It’s supposed to be about 30 and dry during the day and it goes down to about 17 or 18 at night.
It’s not.
Currently, here in Darwin, the humidity is sitting at around 70% and it’s not getting much under 22° at night. It’s not right.
It feels like an early build up, when it never rains And it’s horribly humid and everybody gets grumpy.
It’s just not right.
Even so, it’s still very nice having half a dozen oysters and a can of beer before fish and chips on the wharf. Being so humid, the walk home is a little bit slower, but that’s okay..
Still, I wish it was a classic dry season
At least the pool was a little bit warmer than it was the other week.
Leaving work and meeting up with your favourite horse-shaped dog is even better.
I love it when I spot Riggs.
Riggs has equine genes. He's song sort of mastiff-cross. Short-haired, brindle coated and not an animal you'd want to see on the other side of a fence which you're trying to jump. He looks a bit mean. His owner is rather scruffy. And he often takes him for a walk at the time I'm escaping from the office. He also says that he's the best guard dog he's ever owned.
We've seen each other a few times now. I get all mushy, because it's a dog and I like to say hello to every dog I meet in the street (and cat, horse... you name the animal, I'm there) .
Last night on leaving the office, Riggs and his owner we're walking down the footpath.
I stopped.
"You, again."
"Yep."
"Do you want a pat?"
"Only if he's amenable."
He spoke to Riggs. "Do you want a pat off the nice lady?"
And Riggs walks over and leaned against my legs, looked up at me and demanded pats.
We went back to the place we last saw him. Deck One. On the wharf. It was a dryer night than tonight, maybe a better, more spectacular sunset. It was the three of us. Tonight, there were two.
We talked about him, and how much he was missed. We skated over what happened, or why it happened. There's no point asking those questions. It is what is. He's not here anymore. Simples.
Doesn't mean we don't feel him about the place, or still talk to him, often berating him for passing without any due notice. Mind you, he'd probably like that. We just hope, whatever happened, was quick and as painless as possible.
I know he'd be berating me for listening to Wendy Matthews tonight. "Come on Panda, pony up, give it some wellie. What about King Stingray... or Amyl and the Sniffers? You can do better than Wendy Matthews.
Well, they played Xavier Rudd and The Church at your funeral, I'd hit back at him.
He would have approved of the meal. Some light tapas. Prawns (have to say, I've had better, but I love my seafood). A lovely scallop ceviche. Arancini. Corn ribs, which I like to think you'd be as bemused by as me - but they were a highlight. This was washed down with a Bloody Mary for me and a glass of wine for Elle. We toasted you. We remembered you. And we hope you know just how bloody mad we are that you're not about anymore.
But it's a contemplative song for a contemplative day.
There's no tears, just a lingering sadness from what happens when somebody is taken well before their time. We've had a year to get used to your absence.
Tomorrow I'll get out the harder rock. Tonight, it's Wendy Matthews.
Tomorrow, I might put on Talking Heads This Must Be the Place and remember driving down the Stuart Highway with it playing on the radio, singing along gently, smiling at the glorious weather.
Just know that Darwin is infused with you. You're always just around the corner, at the bar, on the dancefloor, at the Deckie, down the Cav, at 1995 getting a coffee, with your Yeti in hand, greeting the baristas by name. We can feel you, even if we can't see you. The Darwin Festival starts next week. We know you're bummed to miss it.
We gently celebrated you tonight.
We know, wherever you are, that you're free. And happy.
My flight was the last one out of the Melbourne Qantas terminal last night. We were also delayed half an hour. There were nice tail winds to take some time off the flight. I got to the hotel at 2:30 ACST (Or 3 am AEST)
This means I got to bed at about 3.15 this morning. Or 3:45 if you’re using Melbourne time.... (This is a thing - whenever you're up here you have to clarify what time zone you're talking about - heaven hiep if you have a colleague in Brisbane, Perth or Adelaide during the wet season - one country, five time zones).
I’m trying to look at things from a positive point of view.
The gee-whiz-you-beaut Neck pillow that I bought the other week allowed me to have around 2 1/2 hours sleep on the plane. I got to work at 9 am and I was reasonably compos mentis. My body didn’t feel too bad, thanks to the neck pillow.
However…
The Darwin crew were coming back from a long weekend, as they had Show Day on Friday. The air conditioning is not on in the office during this time. We're used to turning up on Monday morning to a hot office.
I arrived to start work at 9 am. Not bad for just under four hours of sleep.
Oh, and did I tell you that Darwin is in the middle of some unseasonally humid weather. Instead of it being lovely and dry, it's wet and sticky. It feels like the Buildup, which normally occurs from late September to December. When I walked out of the airport yesterday morning, the lure of the Uber was strong. It was hot and sticky.
Regardless, the office, at 9 am, was stiflingly hot.
Another good thing. The room I normally work in has its own, independent air conditioning unit, normally set somewhere between fridge and freezer.
