Some weekends seem to drain away too quickly and before you know it you've rolled into Monday without so much as a shower and a plate of microwaved nachos.
If you're clever you can anticipate the impending Weekend Time Warp and actually structure the passing of the hours into a check list of yeses. The more yeses the greater the sense of accomplishment.
Some weekends present with this not-waiting-for-you attitude and yet you manage to pull the rabbit from the hat and actually achieve something.
These are the best weekend.
What did you get up to on the weekend?
I smashed The Weekend into a hundred delicious pieces.
Friday included a lovely chat with Jules from Le Bar about Islay and which distillery gives the best tour. A measure of a great bar, in my mind, is the presence of hooks under the bar. Thankfully Jules has a beautiful idea to bring his bar up to that level. We've heard more about the upcoming renovation and can't wait for her to open. Really.
Added to the beautiful garden in some way. Put the steel caps to use with some very necessary drilling support.
Bought enough coaxial cable/tacks to get the shitty digi box to work. Great, now we have TV back in our house. It's just as shit as it was before.
Wandered into a 'garage sale'; the woman was selling bilums from her time in PNG, back when it was only a place for anthropologists and cannibals.
Delivered glory to my stomach, thank you The Premises.
Pretty happy with that. And dinner hasn't even been constructed yet.
Yet to get to Sunday.
BAM
nom nom nom nom nom ...
Saturday, 5 May 2012
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Miss Saigon
I ingested the first act of the Miss Saigon musical soundtrack today in about 6 bursts. A day in the field taking water samples from a kayak is nothing without a themed musical accompaniment for those short driving sessions between sites. The entire musical was not only sung beautifully by the cast of the UK tour of 1995, but also by Penny, my field work colleague and Captain of Goodness. She's a bit like a life coach, really. I get to come on field work with her, she picks the music for the day, she drives the car as I soak in as much about the Western Suburbs as I can and she explains the history surrounding the aforementioned sonic delight in a manner which a historical nonce like me can deal with.
I now need to see Miss Saigon! After West Side Story I can't really name many other musical productions. To appease the suffering of my friend Niki, Yes, I will add Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to that list!
I now need to see Miss Saigon! After West Side Story I can't really name many other musical productions. To appease the suffering of my friend Niki, Yes, I will add Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to that list!
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Gone To Work
Quick survey of the office:
Tom is looking for "the funniest thing I'll ever see" on the internet.
Pete is going to empty the compost bin.
Pod pets are dead.
It's all happening.
Draw polyline. Snap to node. Assign elevations at invert. Correct lengths.
After being stuck in the lobby for half an hour this morning, my work day has had a sluggish start. Someone on level 12 is a serial toast burner and I won't be surprised if we start being scanned for gluten on our way in to the building from now on. Fire alarms and disabled lifts aside, today I shall conquer Mordialloc Main Drain. Or at least digitise some Water Level Lines and SX points at the 2d/1d interface.
Tom is looking for "the funniest thing I'll ever see" on the internet.
Pete is going to empty the compost bin.
Pod pets are dead.
It's all happening.
Draw polyline. Snap to node. Assign elevations at invert. Correct lengths.
After being stuck in the lobby for half an hour this morning, my work day has had a sluggish start. Someone on level 12 is a serial toast burner and I won't be surprised if we start being scanned for gluten on our way in to the building from now on. Fire alarms and disabled lifts aside, today I shall conquer Mordialloc Main Drain. Or at least digitise some Water Level Lines and SX points at the 2d/1d interface.
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Burns Nicht
January 25th is Burns Night. A celebration well known through much of Europe but sadly it doesn't measure as a blip on the Australian calendar. Rabbie Burns is Scotland's darling poet and the 25th is his birthday (back in 1759). Maybe you know him from penning 'Auld Lang Syne'? He came from Ayrshire which is on the south west coast of Scotland. Given I was there in winter, I thought Ayr was quite a nice town. Apparently once you've lived there for a year you hate everything in Ayr and want to kick yourself for not getting out sooner. Shem shem. Burns Night is very big on mainland Scotland. I make this geographical distinction because Ben assures me it holds as much significance on Shetland as it does here in Melbourne.
Despite our indifference to the poet I felt it was a beautiful opportunity to celebrate something Scottish. It also turns out Jan 25th marks 1 year since Ben and I met at the Ro Ro on the morning before Up Helly Aa.
Ben invited a Scottish friend of a Scottish friend who's fae Perthshire du kens. He's been in Australia for a year and a half and had just got engaged on the Sunday! Plus my oldest bestie has finally come home east again after years of trawling the West with her fella living out of a car and having the wildest adventure. We were good friends in high school and used to get up to all kinds of shit. So it was a bit of a couples night at the Manningham Manor as we celebrated Burns' Night with the traditional Burns Supper. The formula for Burns Supper is thus:
* 1 x haggis
* neeps and tatties (swede and potato)
* whisky
...and of course the Toast To The Lassies, The Toast To The Laddies and the all important Address To A Haggis (which was recited by Calum by heart in his creamy Scottish accent.)
I stalked out the delivery of the last haggis to all of Melbourne at the DJs food court. It was epic. Rob's British Butcher in Dandenong is the King of Haggis. This was the most delicious haggis I've ever had- better than in Scotland!
We started with mussels because I first cooked (Shetland) mussels when I was in Scotland (fresh from the Partick Farmers' Market) and they're easy and cheap this time of year and delicious. Haggis, neeps and tatties was yummers. Ben went to the market and bought bones and made a gravy that was pure dead brilliant. We had a drop in visit from the supercouple Astrid and Cameroon so it was a very casual but very lovely dinner party. To heal my mum's anxious thoughts, yes, we did recite a wee bit of Burns poetry, token as it may have been!
Unfortunately the night did not conclude in burling with a ceilidh. Sadface. I've got that Boston Two-step nailed. There was no sign of tartan and there were certainly no bagpipes. But our fringe Burns celebration was both delicious and fun. So I think that's a win for everyone. Happy birthday Rabbie!
Despite our indifference to the poet I felt it was a beautiful opportunity to celebrate something Scottish. It also turns out Jan 25th marks 1 year since Ben and I met at the Ro Ro on the morning before Up Helly Aa.
Ben invited a Scottish friend of a Scottish friend who's fae Perthshire du kens. He's been in Australia for a year and a half and had just got engaged on the Sunday! Plus my oldest bestie has finally come home east again after years of trawling the West with her fella living out of a car and having the wildest adventure. We were good friends in high school and used to get up to all kinds of shit. So it was a bit of a couples night at the Manningham Manor as we celebrated Burns' Night with the traditional Burns Supper. The formula for Burns Supper is thus:
* 1 x haggis
* neeps and tatties (swede and potato)
* whisky
...and of course the Toast To The Lassies, The Toast To The Laddies and the all important Address To A Haggis (which was recited by Calum by heart in his creamy Scottish accent.)
I stalked out the delivery of the last haggis to all of Melbourne at the DJs food court. It was epic. Rob's British Butcher in Dandenong is the King of Haggis. This was the most delicious haggis I've ever had- better than in Scotland!
We started with mussels because I first cooked (Shetland) mussels when I was in Scotland (fresh from the Partick Farmers' Market) and they're easy and cheap this time of year and delicious. Haggis, neeps and tatties was yummers. Ben went to the market and bought bones and made a gravy that was pure dead brilliant. We had a drop in visit from the supercouple Astrid and Cameroon so it was a very casual but very lovely dinner party. To heal my mum's anxious thoughts, yes, we did recite a wee bit of Burns poetry, token as it may have been!
Unfortunately the night did not conclude in burling with a ceilidh. Sadface. I've got that Boston Two-step nailed. There was no sign of tartan and there were certainly no bagpipes. But our fringe Burns celebration was both delicious and fun. So I think that's a win for everyone. Happy birthday Rabbie!
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
For the Foodies
I found something delicious and lovely.
Trotski and Ash.
Melburnian musings and recipies.
Boy it looks good.
I do hope my frineds Deb and Niki take a look.
I plan to attempt crumpets very soon. That's about as far down the list I got but my it looks like there are quite a few treasures hidden in there!
x
Trotski and Ash.
Melburnian musings and recipies.
Boy it looks good.
I do hope my frineds Deb and Niki take a look.
I plan to attempt crumpets very soon. That's about as far down the list I got but my it looks like there are quite a few treasures hidden in there!
x
Monday, 27 December 2010
The Darien Venture
The Darien Venture
Excellent band.
The Darien Scheme
Abysmal attempt at colonisation.
Listen to the top one, read the bottom one.
Excellent band.
The Darien Scheme
Abysmal attempt at colonisation.
Listen to the top one, read the bottom one.
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Meredith Music Festival 2010: WORDS
Some notes on one of the best festivals in Australia:
"I don't call you Aussies, I call you 'Awessies'. Because you're so awesome!!!"
Thank you Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (dot com) for giving me the jollies on Sunday afternoon. You were everything and more that I had hoped for. 8 blokes, one drum kit, 3 trumpets, 2 trombones, an over-the-shoulder massive sousaphone and a big trumpet baritone. Apparently all from the one stock. I liked how the sousaphone player was the smallest of all and the trumpet player was t-bulkster huge. lol. They played funky brass-powered grooves and rapped and made us dance in the mud. Smithy and I were particularly filled with electric energy and danced through slush and hot-chocolate-murder. [Drink murder with a girder (Please say in deep weegie accent for full effect. While drinking Irn Bru. Du kens).]
Other favourites include Neil Finn. Such a comfortable and perfect performer. 'Twas beautiful. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were fantastic. She is one funky mama and her boys are so spot on. We all danced our bestest.
On Sunday morning Ben and I were wandering the amphitheatre looking for treasure and we spotted a very dapper man in white troos, a white shirt and white bow tie with slicked back hair. He was showing a little man the surrounds. He held this little baby in his arms and as we walked past the little fella wiggled a little and his knitted beanie slipped off and we glimpsed the most beautiful head of 6-month-old bright red hair. What a beautiful ginger bub. A few hours latter we saw said dapper man, this time in a green stripey blazer, on stage with a few friends (horns, double bass, drums). Sans baby. C.W. Stoneking. He makes music that takes you back a century. No one does that any more. Calypso/blues/old-style-American-drinkin-rum/African shipwreck.
His story is pretty good. Stream the interview he did with Triple J here.
Working in New Orleans (?) mixing voodoo remedies, then in the Caribbean he met some strangers and sailed across the Atlantic til they shipwrecked off the west coast of Africa. He kicked about in the jungle with a native tribe until he was able to get back to civilisation.
Custard were great fun. Dare I say it, I thought Dirty Three were like being prodded with zucchinis. Everyone says it's amazing but it's actually just a bit interesting but mostly something to endure. "Noise with stage presence".
Of course Meredith is also about who you're with. The Facepainting Force will make me giggle for ever. Ken Done: you've met your match. Glitter everywhere made things interesting. Hair cuts for free. Party on a Stick 2.0.
Lots of love for everyone, Auntie Meredith I'll be seeing you again...
"I don't call you Aussies, I call you 'Awessies'. Because you're so awesome!!!"
Thank you Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (dot com) for giving me the jollies on Sunday afternoon. You were everything and more that I had hoped for. 8 blokes, one drum kit, 3 trumpets, 2 trombones, an over-the-shoulder massive sousaphone and a big trumpet baritone. Apparently all from the one stock. I liked how the sousaphone player was the smallest of all and the trumpet player was t-bulkster huge. lol. They played funky brass-powered grooves and rapped and made us dance in the mud. Smithy and I were particularly filled with electric energy and danced through slush and hot-chocolate-murder. [Drink murder with a girder (Please say in deep weegie accent for full effect. While drinking Irn Bru. Du kens).]
Other favourites include Neil Finn. Such a comfortable and perfect performer. 'Twas beautiful. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were fantastic. She is one funky mama and her boys are so spot on. We all danced our bestest.
On Sunday morning Ben and I were wandering the amphitheatre looking for treasure and we spotted a very dapper man in white troos, a white shirt and white bow tie with slicked back hair. He was showing a little man the surrounds. He held this little baby in his arms and as we walked past the little fella wiggled a little and his knitted beanie slipped off and we glimpsed the most beautiful head of 6-month-old bright red hair. What a beautiful ginger bub. A few hours latter we saw said dapper man, this time in a green stripey blazer, on stage with a few friends (horns, double bass, drums). Sans baby. C.W. Stoneking. He makes music that takes you back a century. No one does that any more. Calypso/blues/old-style-American-drinkin-rum/African shipwreck.
His story is pretty good. Stream the interview he did with Triple J here.
Working in New Orleans (?) mixing voodoo remedies, then in the Caribbean he met some strangers and sailed across the Atlantic til they shipwrecked off the west coast of Africa. He kicked about in the jungle with a native tribe until he was able to get back to civilisation.
Custard were great fun. Dare I say it, I thought Dirty Three were like being prodded with zucchinis. Everyone says it's amazing but it's actually just a bit interesting but mostly something to endure. "Noise with stage presence".
Of course Meredith is also about who you're with. The Facepainting Force will make me giggle for ever. Ken Done: you've met your match. Glitter everywhere made things interesting. Hair cuts for free. Party on a Stick 2.0.
Lots of love for everyone, Auntie Meredith I'll be seeing you again...
Monday, 1 November 2010
BBQ (nb)
As the sun set over the rooftops and tram lines the atmosphere grew electric at the Manningham Manor.
Two Girls One Nut.
Well, a few nuts. And some bolts. And some washers. (Check the jargon!)
Thanks to the generosity of our neighbour, a Phillips Head was acquired and the two lasses set to work on constructing the most magnificent heat-making-food-boss. This shit is going down as the 8th Wonder of the Industrial World!
Perseverance, intelligence, strength and clarity of the mind. A massive achievement in only one short hour. The bbq is now assembled and will play a pivotal role in future entertaining at the Manor. Brilliant!
In other news, Bosdog is back in town in a big way! I'm talkin' 53% fat King Island cream!! Pasta and salad of vegetables, then some chockie and salad of fruit, with tender lashings of the finest aforementioned cream, made for a wonderful evening in the pallor. Great to have her back. What a legend.
