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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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..."
"Now, Pandas, don't tell me you're going to be watching Married at First Sight again?" whine Barney over a text.
Barney doesn't like MAFS. Barney thin MAFS is rubbish.
Barney is probably right.
My rebuttal came swiftly.
"Barney. I live alone. It is my television! I will watch what I bloody well like."
There! That told him.
MAFS is my guilty pleasure. My one bit of reality television that I watch religiously, more as a psychological and sociological experiment than anything else.
It's so bad, it's good.
I mean, where else do you get to see these things on your screen?
Veneers
Lip fillers
Fake Boobs
Tattoos
Sure, all of these things are a personal choice, and if people want to spend money on these things, good for them.
Throw in the narcissistic personality disorders, the traumatised, undiagnosed neurodiverse, the little princesses, the men who are too close to their mothers.... and what do you have?
Oh yeah, him. What's the bet he smells like tuna?
Anyway, I worked late tonight, and MAFS was my little reward.
I've been wanting to do this for a while. Once a month, report back on what I've read and what I thought. Being a new year, it's time to have a look at what I got read over January. I'll go in finishing order.
Book One
The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley
4 stars
This was our January book for book group - and the second time I'd read this. Instead of a paper copy, I listened to it on the way back from Adelaide - and it stood up to the second reading.
It's a genre bending novel, a little bit of science fiction, a bit historical, with a bit of romance mixed in for good measure. You end up sort of falling in love with one of the main characters - Graham Gore, who was an actual person. It made me want to go out and learn more about 19th century polar exhibitions.
Comes recommended.
Second book:
The Correspondent by Virginia Evans
5 Stars
Loved, loved, loved this book. Again, I took this in as an audiobook, and it was flawlessly produced.
And epistolary novel, you follow the life, family and friends of Sybil von Antwerp, a lawyer, judges clerk, a mother and grandmother as she ponders her later years, her life and the things she wishes she could to over.
It's extraordinary. I was so sad when this finished.
Highly, highly recommended.
Third book:
By Any Other Name by Jodi Picoult
5 Stars
Okay, my Shakespearean biases come out here. I'm not normally a Jodi Picoult fan, but I loved this as it took in two of my favourite things, Shakespeare and Theatre, and turned it into something great. Split into two different stories. The first of Melina, a playwright in New York in 2019. The second story looks at Melina's long lost relative, Emilia, a courtesan and writer who was working in the time of Shakespeare. Themes of a woman's role in creativity, sexism, family and friendship are all contained in here.
I loved it. As a revisionist history, it's the absolute bomb.
Book Four.
Babel by RF Kuang
4 Stars
I was reticent to read this after reading the author's well-known book, Yellowface - which I really did not like at all. A friend gave me this to read in England, saying, "You'll like this."
I did.
For fans of Philip Pullman, Babel tells the story of Robin Swift, a boy rescued from the slums of Hong Kong to become a student at the School of Translation in Oxford, where they are housed at the Tower of Babel, which is a part of an alternate Oxford University - just like Pullman. With themes of racism, bettering oneself, fitting in and doing the right thing, this is a long and wordy book, but well with the effort. At 550 densely packed pages, this took me six weeks to read. Rather than race through it, I read a chapter a day and let it permeate my being.
I can see why it received a British Book of the Year award. It's worth savouring every page. And thankfully, it's nothing like Yellowface.
Fifth Book
A Guide to Berlin by Gail Jones
4 stars
I picked this up last year, then worked out that one of the things this book was about was the writer, Vladimir Nabokov, writer of Lolita. I got about thirty pages in before working out that I really should fill that reading hole and read Lolita before finishing this book. Which is what I did.
Lolita is amazing - very disturbing, but the writing....oh my goodness!
Regardless, I came back to finish this.
It's a slow burn, but Jones' writing is remarkable.
Recommended for more literary readers. It's a gentle novel about travel and friendship in strange places.
Sixth Book
Horse by Geraldine Brooks
Stars 4.5
Okay, I've always been a huge fan of Geraldine Brooks, and this is up there with her best. (If you haven't read her Year of Wonders, what have you been doing?)
Like By Any Other Name there are a number of converging stories. In modern times, Jess, a scientist working at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. becomes involved in the hunt for answers over some horse bones found in the attic. Bring into this Theo, a Fine Arts PhD candidate who is looking for answers about a painting he found on the side of the road.
In the 1800s, we meet the slave Jarret, and his foal, Darley, who becomes Lexington, the most famous racehorse in pre-Civil War times, and what happens to this incredible duo.
My only small criticism of this book is that it closely follows Brooks' formula which she's used on a number of other books - The People of the Book being one of them. However, her fastidious research and wonderful writing shines through.
Sometimes, it's good see a film for a second time with different people. You gather more information and insights. You get to appreciate some things you might have missed the first-time round or get reminded of the details which you loved - picking up more details of the screenwriter, director and actors' craft.
I've had a two-week break between viewings. I've taken in some of the online reviews and had some time to think. Was the film emotionally manipulative? Umm, well, have you read the book? Do you know the loose story of Shakespeare's family situation? Have you ever been around anybody who's lost a child? (Heavens, I truly hope not). Aren't people going to find it all a bit depressing? (Again, read the bloody book!)
I must say, it was just as good the second time around. Everything I said in the first review stands.
Now, as most people who are going to see it in the theatres have seen it, I'll add a few more takeaways from today's viewing.
Please also remember, I've just finished Jodi Picoult's By Any Other Name, a book which looks at an alternative telling of how Shakespeare's plays came about. Shakespeare is a fairly minor character in the book, which jostles between modern times and Elizabethan England in his own right. Great book. But I've got a bit of Shakespeare running through me at the moment.
Anyway, what did I notice on this second viewing? What got me?
So much.
The muck. The dirty fingernails. The fact that nobody looked clean. The rain on the cobblestones waiting to twist your ankles. The water from the river lapping at the hallway. The scenes in the forest. Magic.
Jessie Buckley's performance and how she was 100% present in every frame of the film. If you've not seen Jessie Buckley before, she was amazing in Wicked Little Letters and Wild Rose.
I loved seeing Paul Mescal as a father once again. As Shakespeare, his softness was appreciated.
And Joe Alwyn as Agnes' brother. Bartholomew - trying not to remember that he was once Taylor Swift's boyfriend. Okay, that might not be a good thing, but he's not bad in this role.
The small references to Shakespeare's plays, not just the big references, but the smaller quotes and asides that you hear are most wonderful. The normal layman won't twig, and that's okay too.
Looking at it with fresh eyes, seeing how Agnes was treated in the village was interesting. A woman skilled in healing, she was branded as a witch by association. Of course, I felt that one. Agnes is a quiet powerhouse. Human, vulnerable, but incredibly strong.
I loved that the boy playing Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe) had is brother on stage playing Hamlet (Noah Jupe). They look like brothers. They are brothers in real life.
The "Get thee to an nunnery!" speech, performed near the end of the film, was loaded like no other scene. Mescal, like Buckley, are both graduates of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA). You can see their skill.
And I loved most of all, the scenes at the end of the film that took place at The Globe Theatre. And I realise how much I miss having the Pop Up Globe here in Melbourne, and being able to see Shakespeare regularly, like I did in London. It's a near cellular ache. Those scenes are magic.
The only people I wouldn't recommend this film to is to those who have experienced the loss of a child. I fear it would cut far too close to the bone.
Otherwise, I reckon Jessie Buckley has the Best Actress in the bag and there's a good chance Hamnet may win Best Oscar and Best Director for Chloe Zhao.
It's worth seeing on the big screen. (And read the bloody book for crying out loud - it's amazing.)