Outside of this smallish office, people were wilting.
You could hear the air conditioning trying to work, but it was failing miserably.
There was also a big wigs meeting in the room from 9-11. We had to wilt out with the rest of the office.
They started to send people home. It was about 35 degrees in the office according to people's trackers.
Normally, when you go into the un-airconditioned toilets, they're a few degrees warmer that the office area. Today, we went to the bathrooms for respite.
I believe the job has been raised to have the air conditioning fixed. (Having the aircon break down is also a regular occurence)
I'm also happy I got a seat in the air conditioned part of the office after the management meeting was over.
And as for the humid weather, well, it's heated up the pool a bit. Rather than being almost too chilly to swim in, I got 30 lengths in after work.
And back in my room, I'm starting my 100 push-ups challenge.
10 days. 100 push-ups.
Yeah,,,, nah..... Too tired tonight. It's been a long day.
When evaluating a film I think about a couple of things. Did I fall asleep? Did I enjoy it? Were some things better than others? Does it have a place in popular culture.
Thankfully, I didn't fall asleep during The Fantastic Four: First Steps, but I'm coming to this review with some reservations.
This is the fourth Fantastic Four film they've made in the last twenty years - and probably this is the best one. It's also there to set up the next found of Marvel films, with a new set of Avengers coming out next year (We've already seen Thunderballs (The New Avengers) and the promise of a new breed of superheroes.
I'm also told that this is not one for the purists. If you were into the comics as a kid, this one probably isn't for you.
Here's what I liked about the film.
First up, rather than a full origins story, this film jumps in with the Fantastic Four already being established with their superpowers after a botched flight into space. Reed Richards (Pedro Pascal) is already married to Sue Storm (Vanessa Kirby). Sue's brother Johnny (Joseph Quinn) and Ben Grimm (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) make up the four. They all have their special powers and they're still saving the world from all sorts of baddies.
When a silver creature from out of space Shalla-Bal (Julia Garner), also known as the Silver Surfer comes to tell the world that they are set for annihilation, the four go after her and find an even bigger baddie in her place. Oh, and Sue's pregnant too.
The script is, frankly, rather silly, but it's a Marvel movie - do you think you're going to get Shakespeare?
But, on the great side of this, the aesthetic of this film in extraordinary. Set in the 60s, the film shows a Jetsons-like. The costumes and sets are fantastic. A visual feast. Along with the CGI action is also fantastic. This is a film best seen on the big screen so you can get the full effect.
And sure Matt Shakman's direction keeps everything running along nicely, making the best of the so-so script, but it's the cast's dedication to the movie which needs to be congratulated.
Pedro Pascal is always a joy to watch. Vanessa Kirby is far too pretty for her own good. Joseph Quinn is a pretty good funny man to a well described Ebon Moss-Bachrach (which is a pity because he's hot) . And Julia Warner is rather alluring in her silver suit.
In all, this is a Marvel Movie. It's certainly not as good as some, not as bad as others. For me, the aesthetics won me over. This movie is a visual feast, even if the script is a bit thin.
I need to get the Sunday Stealing questions out while the cat calms down. He's going over to his trusty other parents because I'm heading out on a work trip tomorrow night. It's easier to catch him when he's having a nap. He's currently sitting in the windowsill next to me.
1) You're on a trip taking a tour through the jungle. You have a backpack with some food, first aid supplies, a pocketknife, a flashlight and a couple bottles of water. Somehow, you get separated from your group. By night fall you haven't found your group and haven't heard them looking for you. How long do you think you would be able to survive on your own?
I'm a bit more resilient than I think I am. I'm from Generation X - we have all these skills we acquired when we were growing up that are hidden deep in our brains. I reckon I'd be good for a few days at least. It's the great thing about being from Generation X - we know how to survive - and kill the expedition leader when we meet up again without leaving any traces.
2) Do you think it's okay to lie to spare someone's feelings? Why?
Most of the time, no, but there are occasions when a lie by omission will spare somebody's feelings when they are really fragile. But for the most part, I'd say don't lie. You get caught and it's more trouble than it's worth.
3) If a talking doll were made to resemble you, what 3 phrases would it say?
Poor doll.
The doll would have an Adelaide accent and would say things like, "Awesome!" in an overly sarcastic tone. It would also say, "Yeah...nah..." again, with a sense of irony. It would also say, "You're having a laugh..." this time with a British/Cockney accent, because it's something that I say.
4) If the super-power to be able to read minds at will was possible, do you think it would be... cool and helpful, intrusive and wrong, manipulative or maddening?
I think it would be intrusive and wrong, although for some people, like people in power, it would be good to actually hear what they are thinking. For the most part you have absolutely no reason to know what people are thinking. It's better that way.
5) Are drunk confessions things people can't bring themselves to say sober or just the crazy ramblings of an influenced and intoxicated mind?
