Sunday Stealing: Stolen by Caroline

 After a very pleasant day out, going to meditation, having my hair cut and coloured, going round to see Jonella, with empanadas from the South American bakery next to my hairdresser's shopfront. And now I'm home, watching the marvelous Dept Q on Netflix.

So, as all good Saturday nights have in common, I'm getting the weekly questions out of the way, provided, as always, by Sunday Stealing. 

1. What bill do you hate paying the most?

Anything to do with insurance. I know it's a very good thing to have, and I have comprehensive car, life, income protection and contents insurance, but until you need them, they feel like you're shelling out money for nothing. I begrudgingly pay them each month. 

2. Which restaurant would you recommend for a romantic dinner?

A romantic dinner? What is one of those? In Melbourne, there's a swathe of restaurants you could go to - if anything, I'd go to a nice, intimate French restaurant. My favourite one which was on Swan Street closed down about a year ago. The food was incredible. There's a nice little French place just up the road, Bon Matin, but it doesn't have the ambiance, though the food is amazing. 

Anyone of the ones listed here would fit the bill.  

https://www.broadsheet.com.au/melbourne/guides/french-restaurants.

3. Who was your first-grade teacher?

I cannot remember her name, but she was nice. I know my second-grade teacher was Mrs De Lyster - she was tough, but nice, and she was Dutch. It was 50 years ago....

4. What should you be doing right now?

There's a few things. 

• The dishes. There aren't many but I would like to get them out of the way. 
• I should be drinking more water as I'm donating plasma tomorrow and it's best if you're really hydrated. 
• Throwing some things out and putting things on Facebook Marketplace as I'm trying to declutter at the moment. 

5. What did you want to be when you were growing up?

I remember wanting to be either a doctor or an astronaut or a writer. As I was crap at physics at school, writer was my only option. 

6. How did you choose the shirt you're wearing right now?

I'm currently wearing a favourite Seed top that I bought years ago, but it's made of modal and elastane. It's so comfortable and it looks good with the corduroy trousers I'm wearing. 

7. Gas prices! What's your first thought?

Do you mean petrol prices? We call gas petrol over here. And at the moment the price cycles are all skew-whiff. Driving home from Jonella's I saw petrol as low as $1.62 and as high as $2.09 per litre. So, for the Americans out there let's do some maths. 

Theres 3.8 litres to the gallon, or thereabouts, and there's about $1.56 Australian dollars to the American Dollar at the moment. 

So, for the Americans, after doing the maths, currently, in American Dollars per gallon, it's between $3.98 and $5.11. You have to hunt around to find your petrol (gas) at a reasonable price. I'm not sure how that stacks up with prices around the world. I know Australian petrol prices are a lot cheaper than the ones found in New Zealand. 

There is no rhyme or reason to the highs and lows of petrol. It used to be the cheapest day to buy petrol was on Tuesday or Wednesday, but not anymore. Different franchises have different prices. It's stupid. 

8. Do you have a teddy bear?

I have two. The one my grandfather gave me at birth is in my cupboard and the one I bought in York around 30 years ago is in the spare room. 

9. Do you own the last book you read, or did you get it from the library?

I own books. I finished an audiobook in the car this evening, Caroline Overington's Sisters of Mercy - it was great, but I scored it for free from the Audible website as part of my subscription. I tend to own books or lend them off friends. 

10. Did you more recently send a text or write a Post It?

I send texts regularly as I prefer not to talk to people most of the time. I sent a couple today. I can't remember the last time I left a post it. Oh, hang on, I wrote one when returning my lift pass in Darwin. I left our admin person a note to say thank you and to find my lift pass attached. They're good for that. 

Today's song: 

Movie Review: The Phoenician Scheme

 Movie Number 24 of 2025

The Movie: The Phoenician Scheme

The Cinema: The Rivoli, Camberwell

Stars: 3.5

Wes Anderson. Love him or hate him, I reckon your view on this wacky writer and director is going to skew how you feel about this film. 

If I were to name his top three films for me they would be The Grand Budapest Hotel, The Royal Tannenbaums and The French Dispatch. (And I can't comment on The Darjeeling Limited, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou or Isle of Dogs).

You know what you're going to get with a Wes Anderson film. Fantastic sets and costumes - the rest is bonkers. 

And this is what you get with The Phoenician Scheme. 

According to IMDB.com, the plot reads as "Wealthy businessman Zsa-Zsa Korda appoints his only daughter, a nun, as sole heir to his estate. As Korda embarks on a new enterprise, they soon become the target of scheming tycoons, foreign terrorists, and determined assassins."

That's all you need to know. 

The film is bonkers. Beautiful to look at, but utterly bonkers. It has all of the hallmarks of a Wes Anderson film. Stylised sets, over the top, but not to nasty violence, a convoluted plot and a stable of actors who pop up in most of his films. 

I enjoyed Benicio Del Toro in the main role of Zsa Zsa. He's dry enough to pull off the character. His daughter, Leisl, is played by Mia Threapleton, in her first major role. She's the daughter of Kate Winslet, but she does a great job as Zsa Zsa's trainee nun. Michael Cera is in most scenes as Bjorn, Zsa Zsa's kids' tutor. 

The rest of the cast, Bill Murray, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Rupert Friend, Scarlett Johanson, Benedict Cumberbatch, Jeffrey Wright, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Riz Ahmed, Hope Davis and various others, provide some quirky cameos. 

But this film doesn't reach the heights of some of his other films. It's a case of style before substance. The plot is so far out there it becomes a bit annoying, and you don't really get what's going on for quite a while. 

For me, I enjoyed this, but it's not his best work when it comes to the story. The sets, costumes and photography are incredible. Some of the writing is very good, and I made a number of spit takes, but the plot is lagging. 

This one is probably best left for the diehard Wes Anderson fans. 

Today's song:

The AI Song Challenge

 I threw out to AI a song challenge. I've had Bob Marley's Three Little Birds stuck in my head for the last day, so I put it to ChatGPT. 

"Can you give me five songs that provide optimism along the lines of Bob Marley's Three Little Birds."

1. "Here Comes the Sun" – The Beatles

“It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter… Here comes the sun, and I say it’s all right.”

A classic that gently lifts your spirits and suggests brighter days are always on the horizon.

2. "What a Wonderful World" – Louis Armstrong

“I see trees of green, red roses too…”

A warm, soulful reminder to notice the beauty in everyday life — it’s mellow, hopeful, and deeply comforting.

3. "Don't Worry, Be Happy" – Bobby McFerrin

“In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double…”

Lighthearted and catchy, this song channels the same easygoing energy as Bob Marley.

4. "Lovely Day" – Bill Withers

“Just one look at you and I know it’s gonna be a lovely day…”

This song's smooth groove and affirming lyrics create a mood of calm confidence and inner peace.

5. "One Day" – Matisyahu

“One day this all will change, treat people the same…”

More modern and slightly more anthemic, but it carries the same hope for peace and reassurance that things will get better.

The last one I've never heard of. 

If I was compiling this list, I'd probably go a little edgier and a bit more eighties focused. Songs like:

• Katrina and the Waves Walking on Sunshine
• U2's Beautiful Day
• Madness' One Step Beyond (that just makes me smile)
• Elton John's I'm Still Standing
• Blondie's Atomic (Boxing song - still like working out to Blondie)
• Smashmouth's All Star
• Ben Lee's Catch My Disease
• Talking Head's This Must Be The Place

I have to say, I find AIs taste in music a little pedestrian. 

Never to mind, I'm sure I could refine it more. 

Today's song: 

I'm not getting an air fryer

 I was going to pawn this off to AI, but thought the better of it. 

I'm not going to get an air fryer, although the thought keeps running through my head. To me, this means that I've probably got a touch of the blues and need to do something about it, but that is another blog post for another time. 

I am not getting an air fryer. 

I've got plenty of pots and pans. I like my pots and pans. I wish I could find my manky old flat-ended wooden spoon that gave everything flavour, having used in for every savoury dish over the last twenty years. 

Even a little one, which wouldn't take up too much space, like this one is too much of an airfryer. 

It's got a 1.5 litre basket and is only 22 cms x 22 cms x 27 cms, but still there is nowhere to put it and I don't need it. 

I compromised during COVID and spent $20 on a sandwich press. And I now have a Nespresso machine with a milk frother. Like I have a grill and a stove top coffee pot and one of the milk wizzers that you get from IKEA for $2. At least they get used. 

I'm thinking about putting the Tupperware microwave pressure cooker on Facebook Marketplace - again, because I don't use it - and Tupperware, as a company, is no more. 

I like cooking, not that I do it very often, but what can you make in an air fryer. 

And I'd be tempted to do things like get potato cakes, or make Caramilk squares wrapped in puff pastry, or get all sorts of really bad food I don't need to eat.

And I have better things to spend $35 on, like a Schengen visa or the one to Britain, even though I'm only going there for three days. 

I do not need an air fryer. Repeat. I do not need an air fryer. 

After all that, I did ask AI to pen me a quick blog post about no getting an air fryer, in the style of Irvine Welsh. Seems AI doesn't like air fryers either. Irvine Welsh certainly wouldn't - he'd hock his out of the back of a van to buy weed. 

Title: “Air Fry This: Why Ye Can Ram Yer Gadget Hype”

Ah, the air fryer. That smug wee bastard sittin’ on kitchen counters across the nation, glintin’ wi’ the false promise of guilt-free chips and a cleaner conscience. Every time I open me phone, there it is—some influencer wank going on about how it “changed their life,” like it’s a revelation from the fryer gods. Let me tell ye something: it’s a glorified hairdryer in a plastic shell, and I’ll no be havin’ it.

I walked into Curry’s last week, pure vulnerable, just after a hangover that made me question everything. The salesman, shiny-faced and dead behind the eyes, gives me the chat: “It cooks things fast, with less oil!” Mate, so does a grill if ye’ve any idea how tae use it. And I don’t need another hulking lump o’ machinery taking up sacred counter space already ruled by me toaster, kettle, and existential dread.

We’ve become slaves tae gadgets—pretending tae cook while watching TikToks about cooking. Ye want crisp chips? Use a pan. Use fire. Learn to love yer own damn grease.

I’m no paying a hundred quid tae join some cult of crunchy courgette freaks. This is how it starts, ken? First it’s the air fryer, next ye’re vacuum-sealing steaks and calling it cuisine.

So no, I’m not buying yer latest miracle box. Stick yer air fryer up yer ergonomically designed backside. I’ll keep my oil, my crusty old pan, and what’s left of my dignity.

Fads fade. But a well-seasoned skillet? That’s fuckin’ heritage.

Today's song:

AI Week: Post Two

 I'm heading down the pub with Blarney and Barney - the Units are at their first concert - somebody called ADO, a Korean rapper. 

Instead of me writing it, I've pawned this of to AI. 

I gave it the prompt: 

"Write me a 300-word blogpost in the style of Kurt Vonnegut about taking friends down the pub for dinner."

This is what it came up with: 

A Dinner at the Pub, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Order the Chips

So we took the gang down to the pub, because what else do you do when the world is spiraling toward entropy and the grocery store makes you feel like you're choosing dinner from a malfunctioning space vending machine?

The pub. Glorious institution of barely-sanitized tables and chalkboard specials. The beer comes in pints, the lighting is dim enough to make everyone look ten percent more interesting, and the menu is laminated to discourage introspection.

Frank ordered fish and chips. Classic. Safe. Symbol of British resistance against the tyranny of kale. Claire, a vegetarian, bravely inquired about the mushroom risotto, which—judging by the server’s thousand-yard stare—was either not real or had achieved sentience and escaped.

I ordered the pie. Because it was called The Pie. No other information given. Just The Pie. That’s the kind of faith I have in pubs.

We laughed. We ate. We shared chips like a democratic society, each of us dipping without borders or fear. And for a moment, between the clinking of glasses and the predictable jokes, we forgot to worry about our taxes, our aging parents, the collapse of modern civilization, or whether the risotto was a trap.

The thing about pubs is—they’re little time machines. You step inside and things make sense again. Hunger is met with food. Thirst with ale. Existential dread with sticky tables and the hum of conversations about football and weather.

So it goes.

We left full, a little drunk, and vaguely more hopeful than when we arrived. A successful night, by any human metric that matters.

And yes. I did tip the server. I'm not an animal.

My comments:

Okay, there's a few good things about this, and some not so good things here - like I'm Australian - we generally don't tip as a rule, unless you've had amazing service, as we pay people a living wage. 

I love how it's worked in the "So it goes." Then again, I adore Slaugherhouse-5. 

And you can maybe now work out how Today's song works in with the Vonnegut theme. (I love the Hilltop Hoods - one of the best things to come out of Adelaide.)

Today's song: 

AI Week Post One

 I'm taking some time off to make some in roads into this bloody novel. So, I'm asking AI to write me some posts for the week. 

This is what I fed into the search engine. 

"Please write me a 300-word blog post in the style of Pandora Queen of Denial about procrastinating about starting a first chapter."

The First Chapter: A Masterclass in Avoidance

So, here I am, perched at my desk, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to dive into the first chapter of my novel. The cursor blinks expectantly, a silent metronome ticking away the seconds of my inaction. I take a deep breath, summon my inner Hemingway, and... decide that the spice rack needs reorganizing. Immediately.

I mean, how can one possibly write when the paprika is fraternizing with the cinnamon? It's chaos in there.

Once the spices are alphabetized (and color-coded, naturally), I return to my desk. The blank page stares back at me, unyielding. Perhaps a cup of tea will help. Yes, tea. And maybe a biscuit. Or two. Can't write on an empty stomach, after all.

Tea in hand, I sit down once more. The cursor continues its relentless blinking. I type a sentence. Delete it. Type another. Delete that too. Maybe I need some inspiration. I scroll through social media, read a few articles, watch a video about the mating habits of penguins. Fascinating creatures, penguins.

Hours pass. The sun sets. The page remains blank.

But tomorrow is a new day. A fresh start. I'll wake up early, go for a walk, clear my mind, and then, finally, write that elusive first chapter.

Unless, of course, the sock drawer needs reorganizing.

I like that it's picked up on my short sentences and conversational style. 

Today's song:

Theatre Review: Henry V

The Play: Henry V by William Shakespeare

The Company: Bell Shakespeare

The Theatre: The Fairfax Studio at the Arts Centre

Until 25 May (One last performance)

Stars: 4.5

I arranged a subscription with a friend to see this year's Bell Shakespeare offerings - Henry V and Coriolanus. My friend has seen neither. I've seen both. 

For me, Henry V is my favourite of Shakespeare's histories and I've seen it many times on stage. Coriolanus, I've seen once, and it was in London with Steven Berkoff in the mid-nineties. 

As always, I love seeing what they do to Shakespeare, particularly using the Arts Centre's Fairfax round stage. The last time Bell Shakespeare took on Henry V, they set it in a school in London, with the actors playing school kids as the Blitz was happening outside. They used classroom offerings and student's robes for costumes. It was superlative. After this one, they had big shoes to fill. 

There was also a Henry V in repertoire at the Pop-Up Globe pre-COVID. I think I saw that four times. Shakespeare for the masses. 

I was really pleased to hear that my friend, a Henry V virgin, loved this as much as I did. 

Regardless, I shouldn't have worried about how this was going to be staged. This was fantastic. 

There's no need to go into the story. It hasn't changed in 400 years. A tale of kings and princes and going off to war, and what it is to be a king. As we know, heavy lies the head that wears the crown (Henry IV Part II).

