Salutations!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you All.

May the season of silliness be a safe and enjoyable one.

Love Kat

Well Bugger Me!

Have I been on a roller coaster today. Take a piece of me, no, take two! I'm not sure there's any more to go around but what's left of me feel free to scavenge.

At 5pm ish I got a text from mum (btw, Yay mum for mastering the art of texting and of leaving her mobile on!!!). She sent, and I quote "hi dearest need address royal mail arrived BIG HUG NOT OPENED MA". My stomach immediately sank. I think you all know dear readers that I have been waiting quite anxiously for a parcel to arrive from London containing my response from the British Immigration Agency in regards to my UK stage 1 HSMP visa approval. This would decide the next stage of my life. Big moment. Well, I immediately rang mum and demanded she open the thing, and got the shock of my life when she said, quite mildly, that I'd been approved.

oh.

right.

Hadn't been expecting that. I was kind of appalled and kind of happy and kind of teary and kind of... well, no, completely thrown. Mum wanted to send the package to me asap so I could apply asap (thank you love!) but I had to process and so told her I'd let her know when I'd read up about the stage two bits I had to do.

Then I proceeded to let all and sundry know, as you do, that I'd been approved, not really knowing myself how I felt about it, but sure that very soon, I'd be winging my way back to the UK and my life there.

So, I got home in a state of shock, and told Dad and Carol and had a whisky to settle myself. Then I went onto the Internet and discovered, to my absolute horror, that I wasn't quite finished jumping through all the hoops and that the next one I had to go through was ringed by fire. The BIA have mashed the old and new processes, so whilst I qualified for the old, I now had to also qualify for the new... The next hurdle was proving I had money and in an Aussie bank account and it had to have been three for three months before I could apply.... but...but...but

Oh Crap.

So now I have a minimum three month wait. And only then can I apply to see if they'll accept me as a potential citizen of the UK. I so want to be there right now. And I had planned to go over after Christmas too, to see everyone and clear out my crap and go skiing one last time.

Now, well I won't be going skiing in Jan, but I could possibly, maybe, probably, hopefully be able to go skiing many, many more times.

Come on March, I want to see you as fast as possible please. Then I can apply... again.

And then, who knows, I might actually get a definitive answer.

I hope.

NaNoWriMo on the horizon...

The time has come yet again dear friends when I shall be disappearing into the pages of a 50,000 word novel of my own creation in an attempt to complete NaNoWriMo 2008. It matters not if you win or lose, it's how you play the game, and I intend to have as much fun this year as I did last.

Wish me luck and keep track of my progress here and here.

And please excuse me if I disappear - it's hard not too when an imaginary world is occupying my every waking moment. :)

What a slack friend am I!

I discovered today, by dint of a long-overdue phone call, that my friend Sally is about to have another baby. Yes, I do mean about - well, in two months anyway. But this means that I haven't spoken to her for about 7 months. Geez but time does fly. Sorry to all of you who may have been expecting communication and got none! I've been slack and just totally did not notice the time going. And congratulations to Sally of course! Wow. So bummed I'm not there. But Yay for Sally and Tarrig and Aisha! ... And yay for another excuse for me to make a quilt!! :)

Meet the newest Oppermann

Ted, aka Teddy Bear ('cause he apparently looks like one), aka Psycho Dog.

Believe me when I tell you he is no where near as docile as he appears in this photo. But he can be quite adorable when he's got a mind and is certainly entertaining. And not yappy either - he's got a very loud bark for such a small animal. Thankfully he doesn't use it all that often.

So, Welcome Teddy!

Life plods...

Home, work, home, work, home. No news on VISA, boo. Got an extension to my contract in Melbourne, yay. Life continues invariably.

Was thinking perhaps that whilst I'm not travelling I should start doing book reviews and movie reviews for your edification. Thoughts?

Word of the Day: Enervated

Well, I got this one wrong. Not quite what I thought it was. I was close, but only got a funky banana...

I was thinking about using it to describe the state I was in the other night when I had driven in to work and then from work to Bendigo. The idea being that I was exhausted but so wound up I couldn't relax. I thought that's what enervated meant. Exhausted but with nervous energy or some such. Instead, according to Dictionary.com it means:

"without vigor, force, or strength; languid."

So, does anyone know if there is a word that means exhausted and in such a state of exhaustion that you are shaking from it, but at the same time so tense you feel like you're a spring and you can't relax to save yourself?

Obsession with the Doctor

I've recently re-discovered an old fascination.

I used to be terrified of Doctor Who when I was a kid. Prior to Tim being around as a functioning child-who-watched-TV, Chris and I had very regulated TV viewing. We were only allowed to watch channel two and only between the hours of three-thirty and six... or something like that. This was before I was 12 mind you, so it wasn't really a problem. The problem was that Doctor Who was on in that time slot, and I didn't for the life of me want to give up my TV privileges but I really, really, really didn't like the Doctor. So I spent a lot of time running out of the room, or hiding under a bean bag with my ears plugged, terrified and Not Wanting To Know. The Doctor gave me nightmares! I have seen a lot of the JonPertwee (Doctor 3) and Tom Baker years (Doctor 4)... or rather I remember when I was older quickly changing channels when a Jon or Tom Doctor Who came on. I have only vague memories of Doctors 5 and 6 (Peter Davidson and Colin Baker) as they were on at the time I was running and hiding, so I never really saw those. But the one's that really stuck with me, the one's that really scared me, were the Sylvester McCoy programs. They started appearing on my TV when I was about 11 and getting to the age that running out of the room because I was scared of a program was no longer cool behaviour. I still didn't like them and they still gave me nightmares and yet the paradise towers with their cannibalistic grandmothers, and thekangs with the deadly cleaners, and the cool Ace and that ditsy red-head Mel have stayed with me, through no TV repeats what-so-ever. They well and truly stuck. Just mentioning them gives me a delicious shiver right now. Tom Baker and the brigadier were not so scary - probably because I was older the second time I saw them, and mum was always a big fan so I guess I wondered what the fuss was about. But I still didn't like them. And I never watched them if I could help it.

But now, Doctor Who is back. Has been for four years now in actual fact. And since I am now a firm Sci-Fi and Fantasy Fan, I decided to try to get to know the Doctor once more. My first attempt was made when I was in the UK. It being the home of the Doctor and a place with a huge fan-base of the series it was easy to be reminded three and four times a week that there was this new version of Doctor Who around. I bought the first series, and watched the first two episodes I think... it didn't stick. I saw the occasional new program on the BBC but was never interested enough to watch the rest of the DVDs I had. So I came home, none-the-wiser. Until about a week or so ago. The first part of the finale of the fourth season of the new Doctor was on TV and Carol was watching it, so I sat down whilst eating my dinner... and got hooked. I bought season one again (I left my original in the UK!) and watched it end to end. I bought season two, and ditto. I am now in season three and have been very patient,eeking each episode out one-a-week, so that I don't devour them too soon, hanging out until the fourth season gets released in November. Doctor Who has finally caught my obsessive tendencies.

And I've just now heard they're going on hiatus for 2009.

NOOOOOOOO.

Wyndham Quilt-In

I joined Carol for a day out with the Quilting Ladies. We went to something they call a quilt-in which is where loads of women gather to chat and quilt and drink copious amounts of tea. Talk about overwhelming! It was in Werribee I think, which is quite a drive, and it was held in a modern church complete with pulpit. There was a speaker, a famous quilter who showed everyone her quilts (wow just quietly!), and it was themed - the mad hatters tea parts - so there were some incredible and very creative hats around. But all the women were there for one thing only - quilting. There was talk about quilting and help and tips exchanged and patterns bought and door prizes of quilting stuff given to everyone and some amazing quilts on display for 'show and tell'. It was marvelous and scary and fascinating and a total sensory overload. I was the youngest there by at least a decade but I can tell I was totally exhausted by the end of the day. Fun!

Shirt-sleaves at last!

Finally, at long last, this morning I was able to take off my coat on my walk in to work and the wind didn't bite me or give me goose bumps.

I have been unknowingly longing for this moment for months. You Northerners think your winter is hard enough - try two winters in a row. It's very bleak I can tell you.

Admittedly I'm not at all really looking forward to a coastal Australian summer with the typical 40 degree heatwaves. Especially since I haven't experienced one at all in the last two years and only Canberra's Indian version for the five years before that.

But this morning, walking along in a warm breeze laden with the distinctive scent of wattle and feeling the sun warming my face and gently heating my clothes... it was utterly glorious.

I'm the colour of milk I'm so pale, so I'll have to be ultra careful about sun burn this year, but oh! The ability to get burnt! Having a sun to burn under! I almost feel like crying, it is so VERY good!

Yay!!!

Happy 25th Tim!

Kiddo has reached the quarter century. I hope you had a marvelous day, Brother Dearest!

The End of an Era

I am desolated. The comic strip For Better or for Worse has come to an end!

Or rather, it's re-starting from the beginning, so it's not quite an end, but after 29 years in print the current storyline has been wrapped up and the current cast of characters have left the stage, so it's worthy of crying over anyway.

I know, this may mean very little to most of you, but it is a huge thing for me I can tell you! You see, I'm the same age as the oldest child in the strip 'Michael', and unlike every other comic strip around, the characters in the FBOFW universe aged over the years, so in effect I 'grew-up' with Michael - literally. I was at high school at the same time as him and at uni too, and he was having girl troubles when I met my first boyfriend. Michale had an annoying kid sister, I had an annoying kid brother. His mum went back to work at the same time as mind did too.

I wasn't aware of the strip when I was very young of course - after all, it started when I was 3! But I remember reading it when I was pre-teen and I started collecting the yearly books when I was 12 or 13 I think. For years Pat collected the strips for me as my family didn't get the daily newspaper, so now I have piles of carefully hoarded pieces of newspaper, in order of publication, hidden away from the light so they don't go yellow with age.

And I have always had a very strong connection to the characters. Their trials and tribulations, their ups and downs, their lives and loves were all very real to me. Even though they were only ever on paper, they were part of a story that grew as I grew and I could always find parallels with my life in that daily strip.

Now, as I said, it hasn't exactly ended - the writer / drawer Lynn Johnson is starting from the beginning again - sort of. She is re-drawing some strips, and going back to her older style of drawing for all, but she's also expanding the story from its simple beginnings and elaborating on some things that happened when the kids were kids. So I'll still be able to get by daily dose of FBOFW, but the characters won't be my age anymore.

I will miss the older characters. I will miss seeing 'Michael' - who became a writer! - during his daily life. He published a book and had a family - things I aspire to one day. I will miss Elizabeth and her new marriage, I will miss April growing up, I will miss Elly and John, who were lovely parents and lovely people. I will miss them all.

But it did have a good run. 29 years of a continuing story. Who could ask for more really? I applaud Lynn and her team for a fantastic effort over the years and wish them all very well for the future.

So, sad, satisfied, melancholy and hopeful all at the same time. Life must go on - For Better or For Worse!

Veer Exhaustion

Ich Ach Och

I dislike driving in Melbourne. Dislike may be too mild a word actually. How about detest? Better.

There are no direct turns in Melbourne it would seem. Every intersection is either a veer left or a veer right or a veer to the second left or a veer to the second right! Where did all the turns go??

And of course there's the trams, and the way your tires get stuck in the tracks and the way you get stuck behind the tram 'cause there just isn't enough room to get around them. And the hook turns they engender...

And then there's the bloody Islands! Ok, so a normal dividing island, between two lanes of traffic going in opposite directions, is perfectly acceptable. But here they have three - one in the middle and one each dividing lanes oftraffic going in the SAME direction. And if you're not in the right part of the road, the right 'right' or 'left' road, you can't veer in the direction you need to go.

So, no. I really don't like driving in Melbourne.

Oh, and yes, there's peak three and a half hours here too. Very like Sydney in that respect. Really Not Fun.

I drove yesterday by accident (my train got cancelled) and today by design (going to Bendigo this evening). Yesterday, it took me 1.5 hrs to get in and 2 hrs to get home. Today, as I left half and hour earlier (6.40), it only took 1hr 10m, but I was still in 'Peak'. I wonder how long it would take me to drive with no traffic - and if I actually want to know. I'm sure I don't actually. It'd just be too frustrating.

So, although I thought it was a drag taking public transport on my 2hr - 1 way transit, now I don't mind so much. And the math is really simple too: 1 tank of petrol a week @ $90 versus 1 monthly train ticket @ $40 / wk. A no brain-er. Especially considering the wear and tear on my nerves that driving inflicts, the fact that I can read or write on the train if I wish, as well as the fact that the time difference is negligible.

Now I'm positively looking forward to my training time next week.

There's hope for Humanity yet...

I saw something lovely today. I arrived early at Southern Cross stn for once and so had no real need to race over the concourse to catch my connection, but was doing so out of habit, when the fire alarms went off... very loudly. I'm not actually sure they were fire alarms as I didn't see any fireies or any other EM units around and everyone ignored the sounds as far as I could tell... so, there was some very loud whooping sounds of unknown purpose echoing throughout the station deafening everyone.

In my no-need-to-hurry-hurry, I got stuck on the escalators behind a school kid by his bag - always annoying - but I decided not to push the issue so I just hopped from foot to foot behind him hoping he would notice I was there. There are literally hundreds of school kids on the route I take, wearing a variety of uniforms, with only one uniform characteristic that I can tell - they're all more formal than my school uniform ever was. Blazers and ties for the main part - toff schools in other words. I've made a bit of a game of the uniforms - I keep trying to guess where they're from. So far I only recognise Xavier, MLC and Kew Grammar on sight. I've not discovered who the olive and yellow nor the blue on blue uniforms belong to. And I'd love to know the boys' school that sports the very garish blue, green and yellow stripped jersey - it's so very colourful it's an eyesore!

Anyway, halfway down the escalator and I'm thinking of pushing past this particular school kid, and trying to work out what school he came from at the same time, when he decides to take a flying leap from dead stationary to a full out run down to the platform like his pants were on fire. Well, that vaguely caught my attention, so I watched him, and what do you know? The boy was rushing onto the platform to help a blind man, who looked awfully confused, whilst his dog was hunched up at his feet with an expression of pain clearly not liking the deafening whooping. Because of the noise the poor man couldn't hear the train announcements you see. The kid assured this guy that he hadn't missed his train and stayed by him until the right train came along - missing his own connection I believe as all the other uniforms like his got onto an earlier train - and then made sure the guy and his dog got on safely.

It made me feel very proud of the kid and very happy with humanity in general. Very nicely done!

Four methods of transportation in one day

I am working in Melbourne. I have a two month contract so I've got no idea what happens after, but I do have work. However, in order to do this comfortably, I'm living at Dad & Carols... which means I have a two-hour, one-way commute.

Yep, that's right, I'm spending 4 hours a day going to and from work.

It takes me ~10 mins to drive to the Vline train station, then it's a 40 min trip to Southern Cross stn, then I transfer to a Met train, which takes ~15min to get to Glenferrie stn, then I have a 15 min tram trip, and then a 15 min walk. With time for transfers in between each leg, excepting the walk, it makes for a mighty lot of time staring out the window.

Melbourne reminds me a lot of London though, so I'm feeling less disoriented than I'd thought. And Melbourne's transport systems is no where near as polluted so that is definitely a plus. Just think of spending four hours a day on the tube!! Fawrrr!

The down side is that when it rains here, you don't get damp, you get drenched, as happened to me last night. Mind you, walking through the rain doesn't bother me as much any more. I used to be almost phobic of getting wet when living in Adelaide, but since I was drizzled on so often in London, I have become inured.

Interestingly, there seem to be communities on the train. I catch the same VLine service every morning, so I'm slowly becoming more familiar with the habitual passengers. There are groups of students as you'd expect, but several groups of professionals for various offices meet on the platform and talk animatedly to each other all the way in, and also a gaggle of between ten and fifteen well-dressed Philippineo women also gather and chat. There are a couple of guys who take their bikes to the luggage section, and a lovely plump tranny and her friend who get on mid-route and sit next to me and who have the most amazing fingernails I've ever seen.

The passengers are all pretty friendly in the main too. Melton is on the edge of Melbourne, and I don't know if it's the relative near-by location to country areas or it's socio-economic composition, but I've had many people say hello to me - which is extremely weird coming as I recently have from London - but without the generally very annoying attempts at follow up conversation afterwards.

Strange, but kind of nice. Still. FOUR HOURS. I hope I get used to it quickly.

A job finally...

I've got a temp position in Melbourne as a contractor again. Still no word on the visa. But at least I'll be earning above subsistance now. I'd never realised just how little money someone on the doll gets. It's scary. I'm not sure I'd be able to survive on it for long. Glad I don't have to now.

Wet Castlemaine

My dearest younger brother Tim was over for the weekend visiting mother and I and so I took him for a drive so he could catch up with Dad and Carol at the same time.

We went to Castlemaine, pronounced Caasellmain not Carselmain, and it was raining of course. It is a bit of country Victoria I've driven through many times but never stopped at so nice to be able to have a look around. We had a lovely brunch at a very cozy cafe. We visited a barn full of amazing miscellanea including a seat made out of the front end of a cadillac and a chandelier made out of oil lamps and which bosted a room full of porcilain plates - it was antique heaven and a good one at that. Carol and I spent an hour drooling in a patchwork shop whilst Dad took Tim somewhere else. And then we all visitied Book Heaven, "where good books go", a lovely second hand book store of the maze variety where you can get lost five meters from the door. It's not quiet as good as the secondhand bookstores in Bendigo as far as sci-fi and fantasy go but well worth visiting.

It was lovely to see and hug kiddo and I am very much looking forward to Mum's 60th when the whole crew will get together again.

Melbourne Craft Fair

Holy Guacamole!!! This thing was HUGE! It topped the London craft fair by a good three wearhouses. Carol and I spent something like four hours there and we were wizzing by a lot of stores.

But the quilting... Oh. My. God.

I have seen quilt shows before but not since I started quilting myself and so have previously had no understanding of the amount of work involved. I was litterally speachless. I ... gosh. A photograph just doesn't do any of the quilts justice, but I'll put some up anyway when I find room. I certainly won't be in the league of these ladies in my lifetime I can guarentee. Which is what I love about quilting really - there is so much to learn, and so many new skills to acquire that you can go on acquiring and honeing new techniques for years and years.

So, yeah. A good, a VERY good day.

One more day.

Sorry I haven't written anything lately but there's nothing really to tell. I finished my part-time work at the end of last month and I've been bumming around ever since.

The only piece of news I do have is that I'm 400 pounds poorer. Which means that this time my application has gone through the wringer of the BIA payment centre and been sucked of all it's nutrients. Now to see if it makes it to the BIA itself when I will either I get an acknowledgement that they have my application and will hence be looking at it, or a return of the app itself as I don't qualify.

Thumbs twirling in boredom.

Strike One...

Last night, I found, to my horror, my application for the HSMP visa had been returned. I had made a one-digit error which had stopped them from taking any money out of my account.

Shit. *You complete and utter, utter, utter, utter, utter to infinity... IDIOT!*

Not all my fault though. The application had arrived in London on the 8th of May, 8 days after I had posted it. The letter telling me that I'd made the mistake was dated the 9th of May. From there, it took SEVEN WEEKS to get back to me.

The cut-off date for HSMP applications is in three days time. I was invited in the letter to resubmit my application. Needless to say I was skeptical of the utility of this. So I rang the BIA and asked, well... was it worth it? And they said that "current advice" is that they'll accept applications date-stamped before the 30th.

I don't trust current advice. But this morning, ever the optimist, I re-posed the application with corrections, and so now must wait another two months at least, I suspect, before I'll know that they won't be accepting any more HSMP applications, and I've been sitting on my fanny, not looking for full time work because I have a job to go to in the UK, and running myself into thousands of dollars of debt, for nothing.

I have this picture in my head of about a dozen gorgeous beings, in elaborate flowing robes, surrounded by shining auras of incandescent light, lounging on various pieces of furniture made from clouds, feasting on laden platters of fruit and drinking from cups filled with red wine, all pointing their fingers at me, and laughing.

The end approaches

I've just got the latest news from the BIA - Border Immigration Agency UK.

As of the 30th June, HSMP applications will no longer be accepted, and their new Tier 1 visa comes into full effect.

That means that if my application should be refused, I will not be able to re-apply after the 30th, as I don't qualify under the new system. I haven't heard a peep from the BIA re my app and no news in this case is definitely not good news. My app could be missing in the ether of the postal service, could be stolen for someone for identity theft purposes, could be sitting forgotten on a dock or heaven knows where else. It's not with the BIA 'cause if it had been through their pay office, which is the first step to it being looked at as an application, I'd be 400 pounds poorer, and I'm not.

I would say fingers crossed, except it's more like, I can't work up enough emotion to be anything but pissed off.

Hurry up and wait.

I hate waiting. I really, really hate waiting.

I've still not heard anything from the HSMP people. My bank account has not been drained and no letters of confirmation of receipt have arrived. It's been six weeks, and the package at least is supposedly 'there'. Or at least, so Royal Mail tells me. But no word from the BIA.

And there are people waiting for me over there too! People with jobs for me and people kindly storing my stuff... sorry guys! I can't hurry the red tape for wishing however much I try.

I'm even contemplating applying for a full time job here and actually accepting it in the hope that the cosmos will pull another reverse psychology trick on me and grant me a visa as a result. But then I'd feel very guilty for leaving.

I really, really, really hate waiting.

A shift in perception...

Strange how your views change to suit the climate you exist in. Not just political and social but environmental too.

When in London, the site of clouds was a reason for glum forbearance, and rain mild annoyance. Here, clouds are an incitement to hope and, should it actually rain, joy. Ali was all but dancing yesterday when the clouds opened and we could actually hear it on the roof. Her plants should grow now. So although there is no sun today, I'm happy because it's wet outside!

And I've always been a person who tries to recycle. Not always successfully and not always mindfully. But in the UK, my zeal lapsed markedly with the absence of state enforced recycling. Oh we did have a recycling box from the council and I did still put aside large cardboard and glass items, but my green waste and my plastics recycling was almost non-existent. Here... well, for example, at work they have three rubbish bins in every kitchen and at strategic positions in most corridors, one for recycling, one for compost and one for landfill. It really makes you think about what you're throwing away when the rubbish bin is marked 'Landfill'. And Ali of course has always recycled. We have two bins, and although we don't often recycle compost, all other recyclables get a new life.

So I have become much more 'green' lately. I've even been considering taking a sea journey in favour of the ever increasing cost - and carbon emitting burden - of air travel. I will most certainly be looking into doing the carbon offset thing next time I fly. We who have the wherewithal to be environmentally conscientious should do so to our utmost. It's a positive step that we need to take, and now, not later. Later will be too late.

A Country Life...

I love working in the country. I loved it the last time I was working in Bendigo, and I am loving it now. The people are so genuine, so welcoming. They're hard working and tough but open-hearted too. I feel like I belong here after only a week, and that's all because of the people.

It makes the decision to leave harder, and I keep thinking 'well, maybe I need to revise going back to the UK'. I haven't heard a thing about my visa application, and the smog and desultory weather are looking more objectionable every day, especially from where I am here in the clean outdoors.

Of course, there are very, very, very few jobs here. I was damn lucky to get this one. But I've been only applying for short-term and there have been a couple of longer-term positions that I could have gone for, and one that I did go for and didn't get because they wanted someone for more than 6 months.

I guess I should just enjoy what I've got whilst I've got it. And that is an absolutely wonderful bunch of easy-going and friendly work-mates. I'll miss this place when I go, that's for sure.

Driving; a lonely business.

I hadn't driven for over a year when I got home, but once the terror that my old clunker would fall to bits on me had subsided (quite a rational fear - it hadn't moved for the entire time I was away so had every excuse for doing strange things, refusing to work and smelling badly), I managed to tool around Bendigo quite easily and without even really thinking about it.

Today I drove to my first day at work, and suddenly it felt really strange to be driving. To be going to work and not to have anyone else around, no grumpy bus driver, no school kids shrieking, no smelly tramps, no loud phone conversations, no arguments in strange and exotic languages... it was a silent, calm and even tranquil event... and it felt really, really weird.

I mean, I was concentrating extra hard because I am no longer used to getting up early, nor to thinking all day long, so I knew I wasn't at my full capacity driving-wise, but I had to laugh at myself coming home. I felt like I was in a ghost town (at rush hour mind you!). It was eerie.

Very odd.

I've got a job, I've got a job, I've got a job...

Well, two weeks work at least. It will take the pressure off.

Boy, when the Universe decides to be contrary, it doesn't mess around! And I say a heart-felt Thanks to the Gods and All the Fates for that.

*deep breath in ... and let it all out*

Let it go. Let it out.
Let it all unravel.
Let it free and it can be
a path on which to travel
Michael Leunig

Maybe now I will finally relax.

Here jobie job job job....

...where are you? You silly little employment thingy...

The fates are now primed: I have just stated my intention to claim Newstart Allowance. In old-world parlance, I've applied for the doll.

Let's see what you make of That, Universe!

...well, it's worth a try.

I am the Quilting Queen!

I've finished Aisha's quilt!!! I'll post pictures when I get them.

... and it only took 2 and a half years! :s

Life frizels

Not able to turn my head off. It has taken me four weeks to start to relax and I’m still finding I unconsciously clench my teeth a lot of the time. I just seem to buzz with nervous energy. Which is rediculous 'cause I'm not doing anything. Am thinking of taking up meditation just to get my head to stop.

Still no job and I'm starting to be a bit worried about that.

I’ve become a quilting guru though… I've almost finished 1 quilt, finished the top of a second, done 1/4 of another and about 1/8 of two project things. Do I have time on my hands or what?

Hummmm...

Yeah, I've been slack. I have at least 7 posts to fill in before this one and I've been procrastinating and dithering and just plain avoiding doing the writing. It's just that, well, my head space has been... interesting lately. I've not really been in the right 'place' to write. But I'll remedy that asap. Just wanted to let you all know I am still alive and will fill in the blanks soonish!

Hugs
K

Deceived into Admiration

Ali has had bronchitis the last couple of weeks and so asked me if I wanted to take up her theatre tickets. She said it was something called Classical Vibes and that they’d be playing Gershwin, Chopin and Bach’s Moonlight Sonata. I said it sounded amazing. So I went.

What she didn’t tell me that it wasn’t an orchestra that I’d be seeing, but a guy playing the vibraphone accompanied by a pianist. I got to the theatre and got a program and got a shock. A Vibraphone??? What The??

Surprisingly good if a bit disconcerting. The Moonlight Sonata just didn’t sound right but some of the other stuff was amazing and I was truly impressed. Weird but good.

HSMP Application Sent.

Scared.

Things I have re-discovered…

Endless sunshine
The Australian accent and just how very wierd it is
Quiet… the sound of silence
Shopping trolleys the size of small row-boats
The absence of dog doo
Belonging to a cat
Family
Magpies & Lorikeets – they are so very loud
Top loading washing machines that take less than 30 minutes to do a wash
Clean air
Mosquitoes
Arnotts biscuits
Good, fresh and soft water… no more lime scale!
Knowing where everything is in a supermarket
The stars
Quilting
Driving a car
Inflation
Smiling, helpful shop assistants (admittedly, I am in a country town!)
What it means to be supported
Ali’s library
As much Irish Breakfast Tea as I could ever want
The smell of the bush
Nothing to do, nowhere to go and no one to please

Anzac Day.

A very Australian thing to celebrate. I've been to many dawn services over the years, starting when I was about 7 and a brownie I think. It always makes me a shiver to hear the Last Post and to recite the ode to the fallen.

Least we forget.

From the Australian Government's History of Anzac Day web page.

The Ode recited at ANZAC Day commemorations, is the fourth stanza of Laurence Binyon's "For the Fallen", first published in the London Times in 1914.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
"Lest we forget"

In 1934, Kemal Ataturk delivered the following words to the first Australians, New Zealanders and British to visit the Gallipoli battlefields, which was after inscribed on a monolith at Ari Burnu Cemetery ( ANZAC Beach ):

Those heroes that shed their blood
And lost their lives.
You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.
Therefore rest in peace.
There is no difference between the Johnnies
And the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side
Here in this country of ours.
You, the mothers,
Who sent their sons from far away countries
Wipe away your tears,
Your sons are now lying in our bosom
And are in peace
After having lost their lives on this land they have
Become our sons as well.

The above monolith was unveiled in 1985 when the Turkish Government officially renamed the area "Anzac Koyu". Mehmetchik is a common term for a Turkish soldier similar to "Johnnies", "Tommy" or "Digger".

So and So.

The feeling of being home.

Nothing beats having your own stuff around you to make you feel at home. I don’t really have one but I now have my own stuff strewn all across the lounge room and have made ‘my’ bedroom mine. Starting to relax maybe.

The Dispossessed...

I am, for the first time since I started working, officially without job or home. I am living out of a suitcase. Bits of my life are strewn across the UK and all over Australia. Very odd, very scary feeling. Not sure I like this place.

On the up side, I keep discovering stuff I’ve left at Ali’s which I had forgotten I owned. Ugg boots, three pairs of sunnies, books, a full set of working rig and a weeks supply of casual cloths… luxury!

Will be going up to Canberra on Monday for a flying visit to pick up my degree certificate so I can apply for the damn HSMP. Will probably not have time to say hello though, so sorry about that, but my brother deserves as much time as I can give him. It was his 30th this year and I weren’t around. Gotta make up for that at least.

A year without sunnies...

It has taken me two days to even begin to recover from jet lag. I’m still waking up three and four times a night but at least my plan – the one where I stay up as long as possible on Monday (having arrived at 0450 in Melbourne airport) to counteract the sleepless night syndrome – has left me so exhausted that when I wake up I can’t think at all and generally roll over and go back to sleep.

The one thing I do know, I have just put on my sunnies for the first time this year, for definite, and for probably only the second or third time since I left this country. If you know me, you know that I would in the past, habitually have a pair of sunnies on my head, holding my hair back. In fact so often did I wear them I usually forgot they were there. But in England there was no need, cause there was no sunshine, so I sort of got out of the habit.

Well, eat your heart out Londoners… I need sunnies every time I step out of the house at the moment!!! Of course, that does mean we’re still in drought here and the farmers are none too happy but to me it is heaven incarnate. I’ve been sunning myself on the veranda the last couple of days and intend to continue with my daily roasting until I look less like a ghost and more like a human being.

So, brainless from jet lag but alive and enjoying the sunshine.

The End Approaches

I’m doing my usual job of panicking whilst packing but I really don’t want to go so that makes it all the harder. I now have stuff at four people’s houses and so am relying on their good will to make sure it doesn’t get lost, and on my own perseverance to ensure I’ll be around again to collect it; there’s some stuff there I’d rather not part with. I just plain don’t want to leave. I am not enjoying this one little bit but I don’t… I was about to say, I don’t have a choice, but it was my decision to do it this way, so in fact, that would be a fallacy.

There are no wrong decisions; there are just life choices. So, I’ve made a choice and now I have to live with it. Grrr.

See you on the other side…

Year-ish Round-up

It hasn't quite been a year since I first left Australia, but I think I've managed to cram quite a lot into the last 11 months.

I've visited many countries and investigated their cities in depth: These included Amsterdam (The Netherlands), Berlin (Germany), Brussels (Belgium), Cologne (Germany), Edinburgh (Scotland), Hong Kong (China), Krakow (Poland), Lisbon (Portugal), London (England), Paris (France) and Stockholm (Sweden).

It's also been a year of firsts: I moved overseas, I lived in hostels, I got a contract job, I participated in NaNoWriMo, I had a white Christmas, I went snowboarding in Austria, I went to Portugal to go to a concert, I visited the Louvre and many other amazing museums, I had Belgium chocolate and Belgium beer in Belgium, I saw a castle which began life at the beginning of the first millennium, I participated in the last night of the Proms, I saw a Proms concert in the Royal Albert Hall, I went to a talk given by Neil Gaiman, I saw a play with Patrick Stewart in the lead, I went to a LitCon... the list goes on.

So all-in-all, I think I did manage to explore a lot in this last year. Now it's time for the next chapter. The universe bit me, so I now have to heal up and then I'll plan my revenge!! :)

It should be fun.

What The...?? Hang On!

Friday was the first day this year I'd been able to walk around comfortably in just a T-shirt. It was a lovely sunny day of about 18 Celsius. It would have been lovely to have spent the day in a park somewhere if I hadn't had to work.

Today... it is snowing. Snowing! I've had to bring out the winter hat, gloves and coat again, and it's bloody freezing! It's supposed to be Spring... you know, mild weather, bouncing lambs and flowers appearing. Instead, we have a covering of white stuff.

Mind you, it is pretty!

Last Day of Work

I have finished out my contract and have handed over to my replacement who is a lovely girl whom I'm sure will do well. So my time at the ** is now officially over. So yeah...

It feels wierd. I'm at a bit of a lose end and not just because I don't have a job to go to. I don't feel as if I am as upset as I somehow should be. Being a contractor, it was a lot easier to leave this position than any of my previous jobs, so maybe that was it. Somewhere, my brain is telling me it should have been harder or more emotionally difficult to lose a job, so it's currently a little non pulsed that it wasn't. But if this is the way of contracting, then I'm not that unhappy. Easy gets my vote. But still... it just doesn't feel right yet.

Ah well. So, now it's packing and then... Home James.

Pure Escapism...

Saw the film '27 Dresses' this evening. It was a lovely bit of fluff and a good laugh. I really liked Katherine Heigl as the female lead. She actually added dimension to her character which is rare in a fluff. Great bit of escapism which I really needed. 3.5/5 stars from me.

Someone else's milestone!

To my Dearest Brother:

Happy Birthday Chris! Happy 30th. A real milestone and a great excuse to celebrate. An excuse for many for a mid-life crisis too, but really, I think the best is yet to come!

I hope you had a lovely day and I wish you all the best of good health, good loving and good luck for the next 30.

Yours for Ever and Always,

Sister Dearest.

A week of disasters - cathartic?

The last week has been pure hell. But at the same time it’s very cathartic. I don’t tend to deal with any ‘issues’ troubling me when I’m happy and healthy. But I’ve discovered in this last week that there really is a bottom to the pit and that once you reach it, the things you thought you once couldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole become strangely approachable.

In this last week I have hit bottom. I discovered that my plans for my life were not compatible with the UK government’s plans and as a result my life has been turned upside down. Where I was intent on staying, I now have to leave. On top of this I discovered I have to have an operation to fix my thumb as I managed to chip a bone and damage a ligament in it and I won’t get the strength back without surgery. I also have to move out of my comfortable home, which I now can’t afford, requiring packing that my thumb does not like at all. I have lost my job here, because they need someone to do the work and I won’t be around, and so I now have to interview my own replacement. I have caught the latest of a very long line of colds that has me shaking and dizzy with every minor exertion, also not good for this packing lark. I have rampant eczema and tension headaches from the stress of all this and I’ve been grinding my teeth so I’ve lost a filling which is damn painful. I actually do have somewhere to stay in Aus but no job there, so I’m expecting to go on a rabid job hunt when I get over the jetlag. And if, when I go back, I am successful in my application for a visa for this country, I will have to do all the packing and job hunting again when I return back here. Not to mention that I will have to survive three winters in a row. My flatmate is unhappy, my work is unhappy, my bank account is unhappy, my body is unhappy, and I am unhappy.

It’s been a crap week.

So what have I been doing? Not concentrating on the good these challenges will bring, nor (any longer) getting drunk every evening to blot it all out. No, I’ve been investigating the depths of my psyche and uncovering all of the very painful and uncomfortable things I‘ve hidden there, if you please. And, wonder of wonders, although they are indeed distressing, bitter, agonizing and shameful memories, I may actually be making some headway along the path towards dealing with them, and putting them to rest. When you’re crying anyway, what’s one more reason to be unhappy? I would have thought I’d be too overwhelmed and too depressed to crawl out of bed. Instead I’m just mightily fed up and want to get it all over and done with. And I’m dealing with some unfinished business along the way. Yay me!

I will admit that earlier this week I was thinking that the Universe owed me a big one. Now I think it’s done me a favour. Very odd.

The Easter Bunny brought Snow!

Well, it was sort of snow.

Actually the weather couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to be snowing or raining. Or indeed sleeting, although I have no idea how on earth they tell the difference between sleet and hail 'cause it looks the same to me.

Sleet is, according to the interweb, formed from frozen rain or re-frozen snow, so will not be as symmetrical as hail, whereas hail is formed in the clouds themselves and get its circular appearance from being tossed about up there. Also, sleet will bounce… but then I thought hail did too. It was quite a bit gentler than hail usually is. Walking outside – for some insane reason I wanted to be out in it – it didn’t hurt to get sleeted on. But it still looked like hail to me.

Rain here, well most of the time it isn't rain really, not as we know it in any rate. Rather than giving you a good drenching, it just gets you half-heartedly damp. For example I walked home the other day in London's version of rain; I was wearing sneakers that were most definitely not waterproof, but it took the entire walk - a walk of about 40 minutes - for my feet to feel like they were just possibly approaching a state of dampness. And the rain that wasn’t snow was London’s version of rain, so I didn’t get wet, just sort of dottedly damp.

It was fun to watch the big snowflakes swirling about though, and some of them were a lot bigger than I thought snow would be. It got really enthusiastic at times too, doing a real snowstorm impersonation, but for most of the weekend, it just sort of undecidedly mooched between snow, sleet and rain. Kinda miserable really, but lovely to be on the other side of the glass from.

Eastercon

Planned Easter Activity: My first sci-fi convention ever – Eastercon 2008 aka Orbital, at the Radisson Edwardian Hotel at Heathrow.

Eastercon is a lit con as opposed to a media con. The difference? Lit, or Literature Conventions are generally standard conventions, where a program of events is set out and people come along and listen to pre-arranged talks on topics of interest and take part in panel discussions on same. The focus is generally on books and the invited guests are authors at a lit con. A Media Convention is one where you’ll get everyone dressed up as their favourite TV character and the focus is on the visual media so the guests are usually actors. Eastercon therefore had no darleks, no holograms, no storm-troopers and definitely no Klingons, just some lovely ladies in elaborate psudo-historical dresses and ornate make-up accompanied by men in elegant top-hats and tales with lacy cravats.

I was intending on spending most of the Easter weekend at the convention. It boasted one of my favourite authors as one of the guests of honour (Neil Gaiman), and I could have spent hours listening to him alone, but unfortunately Friday heralded the advent of a cold that has had me shaking and shivering and generally feeling much more than miserable all day. So the con got all but cancelled for me. I did go down there for a couple of hours, gingerly made my way around, lamented may lack of money and packing space 'cause there was a really good book selection on sale, was awed by the imagination of some of the artists who's paintings and drawings were on display, and amazed at some of the costumes people were wearing and the time and effort that must have gone into creating such elaborate get-ups. But then I had to go back home and curl up in bed.

I have every intention of attending next year and hopefully finding some more lit cons to go to, as I'd really like to know more about the community. Next time I’d even like to get to one of the presentations :S. I’d pre-paid for the weekend too. Mind you I didn't at all object to spending the money. The convention is run by volunteers and I’m always happy to support my favourite non-profit organisations.

So, interesting and I want more!

I'm Getting Deported...

Well, actually, no, I’m not being deported, but it feels like I am.

To say that I am frustrated with the Home Office right now is putting it mildly.

You see, pursuant to the idea that I would like to stay in this country for a little longer, I had investigated the possibility of getting a more usable visa. To whit: the HSMP or Highly Skilled Migrant Program visa. It’s based on a points system where points are awarded for qualifications, earning potential, UK experience, age and English language. Up until two weeks ago, I qualified. Now, I don’t. And of course, I could not apply until this week.

Why? They’ve brought in a new system, and now I can’t transfer from my current visa to the new system in the UK, I have to do it from Australia. Which means giving up job and home here, going back to Aus, finding a new job and home there for the two to four months it will take to get the visa, then move back here and find yet another new set of job and home when I get back here.

Not Happy Jan!

Decision made....

Life here, although not a bed of roses, has really been good for me. I feel like I’m living life again instead of watching it, which I have been doing for many years. So in order to make sure this continues I have decided to let go of my safety line and have resigned from my job in Canberra. It is scary but the right thing to do I think. I have to move forwards, so I can’t go back. I’m a little sad, I’ll miss many of the guys there, but I’m satisfied that I’m making a positive move. So, it's the end of an era... Goodbye Canberra, Hello World.

Lisbon, Portugal.

Day 1: I sure can pick ‘em. This hotel was in an of out the way back alley. I waited 3/4 hrs for a bus that's supposed to come every 20 minutes to get into the vicinity of the place and then walked through winding back streets that made me afraid I’d be mugged, but made it safely to the hotel and it was a nice clean place with a comfy bed.

Day 2: I ate the basic breakfast provided with the room and then wandered down into town to try to find a train station. Which was actually a lot more difficult than you’d think given the number of places I’ve been to now. You’d think I’d be good at navigating to and identifying different transport systems. The problem is that for every place you go to, the signs for how a train station is marked change, so I spent a good 20 minutes wandering around a massive intersection that was marked on my map as having a train station within it but only stumbled on it by accident because it wasn’t marked like any other train system I’d ever come across.

However, once found, the metro was clean, efficient, fast and spacious. It was very easy to understand too and absolutely lovely in comparison to the tube. And I’m sorry Helen, but it's even nicer than the Swedish equivalent. Which is odd, because the rest of Lisbon is well warn, quite frayed around the edges and has an air of decay. But in its defence it is old, and very well used and very well loved by the feel of things, so this isn’t necessarily a disadvantage.

As half of the reason that I came to Portugal was to see some sunshine and a beach and the sea, I wandered down into the centre of town, down the main boulevard and down to the shore. It was bitterly disappointing. It was all fenced off and very rocky, really not much to look at all and definitely not the sort of place you’d relax on. So I went to a café instead and had a cup of tea and a custard tart, which is a specialty of Lisbon (a more jellied version of your standard tart and sweeter), then went off to play tourist.

A little description; Lisbon is surrounded by, and drapes itself all over, 7 hills, and so has developed a network of quaint trams to get it’s inhabitants around, up and down. I caught the no 28 tram to the top of one of the hills, to a region called Alfama, and boy are parts of Lisbon ever STEEP! The tram was on a 45-degree angle for a lot of the time, and no, I am not joking!

Once up, I walked around and took pictures of and visited various places including the Igreja de Graca (a church), the Feira de Ladre (thieves market), had lunch in front of the Museu de Artes Decorativas and then wandered on to my main objective, the Castelo de Sao Jorge (Castle of Saint George!).

Which was Wow may I just say! It was better than sex, more exhilarating than a roller coaster ride, better food for my soul than any music and more satisfying than chocolate. It was fantastic. A real castle with real arrow slits that had been used in real battles, with a real draw bridge and real moat, real towers and the whole turret thing happening… I was in heaven. The castle’s first foundations were laid in 138 BC…. 138 BC. He he he he…wow. It wasn’t until 711 though, when the Moors arrived, that it was fortified and the mosque was built. It was fought over and sacked in the crusades in 1147. The actual crusades… yes I’m repeating myself but just being there with so much history made me dizzy. And I got pictures of some cats play fighting in the moat and some very gorgeous peacocks wandering out the front of the draw bridge, so it was all in all a magical interlude for me.

After which I took many, many winding streets down to the centre of town again. My feet were incredibly sore by the time I reached the bottom and my calves were killing me, not from walking but from the limestone cobbles everywhere that make walking an interesting proposition. So what did I do? I decided to put them through more torture and walked up another hill so see the bones of a church ruined in an earthquake in 1755. The Convento do Carmo was a Carmelite convent built in 1423. It has been 1/2 restored so is now a false ruin, but is breath-taking none-the less.

Then it was time to find my way to the place that was the ostensible reason for my visit: The Publico Atlantico, Lisbon’s entertainment centre equivalent, situated next door to the convention centre. To get there, I had to take a train, and coming out of the Orient train station, I will admit to being shocked. The station entrance looks like a crab about to eat you. Very cool.

The mushroom of the Publico Atlantico is also impressive. The roof is open under the eves, so even in the walkways surrounding the main stadium, the sound is just as loud as if you were inside the stadium itself. The Cure produced a fantastic concert as usual. The entire stadium was on it’s feet jumping in time to the music by the halfway mark. I was thrilled to hear some old favourites amongst their new stuff but left early to avoid the rush. I caught a taxi to save 30 mins of extra train travel and it cost me only 4 euro... Portugal is nicely not that expensive! I then crashed.

Day 3: Today I decided to be decadent and find a place to sit and read and absorb sunlight. In hopes of which I went first to the Parque Edwardo VII. It’s a huge linear garden but acts as more of a thoroughfare than a place to sit, and it was very steep and very windy, so I didn’t stop. I did however find a lovely restaurant behind the garden, situated beside a pond where I was able to relax for a bit. I had loads of tea and saw a tortoise, some tadpoles, some huge goldfish, and ducklings... But sitting at a restaurant table didn’t meet the requirement of sun-bathing.

So it was on to the university botanical garden, the Jardin Botanico. I think I might have mentioned that Lisbon is hilly? Well this was the first botanical garden I’ve been to where hiking boots are almost a requirement, not because of the muck and dirt but because of the steepness and rockiness of the paths. No manicured paradise this. Like all of Lisbon, a little warn, a little frayed around the edges, a little old and very well used. There was not much grass round, but here I finally found a place to lie down and read in the sun. Until the clouds rolled in… *sigh*… home time.

Just one more oddity to mention; traffic lights in Lisbon. They are very interesting. They use really small lights which are situated in the same alignment as the line that the cars stop at. I honestly have no idea how the drivers could see them, because I couldn’t, and they don’t get a second set across the intersection either. A mystery to be investigated on another visit I think.

Coming home our plane was delayed due to horrible weather in London. Delays seem to be part and parcel of plane travel. If you do enough of it, you’ll be delayed. It is just a fact of life. And at any rate, this delay wasn’t too bad. It was nothing compared to the delays in the US I had when I went through LAX when nobody wanted to tell us anything. The staff on this flight kept us informed at all times of what was going on, and the captain was really gracious, inviting anyone who wanted to, to come up to the flight deck and chat or ask questions or anything. Really lovely.
Of course, expectation management is the hardest. We got on board on time as usual, but then sat on the plane for two hours whilst the time we were able to land got pushed back and back at Heathrow. Eventually they told us all to get off, so we sat in the terminal for another couple of hours. Then they got us - hurriedly - back on board but we then had to sit and wait for another hour and a half. A lot of the passengers were getting upset because they had thought we were leaving the first time and to be delayed again… Well, I arrived at Lisbon airport at 5 am, was supposed to have landed at Heathrow at 9.30 so was hoping to be at work by 10.30. I didn’t make it to work until 3.30 pm. I suppose all things considered a delay of 5 hours isn’t bad. But I was totally wiped out by the time I did get to work.

Mind you there really is no point in getting annoyed or angry in any situation over which you have no control. It only makes you feel miserable, and by griping, you make everyone around you equally miserable. It’s best to take it all with a relaxed attitude which is what I tried to do. There’s nothing you can do about it, so what’s the point in making yourself sick with worry? There was one guy who had a tendency to be extremely ornery and who was doing just that – making everyone else around him miserable. I was getting very annoyed with the way he was badgering the poor flight attendants, when they couldn't do anything either, but luckily his attention was caught by the lovely lady sitting across the isle from him (intentionally on her behalf I believe) and his demeanour changed markedly. Last I saw of them they were sitting cosily in a cafe in Heathrow having both missed connections but not seeming to care at all - 8 hours of forced contact and co-inhabitancy will do that to you. So all’s well that ends well.

The Amazing thing that is an Internet Reader....

Jason has alluded to this topic previously. I would link to his blog on the subject but it’s fallen over and can’t seem to be able to stagger back onto its feet so maybe at a later date…

I want to talk to you about the wonder that is an RSS Reader. Now, unfortunately, I don’t really understand how it works myself, so I’m not sure if I can explain it, but it seems to be an application that allows to you to link to sites that put up regular content, like a news paper or a blog, and pull them into a single application page so you only have to go to one place to read all your favourite websites rather than many. If it does more than that, I haven’t discovered the fact yet, but it’s brilliance is in its simplicity anyway.

I use google reader 'cause that's were my email is, and it’s just easier to zip between the two when I’m already logged into one, but there are loads of RSS reader applications out there now. You can go through Yahoo, MSN, Ask Jeeves or AOL. One site I visited lately gave me a choice of 10 different readers to add the feed to.

I have been using mine to read all my favourite author blogs and get my daily dose of news from the science, IT and writing industries. And it is absolutely wonderful to be able to get the latest from all my favourite sites, in one place, without the adds and without the amazingly long loading times that some pages take. Of course, you don’t usually get additional images but if I really want to see the image, I can go to the original site.

All this has increased my reading scope, knowledge base and news input at least 10 fold. I have never really read newspapers, I don’t like getting ink on my hands and trying to manage the huge pages irks me, and going to twenty different sites just to check to see if an author I like has put up a new blog or a news site put up a new article on a subject that interests me has hairs on it; I’m essentially too lazy to do so. But the reader alerts you to any new additions to the pages you’ve linked to by highlighting the thread, so I can go strait to any site that has been updated, and don’t have to check every few days to find out if there is anything new.

I can now read around 20 articles in my lunch time (most blog posts are not long) and I get exactly the types of news I want from the people and places I’m interested in without having to search far and wide for them. It is a really good idea for someone as lazy as I am and means I actually do keep up with all the current events now whereas before I was quite the ignoramus.

Wohoo for Internet reader things!

Tosca in the Round

I was invited by R & H to go to see Puccini’s Opera Tosca at the Royal Albert Hall. It was in The Round – ie, the performance was held on the Albert’s ample floor space – and we had tickets in the Second Tier!

It was slightly uncomfortable being perched so high up but it was a spectacular view and had an accompanying feeling of old world charm. I felt like I had been transported back 100 years to tell you the truth. The 8 seats in the box were perched on little platforms to give us a better view and we had a little antechamber for drinks and coats all to ourselves which had a door that had to be unlocked to let us enter. A little extravagant but oh so nice.

The production was good too. In English, which is nice every so often. I’ve seen Tosca 3 times now but this is the first time I’ve been able to understand all of the nuances. Mind you it was very strange hearing Vissi d’Arte and E lucevan le stile in English. It just didn’t sound right actually.

But it was a lovely evening none-the-less. My heart really does crave opera every now and then… it was food for the soul and I left feeling satiated and oh-so-happy.

Old Lady Scrum

I went to a craft fair today. It was held at London’s Exhibition centre which is known as ExCel... and may I just mention that that place is HUGE!!! I got lost. There were many exhibitions all taking place at the same time and finding one little one amongst all the rest… you had to walk for what seemed like miles to get anywhere. And the fair itself was the size of most craft fairs I’ve been too, so it wasn’t exactly small.

Anyway, due, I presume, to the expense of shop leases in central London, there are very few craft shops of the sort I frequented back in Aus. Oh, there are bead shops galore, but no needle work or patchwork shops in easy distance. I have lately felt the need to do some homely type stuff – a result of the combination of cabin fever due to the weather and the desire to have something to do when stuck at home I expect. So off I went to the fair…

This place was packed. It seemed that every crafter within the whole of greater London had turned up. They were mostly older ladies, but I wasn’t completely alone in my age bracket. Mind you, age did not stop them from elbowing and shoving each other out of the way of the best bargains by any means. It was rather amusing if slightly painful to wander around and watch their antics.

I spent a lot of money though. I now have too many cross-stitch packs to do and have started a new (and expensive) hobby: Beading. Thanks H.

*Sigh*

Ah well. I have plenty to do of an evening now. And as dearest H says – it’s all entertainment. It doesn’t matter how much it costs. If it keeps you busy and out of mischief and happy to be so occupied it’s worthwhile.

The Day that Doesn't Exist

The 29th of February.

I had some grand thoughts for this non-existent day.

The day should be one on which experimental behaviour is excused and even encouraged. There should be few repercussions for (legal) out-of-character activities. Each person should try something that scares them, something they’ve always wanted to do but were too afraid to.

It should be celebrated. A day to be different. A day to smile at your work mates, the people on the bus and on the street. A day to be someone you're not. Invite that guy or girl you've been ogling for ages out for a drink. Take the plunge and apply for that new job. Make the decision to go sky diving and then go.

Be daring if you’re a scaredy-cat, be outgoing if you're not, maybe be quiet if you're usually loud. Try something new and unusual for you. The day should be one of accomplishments and of experimentation.

Well, that was the way I thought it should be. But it wasn't. I can't think of a more ordinary day than today has been.

So much for an exciting day.

The Cost of Living...

I've been chatting with various people over the relative costs of living between Australia and the UK lately, and we have come to a rather surprising conclusion, so I thought I'd record it here. It's actually not that more expensive living here day to day than back home.

Oh I'll grant you, the coast of accommodation here is heinous. And here you pay water rates and council tax as a tenant which you don't back home. The result of this is that I'm paying almost 50% more for about 1/2 the space as I was in Aus ($200 / wk versus $300+ now). But this is London, one of the most expensive cities in the world, so that's hardly surprising.

Otherwise... well, let me give you a few examples:
£40 will get you 5 paperback books (£8 for one). That's ~ £85 Australian at the current exchange rate. And last time I checked, a book in Aus was between $18 and $20 so it may even be cheaper here.
£15 will get you a DVD. (~$32 Aus)
£9 a movie (~$19 and yes that's a little more exe than home, but not by much)
£25 a meal in an average Restaurant (~$53)
£25 - £50 a theatre ticket ($50 - $100)
And you can get 50 Twining teabags, for £2 ($4.25), which is less expensive than Aus.

I suppose the biggest difference beside accommodation is travel. It costs me £0.90 using an oyster card for a single bus trip, and between £1.50 and £2.00 for a single tube trip. If I caught the tube every day, it would cost me £20 a week ($42) to travel to and from work. I take the bus in the mornings and walk most evenings so it costs me about £5 a week, but still... And yet if you lived in Sydney and drove to work it would probably cost you that much in tolls anyway (Em?). And I don’t have to have a car here like you do in Canberra – almost everywhere is accessible by public transport.

So really, especially with the current exchange rate, the cost of living here is not that bad. The $50 you spend back home will get you approximately the same amount of stuff that the £20 your $50 will buy you here will get you… if that makes sense.

Stockholm Take 2

I went to visit Helen and Johan this weekend in Stockholm, Sweden, and it was lovely.

The only downside was that I stupidly calculated how long it took me to get there. I left work at 1330 on Friday and got to Helen's at 2130. On the way home I left Helen's at 1700 and got home after 2300. With the hour’s time difference, that makes for a seven-hour journey both ways. Ouch. That's longer than it used to take me to drive from Canberra to Bendigo to see Ali.

But: and it's a big but: I really had a lovely time. H & J are great hosts and we had gorgeous food all weekend and they really made an effort to entertain me royally including excellent tea in copious amounts, homemade blueberry crumble, Kanel Bullan (sp?? Tastes just like Cinnamon toast – yum) roast beef with mushroom stuffing and home-cooked bread for breakfast. And we even had tablecloths and linen napkins with every meal! Wow. Very Cool! :)

And Stockholm is a beautiful city. Clean lines, elegant architecture, clean streets and fresh air. I finally got to see some of it after spending my entire last trip sewing a bag for H for the wedding (grrr… damn stretchy fabric!). Really lovely. And even the weather cooperated. It wasn't snowing and (for this time of year) was a balmy 8-9 degrees. It's supposed to be minus lots right now. In fact J was saying that it is possibly the mildest winter that Stockholm has seen in recorded history. I didn’t mind a bit.

There is a real dearth of craft- shops in London because the overheads here are so ridiculous so H took me round to see some of their craft shops and I spent lots (the actual real down-side to Stockholm is the cost of things; it is expensive even if you are earning pounds). We did lots of talking and shopping and talking and craft and talking and walking and had chocolates and basically caught up. It was all good.

An actual relaxing holiday in a strange city for a change. Very happy.

Dog Shit: A Devine Right.

I am fed up. What is it with the people living in this city and their total disregard for common decency? Everywhere I go I find dog shit. Dog shit, vomit and public urination. Defecations everywhere. And everyone seems to think that this is ok. That a drunk person is a sign of amusement and their vomit an hilarious spectacle. That a drunk (usually male) person pissing on the wall, or on a lamp-post or on a car is a thing to be accepted. And that a dog owner patiently watching as their dog shits in the middle of the path way is just fine and dandy.

I'm not sure if I walk along a particularly dog-owner frequented path or if it really is as universal as I believe, but I see dog shit every day of the week and it really, really, really annoys me. And my bus stop of a morning is frequently decorated with the leavings of a human’s stomach. And they don’t call the lane beside the place where I work, ‘Piss Alley’ for nothing.

Where do they get off on such a sense of entitlement? How can they not see that they are polluting their own environment? Shitting where they eat so to speak. And making it very unpleasant for the rest of us? What a nightmare.

Now I have nothing whatsoever against dogs - I’ve known many and loved a few - but their owners could really use a lesson in manners. There are trees and there are plastic bags - why do you have to let your animal defecate in the MIDDLE of the public walk-way? How RUDE!

The vomit and urination… well with a culture this indoctrinated into the art of getting pissed I suppose it’s inevitable. But it should never be acceptable. I am most definitely displeased!

The Heathrow Injection

Like many before me I did not believe that I would be affected by this most terrible tragedy of English living. Yes, I am overweight, and have been for some time, but at a level of overweightness that has remained stable for the last five years. I keep meaning to do something about it but kept putting it off.

Today I got a big fright.
Today I got weighed for the first time since coming here.
Today I am going on a diet.

So what is the Heathrow Injection exactly? Well, it’s the sudden and inexplicable gain of weight that a new arrival experiences upon settling in London. It has a lot to do with the imbibing of beer, the amazingly stodgy English food, and the wide variety of new temptations available. For example, my downfall was due to Belgium chocolate. And French bakeries, and the Borough market and the wide variety of lovely cheeses available… yes, well, will stop drooling now.

End result; I have put on weight. Not Happy Jan!

So now I am back to being good, eating well and avoiding all the amazing, marvellous range of food here, the cheeses and chocolates... oh dear. This is going to be tough.

Words of the Day....

Check out this site: http://www.vocaboly.com/vocabulary-test/

It will let you know just how good or bad your vocabulary really is. I'm not going to brag, but mine's not bad! :)

A Lovely Valentines Day...

Being a confirmed bachelorette, St Valentine’s Day doesn't mean an awful lot to me. Most years I don’t even notice it happening and couldn’t care less. However, this year, in this city, I discovered it is a day to avoid. It is a day to avoid getting caught by red, heart-shaped decorations hung diabolically and designed to entangle you. A day to avoid getting scratched by bunches of red roses applied with deadly force by men who don’t know how to carry such unwieldy objects. A day to try to avoid being sick when you see the 50th couple in a row snogging their brains out with tongues so far down each other’s throats I’m sure their stomach contents were re-eaten.

It actually made me feel sick.

Anyway, to avoid the unavoidable, Jane and I went and saw a movie. We saw Juno. And it was fabulous. I really enjoyed it and would highly recommend it to anyone. It was cleaver and funny, the story was intriguing, the character development was real, the action flowed from who the characters were, and it presented a take on teen pregnancy which I found earthy and entirely plausible. It is a lovely feel-good movie, but it is also intelligent and not at all soppy. I walked out feeling really good.

And then I went out for a night cap in Earl's court. I'd never been to Earl's court before – It’s known as kangaroo court so I've avoided it like the plague because I don’t want to be a typical Aussie in this city – but Rod K, father of Nick K, was in town for one night, and so it was worth an investigation just to catch up with the GS icon. We went to a lovely little café. The food was gorgeous (I had an apple crumble that was to die for), the hot chocolate perfect, and the company excellent. As ebullient as ever and always really good company, the K's are the perfect anodyne to anyone’s bad day and I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with them. I came home feeling really good about life and pretty happy with the world in general.

It was absolutely lovely. So Valentines Day wasn’t such a bad day after all!

A work lunch date.

Hilary came to see me for lunch yesterday. We went to a Lebanese Place called Kaslik near work. Highly recommend it to anyone who wants a good, reasonably priced and sizable meal in Soho. Lovely.

Oi Vay! And on a school night too...

I had intended on going to see the new version of Rent on Monday night. Jase was available and Nick is in town – it seemed a perfect opportunity. I failed to take into account the dismal reception of this re-vamped musical however. It was so unpopular and so badly attended that it closed…last weekend. Crap. Damn, botheration, and just…well…Bugger!

So, instead of a night of music, Nick, Jase and I met up with 3 of Nicks friends and went out to dinner instead. The venue was Sitaaray, a Bollywood inspired Indian restaurant, complete with photos of famous Indian actors crammed onto every available wall space and televisions playing selected dance sequences from undoubtedly famous movies. I haven’t seen much Bollywood, so I’m not sure I can comment on that part. The food however, was really good and the company was excellent, so the meal was a success. Replete with endless curries and more than a couple of beers, we moved on to find better opportunities for conversation…

We met up with J’s better half, K, at a wine bar called the Cork and Bottle. Here, a selection of very smelly cheeses were had, accompanied by a couple of bottles of a Coonawarra sparkling red, and as previously stated, lots of conversation…lovely.

A little more unsteadily now, someone decided that it was time to head home but that we’d just go for a night cap to polish off the evening, so we moved on to Camden. Here we met up with J’s flatmate James at the Oxford something, and K and I had a couple of Whisky and Gingers (another great invention of the English – Ginger Ale takes the edge off the whisky and makes it so much easier to drink…?!?) whilst the boys had more beer and more whisky... The end result of which was that we closed the bar. By this time Nick was singing loudly in French and it was about four hours past my bed time and I am still not up to full strength, so I dragged our carcass’s home and crashed.

It was a really fun evening. I enjoyed catching up with the boys and girls and the food and company were both excellent… the only problem being that today I couldn’t stop yawning, and I wanted to go to sleep so badly… I think I will do that now in fact. G’night.

Sunday Roast

I’ve had Nick K staying on my lounge room floor this weekend, so playing host, I invited myself and Nick around to R & H’s for Sunday night dinner. :)

Hilary is a vegetarian, so it was never going to be a traditional roast, but we had the loveliest nut roast I have ever tasted. Well, it’s the only nut roast I’ve ever tasted, but it was flavoursome enough to more than rival a real roast, and the rest of the veggies were traditionally roasted, and there was broccoli and gravy to boot, so it felt like a traditional Sunday roast. And the whole was followed up by some baked pears coated in chocolate sauce with marzipan and raspberry ice cream, so it was altogether a very scrumptious meal.

In fact, it was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. Thanks guys!

Thoughts on Fire

On Saturday night, a part of the Camden Markets caught fire, which is but a stones’ throw from my house. It was a very impressive fire, the flames reached at least 30 feet above the three story buildings and smoke poured out everywhere. It caught on extremely fast and burnt a lot of property, but I’ve got to admit, I was a little blasé about the whole thing.

Camden was as usual over-crowded with tourists, who were all unceremoniously evicted from their evenings drinking, so there were a lot of people just hanging around, fascinated by the pretty fire. But it was the matter of a couple of hours’ coverage on the news channel and that was it. The destruction of the very old stables area would have been a great loss to the cultural experience of this city but it was mainly warehouses, and after all, it is just property - no lives were lost. The most annoying things really was that the streets surrounding the incident have been blocked off ever since so getting around has been that much harder. Camden always smells, it just smells a little differently at the moment is all...

However, what it did do was remind me very strongly of the Canberra fires in 2003. Four days of pacing at home, terrified that we may lose our house, watching a blood red sky for any sign that the black soot falling had embers attached, hosing down the house along with every other person in the street, all our precious possessions dumped into our cars with the electric garage door always open in case the power went... nothing I think could ever come close to that.

Well, I certinaly hope that I never have to experience anything like that again. It wasn't for the faint of heart!

Mind you, the real sense of community and of belonging that occurred was amazing too. With 530 homes lost, everyone that wasn’t affected knew someone that was, and donated every spare piece of property they had without a second thought. One of the guys at work lost everything, and the office raised a considerable sum to help out. And I remember a call going out over the radio for people to please stop donating to one of the animal shelters as it had enough food to last the new inhabitants for over a year. It was as if everyone found their higher selves and gave freely without thought.

I guess the biggest impact for me from the Camden fire was that it made me think a lot about home and of the people I’ve left back there. The people are all that matter after all. Possessions can always be replaced and houses rebuilt. Photos are more difficult I’ll grant you, but our lives live within us after all...

So I guess I’m just wanting to let you all know that I’m thinking of you and that I hope you are well.

Take care of yourselves. Love always, Kat.

Wagamama

I have been to Wagamama in Sydney with Emma on several occasions, and always enjoyed the food there, but I hadn't managed to try the UK version until today. It was just as good.

I had a Ginger Chicken Udon which was really lovely and which I'm sure boosted my immune system ten fold because I feel a lot better. Whilst it's not the best place to have a quiet meal (lots of people talking animatedly does tend to create a bit of a din) it is good, reasonably priced food and I loved it. The Tiger beer was tasty too.

Another lovely night out in London Town.

I couldn't remember what the bean things were Em - you'll have to let me know so I can look for them next time.

Hello, Death Warmed Up Here!

I have yet another lurgy. This is, I think, my third in a row. They're all kinda running together but I'm sure I've almost recovered twice now and have succumbed again... The first two I managed to keep to a level where they were only mild irritants, not major inconveniences. This one has hit me hard and my body has totally succumbed to the virus.

I know, I know, it is to be expected. This is my first winter in a foreign city that has roughly 25 times the number of people as that of my last place of residence and hence 25 times the number of strange and exotic bugs and nasties that my immune system is running scared of, but I do so wish I could be done with being ill. It's getting very annoying not to mention exhausting. This one has a hacking cough that makes it feel like someone is wacking a pick-axe in my head with every honk, my chest feels like it's bruised, my sinuses like someone has been applying liquid fire to them and my eyes are full of pins.

Gah!

In a city of at least 7.5 million people, you'd think the damn colds could find someone else's body to take over. Give me a break... just a little one would be ok. A week maybe? A day even would be acceptable.... Please!?!

The Demon Barber of Fleet . . . Street

Not sure that the most appropriate emotion to have coming out of the cinema was joy nor the most appropriate expression a grin but I had both. I really enjoyed Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I've read some criticisms of it, and yes it wasn't perfect, but it was satisfyingly good. Most of the songs from the musical were there, the actors did a great job of singing and acting at the same time, and being a Tim Burton's film, it was as atmospheric and moody as you could wish for. I liked how dark Johnny Depp was as Sweeny, and Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Lovett and Alan Rickman as Judge Turpin were as disturbing and repulsive as they should be. Add to that literally gallons of blood and quite grisly ends for everyone and it was as true to the original as it could be. Loved it!

Strange Brain Connections...

I am always quite fascinated with the memory connections my brain makes from time-to-time. I know what made me think of this but I'm damned if I know why.

I read an article today about a child getting his hair cut and being scared witless of it, and suddenly I remembered getting my own hair cut as a child. When I was a kid my mum used to get our hair cut by an ex-hairdresser friend of hers. This friend was someone she had known from her own child-hood when they lived next door to each other on Christmas Island. This is fascinating in and of itself, but it's not what I remembered. It was the way Debbie used to dress and her own hair-do, the way their drive-way in Warrandyte was the steepest thing I'd ever come across as a kid, the magnificent view from their lounge room, the over-abundance of green and very tall trees they had in their garden, the way their kitchen and lounge room ran into each other around a cabinet and what their kitchen looked like in minute detail.

Now, I have no idea if I am remembering it correctly or not, but I just spent a good five to ten minutes being bombarded by crystal-clear images of Debbie and Ian's house, a house I haven't seen for a good twenty odd years.

How bizarre.

The longest time I've ever spent in a public facility.

On the way home after ice-skating, we came across a set of isolated stairs in the middle of the pavement leading down to a bar underground. Puzzled and intrigued, we went down to take a look and a drink. Called CellarDoor, it’s a tiny place of ever-changing lighting and funky décor where the bar-maids all wear angel wings. Tiny but cozy, it serves cocktails and (legal) snorts of snuff and has an sms jukebox. It was so very strange we postulated the origin of such a place. M said public toilet, I thought entrance to underground station. M was right.

I now have the dubious honour of being able to say I’ve spent at least an hour drinking in a men’s public toilet. One to remember that's for sure! ;-)

A Pub, a Museum and an Ice-Skating Rink

It was Australia Day on Saturday, and although I didn’t celebrate wildly, I did wear the Aussie flag socks that Pat gave me for x-mas (thanks Pat!), so I felt appropriately patriotic. It was also Andrew’s birthday – the lucky devil – imagine getting a public holiday on your birthday every year!! And this one was quite a mile-stone for him, his 30th, so in true Australian fashion, he celebrated by getting dressed up and inviting the hoards of his friends to join him at a bar. Brondes-Age is in Kilburn and I had actually been there before during my two weeks of purgatory in the Kilburn Hostel. It is a pub, like any other, so nothing special. What was special was the gear that Andrew, Nathan and Ash were wearing. Nice one dudes and dudette!

On Sunday, I finally got my wish of escaping the house, and so visited the Transport Museum (Andrew’s idea, not mine!). Actually, it was a little smaller than I was expecting, although the beginning of the Tube system in London was interesting. My new piece of knowledge for the day was that ‘Omnibus’ actually means ‘for the people’ which is where the word ‘Bus’ is derived from. Neat.

Sunday evening I went Ice-Skating at Somerset House with Mark. It was a lot of fun actually. It was an outdoor rink in the courtyard of the house and so very atmospheric. I haven’t been ice-skating since I lived in Adelaide, and Mt. Thebarton was all the rage, so I was a tad (read extremely) unsteady to begin with, but it eventually came back to me (sort of) and I managed not to fall over. I was very chuffed over that actually. There were many participants who were not so lucky and ended up with coatings of ice all over their rear ends but I managed to keep my feet under me the entire time. Very proud. Ice-skating is the sort to thing you are supposed to do in this climate too, so it was nice to do something really European.

All in all, a busy and enjoyable weekend. Happy Australia Day, Australia!

Recognition of Double Standards

I realise that I have a double standard when it comes to this issue.

I readily and often call the people in my circle of friends either M’dear, Darling or Dearest. Dearest I tend to reserve for those I really love dearly, Darling for more teasing, sardonic or satirical situations, and M’dear for a catch-all phrase but only when addressing friends. And I do it without thinking about it.

But I have recently come to a realisation that may require me to re-think my automatic pet-name-application.

I hate, hate, HATE it when people call me 'hun' or 'love'. Yuck! yuck yuck yuck!

Specifically, I hate it when males that I know call me either of those names. I have no objection what-so-ever when a female calls me either; in fact I find it endearing. Nor do I really mind it much when a complete stranger calls me it, although it does annoy me and I lose a certain amount of respect for that individual. But when a male I know does it, it really sets my back up way high. I find it patronising and utterly demeaning. And I’m not really sure why. (Yes, I acknowledge, there is a double standard here. I said so at the beginning!)

Anyway, my automatic reaction to this situation has caused me to call into question my own use of such diminutives, as they may annoy someone I know as much as being called ‘hun’ annoys me.

So in the interests of self-education I’d like to take a pole. If it annoys anyone whom I know, or in fact anyone out there who reads this blog, to be addressed by any one of Dearest, Darling or M’dear, can you please either email or comment on this blog and let me know? Equally, if you find it endearing, or harmless, please also let me know.

If it does annoy people, I shall cease and desist this type of name calling immediately. Because I can tell you right now, the next bloke who calls me ‘hun’ or ‘love’ is going to get his head bitten off!

A year and a day

Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday dear Kaa-aat, Happy Birthday to Me!

Well, it was my anniversary yesterday at any rate, it being now past midnight. Mind you, I started receiving birthday wishes at about 10 pm yesterday evening (Monday night), it being my birth-date at that time in Australia, and it’s probably still my birth-date in America as we speak, so I think I’m entitled to still be celebrating.

Regardless, I had a lovely day / evening. Had a day of almost total anonymity at work (just as I had hoped) and then a lovely evening where someone else did the cooking. Thanks to our Excellent Cook of Astounding Indian Delights, Lady Hilary, our Convivial Host, Sir Richard and to the Marvellous Man-of-Arms Jason, and his Enchanting Lady Kathryn for providing entertaining conversation and company.

The food was rounded out by a six-pack of Coopers Vintage ale from home, and an absolutely delicious rhubarb and custard tart from Paul’s.

So, I am now officially another year older. Yay. :s

Much Better, Thank You!

I think I am really lucky. It would seem that I have plenty of people who care about me, many of whom read this blog, and take an interest in my life. I feel humbled when I realise that my words reach such a wide audience and that what I say has an impact on the other side of the world.

The latest instance of this is the response I've received to my problem with cabin fever. I sent out an sms SOS for things to do, and I have been overwhelmed with suggestions and invitations.

Thank you. I am now feeling much better.

It's silly really. I forgot one of the precepts of human interaction. You won't get what you want if you don't ask for it. I was moping around feeling sorry for myself and wondering why I had been abandoned by my friends. The minute I asked for company, I got an over-abundance of solicitations. Now I have to say no to a couple of things. Good Grief!

Now looking forward to a week filled with activities. So altogether very happy. Thanks guys!