A bit of both. In vino veritas and all that - but some people are blithering idiots when they're drunk. You have to be the right amount of drunk to get the truth out.
The Play: Mother Play a play in five evictions by Paula Vogel
The Company: The Melbourne Theatre Company
The Theatre: The Southbank Theatre
Until 9 August
Stars: 4
I love going into a play blind and coming out amazed and delighted.
Mother Play is one of those plays. So far, the Melbourne Theatre Company has served up some wonderful theatre in this year's season, but this is up there with the best of them.
According to the MTC website, "It’s 1962 and Martha and Carl are unpacking. Again. Since their deadbeat dad ditched them and stole the family’s savings, they’ve been following their fierce mother Phyllis from apartment to apartment. Cockroaches, landlords and snooty neighbours be damned. Phyllis is determined to live life on her terms. They’re moving on up."
The thing is Martha (Yael Stone) and Carl (Ash Flanders) aren't the children Phyllis (Sigrid Thornton) signed up for. It's not the life that Phyllis signed up for, and over the play's hour and 50 minutes, we see the family lurch from flat to flat, uncomfortable situation to another difficult situation.
It's fantastic.
Firstly, the performances of the three characters were superb. Sigrid Thornton was an absolute delight as the dreadful Phyllis. I say this in that Phyllis was the quintessential Boomer mother with little idea about the emotional needs of her children. At the start of the play, she was portrayed as being in her 30s - self-absorbed, drunk and emotionally abusive. Things didn't really improve for the family. Son Carl, a young, closeted gay man tries his best to keep things on an even keel while giving Martha some of the love and stability she needs. Ash Flanders and Yael Stone are superb in this as the siblings age over five decades, spending their time packing and unpacking the family.
Paula Vogel's play is semi-autobiographical. It's also heartfelt, raw and very real. Lee Lewis's direction is sensitive, but gritty, giving all of the characters in the play nuanced depth.
I also loved the costumes and the sets, which add even more reality to the play. Phyllis's wardrobe is incredible and worth the ticket price alone.
There is so much more to say about this play. The season has been extended to 9 August, which gives Melbourne more time to see some fantastic, thought-provoking theatre. T
This will go down as one of the better plays the MTC puts out this year.
I stumbled across this show on Prime called Shiny Happy People.
So far, I've taken in the first season - I'm not halfway through the second.
And we wonder why America is in the state it's in.
Jaysus (the expletive, not the deity).
The first series looks at the Duggar Family. Their fame was they were a family of 19 kids named Joshua, Jana, John-David, Jill, Jessa, Jinger, Joseph, Josiah, Joy-Anna, Jedidiah, Jeremiah, Jason, James, Justin, Jackson, Johannah, Jennifer, Jordyn-Grace and Josie.
Yeah. If you picked up a magazine in the dentist's office over the past 20 years, you might have seen some of their stories.
Fast forward fifteen years, the eldest son in still in prison for child pornography offences and the family is fractured.
The show also provides a lot of information about these fundamentalist Christian organisation.
And the home schooling... oh my.
The second series looks at a Ministry that recruited teenagers to be the foot soldiers of the Lord. It's frightening, frightening stuff.
It gives a very interesting look into an America we don't get to see.
It's the day we found out that Ozzie Osborne is no more.
I reckon he would have been a pretty good bloke. Okay, I'd avoid him in his early days - too doped up for my liking back then, but once he got clean, he'd be fun to hang about with - in small doses. I found his Brummie accent rather soothing. May he be hanging out with Bowie and Alan Rickman and Prince having a whale of a time. Heaven's go itself a one off.
Yesterday, I found a letter at my door. Presently, they are sorting out the front fence and gates as the old ones were falling apart. The lovely big trees are gone, as are the letterboxes for the foreseeable future. All mail is now sent to Flat One and the resident distributes the mail on a weekly basis.
Last night there was a letter on my doorstep.
My lovely friend Kaz had sent me over some Black Cat badges (the two at the back). It was only a few weeks after my downstairs neighbour dropped me off a couple of black cat badges, and some other badges that another friend gifted me.
There's quite a collection now.
I don't have any idea why people give them to me.
I just have to work out where I'm going to wear them.
The reframing continues as I come to terms with this diagnosis. Social anxiety. There's a reason I have it. I don’t want to go out. I never want to go out. The diagnosis means I don't feel as bad about it.
But we must do what we must do. My clothes are changed and I dab on some make up, ready for the evening.
Besides, I don’t see these women very often. Christmas in July with the Dream Group. I don’t think we have been in the dream group for about 10 years, yet we still meet up twice a year.
Like swimming, and the gym, and many things, I tell myself that I will enjoy it when I get there and push on through.
But the trek down Chapel Street seemed long and arduous. The pub is only 5 km away, but when you’re stuck behind a tram, it feels like forever. To make things worse, it had started to rain.
Chapel Street has changed. It feels like it wants to be a high end, but it's just failing. Mixed in with the boutiques and market chain stores are vape shops. An outlet where you can buy American sweets. Chain fast food staples butt up against the odd Teppanyaki and açai bowl shopfronts. Once you cross Comnercial Road, a bit more class seems to seep in. Although the luxury brands are no longer there, there is a very good op shop and some interesting bars with interesting foods and concepts. It feels more real.
I make my way to the pub. I’m almost on time. Parking at the back of the hotel, I’m forced to walk through the pokey section to reach the front bar. It smells of farts, stale sweat and cigarette smoke and despair. A concentrated old man smell. The rest of the pub smells much fresh. We know this pub. The food is good. This is our six-monthly haunt.
And I did enjoy myself when I got there. There were six of us. It was lovely to see everybody and try to put the world to rights, even if half the time we talked about our cats.
It sounds strange to say that you've got a favourite app on your phone.
There are so many to choose from.
And mine is not Instagram, or Facebook. The Bureau of Meteorology app gets a daily bashing. There are banking apps and finance apps and the odd game.
Duolingo is also used daily for about 20 minutes. I'm on a 1050 day streak and my French isn't too bad.
My favourite app, however, is one called Minutiae. Click the link to find out more.
According to the blurb, it's an anti-social app.
One a day, at any given time, the app will tell you to take a picture. You have 30 seconds to do this. It's a real "don't think, just do" arrangement.
There is no sharing, no likes, no hashtags, no nothing. The photo is stored on the app. The aim is, over 1440 days, accounting for each second in a given day, you will have a unique document of you and your time. When you take your photo you can see five other people's photos - but they're just a name and place - no other contact can be made from this app.
All of this appeals to me.
I tend to turn off my location services.
But a creative outlet that doesn't have to be shared and makes me look at the world differently.
The Performance: Echo: Every Cold-Hearted Oxygen by Nassim Soleimanpour
The Theatre: The Malthouse
Until: 19 July (Production has ended)
This is also playing in Canberra from 24-26 July at the Canberra Theatre Centre
Stars: 5
I booked a cheap seat on a whim. It looked interesting. A concept piece, which is something the Malthouse Theatre is known for. They are great for the avant-garde and cutting-edge theatre. Why not, I thought. I'm in Melbourne, I liked the sound of the production.
I don't mind going into a performance blind.
And I will be thinking about this one for a long time to come. Not only because of what went down on stage, but how this performance of Echo: Every Cold-Hearted Oxygen views the world as well as challenging your view of the world. It makes you challenge your views and feelings about home.
The concept is this. Over the week of the production, eight different actors are put on stage. They are unrehearsed. They are explicitly told not to research the performance. They know that this will have aspects of multi-media, but that's about it. They are also told to bring along a pair of white socks - that is their only preparation. Random, heh?
For the Malthouse performances the performers were:
Michelle Brasier
Ben Lawford
Stan Grant
Pia Miranda
Jan Fran
David Campbell
Nadine Garner
The cast for the Canberra performances include Benjamin Law, Nathalie Morris, Fayssal Bazzi and Paula Arundel.
I caught the Saturday Matinee with David Campbell. Why this one, other than the timing? I have David Campbell in my living room most mornings as he's on the Today Show and he's easy background noise. Though not an actor's actor, he can command a stage. And I would have gone and seen any one of these actors.
According to the Malthouse website, the show goes like this:
"Every night, a new performer takes to the stage not knowing what is going to be asked of them. Unrehearsed and deliberately unprepared, the script becomes their only guide as they journey through the story of the playwright, connected live from his home in Berlin. (Or is he?)"
When David Campbell came on, he said he was up for a challenge. He was nervous. He remembered his socks. The only other piece of equipment on him was a mike and earpiece in his left ear. There was an assistant stage manager around to ferry about the odd prop.
Then the magic happens. It's all about trust. Trust in the actor, the playwright and the audience.
On stage, there is a table, a laptop, a tripod on which sits a phone-sized camera, a couple of screens and a small Persian carpet. All have a role to play in this.
We also get to meet Nassim, through the laptop, who takes us on his journey. Nassim is a German Iranian, having left Iran, he is now based in Germany with his wife, and dog, Echo.
What got to me is that you never knew where this was going to go. It explores the concept of home, and how we see home. Connection, and how we are connected. It explores time, and how it blends and melds. Nassim describes time as a bridge over a fast-flowing river, with either side of the river being the past and the future. Nassim gives us an introduction to his life through the unprepared actor on stage.
I will not say much more for fear of ruining this for people seeing it in the future. I will say that it's cutting-edge theatre that makes you think and feel. I walked away with tear in my eyes.
The other thing I really wanted to do was sit down to talk to David Campbell (or any of the performers) and see what the experience was like from their point of view. There have been comments left on social media saying that if they wanted to see something that was unrehearsed, they'd go to their kids' school plays. Although this was unrehearsed it wasn't unscripted, and it could be argued that the actors were prepared. They had the courage to put themselves out there and helped to deliver a thought-provoking, genre bending performance.
