Monday, March 18, 2024

Today's Earworm

 I'm working out in my underwear in the lounge room. The underwear is really just long-legged knickers, but they look like bike shorts, and when your trainer is in Barcelona on a phone, it doesn't matter. Saves on washing. 

We were talking about Cleo's pending trip to Morocco, when her daughters join her in Spain in a few months. She's got a start and an end point, landing in Tangiers and leaving from Marrakesh and what goes on in between is up for discussion. 

"We might go on a tour, camp in the Sahara," she was saying.

Well, that sounds fun. Cleo has been to Morocco before. Jay, who was on the other window of the call, has also been. I'm just doing my back lunges and feeling a bit jealous. 

"And we'll spend time in Casablanca..." she went on.  

Oh, Casablanca. I so want to go to Casablanca, just as much as I want to go to Zanzibar. Yes, I know, one is in Morocco, the other in Tanzania. But Casablanca conjures up a different time, with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman and a throng of French extras singing the Marseilles. (The story is amazing - at the time this was filled, France and Germany were at war, the tears and the feeling were unscripted.)

And no, the Marseilles is not my earworm. I wish it was. 

Cleo went on as we continued to sweat it out in the lounge. 

"And then we might go down to Agadir," she said. 

"Agadir!" exclaimed Jay, "Agadir's a shit hole. Agadir's the place the British go to play golf and complain."

It could be said that most of Europe which has a bit of sunshine is where Britains go to play golf and whinge, but year. 

I'd remained quiet, happily doing my pushups and Russian Twists and couch slams. 

"You know, something that came out of Agadir was the song Agadoo."

There, I said it. 

The genie was out of the bottle. 

The song firmly planted in my head. 

And I know this is an awful song, but I have good memories of singing it to our dog, as she was Sheba-Do and she loved it. 

Still, I have this stupid song going round in my head, all because of a conversation about Cleo's holiday plans.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagadoo doo doo....

Today's song: 


Sunday, March 17, 2024

Sunday Stealing:

 It's Saturday night and I'm getting the weekly questions out of the way. It's been a nicely chilled day and now it's time to get some admin done - and the Sunday questions, which have been provided, as always, but Bev at Sunday Stealing. They are good questions, this week. 

1. What ONE thing would you change about your life? How would your life be different?

I would love a metabolism which was a lot faster. I love to eat. Menopause has taken what was an already sluggish metabolism and made it even slower. It sucks badly. I have to be very careful about what I eat. If I didn't keep track of things, I'd be the size of an even bigger house. 

2.  What is the hardest thing you have ever done? Why was it hard for you? What did you learn?

I remember taking part in my first half marathon. I wasn't prepared for it, but my mate Reindert helped me along the 21 kilometre track. It was hard because I am not a natural runner, nor was I fully prepared for this (I've run five of these events, and they did get easier, especially when I'd trained for them properly). I learned that I can do anything I put my mind to that day. It was even more important to me  as I was always the fat, slow, unfit kid at school - this undid years of negative self-talk. 

3. Write about the most glorious moment in your life so far.

I'm a history nerd. As I was about to leave England in 1999, I went to Westminster Abbey to say goodbye. I got chatting to one of the vergers, who took me up to the tomb of Edward the Confessor, something you can see from a distance. I got the area to myself. It was glorious. 

I've been lucky - I've had lots of little moments like this. 

4. Write about a moment you felt brave.

I feel brave every time I start a new job. Seeing I do this regularly, I'm getting used to it, I do have to summon up some courage each time I walk into a new company. You never know what it is going to be like. 

5. What made you happy today?

I had two lots of meditation today - my normal Kabbalah meditation in the morning, and Drone Sound meditation at lunchtime. For the latter session I found a park easily and a cricket joined in the action. I was very good for me, mind, body and spirit. 

6. What did you dislike most about growing up?

A lot of it. My childhood wasn't the easiest. But looking back the think I don't like most about growing up is that you have to be an adult. I don't like being an adult that much. 

7. Write about five activities you love the most and why you love them.

Things I love to do:

  1. I love swimming, because I feel completely myself in the water. 
  2. I love writing, because that is my vocation
  3. I love going to cinema and the theatre, because I love being immersed in somebody else's story. 
  4. I love being around animal, because we get each other. 
  5. I love traveling, because I love learning about new places and cultures and people. 

8. Do you have an embarrassing moment that still makes you cringe?

Yes, but I don't feel like talking about them here. There are many of them. I'm just thankful I've grown up a bit. 

9. What has been your best trip so far?

I think my trip to England and France late last year will go down as the best trip ever. Loved every minute of my three weeks away. 

10. What traits (physical or personal) do people notice when they meet you for the first time?

I really couldn't tell you. Some people notice my eyes or the fact that I have long curly hair. Some notice that I'm big. May people look at me and think that I'm approachable - this probably has something to do with the fact that I have an open face. Charity muggers think I'm wonderful as I rarely tell them where to go. 

11.  Is social media a blessing or a curse?

25% blessing, 75% curse. Depends on the day and who you're fighting with over Twitter. 

12. What is your greatest hope for your future? What steps can you take to make it happen?

I hope that I stay happy and healthy and gainfully employed and that I can participate in everything I like doing for years to come. 

13.  What did you struggle most with today?

Procrastination, even though I got a lot done today, could have done more. That was about it. Had a few shifts in what I was going to do - Jonella cancelled, which was fine. I went to see a movie only to find out I'd booked a ticket for Tuesday. Ah well. I did some writing and a lot of housework. 

14.  Name the biggest priority in your life right now.

I'm getting started on the second draft of a book I'm writing. This is a big deal as I've never done anything of length to a second draft. And it is doing my head in. But I really want to do this to prove to myself that I can. 

15. What are 5 things you wish others knew about you.

I'm pretty open about myself but here are some useless things about me that you might want to know: 

  • I can't do cross stitch, but I can do tapestry. I love handicrafts. 
  • I would eat potatoes every day if I could. 
  • I prefer vanilla over chocolate 99 times out of 100. 
  • I take a size nine (Euro 40) shoe. I used to be an 8.5 (39) for most of my adult life, but menopause and age does that to you. 
  • I love the smell of cat's and dog's paws, preferably in the morning. 

Today's song:

Saturday, March 16, 2024

The Cricket

 I followed my instincts, and went into deepest, darkest Brunswick around lunchtime. I didn't want to, but something in me said it was necessary for my wellbeing. 

Brunswick and I have a strange relationship. I'm told that I belong there, but I don't think so. I do like that you can normally find a park there if you know what you're doing, unlike Carlton, which has the tendency to shit me to tears. Brunswick is filled with hipsters and delicatessens with food from hundreds of ethnicities. Brunswick feels like the Melbourne of the sixties. The shopfronts go unpainted, the citizenry doused in patchouli and whatever scent in in their vapes.  Brunswick is filled with hipsters. But these are the hipsters of all hipsters. I live in Richmond, at the North end, where the more moderate hipsters rub shoulders with the Vietnamese restaurants and the heroin dealers. Brunswick and Richmond both vote Green federally. The Brunswick mob are a little more militant. Richmond voters still hold a small candle to the Labor Party. Both areas are gentrified, just is different ways. Both are laid back. If anything, Richmond is a little less pretentious. 

Regardless of my trepidation, I followed my heart and pointed the car North, praying to the parking and traffic fairies to get me to my destination on time and with a safe place to plonk the car. If I wasn't coming from Caulfield I would have taken the train. 

I arrived with fifteen minutes to spare. My destination, Tempo Rubato for the monthly session of Drone, a sound meditation session. These are held monthly, hosted by my friend Anthony Artmann. One hour. One note, often with other instruments adding to the sound cloud. Today, there was a five-stringed bass guitar and the occasional note from the grand piano on stage.

And the cricket. 

After paying for my entry, and a quick bathroom stop. I took my place in an easy chair at the back corner of the room, finding another chair on which to place my feet. 


My view during Drone at Tempo Rubato, not that my eyes were open during the session. 

This was my hour to lie back and let the sound take me away. I closed my eyes and listen to the freeform music.

And the cricket. 


Georgie on the door gave the Acknowledgement of Country, and then an apology was made for the said cricket's constant chirping.

There was no need for this. It's intermittent twittering was a perfect foil for the synthesizer's modulations. It came and went as it pleased, at times providing a natural answer to a melodic question. 

Over the sessions, Anthony is known to mix it up, adding magpie calls, waterfalls and other sounds into the soundscape. He had no control over this tiny slice of nature. 

It also added to the intimacy of the set. Normally around fifteen to twenty people who attend these monthly sessions. Today, there was five of us. It was a glorious Indian Summer day - I blame nobody for doing something outside. 

My hour went quickly as the drone let my mind and spirit soar, finding myself walking in forests, along sandy beaches, in a maelstrom of blue light, and in bed with a man I should know better than to be with. Crises were averted and the world was put to right. 

And then it was over. 

I resonate with sound meditation. I have done for years after discovering Shervin Boolorian in Bali. Shervin is an earthbound angel with an incredible talent for healing. 

There's a huge difference between the natural instruments Shervin uses in his sessions and the electronic bent that Anthony takes at Drone, but they have a similar effect. 

Today, I came out refreshed and strangely replete. 

In my opinion, this was the best session I've attended. I loved the stripped back nature of the sound, mixed in with the occasional call from nature. It was just perfect. 

I told this to Georgie on the way out. 

"Oh, I caught the cricket," she said. 
"But it was helping."
"It won't be appreciated at tonight's classical recital."
"But this was just magical. You should have come in."
"One day."
"The cricket made it very special indeed."

She looked me up and down. "He's better off in the garden."

"Okay. Alright then. Anyway, I had better fuck off back to Richmond."

She smiled at this. Every time I turn up for turn up for Drone, she knows I'm not in my natural environment. 

I wanted a drink, only to find the Sydney Road IGA shut after a fire. I'd find my kombucha elsewhere. And off I stalked to find my car in the side street where I'd left it. 

Thankfully, in a sound bath, there are no territorial borders, no suburb biases or worries about where to park. It's just you and the singular tone. 

And the cricket. 

Friday, March 15, 2024

Another day to the weekend

I want another day to the weekend. 

I want a day where I don't feel obligated to do anything. Not that I am obligated to do anything, but I want to feel unincumbered. 

And I look at what I've got on this weekend. 

Tonight, I'm chilling. I've been to IKEA to buy a big glass. I washed the car, because it was filthy and it was doing my head in.

Tomorrow, I have meditation. After that, there’s nothing really on, but I know that I want to start going through this novel, and I’ve got some other paperwork to do, not that I really want to be spending the weekend in front of the computer, but it needs to be done.

And Sunday, I will go to the gym in the morning as I always do, and then maybe meet up with Jonella in the afternoon.

But I would love a day for myself. With nobody to talk to, I could be left alone with my thoughts.

It’s been a full-on week. Maybe an early night will do the trick.

In the meantime, I will continue to Wage War with my cat, who has decided that I cannot sit at my computer chair. He’s been at me for an hour to get off it, so he can go to sleep.

I’m having to write this on my phone.


Today’s song: 

Thursday, March 14, 2024

The Audition

 Jay and I are auditioning for a new personal trainer, seeing our darling, Twelve, has up and left us. We could have gone with him to the other gym, but we already fork out money to go to this one, and we do classes there, it seems silly to go to another gym to see a trainer. We were supposed to see Twelve tonight, but he was off having his arm tattooed today. 

Anyway, we're looking for a new trainer. 

Twelve has recommended this young fellow, who is younger than he is, but reckons we'll get on well with him. I'm meeting him tomorrow morning, but he's not off to a good start. Jay met with him today. Twelve told him we were there for the social. Also, he's 21 and has a really dodgy moustache. According to Jay, he's into lots of fist bumps, and "awesomes!". I'll let you know how I get on. 

The other person recommended to us by Cleo, our Monday trainer, is Chuck. 

Chuck's a bit older - as in over thirty. He's also been at the gym for years. 

I approached him in the gym tonight.

"Hey, mate. Are you taking new clients at the moment?"

"Yep."

"You up for a chat when you're finished."

"Yep."

Twelve reckoned he wasn't taking anybody on. He was wrong. 

So,we've had the chat. 

Chuck appears to be imminently sensible. I told him I liked the fact he's been around for years - so you get some stability. 

I let him know that both Jay and I wanted to keep moving - challenge us without breaking us. 

Yes, he could do that. I've watched him train others - including our semi-regular training buddy Giles. I like what he's doing. 

Secondly, he appears to know how to listen. In our ten-minute chat I found out he has a fiancĂ© who's a writer. She's knocked him into shape. So, if we tell him we don't jump or do burpees, he will listen. 

Thirdly, I think he likes that we are the sorts of clients who turn up and pay on time. That's one of the hard things about being a PT in a big gym. 

He asked why I liked his training style. 

"Well, firstly, you're not a child."

He liked that. 

We'll see where things go. It will mean changing my gym night from Thursday to Wednesday - but I also reckon we'd get more out of him. 

I hate this auditioning phase. You just get a PT house-trained and they leave you.


Today's song: 

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Down to the River

 The one thing COVID taught me was that a daily walk is a good thing for everything and everybody. 

I've let this slide. 

And working long hours, and being at home all day, it's good to get out, stretch the legs, say hello to a few dogs (because there are lots of dogs that walk along the towpaths) and drink in the scent of eucalyptus and listen out for the bellbirds and enjoy the swish of the running water. Nature is our best medicine, and I've been neglecting this necessary part of life. 


Tonight I took a different route. Turning left at the pub, I walked down to this little parked and joined the river there. This has only recently opened up. Then past the new blocks, and the foot bridge, past the landing where I used to take my lunch, around the bend then back into Victoria Gardens to get some almond milk, before heading home to an episode of MAFS.


I need to do this more often. 

It's good for the soul. 

Today's song:



Tuesday, March 12, 2024

The Second Draft

 Before I go on, please, tell me, how is it the cat can tread on the keyboard and upset all of the settings? How is it he can turn the screen to portrait view or turn off the second monitor? How does he have these talents when I don't know any of these keyboard functions? What sort of trickery is this? How can he do this all the time? 

Regardless, I'm not here to talk about the cat. I'm here to talk about this thing called a second draft. 

It's all a bit mythical to me. 

Me, get to a second draft? 

Well, yes. 

Second drafts, to me, are a bit of a mythical thing. I mean, I have don't second drafts - but strangely, I write fairly cleanly, and structure is something I've always done quite well. Maybe call it my Virgoan nature, or maybe it's a touch of the OCDs in me. I like to know where I'm going and I normally have the structure in my head. 

But after the retreat the other weekend, and a bit of a kick up the bum from some friends, I've got out the first draft I wrote five years ago. It's working title is The Work Husband. I wrote it in 2019, pre COVID, when I had the job from hell, where I was underutilised and over paid. I managed to do the whole of a NANOWRIMO 50,000 words during November. 

There's now 90,000 words in a document waiting to be dealt with. 

So, I'm doing the brave thing and starting on the second draft of this. 

Believe me, it's brave. 

I've got myself a Scrivener license so I can keep track of things. I know the gist of what is in this manuscript - a reworked memoir of my time in Britain, but I've thrown in a bit of a mystery and a love story for good measure. 

And to be honest, I'm not unhappy with what I'm reading. It's not magnificent, but it's not bad either. 

I showed some working to a friend at the retreat - somebody I trust to tell me if it is truly awful. She liked what she was reading - I don't think she was being just nice. 

So yeah, I'm going into second draft mode. Or what is also known as the "Up Draft". According to Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird, there are three drafts. The Down Draft, where you puke up your book, the Up Draft, where you refine it, and the Dental Draft, where you go through it with a nit comb. 

With Scrivener, with the chapter cards, I can see where this book has been and gone. 

I also know that the manuscript is unfinished. I'm probably about 20,000 words away from getting this finished, but I can't remember what is in here. I have to reacquaint myself with the story and what I've written. 

At least I'm reading this and not wanting to vomit. The writing, even for a first draft, is not too bad - yes, it needs work, but it's okay. It's my story. It's getting there. 

I got another kick up the bum today. I received a book in the mail - the prize for a short fiction sponsored by Allen and Unwin. I put in my little story. I won a book out of it. 

This was my story:

"You only have one chance to ponder how small and how big you can be all at once. Try standing on the seashore, allowing the water to lap over your feet. Then consider the sea, then consider the sand, then consider that you are a part of everything large and small, and that life will always be like this. Fluid. Ephemeral."

And there was a little note from

Fun what you can do with 60 words. It won me a book. 

This jogged my memory. I did the Faber Novel Writing Course in 2020. I was happy. I've got some inroads into the publishing arena, not that it means anything, but Faber Graduates get put to the top of the slush pile (even if one of your tutors says you're better suited to Hachette...)

The fire in my belly is lit. 

I revise a chapter a night, putting a card into Scrivener to remind me what's going on. 

And I keep reminding myself that this is what I want and that I can do this. 

Today's song: