Chiffon #116. Progress

Hullo,

Progressions. When in hindsight one looks back and documents events, especially day to day events, you can get an idea of how things are going.

Since chrissy of two thousand and four not much has been happening amongst my world of aquaintances. On the whole the group has lost a few comrades as well as relatives. This is the way of it though.

Through my own writings, which have been big whinges on occasions, I can claim to have been instrumental in changes. For an example I criticized the National drink and drive initiative and my observations have been listened to. It now is the ‘drink or drive’ campaign which does give drivers and drinkers a choice as opposed to an order. If you would argue with me, you only have to wonder why it was changed.

Another little article which seemes to have an effect was the article (High powered and street legal) about the police congregating at a certain Maccas. They don’t do it any more, but I know they still eat the shit.

Aside from that I am aware of other changes I may have affected through my colon (column).

My flippant statement about the chances of Aboriginal self determination ever happening because of dependency on white fella funding seems to have resulted in a summit over that very issue on the lawns of olde parliament house and at the A.N.U  on the first of February.

My friend who always insists on going down to the Embassy as some type of ritual, she says it’s to ask to be welcomed to the country and finds this the most significant place to ask that question and wonders what others do when entering other peoples’ country, so we  drove down to that Embassy late on Friday eve, six or thereabout. She always behaves a bit like royalty  and waves like Lizzy even when no one is looking.

Seriously though she is giving me this rave about not making a big entrance and such like as we pulled into the car park outside the old parlo. Park next to the van she insisted which I did. It was at the end of a full car park. She needed and proceeded to have a smoke and discuss the whole shame job thingy, which I apparently am guilty of entertaining (hey I am white). She finished her smoke and instruction finally and turning to let herself out, noticed the entire car park very empty, which made us look very conspicuous so we left rather than stand out.

The phone box outside my apartments still survives the abuse bestowed on it by the local phone box groupies that inhabit the little boxes all around me. The reasons why the phone itself receives a good flogging is beyond me, really all the phone is doing is trying to help those that use it. I would hazard a guess that the majority of the  inhabitants in the little boxes that use the facility are juvenile delinquents no matter how old they think they are and the phone box is just their coping mechanism. Maybe?

I myself have been plodding along. I don’t need to hurry any more as I am to busy enjoying every moment of my life. Have a good one.

Luff Chiffon XXX

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