope that an unofficial solution could be arrived at, and now since it has not, we have to go through the hoops and official channels and everyone is no doubt hoping that we will simply give up and go back into our hole. They don’t know us! We did not get where we are today by letting people walk all over us.

Anyway, this morning, the one victory reminded me that I had yet to print off all those dratted forms, so I googled Officeworks and found one in the city, or at least in East Perth. A glance at the time suggested I might just make the next 299. Once in the city, I caught the Blue Cat,  hopped off near the railway and set off on foot. The distance was less than the map had suggested, the job soon done and the return to Forrest Place all before midday.

I wandered about the various malls, shopping for a few small bits and mostly taking in the ambiance and the buskers. I was pleased the South American flautist was back; I do love the music of the Andes. The other day I had stayed a while to listen to an old guy playing Parisian style music on an accordion,  shades of Edith Piaf, Jaques Brel, Charles Aznavour, et al. Today he had been relegated to a shady corner down in St Georges Terrace where people were too busy scurrying about on their way to here and there rather than  pausing to listen. I felt sorry for him but was too cold to linger myself.

While I was sitting in Forrest Place enjoying the sunshine and the very beautiful water feature along with like minded souls, a small but very loud group of aboriginal protesters marched through and into the Murray Street Mall, one flag and megaphone announcing their presence. “What do we want?” they shouted. “Bring him home!” they answered themselves. Their banners repeated the refrain as well as another saying “Innocent until proven guilty”

What was it all about? I have absolutely no idea and I suspect very few did. Subsequent research has shone no further light on their very passionate stance. And sadly for them, after they passed on into the mall, we all just carried on doing what we had been doing before the interruption, perhaps just a little more confused at what life throws up in our path.

Signs were being out up everywhere in preparation for the HBF Run for a Reason to be held on Sunday. Dozens of folk in skimpy running gear were all about doing dummy runs, however I was not at all inclined to join them, staying well wrapped up in jeans, jacket, cap and scarf. Walking is more my style.

I caught the bus home again mid afternoon, catching up with Olly on Skype, keen to relay the events of the day, always busy and sometimes quite alarming with two very active little boys; a day without the support of his partner. Jess has safely arrived right here in this city, something we were able to monitor on a live air flight tracker website he put me on to. That will be handy when Chris flies back to Perth.

Tomorrow is the weekend, when the buses have lazier schedules. Maybe I will give the landcruiser a run, somewhere. Inspiration over breakfast perhaps?