Stimming

Love is having friends who understand your stimming. 

Stimming? 

According to A.I. stimming is:

Stimming is short for self-stimulating behaviour. It refers to repetitive movements, sounds, or actions that help someone regulate their emotions, energy, or sensory experience.

What does stimming look like?

It can include things like:

• Hand-flapping
• Rocking back and forth
• Repeating words or phrases (echolalia)
• Tapping fingers or feet
• Spinning objects
• Humming
• Playing with hair or clothing

Some stimming is very noticeable, and some is subtle (like clicking a pen or bouncing a leg).

Why do people stim?

Stimming can help with:

• Managing anxiety or stress
• Processing strong emotions (excitement, frustration, overwhelm)
• Focusing or concentrating
• Coping with sensory overload
• Expressing joy

It’s often discussed in relation to Autism spectrum disorder, because many autistic people stim regularly. However, everyone stims to some degree. For example, biting your nails before a presentation or pacing while thinking are common forms of stimming.

My particular stim is keeping a bit of satin ribbon in my fingers. 

I've been stimming since I was a baby. My parents dropped me with my aunt, uncle and cousins out the back blocks of Keith, South Australia as they went off on a skiing holiday. Being the resourceful baby, I raided the satin lining out of my uncle's hat, started rubbing my nose with it, as a self-soothing action because my parents had deserted me with this raucous family of seven, two of whom took me to show and tell one day... (family lore - my cousins still talk about it). Regardless, for the last 50 odd years, I've carted around a bit of satin ribbon. One is often in my handbag or pocket. It's not taken to work, but most other cases, when I'm on my own, I'll have my ribbon with me. 

It's cheaper and less invasive than Prosac. 

Anyway, I took my ribbon with me to the retreat. I'm around a lot of other neurospicy people, I don't need to explain stimming. 

Regardless, I was going home, a passenger in tow, and I realise I don't have my ribbon. Hackles rise. Anxiety passes in a minute as I realise there is nothing I can do. I'm going have to raw dog it without it. 

Never to mind, I tell myself. I couldn't turn around to look for it; I had to get my retreat mate to the airport. Besides, I have a spare at home. 

The next day I noticed a post from my mate, Jazz, who'd stayed at Seacroft for an extra night. There was a flash of red in the background.  I messaged her. 

Pand: Mate, is there a red ribbon on the table where I was sitting? Asking for a friend. 

Jazz: Yes, there is. 

Pand: Oh, bummer, there it is. It's my stimming ribbon. 

Jazz: Are you okay?

Pand: Sure. I have a spare, but it's not my favourite. 

Jazz: Can I post it on to you. 

Pand: I owe you dinner or something. Thank you.  

Phew. 

See, Jazz has three neurospicy kids. She gets quirks and stims and the small elements that can be the difference between peace and quiet or an utter meltdown. It's a bit different when you're an adult and can regulate a bit better, but still. 

It turned up in the mail today. 

I had another conversation about stimming with another retreat mate, also the mother of neurospicy kids, who admitted that one of their children carted around a ribbon too. 

Frankly, I feel a little vindicated. There are people who understand!

And I love them for it. 

Today's song: 

Theatre Review: Black Light

 The Production: Black Light by Jada Alberts

The Theatre: The Merlyn at The Malthouse

Runtime: 90 minutes

Until: 7 March

Stars: 4

I wasn't supposed to be going to the theatre tonight, but a friend had a spare ticket and I thought why not. 

I'm glad I went. The production was plagued with some difficulties. One of the main characters was on book, and the understudy was playing another character - but they did exceptionally well, and I can't imagine how they did so well. Also in a crucial part of the play an audience member had a serious medical episode meaning the play had to stop while the ambulance was called and the audience member was taken out of the auditorium. 

Regardless, the four actors did a great job. 

According to the Malthouse website, "Black Light is a play about finding our way back to ourselves, to Country and to the people we love, when everything else tries to tear us apart. 

Things are uneasy in town. No one’s sure what’s going on, or how long it’s going to last. Fuel is scarce, so is water, military jets fly overhead and all other flights are grounded. The only choice they have is to wait it out. Together. 

The eldest in the family is Nan – she has dementia and finds it difficult to make sense of the world. The youngest is Bub. Recently separated from their wife, Bub is struggling to find stability and parent alone. Aunty and Mum are sisters and yet polar opposites. They nitpick at each other, barely able to conceal their disdain. There's so much history between them all, so much water under the bridge, and none of it clean. 

What emerges while they wait, are the deeply ingrained fears they're all carrying. The pain and the wisdom. In the stillness, it all seems ever-present. But Country is speaking louder now and it cannot be ignored."

This took a bit to get into. The mix of near-dystopia, mixed in with the dreaming stories, mixed with the Larrakia vibe was unsettling, but very interesting. 

The First Nations actors were all great. Sisters Liza and Rachael Maza as Mum and Aunty. Ella Ferris did a great job standing in as Bub, and Paula Nazarsky's Nan was on point despite being on book. 

For me the thing that hit home the most was the set, which portrayed a normal Northern Territory verandah in the wet season, with a beach and rocks that are so like the Darwin foreshore. I didn't realise how much I'd missed it. It was exceptionally well done. 

As I said, I'm glad I got to see this. I'm glad it took me out of my comfort zone and made me think. That's never a bad thing. 

Today's song: 

The Trading Table

A lot of what goes on at the writer's retreat stays on the writer's retreat. 

However, I'd like to share something about the trading table.

Most retreats we have a trading table - a place where you can off-load some of your old clothes, books, shoes and other accouterments, the proceeds are always sent on to a worthy charity. This time, we raised over $500 for a Palestinian children's charity. It feels nice to do some good. 

I've picked up some awesome pieces over the years. My pink sparkly wellies, denim jacket and a number of t-shirts have come off the rack. Most retreats I'll take down a few books of reasonable quality and will come back with one or two. I found something I've been wanting to read on the table, donated $5 - done. 

We've had cushion covers, hair bobbles (you know, the ones that used to leave craters in your skull as a kid) bathers, scarves. All sorts of decent stuff that people want to move on. 

This time, there was one item that nobody was wanting to take. Everybody picked it up and had a look, but nobody was buying. 

"Who put that there?"

"No idea."

"What the..?"

"Yes, it is what you think it is."

Somebody put a vibrator on the trading table. 

It was in its box. Allegedly unused. One that works on the outside rather than the inside (think of "The Rose or The Lemon").

Did we ever find out who left this as a charity donation?  No. 

Did anybody buy it? No. 

Did people pick it up, smirk and audibly ponder how it got there. Absolutely. 

"I wonder if it's any good?" Somebody asked. 

"It is. I've got it's brother at home." This came with a wry smile.

"You know, this is tempting," said another, "I left mine at home."

"I'm not sure if it's charged up," I provided. 

"It doesn't take batteries."

"It does not. Comes with a charging cable. Most do now."

"You know about this?"

"I might do."

"I wonder what they want for it?" was another question. 

"Well, it retails for around $100."

"You know this?"

"I might do."

The item remained on the table, continuing to provide an element of mirth. 

I do wonder what you'd pay for a second hand vibrator. 

It didn't sell. I'm not sure what's going to happen to it. Often the remnants are dropped off at a local op shop. 

I wonder what Dorothy or Gladys or Gwen might think as they pull it out of the charity bin....

Today's song:

February Reading

I've been reading a lot this month - on purpose as it's a reprieve from a busy life. I've consumed eight books of variable quality across a number of genres. Here's a short review on each book to demonstrate what a contrary reader I can be. 

1. The One and Only Dolly Jamieson by Lisa Ireland

Format: Paperback  

Stars: 3-ish

This was our February book group book, and if I'm honest, I wasn't enthralled with it. Dolly is a bit down on her luck. Once a famous actress she finds herself between abodes. She's in the library, her place of refuge, when she meets Jane, also in the library, seeking solace. Both women have a story to tell. 

If I'm honest, as a book group book it was a bit light on, and some things needed an elastic imagination to get around some of the scenarios, but the themes were good, particularly around older women and homelessness. 

It was okay. 

2. Late Bloomer by Clem Bastow

Format: Audio  

Stars: 5

On the other hand, this book spoke to me. Clem Bastow, Melbourne academic and writer has produced this wonderful memoir about what it is to be diagnosed later in life with autism. I listened to her read this on audiobook and it was brilliant. As I've got a late-gotten AUDHD diagnosis I found myself listening and nodding, relating, and hard relating to a lot of the content. 

I reckon this is required reading for anybody finding themself on the spectrum later in life, coming to terms with the diagnosis and all that it brings. You are not alone. 

Bastow is incredibly relatable. 

3. A Lifetime of Impossible Days by Tabitha Bird

Format: Audio  

Stars: 4

I picked this up in an audible sale and loved it a lot. 

In this wise, funny and sometime baffling book you meet three versions of Willa. 8-year-old Super Gumboots Willa. 30-year-old Middle Willa, mother of two who's dealing with the fallout of a dysfunctional family. And we meet Old Willa, 91 years old and desperate to not go into the "plastic sheets home." The three Willas can meet through the ocean at the end of the garden. 

The magic realism takes a little bit to get used to, but once you work out what's going on, you get to where the author is taking you.

Ostensibly, this is a story about healing from the effects of domestic violence, and because of this, I'll add this gentle trigger warning.

However, I loved the authors use of language and idiom. It's quirky and effective. As Super Gumboots Willa would say, "AMAZE-A-LOO!". 

4. The Temperature by Katerina Gibson

Format: Paperback  

Stars: 2.5

I was recently asked why I persist with books. 

I started this last year while in Darwin and I abandoned it at around 100 pages. I picked it up again and tried to like it but didn't. I persisted. It took forever to finish. Yeah.  

It's all over the place. There wasn't a likeable character in the novel, although there is some very good writing in places. I could see what the author was doing, but for me, it was too convoluted. 

Already, it's been relegated to the street library. It doesn't come recommended. 

5. An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn

Format: Kindle

Stars: 4

As the antithesis of The Temperature, I broke out the book of the latest Bridgerton series. 

Julia Quinn is fun. A friend of mine says that she's soft-core porn in a lot of ways. 

Benedict Bridgerton has always been my favourite of the tribe, and in this he's a lot harder and less self-reflective than the Benedict we see on television (and Luke Thompson who plays Benedict in the series is like... phwoar!)

Regardless, this is a reworking of Cinderella and on the second reading, it held up. It's light, fun, easy to read and so much more engaging than the last book I read. 

It also goes to prove that I don't always go high-brow. 

6. Heart the Lover by Lily King

Format: Audio

Stars: 5

From the slightly ridiculous to the sublime, Lily King's Heart the Lover is incredible. It's not a long book, and I listened to this over two days. I was driving around, finding places to go so I could listen to it.  It's a stunner. 

This coming-of-age novel is in three parts. You meet our unnamed protagonist, and her friends Sam and Yash. All three are at university in New England. All three are writers. Our protagonist embarks on a relationship with the staid Sam, although she feels a connection to Yash. And then things go to crap things change. Sam goes back to Florida, Yash remains. Our protagonist gets some opportunities to move abroad and find another life. Yash follows her. And then more things happen. I'm not going to spoil anything. 

I absolutely loved this book. I can't wait to read it again. Accessible, glorious prose. Loved it. 

7: Calls May Be Recorded for Training and Monitoring Purposes by Katherina Volckmer

Format: Paperback

Stars: 3

The best thing about this book is that I bought it at Shakespeare and Sons in Paris on the banks of the Seine. It was light, small and looked amusing. And it was light, small and reasonably amusing, and rather surprising and a bit blue in places. 

Did I like it? Yeah... nah.... If found that feels like it was written for a bit of shock value.

For anybody who's worked in a dead-end job, you'll get some of the pointlessness of Jimmie's job. 

But this did not light me up as I would have wished it to. 

8. The 5-Second Rule by Mel Robbins

Format: Audio

Stars: 3

I try and read a non-fiction book a month and I've been seeing Mel Robbins books everywhere. This one relates her guiding rule that helps her get things done. The 5 second rule. 

As much as I like the theory of this, the book was repetitive and preachy - which, from what I gather, is what Mel Robbins does best. 

I'm glad I've read this, but I won't be reading it again. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing Loves Surveys

I am on a writer's retreat down the Great Ocean Road. I am a very lucky woman. This is the view, which I took last night just before sunset. 

It's wonderful. 

I'm down to work on my novel, this is what I've promised myself to do this weekend, so I'm going to get the weekly questions out of the way early - along with my French lessons, daily haiku (which I'll tell you about next week) so that I have a clear path for writing. 

Questions, as always, come from Sunday Stealing. 

1. Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? 

Yes. But not much of it. I've only recently integrated a bit of it back into my diet. It works well with the Ritalin. I've had a coffee thi morning with a bit of caffeine. I'll be back on the decaf from this time. However, there is a bottle of coke zero in the fridge which will pep me up a bit later. 

2. Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? 

I had a brief discussion with Jonella over text yesterday afternoon to tee up a time to have a chat on the phone. We were both going to be driving, just had to work out when would be the best time to chat. 

I'm also waiting to hear if Lucifer is being nice to Jay. She's feeding him while I'm away. 

3. Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? 

We're very lucky in Melbourne. There are suburban, regional and interstate trains that go in and out of the city from a number of large stations. We also have trams that roam around the city and terrorise unsuspecting drivers and pedestrians. Melbourne is pretty good for public transport - particularly if you're in the North and East. 

4. Have you ever been hospitalized due to dehydration?

Thankfully, no. 

5. Someone texts/IMs you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? 

It depends on who and what it is. I also have my notifications turned off after 10 pm so that I don't have to interact with people. I like having a clear, peaceful run before I go to sleep. 

6. Do you grind your teeth?  

No. 

7. When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise, or do you blast it?

Ah, I'm a funny one. I use bone conducting headphones, meaning my ears are clear to hear everything going on around me, but I still get a good audio experience. I don't like having things on or over my ears so these headphones are excellent. 

8. Are you wearing nail polish?

No. And I don't wear it very often because as soon as it chips I bite it off. I am in desperate need of a pedicure too. My feet are manky. 

9. Do you have an ice maker in your refrigerator door?

No. I bought a fridge last weekend, but it's just a normal fridge. I rent. My flat doesn't have the plumbing to have one. 

10. Do you have a friend named James?

I have a couple of friends named James. Most are called James, never Jim or Jimmy. Most are lovely. 

 Today's song:

Everyday Creative Haiku Prompts

 I'm biting the bullet. 

This idea has been floating around in my head for a while, but as I'm down the Great Ocean Road on a writer's retreat, these things will come out and demand to make it into the light. 

We were asked in we had any creative activities that you found useful to help you in your creative life. Activities that get you writing. Activities that you find some mutual benefit in doing. 

Which leads me to my creative practice of writing a haiku a day. 

My writer's group does this. Every morning, I set a haiku / senryu prompt. It's one word. Write a seventeen-syllable poem using the prompt. Don't write the poem. Share the poem. Don't share the poem. But you feel a lot better if you do this very small act of creativity. It's like making your bed every morning. It becomes a habit. You feel more at ease with the process. You feel a small sense of achievement. And you never know, you might like something you like. 

Creativity is a muscle that needs to be exercised. It's a matter of getting out of your own way. 

We've been doing the haiku thing for two months now. It's a cool think. 

And now I'm looking to expand it. 

Why not send out the haiku / senryu topic to the masses?

What have I got to lose? 

Oh, if you're asking why I keep saying haiku / senryu, I'm being a pedant. A haiku is a seventeen syllable poem (five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables) which ponders nature and the natural world. Senryu is of the same structure, but it explores human nature and everyday life. It's normally just referred to as a haiku. 

Anyway, I've set up the Instagram account - @everydaycreative_haiku_prompt. I'll also publish on Substack, setting up an account tomorrow. Then, I'll socialise this idea here at the retreat. 

What have I got to lose? 

Oh, and some examples of my work (Copyright Pandora Behr, 2026) with the prompt as the title. they're not great, but they're senryu and I'm proud that this is part of my process. 

Prompt: Smear

She, she has been there

Indelible, lipstick-marked.

It's all evidence. 

Prompt: Repeat

Reiteration

The teacher's favourite tool

Falling on deaf ears. 

Prompt: Conundrum

The more I keep looking

The less I find to inspire. 

Middle-aged men, eh!

Today's Song: 

Things to take on Retreat

It's the last weekend of February, which means I'm off down the Great Ocean Road for the weekend on retreat. I get to spend a couple of days with my tribe. I've set myself a goal. Write 5000 words of my novel. They won't be great words, but I'm looking forward to having the space to be in the fresh air, with stars, and the other retreat-goers for a weekend of great company, excellent food.

Anyway, I have to think about packing. Besides the normal clothes and toiletries, there are a few things that must go in the bag.

My travel laptop and computer accoutrements.

Have you any idea how bad it is when you have forgotten your Apple Watch charger? Or a spare mouse? Or a charging cable, these must go in the laptop bag.

Meds

I do love these people, but it’s a lot calmer when you’ve got a bit of Ritalin in you. A few others have said that it’s a bit easier coming to these retreats when you’re on the med. Calms the energy down a bit. Into the bag they go.

Tarot cards

I’m debating whether to take my cards? Or do I take another set of cards that I don’t normally read from? Or my normal reading decks? I’ll think about that a bit more.

Ben’s beer

Emma and Ben are our caterers. They are amazing. But for the last few retreats Ben has plied me with beer. I need to pay Ben back. I will get Ben some beer on my way out tomorrow. 

A jumper

Because you never know when you need to jumper. I’ve been caught out before.

My keep cup and coffee pods

As a drinker of decaf, I bring my own decaf pods and keep cup (and some almond milk because I feel bad about drinking a lot of the common stuff)

And a book or two

I’m currently in the middle of Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed. I love Margaret Atwood. But I might finish this book over the weekend and I will need another.

To be honest, I'd be happy if I hung out in pyjamas and tucked myself away and just wrote. That won't happen, but it's a nice thought.

Right, let's get this packing out the way. Bridgerton awaits. 

Today's song: 

Take your meds, Pandora

I worked from the office today, which is pretty normal for a Wednesday. 

I love my team. We are on a very stressful project, but we all get on. They're great people, and I feel very blessed by this. 

There are also some people who come in on the same days as us - also lovely people. One, in particular, has warmed the cockles of my heart. It's an open plan office with a desk booking system, but human inertia means you will often sit in the same area, if not at the same desk, week on week. 

When I first started at this job, the boss booked me a desk. As I knew where I was going, week on week I'd sit at the same desk. It's easy. My laptop is configured to the screen. I don't mind the chair. It's not too glary. 

The other week, I went to book my desk, and somebody had already booked it!

Bloody Joff!

Bloody Joff who normally sits diagonally to me. Bloody Joff who also sits at the same desk week in week out had booked MY desk. 

(I should say that Joff and I have similar job titles and he's a bit of a mentor to me too.)

Bloody Joff!

But there had to be a reason. See I know Joff. I know Joff well, even though we've only worked with each other for a couple of months. 

See, Joff and I are both late diagnosed ADHD. And we get each other. 

On the morning when he's pinched MY desk, Joff sent me a message. 

Joff: I'm in your spot. 

Pand: You are. But there must be a reason. 

Joff: There is. I bet you were miffed when you saw YOUR desk was booked. 

Pand: I was. But then after a few deep breaths I told myself off and got on with it and booked Clay's desk. I know he doesn't feel the same about going to the same spot. You'd be pissed if I nicked YOUR spot. 

Joff: Ah, yes, I would. There is a good reason. I'm working on some secret squirrel stuff, and I can't have my screen facing the main area. Your desk is in the right position. Am I forgiven?

Pand: I suppose. 

Joff: I know what I'd be feeling if you booked my desk. 

Pand: I very nearly did...

And here's the rub - we neurodivergent folk like our rituals and our inertia-bound processes. It keeps us sane. We both know this. 

We've got similar quirks. We're wired up similarly. We talk meds. 

He's been around when I've forgotten to take my lunchtime Ritalin. (If I forget to take it, I have until 2 p.m. to have the dose. If I take it after 2 pm I won't sleep.) Thankfully it's a low dose, and I'm fine without it, but I'm more productive If I take it. 

Today, I get back from an early lunch. 

There's a message from Joff. 

Joff: Take your meds.

Pand: Am I that ratty?

Joff: No, but you'll have a better afternoon if you do. 

Pand: True. Taking it now. 

I feel very blessed to have somebody like this around. (I'm lucky in general - they're really the best team).

Today's song: 

Dev Card: Dinosaur

 I'm doing a quick Dev Card tonight as I've got a few other things on tonight. I still have to watch MAFS - and I don't like what I'm seeing on the adds. One groom in particular is a walking talking reason why there's the "male loneliness epidemic."

Anyway, back to the Dev Card. 

The card reads, "Write the internal monologue of a dinosaur. You heard me, now listen."

So, the interior monologue of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. 

Grrrr. Arrrrrgh. I need longer arms. 

You asked. :) 

Today's song: 

New Fridge

 The new fridge turned up today and I don't know myself. 

Fun fact. My old fridge had been misbehaving for an age. Milk and vegetables were routinely getting frozen. The fridge wasn't just cold - it was too cold, despite having the thermostat set to the warmest it could be. Also, being a frost-free fridge, for the first time since my childhood, I had to defrost my fridge. Didn't help. I was still putting frappe into my coffee in the morning. 

A $200 call to have a man look at it and I was told the thermostat was busted and it would cost around $500 to fix it. 

Spend $700 on a seven-year-old fridge - yeah... nah. 

Saturday went to Hardly Normals Factory outlet shop on Bridge Road. I'd measured up the old fridge. I approached a friendly looking bloke and stated I needed a new fridge. 

"Do you have any requirements?"

"Yes, I've got a height and width limitations."

"How high?" he asked. 

"About up to my eyebrows."

He smirked. "And the width?'

"Ah, yeah, I lost my measuring tape, but it can't be wider than this..." I pulled out a length of wool. It did the job. It was that or dental floss. I also bought a new tape measure on the way home. 

And being that the space was limited, there were about three models in the showroom that would have fitted the bill, but I got a nice black one. Right size. Right height and at a little under $700, it made sense to get it. It was in and out of the shop in about 15 minutes after arranging delivery. 

Today, two not-very-fresh blokes and their truck brought the new one along. If you're hauling around fridges all day, I can guarantee you're not going to smell sweet. 

They hauled the new fridge up two flights of stairs. They installed the new fridge. They took the old fridge and the packaging away. 

One of the blokes told me that I should have my old Fisher & Paykel fridge fixed, after all, it's a good brand. 

Ah, that will be a no. You've just hauled the new one up the stairs. 

Regardless, after a few weeks of frozen salads, meat, milk and condiments, I can't wait to start cooking and having salads and not having to wait to have a coffee until the milk has defrosted. 

I really don't know myself. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing: I Say, You Think

 It's been a big weekend. I had masons today. Yesterday, I had meditation, went and saw my friends' kittens because kittens need to be seen. Then I had my legs waxed and bought a new fridge. 

Today, I've also started to empty the old fridge as the new one is coming after lunch tomorrow. It will be nice to have a fridge that doesn't freeze everything inside of it. 

Anyway, I'll now get on with the Sunday questions, partly before Married At First Sight Starts and getting the many magnets off the fridge ready for the new one - a sexy black model of a fridge. Even if it is a bit hard to call a fridge sexy. 

Questions, as always, come from Sunday Stealing. 

Word Association. Share what comes to mind when you hear the word ...

1. Biscuit

I think of my grandpa and Cookie Man cookies that we used to buy at Marion shopping centre next to the Charlesworth Nuts shop. It's a very Adelaide thing. I think the Mrs Fields chain may have bought out the Cookie Man chain, but there is nothing better than their harlequin biscuits. 

2. Crayon

 I think of work. I think about how many times I've wanted to yell, "DO I NEED TO WRITE THIS IN CRAYON SO YOU UNDERSTAND!"  I never have done this, but it's tempting. 

3. Warmth

I think of the patch on the mattress where the cat's been sleeping as I climb between the sheets. Instant bed warmer. 

4. Flip

I think of an Australian singer, G-Flip. 

5. Slush

I think of when I was working at a merchant bank in London and we made jokes about Panamanian slush funds. Strangely, we found one when we were doing audit one time. Somebody got away with a hell of a lot of money. It was well dodgy. 

6. Wing

I think of a Beatle's song. You can tell my Ritalin has worn off - I'm thinking in songs again. 

Anyway, this is the song that came to mind. 

7. Candle

I think of today in my mason's meeting how we didn't have a good time with the candles. Light is a part of the rituals - however, in our lodge we are old school and use naked flames. We are very lucky the building does not have smoke detectors. There was a slip of paper that needed to be burned today - it was a bit funny to watch - in a scary sort of way. 

8. Cinnamon

I think of B.Dylan Hollis, a favourite YouTuber of mine. He's hysterical. For years, he's been cooking recipes out of historical cookbooks with some very funny results. 

But the way he says cinnamon cracks me up. SNINNOMIN! Always said at a half-scream. 

Love him.

Today's song: 

Movie Review: Fackham Hall

 Movie Number: 10 of 2026

The Movie: Fackham Hall

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: One hour 37 minutes. 

Stars: 3.75

This is a very, very silly film. Silly and ridiculous and very funny. Spit take funny. Rude funny. Death at a Funeral funny, though a little bit more sly and vulgar - but that's a good thing. From the sign outside Fackham Hall which reads "Incestus Ad Infinitum" (Incest forever) to some more subtle digs at the nobility, to some Monty Pythonesque absurdity, this has it all. This is a cross between Downton Abbey, Agatha Christie and Monty Python. This means it's utter lunacy. Also, it's been written by comedian Jimmy Carr - who's very silly at the best of times. 

As a quick description, Lord Humphrey Davenport (Damian Lewis) and his wife (Katherine Waterstone) are keen to marry off their daughters to one of their cousins, the rather odious Archibald (Tom Felton). Rose (Thomasin McKenzie) sees through her father's plan after her sister Lily (Emma Laird) jilts him at the altar. 

Enter Eric Noone (pronounced No-one... yeah) (Ben Radcliffe) a pickpocket raised in an orphanage asked to deliver a letter in person to Lord Davenport. Eric ends up taking a job as a footman at Fackham Hall, where he becomes close to Lady Rose. Anna Maxwell Martin is rather scary as the housekeeper, Mrs McCallister and Tim McMullen is a very effective as the butler, Cyril. Oh yes, and we can't forget Jimmy Carr's turn as the 

After a few mis-steps getting their daughters married off to their first cousin (because that's what the aristocracy dones.), Lord Davenport ends up dead. What fun. 

As I said at the start, this is a very silly movie with a very blue, dark, quite wrong sense of humour running through it. I tittered through the whole film, with some big laugh out loud guffaws.     

I won't say much more. If you like English comedies, the sillier, ruder and blacker the better, this will keep you happy. It's not a perfect film, but it's great fun. It's also rather wrong in a lot of great ways. 

Today's song:

Theatre Review: Do Not Pass Go

The Performance: Do Not Pass Go by Jean Tong

The Theatre: The Lawlor, Southbank

Runtime: 75 Minutes

Stars: 4

The 2026 MTC program has got off to a good start with this little gem of a play. But this, I mean that this play, staged in the less used Lawler Theatre - a smaller, more intimate place is worth a look. Within the Lawler's proscenium arch two actors put on a wonderful performance about the people we work with, and how they slowly become a part of us. 

There were also a lot of themes which struck a chord. Working to live. Neurodiversity, sexual identity, families, and the live to work mentality that can be a part of some workplaces. A lot of it was really relatable. 

At the start of the play, we meet the prickly Penny (Belinda McCrory) who is busy doing what looks like her pointless job in a non-descript office. She is joined by Flux (Ella Prince), Penny's new workmate. Penny was happy working on her own. Flux challenges a lot of her thinking. Flux is everything Penny is not. Young, queer, wanting more. Penny's had a lot of her desires beaten out of her. Flux is just starting out and wanting more of the world. 

Both actors are great. For me, I understood McCrory's Penny almost at a cellular level, while Ella Prince's Flux let us into a very different life and lifestyle, which Penny eventually begins to understand and appreciate. I've seen Prince in Bell Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. They're great.

Within the hour and a quarter of the play, we really get to the root of work relationships look like. Starting from that person you only tolerate, through to the person you count on more than almost anybody else, all they while performing pointless tasks which never quite meet management expectations. Yep, that's work. 

The minimalist set - a very boring office and warehouse space is also part of this play's charm. Windowless, and unadorned, how are people supposed to thrive?

Jean Tong's acerbic script is darkly funny, putting a spotlight on modern workplaces and the relationships they create. I also liked that the two protagonists had identifiable struggles - Penny's neurodiversity rang a lot of bells for me. 

Directed by Katy Maudlin, this play keeps you entertained for its duration. The Lawler Theatre, a more intimate black box space that seats around 160 people, felt good. This smaller space drives home the eventual intimacy that grows between these two colleagues. 

As I said, the MTC is off to a good start this year. 

Today's song: 

Dev Card: Why write?

It’s been another long day, and an even longer one is to be had tomorrow. Therefore, I believe that doing a quick Dev card might be the way to go. I’m writing this while I’m lying on the couch dictating this into my phone, because I am that tired. As I said, it's been a day. 

How do you feel when you don't write? 

One of the reasons I do this blog is that it forces me to write every day. And even when I don’t have much of an idea about what I will write, I still write, because not writing feels very alien to me. Writing doesn't have the sensation like a runner as high, but I know that when I don’t write I feel empty. This is my way of making sense of the world.

You've probably worked out from this my mind is full of crap and it needs investigating. 

How do you feel when you do write? 

Are you quite writing to activities like swimming or walking or going to the gym? It might take a little bit to get you where you’re going, to find your pace, but once you’re in the middle of it, you feel great. And you don’t even have to write that well just as I am not the perfect gym participant, nor walker, nor swimmer. But it makes me feel good when I’m doing it. 

It feels like I am participating in my vocation.

What prevents you from writing? 

Work and procrastination. There’s also a big sense of me being an impostor. Lots of writers have imposter syndrome. Something else that’s come out of my AUDHD Diagnosis is rejection sensitivity. Neurodiverse people arrive often highly sensitive to rejection leading them to either being triggered or into spiral. It’s a vicious cycle. You write something. You sent it out into the world. You think people are going to hate it. You wonder why you do it. And it goes round and round and round. I am getting better at ignoring these demons, but they do shout louder than those rancid next-door neighbours who need an AVO.

What gets you writing? 

Everything from sheer will power, to a lightning bolt inspiration, to a word that gets stuck in my head, to a song lyric, to something like spot of the tram, to something my cat is done, to news articles,… Inspiration could be found everywhere and you just have to enjoy it when you get it.

Or I pick up a Dev card. 

Today's song: 

Today's Takeaways

 Today was not a great day. I think I need to have a whine about it. 

I'll make it short.

1. Morcheeba played at The Forum last night. Friends of mine went. I didn't. I'm envious, even if I only know a couple of their songs, they looked incredible. I keep telling myself I can't go to everything. 

2. Computer problems meant that I needed to go into the office today. I wasn't planning on going into the office, but the guy on the Help Desk told me that to reinstall this program I had to go into an office. Or a branch. Ummm, I told them, do you mean there are bank branches around here? I live three kilometres from the office, it's easy. I put on some spakfilla and made myself look presentable (Yes, Pandora, you need to wear trousers to the office.) got in, found some lunch as I got there, only to call the Help Desk to be told that I really didn't need to come in. Bah. I worked from the office for the rest of the afternoon. 

3. I'm having fridge woes. My fridge, despite having the thermostat turned right down, is freezing stuff - particularly milk and salad. Frozen salad is gross. I had the man come out and have a look at the fridge today. $200 call out fee. Thermostat is cactus they say. They're going to price up a new thermostat (the fridge is only seven years old). My dilemma. Do I get the fridge fixed for what looks like it will cost around $500, or do I buy a new one? I mean, it doesn't have to happen immediately, as this one is working. I just can't keep salad in it. Stupid machines. Sounds like it needs to go the same way as my work laptop. 

4. And there was no Turkish bread at the supermarket. Toasted Turkish bread with butter and cherry jam is one of life's joys. 

But on the good side of things:

1. I made it to the gym on time and did a good workout after work. 

2. I'm nearly finished this book I've been reading for a while, which I'm not sure why I've continued with it. 

3. I started a Margaret Atwood book (Hag-Seed) based on a Shakespeare's The Tempest. Margaret Atwood makes my heart sing. I'm reading this on the cat's throne. 

4. I got to wear my new lippy today. New lippy is always good. 

5. And on Friday, after six months, it appears we'll be getting a new intercom. At last. The new post box came last week and the electronic gates are finally working, but we get a proper intercom so we can talk to the postie! Yay.

You have to take the good with the not so good. 

Today's song:

Kiss Me Like You Mean It

MAFS broke my heart last night. It doesn't do that very often, but last night, my heart cracked. I'm also very mad at the producers. I can't believe they let this happen. And sure, this is one of the most manipulative shows on television, but how could they do that. 

A bit of context. If you're ever watched Love, Actually there is this creepy scene where Andrew Lincoln ambushes his friend's wife with queue cards. Seriously, not romantic. Not even sweet. Just creepy.

So why do the producers get into this lovely woman's head that it would be a good idea to do this and ask her "husband" of ten days to kiss her like he means it. Make her feel something. 

Bleargh. 

I mean, there is making yourself vulnerable and there's making yourself the topic of work kitchen conversation (we don't have water coolers as a rule in Australia - maybe our equivalent would be the Billy tap). 

I mean, the absolute chutzpah she must have had to stand there, blindfolded, and ask this rather gormless bloke for a kiss. Only then, to be rejected. I felt this within every cell in my body. 

Maybe it's because I relate to this woman. Gorgeous, voluptuous, knows her own mind, intelligent, a seemingly happy soul, who has been stuck in situationships for decades. She's all there. He's not. 

The whole thing, for me, was so disappointing. Some of it was the visceral feeling that came from her humiliation. That the producers let this happen. And that the gormless bloke couldn't step up. (Though looking at it, I do get some of where he was coming from - and they've started to patch things up.)

I also understand what it's like when you want somebody to kiss you properly, and they don't. Or won't. I get the frustration. The loss of power. The feeling of being unwanted. The feeling of unrequited desires. The feeling of not being seen or heard. The feeling of being unworthy. The list can go on ad infinitum. 

Yes, when somebody doesn't kiss you the way you want them to, all of this comes out in your psyche.

So yeah. Rachel, MAFS bride extraordinaire, I am gobsmacked by your bravery as much as I am furious with the producers. You've touched a nerve with many. You are deserving of that great love. Your "groom" is probably not him, even though tonight's episode showed some improvements. I'm also aware of the slim pickings on the dating apps. It's a swamp out there. 

Yet is it ever a good idea to ask a man for favours like this? Unless you're wanting to be in another famous British rom com, most of me thinks you're setting yourself up for disappointment. 

P.S. My tried and tested pick-up line back in the day was a much more direct approach. It had humour, which meant if you were laughed at, you could pretend you're not let down and get on with whatever you were doing. "Fancy a shag?" seems far less intimate than asking for a proper kiss. It's a pity things have come to this. 

Today's song: 

Happy New Year

 Maybe it's because it's the night of Chinese New Year tonight and we're welcoming in the Year of the Horse and many around the place are getting all excited. 

I met up with my Taiwanese next-door neighbours as I was heading out for a swim with Jay. 

"Kung Hei Fat Choi," I said. 

"Happy new year to you. I thought you spoke no Chinese." my neighbour said. 

"This and 'ni how' is as far as it goes. It's better than nothing."

"It's a start."

So we're going into the Year of the Horse. Allegedly this means, according to AI, "The 2026 Year of the Fire Horse (beginning Feb 17, 2026) symbolizes a period of intense energy, rapid movement, and major transformations. Representing speed, courage, and freedom, this year encourages bold action, innovation, and breaking free from limitations, though it may also bring restlessness and impulsivity."

Does this mean there's going to be a revolution?

Interesting.

Me, I was born in the Year of the Monkey. Again, according to AI, this represents,"The Year of the Monkey in the Chinese zodiac symbolizes intelligence, wit, agility, and curiosity. People born in this year are considered clever, mischievous, and resourceful problem-solvers. It is a time often associated with innovation,, rapid change, and, sometimes, unpredictability. 

I find all of this stuff fascinating. 

It might also be the reason this song has been swilling around in my head all day.

Not much of a blog today. I've been making videos for work today. I need to get away from the screen for a bit as I've got another day of this tomorrow. 

Today's song:

The DVD Conundrum

I hate dusting. Unfortunately, I need to do some dusting, mostly because I've got a tradie coming in later in the week to replace the intercom, and I can't have them see the place in the state it's in at the moment. 

So, I'm dusting. 

Ugh. 

Regardless, I'm not just doing the area near where the intercom, but a thorough dust, including around the telly. 

And here is my conundrum. 

What do you do with old DVDs? And CDs? 

I know that life has moved on from 2005, but there's something comforting about my DVD collection. Not that I can remember the last time I fired up the DVD player (Yes, I still have one that works.) Not that I know if all of my DVDs are of the correct region. Not that I've played all of my collection. 

I mean, if I want to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I can always get a subscription to one of a couple of streaming services. What about some of the more niche British films I love so much? Britbox is fairly good for those things, and SBS On Demand has a lot of goods stuff on it. If you really want to watch something, you can bring in the streaming service subscription for a month. 

Still, what do you do with all of these DVDs? On removing all of them from the cabinet underneath the television, I looked at what remained. I'd done a cull a while ago. The Buffy DVDs were there. There was a couple of favourite movies. Bull Durham, Logan Lucky, Sense and Sensibility and Gosford Park. These are some of my comfort films - those films you can throw on and enjoy, despite the fact you've seen them 20 times over. (Note, it's a neurospicy trait to watch shows on repeat - it's a comfort to receive no shocks, and you get to pick up things that you missed when you were on a side quest.)

Then there were the box sets. The Affair and The Hour. Both are amazing. Again, I'm sure I could find them on some streaming service, but I like having them around. 

And the comfort watch of all comfort watches - the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, with Colin Firth. Is there any better television. 

So, these DVDs are staying. Buffy and her cohorts are being donated to the charity bin. Sure, they're plastic clutter, but it's a lot less than there were this morning - and who knows, next time, they might be sent to a new home. 

Also, the telly cabinet is free from a few years of dust - which when you are the slave of a black cat, you work out that half of that detritus is him, placed there to vex you. Eight buckets of water later, something tells me I should be doing this a bit more regularly. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing Loves Sunday Stealing

 Another week of hard work, exercise and getting on with things. A day today of exercise and nearly cutting the tip of my thumb off. Really did a number on myself with the bread knife. It's not that bad - no stitches required, but it's covered in band-aids (plasters to the British) and it is a bit of a nuisance. Thankfully you don't use your left thumb to type. 

It's also Valentine's / Galentine's Day. Hallmark holiday. Do no support it. I'm home talking to the cat and doing the ironing. Normal Saturday night as I told a friend who rang a while ago. 

Regardless, some easy questions today, thanks to Sunday Stealing.

Things I Love Beginning with S 

1. Seafood

Any type, any time. Prawns (shrimp), mussels, oysters - preferably fresh caught and chilled, lobster/crayfish, even yabbies (Australian freshwater shrimp). Fish. I'm starting to feel hungry now. We're lucky in Australia. The seafood is second to none. 

2. Screenings

I adore movies. Love them. Particularly on the big screen. You can take in more detail when it's big in front of you. I saw the new Wuthering Heights movie last night. I loved it - many won't see it that way.

3. Soaking

A bath, a bath, my kingdom for a big bathtub. Alas, I only have a shower in my flat, but I love having a bath, particularly if a book and a gin and tonic are involved. They're relaxing. I love being in water generally, but a good soak in a good bath is great. 

Same goes for time at the hot springs - which I also love. Soaking outside in nature is wonderful. Should make a plan for that someday soon. 

4. Subways

This is going to sound a bit strange, but I love travelling in cities underground. I love the London Tube and the Paris Metro. I've also been on the Boston Metro and the New York Subway. Melbourne and Sydney both have smaller subways, but not to the scale of the bigger cities. I just love trains.  I love the ease, the reasonably cheap cost, the convenience and the amazing human soup you get to see when you're on there. And okay, I'm glad I don't have to take these systems on a daily basis, but when I'm in these cities, I'll be riding the subway, happy. 

5. Sex (or if you're a prude, think snuggles)

Not that I can remember what that is, but I remember liking it. There's something very healing about skin-to-skin contact. 

6. And Sunday Stealing, of course! 

Today's song:

Movie Review: Wuthering Heights

 Movie Number 9 of 2026

The Movie: Wuthering Heights

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: Two hours 16 minutes

Stars: 4.5

Sometimes it's a good thing to go in with low expectations because you can be pleasantly surprised. 

This review comes with two caveats. If you love Emily Bronte's seminal work, you're probably going to hate this. Also, if you're not a fan of Emerald Fennell's other works (Saltburn and Promising Young Woman) you're probably not going to like this much either. 

Jonella and I went along to see this tonight and we both enjoyed this. I explained to her beforehand that not reading the book shouldn't be a problem - and then she got my long-winded explanation about how you either fall into the Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights camps and how I believe Wuthering Heights is trauma porn and how Emerald Fennell is the absolute bomb. She had the good grace not to roll her eyes. Sometimes my enthusiasm can be mistaken for Pandora-splaining. 

Regardless, and despite some pretty dismal reviews, we really enjoyed this. 

The story doesn't deviate too far from the book - and thankfully it cuts out the very first section of the book where you meet an old and bitter Heathcliff years on. This concentrates more on Nelly the lady's maid's story.

Cathy Earnshaw (Margot Robbie) is the spoiled daughter of the hard-gambling, heavy drinking Mr Earnshaw (Martin Clunes). One day, he brings home a bedraggled boy, often said to be of Romany origins, possibly to pay off some of this debts. Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) obviously has some heavy trauma to deal with, but he and Cathy become friends, with that intensity that only children can attain. The two of them stick together, keeping themselves safe against Mr Earnshaw's rages. All the time, Nelly (Hong Chau) keeps an eye on the pair. 

When a new family move into a neighboring property, Cathy is curious - and after a nasty fight with Heathcliff and her father, ends up at Thrushcross Grange, where she meets Edgar Linton (Shazad Latif) and his ward Isabella (Allison Oliver). Edgar and Cathy marry, but then the fun starts. Heathcliff disappears for some years, Isabella proves to be a little bit unstable, and on Heathcliff's return, he and Cathy begin an illicit affair.

It all ends in tears. Of course it does. 

Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised. As Emerald Fennell's films go, this is probably her most approachable, especially if you don't like her style. There's a bit of an ASMR** feeling to it. Fennell's movies are incredibly visceral, and this film starts with a hanging of all things. Hmmm. There's blood, puke, leeches, animals being slaughtered, some corporal punishment (though mostly unseen). Oh, and a heap of rain. Our protagonists seem to spend half the movie drenched - then again, it is the Yorkshire moors. 

The acting is good too. Elordi and Robbie, two of Queensland's greatest exports are very good as the star-crossed lovers. My one criticism is that very occasionally, their Australian accents slipped in. Allison Oliver was great as the very unhinged Isabella - she was having a ball. Fennell likes to use cast from her stable. Elordi and Oliver were in her marvelous Saltburn, and she worked with Margot Robbie on the Barbie film. 

This is also glorious to watch. The sets, the moors and the whole aesthetic is wonderful. Once again, Fennell likes to engage all of your senses. 

I walked away with a tear in my eye, very pleasantly surprised. I'm glad Jonella liked it too.

This won't be a film for everybody. I reiterate, if you're not a fan of Emerald Fennell's other work, or you love the original novel, I'd go in prepared to not enjoy this. If you go with an open mind and don't mind being confronted a little you might be pleasantly surprised. 

** ASMR - a feeling of well-being combined with a tingling sensation in the scalp and down the back of the neck, as experienced by some people in response to a specific gentle stimulus, often a particular sound.

Today's song: 

Pre-Wuthering Heights Thoughts

 Jonella and I are off to see the new Wuthering Heights movie tomorrow night. Being honest, I'm in a couple of minds about this. 

Firstly, I'm not going for the story, because it's not a favourite book of mine. My relationship with the Brontes is a little fraught. I love Jane Eyre. I've always loved it. Charlotte Bronte's masterpiece is a wonder. I've loved it since I was a teenager. 

I read The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte nearly 20 years ago and hated it. It's Methodist claptrap. 

Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte's masterpiece, not so much either. It's ill-informed trauma porn. Much hair pulling, chest beating, racism all raveled up in what they call a love story. No thanks. 

But I've paid money to go to see the movie. Why you ask?

That would be because of the director, Emerald Fennell. You might know her from Call the Midwife - she played Patsy in and around series four. She also played Camilla Parker-Bowles in The Crown - and was a dead ringer for her. 

Fennell is an upper-class Brit with a biting sense of humour. As the writer and director she's done some great stuff. She's also won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay for Promising Young Woman. 

Promising Young Woman is an amazing film. Brutal, but amazing. 

Then there was the incredible Saltburn, which you either loved or loathed. I loved it. Fennell, an Oxford graduate knew the landscape, wrote the screenplay and set the world on fire. 

She appeared as Midge, the pregnant Barbie in the Barbie movie. 

And now she's written the screenplay for this new adaptation of Wuthering Heights, using some of her mates from previous productions. Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie, both Australian, are playing the main characters of Heathcliff and Cathy. The sets look amazing. But where is Linton? I can't see him the in the cast list. 

Regardless, as much as I don't like the story of Wuthering Heights, I'm fascinated with what she's done with it. 

Review ion the coming days.

Today's song: 

Dev Card: No A

 It's tipping down outside - and I love this. After a warm day and a long day at work, I love the rain. 

However, after a long day of work, I'm buggered and I don't want to fret over what to write about tonight so I pulled a Dev Card. 

Tonight's card is cute. 

Ten minutes writing anything, but you can't use the letter A. Write anything, stream of consciousness, shopping list, highlights reel, poem, love story... but you can't use the letter A (once the prompt is finished)

This will be fun. As I've got an A centric name, this might get dodgy. 

OK. Here we go.

--ooOoo--

Going home, the people in front of me were conversing in French. Francophiles, self-possessed they held themselves with style. The French often do. The younger one pointed out stores... Bunnings, the shopping centres, shops which reek of this country's weird, close-minded view of shops - the bigger, the better. 

Me, hunched over my phone, I continued with my online French lesson. Three years of French lessons were bearing fruit. I conjugate French verbs with the best of them. J'espère vivre près d'un petit village,et utiliser mes compétences. Je préfère vivre une vie simple. Je veux un petit chalet et un chien, peut-etre....

The instructions did not give the direct order to write only in English...

However, in five minutes, we were conversing, in French, like you do, commuting from the office, on the public fish tin filled with social despair. I like the opportunity to discuss the world, in French, often, because this skill requires nurturing frequently to keep it recent, fresh, flourishing. They were nice people. Worked for the university. Garrulous. Humble

My stop could be viewed on the horizon. I wished them a 'Bonne journee" stepping into the street, the looming deluge required some shelter. No brolly could be found. I would've been happy to slosh in resulting puddles, but my white shoes would not like it. 

Regardless, I used my French for five minutes. This rendered me happy. 

--ooOoo--

That was a very cool exercise. 

Night, night. 

Today's song:

Manifest Manifest Manifest

I see. I want. I plot. I plan. 

I see this. 

It's playing in London from 21 March to 6 June at the National Theatre in London. 

I MEAN IT'S GOT BLOODY AIDEN TURNER IN IT. Seriously, with his treacle voice, cheeky smile and chest hair you could get lost in for a week, really, why wouldn't you want to see this. (I'd climb that fellow like a scratching post.)

And Lesley Manville is the bomb. But Aiden bloody Turner, on stage....

I want this. 

I want to go to London to go to see a play in which Aiden Turner is on stage - and not from out in the nosebleed section. I'd like a proper ticket. I mean, I went and saw Michael Sheen on stage in Amadeus at the Sydney Opera House and had tickets out in the nether regions, but I would go and listen to that man read a EULA (End User License Agreement). 

Anyway, I need to get creative and start plotting. How can I get myself to London for a few days, find accommodation, transportation, travel insurance, cat sitters and maybe even a job from which I can do from London, and maybe go visit a lot of cathedrals and a few friends and ...

Rather than say it's hopeless, I'm sending it out to the universe that I want, with all of my heart, to do this, and I want to manifest it. I don't know - maybe a significant lotto win.... an unseen large inheritance or bequest... come on universe, you know that I am willing to put in the work. I could spend a week or so in Paris on the way back, knock off a few more things on my to do list. 

But for the moment, I would like to manifest a visit to London where I can see Aiden Turner play the Vicomte de Valmont. 

Come on universe. I'm good for it!

Today's song:

Movie Review: Is This Thing On?

Movie Number 8 of 2026

The Movie: Is This Thing On?

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: 2 hours 1 minute

Stars: 4

This film intrigued me from the outset. Directed by Bradley Cooper. Written by Bradley Cooper, Will Arnett and Mark Chappell It's a movie about stand up comedy and a marriage. It's a New York story of sorts. All of these normally mean I'll like the film. I'm happy to say that I did enjoy it, and the film was so much more than what I thought it could be. It's smart, funny, well observed and heartfelt. What more do you need? 

IMDB.com describes the plot well. "As their marriage unravels, Alex (Will Arnett) faces middle age and divorce, seeking new purpose in the New York comedy scene. Meanwhile, his wife Tess (Laura Dern) confronts sacrifices made for their family, forcing them to navigate co-parenting and identities.”

That sums it up nicely. We see most of this from Alex's point of view, starting when he and Tess separate in a reasonably amicable way. Seeking a bit of a new direction, Alex, turns up at an open mike night at a comedy club, and rather than pay a cover charge, puts his name down to go on stage - and remarkably, a fire is lit. Arnett is great as the struggling, searching Alex, who wants the best for all, including his two sons and his wife. 

The film not only takes you into the bowels of the New York comedy clubs, where Alex finds a new tribe of people, it looks at his greater group of family and friends. His supportive parents Jan (Christine Ebersole) and Jan (Ciaran Hinds), Alex and Tess's friendship group, including Sean Hayes, Andra Day and an extremely flaky Bradley Cooper and their eccentric actor friend Balls, who helps to bring comic relief. 

If anything, I found this to be a realistic view on married life and the existential crisis that hits many of us in middle age. The script is tight and punchy, with enough laughs to keep you entertained while looking deeper into the very human state of a long marriage. Bradley Cooper's direction brings this to life. 

My only gripe was the hand-held camera shots, which at times, particularly in the club scenes, made me feel a bit seasick. 

Otherwise, this comes recommended, particularly if you want to watch a film about grown-ups trying, and for the most succeeding, in getting their shit together. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing gets Strict

 This week's Sunday Stealing comes with the strict instructions to provide your answers in one word only.

This suits me as I've been feeling decidedly off-colour for the last day or so, barely leaving the couch. It's nothing too nasty - it's like all of my energy has seeped away. I think I need a doona day, as we call them here - a day where you don't get out of your pyjamas, nor leave the couch. 

Sounds like a plan. 

One Word Answers ONLY

1. Where is your cell phone?

Couch. 

2. Tell us about your hair. 

Curly. 

3. What's your favorite thing? 

Cats. 

4. What room are you in?

Living. 

5. Where did you grow up?

London. 

6. What aren't you good at?

Suffering. 

7.  Your favorite drink?

Gin. 

8. Where do you want to be in 10 years?

Paris. 

9. Your mood.

Ambivalent. 

10. Last time you cried.

Hamnet.

Today's song: 

Get dressed with me

I have a party to go to tonight. 

Bah!

Not blah that there's a party. My friend is turning 50 and there is a lot to celebrate. However, I feel like I'm coming down with something, and the thought of socialising is not doing it for me. But, I also feel that I should go, even if only for an hour. 

My next dilemma. What to bloody wear. 

The instruction on the invite reads as follows:

"Wear something you never have the opportunity to wear.'

Bah!

This means making a decision, for which I have no brain space at the moment. Wear something I never have the opportunity to wear? There's a bit to choose from. 

Bathers? I don't wear them often.

Or my Adelaide Crows scarf and hat - but it's not footy season. 

High heels? Nope, absolutely not. I don't want to look like a bad drag queen - I walk like a bad drag queen in heels. 

I've got this long floral dress that I've never worn out - but I'm not in the mood for that - especially as I don't think I'll be there for long and I feel like the dress makes me look the size of the Titanic. 

All my nice winter clothes can't be worn - it's far too temperate for that. 

There's a plethora of band t-shirts I could wear... David Byrne... The Pixies.... The Hoodoo Gurus.... The Whitlams.... yeah... nah. Though the party is in Northcote. 

There is the lovely, drapey silk throw over I bought in Darwin from a local designer... maybe put some plain black basics underneath... that might be the go. With my Pandora bracelets - the three of them, which probably need a polish - I never wear them. 

Then there's the perfume. Do I go Chanel No 5 - this last bottle has only been worn to funerals in the last two years - maybe I should wear it more often. Or do I go with one of the Juliette has a Gun scents - Lady Vengeance or Not a Perfume are my favourites. 

Do I turn up in my white Birkenstocks or white trainers or put on my Doc Martens - I'm taking the train out to Northcote. It's easier than finding parking and it means I can have a drink. 

I do like that my friend has provided a dress code, I'm interested in seeing what people turn up in. 

At least, in writing this, I've managed to verbalise what would be the best outfit. I'll go the plain blacks with the silk throw over and my Pandora bracelets - with white trainers and yeah... 

I still think turning up in bathers could be fun. Pity it's not warmer. 

Today's song: 

Discombobulated

 Just so you know, discombobulate is one of my favourite words. 

This evening, I'm discombobulated. 

I've been tired all day. It's been a big week. On signing out of my work computer, I went for a quick read before heading out for dinner with a friend. This was at 5.15 p.m.

It seems I fell asleep, as I was soon awoken from a dream.  The cat was demanding his dinner. Not that this registered. I'd been dreaming. Looking at my watch, it was 6.25. I couldn't quite work out if it was morning or afternoon. It took a bit to work out that I should have left ten minutes before. I can't remember the dream, but I know it was intense. 

The cat was fed. Knowing I'd be driving home in the dark, I cleaned my glasses, grabbed my stuff and went out, placing my sunglasses on my head. My sunglasses are the prescription kind and I'm light sensitive. 

A pleasant night was had - but imagine my dismay when I looked in my bag to find that my glasses weren't in there. 

Argh. 

How was I supposed to drive home?

Fun fact - as much as I can get around at home without them, I will not drive without prescription lenses (nor watch a movie at the cinema without them). I'm only a little short-sighted, but you have to be able to see properly to drive. 

I moaned to my friend, who said she's having similar age-related sight issues, having to put on glasses to read anything. I'm the other way - I have to take my glasses off to read or look at the phone. 

Anyway - here was my dilemma. Drive home without my glasses, technically going against the conditions on my licence - or wear my sunglasses - see clearly, even if things were a bit dark.

I went with the latter, despite looking like an idiot, but being able to see the road. Thankfully it was only a short trip from Surry Hills. 

It also put a silly 80's song in my head. 

I'm still discombobulated. I think I need my bed. 

Today's song: 

How did we ever go into the office every day?

 It seems impossible. 

How did we ever go into the office every single day of the week pre-2020? I mean, do you realise the energy it takes to get up, feed the cat, have a shower, get dressed, get medicated, put on a face full of make up, get your bag ready, remember everything from your phone to your keys, get out the door, make sure its locked, hop on a tram, then a train - dodging body odour, disease and loud conversations, then there's the quick walk to the office...

I've done this two days in a row this week. Normally I'd only go in one day. My team goes in on a Wednesday normally - it's our 'anchor' day - corporate speak for getting your team together.

Then you have to turn around at the end of the day, get on the said train or tram and go home and come back shattered.

How did we think this was normal?

Normal is rolling out of bed at around 7.45 am, feeding the cat, having a quick shower, medicating, making sure that you don't look too scruffy and firing up your computer at 8.30 am, ready for work. 

And I don't resent going in for the second day this week - a colleague was down from interstate and we'd scheduled a lunch - about the only thing I miss about going regularly into town - lunch. 

I just can't get over we used to do this EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK, EVERY BLOODY WEEK. 

How did we do it? It's exhausting.

Today's song:

Welcome to the Club

 I had lunch with a friend today. We meet up every few weeks. Thankfully they work in an office just across the road from mine so it's easy. Also, the Japanese place in the food court next door is pretty good. We've bonded over bento boxes. Honey soy chicken for them, spicy Bulduk chicken for me. They were champing to provide some information. 

"Well, I have news."

"Good news, I hope? All's well with the cat?"

"Yes, he's great, and I have a story about him, but I'll tell you my other news when we sit down."

We found a table and sat, stripping our chopsticks of their paper shroud, cracking our cans of Coke Zero. 

"It's big news."

"Get on with it." They weren't looking me in the eye, but that was normal. Neither of us are that fantastic with eye contact. 

"Well, with the encouragement and blessing of my partner, I went to seek a diagnosis."

"A diagnosis, I take it, for whether you're a match for the autism spectrum?"

"Yep."

Not so strangely, we clicked almost immediately at work a while ago. They were there when I was filling out the paperwork to get my diagnosis. We talked a lot at the time about they whats, whys and wherefores of searching for answers at the time. They mentioned that in your fifties, what's the point of getting diagnosed as you've worked most of it out. 

"And? How did you go?" I asked, chasing some of the roast vegetables around the box.

"Umm. Well, I'm AUDHD. With a few other letters just for me."

"Like me, but with a few more bits to you, which you can keep. I'm very proud of you," I told them. "How do you feel?"

They smiled. "Vindicated. Heard. Stronger. I'm getting a better understanding of myself. It's like somebody's replaced the light bulb in a dark room."

"Yep."

"And looking back, all the patterns were there."

"Yep"

"And you work out that a heap of your good friends are probably on the spectrum."

"To paraphrase Lewis Carroll, the best people are bonkers." I smiled at them. "I've found this neurodiversity journey very rewarding."

"I know. You helped give me the impetus to seek out the diagnosis. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's all a part of the toolbox. It helps that we're in our fifties, what the old guard would call high functioning, and self-aware."

And we talked more about the ins and outs of being fairly recent converts to this rather strange neurodiversity club, which gives us some superpowers, and some challenges - as well as a lot of understanding.

"Oh, one thing," I told them, "You might find that the people that you click with might just be in the same boat."

"I'm seeing that already."

"But how good does it feel that the strange little kid, that had few friends, and loved science and dinosaurs, and still thinks going out is one of the most difficult things in the world, and who only eats ice cream with a teaspoon..."

"You only eat ice cream with a teaspoon?" They were incredulous. 

"You'll find out about neurodiversity and cutlery - it's a big thing. Actually, sensory stuff - you know your own quirks - not that you think there's anything strange..."

"Okay..."

"It's a journey. I think you'll like it."

"I think I will too."

Today's song: