Well, my blog is barely here today, and my chat for Project 366 on my Conversation page has not even been thought about yet. When I got out of bed this morning, sometime later than I had planned last night, I felt like giving up. Lately the edge has gone from my striving and energy to keep fighting against the symptoms of dementia. My energy levels are waning more easily as it is taking more focus and energy to keep up with my life; not just the busy stuff like getting ready to present in London, but now more often the little things, for example like what to do in the shower. I was also letting my hair grow longer to allow me to wear it in a pony tail, but decided to get it cut shorter to force me to keep working out how to use the hair dryer. It’s working, but it is taking more effort to make those little grey cells stretch each day and find new pathways to communicate. Anyway, because of this negative change, I thought a bit less of the intense thinking and writing I often do might help my brain, give it a little rest as they say. So decided to write about being an Aussie! Australians are known for their nicknames and senseless pranks and silly thinking. Fatty poombah is a term used a lot when I was young, a term someone would call you if you had put on a bit of extra weight, like, Well hello there, aren’t you a little fatty poombah now! At a meal with a friend and his family a few years ago, we heard the phrase she had a face like a kicked in shit can being used with endearment. At school, the kids who had small faces were often called Widget face. Other nicknames were used, and most people who grew up in the district I lived were often given permanent other first names, e.g. in one family I was close to back then, all eight kids were dubbed nicknames, e.g. Robert was Dora, Lynette was George, Snid was … I don’t think I ever knew his real name, and so on.  A few of my nicknames were Smiley, Four eyes (when I was prescribed reading glasses), Bugs Bunny, and Custard Bum (I often wore yellow briefs)! Australians are also good at starting weird and wonderful clubs, and I was once a member of The Australasian Order of Old Bastards. I still have my membership badge/key ring (somewhere???), and intend to register again as a member this year. A chap called Leo Bradshaw started off as a member of the I.O.O.B. (International Order Of Old Bastards), which was an organisation started by Allied Servicemen who had been based in Australia during the Second World War. They were amazed that the old Aussie saying ‘Hello you Old Bastard’ was considered a term of endearment and not an insult. They became a registered charity, and still do a lot of fund-raising. Back when I was a paid member and involved in the fundraising events held in Adelaide, if we were caught without our key ring when another Old Bastard slapped us on the back and said, Gedde you Old Bastard (the standard greeting at these events), it was our buy for the next round of drinks. Living in Australia used to be lot more carefree, with a lot less political correctness, and I feel sure these days you’d not get away with many of the nicknames used in my youth.  Living with dementia in Australia is probably better than having it in Cambodia, and being an Aussie with the inherent relaxed fun way of thinking has turned out to be a really good thing. Blogging also gives me the mental energy to stay positive and keep going, and the thought of being called Fatty poombah keeps me from putting on too much weight! (http://www.aoob.com.au/index.html)