NB. This was a standard hour, not a short one. NB. Naomi Bosler.
Two Girls One Nut.
Well, a few nuts. And some bolts. And some washers. (Check the jargon!)
Thanks to the generosity of our neighbour, a Phillips Head was acquired and the two lasses set to work on constructing the most magnificent heat-making-food-boss. This shit is going down as the 8th Wonder of the Industrial World!
Perseverance, intelligence, strength and clarity of the mind. A massive achievement in only one short hour. The bbq is now assembled and will play a pivotal role in future entertaining at the Manor. Brilliant!
In other news, Bosdog is back in town in a big way! I'm talkin' 53% fat King Island cream!! Pasta and salad of vegetables, then some chockie and salad of fruit, with tender lashings of the finest aforementioned cream, made for a wonderful evening in the pallor. Great to have her back. What a legend.
NB. This was a standard hour, not a short one. NB. Naomi Bosler.
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
hypnotic brass ensemble
Hello.
My absence can be explained by an insipid combination of jetlag, hunger, general laziness, a mild outbreak of skin-bacteria-somethingsomething and 5kg of homegrown lamb now residing in my two freezers.
Here are some things I noticed today (numbered. Props to all mathematicians out there):
1. Listen to this. Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Mighty mighty funkatron muchly.
2. Mach Frequency might just be the most amazing superhero that ever there was? Big call. But did any other superhero manage to bring down the entire boarder security of a first world nation for the greater good of his heroine? Nae. Winner! <3
3. I ate a piece of fruit today, and another piece of the same fruit yesterday, which I am unable to name. It's somewhere between a blood orange and a pink grapefruit. Thick pith, scarlet flesh, yellowy rind, sour but not spit-out-your-falseys. My money is on the latter variety but some suggested otherwise. It's time we all got better aquainted with fruits and vegetables. Kohlrabi, anyone?
4. I went for a walk up Little Lonsdale from Russell to William. There are three or so cafes I'm now dying to check out. And a few other interesting bars/restaurants in between the law courts and sky scrapers. Around the back of the Melbourne Magistrate's I overheard two fatties sitting in the gutter deciding upon lunch: "I'll shout you Maccas, love." Please see point 3.
5. I am engrossed with Alan Davies and Stephen Fry.
I'm at a loss as to where this blog will head, probably to a natural death. Like Dr Pepper, it may exist in tiny pockets of obscurity supported by desperate hangers on...
Listen to this if you miss Glasgow like I do.
My absence can be explained by an insipid combination of jetlag, hunger, general laziness, a mild outbreak of skin-bacteria-somethingsomething and 5kg of homegrown lamb now residing in my two freezers.
Here are some things I noticed today (numbered. Props to all mathematicians out there):
1. Listen to this. Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Mighty mighty funkatron muchly.
2. Mach Frequency might just be the most amazing superhero that ever there was? Big call. But did any other superhero manage to bring down the entire boarder security of a first world nation for the greater good of his heroine? Nae. Winner! <3
3. I ate a piece of fruit today, and another piece of the same fruit yesterday, which I am unable to name. It's somewhere between a blood orange and a pink grapefruit. Thick pith, scarlet flesh, yellowy rind, sour but not spit-out-your-falseys. My money is on the latter variety but some suggested otherwise. It's time we all got better aquainted with fruits and vegetables. Kohlrabi, anyone?
4. I went for a walk up Little Lonsdale from Russell to William. There are three or so cafes I'm now dying to check out. And a few other interesting bars/restaurants in between the law courts and sky scrapers. Around the back of the Melbourne Magistrate's I overheard two fatties sitting in the gutter deciding upon lunch: "I'll shout you Maccas, love." Please see point 3.
5. I am engrossed with Alan Davies and Stephen Fry.
I'm at a loss as to where this blog will head, probably to a natural death. Like Dr Pepper, it may exist in tiny pockets of obscurity supported by desperate hangers on...
Listen to this if you miss Glasgow like I do.
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
Saturday, 21 August 2010
Gone to the polls/BILLY BRAGG/WELLCOME COLLECTION
OK, I started writing about the upcoming election.
There were personal anecdotes, some relevant links to news articles and witty observations about Tony Abbott.
However, while 'researching' (because I only deliver to you quality, and if you make it through the babble you may note that sometimes there is some good stuff in there, too) I came across something much more exciting!
Earlier this year Billy Bragg was involved in the production and performance of a play called Pressure Drop. I am bummed I missed it because I think Billy Bragg is one of the most spot-on people on the planet, and if I were English I would definitely have moved to Barking just so I could hang around the streets Billy hung around. From watching the short interview with the director Mick Gordon and Billy Bragg on Billy's website I gather it was about self identity and what it means to be British. Political, social, historical, all things deep and meaningful.
That is cool.
But I missed it, so not so cool.
However, the play was held at the Wellcome Collection in London.
That IS cool!
Before I left the UK I tripped down to London for a few days (as you know, faithful reader, from previous blog entries). I was hours from my train ride back up to Glasgae and it was raining and I was carrying my laptop and back pack and it was all very uncomfortable so I spent as long as I could inside museums where they look after your bags in cloak rooms and don't charge you like they did at my horrorhostel. I picked up a brochure somewhere for the Wellcome Collection's free and new exhibition 'Skin'. So I made the Wellcome Collection my last stop before the station and had a look around. Skin was less about tattooed bodies, as the image on the front of the brochure lead me to believe, and more about skin. Funny that. Diseases, functions, scarring and tattoos, microphotography, implements for 'doing things' to skin, wax castings of skin bits used hundreds of years ago as medical aids. It was a bit unnerving to see some of the pieces in the exhibit but also very cool to have all those things there at once. Since it wasn't train time and I still wasn't ready to carry my things around I wandered upstairs to the permanent exhibition Medicine Man. The collection was formed from the private stash of Mr. Wellcome's bizzare shite. It was fantastic! He had collected all sorts of odd artefacts connected loosely with medicine. Glass cabinets 10s of metres long filled with different style forceps, rows of chemists' porcelain containers, Napoleon's shaving set, Darwin's walking stick, Florence Nightingale's moccasins, Chinese sex toys... Totally odd and randomly wonderful!
So that is that. I just wanted to alert you to the fact the Wellcome Collection is rad- it is a gallery, a performance space, there's a library if you need to brush up on your medical knowledge (studying surgical procedures from the 1750s? No worries!) and a very nice cafe and rad little shop. I went there because it was free and I needed to leave my bags somewhere safe. And I ended up really enjoying it. It wasn't on the list of London Galleries I picked up from tourist info. The Wellcome Collection is somewhere between Euston and King's Cross stations.
You should go there and enjoy it too.
And say Hi to Billy Bragg when you next see him...
There were personal anecdotes, some relevant links to news articles and witty observations about Tony Abbott.
However, while 'researching' (because I only deliver to you quality, and if you make it through the babble you may note that sometimes there is some good stuff in there, too) I came across something much more exciting!
Earlier this year Billy Bragg was involved in the production and performance of a play called Pressure Drop. I am bummed I missed it because I think Billy Bragg is one of the most spot-on people on the planet, and if I were English I would definitely have moved to Barking just so I could hang around the streets Billy hung around. From watching the short interview with the director Mick Gordon and Billy Bragg on Billy's website I gather it was about self identity and what it means to be British. Political, social, historical, all things deep and meaningful.
That is cool.
But I missed it, so not so cool.
However, the play was held at the Wellcome Collection in London.
That IS cool!
Before I left the UK I tripped down to London for a few days (as you know, faithful reader, from previous blog entries). I was hours from my train ride back up to Glasgae and it was raining and I was carrying my laptop and back pack and it was all very uncomfortable so I spent as long as I could inside museums where they look after your bags in cloak rooms and don't charge you like they did at my horrorhostel. I picked up a brochure somewhere for the Wellcome Collection's free and new exhibition 'Skin'. So I made the Wellcome Collection my last stop before the station and had a look around. Skin was less about tattooed bodies, as the image on the front of the brochure lead me to believe, and more about skin. Funny that. Diseases, functions, scarring and tattoos, microphotography, implements for 'doing things' to skin, wax castings of skin bits used hundreds of years ago as medical aids. It was a bit unnerving to see some of the pieces in the exhibit but also very cool to have all those things there at once. Since it wasn't train time and I still wasn't ready to carry my things around I wandered upstairs to the permanent exhibition Medicine Man. The collection was formed from the private stash of Mr. Wellcome's bizzare shite. It was fantastic! He had collected all sorts of odd artefacts connected loosely with medicine. Glass cabinets 10s of metres long filled with different style forceps, rows of chemists' porcelain containers, Napoleon's shaving set, Darwin's walking stick, Florence Nightingale's moccasins, Chinese sex toys... Totally odd and randomly wonderful!
So that is that. I just wanted to alert you to the fact the Wellcome Collection is rad- it is a gallery, a performance space, there's a library if you need to brush up on your medical knowledge (studying surgical procedures from the 1750s? No worries!) and a very nice cafe and rad little shop. I went there because it was free and I needed to leave my bags somewhere safe. And I ended up really enjoying it. It wasn't on the list of London Galleries I picked up from tourist info. The Wellcome Collection is somewhere between Euston and King's Cross stations.
You should go there and enjoy it too.
And say Hi to Billy Bragg when you next see him...
Monday, 16 August 2010
Friday, 13 August 2010
Internet Revolution
I woke up at 5am this morning with no chance of getting back to sleep.
I was trying to punch the jet lag right in the kisser from day 1. Alas, it may have got the better of me.
I left Glasgow around midday and had a cheeky 5 or so hours to kill in Heathrow on Monday before boarding for Oz. After 13 hours in the air we landed in Singapore for a 1.5 hr lay over. Then back to my 39A seat (absolute back of the plane. Good seat- I recommend it. Close to the loo and first to get the food, plus there are only 2 seats in that back side row rather than 3 so you are less likely to be bumped by fatties walking down the aisle) and another 7.5 hrs to Sydney. Arriving at 5am, I had a 3 hour wait until the morning flight to Tullamarine. So by the time I got home to Warragul it was about midday on Wednesday. My body was completely out of sync.
Very first thing I did when we got home, before I even unloaded my bags?
Went to Centrelink and got on the dole.
Second thing?
Went to the opp shop.
One of the novel things I've found since coming home that totally rocks my world is my underwear. For seven and a half months I have had the same stock of about 10 undies. I forgot about all of the underwear I have! It's amazing!
Also amazing is the fact that I am writing this while sitting at the kitchen table at #17! Having only dial-up internet for the past decade at home, Betheles has finally lined up broadband wireless internet. I know it's 2010 but we are rockin the internet revolution here in Warragul! Surfin like a pro. Hang 10, grommit!
I spent a few hours in Maccas yesterday doing internetty things because Warragul hasn't caught on to the cafe-with-wifi notion. Or perhaps there is no market for it? Sometimes Warragul is a little town playing big, and sometimes it is just little.
Marcus came over last night and we cooked a chicken thai green curry. Delish! Marcus is jolly. A good blether was had. I got to listen to the new as yet unreleased UV Race album. Chair! They're off on a mad tour of the US. Bye bye blues.
So I'm off to Melb today to get my corporate on at GHD and then to get my Melbourne bars on. Hopefully I haven't thrown my whole weekend out by waking up early today...
Now which of my rediscovered undies will I wear...?!
I was trying to punch the jet lag right in the kisser from day 1. Alas, it may have got the better of me.
I left Glasgow around midday and had a cheeky 5 or so hours to kill in Heathrow on Monday before boarding for Oz. After 13 hours in the air we landed in Singapore for a 1.5 hr lay over. Then back to my 39A seat (absolute back of the plane. Good seat- I recommend it. Close to the loo and first to get the food, plus there are only 2 seats in that back side row rather than 3 so you are less likely to be bumped by fatties walking down the aisle) and another 7.5 hrs to Sydney. Arriving at 5am, I had a 3 hour wait until the morning flight to Tullamarine. So by the time I got home to Warragul it was about midday on Wednesday. My body was completely out of sync.
Very first thing I did when we got home, before I even unloaded my bags?
Went to Centrelink and got on the dole.
Second thing?
Went to the opp shop.
One of the novel things I've found since coming home that totally rocks my world is my underwear. For seven and a half months I have had the same stock of about 10 undies. I forgot about all of the underwear I have! It's amazing!
Also amazing is the fact that I am writing this while sitting at the kitchen table at #17! Having only dial-up internet for the past decade at home, Betheles has finally lined up broadband wireless internet. I know it's 2010 but we are rockin the internet revolution here in Warragul! Surfin like a pro. Hang 10, grommit!
I spent a few hours in Maccas yesterday doing internetty things because Warragul hasn't caught on to the cafe-with-wifi notion. Or perhaps there is no market for it? Sometimes Warragul is a little town playing big, and sometimes it is just little.
Marcus came over last night and we cooked a chicken thai green curry. Delish! Marcus is jolly. A good blether was had. I got to listen to the new as yet unreleased UV Race album. Chair! They're off on a mad tour of the US. Bye bye blues.
So I'm off to Melb today to get my corporate on at GHD and then to get my Melbourne bars on. Hopefully I haven't thrown my whole weekend out by waking up early today...
Now which of my rediscovered undies will I wear...?!
Thursday, 12 August 2010
I was in Glasgow in August
COOLESTin the Halt
On another note, DON'T BE A DICK
(Sorry Phil, I hope you can still show your face around those people again)
Monday, 9 August 2010
Last Wegie posting
Last post from Glasgow.
My penultimate Wegie weekend has been a delightful one.
Visited the Glasgow Farmers' Market in the sooth side with Joff and Chris- ostrich sausage in roll a winner but the wild boar burger a stand out. Shot through to Edinburgh with Lily for a final farewell to Carl. Got to see a little more of Edinburgh this time- the Meadows and the Links. Waded through manic crowds (the Fringe certainly transforms the city!!!) and rifled through some top gear at the Grass Market market/Anderson's (Big up J P and N L). Had a real ale at the Best Pub in Edinburgh 2010, joint winner, and waxed lyrical about everything with Carl and Lil from socialism to the impact of the EU 'corporation' to renewable energy to ginger ladies. Finished Sat with a pasta making lesson from Ben. Delicious. The pasta was good, too.
Oh stop it.
Action and Adventure awoke on Sunday with determination and energy and a belly full of goodness. Loch Lomond was the destination. Walked through the woods and ate carrot cake. Found mushrooms and dogs and a Balloch-ian penny.
Feast tonight, true Davis style, of salt and pepper squid, satay monk fish, roast rack of lamb, parsnips, King Eddies... many many yum yums. All things delicious.
Packed my hideous excuse for a bag- one of those plastic tartan £2 bags, which has already torn. Tomorrow I bind it with duct tape, coffee with McBetts (my off-line online travel buddy) and then a tough journey to the airport with Ben for mechanical and emotional reasons.
See you Melbourne folk soon- Saturday at the Town Hall.
Bye Glasgow.
Love ya!
Lloyd
My penultimate Wegie weekend has been a delightful one.
Visited the Glasgow Farmers' Market in the sooth side with Joff and Chris- ostrich sausage in roll a winner but the wild boar burger a stand out. Shot through to Edinburgh with Lily for a final farewell to Carl. Got to see a little more of Edinburgh this time- the Meadows and the Links. Waded through manic crowds (the Fringe certainly transforms the city!!!) and rifled through some top gear at the Grass Market market/Anderson's (Big up J P and N L). Had a real ale at the Best Pub in Edinburgh 2010, joint winner, and waxed lyrical about everything with Carl and Lil from socialism to the impact of the EU 'corporation' to renewable energy to ginger ladies. Finished Sat with a pasta making lesson from Ben. Delicious. The pasta was good, too.
Oh stop it.
Action and Adventure awoke on Sunday with determination and energy and a belly full of goodness. Loch Lomond was the destination. Walked through the woods and ate carrot cake. Found mushrooms and dogs and a Balloch-ian penny.
Feast tonight, true Davis style, of salt and pepper squid, satay monk fish, roast rack of lamb, parsnips, King Eddies... many many yum yums. All things delicious.
Packed my hideous excuse for a bag- one of those plastic tartan £2 bags, which has already torn. Tomorrow I bind it with duct tape, coffee with McBetts (my off-line online travel buddy) and then a tough journey to the airport with Ben for mechanical and emotional reasons.
See you Melbourne folk soon- Saturday at the Town Hall.
Bye Glasgow.
Love ya!
Lloyd
Friday, 6 August 2010
Thursday, 5 August 2010
LONDON. The Rabbit is part of It.
I sat sipping coffee (too quickly, Jacqui! B. Landau, 2008) as I sought refuge under the canvas sail from a fine display of British weather. As others huddled in multipacks of handbags, dripping umbrellas, pressed collars, carefully worn new woollen knits and the odd solo gortex warrior, we were at once in unison and alone.
A connection was made over muesli bars and a little warmth began to seep from the humming group of 4.
Oh! the weather! Yes, but you may want to save that for dessert! Day release tickets- I'm not sure? We came here last month and it was also very good. The rabbit is part of it, too. They just turned it upside down!
Strangers were united under a reckless sky, which gave way to sunshine tipping a mass exodus.
Before they left, they gave me some sound advice and a Royal Academy of Art friends-of-members-go-free entry to the Summer Series.
My sleep was almost non-existent. A rickety bunk and a swearing Brazilian. The lack of any tourist information whatsoever at the dirties hostel I've seen- with the grand exclusion to that void of Madame Toussaudes's- I spent the morning hours riding the underground, watching the Tower of London bridge yawn open and closed, and then texting McBetts for directions and advice. Big Ben loomed in the foreground as a grey shade of wet enveloped much of the city. Squares and circuses and men petrified in the heat of battle then strung up to count lorries.
The Tate Modern was very good. The two exhibits at the moment are very different and inspiring in their own way- voyeurism, surveillance and a bit of sexy bits, a great photographic exhibit; mixed media and thought provoking middle-east based politics/poetry.
China Town dinner with an unexpected and much appreciated cameo from none other than the middle Quirk. It's a long way from Eagle Boys days...
A connection was made over muesli bars and a little warmth began to seep from the humming group of 4.
Oh! the weather! Yes, but you may want to save that for dessert! Day release tickets- I'm not sure? We came here last month and it was also very good. The rabbit is part of it, too. They just turned it upside down!
Strangers were united under a reckless sky, which gave way to sunshine tipping a mass exodus.
Before they left, they gave me some sound advice and a Royal Academy of Art friends-of-members-go-free entry to the Summer Series.
My sleep was almost non-existent. A rickety bunk and a swearing Brazilian. The lack of any tourist information whatsoever at the dirties hostel I've seen- with the grand exclusion to that void of Madame Toussaudes's- I spent the morning hours riding the underground, watching the Tower of London bridge yawn open and closed, and then texting McBetts for directions and advice. Big Ben loomed in the foreground as a grey shade of wet enveloped much of the city. Squares and circuses and men petrified in the heat of battle then strung up to count lorries.
The Tate Modern was very good. The two exhibits at the moment are very different and inspiring in their own way- voyeurism, surveillance and a bit of sexy bits, a great photographic exhibit; mixed media and thought provoking middle-east based politics/poetry.
China Town dinner with an unexpected and much appreciated cameo from none other than the middle Quirk. It's a long way from Eagle Boys days...
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
Glasgeh
back to glasgow.
remember these things?:
shitty footpaths that are uneven as fuck
spitting
buckfast
Jeremy Kyle
breakfast: congealed blood and oatmeal
Kopperberg pear cider
excessive drinking
treasure. 1p 2p 10p and a 5p
alright pal
lloyds pharmacy
lloyds tsb bank
remember these things?:
shitty footpaths that are uneven as fuck
spitting
buckfast
Jeremy Kyle
breakfast: congealed blood and oatmeal
Kopperberg pear cider
excessive drinking
treasure. 1p 2p 10p and a 5p
alright pal
lloyds pharmacy
lloyds tsb bank
Sunday, 1 August 2010
TROLL
I ran into a Troll in the main square in Bergen, Norway.
Trolls are all over Norway. They are traditionally very ugly and have enlarged nostril-to-face ratios. They have hair in their ears, nose but not so much right on the top of their heads. They only wear natural fibres because dry cleaning is against their religion (Scandinavian Black Metal). They eat moose and small children and tend to forage solo but live in Troll communities called Trollvegans.
I was backing out of a shop in Bergen (west coast of Norway) and accidentally walked backwards into someone. I turned around to apologise. Everyone speaks perfect English in Norway. As I stepped away and profusely apologised I made eye contact with the thing I had hit. I almost spewed up my breakfast. I met eyes with a Troll-woman. She was dressed in a long maroon woolen coat over a grey pant-suit made of whale skin. She had a scarf around her head that she had obviously stolen from her last small Norwegian childmeal because it was floral and Trolls haven't advanced enough to screen print their moss-and-elk-hair textiles. The troll glared at me with eyes of sickness and death and pigeon feet.
She held my gaze as I froze in fear and then shook her head in utter disgust at my ignorant backwards-walking and apparently insufficient utterance of 'sorry'. I managed to twist my silent scream into a pathetic smile and pulled my face into a formation loosely resembling the look of one asking forgiveness. The troll, who had clearly just eaten some delicious grainy bread because there where crumbs in her moustache, had a dry mouth so was unable to spit fire at my feet. Had she not have just eaten a delicious and freshly made baked good she would surely have secreted troll slag in my direction. Which burns through synthetic fibres only.
I rushed away as fast as I could coerce my feet to take me. The image of her deadly troll eyes still burns a horrifying imagine in my retina.
I was lucky to escape.
Norwegian trolls.
Bloody scary.
Trolls are all over Norway. They are traditionally very ugly and have enlarged nostril-to-face ratios. They have hair in their ears, nose but not so much right on the top of their heads. They only wear natural fibres because dry cleaning is against their religion (Scandinavian Black Metal). They eat moose and small children and tend to forage solo but live in Troll communities called Trollvegans.
I was backing out of a shop in Bergen (west coast of Norway) and accidentally walked backwards into someone. I turned around to apologise. Everyone speaks perfect English in Norway. As I stepped away and profusely apologised I made eye contact with the thing I had hit. I almost spewed up my breakfast. I met eyes with a Troll-woman. She was dressed in a long maroon woolen coat over a grey pant-suit made of whale skin. She had a scarf around her head that she had obviously stolen from her last small Norwegian childmeal because it was floral and Trolls haven't advanced enough to screen print their moss-and-elk-hair textiles. The troll glared at me with eyes of sickness and death and pigeon feet.
She held my gaze as I froze in fear and then shook her head in utter disgust at my ignorant backwards-walking and apparently insufficient utterance of 'sorry'. I managed to twist my silent scream into a pathetic smile and pulled my face into a formation loosely resembling the look of one asking forgiveness. The troll, who had clearly just eaten some delicious grainy bread because there where crumbs in her moustache, had a dry mouth so was unable to spit fire at my feet. Had she not have just eaten a delicious and freshly made baked good she would surely have secreted troll slag in my direction. Which burns through synthetic fibres only.
I rushed away as fast as I could coerce my feet to take me. The image of her deadly troll eyes still burns a horrifying imagine in my retina.
I was lucky to escape.
Norwegian trolls.
Bloody scary.
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