Vet Night

I like to think that I'm a pretty good cat mummy. I might not be, but I think I'm okay. I've managed to keep Lucifer alive and healthy for the last three years. Long may that remain. 

So, today was vet day. Lucifer's annual check up.

I have dreamed that when I take my cat to the vet, all goes well. In my mind, he easily slips into his carry cage and goes into the vets without a whimper. Then he's nice to the vet. He's given a once over. The vet trims his toenails, places him gently on the scales to weight him, and then, he gets his annual vaccination. then he slips into his carry cage and comes home without a peep.

Well, some of this happened. 

He was corralled into his cage easily. I didn't give him a chance to complain - he was scooped up and put into the cat box without too much fun. Not being given the any inkling of this happening was a good thing.

He was fine in the car. He's always fine in the car. The odd cry, but that's it.

Then we parked just up the road from the vet.

I got him out of the car. 

Yoooowwwwwwllllllll!!

The 100 metre walk down Church Street was peppered with his cries. It sounded like I was slitting his throat. 

We made it into the vet's reception area. 

Yoooowwwwwwllllllll!!

He was asked to keep it down as we sat down in reception. Or more to the point, he was placed on a chair in his carrier, and I sat on the floor so he could see me, which seemed to calm, him down a bit. Well, that and the very large pitbull who came out of the office kept him in line, going up to his cage for a good look. That shut him up. 

After a few minutes, the vet came out to get us. 

"Are you Lucifer's Mum?"

"Yes."

The vet was lovely. She also looked like she was twelve. 

We had a chat about what the lad needed done. I said that he needed his annual shot, and if she could, maybe trim his front toenails. He's also been losing a bit of hair on his tummy. 

I'd taken a couple of photos of the area, in preparation for the fact that the vet would have no chance of having a good look at the area without sedating him. As I told her the area wasn't red, raw or bleeding, she wasn't too worried. Keep an eye on it. It might just be a bit of stress. 

So, she took him in his carrier to do the work. No need for me to fret over his bad behaviour. The vet said she also had a salty cat - sometimes it's easier if you don't know what they get up to. 

They came back 5 minutes later. She managed to give him the injection. No nails. No weighing. No check up. No look at his bald tummy. 

It appears his notes read, "The cat is an arsehole. Very salty. He will take off your arm. "

Somehow, she'd got him back in his cage.

He looked triumphant. 

Ten minutes later, after a quiet trip, we got home. 

He was fed his dinner, and for a treat, some cat pate, which is the equivalent of cat crack. He rewarded me for the trip by upending half of his litter tray onto the tiles while taking a dump. 

As he's now asleep on his blanket on the bed, it can't have been that traumatising. 

Thank goodness that's over for another year. 

Today's song: 

How do you break up with a book?

I think I need to break up with the book I'm currently reading. 

I'm not somebody who deserts books. I can only think of a handful which I've not completed. 

My rule is if I'm not engaged by page 30, I will throw it against the wall and pick it up when I next clean. (The Hobbit and The Great Gatsby were on this pile - I've since read and enjoyed the latter - but I've still not read The Hobbit.)

But this book I'm currently reading is not playing ball. It passed the 30-page test, but the reservations were starting to fire. 

The things I don't like about are the HUGE paragraphs which give me the irrits. One, two page paragraphs. It's annoying. The chapters are bit long too. 

I'm also not liking the characters, who all have sob stories and are also plain annoying. 

I suppose I'm waiting for something to happen. Not much has happened. 

It sort of reminds me of an Irish book based on the American series, Girls - which also pissed me off no end. Self-absorbed 20-somethings who were utterly clueless. 

The book is Sally Rooney's Beautiful World,Where are You?  I really liked her Normal People. This isn't as good. 

I will persist a bit longer.

Call me a sucker for punishment. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing: Three Things

 It's been an interesting day. I've been to the gym. I've given a reflexology session while listening to Lou Reed. I've binge watched about half of the series The Bear (and it's excellent). 

Now, it's a matter of ironing one piece of clothing which has been washed and dried today, then doing a question, while trying to keep my cat off of my office chair. I feel so bad when I have to turf him off. 

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

Three names you go by, other than your given name:

• I was known as Skip or Skippy to my workmates in London.
• Most people call me Panda.
• My family call my Pandy, but I don't like that.

Three things you like about yourself:

• I'm reasonably smart (certainly not stupid)
• My ankles are pretty skinny
• And I like my eyes - they're dark green - some would call them hazel. Regardless, I like them. 

Three things you don't like about yourself:

• My propensity for putting on weight
• I can be judgmental if I don't keep myself in check - thankfully I manage this most of the time. 
• I can be lazy. 

Three parts of your heritage:

• It's boring. As an Australian I'm a mix of these three regions of England. Cornish/Welsh (they're only a few miles from each other. 
• Southern English
• With a bit of lowlands Scottish just out of Edinburgh thrown in for good measure. 

Three things you are wearing right now:

• A long sleeved stripey top
• A pair of cotton wide leg trousers. 
• My Apple Watch.

Three favorite bands/musical artists:

• The Pixies
• The Hoodoo Gurus
• Portishead

(This is a very truncated list). 

Three favorite songs:

• Reckless by Australian Crawl
• Under the Bridge by The Red Hot Chilli Peppers
• Sympathy for the Devil by The Rolling Stones. 

Three things you want in a relationship:

• Loyalty
• Fun
• Laughter

Three of your favorite hobbies:

• Reading
• Writing
• Knitting

Three things that scare you:

• Neo-Liberalism (Ultra Conservatives)
• Climate Change Deniers
• Huntsman Spiders

Three of your everyday essentials:

• Moisturiser
• Native deodorant
• Coffee

Three places you want to go on vacation:

• Paris and France
• Tokyo
• The South of England. 

Three careers you have considered/are considering:

• Doctor
• Astronaut
• Systems Test Analyst

Three things you want to do before you die:

• Walk the Camino de Compostella di Santiago
• Get married (or at least happily shacked up)
• Publish a couple of novels

Three things you want to do really badly right now: 

• Find a new job (This is a must do, but I don't like looking for work, but it will turn up)
• Save lots of money so I can go to Paris in October
• Travel more

Today's song:

Movie Review: The Banshees of Inisherin

 Movie Number 7 of 2023

The Movie: The Banshees of Inisherin

The Cinema: The Sun, Yarraville

Stars: 5

I have a very difficult relationship with the McDonagh Brothers. Martin McDonagh, who also directed one of my favourite movies, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, had me so deeply affected that I still talk about that film some five years later. His brother, John Michael McDonagh wrote and directed Calvary, another film that I still think about, even though I saw it in 2014.

Well, Martin McDonagh has done it again, writing and directing and incredible film, which has left me emotionally bereft and in a bit of a puddle. After the film, I went back to Blarney and Barney's to have a beer and talk about it some more. 

In the Irish vernacular, JAYZZZUSSS, what a film. 

In many ways, this is a small film. Set on an island off the Irish Coast in the early 1920s, Inisherin is a place where little happens. You get that feeling. Everybody knows everybody's business. Island time is kept by the post office bell which sends out the call for the men to go to the pub. 

RottenTomatoes.com provides the following plot. 

"Set on a remote island off the west coast of Ireland, THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN follows lifelong friends Pádraic and Colm, who find themselves at an impasse when Colm unexpectedly puts an end to their friendship. A stunned Pádraic, aided by his sister Siobhán and troubled young islander Dominic, endeavours to repair the relationship, refusing to take no for an answer. But Pádraic's repeated efforts only strengthen his former friend’s resolve and when Colm delivers a desperate ultimatum, events swiftly escalate, with shocking consequences."

I can't say any more about the plot. To say more would ruin it for anybody seeing it. 

This is a gutwrenching film. But it's also darkly funny. And wise. And bleak, yet hopeful. And it shows what can be the relentlessness of island life. It's also beautifully shot, showing the fictional island of Inisherin at its rugged best. The movie was filmed on Inishmore, one of the Aran Islands, off the Irish West Coast. The cinematography is amazing. 

To give you and inkling about how good this is, it's up for eight Oscars this year. Best Film, Best Original Screenplay, Best Direction, Best Actor (Colin Farrell), Best Supporting Actor x 2 (Brendan Gleeson and Barry Keoghan), Best Supporting Actress (Kerry Condon), Best Original Score and Best Editing. 

Good enough for you?

As I said, I won't put in spoilers. It's too good to give too many spoilers. But some of the things that just made this for me include the following things. 

• Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson are back at it again. After being in In Bruges, together, they're back. It just works. Both Farrell and Gleeson are a huge part of the McDonagh brothers' stable. 
• Barry Keoghan's role of Dominic is utterly heartbreaking, He's earned the Oscar nod. 
• Kerry Condon is similarly wonderful as Siobhan, Padraig's long-suffering sister. I found myself fist pumping when we found out her plight. 
• And a huge nod to the donkey. Again, I won't spoil this for anybody, but the donkey (and Colm's dog) are scene stealers. 

My only recommendation with this - if you're squeamish, don't go or be prepared. It not hugely violent, but what happens is affecting, and to be quite honest, a bit gross - and not in a funny way. 

This is going down as one of my favorite movies of the year. 

If you want to see something that isn't mainstream and utterly excellent, this is your film. 

It's on at the more art house cinemas around town. 

Do yourself a favor.

Today's song: 

Theatre Review: Sunday

 The Play: Sunday

The Theatre: The Sumner Theatre for the Melbourne Theatre Company

Playing until 18 February. 

Stars: 4

Sunday provides an imagined history of Australian art luminaries Sunday and John Reed and Sidney Nolan during the Heide years. I say imagined as nobody will ever know what went on at Heide all those years ago - we can only make suppositions and enjoy the outcome. Nobody can be sure if Sunday and Nolan had an affair. Nobody can know what was actually said and done. 

But this play gives it a crack. 

Having a rudimentary knowledge of the Heide School helped to gain a bit of ground on this play - although going in cold would be find. John and Sunday Reed were arts patrons from the forties onward. They were the patrons of many artists including Joy Hester, Albert Tucker, John Perceval and most notably Sidney Nolan, who did, indeed, paint most of his Ned Kelly series on their dining room table. The Heide Art Museum is testament to the movement. Indeed, taking a tour of the house gives you a good appreciation of the Reeds and what they did for Australian Art. 

So, the simple premise of this play is to look at the dynamics of the relationships between Sunday and Nolan, and how this impacts all in their orbit. It's really that simple. 

The play uses an effective stripped-down arena to do this justice. A table brought in here and there bed and a lounge room on rotation for some scenes. In the end, there's a bit more going on, and that is fine. 

This is wordy play. Running at just under three hours (with a 20 minute interval) you do need to keep awake to stay on top of what is going on. Time did not drag either. There's one speech of John's which has the audience clapping at one stage. It is also a very Melbourne play, poking fun at a lot of very in Melbourne standards including the weather, the "what school did you go to" conversations and a lot of other Melbourne standard tropes that nobody can escape from. 

This is Nikki Sheils play. She's wonderful as the complicated, contrary, passionate Sunday. I've seen here in three things over the last few years and she's luminescent in everything she's done (Particulary in Girls and Boys and The Picture of Dorian Gray.) She's a joy to watch and she goes from taking Sunday from a young, recently divorced twenty-something to a woman in her forties struggling with some unidentified mental illness. 

Matt Day was great as the long-suffering John Reed, although, for me, he's forever Harry-Sorry-David in Rake. Josh McConville is also solid as Sidney Nolan, his levelness and ambition is a decent foil for Sunday's bohemian nature. Ratidzo Mambo and Joshua Tighe round out the cast. Mambo's casting was interesting as she played Joy Hester. On discussions with my theatre companion, they found her inclusion difficult (Black actress playing a white woman). For me, her casting was not worth thinking about - blind casting is all over the shop now - it's not worth thinking about and Mambo did a great job in her role. 

In all, this is a solid start to the MTC's 2023 season. Is it the best thing I've seen them produce? No. But it is a quality play which contains quality performances, and it was very enjoyable.  It's well worth a look. 

Today's song: 

I need to write

 Actually, it's more a case of me having to uodate my CV after a phone call this afternoon. This isn't a hard task. Add in my current role, change a few dates, save it as a new file. Bob's your uncle. 

I am being prevented in doing this. 

Why?

This.

He's taken up residence on my work chair. If I move, he goes back and sits on it. 

If I sit on this chair he sits next to me, occasionally clawing at me to for treats or to make a veiled threat to get off. It's amazing how cats seem to think that you live in their house. 

I should also get working on my list. 

To manifest a new role, what I do is write out my list by answering the following questions.

1. What do I like to do?

2. What am I good at?

3. What would I like to try?

4. What do I never want to do again?

5. What are my non-negotiables?

It's a trick with manifesting - you need to get it straight in your head what you are after. 

In the non-negotiables, that's where you write down the concrete things about your job - like salary expectations, company size, sectors, team size and make up, location, travel commitments, working from home expectations. 

So,  mine looks a bit like this. 

I won't mention my salary. I have that down on paper. 

I want to work in the city or the city fringes, preferably for a large company in the banking and finance, utilities or telecommunications industries. I will consider government roles, but my internalised bullshit meter may not make me a great fit (though I had a great interview last time I was looking). 

For the team structure, I like working with a mix of men and women. I'm not great working in a purely female environment. A few men in the team balances things out. 

I'd like to work at home at least two, preferably three days a week. I'm used to it now. 

I need to be pretty busy, but not so that I'm forever working overtime. 

I don't mind doing a bit of travel. 

Those sorts of things. 

Strangely, it really helps to have all of this straight in your head. 

And now, I think the cat wants his chair back. 

Today's song: 

Back on the hunt

 

Today's song: