Freebies

I did go shopping with my Borders gift voucher last night, I did not end up buying anything. Ugh. Borders was packed, there were a number of books I really wanted but they didn't have, and frankly the pressure of spending the free $50 wisely got to me. You know, when you think I should make the most of this. Just me? Ok then. I almost bought the Dexter season 2 DVD box set, but well, as much as I want to see more sexy creepy Michael C Hall there are some books that I really want. Yes, they're knitting books. Problem? Michael C Hall was pretty tempting though...



I was also considering buying a health DVD. Which sounds a bit random, but the Mayo Clinic has put out this series of DVDs about various ailments and ways to treat them through diet/yoga/exercise. Back Pain, Fibromyalgia, Weight Loss etc. I was looking at the Blood Pressure one, which frankly I could feel climbing as I tried to make a decision.

On the subject of free stuff, out of the blue the really sweet natured Arabic Christian guy I buy my coffee from some mornings gave me a free coffee this morning. Apparently he was making a note of how many I bought each week, and like one of those Buy 10 Get 1 Free coffee cards that some places use, gave me my 11th one free. Oh, and how do I know he's a Christian? Because gentle friends he has the most amazing clock on the wall of the cafe. It has a clock. It has Jesus, Mary and Joseph. And it has a psychedelic spinning disk thing that throws out rays of specialness behind them. I want to photograph it so bad, but he's so friendly and sweet natured that I would hate to offend him.

5 Things About Thursday, 11th September 2008: The Sullenness Of Youth Edition

• As I wrote about a couple of weeks ago, it irks me when people take up seats on the bus with their bags. Today I pulled my usual I'm gonna sit there routine with a school kid taking up two seats, but the sullen little shit was not going to give up without a fight. He elbowed me in the ribs every time he turned the page of his book, and spread his legs as far open as he could without dislocating something. On one level I had to admire his tenacity.
  
• I need to tidy my house. Srsly, in the cold light of morning this morning I thought to myself "too much detritus". (I have elements of neat freakery so it's not that bad, but let's not cloud the issue with facts. Plus, how much do we love the word "detritus"!?)
  
• Courtesy of a birthday present, I have a $50 Borders voucher burning a hole in my pocket. Not for much longer, it's destined to get spent tonight. Am I ever happier than when I get to shop for free? I don't think so.
  
• This is an event which happens to coincide with me not having anything to read at the moment. Truly the stars have aligned in my favour.
  
• Techically the events of September 11 happened tomorrow here, our time, but it's still worth reflecting on all the people who lost their lives, but also continue to in a war that to my eyes anyway doesn't seem to have moved us very far forward in the 7 years since. 7 years!

The Art Of The Poorly Disguised Metaphor

Honey, if it's purple you might want to get someone to take a look at it.
A professional, that is.


Observe the eyeline, it's a hint.


Sailors. Masts. Seamen. It's complex.


I could be wrong, but I don't think he's smuggling jewellery in those tights.

[All pics via Gay On The Range.]

It Pays To Ask

Last time I was talking to a real live human person at my bank, we had a short chat about the fact that I was paying a bucketload of bank fees every month. I mean, I'm putting someone's kids through private shool with my bank fees. A top tier one. To their credit my friendly bank representative volunteered the fact that there were much better account products that they had than the old fashioned account I have had forever and aye.

So, with a five minute telephone call I've switched to an account that aside from a $3 fee per month (eh, whatevs), means I will only have to pay a transaction fee if I withdraw money over the counter at a branch. Given that I never do that, score! I am a committed internet/eftpos/telephone banking user (it's the way of the future!) and was a paying a heap in excess ATM fees on top of a $7.50 a month account fee. Crazy!

And I added a fee free debit Mastercard (see: OMG, internet yarn shopping!). And a second fee free account just for savings (for if there is anything left over after the internet yarn shopping).

It really pays to ask.

On Shaky Psychological Ground, Or Weekend Recap!

What a weekend of contrasts last weekend was! Like night & day. Or in this case, Winter and Spring, insanity and sanity.

Friday night and all day Saturday we were plunged back into the depths of Winter, cold and with torrential rain. Saturday it rained all day without letting up at all. So consequently I did the only logical thing (read: insane thing) and decided to visit Ikea.

Because I don't drive a trip to Ikea is two train rides there, and two train rides back. Either end of the journey requires a bit of walking also. So, the customary flaw in this plan is always the carrying of the purchases. It often works in my favour though, because it stops me buying my own body weight in tealights and things with unpronouncable names.

I had planned to go to Ikea this weekend and get some storage boxes to start organising my yarn stash and all my art materials, and start making the spare bedroom into the neat office/studio space it is destined (in my head) to become. Do you see where this is going? Torrential rain, train rides, walking, carrying bulky items, insanity. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Also, in my insanity I thought that it was such a miserable day that Ikea would probably not be that busy.

Oh, the crush of humanity. I am fine with crowds, I can cruise around people with strollers without breaking my stride, within a small bubble of zen like space. However, by the time I got to the cutlery I was ready to cut someone with a budget priced and unpronouncable kitchen knife. I even passive aggressively stole one of the 'for instore use only' catalogues because, well, somehow they owed me. The torture they put me through.

You would think that lugging a huge bag of bulky storage boxes home on public transport and on foot, whilst wrangling an umbrella, would be fun but surprisingly not. Once I had recovered, I did sort of enjoy having a quiet night in putting things into storage boxes. On a Saturday night. Which frankly, seems like another kind of not quite sane to me.

Sunday dawned sunny and mild, and ended up being the first Shorts Wearing Day of the season. Yay. The sun'll come out tomorrow! Bet your dollar bottom. Once I had done a bunch of laundry, admired some stacked (and filled) storage boxes, gone to knitting at the pub in the afternoon, and cooked some dinner it was like the trauma of Saturday was a distant memory. With only the In Store Use Only catalogue to remind me otherwise.

Progress!

I've been a bit more committed of late to working on my sister's lace scarf for Christmas. I'm probably just under one fifth of the way along so far, but much of that I has just been done recently. Christmas sounds like forever away, but I just know it'll end up being here in a few blinks time. I grew up being one of those kids that started the essay the night before it was due, and I do not want to get to December 24th and realise that this old dog hasn't learned any new tricks! Or at least amended his ways.

Reds seem really hard for my camera to capture, but I've fiddled with this a little to try and make it more true to the yarn colour. Just imagine it a bit darker and richer, deep garnet reds through to lighter red tones. Gorgeous.

The Ruperts

What is it about boys called Rupert? I mean, for a bunch of guys with a kinda foofy name, what it is that makes them so damn sexy? They sure do seem to bring the handsome.

You doubt? Emipirical evidence never lies. Cases in point:

Rupert Evans of "Hellboy", "Fingersmith", the London stage etc, etc:







Rupert Penry-Jones, of "Spooks", "Charlotte Gray" and a number of things that show that frankly, dude looks good in any period:









Rupert Everett, of "Another Country", "An Ideal Husband", a lapse in judgement co-starring Madonna, and other projects as befits one of the stately homos of England:







Rupert Graves, of "Maurice", a bunch of other Merchant-Ivories, and my most favourite period era greenskeeper/ladder climbing bit of rough ever:







Really, the evidence doesn't lie. It's statistically significant don't you think?

44 Years Ago

As I mentioned briefly in my previous post, my oldest sister has been working away at our family genealogy. She sent me a link to the genealogy site she has been using to gather the data together, and in just a few minutes of looking through it I've discovered a treasure trove of family information and photos that I didn't know existed.

