The Best of 2024

It's New Year's Eve and I've nothing to do. The two people I rely on for a house party/get together on this evening are either interstate or overseas, so I'm doing some housework, maybe getting a takeaway and watching some telly. 

I'll also put down what were some of my favourite things for 2024. 

For me, 2024 was not a bad year. I look at it like this: 

• I remained gainfully employed
• Lost seven kilos
• Remained healthy
• Managed to save over $25,000
• Spent 90 days away from home, mostly with work
• Stayed mother to a black cat who sort of likes me most of the time
• Got a bit fitter and stronger
• And kept my mental health in check.
• I donated blood/plasma four times - I wish it was more, but I was travelling a lot. 

All of these are very good things. And sure, I didn't use my passport, I lost a friend in July and kept a bit too busy for my own good, the good definitely outweighed the bad.

So, I give you now the best bits of 2024. 

1) I read 62 books this year. 

My secret is that I have an audiobook on as well as reading something on paper at all times. 

The best things I've read were:

• When Good was a Rabbit, Still Life and The Year of Marvellous Ways by Sarah Winman. (I love Sarah Winman - fast becoming a favourite author)
• Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens by Shankari Chandran. 
• Prima Facie by Suzie Millar
• Lola in the Mirror by Trent Dalton
• Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano
• And two out of the three books in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. 

2) I saw 40 films in the cinema. 

My picks for this year are: 

• Betterman
• All of Us Strangers
• Anyone but You
• The Holdovers
• Wicked Little Letters
• Monkey Man
• Thelma
• Memoir of a Snail
• Saturday Night
• Perfect Days
• Kneecap
• Wicked Part One

I was lucky enough to see some of these at the Deckchair Cinema in Darwin. 

3) Of the love music I got to see, Ludovico Einaudi at the Sydney Opera House in January was magic. The Hoodoo Gurus, as well as Angie McMahon at The Forum were great. I really enjoyed The Whitlams at The Corner, as well as the Choir of Man up in Darwin at the Railway Club. Oh yes, The Pixies and Pear Jam at Marvel were great too. The Pixies are still God. 

4) When comes to theatre, I was blessed.

Of the wonderful performances I got to see: 

• Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf at the Comedy Theatre (The Red Stitch Theatre Company) was superlative. 
• Dracula at the Sydney Theatre Company was a treat
• I loved the MTC's musical version of My Brilliant Career
• Macbeth (An Undoing) at the Malthouse was great. 
• And I've discovered The Red Stitch Theatre Company. They're amazing. Both Iphigenia in Splott and Your Name Means Dream were excellent. 

5)  And although I didn't get to use my passport, a weekend trip with a colleague to Mataranka and Nitmiluk (Katherine) Gorge was amazing. There were also the odd trips to Adelaide and Sydney. I'd like to get some proper travel in next year. A few weeks in Europe is on the cards. 

I live a blessed life, and I am grateful for it, but here's to new adventures and fun in 2025. 

Today's song: 

The Christmas Card

 I don't know what the universe is playing at. 

Today was a good day. Everything was going well. I got up on time and fed the cat. I made it to the appointment to have my legs waxed, on time, scoring a car park outside the salon. Lucifer is happily asleep on his throne. I even managed to find the vegan cheese at the supermarket - yes, vegan cheese. It's the cheese you get when you're off dairy - and it's not bad - but you find it with all the hippy shit, like the falafel and tofu instead of in the actual cheese section. It goes nicely with the gluten free bread I use. And it toasted up nicely in the microwave toastie maker I got myself for Christmas. 

Coming home from the supermarket, I collected the mail. There was a letter from my MP, a small packet with something I'd ordered over the last few days and a Christmas Card. 

Like, who sends Christmas Cards? I don't. Not any more anyway. 

The card was hand-written, the writing vaguely familiar. Maybe Reindert, I thought. He has serial killer handwriting. 

The card went in my bag as I parked the car.

Coming in, I looked at the card again. 

It was from England. Posted in Tyneside - for those who aren't up on English geography, that's up around Newcastle-on-Tyne. Up North where they talk funny. 

Dammit. 

Him. 

Him who hasn't made any contact for about three years. He, who's number I've removed from my phone. Him, who I've been telling myself that he's walked into the sea never to return (not that I wish him dead, but it's easier to think him that way, as he can do me no more harm in that state). He, who has messed be about royally for many, many years. 

I thought I was shot of him. I don't have an address for him, other that the knowledge he was living just north of Newcastle. I've blocked his email. I've not made any contact for those three years.

For the rest of the day, I've been a bit a bit discombobulated. I was really hoping I'd not hear from him again. He had his chance. I let him live rent free in my head for years - but no more. I mean, who sends you a card which reads "To a lovely friend." The card had a dog on it. Nobody gets me Christmas cards with a dog on it (cats are the go, even though I love dogs).

But I want to know what the universe is playing at? I'm starting to gently put it out there that maybe I'm ready for a new relationship. I'm thinking about putting my profile up on internet dating sites. I'm in a good place emotionally.

And he goes and gets in contact. 

There was no return address on the envelope. I couldn't send it back. 

