Here's the thing. I'm in Australia. We don't have the same stores at the malls over here. It's a bit of a different shopping culture. But that is okay, we'll make these questions work.
I could tell you about the weekend I've had down here at my three-monthly writer's retreat down the Great Ocean Road. It's been amazing. I've got a lot of editing done.
Anyway, here are the questions, brought to you by Sunday Stealing.
1. Target or Walmart, or other superstore?
Fun fact. We don't have Walmart in Australia, and Target, which used to be great, has been rolled into Kmart. I am a big fan of Kmart. Target used to do great clothes, but they have gone downhill (or my standards have got better - one of the other. ) The Woolworths brand has Big W, which is also good.
But yeah, no Walmart in Australia, and Target is mostly clothing and homewares now.
2. Dollar Tree or Dollar General, or poundstretcher/99p store?
Again, it's Australia - no Dollar Tree, Dollar General or Poundstretcher, but we do have what is called the Asian Shit Shop. It is not that any reflection of the people running the stores, who are always lovely, but they are normally of Asian extraction. So, for example, Daiso is the Japanese Shit Shop. I love a good Shit Shop. Great for fire lighters, hair accessories and other things you never knew you needed.
3. Best Buy or any other electronics/appliance store?
Again, we're Australian - no Best Buy.
But, for white goods (fridges, washing machines etc.) it's off to E&S trading or The Good Guys. For electronics you go to JB HiFi.
I refuse to go to Harvey Norman (also known as Hardly Normal) as they did the dirty on their staff during COVID in a very public way and I've still not forgiven them.
A lot of these stores are found on a state by state basis. All same same, but different.
4. Book/music store?
I love a good independent book store - nothing better, so in Melbourne, that is Readings or Avenue Books, or The Hill of Content in the city, or The Paperback Bookstore.
We also have a decent chain bookstore - Dymocks, which you can get everything at, and bonus, they're Australian owned.
I love Waterstones in Britain, and when in Paris, there is only one Shakespeare and Sons.
Bonus question! Where do you want to stop for lunch?
At my local centre, I always head to Roll'd a chain Vietnamese place. Vietnamese food is incredible.
If you leave me to the elements, leave me to water. Earth and air and fire all have their charms. The stability, the movement and the heat all have their charms, but for me, I need the water. I need flow. I need the peace and fear, the changes, the erosion, the unprecedented power that can destroy in minutes, yet meander to a trickle moments later. Leave me in a field where a gentle misty rain patters over my body. Leave me on a rugged beach with the full force of the ocean paces away. Leave me by a river where I can watch the day float by.
I’m sitting here listening to the Southern Ocean. The waves, body height, slamming into the shore. The sand, once boulders, macerating into grains, the wind blowing foam into the atmosphere.
Why does this feel so calming, despite the destruction going on around me?
It it because we are more than 90% water? Is it something inherent in my make up. Is it part of the human spirit to want to be near water - to immerse our souls in a body, hurling, breathing, roiling, to take us over? Are we on the look out for the seventh wave, the one that will wipe us out? Do we look for the whales which may be passing.
Tonight was no different. I'd done a quick supermarket run to get Ben's beer. Who's Ben? Ben is one of the catering team at the retreat. I walk into the dining room at lunch and dinner, Ben, without asking, puts a beer in my hand. I've not asked for this, but who's to say no when you're given a beer? In return, I bring beer to Ben at the start of the retreat so I'm not drinking his.
Anyway, I got the beer, and some other necessities, then did the bad thing and went into the book shop.
Book shops are evil places. Whoever put the book shop next to the supermarket needs to be severely dealt with, but that too is another battle for another day
I'm well known in there.
I took my purchase up to the counter.
As I often do, I struck up a conversation with the girl behind the desk, as I often do.
"So, what are you reading?"
It sounds like a pickup line.
"Me. Well, on my kindle I've trying to get into Jacqueline Harpman's I Who Have Never Known Men. On paper, there's the new Steve Toltz, which I'm struggling with, and on audio, for my sins, I'm getting into a John Boyne, even if it isn't quite politically correct."
"I've always wanted to read him."
"He's fantastic. But he's a TERF. I have to separate that his work is amazing from the fact that he doesn't align with my beliefs."
TERF you ask? According to Google, a definition for it is as follows:
"TERF stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. It refers to a specific group of feminists who believe that womanhood is strictly defined by biological sex and therefore exclude transgender women from women's spaces, rights, and the broader feminist movement."
We got into a bit of a discussion about this. We both agreed we'd rather face a trans woman in the loos than a bloke. That we couldn't see what the issue was with sport, with maybe a look at a case-by-case basis at the elite levels - seriously let kids play sport and be done with it.
I said that I loved Boyne's work. That A Ladder to the Sky was fantastic and I'm thoroughly enjoying The Hearts Invisible Furies. I find him hilarious. I also love how well he draws queer characters. Boyne, himself, is gay, which is why the TERF thing is a bit surprising. The way he deals with sexuality is an absolute treat.
And then again, we read George Orwelll, knowing full well he was a rapey, thieving bastard. Evelyn Waugh was allegedly a cunt. There are plenty of horrid writers out there who we read for the love of their books, but not for them.
And don't get me started on JK Rowling...
"Anyway, I love the writing of John Boyne, even if I'm not fond of some of his viewpoints."
"And that's fair. I'll get him out of the library - that way he doesn't get a cent, but I can see what he writes."
She had a very visible Pride badge on her lanyard. It is Pride month, after all.
"Are you queer?" she asked me.
I was a bit floored by that. Having been asked this a few months ago, it tripped me up then too.
"Am I queer? I'm not sure how to answer that. Umm, maybe,"
This is where I defaulted to the last time I was asked this question. Unlike the last time where I was with a trusted friend and I landed on the fact that I'm probably a pansexual but have never explored it - or maybe I'm sapiosexual, as nothing turns me on like a good mind, you're not going to go into your sexual identity in the local book shop.
"You know," I told her," I might be queer. If I am, that's great. If I'm a boring old CIS gendered heterosexual, that's fine too. But one thing I am, 100% of the time, is an ally."
I have a vivid memory of my childhood of being told by my grandfather that watching television makes you lazy.
He might be right.
Yet ever since then, some decades ago, to counteract the laziness, I've always knitted and crocheted in front of the telly.
That way I am always doing something in front of the telly, negating the feeling that I am being lazy.
I'll thank my grandfather for that.
The only problem with this is that sometimes I get consumed with my handicraft projects. I find them relaxing - but nothing else gets done.
So, tonight is a no crochet night. There are things to do.
My neighbour is taking care of Lucifer this weekend, she's been over collect the keys and receive instructions. She has four cats, so she knows what she's doing.
The place needs cleaning. I want to get the ironing out of the way. And I need to start a batch of biscuits for our caterers at the retreat because I've been promising them a batch for a while.
So, no crochet tonight.
The biscuits are in the oven. I'll ice them tomorrow.
I've started the ironing.
The floors will get done tomorrow.
The cat might forgive me for leaving him in the capable hands of my lovely neighbour sometime before Christmas.
It was book group tonight, and once again, I think I'm going to be the hold out.
I didn't really like the book. I didn't hate the book. But I didn't love the book.
And you often have better conversations when you don't like the book.
The book was a popular fiction book - historical fiction with an element of murder mystery/thriller, which is fine - books mix genres all the time, but this felt like it was doing too much.
My biggest beef was that there were too many characters, none of whom had any character arc - no growth to speak for. Everybody was a caricature. The plot was somewhat convoluted, but in its thriller form, this was to be expected. I did like part of the ending in a Javert jumping off the bridge at the end of Les Miserables.
Yet the setting was great.
Also, the main character, a midwife in Maine in the 1790s was a modern woman. As much as I got her, and her relationship with her husband, it felt a bit to modern, like the writer was trying to shoehorn all of their research into this.
The names Hannah Kent and Geraldine Brooks were raised - both write historical fiction - but literary historical fiction. Their characters are better developed, not so two dimensional.
And this is why I err towards the more literary of fiction.
And as I said, I didn't hate the book. It wasn't a struggle to read, but I felt it was lacking and a bit convoluted in parts - and possibly 50 pages too long.
That's fair, isn't it. And it's what book group is all about. You don't necessarily have to love the book.
Ah well, we'll see what next month brings.
(For those wondering, the book was Ariel Lawhon's The Frozen River. Many adore it. Don't let my thoughts put you off).
I did successful adulting today. Yes, I know I'm an adult, and Ive been one of them for over three decades, but today, I was very proud of myself.
It's to do with car maintenance.
Growing up in the country (and having a bit of a useless dad) I learned to do a lot of things because ultimately it was easier to do these things myself. Also, growing up with old bangers for cars, I was very good at checking the oil, water, tyre pressure and the like. I learned that you could fix most things with WD40, duct tape, bailing twine and a thump of a spanner.
Some three decades on, I live in the city. I no longer drive down dirt roads that are half potholes. I have a much nicer car, although Edna the '66 EJ Holden was pretty special, even if she was rusty and liked to drink oil and petrol.
Not Edna, but she looked just like this, only with more rust
And my car has a tyre pressure warning light, which has been going off recently.
Normally, I ignore it, then check the tyre pressure next time I'm at a petrol station.
Saturday, I did just this. Checked the tyres (see - adult thing to do). Three were fine. The front passenger side one was sitting at around 25 psi. I pumped it up, because I'm an adult and minor car maintenance is a good thing to do.
When I got home, I called what used to be called Kmart Tyre and Auto and asked a few questions. I said I'm keep my eye on the tyre as it seems drivable, but if it had deflated again, I'd call Monday morning to have a book it in for them to have a look.
Sunday comes, I go about my day, pass by a service station, check the tyre - back down to 25 psi.
And today the guys from what used to be Kmart Tyre and Auto got hold of my car at lunchtime and fixed the small puncture. $50 to get it sorted. Much better than going down the Great Ocean Road on the weekend and finding you have a flat down at Apollo Bay and having to drive back on those lego tyres they give you instead of a full spare.
The great thing about Star Wars films is that you know what you're going to get. The Resistance are in a pickle; the Empire are trying to get back into power and what looks like an impossible mission is undertaken, normally understaffed, seemingly deadly, but somehow, our heroes and heroines prevail. And the technology remains the same - it looks like you construct a lot of it from the odd-lots bin at Bunnings.
The Mandalorian and Grogu is no different, and that's what makes is fun.
I'll also say that I've not watched the series on Disney about Grogu. I'm not that interested.
But this was fun.
Pedro Pascal is the Mandalorian in charge of looking after Grogu, a baby Yoda arrangement as they try and claim a bounty on another member of the Empire who's in hiding. They are told that if they get in leagues with the Hutts (remember Jabba the Hutt, his family). Jeremy Allen White is the voice of Rodda the Hutt - the Hutt who's actually alright.
Then there is Grogu, who's an absolute hoot. Clever is he.
I also love the little guys who came to his rescue.
Written and directed by Jon Favreau, probably best known as Happy Hogan in the Marvel films, has done a good job with this. It has great action, great heart and a lot of laughs. Most of the time you're laughing at Grogu's antics - he's a hoot.
In all, I enjoyed this, tagging along Blarney and Barney.
You get what you pay for - I was happily entertained.
I've two projects on the go. I will be able to go back to my shrink this week (six monthly review) and tell her that I have finished some projects, but I will have to confess that I've started two more.
There is a method in my ADHD driven quirkiness.
I have two projects with different deadlines.
One is a blanket for Blarney. I'm making this for her for Christmas. I'm using Bendigo Woolen Mills Wool - proper natural fibres. Expensive wool. It can be an heirloom if it's looked after, bit it will be serviceable, useful as well. She still has the one I made with cheap acrylic yarn some 20 years ago.
I'm using 12 ply yarn with a 4.5 mm crochet hook.
And if I'm going to be certain to finish it, crocheting while I'm in front of the telly, I need to start it now.
However, my other project - and I'm not sure who will be receiving this one, is made from cheapy Kmart cake yarn.
It's roughly a 12 ply. I'm crocheting up squares using a 3.5 mm hook - so they are tighter than the other blanket. I get around4 square per colour in the ball - there are five separate colours in each ball.
Then I sew them into to blanket.
I'm not the world's best sewer (nor crocheter either, but still - I'm consistent and quick). I'm learning not to berate myself if I put a square on the wrong way. I'm not fretting over the fact that some squares have to colours in them. I'm trying to ease myself out of getting this blanket perfect and overcome my addiction to perfection. It's lovely in its simplicity and incongruency.
I think this will be awesome when I'm done with it. Any spare yarn will be turned into cat and do blankets. Blarney's cats get a small blanket for Christmas most years. I also will make one for my Roman, my trainer Chuck's dog - he loves the one I made him last year.
All I know is that this keeps my busy brain happy. I'm so glad I have these skills.
I'm just back from fish and chips with friends. I'm going to have to think about doing a curry night at my place once of these days.
Being completely devoid of what to write about, I found the weekly questions up, hence, I'll give them a crack.
This week's questions were collated by Sunday Stealing, who asked we regulars to provide questions to make our own meme. I think we did a good job.
1. Would you rather have every traffic light turn green or always get the best parking spot? (Kwizgiver)
I'm going to go with the parking spot. I don't mind the odd red light. I either listen to audio books or make phone calls when I'm in the car, so it means a few extra minutes. I'm on reasonable terms with the Parking Fairy (it's a concept I can explain, but she helps me manifest good parking spots, and I am very grateful for her existence).
2. What's the most difficult thing you have ever done? (Gold in the Clouds)
It's one of these:
Giving up caffeine - I gave it up around 8 years ago and recently brought it back in. I know I'm better off without it - but I like it!
I've run five half-marathons.
And fallen out of love. That was hard.
3. What information do you know that you are proud of/happy about, but others say, "Who cares?" (Roger)
I have a lot of pet passion projects - one of the joys of being ADHD, and there are all sorts of things that nobody gives a toss about. I can go on ad infinitum about things like:
The Pixies
Talking Heads
Obscure English films
Tudor History
Australian politics
4. What mystery do you wish you knew the answer to? (Myra/Mevely)
One of the following:
What happened to the princes in the Tower.
What happened to the Beaumont children (Adelaide mystery from the sixties)
Why people voted in Donald Trump.
5. What small, ordinary thing brings you disproportionate joy? (Country Dew)
The smell of my cat's paws. Just the smell of my cat makes me happy.
6. What time do you go to sleep/wake up? (Annie)
I head to bed between midnight and one and wake around seven to seven thirty. I don't sleep much, but thankfully, that is normally good sleep.
7. What is your favorite sleeping position? (Lisa)
I start out on my stomach and gravitate towards my side. I rarely sleep on my back.
8. Describe your personal Utopia. (Pandora)
My personal Utopia is permanently set in an Australian winter in bushland, with an open fire, plenty of books, gin, a big, comfortable bed, with a jacuzzi out the back (near a sauna) and a big table for writing at. There are lots of big armchairs, a chaise lounge to kip on and some crafts to do. The kitchen is well stocked and there's a variety of gins to enjoy. Sound good?
9. Imagine that you have a machine that can create any new invention for you based on your description. What you ask the machine to create, and why? (Plastic Mancunian)
I'd love a machine that types out what I'm thinking without having to use my fingers or dictate. It would save me a lot of time.
I live in Richmond. I know how to get parking in Richmond.
I'm not so fond of finding parking in Brunswick. It's awful - though I have found that there's a Woolies car park near where I'm going - $10 for two to three hours.
It's that, or an hour each way on public transport. or $50 in Uber rides.
So, yeah, f*ck Brunswick.
I'd better get out there, get ready to tackle Hoddle Street and get to this jazz club.
The things you do for friends.
(And I'd also be saying the same things if I was going to Carlton, Fitzroy or St Kilda - parking is hard).
I like working out one-on-one with Chuck, even if he makes me work hard.
I did a PB on the lat pull down machine tonight. Think I scared the bloke on the next machine who was pulling half weight I was.
I was thrilled to see my gym mate come in a showoff his knitting. I have to take in my crochet next week.
I've also promised my trainer I'll make his dog a new blanket for Christmas - it's just the way I roll.
Today, I spent a bit of time watching Dutch football fans. To participate in this, for me, would be the eighth level of hell, but they look like they're having a good time.
Is it just me or are the Yanks doing everything in their power to ruin the World Cup. I don't give a fig about the World Cup, but it makes a lot of my friends happy and I am pissed off for them.
I'm hoping that's the three as I'm not sure I can handle much more.
Celebrity deaths come in threes.
First, Neale Daniher. Then Anthony Head. Now, this morning, Richard Collyer.
If I was still participating in that most questionable of games, Death Watch, a game which an old, cynical journalist, I will admit that Neale Daniher and Richard Collyer would probably be mentioned.
For those not aware of the Death Watch concept, the more cynical of journos make a list at the start of the year. A list of the great and good who they think may kick the bucket in the preceding calendar year. This is not a list made out of spite or malice. It's just your predictions of who you think may shrug the mortal coil. The death needs to be noted in at least two major papers. We're not talking about your 103-year-old uncle, or your nana. These are the passings of notable people whose names you know.
If I'm being honest, if was to make such a list, Neale Daniher and Richard Collyer would possibly be on there. Great men. Their amazing works have contributed to society. Their memories are a blessing, their works will continue. And they are no longer suffering. Daniher was given the Motor Neurone diagnosis over ten years ago. The normal life expectancy for MND is two years. Collyer's aggressive brain cancer was treated, and he was given some more time. Both will be remembered for their fighting spirits and generous ways. Can you ask for more than that?
The third passing, Anthony Head, is just very sad. He's been on our television screens for decades. Rupert Giles in Buffy. Uther Pendragon in Merlin. Rupert Manion in Ted Lasso. He played a mean Frankenfurter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. His performances were always nuanced. He got the best out of any performance he gave. And by all accounts, he was the nicest, kindest and most generous of colleagues, friends and performers.
It's never easy when one of your celebrity crushes goes by the way. Anthony Head was one of mine.
I'm hoping that's it for the while. That's the three celebrities gone.
And sure, they killed off a favourite character on Rivals the other night - it's not the same.
I'm also not sure Donald Trump will be around for much longer - he looks awful - and possibly the global response to him no longer being around might be met with something different to the sadness and reverence I'm feeling at the moment.
Of course, I was going to love this. It has the hallmarks of something I'd love - an English film, about art, set in London, directed by Steven Soderburgh, with a fantastic cast.
This had me spellbound. I'm not sure if it was Michaela Coel's cheekbones, or the slightly barking plot or the slightly shaky camerawork in places, but to me, this was gold. It's a dark comedy in many ways - but not overly so. I loved it. It hit the spot well good.
The action takes place in London, where Laurie (Michaela Coel) an art restorer and occasional forger, is approached by Sallie (Jessica Gunning) and Barnaby (James Corden) to go into their father's place and 'finish' a last set of his paintings. Their father, Julian (Ian McKellen) is dying. He's also irascible, painful, rather funny, and as it turns out, Laurie's nemesis. You see, Julian is a famous artist. He's also known for being a bastard. Sallie and Barnaby want Laurie to finish these painting so they will have an inheritance.
The movie shows the ins and outs of Laurie and Julian's relationship. It's a game of cat and mouse as Laurie tries to wheedle her way into Julian's world but also wrangles with the ethics of what the terrible twosome wants her to do. Added on top of this, her reasons for hating Julian are very relevant. You also want to find out just who Christopher is and why these paintings are such a source of pain for Julian.
Directed by Steven Soderbergh, most of the film is set in Julian's dreadfully messy apartment. The warren like nature of the space us juxtaposed with the twists and turns of the story.
Both Michaela Coel and Ian McKellen are superb in this as the talented student and the established artist. It's tender, spit take funny in places and thought provoking. I mean in the scheme of things, what is art? What makes something art? And why are some things far more valuable than others. (I loved Julian's line "This will hang with the worst paintings of all time, along with dogs playing poker, velvet Elvis, and most of Warhol.")
This is definitely worth a look. You don't have to be an art lover to enjoy this thought-provoking, interesting film.
3. You can only have one sandwich for the rest of your life. You have every sandwich-making ingredient known to man at your disposal. What sandwich do you make?
A Rueben Sandwich,just like Izzy makes them at my favourite deli in Caulfield. They must be toasted and warm and there must be no shirking on the sauerkraut or Russian dressing.
4. An angel provides you with a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. What's it gonna be?
Gin. If I am to be specific, make that Never Never Triple Juniper Gin. Smoother than a babie's bum that stuff.
5. Have you ever built a snowman?
Ah, no, there isn't much snow in Melbourne (though we do have some great snowfields here. I haven't seen snow in Australia since I went on a ski camp in 1994.
6. If you could ask your future self a question, what would it be?
Is there anybody out there for me? (I know, daft and stupid at my age. )
7. Have you ever baked your own birthday cake?
I think I have. Again, one of the joys of being single. I've definitely bought my own birthday cake - more than once.
8. Which are cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?
Dragons. Always dragons. I'm part Welsh. It has to be dragons.
9. What do you like about babies?
They smell good and they are ultimately untapped, un-fucked-up potential. How cool is that?
10. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. What's the first rule you put in place?
You must be kind. If you're found to be willingly unkind, that's you done.
It's a bit sad that I had to go away for a day and think about this.
Last night I drew a Dev Card, having no inspiration to write. It says,:
What are your love languages for giving a receiving love?
These five love languages describe ways people give and receive love
Words of affirmation
Quality time
Physical touch
Acts of service
Receiving gifts
Write some new love languages and list the ways you show and feel love.
I still feel like a fraud writing this, however, after mulling this over for the day, here's what I came up with.
If I want to show love, I will make you something. I'm always making things. I need to be creative to survive, but if I actually set out to make you something, you know that I care for you. I'm already making a blanket for Blarney for Christmas - I normally make her cats little blankets each year for their beds, replacing them annually, as by Christmas each year, they're pretty manky.
I love knitting or crocheting things. I've always wanted to have a partner who I could make jumpers for. I think that would be bloody marvelous.
I also love to cook for people, not that I do that often. A small act of service.
There's something in me that tries to visit people in hospital or send a text to see how they are doing if I know things are a bit amiss.
These are small things.
I'm told I'm kind to a fault. I don't think kindness can ever be a fault.
Oh, and I will recommend you films and books and music with a huge smile on my face.
As for receiving love.
Well:
Cuddle me
Feed me
Let me play with your kitten or puppy (friends know how happy this makes me
Talk to me
Take me to an art gallery or museum or some sort of interesting installation.
Watch a sunrise or sunset with me
Ply me with beer (or gin)
Or, if it's going round, give me a puff of your wacky backy - just a puff.
After a day when the video file I was working on corrupted after a couple of detailed hours of work. Rather than having a hissy fit, I got on with the work of recreating the video. So, I've been sitting staring at a computer for most of the day and I really cannot be asked to sit down in front of one again. Besides, the cat is asleep on my office chair.
So I’ve pulled this Dev Card And it’s asking me what my love languages are.
Love languages?
I do not have a bloody clue.
As somebody who lives a fairly solitary life I don’t know if I can answer that question without thinking about it a lot more..
so, I’m going to dwell on this for a bit more, and leave it for another time, when I’ve thought about this a bit more. I really have no idea how to answer this question.
And I can move the cat off of my office chair and then go to bed.
Working from home makes it easier to get to a 5 pm dentist appointment? And then it makes it easier to go to the gym an hour and a half later. It's even better when you know that you aren't going to be walking home in the cold and the rain m (or waiting for an uber) but rather collecting your car from the rock star car park outside the surgery.
It's a pity I need to go into the office tomorrow - getting my eyebrows done after work. A necessary evil.
And who knew that cooking lunch would put you in a manic earworm afternoon. It's an earworm nobody in Australia seems to know. I mean, this is like the best football song in the world, and yes, there is a part of me that absolutely believes that I'm British, and I love English footy songs... but have you any idea how bad it is when you go around singing "Vindaloo" all afternoon?
Lunch was yummy. I don't make a bad chicken vindaloo. I just wish it didn't come with a song. And I wish I had a Peshwari naan to go with it. Thankfully Coles has basmati rice and mango chutney.
Vindaloo... vindaloo... vindaloo, vindaloo, nah nah...
Hospital visits are easier to make when you know the person is going to be alright. There's no hand wringing, no pondering, no discomfort. It's just a visit to a friend in an unusual place.
I don't mind hospitals. My mother was a nurse, my father was in and out of them when I was a child. They're a fact of life. Nothing to be scared of. Maybe being a little more aware of the rigmaroles, the smells and sounds makes it easier. They don't phase me.
Tonight, after work, after getting home, feeding the cat and feeding myself, I went up the road to the Freemasons to visit a friend. She's going to be fine, probably going home tomorrow after being in for a few days.
I've visited many a person at this hospital. I've sprung numerous friends from there after small and large procedures. I remember taking Blarney for burnouts in a wheelchair - because that's how I roll.
Early in the evening, the hospital is quiet. The person at the desk gave good directions after remembering I had to call my friend by her actual name, not by what I call her.
You follow the lines, take the slow, rickety lift, look out for the signage for where you're going. It's not that hard.
You sit with your friend, who's frankly looking better than I thought she was going to look and have a good chat about what's going on. We watched some telly and traded a few Pokemon.
The tea lady came in offering a hot beverage. She was lovely enough to give me a cup and a couple of biscuits in plastic wrapping (not so strangely, these are the same biscuits we get in the kitchen at work).
Then, after about an hour, when the visiting hours are coming to an end, you bid your friend goodbye, and go in reverse, out of the ward towards the slow lift. You thank the tea lady for the decent cup of tea and for looking after your friend. You schlep your way towards the front door and head out into the cold night.
You also remain very thankful that the friends you're visiting will be well in the end. They've been fixed up, and now the real healing begins.
It makes going into these places just that little bit easier.
I set myself the goal to read at least six books in June. I read eight in the end. This includes two of the best books I've read in the last few years as well as some utter rubbish. It was mostly fiction, but there's a non-fiction title in there as well.
Here's my list, which includes the format in which I read the book and a rating.
I've read some of Rebecca Yarros's contemporary fiction in the past and enjoyed it. This is at another level. The story of a girl who was supposed to be a scribe (read historian or academic) but ends up, under her mother's command, to enter flight school where she hopes to bond with a dragon and be a fighter. Fun, eh!
Yarros knows how to spin a story. She has some great, memorable characters. I'm very glad I listened to this one as the physical book would have been hard on my hands. But I'll go and read the next one, just to see what happens. It suckered me in. I was talking to a colleague about it all - there were laughing at some of my reactions.
It's good fun for light fantasy.
2) The Great Fortune by Olivia Manning - Audio - 4
This was written back in the 60s, the story of Guy and Harriet Pringle, newly married, arrive in Bucharest in the autumn of 1939. The city they find is one of contrasts and rumours, on the edge with wavering loyalties and the tension of war, peopled with an international cast of characters, including the inimitable and eccentric Russian émigré Prince Yakimov. The Pringles have to content with am ever changing geo-political landscape, a group of bizarre friends and the feeling of no stability.
The book is fascinating. Although the writing feels a bit dated, it was enjoyable. I'm looking forward to the next installment of the trilogy. (There are six books in all - two trilogies, which span from 1939 to just after the war). It's been on my list of things to read for years.
3) Wild Dark Shore by Charlotte McConaghy - Paper - 4 stars
This was our book group book for May, and it was amazing. Many of our group gave it a 5 stars - I was a little more reticent, but I really enjoyed it.
The story is complex, told through the eyes of the Salt family. Father Dominic, elder son, Raff, daughter Fen and Orly, the youngest and a polymath. The family live on Shearwater Island, in the middle of the Pacific closer to Antarctica than anywhere else (It's geographically based on Macquarie Island - look it up.) The island has been a research base for years, however climate change and rising seas mean that the see bank needs to be shut down and the family removed to the mainland.
One day, a woman, barely alive, washes up on the beach. Rowan is a woman on a mission. Why is she there? What secrets are the family keeping? Will the family be able to get out on time.
So much happens in this book. I was a little disappointed with the ending, but it is a wonder to behold. it comes highly recommended.
4) Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke - Audio - 5 stars
This is the best thing I've read this year. It may be the best thing I've read in the last two years. It's incredible, but it won't be for everybody.
The Goodreads' blurb says the following:
"Natalie lives a traditional lifestyle. Her charming farmhouse is rustic, her husband a handsome cowboy, her six children each more delightful than the last. So what if there are nannies and producers behind the scenes, her kitchen hiding industrial-grade fridges and ovens, her husband the heir to a political dynasty? What Natalie’s followers—all 8 million of them—don’t know won’t hurt them. And The Angry Women? The privileged, Ivy League, coastal elite haters who call her an antifeminist iconoclast? They’re sick with jealousy. Because Natalie isn’t simply living the good life, she’s living the ideal—and just so happens to be building an empire from it.
Until one morning she wakes up in a life that isn’t hers. Her home, her husband, her children—they’re all familiar, but something’s off. Her kitchen is warmed by a sputtering fire rather than electricity, her children are dirty and strange, and her soft-handed husband is suddenly a competent farmer. Just yesterday Natalie was curating photos of homemade jam for her Instagram, and now she’s expected to haul firewood and handwash clothes until her fingers bleed. Has she become the unwitting star of a ruthless reality show? Could it really be time travel? Is she being tested by God? By Satan? When Natalie suffers a brutal injury in the woods, she realizes two things: This is not her beautiful life, and she must escape by any means possible."
There is so much going on here. Natalie is truly awful, but you have to love the way she thinks.
This is a brilliant look at the culture of Trad Wives, influencers, internet rabbit holes and how what we see might not be the whole truth.
Utterly brilliant.
5) The Three Lives of Cate Kay by Kate Fagan - Audio - 4 stars
I enjoyed this queer novel about friendship, fate and how we reinvent ourselves.
The blurb on Amazon reads, "Cate Kay knows how to craft a story. As the creator of a bestselling book trilogy that struck box office gold as a film series, she's one of the most successful authors of her generation. The thing is, Cate Kay doesn't really exist. She's never attended author events or granted any interviews. Her real identity had been a closely guarded secret, until now. As a young adult, she and her best friend Amanda fantasized escaping their difficult homes and moving to California to become movie stars. But the day before their grand adventure, a tragedy shattered their dreams and Cate has been on the run ever since, taking on different names and charting a new future. But after a shocking revelation, Cate understands that returning home is the only way she'll be a whole person again."
File this one under easy reading. Sure, I'm not certain all of the story was believable, but it was a good read after the heavy-duty nature of Yesteryear.
6) Rivals by Jilly Cooper - Kindle - 3.5 Stars
Dated, dreadful and a bloody good romp. I'm watching the series on Disney, thought I'd read the book. I will say that the television series is brilliant, but the source material is good fun. It would never win a Booker Prize, but it's great fun.
7) Flashlight by Susan Choi - Audio - 5 Stars
I went to see Susan Choi speak at the Melbourne Writer's Festival a few weeks ago and the person interviewing her was extolling her praises. I picked this up and have no regrets. It's amazing.
The blurb on the Readings website describes this as "The astonishing story of one family swept up in the tides of the twentieth century, ranging from Japan to the USA to the North Korean regime.
One evening, ten-year-old Louisa and her father take a walk out on the breakwater. They are spending the summer in a coastal Japanese town while her father Serk, a Korean emigre, completes an academic secondment from his American university. When Louisa wakes hours later, she has washed up on the beach and her father is missing, probably drowned.
The disappearance of Louisa's father shatters their small family unit. As Louisa and her American mother Anne return to the US, this traumatic event reverberates across time and space, and the mystery of what really happened to Serk slowly unravels."
As family dramas go, this is up there with Pashinko, Hello Beautiful and Middlesex. Glorious writing and an amazing, heart-wrenching story. I want to read more.
8) The Course of Love by Alain de Botton - Audio - 4 stars
I've read this before, but picking it up again, and listening to Julian Rhind-Tutt read this was a joy. I've loved the writing of Alain de Botton for years as he makes philosophy accessible and fun.
This book looks at how we as humans love, from those first teenage stirrings through to grown up life.