Bell Shakespeare has stripped this right back. Anna Tregloan's stark set with some industrial looking constructions and a couple of punching bags is incredibly effective. Combined with this, the use of sous titles to translate the small about of French text, as well as providing some names, locations and dates, the production sometimes had the feel of a modern documentary. Most of the cast were dressed as modern-day soldiers, with, as is usual, great footwear - a Bell Shakespeare staple. Some reviews have pointed out that there are undertones of Volodymyr Zelensky in the way the cast was dressed. Whether or not this was intentional, is by the by. I loved that the set bolstered the cast rather than dragged them down. 

Tregloan was aided by composer Jethro Woodward and lighting designer, Verity Hampson, who gave the set an urgent, imposing feeling. The use of this black goop on the floor for the Battle of Agincourt was utter genius, bringing in the messy reality of war. 

Marion Potts's direction is assured as it is forceful. She has led this troupe through an incredible choreography whilst keeping to the original text. Her use of physical theatre is exemplary. Going on some scenes - particularly the storming of Harfleur and the Battle of Agincourt, the actors will have gone through months of training to prepare for the physical nature of this production. 

My only small criticism is with the cut down cast of nine actors, some of the charming side scenes were left out. For the hanging of Bardolph, an unnamed soldier took his place. There was no Pistol, Nym nor Fluellen. Herny's court was cut down to Exeter and Westmoreland.  As a purist, I missed this common touch and the extra pomp a full court provides, but if you don't know the play well, you're not going to miss it.

JK Kazzi was a strong, bloke-ish Henry, mulling over the human condition while getting on with things. His strong Australian accent worked in his favour, which made him appear both down-to-earth, yet sensitive to the needs of his troops. 

Ella Prince was great as the world-weary Exeter, and I was particularly taken with Ava Madon's spin on Katherine, mixing strength with fragility in just the right measure. 

The rest of the cast were great too. 

As this only has one performance to run, having already played in Sydney and Canberra, I can't say go out and see this. Just know, this was Bell Shakespeare doing what they do best - making entertaining, relevant and thought-provoking theatre. I am a lucky woman to get to see this level of quality in a local production. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing - Eight Things About Me

 I'm off to the theatre to get me in some Shakespeare. Henry V is my absolute favourite Shakespearean History (just pipping Richard III), so I'm making a start on the Sunday questions before I go out. 

The questions, as always, have been provided by Sunday Stealing. 

1. What habit do you wish you could break?

Some people would say I should stop sucking my thumb, but as I only do this at home, that can stay.

I really do wish I could stop procrastinating. It’s a really bad habit. I am seeing a psychiatrist in the next few weeks to get assessed for ADHD. Maybe the drugs might help. A lot of the reason I’m doing if this is because I’m having a lot of trouble with focus. We will see what happens.

2. Where is your favorite vacation spot?

I think that’s more like where isn’t my favourite vacation spot? 

I love going to Europe and I’m going back in a couple of months. I really wish I could spend a couple of months roaming around England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland. I love the weather, but don’t tell anyone.

For a 'toes up' holiday where you sit by a pool and do nothing, I love going to Bali in particular, to Ubud, but I also like the north of Thailand. Chiang Mai is fantastic.

In Australia, I’d just be happy with a holiday home somewhere. Preferably by the beach. I must admit, I would love to go up to the Bungle Bungles and the Kimberley, and there’s far more of the Northern Territory that I would like to see more of.

3. How many years of formal education have you completed?

Let me see, seven years of primary school, five years of high school, it took me five years to get my bachelor's degree, and another four years to do my Masters. Mind you, both my bachelors and masters were done on a part-time basis.

Never stop learning I say.

4. Have you ever had a job that required you be certified or licensed?

Sort of. As I do a bit of training with my job, they like us to have a Certificate IV in Workplace Training and Assessment on top of your degree.

When I did bar work many years ago, I think we needed a Responsible Serving of Alcohol certification.

Very occasionally, I’ve had to go through security vetting for jobs dealing with telecommunications. It’s low level but it has to be done.

5. Do you enjoy camping?

No. Okay, caveat - Glamping is okay as long as there is running hot and cold water and lots of bug netting. Otherwise, I'm not into camping, at all. 

6. Tell us about a time you got away with something.

Does living in England without a visa for six years count? What can I say? It was the 90s. You could get away with stuff like that back then. Would not suggest doing it now.

7. Where have you lived the longest, and what do/did you like best about it?

I have spent more of my life in Melbourne than any other place on the planet. Although I identify as a South Australian and was born and raised in Adelaide, Melbourne has been home for 25 years.

I love that Melbourne is multicultural, has a great art scene, fantastic coffee, all sorts of great food, polite people for the most part, reasonable public transport and it’s not too hot most of the time. The same can’t be said for many other Australian cities. 

8. When you were a kid, were more of your playmates boys or girls?

When I was a child, I tended to hang out with girls, because boys are strange and they smell funny.

Today's Song: 

Cold

 I feel like a bit of a fraud. 

I've spent the last few days in Darwin, snorting at my Territory colleagues who are whining about the fact that it's SOOOOOOO cold up there, roaming around in their polar fleeces, ugg boots and woolly jumpers, when it's like 23 degrees overnight - yes, really. They're all complaining about the cold up there. 

As for me, I've never felt the cold, and bring on menopause and nature has provided me with a very reliable internal heater. 

It's been a week of roaming around in summer clothes and Birkenstocks at all times of the day and night. Darwin days are currently 30 degrees, with a light breeze, with little to no humidity until the early evening. 

Nights sit around 20 degrees. 

Perfect Melbourne/Adelaide summer weather. 

And while I've been away, Melbourne-based colleagues have been bemoaning the polar-tinged nights. 0.1 degrees, feels like minus five sorts of weather.

Oh, how we laughed. 

Bring forth today. I climbed on a plane that left Darwin at 2.30 a.m. this morning, arriving in Melbourne at 7 a.m. After doing this route for two years, I know how to keep my wardrobe appropriate. A pair of jeans, a t-shirt, running shoes on my feet and a hoodie at the ready for arrival in Melbourne. It's what I wear most late Autumns, because, I don't feel the cold. 

Stepping off the plane, the first thing I noticed that it was freezer-like. Bone-chilling even. I yelped and threw on the hoodie. Yes, it was cool - not as cold as earlier in the week. I sucked it up. 

On getting home, after a shower and climbing into bed for a bit, things were fine. 

But now, a bit later, and I acknowledge that I'm exhausted, I'm sitting here in pyjamas, ugg boots and an Oodie - and I'm still cold. It's really surprising. Maybe I assimilated to the Darwin weather quicker than I thought I would. 

I'm putting it down to next to no sleep and not having a cat about to keep me warm. He's being picked up tomorrow morning. 

I'm sure I'll go back to scoffing at the chilly weather after I've had a good sleep. 

Today's song: 

So We Sing

There is a problem that happens when you get three Generation X women out for the night. 

They start to sing.

We bond over the music, because we are Generation X and we have the best music ever.

And it doesn’t matter that we haven’t really met before, or that one of this is a complete ring in. We’ve had dinner together, and we can stand in an ice cream shop at the end of the wharf in Darwin and sing along to Billy Joel songs, apologising every verse or so to the girl behind the counter. 

"Do you find yourself singing along to Coles Radio?" one of us asked. 

"I have a dance routine to do with the trolley," said one of our group, before breaking into a verse of April Sun in Cuba. 

"I'm not that bad, but I will break into a chorus down the cat food aisle." 

But as middle-aged women, who don't give a stuff about much, singing in public is one of the small joys that you cannot take away from us. We refuse to be embarrassed. We are nearly in tune. We sort of know the words. 

And this is how we bond. 

Today's song:

No blog tonight

 I really can’t be bothered.

I’ve been to my silent book group, done some stretching, hopped in the pool, 

But tonight, I just don’t feel like writing.

C’est la vie. 

Tell me why?

 The fun and games at the Mantra continue. 

After putting in a gentle complaint I hadn't received my points for the last trip - and I was in need of a clothes rack (Note, do not call it a clothes horse - you end up being brought J-Cloths/Chux or hand towels - and you end up back down at reception making a drawing of a clothes horse. And yes, it happened just like this.) I was on my way up to my room for lunch. I said the person was welcome to drop in said clothes horse. 

The clothes horse arrived. 

Having status points with the hotel, which gives me not only breakfast, and some welcome goodies, which weren't there when I got in, (Another involved story) I was having lunch in my room when there was a knock at the door. Housekeeping not only brought my preferred way of drying clothes - they also brought the goodies, including the water I was requiring when I got in at 2 a.m. Better late than never. 

Returning to my room after work, I wanted to give my face a quick once over before heading out to dinner - then clean flannels that were piled up on the sink were gone. 

So, I went back downstairs. I spoke to the girl at the desk. I asked nicely. 

"Hello, could you have housekeeping please send up a couple of face washers to my room. You know, flannels. Wash cloths."

The person behind the desk seemed remotely competent and said she'd send some up. 

Two hours later, I came back from dinner. 

Still no face washers/flannels/wash cloths.

So, so I went back downstairs. 

The same person who took my request was at the desk.

I asked about the face washers. 

"Oh, I thought you were joking?"

"Ah, no."

"But we don't supply them."

"Yes, you do. There were three of them in the bathroom this morning."

"Oh. I thought you meant face wash," they told me. 

"No, I said face washers. Also known as flannels. Also known as wash cloths. In French, they're known as navettes. You know what I'm talking about - they're small towels about the size of a piece of paper that you use in the shower to wash your body."

They were apologetic.

The flannels arrived at my room ten minutes later.

I'm still wondering why it's all so hard. 

Today's song: 

Movie Review: The Salt Path

 Movie Number 23 of 2025

The Movie: The Salt Path

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: An hour and 45 minutes

Stars: 4

I was drawn to The Salt Path for a couple of reasons. The location, being the Southwest of England, and it's a film about people walking, and of course, the two main players are Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs - two actors I hold in very high esteem. 

What I didn't know was that this is based on a true story. 

Moss (Isaacs) and Raynor (Anderson) are very down on their luck. A bogus investment has left them bankrupt, their house sold from under them and next to nothing is left in the bank. They're homeless. Making matters worse, Moss has been diagnosed with an awful degenerative illness, which drugs are supposedly keeping at bay. He's been given a few years to live. Moss, however, is mobile, but only just. 

With no home, little money and the knowledge they've walked before, the pair take themselves on The Salt Path, a walk around the bottom heel of England, from Somerset, down around Cornwall to Land's End, and up along the coasts of Devon and Dorset. Along the way, they meet a lot of people, wage war with the elements, find some interesting ways to make money and stay very strong in the face of adversity. 

This is a slow burn of a film. Beautifully shot in an amazing part of England, meanders between the Winn's walk and the immediate troubles they face, as well as seeing some of the tribulations they faced. Marianne Elliott's direction is assured, but the movie does run a little slow. Rebecca Lenkiewicz's scrips is also fairly bare, at times verging on the banal, bit in all, for a movie about a middle-aged couple walking along a rugged coastline, how interesting is the script going to be. 

I'm glad I've seen this, mainly for the setting - and Jason Isaacs and Gillian Anderson are always a treat. 

File this one under "Take your Mum".

Today's song: 

Movie Review: Mission Impossible - The Final Reckoning

Movie Number 22 of 2025

The Movie: Mission Impossible - The Final Reckoning

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens - Extreme Screen

Runtime: Two hours 49 minutes

Stars: 3.75

Mission Impossible all have the same characteristics: 

• Unrelenting action
• Situations which seem impossible, with the clock ticking
• A pretty girl or two
• Ethan Hunt having to save the world
• Excellent technology
• Things that will blow up
• Tom Cruise running
• Various modes of transport
• A bit of preachy stuff about the state of the world
• The odd giggle
• And the knowledge Ethan Hunt and his crew will work it out in the end.

Mission Impossible - The Final Reckoning has all of this in spades. 

• Unrelenting action
• Situations which seem impossible, with the clock ticking
• A pretty girl or two - in this case, Hayley Atwell and Pom Klementieff
• Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) having to save the world
• Excellent technology - and this case, some AI which appears to be on acid
• Lots of things that blow up
• Tom Cruise running in that Tom Cruise way
• Various modes of transport - in this case Landcruisers, submarines, fixed wing planes and aircraft carriers. 
• A bit of preachy stuff about the state of the world
• The odd giggle
• And the knowledge that Ethan Hunt and his crew will save the world in the end.

Does this sound a bit jaded? Hmm, not really. This was an enjoyable nearly three hours of a movie experience. Lovers of action will lap it up. I was able to take two quick bathroom breaks and not feel like I missed anything. Serves me right for having a big drink. 

I've seen all of the Mission Impossible films and they're good fun. They're all the same, but you get bang for your buck. It's also good to see them on the big screen. 

Also, it's helpful if you're up on your Mission Impossible lore, so you know who's who. Ving Rhames (Luther), Simon Pegg (Benji), Esai Morales (Gabriel), Hayley Atwell (Grace), Henry Czerny (Kittridge) and Pom Klementieff (Paris) all make a comeback from the last film. There are a few new faces as well, including the wonderful Hannah Waddingham and Angela Bassett, helping to round out the team. 

And yes, the action is great, but stupidly unbelievable, but that is half of the film's charm. I also liked the not-so-veiled warnings about AI which flooded the film. 

Tom Cruise is now 63 years old. I have to say, his hair is awful, but he's fit for a man of his age. But he surely can't make any more of these. If he keeps running like that, he'll do a hip. 

Mission Impossible - The Final Reckoning is an entertaining nearly three hours of film. Definitely for lovers of action or those who like the franchise. The first one came out in 1996 - some 30 years ago. 

I think it's time for Tom to retire Ethan Hunt.  He did a lot of his own stunts. He's done his bit. Time to retire - or take on dramatic roles, which he is actually capable of, if he puts his mind to it. 

For those interested, the Mission Impossible franchise has the following films in it: 

• Mission Impossible (1996)
• Mission Impossible II (2000)
• Mission Impossible - III (2006)
• Mission Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
• Mission Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
• Mission Impossible - Fallout (2018)
• Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning (Part One) (2023)
• Mission Impossible - The Final Reckoning (2025)

Yeah, it's time to retire the franchise, Tom. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing: Back to Bed

 

It's cold and raining here in Melbourne. The cat is now on his way down to his holiday home and I am heading back to Darwin tomorrow night. The house feels empty. But it also means I can get this written without being mugged by the boy. He's been ultra clingy of late. Mind you, no more cat hair in the bed for a little while. This is a good thing. 

Questions, as always, have been provided by Sunday Stealing. 

1. Let's say your alarm wakes you up with music. What would be the worst song to hear first thing in the morning?

Meatloaf. I really don't like Meatloaf. Meatloaf has given me PTSD after having to listen to Bat Out of Hell end on end for a year at a job in the 80s. I never want to hear Meatloaf again. 

2. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Well, there is four on the bed, but I use two. The thick one is used like a bumper, the thinner, heat deflecting one, is the one my head stays on. The other two are there to cuddle, if I so wish. 

3. What size mattress do you sleep on?

I've got a standard double mattress. Is big enough for me and the cat. 

4. Do you always sleep on the same side of the bed?

I sleep in the middle of the bed. When I'm in a hotel room, I'll pick the side that suits me best. If there's somebody else in the bed, I'll take the right-hand side. That's something to do with the fact that I like to cuddle and to be able to hear their heartbeat. Strange one that one. 

5. Do you make your bed every day?

Yes. Religiously. Even if I do nothing else, I can say I've made my bed. I like to have it made before I go to work. 

6. Do you keep water on your bedside table?

No. Well, sometimes in Summer, but normally not. The cat has a tendency to knock it over, so I've stopped that. 

7. How often do you change your sheets?

Normally they will be changed once a fortnight - but once a week in Summer. Stops them getting to manky - and there is nothing like the feeling of clean sheets. 

8. What's under your bed?

Lots of dust and cat hair, a printer I rarely use and a couple of suitcases. 

9. Do you sleep in total darkness or do you like to have a light on?

I like to have the room as dark as I can get it. Some ambient light comes in from the hallway as living in the city, there's some light seepage from nearly streetlights. I have blackout curtains, which do a good job. 

10. What do you remember about your childhood bedroom?

When I was a kid, I had what was called the sleepout - and enclosed veranda, for the longest time. It was six feet wide and 22 feet long and painted white. There was just enough space for a single bed. I loved that I had a room of my own after years sharing a room with my sister. 

Today's song: 

Theatre Review: The Black Woman of Gippsland

 The Play: The Black Woman of Gippsland by Andrea James

The Company: The Melbourne Theatre Company

The Theatre: The Southbank Theatre

Until 31 May

Stars: 5

I walked into The Black Woman of Gippsland completely blind and walked out astonished. 

Wow. 

Standing ovation, wow. Thoughts provoked and senses heightened. For a seventy-five minute play it packs a lot of punch. But can I tell you in a cohesive way what it's about? Yes. No. Not really. 

It was seventy-five minutes of captivating theatre. 

There are three stories interwoven in this play, with are all inter-related, stories based on playright Andrea James' own family stories and country. 

 The first is set in the 1840's where a white woman allegedly washed up on a beach in Gippsland and was taken in by the local mobs.

The second is a modern-day drama. Jacinta (Chenoa Deemal) is attempting to complete a dissertation for her PhD. She's living in a caravan at the back of her Auntie Rochelle's place (Ursula Yovich) She has a youthfully exuberant cousin, Kyle (Zach Blampied) to contend with. After some big word, Jacinta goes 'missing', taking herself off to a hotel to get some space and look objectively at the supporting evidence for her paper. The family are on tenterhooks since the death of Jacinta's mother.

Which leads to the third string of the play, which is Auntie Rochelle's interactions with the police as she tried to put in a missing person's report for Jacinta. Jacinta's mother died in Police custody. No more needs to be said. 

What gives this play extra clout is that it's based on real events and set on Andrea’s grandmother’s country. This is hard, horrible and heart-breaking history. 

Weaving the stories together is story told in dance. Brent Watkins dancing and choreography is incredible. Startling and moving, it helps to weave the threads of the story together. 

Andrea James both wrote and directed the play. I'm sure she'd going to be up for a Green Room Award. This is stunning stuff. 

I've been very light on with this review in the hope that people will search out this performance and see it for themselves. The Black Woman of Gippsland is a poetic, emotionally rich and clever embracing of First Nations stories that have long been silenced.

Today's Song:

 

Today's Win

 The crack on the screen protector was doing my head in, being just where you swipe up the screen. My finger was forever catching in it. It seemed to be getting worse every day. 

A trip to JB Hifi was required. I'd only replaced the bloody thing about a month ago.

I'm also pretty hard on my phones. It's kept on a leash, I have floorboards. It gets knocked about. I went into the store fully prepared to spend another $50 to fix this daft piece of glass. 

But maybe I was lucky. I got the right fellow. The waning moon was in alignment with some stars. I looked approachable. I went in, explained I wanted a new screen protector and that I was bummed that the one on the phone was only about a month old, bought in this store. 

"Do you have a receipt?"

"I should have." I looked through my phone, while the guy looked on his computer.

After some back and forths, proof of sale was found.

"I can get this fixed for you."

"Really? It's cracked. I'm hard on my phone."

"We'll call it defective."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"But I've broken it."

"Doesn't matter. Call it under warranty. We write them off. All good. "

Well, there you go. I was fully expecting to pay another $50 for a new screen protector due to my own misadventure. He fixed it for free. 

I told him he'd made my day, particularly after buying cat food, which has left me half broke. 

We then wished each other a pleasant night. 

Just another small thing that made my day. 

Today's song: 

Goodbye, Philomena

Funerals are funny things.

They're particularly strange when you combine the Freemasons and the Liberal Catholic Church. 

Philomena would have loved it. 

Some takeaways from today: 

1. Walking into our temple, where the service was being conducted, I saw the Chief in Charge of organising. My first question, "Where's Philomena?" His answer, "She's in there...and she was early!" We always said she'd be late for her own funeral. Turns out we were wrong. 
2. Talking to one of the senior masons about our friend, her comments were, "I've been talking to my guides. They let her in up there a week ago." This is the only place you have conversations like this. Mind you, I couldn't feel her presence - others commented on this too. Philomena used to fill the space. 
3. The people in the room were dressing with hints of purple. Her favourite colour. When you're not a purple person, have you any idea how hard it is to find something in this shade? I bought a lovely scarf online when I knew the funeral was taking place and there was a dress colour. It turned up about half an hour after I got home... typical. 
4. Watching the people take care of our Philomena was heart-warming. She has a tenant in her granny flat, who she'd taken on as proxy grand daughter. It was so beautiful to see the care she took with our friend as she was going into her final months and weeks. 
5. It was also lovely to see people participate in the short Masonic ceremony after the requiem mass (snooze). The Masonic ceremony is only a few minutes long. The words are moving and timeless. After the ritual is said, masons are invited to take a sprig of an evergreen - normally rosemary, pine or acacia, bow to the coffin, leave the sprig on the coffin, bow to the family, and go back to your seat. More than half of the people there weren't masons, but they joined in. It was lovely. 
6. If you want a decent spread at a wake, talk to the ladies at your local bowls club. The sausage rolls and fairy cakes were phenomenal. 

So, we saw her off. There were enough people there who loved and respected her to make a show for it. I'm working a few extra hours over the week to make up for the time off during the day, but there was nowhere else I was going to be today. 

Today's song: 

Purple

Tomorrow I will be attending Philomena's funeral. 

Philomena is somebody I know from the Freemasons and because of this, I will take the time off work and go along. It's mason's bro code. If there's a funeral, you turn up if humanly possible. Interstate masons are coming - living just down the road from where the funeral is taking place, I have no excuse. 

I can tell you a few things about Philomena, because she does deserve to be remembered. 

• She was a few months shy of her 80th birthday. 
• She would give you the shirt off her back under most circumstances. 
• She was not in good health for the last few years of her life.
• And she wasn't that good at looking after herself.  
• She loved music. 
• There was an amazing greatness to her lateness - and put me to shame. 
• She was an ordained priest in the Liberal Catholic Church. 
• She was a bookkeeper for years. 
• Her driving record wasn't good. Actually, it was pretty awful. 
• She always had a little dog. 
• She loved purple. 

When it comes to purple, I'm a bit hit and miss. A little bit of purple - fine - I mean, it's not pink, which I can't stand. A little bit of purple in moderation is fine. 

We've been requested to turn up to the funeral wearing a bit of purple. 

I don't own anything purple. Or lilac. Or violet, heliotrope, lavender, fuschia, wisteria, periwinkle, mulberry, mauve, plum or amethyst. As I said, it's not my colour. 

Being the obedient person that I am and knowing that Philomena will be judging me on high for not respecting her wishes, I got online to order a purple silk scarf. This was a fortnight ago. 

The scarf hasn't turned up yet. 

It then leads me to wonder where I can get something purple to wear to this event. It feels strange not to turn up with at least something within the range. Maybe I could put something blue and red together and pretend. Or wear my 17th degree apron, which is purple. Or race down to Big W and see if there's a cheap scarf. 

We've been told we can wear our regalia. I'm not sure how I feel about that. The funeral is taking place in the Freemason's temple. When asking the person arranging the ceremony for a few more details, I asked would they just have her ashes out on display. Oh no, full coffin. Hopefully not open (I think that would be doubtful anyway, she's been gone a fortnight)

Regardless, I'm sure Philomena would love that we're making a fuss over her. I'm going to race down to Big W to see if that lilac scarf is available, as a last act of respect. She'd like that. 

It will be strange not having her around. It will be odd going to masons, when the first question asked has been, for years, "Where's Philomena?"

It will be strange to walk into the temple and ask that questions, only to know that she's in the box out the front. 

Today's Song: 

Movie Review: The Wedding Banquet

 Movie Number 21 of 2025

The Movie: The Wedding Banquet

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: One hour 43 minutes

Stars: 4

Part of making the most out of being in Melbourne means seeing as many films as I can before going back to Darwin, in particular, films which are a little less mainstream. 

The Wedding Banquet is one of those films - and there's a lot to be admired. It's got an 85% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, with both audiences and critics. 

I'm not one for reviews or critics, yet I found this film utterly charming. 

Taking this film away from the norms, we find ourselves taking in the story of two gay couples, who are at a bit of a crossroads.

Lee (Lily Gladstone) and her partner Angela (Kellie Marie Tran) are trying for a baby without success. They are despondent because they can't afford another round of IVF. 

At the same time Chris (Bowen Tang) and his partner Min (Han Gi-Chan) are having some relationship battles of their own. Chris is somewhat neurotic. Min is thinking about proposing to Chris,but is a little bit scared of the optics, especially as is visa is nearly up.

Adding to the pressures, Min's grandmother (Yuon Yuh-jung) doesn't know her grandson is gay and wants him to come back to Korea to take over the family business. Angela's mother, on the other hand, is an annoying gay right's advocate who shits her daughter to tears. 

The group come to the solution to keep Min in the country and help the girls pay for their IVF - a marriage of convenience. This simple plan gets more involved when Min's grandmother wants him to have a traditional Korean wedding. And much hilarity ensues. 

Written and directed by Andrew Ahn, this movie is a film about families, off the back of Ang Lee's 1993 classic. This is a film drives home that it's the families you make, rather than the ones you're born with, that keep you going. It also shines a light on the Asian diaspora in Seattle - a very open and accepting city, which was great to see. 

I found this movie utterly charming. The characters were real - flawed and funny. The situations, at times, seems a bit absurd. 

It's definitely worth a look. 

Today's song: 

Movie Review: The Count of Monte Cristo

 Movie Number 20 of 2025    

The Movie: The Count of Monte Cristo

The Cinema: Palace Cinemas, Balwyn

Runtime: Two hours 58 minutes

Language: French with English Subtitles

Stars: 4

A three-hour foreign film which has you wrapped around its little finger from the first scene. Yes, they occur, and The Count of Monte Cristo is one of them. 

French cinema is going through something of a renaissance when it comes to action films. Recently, the same production company put out two movies about The Three Musketeers. Big budget, lots of action, gorgeous sets and costumes. The Count of Monte Cristo has the same look and feel about it, and it's wonderful. 

The story hasn't varied since Alexandre Dumas penned this famous tome. 

It tells the story of Edmond Dantes, a young man who performs a good deed and is promoted in the navy, only to have his friends betray him, and on his wedding day to the luckless Mercedes. He's thrown in jail for the better part of 15 years. While in hideous conditions in this hell hole, he befriends an Abbot who not only helps him escape but gives him the secrets to the wealth of the Knights Templar. With the wealth, he recreates himself as the Count of Monte Cristo and sets himself on a path of revenge. 

Sounds a bit convoluted? It is, but for the convoluted plot, you get it. You want to know what's going to happen to the Count and his fellow travelers, hand-picked to help him get revenge on the men who betrayed him. 

First thing about this - I loved Pierre Niney as Edmond / the Count. He's a charismatic actor in his prime and he's got the right level of moodiness to pull off a convincing Count. The rest of the cast are great too. Something I love about French is that the people on the screen are not perfect. French actors look like the guys who meet down the pub. French women, always classy. I do not have that plastic appeal of many an American actress.And they are so good. The cast contains many great French actors and this keeps the action moving along.

The cinematography, sets and costumes are also excellent. These are all high-end, but also have a feeling of reality. The Count's chateau is especially gorgeous. 

Alexandre de La Patellière and Matthieu Delaporte share the direction on this very long, but impressive film. For an old tale, it is a story well told, with the elements of action keeping viewers on their toes. 

This is well worth a look. It's fun. There's action. There's romance. There's revenge. It's almost like The Princess Bride, but set a bit later - and in French. 

This is great if you're looking for something different.

Today's Song: 

Sunday Stealing: Bathroom Break

 I'm in between sessions at the Melbourne Writer's Festival today, so I'm taking the opportunity to get the questions out of the way. The Irish writer, Marian Keyes was an absolute delight and I'm off to see Kaliane Bradley once I've had some lunch. Never heard of Kaliane Bradley - she wrote this wonderful book called The Ministry of Time. It's a genre bending novel. Plastic Mancunian, if you're reading this, you might enjoy it. 

Anyway, here goes the questions, provided, as always by Sunday Stealing. Oh, and some of these are a little personal. 

1. Do you shampoo once or lather, rinse and repeat?

I generally wash my hair once a week but rinse it out most days. When it gets washed, normally on a Friday morning, I shampoo twice, the second time with about half the amount of shampoo. If it's an interim wash, then I'll only use the shampoo once. 

2. Do you use conditioner a) daily, b) when you need it, c) never?

Conditioner - every, single time after shampooing, then some leave in conditioner products during the week. My hair is coloured. It needs the extra help. 

3. What's your shaving cream preference: foam or gel?

I don't shave. I get my legs waxed. No preference. 

4. Is your toothbrush manual or electric?

I have an electric toothbrush - and a travel electric toothbrush, although for overseas trips I'll go back to the manual one - less to lug around. 

5. Dental floss, soft picks, neither or both? 

I have both dental floss and picks, but I confess, I don't floss as often as I should. 

6. Do you use mouthwash a) daily, b) when you need it, c) never?

Mouthwash only gets used when needed - like after a garlicky meal or when I have a cold. I do have a small bottle in my toiletries bag for when I travel. 

7. Are there magazines in your bathroom?

No. Nowhere to put them. 

8. Is there bar soap or liquid soap on your bathroom sink? 

I have some liquid soap on the bathroom sink. I love this stuff - the Ovidio Vetiver, Patchouli and Hemp handwash. I love it's earthy yet clean smell. I love vetiver regardless. 

9. What kind of soap is in your shower?

I love all sorts of different smells, and I have both shower gel and soap in the shower. Currently the bar of soap smells like peaches. I've also got some Endota shower gel and a lovely Aveda one in there as well. I like having options. 

10. Now for the most important question: does the toilet paper drape over or under?

Definitely over, drape to the front. It's in the patent, as Sheldon Cooper pointed out. 

I'm one of those people who turn the roll around if it's on the wrong way. It doesn't matter where I am, if it's not right, then it has to be corrected. 

Today's song: 

Provocative T-Shirt Day

 Friday has become the day I see the physio. I've strained my left bum muscles, and I need some help rehabilitating them (You know, gluteus maximus, medius and minimus into the iliac crest - they're all buggered). 

Friday has also become Provocative T-shirt Day. 

It is Friday. It's allowed to be. 

I rarely turn my camera on in meetings. 

Until last week, nobody who mattered saw my t-shirts. 

Last week, I turned up to the physio in jeans and a t-shirt that read "Typical Bloody Leftie" in honour of the election. 

It was a talking point. 

Today, I turned up in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt reading "We are the granddaughters of the witches you could not burn."

I love this t-shirt.

And spent a part of the session explaining to the physio, as he got stuck into my arse cheek, that wearing provocative t-shirts is good for the soul. 

"Is this a work thing or a Pandora thing?"

"A Pandora thing. I'm not one for dressing up to work from home and shouty t-shirts make me feel good."

I have to go back again next week. 

But what t-shirt should I wear? I've got a choice of t-shirts reading the following: 

• Hell was Boring
• In my defense I was left unsupervised
• See You Next Tuesday
• A Pixies T-shirt with a black cat on it
• An old one with a sugar skull on it
• A Pearl Jam Concert T-shirt
• A green one with elephants. 
• A Hoodoo Gurus concert t-shirt
• The Whitlams concert t-shirt.

I'm sure I'll work it out by next week.

Today's song:

Theatre Review: Beetlejuice

 The Production: Beetlejuice - The Musical

The Theatre: The Regent Theatre on Collins Street

Until 3 August (This was a preview ticket)

Runtime: Two and a half hours

Stars: 3.5

Reminder to self. YOU DON'T REALLY LIKE MUSICALS... Well, not the big budget ones. 

BUT... I love Tim Burton's film, Beetlejuice and I've always wanted to see inside the Regent Theatre, having lived in Melbourne for 25 years I've never been inside the place, so I listened to my better angels and got a ticket up the back of the stalls where a quick escape could be had. 

For the price, I got my money's worth. Would I see it again? No. But other people really seemed to enjoy it and gave the production a standing ovation. 

On the good side of things, Beetlejuice is a spectacle. It's wonderfully staged and the lighting is fantastic. 

Tick. 

It also takes most of the elements of the movie and incorporates them into the musical. We have Adam and Barbara, there's Lydia's parents, Charles and Delia (although there is a pivot here - not worth going into), there's some of the quirky characters you find in hell, like Miss Argentina, the girl scout, Otho, the football players, and thankfully, Bob. Bob is everybody's favourite. 

Lydia, played by Karis Oka, is excellent, and Eddie Perfect makes Beetlejuice his own. Both are excellent, and even from my seat up the back, you could see they were having a ball. 

But, yeah, this is the sort of musical that doesn't float by boat. I even fell asleep while the Banana Boat Song played. Not a good sign. 

I truly think this was a matter of "It's me, not you." I quite liked this. I liked the music, the dancing and enjoyed how the show deviated from the movie, yet payed homage to it as well. 

But I'm a purist, and just as you should never meet your heroes, you should be very careful about seeing musicals of your favourite films. 

Others will drink this up. It's a very entertaining musical about death, as the first song extols.

As for me, I'm just glad I finally got to have a look inside the Regent Theatre. 

And Beetlejuice, the movie, is available on Binge. 

Today's song:

Boob Squash Day

Check out these boobies!

Image from Hub Pages. 

 Okay, fun time over. The Blue-Footed Booby is a joy to behold. 

Mammograms, on the other hand, are more a necessary evil than something fun. It's wonderful that they help prevent many, many deaths and a lot of heartache. 

I'm incredibly grateful that this is a country which believes in cautious preventative medicine. If you're between the ages of 50-75 you're invited to go for a mammogram every two years - or if you have breast cancer in the family, then earlier. It's a free service. You get reminders when the time comes to book yourself in. 

Today was Boob Squash Day. 

I booked myself in last week when the email came. Today, at lunchtime, I took the tram into town, fronted up at the Peter Mac Imaging office on St Andrews Place, walked in, gave my name and was seen immediately. 

After explaining to the radiographer than I don't like being touched, but if she went in slowly with a flat hand and told me what to do, we'd be fine. She was wonderful. 

It was over in five minutes. 

I'm told that it's less of an ordeal for women with larger breasts, but I reckon it's going to be uncomfortable for everybody. 

This was my fourth round of imaging. I got a call back last time, which thankfully turned out to be nothing. I remember thinking in the two weeks it took to get the appointment for the enhanced imaging that I was going to lose my hair, and everybody would see the multitude of scars in my scalp. Irrational thinking, as for every 100 women called back, only one or two will need to go for treatment. A very kind friend reminded me that the odds were in my favour. 

But now the screening is done, hopefully for the next two years. The results will be through in a couple of weeks. 

I'm diligent in doing my breast checks. The mammograms are just the icing on the cake. For the minor discomfort, I got myself a vanilla slice before returning to work. 

And now, it's a matter of getting on with things and hoping the results are clear. 

My overwhelming feeling is that of gratitude. For the small amount of discomfort, there is peace of mind and the knowledge that this screening has saved the lives of more and more of my friends. 

If you're putting this screening off, don't. It's nothing to be scared of. It's free. And think of the number of women you know who have, or are being treated for, or who are now clear of breast cancer. You owe it to them as much as you owe it to yourself. 

Today's song: 

The Waldorf Salad

 Tonight's dinner was a Waldorf Salad. Simple, clean and easy, with a bit of chicken on the side. I mean how hard is chopping up a Granny Smith apple, a handful of grapes, a stick or two of celery, some walnuts and dress with some mayonnaise. Easy?

Not when you're being supervised. 

I bring out the chopping board and find a knife. 

There is a supervisor at my heels. His name is Lucifer. 

I start chopping the apple. 

He pats my leg. "Can I have some?" he asks. 

"No, it's apple, you won't like it."

"Go on, let me try."

I held out a piece for him. He screwed up his nose. 

He did the same thing with everything I was chopping up. Demand, sniff, screw up his nose. 

I told him. 

He does the same thing when I'm opening tins - baked beans and chickpeas are the worst. 

I had a Babybel cheese for dessert (small and boring). He wanted to try that too. I broke off a little bit for him. He sniffed it and screwed up his nose, walking away with disdain. 

Fussy bastard. It seems if it's not licky treats or raw chicken, he's not interested. 

Cats. Who'd have them?

Today's song:

Ghosted

I've been ghosted. 

And it's okay. 

Better now, after two nice dates, than three months down the track. Better now, when you can happily wipe any texts from your phone and move forward with your head held high, knowing that nobody has been hurt. I mean, we never kissed, let alone do anything more. It was just a couple of drinks down the pub. 

Still, I've been ghosted, and the world feels like it's in order again. 

His number has already been wiped from my phone. I've not sent a message to say something along the lines of "I haven't heard from you. I gather you wish to break contact. I liked meeting you. All the best for the future." He didn't give me that courtesy of doing the same. It is, however, good to draw a line in the sand. There's no more wondering. Contact is broken. That's it. it's a cleaner way of doing things. 

Of course, I'm guilty of ghosting myself. I met somebody online earlier in the year. A very nice person, but a Grade Five Clinger. I'm not here to be anybody's mother. I'm not in a place to take on anybody's depression. Ghosting was my way of running for the hills. Thankfully, he got the message. 

But this internet dating thing leaves something of a bad taste. And I know that it's not me, but him. 

I've got my dignity and pride intact. But it doesn't mean I had let my mind wander for five minutes and extrapolated what might have been, or what could have been, or how things might have been different. 

And I'm really glad I got ghosted when I did. 

Today's song: 

Movie Review: Thunderbolts

Movie number 19 of 2025

The Movie: Thunderbolts

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: Two hours and six minutes

Stars: A very solid 4

Marvel is back doing what it does best - making very entertaining movies. Over the last few years, particularly after the end of the first tranche of The Avengers, there's been some less-than-optimal movies (Ant Man and The Wasp: Quantumania and the X-Men films spring to mind) but there's been some good ones too. 

And if you're up on your Marvel Cinematic Universe, you get to do the mental tallies in your head as to where you've seen everybody and what they're up to. 

And with Thunderbolts, it really does help if you're up on your MCU lore. The films you really need to know about are The Black Widow, Captain American: The Winter Soldier and Ant Man (to a lesser extent). It all helps with context. 

But even without all of this, Thunderbolts is a good film. 

The tagline for this film goes as follows: After finding themselves ensnared in a death trap, an unconventional team of antiheroes must embark on a dangerous mission that will force them to confront the darkest corners of their pasts.

As a brief rundown, Yelena Bolova (Florence Pugh) is working as a mercenary for Valentina de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) a bent American politician. She's on the job in Kuala Lumpur when the job she's on goes a bit strange and she starts to see some not-so-great elements of her life come back into her mind. She goes to see her father, Alexei (David Harbour). They've been estranged for a while. 

Valentina sends Yelena on a last mission, which turns out to be a suicide mission. It's now that a new Captain America (Wyatt Russell) and Ava Starr (Hannah John-Kamen) are sent there on the same mission. It is also here that we meet the somewhat gormless Bob (Lewis Pullman) who turns out to be a super-baddie looking for a redemption arc.

There's lots of great things about this film. The action is unrelenting, but that's all Marvel Movies. 

Eric Pearson, Joanna Calo and Kurt Busiek have written a killer script, with just the right mixture of pathos and sarcasm. It keeps the action moving, while giving some very needed back stories to the characters. This has far more emotional awareness than many marvel films

Jake Schreier's direction is also wonderful, keeping the action moving, while allowing for the more pensive scenes to ring true. 

This film belongs to Florence Pugh, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss and Lewis Pullman. The former we've seen at her best in The Black Widow. She just keeps getting better.  Louis-Dreyfuss makes a brilliant baddie, the corrupt government official who is a nemesis to the crew. Lewis Pullman is a delight as the underestimated Bob. He's both deep and hilarious. 

Reading other reviews of Thunderbolts, there is a consensus that this is one of the best Marvel films to come out in the last few years. Sassy, intelligent, funny and setting things up for the next couple of films which are due out soon. 

As always, you do need to sit through the credits to see what is coming next (which in this case is the new version of The Fantastic Four: First Steps.)

Hopefully this has sent the MCU on a redemption arc of it's own. Standing alone, this was one of Marvel's better offerings. 

Today's song:

Sunday Stealing: Time Travel

 It is election day here in Australia, and I'm feeling a bit trepidatious. I'm sincerely hoping our TEMU Trump. the potato-impersonating douchebag is kicked out of his seat. 

We live in hope. 

If I was to meet the man in the street I'd be singing this to him loudly, and in his face.(I'm showing my Australian roots, n'est-ce pas?)

Regardless, let's get the Sunday Stealing questions done - and hopefully tomorrow I'm not crying into my beer. 

Questions have been provided by Sunday Stealing. 

 What were you doing ...

1. Twenty years ago?

Twenty years ago, I was living in London, rather depressed, wanting to be living in England, working for a bank and on the precipice of a career change, moving from back-office admin into software testing. 

I was unmarried, childless and living in a share house out the back of the suburb in which I live now. 

2. Ten years ago? 

Ten years ago I was working in a bank as a technical writer, starting out on my Masters degree and living in the flat I'm in now. I was happier than I was 20 years ago. The love of my life was Blarney's cat, Maow Maow. 

I was unmarried and childless. 

3. Five years ago?

Ew, the COVID years. I was under lockdown conditions in the flat I live in now. I was embarking on the journey with my darling boy Lucifer. I was getting out of the flat for my allowed hour every day. I rather enjoyed lockdown. I was working for a local energy retailer as a technical writer. 

I was unmarried and childless, but I did have a fur child of my own now. 

4. One year ago?

I was living in the flat I live in now, by travelling regularly to Darwin for work, desperately trying to find cat sitters, living an interesting life.

I was unmarried and childless, but my fur child and I get on famously. 

5. Yesterday? 

Starting to manage a small, manageable bout of depression, working form home for a company based in the Northern Territory, living in the flat I've lived in for nearly 20 years. My fur child was being a pain in the neck. I have a strained butt cheek. I'm wondering what sort of salad I'll be taking to a barbeque tomorrow (Made a Waldorf salad in the end). 

Bonus! What will you do tomorrow?

I'll go to the gym, resisting the urge to do leg weights, and hopefully Peter Dutton as been banished to the political graveyard and we have a hung parliament made up of the Labour Party and a heap of Greens and Independents. Here's hoping. 

Postscript: It's now Sunday Morning. Our centre-left government (Americans, read Democrat) government has been returned with an increased majority. As with Canada, our opposition leader lost his seat. Like Canada, we too have said no to the rise of Trumpian, mean and nasty politics. It feels like a bit of sanity has been restored. And there's a touch of schadenfraude for the outgoing leader of the opposition, who is a nasty piece of work regardless.

Today's song: 

Movie Review: Tina (Mother)

Movie Number 18 of 2025

The Movie: Tina (Mother)

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: Two hours and four minutes

Stars: 4

What you think you're going to get after seeing the trailer for Tina and what you are presented with are two different things. And this is okay. 

This is a little gem of a film which comes out of New Zealand. Some of my favourite films come from here. The Hunt for the Wilderpeople, What We Do in the Shadows, Uproar, Heavenly Creatures... New Zealand has long punched above its weight when it comes to films. 

You expect a comedy. It's not, though saying that, there are some wonderfully funny moments in the film. This does not make it a disappointment. This is a wonderful little film. 

Mareta Perceval (Anapela Polataivao), a teacher who has been in service to students in the bad parts of town is mourning the loss of her daughter in the Christchurch earthquake of 2011. Mareta is a stalwart f the Samoan community. Mother to many, leader of the church choir and all around good egg, you can only feel for this plucky woman.  Three years later, still struggling, she's forced back to work after they threaten to stop her social security. Desperation has her take a job in the poshed private school in Christchurch. 

And the fish out of water element of the film begins. 

Mareta's methods are somewhat unconventional for the highly regimented school. And yes, there are a lot of stock characters. The injured and delicate Sophie (Antonia Robinson), the rugby star Anthony (Zac O'Meagher), the Asian swot, Mei-Ling (Talia Pua)... you get the drift. 

Where this film surprises is that it's not quite the comedy you expect it to be. There are some funny scenes as Mareta whips the choir into shape. 

But what is most effective is that this film is a look at loss and grief and clawing your way back. It's a film about the power of music and community and love. 

Miki Magasiva's writing and directing are spot on. They're touching without being trite. 

What's even more effective about this film is the music and the setting. The choral music with a lot of emphasis on Islander music, is exquisite. 

Then there is the Christchurch setting. Having been to Christchurch a number of times, thanks to my friend Geetangeli living there, it's a place for which I have a lot of fondness. This film is set during and after the 2011 earthquake. I've been told first-hand how everybody in Christchurch has been impacted by the earthquake. This film shows this beautifully. 

I really enjoyed this film. Although it wasn't quite what I expected it to be, I loved the music, the story and its heart. 

And if you do go see this, take tissues. You'll need them. I came out of this with my sleeve drenched in tears. 

Today's song: 

Not the Physio

 I'm giving in. I've made an appointment at the physio. I pinged my glute in the gym six weeks ago, of all things, getting down onto the floor to do push ups. The mat slipped from under my foot, straining my glute. 

It's been rested for the last six weeks. It doesn't hurt to walk, but I've been doing no leg weights, which I have been missing. Last night at the gym, thinking that six weeks light rest should have sorted it out, I went back to doing some light Romanian Dead Lifts. (Why is it all the yucky exercises are named after Eastern Block Communist states?). When I say light, it's light for me. I'm normally lifting double that easily. I managed the first round of 12 without an issue. I said to Chuck that although I could feel it, it wasn't hurting. The second round, at about eight pulls, something went ping and I put the bar down. 

So much for it being well rested. 

I've also had some referred pain in my foot. Just slight, but it's been there. 

And after badgering from Jay and Chuck, I'm reluctantly made an appointment with a physio. 

Am I happy about this? No. 

Why? I'm normally good at managing injuries, but this one seems to have got the better of me. I spoke to my normal remedial massage fellow who I've been with for years and he recommended somebody, agreeing that a physio might be the way to go. 

I'm still a bit reticent. 

Why?

Where some people are afraid of dentists, I have a bit of a thing about physios. Physios hurt. Physios are mean. Physios plumb right into my wounded four-year-old self when I had to go along on regular occasions to the Royal Adelaide Children's Hospital with the dastardly Miss Creswell had to check over my legs. I remember hating this. 

And my fear of physios remains (although I have a few very nice physio friends) the thought of seeing one for an injury doesn't feel good. 

I'm sure this fellow will be fine. He's got 20 years of experience. He works with elite sports people. The practice has been recommended. 

But tell all of this to the four-year-old kid with her legs in calipers walking along Kermode Street, North Adelaide, scared out of her wits, being pointed out as a cripple. 

It was over 50 years ago, but it's left a mark. 

Today's song: