We had our annual Book Group Book choosing meeting on Sunday.
As always, we followed the rules. Every member brought two books along - vetted beforehand for duplicates, because there are always duplicates. (The year, a couple of people wanted to put up Charlotte McConaghy's Wild Dark Shore - two others wanted to up Fredrik Backman's My Friends. This is why we check!)
Selection criteria is as follows:
The book must be fiction
It should be under 500 pages long - a few more is fine - just don't try to put up Anna Karenina.
It should be easily obtainable at bookshops, libraries or online.
Keep your choices to literature or decent popular fiction.
Simples.
Then the lollies got bagged up. Everybody is given a bag of 25 assorted lollies at the meeting to use to vote for the books. Once the books have been championed you put as many lollies on the books you want to read. You can't vote for your own books.
This is where we landed. The four books at the end weren't selected. We've read a lot of Backman over the years, and there were so many good books to read.
To be honest, we've barely had a bad book in the last fifteen years.
We then sorted out the reading order. Lighter books are relegated to the start and end of the year, heavier books for the cooler months. I'm just glad that I'm part of such a committed book group.
And here's what I don't get. Celebrating is human nature. Why not join in? Celebrating means happy people and good food. Why wouldn't you want to get in there and learn about people's cultures and beliefs? It's not like anybody is right.
When it's Diwali/Deepavali, I always wish my Hindu friends a Happy Diwali/Deepavali (Same thing, just named differently depending on where you're from).
After Ramadan, of course, I say 'Eid Mubarak' to my Muslim friends.
To the Wiccans, you nod and say 'Blessed Be' when it's the solstice, or just generally when you meet another member of the craft.
When abroad, you visit temples and wonder at their workings. You count Buddhas, spin prayer wheels, obtain oracles, regaling in the colour and majesty of the places.
Christians are wished Merry Christmas and Happy Easter. If you're in Greece, you wonder at the noise of the celebrations, taking up with a "Καλό Πάσχα, Χριστός Ανέστη!" with gusto.
At the various New Years celebrations for the Asians communities, you wish your neighbours well. Gong Hei Fat Choi, or a variant of that goes down well at Chinese New Year. There is also a good possibility that there will be fireworks and food.
There is a bit of a theme here.
Indian friends seem to have a festival for everything. Light, colour, the birth of many of their major gods. These are awesome. For me, it means there's a good possibility of a feed with some jelabis and cashew burfee.
On Saturday morning, as I sat in my favourite Jewish deli after Kaballah meditation. We always go here. The food and coffee are good. On leaving I wished the proprietor, who I've known for 20 years, a happy Hanukkah. Over the years, I've wished him a happy Rosh Hosannah, Passover and Yom Kippur, though the last one is never that happy because if you're an observant Jew, you fast. Sod that, no food on Yom Kippur.
And why would I do this?
Because it's a kind thing to do. Celebrations are supposed to make people happy. Acknowledging people's celebrations lets them know that they're seen and welcomed. It shows people that you've got the good grace to be happy for their celebrations. Why wouldn't be happy to watch people celebrate?
It's one of the great things about living in a multicultural society.
I don't understand antisemitism. I don't get racial hate. We're all part of the human race. It's these differences that make us interesting.
After the events of yesterday, I firmly stand with the Jewish community. Tonight is the second night of Hannukah. I have two candles burning. I don't have a menorah, but I can light the candles in solidarity, bringing in the much-needed light.
I don't need to do this. I'm not converting to Judaism, although I can see some attraction to its rituals and customs.
No, I'm burning candles to bring in light in this dark time.
Australia is better than this.
Celebrate. Be curious, not judgmental, in the words or Walt Whitman and Ted Lasso.
And love thy neighbour. You never know what leftovers you'll get after these holidays.
Another weekend, another round of questions. I'm not sure how I'm going to answer some of these. As there's a lot on this weekend, I'll keep my answers short/.
I asked ChatGPT, putting in the prompt " " and this is what it came up with:
Personality Traits (Dot Points)
📚 Thoughtful & Reflective
Often explores personal experiences and emotions with introspection.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
+1
Reflects on friendships, relationships, life choices, and personal growth.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🎨 Cultured & Curious
Loves books, movies, theatre, and music; engages deeply with cultural content.
blogger.com
+1
Reads widely, participates in book groups, and discusses literary choices thoughtfully.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
😄 Witty & Self-deprecating
Writes with humour and candid self-awareness about life’s quirks.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Uses colourful language and playful metaphors.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
❤️ Warm & Relationship-oriented
Values deep platonic and long-term friendships.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Open about dating experiences, boundaries, and what they’re looking for in a partner.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🧠 Analytical & Honest
Talks frankly about personal challenges (e.g., AuDHD diagnosis, past relationships), showing emotional insight.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Shows a strong internal awareness and willingness to reframe life with newfound clarity.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🥂 Passionate & Enthusiastic
Enjoys and values hobbies and interests deeply (e.g., music, gin, travel).
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Embraces experiences fully—even spontaneous lunch trips and social adventures.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🧑💼 Intelligent & Well-educated
Has a Master’s degree and works professionally.
🧘 Independent & Self-Directed
Makes life choices with independence and self-responsibility. Enjoys solitude and internal contemplation as much as social interaction.
🗣️ Opinionated but Considerate
Expresses firm views on social issues (e.g., national holidays, cultural topics) thoughtfully rather than aggressively. Prefers respectful discourse over confrontation.
😂 Humorous & Unfiltered
Comfortable being candid and unabashed in expression, sometimes irreverently so.
2) What's the best way to get on your good side?
One of the following:
Feed me.
Cuddle me.
Give me something to read.
Leave me alone if I ask.
Don't be a right-wing wanker.
Don't be rude.
3) What person do you feel most comfortable with?
I'm not sure how to answer this. I'm very comfortable with my friends, so I can't name just one. I will admit that most people see slightly different sides to me, but that's probably goes with everybody.
4) Do you handle criticism well?
I'm getting better at it. If the criticism is constructive, then yes. If it's not, then I have no response.
5) Are you the type to tell someone, if asked, that their pants DO make them look fat?
If asked, yes. If unsolicited - no. Though I might say something like, "Is that your last choice?" or something along those lines.
This film doesn't really deserve the four-star rating, but as a film to see after a day which contained the funeral of a dear friend, it was just what the doctor ordered. Ella McCay is excellent Friday night fodder. Fun, chirpy. great cast, a bit of a story and a few morals to boot, what more do you need. It would be a good Hallmark film, but it's better than that. I wouldn't rush out to see it, but it was a good diversion.
It's an easy premise. Ella McCay (Emma Mackey) is the Lieutenant-Governor of a small, what looks like New England state. She's the woman with the ideas and the thorn in the side of the Governor (Albert Brooks) She's the one doing all the work, while the governor is doing all canvassing for donations. Ella is also aware that some of her behaviour may put her job on the line - nothing major, but enough to cause a scandal. She also has a fractured relationship with her philandering father (Woody Harrelson), a brother, Casey (Spike Fearn), who's got 'issues' and a husband, Ryan (Jack Lowden) who you know you're going to want to slap in the very near future. The two functional relationships she has are with her Aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis) and her secretary, Estelle (Julie Kavner), who narrates the film.
Looking back, not that much happens. You get to know Ella, an intelligent do-gooder who wants to make the world a better place, while the men around her blow up her life. There's the normal dilemma of what Ella will do, choose her career or her family. It looks at how women can be badly treated in politics. It has a look at the fact women do the emotional heavy lifting for the family. Written and directed by James L. Brooks, who's responsible for Terms of Endearment, As Good as it Gets and Spanglish, this isn't one of his stronger films. But is watchable and enjoyable if you're looking for something light to watch on a Friday night after a hard week.
I'm not going to slate it, as it did the job for me. Light and watchable. Not all films are put out to get an Oscar nomination.
Of course, I dressed carefully, applied minimal make up, did my hair, daubed on some Chanel No 5, which I save for special occasions, and left with time to spare so I didn't arrive late. It was going to be a 100 km round trip. At least peak hour was over.
For some context, this was a funeral of one of my masonic friends. She was one of my most favourite people. We were in lodge together only a fortnight ago. She was 91. A sprightly, engaged, fun, interesting woman, who was becoming increasingly frail, but was still walking unaided, and though a bit deaf, loved a good conversation, no matter when or wear. She made the most awesome asparagus rolls and other CWA standards. She was a life-long learner. Curious, yet without judgement. Her family were everything to her. She was everything to her family. A mother to four sons, we were reminded that she was once a mother of four under six. She had the patience of Job.
That she died at 91 is not unexpected. That she was taken quickly in a horrific car accident is the tragedy. Thankfully, she did not suffer. As awful the circumstances, most are taking some solace in this fact.
In conversation the day before with the deceased's sister, I was instructed to wear colour, not black. Her sister would have liked it if we wore colour. As much as this was a sad and tragic occasion, this was a celebration. There was a lot to celebrate.
On arriving at the memorial gardens, I'd arrived with a few minutes to spare and a full house. Her family were holding themselves together. I found one so, a man in his mid-sixties on the way in - her son who I'd sat on many a committee with. We hugged. No words. Just a "Yeah..." at the end of it. I found her sister in the front row. At 89, she too is a nimble old chook. She seemed happy to see me there.
"I'm not crying," she said.
"You don't have to," was my reply. "I'm not crying - but I do the work on the inside."
"I'm not crying because I know she's happy."
"That is a marvelous way to look at all this."
The ceremony commenced. The celebrant was engaging, not that she's met my friend, but she did spend time with the family and got the stories and go a sense of this wonderful woman. Her sons spoke. Some of her grandchildren spoke. The photo gallery showed a woman who was happy and who was loved.
What more could you ask for?
For me, I cannot remember ever being in a room that was filled with more love and grace.
As much as I will miss my friend, I can only celebrate her. My life is so much the richer for knowing her.
You can't say that about everybody.
(As a post-script, I quickly worked out that the man I'd given a big hug to on the way in was not the brother I thought it was. I know the third brother. This was the second brother - a slightly taller, slimmer, mirror image version of the brother I know well. And here I was thinking the man I knew had hit the Ozempic. At the wake, I found him to apologise. I'm not one for hugging strange men normally. He said not to worry - it was a great hug. I still feel like a dickhead.)
I will admit to the fact that as a writer of fiction, I like to write in 12 pt Times New Roman.
Why? I find it comforting. I've been using it for years. This is for writing fiction. This is a personal choice. And sure, it's a serif font, but I'm old and my brain works well with it. It's like putting on comfy clothing. It feels good. (I am writing this in Times New Roman 12 pt)
If I can't find Times New Roman, then Trebuchet or Garamond will do the job. Or Georgia, Baskerville or Helvetica at a push.
Of course, in my line of work, I'm used to fitting in with the font of the company's style. In Australia, larger corporations will have their own bespoke font added to the font suite. If you can't use that for some reason (often in licensed publishing software) an alternative will be sanctioned in the branding policy - in most cases this will be Calibri, Trebuchet or Times New Roman.
In the last decade, there's been a move towards sans serif fonts. Look at Microsoft, which has moved its default font from Calibri to Aptos. Segoe, choice of font for the Atlassian suite, is an annoying outlier. Calibri is a thinner, serif free version of Aptos. If you work in projects, Segoe is the allegedly friendly font of Jira, Confluence and other Atlassian products. Aptos is the default font of most AI, and Microsoft, being the dictator of fonts, has run with this.
And sure, I whine wherever Microsoft, or whatever company change their fonts. For me, this normally means having to go over all of the materials I've been working on for six months then go through and change the fonts. It sucks. (Did you know that most large companies pay a hell of a lot of money to update their fonts every few years, partly as a security feature - it's a good way to pick up whether you're being scammed.) It also lends itself to how the material is being consumed. For online resources, sans serif - your Aptos, Segoe or Calibri work best.
Also, I get that sans serif fonts are reportedly easier to read.
Still, for me, Times New Roman 12 pt is my go-to font.
But, and here is the big but, when you hear that the American Government are going back to use Times New Roman, from Calibri, because Calibri is a DEI nonsense typeface, my hackles rise.
Seriously - it's not a good thing to have a clear, readable typeface for the country to read? Not that it makes that much difference, but it will mean somebody like me will have to go through a multitude of documents and make the switch. It's a shit job.
Then again, why are the U.S. Government demanding that everything be written in the Courier typeface, so it looks like everything is written on a manual typewriter by a young, single woman in the typing pool who will be fired once she settles on marrying a man who will treat her like crap after she pushes out for him two point six babies, if she is allowed to get maternity care through her problematic pregnancy...
Moving back to this plain, dull, white-bread font feels like a regressive move. It is a regressive move, but hey, that's the USA for you at the moment. With their current president, maybe they should write everything in Comic Sans... well known as the crayon alternative of the typeface world.
Reading back on this, I really do have some firm opinions about fonts and typefaces.
I didn't know it was a thing. I didn't know it had a name. I didn't know that this was part of the deal.
This AUDHD (Autism+ADHD) journey has been revelatory. And vindicating.
Speaking to a colleague today, whose son has a number of things that put him squarely on the spectrum, he was saying that as he's getting older, it's easier to help him regulate.
As a late-diagnosed woman, I can see this. As an adult, you know yourself. You've worked out a lot of your triggers and have your strategies in place. You know how to self-regulate. The meds help. And sometimes, the clarity of the situation takes your breath away.
Case in point - the concept of the work persona.
I have one of these.
I am an introvert. Yet, I am also bubbly, chatty, engaged, helpful (for the most part) and sociable at work. I can talk to anybody. I can talk to a room of people without blinking. I'm happy to speak in public, talk to a room of hundreds. I will approach anybody, at any time. This is my well-honed, well-crafted work persona.
However, tell me that there are work drinks and that I have to go to a pub and make small talk, not drink, because I'm not drinking much at the moment, and my anxiety goes through the roof. I want to curl up under my desk in the foetal position.
Three years ago, I wouldn't have called it anxiety.
I recognise it now for what it is.
On learning there were work drinks today at a large team meeting, the discomfort started immediately.
When we got out of the meeting, I talked this through with a colleague. Part of it is that I've only been at the bank for less than a month. I know my team, and that's it. The other 50 people in the broader team, not so much.
As nice as these people are, hanging around drinking coke zero, doing the small talk thing - it wasn't going to happen.
People are surprised. "But you're so bubbly!" they cry. Yes, at work. With my work persona in place. Once I step out the door, all I want to do is go home, do some exercise and talk to the cat.
I've felt like this all my life. Large gatherings - I have always had to psyche myself up for them. If I do go, I stick to the edges of the room - find my tribe. It's why I liked being a smoker - I had a place to go with likeminded people. At Blarney's. when she holds a barbeque, you find me outside with the boys, looking at the fire, normally with a beer. It's quieter.
And there is a name for it. Crippling social anxiety. I've always had it. Now I can put a name to it and not feel bad when I'm running fast in the opposite direction of the work drinks / large party / wedding / event where I have to chat to strangers in a meaningless way comes up.
The team went for their drinks. I stayed back. As I'm having Friday morning off for a funeral, I got the jump on some other work. That felt good. On arriving home, the cat was fed, then I went for a long walk. That was wonderful. I met lots of dogs on the walk too.
It felt good to be true to myself. Even better, I can name what it is that has made these events have me in tears for years.
The book group books are bagged up, the extras have been put into zip-lock bags and will be taken into work tomorrow, so I wont eat them - life is okay. But I have no idea what to write.
Today's card reads, " Describe the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. If that's too hard, just write about a gorgeous dish you have enjoyed recently you keep thinking about. Give me every single detail about why it was delicious and what made it so."
See, I think this is a bit of a cop out, because I think people make food.
Last week, I went around to a friend's place for dinner. I brought the cheese and biscuits - a truffle brie, some gorgonzola, some pesto dip and biscuits. What followed was roast lamb, which has to be my favourite roast dinner. The meat was wonderfully pink - the meat thermometer said it was just right - and it was. There were roasted and steamed vegetables to go with it. After this, a cake purchased at Brunettis, a Cherry Christmas Log, was spectacular - so light and creamy. It was a lovely night, but as much as I remember the food, I remember the company more.
I've been very lucky to have eaten some awesome meals in my life.
Anything that Liz at L'Hotel de L'Oranges in Sommieres in utterly fantastic. Same for our wonder caterer Emma Eastman at our retreats. I even eat her lasagne.
There used to be a place on Glen Huntly Road which had this dessert. Halva ice cream, orange blossom syrup, Persian fairy floss with pieces of Turkish Delight. 15 years on and I'm still talking about this.
I remember going to this wonderful French restaurant - Libertine - many years ago. We had what was one of the best degustation meals I've ever had the pleasure of eating. The one at Estelle in Northcote came a close second. Please don't ask me for details - I know they were good.
Food, for me, is all about the experience, whether it be topping up on Patatas Bravas in Spain (or any good Spanish restaurant), to great, fresh tacos, to fresh fish and chips, to a barbeque with friends. I love trying new things. I still remember when my Swedish flatmates held me down and made m try pickled herring. Or even if it's going down the road to one of the dodgy Vietnamese places to get their crispy beef with spicy sauce - which I take all my friends to try because it's so good - made better by the formica tables, tissue boxes for serviettes and the kid in the corner doing their homework in between serving customers.
The best food is experienced with others. It's the love and the fun that makes it delicious.
Once a year, I have to go down the lolly aisle at the supermarket. It's not something I do often. The lolly and biscuit aisle is a no-go zone - or if I do venture down there it's to get rice cakes, the odd packet of Arnotts Nice biscuits when I'm making a cheesecake to take to a barbeque, or Turkish Delight bars to take to the writer's retreats, because Turkish Delight is currency for neurospicy women.
Today was the day I had to venture down the lolly aisle to get the book group lollies for the book group lolly vote, which will be happening this Sunday.
I've been doing this for over 15 years. Each December, I'll dump a phone heap of lollies into a big bowl and put 25 lollies of various shapes and sizes into a zip lock bag, along with a rubber glove, so we can do our book choosing. It's all very calculated and exacting. Everybody gets 25 lollies. Not 26. Not 24, but 25.
The hardest decision is what lollies to get.
There is the standard request from the group. Clinkers. And yes, I've got the Clinkers in, but at $7 a packet, they have to be only a part of the mix. Also, you don't want all the lollies to be the same size and shape. It helps keep the mystery of the vote.
Of course, I can't put all my favourites in the bag. It's reminiscent of the 20 bag of lollies you got at the local store as a kid. For me, Spearmint Leaves, Licorice Allsorts, Milk Bottles, jelly snakes (red or yellow preferred), maybe a Fantale and a couple of jaffas.
None of this Haribo crap - that stuff tastes like chemicals.
I did find two things. Hard jubes. Forever a favourite. Like Fantales, which I don't think they make anymore, hard jubes can take out your fillings. According to the interwebs, Fantales were discontinued in 2023. You can only find them online for over $100 a bag. Bad move Nestle.
And a bag of Allens Retro Party mix. According to the bag, it contains a mix of the following:
Racing Cars
Cola Bottles
Retro Man
Raspberries
Honey Bears
Strawberries and Cream
Teeth
Lips
Pineapples
Milk Bottles
One year we had Redskins - or whatever politically correct name they are known by now. (Red Rippers, I'm told, just as Chikos are now Cheekies, and Coon cheese is now Cheer cheese. And I do get why this was done.)
Another year we had all Skittles. This didn't go down well as the fruity flavours are cloying and they stain.
Another year it was all Jaffas - but the chocolate melted and things got messy. We've learned to put the lollies in the fridge at the restaurant until we need them for the vote.
And yes, I know I moan about getting this done every year, but I rather like the nostalgic feels this job gives me.
At least I have the lollies for bagging in the fridge.
My next urgent job is to select what my second book will be to take to the choosing. That's the hard job!
The Nuremberg Trials have been covered on the big and small screen many times over. It's an important story that should remain in our view, because, as the adage goes, those who don't learn from the past are bound to repeat it. This is an interesting and thought-provoking movie that looks at the process leading up to the trial, the back story to the first cases at Nuremberg which leads to the final outcome. It is based on Jack El-Hai's book, The Nazi and the Psychiatrist.
As war movies go, it's very good, taking into consideration more than the main players. It takes a look into authoritarianism and what can happen when people don't stand up for what is right. (Sound familiar?)
Rami Malek plays psychiatrist, Douglass Kelley, who is assigned to get to know the first round of First Reich prisoners to be tried, evaluating whether they are fit to stand trial. This includes Hermann Goering (Russell Crowe), Hitler's number two, a narcissist and egotist. Along with his translator, Howie (Leo Woodall) Kelley has the mammoth task of trying to understand these monsters of men.
In the background, Justice Robert Jackson (Michael Shannon) a judge of high standing, is asked to try these men. This has its own traps as the army, led by Colonel Andrus (John Slattery) and having to co-ordinate with the other nations, including Brit, Sir David Fyfe-Maxwell (Richard E Grant). The movie also looks at the machinations of bringing to justice men who have been responsible for the most heinous acts ever done by the human race.
This is a balanced film. There has been some embellishment for dramatic effect, however this is an engrossing film. Malek and Crowes performances are top notch - the rest of the cast are great too.
I particularly loved the sets and costumes, which drag you back to the 1940. Cinematographer Darius Wolski's view brings the recently bombed Nuremberg to life. Adding to this, Brian Tyler's haunting soundscape heightens the experience. Director James Vanderbilt's direction is assured, never letting the action drag and bringing in some light, ensuring the film doesn't get too depressing.
This film will get some Oscar nominations. It's a timely reminder of what unchecked power can do.
This is definitely worth a viewing on the big screen. It's not a perfect film, but it is a timely one.
Tonight was spent at somebody else's Christmas Party. It appears that other people's Christmas parties are better than the ones that you own yourself. In this case, a friend's band was playing. Said friend is a nurse. It was great watching my mate play as well as catching up with friends and taking in the diaspora of medicos. And why is the anaesthetist always on the keyboard and the drummer is an orthopaedic surgeon?
Regardless, it was a fun night. It's probably going to be the only Christmas Party I attend.
1) What was the scariest thing in the world to you when you were a kid? Does it still scare you now?
Snakes and huntsman spiders scared the hell out of me. Living in country Australia you have a good reason to be scared of snakes, especially as most snakes in Australia can kill you if they bite you. Huntsman spiders are just big and ugly, but they won't hurt you. I still hate them, but I can at least dispose of them with a can of big spray now.
2) Imagine your 12-year-old daughter (or granddaughter) is hosting a sleepover at your home. A sudden storm knocks out cellphone service, wifi and cable. How would you keep these suddenly unplugged pre-teens entertained?
I have no idea. I don't have kids. Maybe hope that my reading habits have worn off on them.
3) What piece of movie or TV memorabilia would you love to own?
I have enough crap around my place, but I do have a Vote for Pedro t-shirt, which I rather like. If you don't know about Napoleon Dynamite, you're missing out.
I wouldn't mind a t-shirt from The Princess Bride with a quote like, "As you wish...", "I do not think that means what you think it means", "Inconceivable!", or "My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." You can't wear the last one in airports.
People don't have a sense of humour anymore.
4) You are gifted with the services of a personal assistant for four hours. What would you ask your assistant to do?
Oh, they would be sorting out my cloud accounts and getting them in order. They're a mess.
5) If literary characters were real, which one would you like to interview, and what would you ask?
I have no idea. Too many characters, too many questions. I could sit down with Billy Pilgrim, or Dorrigo Evans, or the main character from Miranda July's All Fours (that would be interesting - the first question would be "What's your bloody name!")
I wanted to love this movie. On paper, it looks great - wonderful cast, interesting story, a different take on things.
Unfortunately, it fell flat. Maybe some of this was I fell asleep for a few minutes early in the film. Perhaps it's the knowledge that it's going to be out on Apple + very soon and I could have saved myself the ticket price. Or it could be that the death of a friend earlier in the week has peppered my judgement a little. When I think about it, this will translate well to the smaller screen. It's certainly not a bad film. Maybe it didn't hit the spot on this viewing.
Regardless, the premise of this film in pretty simple. According to this universe, when you die, you go to a holding area where your soul gets to decide where you will spend your eternity - and there are lots of choices. We're introduced Joan and Larry, and elderly couple who are on their way to see relatives. We find out that Joan's time is coming to an end. Unexpectedly, Larry passes first and finds himself, in the form he was happiest, in this receiving room for new souls. Larry (Miles Teller) finds himself confronted by Joan's first husband Luke (Callum Turner) who died in the Korean War. Of course, Joan (Elizabeth Olsen) soon joins them, and the decisions need to be made. With whom will Joan choose to spend eternity with - her short-term husband from 67 years ago, or her long-standing partner Larry.
I found this a bit predictable, which is why I'm a little disappointed with this film. The concepts are sound - the whole set up that we get to choose our own version of heaven and all it entailed was great. The ACs (Afterlife Consultants) was funny as well as telling. Da'Vine Randolph and John Early provide some necessary laughs as the trio's AC.
Despite it being visually interesting, with great costumes and sets, Patrick Cunnane's script feels a little lacking and co-writer/director's effort makes this feel a little laboured. Thinking about other films with similar topics, like The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Gattaca, this misses the mark by a mile. Yet, it will be a good inclusion when it comes onto Apple TV+ in the very near future.
A quick on tonight as I've spent far too long staring at a screen today.
But here are some modern-day conundrums.
1. How can the dentist charge nearly $200 for a checkup and clean that takes approximately 15-minutes? And yes, I do get that rent, insurance, hiring a dental nurse, equipment... but still. Thankfully, my health insurance extras covered a lot of it - but still...
Lucky he's been my dentist for nearly 20 years, and I've sent him some new regulars over the years.
2. Why does a day of what I call fiddly admin feel rewarding? A colleague and I had to send out nearly 200 emails between us today. A long story. Lots of manipulating spreadsheets and other stuff. But it felt good to do something mindless.
3. Why do I want to be able to do pushups on my toes?
4. Is it wrong to want to give your Uber driver 3 or 4 stars for no other reason other than they have B.O.? Due to tight timings, I caught an Uber back from the dentist. The driver was very nice. The car very clean. But he ponged. I gave him 5 stars regardless, but...
5. Is it law that when your cat crosses your keyboard you have to give him a kiss?
6. Is it okay to take blue cheese to a friend's place?
7. Should I let the book group know that so far, we don't have any Australian content on the list. This is not a good thing. I'm not trying to massage the list.
8.Why do I always have a split lip when I go to the dentist. Is this Sod's Law?
9. Why do I have the urge to clean out the cupboard in the spare room? Is this a sane idea?
10. How can I talk myself into doing my hip rehab exercises. Why is it so hard to get down on the floor?
11. Why do I still have the desire to fly off to Bali and do a sound healing accreditation?
After years of whining, I've done it! I've got a writing group! Yay!
It's been years in the making. I came out of the Faber Academy hoping that I'd get a writing group out of that, but what can I say - COVID - messed up everything.
Then last year, I approached a couple of friends hoping to get a writing group going, but then Darwin happened.
I know - excuses, excuses.
It took another try, after the Darwin contract was over, to get this happening.
Attending a friend's book launch and knowing that she was in a writing group with an acquaintance - a brilliant writer in her own right, that got me on track again.
Then, I ran into a mutual friend, somebody I know from the retreat. I mentioned that I was wanting to get a group going - for accountability, fellowship, to bounce ideas against... and probably to whine about my cat. She was open to it, especially as some of her works were getting published.
The friends that were contacted late last year got a message. A date was set. Then somebody else joined us. The new recruit was found at a writer's festival by one of the others.
Five is a good number. We could do with one more - but that is about it.
The date was set. The First Monday of the month. Timing is paramount as there are kids and animals and commutes home to work into things. We agreed on 8.30 p.m. AEST, 8.00 p.m. ACST (Adelaide time) and 5.30 p.m. AWST (Perth time)
Thankfully, we meet on Zoom.
And we're an unlikely group. An IT project manager, a lawyer, a doctor, a book editor and me.
Four of us have started projects. Interesting, engaging projects.
We've set down some rules. You don't have to share, but if you want to, keep it to under 3000 words for a thematic or structure review. (e.g. If you're sending work out, you give an idea of what you want to review - for me, I asked to have a look and see what they thought of the structure.). If you want a close edit - maximum 1000 words.)
But really, we're here for support and fellowship. Writing can be such an isolating activity, it's good to know that there are others out there who can be in the trench with you.
I'm feeling hopeful that the group which we've given the name the Happy Mondays, how much mischief can we, as a group of middle-aged women writers, get into?
"We've just heard from down the street. Bruce is no more. He died yesterday. His family are dealing with it the best they can."
My reaction was, "NOOOOOOO, not Bruce!"
Bruce was my mate.
We didn't see each other very often, but we had meaningful interactions when we did catch up. He could be flighty. He could be stroppy. He could be aloof. But he was my mate, Bruce.
I should also say that Bruce was a fat, black cat who lived around the corner would bale you up for a pat on the way to the tram stop or on the way home.
This afternoon, I went down the street to where Bruce lived. Sure enough, his dad had attached a sign to the mailbox notifying the neighbourhood of his demise.
So sad.
Bruce liked to be of a man of mystery. You'd not see him for ages, then you'd run into him regularly. Thinking about it, not going into the office as much meant that we didn't get to see each other.
Thinking about it, he'd have to be well into his dotage - he had to be at least 15-years-old.
But over the years, I've looked forward to walking home from the tram only to meet this chubby, black terrorist of a cat, demanding a pat before letting me through.
He was a friend to many, but if he didn't like you, he'd let you know.
He was a unique personality - then again, all cats have their own personality. It's just this one has been patrolling the street around the corner for many years.
So, vale, Bruce. We know you're up there sucking up to one and all, tormenting your new slave, like you tormented the last one. (He was very good at having his dad buy him new wet food, only to dismiss it after he brought in a pallet of the stuff.) You certainly made the streets of Richmond feel a little more welcoming. You were loved by many and won't be forgotten.
Tomorrow, after going to the gym, and going to Masons, I'm off to a barbeque at Blarney and Barney's place.
I was told to bring a dessert, or something sweet.
Joy.
I will let you into what my head thinks when I'm told to bring something along. This is my normal self-talk when it comes to bringing things to a barbeque:
What I make's not going to be good enough.
I can't buy something at Coles.
Nobody will like what I make.
Lemon, vanilla, chocolate - why do people not like the order I put things in?
I want to go fancy.
But it's a barbeque.
I wonder what's in the Coles chiller section.
I don't have time for this.
I want to have time for this.
I am not a natural homemaker, despite my mother's best intentions.
I've got better things to do.
I love baking.
Dammit.
Thankfully, I've talked myself of the ledge.
And yes, this is my normal self-talk when I'm told to bring something and not given clear directions.
Also, I'm a reasonable cook, and known for making desserts. At Christmas, Blarney gives me the job of glazing the ham - something I'd never do with my family as we're seafood and salad people at Christmas - which suits me just fine.
Did you know that Arnotts has brought out a cookbook? Arnotts - The Cookbook is hot off the press. I'm told it's on its second or third printing within the month. The book as all of these Australian standards like Chocolate Ripple Cake (my brother-in-law's staple), slices, upscales, celebrations desserts - you name it - it's in there.
Tim Tim slice sounded just up my alley.
So easy. It's Australian CWA kitchen staples. Two packets of Tim Tams. A can of condensed milk. 100 grams of butter. 200 grams of milk chocolate.
Yes, diabetes in a box.
All you do is grind up one of the packets of Tim Tams, roughly chop the other pack. Over low heat, melt the butter and combine with half of the condensed milk. When the butter and condensed milk is combined, stir that through the blitzed Tim Tams, then add the chopped biscuits. Spread into a greased, lined tin and put in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. When set, on low heat, combine the chocolate and condensed milk until smooth, then spread over the set biscuit base and put it back in the fridge for a few hours.
It was easy. It's finished and sitting in the fridge. The dishes are done. And the questions remain.
Why did I want to put chopped dried cherries or cranberries in the base?
Will they like it?
Can I leave what it's left at Blarney's place?
If I have to bring it home, will the neighbours like it?
Why does bringing something to a barbeque/party fill me with such dread.
Also, is there nothing that an Australian woman cannot do with some butter, a packet of biscuits and a can of condensed milk?
On the good side of things, I got to do one of my most favourite activities - licking out the condensed milk tin. It still brings some joy.
I love that Sunday Stealing is having a Thanksgiving break - and they haven't posted Thanksgiving questions, as being Australian, we don't have Thanksgiving. It's not a thing here, unless you have American family or friends who will drag you around for turkey, stuffing, gravy and sweet potatoes covered in marshmallow and pumpkin pie, which, as an Australian, sounds like a bit of an abomination because pumpkin is a savoury dish which you eat roasted or in soups and salads.
C'est la guerre.
Anyway, today's questions come from Sunday Stealing. I hope they have a great Thanksgiving. As an Australian, it's just the last Thursday in November followed by a day of sales.
F. Film: What movie or tv show are you watching?
Some things I've been watching over the last while.
I saw Wake Up Dead Man last night at the cinema and loved it. Very funny film.
The other week I saw the second installation of the Wicked franchise, Wicked: For Good. I was underwhelmed by that one, though others love it.
And the reboot of The Running Man was great, and I don't normally like action films. Glenn Powell is everywhere. Very easy on the eye.
On television, I've got into The Man on the Inside with Ted Danson. It's got a lovely heart to it. Also if you have aging friends and family, you'll understand some of the undertones.
Another thing I've loved was the British season of The Celebrity Traitors. That was just wonderful.
A. Audio: What are you listening to?
As music goes, I've been going over The Pixies back catalogue. Having gone to both Melbourne concerts last week I've been reliving both gigs. They really are awesome.
After a trip to a jazz bar on Thursday, I'm also having a dig around some jazz. I've got to be in the mood for jazz, but it's been very cool to search some stuff out.
I've always got an audiobook on the go to. This morning, I finishedTrespasses by Louise Kennedy, which was a stunning book about a couple during The Troubles in Northern Ireland.
On paper, I'm about halfway through RF Kuang's Babel. It's a strange mix of historical fiction and fantasy, but I'm enjoying it.
The book group book this month is something called Hard Copy by Fien Veldman. It's allegedly about somebody who falls in love with a photocopier. I've heard different reviews on this. At least it's short.
Jay suggested a Friday film. There were some suggestions of British films, but they all sounded a bit grim, and I was in the mood for something a bit lighter. It had been a big week, something funny and light was required. We settled on the latest in the Knives Out series - Wake Up Dead Man.
If you've not seen any of the Knives Out series, you'll find them on Netflix. The first one is fabulous. I don't rate the second one. But in this third in the series, writer/director Rian Johnson is back to his best. Do you have to see the other two movies in the series to enjoy this? Absolutely not - though a little bit of history about detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) is not a bad thing. There are no related characters. The only similarities between the films are that they are stylish movies with killer casts.
This is a good, old fashioned detective movie, which also happens to be very funny.
The story starts off when we meet a young priest, Jud Duplenticy (Josh O'Connor) who after getting into some skirmishes with another member of the clergy is sent out to a parish in Upstate New York to be a junior priest to a turbulent Mons Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin). This bloke is on an ego trip, keeping some members of his clergy close, while driving others away. Jud and the Mons don't get on. The inner circle, consisting of Martha, the Church Secretary (Glenn Close), Nat, the gin-soaked town doctor (Jeremy Renner), Lee, a reclusive writer (Andrew Scott), Vera, a lawyer who hasn't reached her potential, her brother Cy, a wannabe MAGA styled Senate candidate (Daryl McCormack) and Simone, an ailing artist (Cailee Spaeny) are all in the thrall of the malevolent Wicks.
And then Wicks turns up dead in a locked room, during the Good Friday service after delivering the homily.
Jud is automatically the number one suspect.
This is when the investigative team comes in. Mila Kunis is Geraldine, the chief of police, who brings in the amazing Benoit Blanc to investigate.
I'm not going to go into the plot, other than it's a murder mystery in which an improbably murder takes place, and it's the absolute bomb. There are twists and turns and a lot of laughs along the way.
For those who have not witnessed Daniel Craig do a Southern accent, this is all a part of the charm. Along with the rest of the cast, their comic chops all come out. Oh, and if you haven't seen Daniel Craig in Logan Lucky, search it out. He's hysterical. I love it when you can tell an actor is having a ball.
This film also belongs to Josh O'Connor, who plays the sometimes-hapless Jud. A street kid who's found religion, Jud is both happy to sit back and let things run but also stand his ground when needed.
The rest of the cast are just as strong. Glenn Close as the conniving Church secretary and Daryl McCormack as Cy, the MAGA wannabe man-baby are stand outs. The rest of the cast are just as strong. A lot of this is thanks to Rian Johnson's air-tight script, which is as funny as is it subversive. The digs are the church and the US political climate are on point and very, very funny.
As this is a Netflix production, it will be streaming in the next few weeks put this on your Christmas viewing list. It's very entertaining. A great Friday night film - intelligent, light and funny. What more do you want?
Following on from last night, today was proof that animals really do make the world a nicer place.
I had two very different interactions with two very different beasties today. Both brought a lot of joy.
The first one occurred on the way to the tram.
There is a building site across the road from me. I waked by. Behind the fence there was a strapping, grey Staffordshire terrier. I looked at her. She looked at me. I nodded at her. She nodded at me. I said hello to her. She wagged her tail.
As I walked on the road around the site, she followed me.
Her dad was busy digging a ditch, or whatever tradies do on building site. The dog kept following me.
"I think your dog wants to say hello to me," I said to her dad.
"That's about right."
"Would it be okay if I said hello to your dog?"
He looked over at the dog coming towards us.
"I think she wants to say hello to you. She's very friendly. Her name's Zoe."
"Hello, Zoe."
Zoe came up to me, wagging her tail. She gave me a good sniff before sitting on my feet and demanding a pat. Staffies like to do this, the feet sitting thing.
"I think she likes me."
"Yes, she does."
Once she got off my feet, I gave her one last pat, before saying goodbye to her dad and heading off to the tram.
Made my morning.
This is an AI representation of Zoe, complete with her pink collar.
The second interaction happened when I got home.
Arriving home after work, on climbing up the stairs, I found my next-door neighbours on the landing. They're a lovely Taiwanese couple and they have a three-year-old daughter, Lily. She's a cutey.
The two-minute chat was obviously too much for Lucifer, as he was yowling on the other side of the door.
"Do you hear that, Lily? It's a pussycat. Should we have a look?" I unlocked the door.
Please remember that Lucifer is and obstreperous beast. I love him dearly, but he's not great with other people.
I opened the door.
There was the full expectoration that he would run away back into the flat.
But no, he walked up to me.
Lily was besotted. A kitty cat! Her parents held her back.
Then Lucifer saw her. The look on his face said everything. And remember, Lucifer has a particularly expressive face.
An AI representation of Lucifer looking pissed off.
I don't think he's ever seen a child before - well not on my watch.
The first thing I could see was the thought, "What the hell is that thing? Can I eat it?"
The second was, "Why are you talking to them, when you could be feeding me my dinner?"
The third thing that showed on his face was, "Where the hell have you been?" I did explain to him that I needed to go to work so that I can buy him cat food. He was asked to look after the place when I was at work.
He brings me hours of joy. The range of emotions that cross is little face is just glorious.
Once again I have absolutely no idea what to write. I know there are things I would like to write, but I'm not writing them on here.
So, once again, I'm going to dip into my writing prompt cards, sourced from Catherine Deveny.
Tonight's card reads:
"All animals are therapy animals, most are just freelancing.
Write about the healing power of an animal. Think pets in particular but not exclusively. Open your mind to birds, livestock, wild animals, rodents, and insects."
I love most animals - okay, I'm not fond of chooks, but furry animals - I adore.
I could bore you senseless talking about Lucifer, my gorgeous black boy, or Maow Maow, the love of my life. Growing up, there was Sheba, who was the family dog, but she slept on my bed, and I was her favourite. She was my best friend growing up.
Animals tend to love me too. Visiting an old colleague the other week, his two very large German Short Haired Pointers thought I made a great couch - and I loved them for it.
You'll always find me in the kitchen at parties talking to the cat, or dog. We have great conversations.
Yet my favourite interactions with animals are the ones you don't expect. The ones where you can commune with the animals and you can take each other in.
Here's three examples.
My mum used to live in the country and there were some kangaroos that lived in the scrub out the back. On any given morning, you could go outside and there'd often be a kangaroo, often with a joey, sitting on the front lawn. If you moved slowly, and sat down, you could have a chat. She wasn't going anywhere, comfortable in your presence. We looked each other in the eye, gave each other the nod, and got on with our business - I drank my coffee. She kept nibbling on the grass. After a while, she made her way slowly back into the scrub.
Magic.
My second example was when my stepdad and I went up the back paddock, which entailed a long walk up a big hill. On arriving, we found about twenty kangaroos sitting around chewing the fat. If you're quiet, mobs of kangaroos will just sit there for a bit. They're more scared of you than you are of them. Seeing the two of us, they got up to move away - but that wasn't the joy of this day (although kangaroos always make it good day). We came within a few metres of a Wedge-Tailed Eagle.
Normally, you won't get anywhere near these birds in the wild. They're very shy. This one was obviously hanging out with the roos. It flew away quickly, but not before unfurling it's massive wingspan in front of us.
Nature got a big thank you that day. It's rare to witness that incredible beauty up close.
My last memorable interaction that I think of fondly was in England. I was staying with a friend in deepest, darkest Surrey. Her house is around three kilometres from the station - a good half hour walk home through that classic English woodland.
Around the halfway mark, sitting by the side of the road, was the most glorious fox. I love foxes. I stopped and stared. He stared back. Neither of us moved for a minute or two. He nodded at me. I nodded at him. It was an unexpected acknowledgement. Then he crossed the road and went into some bushes.
I know this is a silly little story about encountering a fox on a lovely English Autumn afternoon on a picturesque English country road, but it was a fox. In the wild. We were minding our own business. But we connected in a small way.
Any time you can commune with an animal, whether it's a dog you pass in the street, or the neighbours cat who demands a tummy rub before you pass, or watching (and smelling) Salvatore the seal, who sometimes frequents the Yarra River, animals will always be the bomb.
I have absolutely no idea of what to write tonight, so I'm delving into my box of Dev's prompt cards.
This one reads:
"Can you drive? Fly a plane? Ride a bike? How did you learn? Who have you taught? Do you enjoy train travel? Always up for a bus ride, or are you a keen walker? Have you been in a helicopter, an ambulance or traveled by horse and cart? Are you an Uber driver? Do you remember tram conductors? Do you have something to write about ticket inspectors? Is taking ferries part of your life or have they been in the past? Walking in transport, right?
Your reflections, opinions, memories, and preferences about transport please my darling."
Okay, I can do this.
I love transport, and with the exception of suburban buses, I love most of them, mainly because transport takes you places.
I'll break this down.
I have been driving since the age of ten - first of all tractors, then I learned to drive in a car around the age of 14. Remember, I grew up on the back roads of Myponga, and shifting cars around, picking up milk from the neighbours - little trips. Job runs. As one of the cars was automatic, I first learned in that, then moved onto the three-on-the-tree Valiant wagon we had at the time. Mrs Gwennie, our bus driver showed me how to change gears in a manual. Yes, I can drive a manual. I pride myself on being able to drive nearly anything. I find driving relaxing. I love long car journeys. Driving is good - though I'd never drive an Uber. I'm not one for the general public.
I've given my friend Geetangeli a few driving lessons. The last one took place in a car park in Christchurch. She's been driving manuals for years - never an automatic. I had a hire car at the time, so we found this empty car park on the Sunday morning and I let her do a few laps. Easiest driving lessons ever, not that she's got behind the wheel of an automatic since, but we proved it was easy, and she has the confidence that these vehicles won't stop her for driving them in the future. I mean, they are a bit set and forget, but I do understand her apprehension.
I'm a keen walker. Sneakers are my preferred mode of transport in cities.
I can't fly a plane, but I'm sure if I asked nicely, my uncle might offer to teach me - though I'm not fond of the thought of small planes - the bigger the better.
Yes I've been in a helicopter, but I was on holiday in New Zealand in the eighties. I've also been in a balloon - 40th birthday present from the guys at work. That was awesome. I've been in an ambulance. I was an ambulance cadet as a teenager, so we got to be in the ambulances at local events. I was also transported from on hospital to another after day surgery - nothing nefarious, in fact it felt like overkill. I could have walked the 600 meters, but that's not the protocol.
I don't remember tram conductors, but I remember them on the trains in Adelaide when I was a teenager. As for ticket inspectors - I suppose somebody has to do the job. They used to be a lot more confrontational - they seem to have softened their stance since COVID. I've never had a run in with them. I'm good at tapping on.
In an ideal world, I would take a ferry to work. Though I could never live in Sydney, I adore taking the ferry. I love the romance, the sitting out on deck feeling the sea spray and sunshine and the vibrations of the motors below deck. Ferries are a great way to get around.
But I love trains. I’ve always love trains. I remember when my grandmother used to take me to watch the level crossings when I was a young child. I would’ve been a train spotter if that.Had been allowed to manifest further. But trains are great, Whether they be the London underground or the Paris Metro, long journey through Europe, there a quick ride on a suburban train. I love that he just have to sit there and you get taken to where you need to go. You don’t have to think about it, you just get on and sit down and your mind is your own for the duration of the ride.
I've just had a huge week and I'm exhausted. I'm thankful that the questions are short and my answers are going to be even shorter. Going out to concerts two nights in a row on a school night, in your 50s, is not a good thing. It's hard. It's exhausting. But it was The Pixies and it has to be done.
1) Has anyone ever told you "I love you" but you didn't say it back?
Yes. Did I love him? No. Was I flattered? No. It was all about timing, but I don't want to go into it. Am I still in contact with this person? No.
2) Do you consider yourself organized?
Yes and no. I look really disorganised, but my ADHD brain has everything in order. Bills are paid on time, itineraries kept to and I know where things are. But it looks a mess.
3) Where do you look first when you go clothes shopping?
Online - and Facebook Marketplace. I don't like clothes shopping in stores.
4) Do you often reflect on your past in terms of eras or milestones ("it's been 10 years since X happened")?
All the time. But some of that comes from working with people who are younger than you and you work out what you were doing the year they were born and it's very scary.
5) Were you more recently ill or injured (flu vs. twisted ankle)?
Not really. I had a nasty cold in France a few months back and I'm still rehabbing a strained glute muscle - thankfully, nothing major.
People who occasionally read my reviews know that I'm normally a positive reviewer, I look for the good in what I go see. I find things to appreciate, talk up some things while being constructively critical about other things.
Yeah. I'm not going to do that here.
Wicked: For Good is ostensibly a bad film. It's a bit of a dog. With fleas. But people are going to march along to it regardless and will probably say it's great.
I won't do that.
There. I said it. It's bad.
This is not to say that I didn't enjoy some things, and I will talk about those. But this one's a shocker, which is disappointing as the first film was very enjoyable. But that was a year ago. They had a year to get this right. It didn't happen.
Also, some of this comes from the fact that this is based off a musical, and the kind of musical which I tend to avoid or then see once and never go again. Case in point - Les Miserables. Seen in once. The best bit is when Javert jumps off the bridge. I don't like that the musical themes are repeated ad nauseum through the show. It's annoying. It's why I don't like mainstream
It's for this reason I never saw Wicked on stage. There are other things I'd rather spend my money on. Seeing this as a film suits me better - it doesn't have the large financial outlay.
So, here's my major criticism: You take a three hour, with interval stage show and turn it into two, two-hour plus movies. The first film has the interesting stuff about how the two protagonists meet and do the enemies-to-friends trope. The second is about how they 'killed off' the Wicked Witch of the West. And frankly, the story is a bit boring. But it could have been a lot better.
I'm not going to diss this film for all the things that should have made this stellar.
The production values are incredible. The CGI, the colours, the sets, the costumes - they're brilliant.
The music and dance productions are fantastic, even if they are repetitive. Cynthia Erivo's Elphaba is exquisite. She's great. So is Ariana Granda as the annoying but growing Glinda.
But and here is my big but, the script feels like it's been outsourced to A.I. and the work experience kid. The transitions between scenes are clunky. Some scenes feel cut short, others are laboured. It's like they've spent squillions on the production and forgotten about the script, making the movie feel like it's about half an hour too long.
I'm not going to let the writers Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holman off the hook for this. Nor whoever approved the continuity. It felt jumpy and patchy. However good a film looks, it doesn't make up for a badly constructed story - and this is why I've not rated it.
Still, those who love Wicked the stage musical will love this. This will encourage the theatre kids out there to apply for the VCA and NIDA. Those who like musicals will love it, especially those who love the original musical.
For me, nah. Not impressed with the storytelling. It doesn't matter how good it looks, how wonderful the musical numbers are - a badly told story is a badly told story and as a writer, this is unforgivable.
The Venue: Festering (oops) Festival Hall, West Melbourne
Melbourne Dates: 19 and 20 November - the last stop on the Australian Tour
Stars: 4.5 (only because they didn't play Levitate Me).
I had lunch with my friend the engineer today. I explained that I was a bit salty for organising this lunch today because I'd been out to see The Pixies on two consecutive school nights and I was a bit dusty.
Have you any idea how much energy it takes to go into mosh pit on two nights in a row when you're in your 50s?
Okay, there are some things we do better now. There's no drinking to excess. We wear sensible shoes. Some of us with sensory difficulties wear decibel limiting ear plugs. (Loop earplugs are the absolute best - no more ringing ears for a few days after a concert - and you can still hear it clearly.) As soon as the gig is over, we head home, not go down the pub.
We're old and sensible.
I explained this to the engineer.
"You're going to go and wax lyrical about this bloody band again?" he asked.
"Set the timer, give me five minutes."
"You don't change." The engineer has known me for over 15 years. He's seen me go into my Pixies stories.
And I went on to explain, in a very animated fashion, about my two nights out with one of my favourite bands.
Also know, I've seen them:
At the V Festival at the Gold Coast in 2007 (the first time they'd been to Australia and Kim Deal was still their bassist.
At Margaret Court Arena in 2017
At Festering oops Festival Hall in 2010
On the Sydney Opera House fore court in 2022 (they were supposed to play in March 2020, and we got up there and they cancelled because of COVID.
And at the Forum in Melbourne in 2022, this time without Alice, but I did run into Jerry...
Oh, and I saw them support Pearl Jam at Marvel Stadium last year. I could have quite happily gone home after The Pixies, but Pearl Jam were pretty good. (I'm not the only Pixies fan to feel this way.)
My mate Alice and I are complete tragics.
We were joined by some other tragics - Steve, Steve, Steve with the tickets, Jerry, Fergus and Alice and me. We were joined by Rob and Andrew and Barry inside.
This time round, they did two completely different sets.
The Wednesday night set were for the real fans. They did their two albums, Bossanova and Trompe Le Monde end-to-end. These aren't their seminal albums, but they're still good.
Wednesday night was for the hardcore fans. Festering oops Festival Hall was about 3/4 full. They put out some chairs on the side of the mosh pit so we oldies could sit down for a bit. The atmosphere was bubbling - and reverent. We all knew we were in the presence of greatness.
With Francis Black on vocals and acoustic guitar, Joey Santiago on the electric guitar, Dave Lovering on the drums and newcomer Emma Richardson on the bass, they cut loose.
They are also tighter than a nun's proverbial.
They encored with Here Comes Your Man, Where is my Mind? and a cover of Neil Young's Winterlong. The crowd left very happy indeed.
We went back the following night. The lady at the door asked if we were here last night. We were, we told her. She just shook her head at us and let us pass.
This time there was Steve, Neil, Jerry, Barry, Alice and me.
You get the drift. Six 50 somethings mooching along Spencer Street all excited about a gig, with our sensible shoes, glasses, band t-shirts all excited to see this greatness in action.
The second night was more of a classic set. Songs from Surfer Rosa/Come on Pilgrim and Doolittle, along with some of their newer stuff.
The place was sold out.
But instead of the absolute tragics, the people who like The Pixies because they like song at the end of Fight Club, or the cover of Here Comes Your Man in 500 Days of Summer turned up.
It was a younger crowd. It felt different, even though the music was still amazing.
They did both versions of Wave of Mutilation - the rock version and the stripped back acoustic UK Surf track, which I rather like. They ended on Into the White, which I haven't heard in years.
I was happy because they played Nimrod's Son, Hey and Vamos.... but they have to play Vamos.... because it shows Joey off in his best light.
Alice was happy because they performed Head On (a Jesus and Mary Chain cover) which is her favourite.
But they missed out on Levitate Me. And Crackity Jones...and a few others missed the cut.
But The Pixies are still God.
Alice and I agreed, both nights were great, but we preferred the Wednesday night with the long term, committed fans.
Okay, that took me about ten minutes, madly talking with my hands as we waited for lunch to arrive.
But as Alice said, as Francis Black, Joey Santiago and Dave Lovering are in their sixties now, who knows if or when they will come again.
And this is our church.
Alice and I worship in the mosh pit altar of what is one of the greatest bands in the world.
You can't tell me otherwise.
(And if you ever want me to sing you a Pixies song, I'll do it happily. That's the sort of fan I am.)
Bone conducting headphones. Check. (for the tram ride)
Okay. I'm doing it again. Converging with 5000 or so of my brethren who are going to celebrate at the Church of The Pixies.
Alice said it well. "Pand, THIS is our Church!"
She's right.
Concerts have changed.
I wear the earplugs now taking away about 20 decibels of noise but still being able to hear everything clearly - and your ears don't ring into the next day.
There's no point drinking anything other than water - or maybe one beer. That's all - it's a school night.
Oh, and there's chair where you can go sit down for a bit if you get tired. Because we're old. Most of the crowd are well into their 50s. But don't diss us, we know how to party!
Last night the band did the Bossonova and Trompe de Monde albums from end to end - with Here Comes Your Man and Where is my Mind? and a cover of Neil Young's Winterlong as an encore
Tonight' might be a bit busier. Tonight, they're going to get into the Surfer Rosa and Doolittle albums, as well as some of their later stuff.
I will remind you that I received my first Walkman - to play cassettes, when I was 17-years-old. The first cassette I put into that Walkman was Talking Heads Stop Making Sense, which is still one of my favourite albums.
I will remind you that I've seen Elton John with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. I've seen David Byrne, twice - soon to be three times.
I was sitting in a pub in Holborn when I first heard Blur and Oasis.
I used to get told off for watching Countdown twice when I was a kid.
I know the words to Khe Sahn.
I can do the Nutbush. And the Macarana. And I learned to square dance at primary school.
And now I'm off to Festival Hall, or as I call it, Festering Hall, to see The Pixies.
I love The Pixies.
I'm wearing the t-shirt.
And comfortable shoes. And glasses. And I have my loop earplugs. And I will be standing up the back (if I can't blague a seat).
And I will be joining a lot of other Gen-X tragics in comfortable shoes, band t-shirts, wearing glasses. Lots of the men with have beards and bald spots. Most of the women will be on HRT.
And yeah, we're off to see The Pixies, tonight, for the Bossanova and Trompe le Monde set, and tomorrow night for the best of set, because we are tragics and we know that the band are now in their sixties (with the exception of Emma, who's probably late thirties) and you don't know if this will be the last time.
What books am I going to put up for book group? Every single year I dither over this.
My book group has been going for nearly 20 years, we've had some come in and out and there's the odd blow in, but the eight of us have been at this for at least ten years and we've been doing the lolly vote for all of this.
At our book choosing meeting you're given a bag of 25 lollies. Once everybody has championed their two books you get to put lollies on the books you want to read (but you can't vote for your own books).
Books have to fit the book group criteria, these being:
Must be fiction - no non-fiction, memoir or autobiography
Should be under 500 pages - we will accept a few more pages but use discretion when choosing. So, Demon Copperhead at 560 pages - yes. A Little Life at nearly 1000 pages - no.
Should be of either literary or good popular fiction quality. So, Liane Moriarty, yes. Dan Brown, no.
Must be readily available in book shops, libraries, online. Nothing out of print or hard to get.
Book choices need to be in two days before the December meeting.
I'm the only one who knows what's on the book list ahead of time. We have the two-day amnesty as it allows for anybody who can't make the meeting to vote. Also, it stops double ups. So far this year we have eight books in - already two double ups.
Anyway, I have to have a think about what I'm going to put in.
Nothing on this list has been chosen yet (though a couple of my long list have been chosen).
So here is what I'm thinking about putting up at the moment.
Chosen Family by Madeline Gray
A coming-of-age story set in Sydney taking the two protagonists through to adulthood.
I loved her first book, Green Dot and I'm looking forward to reading more. Australian content. Published 2025. 357 pages.
Mad Mabel by Sally Hepworth
The blurb reads, "In 1959, at just fifteen years of age, Mabel Waller became the youngest Australian in history to be convicted of murder. She is known around the world as Mad Mabel. But is she mad? More importantly, is she guilty? In a world first, at the age of 81, Mabel Waller is speaking."
I've heard good things about Sally Hepworth. Australian content. Published 2025. 342 pages.
The Underworld by Sofie Laguna
I love Sofie Laguna. She's amazing. This one is about a girl growing up - a misfit with a glamorous, aloof mother and absent father. She learsn about the underworld in Roman Mythology classes at school. She has friends, but then things go wrong.
Sofie Laguna always breaks your heart. That's why you keep going back. Australian content. Published 2025. 370 pages.
Theory and Practice by Michele de Kretzer
Winner of this year's Miles Franklin award, this is a Melbourne based novel set in the 80s. It's very cool, though rather unsettling. I loved the details in this. Michele de Kretzer can be challenging, but in a good way.
Australian content. Published 2024. 180 pages.
The Wedding People by Alison Espach
This is my popular fiction thought. Phoebe is a woman, recently separated, who goes to a flash hotel hell bent on ending her life. But there is a big wedding being held at this fancy-schmancy hotel and when the bride gets wind of this, she's having none of it. It's a book about dysfunctional families, friendship, love and everything in between.
American author. Published 2024. 367 pages.
Atmosphere by Taylor Jenkins-Reid
I'd gone off Taylor Jenkins Reid, but I listened to this, and it was fantastic. The story of two women astronauts. Friends, lovers, trailblazers. This is a page turner. Emotional. Interesting. Engaging. Jenkins-Reid is back to her best.
American author. Published 2025. Published 2025, 352 pages.
Orbital by Samantha Harvey
This is a little book that packs a punch. It won the Booker Prize last year. It's about a group of astronauts floating about space. It is incredible. And little. And it keeps coming back to you.
English author. Published 2024. 136 pages.
Gravity Let Me Go by Trent Dalton
I love Trent Dalton. His Boy Swallows Universe was voted the best book of the last 20 years by ABC Radio listeners. How we missed Lola in the Mirror on our reading list last year I will never know. It's amazing. Anyway, this one, according to the blurb, is a dark, gritty, hilarious and unexpected exploration of marriage and ambition, truth-telling, and truth-omitting, self-deception and self-preservation. Hmm.
Australian author. Published 2025. Published 2025. 431 pages.
Great Acts of Love by Heather Rose
Heather Rose is another favourite author of mine. And all of her books are really different. She also won the Stella Prize for The Museum of Modern Love a few years ago. An incredible book.
This one's blurb reads, "Caroline will tell the story of how she came to Tasmania, when it was still Van Diemen's Land, many times. She will cast her inventions into the future. Those who carry them will call it history, but she will call it her life. "
It's a family saga. Got to love a good famly saga.
Australian author. Published 2025. 471 pages.
Broken Country by Clare Leslie Hall
I listened to this as an audiobook and fell in love with it. Here's the blurb from Goodreads.
"Beth and her gentle, kind husband Frank are happily married, but their relationship relies on the past staying buried. But when Beth’s brother-in-law shoots a dog going after their sheep, Beth doesn’t realize that the gunshot will alter the course of their lives. For the dog belonged to none other than Gabriel Wolfe, the man Beth loved as a teenager—the man who broke her heart years ago. Gabriel has returned to the village with his young son Leo, a boy who reminds Beth very much of her own son, who died in a tragic accident.
As Beth is pulled back into Gabriel’s life, tensions around the village rise and dangerous secrets and jealousies from the past resurface, this time with deadly consequences. Beth is forced to make a choice between the woman she once was, and the woman she has become.
A sweeping love story with the pace and twists of a thriller, Broken Country is a novel of simmering passion, impossible choices, and explosive consequences that toggles between the past and present to explore the far-reaching legacy of first love."
It was awesome.
English author. Published 2025. 319 pages.
Dream Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I am remiss in that I've not read Ngozi Adichie yet. I missed reading Half a Yellow Sun because I was overseas at the time - one of the few book group books I've missed.
This one also looks at the African diaspora in four separate stories.
Nigerian author. Published 2025. 474 pages.
Any thoughts on what I should choose? There are so many books I could put on this list. So many books, so little time. Too many to choose from.