I feel very honoured to have seen this. If you're in Canberra next week, beg, borrow, steal or buy a ticket. It's remarkable.
I’ve taken a long weekend - okay, the doctor signed me off on Friday as she wanted me to relax to try and get my blood pressure down. I had a lovely day. Today I saw an extraordinary piece of theatre and went to an art gallery, and my blood pressure is down around the realms of normal. Yay.
Now it’s time to get the questions out the way, provided, as always, provided by Sunday Stealing.
1. My bestie and I once ...
…Took his infant son and went and played games on the Southend-on-Sea esplanade. The boy was less than a year old, and we rugged him up and went and played mini golf, as well as a lot of other games. It was a really daggy day after which, we had lunch at the pub. We had to ask the barman to warm up the child’s bottle and their microwave, while we had a beer and some chips. In our defense, we had taken the train there and back. Said child, is now 27 years old and has a PhD. It can’t have done him too much harm. I do like how the English take their kids to the pub every now and then.
2. When I'm nervous ...
…I babble more than I normally do. I’ve recently been diagnosed with ADHD, and most of my emotions tend to be internal rather than outward facing, but I do get very chatty when I’m nervous.
3. My hair ...
….Is not as long as it used to be, nor as thick as it used to be, and I have to get my temples and hairline coloured in every six weeks. I still like having it long. I’m a Leo. We need our manes.
4. When I turn to the left, I see ...
… my cat sitting on my office chair. I would like to sit on my office chair and be typing this on my laptop which is on the table instead of dictating this into the phone, but the cat is on my chair and it’s not up to me to move him.I do have the heater going in my bedroom and I have put a hot water bottle under his blankey. Do not tell me that my cat is spoiled. If you own a cat, you know this is what you do.
5. My favorite aunt ...
…died a couple of years ago at the age of 94. She was my mother’s sister and one of my most favourite people on the planet. She was a midwife for most of her life. Very practical. She didn’t have an easy life. She was very loved.
6. I have a hard time understanding ...
…. All of the following. War. Antisemitism. Genocide. The American medical system. Actually, American politics at the moment. Why they don’t colour a few crocodiles up in the Northern Territory. Why there isn’t more of a focus on learning languages at schools. Why people like badly written books. Why people barrack for Essendon. Essendon supporters are the worst. Rugby - both codes. How people can be cruel to animals.
7. You know I like you if ...
… I make you something. If I go out of my way to make you something odds-on, I like you. Bake a cake. Knit a hat. Go out of my way to do something for you. If I do that, I like you.
8. When I was 5 years old ...
… I think I wanted to be an astronaut. Don’t all kids want to be astronauts? I loved the sky and the stars. I still do.
As a child of the seventies, Superman will always be George Reeves and Christopher Reeve. George Reeves was on the black and white television show. Christopher Reeve will always be my sentimental favourite, that right mix of strong and dork, charm and farm. He stood for the America that seems to be disappearing. He was also bloody gorgeous.
I'll also admit that I've not seen the Henry Cavill Superman films, not for any other reason other than I've missed them. There were other things to see. And yeah. Henry Cavill. I'll get there one day.
So, it was with a bit of trepidation that I went into this new, 2025 version of Superman. What would enhanced computer graphics and a new crew do to this perennial favourite?
I need not have been worried.
The 2025 version of Superman is slick, fun, funny and just a little bit woke - but not too badly.
According to RottenTomatoes.com, which gives this an excellent 84% fresh rating, the story goes like this:
"When Superman gets drawn into conflicts at home and abroad, his actions are questioned, giving tech billionaire Lex Luthor the opportunity to get the Man of Steel out of the way for good. Will intrepid reporter Lois Lane and Superman's four-legged companion, Krypto, be able to help him before it's too late?"
It fits the bill. There's the good - Superman and the crew at the Daily Planet, versus the bad, which is a very dastardly Lex Luthor and his incredible tech.
But this has sooooooo much more.
I could go on about the tech and the CGU, which are phenomenal, but what got to me about this film is the performances and the heart of it. It's great.
In this incarnation, there are a few changes to the essential story. Instead of that love story where Clark/Superman (David Corenswet) and Lois (Rachel Brosnahan) do that slow dance, Clark and Lois are three months into a relationship - and it's real and fun and shows a couple coming to terms with each other. I really enjoyed this part of the movie. Corenswet is just the right mix of caring, intelligent and dorky. Brosnahan comes across as smart, capable and very much her own woman.
Nicholas Hoult, sans hair, is awesome as a progressively unhinged Lex Luthor. He's channeling a little Elon Musk as his antics prove to be a foil for Superman's strength and character. He's helped along by The Engineer (Maria Gabriela de Faria) and the mysterious Hammer of Boravia.
Aiding Superman is this group of ragtag superheroes, The Justice Gang. These guys are hilarious. The Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion), Hawkgirl (Isabella Merced) and Mr. Terrific (Edi Gathegi) steal the show, and some of the action, as the attempt to help Superman save the world.
The two other standout performances for me were Lex Luthor's gormless girlfriend Eve (Sara Sampaio) who is a scream, and the Krypto, the super dog. he steals every scene he's in. Also, the dog is incredibly relatable.
There's also two clips in the titles once the film has finished and a foreshadowing of the next film in the series, where we get to meet Supergirl (Milly Allcock).
James Gunn, who directed all of the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, decamping to the DC Universe, does a great job with this. The action and the comic timing go hand in hand.
Is David Corenswet the greatest Superman? No. But he's very, very good.
This is worth seeing on the big screen just for the effects.
And yes, I had to pack a towel, a flannel, a sponge bag, the $1.50 thongs that were bought at Kmart last night, and put on a hoodie and drive to the gym... and it may mean stowing my clothes and car keys in a locker and stripping off in public.
But a longer shower, where the water doesn't have to be turned off after every minute in case the bathroom floods, where you know you can get the conditioner out of your hair, where the water lets you sort out the knots in your shoulders. Where you don't have to stand around in the freezing cold while the glacial drain does its business.
And sure, you have to reverse the process, drying off and packing up and driving home again, but it was worth EVERY MINUTE.
I'll be doing it again tomorrow morning, but instead of just going for the shower I'll do a workout beforehand.
I'm just thankful I've got this option (though Jay did say I could shower at her place).
Anything is better than a dicky bird bath in the middle of winter.
Now I'm off to Jay's to do a load of washing. My washing machine is plumbed into the shower drain.
The struggle is real.
Thankfully, the tradie is coming tomorrow morning and the plumber with his gee-whizz-you-beaut drain unclogger will be around on Tuesday.
The report went into the property manager late last night. Urgent. Tried everything. Lots of Drano. Boiling water. Knitting needles. Great fun.
After running the AI gauntlet (like being asked if I had tried Drano, boiling water and knitting needles) they finally worked out that I have a problem.
I talked to my lovely tradie. We talked about this. He said he had some industrial strength Drano he could bring around.
Cool. Fine.
He called back 15 minutes later.
"DO NOT PUT DRANO DOWN YOUR SHOWER DRAINS!"
"Why not?" I asked.
"You have copper pipes. If you put Drano - well my Drano, down there you won't have any pipes left."
"Oh."
"My son in law is a plumber. We'll come over Tuesday morning and snake the drains. Can you take a picture of the outside walls of the flat so we can see what we're up against."
"Sure."
Adding to the complexity, the washing machine and laundry tub are plumbed into the shower drains.
Fun.
For the next few days it looks like I'll be showering in the gym. A pair of $1.50 thongs were purchased at Kmart on the way home from the gym tonight in preparation.
Jay has offered to let me use her washing machine.
Oh, and the pipes are all internal. And two storeys up.
Of my weekend jobs, the one I was dreading most was applying for the visas I need for my trip - not so much visas, the electronic authority to travel docs, or visa waver documentation needed to travel both in the United Kingdom, and daftly, for the United States, where I'll be for seven hours in transit.
Thankfully, the Schengen visa waiver requirements aren't kicking into next year, but after years of free entry into the UK, they're finally charging a flat visitors fee for a two-year period. And I was dreading the US documentation.
It turned out to be a tale of two processes.
Both put me back approximately $35 AUD.
The British process turned out to be friendly, easy, done on my mobile phone - take a photo of my passport - take a selfie of me (I didn't even change out of my dressing gown), got asked a few fundamental questions, paid the money and within two minutes my application was approved. I loved the program. The whole thing tool about fifteen minutes all up - a lot of the time was spent trying to take a selfie where I didn't look like Myra Hindley.
The American version of the same process was done on my laptop. It meant taking photos of my passport, uploading selfies, answering a lot more questions about my movements, providing links to my social media sites, then paying the money. The process was a bit more onerous than British one, but still pretty easy.
I'm also glad I got to tick the Transit box. I'm only in LA for seven hours. Seven long hours.
This one was approved in about an hour.
I do get that countries have complete say who comes in and out of their countries - but I also wonder as to why the States wants access to my social media sites.
I know I've been pretty quiet on some fronts of late - keeping some opinions to myself - a lot of this because I know I'll be travelling through America and it's easier to keep schtum than inflame the beast. You hear of the horror stories of people being locked up for the slightest of immigration infringements. Traveling through the States is disconcerting. (And if you ask why I went this longer route, at 55000 Frequent Flyer points and $250 it was a bargain. And an adventure).
Regardless, that's another job marked off the list.
My next task is to find a shower in LA in those seven hours of transit time. There are no lounges available inside the airport for my ticket type, nor a transit hotel in which you can rent a room for a few hours.
Ideas on how I might be able to freshen up after the long-haul flight from Australia would be most welcome.
This is what a side quest looks like, not helped by an intense day in front of the computer writing in a formulaic way and editing on a system that didn't want to play nice.
I want to put some guard rails up.
So, in finding the song of the day I'll select from George Michael songs. Why George Michael? Because that's who was playing at the gym tonight.
It's a guard rail.
As my head is zooming tonight, I'm trying to calm it down.
A few rows of knitting didn't settle it.
Watching episodes of Suits is not working either.
The dishes need to be done. I'm afraid they will be done in three lots. Not one.
I refuse to wear white trousers because I'd look like the Mushroom Killer.
I want to call my unwritten novel Discombobulant, not that the book is written, is that a real word, but I think it should be.
My cat is misbehaving. He wants me to go to bed so he can warm himself, sleeping between my knees. He's being very demanding.
These are my side quests tonight. I am procrastinating. I can see myself doing it. It is okay.
And there's a week of George Michael to look forward to.
(There is a point to this. Welcome to the inside of my brain in avoidance mode. I will get to the thing I'm avoiding. Just not tonight.)
I took the first round of ADHD meds for a week and then had to stop nearly as soon as I started. My blood pressure went through the roof. It wasn't safe to take them even though I loved the effects on my brain. the clarity and drive were formidable. The lack of food noise amazing - something I've never experienced before. The ability to lose the side quests fantastic.
But Vyvanse and I parted company after a week even though the bottle of the 20 mg pills sits behind me, teasing me. "You have to raw dog it for the meantime," it chides. It would be nice to be able to take them. There will be other meds to try that don't make you feel like your head is about to blow off.
No meds. I go it alone.
And although I can't safely take this medicine, I can remember the good effects it had - and not the feeling like somebody was sitting on my chest - but the clear brain, the lack of food noise and the dulled sense of the 15 other things that normally go off in my brain at any given time.
So, today, I had it in my mind, what would Vyvanse let me do.
It's a lot of mind over matter.
I made a list (and a shopping list and I had no food in the house after being in Darwin for two weeks.)
There was a lot to get done today. Holiday planning. Changing theatre tickets. Household stuff.
The trick was going to be not to go on side quests to get this stuff done. I had to subdue these pesky tasks that get in the way of doing other things to completion.
I also wanted to see if I could get on top of the food noise.
It was validating to have a conversation with a friend in Darwin who's on Wegovy/Ozempic.
"I never knew that you didn't have to think about food every hour of the waking day," she told me.
"I know. How liberating is it? I just wish I could still be on the meds for that reason."
They're also waiting to see a shrink to get an ADHD assessment.
This clearing of the way, the removal of the side quests. The cutting down the tasks into manageable chunks, and making myself complete the task before moving onto something else - it worked!
Sure, it takes a lot of energy when you don't have the meds to help you regulate, but I did it.
And with the exception of going to the gym, I've completed the list. The ETSAs have been applied for.(You don't need one for the Schengen area at the moment.) I've contacted the people I need to about moving the theatre tickets. The shopping got done and I stuck to the list. Hotels are booked for London. Blog posts were written.
And it's okay to pretend to be on the meds to get things done. Sure, it might be a bit easier with them, but I did it. I got through a to do list.
I got off the plane at 7.10 this morning after boarding in Darwin at 2 am.
The car was collected. I drove home, unpacked, had a shower then went to the hairdresser to have my hairline fixed so I don't look like a skunk. The cat was collected from the sitters. We drove home.
All on four hours of broken sleep.
I'm just glad that I can sleep on planes now - just have to get some compression socks to kill the restless legs.
Regardless, I am utterly exhausted, but I still need to do a quick supermarket trip. I've got no food in the house. Even if I just get almond milk and a frozen pizza, that is something.
I'm still thinking about the barramundi, chips and the beer I had on the wharf in Darwin last night.
I'm wondering who turned off the heater. It's about 15 degrees cooler in Melbourne. I bought a hoodie with me to ward off the chill.
We are home, me and the cat.
I will write this before he comes and sits on the computer again.
1. If money wasn't an issue, would you move to a new home?
Yes. If money wasn't an issue, I'd love to buy a house in the suburb I live in. I'm priced out of the property marked in Melbourne, and my dream home would be a renovated workers cottage with a small patio area out the back, with ivy on the walls and a big bathtub and a garage. One of those will set you back well over a million dollars. I can dream.
2. Do you listen to different music when you're happy than when you're sad?
Yes and no. I have go to music for when I'm upset. I find driving to The Pogues Rum, Sodomy and the Lash or the Nine Inch Nails a good way to get the anger out. Everybody should listen to The Pogues every now and then.
3. What's your favorite way to unwind after a tough day?
Exercise. Exercise fixes everything. After a very hard and stressful two weeks in Darwin, the best thing about the day was going for a long walk after work - or failing that, a swim. Exercise always makes me feel better. Always.
4. What's the first book you remember from childhood?
I know I have been a book lover from a young age - and I remember having Little Golden Books read to me. I do remember Enid Blyton's The Magic Faraway Tree being read to me from a young age. Then I went on to The Secret Seven. I had very British tastes in books, though I'm sure I had Snugglepot and Cuddlepie and The Magic Pudding read to me. Both are Australian staples.
5. What made you smile today?
The following:
I returned to wintry Melbourne from warm Darwin after two weeks away.
I had a "poor man's business class" on the way home (where the row has three seats and the middle seat is free - the best for when you're on a redeye flight.)
I've had my hairline coloured in
I've done my French lessons.
I got my cat back from my friends who love and look after him while I'm away.
I've done the Sunday Stealing questions for another week.
I know I'll get a decent night's sleep in tonight.
I’m getting ready to go back to Melbourne. Dinner was had with a colleague out on the wharf. There’s something very good about locally called barramundi and chips eaten by the sea. The fish up here is excellent.
On returning back to the hotel, my colleague came back to my room to pick up the last of my food. We have a thing up here, you hand on any uneaten food items to the colleagues who are staying on. I was down to two hard boiled eggs, half a tub of hummus and some rice crackers. It's good it didn't go to waste.
Anyway, they had a look around my room and said, “You’re tidy.”
Anybody who knows me knows that I am not tidy. I'm the antithesis of tidy.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I can see that you’re tidy,” they said looking around the room.
I’m not tidy. I will never be tidy. However, when somebody cleans your bathroom, provides a new towels, makes your bed, washes your dishes and hoovers for you every day, it’s easy to be tidy.
One of the joys of being a platinum member of the Accor club.
I explained this to my colleague.
It’s going to be hard to go home where I have to vacuum my own floors, make my own bed, wash my own dishes, clean my own bathroom, and look after a black cat.
But never mind. At least I’m going home. For two weeks…. Then I'm back here where in some ways, when I'm not working like a dog, I get to live like lady muck.
I’ve got just over 24 hours left in Darwin before I hop on a plane, go back home.
Being in an office with seven other people all day, a couple of whom are quite noisy, is exhausting.
Leaving work just after 6 pm this evening after a day of staring at the screen, there is little energy for anything else. I was hoping for a long walk or long swim tonight, but that hasn’t happened.
Foraging for dinner, I went down the main drag thinking that Subway would fit the bill. Alas, I was bailed up by a local - was very pleasant, But really, I just wanted to get some dinner and get back home. He was sitting outside of Subway. After a five minute chat, I politely made my excuses and walked on.
Instead of Subway, I ended up with a poke bowl.
Something you should know about food in Darwin. It really does punch above its weight. For lunch, there are three places where you can get poke bowls. Poke Ola. Pokelicious and Fat Tuna. The first two are only open until 3 pm, Fat Tuna is open until later. Pokelicious is my favourite as it’s a bit of a choose your own adventure place. And the food is wonderful.
On purchasing dinner I made my way home, going around the block to avoid subway and another interaction with the pleasant local who I really had no desire to speak to again. I don't move around Darwin with cash on me.
And now I just wanna go to bed.
Tomorrow is the NAIDOC March. I wish I could get away from work to go. NAIDOC is huge here. An indigenous colleague asked me to attend. I was honoured to receive the invitation. Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to get away from work. It’s my last day in town (for a fortnight) . There’s too much to do. I’m disappointed.
When speaking to the gentleman outside of Subway, when he asked where I came from, after calling my sister, I replied, “I was born on Kuarna land, but live on Wurundjeri land, but I’m here in Larrakia regularly.”
All of these options can slow down an office for a bit, but working in this company, alcohol is not allowed on the premises, and there is cake everywhere, as there is a most call centres. And fire drills are just a pain in the neck with lots of loud noise.
Today, I witnessed an office coming to its knees.
Why?
Somebody arranged for the police to bring into the office for half an hour a three-month-old German Shepherd puppy called Leo.
PUPPY!!!!!!!
It seems I’m not the only person who has this feeling about puppies.
And German Shepherd puppies are a breed beyond. Have you seen their ears?
Leo came and sat under my desk for a little bit. And sure, I wanted to pick him up and smell his puppy breath, but I refrained. It was hard.
Talking to his handlers, members of the Australian Federal Police Force, I got a few stats on Leo. He’s being trained up to be a police dog - the ones that you don’t want to get in the way of, unlike the police dogs who do the sniffing at the airport.
“Is he house trained? He’s not gonna piddle everywhere?” I asked.
“We’ll see…”
From all that I heard, he was a good boy.
It’s amazing how such a little thing can create such joy.
(And if you think that’s good, add one of the other offices Somebody was bringing a rescue joey, wrapped up in a blanket and being passed around the office like a doll.)
