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!