That was a first.

I'm currently (as in on a train right now) en route back to Plymouth.

I left Bendigo at about 8pm ish some time yesterday and have been on the road about 32 hours now and have at least another 3 to go. Nowhere near as bad as Helen's 60 hour nightmare, of which I must obtain the details of at some stage, but enough for me.

I was really annoyed too when I left, as I only remembered to check in at about 6pm, and so couldn't get the best seat and had been shifted from my customary window seat to a middle isle. This was admittedly further to the front of the plane than I had been, but I still didn't want to try to sleep in an isle being bumped all the time and so I was very grumpy with the airline... that was up until I actually got onto the plane and realised where they'd put me. Qantas now has four classes of travel. First, Business, Premium Economy and plain cattle; and I'd been upgraded from cattle to premium. I had to triple check this, even almost asking one of the attendants if this was right, but I wasn't quite that stupid. I was very happy.

This is the first time I've ever been upgraded. It was heavenly and I didn't at all mind the isle as the seats were so much better. Spacious and comfy, and I had leg room! And the food was good too and the service excellent. Very, very happy.

Right now, I'm sitting in first class on the train too. I had had a seat reservation for the 6pm train this evening, having no idea how long it would take me to get from the airport, and if I'd be delayed etc. If I'd waited for that train I'd have extended my journey by another 4 hours though, so not fun and really not what I wanted to do. But the plane was in fact early landing and I got out of Heathrow very quickly so I am now waiting to pay for an upgrade on this train as I decided to just get on the first one going my way and pay for it (20 quid, quite reasonable in the state of exhaustion I am currently suffering).

So I am going to finish my journey in the style to which I have become accustomed.

Bliss.

Happy New Year to Melbourne, Canberra and Sydney, which happened two hours ago, and Happy New Year to Adelaide which happened an hour and a half ago.

And Happy New Year to the Uk, in about 8 hours, by which time if I am not asleep I'll be pissed beyond belief and not with the affects of alcohol.

Ok, going now. See you on the other side! :)

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

My favourite Christmas piece. There is some confusion as to the author of the piece, a guy called Clement Clarke Moore claiming authorship after it was initially released anonymously, however, it is believed by some to be the work of Henry Livingston Jnr. Either way, it's a great Christmas poem and one I'd like to share with you here.


A Visit From St. Nicholas ('Twas the night before Christmas)

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Off to Oz

I'm going to thaw out over Christmas in the 33 degree heat that is home right at this moment. I'm looking forward to seeing the family very much, but I'm not looking forward to the five days of traveling I have to do to get there, especially as I only get eight days actually in the country. Ah well. Home sweet home it is.

Scrooge!

I saw the musical Scrooge at the Theatre Royal in Plymouth. It starred Tommy Steel, who at age 73 doesn't look a day over 50 and is still as spry as a 50 year old.

It was a very professional production. Steel is a master at comic timing and so comfortable in his milieu.

The stage was awesome, the characters appeared and disappeared magically and damn fast too! and there were lots of flying sets changing the look and feel instantly.

The dancing was excellent. It was mesmerizing watching the cast, one guy in particular who's name I can't find but who's body was like rubber and just did what he wanted when he wanted it done perfectly.

I didn't actually make the connection to the Albert Finney film of the same name until afterwards, but the music was very familiar in places and I could sing along so the memory was still there.

It was a delightful Christmas romp and I enjoyed it immensely.

Phrase of the Day: Cloud Cuckoo Land

This phrase turned up in a meeting some time ago but as my hands are only just starting to recover their dexterity, I've only just got around to blogging about it.

The meaning of the phrase is to imply that the person or thing referred to exists only in a realm of fantasy or in the imagination or that the person has their head in the clouds.

We were talking about local property tax ratings and land valuations in the meeting, and how they are calculated, and the presenter quoted a judge who had said the whole system existed only in cloud cuckoo land. Hence my interest.

In all fairness to the rating system, it began life in the 1600's and has grown organically ever since, so it's hardly surprising that it makes very little sense these days.

Anyway, the phrase finder has a lovely explanation of the origin of this phrase which I am going to re-post in full here as it's very clear:

Origin

It is nice for once to have a definite and unambiguous origin for an expression. Cloud-cuckoo-land was coined in Aristophanes' whimsical and extravagant play, The Birds

Chorus leader: So what name shall we give our city?
Pisthetairos: Well, do you want to use that mighty name from Lacedaimon - shall we call it Sparta?
Euelpides: By Hercules, would I use that name Sparta for my city? No. I wouldn't even try esparto grass to make my bed, not if I could use cords of linen.
Pisthetairos: All right then, what name shall we provide?
Chorus leader: Some name from around here - to do with clouds, with high places full of air, something really extra grand.
Pisthetairos: Well, then, how do you like this: Cloudcuckooland?

The play was first translated into English by the poet and translator Henry F. Cary, in 1824, which is the date of the entry of 'cloud-cuckoo-land' into the language.

So there you have it.

Great Weather for Ducks

That's what the lady in the pub I passed this evening said to me anyway.

This morning I had my first Plymouth frost of the all-cars-are-now-white-cars kind. A glorious red sunrise on the way into work didn't actually make me feel any better as it made me realise that I actually start my walk to work 20 minutes BEFORE dawn... :S

And then this evening it rained. It doesn't take a very heavy rain to soak me if it's persistent rain, and this was rain was bloody minded. My thought-to-be-waterproof-shoes, were not, and I had to wring my socks out when I got home. I now have the lovely bath-wrinkled-toe look. :) It's not yet sleeting though, so a little saturation I don't mind so much. The cold utterly sucks, but the wet is bearable. I'm not looking forward to the snow though. That'll be here sometime. Ich Ach Och.

100,000 Words

One-hundred-thousand words. 100k. 100,000. Two times fifty-thousand words. Four times twenty-five-thousand-words. 100,679 to be precise.

One Hundred K.

Yep.


Holy Cow.

:D

YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Snoopy dance* ya-da-ya-da ya! da! ya-da-ya-da ya! da!

Ah, that feels better.

Now to stop. My hands hurt.

Two Days to Go...

I'm at 94,439 as I write this and my brain has died and my eyes are watering and I have a sugar headache and I'm wearing a wrist brace because my wrist is killing me and I'm missing letters and have to keep retyping words because my fingers are not doing what I want them to... but there are only two days left and I only have just over 5500 words to go!

Stay On Target, STAY ON TARGET!!!

I lost my cow!

My house keys came with a key-ring-charm of a tiny cow. And it's gone!

I lost my cow!

... I'm sorry, I know it's really not a very exciting thing to be blogging about but every time I say it (the first time completely unselfconsciously I assure you), I smile and giggle. And everyone needs a daily laugh!

50k in 15 Days

I completed NaNo in 15 days.

Holy cow. I mean, wow. Exhaustified and brain dead and amazed and in awe of my fingers and wow.

The last two days were a race to the finish line as I was determined to get there. I was at 38k-ish on Friday night, and that's so reasonably close to 50k I thought I'd see if I could make it to that by the half-way point of Nano. And then I got closer and closer, and more and more determined... and more and more brain dead and tireder and tireder. I had to spend large amounts of time staring into space for inspiration, I lost all coherence and became a mumbling somnolent mess, and I'm not sure I was able to communicate at all on Sunday. But my stubbornness kept me forcing out the words. And I got there. Admittedly I all but crawled over the line (by 54 words to be exact) but I got there!

I had Jason and Charlie over here for the weekend too and all we did was sit and write pretty much. Oh, we did have an absolutely gorgeous meal at the Village Restaurant. It's the best food I've had in Plymouth actually, so I highly recommend it.

But really!

I mean, 50,000 words! In fifteen days! Fifty Thousand Fricken Words! Ha. I shall never doubt my bulls**ting ability again!

Blind insanity or reasonable goal?

I'm thinking of possibly this year for NaNoWriMo aiming for 100,000 words instead of the normal 50k.

I know, this does sound a bit insane, but whereas in the last two years I was, as of the 8th of November, at 12910 and 19853 respectively, this year I'm already past 25k. And in the previous two years I had at least half my days where my word count was less than the allotted 1667 words, but this year I've had no day where I've written less than 2300 words. It would mean I'd need to average 3334 words a day, but I'm not too far off that pace at the moment, and although it seems I can't write more than 3000 on a week night, I'm thinking that the weekends would be my salvation.

This way too, I'm going to hopefully keep myself motivated in the latter half, as at the rate I'm currently going, I'll be past 50k in less than 9 days.

So, Blind Insanity or Reasonable Goal? What do you think?

Happiness is a patch of blue sky.

I'm finding living here a lot easier to deal with than London - even though I get wet regularly, there are patches of sunshine almost every day, and blue bits of sky poke through every so often. The world is a lot easier to deal with if you can see a bit of blue sky. There is very little smog and not too much traffic. There is no Tube! There are fewer muppets and friendlier shop assistants on the whole. Ok, so there aren't the musicals and theatricals and shopping variety that there is in london, but there aren't the crowds and there is virtually no traffic noise either and I live in the city! Much pleasanter.

I'm lying in a spot of sunshine right now in fact. Happiness is a lovely day. Yay for the country!

Rising Damp

It's raining here at the moment. In fact it's been raining a lot lately. I got to Choir practice this evening, and my legs from the knee down were a much darker colour than my trousers above the knee. As I was scooching past one of the older ladies to get to a free seat, she commented "Ah, I see we have rising damp this evening."

I was dripping! :)

These Plymothians crack me up.

My Hero: Placky Dacks

It's a tad wet here at the 'mo. Having no wish to repeat the performance of saturation that got me my current cold, I went to Gould's on the weekend (army store) and got myself some plastic rain-proof trousers. I was very happy indeed with this purchase as it poured on me this morning. They worked wonders. In fact my bottoms were dryer than my top was when I got into work.

Unfortunately, I made the fatal error of calling them 'Plastic Pants' in front of my co-workers. In the UK, plastic pants are what babies wear to stop you-know-what from leaking. Here, they're outer-trousers or waterproof trousers (which is sensible I guess if you're into sensible!). I caused hilarity and a repeat of my error to every other staff member that happened to walk past. *sigh*

Well at least I was dry. I may look like a burke, but I'm a DRY burke!

NaNoWriMo 2009!!!

It has begun. The month of madness.

Now I had no intention of being up at the crack of NaNo this year but it would seem my brain had other ideas as it kept me tossing and turning. The lights went out at 10pm sharp, but I just couldn't stop thinking. This is not unusual for me, but the cough certainly isn't helping. About five minutes ago, I suddenly wondered if it was past 12 yet and therefore would it be the first of November? A referral to the mobile said it was indeed past 1 am, and so it most definitely was the first and hereunto the beginning of National Novel Writing Month and since I won't be getting to sleep in the next five minutes, here's to NaNo09!

May the madness never end.

Inchworm.

To try to make myself feel better (see last post!) I've just been watching one of my favourite programs, The Muppet Show, and I came across this gem. It has to be one of my most beloved pieces from the show.


Inchworm

(Chorus)
Two and two are four
Four and four are eight
Eight and eight are sixteen
Sixteen and sixteen are thirty-two

Inchworm, inchworm
Measuring the marigold
You and your arithmatic
You'll probably go far

Inchworm, inchworm
Measuring the marigold
Seems to me you'd stop and see
How beautiful they are


The lyrics don't do it justice though. Such a simple song and yet it gives me shivers every time I hear it:

Here, watch the Muppet Danny Kay version in all it's glory:

Gah!

I am an IDIOT. Certifiable. You’d think I’d learn wouldn’t you? I know my body, I know its limits, I know its quirks and its quibbles, and yet I ignore all the warning signs for what?

All this last week I’ve been battling a cold. Now, I know that the best thing for me when in the middle of a cold is lots of rest and relaxation. Most of the time I am good and obey this rule and come out of it quite cleanly with only a few days of foulness to deal with. But when I don’t, then I can often find myself completely bed-ridden for days with a nasty fever and wracking cough – you know the kind I mean? The type that makes it feel like you’re hammering a spike into your head every time you splutter? Yeah, one of those.

So, what have I been doing every day this week? Walking to and from work in the cold and the wind (45mins each way) and spending 8 hours concentrating. And Friday, warning of all warnings, I was falling asleep at my computer – literally! I had something like six cups of coffee and I still wasn’t staying awake. But did I go home early? No, I battled on.

And even with all that, did I take it easy? Did I rest? Today what did I do? Get up early and go shopping, is what! Stupid, Stupid girl.

I got halfway to the shops and the shakes started. I ignored them, got some chocolate and a coffee and kept going. The cough became the spike-hammering kind half-way to Sainsburys but I went and did the food shop anyway.

Now the shakes won’t stop, the cough has settled in and I feel so rotten I want to cry. And Bonus: I have a fever.

And I am supposed to be starting NaNo tomorrow. Oh what a complete and utter, utter, utter, utter Idiot am I. Someone hit me will you? I assure you, the punch you give me will feel better than my head does right now.

Sleep, I implore you, come and take me away from my stupid self.

Two sleeps 'till NaNo!

Not nearly ready enough this year. I'm blaming a wicked cold but in reality I'm not so organised this year as I have been in the past... flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants may yet be required!

Wish me luck!

:)

No Cornish Pastie from Cornwall... :(

Today for work we had to go out to one of our sites and stake out a piece of land which is going to be sold off. GPS and measuring tape and stakes and yellow paint and huge mallet and wet weather gear in hand, we drove down to Falmouth to meet our contact. This was my first trip into Cornwall, despite living on the very border of the place, and I was looking forward to seeing the place which all Devonians make fun of and all Cornwellians believe is superior to England (they don't believe they are English). Two hours of beautiful countryside later, I was well impressed. The site was fun too - something that had been constructed for the second world war and no longer required, it was a tad overgrown and we waded our way through wet grass that was longer than our stakes were high - so trying to get a true line between points was a tad difficult, but we managed in the end. But I didn't get to taste a Cornish Pastie! They are apparently the best in England and highly recommended, but we couldn't find a place to buy them from. Ah well, next time perhaps.

Freezing Kneecaps

The water sheeted down yesterday. And whilst I was relatively dry due to my purchase of a knee-length raincoat (which is so thoroughly saturated, it's still wet 24hrs later!), my knees got a good soaking. And with a freezing wind whipping around me at 50km/hr that meant bloodly cold knee caps and soaked trousers. I changed my trousers when I got home to find my knees were red raw. It is COLD people!

JVC

I went to an interesting pub this evening. A new friend suggested I go along to the open mic night at this place. It wasn't a bad pub but the stand out was unfortunately the buck's party of wanna-be sailors who turned up just ahead of me. All dressed in white and most wearing only a singlet with lashings of coconut oil... they kind of stank. They were into getting smashed so fortunately only stayed a short while but in that time they made a lot of noise. The music during and afterward was quite palatable though so all good. Another experience I never expected to have but enjoyed. Having no expectations really is the best way to enjoy life I think.

STONEHENGE!!!

Well, I didn't actually get up and personal with it but I saw it. I took loads and loads of pictures from over the fence and as we were driving past, so I have a record of the visit, but one day I'd like to actually go in and see it up close.

The reason I was there was that we had a meeting outside Salisbury and as it is a 3.5 hr drive from Plymouth to Salisbury, we stayed overnight in the town. Andy was kind enough to take me to see the famous rocks en route to our meeting. And so I saw Stonehenge. Very impressive.

Salisbury is a very atmospheric place actually. The place we stayed at was the Pembroke Arms, and out our window we could see Wilton House I believe, which is the main seat of the Earl of Pembroke. The hotel used to be part of the (very large) stables of the estate, and is very old too. The door to my room was not quite square having sunk on one side, and if I'd been two inches taller I'd have hit my head on it.

Some of the people from the Salisbury office came out and took us on a tour of the town so I got to see Salisbury Cathedral by night, which was very fine. I wish I'd been able to see it in daylight actually, it was quite beautiful. And then they took us on a ghost tour. :) The ghosts are not inimical - one plays the piano, another is a maid who tidies up, and there is a poltergeist who re-arranged the china displays in the windows. Quite interesting.

We then went for a drink in a pub called "The Haunch of Venison" where they have a glass case enclosing the remains of someone's hand - it was apparently cut off for stealing or something during the 16 or 1700's and then re-discovered when the pub was renovated. Nice.

We then toured some more - there are some amazing old buildings around the place, of Tudor age I think, sinking their way gracefully into decay - and finished the night in a second pub called the New Inn which had beams low enough that even I would hit my head if I wasn't careful - very cosy and very cool.

And very atmospheric. Lovely town Salisbury. And lovely Stonehenge.

Knocking Pipes

My pipes creak!

I have never experienced this phenomenon before. I've heard of it, and read about it in novels, and seen it on TV. And from one memorable episode of red dwarf, I laughed my head off about it. But I've never witnessed it.

This is an older house so when I moved in I was expecting the usual creeks and groans. There are also 12 people living here (finally established the actual number) so I kind of expected strange noises to be happening and didn't really think much on those I did hear. There were a couple of regular one's I noticed in passing but didn't really pay attention to; there was a fairly persistent knocking sound that I thought was probably something loose somewhere and a door-closing recurring creak that puzzled me. But I never thought they were coming from my room. But so they are!

Today for the first time, I noticed that the heating element / radiator things were on finally. I went over to mine to get warm and then heard the knocking I'd been hearing coming from beside the radiator. And the noise that sounds like a door is gradually creaking shut is the radiator itself.

So I have talking pipes! How very cool. And how very annoying!

Wrathing Fantastic

In my first theatrical outing in my new home town I saw 'The Grapes of Wrath' at the Theatre Royal in Plymouth.

It was really good. The cast was simply amazing, including Christopher Timothy (who played James Harriot in All Creatures Great and Small), Sorcha Cusack and Oliver Cotton. Cotton as the Preacher was especially impressive, and his acting and story telling ability was incredible - I found myself riveted to him every time he spoke. The American accents were a bit dicey at times and there wasn't quite the consistency of accent across the cast you'd like but the acting was suburb and all the supporting cast members were equally brilliant in all the various (and multiple) roles they played.

The set was minimal and very evocative. With just a few changes, it was quite amazing the range of expression it could achieve. They had a working car that the cast all clambered aboard and which both somehow went forwards and backwards but also sideways and in circles!?! And not initially visible to the audience they had a trough of water in the stage which the cast members bathed in at one point, and later they made it rain and absolutely drenched the cast! Very cool.

Produced by the English Touring Theatre, who brought us The Scottish Play with Patrick Stewart, it was just as impressive. The story was vastly condensed from the book, or so I was told having never read it, but the idea and intent was definitely delivered; you could feel the anguish of the people who were being systematically crushed, and yet feel a great respect for their endurance and tenacity in the face of such hardship.

I went with one of my work-mates and her sister and they were understandably inordinately proud of their local theatre. I shall definitely be seeing more productions there. And I loved the Grapes of Wrath.

Slimy...

I always thought Autumn was beautiful; the cooling drop in temperatures after a scorching summer, the amazing array of colours, the lovely smell of fallen leaves, the crispness of an Autumn morning. I walk to and from work so I have been able to see the leaves turn and have been reveling in all the splendor of the changing season... But no longer.

Fact: Millions of leaves on the ground + days of rain/sea mist = wet leaves decomposing and turning into slime.

Wet decomposing leaves on footpaths leads to footpaths coated in slime.

Footpaths coated in slime leads to Kat having extreme difficulty remaining upright.

Ouch. :S

NaNoWriMo 2009!!

It's coming! Only 27 days now until NaNo 09. I'm really chuffed to announce too that this year I'll be joined by two lovely acquaintances in this month-long madness spree: The Oh-so-lovely-ancient-friend-Jason and the Most-excellent-new-friend-Charlie. I'm planning to have word wars with them both, so please feel free to keep up with our efforts. I'm HERE btw. He he he... SO looking forward to it now this year!!!

Dancing Lobsters...

When up in Bristol, for some reason which now escapes me, Clare and I had reason to refer to a piece of Lewis Carroll madness. I just wanted to reprint it here, as it is one of my favourite pieces of sillyness.


The Lobster Quadrille

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the dance?

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?

“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!"
But the snail replied, “Too far, too far!” and gave a look askance—
Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance.

Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.

“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.

Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the dance?”

Excerpt from Alice in Wonderland By Lewis Carroll

Bliss...

This has been a week of new experiences. Tonight I tried my third; a meditation class at the Ashoka Meditation Centre. I've been using guided meditation cd's on and off for years now to help deal with stress and generally reduce my worrying quotient, but I've never been to a class before.

I can't honestly say I'd thought I'd ever go into a Buddhist centre. A meditation class, yes - that's something that's been on the 'to do perhaps one day' list rather than on the 'must do' list, so I hadn't actively been looking into it. But on the way to Exeter on Saturday, I passed the centre and it's literally two minutes walk from my house. In fact, if it weren't for a fenced garden in the way (very pretty btw), I could see it from my front gate. It was one of those 'Ho boy - that's too neat to be ignored' things. So then I looked it up on the web - and guess what? Thursday evening classes at five quid, and a drop-in with no commitment policy, which would balance out the week nicely since choir will be on Tuesdays... so, why not?

The people running it were surprisingly normal and the participants even more so, and it was a good mix of sexes and we all sat on chairs bar the nun leading the meditation - not at all like I was expecting having been to Thailand and seen the Buddhist shrines and temples there. It was actually really interesting. The nun didn't go through any doctrine either that I could tell. The center has other classes if you're into that. But they do go through a 'course' - foci for the meditation if you will - and the current one is on anger. Rather insightful. I believe I'll be going again...

La-la-la, La-la-la, La-choak-cough-gargle-la!

I just did one of those things I've been saying I'd do for...well, ever! I just joined a choir!! The University of Plymouth Choral Society to be exact.

Wohooo...ooooh...oh shit. I haven't sung regularly for seven years, I haven't sight-read for a lot longer than that and I've never sung in a community choir before. What have I let myself in for?

It was one of those things that I had to not think about to do. I've had 'join a choir' on my To Do list for years now, but whenever I've looked into it, the location was too far away, or the people were too uppity, or the cost was too prohibitive, or you had to audition (horror of horrors!), or it clashed with something else I was doing.

Well, this one is 6 minutes walk from my place, is only 35 quid, the people are really friendly, it's open to everyone and what else am I doing with my time at the moment???

So I said to myself, said I: Just Do It. So I did. And shat myself for the entire 6 minute walk to the ex-church they rehearse in. And shat myself again when I got handed wads of paper a centimeter thick full of black dots that are supposedly called notes. And then shat myself again when I looked at the title of the first wad of paper...

THE, and I do mean the capitals, THE Messiah!!!!

Crap...

Cool...

Shit...

Wow...

Holy ... yeah, well you get the idea.

It's a damn good thing that my mother has played Master Handle's Masterpiece to us every Christmas that I can remember - the music is part of my soul I swear - as sight reading something that complex would have been a nightmare otherwise. And I did ok I think - I was very rusty, and not at all sure I was in key and on note (I couldn't hear myself!), and I had a bit of trouble with a twisted tongue at several points. But it went OK. And Boy was it FUN!

And then there was a second piece. This was a tad more tricky. You see, it was Magnificat, by Tommasso Albioni. In Latin if you please. ... Oi Vay. I got lost there I can tell you. I couldn't read both the notes and the words at the same time so ended up humming 'cause there was no way I could pronounce the words let alone sing them. Something to learn!

Yipee, yay, wee-he-he!!

SO GLAD. So cool. So, are you going to come to see me at the concert? 12th of Dec I think. So shit me twelve ways from Sunday, I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this!

Brown Day.

Down day today. Don't know why but every human interaction is taking a lot more effort than usual and every time I stop being "On Show" - ie, polite and friendly for an appearance of normality when talking to someone - I slump into a brown study.

Sometimes I feel a bit like an alien in hiding. Like the Slitheen - wearing a human body suite (without the farting of course!). The point is, my insides do not match my outsides at all right now. Maybe I'm a part-time alien? Once every couple of weeks my psyche gets subsumed by another sentience and it watches my life through my eyes. A very sad sentience.

However, the beauty of experience and the wonder of perspective gives me to know that I shall be free of my visitor very soon, and all will be well again. Wonderful thing is knowledge - you can learn from your own history. If you're bright enough that is.

I'm also taking steps to hopefully reduce the frequency of my visitors, visits. I've found a choir to join and also a meditation centre to go to - both within easy distance from my house. More about those anon. And admittedly, the visitations are 100 times better (more infrequent) than five years ago when the monster had a strangle hold on my mind and was choking the life out of me. Millions of thanks go to Jo, Sally, Andrew and Stacy for helping me out of that quagmire. Whether they knew it or not, together we fought the monster until he was forced into full retreat.

But until then, please stare into space with me and wish me luck escaping my monster. Actually, rather than a Slitheen, I think it's more of an octopus, perched on my head, tentacles holding on tight, emitting a cloud of ink, blinding me to reality. That works for the strangulation part too.

So, wish me luck escaping my octopus. Right now, he's being bloody persistent and clinging on against all attempts of removal. Gah.

English lil ole ladi scrum!

Decided to go up to Exeter today. There was a craft expo on, and you all know I can't go past a good craft show! Am now exhausted and, surprisingly, not a pauper. It wasn't a quilting show so much as a paper-craft and knitting show, so I didn't spend a whole lot... only a few irresistible fabric pieces and a pack of needles... honest! Oh, but I did buy a craft lamp that is supposed to help with the SAD's. That is an actual worthwhile investment that I don't feel guilty about... well, maybe a little! :)

Navy Days

On the 5th of September I went to Navy Days day at the Plymouth Navel Base. It was all rather interesting actually. There were 14 vessels on display, including 2 subs which I didn't go to see, and lots of people, lots of walking and lots of fun.

It was one of the few times I've actually wished I had kids, as any child had a kind of 'access all areas' pass. They were allowed to climb all over the vehicles and pretend to shoot the guns and ask all sorts of silly questions and get smiled at - and any adult with them got the same treatment. I wasn't brave enough to be silly in front of all these men in Uniform so was envious of the parents who could be. The navy boys were incredibly patient with the questions too and very interactive with anyone who asked. It was really impressive how helpful they all were actually. I guess it was a kind of holiday for them.

I'm not a mechanical person, but the ships were very interesting. It was quite amazing the difference between the biggest and smallest of them. The smaller ones were virtual obstacle courses and quite fun to try to navigate. In the larger ships you felt remarkably like you were inside an office building that just happened to be able to move.

The active displays were very cool too! Flyby's of course, and some helicopters doing some quite hair-raising passes, but the best was a mock capture of a pirate ship (a tug!) complete with a jolly roger flying on the mast. The navy boys 'captured' the vessel by zooming round it in fast little boats (exchanging audible gun fire!) and then dropping a team onto it by helicopter. Very impressive.

People watching was just as interesting. I watched two very different girls on different vessels doing exactly the same thing; trying their damndest to attach two commando boys to their purse strings. Very amusing!

So yes, an excellent day. Of course I did chose the one day of the two that it rained, but you can't let a little weather stop you! GTHBA.

Bristol Encounter

The weekend of the 18th of September saw me on a trip up to Bristol to catch up with the marvelous Marty, joining us from Oz for a blitz, and the generous Jason. Jason has a good friend there, the charming Charlie, who he has told me, on more than one occasion, I would like immensely. As usual, he was right! In fact the splendid fellow has already introduced me to new things, heading my war cry of 'Experiences, Not Acquisitions!' Charlie and her lovely housemate Clare made us feel very much at home on their hill, and even Clare's cat, Molly, joined me on my bed of an evening.

On arrival, we was introduced to a most excellent pub called The Cornubia, brewer of many fine beers, and then meandered into town for a very interesting meal at Zulu (a South African restaurant). I had Blesbok, of which animal I had never previously heard! Then we headed back to the Cornubia and the night got rather beer-tinged!

On the Saturday, after a rather luxurious lie-in and wonderful breakfast cooked by the excellent Charlie, we hoofed it up to Clifton to visit the White Lion bar for a tea on the terrace and a look at the famous suspension bridge. We then decided not to go to Camera Obscura, which was further up the hill, in favour of seeing the SS Great Britain, which was closed by the time we got there. Ah well, lots of chat and sights seen and fresh air had so all good!

I actually managed to come home almost rested from this trip, and as always it was lovely to catch up with the boys - who I miss dearly - and to make new friends. A GTHBA weekend methinks!

Tori Amos and Hairspray... huh?

I went up to London on the weekend of the 11-13 of September to see two very different shows: Tori Amos in concert and Hairspray at the Shaftsbury theatre.