For instance, this photo:



Yup, that's me and Mum. Sometime in late 1964, or early 1965. Probably 1965, given that I look older than a few months old. Later that year we three kids and Mum & Dad would board a small plane, having paid our 10 pounds contribution towards the Assisted Passage scheme and eventually (after some legendary hijinks, and ongoing plane repairs) arrive in Australia. Best decision they could have made I think.

A couple of things stand out in my family pics a) my parents were kind of glamorous when they were younger, b) they look so heartachingly young when they were courting! and c) all the women in my family look well dressed in the photos I've seen, courtesy of my Grandma who was a dressmaker. Wow!

A Winter's Night

After crowing about Spring's arrival earlier in the week, Winter has come back and slapped me on the legs with a wet umbrella. Today was cold and wet. Really wet. What my aunt/stepmum (long story) would jovially describe as persisting down.

A cold and wet Friday night after a busy, busy day at work = slug out time. So I've settled in for the night. The heater is on. Ancient but comfy sweater - check. Track pants - check. Slippers - check. Handknit socks - check!

I've just had a lovely long phone chat with my sister who lives interstate (big news is she's finished writing her book - a travel guide for people with disabilities, and she's added a couple of generations more to our family history) and a very lovely chat with Mr Tall & Handsome who visited for a sleepover a few weeks back. Pizza has been delivered and devoured. And now I'm tucking into a mug of nom nom-worthy homemade hot chocolate.

Hot Chocklit - The TOA Way

• 1 mug's worth of good quality soy milk*
  
• 1/2 a 35g bar of Lindt 70% dark chocolate
  
• 1 tsp sugar

Break up half the chocolate bar into small pieces and place in mug. Add teaspoon of sugar. Heat the soy milk until almost boiling. Consider eating the other half a bar while soy milk warms. Pour warm soy milk into mug, stir, lose internal battle re: remainder of chocolate bar.

(*or regular milk if you aren't lactose intolerant, lucky bitch)

5 Things About Friday, 5th September: Breakfast Cake Edition

• When I woke up this morning I still felt full from the big slap up birthday dinner last night at Sumalee Thai at The Bank Hotel. So yum! So much food!
  
• A number of the staff were away from work yesterday, so my work did a birthday cake for me today instead of yesterday. Which was very nice, but at 8.30am!? Cake for breakfast everyone! It was excellent homemade carrot cake, so despite the fullness I choked down a piece.
  
• Or two.
  
• OMG, I sit next to a floor to ceiling window in my office and it's like a waterfall at the moment. It is pouring down rain. Spring, wo bist du?
  
• On the upside I brought my umbrella, on the downside maybe canvas shoes were a poor choice?

It's Candle Blowing Time

Today is my birthday! I've been joking around about having a midlife crisis ..::sob::.. but really, I'm fine. Really. Honestly. Jesus, stop asking.

So in honour of me, here's some fabulous birthday cake ideas from my new BFF blog Cake Wrecks.



Apparently, they ordered one large olive cake but the bakery decided to make a pair. Now, what do these remind me of?...



Nothing says festive (and midlife crisis?) like a flick knife! (Celebrate or I will cut you, I swear.)

So, off to dinner tonight to celebrate at my fave Thai restaurant with some friends, kindly organised by Mikey (the lovely ex). Should be most lovely!

ENNEAGRAM TEST - Nine: The Peacemaker

I saw this Enneagram test over at Tom's Place and thought it might be fun to jump on the bandwagon and give it a shot. I'm naturally pretty sceptical about things that are reductive about human nature. The Enneagram, Myers-Briggs, horoscopes even. Not that they are all akin, but I struggle with the concept that you can reduce human nature and the breadth of human variation into any number of 'types'.

Having said that, some of these 'typing' schemes are obviously better than others, and have more observation and analysis behind them. It's not beyond the bounds of possibility to say that if you have this personality trait, then you are likely to have one of these traits also.

Anyhoo, rambling is a personality trait, yes? (See below: "rambling".) Years ago a friend of mine who was really into the Enneagram told me he thought I was a SEVEN. I took the little online quizz thingy here and it tells me I'm a NINE.

Maybe I'm this?!:



We are The Other Andrew. We are nerd. And FYI, we are also fierce.

So. Apparently I'm a NINE. Interestingly, it seems pretty accurate. The positive stuff is fairly flattering, which (and I'm not being self deprecating here) always makes me sceptical because that's sort of how I think horoscopes work. We agree with the flattering and doubt the unflattering. Having said that, the challenges faced by NINEs is kind of me exactly. I am very hard on myself about indecision, am often confused about what I want (just ask me about my career sometime) and if you have dated me you'll know I'm often hyper sensitive to critisism. Plus, nothing infuriates me more than thinking I'm not being listened to. Seriously, red mist descending time.

So, here's the results. Know me, understand me, put me in a neat little box labelled NINE.

Nine: The Peacemaker
"I am at peace"

Peacemakers are receptive, good-natured, and supportive. They seek union with others and the world around them.

How to Get Along with Me

• If you want me to do something, how you ask is important.
  
• I especially don't like expectations or pressure.
  
• I like to listen and to be of service, but don't take advantage of this.
  
• Listen until I finish speaking, even though I meander a bit.
  
• Give me time to finish things and make decisions.
  
• It's OK to nudge me gently and nonjudgmentally.
  
• Ask me questions to help me get clear.
  
• Tell me when you like how I look. I'm not averse to flattery.
  
• Hug me, show physical affection. It opens me up to my feelings.
  
• I like a good discussion but not a confrontation.
  
• Let me know you like what I've done or said.
  
• Laugh with me and share in my enjoyment of life.

What I Like About Being a NINE

• being nonjudgmental and accepting
  
• caring for and being concerned about others
  
• being able to relax and have a good time
  
• knowing that most people enjoy my company; I'm easy to be around
  
• my ability to see many different sides of an issue and to be a good mediator and facilitator
  
• my heightened awareness of sensations, aesthetics, and the here and now
  
• being able to go with the flow and feel one with the universe

What's Hard About Being a NINE

• being judged and misunderstood for being placid and/or indecisive
  
• being critical of myself for lacking initiative and discipline
  
• being too sensitive to criticism; taking every raised eyebrow and twitch of the mouth personally
  
• being confused about what I really want
  
• caring too much about what others will think of me
  
• not being listened to or taken seriously

NINEs as Children Often

• feel ignored and that their wants, opinions, and feelings are unimportant
  
• tune out a lot, especially when others argue
  
• are "good" children: deny anger or keep it to themselves

NINEs as Parents

• are supportive, kind, and warm
  
• are sometimes overly permissive or nondirective

Short Break

I'm taking a couple of days break from blogging. The muse hasn't really been whispering this week and I feel like I'm just putting up something, anything, for the sake of it. So I'm taking today and Wednesday off and I'll see you on Thursday! (If I'm not hiding under the covers, too scared to face turning 44 that is.) See you then.

Spring Forward

I had such a good day today. It was one of those blink and you miss it kind of days that seem to just whizz by, I guess which isn't always a bad thing for a Monday. Not that I was super busy, or spent the day so distracted as to be not noticing it, but it did just seem to fly by.

I started it with a Spring morning walk to work (with a really good crisp green apple to munch on) and finished the day with another walk home in the mild afternoon sun. Even the fickle fates of Good Hair Days were smiling, because it was one of those days where having just started the regime you're all "No actually, you know what, that's IT. Rock on!".

The only thing that could have made it an even better day would to have been able to get away from the desk and be out and about in the Spring sunshine. Partly because Good Hair Days deserve to be shared with others.

Warwick Goble

I just recently discovered the works of Warwick Goble. I feel well and truly out of the loop, because there are whole generations of children before me that grew up with his depictions of fairies, Indian and Japanese myths, mythical creatures, undersea kingdoms and medieval tales of adventure.



Born in the 1860s, Goble had the skills and style to tap into the early 20th century taste for colour plate books. I'm a bit of a fan of a number of artists from this period, with their romantic style influenced heavily by the newly accessible Orient. I love the Japanese influence in lots of his works, the sinuous lines, and especially the jewel like colours.



Goble had a prolific career and his works which were originally done for children's books have had a continuing life as art posters. There are a number of comprehsive websites that showcase his works.



Just Googling "Warwick Goble" turns up a bunch of sites selling poster editions of his watercolours. I'm glad that his work is having a life still, and maybe other children are having their imaginations fired up by the thought a fairy setting sail in a nautilus ship on a twilight sea.

One Perfect Lily

When I went outside into my courtyard yesterday I noticed that the first lily of the season had opened its little face to the sun. Hey there happy face! Some people think these lilies are a bit, I don't know, funereal? Maybe? I don't think so though, I think they are happy flowers and I love their sculptural form.

Just to show that Winter hasn't entirely quit the scene yet, today was rainy and a bit stormy so this lily is not showing quite the sunny disposition that it was yesterday. I love the way water beads on the big waxy petals though, so it was nice to shoot these slightly more dramatic shots this afternoon.

I guess every happy face has a tear now and then!

Saturday By The Numbers

• Number of hours of sleep had Friday night - approx 2 less than normal
  
• Number of loud parties held by my next door neighbours - 1!
  
• Number of early morning coffees drunk - 1
  
• Number of "Project Runway" Season 3 episodes watched on youtube - 4
  
• Number of laundry loads completed - 1
  
• Number of odd socks found after laundry completed - 1, dang
  
• Number of underpants likewise found - 2, double dang
  
• Number of strolls taken - 2 (there, and back again)
  
• Number of dogs spoken to in the special voice reserved for dogs - 4
  
• Number of knitting groups attended - 1 very enjoyable one
  
• Number of cafe menu items ingested - 3 (2 beverages, 1 sandwich)
  
• Number of lace scarf rows knitted - 32
  
• Number of laughs had - innumerable!
  
• Number of Saturdays enjoyed - 1
  

Boos! And Yays!: Midlife Crisis Edition

Celebrating Birthday Week next week! Yay! But OMG, 44! That's ridiculous! BOOOOOOOOOOO!

(Yes, Birthday Week because one day, insufficient. Plus, I'll be celebrating at a slower pace given my advancing years.)

I think 44 might be Midlife Crisis time, because seriously this one is getting under my skin. Maybe because it's too close to MID 40s. Gulp. Boo! But on the upside, could that be a valid excuse for bad behaviour, right?! Age inappropriate clothing and toy boys, just for starters. Yay!

Actually, although 44 is seriously giving me pause for thought, I'm probably the happiest and most settled right now that I have been in the past year or two (especially since getting my sleep problems under control) Yay! But OMG, I need to lose like 5kgs stat! Boo!

A Biker & A Sailor Walk Into A Bar

I'm not sure what happens next, but I wouldn't mind watching and finding out.



Shouldn't there be a cowboy too? I'm just sayin'.

Squeee!

My parcel of gorgeous yarns arrived today from the etsy seller DharmaRN (aka Frog Hair Fibres.) OMG, I had to dash outside in the fading light and snap some pics!

Most excellent!

Please Do It At Home

Lately I've been catching more buses than trains, and frankly some of my fellow passengers are starting to get on my nerves. Not, you know, do you know where I can purchase an affordable firearm getting on my nerves, but I'm going to cut you my #2 pissed off look type getting on my nerves. (Number #1 is only used for emergencies.)

Sydney buses are pretty cramped, with narrow seats and a fairly narrow aisle, and if we all played the game and did our bit, behaved like we were ok with sharing and didn't hate all humankind with a passion, then that would be ok. Not optimum, but ok.

Some kids were clearly away the day that Let's Share About Sharing! was on the curriculum, and then avoided grasping the concept as adults. People on a crowded bus who don't want to share that second seat with anyone are my current target. (And by target I mean, take any opportunity I can to call them on their game. Excuse me, I'm gonna sit there.)

They put their bag on the seat next to themselves. They sit on the inside aisle half of the seat and either a) glare in a way that says "oh, don't even" or b) gaze out the window as if they have miraculously not noticed there is only one empty seat left on the whole bus. "I'm not a bad person, I just haven't noticed".



I found these fabbo poster graphics from the Tokyo Metro. Please do it at home. (They're so polite the 'asshole' is implied.)

What do you think? I'm thinking maybe that they are mostly in Japanese might come across as weird, but the graphics and the English translations are pretty self explanatory, right? Oh, craft project! Pasted back to back and laminated like a flip card! Could make a fun gift/conversation starter with fellow passengers!



And if I restrain myself, the 'asshole' will be implied.

Sumptuous

Online fashion and lifestyle magazine fantasticsmag regularly dishes up the gorgeous. Wonderfully styled fashion shots, heavy doses of homoerotic underwear spreads (that'll have you shifting in your shorts) and incredibly lavish photography. I only started reading recently (hello, broadband!) and just spotted a gorgeous little fashion spread done as a video. The Visitor by Bell Soto. Filmed entirely in NYC, but I swear the locations look like Venice or Florence to me. Stunning!

5 Things About Tuesday, 26th of August: Teetering On The Edge Of Self Loathing Edition

• I have that feeling like Spring is just around the corner. Today was mild, and sunny without a cloud in the sky, and just right for deciding to make the 45 minute plus walk home from work.
  
• I did the walk yesterday too, although today was warmer and more pleasant.
  
• Post Olympics tv! So what does Channel 9 dish up? One and a half hours of craptastic "Two And A Half Men". Are they serious?
  
• Although, maybe I shouldn't judge. Right now I'm watching people fall off things on "Wipeout". (But it's the snarky commentary that makes it. Big dirty balls! Snerk.)
  
• I think I might have lost all self respect. (It could be worse, I could have watched "Two And A Half Men")
  

Telex

It must be Music Nostalgia Week here (or maybe Midlife Crisis Week) because I feel like posting clip after clip of songs from my youth! I'll restrain myself and drip feed you the fabulousness, because you know, too much of a good thing and all that.

Pop quiz, who remembers Telex machines? Anyone?

This pic is not quite right, but the closest I could find to the sort of machine I used way back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

I actually operated one of these precursors to email many years ago. They were typewriter style contraptions that were larger than a sedan, but smaller than a stationwagon. Ideal for a family of four!

The pic above is not quite right, because the machine I operated had a punch tape on the side. You see, the telex machine sent plain text down a telephone line to a matching machine at the other end. Like magic. You could type and send in real time or (my favourite bit) type your message onto a punched ticker tape that could be spliced to edit (no, really - with scissors and sticky tape, and everything) and then run through the reader to send a faster (and neater if you are a crapola typist like me) message down the line.

Anyhoo, wow exposition! So. When telex machines were brand spanking new there was a French electronica group that came out, calling themselves Telex. (Imagine a group calling themselves Email, or IM, these days.) I loved them unreservedly because their simple, repetitive synth tracks sounded like the future. They were mildly successful in OZ, but not so successful that loving them made me feel more mainstream that cutting edge.

Here's their biggest hit, "Twist A Saint Tropez", Telex. 1978.:

What I didn't realise is that they were responsible for a hideously bad 1980 Eurovision entry! Brace yourselves:

Makes you want to scrub your ears, right? Sorry about that.

Finito!

Finally. Elephant gestation takes 22 months apparently, but this pair of twins came close... at over a year. After setting them aside for, oooh, ages I finally picked them up recently and got to work finishing them off.

And this morning they were done. I wore them to knitting at the pub this afternoon, and I still have them on. Even though they are quite thin, the 100% merino wool is toasty toes making. After thinking that I might never get bitten by the sock knitting bug, now that I have them on I suspect that's not the case after all. Colour me converted!

Golden Boy

Matthew Mitcham! Our first gold medal men's diving champ since 1924!



Much has been made of the fact that 20 year old Mitcham is one of the few openly gay athletes at the Olympics. It would be so easy for him to have been tagged as that only, but now that his skill and grace have done the talking he's got a new label, Gold Medallist. I read that he was trying to use the family assistance program to get his boyfriend to the games with him, I hope they achieved that because what an amazing finish it was! It would have been incredible for him to have his partner there to see it and share it.



As we say in this country, GO YOU GOOD THING!

[Updated: I hadn't realised that Mitcham won with the highest score for a single dive in Olymic history. A score that included 4 perfect 10s. That's awesome! And yes his partner Lachlan was there. I must say I have been comparitively impressed with the coverage of Mitcham by Channel 7. So far I haven't I seen them play the 'Gay Olympian' card, and most interviews and discussions have mentioned, or included, his partner Lachlan along with his other family members. Which is just as it should be. The footage of Lachlan and Matthew cuddling during the celebrations, along with his mum, was especially sweet. Awwww.]

[Pics via www.daylife.com]

The Castanet Club

I was searching youtube recently for clips of The Castanet Club. The Castanet Club was an anarchic ensemble of Aussie comedians, musicians and singers that had a successful career in cabaret in the 80s and very early 90s. Their shows were famous for the characters they created (some such as Angela Moore's "Shirley Purvis" went on to have a life of their own outside The Castanet Club), their camp taste in music, kitschy style and especially audience participation. (Here's a little bio of them put together by Radio National in 2001.)

One of my favourite stories is that in the early days they helped finance their shows by baking and selling lamingtons to the punters.



Their show even spawned two hit singles on the Aussie music charts, a cover of the Italian classic "Tintarella Di Luna" and Sonny & Cher's "The Beat Goes On". Both of which I still have on vinyl. Treasures.

Sadly I didn't find the music clips I wanted, but I did discover two clips from a 1990 Castanet Club docu-drama movie that I didn't even know existed! There is an extremely bare bones imdb entry for it, and I've also seen it listed as being called "Big Night Out". The best news, it's due for release on DVD late this year apparently!

"Viva Las Vegas" by Glenn Butcher and the Castanet Club ensemble.

"River Deep, Mountain High" by Lena Caruso and the Castanet Club ensemble

I never saw the Castanets live, but I did once go to a comedy cabaret show by the spin-off character Shirley Purvis. Sadly no clips of her on youtube, otherwise I'd show you. Think demented Aussie housewife that spoke a million words a minute and you are part way there. During the show she left the stage and went around giving everyone in the audience little nips from a giant flagon of cheap sherry. Now that's entertainment!

But a lamington would have been nice.

Money Don't Get Everything, It's True

But what it don't get, I can't use. I want money!

"Money", The Flying Lizards. 1979.

Another installment of the soundtrack to my youth!

Generous

I think there is a sure fire litmus test that can be used to determine who grew up in Australia and who didn't. Vegemite.

Around the corner from my new work is a cafe we (rather literally) call "The Russians" because, amusingly and with a complete lack of irony, it is run by a trio of Russian women. Lately one of them has been away on leave, and so there is a young English guy helping out with the morning shift. (I'm pretty sure he's the cook's boyfriend, because there is a series of photos posted up on the wall called "Staff Meeting" and aside from some pictures of the Russian women drunkenly dirty dancing with the pair of them, there are at least two pics of the two guys cuddling.)

Anyhoo, this morning I ordered a coffee from the new guy and (for a change) two pieces of wholemeal toast with Vegemite. He failed the litmus test. When it arrived there was a layer of Vegemite that can only be described as overly generous. You see the big test is the amount of Vegemite. The thinnest of thin smears is perfect, a half centimetre thick layer is not. Eat that and you're courting salt overload and a mouth full of dead tastebuds.

Shortly after delivering the plate to my table, another customer walked past and took one look at my plate and said "Gee, like Vegemite?". Indeed. So I grabbed a knife, scraped off 90% of it, and it was still really strong. When he collected the plate and looked at the huge mound of discarded Vegemite (think Richard Dreyfuss, mashed potato and "Close Encounters of the Third Kind") he gave me a sheepish look and a smile that said "Oops". Definately not from around these parts.

An Open Letter

H.A.Bolles
Crew Captain, Oarsman
Annapolis, USA

Dear H.A. Bolles,
Well, here you are on 20th March, 1923. A Tuesday, I believe. Eyes slitted against the bright sun, oar in your hand. Don't you look the picture of fine health and handsomeness! Maybe it's a coldish day, I mean it looks like you have a swimming costume of some sort on and rolled down, with a windcheater thrown on for warmth.

Henry, is that your name? Harold? Hank? (I think Henry suits you.) How old are you here Henry? 20, 21 maybe? I'd like to think you are still alive today, but you'd be well over 100 and so I guess it's unlikely.



I hope you had a long wonderful life Henry. Did you love well, and were well loved in return? Or were you a bit of a handsome cad, leaving a string of broken hearts (and maybe the unrequited love of a certain young doe eyed cox) in your wake? Were you moneyed and privileged, or hardworking and funded by scholarships and sheer hard graft? Drove a sharpish motor with a flapper alongside, all boyish figure, bobbed hair and rolled down stockings?

You have beautiful hands, which I guess the weather and the oars roughened up a bit over time. I like your hair too, and just looking at it makes me think about running my fingers through its lushness. Did you smell good Henry? Like liniment, or Bay Rum and Jamaican Limes maybe? Like soap, and sometimes like good clean sweat?

I hope you were a kind man. Beloved of your mates, and good to those around you. Strong and fair. Loving to your family. Maybe you had a family of your own? Did you leave your mark, in a big way or small? Is there a plaque somewhere with your name on it, or was your legacy written in smaller deeds and the respect and love of others?

One thing's for sure, I'll bet you were a pretty good rower. It's my guess that you cut a fine figure with those oars in your lovely hands.

Affectionately,

Andrew

[Pic via www.shorpy.com]

A Craving: With The Lot

All the way home from work on the bus tonight I had a craving. A really, really strong craving. A craving for a good old fashioned Aussie style Hamburger With The Lot. The ones from the local takeaways of my youth.

There is something special about The Great Aussie Hamburger With The Lot. Elements that take it above and beyond fast food and into the realm of a complete meal (sometimes even with what could be described as an element of dessert thrown in). The great Aussie Hamburger With The Lot makes a Big Mac look like a Moderate Size Mac. The Whopper look like The Teensy.

Sure it has elements of the standard Hamburger:

Meat pattie.


Bun:


Lettuce:


Sliced tomato.


But from this point onwards is where it gets really interesting, and perhaps startling, for those who are not genetically (or philosophically) Australian, but seems perfectly normal and scrummy for those of us that are.

Fried egg.


Bacon.


Cheese.


I like to think of the above as the International Elements. I mean, bacon, cheese, it could be anywhere right? Even if you think the fried egg is a bit strange. But now we get into what I like to think of as the unique Aussie Cultural Elements:

Tinned beetroot. (Stains your buns pink. Trust me.)



And the piece of resistance, the crowning glory, the taste of the tropics and the element of dessert previously alluded to... the Pineapple Ring:


Mmmmmmmm hmmmmmm, mate.

(In case you were wondering, I had vegetarian nachos for dinner.)

[Updated: OMG, yes! As was pointed out in the comments, I forgot the fried onions! Essential.]