I set my to-do list early, seeing yesterday was a write off. The post red-eye funk is real and awful, and I lost a lot of the day, half for being a zombie, the other half went to placating my now-very-affectionate cat, who is very happy to be home.
The list was simple.
Go to the gym
Do my ironing.
Do my food shopping.
Contact one of my referees about the possibility of getting a reference
Get my taxes ready for Tuesday
Do some cleaning.
You'd think I'd knock these off easily, even with a sleep in.
I put my gym clothes on at 9 a.m.
I went to the gym at 6 p.m.
The food shopping was done after the gym - which wasn't the session I wanted. Instead of going hard, I sat on machines, did a leg workout in between doing my daily Duolingo. (I'm on a 1086-day streak - which is just as annoying as those people who sit on the machines at the gym - but in my defense, the gym was nearly empty).
The ironing got done over the afternoon. The pile was hefty, but it's all done. That does feel good. I was watching a series while I did that.
The referee was contacted about half an hour ago, to their work email.
I haven't touched the taxes, but as my affairs are pretty simple, it shouldn't take long.
Oh, and I did some knitting. I finished my big blanket yesterday, and I have some spare wool, so I'm making Blarney and Barney some cat blankets - they love my work.
And now I'm going to do the dishes. The bed got made. My soggy pussycat is asleep on said bed, just happy to be home. He keeps climbing up on my chest, purring, then dribbling on me. It's sweet. I've missed him.
Looking at this, I could have been so much more efficient.
I'm finally home from Darwin. I've had very little sleep, although the flights were fine and there were spare seats next to me on both flights.
And I have a very happy cat at home. He's come back a little skinnier - thanks to a self-imposed hunger strike. But he was fed and talked to and even if he didn't like it, he's home - although he started howling when I went downstairs to collect my Uber Eats. I'll be going to bed soon. I don't like feeling like a zombie.
At this very moment in time, I'm watching some old episodes of Smallville - as I'm a bit zombiefied from last night's travel, it's an easy distraction.
Other things I'm actively watching include The Summer I Turned Pretty (Prime), Dying for Sex (Disney), Outrageous (BritBox) and My Life with the Walter Boys (Netflix). Nothing challenging. There's too much going on around here at the moment.
For films, the last ones I've seen were this queer, Welsh musical I saw at the Deckchair Cinema in Darwin. Chuck Chuck Baby it was called and it was fabulous.
I started watching something called The Friend on the plane. I'll need to hunt it out. It had Naomi Watts and a very large Great Dane in it. Very good film.
A. Audio: What are you listening to?
I'm an avid audiobook listener, but the one I listened to didn't float my boat. It was the novel of Wicked by Gregory Maguire. I don't rate it.
I'm currently listening to Marian Keyes Grown Ups - not one of her better ones.
I'm also dabbling with a podcast about a notorious trial we have going on here. She's known as the Mushroom Lady - she poisoned three of her in-laws withe Death Cap mushrooms. It's been a sensation. It's her sentencing this week. Public consensus says she'll get at least three consecutive life sentences - but the case is fascinating. A real "how-not-to-get-away-with-Murder" story.
B. Book: What are you reading?
I've got two books on the go. The first is The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman. It's okay, but that's about it.
The second is a book by Gail Jones called A Guide to Berlin. I started it, then worked out that there were a lot of themes around Nabokov and Lolita. I have read Lolita in between times, so I'm starting this over again. And Lolita is an amazing book - thematically ghastly, but the writing is amazing.
It's my penultimate night in Darwin. If I'm being technically correct, it's my last night, but as my plane home doesn't leave until after midnight on Saturday morning, we'll call it the penultimate night.
We went out with the workmates this evening. I like these people. We've been working together for two and a half years. When I leave the company, it will be two and a half years to the day. It's a long time, and you create bonds.
Tomorrow, I have to say goodbye to them in the flesh. I'll be working online for another two weeks, then Darwin is no more.
Tonight, we took a penultimate walk along walk along the pier, taking in the last of the sunset as we walked home.
Tonight I had a penultimate swim in the pool here - the last one I'll have with my colleague. We've put many a worry to right in that pool over the last two years.
My little blender had its penultimate run this morning, making my protein shake - tomorrow, it will be used again before being put in my suitcase. The USB blender has been used for the last two years and has lived in my Darwin bag. This trip, what I don't give away is being packed and taken with me.
The ice cube tray and the yoga mat were given to one of our admin girls. They've done so much for us over the years. They are the angels that book the flights and accommodation. It's been a thankless task.
Allegedly EJ and another colleague and I will go down the wharf one last time tomorrow night. The joys of a late flight. I'm half-packed. My dirty clothes are minimal. There's little in my fridge.
I'm not sure how I'm going to feel tomorrow night. Bittersweet, I suspect.
Who knew how much joy the humble roasted potato, rolled in paprika and served with a spicy tomato sauce could bring such happiness.
We had dinner at this Spanish inspired place. Moorish. I’ve walked past this place every day while I’ve been up here but never gone in. It seems my colleague had done the same.
The three of us shared some tapas.
Prawns, lamb, croquettes, scallops, pork belly and of course, patatas bravas.
It’s one of the nicest meals I’ve had in a while.
But there was patatas bravas - Brave Potatoes - on the menu.
Of course I was going to be happy.
Potatoes are life- enhancing.
But tomorrow it’s back to salad, protein shakes and the microwave meals I refer to as little boxes of sadness.
Tonight, we had Brave Potatoes. And all was right with the world.
Most of my stories start out with grabbing a couple of colleagues and doing something a little bit unexpected, not that going to the Deckchair Cinema in Darwin is unexpected. It’s my favourite place in Darwin, and tonight I had to say goodbye to it.
So, I grabbed a couple of my colleagues, and we went down to see what was on offer, being that we have a lot of social activities this week as many of us are rolling off the project this was our last chance. The film offering was Chuck Chuck Baby.
“What’s it about?” asked EJ. EJ has come up for a week.
“Allegedly it’s a queer, Welsh musical,” I told him.
“But I don’t like musicals,” he retorted.
“I’ve bought your ticket. Come for dinner. You're gonna fall asleep anyway!”! I know EJ very well. Every time he falls asleep. And snores.
EJ relented. So, we and another colleague Dessie and traipsed down to the cinema, grabbed bottle of wine, slathered ourselves in bug juice and settled in.
And we were unexpectedly delighted.
The plot is fairly simple. Helen (Louise Brealey) is not living her best life. Residing in the box room of the house she shares with her ex, the odious Garry (Celyn Jones), his equally odious girlfriend Amy (Emily Fairn) and his ailing mother Gwen (Sorcha Cusack), she works the night shift at the local chicken factory, where her friends try to keep each other amused. It's a pretty grim life.
In the background, Joanne (Annabel Scholey) has returned to the North Wales town to clean up the house of her abusive father. Joanne left the town early after a number of events. Known as the town bad girl, she is welcomed back to the town by Helen and her friends.
In some ways this film is predictable. But to say that it's a queer, Welsh musical is mislabeling it.
First up, this is more a romance than a musical. Helen and Joanne have loved each other since school. But their queerness was either beaten out of them or suppressed beyond measure.
As for the musical bits - it's more characters singing along to established songs, not signing new songs.
What I loved about this is that it's laugh out loud funny in a lot of places, while being a very sweet, very realistic love story.
Beverly Russ, who plays Helen's mate Paula steals the show, being a brilliant comic relief, while Sorcha Cusack is fabulous and Helen's dying and much-loved mother-in-law.
But it's Helen and Joanne's gently unfolding relationship that wins the audience over. Both women are stuck in their own way. Both find different ways out of their predicaments.
Writer/Director Janis Pugh does a wonderful job with this, bringing in humour, pathos, desire and female friendships to the fore.
This is a bit of a niche film, made for the film festivals. I can't find it on streaming. Yet, is was the perfect final film to see at my favourite cinema in Australia. I don't know when I'll be going to Darwin again, but I know that the Deckchair Cinema has a very special place in my heart.
Where else can you watch an alleged queer, Welsh Musical, while sipping on wine, lying in a deckchair, as the sun sets behind the screen, bats fly about the Moreton Bay figs and geckos make a nuisance of themselves in the cinema light.
It is a very special place and this film was the perfect way to say goodbye to it.
Oh, and EJ stayed awake the whole film. He loved it.
I’m too tired to write tonight, but I have to tell you about my room.
We have been staying in this hotel for 2 1/2 years. All of the rooms are the same, sort of.
The great rooms are the corner ones, which feel bigger than the rectangular normal rooms. If you look at the numbers, they end in 03, 04, 15, 16, 19 and 20. These are the rooms of choice And the higher up the better.
The next best rooms are the 08s. They are tucked away in the corner and have a long hallway, and even though the apartment is a little bit smaller, they are quiet. And the beds are always really comfortable in the 08s.
You always want to avoid the rooms ending in 9, 10 and 11. These are directly in front of the lifts. They can be a bit noisy.
The 17s and 18s look over Knuckey Street And these ones aren’t too bad either.
Also, because we are part of the hotel rewards scheme, most of us are on the top tier. Apart from having your room serviced every day, you will often get preferential rooms in the higher floors. The hotel goes up to level 19. The best room I’ve had was 1818 and 1820. They were great.
But, in the dry season rooms are at a premium. Some of my team are staying at another hotel. And we who are stuck at the normal hotel aren’t in our normal fantastic rooms.
This time around I am in room 1015.
If you look back, you will see that this is a corner room, which is great. Level 10 means that I see over some of the buildings and I can see the sunrise. This is also a bonus.
But this is the strangest room I have had at this hotel.
Why?
Well, this room has carpet. Carpet that you would find in Melbourne. Carpet which is soft under foot. Carpet that has really no business being here in Darwin where it is hot..
In the other hotel rooms in the building, you find carpet tiles on the floor. Utilitarian, sensible, what I would call kitchen carpet.
This carpet would not be out of place in my mother’s living room. It’s a pale grey. It’s plush - not shagpile, but soft. Like you’re walking on sand. It’s cold weather carpet.
It feels weird. And new. And wrong.
One of my team said today that I could go rolling around on the floor. My response to that was “Why the hell would I want to do that?”.
Sure, the yoga mat feels a bit more comfortable on this carpet, but really, plush carpet has no place in Darwin. I also question why the carpet was replaced in the first place. That doesn't bear thinking about.
Oh well. First World problems.
(This is the only room here I've been in here that doesn't have a Foxtel connection. I'm missing the quality movies. Never mind.)
It's been a lovely day - meditation, breakfast with friends, did some odd jobs, then dinner with friends. I'm pretty much packed for Darwin, and all is well with the world. And now I have to write about breakfast.
This is very dependent on where I am and what day it is.
After a large cup of decaf coffee with almond milk I'll have one of the following:
Weekdays I'll often have a protein shake or some gluten free toast with peanut paste (Peanut paste is what we call peanut butter in South Australia).
Weekends I like to have some sort of eggs in a cafe if I'm out. Poached or scrambled are the go. And I love any form of Eggs Benedict.
Sometimes I will make myself porridge.
When I'm in France I'll treat myself to a pastry - a pain au chocolat perhaps.
2) What was your favorite breakfast cereal when you were a kid?
Not that we had them very often, but Coco Pops were the business.
Also, growing up in Australia, buttered dry Weetbix (not Weetabix like they have in Britain) with a scraping of vegemite. It's iconic.
I was also fond of Nutrigrain.
I doubt this will make any sense to Americans.
3) Orange juice, tomato juice or cranberry juice?
Okay - loaded question.
Cranberry juice is for when you have urinary tract infections, or are out on the town and want to be retro and have a Cosmopolitan.
Tomato juice is best with a stick of celery, some tabasco, Worcestershire Sauce, a spot of pepper and some vodka. Gotta love a Bloody Mary.
Orange juice I will drink at breakfast, but its best when it's freshly squeezed.
4) What time is your alarm clock set for?
Again, depends on the day. Most weekdays, if I'm working from home it's set for around 7.30 a.m. If I'm working from the office, it's 6.45 a.m. As I'm a faffer and I need to faff about, this gives me plenty of time to do my stuff without rushing.
5) Do you have any tips for preventing stress and making the morning go more smoothly?
Have a routine and try and stick to it.
I also tend to set my clothes out and have my stuff ready the night before so I don't have to go hunting around the place for things. It makes it less stressful.
Oh, and as I'm an ironer, I make sure I do that the night before and put the iron and ironing board away so that I don't fret over whether I've left the bloody thing on.
The Production: Kimberly Akimbo: A Musical by David Lindsay-Abaire.
The Company: Melbourne Theatre Company
The Space: The Playhouse
Runtime: Two and a half hours with an interval
Stars: 4
Until 30 August
This play is being touted as all sweetness and light and happiness. Don't let the advertising fool you.
But it is very good, and as somebody who doesn't like musicals, this one is great. Seriously good.
And I generally don't like musicals.
The MTC website provides the following blurb:
New Jersey, 1999: from a sea of teen angst, unrequited crushes and popularity contests bursts Kimberly, a musical heroine like no other. Equal parts teen comedy, heist caper and unlikely love story, her rollercoaster journey shows that the tempo of your own song is yours to set. Born with a genetic rarity that means she ages at four times the rate of everyone else, Kimberly is a teen in mid-life form and living on borrowed time. She can cope with her dropkick dad and narcissistic mum – can’t spell ‘dysfunction’ without ‘fun’, right? But when her criminal aunt Debra shows up with a get-rich-quick scheme too good to be legal, Kimberly decides you’re only young once.
You get it? Yeah? Nah.
What the blurb doesn't give is the emotional impact of Kimberly's plight. Marina Prior, who's in her early 60s, plays the teenage Kimberly - who ages at around times the speed of ordinary kids. At 16, her life is coming to an end, and she knows it. Her parents, Buddy (Nathan O'Keefe) is a bumbling, burgeoning alcoholic, with a good heart - but useless. Her very pregnant mother, Pattie (Christie Whelan-Browne is a narcissist. Kimberly has to navigate this, and her disease, in a new school, which she's had thrust upon her after the family had to move in cagey circumstances.
Things do get better. She befriends Seth (Darcy Wain) the funny, nerdy kid who appears to get Kimberly. The other kids at school - the Glee Club kids also take her under her wing.
It's when her Aunt Debra (Casey Donovan) turns up, a Captain Chaos to the max, that things get interesting. Aunt Debra is the family member you'd wish would stay away. She's fabulous.
This musical is different to others. It looks at family, mortality and fitting in despite the odds.
The performances in this are incredible. Marina Prior is pitch perfect as the sensible, ailing Kimberly. Nathan O'Keefe and Christie Whelan Browne hysterical as her gormless and tortured parents. Casey Donovan steals the show as Aunt Debra. She's a scream. Her musical comedy chops will be around for years. I also loved the geeky Seth and the Glee club kids.
Mitch Butel's direction makes sure that nothing is left to chance. It flows from scene to scene without missing a beat, measuring the undertones of sadness with the humour of the situation at hand. The set, the costumes and the dancing are all phenomenal.
This has a week to run at the Playhouse. It's money well spent. Fun, intelligent, entertaining theatre. What more do you want?
Kudos to the Melbourne Theatre Company for bringing this unknown but widely lauded show to this city.
Stars: 3.5 with an extra point five for being South Australian
Fun fact. As a child I'd often see Kangaroo Island on the horizon from the school bus window at the top of Springmount Road as it intersects with James' Track. Fun fact, I lost my first tooth on Kangaroo Island when we were on holidays as a kid. It was on Kangaroo Island that I learned to play pinball.
Of course I was going to see this film. I'm South Australian. I have to support the SA film industry. Besides, the tooth fairy has my first tooth somewhere just out of Penneshaw.
I'm glad I went along on the whim.
It's a simple story. Lou (Rebecca Breeds) is a flailing actress, down on her luck in Los Angeles, couch surfing at friends' places, friends who have obviously had a gut full of her and she's out of favour with her agent.
When her father, Rory (Erik Thomson) sends her an airline ticket home, Lou has no desire to return to her family - but the universe and circumstance conspire against her, and she ends up home on Kangaroo Island.
It is there you meet the rest of the family. Her newly god-bothering sister (Adelaide Clemens), her ex and brother-in-law, Ben (Joel Jackson) and her best mate and aunt. It's at the family hope where we work out that all is not well. There's a huge riff between the sisters and something's up with Dad.
I won't say much more. To be honest, I found the plot a little predictable. However, the script, though twee in places, was good enough to keep the action moving. What I loved was how island life was so well represented. The running joke about Lou's non-existent bag being one of those things. The locals being aware of everybody's business being the other. Other little gems like the woman who ran the Vivonne Bay shop (who was the daughter of one of my high school teachers - there you go) had a couple of wonderful one-liners. Also, the relationship between the sisters was believable and well-acted.
Rebecca Breeds holds up this film as the doleful Lou. She lights up the screen. The rest of the cast are good too. The acting is solid.
Talking to a couple of women after the film, it appears this a passion project of the director, Timothy David (One of the women knew his father). There's nothing wrong with the direction. Sally Gifford's script is pacy enough to keep the action moving, even if there are some predictable things that go down.
But I will forgive this film's flaws as the setting and cinematography are just wonderful. Kangaroo Island is a place of quiet desolation and pristine beaches, a land of strange and wonderful rock formations and stunning scenery. It is regenerating after half the island was burned to a crisp in the 2019-2020 fires. It's the scenery and animals that makes the film.
The fact that I come from 50 kilometres away as the crow flies and the landscape is as familiar as the back of my hand sealed the deal.
I'm sure that only a few people will see this, but supporting the Australian film industry is important. And this film reminded me of home.
p.s. According to the end titles, as opposed to the script, a pie and a beer at the Vivonne Bay shops does not cost $65. I'm glad they cleared that up.
I came up against another acronym last night as I was sitting at the pub with my book group, eating birthday cake and chewing the fat with the crew. The birthday cake was particularly good. I’ve made it the day before, a rather lovely gluten-free white chocolate mud cake with butter cream cheese icing. I’ll make this one again, using two thirds what the recipe says so it doesn't spill all over my oven again.
I don’t always talk about just the book that book group. I’d let it slip that I am going on a date on Saturday. Yes, another one. You have to meet a few frogs before you find what you’re after. This one, unlike the last person who tried to meet up with me appears to be a bit more human and a bit more like cup of tea. He’s also part of the ADHD, so it seems we have a little bit in common.
I dragged out my Hinge profile and showed the girls at the table this fellow’s profile. I will admit that I only pay limited attention to profiles on dating apps. Generally, you can only read so many Times how people like cuddling on the couch, The Shawshank Redemption or walking down a beach at sunset. I remember this fellow's profile was a bit more interesting. He’s learning how to make violins or one. There was a couple of other things which piqued my interest.
Then, I got asked, ‘What’s ENM? He says he's into ENM.’
‘I’m not quite sure. Let me run it through ChatGPT.’’ I replied.
It seems this person is looking for somebody for ethical non-monogamy.
Hmmm.
Not sure how I feel about this.
There are couples there who have an open relationship and are quite happy with it. I have friends who are in open relationships and like all that that brings.
Then again, I also have friends who have been royally screwed over being in a polyamorous relationship. Expectations are not met, feelings get in the way, timings are off. It's hard to watch people hurting.
I get told lots of things. In the end, if people are doing what they're doing and nobody gets hurt, then so be it.
Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out like that.
So where am I sitting on this ENM thing?
It's going to be a probably not. I've got enough on my plate without having to navigate extra people in any burgeoning relationship. My head is full enough.
Thankfully, I'm pretty good with boundaries. I'll meet him for a coffee. I might make a friend. Besides, he sports a full beard - they're something I run a mile from (It's like kissing a hairbrush - joys of being sensitive to stimuli.) I just don't think I'd want anything more.
This time next month, I will be on the Eurostar going over to Paris. You have no idea how this gladdens my heart, as the British Isles has always been my spiritual home. Don’t ask me why, I am sixth-generation white Australian, the family coming out to South Australia in the 1850s. But England is where I feel most at home.
Looking at my plans, before heading to Paris I will be staying with friends in St Albans. I did this last time I went over to Britain, my lovely friends offering to have me for a couple of days to get rid of the jet lag, catch up and give myself a soft landing into Europe. I might go to the supermarket, or Synagogue, or wander around and wonder at the cathedral.
I also have a caveat with staying with these friends. G has an ageing mother. A lovely lady, She is in her 90s and she is becoming increasingly frail. If things go south with Mum, I will have to find alternative arrangements. I’m hoping this won’t happen as I would really like to see my friends, and a healthy Mum is better than one who is fading fast.
However, I asked myself today if I had an extra two nights, what would I do, where would I go, and what would this look like? All this knowing that I need to be on the Eurostar early afternoon on the 18th.
So my monkey mind starts to dance about. Oh, what I could do
The first thing I think of is transport. Do I get out of London? Would I take a train or hire a car? Do I go somewhere that I’ve been before or somewhere new?
After seeing the movie about Richard Burton yesterday, I have a desire to go to Stratford-Upon-Avon. My eight years in England I never made it there, and considering I am such a Shakespeare boffin, it’s surprising. Would I hang out in this little Warwickshire town for those two days, if I had a car, I could visit a few other places like Warwick Castle and Coventry do some cathedral hunting. Sniffing about Cathedrals is one of my most favourite things to do.
Or I could go to Oxford and Windsor and walk along the Thames - and visit Betty and Phil. (i.e. Go into St Georges Chapel in Windsor.)
I could stay in London and take a day trip to Brighton. Or Canterbury and go visit St Thomas a Becket - again, that's another pilgrimage I love doing. I get rather overwhelmed sitting in that Cathedral. \
Or I could go North. Go to Cambridge and walk along the Cam - even better, go to Ely and visit my favourite cathedral in England.
As you can see, my mind is in overdrive. There is so much I could cover. I know that I want to go to Westminster Abbey, the National Gallery and the V&A in my time there. An extra three day could have me tramping all over the place.
For the moment, I just hope that my friend's mum stays well and we get to catch up and I don't have to make any decisions.
Oh, this one is a little stunner of a film. Being English, about a piece of history not many know about, with some of the foremost talents Britain has to offer - oh, and most if it is set in the South of Wales, there was no change I wasn't going to like this.
For me, Mr Burton is a paramount example of great British cinema.
It's wonderful.
And it's not quite what you think you're going to get. You're expecting a film about Richard Burton the actor. Part of this is true, but it's so much more than that.
What people aren't aware of is Richard Burton started out life as Richard Jenkins Jnr. (Harry Lawtey), the twelfth child of a drunken miner, who by 1940 was living with his older sister, Cis (Aimee-Ffion Edwards) being prepared at school to be cannon fodder in the next couple of years. Young Richard had no airs or graces. He was a boy from Port Talbot who was just getting through, but with enough of a ragamuffin to survive.
Thankfully, his teacher, Dick Burton (Toby Jones) saw a spark in young Richard, first by having his family allow him to stay in school, introducing him to the theatre, first by having him act in the local amateur dramatics, then by taking him under his wing to stay with him at Ma Smith's (Lesley Manville) lodging house, and by finally adopting the lad to help him get into a course at Oxford, which his low birth and slightly suspect living arrangement would never allow.
Burton the older is expertly portrayed by Toby Jones. It's a performance in restraint as you watch him gently mould the lad, sternly and lovingly shaping the man who is known as being one of the world's greatest actors. Jones is pitch perfect.
Harry Lawtey is also brilliant as Richard. He takes our protagonist from an uncouth teenager to the actor at Stratford Upon Avon going onto the stage for the first time playing Hal in the Henry IV plays - the juxtaposition taking the journey from boy to man - like Hal on stage. He knocks this one out of the park. Mark his name. Harry Lawtey is going to be one to watch.
Written by Tom Bullough and Josh Hyams and directed by Marc Evans, what's produced here is a stunning view of what can happen when somebody is invested is making somebody great. Without PH Burton the odds would be Burton would have ended up wounded or dead on a battlefield.
Instead, he was assisted to be one of the great actors of the 20th Century.
This is firmly in the "take your Mum" category of films. For me, just watching the stage craft - particularly watching Lawtey transform from a gormless boy into an established actor as Toby Jones assists him on his way... Chef's Kiss.
2. Party pies. Party pies are a big thing here - and I steadfastly don't eat them. I'll have a pie if it's on the menu at a pub or restaurant, or maybe from and artisanal bakery, but I don't eat footy pies. Ever. Full of horse.
FOUR foods you love
1. Ice cream
2. Fish and Chips
3. Pasties from South Australian bakeries
4. Marks and Spencers Prawn Cocktail sandwiches. Can't wait to have them when I get to England in a few weeks.
TWO places you never want to see again
1. The inside of a certain supermarket chain's head office. I've vowed I'd never work for them again - there are lots of other places to work.
2. Kuta in Bali. I know you have to go through it to get to other places in Bali
FOUR places you'd like to revisit
1. All of Spain, and more of Spain.
2. All of Italy and more of Italy.
3. Scotland - but I need a few months to see everything I want to see.
4. New York, but again, with a lot of time and money so I can do it properly.
TWO musical artists who make you want to change the station
1. Meatloaf
2. Adele
I've had both overplayed to me and I don't need to hear them again.
FOUR musical artists you love to listen to
1. David Byrne and Talking Heads
2. The Pixies
3. Simon and Garfunkel - love them.
4. Mumford and Sons - just for something different.
TWO moments you'd like to erase
1. Scott Morrison winning that unwinnable election in 2019. We'd had enough of the Liberal party by that stage.
2. The overturning of Roe vs Wade in the USA. Such a retrograde act.
FOUR moments you'd like to relive
1. I'd love to see for the first time our room in Sommieres in the South of France.
2. Wandering around Henry VII Chapel at Westminster Abbey, preferably alone. I love that place.
3. An individual sound healing session with Shervin Boolorian - the man is an earthbound angel.
4. It would be nice to fall in love again. That is a nice, but scary feeling.
Some of the movies which have been made from Stephen King's fiction are phenomenal. I'm talking about The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile and allegedly Stand by Me (which is on my to-be-seen list - I've never got around to it). And Stephen King is allegedly a fantastic writer again. I cannot pass judgement because I have never read him.
The Life of Chuck is not one of these films. It’s certainly not awful, but it isn’t up there with the best of the adaptations. The main reason for this is you'll be scratching your head with the film's structure. And it's a little bit predictable, though there are parts where you're pondering where this is all going.
In Part One, you're introduced to the concept of Chuck Krantz early in the film, where in modern times, things are starting to unravel. Nick Offerman's narration takes you through the characters. Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is teaching his class when the internet goes out. The land is also being bombarded with advertisements thanking Chuck Krantz (Tom Hiddleston) for 39 years of service. Around town, Marty's ex-wife, Felicia (Karen Gillen) is watching as her world is disintegrating. And over a period of time, you work out that things aren't looking good.
Part Two is when you meet adult Chuck for real. A 39-year-old account, the premise of the movie is gently explained. I won't go into it here.
The third section looks into Chuck's childhood, his relationship with his Bubby (Mia Sara) and Grandfather, Albie (Mark Hamill) and introduces us to the choices Chuck made as a child, forgoing his love of dance for something far more sensible (yeah, Chuck's an accountant...).
And while this is being advertised as being a life-affirming film, the film's fragmented structure is puzzling enough to be unsettling but is as subtle as a mortar cannon in its messaging. I can see that this is writer/director Mike Flanagan's passion project. Like most works from the heart, it strays into its own bum some of the time.
However, there are a lot of redeeming features to the film, the first being the cinematography. This is a lovely film to watch. I enjoyed the small roles well-known actors of the 80's played - in particular, Mia Sara - who's now in her late 50s. She was wonderful as Chuck's grandmother. Mark Hamill is also in danger of being perennially cast as a grandfather figure - he was great too.
For me, the one thing that would make me go and see this again was the dance scene in the second part, which Tom Hiddleston dances for a good ten minutes. It took me back to the musicals I used to watch on television on a Sunday afternoon - which is the point of all this. Doing what makes you happy is a good thing. Do it often before it's too late.
I'd wait for this one to hit the streaming services. We've come to expect more from Stephen King adaptations, and though there are some good things about this, when you find that Tom Hiddleston's hips are the things you think about most, maybe it's not up there with the best examples of Stephen King films.
(This could also be called "How a Witch Looks for Work.")
I've started looking for another job. Before you start with the "But you love Darwin!" laments, as much as I do love going to Darwin, I'm a contractor, and this is what happens. You work somewhere for a while, normally on projects, then the project ends and you go find another job. You often meet up with people you've worked with before, mostly for the better. It's what you do.
My contract is up at the end of September. I leave for France mid-September - so basically, I'm between jobs the moment I step out of the country.
Which is why I'm starting the hunt for my next gig now.
Job hunting takes time. And a good sense of resilience. And a sense of humour.
Over the last few days I've been tweaking my CV. This means its up to date and ready to go.
Last night I applied for a few things. Do I want them? One looking mildly interesting. But you have to tell the universe that you're on the hunt.
The other week, when I was told my contract wasn't being renewed, I wrote out the list of what I was after in a job - namely something long term, preferably well paying contract work in the tech writing or instructional design area. Preferably located in central Melbourne, I'm okay with occasional travel - not the unrelenting travel I've had for the last year. I'd like to be in a large, or multi-national company - I work better as a little fish in a big pond. I also want a hybrid job - 1-2 days in the office, the rest working from home. I's like to work in a mixed team. I'm better working with a mix of ages, sexes and ethnicities. There's a few more things on the list, but you get the gist.
You have to ask the universe for what you want.
And be grateful for the gifts it's given you.
And look for work while burning a green candle
As my woo-woo deck of cards told me the other day.
Well, the universe seems to be listening.
First coincidence, I ran into an old team mate in the lift at work. We had a quick chat. He was on his way to his leaving do, but he's starting a new role next week and might be looking for people with my skill set in October.
Later, on my way to get my eyebrows done, I ran into another ex-colleague. They told me my name came up in conversation the other week when talking about tech writers. It's good to know people remember you.
And this morning, I was contacted by a recruiter for another role, which I am interested in - so I've duly passed on my number and CV and we'll see where that goes.
Regardless, the search is underway and with some luck, perseverance and resilience, something good will come my way - in October, after three weeks in Europe, when I'll be truly ready to re-engage with the workforce.
Until then, I will keep telling myself that I exactly where I am supposed to be and I'm supported by the amazing world.
A little nervous about facing the United States Customs and immigration, but as I'm only there for seven hours and with a ticket straight to London, hoping there won't be any drama.
I may also be without a job
But I'm going to have a few weeks off.
And I'm going to get a job
But I'll be on my way home to London for a few days.
Then for two weeks in France.
I found myself speaking French in the shower tonight.
It started off well. Some good banter. He seemed nice. Kind. Well travelled. Interesting. A Carlton supporter (can live with that). Father of three adult children. Divorced. 54 (Age appropriate - never a bad thing)
All very standard stuff on the apps. Things get off to a good start.
Then the innuendo starts.
For fuck's sake, I've not met you. I'm not interested. The easiest way to turn me off is start with the double entendres too quickly. One or two, fine, but nah... sorry. I'm in my mid-fifties - I'm not here for a quick shag - not that there's anything wrong with that - it's just not for me.
We've been chatting for a few days now. He's been getting insistent about meeting.
Not a red flag, but an eyebrow raiser. He was nice enough to not contact me over the weekend when I was something akin to a zombie.
The double entendres continued tonight.
"What are you up to?" his text asked.
"On the couch with my knitting and the cat." Well, I was. My brain is fried tonight.
"Hmmm, pussy."
Like what are you? Fourteen?
"Yes. My pussy is called Lucifer and is rather antisocial."
"Oh, I like a dirty pussy."
I don't need this. It's not what I'm after.
And maybe it's me being over-sensitive. Don't ask me when was the last time I cuddled up to somebody watching telly on the couch. Or when I walked hand in hand with somebody. And don't ask about kissing... anything intimate like that. It's been a long time. I don't want to be railroaded. I'm not desperate.
"Can I come and see you."
"Hard pass. No."
No address details, other than I live in Richmond, have been given. No surnames provided.
He then calls. He admits to having just had a bong. He's stoned. Barely coherent. Unable to string a sentence together.
So, yeah. Nope. Next.
Blocked on the app. I will give home the courtesy of sending the 'I'm not interested in taking this further. Good luck in your search," text tomorrow before blocking his number.
It's important to treat people how you wish to be treated yourself, and closure is a good thing.
Too many red flags with this one. And I have far too much self-respect and a decent set of boundaries to let this Captain Chaos into my life. Underneath, I do think he's a nice man. He's just not for me.
There must be a nice, age appropriate, reasonably sober, articulate bloke out there who likes the theatre and galleries and nice things and wants a friend, not a shag.
I have no inspiration to write tonight. Nothing. Zip. Nada. What I could write about I won't write about as I don't write about work, intimate relationships or some other things.
So, I outsourced my ideas to ChatGPT, remembering that the AI bot knows about my search history and a few other things. I asked it, "What am I going to write about tonight?" and here's what it came back with:
If you want inspiration for tonight’s blog, I can give you a few angles based on your past style and topics you enjoy.
Here are some options:
Travel Quirks – A wry take on something you noticed in airports or planes (perfect since you’ve been talking about long flights and oestrogen gel).
Everyday Annoyances – Pick a small, ridiculous frustration (like the air fryer posts) and elevate it into an absurd, Austen-meets-Welsh social commentary.
Pop Culture Dissection – A sharp, slightly mischievous breakdown of a song, movie, or celebrity moment from today’s news.
Micro-Manifesto – One short, punchy post about a life philosophy you stand by, told through a funny personal anecdote.
Rant with a Twist – Start with indignation over something tiny, then turn it into a surprising or heart-warming realisation.
If you tell me your mood tonight—playful, cranky, sentimental, or thoughtful—I can zero in on the perfect one for you.
Thank you, ChatGPT - your first prompt has got something I can comment on.
An Open Letter to Qantas.
Here we go.
Dear Qantas,
You're delving into bellend territory once again.
This is regarding my flight from Darwin to Sydney on Saturday morning.
Look, I know that Darwin on what is perceived as the arse end of the country, and the fact that the military runs the airport and only provides completely antisocial flight times to civilisation allows you to use the crappy old flight stock, still. You're acting like a bit of a nob, just because you can.
See, on my flight from Darwin to Sydney, I had what was one of the more uncomfortable flights I've had in ages.
Firstly, the cabin temperature was sitting around 30 degrees.
It was getting to be like a dry sauna in there. Four hours of sitting in a flying tin can, with only hot air to breathe. Thanks for that.
And yes, it was a completely full flight. I know this because I was supposed to be going home via Brisbane, but you cancelled that flight in your wisdom. I'm not whining about the fact you put me on the Sydney flight - and gave me a window seat, but the old plane stock is not as comfortable as the newer. The seats seem narrower, or maybe it was the woman next to me with the incredibly good childbearing hips, The latter you can do nothing about,
But when it came to dimming the lights in the cabin, surely there is another setting under what I could call "Just-gone-twilight." It wasn't dark enough on this flight. There was no sleep to be had. And before you say I should wear a mask - my bag was about six seats in front of me, due to the fullness of the flight. Wasn't going to happen.
The crew appeared to be oblivious. The meal service was done by 45 minutes into the flight. Nobody wants to eat at 2 a.m. But it would be nice if you weren't looked at as a pariah for asking for a bottle of water two hours in. (Obviously, I was dozing when the meal came out).
And it's not that it was technically a bad flight. The small amount of turbulence over the New South Wales/Queensland border was fine.
But being dry, hot, unable to sleep, miserable and plastered to a window for four hours - I'm a middle-aged menopausal woman. I get enough of this from my own body - I don't need any more mirroring symptom from you on a four hour flight from Sodom to Gomorrah.
Maybe look at being nice to the military to let you provide some more sociably acceptable flight times, in planes that weren't commissioned in the Whitlam era, where the air conditioning works, water is plentiful and the dimmer switch goes down to a two, instead of a five.
We won't mention that it now costs 20% more Frequent Flyer points to get anywhere.
Nevertheless, Saturday morning's Darwin-Melbourne flight has put you firmly in bellend territory.
Yours,
Pandora Behr.
p.s. For those not knowing what a bellend is, see below:
The Theatre: The Fairfax Studio at the Arts Centre
Until: Season Closed
Stars: 4
There are 33 plays attributed to Shakespeare. There are around ten that a regularly performed on state. You know them: Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, A Midsummer Night's Dream, King Lear, Much Ado About Nothing, Othello, Hamlet, Henry V, Richard III, Twelfth Night, As You Like it, Julius Caesar...
Coriolanus is in the next tier of plays, occasionally performed. It's there with Antony and Cleopatra, The Taming of the Shrew, the early Henry IVs and VIs (all five of them), A Winter's Tale and Measure for Measure. They do get performed - just not as often, and they're frequently undersubscribed. People are sort of aware of them, but you don't get the opportunity to see them.
Then there's the ones that don't get performed except under duress or some company is trying to get their name out there. King John, Timon of Athens, Pericles, Love's Labours Lost and the hyper-violent Titus Andronicus (where the king's children are baked into a pie). (As an aside, I've been looking at the theatre listing in London while I'm there - interestingly, the RSC is putting on Titus Andronicus while I've over there... it's worth considering... Though seeing Sam Heughan as Macbeth in Stratford would be something to behold... pity that starts in the week I get back to Australia).
Anyway...
So going into Coriolanus this afternoon, I knew two things. It's set in Rome. And I saw a production of it in the nineties where Steven Berkoff provided a Neo-Nazi setting. It was stylised. It was very good on recollection.
This Coriolanus was also very, very good.
Coriolanus is a play about military and political might, downfall and exile. We first meet Caius Marius (Hazem Shammas) a brutal general and defender of Rome, he's back from battle and is raised to serve the people as a member of the senate. Renamed Coriolanus, after the major battle he won at Corioli, he makes a complete ass of himself and is banished from Rome, much to the chagrin of his mother Volumnia (Brigid Zengeni) and his wife Virgilia (Suzannah MacDonald).
While in exile, he gets in league with Aufidius (Anthony Taufa), one of his enemies who wants to take over Rome. In the background, his old mentor, Menenius (Peter Carroll) tries to reel him back.
And like all good Shakespearean tragedies, he dies in the end, only after having the epiphany that, “Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, even to a full disgrace.”
This ran for nearly three hours - but it didn't feel like it. The ultimate sign of a good Shakespeare. Also, not having the solid knowledge of the play as a crutch, everything was understandable.
Hazem Shammas was excellent as the belligerent Coriolanus, bringing a huge amount of energy with the right amount of depth to allow the audience to have some compassion for him. I also loved Peter Carroll's rendition of Menenius. Carroll is in his early eighties, and he gave the role humanity and gravitas.
Thankfully, at the start of the play, one of the cast gave the audience a rundown of what was happening in Rome, introducing us to the upper classes (who ran the senate) and the plebians, or working class, who had two tributes, the representative voices, who brought the nearest thing to a democracy to Rome - with little luck.
As with most Bell Shakespeare productions, the set was inventive and there was a lot to like with the moving rostra which came and went from under a curtain at the back of the stage. It was occasionally underlit, but that's allowable for dark play.
For me, the best thing about the play was the costumes, particularly the plebian tributes, who were dressed in cheap suits and looked like they'd come off an episode of The Office. And as always, all of the actors wore excellent boots - it's a Bell Shakespeare failsafe.
The play belongs to Hazem Shammas, who brought so much to this contrary role. He's predominately a stage actor but can be seen in a lot of local television shows. He's one to watch.
Being the last performance in a six-month run, the show received a standing ovation by many. It was well deserved. Making a little-known, lesser-played Shakespeare relevant and enjoyable is a feat.
I look forward to seeing what the Bell Shakespeare Company bring to us next year. It's wonderful to have Shakespeare in my life. There should be more of it.
I'm home. It's good. I've got my recalcitrant cat back. He's forgiven me. I need to go to the gym I've got a play to go to later. Yesterday I was a zombie. Now I'm trying to recalibrate. Life as a FIFO.
Anyway, here's this week's Sunday questions, provided, as always, by Sunday Stealing.
The idea for this week's meme was inspired by Creative Bold. She used the alphabet to tell us a little something about herself. Now it's your turn.
Let's Do Our ABCs
A. Auto
Auto what? Do I drive an automatic car? Yes, but I can also drive a manual (I can drive a car with a stick transmission if you're American). Was I on auto-pilot yesterday? Yes, I'd had very little sleep thanks to an over warm cabin temperature and the woman next to me having exceedingly good child bearing hips.
B. Bed size
I have a standard double bed - not a Queen size. It's enough for me and the cat.
C. Cats
Love them and they love me. Lucifer is sitting next to me as I write this. He's happy to be home.
D. Dogs
I love them too. Actually, I tend to prefer animals to people. Animals are wonderful.
E. Essential start to your day
My morning routine. A quick scroll, feed the cat, a cup of almond decaf, take my blood pressure meds, shower. In that order.
F. Favorite color
Red. The brighter the better. Think English phone boxes.
G. Gold or silver
Silver. Always has been. I'd say I'd go platinum if I could afford it.
H. Hand you favor (righty or lefty)
Technically right, but there a lot of things I do with my left - scissors being the big one. I also still can't tell left and right apart without checking. It's a neurodiversity thing.
I. Instruments you play
The food. I played the flute at school and picked up a bit of piano. Love music.
J. Job title
In my day job I'm officially known as a technical writer. This means I write stuff so people can do things. I'm also known as a nerd translator or business/technology intermediary. It's a skill.
K. Kids
Kids? Oh, I forgot to have them. I don't see this as a bad thing. Other than they're smelly and expensive, eat you out of house and home and take away your free time, I've never been in the position, (you know, solvent, happily partnered up, active sex life etc.), to have them. I like kids but could never eat a whole one.
L. Live (rural, suburb, city)
I like living inner city but can do well in a country setting. Don't make me live in the suburbs. I don't like the suburbs. Bad things happen in suburbs.
M. Meal plans
I should do more of it. It's easier in town rather than when I'm travelling for work.
N. Nicknames
I'm known as Panda to most. It suits me.
O. Overnight hospital stays
I've had a few for mainly minor things. There was the one when they were fixing my legs as a kid. I had to overnight after a general anaesthetic for a small girly servicing and there was nobody to stay with me overnight (they are strict about that over here). Oh, the last overnight stay I had was when they took out my gall bladder. Best thing ever.
P. Pet peeves
People who are rude to service staff (unless the wait staff in question are being awful from the onset)
Exclusionary behaviour
People who question why dessert needs to be eaten with a teaspoon (ADHD quirk - don't ask)
People who stay EXpresso - for heaven's sake, it's eSS-presso.
Q. Quote from a movie
There are so many, but here are a few:
The Crash Davis speech from Bull Durham. Watch from 1.10.
Most of the movie The Castle - but most Australians can quote this film verbatim.
R. Regrets
No time for those. Any regrets I have are minor. No point pondering them. Waste of time.
S. Siblings
Two. One sister and one step-sister.
U. Underwear
Basic, natural fibres, utilitarian, clean and comfortable. Love Boody undies. Bamboo is good. Nobody sees my undies unless they're on the line. My bras are like industrial scaffolding.
V. Vegetable you love
I love potatoes. They are everything. I dream about potatoes.
I'm also fond of:
Water chestnuts
Mushrooms
Broccolini
Sweet potatoes
W. What makes you run late
Life. I'm often late because I don't want to go. Social anxiety. Another neurodiversity trait. I try and be on time - I sometimes fail. Ah well.
X. X-rays you’ve had
Again, the odd on for the odd injury. I remember having a chest X-ray in Dublin when I was on holiday and they were trying to work out if I had pneumonia. It felt like I was a bug splayed on a windscreen.
Y. Yummy food
I got Uber Eats in last night as I didn't have the energy to go food shopping. I went to this new Mexican place to procure my food. Decent jalapeno poppers and excellent tacos. I'll go there again. I love Mexican food.
Z. Zoo animal
I could watch all animals, but in particular, I love watching the seals. I could sit all day in the seal house at Melbourne Zoo. They're awesome.
I also love big cats. They're just big puddytats after all.
"Your 1.15 a.m. Flight to Brisbane is cancelled. We are working in getting you to your destination."
Right.
Fuck.
And before you ask about why Brisbane - they put me on the double hop back to Melbourne. Leaving late and sleeping on the plane is much nicer than getting the direct flight at 6 a.m. - I'd spend the night waking every half an hour to get up at four, to be at the airport by five... yeah, I'd much rather attempt sleep on the plane. Besides - the Brisbane flight was going to get me back to Melbourne sooner.
Regardless, the first leg has been cancelled.
Thankfully, after about half an hour, I got the message that they'd rebooked me onto a DRW-SYD-MEL flight getting me home earlier than I would have been on the original flight.
I'm not complaining. Didn't need the anxiety, but it's all worked out well.
So this is the end of the penultimate Darwin trip. I'm not normally one for homesickness, but this trip I've really missed Lucifer, and my bed, and the cool.
Just five more weeks on this project, one of those weeks up here, and I'm back on the job market.
Fingers crossed, something will come along quickly. I'll start looking next week.
I was told to go to this show. Some colleagues saw this last week in preview and loved it and seeing that I’m only around for the Darwin Festival for two days, this was my only chance to see something.
Wow!
La Ronde is everything you want In a cabaret/circus act. Incredible acrobatics, a saucy sense of humour, bright lights, fantastic music and an international talent pool that will leave you breathless. Abs for days, not a scrap of fat on any of them, along with talents you never knew the human body could achieve.
Part of the joy of this is the location of the show, which is held in the Speigeltent on the lawns of Darwin's parliament. The movable circus tent, composing of glass walls and a tent like roof, with a wooden floor is mercifully air-conditioned. On entering the tent, you come face to face with a huge mirror ball. And once the show begins, you're tantilised, delighted and engrossed in these wonderful performers with their hyper-flexible and incredibly strong bodies.
The show is raunchy, sexy and funny. The two acts, with a 20-minute interval (which when you see what they get up to in here, they've earned a rest) gives you a time to get a drink before talking in the next act.
It's sheer entertainment. I'm thrilled I got a ticket.
The message came through just as I was in a meeting in which I really needed to concentrate.
“ Houston, we have a problem. The boy’s anxiety is going through the roof. He’s been spraying, and is generally miserable, although he still loves P, but the spraying means he can only go in the rooms where there is concrete or hardwood floors. We are managing.”
There was a bit more to the message, but AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!
Having lost all focus, I closed the meeting early, and rang my wonderful, trustworthy and thankfully cat- knowledgeable house sitters.
It seems that my darling little black boy has got some major separation anxiety.
Damn, damn, damn.
Of course, I will pay for any cleaning, as he’s my cat, but my head was going in about 300 directions. I was hoping that he would calm down and be happy and be able to stay there for six weeks, because with another two-week work stint, a week at home and then three weeks abroad, it was the plan that he stayed with him over that time to not disrupt him too much.
He is my baby. That isn’t going to happen now.
So, I spent the morning rearranging my life.
My two-week work trip has been shortened to one, which isn’t upsetting me that much as I should be able to get done what I need to do in that time, and on this trip, I have found myself a little bit homesick. I want my bed. A week will be enough to come here and say goodbye to Darwin and be home on Saturday morning. It also gives me more time to get ready for Europe.
Blarney and Barney will take the boy in for the week while I’m in Darwin, and then I have two weeks at home before I go away. My darling cat sitters will then take him back, but I will have a talk to the vet about maybe getting him some anti-anxiety meds. But good luck feeding that cat a pill. I've bought him some anti-anxiety powder to put in his food. I'll also try putting a bit of rescue remedy in his water. Poor lamb.
In the end, it has a worked out - after a bit of moving things around. It was a very hard morning.
I also gather this is what it feels like to be a parent.
It's not often that I start a film with a Monty Python quote, but it's apt for this one, as it is the making of the cheese which helps sort out Totone (Clement Favreau), an aimless youth, drinking, fighting and shagging his way through life until an accident has him being the guardian of his seven-year-old sister Claire (Luna Garret).
Of course I was happy to see this for two reasons. I love the Deckchair Cinema - it's one of my happy places in Darwin. Also, as this is a French Film, which wasn't set in Paris, or a history, it was something to behold.
Holy Cow as filmed in the Jura region of France, east of Dijon and just North of the Swiss border, meaning that there was some lovely country to view. Jura is the home of Comte cheese - one of those delicacies you may or may not know about. To try to make money, Totone decides to try and enter a Comte cheese competition, not that he has the infrastructure at home to do this. Milk and rennet needs to be stolen, and he has to work out how to do all of this cheesemaking stuff.
In between the cheesemaking and looking after his sister, Totone finds himself embarking on a casual relationship with Lise-Marie (Maiwene Bartholomy) a local farmer and sister to Totone's nemesis.
As French films go, this was a bit different. Set in rural France, it shows a very different life. Who knew the French liked bad alcohol and music, as well as tractors and stock cars.
What moved well for me in Louise Corvoisier's directing and script is how Totone looked after his sister, which although not exemplary, showed growth as the movie progressed. Totone was not a bad lad - he's an 18-year-old boy who's had to grow up very quickly. Some of the loveliest scenes is when Totone and Claire are together.
It also gave an insight into what it is to make cheese. It's involved and very hard work. Comte appears to be made by hand in a difficult and dangerous process.
If I'm honest, I was going to love this film, simply because it's French and I was watching it from a deckchair, under the stars, with a beer in my hand.
Life doesn't get much better than this.
And the film was enjoyable. I'm glad I got to see it in one of the best cinemas in the world, where the wildlife swoop and the possums try to nick your popcorn.
But sometimes a girl needs to stick her toe back in the dating pool, knowing it's possibly full of piranhas, sharks, slippery eels, pond scum and old boots.
But maybe there's a gem in there as well.
And yes, I've started chatting with this rather charming plumber from Elsternwick - but I've got my feet on the floor and boundaries at the ready, but he's been nice to chat with, even if he is a Carlton supporter.
We'll see what happens. He's a Pisces. Divorced father of two adult kids. A plumber. Goes to the footy.
What do we have in common? Not sure. We both like beer and test cricket.
See, here is the problem. I am the girl who drinks beer, comes from a country town, likes wearing thongs and puts tomato sauce on everything.
But I'm also the girl who has a Masters Degree, reads a book or two a week, loves foreign films, lives for the theatre and has an esoteric side that can scare people off.
Oh, and put on top of this a recent AuDHD diagnosis, which means I'm busily reframing everything in my life.
No wonder I've had trouble finding a partner for the last 40 years.
Anyway, I've outsourced this to AI - see what it says. Using my Human Design Profile, I asked AI to describe my perfect partner.
It came up with this:
Your perfect partner is someone who:
🟠Is grounded and emotionally secure, so they don’t feel threatened by your independence or alone time.
🟠Respects your authority to initiate and act on your own timing. They don’t need to be in control.
🟠Honors your need for solitude, giving you space to retreat and process.
🟠Is mentally and emotionally stable, not prone to projecting or blaming when their expectations aren’t met.
🟠Appreciates your intuitive decision-making and doesn’t push you to over-explain or rationalize.
🟠Shares your curiosity or commitment to meaningful experiences — or at least gives you freedom to follow your passions.
🟠Is protective of your environment, helping you create a calm, private home space where you feel safe.
🟠Can handle your intensity and transformative energy, as your Incarnation Cross brings change and deep commitment to life.
I then asked it where do I find this person - and this is what it said:
🧠WHERE You'll Find Your Ideal Partner
🔒 1. Your Environment Theme: "Caves"
You're designed to thrive in safe, enclosed, or selectively curated environments — both physically and socially.
Online spaces (where you can control the pace and privacy).
Small workshops or retreats, especially around art, healing, or self-development.
Your own home (hosting something small may draw the right person to you).
Pro tip: Your best connections tend to happen when you feel safe and in control of your environment — not when you're "putting yourself out there" in loud, chaotic situations.
🧠2. Strategy: You’re a Manifestor — You Initiate
But don’t go looking for them.
Instead:
Follow your urges — your inner authority (Splenic) will give you quiet intuitive nudges in the moment. It may be a pull to go to a certain bookstore, say yes to a last-minute invite, or message someone.
Trust those nudges. That’s where the people who match you tend to show up — because they are aligned with your personal path, not your mental plan.
The right partner shows up as a byproduct of you acting on your urges, not trying to attract love.
🧬 3. You're Designed to Be Noticed — But from the Sidelines
That 2nd line in your profile is the Hermit — people are drawn to your energy when you’re just doing your thing.
So paradoxically:
You’re most magnetic when you’re not looking.
Doing things that make you feel alive (creating, working on a passion project, traveling alone, dancing, etc.) often creates a field that calls your partner in.
More conscious dating apps (e.g., The Pattern, OkCupid, or even MeetMindful)
Private Facebook groups or Discord servers tied to your passions
🪷 3. Spontaneous Invitations
If you get a last-minute invite and feel a splenic “yes” — follow it.
The right person often shows up via someone you already know.
⏳ When Will You Find Them?
You don’t need to “manifest” them — you’re a Manifestor. You’re the one creating the conditions for the relationship to appear.
When you're living your design — informing others, trusting your spleen, and retreating into solitude when needed — your aura becomes magnetic to the right person.
Often, relationships for Manifestors arrive after a phase of solitude or inner alignment — not during the search.
I mean how do I explain that I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of 80s music, and I like Classical Music as much as I like the Hilltop Hoods.
I'm a big walking, talking contradiction.
With ADHD.
Fun, eh?
But as they say, once more onto the breach. Harfleur's walls need to tumble. (Nobody is going to get that reference.)
Before I tell you about this morning, I have to say, the worst thing about staying where we do - a large, multinational hotel filled with one-bedroom apartments, is that there are regular instances when the fire alarm goes off. In the last three days I've heard it go off twice. Once at one a.m. The other just now at three in the afternoon. And yes, you do need to be aware of public safety, but it's bloody loud and bloody annoying, and probably only because somebody has burned their toast or is stupid enough to let the smoke drift in when they're smoking on their balconies. As somebody who dislikes loud noise, it sets my bones on edge.
Okay, look for the good.
My washing is drying in the sunshine on my balcony.
I've had a chat to EJ, an old colleague, and my Mum.
I've been for a walk.
I've watched a wonderful, but very touching film. (Me, Earl and the Dying Girl - fantastic film, but pushes a few buttons.)
And according to my new Apple Watch, I've done nearly two hours of walking, thanks to the morning activities.
So, this morning, I got up, had a coffee, put on my swimmers and went down to the wave pool for Granny Aerobics - also known as water aerobics. This happens every Sunday morning at the wave pool. A gaggle of grannies get in the water and get put through their paces by a perky instructor who has far too much energy going for 8.30 on a Sunday morning. There's normally 30-40 people there. It's a community-based activity. For $8, it's cheap, fun exercise which is outside in the sunshine. What more can you ask for?
What surprised me today was that in the pool with the older women were four blokes - who were probably in their 60s, quite happily bouncing around with the rest of us.
There is much being said about this loneliness epidemic with men. Yes, men's loneliness is a thing. According to AI, "Yes, there's a growing concern about a "male loneliness epidemic," with many men experiencing significant levels of social isolation and disconnection. This is a complex issue with various contributing factors, including societal expectations, changes in social structures, and difficulties in forming and maintaining close friendships."
And yes, I can see this. I've asked a number of my male friends who their best mate is - many can't really answer this. Men don't appear to cultivate friendships once they hit a certain age. Of course, there are lots of men who do get out there - but there's a hell of a lot who do not. Another wise friend told me that where men shrink back into themselves, women expand and look for connections.
Anyway, there were some older blokes in the wave pool, and they seemed to be having a lovely time.
Maybe it was because the instructor, a little Colombian pocket rocket wearing tiny shorts, a bum that you could bounce coins off of and a the admission that she was a dance instructor. She introduced us to her boyfriend - a fellow named Adonis, who was equally genetically blessed.
The rest of us older, allegedly wiser women, in our sensible bathers, rashies, bucket hats, sunscreen and sunglasses just got on with it.
But it was nice to see the older gentlemen getting on with it. There should be more of it. As long as they don't get too blokey. That would kill the mood.