Firstly, Tori Amos is an artist I have long enjoyed - ever since Helen introduced me to her when we were about 18 I think! She is entirely mad though - her lyrics will show you that if her pronunciation of same does not. She has been touted as the inspiration for Neil Gaiman's Delirium, and I can well believe it.

I went with Jason, who, upon my demand for 'Steak!' took me to a lovely adult pub in the wilds of London called the Andover Arms, a cracking good place with a lovely atmosphere and very helpful staff (I will admit to at first miss-reading the name and thinking 'why on earth would anyone call a pub the handover?!?' but decided not to mention this to J who already has an evil sense of humour regarding my use of the English language!). After steak was had (I always get a rush of energy from red meat, sorely needed after the three and a half hour train ride from Plymouth!), Jason expounded his theory on pub goodness, which goes somewhere along the lines of "The excellence of a public house is inversely related to it's distance from the nearest source of mass transportation; the further away it is from said hub, the better it will be." which I think is very true.

Anyway, Tori was to be found at the Apollo Stadium. She played a good mix of her old and new pieces. I didn't recognise a couple of tunes, but the rest were well known and I enjoyed the way she re-interpreted her own songs. The concert started a little slow, but after a solo stint (including Mr. Zebra!) the energy picked up and by the end, the stage had a swarm of fans squished between the stage and first row of seats trying to get close to her. 'Precious Things' and 'Little Amsterdam' were highlights for me as well as the staple 'Cornflake Girl' which she absolutely rocked. I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Hairspray on the other hand was a completely different kettle of fish if I can mix my metaphors. Hillary and I went for a girls night out, and excluding the overwhelming heat of the theatre and the phenomenal line for the ladies, it was a really enjoyable night.

In fact, I haven't laughed so much in a musical since I saw 'The Producers' - I was crying from laughter at one point! The parents of the protagonist, Tracy, sing a love duet called 'Timeless to Me'. Tracy's mother, Edna, is played by a man, so the set-up is already ripe for many sniggers. However the father on our night was played by the understudy, Nigel Planer being absent for whatever reason, and this guy either flubbed a line, or exaggerated a gesture, and caused the both of them to spend most of the number trying not to laugh, and for some reason there is absolutely nothing funnier than an actor in a funny situation snorting to suppress laughter. I had stitches!

The storyline to the show is slightly different to the movie version too, all to the good in my opinion. Two new musical numbers made the show fresh for me, and the energy of the dancers was incredible - I was tired just watching them! I won't tell you the story here - you'll just have to find out for yourselves!

All in all, it was a very enjoyable, if very exhausting, weekend away.

Happy Birthday Kiddo!

Was my inestimable youngest brother's birthday on this date. Sing his praises everyone!

I hope you had a lovely day brother dearest. I'm sorry for the (very) short phone conversation - but I have very little dough right now and was at work. I'll make it up to you soon I promise! Get a landline!!!

Love you!

Life in Digs...

For the first time in my living-arrangements-career, I am in what could possibly be classified as digs. I have lived with family, I have lived with friends and I have lived alone. I have lived in houses, town-houses, appartments and flats, in barracks and hotels and I have lived in backpackers, but never in quite this situation.

I am now living in an old, very large house, which used to be a B&B of some description. I guess you would call it a boarding house, if this were the 1950s, only in this day and age we have to cater for ourselves. I have a room to myself with a lock on my room's door, but am sharing the facilities with possibly 10 to 14 other people. Yes, that many.

Now, that's actually not as bad as it sounds. There are eight official 'Rooms' in this place, but two (those which I believe have couples living in them) are en-suite, so I actually only share two bathrooms with as few as five, but possibly 10 other people, if each room actually has a couple living-in which I don't believe. I don't know how many are really here, but there is only one bed in each room so maximum of 14 others. I've met five of the housemates in passing, but I've caught glimpses of another two and then a few are supposed to be on holiday, and I've heard but not seen another couple...

Anyway, I don't think you can call it a share-house, as we don't have to ever talk to each other. There are no shared bills and each room has their own allocated cupboards in the kitchen and have to supply their own dishes and plates and saucepans and washing-up liquid and laundry powder. You even have to take your own toilet paper to the loo each time you go as that's not shared either. We all pay the landlord for all bills and he has a cleaner who looks after the common areas and that's that.

I guess this'd be like living in one of the huge share houses in London, where everyone is crammed in and living on top of each other. Only, we're not. Crammed I mean. My current bedroom is definitely the biggest room I've ever slept in. But then I always thought of those share-house arrangements as being a lot more communal.

So is this a classifiable living arrangement? Is this a boarding-house-without-board or digs or a classification of share house I've never heard of before?

I suppose others will tell me it's not so unusual so maybe won't find it strange. But this living-alone-with-other-people-who-you-never-see thing is rather weird to me. Detached but a part. Apart but together. Isolated in a crowd. Alone but not.

So and so. Strange to me.

Harry Potter 6

This weekend I went on a marathon watching session of all six currently produced Harry Potter movies. Today was a bank Holiday, so it had been a long weekend and as I am pretty much cash-less and very much bored, all I could afford to do was re-watch my dvd's and then scrimp on my food budget to go to the local cinema for a five quid movie, and what better movie to see when you're starving than Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince?

Well, I enjoyed it as I enjoyed the rest of the films, as an exercise in escapism with some smiles, some frights and some feel-good moments. I enjoy the books more, as pretty much is always the case, but c'est la vie. It was no better or worse - although, the acting from the kids does get better each time - than any of the other films. And I do enjoy the music and seeing the realisation of my imagination on the screen.

But the movie theatre itself was more of an adventure than I bargained for. HP6 been out for a while now - I have been putting off seeing it to avoid the crowds - so I was expecting it to be shown in a smaller cinema rather than on a bigger screen, but I didn't expect the size of screen I got. It had to be the smallest theatre I've ever been in, including the one's when I was a kid on summer holidays at the caravan park in Lorne where the movies were shown in the local guide hall. This was a tiny room. The screen wasn't much bigger than a large plasma, about four feet by seven I'd estimate, and the cinema wouldn't have had more than 100 seats. The lighting was all red, and I mean blood red - I felt like I was in a bordello - and the elevation... well, there wasn't any. I could hear the film whirring in it's reel behind me and every whisper of every patron was perfectly clear.

All-in-all, I think that next time I want to see a film here, I won't wait to try to avoid the crowds. I seriously could have had a better viewing experience on my laptop.

Ah well, lesson learned and experience experienced.

My New Home

Some pictures from Plymouth. It's actually quite a lovely little town - about the same number of people as Canberra in actual fact - and there are enough book shops and HMV stores to keep me happy. And there is loads of history here - Drake set off to conquer the Spanish armada from here - after finishing a game of bowls at the local club of course, which is also still here. Hay, the tide was against him ok? :) Mind you, it's not usually as blue-sky'ed as it is in these pics... Rain is pretty much a constant, so I was lucky to pull a lovely morning for these shots.

Word of the Day: Matelot

Pronounced Mat-lo, it's French for Sailor, and it's what they call the Navy boys around here. Used to specifically refer to a sailor on a merchantman, but has been hi-jacked to mean any person who walks on water these days.

If you hadn't already guessed, I'm working in the Plymouth Navy Yard, so during lunch time 'rambles' around the base (as is the custom here), I am invariably inducted into the history of the place. I can't for the life of me remember what we call Sailors in Aus - the army are the grunts or diggers and the air force are fly boys, but I never had much to do with naval personnel before. However, I am now forever hearing about what the matelots do around the place, and when I questioned the origin, I got a rather strange look. Why isn't a sailor a sailor? 'Cause he's a matelot of course! Right.

Anyway, I didn't have much luck finding too many definitions for the term that weren't in french, but I did find some rather interesting descriptions here and here. Have a read if you want to raise an eyebrow!

Flavour Fest

Another outing in the Plymouth Summer Festival calender: Flavour Fest. This was an open air market, kind of like a big farmers market or a food-oriented Christmas market, under rows of white canvas. It was quite interesting as there was a lot of local produce and specialties. I had a Durby Lardie, which is politically incorrect sweet bread soaked in lard. Yes, lard. It was ... oily but nice. And then there were the local beers to taste and cheeses and meats and stuff generally. I wandered around but as I am penniless, I was looking but not touching. Ah well, maybe I'll be around for next year.

Bluuuuue! NO! Greeeeeen!

I have been quite lucky in the timing of my arrival in Plymouth. There's been lots of things happening for a summer festival that the city has organised, so I've had things to do whilst I was waiting for a job.

One of these 'things' just happened to be the British Firework Championships, held in Plymouth every year on 'The Hoe', which is a large green area facing the Sound of Plymouth. Six fireworks companies compete for 10 minutes each over two nights to be crowned king. That's 60 minutes of fireworks for the proles to watch folks! And 60 minutes of GOOD fireworks too. Very, Very, Very Cool!

I, unfortunately, started my first day of work on the first night of the championships, so crashed out and slept through it... well, almost. The backpackers is located quite close to the foreshore, so I was woken up several times by some pretty loud bangs. It also happened that the first night was the good night - no clouds and minimal wind.

The second night (this evening) there was almost complete cloud cover and some misting rain. This is of course the night which I chose to go. Anyway, I enjoyed it and saw lots of pretty colours and heard many loud bangs and here are some photos to prove it.

And for any of you who went to the Royal Show at Adelaide Show Grounds... remember the announcer? Every time I see fireworks, I think of that guy! :)

Heart Re-Start

I have a job. Finally, I actually have income. One day soon it'll even be more than my expenses! I won't be paid for another month yet, but I will be paid. I can breath again.

I'm not going to give details of the job here - that's bad manners - but I'm happy and they're a lovely bunch of people and the work should be interesting so all good.

And get this - the building I'm working in was built in 1722, which is 50 years before Captain Cook 'discovered' Australia. How cool is that?!?

The Cure to Everything

I'd forgotten how much I love The Cure. I was talking to the two Aussie girls in my dorm yesterday about music and how it brings back memories, and one of them hadn't heard of The Cure. I was dumbfounded, but then, there is a decade difference in our ages (they're both 21) so I'm not sure why I was. Anyway, I decided to find The Cure's greatest hits online and played 'Love Cats' and 'Friday I'm In Love' to the girls, to recognition I'm happy to say. But it reminded me of how much I love the band. I'm now listening to the Wild Mood Swings album, which is actually one of my favourites, next to Disintegration and Wish. Ok, so their music is very melancholy for the main part and pretty insane for the rest, but they were a very large part of the soundtrack to my life for a number of years, and that music brings back so much. Those memories may be sad, but oh, they are so precious, and now-a-days, the music makes me feel safe and happy. Go figure.

Hostelling

Living out of a suitcase, sleeping on dead mattresses, hitting my head on the top bunk, the girl who lost her credit card so gets food out of dumpsters and looks like a hippy fairy, showering in tepid water in thongs, tearing thread-bare sheets, the sweet asian kid who wanted a photo with me 'cause I helped her find the shops, living off of the cheapest possible food, sharing stories about far-off lands with total strangers... yep, I'm in a hostel again.

A soggy day in Wiltshire

I went for a job interview today. It was in the sticks – and I mean, the deepest sticks. I caught a train out to Salisbury (note to self – next time you go to an interesting destination, bank some extra time to actually SEE the place!!), and then took a 40 minute bus ride through the middle of some amazing villages to get to my destination.

My first ever experience of actual English villages and wow! I mean, WOW! Ok, so they weren’t all out of picture books, but there were a couple that had my jaw on the floor of the coach not knowing where to look there was so much to see. Even the kid’s play grounds looked magical. I passed one that had a turret and arrow slits on it. So cool!

And the pub I went to! It was called the Rose and Crown in a tiny village called Tilshead and it had beautiful exposed beams and real wrought-iron chandeliers, and was so cosy and yes I’m gushing and I’ve probably seen similar pubs in London but none with that lovely relaxed and helpful atmosphere. One of the workers gave me a lift out to where I needed to be as it was a bit of a walk and I was in my heals. So friendly. Everyone smiled at me too!

Well, the interview went well and then one of the interviewers took me back into town ‘cause it was starting to rain. How cool was that? I do hope I get this job. They were such a nice bunch of people.

Zip! Zap! Zoom!

Emma and Nik visited London for a flying tackle. I met them at St. Pancras (at 3pm), took them to their hotel in Paddington, then we took a bus to Westminster and saw the Abby, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. We walked along the Thames and then over to Trafalgar square to see Nelson. We had coffee in the west end, walked to Piccadilly Circus then through Soho and had Lebanese for dinner (saw an amazing belly dancer!) then I sent them home. Next day, we met at Camden for breakfast at Bar Solo, Nik took off to see family and I took Emma round the Camden Markets, we met up with Richard for a cup of tea, bought stuff, saw more markets then met back up with Nik. We then went to Harrods for Lunch (15 quid a pop = OUCH!!!) and had a very successful shopping afternoon. Back to Paddington for an hour of relaxation and a very bad Tim Allen movie (DON’T watch Zoom: Academy for Superheroes – I warn you!), dinner at a small Indian restaurant, with desert at their Hotel including a whole bottle of sticky and I wound my way home. Monday, I met them at St. Pancras again for goodbyes. 48 hours without a breath, and I miss them already.

Jason and the White Lion

Jason finally caught up to me in age again. He invited all an sundry to a beer afternoon at a pub in Hampstead called The White Lion. It was really lovely to catch up with him and also to see Belinda again. A little bit of gossip, a little bit of food, a lot of walking (R, H & I walked there - ouch!), and a lot of relaxation later and a good day was had I think. Happy Birthday Humpy!

Michael Palin at the O2

On the 26th, saw Michael Palin at the Indigo O2 centre: 20 years of travelling, 40 years of jokes. I went with Jason & London Dave. It was fascinating. I’ve never been to the O2, let alone the Indigo but yet again, I forgot to take my camera, so no pictures.

The night was interesting and entertaining but also slightly uncomfortable and I had a restricted view of the stage, so it was a 70% night, not 100%.

It was a charity event supporting victims of torture and was introduced but a famous Indian guy who sported a very long-haired look and who gave us a rather chilling insight into the torture victims lives. Then Palin spent the first half of the night on happy snaps of his many world tours, all fascinating, and then the second half on stories of Monty Python.

But the evening started almost ¾ hr late due to the length of time it took to get everyone in. and they pretty much oversold the venue as where I was sitting ¼ of the screen was obscured by speakers, and many people weren’t as lucky, missing up to ¾ of the action. The second half was really just a history lesson on Python with amusing stories thrown in, but he did do some very funny readings, and had us in stitches with some anecdotes. … but I kind of wanted something more.

Michal Jackson also died, but to talk about it would only encourage the megalomania. His best hits were in the 80s and he should have stopped there I think. Although the man was a music legend, his personal life was not worthy so enough said.

So, yeah. A strange night.

A Little Night Music

I really liked this production. I went with Hannah, Paul and Jason. Desiree was absolutely fabulous. I love Sondheim, and ALNM is my second favourite next to Into the Woods. God, the tunes!!! I enjoyed it immensely. The sets were good, I loved how the swingers were part of the set moving and always interesting, and the costumes were fabulous.

This is the first time I’ve seen it live too. I’ve seen the film version and I know the music so well I didn’t think there would be much surprise in it for me, but it still managed to catch me. I had no idea the maid and major domo had a fling for one thing – which is why “And I Shall Marry…” is included. I always wondered where that came from. And I didn’t know that the old lady dies in the end either. Hannah cried.

The only thing I didn’t like was the Brigadier. He came off as silly and nonthreatening and unworthy, rather than the rather stupid but physically impressive and therefore actual potential rival for Desiree shown in the movie and in the music I’ve heard.

The countess was brilliant though, and so was the new wife and Frederick was great, so, yes, a fabulous production.

Gershwin at St. Martin-in-the-fields.

Just went and saw a guy called Warren Mailley-Smith play a piano in St. Martin-in-the-Fields church. Well, heard anyway. We (Hannah, Paul et Moi), were stuck behind the pulpit, but most of the time I prefer not to watch an artist at such events as it kind of detracts from the music.

It was very beautiful.

I love, love, love it when a piano is teamed with an orchestra. Some of my favourite pieces are concertos. I’m not such a fan of the lone piano – I have to be in the right mood in the right atmosphere to really enjoy that. But then, SMITF, was definitely the right atmosphere. It was sublime. He played four Chopin pieces (Nocturne in C#, Balade No 1 in G min, Waltz in E min & Souvenires de Paganini), Beethoven’s “Appassionata” in F Minor and the “Moonlight” (C# minor!) sonata’s, Rachmaninov’s Prelude in G Minor and the frontispiece – Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. He even gave us an encore – a Liszt piece.

It was really, really lovely. And it’s the first time I’ve been inside SMITH, as last time I was here they were still patching it up. I also saw the famous egg – and totally failed to remember my camera so I didn’t get any pictures of it. Although, weirdly, I had Déjà vu on the egg. I’m more than sure I’ve seen it before.

Anyway, divine concert, literally.

True Blood Rocks

So have I got a new series for you… if you enjoy black humour, southern American accents, vampires and gratuitous sex that is.

Whilst in Stockholm, I went for a tour of Sodermalm (the southern island) and had lunch with Anna B, who is best friends with Anna K, who is the sister of Johan, who is married to Helen, if you can follow that. Anyway, we were discussing which books and TV series we enjoyed as we have similar tastes in these areas, and she suggested I try out a new TV series called True Blood.

Well, I was getting very frustrated from the lack of job opportunities recently and so decided to give myself the present of a little escapism and try the series out. At $3 an episode from ITunes, I could afford it at least.

He he he… I loved it.

Brought to you by the guy who made the series ‘Six Feet Under’ (life and love in a Funeral Parlour!), it’s about a town in southern Louisiana called Bon Temps (good times) in an alternate reality where Vampires have come out of the closet so as to become legal, acknowledged citizens and are campaigning to receive the same civil rights as humans.

It is really macabre. The total body count in the first series was 14 and I lost count of the number of bare backsides you get to see. The overall impression is dark and seedy but it has loads of light and fluffy bits too. Kind of like Fanny Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, meets an X-Rated Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Gory, gritty, real and yet totally surreal. Gratuitous sex everywhere. A perky lead, a brooding vamp, a shape shifter who goes around as a collie, a brother addicted to “V” (vampire blood) and some totally f***ed up friends, it is so bad, it’s great.

I even went so far as to look up the author of the book the series True Blood is based on, and now I am completely addicted to her too! Ms Charlaine Harris – I salute you!

A warning, though: You may just need my kind of sense of humour to appreciate it. I wouldn’t recommend it to Helen for instance. Remember, I’m the girl who left the cinema after seeing Sweeny Todd, grinning like a maniac and giggled at inappropriate moments all through it. Well, I’m grinning now.

Try it. You may just find it as cool as I did.

Star Trek and Coraline

On a cold recovery day in Stockholm, I decided not to play tourist but to play at relaxation instead. So I went to the movies. Then, as my brain was muffled nicely with drugs, I couldn’t decide between seeing Star Trek or Coraline – so I went to both. Star Trek was first.

I think the movie is just called Star Trek but it probably should have an additional title as it is the 11th movie in the franchise, however, as it goes back to the beginning of the Kirk / Spock timeline, I’m not sure where it fits in. I’m not enough of a Trekkie to know, but somewhere in my back brain is the information that the Star Trek: Enterprise, series was set before the original Star Trek series, so maybe this film comes after that? I mean, I know that Star Trek: Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine are timed after the original series, and that the first six films were between the original and Next Gen… and maybe I am a Trekkie. Oh Dear.

Anyway, the movie makers have re-started the whole universe off on a tangential time line, due to an accident caused by Spock in the future, so all that has gone afterwards is now non-existent and the slate is clean. For instance, while Kirk’s father in the original series was a great influence on him, in this movie, he dies as Kirk is being born and so Kirk grows up a lot wilder. Spock’s mother is likewise killed, rendering him a lot more emotional, and Spock ends up captain for a while whilst Kirk is thrown off the ship as a lowly cadet. The love story is also nicely twisted - Uhuru was Spock’s love interest of all things.

It really was a who’s who of recent actors. Spotting the famous face became a delight. Eric Bana played a grieved baddie Klingon, which was fun and Winona Ryder, plays Amanda Greyson – Spock’s Mother. I know Uhura (Zoe Saldana) from the dance movie Centre Stage and Kirk’s father was played by the Home and Away actor Chris Hemsworth. Kirk’s mother (Jennifer Morrison) is of 'House' fame, the actor who played Bones was Eomer in Lord of the Rings (Karl Urban) and Scottie turned out to be the guy from Shaun of the Dead (Simon Pegge), very appropriately I might add. Sulu, Checkov, Spock and Kirk were really the only unknowns to me.

All in all, though it was great fun, it was just another Star Trek with the usual mix of adventure and daring-do, and I was a little disappointed that it didn’t break away from it’s progenitors as much as it could have. There were lots of explosions and fist fights, angst and moments of light levity. All ends happily. A great escape movie. Mind you, I enjoyed it for what it was and had a great ride, so all’s good.

The movie Coraline was a different matter altogether. From start to finish, I loved every minute of it. What a fabulous production! I saw it in 3D, and that made it that extra bit special.

I was terrified at first that it was going to be dubbed, being a kids movie, but it was only the opening titles that were in Swedish, and soon we were off. Dakota Fanning voiced the perfect Coraline, with Teri Hatcher (of Desperate Housewife’s fame) playing the mother(s) and a wonderfully disguised Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders playing Miss Forcible and Miss Spink respectively. The movie is all done in stop-motion animation and everything was made by hand. It was awe-inspiring. The cat was creepy, the garden amazing, the whole other world… wow. The story was tweaked a little and an extra couple of characters were added but this didn’t change the integrity of the original so all was good. It was just the right mix of fairy-tale and nightmare. Loved It!

In fact I have loved Neil Gaiman’s work for years now. I first read his graphic novels thanks to R and then fell in love with his twisty, dark mind in Neverwhere, Anasi Boys and Stardust. He is such a different story-teller to my usual favourites. His writing is like a blast of chill wind when I’m burning with fever, so refreshing yet also startling and unexpected.

So yeah. A good romp followed by a good mind-twister. Just what the doctor ordered.

Word of the Day: Manchester.

According to the English, to all intents and purposes Manchester is a city in northwestern England, located 30 miles to the east of Liverpool, in the heart of the most densely populated area of England.

So when I quoted on my inventory of items to be left in a storage facility here, that it would contain various items of Manchester, the guy behind the counter looked at me very strangely.

Try looking for a definition of Manchester on the web that does not include the words Australia or New Zealand, and you'd understand why. Only antipodeans call sheets and towels Manchester. To the rest of the world, the word generally means the home of the Soccer - sorry, I mean football (sheesh!) - team, Manchester United.

In England, what we Aussies consider Manchester, they call soft goods. I've been looking for a reason why we call it Manchester, but I can't find one on the web at least. I guess it's because some Australian factory imported soft goods from Manchester and it's another one of these instances where the name got extrapolated from the product name to come to mean the product but I can't prove it. If anyone can elucidate me, please do!

I'll just have to be more diligent in my use of words in future.

Aunt Millie's Garden - Block 1

I just finished the first block of a needle turn quilt called Aunt Millie's Garden. I am very proud of the way it turned out so I thought I'd start documenting my quilting achievements as they happen for your edification and my bragging rights I suppose.

So, here is Block 1 of my interpretation of Aunt Millie's Garden:

EuroVision

Well, I watched both semi-finals and the finals of the Eurovision song contest for the first time this year. I think I saw the final in 2007, also when staying with Helen and Johan by no form of coincidence what-so-ever, which was my only previous acquaintance with it.

I don’t believe I would ever have decided to voluntarily watch it but having done so, it was nowhere near as excruciating as I expected it to be. If fact, I quite enjoyed it. I’m not sure if this was because the singers this year only very occasionally hit bung notes or the fact that I couldn’t understand a word the commentators said so I wasn’t distracted by them but it wasn’t that bad.

Of course, the Russian hosts and half-time entertainment they put on for both semi’s were rather horrid (the song contest was held in Moscow this year), but apart from the inane chatter, too-close-smooching, fully uniformed red-army choir, baby-pink tank and furry baby-blue fighter plane, the rest was ok.

And at the finals they had hosts that could speak both English and French and had cirque du soleil and some very interesting interpretive dance for the entertainment (people on see-through platforms awash with water high above the audience were gradually lowered down so the splashing they did was very visible), so that was good too.

I even liked the act from Norway that won – ‘I’m in love with a fairy tale’. Cool.

So yeah. It was Ok.

Experience ticked.

Stockholm Part 1

Sorry - Stockholm can wait.

Yes there is a missing 2.5 weeks I need to account for and at some stage soonish, I will, but I haven't gotten around to writing it up yet (Note to self, write as you go, don't leave it 'till afterward). Since there are now several new blogs stacked up behind the Stockholm ones waiting for me to publish them, I'm going to do just that and do a catch up for Stockholm sometime later.

So, watch this space!

What a crock of shite!

Am at Heathrow terminal 5. The vaunted new one. I got here early ‘cause the Piccadilly line isn’t so reliable that I’d trust it to get me here on time. And I’ve now been turned away from the bag drop desk twice. The first time they said I couldn’t drop my bags until three hours before the flight. The second time, when it was three hours before, they told me not until two hours. So I’m missing my breakfast courtesy of BA and their fricken time limits. Not happy Jan. I can see why the poms end up whinging. Their service is terrible! I did the same thing in Melbourne and was five hours early and they still took my suitcase. So I could then relax. Grrr…

Edit to add: the last was written at 08:30. It is now 12:00 and it's better. After a very annoying morning, I am now in the lounge and I have to admit, it's the best lounge I've been in. There is a breakfast bar with five or six choices of cereal, and four different kinds of fresh fruit not to mention rolls and croissants - both chocolate and normal - and all of a decent size, none of this tiny bite-sized pieces. So, ok. It's better than expected. Still not really relaxed though.

British Museum and National Gallery.

I was unprepared to have been so prepared yesterday and so had nothing to do today so I went and played tourist (see last blog). For some unknown reason, I hadn’t managed to get to either the British Museum nor the National Gallery last time I was here, so decided to tick a few more boxes with those two.

To be honest, the only reason I wanted to go to the Brit Museum was for something called the reading room – a huge circular library. Anyone who knows me knows my predilection for books and anything resembling a book shop or library. So imagine my disappointment on getting to the museum to find it was being used as and exhibition space which cost money to get into and that all the books had been removed for the duration anyway so there really was no point in me seeing it. I wandered around semi-aimlessly for a while and saw some of the other displays. I did like seeing the Rosetta stone and some of the medieval stuff was very cool – especially the swords. But I kind of felt let down after that.

The National Gallery was beautiful though, if a tad stuffy – one felt like a child that had to be constantly reminded of good behaviour. I got told off ‘cause I didn’t turn off my mobile and someone had the indecency to ring me. Gah! No photos allowed either which was annoying. All due reverence to the institution but I found that my jet lag didn’t really permit me to enjoy it much.

So my day was a little lacking. I can probably put it down to tiredness too, but there were also an awful lot of people around. This was due to a bank holiday I had failed to get wind of but I was pretty unhappy and quite annoyed at having to push my way through a whole load of Muppets.

Ah well. Next time better luck.

Sometimes I amaze even myself!

Hello from London!

I have arrived. Now to find a job. I had no problems getting here bar a relatively minor delay in flights that saw me asleep as soon as we took off - which was all to the good really.

Got to Rich & Hill's place last night in a jet-lagged stupor but managed to get the bed set up and then thought it was really too early to sleep so went and pulled out the stuff I'd left here last year to see what I had.

For the past few weeks I've been racking my brains at home thinking... now where did I leave my A-Z, and where on earth were my new sneakers stored, and should I pack a towel 'cause I'd no earthly idea where mine were, and had I perhaps left my London lonely planet with Jason? Well, no. I'd left all these things and more in the one place I'd need them first. Right here. You could have knocked me over with a feather when all the things I'd been hoping to find were right where I needed them. And I don't remember thinking about this when I left the UK the first time but I must have. So really, really thank you brain! For once, the anal thing paid off huge dividends.

Of course, my Swedish money and maps are not here as I hadn't planned on going to Helen's immediately when I left, but on a scale of one-to-ten, that's a minus one for worry.

Huge sigh of relief. Well done me. So instead of hunting for things today, I can play tourist. Going to head to the British museum I think.