2. Party pies. Party pies are a big thing here - and I steadfastly don't eat them. I'll have a pie if it's on the menu at a pub or restaurant, or maybe from and artisanal bakery, but I don't eat footy pies. Ever. Full of horse.
FOUR foods you love
1. Ice cream
2. Fish and Chips
3. Pasties from South Australian bakeries
4. Marks and Spencers Prawn Cocktail sandwiches. Can't wait to have them when I get to England in a few weeks.
TWO places you never want to see again
1. The inside of a certain supermarket chain's head office. I've vowed I'd never work for them again - there are lots of other places to work.
2. Kuta in Bali. I know you have to go through it to get to other places in Bali
FOUR places you'd like to revisit
1. All of Spain, and more of Spain.
2. All of Italy and more of Italy.
3. Scotland - but I need a few months to see everything I want to see.
4. New York, but again, with a lot of time and money so I can do it properly.
TWO musical artists who make you want to change the station
1. Meatloaf
2. Adele
I've had both overplayed to me and I don't need to hear them again.
FOUR musical artists you love to listen to
1. David Byrne and Talking Heads
2. The Pixies
3. Simon and Garfunkel - love them.
4. Mumford and Sons - just for something different.
TWO moments you'd like to erase
1. Scott Morrison winning that unwinnable election in 2019. We'd had enough of the Liberal party by that stage.
2. The overturning of Roe vs Wade in the USA. Such a retrograde act.
FOUR moments you'd like to relive
1. I'd love to see for the first time our room in Sommieres in the South of France.
2. Wandering around Henry VII Chapel at Westminster Abbey, preferably alone. I love that place.
3. An individual sound healing session with Shervin Boolorian - the man is an earthbound angel.
4. It would be nice to fall in love again. That is a nice, but scary feeling.
Some of the movies which have been made from Stephen King's fiction are phenomenal. I'm talking about The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile and allegedly Stand by Me (which is on my to-be-seen list - I've never got around to it). And Stephen King is allegedly a fantastic writer again. I cannot pass judgement because I have never read him.
The Life of Chuck is not one of these films. It’s certainly not awful, but it isn’t up there with the best of the adaptations. The main reason for this is you'll be scratching your head with the film's structure. And it's a little bit predictable, though there are parts where you're pondering where this is all going.
In Part One, you're introduced to the concept of Chuck Krantz early in the film, where in modern times, things are starting to unravel. Nick Offerman's narration takes you through the characters. Marty Anderson (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is teaching his class when the internet goes out. The land is also being bombarded with advertisements thanking Chuck Krantz (Tom Hiddleston) for 39 years of service. Around town, Marty's ex-wife, Felicia (Karen Gillen) is watching as her world is disintegrating. And over a period of time, you work out that things aren't looking good.
Part Two is when you meet adult Chuck for real. A 39-year-old account, the premise of the movie is gently explained. I won't go into it here.
The third section looks into Chuck's childhood, his relationship with his Bubby (Mia Sara) and Grandfather, Albie (Mark Hamill) and introduces us to the choices Chuck made as a child, forgoing his love of dance for something far more sensible (yeah, Chuck's an accountant...).
And while this is being advertised as being a life-affirming film, the film's fragmented structure is puzzling enough to be unsettling but is as subtle as a mortar cannon in its messaging. I can see that this is writer/director Mike Flanagan's passion project. Like most works from the heart, it strays into its own bum some of the time.
However, there are a lot of redeeming features to the film, the first being the cinematography. This is a lovely film to watch. I enjoyed the small roles well-known actors of the 80's played - in particular, Mia Sara - who's now in her late 50s. She was wonderful as Chuck's grandmother. Mark Hamill is also in danger of being perennially cast as a grandfather figure - he was great too.
For me, the one thing that would make me go and see this again was the dance scene in the second part, which Tom Hiddleston dances for a good ten minutes. It took me back to the musicals I used to watch on television on a Sunday afternoon - which is the point of all this. Doing what makes you happy is a good thing. Do it often before it's too late.
I'd wait for this one to hit the streaming services. We've come to expect more from Stephen King adaptations, and though there are some good things about this, when you find that Tom Hiddleston's hips are the things you think about most, maybe it's not up there with the best examples of Stephen King films.
(This could also be called "How a Witch Looks for Work.")
I've started looking for another job. Before you start with the "But you love Darwin!" laments, as much as I do love going to Darwin, I'm a contractor, and this is what happens. You work somewhere for a while, normally on projects, then the project ends and you go find another job. You often meet up with people you've worked with before, mostly for the better. It's what you do.
My contract is up at the end of September. I leave for France mid-September - so basically, I'm between jobs the moment I step out of the country.
Which is why I'm starting the hunt for my next gig now.
Job hunting takes time. And a good sense of resilience. And a sense of humour.
Over the last few days I've been tweaking my CV. This means its up to date and ready to go.
Last night I applied for a few things. Do I want them? One looking mildly interesting. But you have to tell the universe that you're on the hunt.
The other week, when I was told my contract wasn't being renewed, I wrote out the list of what I was after in a job - namely something long term, preferably well paying contract work in the tech writing or instructional design area. Preferably located in central Melbourne, I'm okay with occasional travel - not the unrelenting travel I've had for the last year. I'd like to be in a large, or multi-national company - I work better as a little fish in a big pond. I also want a hybrid job - 1-2 days in the office, the rest working from home. I's like to work in a mixed team. I'm better working with a mix of ages, sexes and ethnicities. There's a few more things on the list, but you get the gist.
You have to ask the universe for what you want.
And be grateful for the gifts it's given you.
And look for work while burning a green candle
As my woo-woo deck of cards told me the other day.
Well, the universe seems to be listening.
First coincidence, I ran into an old team mate in the lift at work. We had a quick chat. He was on his way to his leaving do, but he's starting a new role next week and might be looking for people with my skill set in October.
Later, on my way to get my eyebrows done, I ran into another ex-colleague. They told me my name came up in conversation the other week when talking about tech writers. It's good to know people remember you.
And this morning, I was contacted by a recruiter for another role, which I am interested in - so I've duly passed on my number and CV and we'll see where that goes.
Regardless, the search is underway and with some luck, perseverance and resilience, something good will come my way - in October, after three weeks in Europe, when I'll be truly ready to re-engage with the workforce.
Until then, I will keep telling myself that I exactly where I am supposed to be and I'm supported by the amazing world.
A little nervous about facing the United States Customs and immigration, but as I'm only there for seven hours and with a ticket straight to London, hoping there won't be any drama.
I may also be without a job
But I'm going to have a few weeks off.
And I'm going to get a job
But I'll be on my way home to London for a few days.
Then for two weeks in France.
I found myself speaking French in the shower tonight.
It started off well. Some good banter. He seemed nice. Kind. Well travelled. Interesting. A Carlton supporter (can live with that). Father of three adult children. Divorced. 54 (Age appropriate - never a bad thing)
All very standard stuff on the apps. Things get off to a good start.
Then the innuendo starts.
For fuck's sake, I've not met you. I'm not interested. The easiest way to turn me off is start with the double entendres too quickly. One or two, fine, but nah... sorry. I'm in my mid-fifties - I'm not here for a quick shag - not that there's anything wrong with that - it's just not for me.
We've been chatting for a few days now. He's been getting insistent about meeting.
Not a red flag, but an eyebrow raiser. He was nice enough to not contact me over the weekend when I was something akin to a zombie.
The double entendres continued tonight.
"What are you up to?" his text asked.
"On the couch with my knitting and the cat." Well, I was. My brain is fried tonight.
"Hmmm, pussy."
Like what are you? Fourteen?
"Yes. My pussy is called Lucifer and is rather antisocial."
"Oh, I like a dirty pussy."
I don't need this. It's not what I'm after.
And maybe it's me being over-sensitive. Don't ask me when was the last time I cuddled up to somebody watching telly on the couch. Or when I walked hand in hand with somebody. And don't ask about kissing... anything intimate like that. It's been a long time. I don't want to be railroaded. I'm not desperate.
"Can I come and see you."
"Hard pass. No."
No address details, other than I live in Richmond, have been given. No surnames provided.
He then calls. He admits to having just had a bong. He's stoned. Barely coherent. Unable to string a sentence together.
So, yeah. Nope. Next.
Blocked on the app. I will give home the courtesy of sending the 'I'm not interested in taking this further. Good luck in your search," text tomorrow before blocking his number.
It's important to treat people how you wish to be treated yourself, and closure is a good thing.
Too many red flags with this one. And I have far too much self-respect and a decent set of boundaries to let this Captain Chaos into my life. Underneath, I do think he's a nice man. He's just not for me.
There must be a nice, age appropriate, reasonably sober, articulate bloke out there who likes the theatre and galleries and nice things and wants a friend, not a shag.
I have no inspiration to write tonight. Nothing. Zip. Nada. What I could write about I won't write about as I don't write about work, intimate relationships or some other things.
So, I outsourced my ideas to ChatGPT, remembering that the AI bot knows about my search history and a few other things. I asked it, "What am I going to write about tonight?" and here's what it came back with:
If you want inspiration for tonight’s blog, I can give you a few angles based on your past style and topics you enjoy.
Here are some options:
Travel Quirks – A wry take on something you noticed in airports or planes (perfect since you’ve been talking about long flights and oestrogen gel).
Everyday Annoyances – Pick a small, ridiculous frustration (like the air fryer posts) and elevate it into an absurd, Austen-meets-Welsh social commentary.
Pop Culture Dissection – A sharp, slightly mischievous breakdown of a song, movie, or celebrity moment from today’s news.
Micro-Manifesto – One short, punchy post about a life philosophy you stand by, told through a funny personal anecdote.
Rant with a Twist – Start with indignation over something tiny, then turn it into a surprising or heart-warming realisation.
If you tell me your mood tonight—playful, cranky, sentimental, or thoughtful—I can zero in on the perfect one for you.
Thank you, ChatGPT - your first prompt has got something I can comment on.
An Open Letter to Qantas.
Here we go.
Dear Qantas,
You're delving into bellend territory once again.
This is regarding my flight from Darwin to Sydney on Saturday morning.
Look, I know that Darwin on what is perceived as the arse end of the country, and the fact that the military runs the airport and only provides completely antisocial flight times to civilisation allows you to use the crappy old flight stock, still. You're acting like a bit of a nob, just because you can.
See, on my flight from Darwin to Sydney, I had what was one of the more uncomfortable flights I've had in ages.
Firstly, the cabin temperature was sitting around 30 degrees.
It was getting to be like a dry sauna in there. Four hours of sitting in a flying tin can, with only hot air to breathe. Thanks for that.
And yes, it was a completely full flight. I know this because I was supposed to be going home via Brisbane, but you cancelled that flight in your wisdom. I'm not whining about the fact you put me on the Sydney flight - and gave me a window seat, but the old plane stock is not as comfortable as the newer. The seats seem narrower, or maybe it was the woman next to me with the incredibly good childbearing hips, The latter you can do nothing about,
But when it came to dimming the lights in the cabin, surely there is another setting under what I could call "Just-gone-twilight." It wasn't dark enough on this flight. There was no sleep to be had. And before you say I should wear a mask - my bag was about six seats in front of me, due to the fullness of the flight. Wasn't going to happen.
The crew appeared to be oblivious. The meal service was done by 45 minutes into the flight. Nobody wants to eat at 2 a.m. But it would be nice if you weren't looked at as a pariah for asking for a bottle of water two hours in. (Obviously, I was dozing when the meal came out).
And it's not that it was technically a bad flight. The small amount of turbulence over the New South Wales/Queensland border was fine.
But being dry, hot, unable to sleep, miserable and plastered to a window for four hours - I'm a middle-aged menopausal woman. I get enough of this from my own body - I don't need any more mirroring symptom from you on a four hour flight from Sodom to Gomorrah.
Maybe look at being nice to the military to let you provide some more sociably acceptable flight times, in planes that weren't commissioned in the Whitlam era, where the air conditioning works, water is plentiful and the dimmer switch goes down to a two, instead of a five.
We won't mention that it now costs 20% more Frequent Flyer points to get anywhere.
Nevertheless, Saturday morning's Darwin-Melbourne flight has put you firmly in bellend territory.
Yours,
Pandora Behr.
p.s. For those not knowing what a bellend is, see below:
The Theatre: The Fairfax Studio at the Arts Centre
Until: Season Closed
Stars: 4
There are 33 plays attributed to Shakespeare. There are around ten that a regularly performed on state. You know them: Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, A Midsummer Night's Dream, King Lear, Much Ado About Nothing, Othello, Hamlet, Henry V, Richard III, Twelfth Night, As You Like it, Julius Caesar...
Coriolanus is in the next tier of plays, occasionally performed. It's there with Antony and Cleopatra, The Taming of the Shrew, the early Henry IVs and VIs (all five of them), A Winter's Tale and Measure for Measure. They do get performed - just not as often, and they're frequently undersubscribed. People are sort of aware of them, but you don't get the opportunity to see them.
Then there's the ones that don't get performed except under duress or some company is trying to get their name out there. King John, Timon of Athens, Pericles, Love's Labours Lost and the hyper-violent Titus Andronicus (where the king's children are baked into a pie). (As an aside, I've been looking at the theatre listing in London while I'm there - interestingly, the RSC is putting on Titus Andronicus while I've over there... it's worth considering... Though seeing Sam Heughan as Macbeth in Stratford would be something to behold... pity that starts in the week I get back to Australia).
Anyway...
So going into Coriolanus this afternoon, I knew two things. It's set in Rome. And I saw a production of it in the nineties where Steven Berkoff provided a Neo-Nazi setting. It was stylised. It was very good on recollection.
This Coriolanus was also very, very good.
Coriolanus is a play about military and political might, downfall and exile. We first meet Caius Marius (Hazem Shammas) a brutal general and defender of Rome, he's back from battle and is raised to serve the people as a member of the senate. Renamed Coriolanus, after the major battle he won at Corioli, he makes a complete ass of himself and is banished from Rome, much to the chagrin of his mother Volumnia (Brigid Zengeni) and his wife Virgilia (Suzannah MacDonald).
While in exile, he gets in league with Aufidius (Anthony Taufa), one of his enemies who wants to take over Rome. In the background, his old mentor, Menenius (Peter Carroll) tries to reel him back.
And like all good Shakespearean tragedies, he dies in the end, only after having the epiphany that, “Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, even to a full disgrace.”
This ran for nearly three hours - but it didn't feel like it. The ultimate sign of a good Shakespeare. Also, not having the solid knowledge of the play as a crutch, everything was understandable.
Hazem Shammas was excellent as the belligerent Coriolanus, bringing a huge amount of energy with the right amount of depth to allow the audience to have some compassion for him. I also loved Peter Carroll's rendition of Menenius. Carroll is in his early eighties, and he gave the role humanity and gravitas.
Thankfully, at the start of the play, one of the cast gave the audience a rundown of what was happening in Rome, introducing us to the upper classes (who ran the senate) and the plebians, or working class, who had two tributes, the representative voices, who brought the nearest thing to a democracy to Rome - with little luck.
As with most Bell Shakespeare productions, the set was inventive and there was a lot to like with the moving rostra which came and went from under a curtain at the back of the stage. It was occasionally underlit, but that's allowable for dark play.
For me, the best thing about the play was the costumes, particularly the plebian tributes, who were dressed in cheap suits and looked like they'd come off an episode of The Office. And as always, all of the actors wore excellent boots - it's a Bell Shakespeare failsafe.
The play belongs to Hazem Shammas, who brought so much to this contrary role. He's predominately a stage actor but can be seen in a lot of local television shows. He's one to watch.
Being the last performance in a six-month run, the show received a standing ovation by many. It was well deserved. Making a little-known, lesser-played Shakespeare relevant and enjoyable is a feat.
I look forward to seeing what the Bell Shakespeare Company bring to us next year. It's wonderful to have Shakespeare in my life. There should be more of it.
