I've got my Paris digs for after the Writer's retreat. Yay.
It ticks a few boxes. It is:
Up high, but there is a lift.
It's in the Marais, la troisieme arrondisement (or The 3rd if you need it in English)
It has a bathtub.
It's light and airy.
It's known for being quiet.
And a big bed.
What do I need. I love being up high. There is something wonderful about looking over the Paris rooftops.
And I like that it's clean and functional. It makes leaving things behind a lot more difficult.
And there's a bath.
I've looked at lots of places. Tiny, over-stuffed places up five flights of stairs - not what you want when you're lugging around a large suitcase (although Parisienne elevators are notoriously pokey).
But other than having to sort out my London accommodation, which means a hotel on my first night in and to see if some friends can put me up for the other three days, my trip is nearly sorted.
It's Election Night on Saturday, and I find myself at a loose end.
Election Night is one of my favourite nights. Yes, I am an election geek - you can find me checking in the results of the British and American elections when they occur, but my favourite night of all is the night of the Australian Federal Election.
It's like it's sport.
On Election Night, I like to try and find a friend to watch the telly with. Somebody who's as much of an Election geek as I am. Somebody who also shares my somewhat noisy politics and who will yell along with me, while imbibing a gin and tonic and eating bad food. To me, this is stellar entertainment, but I realise that it's not everybody's cup of tea
Last time, three years ago, I went down to Brighton to join KiKi, one of my writing retreat mates. We had a great time eating cheese and sniggering at Tim Wilson, who was ousted from her electorate (May that continue). We had a great night. KiKi was a bit bemused by my strange political knowledge of the Australian political scene.
The election before that I was round at a friend's place in Reservoir. The result wasn't what we wanted. But we did the same thing. Beer. Pizza. Shouting at the telly.
It's all a bit Don's Party.
So, this election, I got in touch with KiKi again to see if she wanted to come over and watch the election. This was a few weeks ago. The other day she got in contact, and she has more pressing plans. And okay, I get it, but I was looking forward to spending Election Night with her, shouting and carping and carrying on.
On Saturday afternoon, I've got a barbeque at Blarney and Barney's place. I can't stay there. As much as I love my best mate, I'm not going to watch the election coverage with her. She'd do my head in. And besides, it's a privilege to see my Election Night persona. Blarney doesn't need to see it (and their friend's, although very nice, are on the other side of the ditch to me politically - no need to stir the pot.)
I remember the night Kevin Rudd got in. The bloke I was seeing came over. I remember clearly what I was doing when John Howard lost his seat. There were more than one reason to be screaming.
In fact, I have a bit of form getting lucky on election night.
Regardless, that was then, and this is now and I'm in my 50's and should not be so crass and be thinking about such things.
I just know that Mr Second date intimated that we might go for a third date, but I don't think showing him me in my Election Night persona is a healthy thing for anybody concerned. I mean, surely, he does not want to see me in my fully-fledged, noisy, horny, leftie madness shouting at the telly and waiting for Antony Greene to show his face. (I flick between broadcasts, but normally stick to the ABC - Channel Nine is threatening Peter Credlin - the only thing fun about her is watching her face as the Liberals go into freefall).
Anybody want to come over and watch the election with me? I'll bring good snacks. I've got lots of gin. And it's a giggle. It would be more of a giggle if it wasn't so serious.
This went on. I was trying to get some work done, but every five minutes or so somebody (read small black house demon) was coming up, sticking his claws into my leg and demanding dinner.
I fed him his wet food at 5.30 p.m. after having enough of his histrionics.
Ten minutes later:
Lucifer: I want some treats.
Pand: You've just had your dinner.
Lucifer: But I want treats!
Pand: But I don't have any. I'll get some when I do the food shopping after the gym.
Lucifer: But I want some treats!
Pand: I can't give you anything I don't have.
Lucifer: You're a bad mother. I want treats.
Pand: Sweetie, you've just had your dinner.
Lucifer: But I want treats. NOW!
Is this what it's like to be a parent? If so, I didn't sign up for it.
Postscript: I purchased some cat treats, the ones he really likes (Fussy Cat Crunchers) and got home. I found him asleep under his blanket. The treats, it seems were forgotten.
Steve Coogan can be a bit of a polarising figure. Love him or hate him, I'm enjoying his straight roles. A lot of them are rather self-deprecating loners looking for a connection. Surprise, surprise, we find this sort of character in The Penguin Lessons. But this is not a bad thing.
Coogan plays Tom Michell, an English teacher contracted to a posh boy's school in Buenos Aires in 1976 and the height of the military junta. Michell wants to stay out of everything and just do his job. His principal, Tim Buckle (Jonathan Pryce) demands he keep an orderly existence. No noise, no mess, no pets.
When Michell and his colleague Tapio (Björn Gustafsson) take a holiday to Uruguay to get away from the military coup for a week, in his frivolities, he discovers a live penguin in an oil slick.
Tom takes the penguin back to school with him and hides him out in his room. And here's where the fun begins and the lessons are learned. It's amazing what group of 14-year-old boys will do to get to play with a penguin. It's a well-known fact that there are very few redeeming features to adolescent youth, but Juan Salvador, the penguin, helps to bring out the good in all of them. As the movie goes on, we learn about the circumstances of Michell and many of the staff and boys, all of this within the backdrop of the military coup, where people are plucked off the street and disappears with no warning.
As films go, this is a lot of lightweight fun, Coogan's sarcasm muting the serious events which are going on past the school's gates. This lacks the gravitas of films like I'm Still Here or The Secret in Their Eyes (the decent Argentinian one, not the awful American remake) yet it's still a very entertaining hour an a half. You could take an older child along and they might enjoy it. Yes, there's a little bit of swearing, but the violence is muted.
In all, this was a nice diversion based on a true story. It's light. It's fun. There's a penguin, who's very cute. What more do you want in a gentle Saturday afternoon film?
I'm getting the Sunday questions out of the way early as my breakfast settles and before I head down the gym. I have no idea who Gale is.
Questions, as before, have been supplied by Sunday Stealing.
1. What's the most daring thing you've ever done? Did it take physical or emotional courage?
Does living as an illegal immigrant in England for six years count something courageous? It was pretty daring. It was also probably in hindsight, pretty stupid. This took emotional courage. I was living where I wanted to live, living a life I wanted to live. If things were different, I think I would still be over in England.
2. Where did you meet the love of your life?
I’m not sure though I’ve ever had a love of my life.
I’ve had some loves. One was my penpal. One I met at work. One I met through a friend. Another was love at first sight at work.
But I’ve never had a real significant long-term other. This is okay.
3. What brand/flavor of coffee are you drinking these days?
My standard coffee order is an almond decaf latte. Normally a large one, or occasionally an iced one. As long as it’s not Starbucks, I don’t really care what coffee it is. Australia has some of the best coffee in the world.
4. What's the coolest place you've ever visited and how did you get there (car, plane, motorcycle, etc.)?
I’m very lucky, I have travelled the world.I’ve been to many amazing places. These include:
New York City and Boston
I’ve seen around the back of Westminster Abbey
The Scottish Highlands are miraculous
Mataranka and Nitmiluk (Katherine) Gorge in the Northern Territory of Australia are spectacular.
I’ve loved wandering around Hong Kong and Bangkok
Ubud In Bali is fantastic.
Paris is very cool, and I can’t wait to get back there again in September.
Toledo in Spain is somewhere where I spiritually align.
The Great Ocean Road is magnificent.
And I’ve been around the Greek islands. They are wonderful.
I’m a very fortunate person. This list could go on forever.
5. What's the best concert you ever attended?
There are two concerts that come to mind. David Byrne at the Brixton Academy in 1993 and then again, David Byrne in his American Utopia tour in Melbourne in 2019.
Both of these were absolutely magnificent.
I’ve seen a number of The Pixies concerts which were fantastic too.
As time marches on and progress takes over, some things fall out of fashion. Like video recorders, rotary phones, the walkman, the mangle...
Something else that appears to be going by the wayside.
The fluourescent tube.
Fluoro tube, that most hated form of lighting appears to be on the way out? How you ask? Have you ever tried to find one in the shops?
Coles? Don't stock them.
Big W/KMart - nup.
Bunnings? Of course, Bunnings have them, but if you're looking online, they're saying they cost around $30-40 dollars.
Mitre 10? They don't stock them. But on calling them, they said go to the specialty lighting shop to get one. Rexels or Middendorps might have them.
For a bloody fluoro tube.
I girded my loins, grabbing the old tube, knowing it's easier to say "I want one of these, please," rather than be castigated for saying, "I want a fluoro tube, please," then have no idea what you're asking for.
The people at Rexel were lovely. And appreciative that I brought the old one in. I got some help. The tube, in the end, only cost around seven dollars.
They made mention that fluoro tubes were getting harder and harder to find. That just blows my mind.
I can see them disappearing completely - I mean, every hospital, workplace and public space appears to have them, but it still feels strange to think that they're hard to find.
I made my way to the Abbotsford Convent to put my vote in for the Federal Election.
Before you ask, I have habitually voted early in State and Federal elections. I know where my vote is going, I don't like being hassled by the people handing out how to vote cards and I don't need a sausage.
Besides, the Abbotsford Convent is a gorgeous place. It's strangely peaceful for a place that used to be a girl's school and a place where unwed mothers went to have their children.
The lines for early voting were long, but convivial and orderly. The wait wasn't that long. There were lots of dogs to say hello to. There were only a handful of people handing out how to vote cards at the front of the convent. They seemed to be having an enjoyable time. It made for a difference seeing some of the unrest they're having in some electorates. In Kooyong, just across the river, there's been a number of spats. It's horrible. I refrained from wearing my 'Typical Bloody Leftie" t-shirt as not to inflame people.
It was a nice way to spend my lunch time.
On the way out, I was trying to remember the last time I was here. I love the space and gardens.
And then I looked up. A wayward saint was keeping an eye on proceedings.
It then came to me my last visit to this wonderful place.
Anney's funeral. 2019. Six years ago.
I was sent on another journey of nostalgia. Strangely, I could feel her presence. There's nothing unusual about that. I feel her energies around the place regularly. It was nice to feel her about again.
I went online to have a look at how I was going to get home from this holiday.
It was awful.
I've got my flights over to England. 55000 frequent flyer points and $250. Bargain. That I'm going through the United States - okay, not thrilled about this, but I'm okay with making sure all of my ducks are in a row, deleting social media off my phone and being contrite through customs.
But getting back!
The average cost of a ticket back from Europe? $2000. One way.
Yep, $2000.
Which, for the last couple of decades has been the average price of a return ticket to Europe.
If you look around the internet, you can find ones for around $1700. There is the Air India flight which comes in at $1000, which takes you through Delhi. Umm, sorry, but no.
It looks like I've had my decision made for me. I'll be cutting the trip a few days short and staying in Paris. I can go out to Versailles and Giverny. I can roam the streets for a few days. And I'll be coming home for the weekend.
I liked this last Pope. He appeared to be a man of the people. Caring, far less conservative than many of his counterparts. A man who liked to live simply. A man who lived more in line with the teachings of Jesus than many others in the church. May he rest in peace.
But now, we get to see the church in full flight. The ceremony, the colours, the rituals, the jostling in the conclave for the new Pope, although this is all done behind closed doors.I find all of this stuff fascinating. Despite the obnoxious wealth of the Catholic Church, I do think how they’ve done things the same way for nearly 2000 years is fascinating.
For me, I’m interested to see who makes it to the new seat of Saint Peter. Will they continue with Pope Francis’s progressive reformer’s agenda or go full conservative. It would be wonderful to see the church change its position on homosexuality, contraception, abortion and to allow priests to marry. Hell, maybe they could even allow women to be priests….
Of course, these are all thoughts on a very large with wish list of reformation. Of course, the Catholic Church is one of the last bastions of the patriarchy.They are not gonna give up some of their firm held beliefs without a big fight.
I'm just back from a couple of Melbourne International Comedy Festival shows. One was excellent (Wankernomics - all about office politics), the other was a fellow called Guy Montgomery, who was good, but I preferred the former.
It's been an interesting Easter here in Melbourne. I think tonight will mark the end of the Indian Summer we've been having. I'm looking forward to winter coming along.
It's a quick Sunday Stealing today, which I rather like. I've got an early start tomorrow.
F.A.B.
F. Film: What movie or tv show are you watching?
At the moment, on television, I'm working my way through Call the Midwife. It's a British series about a team of midwives and nuns in the East End of London in the 1960s. It's nice and light entertainment and good for staying away from the news.
A. Audio: What are you listening to?
My current audiobook is We All Live Here by JoJo Moyes. I've just started it. So far, so good. I finished Minette Walter's book The Last Hours, which was great until the last line of the book was, "To Be Continued." I need to get the next book in the series, The Turn of Midnight, and listen to that. I loved that book. The setting and characters were fantastic. Minette Walters is a British national treasure.
B. Book: What are you reading?
I'm halfway through Kylie Needham's The Girl in the Pink Dress. An Australian emerging author and we're reading it for book group.
Once that's finished, I'll go back to Amy Brown's My Brilliant Sister. I had to put that down to get the book group book read. But I've been enjoying that too.
I'm a big fan of the Irish writer, Claire Keegan. She writes small books of incredible gravitas, often dealing with Irish life in the 1980s. That the book is only 128 pages but fits so much in its pages is amazing.
This film is incredible.
It's Christmas 1985 in the town of New Ross, County Wexford. Cillian Murphy plays Bill Furlong, a quiet man, a family man, who runs the local coal store. He's quiet, hardworking and obviously loves his family and runs a successful business. He's respected by the town. You aren't told this. You see it.
When Bill goes to the local convent do bring their supplies, he's alerted that all is not as it seems.
Many will be aware of the atrocities committed by the Catholic Church in putting young, unmarried mothers in workhouse conditions. (There are a couple of excellent films, The Magdalene Sistersand Philomena that look at the subject).
More troubling is the town's reaction to the conven't activities. Bill is warned by the publican to keep quiet and tow the line.
Thankfully, you see very little of this, but you do see how the knowledge affects this quiet, ordinary man and his family is profound.
Cillian Murphy, who's in pretty much every shot of the film is astounding. He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to. Emily Watson, in the crucial role of Sister Mary, the convent's Mother Superior, is evil personified. She gives an amazing performance as the woman in charge of a place hell bent of peddling misery.
Tim Mielant's direction is perfection. He's worked with Murphy on a number of project's including Peaky Blinders. Enda Walsh's screenplay is very true to the book. It's the attention to detail which really makes this film.
The film closes with a dedication to the female victims of the Magdalene laundries, which ran from 1922 to 1998. Yes, 1998. Please let that sink in. 1998.
I was blown away by Small Things Like These. The book is magnificent, making the Booker shortlist. The film is worthwhile viewing.
The feeling of lying on the ground, staring up at the sky.
I used to do it all the time as a child.
Living in the city, I don't get a chance to do this often, but I went to visit a friend in Woodend, and we visited the Macedon Reservoir.
We walked into the bush.
This is my friend's happy place. She led me down to the water, where we set up a picnic blanket. She went for a swim. I lay down and looked at the sky.
And I relished the feeling of being connected to nature. The knowledge that I was completely grounded. The only thing I would have wanted different was to be lying on fresh green grass. It's too dry for that at the moment. Lying directly on grass, maybe with a dog sniffing around the place. A bit more time would have been good too. Grass and a bit more time would have made a lovely afternoon perfect.
I was talking to a nice gentleman last night. It's not something I do often. But we've been chatting for a week or so and he's not creeped me out as yet. We're respectful of each other's time. He appears to be a good egg. He's not too far away (Like in Armadale, not somewhere like Caroline Springs or Officer).
Other good things, in my eyes. Never married. No kids. Educated. Likes reading. Active. Oh, and Greek. But not too Greek, if you get what I mean.
We chatted for a good minutes
We might go for a drink over Easter.
Another good thing. I'm going into this with no expectations. If we end up having a pleasant drink, and that's it, all is well. If we become friends even better. If you come away from all interactions with your sense of self intact, it's been a good.
Going in with no or low expectations is good. You don’t come away, disappointed.
“It’s not like we’re in our 20s and 30s any more.”
“True.”
“Think of the shit we used to get up to.”
“I think I prefer it now. I’ve got a lot more self-respect.”
It's like I've been one of those long-term relationships where in some ways you're being gaslit by a skilled, charming narcissist for many, many years, only to wonder how you're going to get out of the arrangement with some pride and dignity. They're forever telling you that they're your best option.
They're not.
And maybe 15 years ago they were.
But times have moved on, plans and companies have move on and there are better options. And I've been a bit stubborn and lazy and never really bothered to get the cheapest plan. I'm also in need of reliable, fast telecommunications.
And give them their due, Telstra, despite being rip-off merchants, do provide a reliable service.
I'm also wanting to stay on the Telstra network for my mobile coverage. Travelling as much as I do, it's the best network for coverage. When my parents were living out the back of Myponga, it was the only network that had any reach. I still feel more secure with the Telstra network. There are plenty of decent options.
A colleague gave me some advice about breaking up with Telstra. Make the move just before your post-pay account is nearly up. They won't give you any money back - or they'll make you wait months to get it back.
Then there's the modem question. Do you get a new one, stay with the one I have, or bring your own?
There's also the problem with the email account. Stupidly, bravely, I've had used a Telstra email account for years. Transitioning onto another account will take time. I'll have to go have a talk to Telstra about moving things over to another account - or keeping it - but a small cost.
Like all well-considered breakups, this will take a little time. The decision is made. It's now a matter of making preparations to leave - just like separating from an abusive partner.
That, by the end of everything, I hope to be saving $50 a month, never a bad thing.
I went and got a MMR booster today. Yes, that's right, a Measles, Mumps and Rubella booster.
"Eh, didn't you have all that as a kid?" you ask.
Well, I've got no proof of vaccination, though I'm sure I may have had the jabs. Mum was good with that stuff.
I know I've had the mumps. They thought I may have had rubella as a baby, but I know I never had the measles.
And measles is making a resurgence. Yes, there's been an outbreak in Texas in the States. But measles is all over the place. And it's nasty. It can stuff you up for months. And it can kill you. Nasty, nasty, nasty disease.
Being somebody who travels a bit, it makes sense to keep up the protection.
Having no documented evidence that I've had the jabs is another reason to get this.
Just the one jab ensures 93% protection regardless of whether you've had the jabs before.
And currently Victoria has a 91% vaccine take up on the measles vaccinations. We need 93% to have herd immunity.
Vaccinations are free if you're in any of the categories below.
Immunisation is the best protection against measles, mumps, rubella and chickenpox. It is important to know that it is safe for children with egg allergies to receive the MMRV vaccine.
Protection against measles, mumps, rubella and chickenpox is available under the National Immunisation Program Schedule.
In Victoria, immunisation against these diseases is free of charge for:
children at 12 months – the first immunisation is given as the MMR combination vaccine
children at 18 months of age – the second immunisation is given as the MMRV combination vaccine
young people up to and including 19 years of age who have not been fully immunised – young people can receive free National Immunisation Program catch-up vaccines
women planning pregnancy or after the birth of their child – two doses of MMR are available for women who have low immunity or no immunity to rubella
refugees and humanitarian entrants over 20 years of age – catch-up immunisations with MMR are available for people who have not been fully immunised
people born during or since 1966, without evidence of two documented doses of valid MMR vaccine or without a blood test showing evidence of immunity to measles, mumps and rubella, are eligible for one or two doses of MMR vaccine. (If two MMR doses are required they should be given a minimum of 28 days apart.) If you have not received the vaccine, ask your doctor or immunisation provider about catch-up doses.
Note: The MMRV combination vaccine is not recommended for people aged 14 years and over. From 14 years of age people require the MMR vaccine and a separate chickenpox vaccine.
I know that there's vaccine skepticism and burnout, especially after COVID, but to me, this was a no brainer.
It's Sunday Night, so it's time to do the Sunday Stealing questions.
1. Do you own a pair of cargo pants?
No.
2. Which of these gifts from a romantic partner would please you most: a) jewelry, b) wine, c) a book, d) something grown in his/her garden?
I love being given books, and or music. I don't wear much jewellery, I rarely drink wine and I hate gardening, although the cat does need a new spider plant to munch on.
3. Who was the last person to toss a harsh word or phrase your way? Do you think that maybe you had it coming?
I can't think of anything of late. I try to live a quiet life and leave only footprints.
4. Did you appear in any plays back when you were in school? If yes, what role(s) did you play? Earn extra, non-existent points for sharing any of your dialog.
Theatre wasn't a big thing when I was at school. I played flute in the band, but that was it. In Year Eight. Also in Year Eight I was a member of the Salvation Army in the school production of Guys and Dolls. I still know all the songs and was tempted to go up to Sydney to see a performance on the Harbour.
5. Which Osmond do you like better: Donny or Marie?
I don't have any real opinion on them other than they look a bit too nice and they have too many teeth.
6. Who is your favorite radio host or podcaster?
I'm not really a radio listener and I don't partake in that many podcasts. I do like Malcolm Gladwell's Revisionist History podcast, and Hedley Thomas's The Teacher's Pet podcast was superlative.
7. Is your personal workspace filled with fluffy, plastic wind-up, rubbery or edible items? Or are you all business and clutter free?
My workspace at home is my dining room table. It's messy and cluttered and filled with water bottles and hair bands.
I’m pretty tired, but that’s to be expected. Thankfully, I got quite a bit of sleep on them Darwin leg of the trip home.
Lucifer has been collected and is asleep on my office chair. He’s been quite cuddly, but he was also cuddly with my friends who looked after him for the last week.
But as I cannot get to my computer to write because there’s a cat on my chair, I think I might go to bed.
And once again, I’ll be flying through the night, only this time I’m stopping off in Sydney before going back to Melbourne. This time just for an hour.
I find it strange that this place has become my second home. I know longer complain about the weather. I know when to put on my work thongs. Everybody needs Work thumbs up here. I like that it’s friendly. I’m glad I can find decent coffee.
And I really wish Melbourne wasn’t going through an Indian Summer for the next week. I would really love if it was under 20° in Melbourne for the next couple of weeks.
Something you don’t see as much of in Darwin, is dogs.
It’s too hot. Dogs stay at home in the pool or in the garden where they have lots of water and shade and love and attention. Mind you at sunrise and Sunset owners will take their dogs out for a walk.
Which is where I met Niffler today.
Walking out of the office there was a scruffy man with a huge dog. It looked like a mastiff Rottweiler cross. He was on a lead. He was Brindle in colour. He was absolutely gorgeous even if he could double for a horse.
I was stopped in my tracks.
Of course I was going to stare at the dog. He was beautiful.
His owner must’ve seen something in mr because he asked if I would like to give Niffler a pat.
Of course I would, I told him. I would never pay a dog without asking permission first.
The fellow then turned to his dog and asked if he would like a pet from the nice lady.
He walked over to me, on my feet and put his head under my hand.
Bliss.
I will get my cat back on the weekend and I will be back in order. For the meantime, I will just have to go up at the occasional hound.
Darwin has become a second home of sorts, and nowhere is it more apparent than when I turn up to the silent book club which is held at a local bar on a Wednesday evening.
It’s so good to have a community, when you’re not in your own community.
There are some familiar faces now. Or maybe I’m the occasional familiar face.
After getting my drink and a bowl of chips, I sat down in the beautifully air-conditioned room and started to chat with my colleague who first invited me along. There was another girl there who I’ve seen before. I love her green hair. I could never carry it off..
Somehow, we got talking about pronouns. As a cis-gender, middle-aged, straight woman who uses she/her pronouns I’m about his vanilla as you get. My Veridian-haired new mate said that she uses a mix of she/her/they/we.
‘We?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I’ve just been diagnosed with them multiple personality disorder. I’m learning to come out as a we. I’m just trying it on at the moment.’
‘Wow. I’m honoured that you’re sharing that with me’
‘It’s all good,’ she said.
‘I’m still honoured you’re discussing this with me.’
‘It’s cool. You’re a safe person. I feel very safe with you.’
I’m still very chuffed about that.
The next little conversation I had was at the end of silent book club, when we break the silence and start to talk about our books. I got to talk about mine fairly early. I’m currently reading My Brilliant Sister by Amy Brown. I explained how this was a follow on from Miles Franklin’s My Brilliant Career.
There was a young girl who followed me. Her first words were ‘As I’m not allowed to read anything pretentious, I’m reading this fantasy trash.’
As somebody who tends to read more highbrow books, I didn’t quite know how to take this. She was very cool. She was there with her mum, and loves reading and is studying arts down in Melbourne.
She told me after that she had to read tripe to counterbalance when she has been caught reading Alan Ginsberg on the tram.
I had to laugh at that.
I also told her that she really should get onto Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five and prepared to have her mind blown.
I loved her spunk.
But most of all, I love that in many ways when I’m up here, I feel like I’m home. I never thought I would say that.
Darwin is approaching the Dry which is to be expected, but it still surprises.
This morning, I woke, only to go out on the balcony and notice a decided chill in the air.
When I say chill, I mean it was around 22 degrees, with a calming breeze and less humidity in the air. It was wonderful.
Arriving at work, the first thing that was said to me. "It feels like the dry. Better break out the cardigan."
It's not cold enough for a cardigan, but the unrelenting humidity has lessened.
But then, just as I was about to leave work this afternoon, it was bucketing down. Raining heavily enough that I went and put my work thongs on to go and have a pedicure. (Shout out to Dragon Nails on Cavanagh Street. They're lovely).
And the night before, I spent an hour sitting on the balcony watching distant thunderstorms.
As a well-known weather nerd, Darwin is great for weather.
As this is my third wet-season up here, I hate to say it, but I've got used to it.
I got into Darwin at 1:30 am. My bag was one of the first off of the plane, and then it took me half an hour to secure an Uber to the hotel. This is not unusual in Darwin as all of the planes turn up at the same time. Unless you are really lucky, and find that the cab rank is empty, there is no point trying to wait for a cab.
I got into my hotel room at 2:20 am.
After unpacking, drinking the can of non-alcoholic beer that was in the fridge, and jumping under the shower to clean off the flight, I made it into bed at 3 am.
The sun woke me up at 7 am.
Anyway, I am cactus, I am watching MAFS, And then I’m off to bed.
I've largely disconnected from news about the upcoming election because 1) I know how I'm voting and 2) if I have to see another Clive Palmer ad on the telly I'm going to throw a brick at it.
Also, remember that I can have noisy politics, but I'm trying to be restrained. Noisy politics can be boring for other people, of this I am very aware.
But I will say, yesterday, as I was in Caulfield, I really wish I had a texta / sharpie / permanent marker (whatever you want to call them).
You see, walking along Bambra Road, I spot this.
This man has a punchable face. His face is almost as punchable as Peter Dutton's.
Horrible human being.
But then there you go.
And this is not Blockers Road, Myponga in the 1980s where there are very few cars and you could quite happily deface Alexander Downer's election posters with cow dung or by draping fishnet stockings over them. This was pristine, well-to-do conservative Caulfield. In the middle of the day. You don't deface posters in the middle of the day on a busy road.
And, if you deface a LNP poster, like warts and grey hairs, three more will pop up in their place.
So, instead of throwing good money after bad and pouring coffee over dear old Dim Tim, I restrained myself. (Yes, I know that was the name for another Liberal politician, but he was in the State Government and then got booked for drunk driving after being on a crusade about government standards and he since has crawled back from under the rock from whence he came.)
Anyway, I'm going to do here what I wanted to do yesterday, but as I'm a good woman, I refrained.
Do you like this look?
Or this one?
Or this one?
Or, of course, there is the gold standard in defacing political posters.
But I'm a grown up.
I don't deface political posters anymore.
(Thankfully, I'm not in the electorate of Goldstein. If I was I'd be handing out how to vote cards for the standing Teal member. She's grouse. Not some middle-aged white dude with delusions of grandeur.)
I'll get these out of the way early, all the while packing for tomorrow night's trip back to Darwin. The cat has been deposited at his second home (where he is loved and has found a place in the cupboard, where he seems to like to sit) and my place feels very empty. Never to mind, I'll be back in a week.
Questions have been supplied, as always, by the Sunday Stealing site.
1) What's the longest you've gone without sleep?
About 24 hours. That was a long time ago. Thankfully I can function on only a little sleep, as I will be proving on Monday when I get into Darwin at 1.30 in the morning, then being due at work around 8 a.m. What fun!
2) What was the highlight of your last week?
Last week was a pretty unremarkable week. I got some cuddles off my cat. That was nice. I've been gently chatting to a fellow on the apps. That was nice. Work wise, I got a handful of documents we're been working on through all of the checks and balances. That felt good. And I went to the gym a couple of times. It was a quiet sort of week.
3) You have to give a 10-minute speech to a group of high school students. What's your topic?
I think it would have a title of something like. "You're not going to listen to me, but back yourself, and start doing it now." It would be a lesson in resilience.
4) What is the single best decision you've ever made in your life?
That would be moving to England in 1991. It formed how I live my life. And I grew up very quickly.
5) If you could ask a coworker, friend or family member a question and be guaranteed an honest answer, who would you choose and what would you ask?
I really have no idea about this one. It is no business of mine what other people think of me. It took me a long time to work this one out and I don't want to go back.
If I had to ask anything, it would probably be something superficial like, "Does my bum look big in this?" or "Is my hair looking okay from the back?"
6) Do you cook for yourself when you're home alone?
Yes. Normally simple stuff, but I do cook for myself. I live with a cat. He's not going to cook for me.
7) Do you most often access the internet from your computer, your phone, or your smart watch?
I'd say that I access the internet about the same on my phone and laptop. Depends where I am and what I'm doing. I can't access the internet from my watch, other than a few basic apps. (e.g. the weather and a bit of music.)
8) Do you have more email addresses or phone numbers?
Although I have two phone numbers, there isn't a phone attached to the landline, so really, I have one functioning phone.
I've got about four working emails, five if you count my work email. There's the one that gets the most traffic, an old Hotmail account, my writerly ID gmail account and one I use for anonymously stalking people under another name. The last one rarely gets used, but it's good for covering your tracks.
9) What's the biggest source of anger in your life right now?
There's one situation, but I'm not going to talk about that here.
The situation with the Trump Administration makes my blood boil - and I'm not even American. We have an election in a month and seeing Clive Palmer on the telly all the time makes me want to throw bricks at him. He's a multi-millionaire who wants Australia to mimic America and the autocratic rule we're seeing at the moment. We see through him.
Oh, and for those interested, with our elections in Australia:
Voting is compulsory. You get fined if you don't show up. You don't have to actually vote, but you need to get your name marked off. There is nothing stopping you writing "Mickey Mouse for Prez" on your ballot paper and leaving it at that.
Voting is done by pen and paper.
We only vote for whichever part is up for election at the time (Federal, State and Local elections are completely separate)
We don't vote for things like judges, dog catchers, school boards etc.
Voting is done on a proportional representational basis.
We have an Upper and Lower House - think Congress and House of Representatives.
Our Senators have an eight-year term. The House of Representatives are elected every three years.
At every election there are a multitude of scrutineers overseeing the count. None of these voting machines. Pen and paper all the way. Normally the scrutineers come from the three major parties.
Generally, you don't have to show your ID to vote, though they can ask for ID if they so wish.
To change the Constitution, they have to hold a referendum, For a referendum to be successful and the alteration to the constitution to be passed, a double majority vote must be achieved, which is: a majority of voters in a majority of states (at least four of the six states) a national majority of voters (an overall YES vote of more than a 50 per cent).
When you register to vote, you are not identified by the party you tend to vote for (e.g. you're not seen as a Republican or a Democrat, you're just a voter.)
And if you turn up to a polling booth on Election Day and not buy and eat a charity sausage, you're seen as unAustralian. (I tend to vote early, get it out of the way.)
And here is a little video about the Democracy Sausage. Seriously, this happens across the country.
If you have to vote, you may as well make it fun. You're only going to end up with a politician, you may as well enjoy yourself when you're in line waiting to do your civic duty.
10) Mondays make me feel _________________.
a little despondent as I would rather be in bed still and I have to go to work.
Who has been in them? Why weren't they straightened? What did they feel like? What were you doing in them? Did the person who laundered them use fabric softener? What was the thread count?
And yes, these were the sheets on the massage table after I had a session the other night.
We live in a city of colour, vibrancy, where even a mundane laneway is transformed by colour, yet kept earthbound by an eponymous shopping trolley in the foreground.
There is no stink of piss, no needle fodder, no rubbish, no graffiti. Just a clean laneway and a Tuesday afternoon, well-kept and quiet.
It goes against the grain of inner-city laneway code of Melbourne.
Bourke Street. Tuesday,7.30 p.m. Twilight colours. Emerging lights. A sneaky Maccas. A last laneway meal before winter drives us indoors. Leaves cling to the branches. The ding of an approaching tram. Delivery bikes scarper across the road like cockroaches.
The car is parked easily. The mail is collected. A quick trip.
I live in a city. I have a post office box. This is the price of identity security.
Why? I want to spend some time writing fiction and this will be my compromise. Not blogging.
Okay, maybe not so much not blogging, but not writing on the blog so much. I'll still do the Sunday Questions and film and theatre reviews, and the odd bit of commentary, but for the next month or so I'll post a song of the day and a photo, just to keep the streak, and that will be that.
I might put a word count for the novel down the bottom, for accountabilities sake.
I mean, I've posted daily since the first of January 2020. It's a big ask. I want to keep the streak going.
So, I'm just changing mediums for a bit so I can get some more of this novel written.
Sound like a plan?
And this will be better than bleating on about how much I hate people who don't know how to do hook turns. I nearly got cleaned up going down Collins Street tonight. And I've only just had the car fixed.
