magicalsmusings

Postcards

2012-02-05T19:25:00.001+11:00

In my last post, I referred to a new project I'm embarking on. The "Send-A-Friend-A-Postcard Project". You see, I'm a postcard hoarder from way back. I can never walk past an Avant Card stand without grabbing a few, plus whenever I go on holiday somewhere, I tend to pick up free postcards, or buy postcards from various places as mementos, so over the years I've built up quite a collection.

Currently, the bulk of this collection sits in a box in my study, along with an assortment of birthday cards, Christmas cards and gift tags. I never thought I'd be the type of person who has one of "those boxes", but I am. Thankfully, I have yet to become as OCD as my mother who has her box of cards indexed. Yes, INDEXED. There's birthdays (sub-sectioned into ages 1-10, teens, 18th, 21st, various milestone adult ages, regular adult, funny adult, inspirational adult); anniversary; engagement; marriage; birth; illness; blank; and sympathy. Thankfully, I don't need to keep a stock of sympathy cards handy. But as LB is 73 now, and lots of her friends are popping their clogs, so she gets through a good stack of sympathy cards. She also goes to a lot of funerals. They're quite the social occasion for the over-70s.

Anyway.

My box of cards does not contain any sympathy cards, or illness cards, or even anniversary cards; but it does contain a lot of postcards. And I've decided it's time to start using them for their intended purpose.

It saddens me sometimes that in our modern, technologically advanced world, you can end up going for weeks, sometimes months without receiving a piece of handwritten mail. That is, mail which is not a bill. When I was a kid, I had several pen pals - one of whom to this day is still a very dear friend, whom I've visited several times in her homeland of Sweden. That excitement of receiving a handwritten letter from a friend can never be replaced by email; and so I've decided that I would like to share a little excitement with all my friends, by sending them postcards. I'm not going to do it all at once - I'll only do a few a week, but it's a project I'm determined to devote at least an hour each week to.

This is the first card I sent.

I took a bunch of these "Thank You Project" cards when I first saw them in an Avant Card stand a few years ago and thought they'd be good ones to start with. It also dawned on me, as I was flicking through my address book trying to decide who to send it to, that my lovely friend Shelley (who came to NYC with me and whose gorgeous swimming pool saved me from dying of the heat in Adelaide at Christmas!) and I have been friends for 20 years. Scary, but true. So I thought I'd remind her of that fact, and let her know how much I value her friendship. She loved it so much she put that photo (above) on facebook to tell the world, which in turn, made me feel good for sending her the card! Just a win-win all around I'd say.

So I'm going to keep on sending out postcards all year long. No one will know when they'll get one, or what it will be of (the one I sent my friend Kat was from New Orleans - Bourbon Street - circa 1995), but I'm hoping that when they do, they'll smile. And maybe do a little jig of joy or a squee of delight.

x

Directions

2012-01-31T16:58:00.002+11:00

While clearing out the study at LB's place at Christmas I discovered a box of old bits and pieces from my move overseas as a young, green, twenty-something. A large number of the discovered items were binned, but some I thought it worth keeping. Like a huge bunch of postcards, which I am using to embark upon a "Send-A-Friend-A-Postcard" project.

But that's another post. This post is dedicated to Directions. Yes. Directions. Before the wonders of GPS there were paper maps. And handwritten directions. Not always the most reliable of things, but then neither are Garmin and Tomtom.

When I first went to the USA in 1995, I took with me an Amtrak pass. Seemed like the best way for me to cover as much ground as possible. However, staying in a hostel in Santa Monica, I got to chatting with my fellow hostelers who all said that Amtrak was rubbish. Trains ran at odd times, most of the stations were in dodgy locations of the city and not within easy reach of hostels, you had to use the whole pass up within a restricted time period and you couldn't go "off the beaten track" so to speak.

They (helpfully) suggested the best way to see the country was by car. Trouble was, I wasn't 25, so I wasn't allowed to hire a car. What to do, what to do? Hey, I know... "buy a car" said a couple of my hosteling mates. S'easy.

So I did. I bought a car. A silvery-bronze Pontiac Sunbird. It was a cracking little car. Took me all around the USA - 32 states in total. We went through a lot that car and I. So many stories.

I had one enormous map book (which is still at LB's with all my markings of where I was going/where I'd been) and lots of those fold out maps for individual cities/towns which you'd buy for $2 at a gas station. Don't know what became of those... think I binned them at the end of my time there.

Sometimes though, you needed a bit more detail to get where you were going. And sometimes you just needed a cheat sheet for easy reference when you were in a car without a navigator (especially when you were still adjusting to driving on the opposite side of the road in a car where the gear stick was on the opposite side of where you were used to it being).

That's where these came in handy:

Hand-written directions to the places I needed to go. Classic.

1. Directions to the Osbornes'. The Osbornes are my cousins. I stayed with them most of the time I was in the States. They. Are. Awesome. Despite the fact that they're family. They were on a work exchange program to Vienna, Virginia for a few years and I spent many happy days in their company, taking in the sights of the local area, sampling the the local restaurants/bars or even just picking up the mini-Osbornes from school and hanging out at Borders reading magazines and drinking Pink Lemonade Snapple. Obviously after a week or so, I no longer needed these directions, and I'm pretty sure that even today I could drive you there from memory; but I like that I still have them.

2. Directions to Michele Straka's. Michele was introduced to y'all in this post. She's my Blizzard of '96 buddy. I did get slightly distracted on my way to her place - spent a day or two in Baltimore checking it out. My favourite thing about this particular set of directions is the horseshoe diagram I've done to indicate which apartment she was living in. OCD much?!

3. Directions to Chris Sullivan's. Sully, as he was soon to become known to me, was an old high school friend of Michelle's who was studying at Georgia Tech, and offered me a place to crash when visiting Atlanta. This "place to crash" was in fact, a frat house. Yes. A FRAT HOUSE. Not the one shown, unfortunately. That one was built in 2010. The one I stayed in was probably built in the sixties and bore more than a passing resemblance to the frat houses depicted in Animal House. Never in a million years would I have expected to end up staying in a frat house. Probably neither did anyone else who knew me at the time. But I did and it was awesome. Sully was awesome, all his frat buddies were awesome, even if they did nickname me "LK" (which stood for Little Kangaroo), and the frat's president (Retz - yes that was his name) had his best friend (Jenn) visiting the same weekend I was there, so I wasn't the only girl in the house.

Good times. Good times.

They're the kind of memories you don't get to keep when you've got GPS. Although Garmin's placement of me on my most recent US trip did make me giggle.

I think another road trip may be on the cards. Except I don't have a car. Hmmm. Slight problem that. Perhaps I just need to find a willing partner-in-crime with wheels and a bit of spare time up their sleeve. Any takers?

Sugar Sugar

2012-01-23T23:02:00.000+11:00

So today I finally ticked off one of those really annoying fixit things from my to-do list.

You know the ones. Those little fixit jobs that you know will only take about ten minutes, a little superglue and a pair of steady hands to fix, but you put off. And off. And off. Until you wind up shoving the broken item away in a drawer/box/cupboard, only to be discovered years later when you're moving house. At which point you throw said item in a box with a mental note to "fix that when I'm in the new house". Except you don't. You get to the new house, unpack the box and shove the broken item in another drawer (which you know you'll hardly ever open) with another mental note to "fix it later".

Well today... TODAY was later.

To be fair, I did open the drawer and discover the broken item wrapped in butchers paper about three days ago and sat it out on the kitchen bench; to remind myself to fix it.

Then yesterday I got the superglue out of the toolbox in the utility cupboard and sat that on the kitchen bench next to the broken item; to remind myself to fix it.

So essentially, "today" is actually three days in the making. Well, three days and more years than I care to remember.

But what the heck. Tonight, I fixed the item that's been broken for (I'm guessing) about eleven years.

I'm giving myself a huge high five.

Yep. A HUGE high five.

For FIXING THE LID TO THE SUGAR BOWL.

Eleven years and I finally have a sugar bowl with a lid again. Sure, I could've binned the whole thing when it was smashed by an old flatmate (who was, bless her, rather on the clumsy side) and bought a new one. Most normal people would have done that.*

It's the lid for a sugar bowl.

It's not Wedgwood or Spode or any other brand of fine bone china you'd be thrilled to discover was worth a gazillion if you took it to those lovely chaps at the Antiques Roadshow. It's just a regular sky blue china lid for a regular sky blue china sugar bowl.

BUT... it was my grandmother's sugar bowl. Every time I make a cup of tea I'm reminded of her and it makes me smile. Grandma Nell was the sweetest, gentlest person I've ever known. I spent every summer with her as a kid and never, ever heard her raise her voice at anyone. She also made an awesome cup of tea and the best scones this side of Cornwall.

I think she'd be pretty happy I refused to throw her old sugar bowl out. Pretty ticked off it took me eleven-ish years to fix it, yes. But pretty happy nonetheless.

(Even if it is a bit of a botch job due to a few slivers going missing, so it doesn't quite fit together properly. But then no one's perfect. Not even the lid for a sugar bowl.)

x

* And let's face it. Normal is not a word you'd ever associate with me.

Snails move faster...

2012-01-18T17:27:00.004+11:00

This day has been ridiculously slow. RIDICULOUSLY SLOW.

Really.

It's my second day back at Melbourne HQ of the biz of show, after three weeks in Radelaide, visiting my family and "working" on A Chorus Line. I use inverted commas on the word "working", since I doubt very much that turning up for 1.5 to 2 hours and handing out a maximum of 3 tickets per show qualifies as actual work. Still, it beats taking three weeks of annual leave.

There are no major musicals on in Melbourne at the moment. A grave oversight by the producers of Australia in my opinion. Melbourne is always packed full of interstate and overseas tennis fans in January and they're used to having their choice of shows to see when they want a night off from the tennis. To come to Melbourne and discover there is nothing on in the way of musicals is incomprehensible to most of them.

Epic fail, Frosty, Rigby and co. Epic fail.

So here I sit, contemplating my navel whilst I tell the rare person who does wander in that there are no shows they can see in the next few weeks.

It's very boring, but it has inspired me to do a little CV updating and job hunting. Or at least figuring out what I'd like to do for a job. Sure as hell can't stay in ticketing another year - it's doing my head in.

Stay tuned peeps.

In other news, I am about to embark upon a French Regional Cooking course with my friend Jerry. Five weeks, including one week of "Cooking with Wine" and one week of "Cooking with Cheese". If that's not reason enough to enrol, I don't know what is. Can't wait.

I'm also investigating art courses. As in, how to draw. I'm the world's worst, even at stick figures (although I did do rather well in high school when we did cubism) and I have an idea for a story which would include illustrations (no - not a children's book), but I'd rather like to be able to draw them myself. Any suggestions on good short courses, Melbourne people?

I'll leave you today with an article from the New Yorker, written by one of my favourite writers/actresses, Mindy Kaling. I think she's hilariously awesome. If we knew each other, I'm sure we'd get along swimmingly.

x

Tidbits from today

2011-12-21T22:43:00.001+11:00

1. I have a cold. It's totes annoying because I have heaps of things to do in the next few days and all I want to do is curl up in bed feeling miserable.

2. Going out drinking with my lovely mate Bridget was not perhaps the wisest of ideas when I have a cold, but it was fun nonetheless.

3. I bought a new top. In Zara. Which I vowed I wouldn't go into here in Melbourne because I don't think it's as good as it is in Europe. But the top was essentially free, because the head office of my company sent us all $50 Visa cards today, so technically, I haven't broken my vow.

4. Police Academy is on TV. So unashamedly sexist and ridiculous. I'd forgotten how wonderfully bad it was. I'd also forgotten: (a) how hot Steve Guttenberg was when he was young; and (b) how attractive Kim Cattrall was before she started in on on all that surgery.

5. Apart from one last purchase, which will be made on the way from the airport to LB's on Saturday morning (because there is no Bunnings within easy PT distance of me here in Melbourne); my Christmas shopping is done and dusted, kippers and custard. Aces.

6. No matter how hard I try to not let it bother me, it really, REALLY bugs me that I've still not heard a peep from (former) Bestie P. No word after the birthday card I sent her at the beginning of December; no word after the Christmas card I sent two weeks ago; and no word after the Christmas present I sent my gorgeous god-children a week ago. I know I need to just let it go, but it's still really difficult.

And on that cheerful thought... I'm off to bed. Gotta kick this cold in the gonads.

x

Saturday... hurry up

2011-12-15T23:24:00.002+11:00

I'm really feeling the pull to write at the moment but I have very little time this week - both my jobs have kept me busy and I've had a load of other stuff on.

But Saturday I have free*. Saturday is all mine and I'm going to dedicate at least a few hours to writing.

I'll be posting something. Not sure what yet, but I will.

Promise.

* When I say "free", I mean I don't have any appointments, or meetings or social engagements. I do have laundry, a house to clean, grocery shopping and packing for 3 weeks in Adelaide over Christmas to do, but that's just stuff.

Daily Reminders

2011-12-03T16:18:00.002+11:00

I stumbled across this today:

Be aware.
Anxiety is fear of the future, depression is fear of the past.
Most people don’t do anything with their lives because the mediocrity they experience is not painful enough to motivate them. Feel the pain and be motivated.
Being realistic is the most commonly tread path to mediocrity.
There is no reason for a Plan B – it only distracts from Plan A.
Exercise daily.
Drink water.
Eat as fresh as possible.
Don’t eat things that come from those which have a heart beat.*
Don’t smoke.
Don’t drink too much.
Be honorable in acts of sexuality.
Be strong.
Be total feeling.
Be noble.
Be clean.
Be on time.
Be patient, prepare for the long haul.
Scarcity is powerful, but make yourself available to those who need you and are worthy of your time and attention.
Live up to your own expectations.
You are tougher than you think you are and you can do more than you think you can.
Don’t be a pussy.
“Make friends with pain and you can never be alone.” Ken Chouber.
“The world is large but in us is as deep as the sea.” R. M. Rilke

I like it. I'm adopting it. Apart from the one about not eating things that come from those which have a heart beat... I'm a useless vegetarian!

The Little Things

2011-11-27T19:32:00.004+11:00

Small things that have made me happy today...

Getting my nails done
There are two nail places adjacent to my local Woolworths, one was offering shellac for $50, the other for $30. I went for the cheaper option, because they were less busy. Next time I'll go the more expensive option and wait patiently. It's not the worst shellac-ing I've ever had (pun intended), but it's not the greatest either. Still, my nails are a nice shiny brown-black colour and look way better than the weak, peeling, splitting mess they were.

An afternoon nap
More commonly referred to in my world as a disco nap, nanna nap, or kip. I was about to start reading my new book (Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project), when I had an overwhelming desire to close my eyes. So I set my alarm and forty minutes later woke up feeling refreshed and ready to get on with it.

Catching up on the blog rounds
In particular catching up on the blog of my gorgeous friend Debbie who has been re-doing The Artist's Way and has kept a blog of her journey. As someone who's done The Artist's Way quite recently, it's been fascinating hearing someone else's account of how they went and what they found easy/rewarding/difficult in comparison to my journey. I was also reminded today that we pledged to both do Walking In This World in February 2012 - I can't wait to get stuck into it!

Sock curls
On a whim last night while watching TV with freshly washed hair, I decided to do sock curls. I haven't done them since NYC. It's what my Granny would've called "rag curls" - only instead of bits of fabric you use socks. So today I've been walking around with curly hair, which (even when I'm wearing jeans and converse) makes me feel glamorous!

Talking to The Mater
My mama hasn't been very well of late. In fact she's spent more time in hospital in the last two months than she has out of it, and it's looking like a good portion of my trip to Adelaide at Christmas will be spent sorting her house out in preparation for the eventual downsizing that she's finally accepted will have to happen (let's face it, the upkeep on a 4 bedroom house with a granny flat and huge garden, is pretty demanding for a young couple, let alone a 72 year old widow living alone). Understandably, she's been feeling very flat and down, but today she sounded much perkier and was looking forward to an afternoon of Christmas cake preparation with her grandchildren, which will hopefully lift her spirits even more.

Walking
I often forget how much I love walking. Walking anywhere - the city (NYC - where I'd walk 40+ blocks a day), the country (Sussex - long walks through the country fields with my cousin's wife and her dogs), or just around Melbourne and its gorgeous suburbs. I only walked for about an hour today, but I felt so much better afterwards and full of ideas. It reminded me of what Nietzsche once said: "All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking".

Well, that's it. I'm off to make dinner. Pan fried haloumi and fresh salad. Yummmmmmmm. That's another little thing that will make me happy today!

What little things made you happy today?

The Blizzard of '96

2011-11-23T16:11:00.005+11:00

In last week's brief, but gushing post about my lovely new Coach wallet, I made reference to the story of The Blizzard of '96.

Yesterday, as I was framing my gorgeous poster obtained at the Alexander McQueen exhibition in NYC in July, I discovered some photos taken during that blizzard. (As an aside, heavy photo albums are great for flattening out posters prior to framing them.)

Thus I was reminded of my promise to tell the tale of the Blizzard of '96.

We'll start with an excerpt of my journal entry from Sunday 7 January, 1996:

"After dinner, Michele and I went to her friend Regina's house on E66th, between 2nd & 3rd, which was absolutely gorgeous! Three bedrooms, a big lounge, kitchen, dining area and is really, really nice. We just sat around until 2am talking - Regina is really nice and has offered to put me up when I come back. Which I definitely will - we saw jack shit today!

We got up late - around 10.45-ish and went to NYC Bagels to get breakfast (didn't see Cindy Crawford again though!). Afterwards Michele and I dropped our stuff back at her car and went to: (1) The Empire State Building (visibility was zero); (2) Rockefeller Center (skating rink was closed); (3) NBC (Michele's friend Kurt wasn't working and they'd cancelled the tours); (4) FAO Schwartz (we got there at 3.35pm, they were closing at 4pm so they wouldn't let us go upstairs to the 'Big' piano). We were freezing and it was snowing pretty badly by then, so we decided to ring Regina for advice. She said we should try to get out of the city ASAP so we did! Had to dig the car out, and it was a pretty hairy drive, but we made it to Michele's grandma's house [in Weehawken, NJ] and here we are!"

The following two and a half days were spent with Michele's grandmother - stuffing our faces with her yummy spaghetti and meatballs, watching soaps and shovelling snow.

And when I say snow, I mean SNOW.

Want proof?

View of NYC from the street outside Michele's grandma's house in Weehawken. That's Michele's car in the middle.

Me standing next to Michele's car. Yes. NEXT to it. That's how high the snow was. We'd already dug out the snow on the passenger side. (Remember, this is in the USA - the passenger side is the driver's side in Australia).

Post-shovelling. Our hair is frozen. Solid.

A day after this photo was taken, we managed to make it back to Philadelphia, where we then had to dig out my car, so that I could travel home to Virginia. That drive, much like the drive from NYC to NJ, was another "hairy drive", mostly due to the fact that the tyres on Michele's car were so worn that we had almost zero grip and were sliding around like a pair of first-timers on skis. It was alternately thrilling and terrifying. Actually, more terrifying than thrilling. I do recall at one point thinking "I can't die here, I haven't even been to the top of Rockefeller Center yet!". Still, at least it would have been an interesting way for a shy young girl from Radelaide to die.

But we didn't die. We weren't even injured. Just cold and tired and a bit sore from shovelling so much snow. My memories of that weekend are mostly (with the faded hindsight that comes with 15 years passing), of it being so much fun, of sharing such a crazy once-in-a-lifetime experience with a good friend. Someone, I am proud to say, who has remained a good friend, no matter how much physical distance is between us.

As Michele would say... "no worries".

One in 8 Million

2011-11-20T15:11:00.002+11:00

A sure-fire way to distract me from what I'm supposed to be spending this sunny Sunday afternoon doing (writing copy for a mail-out):

One in 8 Million

So many stories. So many amazing differences, yet so many amazing similarities.

So much inspiration.

x

Spoiled

2011-11-15T00:37:00.004+11:00

Will you just lookit at what arrived in the mail for me today!!

That there is a Coach wallet. And a Coach keyring. Courtesy of my awesome friend Michele, who I've known since we were 20 and who survived the infamous NYC Blizzard of '96* with me.

She. Is. Awesome.

And I am one capital S Spoiled capital B Brat.

Hells yeah. I make no apologies for being a label queen. I loves it.

* Remind me to regale you with the tale of the NYC Blizzard of '96 sometime. It's a fun story.

Almost There... or not.

2011-11-01T23:49:00.004+11:00

Today was a public holiday here in lovely Melbourne-town. Something to do with a horse race. I could care less about horse racing, even though I was invited to a couple of lunches. To be honest, I was feeling a bit knackered after recent life events, so I decided to have a pyjama day.

I woke up at 11am, lazed in bed for a bit longer, then moved to the sofa and watched an entire season of Downton Abbey. I did have regular breaks for food, cups of tea, chocolate, etc, but essentially, I did nothing but watch TV all day. Well, to be technically correct, I watched my laptop, seeing as I have yet to purchase a TV. I'll get around to that eventually. Maybe next Tuesday.

But I feel very relaxed and refreshed and surprisingly guiltless. Normally when I have a pyjama day I'm beating myself up for not having actually achieved anything. Because I still feel house-wise that there are still things to be achieved. The TV being one of them. Getting the pictures re-strung so they will hang properly on the picture rails, which are much higher here than in my old place is another. Buying a proper chair for the study, some plants, a sofa bed for guests... oh the list is seemingly endless. And I always feel like I should be doing something productive, like write or do some research for the book I keep harping on about writing.

But today I've let all of that go, and I've just had a restful day for me.

Which is good. And necessary. Because I suspect that the coming months are going to be quite stressful. And I need to be prepared. And apply that Howard Jones Principle* like crazy.

* See other post.

One Line A Day

2011-10-11T23:39:00.005+11:00

On my last day in NYC, I wandered into a bookstore (one of the many, many bookstores I frequented on the trip) and discovered this little blue gem*.

Since funds were running low and luggage space at breaking point, I didn't buy it, but it did get me thinking. What if I were to create an e-version?

So I have.

Over here.

I hope you'll stop by and visit. My goal is to write one line every night before bed. For five years. Let's see how we go, shall we?

* I was also sorely tempted to buy the book above it (Talking to Girls About Duran Duran). For now it's on The Book Depository wishlist.

Not Just Gen Y...

2011-10-11T18:25:00.005+11:00

This morning I was scrolling through a well-known Australian media/marketing website, having been directed there via facebook by a friend, who was sharing an article about his brother's new job.

Yay for MT's brother. Not that I know him, but I adore his brother and if he's got even a tenth of the heart that MT has, then I'm sure he's a wonderful guy and he'll be a huge success in his new job.

But I digress.

While trawling through this website (which is a professional, industry website) my eye was drawn to a column on the left hand side with a synopsis of a blog post about the passing of Steve Jobs. This "guest" blogger's opinion was that "the world got a bit carried away with the death of the man behind Apple".

I happen to disagree with his point (I think Steve Jobs was a remarkable person who made a significant contribution to our world and how we interact with each other), but that wasn't what bothered me.

No, what bothered me, what REALLY got on my wick, was that in his opening paragraph, this "writer" used the word "morning" to describe the scene in his office, and across the world at the moment of the announcement of Steve Jobs' passing.

Morning.

Not MOURNING.

Morning.

Seriously.

For a start, how can you call yourself a writer if you don't have a basic grasp of the English language? Secondly, where was the editor? Surely that's what they're employed to do - correct those mistakes?

Perhaps I am just being picky. Perhaps the shudder that runs through my entire body every time I see someone writing "hope your having a nice birthday" instead of "hope you're having a nice birthday" on a mutual friend's facebook wall is just a complete over-reaction and merely a consequence of having a father who was a complete pedant when it came to spelling and grammar.

Some may put it down to Gen Y and their reliance on spell-check and auto-correct and unwillingness (or inability) to properly proof-read their work. But gauging by the accompanying profile photo, this writer doesn't appear to be a Gen Y-er. And most of the people writing facebook posts which give me shudders aren't Gen Y either. No, they're Gen X-ers. The majority of whom are becoming world leaders and shaping the future of this planet and it's people.

I worry for the preservation of our beautiful, expressive, intricate English language. I really do.

I'm Back Baby

2011-10-11T10:00:00.007+11:00

Well, good afternoon.

So, it's been a while... want a quick update? No? NO? Too bad. You're getting one anyway.

I moved house 3 weeks ago - my move occurred just a day prior to the commencement of the Melbourne Fringe Festival. Of course, who had put up her hand to take on extra box office shifts for the duration of the Fringe Festival? Sigh. What a silly idea that was. I was/still am knackered. Working all hours (including a couple of 2am finishes), 7 days a week for 3 weeks was not the finest idea I've ever had.

Still. The extra money has been great. Those of you who've moved recently will be nodding your heads in agreement. Moving house is expensive. Stupidly so.

But it's worth the expense. I love my new place. LOVE it. Not only is it all mine, but it's closer to transport, in a much nicer (read: less industrial) area and there are loads of great shops within strolling distance. Granted, the nearest major supermarket is about 10 mins walk away, but that wonderful invention of 'free home delivery' has made that less of an issue.

My commute into the city is also a lot quicker and less hassle than the commute from my old place. Yesterday it took me 18 minutes to get home. That's 18 minutes from the moment I stepped out the door at work to the minute I stepped in the door at home. Incredible.

It's taken me a while to get organised (including three trips to Ikea for extra bookshelves and other bits and pieces) but I'm nearly there. As I write this, I'm sitting at the desk in my study (yes - I have a study - bliss!!), while outside the breeze blows the trees, the birds chirp and the blue sky is trying its darndest to get through the pesky grey clouds. The study was the last thing to get organised - in fact for the first two weeks it was chock-a-block full of boxes and crap. But now it looks more like a proper office and I'm loving it.

I'm hoping that finally having an office will discipline me into writing more. Now that I have a dedicated spot where I can leave my laptop set up, a spot which doesn't impact the rest of my living space, I think it will be easier to set aside the time to write. That's the plan anyway. We'll see if it comes off.

In the meantime, I'm going to get my tax stuff together. I've been putting it off for months now... it's time to bite the bullet and get it done. Who knows, I might be lucky enough to get a refund!

I'll be back soon. Promise. Really.

x

Keep on Movin'

2011-08-30T18:31:00.003+10:00

Apologies for the lack of posting... am up to my eyes in boxes.

Boxes?

Yes. Boxes. That's right, I'm moving house again. Our landlords gave us notice while we were both on (lengthy) overseas holidays. They're moving back in November.

Of course, them giving us notice for November didn't mean we had to stay until November... and luckily for me, my cousin has offered me an open-ended lease on his flat over the other side of the river. The "nice" side, as my mother puts it. The fact that my new place is within minutes of: (a) the church where she and my father were married; (b) my father's childhood home and the houses of his family; and (c) much fancier shops, are all contributing factors to her enthusiasm. Also adding to her excitement is the fact I'll be living on my own again for the first time since I lived in London and (in her mind) means she can pop over for visits whenever it's convenient (for her).

Sigh.

Anyway.

So far I've only packed the books and that's about 12 boxes. Someone helpfully suggested that I ditch the books and just read books on an iPad. Clearly that person is not a true reader. Whilst I am a fan of all electronic products, I prefer my books the old fashioned way. You know, the sensation of holding a book. Smelling it. Flicking through the pages. Until they invent smell-sation for the iPad, there's no way I'm getting rid of my books. Besides, they look cool all stacked on the shelves. They're just a pain in the arse to pack. Mainly because I get distracted while packing them and start reading...

Moving day is not for a couple of weeks, but I know what I'm like... and I'm also aware that while I'm moving out now, my flatmate is not leaving until November and she now works from home, so I'm trying to do it at times which won't inconvenience her. Which, given she's currently away on a course, means now.

On that note, I'd better get back to it. Linen cupboard next I think...

Oh and any recommendations on internet providers for the new place? Not Telstra. I loathe Telstra.

x

Things I Miss

2011-08-02T16:54:00.004+10:00

Bananas

$18.99 a kilo at the moment. It kills me, especially as when I was in NYC a few short weeks ago they were 5 for $1. And that's a US dollar, which means they were probably about 5 for A$0.95. Gah. Makes this great idea a tad difficult...

Bagels

Even though I'm not supposed to really be eating wheat, I couldn't help but treat myself to bagels every morning while I was in NYC. They're so gooooooood. Not like the shitty supermarket bagels you get here. I have however, tracked down a kosher bakery in Melbourne and will be road-testing their bagels tomorrow on my way to work. Watch this space. I doubt they'll have blueberry flavoured cream cheese to go with a cinnamon and raisin bagel, but at this point in time I'll settle for the bagel with plain old Philadelphia cream cheese.

Piper J & Tater Tot

For reasons beyond my understanding, I've had zero communication from their ma (scroll through previous posts for context), therefore I haven't actually spoken to my godchildren since March. That's a long time. I sure do miss the little munchkins. I hope they're well and happy.

Summer

I have a new wardrobe full of cute little summer outfits (not to mention shoes!) bought in NYC and London and it's frickin' freezin' (albeit sunny with blue skies) here in Melbourne... the only thing I can wear is the new North Face coat I bought on my last day in NYC. Hurry the feck up, Summer.

x

The View From Here...

2011-07-23T17:18:00.002+10:00

Two of 'my' places... one old, one new.

Primrose Hill, London

Primrose Hill has long been one of my favourite places in the world... when I lived in London I spent many hours there, both alone and with the people dearest to me. Winter and Summer it was a place of reflection, amusement, natural beauty and a reminder to be thankful for everything good in my life.

I will never, ever tire of spending time there and I'm so glad I got to revisit it on this trip.

The High Line, NYC (view of the Empire State Building)

Since my last visit to NYC, the High Line has been completed, and what an amazing place it is. A little track of green amongst the bustling city. Views of the city amongst some gorgeous plant life, with loads of places to sit, take time out and contemplate the world around and how magnificent it is.

A new favourite place to add to my favourite NYC haunts.

When Garmin Gets It Wrong...

2011-07-02T06:58:00.006+10:00

According to Garmin, I drove on water yesterday. Right across the George Washington Bridge towards Queens.

I never knew I was such a talented driver... that's a skill not taught in Advanced Driver Training!

Well that is one way to get around the traffic jam...

"Absolute. Frickin. Pants." aka "Blogging Will Not Get A Book Written..."

2011-06-29T22:30:00.004+10:00

One of the TBAs (Two Blonde Amazons) has just suggested "Absolute. Frickin. Pants." as the title of my book. I like it.

The subtitle will probably be "Blogging Will Not Get A Book Written".

Which pretty much sums up for me how successful I feel these past five days have been in getting me writing the book I've been banging on about for ages.

I've got a document full of ideas, starts and character outlines, but nothing concrete. Not even so much as a proper chapter.

Absolute. Frickin. Pants. indeed.

However, a thought has just occurred to me.

The one book I've read since I've been here in the Catskills is "Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness" by Ilene Bleckman.

It was a short read - 128 pages - most only containing a paragraph of information and some pictures. An adult's picture book if you will.

Maybe this is the type of book I need to start with, instead of trying to force myself into writing one massive novel. I have the attention span of a gnat, I am a typical Gemini and my mind flits from topic to topic with such rapid speed that even I have trouble keeping up at times. Blogging is actually the perfect writing outlet for me. So why not keep on in that vein with the book?

It's a good idea.

(I think.)

There I go second guessing myself again.

It's the best idea I've come up with so far.

I'll run with it and see what happens.

x

Discoveries (Part 1)

2011-06-28T21:20:00.005+10:00

Things I've discovered since being alone in the Catskills for the last 4 days:

I am a city girl. No denying it. As lovely as this place is, there is nothing TO DO. And although I'm rather good at not doing something, I'm absolutely awful when I have nothing to do.
I hate bugs. Seriously. I'm as eco-friendly as the next person, I use green products where possible, I try not to waste energy and I recycle. But damn, if a bug enters my space, it's gonna die, by whatever means I have at my disposal - eco-friendly or not.
If I didn't have my laptop with me and this cottage didn't have wireless broadband, I would have left two days ago. I can't not be in contact with the wider world, no matter how hard I try.
I'm a champion procrastinator. I really am. Even out here where there's very little to procrastinate with, I'm doing a brilliant job at procrastinating on writing that book.
When there's nothing else to do, I drink a lot of tea.
I need to live in a house with a bath. This place doesn't have one and I've really missed it.
There are only so many episodes of Spooks you can watch before you start locking all the doors and checking outside for MI5, FBI or CIA agents hidden in the trees.
I talk to myself. A lot. Our conversations are usually quite lighthearted though, so it's quite entertaining.
Thinking about someone won't make them contact you. I could probably contact them, but then I might be accused of "communication pressure". Ball. Court. Theirs. That's all I'm sayin'.
Thunderstorms are way more awesome (and way more scary) when you're in the middle of nowhere. Especially when there are skylights in the roof. And even more so when you're on your own.
Having no mobile reception is both liberating and frightening. At least there's a landline here, even if I only can only make local calls on it.
"Over At The Frankenstein Place" from The Rocky Horror Picture Show is not really the song you want to pop up on shuffle when there's a massive thunderstorm occurring overhead. Unnerving, much.

Stay tuned for Part 2. And possibly even Part 3. I don't leave here until Thursday afternoon.

x

Aaaaand, breathe.

2011-06-28T17:44:00.000+10:00

Actually, it's ok to just chill and do nothing. This is what I have to tell myself.

I'm up in the Catskills and I'm putting pressure on myself to write. To create. To churn out that book I've been yabbering on about for ages.

But nothing's happening. A few pages here and there, but my brain jumps from idea to idea and I find myself getting distracted.

I'm also feeling a bit poorly. Every morning since I've gotten here I've woken up feeling dizzy, with the room spinning... the first two mornings I was physically sick. Yesterday was a lot better but today it's returned with a vengance.

I think it might be the lack of air flow in the cottage and the fact the bed is up in a loft area. There are windows and they do have screens, but despite that, there are these pesky black bugs that are a cross between a fly and a roach, which manage to make their way in of a night if any window is left open. There are no fans either, which is a bit of a pain since there's not much of a breeze.

I'm usually alright by about midday, but then I feel like I've wasted half the day so I berate myself for doing that.

But maybe it's just my body's way of telling me to slow down. After all, this is my first proper holiday in 3 years.

So I'm telling myself to breathe. And just be. I'm in one of the most gorgeous places on earth, I don't HAVE to do anything or be anywhere, for another couple of days at least, so I need to just step back and enjoy it.

Starting now.

I ♥ NY

2011-06-27T11:56:00.008+10:00

First day of my 40s... an early morning stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Greetings from New York! Well, technically I'm no longer in NYC, but I'm still in New York State... up in the Catskills in an old one room schoolhouse which has been converted into a sweet little cottage. I am completely surrounded by trees, grass, streams and sky. It is bliss.

The celebration of my birth-day was more amazing than I could ever have imagined - five of my loveliest friends made sure that I had the most amazing time and I love them so much for it.

We started the day with a trip to Tiffany & Co. Two of our party had arrived a little earlier and informed the staff of our plans, so as I walked through the revolving door in my LBD, I was greeted by the doorman (and about ten other staff) with a resounding "Happy Birthday!" and an invitation to enjoy some champagne in a private room. Total VIP treatment! We then spent two hours enjoying lots of trying on and purchasing, then went to the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park for lunch. After lunch we got to recreate one of my favourite chapters from one of my favourite childhood books (Elizabeth Enright's "The Saturdays") and took rowboats out on the lake. Then it was a stroll through Central Park and martinis on the rooftop of 230 Fifth, directly facing the Empire State Building. A quick trip back to the apartment to change for dinner and it was off to Balthazar in Soho for more festivities. What an amazing day.

In fact the only glitch in the whole day was the total lack of communication from my so-called-Bestie-P, who couldn't even be bothered to call, text, email, skype or facebook me to wish me a happy birthday. I had a minor meltdown during dinner with the subsequent result that I was too tired and emotional to actually last until the end of the night and had to be taken home to bed, which spoilt things somewhat, but luckily I was with a wonderful group of women who understood what I was going through.

Our friendship has been pretty rocky the last few months - I think Bestie P feels like I've abandoned her and I feel like she resents me for moving to Melbourne and starting a new life - but to be so petty as to not even wish me a happy 40th birthday is pretty much a dealbreaker for me, especially given both her sisters (one of whom I've never even met!) both sent me lovely messages on the day. It's been 6 days and I've still not heard from her... now I'm not sure I actually want to, except that I am godmother to her children and feel like I've been pushed out of their lives because of her issues with me.

But I'm not going to dwell on it.

I have five wonderful friends (the Two S Wives, the Two Blonde Amazons and Edina, as they've been nicknamed on the trip) who made sure that I had the most fantastic week of my life and I made a couple of lovely new friends (Snoop and 25-Second-Matt) who both went to massive efforts to make sure I had a great time even though they'd only just met me. For these seven individuals I am filled with love and incredibly grateful for each and every one of them.

And that's more than enough.

In fact, to quote one Bernice Pruitt...

My cup runneth over.

x

Yoiks!

2011-06-02T21:17:00.003+10:00

Goodness!

It's been a month since I posted. Slacker. But I have been busy, honest.

Holding down two jobs is a little tiring - I need to get better at juggling the requirements of both. Even though one of the jobs allows me to work from home for 4 hours a week, I never seem to be able to set aside a proper chunk of time during daylight hours to do that, and end up working until 2am the night before I'm due to go in.

It's also only TWO WEEKS until I leave for my 40th birthday extravaganza in NYC, the Catskills and London!

[insert loud SQUEEEEEEEEE here]

When I first had the idea a year or so ago I never thought it would: (a) come off; (b) be so enthusiastically adopted by my friends; or (c) require so much organisation! Working out accommodation for 8 of us, taking into account various budgets, expectations and personalities has been challenging, to put it mildly. When you're also asking friends coming from around the globe, some of whom have never met each other, to share a room, there's potential for disaster, but I think it's all going to be ok.

The other issue has been that I'm NOT a planner. I tend to just amble along with a rough idea and see where the day takes me. This is the complete opposite of several of my friends who like to have every day planned down to the minute, so it'll be interesting to see how it all goes!

The lovely Britney has organised by actual birth-day - I got to make suggestions but I don't know exactly what we're going to be doing. I do know that we're going to Tiffany & Co so I can buy my present to myself - an Elsa Peretti pendant I've had my eye on for two years. I reckon turning 40 is worthy of a blue box, don't you?

I've also booked myself in this gorgeous little place in the Catskills for a week. Just me, my laptop and nature. If this doesn't get me writing, I don't know what will.

Isn't it just divine?

The place has no phone or mobile connection, but it does have wifi, so expect a blog or two while I'm there. Maybe.

In the meantime, I still have a whole lot more to do so that's me away. Just wanted to check in and say hi.

Hope you're all well!

x

PS - Things I'm liking at the moment (in no particular order): pan-fried haloumi; my fleecy black tights; walking through the autumn leaves; watching the EastEnders Omnibus each week; and Glee.

PPS - Things I don't really care for at the moment (again, in no particular order): train delays; waking up early on cold mornings; Dr Zhivago (the musical - it's like a Russian Bold & The Beautiful where Eric is having an affair with Brooke's granddaughter but the acting's worse); and our Prime Minister. She's such a disappointment.

Unfriend

2011-05-02T20:12:00.005+10:00

I did some major facebook "unfriend-ing" on the weekend.

Major.

I went from 400+ "friends" to 288 "friends".

That's 100+ culled.

Oooh yeah. I was ruthless:

Anyone who wasn't a regular (ie more than every six months) user of facebook - unfriended.
Anyone who I hadn't spoken to in real life in more than a year - unfriended.
Anyone who I only had a vague/tenuous relationship with - unfriended.
Anyone (a couple of former so-called Besties) who hadn't returned my calls, texts or emails - unfriended.
Anyone still working at the Toxic Workplace of Doom (my former Sydney employer) - unfriended. (That place has gone to hell in a handbasket - all the good people have left and I've remained friends with them. The ones remaining are not worth bothering with.)
People I've met for a nano-second at a party or work event or random gathering - unfriended.
Anyone who only added me in the first place because of my ticketing connections -unfriended.

All told it was a rather cathartic exercise.

So how was YOUR weekend? Watch the wedding?

Six Weeks!

2011-04-26T22:13:00.003+10:00

Today it occurred to me that in just 6 weeks, I will be winging my way to NYC to celebrate the big 4-0.

SIX WEEKS!

I've not done a scrap of saving.

Whoops.

My flight is paid for, as is my first week's accommodation (with six of my loveliest girlfriends who are travelling from all corners of the globe to celebrate with me), but I've still got to book:

A week in the Catskills;
A return flight from NYC to London (where I'll be seeing Take That and the Pet Shop Boys at Wembley, then David Tennant and Catherine Tate in Much Ado About Nothing at the Wyndham... squeeee!);
Accommodation in NYC on my return from London (for the end-of-holiday-my-god-that-US$-is-amazing-at-the-moment shopping); and
Travel insurance.

And that's all to be factored in BEFORE I start on spending money.

Yoiks.

Would requesting an increase on my credit card limit be a bit cheeky? You only turn 40 once after all...

Soul Stories

2011-04-22T22:25:00.002+10:00

Back in January, my gorgeous friend K posted this link on my wall on ye olde facebook:

http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html

I've watched it several times since then and it always makes me question my place in the world. Which is a good thing. The day you stop questioning your place in the world is the day you stop becoming an active participant in the world.

The snippet of wisdom I like most from Brene Brown is her observation that "stories are just data with a soul".

It's how I like to think of my work.

I tell stories.

And my stories are data with a soul.

My soul is many things (restless, contented, melancholy, joyful) and it has many stories.

My lovely friend K who originally shared the joy of Brene Brown with me, inspires my soul and inspires me to share my stories.

She's been away for a while, working up in sunny Queensland, but she's coming home soon. Hurrah! We've already scheduled our regular ACO date and I'm looking forward to having her back in my life on a more regular basis.

I also look forward to sharing more of my stories.

With everyone.

Across the Universe

2011-04-19T21:19:00.004+10:00

The law of attraction is a remarkable thing... following on from yesterday's post about reconnecting with old friends, today I received a card and letter from a friend in Edinburgh.

A HANDWRITTEN LETTER.

Totes old school and just a wonderfully wonderful reminder of a gorgeous friend.

Lovely L, the wee Scottish lassie whom I met when she worked with me during the 2009 Melbourne Comedy Festival, is one of the sweetest, funniest and smartest people you could ever meet. We share a love of Doctor Who, Gin & Pinks, David Bowie, The Housemartins and fringe chopping. Amongst many other things.

We spent many a tipsy night dancing around Melbourne town before her visa expired and she headed back to the 'burgh.

I miss her.

And I love, love, LOVE that she misses me enough to send me a handwritten letter, enclosed inside a David-Tennant-Doctor-Who birthday card no less. Even though it's not my birthday for another two months. She couldn't wait that long apparently.

Bless. Her. Cotton. Socks.

x

A Friend A Day

2011-04-18T18:58:00.003+10:00

Friends.

(The people in your life, not the TV show)

When you stop and think about it, you realise that they're actually amazing creatures, aren't they?

Someone once told me that people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially since I've been feeling very disconnected from some of my Sydney based friends in the last month or so. A few in particular (including some so-called Besties), have really upset or hurt me in recent weeks and I've been contemplating whether it is better to let these friendships go or just work harder to keep them. The jury's still out... I'm a little tired of being the instigator of all the communication.

Bridget Jones once said that her Urban Singleton Family (ie her friends) were every bit as important and supportive as her real family. It's a very valid point. On the whole I would tend to agree with her. In fact I'd probably go even further and say that they can be more supportive at times than your real family. But with the highs also come the lows and sometimes your friends can let you down. Fact.

So. Yeah. Friends. (That's me not being able to think of a good segueway)

Working at the Dead Egyptian Thing yesterday, I was pondering this funny thing called friendship when a few things happened:

Firstly, I looked up to see an old flatmate/friend of mine from my early Sydney days standing in the queue for tickets with his wife and two daughters. He'd changed jobs since moving to Melbourne about 10 years ago and I'd changed email and phone numbers, so we had lost touch. There was much joyful exclaiming to be had... it was great to see both him and his wife (who I knew well, since he first started dating her when we were living in a huge old house in Neutral Bay) and we'll be catching up properly very soon.

Secondly, while I was later explaining to my colleague who these people were, I was reminded of some of the more hilarious events that happened when we were house sharing and I resolved to start writing them down. I thought a "Friend A Day" blog might be a good way to do this... changing the names of course. Some pretty funny things happened when we were living in that house.

Thirdly, as I was on the train home from work, I texted our third housemate from the Neutral Bay days to tell her of the catch up and was reminded of some of the stories involving her. She later rang to get more details and as we were speaking I thought how lovely it was to catch up with old friends after feeling somewhat abandoned by others. It was then I decided to make an effort to not only share some of the stories of my friends but to actually get in touch with them - at least one per day. Call, skype, text, email or snail mail - any method was fine. Facebook doesn't count. That's a lazy way to maintain friendships. Today I've already been in touch with two friends and have made a mental list of others I want to reconnect with tomorrow.

So that's my new little project. Expect some funny stories, some sad stories and some totally bizarre stories about my friendships through my life.

And if you're an old friend I haven't been in touch with for a while, you never know - a message from me might be coming your way sooner than you think!

x

39 Steps To 40

2011-04-12T22:07:00.004+10:00

As part of my "Road to 40" I thought I'd post a list of significant (to me) events and achievements in my life. Some are small, some are not, but they've all helped shape me into the person I now am. I actually started this on 17 October last year, but life has been a little hectic since then and I haven't disciplined myself enough to complete it until now.

So.

39 Steps to 40.

(or: My Life So Far)

In the years that I have been in existence on this earth I have...

Driven solo across the USA... 32 states in total. In a bronze Pontiac Sunbird with a sunroof. Mostly in winter.
Trekked across Africa for three months.
White water rafted the Zambezi (and only capsized once).
Climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
Watched the Trooping of the Colour in London, with my mum, on her first ever day overseas (it was a bit emotional for her, as it was something she'd dreamed of doing since she was a small child).
Completed a drama degree.
Started my own business.
Performed on stage at the Festival Theatre in Adelaide (twice, at the ages of 11 & 12).
Sang karaoke at a bar in New Orleans (The Go-Go's 'Our Lips Are Sealed'. Always a crowd pleaser at 2am).
Been to the top of the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day (but didn't meet Tom Hanks or any cute little kids).
Stayed in a frat house in Atlanta, Georgia with a friend of a friend. One of the most hilarious, yet disgusting, weekends of my life. Think Animal House without the togas.
Hiked down the Grand Canyon (hiking back up was painful).
Jumped out of a plane. Once. Bungee jumped off a bridge. Twice.
Achieved a teenage dream of seeing Michael Ball perform at the Royal Albert Hall (I was a musical theatre junkie - don't judge me!).
Fallen in love. Many times. Some were worthy, others were not.
Had my heart broken. Many times.
Helped nurse my father while he was dying of cancer.
Got my belly button pierced. Took it out in second year at drama school when I discovered that's exactly the point of my splenic chakra (responsible for creativity). Its removal was the catalyst for some major creative developments.
Got a tattoo. Not saying where or what.
Got a second tattoo, ten years later. Again, not saying where or what.
Sent a fan letter to Ricky Schroeder. I was nine. His 'people' sent back a photocopied letter and a signed photo. I was in tween heaven.
Had a one night stand. Actually, I've had several one night stands. Some good, some not.
Had cancer. Mild form, but still scary to be told you've got cancer when your family history is riddled with it.
Kicked cancer's butt. It'll take more than cancer to get me off this earth.
Learned sign language. Two years at junior primary school and again when I was studying my business degree.
Been so intoxicated that I've blacked out and thrown up. Not necessarily in that order.
Thought it would be a good idea to try to sleep in the snow in -13 degree temperatures in Prague after drinking far too many shots of cheap tequila. Thank god for DP or I may not have lived to tell the tale.
Played the slots in Las Vegas.
Been to Disneyland LA, Disney World Florida and Disneyland Paris. I think that's enough.
Tried most illegal substances except heroin. I have issues with needles.
Overcame a teenage eating disorder and an anxiety disorder. Although I still struggle with both at times.
Been selected to play at district level at hockey. I was a cracker right wing. Never could play on the left though... weird.
Been pen-friends with a girl in Sweden since we were about 12. I've visited her a couple of times and we are still great pals to this day.
Kept this blog for nearly six years... even though I don't write that often nowadays it's still an achievement for me to have stuck to something this long.
Lived in three different countries in over 25 different houses. Considering I didn't actually leave my childhood home until I was in my early 20s, that's quite a few changes of address for my driver's licence.
Been a bridesmaid (once) but never a bride. But that's ok, because I don't think I actually want to be. Or if I do I'd like to just elope to Vegas. Or the registry office.
Survived a life-threatening illness (epiglottitis at the age of 2). Mostly I just remember being in an oxygen tent and getting new Fuzzy Felts and my first ever Barbie.
Swum naked in the ocean (Samos, Greek Islands, June 1996)
Sat next to the members of Massive Attack on a flight from London to Copenhagen in 1996 without knowing who the hell they were. We shared an entire packet of Silk Cuts (BA flights back then were still split into smoking and non-smoking sections) and a few bottles of chardy, yet it wasn't until we walked out into the throng of screaming fans at Copenhagen airport that I discovered they weren't just "with a band" as they'd earlier claimed.

So there you go. Some of the highlights (and lowlights) of the first four decades of my life. There's gotta be a novel in there somewhere...

xox

Because you're a joke, George!

2011-03-19T18:16:00.007+11:00

My poor flatmate and her sister couldn't work out why there were such raucous shouts of laughter coming from the dining room this morning, as I watched this over breakfast...

This is quite possibly the funniest Comic Relief sketch ever. Just how they managed to get so many celebs to take the mick out of themselves is beyond me. About every 30 seconds someone new pops up - people you wouldn't have thought would ever agree to be in a Comic Relief sketch.

Go on, watch it. It's a guaranteed 13 minute giggle.

Hello...

2011-03-08T16:13:00.002+11:00

I've been a bit neglectful of late. Sorry about that. Busy, busy, busy.

Actually, more disorganised than busy. I am quite capable of fitting everything in that I need to do, if I stop futzing around and just do it. And plan better.

Anyway.

Just wanted to say hello.

Will post properly soon. Promise.

In the meantime, have a little giggle at the poster (above) that's been doing the rounds. I love that someone thought of this. It's made my day. Not least because Lionel and I share a birthday, so I've always had a bit of a soft spot for him.

x

Cheesy Covers - The Donnie Files

2011-02-08T20:22:00.012+11:00

You may (or not!) remember my post from last November, when I went on a mini-break to Daylesford and discovered the delights of The Mill. That day I unearthed an astonishing number of cheesy album covers which all demanded documentation and comment.

Boy that was a fun afternoon.

This weekend just gone, the ladies and I took a trip to Geelong to visit a lovely friend who has just moved there to attend medical school (she's a very smart lady and she's going to be an awesome doctor). To my delight, I discovered that there is not one, but TWO outlets of The Mill in Geelong. Twice the fun. Twice the opportunity for documentation.

So off we went, the girls to look at clothes and me to continue my search for cheesy album covers. What I discovered has lead me to several conclusions, some of which I will share with you later, but for now just let me say that I've decided that today's cheesy album cover post is dedicated solely to one man.

Donny Osmond.

Why? Here are several reasons.

1. He was a cute little kid. With a very bad haircut. Mind you I can't talk. My mum gave me a shocking haircut when I was about 3 and it took years to recover. Years.

2. He was a cute teenager. With a very bad haircut. Again, I am in no place to judge as my teen years were spent trying to emulate the hairstyles of Annie Lennox, Howard Jones and various members of Bananarama. I'll leave it to your imagination as to the success of these styles.

3. He was an attractive young man. With a very bad haircut. And a very bad hat. Let's not even start on the striped shirt and waistcoat. But again, I am in no place to judge. My fashion history has many faux-pas, including striped shirts and waistcoats (but to the best of my memory I never wore them together).

5. He was... oh let's face facts. He had some of the worst haircuts in pop history. And I include A Flock of Seagulls in that statement. At least their haircuts were interesting.

6. He was an attractive young man who clearly came from a family of fashion freaks. There's no way my brother would ever have been coerced into wearing outfits like the ones Donny and his brothers are wearing in the above photos. And my brother wore some pretty interesting outfits in his time, including a white suit with a purple shirt.

Thank god most of you don't know him, or he'd kill me for mentioning that one.

Anyway.

I've concluded that:

(a) The Osmonds (Donny in particular) were far more popular in this country than I ever gave them credit for;

(b) Being famous is no protection from your mum giving you a rotten haircut;

(c) Stylists are important, especially if you're putting out an album; and

(d) The Mill is a place to be visited again and again and again.

Stay tuned for more classics.

Sometimes There Are No Words...

2011-02-03T00:41:00.003+11:00

I cannot even begin to imagine how terrifying it must be for the residents of Far North Queensland right now... I can't tear myself away from the TV coverage.

Just to give those of you not in Australia an idea of just how large Cyclone Yasi is, here's a satellite image of the cyclone superimposed over a map of the USA.

That's to scale people. TO SCALE.

Mother Nature sure is unleashing her fury on the poor people of Queensland right now.

Sending love, prayers and positive thoughts their way.

x

Well I Laughed...

2011-01-18T13:28:00.002+11:00

I laughed a lot.

Especially at the Charlie Sheen and Scientologists parts...

I've decided that Robert DeNiro is about the only actor in Hollywood who appears to have (a) a brain; and (b) a sense of humour.

Ricky Gervais should host all awards shows. End of.

We Interrupt Normal Transmission...

2011-01-16T20:38:00.002+11:00

I'm testing out some new layouts... bear with me. Still trying to find my new "look".

x

MSO Makeover

2011-01-02T15:23:00.005+11:00

In early November, I was lucky enough to be invited by an old boss of mine to accompany her to see the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, with Charles Dutoit conducting Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade.

I gladly accepted, because: (a) I'm a sucker for a good orchestra; (b) have always loved that piece, ever since my father introduced me to it when I was about 8; and (c) I've never seen the MSO perform before and thought it would be a good introduction to their work.

So off I trotted. A tad late, due to train delays (some muppet of a Spring Racing Carnival patron got a bit legless and fell in front of a train at Southern Cross Station which meant I was stuck between stations for ages), but I made it to the Town Hall just in time.

And so to my first experience of the MSO.

They're very good. And under Dutoit's direction, they're very, very, VERY good.

They're also exceptionally shoddily turned out.

Or at least the women are.

Its a trend I've noticed with a number of symphony orchestras over the years. Men pop on a penguin suit and bam! They all look pretty decent. Or at least consistent in their attire.

Women on the other hand... well.

Since the ages of the ladies in the MSO range from late teens to late sixties, their wardrobe choices naturally range from Supre and Dotti to Katies and Millers (and everything in between). And some of it was ghastly. Actually, most of it was ghastly. The two lead viola players looked to be wearing variations of black lace doilies. It hurt me to look at them.

Now I realise that these people are elite classical musicians, and it should not matter what they wear. But when their outfits distract and detract from their performance, something needs to be done. It's all very well to stipulate a dress code of "formal blacks", but given the obvious lack of style possessed by the majority of those musicians, I think the MSO need to be a bit more specific in their instructions.

The gang over at the ACO twigged onto the "not all musicians can dress themselves decently" fact early on and brought in fashion designer Akira Isogawa to design their outfits. His designs are simple, uncluttered and flattering to all shapes and sizes. And when you're designing for heights as varied as Aiko Goto who's well under 5' to Maxime Bibeau who's well over 6' that's a pretty big challenge. But they all look classy and every time I've seen them I've been impressed with every element of the performance, aurally and visually.

So.

MSO.

I've checked out your website. You've got an impressive list of sponsors and suppliers. However I think you really need to add a designer in there. Obviously not Akira, but perhaps Wayne Cooper or someone along those lines? They'd get the kudos of their designs being seen to an entirely different audience and you'd get an orchestra that doesn't looked like they've been dragged backwards through a hedge.

Just a suggestion.

Gratitude and Intention

2010-12-31T16:26:00.006+11:00

Sorry - it's been a while I know. But having spent the majority of December traipsing around Australia and NZ with Bon Jovi and U2, I haven't had a lot of time for blogging.

I'll save the rock'n'roll stories for next year - not that there were many (apart from one hilarious drive to the hotel with Bon Jovi's manager - the epitome of a rock'n'roll manager who's been in the business longer than I've been buying albums and has amazing tales to tell).

For the last post of the year I am going to take the advice of several of today's horoscopes and a few other inspirational people in my life who have all suggested I make a list of the things I've been grateful for in 2010 and some of my intentions for 2011.

So here we go:

2010 GRATITUDE:

1. Breaking free of an uninspiring, unhappy working environment (the PR job) and setting up my own business copywriting. So far it's proved to be a good move, with steady work and excellent financial rewards.

2. Finally completing The Artist's Way, after attempting it several times over the last 9 years.

3. Having the support of some amazing friends (old and new) and enjoying lots of laughter, fun, food and joy with them.

4. Spending time with my two great-aunts (both in their 90s) and listening to their funny stories of my family. They are both amazing women.

5. Spending time with my oldest friend and her family when her father passed away early in the year. He was a wonderful man and is very much missed but I am so grateful that he was such a big part of my family's life for so long.

6. Skype dates with my beautiful god-children. They make me laugh so much with their funny little ways.

7. Seeing Spandau Ballet for the first time - having been a fan for over 25 years I was so excited about seeing them and they totally lived up to the expectations I'd built up over that time.

8. Buying Kitty Lucy - my beautiful bike. She and I have been spending many happy times together.

9. Celebrating some joyous occasions with friends - weddings, births, birthdays, anniversaries... I feel privileged to have been included in the festivities.

10. Seeing so many amazing shows, movies, concerts and exhibitions. Melbourne is such a brilliant place for the arts.

11. Living in a house that feels like a home, with a flatmate who feels like family.

12. Buying my cello - finally (after over 25 years of wanting to learn)!

13. Being gifted some beautiful family heirlooms in my father's cousin's will. I'm so lucky that she thought highly enough of me to be trusted with such treasures and they are a gorgeous reminder to me of what a special woman she was.

14. Ending the year in a much better financial situation than at the start!

15. Ending the year in a much better health situation than at the start!

16. Ending the year in a much better spiritual and creative frame of mind than at the start!

2011 INTENTIONS:

1. To spend more time with my friends, especially those who nurture me so brilliantly. I am so lucky to have them.

2. To cut out sugar from my diet. For many reasons, but mostly because it's the likely cause of some of my remaining health issues.

3. To continue growing my business and to have a steady stream of interesting, creative and enjoyable projects.

4. To save enough money to go to NYC and London for my 40th birthday in June and live it up - large!

5. To have a brilliant 40th birthday surrounded by some of my oldest, bestest friends.

6. To continue to be inspired and inspiring, loved and loving, happy and grateful.

May 2011 be a brilliant year for all of us, with everything we all wish for!

x

Stuck In A Moment (aka I Will Follow)

2010-12-02T01:44:00.005+11:00

Apologies for the lack of posting... I've been a little busy.

Sound check for U2's 360〫Tour, Mt Smart Stadium, Auckland

I'm currently following Bono & the boys around Australia/NZ. About to start sharing that love with Jon Bon Jovi and his band of merry men next week...

Sounds far more glamorous than it actually is.

Will hopefully have more time for blogging soon.

x

Today (is the greatest...)*

2010-11-14T18:45:00.002+11:00

A few small facts about today:

1. I slept in. Woohoo.

2. I watched Friday's episode of Eastenders which some lovely person had uploaded to YouTube. I had to break the Chain of K briefly, because I couldn't wait to see the wedding. Slushy of me I know.

3. I tried to write a marketing flyer for a client this morning. I'm still trying to write it now. Procrastination is my middle name.

4. I went to see the ACO this afternoon. Kreutzer vs Kreutzer. AHHH-MAAA-ZING. Robin McLeavy and Samuel West were awesome and it was nice to see the cellists get their teeth into quite a complex piece. Incidentally I did sit there for a while wondering how the hell the ACO managed to get Sam West to come over here and perform with them, until I found out that his partner is the playwright. It really is all about who you know, isn't it?

5. I was supposed to meet the lovely Neena for a drink post-show but she got her engagements confused and had to bail. So I'm home and as evidenced in point 3, am trying to work in the hope that if I get it completed tonight I can have a day off tomorrow.

6. The birds in my garden are rather fond of pecking away at the petals which have fallen down from the rose bushes. Is there some kind of nutritional value in rose petals that only the birds know about?

7. I've just eaten an entire tub of Wattle Valley Beetroot Dip. That stuff is goooood.

8. I can procrastinate no longer. I must do this flyer. Must, must, must.

x

* thank you Smashing Pumpkins

Ludicrous Lyrics (1 of Many)

2010-11-11T16:27:00.005+11:00

"You're So Vain"
Carly Simon
1972
#1 in both the USA and Australia
Ranked at #72 on Billboard's Greatest Songs of All Time.

This one has had me stumped for years. And since it just popped up on shuffle, I thought I'd share my confusion and see if anyone wants to put their two cents worth in. Or more accurately five cents, given we've eliminated one and two cent coins from our currency in Australia.

So...

Is the lyric actually:

"I had a dream there were clouds in my coffee"

or

"I had a dream there were clowns in my coffee"

Either way, it's a pretty stupid lyric.

Why would there be either clouds or clowns in your coffee? And how big would the cup need to be to hold them? And if you drank them would there be any ill-effects?

Just a random thought for today.

x

In other news. Beetroot dip. Greatest thing ever? I've nearly scoffed a whole tub on my own in one sitting.

Reasons to ♥ the Greens #2,671

2010-11-04T17:22:00.002+11:00

This woman is awesome. Not only does she make her fellow panellists on Q&A appear like spoiled, ignorant children, but it seems she's also in politics for the right reason... to try and make the world a better place not just for us, but for future generations.

And she's only 28.

Imagine what she'll achieve by the time she's 60.

2222

2010-11-04T14:40:00.003+11:00

Logged in just now to see this:

Profile views @ 4/11/10, 2:40PM:

2222

Really?

That many people have looked at my profile?

I guess I have been blogging since 2005. That's a while. That's 444 per year.

Or 37 a month.

Which is about 1.something per day.

Wow.

I wonder how many come back regularly?

I'm sure there's some sort of stats widget I could find to tell me this, but honestly? I hate stats.

As long as I'm keeping a few of you amused now and again that's all I ask.

Happy Thursday! I'm off to the shops with Kitty to search for a birthday present for a lovely friend. And tonight I'm off to the MSO. Very excited to be seeing a legend like Charles Dutoit... he's in his 70s and still conducting.

Hope I'm that sprightly when I'm in my 70s.

(Oh and this is post #69 for the year... make of that what you will)

Cheesy Covers of the Day

2010-11-01T17:52:00.013+11:00

This weekend I went on a little trip to Daylesford. Lovely place. Ate myself into a food coma but still managed to fit into two little vintage frocks which were purchased this afternoon at a marvellous vintage marketplace called The Mill.

That's another post however.

Whilst at The Mill, I discovered boxes and boxes of old vinyl. Most was standard 70s and 80s fare... at least 9 copies of The Village People's 'Can't Stop The Music' and 6 copies of ABBA's 'Arrival', for example.

But I noticed a fabulous trend among the album covers of solo male artists of that era, so decided to whip out the old Lumix and snap a few. I did consider purchasing them, but I think that would have been far too embarrassing. Taking sneaky snaps while no one was around is far less obvious.

So here we go... Cheesy Covers of the Day:

Shaun Cassidy. Less famous (half) brother of David. Son of Shirley Jones. One half of The Hardy Boys.

A bit of childhood crush of mine (I was a big Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew fan). Until today, when I discovered that he was a possessor of pretty average dental hygiene. If you studied the cover closely, there were bits of food (or tobacco, or something more disgusting) in his teeth. And his gums were all puffy, like he didn't brush properly. Ewwwwww.

Next up we had another (brief) childhood crush of mine... Leif Garrett.

Let's just NOT go there ok? I was clearly a strange child.

Next up we have a icon of the world of 80's ballads... the 'Repeat Offender' himself - Richard Marx. I'd forgotten what a dodgy album cover this was.

Honestly, the man has a smaller waist than I do. Than I did in the 80's even! And I was a skinny teen. He also had far bigger hair than me. Totes unfair.

Next up, a double bill. I think one of the sales assistants was lurking and I wasn't entirely sure what their policy on people taking photos of the merchandise was, so did a quick "line 'em up together and take the shot".

Andy Gibb... the best looking of the Gibb brothers, no contest. And Julio Iglesias. If you don't know who he is, then you shouldn't be reading this blog. He's the original cheesy crooner... his stuff is hysterically funny.

That pose of Andy's is gold. If you squint a bit he almost looks like Heath Ledger. In fact, if Heath was still with us, I'd be starting up a campaign for him to play Andy in a biopic. I'd go see that. Wonder who'd play Maurice though? Hmmmm. Something to think about.

Anyway.

Next up, the Young Doctor himself... Mark Holden.

I really don't remember any of his songs, but I know there was some kind of rose involved somehow. I wonder if he used to do that stupid 'touchdown' arm-wave back in those days? No. Actually I don't wonder. I don't care.

Now...

Hands up who remembers this little corker? Sing along with me now - "Boom Boom Boom, let's go back to my room..."

Yes indeedy, it's the Greek-American one hit Hi-NRG wonder himself - Paul Lekakis.

Look at that pout. What a purty thing he is. Sexy and purty. And just a tad cross-eyed.

FINALLY...

This is the piece de resistance...

It's not a pop album.

Nor is it a rock album.

It's not even Hi-NRG.

No, it's an album of...

Yoga. An album of yoga.

There are so many things I love about this album that I don't know where to begin. Firstly, the eye shadow. Blue, to match the leotard. Which is tie-dyed. Utterly fabulous. Then, we have the tagline "Vocal Instruction to Indian Music".

I put this pic up on facebook and almost immediately my friend Jimbo commented to say he owned it. I of course thought he was joking and said as much, but then he countered with "his voice is bizarre... the whole thing feels like an SNL skit without a punchline", which leads me to believe that yes, one of my friends actually does own this album.

I love that so much.

So, so much.

Taken...

2010-10-29T12:28:00.002+11:00

Hmmm... see that last post? The one where I questioned whether I should amend my trip next year to include a trip to London to see Take That?

Well, thanks to the wonders of the internet, not to mention the sound advice of my London-based friend Fiona who, upon discovering that I was having dramas with ticketmaster.co.uk (which had been crashing all morning), told me to try ticketmaster.ie (thanks Fi!); I am (soon to be) a proud possessor of one magic ticket to Wembley Stadium on Tuesday 5 July 2011.

Yes.

It's true.

I am going to see Take That in concert.

[insert rather loud squeeeeeeeeeeeeee here]

Best I get cracking on that savings plan.

[insert more loud squeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ing here]

Take. This.

2010-10-26T23:26:00.004+11:00

Well this bit of news has me totally rethinking my 40th birthday trip next year...

The initial plan was to head Stateside about 16th June, spend a couple of weeks in NYC living large with the ladies, and then find a nice remote, relaxing, lake or forest or beach to sit and write for a couple of weeks.

But now I think I might have to leg it over to London in early July to see the lads. I mean I could wait until they come to Australia, but seeing as they've not made good on their 2007 tour promise when I ~~stalked~~ saw them in Martin Place, I'm not holding my breath that they'll make it down here. Besides there's always the chance by the time they get here Rob might've thrown his toys out the pram again and left.

So I think I must go to Wembley.

Maybe I can then spend two weeks in Cornwall or the Cotswolds or something instead. I don't really mind what type of forest or lake or beach I'm at as long as it's reasonably remote.

But I can't miss seeing the lads. I wonder if Howie still breakdances?

From Melbourne With ♥

2010-10-25T22:13:00.000+11:00

This is yet another reason why I love Melbourne:

Random notes.

It's nice to know there's a few of us out there attempting to make this world a nicer place, one tiny step at a time.

Take a moment and share the love today, please?

x

Coincidence

2010-10-17T11:28:00.007+11:00

I've decided to stop apologising for my lack of blogging. The reasons I haven't have been good ones - like actually being employed to write - so I don't feel guilty.

Well, I do a little bit. Just a little.

Anyway.

I've also finished the little project I was working on. Check it out. Pretty cool, huh? I'm very proud of our little group and still in awe of our creative and inventive leader. She amazes me.

But I've missed blogging and I'm glad to have a bit more time to dedicate to it. So hopefully I'll be around here a bit more.

A little while ago I stumbled across a blog which interested me - not sure how I came across it but that's beside the point. The point is, it turns out it's written by a girl I went to high school with. Weird, huh? We weren't particularly good friends at high school, as we were in different home groups and moved in different circles, but we were in some of the same music classes and were always friendly. Of course, we haven't kept in touch, but coming across her blog a few months ago has made me realise how small the world actually is and how you never really escape your past.

The fact I haven't lived in my hometown for well over 15 years now and have kept in touch with only a handful of school and university friends hasn't made a scrap of difference to the fact that the past is always sneaking up on you.

I guess the trick is not to let it freak you out and instead concentrate on looking forward. I'm not saying the past should be ignored, just that it shouldn't be dwelt upon. Is that even correct English? Dwelt? The more I look at it the more wrong it seems.

I'm getting sidetracked again.

So.

Last week, Fiona put up a post on her challenge to herself to complete a certain 40 things before she turns 40 next year. I really liked that idea, so have decided to adopt it for myself. Thanks for the inspiration Fiona!

I do find it difficult to believe I'm turning 40 next year. I certainly don't feel it. Or look it. And that's really not just wishful thinking. Most people react in absolute jaw-dropping shock when I tell them my age. It's quite funny. I used to think 40 was ancient, so I suppose they do too. Some days I feel like I've packed quite a bit into the last (almost) 40 years... other days I sit here and wonder what the hell I've achieved. I do tend to focus on that one more than the other, which I don't think is a particularly good thing. People are pretty tough on themselves sometimes don't you think? Shouldn't we all stop and reflect on our achievements sometimes too?

So I think there will be two blog posts coming up. "40 before 40" to give me something to work towards and "39 Steps to 40" to celebrate the journey involved.

Stay tuned.

Busy, Busy, Busy

2010-10-05T16:07:00.002+11:00

Only two posts in September. Shocking. Lashing of apologies to those who kept popping by hoping for something new, only to be disappointed.

I've been working a lot the last couple of weeks - I'm back at Trades for the Fringe Festival and my new little business has picked up a couple of clients, so I've been writing away for them and discovering not only that I enjoy it, but I'm actually rather good at it.

As evidenced by the photo above, I've also been keeping my fingers busy with a little project, which will come to fruition on Monday 11 October. Melbourne people keep your eyes peeled. It's been lots of fun and a great conversation starter on trains, at work, in the park... most people are fascinated to discover that the skill of handicrafts continues to exist in this technology-obsessed world of ours. Personally I've found it a very soothing past-time and one I'll be reluctant to give up.

However all good things must come to an end (to make room for more good things!), so this weekend our little project will be complete and Fringe will be finished. With three whole days free per week to devote to my little business and other writing projects, I won't know what to do with myself! Expect more from me then.

x

Reading Deprivation

2010-09-16T12:54:00.006+10:00

Sounds a bit weird, huh? I thought so when I read the title. But it's an interesting concept.

As I said the other day, I'm re-visiting The Artist's Way. We were introduced to it in our first year of drama school but the brilliant Glenda Linscott, yet I have never managed to successfully complete it. Basically it's a 12 week program for reclaiming creativity - your "artist". It's quite demanding though - to get the most out of it you have to dig quite deep and some emotions and experiences from the past do get dragged up, no matter how much to try to suppress them. Last time I did it I got stuck on Week 8. This time I'm determined to get all the way through even if it kills me.

Which it won't, obviously. It will make me stronger and a better creative being, I just have to have faith that I can do it. Surrounding myself with a little pool of like-minded beings is definitely helping.

So anyway, I'm in Week 4. And one of the tasks for this week is Reading Deprivation.

Let me explain. Or even better, let me copy a brief piece from the relevant chapter:

"If you feel stuck in your life or in your art, few jump starts are more effective than a week of reading deprivation. No reading? That's right: no reading. For most artists, words are like tiny tranquillizers. We have a daily quota of media chat that we wallow up. Like greasy food, it clogs our stem. Too much of it and we feel, yes, fried.

It is a paradox that by emptying our lives of distractions we are actually filling the well, Without distractions, we are once again thrust into the sensory world With no newspaper to shield us, a train becomes a viewing gallery. With no novel to sink into (and no television to numb us out) an evening becomes a vast savannah in which furniture - and other assumptions - gets rearranged.

Reading deprivation is a very powerful tool - and a very frightening one. Even thinking about it can bring up enormous rage. For most blocked creatives, reading is an addiction. We gobble the words of others rather than digest our on thoughts and feelings, rather than cook up something of our own."

It was that last paragraph which hit the nail on the head for me. I am a voracious reader. I always have been. As a kid my dad used to take me to the public library twice a week and each time I would come away with at least six books. By the time I was 8 I'd read through the entire children's section. Twice. I was like an addict. I couldn't NOT read. Trying to get me to do anything else was useless. I preferred reading to running around outside, playing sports, playing with other kids, eating, sleeping... in short, pretty much everything. I was reading at university level by the time I was 11.

I think escapism was a big thing for me. I didn't much care for my real life so I used to get caught up in the fantasy world of books, where I could be whoever the character was on the page. The character who always triumphed over adversity. Who was pretty, popular, smart, sporty, funny... all the things I didn't believe I was. In retrospect, should my parents have forced me to live a more well-rounded life? Maybe. But they hadn't ever dealt with someone like me before, just as their parents had never had to deal with someone like them... they did the best they could with what they knew. But I think a kick up the butt every now and again might have been a good thing for me. If they'd known about reading deprivation I like to think they might have tried it on me for a week or so. It would have been interesting at least!

In recent years I've learned the art of balance. I still have at least two books on the go at once, but I don't let it rule my life like it did when I was a kid. And I've learned that while it's great to get caught up in the fantasy for a while, you can't forget the real world and your part in it.

Having said that, this week of reading deprivation is going to be tough. Even things like facebook and email (not to mention my daily fix of Daily Mail gossip!) are classified as "reading". So I'm trying to limit all of them. I'm allowing myself to log in twice a day (morning and evening) for a maximum of 15 mins. What I can't read in that time has to wait. Blogging doesn't count, because I'm not reading blogs, I'm writing them. Writing is allowed. Encouraged even!

So what else am I doing with my time?

Well... ummmm....

Crotcheting. Of course. We still have at least 40 to go. That's about 5 a week each. Totally do-able.

Exercising. I am pretty rubbish at exercising. I hate gyms. I hate running. I think lap swimming is a pain in the arse (just the getting there, getting changed, etc). However I like to bike ride and I like to dance. So I am going for a nice long ride on Saturday with a friend and have instituted Dance Party Thursdays and Mondays. You heard me. Dance Party Thursdays and Mondays. These are the two days I don't have to be anywhere particularly early, so can crank up the music and dance my ass off.

The rules are simple:

1. The iPod must be on shuffle. No pre-choosing a soundtrack. Whatever comes on is what must be danced to. Unless of course it's a slow number. They can be skipped, but you must keep moving while flicking through.

2. Dancing must be high energy. It doesn't have to be graceful or coordinated or even in time, but it must be full of fun and joy and energy.

3. No stopping. For the full hour. Even when flicking through the songs, the body must be in motion.

It's heaps of fun.

Oh and I've bought a cello. I've always wanted to play but when they were assigning instruments at high school, the cello quota was full, therefore I was lumbered with the viola. The poor man's violin. I was rather ticked off at the time but too shy to speak up and say "Actually, fuck you. I want to play cello, I am going to hold out for the cello.", so I'm doing it now, some 20-odd years later. I just happened to search for them on eBay a couple of weeks ago and there was one going for $140. Brand new. Utter bargain. It's certainly not the world's best cello, but it's decent enough for me to learn the basics. If I turn out to be the next Yo Yo Ma or Jacqueline du Pre, I can always upgrade. So now I'm waiting for The Book Depository to deliver a couple of "how-to" books and then I'll be onto it.

Reading?

I might find I'm too busy for that come the end of the week!

x

We Apologise For The Temporary Loss of Transmission...

2010-09-14T16:56:00.004+10:00

The author was fathoms deep in the stack of EastEnders DVDs sent by the Chain of K.

Huh? The Chain of what?

The Chain of K.

It goes like this:

Mum & Dad K in Queensland have Foxtel, with UKTV. Of course. They are, after all, expat Poms. They tape every episode of EastEnders on IQ, transfer them to DVD and then post them to daughter #3 in Adelaide.

Daughter #3 watches them, then passes them along to Daughter #2, also in Adelaide.

Daughter #2 watches them, posts them to me in Melbourne (I'm not sure if Daughter #1 watches them first, she might, but I'm not sure).

I shut myself away for hours and catch up with the goings on of the resident nutters, chavs and villains of Albert Square. Love it. There are certain things I really, REALLY miss about living in the UK. EastEnders is definitely in the Top 5, along with cumberland sausages, pear cider, M&S knickers and cheap flights to Ibiza. So I'm extremely grateful to the Chain of K that they include me in their DVD circle of love. But it does mean that little else gets done of an evening. Apart from crocheting.

Did I mention I'm doing lots of crocheting? There's a little project I'm working on which requires a lot of crocheting. Keep your eyes peeled Melbourne people.

Other than crocheting and Walford-watching there's not a whole heap going on.

Actually there is, if I stop and think.

I'm back doing The Artist's Way. I'm about to start week 4 and things are starting to happen.

The little business I set up a month or two ago is getting some clients. This whole writing for a career malarkey might just be a goer. I certainly hope so. I don't think I can last too much longer in the customer service sector... there really are some spectacularly stupid people in the world. I do wonder how people actually get through a whole day sometimes.

I'm currently reading Bret Easton Ellis' Imperial Bedrooms. The sequel to Less Than Zero. It's difficult to get into but I'm sure will be suitably sickening and enthralling once I've committed to it.

Fringe is about to start and I'm back at Trades for the duration. Stop by and say hi. Maybe see a show. If you're nice to me I may sell you a concession-priced ticket.

It's been a lovely sunny Spring day today so Kitty Lucy and I went for a little pedal. Then I made strawberry and coconut muffins. They were yum.

So what's news with you?

Spare some change?

2010-08-29T14:16:00.003+10:00

Is it just me, or do other people have a policy on beggars?

Reading this article the other day got me thinking about it.

In general, I'm wary of beggars and their reasons for wanting me to share my cash with them. I do wonder if some of them take their tips from articles like these. I'm sure there are many genuine homeless people who need my help, but how do you work out who is "worthy" of getting your money? Is everyone worthy? Or no-one? Will my money help them improve their situation? Or will my money contribute to their problems?

When I was living in London there was a homeless man named Alf (yes, that was his name) who used to camp outside the entrance to Swiss Cottage tube station on Finchley Road. He'd always ask for "the price of a cup of tea". And he'd ask for it. Look you in the eye and ask you. At first, I rushed past him, but then one day I bought him a cup of tea, and there began a tradition. Instead of giving him cash, I'd buy him a cuppa. I figured if that's what he was asking for, that's what I'd give him. We became quite good mates, Alf and I. He was a lovely man, always keen for a chat.

When I moved to Sydney I noticed that there was a rather high proportion of beggars sitting on the streets with cardboard signs asking for money. "Lazy" beggars my boyfriend at the time called them. I rarely gave these beggars any money. Actually I never gave them any. My figuring is that I've worked hard to earn my money, so the least they can do is ask me straight up... like Alf used to. The ones who asked me straight out sometimes got a couple of dollars. And the woman with the "dance troupe". She always got some of my cash, purely due to her creativity and zeal.

Having lived in Melbourne for nearly 18 months now, I've discovered that there appear to be less outright beggars, but quite a few more Big Issue vendors. I like Big Issue vendors. I like that they're actively trying to improve their situation. I like that I have my regulars at various points around the city (I try to share the love by not buying from the same one each week). And I figure I get good value for my $5. I get an interesting read and I get to help someone.

When I was in London last year, I noticed a Big Issue vendor in Soho and stopped to buy one. It cost £1.70. That's about A$3. Bargain. I told him that it's $5 in Australia and he nearly fell over... then told me if he charged that he could probably stay in Claridges each night. I think if I'd offered him a plane ticket he would've been out here quicker than looking.

Soooo... hmmm. I think I've kinda lost my train of thought on this one. I can't remember where this was going. Anyway. What are your thoughts on beggars? Do you give? Do you have a system of working out just who gets your money or do you share at random? I'd be interested to know.

In the meantime, I'm going to be grateful that I'm not the one standing on a street corner...

x

The Draft Files

2010-08-23T15:21:00.007+10:00

I’ve been in the habit lately of writing myself text messages when I want to remember a particular topic to blog about, but instead of sending them to anyone, I save them as drafts. This mostly occurs when I'm on the train going to or from work.

Of course being the forgetful lass I am of late, I tend not to ever look at these again except when I add another one, look at the ones already there and think to myself "I really should get around to putting these up next time I'm near a computer". And of course by the time I'm near a computer I've forgotten about it again.

Anyway, this morning I happened to stumble across them whilst working on my laptop. "Hurrah!", I hear you cry. Don't speak too soon. You haven't read them yet.

But here they are in all their glory... well in italic and bold. I've expanded on each of them in regular text:

1. Nutty lady at the cinema prior to the Hugh Hefner doco, who was singing along to Burt Bacharach and the sex party people flyering out front of the GU.

This happened on the final day of MIFF - an 11am session on a Sunday morning. My second-to-last film (I saw 14 in total), at the same cinema at Greater Union on Russell Street I'd seen Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll in the night before. Total deja vu.

Walking up to the cinema I was accosted by cheery people in bright yellow t-shirts handing out flyers for the Sex Party. I did think that they were probably preaching to the converted somewhat... after all we were going to see a doco on Hugh Hefner. The man isn't exactly a prude. But good on them for having a go.

I took my seat in the cinema (which was about 3/4 full) and was in the middle of rummaging in my bag for my snacks when I heard her. She wasn't just singing along under her breath. No, she was singing along loud and proud to "Do You Know the Way to San Jose". To say I got the giggles is an understatement...

2. How bad a habit must you have if you ride between the carriages in freezing bloody wind just so’s you can have a ciggie?

It's been a chilly winter here in old Melbourne town. Several times I've had to dig out the black wool swing coat with the (fake) fur collar and cuffs which I bought when I was living in the USA back in the mid-90s. Designed for sub-zero temps, so totes warm and practically vintage! I never wore it in Sydney because it was never cold enough. But it's had quite the workout this winter.

Anyway... the other day I was catching a train into the city. It was probably about 12°C and windy. Even with my super-warm coat (and gloves and scarf and hat and fleece tights), I was cold. So imagine my reaction when a bloke (who looked to be in his late 30s/early 40s) jumped on at Seddon, but instead of taking a seat, moved immediately to in between the carriages and lit up a ciggie. He stood out there in the freezing wind as the train sped along, puffing away at first one, then a second cigarette.

The train ride from Seddon to Flinders Street (where he got off the train) is approximately 14 minutes.

That's one hell of a f***ing habit, if you can't wait 14 minutes between ciggies.

3. The jolly Metro employee calling out “put your tickets away folks – it’s Fare Free Friday!"

Metro (the latest public transport provider for the people of Melbourne) screwed up in a major way last month and as a result, gave everyone free public transport for a day. There are two Metro employees who work the morning shift at Yarraville station (a big bear of a man with a beard and a no-nonsense grey-haired lady who always makes time to chat with the older people) and on the free Friday, the guy stood at the top of the ramp happily calling out to the approaching passengers with their tickets ready "put your tickets away folks - it's Fare Free Friday! Could you ask for a better start to your day? I think not!"

LOL.

4. Chutney muff – a new name I learned for a red head.

Picked this one up from one of my fellow boxies at MIFF. I think I laughed for about an hour. I can't believe I haven't heard this one before... it's horribly descriptive and I love it.

5. Blatantly clandestine – word of the day.

Again, another pick up from the MIFF gang. I can't remember the context but I think we were discussing ridiculous phrases and possibly the blog post of mine in which I challenged people to work the word "subterfuge" into everyday conversation.

6. Emma Brockes – What Would Barbra Do?

I spotted this book in the Virgin store at Southern Cross last year whilst waiting for a friend... I didn't buy it at the time but I'm wishing I had. It sounds like it's right up my alley. Seriously. Check out the synopsis:

Film musicals: you either love them or they make you want to kill yourself slowly with plastic cutlery. Nothing has the power to lift your heart or turn your stomach like Howard Keel in fake sideburns singing "Bless Your Beautiful Hide" or Julie Andrews singing...well, just about anything. There are few situations where the question: What would Barbra do? doesn't have relevance in a world which is much better lived to a soundtrack of show-tunes. This is a book for people who know that: people don't tend to die in musicals, but those who do deserve it; true love waits long enough for an element of mistaken identity to be introduced (especially if one of the couple is a Nazi); and, women carry the show. Talented women wind up alone...But they have the consolation of the torch song, which in Hollywood musicals is more fulfilling than a husband.

Yep. Me to a tee. I might have to make this my next Book Depository purchase. Once I've finished the current one of course (current one being "Imperial Bedrooms" by Bret Easton Ellis... I'm apprehensive about starting it given my violent reaction to "Less Than Zero", but I'm very keen to see what he's done with the characters 20 years on).

7. The music playing on the radio… dodgy Hammond Organ or 1970s evening show versions of The Beatles “Across the Universe” and Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made For Walking”. Awesomely dodgy.

I have NO IDEA what the context was of this one. I've had to sit and stew on this one for a good ten minutes and all I can come up with was that I was talking about the music played in a cinema whilst waiting for the trailers to commence.

I'd hazard a guess that it would have been Sun Theatre, or some other indie cinema - only because somehow I can't quite see Hoyts or Greater Union trotting out a K-Tel classic album pre-movie. And this was gold-class K-Tel quality. Had to have been, or I wouldn't have added it to my list of things to blog about!

Anyway. That's all of them. For the moment. I guess I can delete those ones off my phone now. To leave room for more pearls of wisdom? I'll let you decide.

Ooooh, My Favesies!

2010-08-17T13:08:00.003+10:00

Shhh! I have an obsession.

Well, I have lots of obsessions, but this is the current one:

There's a whole series of them (19 in total) and they're, like, y'know, hilarious! Elaine Caroll is one clever gal.

I'm toying with the idea of doing something similar - obviously not using an Olsen twin as my base, since I'm far too old, but the idea is whirling around in my head.

Anyway, check out the website: http://verymarykate.com/. But be warned, it's totally addictive - you can't just stop at one episode!

Oh! Santa!

2010-08-11T21:41:00.006+10:00

Dear Man-in-Red,

Yes, I realise I'm a little early; after all it's not even the end of August. However, whilst this is fresh in my mind, I'd like to request that this little corker of an appliance be stuffed in my stocking come Dec 25:

I haven't seen anything this nifty since Michelle Durant (my bestie at primary school) was given one of those alarm clock/tea maker gadgets for her 11th birthday. I had total alarm clock/tea maker envy and I didn't even drink tea back then.

So Santa forget the sable, the light blue '54 convertible, the yacht, the deed to a platinum mine, the duplex and cheques, the Tiffany decorations and the rings... all I want for Christmas is the Tefal Toast N' Egg.

Cheers pops. Keep up the good work.

Tidy.

Take aMoment...

2010-07-26T12:31:00.003+10:00

One of my lovely friends has come up with a nifty public art installation project, called aMoment.

The aMoment gang has taken 100 teacups (and saucers), filled them with soil and planted a forget-me-not in each.

In the early hours of this morning they then placed and then photographed each of the teacups at various spots in Flinders Lane, Melbourne. They went back later on to see if people were taking them... which they were!

Such a gorgeous idea - follow the progress here: http://amomentmelbourne.wordpress.com/

A Playlist A Day...

2010-07-19T23:48:00.003+10:00

Most days I tend to be rather boring with my choice of iPod selection. I have a few playlists of "current faves" that I listen to over and over and over.

When I say "current faves", that's exactly what I mean because they're entitled "Current Faves" and "Current Faves - Slow". These two playlists (which are regularly updated), are in addition to the "Classical", "Glee", "Spandau", "Carole, James & The Fab Four", "Train Tunes" and "Concentrators" playlists which also feature on fairly high rotation, depending on the activity.

But occasionally, just occasionally, I like to set my iPod to shuffle and see what gems out of the 7,313 songs currently on there it chooses to throw at me. Some days it's a right disappointment... I remember one day in particular every second song was John Mayer. Horrendous. I didn't even know I had his albums... I think I must have burned an old flatmate's CDs one day when I was burning every CD in sight.

Anyway.

This morning as I was setting off for the station, I decided to give shuffle a bit of a go. To be honest, I was getting mighty sick of Glee's versions of Beth and Poker Face. I needed to give them a rest before I boycotted them altogether. So I set it to shuffle and lo and behold, I was rewarded with some cracking numbers. To give you an idea of my eclectic musical taste, I thought I'd share them with you.

Firstly though, those of you unaware of my musical blog history might want to read up a bit.

OK. All caught up? Not too revolted by some of my favourite tunes? Great. So here we go.

The Great Shuffle of Monday 19 July 2010:

Mother Nature's Son - Sheryl Crow (covering The Beatles - from the movie 'I Am Sam')
Feelin' Alright - Huey Lewis (covering Joe Cocker - from the movie 'Duets')
Skin Feeling - Crowded House
Centrefold - J. Geils Band
Young Americans - David Bowie
Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters
Baggy Trousers - Madness
Free to Decide - The Cranberries
First Kiss - They Might Be Giants
I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany
I'm Your Man - Wham
Crazy Arms - Patsy Cline
Rock With You - Michael Jackson
First Cut Is the Deepest - Rod Stewart
Mercy - Duffy
Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell
Walking on Sunshine - Katrina & The Waves
Viva Las Vegas - Elvis Presley
You Can Fly! You Can Fly! You Can Fly! - Peter Pan (from the Disney movie)
In the Air Tonight - Phil Collins
All Night Long - Lionel Richie
Something in the Way She Moves - The Beatles
Roads - Portishead
Broken Wings - Mr Mister
Orange Coloured Sky - Natalie Cole

So hands up who thinks that's a bit of a cracker list? Wait, I can't touch type with one arm in the air.

I'm inspired to utilise shuffle a bit more often.

Or turn this morning's shuffle into it's own playlist for frequent listening...

Anyway. It's late and I'm desperate for a bit of shut-eye. Nighty night!

Snap²

2010-07-10T23:13:00.003+10:00

Earlier this year, I mused upon how cool it would be to have a little camera attached to my glasses to capture the weird and wonderful things I notice every day.

Well today was another of those days.

This morning I was walking along the train platform waiting for the 10.36am into the city. As I sat down on the dark green bench, I stole a glance at the girl seated next to me. I couldn't tell you whether she was blonde or dark, tall or short, slender or chubby. But I can tell you exactly what she was wearing, because it was simply fascinating.

The first thing I noticed were the shoes. Bright green ballet pumps.

Then the handbag. A slightly darker shade of green, but still quite bright.

Then the tights. White opaque. Like I used to wear when I was a little kid. Now this girl was at least mid/late-20s. Takes a brave woman to wear white opaque tights for everyday purposes (i.e. not a nurse). I couldn't do it... I'd feel like a numpty.

Anyway, back to the outfit. Then we had the coat. Knee length, double breasted, 1940s style. In a deep, dark green.

At this point I just had to know. The dress. Was the dress green too? I surreptitiously looked a little closer.

Yes.

The dress was green. The same green as the coat, but with white spots.

So much coordination. I could barely contain my excitement.

But there was more. She was knitting. It was just only a few rows, so I couldn't tell what it was going to be, but the wool was white and (wait for it...) green.

Clearly this girl has a thing for green.

Love it.

Sadly, she jumped on a different carriage to me, so I didn't see her again. Maybe she thought I was a bit odd or rude, by checking out her outfit, but I was just so impressed with the coordination. It was gifted.

Anyway, on the train I went back to reading my book. Martin Kemp's autobiography. Not the best autobiography I've ever read, but interesting nonetheless. Anyway, I finished it, put it back in my bag and then glanced out of the window just as we were pulling into North Melbourne station. Platform 6 caught my eye, because it was empty, apart from one old man.

He was staring at the train as it went past him, almost as if he was trying to spot someone he knew. Clamped in his mouth was a pipe, big puffs of smoke made his eyes squint somewhat. Or maybe that was just because his eyesight was bad. He wasn't wearing glasses, so maybe it was just the effects of the smoke.

In any case, I couldn't help but stare back at him. Not just because he was the only person on the platform, or because he was puffing away on an old-school pipe (something I've rarely seen since the days when my Grandpa Bill was still alive), but mostly because of what he was wearing.

He was quite nattily turned out. A pair of beige slacks, brown belt and shoes. Couldn't quite make out the shirt, but there was a cravat. And it was green. Then there was the blazer... again, green. Dark green. Same colour as the coat of my earlier bench companion. And finally, a beige fedora with... yep. That's the one. A green trim.

I couldn't help but let out a little snicker of joy.

Two completely coordinated generations of people. Made my heart happy.

I only wish I could have seen them standing side by side.

And taken a photo.

###

2010-07-01T18:55:00.004+10:00

Back in January, I set myself a challenge to post at least 52 times in 2010.

Observant readers of this blog will notice that my previous post on the erstwhile 80s glam-rock pin-up turned porky drunk driver Vince Neil, marked my 52nd entry for the year. What a topic for me to pick. Onya m_m. Let's attempt to lift the game on the topic front, shall we?

[administers slap to head]

So anyway, I think it might be time to set myself a new challenge on number of blog posts for the year. It is, after all, the beginning of a new financial year here in Australia. What better time to set new goals?

Trouble is, I think 104 (double 52) is a bit too predictable. So I would like YOU to suggest a number for me.

Suggestions on a postcard please. Or in the comments field below. Your choice.

In the meantime, I'm going to get onto the wearing of the 52 different pairs of shoes, which I have so far neglected rather badly. I blame my inability to comfortably wear stilettos anymore. Signs of ageing, much.

Mötoxication

2010-06-29T21:31:00.007+10:00

What a Mötley mess.

Long time readers will recall my peculiar obsession with this man and his bandmates.

They don't often pop up in the news much any more, unless it's for doing daft things with firecrackers.

Oh Tommy. You do make me giggle sometimes.

Anyway.

It was with interest I read this story this morning.

Shame, Vince Neil. Shame. Have you learned nothing from your previous convictions? What if you'd hit someone?

But what's worse, is what I was more interested in about the story...

So shame, m_m, shame. Because what I found so tragic about this story is not that he was caught DUI, although that is terrible. No, what I found tragic is the photo that accompanied it.

What a slimy old porker he's turned into. Seriously Vince, weren't you listening to me back in 2005? What a pity. He used to be such a pretty looking fella.

So here's my tuppence worth of advice for you Vince. Two words:

Rehab.

Diet.

He's the blonde one second from the left. What a pout.

And here's some advice for myself:

Stop.

Reading.

dailymail.co.uk.

I very much doubt that either Vince or I will take my advice...

Barry

2010-06-24T16:11:00.005+10:00

Well jiggedy jig jig jig - we have a new Prime Minister!

Our first female Prime Minister.

Who was born in Wales. Not that you could tell by her accent. She's assimilated into a true blue Aussie, if her heavy strine is anything to go by.

But she's Welsh. Born in Barry, Vale of Glamorgan, to be exact.

Which, if you are a fan of Gavin & Stacey (like I am), you'll be more familiar with as the hometown of the lovely Stacey, her mum, her uncle Bryn and best friend Nessa ("Ooooh... tidy").

I absolutely love that this is where our first female PM was born. I know that's a little strange of me and I'm sure many people are saying "well that's a bit shallow m_m, what about her politics"? To them I say, too bad. I'm not really a political person. Sure, I veer to the left quite a bit, but at the end of the day, I'm more interested in the person, what makes them tick and what little quirks they might have which I might find entertaining (and useful at trivia nights).

And "truth be told", "I'm not going to lie to you", our new PM sharing a hometown with the "genuine" (albeit fictional) Nessa is a quirk I find quite hilarious.

So hurrah for our first female PM. And by the way, snaps to her for knowing (and using) the name of every journalist at her press conference this morning. She's thorough. I reckon she'll make a damn good stab of the job.

And I'd really love for her to lean across to Tony Abbott in Question Time and say "I wanna do you slowly", à la Keating to Hewson.

However on a more important matter...

Since Jules is an ex-Barryite, what do you think the chances are of getting Smithy over here to rev up the Socceroos? Maybe then in 2014 they might actually make it past the first round.

Let's Get This Party Started

2010-06-20T10:00:00.001+10:00

Happy Birthday!

New readers to my blog will probably not have seen this old post... unless you've spent time trawling through my archives, in which case, I salute you. You're either very keen or have too much time on your hands. Pick whichever you prefer.

So.

Anyway.

The Birthday List.

I recently revisited this post myself and realised that back in 2006, I had committed a grave oversight and left a very important person from my youth off the list. Shame m_m. Shame.

I need to put this to rights.

From my first discovery of this lovely bass player (you totally see where this is going, don't you?) and his bandmates at the age of 10, I was in youthful lust. When I discovered he shared my birthday, I was fully convinced we were soulmates.

Don't diss me.

We all had those fantasies as teenagers. I challenge any woman to prove that their teenage self never entertained thoughts of being "Mrs [insert name of favourite rock star here]. In my case, I wavered between several*. But this guy was always lurking in the top five. Hell, he still does.

So, in addition to wishing myself a Happy Birthday, I would also like to wish joyeux anniversaire to the (equal first**) hottest bass player of the 80s... John Taylor.

Look at that bone structure. He was soooo pretty. He's not quite so pretty now, but has developed into quite a handsome being and is still totally hot... so my teenage crush still stands.

So.

Happy Birthday Nigel. Sorry I forgot to invite you to the party in 2006, but you're invited this year. Hell, I'll even make you guest of honour.

BUT...

Nicole Kidman still isn't invited. She'd scare off all my friends with her freaky face and surly attitude.

* I have notebooks covered with scrawl to attest to the fact that at certain points in my early teens I was planning to be: "Mrs Steve Norman"; "Mrs John Taylor"'; "Mrs Martin Kemp"; "Mrs Jason Bateman"; "Mrs Patrick Swayze"; and "Mrs Andrew McCarthy. Typical Gemini. Always changing my mind.

** He's equal first with Martin Kemp. I have never been able, and will never be able to choose between the two for world's hottest bass player.

Weddings, Parties, Anything

2010-06-09T22:48:00.002+10:00

I'm making the most of being able to blog while I can, because on Saturday I'm flying up to Sydney for a friend's wedding.

Yes.

Another bloody wedding.

And this one is the wedding of a friend who I'd never thought I'd see get married. He's a wonderful guy, but has always fancied himself as a bit of a playboy... at one point in our friendship he was dating about 3 girls at once. Needless to say I've never been even remotely tempted to turn our friendship into anything more... I barely tolerate that kind of behaviour in a friend, let alone a potential love interest.

But he is a good friend, and I am thrilled for him that he's put his Don Juan days behind him and is marrying a lovely, lovely girl who he's completely smitten with (and who, more importantly, doesn't put up with any bullshit).

So I am off to his wedding on Sunday afternoon to toast his future happiness. With probably just a glass of OJ or a soda water.

You see, I've decided that I'm not going to drink at this wedding. Another social experiment if you will. There are several reasons for this:

Firstly, most of the people going to this wedding tend to think of me as a party girl. Which is entirely fair, seeing as though most of our interactions in the past involved copious amounts of alcohol. But it's been 18 months or more since I've seen the majority of these people and I've changed. Quite a lot. I'm no longer the party girl I once was. Sure, I enjoy a drink with dinner or a few G&T's on a sunny afternoon, but my party-girl days are well behind me. And I like it that way.

Secondly, it's shaping up to be a full-on few days of catch-ups. Besides the wedding on Sunday, I have a lunch and dinner on the Monday and brunch, lunch, drinks and a dinner on the Tuesday. And somewhere in there I want to spend some quality time with my gorgeous godchildren. To do that effectively, I need to NOT be hungover. Tater in particular is a very demanding young man... you need all your wits about you when you're with him.

Thirdly, I'd like to observe these people in a haze-free state. See just what they're really like. See if I actually can put up with them for 8 or more hours. Hell, it might even be good fodder for future book or screenplay characters.

So we'll see how we go. I may have one glass of bubbles to toast the happy couple, but only if I feel like it. And providing it's decent stuff. I know what weddings are like - sometimes they pour out the most foul-tasting rubbish that is guaranteed hangover material... I'll be making sure I check out the label before tasting.

Following the Sydney season, I will be making a special guest appearance in Adelaide for my dad's best friend's 70th. He's a lovely guy and has been going through some rather arduous cancer treatment over the last six months, so I thought I'd make the effort and attend the fun. I will be drinking at that party though, because he always pulls out the top shelf reds and there's no way I can refuse a few glasses of that. Would be rude not to. Plus, the only thing I have to do the following day (which, incidentally, is my birthday) is have lunch with my family. Sometimes it's easier to deal with them when you're hungover... mostly because when I'm hungover I turn into this girl. Minus the cheerleading uniform and blonde hair of course.

Wish me luck!

I Want Me Some of These...

2010-06-08T14:53:00.003+10:00

Procrastinating big time today. I have a presentation to work on for a client (I feel so grown up using that word... it never sounds right. What is wrong with me?!), but instead I'm futzing around making cups of tea and flicking through shuffle on my iTunes to find songs I can bop to.

"Ants in your pants" my granny would say. If it wasn't so bloody cold and miserable outside I'd take Kitty Lucy for a spin. But because it's only 12°C outside I'm staying put. Brrrrr. I've yet to turn the central heating on though, for which I am most proud. Keep that gas bill down.

Anyway. I've been following The Stiletto Diaries for a while now and today I was reminded of a post of hers from late May, which contained a link to a website which I've fallen in love with.

It's THIS.

Just to clarify, I'm not in love with the website. I'm in love with the products featured on it.

Handmade shoes.

HEAVEN.

Times like this I wish I still lived in the UK so I could pay Hetty Rose a visit. To actually have a pair of pretty handmade shoes to properly accommodate all the lumps and bumps of my feet, yet still look amazing on a night out on the town, would be heaven.

You see, I have very odd shaped feet... twisted into oddity by years of dancing in poorly fitting toe shoes (point 6), not to mention an unhealthy predisposition in my early 20s to sky-high stilettos, which saw me tottering all over the cobblestone streets of London putting my feet through all manner of torture.

I'll admit, I haven't been very kind to my feet over the years. Now, in return, they are turning into painful old-lady feet, making it torture for me to wear any of my beautiful stilettos which are sitting in their boxes atop my wardrobe.

If I was a sensible creature, which let's face it, I am most certainly NOT, I could probably give them away, or sell them on eBay. However I'm determined that one day I may be able to wear them again, so atop my wardrobe they will stay for the time being.

Anyway. That's not the point. The point is Hetty Rose and her amazing handmade shoes. I want me some. Please.

I wonder if there is a similar service in Melbourne? I'll put that on the list to Google.

It also reminded me of the girl I once met at a party in London who was shoe designer. She kept me vastly entertained with the story of how she was commissioned by Nick Rhodes to make him some purple snakeskin boots. Apparently he answered the door in a shell suit and full make-up, causing her to do a bit of a comedic double take. Wouldn't you have loved to be a fly on the wall at that introduction?

Lullaby

2010-06-06T19:10:00.002+10:00

This afternoon I made up for yesterday afternoon's complete lack of culture, by going to see the fabulous ACO's Romantic Symphony at Hamer Hall, with my lovely friend and co-worker Kate. We went to the 2.30pm nanna matinee (mainly because she wasn't free to go tomorrow night), but discovered a fabulous secret... which has converted us to this particular session and which I will let you in on:

The balcony section of Hamer Hall is pretty much all C reserve from H row onwards. So it's cheaper. About $50 per ticket cheaper in fact. But that's not the secret. The secret is, that on a Sunday afternoon, the balcony section is never full. Only the first two rows were taken. So right before the orchestra came on stage, an usher came and invited everyone in H row to feel free to move down the front of the balcony to whichever seat took our fancy. An A reserve seat. Awesome.

So we moved down to the front row, just slightly off to the side. I had a perfect view of my favourite viola player in the world, who is not only cute and talented, but very entertaining to watch, as he clearly adores his job and has lots of fun. I also had the perfect view of the punters down below... always fascinating when you're at a classical music concert.

The first piece was a new piece written by Jonny Greenwood. Yeah. THAT Jonny Greenwood. It was a fab piece entitled Popcorn Superhet Receiver. Really cool. At one point all the violinists and violists were playing their instruments like guitars. Totally School of Rock.

The second piece was Schubert's Symphony No 8 in B Minor, Unfinished. Again, fab. Loved it. Love Schubert. Actually I love anything in B Minor. It's a key which sits well with me. Don't know why, but it always has. B Minor was always the scale I didn't mind practising. It perks me up.

Yes, I have a preferred key. Most people don't have such a thing. I'm odd. You've only just worked that out?

The final piece, after interval, was Brahms' Symphony No 1 in C Minor, Op. 68. Now I adore Brahms. It always reminds me of my childhood, when my father would pop on a bit of Brahms to lull me to sleep if I was a bit overwrought. It always relaxes me. ALWAYS.

And today was no exception. In one particular section (which was adagio, so always a danger), I felt my eyelids growing heavy and my body start relaxing. I had to fight really hard to stay awake, but then decided to go with it and see what happened. And of course, I think I might have fallen asleep for a brief minute or two.

I wonder if it's a psychological thing? Or a body-sense memory thing? Is it something I can break or is it so deeply ingrained from my childhood that I can't change it?

I'm going to give it a go and see if I can. Because it's such lovely music I'd like to be awake for all of it.

In the meantime, note to self: avoid seeing performances of Brahms until the deep state of relaxation factor is cured. I might really nod off next time and start snoring. Not a good look.

Stereotypes in the City 2

2010-06-05T19:20:00.007+10:00

********** SPOILER ALERT **********

If you haven't yet seen Sex & The City 2 and plan on doing so, then STOP READING IMMEDIATELY.

If you have, or if you have no intention of doing so, then feel free to read on.

So.

$10.50 for the movie ticket.

$4.00 for the popcorn.

(I brought my water and chocolate from home).

146 minutes of four middle aged women on a giant screen later...

and it is blindingly clear that when it comes to stereotypes, time has stood still for the SATC gals.

Let's look at the positives first:

Yes, there was Aidan. And he looked hot. Smokin' hot.

Yes, there was the hot guy from Spooks. However this also falls into the negative category. But for now, let's focus on the fact that his beautiful face was up there on the big screen. May there be many more occurrences of this. He is a fine, fine actor and gorgeous to boot. Don't know what his missus was thinking.

Yes, there were plenty of great shoes and fab fashion.

Yes, there was Liza. With a 'Z'. And she was awesome.

Yes, there were all the quirky quips and one-liners that I loved about the TV series. In particular, I really liked Samantha's quip to Charlotte that she ~~suffers through~~ goes to kids' birthday parties... so the least Charlotte could do is find time for a girls' holiday. I'm saving that comment up for next time one of my friends with kids uses it as an excuse for not doing something.

And yes, they showed that these women might have it all (money, shoes, impossibly fabulous houses and men who adore them), but really, they're just like us.

That's a lie.

They're not just like us. Or not like me anyway... because I'm not a narrow minded American who thinks that every country in the world should be like America and fuck their individual culture.

Clearly that's the view of the GUY who wrote this piece of shit.

No wonder the United Arab Emirates refused to let them film there... if they even glanced at the script for a nano second, they would have been offended at the way they were being portrayed.

Almost every stereotype of the Middle East was lampooned in this film. For example if you ever wondered just how a Muslim woman wearing a niqāb might eat a bowl of fries, never fear. It's all condescendingly explained to you by Miranda, straight from her trusty Abu Dhabi guide book.

Although I have to say, Miranda was the most tolerable of the lot of them. I wanted to punch Samantha and her "I'm American, I can walk around your country half-naked if I want to" attitude... at the point in the film where she's at the souk and flashing around condoms at the locals I was sitting open mouthed in disgust.

And as much as I love Raza Jaffrey, I don't know how he could possibly bear to be in the scenes he was in playing the stereotyped character he was playing. If it wasn't for his acting ability, his character would have been totally laughable, but he turned it into a performance by a fine actor who had very, very little to work with in the way of a decent script.

Oh and the nanny. Of course they had to make the nanny a lesbian, didn't they? Because there's no way they could have a nanny who was beautiful and straight and didn't try and hit on the dad. I did have a small smirk at the Jude Law joke though. I wonder what Sienna thought?

Anyway, I have so much more to say on this film, but it's late and I need to go to bed because I'm working tomorrow. Or should I say today. It being about 12.36am.

Feel free to add your opinions if you've seen it... or not.

x

What's My Flava?*

2010-06-04T15:44:00.004+10:00

My beautiful friends Bek, Janine and Kate all have a beautifully poetic, almost magical element to their writing style. Their writing holds me spellbound and makes me feel calm and serene. I would really like to be able to write in that style.

But no matter how hard I try I cannot sustain this type of prose.

I don't know why. Maybe I get bored with it. Maybe I'm just too blunt. Maybe I don't find it "real". I'm not talking about their writing not being real, I mean when I write stuff like that it doesn't seem to come from a real place within me.

My style seems to be snappy. Opinionated. Brash. Which I guess I am, but I do feel that I have a sensitive side that doesn't always get reflected in my writing.

I also seem to lose my train of thought and get sidetracked. I suppose that's just how my brain works.

Anyway. That's my pondering for the day.

What's on your mind?

x

* I never thought I'd see the day I'd use a Craig David reference in my blog. That's almost as shameful as my Tommy Lee confession.

Pedantry

2010-06-03T15:20:00.003+10:00

Wow... I sure excelled myself for the month of May. Plenty of posting. At this rate I'll double my target for the year! Yay me.

So... things I've been up to since I stopped doing the PR work. Honestly? Not a lot. I think I needed some time to get my head around the way it all ended, which was quite hurtful. I felt like my integrity had been attacked and I needed a little bit of time to heal from that. So I've been taking things slowly and not rushing headlong into anything new.

But, I have managed to put together a simple little fact sheet advertising my services in the areas of copy writing, copy editing and proofreading and I will commence emailing that out to all and sundry next week.

If you know of anyone who might like to receive it please let me know. I'm putting it out there far and wide into the universe to see what comes back. Or if you can think of some places for me to target (small business websites, etc) then suggestions would be most appreciated!

In the meantime, happy June and expect a return to normal blogging practices shortly.

x

Quite Interesting

2010-05-27T12:12:00.004+10:00

Has anyone watched QI? That show on the ABC hosted by Stephen Fry? Tuesday nights at 9.35pm. It really is Quite Interesting (pun fully intended).

I wouldn't say I'm an addict, but (aside from Glee and Top Gear) it's one of the few shows I regularly try and watch.

Stephen Fry is jovial, entertaining and oh-so-earnest, but its his guests who provide the most amusement. Alan Davies, aka the fluffy haired, magical genius Jonathan Creek, is one regular who comes out with some absolute corkers. He'd make a great dinner guest.

This week, the QI group were discussing the Latin name for a giant turtle and as usual the conversation descended into utter madness with Alan and fellow panellist David Mitchell trading dirty jokes faster than Stephen Fry could shout 'stop'. The conversation then paused long enough for Stephen Fry to inform everyone that the giant turtle pictured on the screen was actually an amazing 255 years old; so had been around during the eras of Mozart, Napoleon and countless other historical figures of note. Which is pretty amazing when you think of it. Even if it is a turtle who had no knowledge or care of what humans have ever done as long as they left him alone.

It was at that point Alan Davies brought it all crashing back with a wry smile and the blandly delivered comment:

"And you could list his achievements on the back of a postage stamp"

I think I snorted into my soup at that point.

Hilarious.

But really, poor turtle. I'm sure in the turtle world, he's achieved mighty, mighty things. They just haven't been as measurable as, say, Mozart's achievements. We won't bring Napoleon into the equation. That would be another blog post altogether.

And it got me thinking about my achievements. How many postage stamps would it take to list all of my achievements? A lot, I hope.

But I'm not sure.

So I think I might have to start listing them and see. Just for my own psychological benefit since I'm in a period of doubting my abilities.

And because I'd really, really hate for my epitaph to read "Here lies magical_m... you could list her achievements on the back of a postage stamp".

Smile

2010-05-26T13:07:00.004+10:00

Just a few of the things which made me smile this morning:

Waking up knowing I didn't have to go to the PR job ever again. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
Starting my morning pages again. I'm revisiting The Artist's Way, which was first introduced to me nearly 10 years ago by one of my tutors at drama school - I can never thank her enough.
Taking Kitty Lucy for a ride down to Williamstown Beach and back. It was such a gorgeous, still, sunny morning and I felt like I had the world to myself.
Being overtaken on the above ride by an elderly couple zooming along on their mountain bikes - go the grey brigade!
Deliberately riding through puddles just to hear the squelchy sound my big, fat, white-walled tyres make when they hit the water.
The road workers who deliberately stopped all traffic just so I could cross the road under the West Gate where they were in the process of setting up a crane (they'd blocked the bike path on my side). Thanks guys!
Stopping off in the village on the way home and filling my bike basket with fresh veggies, crusty bread, leg ham sliced fresh at the butcher's and a new essential oil.
Paying all my bills, working out how I'm going to survive with less money coming in and realising I won't have to be as strict with my budget as I thought.
Hearing that my friend Priscilla's baby arrived earlier this week. Welcome sweet baby James!
Knowing I'm away from the negativity. That's a big one. I've pretty much had a smile on my face all day knowing I don't ever have to see this woman again if I don't want to.

How's your Wednesday been so far?

Into the Universe

2010-05-25T12:16:00.003+10:00

Well the weather has finally turned here in Melbourne and it's a grey, rainy day.

With the turning of the weather comes another turn of sorts - I think I lost my PR job today. I say "think" because it wasn't a "you're fired" as such, more of a "there's no work for the next couple of months, so I'll be in touch when there is, k-thanks-bye", which is quite blatantly a "you're fired", but spoken by someone who doesn't have the guts or heart to be honest and tell it like it is.

Which is ok, because my ego would probably not cope with a blatant "you're not very good at your job so I'm letting you go". Deep down I know I haven't been very good at this job. Actually, not even deep down. I was quite open about the fact I wasn't made for the PR world. After all, it's basically sales and I am utterly, utterly, useless at cold calling people to convince them they want something they don't need or want. It makes my stomach churn. Never mind the fact that as a single, childless girl, I found it very hard to get enthused about prams or potty training devices.

Not my cup of tea at all.

But, it has come to an end and I am feeling a trifle miffed at the shoddy way in which it was told to me, but am determined not to let it get me down.

Instead, I am going to focus on what I can do as an alternative. Something I actually enjoy doing. Something I'm a bit good at.

Bestie P, who knows me far too well, has suggested I make a little sideline business out of my pedantry for the English language and utilise my skills in copy editing, proofreading and writing. Her suggestion is that there are loads of small businesses out there who might need help writing the copy for their newsletters, brochures or marketing material, but aren't able to afford the services of a big agency. Or agencies who need someone to proofread material before it goes for the final print. I'm thinking there might even be some uni students out there who need a hand with fine-tuning their essays.

So, I've decided I am going to give it a go. I have most of tomorrow and all day Thursday free, so the plan is to have some documentation out there by the end of the week.

In the meantime, if any of you have any contacts who might be interested in the services of an English Pedant, please let me know.

I figure if I put it out all ways into the Universe, it will come back to me. Hopefully tenfold.

Happy Tuesday all!

x

Not So Slocomb

2010-05-24T13:14:00.002+10:00

Snippet of an actual conversation overheard whilst walking along Spring Street on Friday night:

Guy: "You think that because you have a pussy, I should respect you"

Girl: "Did you just say that 'I think because I have a pussy, you should respect me?' Are you serious? Did you just say that? How f***ing drunk are you?"

This delightful banter continued back and forth for a brief while longer before the guy scarpered across the road with an over-the-shoulder "f*** you bitch".

My lovely friend who was with me at the time, muttered something along the lines of "cut your losses and run sweetheart".

I certainly hope this girl heard that and has taken the advice.

As for us, we continued along Spring Street, picked up some yummy cheese to have with our delicious bottle of Les Tulieries Pinot ($22 - best value red in Melbourne right now I reckon) and headed home, alternately giggling and exclaiming in horror at the attitude of the man in question.

If that's an example of what's out there, is it any wonder I'm choosing to remain single?

I've Got A Bike...

2010-05-22T22:48:00.008+10:00

I've got a bike
You can ride it if you like
It's got a basket
A bell that rings
And things to make it look good
I'd give it to you if I could
But I borrowed it

Anyone remember that song? Very early Pink Floyd. I was first introduced to it when I was about 12 by my Claytons Cousin* Peter. He introduced me to a lot of cool music... The Police, Queen, Ian Dury. But that song in particular took my fancy like no other. One of the other verses talked about a mouse named Gerald who hasn't got a house. It was a very strange song.

Anyhooooo...

I took Kitty Lucy out for a leisurely spin today. There's a bike path that goes from directly outside my house (footpath all the way), under the West Gate Bridge and winds its way along Hobson's Bay to Williamstown beach. It's not far - only about 8kms each way but enough to give the legs a bit of a workout. In the glorious, albeit chilly, sunshine of the afternoon Kitty Lucy and I passed loads of other cyclists, walkers, puppy dogs and prams as we wound our way down to my favourite gelato bar. Yummmmmy.

I had my iPod in, which was probably a little bit naughty, but I didn't have it up loud and could still hear everything around me... it was just like having a little underscore to my own little film of a moment in time.

That song was one of many which came up on shuffle... but it was certainly the most appropriate! Apart from the "but I borrowed it" part.

Cos Kitty Lucy is all mine.

And we had a lovely afternoon adventure together. I'm sure there will be many, many more.

* Claytons Cousin. The cousin you have when you're not having a cousin (taken from "Claytons - the drink you have when you're not having a drink"). Peter is actually no blood relation, but the son of my father's oldest friend, whom I have always called Uncle. So my brother and I and Peter and his sisters always referred to ourselves as "Claytons Cousins"

Words of Wisdom

2010-05-17T21:37:00.002+10:00

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
he who can call today his own:
he who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.

Be fair or foul, or rain or shine
the joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself, upon the past has power,
but what has been, has been, and I have had my hour

~ Horace ~

Observations of the Day

2010-05-13T21:41:00.004+10:00

Two things I observed today which made me wonder/smile/giggle:

1. Upon leaving the retirement home of my mum's cousin (around lunch time), we walked past the dining room and nearly tripped over a whole line of walkers parked outside. Was like a taxi rank for the over 70s... classic! And three of the ladies were tucking into rather large glasses of wine with their lunch. Now THAT'S the kind of retirement home I want to go into when I'm old and grey!!

2. Attending Kathleen's funeral, I noticed a young boy (maybe 5 or 6) go up to the altar with his family for communion. As his mother and siblings remained kneeling, he stepped back up and took a walk around the coffin - just observing. The expression on his face was priceless... I was half expecting him to ask "so... is she in there?" Brought a smile to an otherwise sad situation.

Eerie...

2010-05-13T01:15:00.004+10:00

As most of you will know, I'm a bit of a believer in horoscopes. Or at least an avid reader of them.

I think it might be a typical Gemini thing.

Anyway, today (being Thursday at 1.20am... I've stayed up to watch the episode of Glee I started downloading at midnight*), I am going the the funeral of my dad's cousin. Kathleen. Lovely lady. I hadn't seen her in some years, despite residing in the same city as her for almost 18 months. My bad. My big bad.

Anyway. I just checked my horoscope (as I do), before turning off the laptop and going to sleep. This is today's horoscope:

"Family members will bring joy or happiness into your life. You may discover you have spiritual interests in common that bring you closer together. There may, in some cases, be financial opportunities with family members, or gifts of value coming from family members."

"Gifts of value coming from family members."

Eerie.

Why?

Because Kathleen, having never married or having children of her own, has left my brother and I some items of antique furniture (from our paternal grandmother's side of the family) in her will. Some rather valuable items.

Sometimes, a horoscope is just right on the money. Figuratively and literally.

Yep. Eerie.

* Glee tonight. Loved it. Covers of Mellencamp (well, when he was John Cougar), Rick Springfield, Sammy Davis Jnr and Ethel Merman. How could you not love it?!

Word of the Day Challenge

2010-05-11T13:19:00.015+10:00

My word of the day today:

SUBTERFUGE

subterfuge. /ˈsʌb tər fyudʒ/

(noun) an artifice or expedient used to evade a rule, escape a consequence, hide something, etc. Origin: 1565–75; (class="ital-inline") subterfugium, equiv. to L subterfug(ere) to evade (subter below + fugere to flee) + -ium

Synonyms: deception, scheme, trick, dodge, ruse.

I heard this word used in a song recently and for some reason it has really stuck with me. It's such a great word and I think, quite frankly, not used nearly enough in everyday language.

So my challenge for you all (all what, three of you who still read this blog?) is to try and work it into a conversation today.

The only caveat is that you don't use it in the context of "I was reading a blog and the writer challenged her readers to work the word 'subterfuge' into a conversation today".

Clip Clop, You Don't Stop

2010-05-08T16:45:00.004+10:00

There hasn't been much work in the life of m_m of late, so I've been trying to fill my days with productive, yet inexpensive pursuits.

The other day a friend and I (who is also in a bit of a quiet patch on the work front) decided we'd meet at Flinders St Station and then go for a walk along the Yarra River and around the Botanic Gardens. Maybe even go all out and treat ourselves to a coffee somewhere. It was a gorgeous day, so perfect walking weather. Melbourne really does have some lovely walks.

As we crossed back over St Kilda Road, we decided we'd stop in at the National Gallery of Victoria for a cuppa and a poke around their gift shop (lovely selection of books in there btw).

So we headed up to the The Tea Room on Level 1. I can highly recommend it as a lovely spot to enjoy afternoon tea. Their tea selection is ace... lots of interesting blends to choose from and they make crustless chicken & mayo (and smoked salmon, and egg) sandwiches which are über cute.

After an amazing cup of tea which was what looked like a sea urchin dropped into hot water which miraculously opened to show three little carnations, my friend decided to head home as she hadn't been feeling well, and I decided to wander around the European Collection for a gander.

For the most part, since it was: (a) Monday; and (b) about 12pm, I had the gallery to myself. Lovely. Took a really good look around at some lovely artworks.

And then SHE arrived.

SHE being the woman who though it would be a fine, fine idea to wear clippity cloppity heels to the gallery and follow me around the rooms like an elephant.

I can't find the words to tell you how utterly annoying this was. My quiet appreciation and observation of these works of art was hindered by a woman who never seemed to stop but just kept strutting around in noisy shoes.

Am I being silly when I suggest that there should be a rule in galleries that people will only be allowed entry if they are wearing rubber soled shoes?

I'm sure I'm not the only person who thinks so.

Hello Pretty Lady

2010-05-07T23:26:00.002+10:00

Well, she's arrived. I picked her up today.

Who's she?

Her!

Don't you remember?

Betsy Lucy. Prettiest bike in the world. Well, MY world anyway.

Although I am wavering on her name.

But only because we had a loss in our family today too... my dad's cousin Kathleen - a lovely, lovely lady, who was more like a sister to him than his own sorry-excuse-for-a-human-being sister - had a massive stroke on Thursday night and passed away.

She never married or had children of her own but she was a dedicated teacher and always took a big interest in my life. So I'm considering making the bike Betsy Kathleen. Or Kitty Lucy. And I do that with the highest regard for my lovely cousin and in complete respect. And because really, I might never be able to name a child after her... who knows whether it will happen for me or not?

So anyway. Welcome to my world Betsy. And farewell Kathleen. Say hello to my dad for me.

xox

(Bank Holiday) Monday 6th May, 1996 (Dublin, Ireland)

2010-05-06T18:24:00.011+10:00

At the airport waiting for our flight back to London and realised that its been nearly a month since I've written in this thing! I'll deal with this trip first, then add on all the extras later.

Well, last Monday I decided that if I spent another weekend in London I'd go absolutely mad! So I got cheap tickets for Paula and I (Paula is the Kiwi girl from CSFB) - £69 each. Paula organised a B&B for us and we were due to fly out of London Stanstead at 21:55 on Friday night.

Well.

After work on Friday, Anna (from my dept) and I went to the pub downstairs for a drink or two, while waiting for Paula to finish work. Well, Paula got to the Corney & Barrow*, we had a few drinks and then left (with Anna) to get the DLR** to connect with a tube to Liverpool Street, from where there's an express train to Stanstead.

OK, mishap #1! DLR stops near Shadwell, we're waiting for ages, then they kick us off because the train has broken or something. Saw two guys from the Scandinavian desk at CSFB and jumped in the cab they'd hailed. IT was then I realised I'd left one of my bags, with our tickets and all my clothes, on the DLR.

Mishap #2. So Paula and I leapt out of the cab, ran back to Shadwell, found a conductor who searched the train and the train front, found my bag and returned it to me. Whew! Then we had to find a cab. Got one to Liverpool Street but soon realised that as it was 1/4 to 8 and the journey takes an hour or more to Stanstead, we were running way late. Asked the cab driver to go to Stanstead but he declined as he was about to knock off. So ran through Liverpool St Station to get another cab and then £62 later arrived at Stanstead, just as our plane (last flight of the night!) took off!!

We got on standby for 7am the next morning, but as we were: (a) broke; (b) tired; and (c) would've had to have left almost as soon as we'd arrived home, we decided to sleep at the airport! Hmmmmm. Not an experience I'm anxious to repeat in a hurry! We couldn't even get blankets so had to sleep stretched out on seats with our jackets over us!

Anyway, woke, or got woken up I should say, at quarter to 5 by some horrible Northerners who sat down next to me and started talking in that awful "ow's it goin' luv" accent.***

Anyhow, we managed to get on the 7am flight to Dublin via Prestwick. Didn't know Prestwick was in Scotland!!**** Got a few 'Burns' postcards and things in the transit lounge. Left Prestwick at 9:15 and arrived in Dublin around 30 mins later. Got to our B&B, had a shower and brekkie and headed out for some sightseeing.

OK, let me say this right now. I LOVE Dublin and I want to live there. How on earth I'll get a work permit I don't know, and the pay is shit, but I love Dublin. We did all the Maeve Binchy stuff***** - visited Grafton & O'Connell Streets, St Stephen's Green, UCD, Trinity College, The Four Courts, Temple Bar, the Shelbourne Hotel, Dublin Castle, etc, etc. I bought a Laura Ashley dress which was half price at Grafton Street. Looks gorgeous and gives me a summer dress for work.

Saturday night we went to Planet Web and I sent some emails to people and surfed the net (CMD has changed their name to SA) while Paula ate cake and coffee, then we went to a cool Mexican restaurant where we met Josef (a Kiwi) and Mark (from Sydney) who were in Dublin on business (they work for Phillips). Had dinner with them then went to a pub near the restaurant, then on to Break for the Border. They brought us drinks all night which was cool, so it was quite cheap for us!

Sunday got up around 9-ish (BTW we stayed in Rathmines which is south of the city, near Donnybrook) and went to Dun Laoghaire, where Hugh lives. Didn't get to see him though, I think he must have gone away for the weekend. Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Leery) is just stunning and is where I'd really like to live in Ireland - it's only 15 mins from the city by train and is the perfect Irish seaside village. We walked along the pier, then along the beach front to James Joyce's tower, then back to the pier for fish and chips before heading back to Dublin. The weather was gorgeous - bright and sunny but still cool enough to warrant a coat.

Headed back to Dublin and wandered through St Stephen's Green where we saw some Irish dancers in their bright costumes. They were great - they dance so well. After that we went to the Shelbourne Hotel for a very posh afternoon tea - sandwiches, tea, scones and cakes for £8.50 each. There was a pianist who played old show tunes and it was wonderful!

After that we walked through to St Patrick's Cathedral. Unfortunately it was shut, but we got to look around the gardens which was nice and I got some some photos. Then we walked back along the River Liffey to the Grattan Street Bridge, where there's a clock IN the river counting down the seconds left until the millennium. You could get postcards for 20p which had the number of seconds printed on them!

Then last night we had burgers and chips in a café near Rathmines before crashing and getting up at 6:30am this morning!!

A very busy weekend but a great one - I'm so glad to have finally been to all the places Maeve Binchy describes. Well, we're about to land in London so I'll have to pack up. More on the train I guess!

******

* otherwise referred to as the Horny & Shallow by those of us who frequented it
** Docklands Light Railway... otherwise known as the Legoland train
*** Clearly I was cranky, because I actually love the Northern accent. Makes me giggle.
**** I know I was only 24, but really. That's embarrassing. I'm ashamed that I had no clue where Prestwick was.
***** I used to read a lot of Maeve Binchy back in the mid-90s. I blame an ex-boyfriend's mum... she'd always give them to me for birthday and Christmas presents.
****** There was no "more from the train". In fact that was the last entry in that particular diary.

Discuss

2010-05-04T21:06:00.004+10:00

I discovered this quote today... I found it quite interesting.

"When artists today are asked to Twitter their every thought, their every action, to record on video their every breath, their every performance, I believe they're diluting their creative powers, their creative potency and the durability of their work. And in the long run I believe they're also diluting the magical power and the magnetic attraction that they can or will ever have over their audience."

What made it more interesting was then discovering who said it.

Here's a few clues:

1. He shares a birthday with me.

2. He's a bit of a lad.

3. He played bass in one of the most successful British bands of the 80s.

4. He's dabbled in a bit of acting.

5. He also said the following, far less profound quote:

"Of course we slept with the models in our videos. So did the managers, so did the director. Everybody sleeps with everybody in this game."

Oh dear. Down a point in my admiration there, spunky-bass-boy.

So have you worked it out?

?

No, he's not Martin Kemp.

[Although it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if Martin Kemp had slept with the models in their videos. The Spandau boys were well known for their party antics. Hell, Steve Norman apparently even had to be stretchered out of a bar the night before Band Aid was recorded because he was rat-arsed from trying to drink our subject and his band-mates under the bar.]

So who is he?

Well, he's this man.

As we know, he's been a favourite of mine for years. I didn't realise he was so wise, however. I think he's made a very valid point. Have today's artists lost the ability to create magic and mystery with the over-saturation of intimate details of their not-so-private lives? Are we missing out because we soak it all up like a sponge so we feel like we're privy to a lifestyle we'll never have?

Or are spunky-bass-boy and I just a bit old and jaded and hankering for the days when artists were actually just that. Artists. Creators. Innovators. Trend-setters. Artists who were all about the work and not about tweeting how they just ate two-minute noodles for dinner and doesn't-that-make-them-just-like-you. Artists you could actually admire and aspire to be like (apart from the drinking-yourself-stretchered antics... silly boy Steve).

Aside from Lady Gaga, I can not think of a single performer of the current generation who would fall into any of those categories.

But I'm happy to be corrected. Anyone got any suggestions?

Jay-Z was the only other one I could think of. But a lot of his stuff is sampled from earlier artists.

So anyway, as the title of the blog directs...

DISCUSS.

There's a Topic For You...

2010-05-04T19:18:00.004+10:00

My flattie and I are being a bit geeky, sitting here in the living room watching TV and tapping away on our laptops. Hey, it's raining. We're both a bit broke. No desire to go out.

Anyway, I just asked Kate for a topic to blog on.

At the same time, the new Magnum ad came on the TV. (Have you seen it? Its a bit of a Mission Impossible/Mr & Mrs Smith/James Bond type thing.)

So this new Magnum ad stars Benicio Del Toro.

And following the initial moment of "is that... nooo... is it?", Kate turned to me and said:

"THERE'S a topic for you. What are we, Japan? Getting celebs to do stupid product endorsement?"

So I thought, yep. I'll do a post on that.

Until I googled it to make sure it actually was Benicio.

And discovered this article, which is far better than what I could ever write.

Oh well.

It's Top Gear time anyway.

Hair's The Thing...

2010-04-29T16:37:00.009+10:00

* * * * WARNING * * * *

THIS POST CONTAINS SCARY PHOTOS OF SOAP ACTORS.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

It has come to my attention today (having had a day off) that the men of daytime TV are doing themselves (and their viewers) a complete disservice with their appalling lack of grooming.

The long and the short of it is, almost every single one of them could do with a decent haircut.

Seriously. Have you watched daytime TV lately? It's horrendous. And I'm not talking about Bert (that's not hair, that's a small animal). I'm talking about the men on daytime soap operas.

I know for a fact (because Kate & I watched the closing credits), that there are no less than FOUR hair stylists on Days of Our Lives alone. We didn't bother to look at the number on The Bold & The Beautiful... we were too busy researching photos for this blog entry.

But still. Four hair stylists to choose from. You'd think therefore, that there would be no excuse for the appalling hairstyles these men (not to mention, we, the viewers) are subjected to on a daily basis.

But there is. Oh, but there is.

Allow me to show you.

Our first example of bad hair is the oddly named Jay Kenneth Johnson from Days of Our Lives. Kenneth was my uncle. It's a name I associate with old men. This guy (according to Google) is only 33. May I suggest you drop the Kenneth and just be Jay Johnson? Alliteration is trés trendy right now. Unlike your hair.

Firstly, the 90s are over my friend. And even if they weren't, it would still look horrible.

Secondly, you're only 33. You're too young for such a hairaster (hair + disaster = hairaster).

Get it cut and stop using Brylcreem. And remember. Drop the Kenneth.

Next up we have former General Hospital, Melrose Place and now The Bold & The Beautiful cast member, Jack Wagner:

Dude.

DUDE.

Mullets went out in the 80s. As did the big blow-dry.

You're 50. Get with the program.

And don't even start me on that hair colour. Time for a new colourist. And stylist... that jacket needs to be binned as well.

Thirdly, we have Jack's B&B alumni, Ron Moss:

Again with the mullet-y bits at the back! You're too old! Chop 'em off.

And the long sideburn-y bits which look to have been blowdried under. Not attractive. Especially when you have a jaw like Roger Ramjet.

At least you're allowing it to go grey. Although in the episode I watched today it was jet black. Don't do that. Jet black hair on a man in his 50s just looks WRONG.

Oh and the scarf.

Lose it. We know you have a crepey neck. Hiding it with a scarf only draws more attention to it.

Finally, we have a trio of hairaster. Although the guy on the left isn't too bad most of the time. It was just the episode which I saw today (not to mention the photo below) where his hair looked shocking. But the other two... well, they've had shocking hair since they started on Days of Our Lives back when I was in nappies.

Well, maybe not since I was in nappies. But for as long as I've watched it anyway, and I started watching regularly when I was about 13 and had glandular fever (so had to miss almost an entire term of school and languish on the sofa for most of the day). DOOL was the highlight in an era of Ray Martin and bad midday movies.

It was slim pickings indeed.

I present to you the DiMera boys. On the left we have James Wells (EJ), in the centre it's Joseph Mascolo (Stefano) and scowling away on the right is Thaao Penglis (Tony). You know he's a bad egg cos he's wearing all black. Costume designers on soaps are subtle like that.

James has a cute face. But in this shot his hair looks like its had an altercation with a lawnmower.

Joseph looks like he's been visiting Bert Newton's hairdresser. I'm thinking there are plugs involved. Anyone else agree? Regardless, it looks as though a small animal has been stuck on his noggin.

Thaao looks as though the top section of his hair has waged a simultaneous war with a hair straightener and a vent brush, while the back has stepped back and curled up on itself. I'm fairly certain he's had that same hairstyle since at least 1985.

In fact I think most of these actors have their heads planted firmly in the 80s/early 90s. Which was, let's face it, a horrible time for hairstyles the world over.

Therefore, I believe this is a situation which needs to be remedied, stat.

And I think Kyan Douglas is just the man for the job.

Since going AWOL from Queer Eye, I've lamented the loss of his sheer enthusiasm for highlighting the importance of male grooming on my TV screen. He could have a new show specifically concentrated on visiting the sets of these shows and bringing them into the 21st Century. I'd watch it for sure.

Who do I need to pitch this to?

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2010-04-26T14:38:00.008+10:00

For the last few weeks I've been struggling to write. This blog, long overdue emails to friends, creative writing... anything. It's been a huge struggle to sit down and just get my fingers tapping away on the keyboard.

And its annoying me.

I've also been searching for some meaning to my life. Or more specifically, to what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.

You could say I'm struggling to find some purpose.

This isn't to say I don't like my life at the moment. I do. I have wonderful friends, I live in a great house, I have two jobs that pay pretty well and aren't overly taxing and my years of hideous debt are almost at an end.

But I just know there's more to life and I'm stuck in this haze of searching for it.

This morning when I was checking around my fave blogs I discovered this post from the fantastic Alison Byrne Fields. I first stumbled upon her blog when John Hughes died and she wrote about her amazing correspondence with him as a teenager. What she wrote then really resonated with me and described my feelings on the loss of an amazing director who greatly influenced my teen years far more eloquently than I could have done. Her post today summed up my current state of mind so well... it was really encouraging to know that I'm not the only one floundering a little.

But it still doesn't help me in my quest for working out what the hell I want to be doing with my life.

There's a lot of head chatter going on.

My amazing friend Elizabeth who is (amongst other things) an NLP practitioner, Reiki healer and Angel Therapy practitioner, has very wisely said that the key to a head-chatter free life is living in the NOW. No regretting the past or fearing the future - just focus on what is right there in front of you this very minute.

Wise words indeed.

But what if you don't really like what's there? How do you go about changing it? And how do you work out what you want to change it to?

I also found this week's horoscope quite pertinent:

It's tricky, not wanting to be tied down to something tedious work-wise, while knowing you have to put food on the table. Welcome to modern life! Your best bet to to worry less about how you'll keep everything okay at home, and to find work that you love. Mythologist Joseph Campbell said: "Do what you love and the money will follow."

Trouble is, what work will I love doing? If I knew that, if I could work that out, just decide on it, I'd be much happier.

You see, I'm beginning to notice a pattern with my life.

I keep falling into these jobs that I'm quite good at, since I'm a fairly efficient, organised and quick-to-learn person. These jobs pay the bills, but they leave very little room for creativity so I get bored.

I always start creative projects, but I rarely finish them.

I guess I'm just a little bit lost and lacking that fire in the belly which once drove me to do bold things. Like deciding that buying a plane ticket and starting a new life in a new country would be a great way to avoid the trap of suburban married life that so many of my friends were falling into at the time.

Nobody thought I'd last. I didn't think I'd last. But I did. I proved them (and more importantly myself) wrong.

But that girl... that bold girl who used to take risks has gone AWOL and I'd like to find her.

Soon.

... I Lost My Mind

2010-04-22T12:47:00.003+10:00

I know this much is true.

Standing in the dark I was waiting for a man to come.

I am beautiful and clean.

And so very very young.

I don't have to be so wise.

You're just my fantasy.

And I will fantasize.

I only want to make things last.

So how could this have gone so fast.

If there's nothing else that I can do, I'll fly for you.

So give a little passion to a stranger.

And take this soul away.

Thanks lads. That was magic, that was.

One Sleep Till Spandau

2010-04-20T22:34:00.005+10:00

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, its just ONE sleep until I get to see these boys.

So. Excited.

SOOOOO.

RIDICULOUSLY.

EXCITED.

I'm so excited that it took me four tries to spell 'excited' correctly.

So.

You may recall a previous post in which I debated whether or not I could afford to/really wanted to fork out approximately $150 to see the boys.

However thanks to the gods of ticketing, or rather, my contacts in the ticketing world, my hard-earned cash can now be spent on some merchandise.

Or not.

Yes, my gorgeous friend Brendon pulled some strings and scored me two tix for the show here in Melbourne tomorrow night. We loooooove him. In fact if it wasn't for the fact that he bats for his own team, I'd totally marry him for organising this for me.

A few of my Radelaidian mates went to last night's gig and all agreed it was awesome. So I'm expecting great things.

And I cannot even begin to describe how excited I am about finally (after nearly 30 years of adoration) seeing this man in the flesh:

So.

Damn.

HOT.

Blood Latte?

2010-03-24T21:45:00.004+11:00

Check it out...

A KISS Coffee House.

Right here in Melbourne.

Can you imagine? What would be on the menu I wonder? Cold Gin Macchiatos? Deuce-a-cinos? The mind boggles.

I'm betting it's Gene behind all this. From what I saw of him in Family Jewels (remember my post about that show? Was ages ago. No? Here's a reminder); he's one canny businessman. I reckon Paul just says "yep, yep, whateves... just whack my percentage in the offshore bank account in the Caymans and I'll be happy" and leaves all the grunt work to Gene. Ace and Peter would barely get a look in... KISS has been the Gene'n'Paul show for at least the last decade.

I've always had a bit of a soft spot for KISS... in fact one of my earliest blog posts was about my purchase of Unmasked. Still one of my fave albums.

So how successful will this venture be? I'm guessing pretty successful. There's a load of old KISS fans out there... some are probably a little quiet about it nowadays, but I'm willing to bet that they'll pop into the coffee shop and pick up a hotter than hell platinum latte.

And you can be sure that I'll wander down for a caffeine fix and a nosey around. If they have Ace Frehley's silver boots anywhere on display I'll be in heaven.

Bluffin' With My Muffin

2010-03-23T23:17:00.007+11:00

That Stephanie Germanotti is one frrreeeeakkky chick.

Last week the old Gagster turned up in Australia for her sold out tour, sporting coke cans in her hair.

What's the matter Gag - couldn't afford rollers? In flight movies didn't take your fancy? Bit bored up there in the first class cabin and decided to while away the time playing with coke cans?

In any case, her Australian fans appear to have latched onto the look.

Whilst working the box office at the gig tonight I served not one, but SEVEN freaks sporting cans in their bleached blonde hair. And not all of them were women.

I'd also hazard a guess that there were even more can-headed munters inside.

Amongst the other freaky Gaga fans there were:

A bloke who'd made a sort of Mad Hatter type hat out of paddle pop sticks and matched it with fisherman pants with a ruffled mini skirt on top;
An anorexic looking chap who decided to wear big old KISS-style platform boots, despite the fact his skinny little legs were barely strong enough to lift them;
A million Asian girls wearing cheap platinum blonde wigs;
More blokes wearing sequins and glitter than I suspect entered in the Mardi Gras parade this year; and
Enough zig-zag eye makeup to make you think you were at a convention of David Bowie fans, circa Ziggy Stardust.

Ah well, I guess everything old is new again. And I hear she puts on one hell of a show.

Just a pity I was gaga-ed out after that freak show and couldn't be arsed going in. It might have been quite interesting.

Baker's Dozen

2010-03-22T21:19:00.002+11:00

So if the stats are to be believed, if I write another 13 posts, I will have outdone last year's dismal blog-posting effort.

That's not so many. I'm sure I can do it. I'm just not sure what to write about today. Just like I wasn't sure what to write about yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that.

I could go on, but I respect your intelligence too much. Let's just say the day before ad infinitum (well, until you reach the date I posted the rant about celebrity douchebag husbands).

On that note, did y'all see the great article in The Age yesterday about Sandy and Jesse? Aside from them referring to Jesse as a "grease monkey" which tickled my fancy, I must admit to having a snort or two over the journo's description of the hussy he's alleged to have slept with... "an Amish-raised stripper with so many tattoos on her body (including her face) she looks like walking wallpaper". LOL.

So true.

I think Sandra should just dump Jesse and get together with Keanu. They'd make a great couple.

Anyway.

I'm heading to bed with my latest book. Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger (she of The Time Traveller's Wife fame). Apparently she received a $5 million advance for this novel. Thus far into the book, I don't think that's entirely justified... the only character I'm liking is Martin, the chap who lives upstairs and has OCD. He's rather intriguing but not terribly utilised so far. The main protagonists are giving me the shits with all the twin clichés and ouija boards. Yawn. But I do want to see how it's all resolved and I'm quite close to the end so I may as well persevere.

Again. Anyway.

It's off to bed I go.

Adieu. (Adieu. To you and you and you)

x

Call Yourself Men?

2010-03-18T23:29:00.003+11:00

First off, don't slate me for reading the Daily Mail. It's my trashy indulgence even though I know it's just a little bit wrong.

What's upset me in the last few days is reading this. And this. And this really upset me.

So the first we know to be fact. Well, the bit about them splitting up anyway. Which is a shame because I quite like Kate Winslet. I thought she was ace in both The Reader and Revolutionary Road and I still adore watching Sense and Sensibility. I never really cared much for Sam Mendes but they seemed to be quite a devoted couple and happy. But clearly that wasn't the case. And it seems as though he's been having a bit on the side.

The second is not yet proven. And I really, really, REALLY hope that it's just some skank who once met Jesse James in passing and is being paid a small fortune to pretend that she slept with him. Because if it's true I am going to lose my faith in men altogether. Sandra Bullock seems like one of the nicest, funniest, most caring actresses in Hollywood and in marrying Jesse she took on a whole bundle of baggage including his two ex-wives, three kids and a nasty custody battle and has handled it all with decency, dignity and grace.

Decency, dignity and grace don't appear to be among the attributes possessed by this McGee woman. Perhaps if she had some she wouldn't have sold her story to the tabloids.

And it took Sandra so long to find a nice bloke, I really thought she had finally found one and it gave me hope that one day I might find one too.

I'm losing hope.

The third scandal hurts me to even write about. Mark Owen you were the NICE one! Well, you and Gary. But Gary is a bit dull and you were nice and cheeky and funny. And you seemed so smitten with your missus and you had two cute kids. And Emma looks like a lovely, normal girl. So... WHY. THE. FUCK? You've lost a lot of love from me fella. And I've had a lot of love for you since the early 90's. We're talking nearly 20 years of love. Gone. Down the drain because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants and show some respect for the mother of your children.

I'm so disappointed by these men. I'm not claiming that the Kate and Sandra and Emma were saints - I'm sure they have their flaws - but the fact that these men had so little respect for them that they would even consider cheating is really sad.

Perhaps if Sam Mendes and Jesse James and Mark Owen (and Tiger Woods and John Terry and Ashley Cole and a whole other bunch of men in high profile roles in society) learned some respect for their wives, other men might take note and the world might be a little nicer.

Then the Daily Mail would only have to report on happy and funny events, like Smithy's Sports Relief sketches.

Death By Stereo*

2010-03-11T22:57:00.004+11:00

I seem to have developed a habit over the years of setting my alarm and waking up at the precise moment the death of a person I was a fan of, or admired, is announced on whichever radio station I happen to be tuned into.

It's happened to me in Adelaide (River Phoenix and Kurt Cobain), London (Michael Hutchence), Sydney (JFK Jnr, Heath Ledger) and I'm sad to say it happened again this morning.

Corey Haim was one of those really talented child actors. Really talented. And if you don't believe me, watch Lucas. This was an oft-overlooked but really sweet film and if you haven't seen it I definitely recommend it as a good example of the 80s teen genre.

But as so often happens with child stars in Hollywood, Corey was chewed up by the Hollywood machine and spat out into about a thousand pieces. He appeared to spend most of his adult life desperately trying to put himself back together.

It can't have been easy and I'm sure as hell the support network around him was about zero, while the hangers-on and leeches who wanted a piece of his fame were vast. It's actually really sad that so many former child stars who are used to having people around them all the time are suddenly thrown away like a used towel when they lose their childhood cuteness factor. The few that successfully make a smooth transition into adulthood are far too rare.

And it really saddens me that yet again, another guy in his 30s is taken away from the world too soon. It's happening so often lately and I can't help but wonder what it is about that age bracket that causes this? Celebs notwithstanding, I have had three male friends in their 30s in the past few years commit suicide and I just don't get it.

Anyway. RIP Corey Haim. I always thought you were the cuter of the two, if not as quick with a comeback as your partner in crime.

To me you'll always be remembered like this:

* What was that? A little vampire humor? Well, it wasn't funny!**

** The Lost Boys. If you've seen it you'll get it. If not, just ignore it.

My New Baby

2010-03-09T19:57:00.003+11:00

Meet my new bike.

Ain't she a beauty?

Well, I don't have her yet, but I paid a hefty deposit for her on Friday and when she arrives in a couple of weeks from the USA, she will be mine.

Sooooo pretty.

I'm very excited. I haven't owned a bike since I was a teenager. That bike was a silver Ricardo 10 speed racer which rode me the 3kms each way to and from school every day and over the years carried a viola, a clarinet and a flute, as well as a massive school bag. It was a fab old bike. I have no idea what's happened to it... it may still be in the shed at the Mater's, or she may have thrown it out in a fit of cleaning madness.

But that was then. And this is now. And this new bike is totes awesome.

Ye olde silver Ricardo was named Fox. After Michael J Fox. And because my dad said it was a "silver fox". I never got what he meant by that... but I have a feeling it might have to do with Ricardo Montalban.

But I think this bike is a girl. And I haven't quite decided on her name, but the top runners are a bit old-school. Like her. Tell me what you think suits her best:

Betsy Lucy
Peggy
Stella
Scout
Audrey
Ginny
Gracie
Lalla
Maisie
Martha

I'm leaning heavily towards Betsy Lucy, but am still open to suggestions.

And I'm counting down the days and planning our shopping trips together with great anticipation.

To Write, or Not to Write

2010-03-04T19:50:00.003+11:00

I don't know if I mentioned it before (I'm fairly certain I didn't but I'm too lazy right now to go back through the archives), but I recently enrolled in a creative writing class. I thought it might help me to solidify some of my ideas for my writing, which are, to put it mildly, all over the fucking shop. It was a 6 week class, with tonight being the final class.

But I didn't go.

I went every other week (except for one, when I was in Adelaide attending a funeral). So ok, 4 out of the 6 weeks. Which is pretty good for me. I'm notorious for never finishing what I start. Quite frankly I'm amazed that I've kept up with this blog for so long.

But I digress.

The first week started promisingly, tutor was a playwright, so was theoretically right up the alley of the area of writing I wanted to explore. We hit the ground running, with some good tips on getting started. We even did mind maps. Totes ace. I have loved mind maps since I was first introduced to them whilst doing my faux business degree*.

From the word go (pardon the pun) we were encouraged to read our work aloud to the rest of the class and give and receive constructive feedback. Some people baulked at this, but eventually everyone gave it a go. I must add here that I had not realised that reading aloud was such a difficult task for some people. And I don't mean in courage. I mean in articulation and annunciation. The vast majority of people in this class were appalling at reading aloud. Too fast, too soft, too mumbled, too stumbling... I guess all those years being surrounded by performers has spoiled me. It took all my powers of listening to even begin to understand what some of these people were saying.

But again, I digress.

We were encouraged to read aloud and in the beginning everyone gave positive feedback and was nice and polite and encouraging and all was good.

Until last week, when we had to choose a memory of our own and then write about it from the perspective of a character who was the total opposite of us.

I should interrupt myself at this point to give you some perspective and explain that the most vocal feedback-givers in the group were:

1. A woman in her late 30s who was very articulate and positive and explained why she did or didn't like something very well. I liked her and thought she was very good at giving feedback.

2. A 19 year old girl who'd just finished her VCE, wrote very well but spoke in a baby voice with a lisp and couldn't articulate her thoughts coherently (well, on paper she could, but verbally she was a bit ordinary).

3. A 20 something girl who pretty much sneered at everybody's work and prefaced reading out her own work with "this is shit". Not the most positive person I've ever met.

The majority of the other participants rarely gave feedback or when they did would limit it to "that was funny" or "I liked the description of the room" or some other inane comments.

The teacher would give some useful advice occasionally, but really didn't contribute much, other than endless stories about plays she'd written or why she hated Jane Austen or how she was a huge fan of Buffy.

For the first few weeks all was ok. I wasn't shy in reading my work aloud and some of the feedback I received was genuinely useful. And I think the feedback I gave was encouraging and helpful. That's certainly what I intended.

And all was good.

Until last week. Last week I chose a memory and wrote my piece. It was a funny memory and one I hadn't thought about much since it happened, so I needed to do a little research and dig out some old diaries and do a little google-ing. It certainly wasn't perfect, and had lots of room for improvement, but I thought it was pretty good and I was quite happy with it. So I read it out and waited for the feedback.

First up, the 30-something lady. She was very articulate in her feedback and had some good suggestions for improvement.

Next up, the baby-voiced lisper. No positive feedback from her... just an abrubt comment about my use of the word "youth" to describe a group of teenagers, which she thought was "dumb cos like no one uses that word".

"Well, I do. And this character does"

"Yeah but it sounds retarded"

"Great. Thanks. Noted."

Then the teacher jumps in, I thought to perhaps admonish Miss Lispy for not being more constructive in her feedback. But no. Teacher's comment was "Yeah, that term is stupidly old fashioned - I don't like it either."

I really had no response to that so I sat there quietly.

At that point Miss Sneer jumped in.

"You know that ending? That was shit."

"What in particular didn't you like about it?"

"I dunno. But it was shit. I didn't like it."

"Well, that's not terribly constructive, do you think you could articulate what in particular you didn't like or offer some useful suggestion for improving it?"

Silence.

Enter Miss Lispy again.

"Yeah I didn't like the ending either. And 'youth'. That's just dumb. Its all dumb. You should say 'kids' or 'thugs'."

At this point I looked over to the teacher to see if she was going to continue to allow this to continue, but she was laughing and nodding along with them. And then other people in the class started laughing and saying "youth... who says that?!"

To say I was outraged was an understatement. I sat there quietly steaming for the remainder of the class and left without saying a word.

And I decided on the train home that I wouldn't be going back and I certainly wouldn't be allowing those girls to pass judgment on my work again.

That may be a little overly sensitive of me, but I think I'm a little bit justified, don't you? No one deserves to have their creative work derided like that.

Anyway, I'm feeling just a little down about my writing ability now. But it has helped me make the decision that I don't really need a class or a teacher to tell me how or what to write. I should just write for myself, not to please anyone else. And the only person who should judge my work is me. And if I'm happy with it then that's enough.

* A degree in Human Resource Development which included subjects in how to do mind maps cannot really be argued to have been a business degree

300

2010-03-02T14:10:00.000+11:00

No, not that dreadful movie with Gerard Butler, Dominic West and Diver Dan...

It's my 300th post!

[Insert general cheering and merriment here]

Snaps to you if you've been along for the whole ride. It's been a bumpy one.

There are so many possible topics for me to choose for my 300th post, that I just can't decide. There is so much swimming around in my head right now (writing-wise) that I'm having trouble getting everything out.

So I'm going to just say Happy 300th Post to myself and leave it at that.

I'll save the rant I've just written for post 301.

Double Cork Ten-Eighty

2010-02-18T14:54:00.006+11:00

Winter Olympics.

Not the most thrilling of things to watch.

Or so I thought.

Until you throw in some Aussie cricket and football commentators whose knowledge of Olympic Winter sports was learned in a "Dummies Guide To..." which they read in the plane going from Australia to Vancouver. And really, why would they know anything about these sports? Luge isn't exactly part of the PE curriculum over here.

Chuck in a few nutty American snowboarders competing in an event called "Men's Halfpipe" (which sounds likes something you'd smoke at a frat party) and my flatmate Kate and I are glued to the TV at 3.15pm on a Thursday afternoon.

Kate's theory is that winter sports are far more enjoyable to watch than say, rowing, due to the potential for crashes, which is much higher and therefore makes it more exciting.

In fact, to quote her directly... "Thing is, if people come a gutser, they're fucked"

Words of wisdom from Commentator Kate.

The other aspect I find fascinating is the lingo. The halfpipe (snowboarding) lingo is bloody hilarious.

Some of the more classic terms heard this afternoon (from James Brayshaw no less... an expert snowboarder in his own right, I'm sure):

Double cork ten-eighty.
Landing switch.
The double McTwist, twelve-sixty.
Front-side twelve-sixty
Massive backside air... (otherwise known as a fart?)

Seriously - who comes up with this terminology? Did someone just make it up to have a giggle at James Brayshaw's expense?

And what's with all the rangas? Is it a rule of halfpipe that you must have long, messy, red hair and more facial hair than Joaquin Phoenix at his worst?

Classic stuff indeed.

2009: The Year in Review

2010-02-15T21:00:00.004+11:00

Going back through the archives, I discovered an old meme, which I think it might be interesting to repeat.

Lots of changes in that time. Which is great, because if there weren't, I'd probably have to go and top myself. And then I'd miss out on so many wonderful things.

Anyway, let's get stuck into it, shall we?

1. What did you do in 2009 that you hadn't done before?

Moved to Melbourne would be the major thing.

2. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Sadly, the answer to this one is the same as it was back in 2005.

For those who don't remember that answer (or choose not to link back), the answer then (as it is now) was:

I think the question should be “Did anyone close to you NOT give birth?”. Would make for a shorter answer that way.

All I will add to that is that in April/May this year, I have no less than 10 friends giving birth. TEN. Fucking ridiculous, if you'll excuse my French. I might as well go and take out shares in Hallmark.

3. Did anyone close to you die?

Trying to think back, but no. No one did. A couple of distant relatives and friends of my parents, but no one I was close to.

4. Did you travel? Where did you go? Best holiday memory?

Europe was the biggie in 2009 - London for Ems wedding (and a week of shopping and drinking with loads of UK mates), followed by Sweden with the lovely Charlotte & co, followed by Belgium for Ems wedding (part deux). Short trips to Sydney and Adelaide were also undertaken.

Best holiday memory is of cycling along the Thames with my friend Alina, stopping off in various pubs for Pimms and Pear Cider. Oh how I miss London.

5. Best thing you bought?

French Sole shoes. I'm getting quite the collection. The fact they deliver to Australia has not helped my bank balance any.

6. Where did most of your money go?

Travel, living expenses (rent, phone, utilities, etc) and French Sole shoes. Pretty much in that order.

7. What do you wish you had done more of?

Writing. And getting out and seeing the sights of my new home town.

8. What do you wish you had done less of?

Same answer as 2005. Procrastinating. I’m the world’s best procrastinator.

9. What kept you sane?

Same answer as 2005. Music. Music always keeps me sane.

10. What drove you mad?

Not a lot really. I've become rather zen in my old age.

11. What made you celebrate?

Moving to Melbourne, Obama's inauguration, getting work, Ems' wedding, Brutha's 40th birthday... there were lots of celebrations in 2009.

12. What made you sad?

Not being able to stay in the UK longer.

13. How was your birthday this year?

Pretty good. My flatmates spoiled me and I had a quiet, but happy, day.

14. What political issue stirred you the most this year?

Tony Abbott. Douchebag. Fucktart. He's a total political issue on his own. Don't even get me started.

15. Were you in love in 2009?

I decided in 2009 that I would fall in love with myself. It's a slow process, but it seems to be going ok.

16. What would you like to have in 2010 that you didn't have this year?

A pretty new Schwinn Debutante. How cute is that cup holder?

17. What date from 2009 will be etched in your memory and why?

31 January. The day I left my life in Sydney and drove to Melbourne to start a new one.

18. What song will remind you of 2009?

Probably 'Empire State of Mind' by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys (which my flatmate adored and played constantly) and anything by the cast of Glee.

19. Compared to this time last year are you happier?

Much. I've accepted things about myself that I couldn't before and I'm re-thinking how I'm choosing to live my life. I've also stopped putting so much pressure on myself and am learning to go with the flow.

20. Biggest achievement this year?

Moving cities. And managing to scrape together enough money (and credit!) to attend Ems' wedding in Europe.

21. Biggest disappointment this year?

Leaving the UK. It really is the one thing that makes life difficult for me... knowing I can't ever live permanently there.

22. What is the one thing that would have made you more satisfied?

Being able to afford a place of my own.

23. Best new person you met this year?

Can't really narrow it down to one - I've met so many amazing new people in Melbourne, who have welcomed me to their wonderful city with open arms.

24. A valuable life lesson you learnt this year?

If you apply the Yazz principle to life, you'll be a lot less stressed. I've had to use it at least twice in 2009 and both those times it worked rather well.

25. A question you made up yourself?

Bevis made that one up back in 2005. So I don't think it's right to try and change it, even if he's not in the blogosphere anymore. Besides which I still don’t think I can make up a better one.

And that's it bar the tagging. Which is sooooo 2005, so I've decided I'm not going to do it. If anyone wants to have a go, feel free.

To Cut A Long Story Short...

2010-02-14T20:12:00.006+11:00

I've lost my mind.

No. Really. I have.

You see I've only just decided that I'm desperate to see these boys:

Hands up who thinks Steve Norman and Martin Kemp are still rather dishy?

You may recall an earlier post of mine which touched upon this subject. If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you may even recall my history with the Spandau boys, which dates back quite a long way.

So why not just go and buy a ticket, I hear you ask?

If only it were that simple.

Actually, it is. I have a credit card. I could put a ticket on that. And I'm sure there'd be one or two mates who would lower their standards to accompany me out for the night.

However, in the first instance, I am trying to save money. And watching a tubby, sweaty Tony Hadley jump around the stage would probably give me the same sense of impending doom I felt while watching a tubby, sweaty Simon Le Bon jump around the stage a few years ago when Duran Duran supported Robbie Williams. Not to mention make me question just why I worked my ass off to earn enough money to pay for the ticket.

In fact, if it wasn't for the fact John Taylor looked as gorgeous that day as he did back in his heyday, I probably would have taken myself off to the bar until Robbie came on stage.

Don't believe me? Compare if you will:

THEN:

NOW:

Admit it. He's still totally do-able. Probably even more so now that he's stopped wearing so much make-up and filled out a bit.

But I digress.

Spandau Ballet.

Ahem.

Yes.

Sorry about that.

Excuse me while I just go and splash some cold water on my face.

Well, anyway, in the second instance, my lovely friend who was the ticketing exec at Rod Laver Arena has left. He's the one who got me freebies for Liza. (You know, Liza. With a 'Z'. She was bonkers in the extreme, but very entertaining). And the two lovely friends who were in the running to take over the job from him didn't get it. Bugger.

So my opportunity for a sneaky freebie has gone by the wayside somewhat.

Thirdly, all the standing tix are sold out already. And whilst I was willing to fork out $149.90 for a standing ticket (the reasoning being I could quite conceivably, with a bit of pushing and shoving, get myself close enough to the stage to slip Steve Norman my phone number), the thought of sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair for the whole gig doesn't fill me with much joy. I need to dance at this gig. Or at the very least bounce around on the floor.

Sooooooooo.

What to do? What to do?

I'll cut it short there and go and ponder some more.

90210

2010-02-09T20:42:00.002+11:00

Yes folks, that day has arrived.

I was just reminded by the wonderful Kathie that today is 9 February 2010. Or in other words, 90210.

Genius.

(Thanks Kathie!)

I adored this show when it first aired back in 1990.

I took most of my fashion tips from Kelly Taylor... I think I still have that red blazer somewhere at my mum's house.

I adored Dylan, but wouldn't have turned down Brandon either.

I thought Donna was weird looking. (I still do)

Sometime after Dylan left it all went downhill. I stopped watching around the time I left for the States in 1995... I can't remember exactly when but I think it had plenty to do with Valerie. I never took to her as a Brenda replacement.

But still. Top show.

Happy 90210 day!

♥

2010-02-07T17:47:00.002+11:00

Yesterday my family lost a very special person.

He was the father of my oldest friend, the husband of my mother's best friend, and one of my late father's best friends.

He'd been unwell for sometime with alzheimer's, but somehow kept plugging away, hanging on to the life he loved and staying with the family he adored. Until yesterday morning when he suffered a seizure and passed away.

He was truly a wonderful gentleman, and I say gentleman in every sense of the word. He was kind, caring, honest, patient, hard working, funny, loving and decent. After my dad died, he became my surrogate dad, and always looked out for my mum, for which I will be eternally grateful.

The last time I saw him was in November last year, when I was visiting Adelaide for my brother's birthday. He was in the hospital, after having had a bad fall, but was actually the brightest I'd seen him in ages. We had a lovely chat about life, the universe and everything and I will always be grateful that our final meeting was one where he seemed at his brightest and most lucid.

R.I.P. Barry. You will be missed.

Short Distraction

2010-02-05T00:01:00.005+11:00

My writing skills are being tested by having to do something I've not done in over a year... apply for a job. There's very few jobs I've done in the last ten years which I've actually had to apply for, unless you count auditions. I feel a bit rusty, truth be told.

Anyway, the application is due tomorrow and I'm almost done, but thought I'd take a quick break over here for a minute before going back and making sure it has that perfect balance of truth and wank.

Which, let's face it, is what all good job applications must contain. Three years and a university course in HR taught me that (if nothing else).

I'm not even entirely sure I want the job, but I've been bitching about wanting to get into this particular area of the arts for a while now and I think it might be just what I need.

So I'm going for it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they* say.

Will keep y'all posted.

Back soon.

* Who exactly are 'they'? Your opinions are appreciated.