Tom’s no longer dyeing to see us

FROM MY CORNER with Ann Brunswick

Skipping through the pages of a newspaper colour magazine a week or so ago my eyes fell upon an ad for the concert tour of one my favourite entertainers. Yes, Tom Jones was heading Down Under to belt out a few tunes in his inimitable way.

The advertisement that caught my eye contained a nice big photo of him singing his heart out. But wait, there was something different about him in the photo. Just what was it? It soon came to me. It was his hair. Gone was the jet black curly locks we have all come to know and love. In their place was a distinguished grey shock. Good on you Tom. What a way to mark your 70th year than to throw away the dye bottle.
Please take note Clive Palmer and Rupert Murdoch, do you really think you look good with jet-black and orange hair respectively? And at your ages? Proving he can age gracefully is why I was shamelessly at Tom’s concert on Sunday, throwing my y-fronts onto his stage.

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Pedalling my Malvern Star along the Coronation Drive bikeway at the weekend, it struck me how little imagination goes into major construction projects that have a big impact on our urban built environment. This column has previously noted the appalling ugliness of the busways now snaking around our inner-city, especially the monstrosity one outside the Royal Brisbane Hospital.
Then there was the time we addressed blights on the landscape that are the air ventilation towers at either end of the Clem 7 tunnel. The supposed “jacaranda” and “poinciana” colour schemes of the irretrievably ugly stacks are irrefutable evidence of the total lack of imagination among those “experts” charges with “planning” our city’s future. But back to the bikeway.
It was after passing under the William Jolly Bridge my eyes saw what is now the almost completed bridge linking Hale Street on the northside to West End. But what to my mind is disappointing is the fact the new bridge looks a lot like a smaller version of the Gateway Bridge, which looks a lot like a large version of the Captain Cook Bridge, which in turn resembles a slightly inflated version of the Victoria Bridge.
Get my point? Does it really take much to add some imagination to the equation when planning this sort of infrastructure?

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During the week it occurred to me that my annual household insurance premium had risen rather dramatically. Well, someone has to rebuild insurance company profits after the global economic crisis. Unfortunately it’s policyholders.
All of us are, after all, somewhat inoculated against annual rises in all sorts of bills. But this year my insurer jacked up my premium sufficiently for me to fire up my internet connection and start surfing for alternatives.
My first port of call was one of those newer entrants into the insurance market who heavily promote their internet presence.
So, after the best part of 20 minutes electronically ticking boxes, choosing options, insurance cover levels, and filling in responses to all sorts of questions, it finally came time to enter details of my street and postal addresses. Initially the site refused to recognise my street address and postal address, which is a PO box.
Finally, after several tries it graciously accepted my street address, but still refused to recognise my PO box. That meant it was not possible to complete my online premium quote. So a quick email to the insurer was fired off and, to give them credit, a response came back pretty soon the next day. It turns out their online quotation system doesn’t allow you to use a post office box for a postal address. But, they told me, it was possible to ring one of their consultants and tell them my details and receive a quote over the phone. Sort of defeats the purpose doesn’t it?

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Can someone please explain this to me? Trying to do the right thing by the environment, your favourite columnist has left the Land Rover at home and caught a train north from Fortitude Valley station a few recent afternoons to service a northside client. What’s the problem with that, I hear you ask.
Just this. I’ve gotten onto both Caboolture and Petrie bound trains at around 3.30pm and they’ve been standing room only! This is mid afternoon! Or do all public servants in the city flex off early nowadays? Luckily, some sweet young thing generally offers me their seat because of my obvious condition, but it has me wondering: what do these north-bound services look like at peak hour? One of those Indian trains comes to mind, with dozens of hapless citizens perched on the roof!
Okay, so that’s a brickbat for overall CityRail planners, but here’s a bouquet for the staff of Fortitude Valley station itself. A reader tells me that on one recent afternoon on one of those really hot and sticky days we’ve had of late, staff at the station were seen handing out free bottles of water to over-heated commuters. Well done on that level! Now, if only QR could put on enough services and carriages so that commuters could reasonably expect a seat, at least outside peak hour, for what can be a fairly long journey then that would be great too.

• Got some gossip for Ann? Email her at: ann@theindependent.com.au