Sunday Stealing goes to the Mall

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. 

Today's song:

Water

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. 

I watch the sea. I continue to be mesmerised. 

It is a cellular connection. 

Today’s song:

Retreat Time

 In no real order: 

• The work computer is shut down.
• The car is filled with petrol. 
• The bags are packed. 
• The biscuits are iced. 
• Two loads of washing are hanging out to dry. 
• The floors have been vacuumed. 
• Lola, the builder's dog has had a pat (most important)
• The neighbour has instructions for the beast. 
• The beast is under his blankets on the bed. 
• The teeth are clean. 
• I've taken my lunchtime meds. 

I reckon all I need to do is pack the car and go. 

See you on the other side.

Today's song:

Are you queer?

 I get into some interesting conversations. 

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."

She loved that. 

She gave me a free book. 

I left happy. 

Today's song: 

No Crochet Tonight

 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. 

And all is fine with the world. 

Today's song:

When you don't like the book

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). 

Today's song: 

Successful Adulting

 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. 

See - I adulted today. 

Today's song: