Can I take a photo of your carrot?

I was walking to work when I saw this.

Man carrying green fernery
Man carrying green fernery

‘What’s that?’ I thought. ‘A pot plant? In an orange pot? Oh… oh, is it carrot? I bet it’s a carrot!’

I ran in front of him and sure enough it was a carrot.

‘Excuse me! Can I take a photo of your carrot?’

He nodded calmly.

Man with carrot
Man with carrot

I got to work, super excited by this very strange, very Melbourne carrot incident.

‘Oh, the carrot man,’ Emma said dismissively. ‘I’ve seen it in the news.’

What?

Sure enough, there have been sightings of the Carrot Man all over Melbourne for at least a year.

Carrot man sightings: mystery bugs city, MX Melbourne
A man with a carrot, Fitzroyalty
What’s with the giant carrot?, Herald Sun
Who is Carrot man in Melbourne, 3AW

Banana bend

EC Commission Regulation No 2257/94: all bananas must be “free of abnormal curvature” and at least 14 cm in length.

In 2008 while I was in the UK, it and other EU nations voted out rules about the curves of cucumbers and bends of bananas.

Such rules would have denied my enjoyment in buying my weekly bananas at Dandenong Market.

Bananas from Dandenong market
Bananas from Dandenong market

Admittedly, extreme curvature is inconvenient for storage in my banana house.

Too bendy for banana box
Too bendy for banana box

Another day, another protest

It’s been a good week for civic participation. As well as the teachers’ strike, there were anti-fur protests at City Square for Melbourne Spring Fashion Week.

The big civic disruption, though, was the battle between Grocon and the construction union, CFMEU at the iconic Myer site on Lonsdale Street. It led the 7am radio news bulletin almost every day.

The police were very busy this week.

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Police line 7am Thursday at the Myer construction site

Red and purple

As I walked to work at 8am, I saw more and more people wearing red shirts. Around Fed Square, groups of three or four were smiling and drinking coffee.

A block later, four police men in fluoro yellow jackets walked towards me. Then a crowd of police in fluoro poured put of the police station on Flinders Lane. They all headed to Fed Square.

By mid-morning, it was clear what was going on.

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Teacher protest on Spring Street, photo from my office window

I wonder where the purple people came from?

What donating blood is like

This week is National Blood Donor week!

I started donating blood when I was at university, whenever the mobile blood bank showed up at the Engineering Examination Halls.

I get an email every three months, telling me that I’m eligible to donate again. My donations count towards my company’s position on a league table.

I try make an appointment for 7:30am. You can show up without an appointment but I like to get in while it’s early. You have to drink around four cups of water before you donate so I usually wake up and start skolling.

I like to go the Bourke St donor centre because it has free muffins, biscuits, coffee, chocolate milk, sultanas, chocolate bars, milkshakes, hot pies, lollies, cheese… (not that I let myself have any. I’m trying to be healthy, you see).

When I arrive at the center, I fill in a questionnaire that asks me what countries I’ve been to recently, what medication I’m taking, how healthy I am… It takes five minutes to fill in.

I put the the questionnaire into a box and read the newspaper while I’m waiting.

When my clipboard gets to the top of the queue, a staff member calls me into a small office. The person asks me a bit more about the answers in my questionnaire. Then I get my blood pressure, weight and the iron levels checked.

For the iron test, the person pricks my finger and squeezes out two drops of blood. It stings a little. My iron levels are usually very good, although my next donation will be during my pescatarian experiment and I wonder if the lack of meat eating will show up in my iron results.

Often, my blood pressure is on the low side. Once I wasn’t allowed to donate because my blood pressure was too low.

After the five minute interview, I’m taken to a reclining chair and handed over to someone else. This new person checks what my preferred arm is (I like to donate with my left arm), straps up my arm, looks for a vein, then puts in the needle.

I like to watch the needle go in. It always hurts less than I expect. One time, the nurse commented that I was brave for watching the needle insertion.

Then comes my favourite part — 15 minutes of enforced idleness. Sometimes I read a gossip magazine.

In my left hand, I have a squeezy toy (like a red foam football). Rolling the toy around in my hand or squeezing it gently makes the blood draw faster. The quickest I’ve ever done this bit is around ten minutes.

The machine beeps when it’s collected around 460 mL of blood. Someone comes around, bandages me up and encourages me to the kitchen. I’m meant to stay for a while, have some food and drink to recover. Usually, though, I’m in a hurry to get to work so I have some water, grab a snack (I’m still eating the snackbox of sultans I got at my last donation in June) and go.

The whole appointment takes around 45 minutes. It can take twice as long if you go in the middle of the day so I do recommend the early slots.

Sometimes, I ride the Melbourne Bike back to work. The donation staff said it should be okay to do that, I just shouldn’t operate any heavy machinery or public transport.

I arrive at work with a big bandage on my left arm and get lots of sympathy from my colleagues about my ‘injury’. Then I tell them that the bandage is for blood donation and they say, ‘Ah, I should do that too.’

Yes, indeed you should! Each donation helps three people. You also get guilt-free relaxation time and sugary fatty snacks. Good, eh?

Pescatarian

Damjan and I are going ‘pescatarian’ for a month. Pescatarians are vegetarians that eat fish. My reason for trialling a new diet is to reduce the environmental impact of my food.

It’s been hard to take this step — not because I love eating meat (I quite like it) or that it is a staple of my diet (I don’t eat much), but because I worry about inconveniencing people with dietary preferences.

However, my friends and family are supportive and interested in this trial. ‘Tell me if you find some easy tasty vegetarian recipes,’ my mum said.

Another thing I’ve been thinking about: I don’t have any logical reason for allowing fish in my trial diet. I’m consistent with a lot of people, who do seem to draw a line between meat and fish.

I suppose fish seem a bit alien, possibly stupid and unfeeling. However, I understand that fish do feel pain. There are also lots of environmental issues like overfishing and bycatch.

I have no answers, really.

To give you an idea of how things are going:

  • Day 1 — Chips during the early morning Olympics ceremony, home made Eggs Atlantic, fabulous vegetarian dinner courtesy of friends Xing and Chris
  • Day 2 — Knedle soup (made with okara from our soy milk maker), omelette with fresh bread
  • Day 3 — Black bean and pumpkin stew, Thai butternut squash curry

Tomorrow is our first restaurant visit as pescatarians. Ordering should be straightforward with cut down menu options. We’re lucky in Melbourne that almost every restaurant has vegetarian and fish options.

Bill splitting

Last night we went to Red Spice Road for dinner. The waiter brought us over to one of the communal tables and handed us menus full of exciting options.

While Damjan, Jana and Rajko discussed which dishes to order, I was half listening to the group next to us. The man and two women were finishing up their dinner and called for the bill.

Five minutes later, I saw one of the women take out her iPhone and tap on the screen.

‘So…’ she said, ‘One hundred and eighty dollars… divide by three…’ The answer blinked on screen.

‘Okay, so it’s sixty dollars each,’ she announced.

Fallback technology

I was sitting by the river on Southbank. It was sunny and I was waiting a few minutes before my meeting.

‘Excuse me! Do you live around here?’ A man in smart suit was coming towards me.

‘Not exactly here…’ I began.

‘Do you know where the restaurant called Waterfront is?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ I stood up and pointed the opposite direction from where he came. ‘You have to go past the big road. It’s probably another five minutes walk…’

I noticed he was carrying his iPhone face up. ‘Do you have the map?’ I asked, pointing at his phone.

‘No, it’s not working,’ he said, looking cross.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the tattered cycle map that I always carry.

‘We’re here,’ I said. ‘You need to cross Queensbridge and go halfway up the block towards Princes Bridge…’

‘Ah!’ He saw immediately. ‘Thanks!’

He rushed off to his companion, calling, ‘Keep going that way!’

I folded up my map and put it back in my bag.