I'm probably overreacting, but I was happier thinking he was no longer around. 

Or maybe this is the universe's way of reminding me of exactly what I don't want, need or like - and to take good care of myself. 

I don't need this. 

Today's Song: 

Travels with my Toddler ... err Cat.

 I don't have a toddler. But I do have a cat... a cat who, on occasions, has to be put in the back of a car and driven over to Adelaide because I am too stingy to put him in a cattery as my friends' cat sitting credits are running thin. Also, despite having to be crated in the car for up to ten hours, when we get to our final destination, he's a joy. 

It's just the getting him in and out of the car that's the problem. 

But he's such a toddler. This is my toddler. He's got the face on. 

Case in point. He's been quite happy stuck in my bedroom at Mum's for the last few days, choosing to hide out under the bedside table. He didn't have to do this, but he feels safe under there, and by the end of the stay, he was coming out a lot more. 

A couple of times a day, we'd close off the front of the house where Mum's cat, Bart, would sleep most of the day. The two met twice. From the sounds of it, we'd started World War Three. After these encounters, Bart quit his sleeping and started patrolling the house. Bart normally sleeps about 20 hours a day. For the last few days Bart's been a lot more active, making sure that the "Black Bastard" as nowhere in spitting distance. Mind you, Bart is already out of sorts. He's got the hump with my stepdad for putting him in a cage on the back of the ute with a tarp over him, to take him to the new digs. He was perfectly safe and fine, but he's still ignoring Graham some three weeks after the move.  

That is one big advantage about travelling with a cat, over travelling with a toddler - you don't have to wrangle them into a car seat...

See, do one thing wrong with Bart and you're personae non-grata. 

Bart doesn't have a poker face. 

Anyway, today was the day Lucifer and I drove back to Melbourne. 

I packed the car last night, setting up his crate, with bedding, some dry food, water and a litter tray. He didn't seem too fussed about it all the movement. I did this over a few hours so not to freak him out. This morning, I had breakfast, showered, put the last of the stuff in the car. The last thing I did was scoop up the lad to take him out the waiting car. 

What I didn't bank on was Bart, sitting near the back door. 

Lucifer wanted to go him. Bart wanted to thump the crap out of Lucifer. 

For six kilos of black moggy, he's bloody strong. And argumentative. Instead of taking a calm pussycat the 20 meters from my room to the car, I had to take this spitting, wriggling bundle of fur out, hanging onto him for dear life, because if he got out, he'd either injure Bart or get under the house. Neither was an acceptable outcome. 

And even though, I got speared by his claws in the battle to keep him in my arms, he tumbled into the cage with only a few complaints. 

And we were on the road. 777 kilometres of country driving, with my cat. 

To give him his dues, he's good in the car. Mostly, every hour, on the hour, I get a "Meow, meow?", the cat version of "Are we there yet?"

But...

Occasionally, a paw will reach out of the cage to pat my arm. You know, that toddler thing when they come up to annoy you by touching you. From a cat, it's very sweet. 

What's very toddler like is every time I talked on the phone, (which I do, often, on the hands free, particularly going over the Wimmera, which is flat and boring) and somebody in the back starts howling. Every, single, phone call. Start to talk to your mate and he has to get in on it, as if to say, "She's a bitch and she'd kidnapping me and will you save me?"

He will do that to me at home when he wants attention, but in the car, he has a captive audience. Every bloody phone call. 

The other bit of toddler behaviour which had me in stitches occurred coming out of Horsham. 

There was a scratching in the litter box. 

He did a poo. 

Anybody who's had an inside cat will know how much cat excrement stinks. In a car, it's doubly awful. 

And he sat there and howled, letting me know how much this turd stank. Like I didn't know! Just like a toddler, who has to let you know that they've done their business. Thankfully, there was a rest area a few kilometres down the road. The offending turd was scooped into an empty Macca's bag (it's almost compulsory to have a dirty Maccas on a long drive) and the lot was placed in a bin. 

We arrived home ten hours after we left Encounter Bay, with pit stops at Tailem Bend, Bordertown, Horsham Maccas and BP for fuel, and Ballan Services. Not a bad run at all. 

He complained about being transferred into his carrier so I could get him upstairs. 

He's now asleep on the bed, after a big dinner and a drink, like nothing has happened. Just like a toddler. 

And that's travels with my cat for another year. 

Today's song: 

Nothing to write home about

 I've got a long drive home tomorrow. 

The car is mostly packed. Just have to throw the last things, along with the cat into the car in the morning. The car is filled up with petrol - that should get me to Horsham without too much of a hassle.

It's been a lovely break - but I'm looking forward to getting back to Melbourne and getting back on the Regime. And I never thought I would be saying this, but I can't wait to be back on the gluten, dairy and sugar free existence. 

Anyway, I need an early night. Big day of driving tomorrow.

See you back in Melbourne. 

Today's song: 

Movie Review: Better Man

 Movie number 40 of 2024

The Movie: Better Man

The Cinema: Victa Cinemas, Victor Harbor

Stars: 5

On paper, Better Man looks absolutely bonkers. And it is absolutely bonkers in many ways. But it's also BRILLIANT, and I'm not saying this because I'm a great Robbie Williams fan. Robbie Williams is a consummate entertainer. This film is incredibly entertaining.

Better Man truly is gold. Unexpected. Hard hitting. Funny. Appropriately musical. Joyous. Redemptive. This film has it all. 

With Robbie Williams playing himself, but recreated as a CGI monkey with a man's body. 

It's SOOOOO effective. I loved every minute of this. It also helps that I was in England in the 90s and remember the Take That story, and the fallout of Robbie leaving the band, but this movie is so much more than this. 

For those who are unaware, Robbie Williams was a boy from Stoke on Trent in the North of England who at the age of 15 was selected to be a part of the boy band, Take That. He's been in and out of the British papers, normally showing him in a bad light. 

And if you haven't seen the Netflix documentary about him, it's worthwhile. You find out that he now lives in America away from the prying eyes of the British press. 

What's both great and curious is that this is an Australian production, with a lot of Australian actors playing key roles. Kate Mulvaney is his long-suffering Mum. Damon Herriman is Nigel Martin Smith, Take That's producer. Raechelle Banno plays Nicole Appleton, with whom Robbie had an intense relationship. And Alison Steadman is just gorgeous as Robbie's grandmother. 

The film is filled with drug taking and references about suicide. Indeed, Robbie did get to a very dark place there for a while. It also looks at the well-documented relationship with his father. (Steve Pemberton).

What this film does is mix Robbie's music in with his life story - and this is done very well. Making it more impressive, it was made in Australia using Australian actors and film studios. 

And as for the monkey face, which is CGI imposed over Williams's face, this was taken from the writer, Michael Gracey, noting that Williams, in interviews describing himself as a performing monkey. To be honest, after the first initial seconds, you don't notice it, and it's done very well. It puts a different spin on this film. 

I was bowled over by Better Man. The music, the cinematography and the story. It's well worth a look. 

Even better, I went to the cinema in Victor Harbor. $17 movie tickets and $5 choc tops. 

Regardless, this is really worth a look. I loved this. 

Today's song:

The extra twenty minutes

 I've been driving home to my parents' place from Adelaide for a very long time. Today, as I went down to Adelaide, I pointed the car in the direction of town, shoved on my audiobook and drove. 

There's a difference between driving between Victor Harbor and Myponga. It's 20 minutes each way. it's just that bit further. It's also through a lot more scrubland where there are lots of kangaroos, making driving a little more precarious between dusk and dawn. 

It's 20 more minutes to listen to my book or take in the calm of having the car to myself. It's also 20 more minutes to have to factor in to get anywhere. Like tomorrow, I'm meeting a friend for brunch in McLaren Vale. I'd normally give myself 20 minutes to get there. Tomorrow, I'll make it 40 minutes to get there. 

I've got to get my head around this. 

After over 35 years of driving home, it's inertia behaviour which you have to shift. 

Today's song: 

And so this is Christmas

 My parents are watching the Royal Variety Performance on the ABC, directly from Westminster Abbey. 

You can hear absolute delight in my voice, I'm sure. Sorry, this isn't really my sort of entertainment, but it's their house and their television, and I've talked them into watching a film on Netflix tonight. Netflix? They'd heard of this strange contraption, but they didn't think their telly could receive Netflix - the wrong antenna, they said as their television is too old. 

I've found the HDMI socket at the back of the old said television and attached a FireStick, which has subsequently attached to the Wifi and works. They now have Netflix for the next few days. Mum hopes that Netflix doesn't use too much of the NBN, which they are finally to after years of substandard ADSL out at Myponga (The township got the NBN, but if you're out in the Donga, you had a choice of expensive satellite services or the cheaper, but less reliable ADSL. Although reasonably computer literate, they never saw much use for the internet. Mind you. I've chewed through their two MBs of data while visiting on occasions. Telstra have told them that this is a common occurrence when family members come to say at boomer parents' places. 

But this is Christmas. 

It's a hot day. Sat around 35 here at Encounter Bay for most of the day. 

My stepdad was given not one, but two rain gauges. Exactly the same one even. Rain gauges. Go figure. It's a country thing. 

The parents only moved into this house a fortnight ago, but they've feeling settled. There are two large magpies which live in their gazebo. I've named them Statler and Waldorf, after the two old guys in The Muppets who throw shade on everybody. Thankfully, they're friendly magpies - though I'm still a bit skeptical of any magpie. Evil little shits they are. 

The only downer is my step-sister ended up in hospital today. An ongoing condition which needed treatment, and she's been stabilised and has been sent home. Regardless, not what you want. 

And Lucifer is not getting on with Mum's cat, Bart. Bart is an old boy who normally sleeps all day. Today, after running into Lucifer (who's been very good staying in my room, coming out occasionally for a leg stretch) he took it onto himself to guard the laundry. It's been very funny to watch, but we're keeping them separated. 

Bart is currently asleep on the Mum's bed, with the door's shut. Lucifer can come out for a bit and have a wander, now everybody has gone. 

Just another Christmas, really. 

And now they're listening to the King's Speech. Bless the ABC....

Today's song: