Wine Snob

 As a rule, I don't drink wine. 

I drink gin.

Wine and I have a strange relationship. I can't drink red wine anymore. The palpitations and sleepless nights are too much to take. There's no point me drinking it. It makes me feel too sick. No point drinking it. 

Rose and white wine are fine in small doses. I'd much rather have a glass of wine with dinner than just aimlessly drinking it. I'm better with champagne and dry sparkling wine, and I'm not a fan of prosecco. That stuff is garbage. It's the lambrusco or Blue Nun equivalent of our time. 

But, coming from near McLaren Vale and actually liking wine before I stopped drinking it, I've got a reasonable palate and a bit of knowledge behind me. 

Today's Christmas task was to buy a bottle of wine for Chuck, my trainer. 

Chuck is a bastard. He's mean. Okay, Chuck is lovely - but when it comes to training, he's mean. I asked him what he wanted for a Christmas present. Socks? Chocolates? Books?

He wanted wine. Red wine. Pinot? Cabernet Sauvignon? Temperanillo? Grenache? 

A full-bodied Shiraz would do nicely. 

My issue is when I'm asked to get wine, particularly red wine, I go one of two ways. McLaren Vale, or Langhorne Creek. If he'd asked for a decent Pinot, I'd probably look out for a lovely bottle of Curly Flat from Lancefield. 

Yes, I'm a red wine non-drinking wine snob. 

And after today's hammering at the gym, where Chuck kept upping my weights, I went wine shopping. Blackheart and Sparrows had a decent, but limited supply.

Liquorland had a better range. Not a bottle of Langhorne Creek red in sight, but a reasonable lot of McLaren Vale reds. 

If I was sensible, I'd find him a bottle for a cellar door when I go home in ten days, but as he's pissing off to get married after next week and we won't see him until late January. 

But I found him a bottle. The girl in the store was really helpful. 

And which one did I buy? A bottle called Fat Bastard, or one called The Murder.

I did what any sane person would do under the same circumstances. 

I went with the one with the pretty label. 

Today's song:

Lockstep

My favourite summer days are the cooler ones, where the sun is shining, but there's a breeze, and it's not much more than 25. Today was one of those days. 

Making the most of the weather, I walked down to the local shopping centre to pick up some lunch. I took the back lanes, as I often do during the daytime.

So off I waked. 

Richmond is an old, working-class suburb. It used to be filled with workingman's cottages, complete with a network of back lanes, which used to home the backyard outhouses, back when the dunny man would clear away the night soil. Thankfully, all of these are gone now, but the lanes remain. 

As I started by journey down these labyrinthine passages, I noticed a woman pass me, going in the other direction, looking a little flustered. She was wearing active wear. Blonde hair. In her 30s.

I then turned the corner to see a street person rummaging through a box, muttering to himself. Although he wasn't threatening, he gave off a bit of an air. This is Richmond. Once you've lived here a while, you get used to the local flora and fauna. In this case, I was wondering whether I turn back and take the main road or carry on. 

I then heard footsteps behind me. It was the blonde in activewear. She'd obviously had the same thoughts. 

I turned to her as we were just about to pass the man with his head in the box. 

"Hello, friend. Safety in numbers."

"Thank you," 

"I nearly turned around myself. But he seemed harmless."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to risk it."

"I'll walk with you. Safety in numbers."

We had a lovely chat about all sorts of things. How the nearby injecting room has stopped us having to call the ambulance for dead and nearly dead junkies in our laneways and carports. How the methadone dispensary has been really well done - you wouldn't know it was there unless it was pointed out to you. 

We only spent five minutes in eachother's company, but I was taken by the solidarity we women have when it comes to our safety. 

We bid each other a good day. 

I got my lunch. 

And I walked home, taking the main roads. Just in case.

Today's song:

Movie Review: Kneecap

Movie Number 38 of 2024

The Movie: Kneecap

The Cinema: The Nova, Carlton

Stars: 4.5

A film, mostly in Irish, about a Hip Hop band that came out of the streets of Belfast. Who knew?

This is brilliant. Thoroughly bonkers, but brilliant. It's got Oscar nomination for best International film all over it. Actually, this is the Republic of Ireland's entry for the 2025 Oscars. 

Do you need to know anything about the situation in Northern Ireland before going into this film? It does help, but it's not entirely necessary. 

I also reckon that speaking Gaelic would take this to another level, but my Irish runs to 'cheers' (sláinte) and 'up your bum' (póg mo thóin). Still, this is a fantastic film. 

The other thing to say. This is a kind of biopic, a bastardised story of how the Hip Hop band Kneecap came about. 

Here's a synopsis, pilfered from the pages of imdb.com. 

As one of a small number of Irish speakers in Belfast, JJ O Dochartaigh is called into a police meeting as an interpreter, where he meets Liam Og O Hannaidh who is pretending that he only speaks Irish to annoy Detective Ellis (Josie Walker). JJ sees a book of hip-hop lyrics, written in Irish, by Liam and his friend Naoise O Cairaellain. A music teacher, and in a relationship with an advocate for the Irish language, JJ sees the potential for using music to increase awareness. When the trio start to perform, they quickly gain a following, but the content of their lyrics makes them enemies in both the police, and with a dissident Republican organisation that are against the promotion of drug use in the city.

This movie has a cast of unknowns, making this even better. The only big name here is Michael Fassbender, who plays Moglai's father, a paramilitary dissident on the run. He's a hoot. I love when you're watching actors who are obviously having the time of their lives. 

DJ Provai plays himself, a teacher who sees potential in the boy's music. DJ Provai is a teacher in real life. This also adds another level to the film. 

And the music is pretty good too. Even if you don't understand the Gaelic, there a subtitles to help you along. 

A word of warning, there's quite a lot of party drug use and the odd bit of violence in this gem of a film. Thankfully this violence is quick, justified, and often very funny.

I'm very glad I got to see this. It's one of the standouts of the year. Hunt it out. 

Today's song: 

After

 We had a lovely book group today. The weather was perfect for sitting outside on the deck of of La Camera restaurant. The conversation flowed, as always, and our annual book group choosing went off without a hitch. 

As we normally, as our book group has been going on for well over a decade. We voted on the books after discussing the pros and cons of why we wanted to read said books. The lolly vote, where we all have 25 lollies (Sweets/candies) to vote with (and a rubber glove to protect the sweets - these are handed on to the wait staff after the vote). 

And the list is great!

There were some cool things that happened. Fee's father passed in the last ten days. The two books she put up came out of her father's wardrobe, which she found when she started the cleaning process. Both are new books by modern Australian writers. Both are on the list. The two I put up made it onto the list too - both will challenge in different ways. (The Dylin Hardcastle and the Miranda July).

In all, it's a great list for the year. 

After lunch, once proceedings had ended and we said our goodbyes, I was hoping to check out the market which normally occurs outside the Art Centre, but it was not to be. 

Instead, I made my way down to the National Gallery of Victoria. 

One of the great things about public art galleries in Australia - they're free, 

Even better, a favourite artist is having an exhibition, starting later next week. I love Yayoi Kazuma. They've even wrapped the trees outside in polka dots. 

A quick mooch upstairs to say hello to the Francis Bacon and the Chagall. Then up into the Red Room with the 18th Century decorative sculpture and painting, the onto a wander around Lee Bul's extraordinary installation. 

And then I caught the train home. 

It was a very successful day. Nourishing. 

Today's song: 

The Weather

 In the absence of the normal weekend questions, which have not been posted as yet, I've dibbed into my box of Catherine Deveny's writing prompt cards for inspiration. 

After shuffling round the cards, I selected this one:

What is your favourite weather? What is the weather like now?

The change has come at last, not that the hot spell was overly long or arduous. As hot spells go, it was fine. Not too humid, not too hot - but sunny enough to warm up the flat and have the heat get trapped in the walls. There's a stiffening breeze outside. I can only tell this because the toilet door is rattling. It's not too bad as the shaking door is not too loud for the moment. 

But this is not my favourite weather. 

I'm a cold person. I love winter. I love blustery overcast days, where the last of the leaves fall from the trees. Those days when you need to rug up, put on that scarf and shove your hands in your pockets to keep them warm. Those days where you can wear boots all day. When you deliberately wear layers to keep the weather out. Those days when the wind prickles at your cheeks. It's why I prefer the weather in England. Other than it's overcast most of the time, saving your skin from the regular UV battering, the natural progression from Autumn, with its occasional sunny day, into full wither, to the unrelenting cold and dark days appeals to me.

I also love the skies in winter, which vary from those bright, crisp days when the sun shines with no heat, to those cloudy days which yield amazing sunsets.

Oh, and I love wet winter nights, when you can snuggle up under the duvet and listen to the rain on the roof. Even better if it's a tin roof. It might be a childhood thing, but I find it comforting. 

Today's song:

Theatre Review: My Brilliant Career

 The Performance: My Brilliant Career (the Musical)

The Company: Melbourne Theatre Company

The Theatre: Southbank Theatre

Stars: 4.5

Until 21 December

I went into this performance with a sense of trepidation. Generally, I'm not a fan of musicals, nor do I love it when they wreck classics for the sake of art. 

Thankfully, the MTC's reworking of Miles Franklin's beloved novel does not do this at all. They've done a cracking job of taking this wonderful Australian novel and turning into a high energy, feminist slanting musical with a great ensemble cast with tons of entertainment value. 

Making things even more interesting, the fire alarm went off about ten minutes before the interval, the auditorium was evacuated, three fire trucks turned up - but we were let back in about half an hour later to finish the performance. I'm glad we got to see the end of this. This went above and beyond my expectations. 

For those who don't know the story of My Brilliant Career, either read the book or get your hands on the wonderful 1979 film with a very young Judy Davis and Sam Neill. It's wonderful. 

The plot hasn't changed at all. It's nearing the turn of the century and young Sybylla Melvyn (Kala Gare) wants nothing more than to live a life of culture and arts. Instead, she, with her family, are living a hand-to-mouth existence on a failing dairy farm. Her father is drinking, her mother eternally pregnant, and at 17, Sybylla is a drain on the family coffers. Sybylla doesn't want to marry, which was pretty much her only option at the time. However, a compromise is found, and she goes to live with her grandmother, a woman of means. 

While there, she is courted by the dreadful Harry (Cameron Bajraktarevic-Hayward), before meeting the much more suitable Frank (Raj Labade) with whom she falls in love, not that she knows it. Harry loses his fortune and Sybylla is sent to work as a governess to pay off her father's debt to a neighbour. It is only later that Sybylla learns that her fortitude and kindness put her in good stead. She also works out that she must pursue her life as an artist. 

What got me the most about this production is the high-energy performance that came from the mostly unknown cast. Making things even more amazing, everybody on stage plays an instrument. The cast are the band. The fiddle, cello, double bass, a couple of keyboards, a couple of guitars, a bloke on the drums and a percussionist. They not only play in the band but sing and act. 

The story has been adapted to the stage by Sheridan Harbridge, who has starred in the MTC productions including Prima Facie and North by Northwest. She's done an amazing job. The music was composed by Matthew Frank and the lyrics developed by Dean Bryant, another MTC stalwart. Anne Louise Sarks direction is punchy, but allows for the reflective nature of the material, where women had next to no options, and life was hard for most. 

Despite the evacuation, and having to take up the action just as a crucial ball scene was about to play out, and where the cast took up the action when we came back (and it felt they lost a bit of pace) the second act was back at the pace where we were before they turfed us out on the street for half an hour. Thankfully, they cut the interval to 10 minutes to get a bit of time back. 

There was a long-standing ovation at the end of the night. The cast earned it. 

This production reminded me a little of Come From Away. It's got that plucky, country enthusiasm about it that makes you think, but also makes you feel good. 

This comes highly recommended. Tickets are a bit hard to find - indeed, they may extend this into the new year if you're lucky. If the sold-out auditorium on a Friday night this side of Christmas is anything to go by, beg, borrow, steal or buy your way to see this. 

It's wonderful. 

(And revisit the original 1979 movie and swoon over Sam Neill. You can rent it through the streaming services, of if SBS is feeling generous they might put it on rotation again.)

Today's song: 

No blog post today.

 I'm feeling decidedly off-colour.

I'll be fine. But I think I should go to bed now. 

On the good side of things I met a lovely guide dog in training named Elwood. His handler asked if I wanted a pat (he was out of his harnesses and he asked me) Of course I wanted a pat. They're awesome. 

Anyway, now I'll go to bed. 

And play a favourite song. 

That will do. 

Today's song: